Thursday, April 30, 2009

End the Drug War

One of my readers kindly related to me some anecdotes which I think reveal much about the spirit and motivation of the "War against Drugs," along with a clear picture of just who is victimizing whom.

First is the situation of a friend of mine and hers and of another reader of mine, none of whom I will name here. He is a former heroin user, who stopped using at least ten years ago, whose treatment on the so-called alternative Methadone ruined his teeth. Right now he is suffering from a severe infection in his mouth which is leaving him in agony. The New York University School? of Dentistry has refused to give him antibiotics, much less pain killers for the simple reason that he used to use drugs. The implication, blatant as usual, is that as a EX-drug user his life is worth nothing, no matter that he is an incredibly sweet and hard working person who basically just wants the best for everyone. Please ask your Deit(ies) that NYU changes its policy, and that my friend survives this horrendous attack against his dignity and his life.

Second is the fact that these days hospitals are forcing people to go through withdrawal without proper medications, just leaving them to the pains and tortures of surviving GETTING OFF a drug. The health care "professionals" taunt their patient/victims by telling them it is their fault what they have done and that, it is implied, (or perhaps said outright) that they deserve to suffer.

A third anecdote is something I personally saw in State Rehab on Ward's Island: Posters on bulletin boards saying, in effect : "Don't like Recovery? There's always Rikers."!!!!! You may draw your own conclusions.

The Drug War is now and always has been about MONEY for Doctors, Insurers and Drug Companies. But the beneficiary of that money going to said social scavengers is the government of the Rich. They have found no better way to target populations and divide (and kill) people. As so often, the government sets up a supposed target (drugs and drug cartels) to cover what they are doing in reality. The basic methods are the methods I've witnessed so many times in police actions and in government-controlled institutions: segregate, demonize, divide and conquer. The interesting fact is that in none of these tactics are the major sources of drug money affected. The War, as it seems all wars, is against the people the government is supposedly trying to protect. They are the major casualties, as well as the social sacrifices which the money machine can feed on, sometimes all too literally. Death, fear of death and fear of each other are the bottom line tools which have decimated so many.

It's a way to kill EVERYBODY.

I think that for drug users, ex-drug users and non-drug users, we need to refuse to go along with the program that is hurting all of us.


Estoril, with Tears.

(I like to be happy)

Saturday, April 25, 2009

Arrogance by Dance

Back in the past:

Not wanting to go on at great length along the lines of the outline in the brackets below, let me just describe a scene from the past.

Place: Transie House

Time: Day, 15 years ago

Dramatis Personae: Myself, nextdoor neighbor's girl Angela, age 3-6, (outside on adjoining stoops) and additional denizens of transie house (inside in living room).

In some relationship to what I do, there is a fearful discussion of our security in the neighborhood, whether prompted by my actions or prior to them. I jump out on to the landing in my miniskirt (naturally) and brief top and start doing my typical go-go dancing for the benefit of anyone who may be watching. Inside there is shock. Outside the neighbor girl smiles in glee and starts dancing with me.

If going outside social norms, "arrogantly," makes a small girl smile and gives her some idea of a certain kind of femininity she can find in herself if she so wishes, then I am glad I did dance.


15 years later I am still living down feelings not only of arrogance but of its opposite, a hypertrophied, if that would be the word, withdrawal from reality, a fear to engage. Now this was a development long in the making, not beginning with a simple and pleasurable dance near the street, but perhaps if people really were accepting of each other in our community, then there would be no judgment of people who occasionally bring attention to themselves rather than hide away. There can be positive results for everyone involved. (Of course, 15 years later, no one really cares about that or any possible repeat performance -- by someone else)

I only wish that in this society, where the arrogant and the exhibitionist are accused of such by those whose primary motivation is to disguise their own arrogance and power and to reduce the freedoms that have been so hard won, that we could step back a moment and realize that the Paris Hiltons and Lindsay Lohans of the world have a place in the development of women's power; and that their troubles are those created by an outside world that rejects any kind of commitment to being one's own person.

