I have transferred all my blog posts to the above address.
All my new posts will be there.
I hope you will follow me to the new blogsite
I did this because yahoo.com, where my old e-mail account was, was asking intrusive questions along the lines of the new requirements to board aircraft.
And I wanted to use my new name: c* mare
If you have any questions, please contact me.
Love c*
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
A peaceful morning
Ways of knowing that you are home:
You don't fret
You don't treat yourself as a person
You don't collide with the movements of the household orbs
Blaming is not good.
Sitting, buying, banding
JBM
You don't fret
You don't treat yourself as a person
You don't collide with the movements of the household orbs
Blaming is not good.
Sitting, buying, banding
JBM
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
THe Dawn of the Bimbo
So, I'll be the secretary without much to play for.
There's a lot to do, and I'm a Murray.
Mush on.
There's a lot to do, and I'm a Murray.
Mush on.
What is done with Rude People?
Since yesterday's rudeness on my part to one of my readers, I have discovererd that I have few friends because I let no one in. I hope to do that.
Julia
Not so fast, right.
Nothing is likely to begin friendships other than freeing myself from pain.
It's not happy to be this poison -er.
Hunter is Goddess.
Must move .
Artemis, please release an arrow !!!
Homely clients need not play.
STamper.
Bitch wanted love, and was proud.
Find girls in the life.
Julia
Monday, May 11, 2009
The air -- it's so clear!
To be deliberate, considered, discursive, and fully elaborated in my writing is of course my ideal and is the guiding light of what I do here.
Right.
The fact is that there is no single way to arrive at readable writing that expresses something important to the writer or to the reader.
I have been as varied in my approach as I can be within the limits, usually, of some sort of seriousness of intent and often content.
In this moment, I would rather throw all that by the wayside.
Sometimes, as politics is too important to leave to politicians (or war to generals), writing is too important to be done as a compository set-piece.
alsdkjroeaijfdlkjjRRRRSSSADSS!S!
The Goddess is -- TedslkdjflkejelkjrrA
ANd Faarressdrlkjr'Srlkjeoijd
r
GateeeeerrrsssatadjlfkjerR
Law is somehow fdjslkrjewaer
Gaze at me and you'll find a RSARSRSATRRR
Laazy Is Good.
Say, this is not all that productive -- but it is spontaneoius, so it brings something out of me that otherwise wouild not be ddffpresent. So, here goes!
(Automatic)
GEkrRSRdkrkLRSRSDRDWaRRrWwaRRRRR
Lamination is for all the good people who have insisted on their own way of living.
I hate the way that people find themselves to be some sort djkrl;akjsdrljkr
Crazy
LaRRRRRRSSAARR
and I am jdfldkrer
Chatrrrsasrkl
BsadsdrR
GSDSRRARRJJ
SJUSSS
Anmd there's a lot further to go.
Please be patient, as I am in the midst of devolution/deterioration/sinking to a bottome that I have to say is a kind of instrumentless landing in a fog over an unknown landscape.
I hope I'm still here when it's finished.
You are patient, so I thank you, gratefully, in advance.
There's just so many ways to avoid saying that Julia is very friendly.
To the wrong people, if you know what I mean: "friendly."
As in nearly 200 unprotected and often anonymous sexual encoiunters.
I'm going there.
Why is it that people have the idea that I am hoping for friends that will give me presence?
I am more interested in embracing all that is profound, invigorating and sensual about being a woman, and living a life that does not deny that to me or rto anyone else who can devote themselves to the pleasure that freedom can bring.
Please understand that there is joy, ecstasy and hope in even the emotional depths, unto the moment of death (I believe).
Can you please remember that all that is of this world/the Goddess/(EVERYTHING) is to embrace gratefully and humbly and with love and respect for ALL that is alive, which is to say, ALL.
When the end comes for me as JUlia/Estoril/Brigid I will panic, I will be afraid, and I will be home.
I hope I will be with you.
LOve and happiness,
Tears of Estoril.
Right.
The fact is that there is no single way to arrive at readable writing that expresses something important to the writer or to the reader.
I have been as varied in my approach as I can be within the limits, usually, of some sort of seriousness of intent and often content.
In this moment, I would rather throw all that by the wayside.
Sometimes, as politics is too important to leave to politicians (or war to generals), writing is too important to be done as a compository set-piece.
alsdkjroeaijfdlkjjRRRRSSSADSS!S!
The Goddess is -- TedslkdjflkejelkjrrA
ANd Faarressdrlkjr'Srlkjeoijd
r
GateeeeerrrsssatadjlfkjerR
Law is somehow fdjslkrjewaer
Gaze at me and you'll find a RSARSRSATRRR
Laazy Is Good.
Say, this is not all that productive -- but it is spontaneoius, so it brings something out of me that otherwise wouild not be ddffpresent. So, here goes!
(Automatic)
GEkrRSRdkrkLRSRSDRDWaRRrWwaRRRRR
Lamination is for all the good people who have insisted on their own way of living.
I hate the way that people find themselves to be some sort djkrl;akjsdrljkr
Crazy
LaRRRRRRSSAARR
and I am jdfldkrer
Chatrrrsasrkl
BsadsdrR
GSDSRRARRJJ
SJUSSS
Anmd there's a lot further to go.
Please be patient, as I am in the midst of devolution/deterioration/sinking to a bottome that I have to say is a kind of instrumentless landing in a fog over an unknown landscape.
I hope I'm still here when it's finished.
You are patient, so I thank you, gratefully, in advance.
There's just so many ways to avoid saying that Julia is very friendly.
To the wrong people, if you know what I mean: "friendly."
As in nearly 200 unprotected and often anonymous sexual encoiunters.
I'm going there.
Why is it that people have the idea that I am hoping for friends that will give me presence?
