December 2011
29 posts
but it is december, expectations should, of course, be low.
-from a letter from J
12.21.11
Yesterday I woke with someone else’s rage and grief binding me to the bed. Alone and confused, telling my self, But this isn’t yours. Just get up, move around, it doesn’t belong to you.
on the year: four
Wrote in a letter recently that I felt as though I was about to slough off into a new skin. Realized this is not true: the new has already arrived: a new level of perception, of clarity and understanding. A quieter, more internal, more interesting transition than I usually experience. I change the most when I’m not looking, says Chloe. Always eagerly waiting for the next Self that I easily...
on the year: three
This is the year I abandoned the idea of magical kindness - that is - kindness as seduction. That idea that if I am kind to people, I can get the things I want from them. Sex, relationship of some kind, affection, admiration. These are usually the things I want seductive kindness to do for me (and for the things for which it will always ultimately fail). But having abandoned magical kindness, I am...
12.15.11
Manicured fingers in rose pink. Earl grey. My veins must be full of mercury, larvae, the tides: how rapidly my mood shifts. How utterly and wholly the transition. Dreams are of the day I just completed. This means I am my own twin. The promise for all eternity: if you can just get through winter, then there will be spring. then spring. then there will be spring. if you can just. just. all you have...
12.11.11
It can’t, you understand, continue like this: I am a demon unafraid of happiness.
12.08.11
Hungover from crying for 24 hours, a mud slide of pent up shitty emotions catalyzed by C’s ‘failure’ to pick me up from work after yet another shift with horrible interactions with customers. The classic I am going to call and sob some indecipherable words and then hang up the phone and not pick up when you call me back move. Go to a bar, shiver on the patio, shaky hands spilling...
An excellent review of Unsleep’s Village I never saw until now (by Shedim on Good Reads):
Straddling the writings of William S. Burroughs and Virgina Woolf, Wakefield’s ambitious book, Unsleep’s Village fuses poetry and prose in an amphetamine fueled stream of consciousness that threatens, berates and begs the reader, the narrator, and the creator - often with the same...
one the year: two
There is a common belief about mental illness: that if you do all the right things and want to badly enough, you will ‘get better.’ And if you don’t get better, you didn’t want it badly enough. And then you are wrong and sick for not wanting Health. You are required, in essence, to wish yourself well.
This is the ignorance of the cult of hope and will power.
When...
12.04.11
the delusion, of course, was not that silence can give you power, but rather, that anyone has power to begin with—that is, power to control what others do to you. whatever personal power (perhaps control?) i possess stems from the realization and acceptance of fallibility: you never know what the other person in the room is thinking, will do. you just don’t. “saying” does not, in any way, effect...
on the year: one
I want to write a long entry because I haven’t in some time. I want to write something long in this journal because it feels important. I want to write several long entries in frank language and I want to be honest with you.
In the center of my tarot spread for 2011, I placed The Magician crossed by the Knight of Wands. I feel confident in my power and my ability to execute it as never...