I also hope that someday that taking risks is not a one way road to endangering oneself and others in the true sense: drug addiction, homelessness, marginalization, hopelessness. Because I recognize that is often the reality. I cannot judge the reaction of others any more than I wish they judge my little hip-swinging mama imitation.

When the time arrives that fear of crime and of each other, via straight people's abuse of our community, subsides, I hope that the parties that used to erupt spontaneously even in Park Slope, New York return, and I hope there's plenty of freedom to DANCE that goes along with them.

Love, Joo Lee A Store Ill

[BIG Conscience? Hamlet soliliquy? Murders' conscience: what is conscience? Arrogance and Dancing in the Street: Making Angela smile]

Julia's gotta Jam

Say, there, little one, home is good.

Tell me that love is a rose!??

Hand it over to me, big girl -- I've been working at it, and there's a lot to bring forth.

People all would like to see the dreams of the world free from strife and fear.


Love the dark as long as you can love your own life's blood.

There's a famous prayer that there be life everlasting.

Maybe with all the anger and the despair, the grief and hopelessness, wars will teach us that there's only life, that people are love.

Of course, there can be no freedom without sex. And for once let me just draw for us the strength and the power to give as siblings home to each other.

[You might want to know why in the world I expect to get anywhere always writing of home and love as if they are identical and the absolute necessities for human existence that I perceive them to be. It is because home is the body, the beginning and the end of that body, and the sustenance of life from beginning to end. So far, only a few people have managed to be able to keep themselves in the home they need for their whole lives, but maybe that will change. This is not simply idealization. If your body is not your home, then what is? If your body did not come from the home of your mother's womb, then what is human? If you cannot obtain, give or create shelter, then where is survival, comity, kindness and family?]

Be nice to yourself.


Estoril CUMAEA, Sybil of Sierra Vista.

Oh, just spoke to Dr. Bartalos. Once again I'm working my way back to the big City. Treatment here for transsexuals is virtually nonexistent. I simply want a hormone shot(safely), and a referral to someone somewhere who will give one to me later.

The actress is that beauty loved rose.

2 points if you can guess who was who.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Stars in the Sky, or Stares in this Guy

The rest of the story:

Jamie (anon.), is being a rose.

I think that's okay.

There's only a few ways to overcome adversity.

The one that I believe in adhering to strongly is giving to oneself the power to act in one's best interests. This power can only derive from belief in oneself as a living and growing being none of the flaws or qualities of which predestine one's fate. Choice about where, how and why to extend one's mental, physical and spiritual tendrils stems ultimately, thanks to the way the Goddess has structured the universe, from me.

Sometimes, however, other people's energy is destructive to one for any variety of reasons, and exposure to this energy may prove deeply damaging to an attempt to be self-sufficient as far as emotions and needs for security, love and tolerable conditions of existence go.

I have many, many distortions in my ability to show and receive affection, respect, etc. due to energy blocks of long standing deriving from my early life. I wish to let go of these blocks and take hold of my own power to make a set of friendships that will sustain me and by which I can sustain others. The reason that I mention this person I have called Jamie is that I for a long time did not understand that people who have not taken responsibility for themselves, such as me, do not ultimately have the capacity to share, to communicate, to protect, to render tolerable the conditions of one's own life to the lives of others. In other words, I mistakenly have treated others have sources of energy in an effort to avoid taking responsibility. I am my self in this moment feeling that all the work I have done on myself these past 2-3 years has led to the knowledge that this responsibility starts with being nice to yourself, then self-assertion, then presentation of oneself in other people's lives. I have gone, basically, backwards in these steps, and now I must retrace them, probably with a quite different set of people in a quite different environment than the ones I found so enchanting for so many years.