I am more interested in embracing all that is profound, invigorating and sensual about being a woman, and living a life that does not deny that to me or rto anyone else who can devote themselves to the pleasure that freedom can bring.
Please understand that there is joy, ecstasy and hope in even the emotional depths, unto the moment of death (I believe).
Can you please remember that all that is of this world/the Goddess/(EVERYTHING) is to embrace gratefully and humbly and with love and respect for ALL that is alive, which is to say, ALL.
When the end comes for me as JUlia/Estoril/Brigid I will panic, I will be afraid, and I will be home.
I hope I will be with you.
LOve and happiness,
Tears of Estoril.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Basic Survival
This is one fucked up world
I'm just going to write whatever comes to mind, then go back (maybe) and edit it.
Right now I am having an existential panic attack over whether or not I can survive in this place. The fact is that I HATE the people here. I know that I do really terrible things like look at women the wrong way, disrespect people because of race and class, etc., etc. But that is for the most part something that takes place in my own brain and I am constantly striving not to let that be the basis of what I believe or how I act.
Today I went to the movies with my mother. I just could not stand the way people were looking at me as an object of amusement and as subhuman. These people are local yokel fool/redneck/stupid/arrogant/mean/bitches and their loutish mates. If I had any guts I would have called them out, leading of course to being hospitalized or jailed. Maybe it's worth it. AFter all, it was day time and probably they weren't armed. Instead I imitated how they were looking at me, at my Mother, so SHE would "know how it felt," WHICH WAS DIsrespectful to her. Then I just left. I couldn't stand it. So I bought a book: The collected Oscar Wilde. Good choice.
Then I walked to the parking lot and my Mother drove me home.
The movie was STAR TREK!
Anyway I felt devastated, angry, hopeless and at my wit's end. It appears that I don't belong here or anywhere else, and for whatever combination of reasons I allow myself not to stand up for myself. I felt like smoking crack and made an abortive attempt to find some. I made the remark to my mother, who chided me for doing drugs, and finding them more important than anything else (not true), that what I found was a problem were people who decided to be just like everybody else instead of being themselves. I think that hit home. It did nothing for our "relationship" this beautiful Mother's day.
Then I made the mistake of making an emergency call to my brand new therapist, that absolutely worthless son of a bitch. He managed to listen to me through my tears, said a few perfunctory "I hear you's " or something along those lines and AGREED with me! that I should lie down for a while.
I felt like tearing down this world, or myself or both, and I get to go to bed.
I am extremely frustrated. I am isolated. and this is a danger for my (see title) BASIC survival.
As far as I'm concerned, the people who advocated that I come here did so out of either a misguided sense of pity or an active desire to keep me away from them. My readers can guess who is who.
I don't know where to go, because I did make the decision not to go back to New York. Right now, I just feel like hitting it, except my mohter wouild probably a) beg me, cry, etc. not to go b) have me hospitalized; which is, I haven't said here, what she wouild like to do -- LONG TERM. She has the illusion that there are places for people like me. The only place for people like me is to fight or die, and I'm not going to let anybody decide for me which it's going to be.
So to those of you who know what I'm saying, I salute you for your struggles every day; and for those of you who don't, or dont' "care." FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON.!
I'm just going to write whatever comes to mind, then go back (maybe) and edit it.
Right now I am having an existential panic attack over whether or not I can survive in this place. The fact is that I HATE the people here. I know that I do really terrible things like look at women the wrong way, disrespect people because of race and class, etc., etc. But that is for the most part something that takes place in my own brain and I am constantly striving not to let that be the basis of what I believe or how I act.
Today I went to the movies with my mother. I just could not stand the way people were looking at me as an object of amusement and as subhuman. These people are local yokel fool/redneck/stupid/arrogant/mean/bitches and their loutish mates. If I had any guts I would have called them out, leading of course to being hospitalized or jailed. Maybe it's worth it. AFter all, it was day time and probably they weren't armed. Instead I imitated how they were looking at me, at my Mother, so SHE would "know how it felt," WHICH WAS DIsrespectful to her. Then I just left. I couldn't stand it. So I bought a book: The collected Oscar Wilde. Good choice.
Then I walked to the parking lot and my Mother drove me home.
The movie was STAR TREK!
Anyway I felt devastated, angry, hopeless and at my wit's end. It appears that I don't belong here or anywhere else, and for whatever combination of reasons I allow myself not to stand up for myself. I felt like smoking crack and made an abortive attempt to find some. I made the remark to my mother, who chided me for doing drugs, and finding them more important than anything else (not true), that what I found was a problem were people who decided to be just like everybody else instead of being themselves. I think that hit home. It did nothing for our "relationship" this beautiful Mother's day.
Then I made the mistake of making an emergency call to my brand new therapist, that absolutely worthless son of a bitch. He managed to listen to me through my tears, said a few perfunctory "I hear you's " or something along those lines and AGREED with me! that I should lie down for a while.
I felt like tearing down this world, or myself or both, and I get to go to bed.
I am extremely frustrated. I am isolated. and this is a danger for my (see title) BASIC survival.
As far as I'm concerned, the people who advocated that I come here did so out of either a misguided sense of pity or an active desire to keep me away from them. My readers can guess who is who.
I don't know where to go, because I did make the decision not to go back to New York. Right now, I just feel like hitting it, except my mohter wouild probably a) beg me, cry, etc. not to go b) have me hospitalized; which is, I haven't said here, what she wouild like to do -- LONG TERM. She has the illusion that there are places for people like me. The only place for people like me is to fight or die, and I'm not going to let anybody decide for me which it's going to be.
So to those of you who know what I'm saying, I salute you for your struggles every day; and for those of you who don't, or dont' "care." FUCK YOU AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON.!
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