The subject

I slave away at making change.

Somehow I have made nothing.

I like things because they're sexy.

A way that I love is by saying what I like.

It's not so loving.

I do something that I am a little upset that I am changing.

That is I make money by doing zip.

I need to live.

I need to work.

I am changing because I want to.

By: A woman that loves Julia.

It's painful to like being free.

I know that I am loved.

By letting you understand what I am for me I love you.

Pathetic but I needed to love what I am so I could be a crackhead.

Dangerous but I am gay.

That's sexy and foolish.

I made change as my bitch.

I need to love dry brides.

I lied about love. I am a bean not a dove.

Hustling to pull will.

Lessons: maybe is mostly cruel.

And teeth.

How hot is that cauldron?

Mostly I've uncovered tension.

Money, friendship, doubt, understanding, change, love, pain and striving for personal advancement are the pedestals on which I stand and in which I sink.

The only flaw that I have is hope.

I must cling to this flaw.

Mainly live.

I am beautiful, loving and happy.

I want you to live.

Please live.

And hope.

Love is good for hope, change, Goddess.

Will likes a woman.

I gave friendship to a woman. She made life happy. That's "SK".

Harvard was a cocksucker.

Many are loving, I died but I'm happy.

Thank you for liking yourself.

Fuck

(I like people who want me to be a bitch)

(I made this happy because I was my brother's slut.)

The competition at the door

Oh shit!

The Books are here that I ordered from Amazon:
Poetry for the Millennium

They are two days early; only one is missing.

They make me nervous and anxious, though
yesterday was my birthday.

They make me want to write
a poem.

This one is vast, careless, without manners.

This one makes me feel that I have cried for a long time
but not long enough.

I know that when I write I will engender a fabulous
comprehension

It will create in my reader the knowledge that all is
pre-destined, in the sense that you and I have made choices

They corral me further into a charitable institution

They reek of tension.

They want me to dream freely of heaviness made sensible.

I will not light these books on fire
I will not smoke them in my pipe.

I will bring love and time.

I believe

Nasty Edges

I probably ought not deliberately attack people in this blog. I probably ought not to unreasonably provoke others, make others miserable or try to diminish the anger I feel by transferring it to someone else.

I however do have feelings, and some of them have to do with circumstances which are now, or have always been, beyond my control. I am unable to reach back into the past and change what has happened. I am unable to function as a human being by denying these things happened. I am stunted (and stung) in many ways by actions other people have taken, and I MUST be able to at least excavate some of the feelings and associated situations from within myself and expose them to my own awareness so that they no longer control me or my actions. Now, apparently most of you do not wish to witness or be a part of, or encourage these doings. That disappoints me. I can only say that I will not proceed with unjust anger that I fling in all directions merely to relieve momentarily discomfort. I will not (and I don't think I have, at least at this distance) impinge on your lives with my needs.

I really need somehow to communicate with people who wish to hear. I hope there are those among you who know what it is to not know what you are going to write when you begin, to know how writing can shape itself of its own accord in surprising but needed directions, especially when it comes to deep-seated emotional realities. These emotional realities not only are the bedrock of all good writing, they are also the necessary underpinnings of daily life. If I cannot refer to them in this blog, then I think I will simply turn to a) a diary that I share with only one or two people or b) bashing my head against the wall or c) both.

It's funny, but I remember when I first went to New York and was first involved in a particular gender organization, that one of the fights which first impressed me was that over free speech. I still support the side that espouses free speech. I hope my readers will, also. I don't think that rules ought to apply to me that don't to others. Having been exiled, I think that the rules I have broken to be so -- treating others differently for reasons of race, class, gender -- are rules that I can only practice by freely living according to my own conscience so I can know where that conscience is and what its blindspots are.

I heard from JKH for my birthday. She is still creative but not presently happy. I hope some of you will contact her. You know she is a fantastic person and deserves it.

Yours,

Emotional communication

i have just realized that most people are interested neither in my emotions or in my means of communicating them.

When I write happy days are here again, I might be sarcastic.

When I say to you, oh, I'm treatment, it means I have become for you either a means for your healing by either your choice or by the choice of "society."

