When I don’t listen you hold a pillow over my face til I do.
That’s why I don’t think you will ever love me now- you’ll find somebody new.
And I swear I wouldn’t care so long as you felt it was wrong
to just grab me by the neck and throw me up against a wall
but when i ask you bout it you tell me that you don’t want to pop
but the crying noise just has to stop.
Sometimes I close my eyes and see a world that’s black with men as white as stars.
Just like a globe that I could shake and shake each time that things have gone too far.
Something I could hold just like a globe inside my hands
So I shake it and I shake it- oh look here comes a man
But he is trapped inside the globe- he’s only one inch high
There is no place to run and hide.
Give it just a little more time. This may only be in your mind.
There’s no way to say what is real and what is make believe you know.
Look at all the stars in the sky, girl. You could find a way to get high, girl.
You could fly away into a state of ecstasy and glee you know.
I know I will stay.
Life- lay your hand on me and guide me on my way.
I stay up late at night and make a list of ways to make you love me more.
I know it won’t succeed cause men they only love the ones they’re fighting for.
And I’d do anything on earth if you would fall in love with me
But there are things I can’t control, I don’t know what you want to see.
The only thing I know for sure is that you like to be alone
But either way, you are my home.
While living in Nashville I wrote a series of songs… 15 or so… about the Odyssey (by Homer) & this was the third one. I guess it relates to Telemachus coming into his own power & realizing how awesome he is.
On a personal level, hi! How are you doing? I am fine I suppose. Recently I have been trying to become more yellow again by sitting in front of a yellow light for an hour or so a day. It has me feeling a little out of sorts, but we will see if I can stick with it and reach the other side.
What will be on the other side? I am not quite sure, I just feel that yellow is a color I lack. While I am intelligent, I don’t feel yellow intelligent- the sort of down to earth intelligence that knows how to get from point A to point B on this space-time continuum. If you are yellow enough, the world is your oyster. And least I hope that is what I will find when I finally reach the Yellow World.
Here is a better picture of Patton, the new dog. The last one I posted was from when we had just found him, so he looked like a wild animal. But here you can see he is settling in well to family life.
It has been impossible to write on this blog recently, because I have fallen into wife consciousness.
Around a year ago, probably due to James’s inaccessibility, I started connecting my emotions to the faceless glob of possibility known as “The Public.” I enjoyed connecting with these invisible people on an emotional level and somehow felt they were my friends.
But then, around a month ago, a change of heart caused me to seek emotional fulfillment through James instead. This only led to my disappearance as an individual. After all, James is absorbed in technical things 99% of the time. Trying to connect with him by discussing feelings & relationship issues is a recipe for disaster (although he is great at helping me solve problems that don’t involve him).
Females connect by sharing negative feelings & problems. Men interpret this as criticism or a demand to fix something. So you open yourself up to receive empathy but instead get anger and defensiveness. Now you feel more needy and alone than before which makes you try still harder to connect. Before long it turns into a degenerative cycle with all your energy going into a circuit that returns pain.
Whereas with The Public, I can be more real. I can share feelings and always receive soft love in return- even if only in my imagination. The public is the moon- gooey, silver, magical, reflecting you back to yourself until you feel you exist.
But still- the thing about me is I am REALLY into being a wife. It is an unhealthy obsession. I don’t know how to give up on having a perfect ultimate connection and settle for something brisk, sporty and casual. But when you are too idealistic, it causes things to crash.
Plus, I just feel guilty about investing myself emotionally in any other direction. I feel guilty seeking fulfillment through writing a blog post or a song. It feels like I am giving up on love.
And wife consciousness makes it hard to express yourself anyway. While I am ok with making myself look bad- I sort of expect it- the idea of reflecting negatively on James feels like committing triple homicide.
And realistically there is little you can say beyond “Everything is Wonderful! I am so happy!” that doesn’t potentially cloud your husband’s reputation. If you say “Nice dicks, boys!” that could reflect badly on him. If you say “I hate my life- I am so miserable.” that could reflect badly on him. If you say “I love idiots!” that could reflect badly on him.