I can only hope that as a rose myself that there can be well-wishing from other roses/admiration for growth in appearance and presence and maturity. (Even as we're all trying to reach for those all-important sources of sustenance in the divine.)

There's a lot to look forward to. Battling the atrocities of the local mental health system has become a very strong need in order to protect my own life. TAking charge of myself is really the answer to so much. I want to read War and Peace/many other books and continue to write about them and the perceptions I have of politics, literature, and life in some vivid and sustaining way.

So, for now...


Love, Julia.

Oh, by the way, I met a nice doctor. I'll let you know more later.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Life Means a Home

When everything's spinning
and there is no where to go

Let go of the hate
and you will be free

A crazy bitch

Say for yourself
what you wish to have

Then ask for love

Be happy

Love, J

Friday, April 10, 2009

Empire of the Fluffy Bunny

Dear Folks, (I hate that term)

I have begun to feel like a Jewish heifer. I don't know what that means -- the phrase came to me, so I wrote it down.

The title of this post refers to Commissioner Ms. Straightjacket's (see well-justified conclusion that within the religious world, the only maxim worth saying is, Be Nice, in the manner of a Fluffy Bunny, as in "First Church of the Fluffy Bunny." Disappointment and dismay seem to be common emotions when anyone with a sincere approach to life has to grapple with the "great" institutions of our society.

Read more at the above blog; it's well worth it.

So, as the song goes, "feed your head."

To briefly digress, one of the very well educated people I met in the local nut house, who was born in 1967, said his goal in life was to help people like me who had been destroyed by the Summer of Love. In addition to being a charmer, he was quite the paragon of rational paranoia, having been brought in because he offered to two policemen to be sent to Afghanistan with hand weapons to kill Osama Bin Laden. He was also good looking, but goddamn if he didn't call me. There seems to have developed a very great difference in perspective between someone like me, age 45, and him, age 40-41. He indicated that in the years after I went to college, people began not to take their education seriously. I had noticed that before, and attributed it to laxity and irresponsibility, but perhaps it was just giving up on senseless and useless institutions and expressions of "knowledge," that clearly were as far away from the truth about life in these here United States on the purportedly liberal side as they were on the conservative.

This kind of generational shift is probably what in part has fueled the Obama phenomenon. He manages to appeal to people under 45 (though I doubt without ulterior motives) because of his departure from the old, his promise of change and his undoubted success at changing so much already (except of course, apparently, the predominance of finance over workers in the economy.)

Speaking of economy, it seems to me that the root of economy, which refers in Greek to "household management" was from the very beginning a strike upon the power of women in the household. To manage a household meant managing the women and the slaves, where of course most of the women were slaves. So perhaps this explains in some part why to this day economics, even on the "far left" almost always includes some concept of management. It is not the "dismal science" because it describes material underpinnings for human suffering, it covers for those who puts those underpinnings into play, and reinforces them. Of course, the substitution of a materialist household management theory for the living of life with respect for nature, women and the Goddess was a turning point in human history the consequences of which all of us are now facing with trepidation.

"Let's fly a koite."

My dear readers, I hope that when you read the above that you imagined a black-clad t-person with bifocals and roughening integument intently attempting to communicate the emotions involved with a mix of relief, chagrin, stress, sadness and doubt that are percolating in said person who is writing this. I decided not to go back to New York;
I believe that this way I will delay the triumph of addiction in my life. Even though I am feening every day (and that's the basic reason I even thought of visiting New York, I can now inform you), I maintain that life is prior to crack, and therefore I have hope to avoid destruction.

God, I wish I could pick up just once, get away with it, and have a modest habit that did not affect the rest of my life. I also wish that the love that even the crass, angry and hateful have for themselves would become a source for happiness in this world.

Leaving the plane of reality (without the reality of a plane),
I remain,

A Woman named Host.

Saturday, April 4, 2009

Big Trip a'Comin'

The more I think about visiting NYC, the more I am both excited and fearful.