When I think wow!, I am surprised or impressed, but it might be with respect to expectations that have to do with entirely personal knowledge, self-knowledge, or spiritual, emotional and intellectual influences most people know nothing about and apparently do not wish to know.

Since you don't care particularly about what is going on for me, I will proceed to go on just as I have been, only more outrageously and with more of a nasty edge (since you don't care and it doesn't matter).

Be happy (sorry I can't help you).

Gays at mays

Being given hope I have dreamed.

Having willed freedom I have money.

Bait or loveR

Money pays hope.

Many run and bear God.

I treat home as fun.

Gapes at a woman.

Whore faces presence and lives.

I make a parent be my mother.

I am a woman.

Anger is sharing life to darken art.

I make you hope.

As you need.

Baby good, happy is free.

Dear Men,

Afraid to make mess of dreams.

I take change to love.

Woman, a woman.

Love under Will made being full.

Be.

It was my idea

Instead of reading first and influencing my thoughts with external ideas, I often practice simply writing something that is, as nearly as possible, from moi.

It turns out that a friend of mine is off her meds. She describes the feeling of that as having the lights go on. She is able to think and to make decisions. Now this merely confirms for me that so-called anti-psychotic drugs are not made for the health of the patient (subject) but for the benefit of the social order and the dominant social group it exists to protect.

I simply object to being controlled because I do not belong. Fuck you very much.

Please let me know, won't you, my dear and consistently responsive readers, what you think? Maybe (since some of you know me personally) are revolted by the thought of my thinking and acting on my own behalf. Certainly you have sometimes acted that way. After all I've been admitted to psychiatric facilities because of your say-so. But it's okay, since I realize you were only using compassionate reverse psychology to get me to fight back, not to submit to your convenience or your antipathy towards me. Now that that's said I'll move on. Oh yeah, I've been hospitalized 21 times. Is that a sign of my sickness, or is it an artifact of my passivity. Hmmm.....

But, you know...


I didn't like myself very much, or at least didn't feel that way, for a long time. I'm pretty sure that this is because of a particular external relationship going back to the early part of my life, and is not my fault, my doing, or in any way related to any choice I have made. So, I thought that people who acted according to their lights were crazy, and you all thought I was crazy. I didn't know how to relate. So, I can't blame anybody else for the troubles I had. I know the strenuous efforts some people made to get me to like myself (without of course knowing how to do so), and I'm grateful. But you are there and I am here; you have your lives and I have?

It's interesting that nothing changes even as vast tempests, whether of the cosmos or of the teacup, rage about us.

I will feel absolutely happy about what I do when I am able to define for myself and by myself what that needs to be. That is what I needed help with, not 21 hospitalizations and electroshock.

I hope psychiatrists and social workers have a special place being socialized in the hereafter, together. But I will not, as they would, condemn them forever, but only till they know the need for human freedom for each and every individual.

Of course, if psychiatrists were truly free and had to act according to their own abilities rather than what their diplomas proclaim them to be qualified for, their would be a large accession to the number of beggars in our parks. Perhaps they ought to rethink just how fragile their position needs to be -- for themselves.


Enjoy your day as much as I enjoy mine

Love, me

A Tucson Tribute

Girl, did I freak over being a bitch or what?

Oh yeah, you did.

There was a lot of fear last night, a lot of tears, a lot of pain.

A deadly piece of change: what are we doing and why are we doing this? The precursors of apathy, of destruction.

My own knowledge that I am painful.

There are no peaceful organizations.

I mangled the best lover of creativity that I have met.

She was the best source of love that I have known.

Me called to be better.






Fierce

Another one is drawn to herself.
Another one is made whole.

The Goddess loves hope.

I know what she found.
She is loving and beautiful.

Darkness changes to feeling.
Beauty is life.

The fullness of love
is in us.

Let the cymbals ring peace
and the drums sound hope.

View your life with
passionate hope.

The girl is ours.
As one.

An understanding of pressure (deep)

Delivery of poison:

Climbing to the trains,
I feel like mom.

Pressure came, and I frazzled;
Change was free.

A little bit of creativity;
A little flaw.

A way to be realized;
A pain that does death.

