so at one point i also learned how hard you can spill coming down a hill, banking a tight turn, but in the rain and with a heavy backpack on. wow. never did that one before. i felt it happening, felt the backpack’s inertia yank me sideways as i tried to turn and realized too late (but with perfect slow motion lucidity, just like my head on collision in 95) that my weight was all high up and i was like a van about to tumble. couldn’t do anything about it but laugh, i was laughing actually as i wiped out because it was SO complete. i really did go ass up, dragging paint off my forks and all. i wear a badass little helmet so i was okay in that way. and i didn’t break or cut anything, so it went pretty well. but i sure did feel idiotic right there at a big intersection. so glad i wasn’t on the road, as this major street actually has no bike lane (Willamette), as “bike friendly” as the city is (2nd in the nation? 3rd? no less than that)

also a while ago some stupid kid sold his videogame system on ebay to me but neglected to mention that he had written HIS NAME IN BIG BLOCK PERMANENT LETTERS ON EVERYTHING FROM THE CORDS TO THE CONTROLLERS TO THE DISCS TO THE GAME so i thought i’d bring it local and it turns out that even tho its a nice little setup i cant sell it here because i rubbed off the damn serial number when i was cleaning this kids name off stuff. AGH. WHY are you printing serials in ink that can get rubbed off so easy???? so i guess i’ll craigslist or ebay it. whatever. yes, am now selling things on ebay and such because money is tight and its too rainy for a damn yard sale!

spring is coming, but she’s taking her time.

i care about the positive change our government is putting into effect lately, but it only seems miraculous in relation to the grossly mediocre to downright dark days we’ve been forced to think of as normal. of course if a government takes so much of our money and can use it on killing, they can use it on healing us, too. if a govt can lay down rules for the People, as well as hang the threat of death or imprisonment over us as part of a contract of living here, you’re damn right it should also be acting in positive ways, as well. so i’ll wait on all the hoopla, as i know they will take a while to come into effect anyway. we’re not done looking after all issues. on immigration, obama seems to be trying to pull some centrist obscuring bullshit, and the ICE raids are still going down on his watch while a bunch of good junk is talked up so bfd. anyway, enough of politics here. that’s not what this place is for.

feeling turned off by social media lately as every damn virtual merchant and organization and station and big shot is humping the Twitter bird and otherwise its too much TV talk and dire politics and electric blue headlines. And that’s not even how I hang out. seeing this sort of makes me feel lonely, but not in a scary way. only a way where i remember this is just an electric communication and memory tool, not a warm, beating heart. bright and colorful light, but not an eye looking back into mine. full of sounds and songs but not a voice that can sound out into space and into my ears. distinct surfaces and mechanisms awaiting the input of various signals, but no hand to touch, not even an arm to brush, or playfully shove. this interface provides at best, a copy of a friend’s face or voice. and too laden with my own perception and intention and narcissistic projection. it’s good to remember not to lean on it too much for the wrong things, or at least not for too long.

i dont mean to criticize others’ good time…so i just back off lately, rather than get into that. it’s not them. it’s not the medium. it’s me. i’m not only the type that backs away from big buzzy crowds, but also a sort that needs the saltwater. i want to mash myself up against the big blue orbs of the world, not against her grill. i dont want to discuss digital dilemmatoid. i want to carve ruts into the earth with my hands until they bleed. and then i want to feel you clean and bandage them for me. and then i want to use them to cook everyone dinner and play a song that we can’t help but sing along to. i don’t want to play charades in masks that stink of new plastic. but again, these qualifications are my own. and if that’s how i feel, it’s better to find other places to give energy.

the winter has been painful. and good. i love living alone. i don’t want to give it up anytime soon. i love traveling terrain in my mind and heart that is new. i’ve met myself in a way that i’ve never before. and have seen things in myself or my actions that…well, i won’t say i haven’t seen them before. and yet there is nothing like that time you finally shift inside to make room for that awareness. i feel, here at almost 40, that i’ve had another bout of awareness. come at me with fury and resolve, as always. (“resolve” contains the words “solve” and “love” which is satisfying)

and yet, i have not fully emerged from what feels like this cocoon of change. i will not emerge as a butterfly in an open sky. the moth has swept through too much flame to hope for untouched wings of a  delicate hue. these jeweled panes are smoked black on the corners, sharp obsidian chips removed as payment for passage. eyes wild and growing wilder, though my sense of smell is sharper than ever before.

i need more time yet. time to feel out my own way, to orient myself, to let this shape steam in the morning sun, to unfurl the wings. to find the horizon, to feel out the frame and learn the balance so i can lean tight into the curves again. to mix my metaphors with the morning rain, full force and without shame.

i wrote in my handwritten journal in 2003 or so another’s heart should not be your own proving ground

and there’s just not enough room or time to write everything i mean, so i leave this note
so incomplete

that is not a hostile statement. not a defensive statement. not unsure, not a proposal.

simply saying. i am clearing the fallow. i am burning the rot. i am paying off the doorman. i am shoving this home.

i pronounce this one space a free space. my space. my room to speak my heart, whisper my visions, confess my sins, declare my dreams.

i will write things here—i promise one and all—that will at some point, upset or disturb you. 

if you are not willing to be upset or disturbed, leave now.

after today, i owe no explanation and will give none.

