what one has to figure out, now and then

then: do you want to work along side uniformly thin blond women who eat salads for lunch in a design firm?

now: where to buy pencil led refills; how to pay the rent while balancing on one foot, tending to your deepest desires? how to feed your children and negotiate equity if you are so fortunate to have bought into the banking system; how to see magic and feel and listen to the universe while driving through the traffic or standing in line behind craggy old women? how to love and be patient with your parents, or your children, or yourself?

and, if you are a bird, how to maneuver the lid off of the trash bin to get whatever it is that a bird needs? or if you are a hawk, well, you just glide. in your own beauty.

i live above a sorority and nextdoor to abused children

not factual. least so the latter. but those children cry soooo much and one of them should be past the fit stage. fit stage. remnants remain. do you ever wish your were a dude? life seems easier when you are half vulcan.

factual. no metaphor. spock, you know, they are a great people: live long and prosper, mind meld, the neck grip. so peacefully aggressive. again, i may not have the credentials to claim expertise on vulcan sociology.

i am questioning the whole thoughts create things concept tonight. is anything i think ever going to change the way the world shows up?

i will keep testing the theory. let you (yeah you, my one and only viewer) know what facts i collect.

depends on which street

there's a road up nearby on a glorious hill. (anger drives action; despair and bitterness kill the host.*) the hill overlooks the city. but it remains quiet, open to the sky. 

one of the journals i read talked about the next great disease of humanity being depression. all the more reason to celebrate, teach, feel whole, divine. take care. appreciate.

i drove around looking for parking spots. the street cleaners come today. trash all over. and i dreamed of not being recognized, and of cleansing.

* maya angelou interview with dave chapelle; thank you aries vegan friend.

mermaid

the street is just the stage on which we imprint our reflections, those come from the heart, the mind. our desire is internal. we produce thoughts, we control thought patterns, our thoughts create energy, and energy has certain laws we know of and some we are just beginning to learn or appreciate.

how much does our daily routine support imagination, creativity? how much dulls it. what do you focus your thoughts upon and if you practice focusing your thoughts on goodness, gratitude, what will happen?

it concerns me that the street is taken so seriously.

we see the street, and we think, ugh, the street again. we don't always notice (if we live in an urban setting) the leaves with the sun light reflected through them, the magic colors in the abalone shell, the stars, millions and millions and millions.

"When you live in a world deadened by mental abstraction, you don't sense the aliveness of the universe anymore." -E. Tolle

we do. if we pay attention; and maybe that isn't important to some people. oh yeah, that reminds me of a story from my early days on facebook. RIP. the conversation represented awareness of self consciousness.  love that. [always, non sequitor]

we want more time to dream.

art vs life

i can't do it justice in text-
anger walked down the street last night in the form of a misunderstood male human, shouting, as if he were talking to a particular person, 'fuck you man! fuck you.'
meanwhile i sat still under a blanket in the relative safety of my front stoop. in the relative safety of my lover's arms.

if i was gonna be a guy i"d be

this guy