So I really don’t know what to do. As an artist, I have to straddle the crack between Stepford Julien & being real. Of course, James says he doesn’t want me to make him look good- he doesn’t care about that- but this is hard for me to believe. Making men look good is the whole reason society is fake, isn’t it?
If it was just women, we would be talking about our insecurities & failures all the time, but men- being soldiers- don’t do that. And so women- caring about men- become fake as a way of protecting them. That is why there are only Stepford *wives* & no Stepford singles.
If I was single, I could be transparent, but since I am married I must be opaque, like men are. I WANT to be opaque and fake to make James look good. As an expression of love. But I also need the moon juice that comes from transparency.
Even just writing this could make James look bad.
There is no way out.
I am doomed.
Ps. I hope I am making sense & there aren’t too manny spelling errors. My brain is pretty tired, due to the new dog, Patton, waking me up in the morning, while James’s schedule keeps me up into the wee hours of the night.
The new dog- Patton. I sort of wish I had named him Hazel because it sounds more vicious. But you shouldn’t switch beds midstream. He is a good dog but very demanding.
Originally the chorus was “I feel you growing like a lamp behind me,” but then I got paranoid that lamp could have some alternate sexual meaning, as 90% of words seem to, so I changed it to Light, just to be safe. No one will read anything seedy into pure, disembodied Light.
Open the shade- I know what is coming
The stars, the sky, the moon- they are all watching
Kidneys hurt- too hard to stand
Hello floor- it’s me again.
Down on the floor- I see him beside
His golden eyes- they shine they guide.
He can’t touch; he can’t do nothing to save.
Those are the rules and he is just a slave.
Give it just a little more time- I’ll know you’ll save me.
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby.
Give it just a little more time- I know you’ll find me.
I feel you growing like a lamp behind me.
He is silent, he is strong and standing in his square
A pane of glass between us and his body made of air
Sometimes I will slump down on that glass and I will breath him
Till I’m weak and I am crying from believing that I need him.
He says- Stand up on your legs. Oh, no, no, no- I am too weak
And if I don’t crumble like a slut who will be there for me?
Because half of all these days I can’t remember who I am
I just look around and grab onto the first hand that I can.
Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time, I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.
When God is your witness please say you will vouch for me
No no not to say that I was good, nor that I tried to be
But please tell him that my leaves reached up like arms towards his sky
Tell him that my roots would suck so hard they made the earth grow dry.
Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.
Well, I have explained this before, but I wrote this song while living in Nashville. My rule at the time was that every single song must have “making love” in the chorus. It started because I found those words somewhat icky, which then made me strangely attracted to using them.
Regardless of how it began, once you use words enough, all of their old connotations fall away & new ones develop which are personal to you.
It’s a bright blue day, it’s a horses’ parade, It’s the very first day of spring. And the men are tip tapping to the steeple bells as they shine through a golden ring.
And the ladies are swaying and they’re dancing and playing with their hair so long and gold, But every time a pony shakes his mane I grow cold.
You offer up a ribbon for my hair; I give you a frown and a shrug. Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.
A pole is painted in bright red stripes, A tent in stripes of blue, And the horses got pompoms in their hair and shiny saddles too.
And every lady wears a little bouquet that was picked by a little man. But my daisies are crushed beneath the pony feet into the sand.
I need to find me a mountain so I can rise high above… Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.
You wear a great big top hat, You ride a great big horse. You got a knack for politics and muscular discourse.
You got no need for You don’t believe in prophecy. You got no use for trifles, You don’t need me.
So put away the pompoms and the polka dots. Put away the big parade. All the men dressed up like fairies, cause fairies ain’t welcome here anyway.
Small things, little things, odd things, pretty things, All the theater and display, Cause you don’t like, don’t like, really don’t like fairies anyway.
You’re going down to the valley so low, I’m gonna walk high above. Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.