I declare this my space.

i’m too emotional for an internet. sure it allows you to access more sooner in more places and almost simultaneously but…THERE’S REASONS why things are spaced apart in this world! 

wordpress over here keeps wanting me to update because WordPress 2.6 is available! but i don’t want to. not until you make my pingbacks work in WP 2.6 over at UMX, you….wordpress entity, you! MAKE IT WORRRRRRK ::snarls at obelisk::

i really really really want to finish this job by the week’s end. today slowed me down. but then, i forgot it was thursday. always happens.

change. obama can’t bring me change. thank the goddess tomorrow’s tomorrow and that check clears cuz alll i got is change, mama. change n strange drama.

i don’t have dreams of world domination. i have dreams of putting the world into a temporary coma so i can catch up on work and projects. at that point, i will once again reawaken the world. this is reasonable, right? 

any of these would have painted a more accurate picture. i accept the blame, of course. it was lazy of me, and completely unfair. and you can put her down and call her my “white wife” all you want. aside from the fact that it sounds a wee bit silly coming from someone as pale and pink as you, i just don’t see it. i look at her and see strong, well-shaped, slavic cheekbones, pretty hair, and kind eyes. i don’t see a “white person,” at least not with the poison dripping from the word, as you employ it.

anyway, yeah. accept my correction, please.

moan

i don’t know if this all implies i’m tired of writing at that blog or just tired of that tagline. oh the FRAMING. okay. perhaps not “tired of that tagline,” but “wanting to move into a new aspect, a new phase of the unapologetic calender.” yeah, that makes it easier to swallow i think, PRINT! the damn blog has a life of its own though. i polled people and they preferred it as it is. i didn’t even ask about that part, i asked about ten aryans vs “ten minutemen” and overwhelmingly, people voted to keep it asssss-is. its all branded now. can’t go changing things all LACKADAISICALLY. so funny. funny to remember, eh? when your blog was just you…just you and then a few. and it’s not like i have oceans of readers, but i’m just saying. i remember when my feed counter was about 12. and now on a sunday it’s 409. sometimes i feel i don’t even want to feed the thing. want to move on with my personas. find the next part. but then again the immigration issues remains very important to me…and tied to things important to me, and i just feel it’s important anyway and the blog keeps me in touch with all that and opportunities that spring from that…my art, my activism, getting published in many ways…learning about la cultura, it all stems from my maintaining that place. i know it doesn’t have to remain there. but i’m just saying it’s a GOTDAMN institution and it has me in its sway!!!!!

i guess one of the main reasons the tagline begins to rub is cuz when i hang out, i dont necessarily want to get all intellectual. that shit was for my teen years, i feel. not to say adults cant have intelligent conversations. but there’s a diff between intellectual and intelligent. and i’ve had a fair number of people through time think i enjoyed intellectual conversations and so fast i found myself bored silly and feeling phony. and one of the reasons you can find yourself in that position is if people feel you carry this image of being smarter than ten aryans n shit. oh well. it will all be okay three birdies.

and i like this place. i can just run around. it relaxes me.

i keep hearing the ocean in my ears.

tori amos mostly annoys me. pj harvey rocks my socks on the other hand. and sometimes other pieces of clothing, too. you have to keep an eye on her. i like pj harvey better than alannis morisette. well, i guess i dont know how much i like alannis morissette anymore. but man i loved her first album. i like malia better than pj harvey. but now we’re comparing white alternarock with …Malia. so, its not really fair. i could stack up pj harvey with tori and alannis and i still dont know that they could take down malia. man i love me some MIA, too. okay i could go on forever like this.

i think in english. i wonder if that will always be the case. i think that i think, too, in a nonverbal language that involves color and sound and smell and shadow and light and shape and texture and kinetics. that language doesn’t argue is what i really like about that one. english gives me a headache as a matter of course, just like peeing gives you an empty bladder. i can put any argument into a convincing frame, any one at all. which is why argument doesnt mean that much to me in the end. yes i know its useful yawn. and the more intense people get in arguments or wordification (myself included), the more i want to laugh. (scream?) so i think i do most of my thinking in that other language, the one with the gold hipbones, ruby holster, and lavender lips.

i love my memories of florida. spanish language. orange trees. the gap band. sand, salt, the greek twins. it wasn’t all good. but it was a lot of fun. tho i dont remember having one friend in school while i was there. odd. it was a couple years. just friends in the hood. in the apartments where i lived on 82nd street. the orange hood. jeje. like three. ever get in fights with unripe oranges? rough stuff man. those things can feel like a sack of potatoes when they hit ya cabeza right. i did get in a fight my first day at that school. i learned so much about people moving around all my life. about groups. about rituals. about us and them. outsiders. insiders. power plays. peer pressure, societal bonds and expectations and consequences. i was a little sociologist. i just didnt know it. now i’m a secret orange hunter. but only the very ripe ones. tangerines are my specialty. its only fair to warn you.