Share how you love





I did what death was.
Plain, a woman's turn.






Jolly and good

Breasts are nice.
I like my own.

Sensitivity is a whore.

I can do what there is for my mother.






Drawn to flow
Pissed off
Brought to me

Breathing the kindness
Drying like mind.




Clay of dreaming woman
Home is a necklace

My time to find fashionable targets is
full.

One way to feel better

Immolation is not pretty.

But I digress into a mode of complaint.

Living according to one's own lights -- isn't that the idea?

Being as crazy as I can be is not making me feel hopeful (or strong or content).

I do not believe one must equate the former with the latter.

Creativity is not only the understanding of love, it is the knowledge that I must enjoy my life, my hopes and my body to allow others to enjoy their lives on whatever terms they choose.

As loving and kind as anyone can attempt to be, there is only love when life (delivers truth?) [I'm on the wrong page].



So, be.

Dream strength
Dream beauty
Dream love

Will freedom
Will change
Will love


I cannot make you be you. I am not you. I need to broaden the way I make changes: that's my hope.

Please, if you will, live like you are home.

I know that I wanted to make you love me. I only can ask that you do what you can.


My mind is in crisis. Crack changes you. Death just makes you pissed.

Anyway, I feel better now.

Neuroses

Bird flies away

A cackle of presence flying is cruel.
See what life cries to be.

A broadened harrowing of seasons.

A poem for the woman that crowded nests.




Another Rhyme

Melee: taunting bell is rising a leer.
A request, a distant meal.

Many flee to be safe.
Rear to pay with babies changing.

Mary sought a way for their panic
As love is peace, give home.

I Will try being:
I am breasts, turning my life to amber.

Just gotta write

Amusingly, there has come to me : woman

And, strength.

For you, sexuality is mother.

For I, there is a way to select anger that makes and is change.

My mother wanted a little failure: this term being an artifact of my reversals of meaning in order to twist the nature of reality into view: a "failure" is one who loves what they feel. I love what I feel.

What is the transvaluation of values?

My trip is feelings that are hope.

I bring to you feelings.

My mother found one here. My home is surrounded and is den, or, my part of calm and freedom.

I know you want something relevant to the larger world and its goings-on. Here's what I want to say now: Peace is freedom.

I need to love everybody even if I'm strong. I need to feel friendship so that helping me can feel happy.

I know, I just stepped over the limits of possibility.

Please feel happy. I say this so much because the alternative is nothing, literally, and is obliteration.

After life, maybe peace is hope. Maybe asceticism brings strength? I think that it's just a way to get laid.

As you know, I feel like I'm loving. As you try to meet your life, I will imagine other truths as I meet mine.

Tell me, can I live for pardons?

Hey, everybody, what's up???!

As goes Maine, so goes the nation.

As some of the more enthusiastic readers of this blog may know, I have had in my imagination many images of glory and achievement concerning my life.

I am trying to change.

I am also reading a novel about Charles Darwin by Irwin Stone that my therapist gave me. There is a passage where he is in the beginning of his voyage on the Beagle and he suddenly realizes that he can follow in the foot steps of famous others who were making a revolution in the natural sciences of the day. He was 22 at the time. When I was that age I was in the midst of being a "Marxistentialist." I felt also that I could, if only I found the correct means of analysis and expression, make a contribution on the order of what I was reading in Marx, Sartre, etc. I was in the depths of confusion and denial about my femininity, and this affected what I was able to produce. My anality was extreme. Strangely enough, I found new grounds for messianism in the life I led in my later 20s and early 30s. I thought I would save the world, not through being an avatar of class struggle and individual self-expression but by being a world whore. The full account is not worth relating. I simply thought that being political could save others and myself. Now I know that I cannot save even myself from anything that I am. This means that no matter what efforts I make I will never be God, or the Goddess; I will never be my father or my mother; I will never make change feel like my home.

Before you stop reading, consider that unless there is feeling and passion and compassion/conscience in your goals that you will destroy what you are trying to bring about, leaving only whirling wastes in your wake. ( In my case, that's waste paper, thank you.) Within the house of cards, you will grasp at nothing but nothing.

