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

Fort Being and the Wild Nothingnesses

The post here is porous to some with a legitimate association with a person with military i.d. I've thought of bringing fliers that say "U.S. out of Afghanistan," but that is what the President has supposedly signed on to.

It doesn't really matter.

So, what is this about wild nothingnesses?

They are entities (not beings, of course) that cause consternation in the beings on the fort. They do things in a way that is not fixed by law, by the Eternal Logos, or by immobile traditions. Mobility of thought, of body, of the necessaries of staying alive underlie the unpredictable and yet generous way of life nothingnesses practice.

Are you buying this?

I think that staying stuck in a rut and then defending it as the only possible reality is the way that Fort Being has found itself isolated and paranoid about the Wild Nothingnesses.

I know to be a pest.

AS LOVE GOES, SO GOES HOME



As the Family Circus kid said the other day, "Are all the sleds named Bob?" My answer is Yes.

Feelings

Right now, I feel depressed, pissed off and frustrated.

For now, I'd just like to go over some facts.

First, I'm not a Moose. That I apparently have to prove this over and over again even to those closest to me is a source of consternation and disgust. I really try to communicate. I really try to be un-ungainly. I really try to let people know I love them.

Strangely enough, I like love. I like being a bitch.

There's a lot more, isn't there, c*?

Yes, there is.

A lot of people appear to me to like resting and helping.

That's good.

I like roses; I like driving; I like meeting people.

I'd like somehow to put all those in combination. I think it must be possible.

The more incoherent the better.

Say it:

Love seeks love.

Anger seeks anger.

I am looking for a way not to be afraid of home.

HOME

Lots and lots of people need a home.... I actually live in one. However, resting (sorry for the nonsequitur) requires having a way to help people. I don't have such a way. Do you know why? Because I am so full of dried-up jokes. One is, How many fools does it take to use a light bulb? The answer is, me.


Question:

Why do you think people go, ha ha, when looking at Transsexuals?

The answer is,

Because they think they can do anything to us and get away with it.

I know what to say.

"C*" loves a lot of girls.

She has to, because she knows that she is a fuck.


You can see how low self-esteem can go.

Don't think that just because you put down other people means that everything is just hunky-dory.

I refuse to let everybody know why I'm a good person.

You'll have to be yourself, c*, what you most fear:

Hustlers love a her.

I am good at feeling like a strong person, but I'm not good at being happy.

Babies are people.

Therefore I am feeling good.

Strength and love are good.

Great Scott, I'm happy.


See how long and how little it took?



Next Title:

Fort Being against the Wild Nothingnesses.