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...

Places!
Lights!
Camera!
Action!

Love, Julia.

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

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

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 commissionerstraightjacket.blogspot.com) 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.

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.

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!J!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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.

PANICKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

But I woiuld have gotten high.

Whatever, JOLO

BE BEE BEE BE

Let iiiiiiiiiiii

RRRRRSSSSSAAARRTT

Lashed to the post, I cry out, Good!

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)

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
writing.

Letting be.

Love,

Me

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.