Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Authorial Efforts Supplied Here

I wondered what I would be reading on this blog, then I remembered I would have first to write it. Interesting attribute of this medium: work, then consume.

When there is a possibility that one's life is becoming the anteroom to a chamber of horrors, one must take pause.

I have been conducting a set of multiple deceits in order to prepare for this potential removal to Gotham. For one, since I discovered that some of my medicines may be dangerous in combination with a particular substance, I've been shall we say, unilaterally deemphasizing them. Also, I am engaging with a certain friend with whom I have had certain experiences in Brooklyn to search for an apartment/room for me without revealing that fact to my mother.

How can this bode well for my future?

Practically and realistically, there's a lot of hope that I need to hew close to in order to succeed over the next weeks and months: hope that there is a way around the dangers that are so obvious.

Truth be told, I have not before knowingly had to make decisions with such permanent and extensive possible "ram"ifications. I have never before had to know that it is I in the present who is casting the mold of the rest of my time on this planet. To me, pace commonsense thinking it is not about drugs versus everything else, it is remaining emotionally responsible and cognizant of the worth of my own existence in every circumstance that will lead to a satisfactory result. I must put my life first, no matter what else is happening, because the alternatives will always be there no matter what choices I make.

Moving on to what my feelings are right now, I believe that I am hemming and hawing primarily from the guilt involved with leaving my mother.

(There is such a thing as destructive cerebral fantasies.)

Let's see, how can I work through this?

In no particular order, I "intend" to write some excellent resumes and distribute them to as many departments of the U.S. Gov. present in New York as possible.

I "intend," should I locate appropriate shelter, to spend the majority of the money I have saved on furniture and other necessities, etc. rather than on something else. No temptations, self-discipline, etc.

I "intend" to maintain a reasonable separation between some aspects of my life and others so that they don't interfere with each other or create a negative spiral downward. I can't willy-nilly trust everybody to be tolerant of everything I do. However, I refuse to not recognize that life is full of possibilities of all kinds, without fear or favor.

I "intend" to have a back-up plan to have enough reserves to leave should it become clear to me that I cannot handle myself well in the great City of New York.

I "intend" to recognize that "bad" behavior is possible and perhaps even probable wherever I am.

I must immediately seek competent therapy so that I do not forget that there is much grief that I must recognize as the root of much of my behavior. I started acting the way I have shortly after my father died.

It's not that easy to be alive when there's such crazy, chaotic and misdirected threads of pain still in my dreams.

I need to let go.

Okay. I'm angry. I was loving. I was a woman who gave. Now I have to be a friend to the ashes of a woman.

Now I need to be very me, a goddess of dreams that no one can be loving toward, except my own home, the human being, Julia Murray.

Please be content with who you are.

Thank you for reading.

Yours, tears of Estoril, the way she needs to be.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Change in the Offing?

So, I admitted to my mother tonight that what I have done is wrong and that what I have wanted is wrong. This admission seems to have freed me from being afraid of life without removing the fear of the consequences of any particular decision. Got it?

I'm still afraid, but not of life, in other words.

I have been wrestling with whether or not to go back to New York (and when.) I already told my mother and my (new) therapist that that is what I wish to do at the end of next month. But I could not tell my (caring and patient) case manager to start the process of transferring my papers to whatever facility in the City or perhaps Upstate would wish to accept me.

The reasons I have for wishing to leave are: 1) that to stay here in SV, AZ has required suppressing my personality, freedom and independence in favor of security, and that tradeoff has drained me of much energy and is ultimately futile; 2) that should I relapse, the probability and extent of negative consequences and embarrassment to my family is much higher here than there; 3) the pool of potential community, personal and institutional support is much larger in NY; 4) the majority of people here are emotionally and intellectually nonresponsive; and 5) my mother won't give me keys to the house.

There is more to life than comfort and security, and there is the possibility that I simply have learned enough to be less stupid and more able to survive.

ON THE OTHER HAND, I've traveled this road before, and I'm not sure that simply being able to read the traffic signs a bit better is going to stop that tractor trailer called addiction/prostitution from mowing me down.

I have to be very realistic about what to expect.

The learning curve would be steep. I must put the survival thing before the high thing. And I must acknowledge that I often put myself at the mercy of people who see me as soft and dependent and do not care whether I reach my goals.

Or, I can at least try to obtain legitimate employment in this awful economy or go back to the wonderful Mountains where life, I mean rent is cheap.

Preparation is key. Perhaps delay for a month or so would help a great deal. It's going to be very trying to make a shift like this. Please know that this is the fact: A lot of persons need Julia / Estoril to be good to herself. I'm gonna think a lot more about this.

To Do: A Happy List and a Goal List.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Trends of the Happy and the Good Girl: an Excursus

I was just reading the beginning of the Histories of Herodotus in which he claims that the happiness of any person is discoverable only upon death. How cheery! This is similar to the claims of, I believe, Plato, and at least one of my professors in graduate school.

An adjunct to his argument seems to be that it is being good that makes one happy (gain prosperity, luck, good looks(!) and morally honorable offspring).

I would have to say that for me, happiness is first, because pursuing the perfect good is a destructive, endless and useless occupation.

Okay, I'll stop pretending. I need love.

When there is a way to know oneself, then I will be a person.

Surprise! I don't know myself.

Blah blah blah.

Tendency is to be loving so that I remember the freedom of home (where home is love).


Still waiting for comments.

Love, Estoril Brigid.

Monday, March 23, 2009

This is for you

To cry,
To believe,

To strive,
To feel.