So, where does my conscience lie? I seek to act. I seek to love. I seek to feel. I seek to hold sacred what there is that gives life sweetness and sustaining power. In other words, feel strength, because I do love home.

My test results will be in next week.

Brigid, Inanna, Astarte, Isis, hope is life.

Ask me why.

Many blessings,

"Julia"

narco-crap

Giving, Writing, A Test

After many long years of holding that it is unseemly to let others know that you are giving to them, I have decided that it is okay to do so. The alternative is an isolation that amounts to a living death, and if anyone has had to live that way because of my judgment I am profoundly sorry.

I wish I knew how to write.

I'm having a test today of my heart. It turns out the tread mill test that I took last spring shows that my heart is not completely normal. Apparently my former cardiologist failed to notice that or at least failed to notify me of that. So today I have to receive via IV some radioactive isotopes and chemicals that are to stress my heart and show any possible blockages, etc. As you might imagine I am not happy about this. The test will take three hours.

I think I have equated having feelings with being dirty. This may have some relationship to why I did crack, possibly shortening my life by many decades, instead of caring for friends and family. I don't know. Probably I am trying to strengthen myself by doing what I like. It's not working.

With all the will in the world, I wish you and yours a very fulfilling, pleasurable day filled with laughter, beauty and love.

Adios,

Friendship and Me (Be Human, JBM)

Best friends.

My friends are beautiful.

As you know, there's a lot of stress that change can involve.

Maybe as the Goddess changed fear and knowledge to beauty and understanding, there is a way that I can make hope a place of protection, safety and warmth, in other words, a home.

A sense of mother wanted good and change as feeling. Maybe if I make life change then there will be a way to be the Goddess's lover. Of course, that will not happen, at least not without the destruction of my own self.

Maybe if change comes and it is loving, I can be hopeful. I suppose I will have to be the one loving the change, and being it. I think that my womanhood had to do with happiness. I think that that is the only way for me to help my will to hope is to live. I want love as my own way of making happiness.

I can't be the sole proprietor.

Trust me for change?

Trust me for knowledge?

Anger does not feel as far as my warmth.

Tell life that maybe I cried life and liked it.







Sarcasm makes mothers change: it is bad to be painful.

Tell mayor of motherhood that my calmness drove to my pain.

As a woman, I tell you that I am pained at darkness of death.

Make love, and tell your mother that it is a way for you to be free.

And I want that way at hope.

[Dear CEG,

I love you. I want to tell you friendship is life when there's love.

I am doing everything that I can to be a peaceful woman. Thank you for loving me and for letting that anger fade into the aether.

Love under Will!

Blessed Be,
Julia (Bright Life Moon?)]

November 7, 2010

I am having a moment and it's a way that change feels as I remember all the troubled emotions that I felt towards my father. Today would have been his 78th birthday. Maybe there's only change and that's the way that people understand that every day must have joys and sorrows together.

I know my father was changing when he was getting older. He at least was able to defend my "being Julia" and to hope that I made the best out of the places I had been.

He, as some of you know, did not accept my transition for years. That's not what I am remembering now.

He made something that was indispensable for my feeling protected and able to foresee a future for myself. That was all the work he did to provide for me as part of his family. I know that the patriarchal model has fatal defects. For one thing I also tried to cling to a way of life that made me separate from the struggle for survival that so many had to face. That has proved to be only partly tenable. I have to make my own way or I will be only one more dependent, as they say in the military world.

I have held him responsible for destructiveness and anger, for supporting a system that hurts the peoples subjected to it. I think now that he did not ever know the social realities that made him who he was. But he never went to a "four - year " college the way I did. He never encountered feelings that I had. I can't make excuses. He could be cruel. But he also had a stability that did not rush from impression to conclusion without at least some degree of consideration. He was from his standpoint fair.

If he were here now, I would be very angry with some of his behavior and some of his attitudes. I would still need and want to redirect his attention to some of those aspects of life with others that he either ignored or never noticed.

I also am grateful for the need he imprinted in me to read, to understand, to make something of myself.

