Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story On My Own Uncategorized Writings

The Plane of Survival

Ever since I left my husband, until recently, I’d been living on this plane- the Plane of Survival.

I was in shock, struggling to survive, not sure if I could, and everything I did, thought and felt was through a survival lens.

I read once that people struggling to survive do not get depressed, nor do they experience existential dread, because they know life has a meaning- to catch that slice of pizza before it slides down the drain.

Every day is a quest to live and when you succeed, that is meaning.

On the plane of survival you are wired with extra energy. Feelings are suppressed. Vision narrows. You can run like an antelope. You have springs in your feet. You are twice as strong as you were before.

You see relationships through a different lens. Does this person make me safer? This isn’t a gold digger wanting to get rich, because wealth and luxury don’t exist yet. Nor does status. You just want to know, will they feed me? Would they be there for me if I needed them? If not, the law of the jungle commands you invest yourself elsewhere.

On the Survival plane, I was Slipper’s drill sargeant. ‘March Slippers, march!!!’ I would shout as I drug her through the streets crying. ‘If we don’t get there in 5 minutes, do you realize we could lose our home?!’ I didn’t care how deranged I looked to other people. Dignity is the first thing thrown off a sinking ship. Once you let it go you realize it was 80% of your body weight. At any rate, the more frazzled and distraught I looked, the more likely random strangers would be to offer me a sandwich. When you truly are desperate, looking desperate can be a good thing.

If you meet a person on the Plane of Survival, give them something. They aren’t a mooch, they are actually in need and there’s a big difference. There are many ways people can reach this plane and we all pass through it eventually. But please, don’t give them a pep talk or philosophical lecture. In this state you have the mind of a dog and words don’t mean a thing. Give them a sandwich, a blanket, a $20 bill. Or more if you are one of the Angels of this Plane. These angels were the best part. I had no idea how kind people were before living here.

The other good part is this world’s briskness. You become bolder, braver, more invigorated than you ever were before. Because you can’t afford to hide away in your safe and calcified world. It doesn’t exist anymore. Every day becomes an adventure.

But it’s also a dangerous time, because you will latch onto ANYTHING that seems to offer safety, regardless of its long term impact. It’s not a state where you can make constructive decisions about your future. The future and past don’t exist. There is an alarm going off and you need to stop it.

And so you also meet bad people, due to your low standards and desperation. If there is no clear path before you, becoming a criminal is likely. You don’t have the brain space to dream up some brilliant plan forward. You are disconnected- internally & externally- from things uplifting.

I think what people need in this state is social support. If the focus is put on them being self-reliant at a moment when they are drowning, their actions are likely to be destructive to themselves or others. It is easier to become a Contributing Member of Society once a siren is no longer going off in your head.

Categories
Astrology Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Another Storm…

Well the last astrological storm was as bad as predicted with all those special 8th house touches- sluts, crime, violence, financial catastrophe, etc. I survived although I’m now unable to walk since I kicked a door in a fit of rage.

This is not typical for me. (Well once I did shatter a glass candle.) But pressure was building. Two days earlier I spontaneously set a pair of underwear on fire. Please don’t judge. The planets can bring anyone to this point.

Anyway, the bad part is another storm is beginning now. Through around the first week of August. And unlike the last one, this storm may impact YOU- especially if you’re already dealing with Uranus transits (this may be the case if your life feels crazy and erratic.)

Basically Mars, Uranus & the North Node all join together in the sky. So for those having Uranus transits, this is when the earthquake cracks a nuclear power plant. But maybe it will be great, who knows? Perhaps you’ve been trapped in a prison, the walls break free and you start running.

The point of this transit is to supply you with extra energy to transform those areas of your life which feel stagnant and oppressive. To help you be more alive, independent, & free. To help you become more real.

There are a couple pitfalls you want to avoid however.

  1. DO NOT suppress yourself. (This was my mistake.) If you are sitting on a pressure cooker it will find a way to blow. Take a stand even if it causes some friction. If you can’t take a stand, do whatever you can to let off steam. Exercise, do physical labor, act crazy on social media, etc. Don’t hold things inside. Find people you can spill your guts to.
  2. DO NOT give yourself permission to be stupid and destructive. This is the other extreme people go to. You have to find a meaningful way to create change & freedom in your life. Yelling at your boss, attacking your spouse & snorting a line of sluts will likely make matters worse.

