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