blank blank fullness

For the trains, planes, and automobiles
that take us to our dreams
along the way,
this is for you
for the whizzing sunsets and blink-n-miss it pastures
for the comfort of being in someone else's hands
signed, sealed and
delivered
remember that 15-hour stretch
chugging over borders
provinces, regions
the change was subtle
I'd look up from my book to make sure I didn't miss it
they still had smoking cars then
and the Pyrenees were gorgeous
on to that dark ride
sent off alone and young in the middle of the night
a little scared a little sad
but you had the sleeper all to yourself
and so you wrote and wrote about missing home
at least you knew what it was you were missing
between the capital and the city of your summers
courtyard echoing in games and giggles
someone who loved you would be waiting when you arrived
or that time, cuddled against your father
reluctant to be without your mother
yet when the train stopped dead in its tracks
you were glad he was there to have your back
nervous stillness, "why aren't we moving?"
it was late then too
and the countryside didn't offer any light
wondering, where's the moon?
to pass the time he told you stories
misadventures in the mountains as a boy
your imagination ran with it
the picture of him filled in a little more
for that Towncar
that fed you
though it made a ghost of the bread winner
falling asleep at the wheel
grown tired of chasing that supposed dream
and you never looked at the driver's window the same
upon hearing the story
facing a barrel, 3 a.m.
that was real
for the cozy backseat
that let your longer-than-average little legs stretch
with your head in a pillow lap
up and down the eastern seaboard
DC to skiis in VT
and all the wealthy neighborhoods in between
everyone in the car groaning
let's go
but no, no
there's architecture to marvel at
openly despise
McMansions got the brunt of it
the extra seat filled by an aunt or uncle
depending on the season
co-pilot, reading off trajectories
that's where my relationship began
with maps
with directions
she always knows where north is
and the stars would help
through that sunroof
oh there were mishaps a-plenty
fights and escaping from a moving car
fugitive scars
it could never be normal with us
at least I can laugh about it
now
but we were delivered,
barely together
to the tops of vistas
to the edge of the sea
to those sights we supposedly
had to see
sunsets calmed down
fresh aired it out
misting falls
hideous ponchos from hell
with missy climbing a tree
bored of posing
for future memories
are we there yet?
just to fit the bill
catching your next flight
electing your seat
as if, it couldn't be, it couldn't be
the destination can't change
everything
but those
4-hour nights
light's turn-around
bite-sized and stellar
an in-flight gift making your trip out of line
that much more magical, a potential for pleasure
seated
in the sky
countless looking up as you pass by
with that thought
that question
where are they headed
the ticket knows
not the grand plans once on land
to be honest
neither does the holder
but the lightness of flying
will keep you on your toes
if not a smidge too controlled
security high
counters the freedom
of the sky
so sit back, relax
pace the cabin a bit
pull over for that dinner
on an eerie storming lake along your way
pick up the hitchiker, him with the guitar and a three-legged dog
if you don't act fast enough
you can still reverse down a 3-lane highway
just don't tell them I said it was ok
and, obviously, use the shoulder
upgrade when you can
but it's always more fascinating
to sit with the common man
pick a stranger for stories
share your own
snail's pace chugging to TGV
oh, the places you'll be
buy the ticket
take the ride
chart the
discover the landscape
of your life

"I love it when the least likely blank becomes a blank, because it reminds me that things are not as prohibitive as I think they are when I'm in neutral."
- Robert Downey Jr.

un jour, tu verras. tu te réveillera, sans te rendre compte que le temp est passé si vite.

il la regardait avec des yeux, des yeux qui montrent tout.

a quoi ça sert une montre ? tu m'as pas dit que les yeux montraient tout ?  que le temps se compte par tes regards, par des choses qu'on ne vois pas. des choses qui se montrent a nous.
n'est pas? ce n'est pas ça qui donne la bonne valeure aux heures ? 
ce n'est pas ça qui garnit aux bon compte ? 

j'ai perdu les mots de ma bouche. les sentiments flottaient parmis nos cœurs. deux têtes presque prètent a compris, qu'il n'y a pas vraiment grand chose a comprendre. plus jamais intéressé a se battre. 

bon gar, tout ce que je veux te dire c’est : perds pas ton temps. 

mais le temps n'est jamais perdu. tu te rends compte ? au moment quand j'ai plus le temps, je serais plus capable a en profiter, laisse tomber. hors du temps.

hors du commun, vas y toi.


t'inquiète mobylette. c'est l'air du temps.


dans la village, l'église sonne midi.


eh- 


oui.


je t'aime.


je sais.

