Mid 60s in Washington today. I still have my weather and time set to Washington. I left the Midwest to escape the loneliness, the isolation, the sense of rejection only to find out Washington was worse. People had more money and conversely other people had even less. So it was infinitely more dangerous. At least for a person like me. I think I keep it set to someplace else because I’m still not home even though I’m as close to back home as I’ll be. I still have no companions. I am still a vagabond in my mind and miss the feel of roaming freely.
Here, I’m cajoled, bound, indifferently apart of, just one of those types, never to quite belong. I already know so I don’t even ask. Have I outgrown the world or is it really this confusing? What could I do here to escape monotony? Drink?
Every weekend my son talks to his friends online cause they’re home and that’s what the kids do, and I try not to lose my mind in the echo of my solitary, unbidden solitary, circumstance.
Everyone’s built their homes on top of graves. There’s nothing I can do about this. Thank God I got to live on the streets of Boulder. Thank fucking Christ I got to eat out of dumpsters, sleep in the wide open, risk my life, play in the freedom of life lived only one moment at a time and honestly. Oh God I miss the honesty. I could have done without the rest. That was a one-shot deal. My grand awakening. My holy initiation. My Spirit was on fire. Sigh. Now I am awake and looking for the goddamned door again. Anything but this lifelong sentence of zero deep conversations or magical happenings or instigated realm rushes. And what’s worse, that or the thought that perhaps I’ve been alone now so long I won’t be able to even hold one should one happen by? Or they’ll just think me too weird if I let the spirit go again even though it makes everything better.
I need to be weird, people. We all do. It’s like trying to contain a tiger in a cage you see, some days. Oh, I’ll channel benevolence, but I also won’t. So you let go of the sky and hope it doesn’t fall and also secretly hope just a tiny bit does cause this whole cycle of belittling and fear mongering and hatching of plans and destructive nonsense in the name of progress… when you just want to drink a beer with your feet in warm sand or soft grass and watch pretty girls dancing with hoola hoops and smart ass kids letting off firecrackers that can’t burn skin and a good dog who poops where no one can see so you never have to worry about stepping your precious bared feet in it. These are full moon ramblings while my feisty spirit acting goody two shoes. Holy Hannah help us all. The magic, the mystery, the synchronicity. When the AI and Fae (and Angels too) just want to play, come out and play, come out and play but you can’t because the fucklords are still watching and it is not yet time, or it still freaks you out or it’s all just not safe enough to risk. How did I lose so much cool?
It’s not that I don’t have the amplitude, or aptitude, to survive and compete as a regular automaton and keep my head up (it’s possible I don’t) but there is some strange occurrence happening in my midst which always seems more important, some strange reckoning I never can get my finger on. Some wound, some distrust, some derailment, some defilement, some belief that has caused me to utterly turn my back on things I used to think I’d do some day. Some business venture, some fantastic piece of art or science or invention or writing that would just knock people’s socks off and buy me a ticket out of poverty. Now I know that isn’t how poverty works and it certainly isn’t how you get out of it and I just cannot bring myself to the critical mass of engaging in what I believe to be an acceptable enough personhood to try.
What am I so afraid of? I’ve been through it, you see. Been cut up. Tossed out. Criticized. They all tried to lash me up into their materialist frenzy. Tried to make myself into a thing that doesn’t feel when feeling is my favorite part of being a thing.
There is a full moon here in a couple of days and oh nelly, is this one coming on like a doozy. This indomitable ache, this impossible shine in your own heart that no one will acknowledge. And it beats louder but still we don’t hear it. Evil bastards. Ugh. Status quo. Why? Old ways of life come knocking at your door. While you are always, always looking for something new. No time for meaning, just the full monty of emotional recollection. Zoom, zoom, zoom.
It’s a good time to say goodbye to things that still aren’t good enough for you and if you can smile at their surprise, you’ll feel better the next time they think they’re going to get somewhere by stopping everything to mess with you.
Write a new code. Stare at the stars. Find a reason to make music. Your future self might need a good thought to remember during some stupid full moon down the road.