There cried an older tribe
There played an older child.

You may begin to be loved.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

As for primal screams...

You know, have you ever found yourself on the front lawn of one of your neighbors apologizing for all the pain you've caused yourself and your sisters by screaming outloud, as far into the center of the earth as the soil density permits, and knowing at last that there is cause for the alienation you've been carrying around since being a small child (and that cause is you) and then giving a repeat performance for the person in the world you love the most, your mother, to the extent that you nearly go to the hospital for the third time in two months?

That was something real that happened today, and I'm happy to say that I will never blame anyone for the anger that they carry around inside themselves for being abandoned or being put into the hell of being a girl by others posing as friends, confidantes and sources of wise advice, constructing the very hell that they purport to be ameliorating.

In other words, I am found.

There will always be love, but there won't always be freedom.

Give to your mother the respect she deserves. You might find yourself ,buried in pain.

Saturday, March 21, 2009


Let me just say that I have committed the indiscretion of letting some people who are apparently not my friend read this record of mine and as far as I'm concerned you are complete ASSHOLES.

You know who you are.

Since some people love to question and judge my priorities and my life, I suppose I can use this opportunity to RE-iterate just what my priorities are.

(This will be fun. As a matter of fact, so fun I'm going offline to write so that I don't keep the phone off the hook for the next x number of hours.)

So I'm back. Didn't write. Still an eventful day, but I was going to get down to brass tacks.

I live to free myself from hate.

The pleasures of being a rose among the homeless, a pore that heals the trace of friendship in the world at hand, are mine.

There is prayer, there is dreams, there is a trace to hope for.

These are my pillars.

Feel the known and the cruel for their own worth.

They can let you be your home.

I seek to know myself as the home of my own existence.

Wherever that goes.

Please allow friendship to be the home of the dreams of our lives.

I am ready to give to you what you are asking to hear.

These are my priorities and the truth of my life.

See you that there goes hope and joy.

Love, Miss J. B. Murray

Monday, March 9, 2009

Getting to know you, getting to know all about you!

Okay, as one of my readers suggested, I must tackle the problem of moving from my mother's house both from the aspect of what kind of person I am in the real world and what kind of things in the real material world are going to be necessary to make the move.

This may be a work in progress.....

I perform erotic functions AND YET I feel cynical and critical and afraid as well as unnecessarily aggressive about them. More here later.

I am a weepy sentimentalist yet I have a very difficult time giving to others what they need and what i need.

I love to learn but am afraid to teach.

I find most of the jobs I have had to be completely stifling.

I know that money is not the answer but that crack...isn't either, though I am betrothed to it.

Yes, I am a philosopher Queen! What is the wage for such as me these days?

Okay there's pretty clearly a straight line from the above to the kind of living conditions I need to thrive.


A physical environment with access to trees would be helpful.
The presence of academic institutions would be helpful.
Community values that do not automatically ostracize current/former sex workers/drug users
would be great.
Diversity in different kinds of people of all origins but heavy on elite scholarship for less elite people would be helpful.
A place where there are all kinds of religion and spirituality would be helpful.

It sounds like I'm thinking of an area replete with small liberal arts colleges such as the Northeast or other less well-known regions OR a place like City University of New York.

Now comes the reality of the street. Am I abandoning it or am I hewing to its values? So I need to be in a city with some sort of street culture. This means probably a medium size city at least.

Now add the fact that my work habits are not that steady, and you add probable impecuniousness to the mix.

Now of all of the above, there is much I can and will change. This is simply a first approximation to let me know what's at the top of my mind.

As for material facts, I need an area with relatively cheap rent that is not subject to constant warfare. I would prefer a one bedroom apartment to myself. I would prefer cable/internet/cell phone. I don't much need the movies or the malls. I need a place where I can be my soft lovable self and not be taken advantage of for it. I need a place with bus service, local and long distance, and a place not too deeply frozen in the winter nor boiling in the summer.

Cities I can think of that match the above:

Those Private School places in Massachusetts, Vermont and New Hampshire
Ann Arbor
New Orleans
Portland, Or. Area
Seattle Area

Bay Area

Choices, Choices, Choices

Moving to any of these cities would cost a minimum of 4,000 dollars, which I will have by June., meaning the actual price will be much more than that unless I have friends already in those places. And I have few anywhere except Brooklyn and Portland, where my brother lives., which would still be like going back to my family. I might contact people I knew in graduate school, who since they nearly unanimously rejected me when I came out might not be interested in helpoing me now, or I could contact the local trans organization, should there be one, about living conditions there. I'm hoping I can work through all of this in the next three months -- at the same time letting only those who need to know in on this process. I'm hoping that one of those can be my new therapist.

So, thank you, blogue, for making it clear how much work I have to do. I will return to you soon.



Saturday, March 7, 2009


But First, a Poem:

Dread Tribe

Lawfilled playground
White incite to teetertotter
no claiming certainty of own Joy

Press the future tow to flow hair
winding the hoped-for military homunculate
not to stare but to curiosity-tinged

The lamp of court-directed exulting
in sand under sun gives to itching
children a split between rage and fear,
downward directed. Notice yourself?
You're going to have to make a life
to a cold embrace.

Thank you, thank you.
Quite soft and fuzzy, don't you think.

So, reading my last blog sounds like everything is cool.

But my contradictions around drugs and sex still exist.


I really have to admit that the possibilities of life are tremendous.

I think that if I just let it all be what it is it will be okay.

And that 's the end of this monoblogue.