    So THINK for once. Come up with a meaningful way to break out of your rut. Don’t destroy the things you need and value. Don’t flush the baby with the bathwater.

And keep in mind this transit may be about things happening TO you. Explosions most likely. The same advice still applies. Be bold. Be brave. Don’t be a dumbass. Find ways to release pressure. Look for opportunities to gain freedom. And above all, to thine own self be true.

Two rows of corn flanking the walkway to our house. I have strong feelings about corn, as I do for all the Staffs of Life who modern people so disrespectfully call “Carbs.”








Technically the st

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Writings

Social Media Addiction

I pretty much need help because I have developed a bad social media addiction. I would feel humiliated to reveal the full extent of it. I don’t know how it crept up on me exactly, perhaps total isolation in a freezing cold house (no heat) made a warm bubbly place full of strangers feel too cozy to pass up.

Part of what makes it addicting could be the inability to ever quite get what I am looking for… but what am I looking for? I don’t know. I feel confused. Yesterday I tried flirting with a couple of the fake widowers who are all over facebook trying to scam women for money. One was Nigerian and one was Arabic, I think. (Both pretended to be American.) They were condescending assholes. I assumed if you were trying to take someone’s money you would have to sweet talk them a little. Instead they called me names like “Big Fat Liar” and insisted I was “dead wrong” about the meaning of the color red. (Howard was sure it meant love, while I was certain it meant the blood of the martyrs.) They were dominating though. I kind of liked that. And I can’t remember the last time a person asked me about my favorite color was or what I liked to do for fun. So that was nice.

Maybe I will start talking to these scammers more until I understand how their minds work. Then I could maximize the amount of attention I get before revealing that I have no money. (They dump you at that point.) When I told Howard I had no money he said I must be lying. After all ‘You are an artist.’ I had to convince him that singing a song does not magically cause money to appear.

I wonder if I would like scamming people for money? Criminals seem to use more of their brains than the insects who just get caught in their webs. Maybe I want to be the web spinner for once. Maybe it would feel amazing.

At any rate, I may try writing more on this website to see if it can help me break my addiction. But I feel I will be annoying people if I write too much here. At least on social media anything you say is ancient history within a few hours. But I worry it is rewiring my brain. My attention span seems to be getting shorter and shorter and I have started to think in soundbites. Plus, it brings out the part of my personality that plays too much to the crowd until eventually I have no idea what I am saying or why. I don’t know if I am speaking my own thoughts or just the thoughts that someone somewhere is suppressing.

The good part, though, is that it is more out of control while my website is entirely under my control. I don’t really like being in control. I guess that is ultimately what I am seeking there. I want someone else to take me to a place that is new to me. But that never happens. There are many people there, but generally they all say the same things. It is impersonal. No money changes hands. I liked it when Howard said “Music softens the spirit.” That was at least something I had never heard before. And I appreciated it that he was trying to rob me, in a sense. At least he was trying to do something.

Categories
Dusty Stables Music & Songs

A Fool is a Tool

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Fiesta self-portrait. Julien in studio.Another one of my first “Dusty Stables” songs that would have been lost to the sands of time if James hadn’t pulled up the lyrics on his computer the other day…

This may be the only song I’ve ever written that is intended to convey a positive message…

well, I guess it is not so much a positive message as a desperate question…

I wrote this song after having to declare bankruptcy from making a series of outrageous purchases, ranging from $500 garbage cans to $5000 shirts in an effort to achieve financial stability via the law of attraction. Really, I think I had suffered a financial break with reality when I got married and had to assume my husband’s six-figure debt, something that seemed soul crushing given my $20,000 yearly income. Not to mention that he wanted Porsche’s and caviar and fine dining experiences and it seemed that his spirit would leave this earth if I could not find a way to provide them…

I suppose I could be grateful that my desperation drove me towards the purple end of the insanity spectrum (fantastical thinking) rather than the red and black end of crime and violence.

I remember having to go to court to declare bankruptcy… I was so scared and my legs were shaking… it seemed impossible to go through with it. But in the end the judge was a light & cheery man who just said, “Oh you’re an artist. Well, great! You’re free to go. Keep up the good work!” It felt like he was congratulating me. Sometimes I really love California.

 

Download MP3: A Fool Is a Tool

 

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