This is just a symbolic representation of the problem & not an actual drawing of it.
Well, this is something I have wanted to write about for a while, but it is hard for me to put into words. Also, I question the wisdom of exposing weaknesses in a world where enemies are squirrels and friends are unicorns. Nonetheless, sharing is part of my life’s purpose (I think), and if you don’t fulfill your purpose you will be thrown back into the fire at death. So here we go.
Basically, there is something wrong with my head. I will try to describe the problem through 2 ideas which are probably interrelated.
Sausage Time
My husband calls this going fugue. I have tried to explain it before. Basically, all the sudden something will switch and it becomes hard to remember and relate to whatever I had been doing in the moments and days prior. It is like one sausage has been pinched off and a new one begun. The beginning of a new sausage coincides with new perspectives, ideas & approaches to life.
But it isn’t changing ideas that are problematic. The problem lies in the sense of disconnection from who I was previously, as though my memory and identity- rather than running seamlessly like a river- have been pinched like a sausage. Like how you feel when you are waking up from a dream… even if you remember parts of your dream, there is still a feeling of discontinuity, as though you have moved through a veil. The dream self shared the same name and soul but not the same mind or stream of consciousness as your waking self.
2. No Skullcap
I am the normalest person you could ever hope to meet from my toes up to my ears. But from my ears to about six feet above my head, something isn’t right. It feels like my skullcap is missing and where my own head should be there are a million overlapping heads instead. They all belong to different people and sometimes to things that aren’t people.
Which sounds like schizophrenia, but probably isn’t since I don’t experience psychotic breaks from reality. I do experience the air as being filled with the thoughts, feelings and consciousness waves of other beings, but this is a stable part of my reality which never stops me from flossing my teeth. It co-exists with shared social realities but does not override them. And in these days of wireless technology, the idea of air being filled with information shouldn’t be a stretch.
Nonetheless, it feels like some kind of barrier is missing at the top of my head and I am constantly being pelted with endless chaotic inputs. It helps slightly if I wear a hat, sunglasses and ear plugs. But, in general, I try to deal with it by staying busy so my consciousness has a specific thing to focus on. According to my astrology chart, though, my life’s purpose lies in exploring these invisible realms and NOT trying to escape them through work. But that is easier said than done, since if I don’t try to actively avoid that part of myself it feels like flying in a tornado (from my ears up), and I feel despair- knowing that whatever this stuff is is so infinite & complex that ever getting a handle on it must be impossible.
Still, the chaos and overflow of information isn’t the problem. The real problem is the absence of a center point I can identify as myself.
To make matters worse, when I DO occasionally look at it, before long I tend to get sucked into one particular consciousness wave and then BAM! a whole new sausage has begun.
** PS. If you have read my other blog entries, you may have read about ESP journaling which involves looking at the energetic things which are coming from other people. I will also sometimes journal the pieces of this chaos which are emanating from myself (which is easier to do.) But even after removing these 2 factors, tons of STUFF remains which I have absolutely no way to make sense of. I think it comes from realms beyond the human but that is so far outside my scope of knowledge that I have zero idea how approach it. Hence why I prefer to stay busy and never go near the top part of my head.
‘Oh! I wish you were dead. Then I could get some sleep, just please put a bullet in your head. Oh! You better not speak again.’ Slide to the floor, let it hold me once more, my thick and heavy friend.
Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights! I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down Because they’ve come to set things right. Here come the Lights!
Oh! It’s like a parade- Everyone dancing around in the sun while I’m searching for the shade Or someone who can help me understand the things I’ve seen; But the dark world engulfs me, he’ll never let go because I am his queen.
Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights! I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down Because they’ve come to set things right. Here come the Lights!
Oh! So this is the night? And these are the friends who slide under the door in the guise of liquid light? Oh! This is the Column of Heat! You have arrived, now I will shut my eyes because I know it’s safe to sleep.
Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights! I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down Because they’ve come to set things right. Here come the Lights!