Thank you mi Gala via heartmindspirit 

Also

I craned my neck, stood on my tippy toes to see further into his window, the higher I got, the further back my sight caught
sight of myself in a mirror
Hung up against the last of the walls within the depths
If I can see myself,
I reasoned in my dream,
If I can see myself, surely he could see me
I waved at the reflection,
It waved back
Hoping my motions would reflect into his world
And they were indeed caught
So he sat down with my image
and blew lines off a mirror
4 huge lines
While I watched these
Lines I couldn't reach
But he still needed to share with me
In my dream
I felt trapped

these places we create as this generation, made of mingling periods
evolving ways of integrating a gap created by those past
overlapping paradox
started from zero (zero?) increased the speed between
receding newly to reconcile the outside with the inside of me,
you, like a Dr. Jekyll, Mr. Hyde
how we shape-shift the seen personality,
differently
from the dream,
the quiet self alone
unknown
and now how we
these complexly simple ways we've drawn to
draw the outside in
exposing unseen
to our very own selves,
others as well
the gift of acheiving unity
its gratification grander
from how far
we've all come from so long
ago
greater crashes in atmosphere settling down
as we stir up more of our own
reaching closer to the center
from whence each half did divide,
consequences of combine

creating a soul
a nerve struck, jolting the source, jolted back ... ^

Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&RepeatMaster&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
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Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat
Master&Repeat

awwww let's make this a classic night came flying onto this page like a pickle, Vlasic might
sliding through a highway of pure liquid height
strutting down a runway \arrogant mufucka i heard your knowledge tight
they toasting over this word like a language, out of sight
into pure thought that's why
level it together we're pushing the roof up off this night
flashing
faces
bulbs in places
up real high,
I'm talking those stars in the sky
literally
I'm talking astrologically, astro- girl don't get too crazy, nomically, like
Cold as balls but the sky, we still can see the light
f*ck your clouds I'm raining down smiles**, alright?

ahhhh doo do doo do do do hey hey,
memories
all the crazy shit I did tonight*
those will be the best memories
david guetta bumpin like
electrodes flowing into speakers
siiiiiiii-

of the house, no newt ginrich like
I'm rollin in the dough of life
Bring it Kid, like cudi


my therapy, who needs therapy?
hey, hey
yea, yea
do do dooo do


*not that crazy, just great peeps, drive!

**

"Apparently orgasm is the only point where your mind becomes completely empty—you think of nothing for that second. That’s why it’s so compelling—it’s a tiny taste of death. Your mind is void—you have nothing in your head save white light."
— Jeff Buckley


From

I'm just a big, old negative fart
You're not old! You're only 24! A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Thanks, I needed that reminder that the only thing holding me back from dying is positivity.
Hmm. S reaches for the lighter; scrape, click, flame, in lightening succession. Puts it to a wick which is not trimmed to 1/4 of an inch.
Couch fires, even when one does not have a couch, are devastating. Don't fall asleep with your cigarette lit. Or joint, for that matter. Even if they have those extra chemicals. The ones which taste like crap when you're standing outside a bar, shivering, and your smoke goes out because you've been too busy chatting with that cute, bangable person. All the while, in the back of your body the ache breaks through for, ah- you're hung up in the head. And your heart is waiting for everyone to one day convene in her chambers, pull an all-nighter.

Well you know, it's just my ease at criticizing everything. What happens when your perspective is honed by a prime judgementeur?

What? S asks semi-interested in a reply.
Listen- she starts, not waiting to waste feigning energy.

No, S, I just feel empty inside!! And hating on everything I think is wrong helps me feel productive.
Jaw drops. What a load! First of all, stop analyzing yourself; you're just laying down the train tracks to the destination your words march your mind to. TURN IT OFF. Who needs TV, a girl like you? Actually, maybe you should get one and replace those crazy mind games of yours.
Eye rolls from the peanut gallery, huh, wouldn't that be a great art space? The Peanut Gallery. D- focus, focus.
Anyway-
Second of all, empty? HA! I know you're more creative than that. Do you feel energized?
What? No, I'm empty- I feel nothing.
Bull! You're full of crap, that's what. You're not empty.
Empty yourself out and then you'll feel full. Just drop it D, drop your crap off at the dry cleaners and lose the receipt. What's that thing you say in some of your classes?

I dunno.

Energy loves a void.