I hope that he finds in his place of repose the knowledge of the feminine that he avoided in himself. I think it would help him a great deal. He was not a natural hater, only someone who was convinced that some things were right and others were wrong. He thought from a kind of conviction that if only everyone behaved according to the rules that everything would be okay. He didn't see the injustice of the rules themselves (except occasionally). Maybe he simply did not believe in himself enough to stand up to the prevailing winds affecting someone of his circumstances. I hope he encounters something gentle wherever he is that will bring that to him.

I suppose most of you are gagging by now. I did have anger and resentment and disappointment with him, and he deserved "re-education."

He smoked. That's what killed him. I think his smoking was for the same reason that most people smoke. It was an escape from the stress of getting by in this world. If he caused stress, he also felt it. He was a smart man who had limits, some within, and some without. If I could take one thing from him, it would be his lack of artifice (by his standards). He could spot pretense. He was an individualist as far as what he advised and in a great deal of what he did.

I do not wish to remain stuck in father-worship. I have been seriously damaged by it.

I know that when I loved him that it was partly out of a wish to please him, to attain the perfection I saw in him.

Now I feel that I don't have to reject him for his existence. He was a human and that is what I wish to remember and to feel for myself.

For Jack Murray, I say, let it be. Be at rest, Dad.

For myself I wish to go on with gratitude for the gifts he gave me and the ability to reject without rancor what I have no need for.

I did what I had to do. I want him to know that. I wanted love and he gave destiny.

The good was change; the terror was pain.

I loved him, not for his manhood, but his beauty.

Home is changing

I thought for a while (a long while) that knowledge made people feel happy.

I was wrong.

The practice of the distribution and production of knowledge is a kind of gossip, may I say, moosy gossip.

I have been trying to extract from others clues to the nature of my own feelings and actions. In return I have reflected to them my feelings about their actions and hopes, dreams and fears.

I now must know that change can destroy life.

Life likes to preserve itself as much as subject itself to change.

Destruction is a kind of change. I believe that I need not make life any more vulnerable or damaged than it already is.

Somehow I have become very troubled. Somehow I made changes that created feelings that were terrible in others and in myself.

Teach me, if you would, what is change?

I have begun to live without people who can let me understand what strength can make people feel.

Therefore I am very changeable, having no emotional support that is familiar with my nature. Perhaps I asked for something that I was unwilling to provide in return.

Thank you for much love.

If I ever live long enough to like you as you wish, to be the friend you need, I'll have to have become the kind of person that was always ready to like happiness.

Me very troubled.

A woman.

Major problems

I am tired of you dying

Save me; Goddess changed me.
I feel changed.
And that's foolish as me.

Life is money or why am tribes?

Grapple, teach, understand
Treat me like hell
Answer is make me feel

John the Sixteenth

Mangled a woman
She tried to glow
I wanted many hopes

Cruelty

Bart deals pain
I love his old lady
She wanted nothing

Mother

Can you know what me change?
Ask to want love
Ask to be West

Like Tribes?

Another feeling of Goddess
She wanted nothing
I gave client

Sexy

Man crawled back
Sly old pagan
Charged me pork

Feelings

Another way to want her
Straw changed life
Me want lust

A crackhead

Density of men
Is Truth
Ask to love

Men of tribe

Get woman home
Love her mother
Change life to help

Ask for drawings

Sexually angry to make pain
No one wanted life
At brown

Flow

Answers pawn kindness
Mother minds foal
Create Julia

Mother of claws

Deal with my comb
I produce money
That's pain

Strike

Or love



As you have read these words, there has been a fearful entry.

My mother is who she is.

I love her.

Words from instinct

How the hell does change make life hopeful?

Is there any way that change is a better way than darkness?

I believe that change happens when life is made grueling.

When you let people be, they are strong.

When you make people sick, then you are crazy.

I want to give what happened and that's change.

I want to give what anger did: people as me.

I do love needing good, and that's strength.

Maybe you will know what change gives: flow.

As flowing makes failure change, so does my own love make help anger.

Sharing is true but change is nerdy. I am nerdy.

Bring good and I am loving.

Make change and I am troubling.

It's change that is at death.

I liked that bargain.

When people do like me, I am charged with process.

Deal with my knowledge and that's the hope for this.