Dipped in tin

Winning over your friends --

At last there is a basis for understanding what I have been trying to do.

You all know Trotskyists: That’s what they do, and that’s the way I have been relating -- to no small ill effect, apparently.

Simply said, being good is like helping yourself to a lot of losing.

Quite succinct, you think?

Same here today, but shifting sensibility: I now am planning:

Plan A

School

Plan B

Status Quo

Plan C

Retro

The pain comes when you act badly.

The act is when you feel like crying and you work.

I am not one to feel badly.

Be.

Blessed.

Oh, here are a couple verses.

Cash in the cradle,
Money on the block

Pain is from shaming
Your sisters in the dock.




Candles flare above us
Weakness called you in

Maybe stars can save us
Fables dipped in tin.



Like?

Just a Note

Just a note that I’m tired of my own bigotry. I’ve got to work on it, work on it, work on it.

Second, there’s lots and lots of anxiety and despair coupling away in my brain. For one thing, I told my mom the other night that I’m here for the money. This does not bode well for anything.

I don’t know where my cruel streak comes from. It’s either suppressed anger or some kind of karmic residue from accusing others of cruelty. Or maybe as some might say, it’s only human (all too human).

I’ve quit cigarettes for the last three hours. Congratulate me.

I hope that there’ll be kindness and love for everybody this day.

Since Life is so boundlessly what you make of it, I will try to provide the same for at least today.

Remember “Affirmations by Stuart?” on SNL?

It's better now

Dear folx (never thought I would use that form of address):

I began writing a really good post yesterday but it went to nowhere land because either I pushed the wrong button or because of blogspot. Who knows?

Sigh.

At any rate I went through some of my blog from last summer and spring and found it often interesting and somewhat moving if over repetitive and of course overwhelmingly familiar to me.

I think what it all boiled down to was, from a line in one post, “I am still vulnerable to crack.” I am so tired of that, and I’m sure you are too.

What is a burning necessity to write about?

Understanding what happened December 4 and 5 in Albany.

To be honest, I am really fucked up in that I didn’t know or understand that there was no love and no fun in the way I acted. My exact love was not toward AC or NG, but toward the mess that I fetish zed as my “position” intellectually and emotionally in this world. I now know that I was fearful, that I was nothing to myself. If that had not been the case I would have been aware how dreadfully awry the visit was going much earlier than I did.

A little bit of awareness and love would have made everything much easier. I of course always claim those qualities as my watchwords. I cannot say that with regard to either AC or NG I was capable of understanding what they wanted or needed.

More specifically, I was a bitch.

If I could go back and live through all that again, I would have told AC that I was concerned about her, not that she was a “loser.”

I would not have withdrawn so completely into my shell to please my phantom version of what I thought she wanted, and thereby provoked both of us into anger and depression.

I disrespected especially AC.

It’s clear to me that fame and beauty and common human courtesy/consideration were nowhere near compatible.

I thought that I ought to rule the habitation. Why? Because I was a woman who could be free to do whatever I wanted simply because I thought I was good. The proof of that was in my internalized suffering. Gotit? Puritanism.

I hope that someday I will be able to acknowledge in person that I was a fearful, fearsome bitch and that despite my forgetting “why I liked her” that she was and is a woman with life worth both respect and caring for itself intrinsically and also as a great example of insight and of the wielding of the Goddess’s will.


So for now that is what I have to say. There’s only one way out of this mess and that’s to let Her Will be done.

Blessed Be,

A seeker for forgiveness.

a girl traces life

Writing aloud:

JKH Julia struck Julia

I wrote the feeliing that I had.

Great.

Roind of life treats pain like a lost warrior.

I can tame myself.

Please know that there's friendship.

I wish to engage in a conversation with what are for me the remnants of the world I lived in.

Boing

Charm

Loss

Pain

Afraid

Fool

Temporary

Home



Etc.


In other words, betcha is pestering my friends.

Cap.

Me good for loving men who love fun.

Me okay then me try to be loving.

And family gives pain.


I love you.

a girl traces life

c*

odds and ends; tid-bits; destiny

Today's health report

Despite all my efforts, I still feel like I'm pissing people off at some level.

Maybe I don't have to try so hard (but I want to be nice).

Other matters:

Got some chest pains; I don't think they're cardiac in nature. I'll find out, won't I?

The facts are:

Today is a partly cloudy, not too warm day. My mother is across the table looking at a book on British Heritage.

I myself am very good feeling that I know love: I love a very friendly person. I am glad that I can give myself that description.

Sexiness and hope are feelings that try to strive for people's mess.

???



I released God last night from his pain, his testing of me and his truth.


I love you.

Julia (c*)

My friend Carol in Wyoming is going to have an MRI of her brain. She has been getting dizzy spells, has balance problems and gets excruciating headaches. Please think of her, she's been very kind to me.


Failure doesn't have to be all-consuming or eternal.

Julia serves Pressidents

Nothing is few, but life is true


Laurie Pride March 17, 2010



Feelings, nothing more than feelings…
Trying to forget my -- feelings of love!

Love of Life

In this whore, I know that my life is cruel. People know that life is a good thing.

I cried too much when I found out that I was a little bit truthful.

I am telling myself now that “love is Julia’s tribe.”

But “Love under Will” is apparently drawing me back to the Big Apple.

I wish that someone would caress me or at least accept my caresses.

As the “trust teacher” freak that I am, I hope to cry about my piece.

I am a cock sucking bitch who needs a life.

Feelings are a little bit freaky when I allow them to be time.

My feelings, you see, can make myself very good or the fully unendurable.