Ah yea, that's a good one. A twinkle peeks through, a cracked grin.

Shake it out! Empty your words out, maybe then you'll feel full.
Who wants to feel full anyway? Thanksgiving is almost here. Ugh. Turkeys. Are they a metaphor for us? S muses. Stuffed and glistening with grease?

Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to show you something.............

[Persistence pays off, kids. This is my
fourth and final attempt at posting this damn entry. And you know what? Maybe fate wanted me to not humiliate myself by posting a ramble such as this. But I insist. This must be turned over.]

CUT TO

Sex

Now. H:ahahahahahahahaha shut up

I'm coming. Like, twice. Jesus complex. Sue me, white lunar world
bridger. Was that the one? Two?

Make me. Yea, I said it. Ohhh no she didn't

Craisins. Dried. Cranberries. Jenius mother trucker. Eeeew remember
trucker hats? BARF. Von Douche!!!

What in G*d's legal name change?

[Scenes from my screenplay-by-play]

Sharpen you knife skills, Ninja.

You know what the beast oops, best thing to do is? Accept your fate.
Except, your fate.

It's like that board (bored) game, Sorry! You take the wrong way, but
ya get to slide weeeeee. You make it either way, right?

We need bankable people. The big wigs said. Someone the masses can
look up to, can aspire to be like.
What? I want them to be like
THEMSELVES. You jerks! Go peddle your wares elsewhere. And I plucked a
cookie from their breakfast platter. Can I inspire them to listen to
their hearts? And get into their hearts first, you know, preach the
goodstuff?
Look up the word in the dictionary, their expressions pop up- dubious. Level it off, you've lost them.
Society can only evolve as much as the least evolved man. Oh, f*uck!!
What happened to the teacher at the back of the line? Wasn't she supposed to hurry those stragglers along? Is she the least evolved? Cross the dang street already!
Listen, we don't care about society. We're sitting like some fat, stuffed Christmas ducks on this stock and need to sell, or we'll explode and tax payers are pretty sick of cleaning up the mess, ya catch my drift. So we need you. That buzz--
Will it sell these 60,000 t-shirts we had slave-crafted in Cambodia?
Mannn fuck you! What if your mom was working in that factory? Huh?
Think about that. Man. I mean really. Think about it. Take a damn
tshirt from the goodwill box and craft some shit. You think recycling
is limited to those blue bins? Fuck your trash organizer.
My subway stop's got the word CLASS in it. Take that and put it in
your damn pipe and smoke it. Yea, stick it in the tail pipe of that
Cadillac escalope de veau. Bone up man! Killing animals and shit your
carbon footprint is Jurassic! Fuck, the hybrid.
You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? Yea, forget it. Welcome, the Stampede of Elephants Effect. You must not be thinking on the same scale as you're acting on. It's too bad.
We in the same boat, you claim?
You're probably right.
Only my boat is sailing, not docked and anchored.
With SAILS. That butterfly? Its fallen cocoon shook the cliffs deep within the sea. That wave is carrying me!
Your seamstress? Yea, the one who could be your mother? The pin she dropped while sewing those cotton-poly blend t-shirts just tripped her colleague. Why? Because her back is bad. And she had to stick her leg out to retrieve it.
That fallen woman tried to catch herself on a sewing machine in motion.
She lost a finger!

And you want me to get on QVC and SELL THIS CRAP!?

"just meet them where they are, different people often, so no continuity to work from., take it slow and you'll see where their limits are"

SMS speaking multiple secrets

Things should fall into either of two categories (if it serves both then we're talking a third category, genius):

Beautiful
or
Useful

Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.

The things that make one laugh reveal a lot about that person, don't they? Well, I don't know exactly what this reveals about me (though I have some inklings) but slapstick, physical comedy gets me roaring. I mean, curled in a ball, face falling off, tears in your eyes, wailing like a banshee, breath out of breath, sick to your stomach, eventually laughing at how hard you're laughing, laughing. And last night, that was me. A girl laughing so hard that if my fit was taken out of context and shown as a short video clip to passersby on the street to gather their opinions, 5 out of 6 might venture to ask, "Is this what hysteria looks like?" I am not ashamed.

So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...

ENJOY

I feel your pain, KV.

From

when you make love the focus, you sort of eventually kill it, it becomes garish under the microscope, robbed of organic mystery in the moments
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything

Sometimes I'm working from habit, memory, routine, familiarity; and it begins to weigh heavy
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do

My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take

Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...

There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment

I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?

Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.

Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.