For the first time in such a long time, it FEELS like it's all up to me.


Six days later.

No longer going to NY: less freedom more safety and sanity (apparently, perhaps).

I'm going to work and work and work on describing the rapid and stressful rise, fall, crash and contraction of my emotional and mental and of course familial (chosen and bio) crises.

WEll, at least I'll try to give you some idea of why I'm not in the City.

Clue: Crack

What problem has not disappeared despite these emotional permutaitosn?

Clue: See above.

So, despite the mediocrity of the conception and expression of this post, there is the next one nipping at the heels of this one.

I really am peacefully going to work this all out before I make some gigantic decision, again.

To ZaSu: know anyone here in Arizona who needs an airplane ticket on the 22nd to Newark?

I don't.

There is so much happening.


But I woiuld have gotten high.

Whatever, JOLO


Let iiiiiiiiiiii


Lashed to the post, I cry out, Good!

Friday, April 3, 2009

Rey Rivera Mendoza as I knew her

To Miss Sylvia Rivera --
I loved you because you were a woman who loved me as her own brother.

The only fear that I retain from the time we shared together, is that somehow you will have been the angry woman of dreams that I wished to expunge in myself by hating you for it.

I guess the fear is valid.

You were the person that gave me the love that I needed.

I will always remember you.

I want you to know that you will always be the most gentle, caring and loving person that I ever knew. Even that is not sufficient.You were the emotional womb that taught me that the only place for me was to be your Julia.

I will never be able to give you the happiness that I found with you.

I hope you are in the most gentle and kind of hands and that you will always remember that I want you to be my friend now and forever.

I know that none of this conforms to the etiquette of relaitonships among women, men or even the divine beings of the earth/universe, but I love you.

You will be the mother of all, for all and the one that will be the rose of my life.

I am crying and crying those - Tears of Estoril

Let me be the rose of your love for me.

Always and forever yours,

Julia, your love

(I miss you)

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Letting go of mystery -- except for what's in this post

Love is a way to give to yourself without making Her pay.

Say, how are you (multiple) doing?

It's been quite a season.

I need to be nice.

So, as you are giving time to reading this, give some peace and some recognition to yourself.

It's loving and shall I say, meet, to like what the fuck there is.

I'm believing that when this is read, that gay people will be happy, and that I (queer me) will be happy too!

This is the way I feel.

So, anyway, when you are seeing patience and home and darkness be free, you will be happy and loved.

I really would like to let you know that you and the friendships that you and I have felt for one another will be hopeful and nourishing.

Sometimes these sentimental pronouncements are my way of understanding why there feels like so much has occurred/passed/taken place and will never return.

I am very hopeful, too.

Won't be in New York this month, the next or probably the next.

But I am very happy that you are here. In the sphere of communication, at least.

Don't be put off by the disjointed and inconclusive and just a little nonsensical nature of today's

Letting be.



Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Freaked out!

Oh my God, I'm afraid.

I was going to go to New York toward the end of this month.

Now, not so likely.

But that's only part of the fear.

My neighbor brought me over to her room.

By the time I was done visiting (10 minutes later) I was so afraid that I went directly to bed and tried to stop from imploding. Tense, difficult to breathe, never wanting to see her again.

She has a black dress I gave her. I want it back.

I was so scared that I had seen an image of death and that she was making me feel like a woman who was a bad person. Perhaps i never understood that people can be so afraid and so cruel.

Perhaps I will never be able to know how to feel without being a crackhead.

I don't know why or what caused me to be in such dread. I hope I never feel it again.

I'm sorry there's no rationality to this. What happened had nothing to do with "rational."

I never will find a way to convey this fear and dark cruelty.

Don't assume that people will give you kindness when they are the person that you were.

If you can't understand this, welcome to the club.

I need to rest. I hope I can find some calm and peace tomorrow.

I love you, Ms. Pitts, and others of my readers.

Good night.