Back East

I am presently looking out the window of Chelsea and Rusty's Pine Hill, N.Y. house at a beautiful Catskill Mountains scene of tree-covered mountains. It is so far very quiet and restful here, and I've pledged to help keep it that way.

I've been circulating a lot both physically and mentally. I've visited CR in Brooklyn, JW in Catskill. Now I'm here.

I want to convey that I understand that I cannot take people for granted, that I have to learn to live my own life, and that I have to love myself as I'm doing it.

For some reason that seems a tall order to me, but I have to face up to being a human being.

So much seems to be changing, but I need to, as JW said, make decisions. I need to write. I need not to destroy myself. I need to let myself be hopeful.

If anyone knows anyone who needs a typist/proofreader/writer/poet/religious-historical fanatic to start/finish/maintain tasks/projects/work (housework) I'll be glad to do it.

Chelsea has a great bookstore.

Yours,

c*mare

Mortality on the Thirteenth of June

Today is the fifth anniversary of my father’s death.

Feelings include: dismay (that the effects he had on my life are continuing); sadness (I wish everything were different); remorse (not sharing with him more on the intellectual level, which I know he longed for); anger and a corresponding determination to live.

My mother and I nearly went to Applebee’s after visiting his gravesite at the Veterans Cemetery this morning and propping up a large floral white and red cross against the headstone.

It was too early for them to be open.

I still don’t understand the necessity to feel like I am crying .

Anger does not feel happy. I have to work through it, according to the opinions/theories of my more emotionally developed friends.

Somehow I’ll be free.



Note: feelings are very much stuck (and tough to have).

I want to feel everything.

I want to be every thing.

I am still hopeful.

Maybe if the universe pours me out instead of me pouring it out, this will go better.


Feelings are wrapped tightly.

I am a terrorist and I want to live.

Any suggestions?

Me on Me

Q: Do I always have to be creative?

A: No

Q: Why are you interested in literature, religion, history and politics

A: Because I am extremely frustrated with taking God as the ultimate, only reality.

Q: I thought you didn't do that.

A: I don't. However, I have yet to allow myself to know the divine within me in a way that acknowledges ALL the changes that are approaching.

Q: Didn't your therapist encourage you to get your life together?

A: Yes, but I don't think that a single-vision way of doing it is sufficient, as a matter of fact it does violence to me,.

Q: Why do you still want to embrace passion and passionate people?

A: Becausse then therre's joy.

Q: What are you going to do about Arizona?

A: Tell people that it is disrespectful and hateful to bring about this law on the backs of our Mexican brothers and sisters (siblings).

Q: Can I say good morning,relax and enjoy?

A: Yes.

Nerdcraft

Tinctures, Textures, Trammels, Trestles

Though I gave pain to whom gave me hope,
And by whose prompt I learned to cope,

(Now so ingrained is my claim to be,
Life may dawn on me, subtly.)

Still tears drop in some sober clef
That to one’s feelings I am not deaf.

I solicit therefor the Creatrix’s passion:
Care without bounds, not by ration.

That a Queen of salvific fame,
Exit harmless from cruelty’s game.

To Bear Light -- now, why didn't I think of that

On the trail of feelings

Why is it that I feel crazy?

(Topic Z100)

A little bit of emptiness feels foreign.

I believe that this is because I have created a fool.

My desires and needs require a different approach, one might say one that is unique to me. Same for y’all, I expect.

A home that ‘s giant.
A failing Goddess is changing to a mess.

Why do I like to be obscure/cryptic.

This is the way I speak to myself and back, so it seems more revealing/authentic. Not to bore you, but Ifeel at a loss trying to objectively describe inner states.

Sexually speaking, a lot of creativity has made this person that I am [inhabiting?] into a friend of cruelty.

In other words, my masochism has had no outlets for three years.

What I WANT to write:

The pain that I know of is perhaps not yours.

Past that, I feel that the Goddess needs life to feel good, as well as be a crisis, a challenge, a venue for hope and love. So, maybe if I let someone give to me what I need, then I will be able to offer to others some sort of support. Otherwise, it’s all a political abstraction.

Say it: Life can be a way to feel like you are a song.

My song can wind around yours and let that feel powerful.

I call on you who are likewise of the WASP/white trash genre to fold yourself into the present, which is hope.

A la la.

Adios.

c*mare

In the interests of not polishing

Two pages of my notebook:

[Leagues of Moderate Intervention in the Human Organism

Atime to give love people are crazy

A day that enters telly
JKH came hard to feel life

Pain is smacked with foam

Taking a man and liking costs sex with a current.

Money encircles the planet in a sphere comprising distinct rotating discs. The golden rings of Earth play heaven for people with cstar's tick.

Me natural as: hat
Me famous as teeth
One Goddess is like strength
One God is like payment
At once loss came atrociously


Boldly encircle cruising frogs
Meet another Marty for mrs. pork.

You can feel; you are trying a pagan whore so you can die like a man.

Please stop entering friends.



Fuck partying;
I am Goddess

Cstar will fuck
Nice is price

Past crack
Wonder Mostly.

Et Cetera

Life in this here varminted State

promise that you will listen

there's a lot of foam
there's a lot of tests

Fillip is mith.

I lost.