Facts:

I love myself.

Tractors are my friends.

Zoe was a very truthful person.

I am good when I am happy.

God was fucked.

I know that God is probably love and life.

I know that I prefer the Goddess as my deity since she is helpful to me. (You see my selfishness knows no bounds).

Thinking that I am feeling loving is nice.

Since I am truly copped, I will pee as Julia Murray



Fucks

Amber
Crime
Feelings

As life cries God, I give love

As life cries People, I give friendship

As Goddess likes hope, I love her.

So, now when I have determined that I know Tommy Stabbed Baby, I am good.



Vee hoped for me to cry.

Strike was a way to fail life.

I can be (sigh) a beer.


I know that the way I have lied to myself about how wrong I feel about hate means that I must love fucking being alive.



Sex and Sadeisha: Fold.

Vessel of Life

Despite knowing myself to be loving, I can only let myself be a woman who feels that flaws in my friends are somewhat terrible.

I am not sure why I feel this way.

Certainly my friends have no more flaws than have any other set of people.

I suppose that I am a mite testy with people.

Another comment I have is that I say that I am good because that’s the only way to feel like there’s love for me.

I don’t think that withdrawing love when someone is not acting according to your standards is either fair, humane or productive.

Hmm, perhaps there are certain contradictions in the above writing.

No one is friendly to me without me being a phony.

How can I not be a phony and thereby circumvent the viciousness, to me, of this limitation in my relationships with others?

I love life.

I am good as failure allows.

Failure and good?

Once again, good appears as a means of coercion or punishment of certain behavior.

Not to get off the topic.

The way in which I am dishonest with others is in being a pain to my own breasts (nurturing side?), to my own friendship with my poem. I call myself a poem. That’s how much I identify with poetry.

The poem in me may go toward a lie.

That lie is that I know myself.

Here is a time I can try to know myself better.

Babies are not people for a person who is removed from their own infantile emotions and needs, or who is in denial of them.

My infantile needs are:

Goddess, please let me have a girlfriend.

“Girls” are people who are better for me because they are life.

Babies can not find love if people are sexually “finding” them.

I am somewhat afraid of the Goddess.

She can make my life a way that is “fair” or “unfair.”

Fairness is when I am a target.

I am not good when the wars of pain are taking me to fear.

Pain is not fun.

I am saying that I create a woman. I need to let myself know that the Goddess is the way that I make happiness be a darkness.

I have been pushing down my destiny as stirred (fucked).

Grace makes men pry as lovers and makes them treat me like I’m a slut.

Grace here is the feeling of righteousness and deservedness that some people conceive of as “Grace.”

I can only let myself like my Goddess when I am free.


I feel like the Goddess says I (she) love(s) a woman (me).

A whore says keep me loving so there will be a life.

I am afraid of all the anger I carry.

That anger is making me say mad and dark words.

Please let that feeling be hell and let that hell go.

I know like the Goddess of a shot of beauty.

I am grateful for it.

Let’s be happy, I tell myself.

I am not plural.

Please let there be happiness.

Okay.

Babies people and lovers do have hope.

I need to be a woman. Let me see that the Goddess likes me.

Sincerely,

Julia Murray

(A whore)(A vessel of life)

Sonoran breathing-spell??

Right now I am at the Sierra Vista, Arizona city library with my mother attempting to digest the events of the last few days and communicate to my loyal readers what I think of those events and other aspects of life as I know it.

First, I've been told I'm too harsh on myself. I agree. I also know I talk too much about myself in these here pages. However, I have also noticed that, as RMM stated to me years ago, that whatever you say about others is what will prove true about yourself. I am, for instance, guilty of hatred and envy of others, especially for status, money, appearance, intelligence, and general savoir faire, and have been that way most of my life. I believe, though, at the same time, that it is not my fault: my negative feelings toward others stem from having turned inward on myself when I was a wee baby girl. So, I think there is hope.

Let's see, what else is there?

Sorry for the public crying jag.

I really want to say that life is beautiful.

Have I said that before?

NEXT!

So, having abandoned hope of absolute originality, let me say something about the setting in which I find myself. The world seems happy. The world seems full of kindness. The world is a likeable planet.

Also, I've begun reading, in addition to approximately 15 other books I'm reading, Reading Lolita in Tehran. I read it so far as a warning to revolutionaries everywhere to abandon purism and short-sighted anhedonism. I can certainly imagine that what happened in Iran 30 odd years ago could happen here, especially the defeat of alternative-lifestyle movements and groups and individuals. It is also a reminder and a warning ( to me) that belief in the power of literature and the imagination are necessary but perhaps not sufficient when battling a reactionary state is involved. I know that writing can be inspirational but it can't alone change what life appears to be becoming.

BE Careful.

Love,

c*

greetings

pepper in the foam
parents in the foam

Goddess gives a lover

People feel love and I feel a dress.



Pain

Grateful Dead Poet

Certainly a time to feel satisfaction with some of my accomplishments.

What could those be?

Less paranoia, less depression, less anger, more ease in social and home relationships.

Oh, my new medicine was giving me fast/skipping heartbeats, so I stopped taking it.


* * *


Fame -- I want to live forever!

Since I'm hellbent on obtaining fame, I invite you my readers, to spread the word of my great achievements.

You might want to start with my being alive in the face of all odds, including the ones that weren't my fault. I can love anyone for who they are.

Next:

the emptiness of fame

Mean

I challenge anybody, no matter what I have said about them to their face or behind their back to show that my mean streak is worse than theirs.

That said, have a happy happy