rejoice

https://youtu.be/CoaXgiCA_C4

forgiveness is a direct statement of connection. 

know your internal landscape.  

you are love. you are love. you are loved. you are loving. you matter. that is all you have come here for. your heart is worth everything. 

but the best thing; contrast series

i saw and felt and tasted many beautiful things this weekend, including the rudolf steiner center garden, the lotus center home, aba daba something, happy om, you faerie, grace jones for the first time, my lover's eyes and surrender in body, the moon, my son exclaiming lovingly about a spider in the bush, rock and broken glass, eucalyptus vibrant rainbow leaves, a hawk, or two, a lone coyote, aries vegan poet nutritonist friend's black bean drop off, gay spirited lean black angst knowing, resistance and teaching binary language to said son, ex lover now non separate dream friend, another's pregnant dreams, a two waterfall pool, craft trade business model in the flesh of a blond 41 year old connected thing, lavender cotton baby shorts for a brand new baby life, yet unnamed, yet unlived, a blurred and clear freeway at night; heard deep sound resonance, benign healing lechery, forgiveness and generosity, fuck off laughter, sprouted raw sheep cheese salad, salmon flavored five o'clock, crickets, whatsapp recordimg of radio pop songs on faithfulness, and my own and other's praise, words, essays and truths; but the best thing i witnessed was an overweight suburbian once lonely purposeless lost purposeful mom using a leaf blower to dust her SUV, parked on a cul de sac..

dream series, and car alarms

zombies. ferreal. running, hiding from. coming in the back door, coming up the front stairs. trapped. later group yoga and a faulty plane and a bus that tipped over from too many people in it, 'cause they were running away from zombies.

car alarm, that sweet sound, right out front, three minutes. what goes thru the mind. hmmm. accept. ear plugs. note? love letter to car owners with car alarms. 

listen, ha, your lovely car alarm. ugh, nevermind.

is there a theme?

naked/clothed

awake/dreaming

trust/deception

wet/dry

premeditated/accidental

parent/childless

sweet/sour

adequate/unacceptable

malleable/inflexible

creativity/stagnation, death

*  *  * 

you know when you wake with a story or theme? or a theme derived from a story? and it is distilled into words, but to extricate the nuance is more time consuming than you might allow that morning? so the symbolic meanings play out, and you do your best to stay legal and get to work, and stop to explain little by little. when you probably can't. and it doesn't matter. no one knows your heart, your fears, your soul like you do. love each other, love each other. listen, listen. we get to individuate, and we get to collect. 

heard on the street series, straight outta my mouth

who am i? 

did i just propose we do a market research project to determine the unmet needs of consumers related to ping.earth concept? 

no time

story completely changed; dream series on detachment

and, humanity fails again, loading dishwasher series

life is

messy and dangerous

i'm tripping over inspiration and choking on my own emptiness. 

acknowledgent goes to ferrucci.com and jane lerner, etcetera

purity

a mother is likely to feel, my child has a pure heart. 

i noticed something

the other day about a constant need to represent

to record what i see

the hawks circling above the dry grasses

looking west 

toward the pacific

all the meta

matches

our need to express and be seen

uprising

Bob Marley Uprising

heard in conversation

it's random noise. it doesn't matter what happened before.

i'm talking to the best thing in america.

heard on the street

what's really going on here?

(to be fair, was heard at atlas cafe by the punky cute barista girl who always plays good music)

this sentiment echoes, however, morning song (sorry, this program interrupted for a music break). i'm really too exhausted on ideas to continue. you get what i mean. about what's really going on here.

dedicated to all beings from all galaxies who pass by 21st street, sanfrancisco, earth

asiento, look them up, go there, is a bar/joint on bryant and 21st; the mural on the building (haven't found out artist to credit yet) is purple and dark blue swirls with planets and a bunny moon and an astronaut monkey; and they serve drinks and light food in an amicable, unpretentious, great dj setting. so i recommend it highly. and they have a sign that says drinking alcohol may lead to unwanted pregnancy, which is cheeky at least.

there hasn't been much street noise or wisdom lately. the leaf blowers, the trash trucks, and i did hear a car alarm night before last. when i rule the world car alarms will only be allowed to sound like giant ants in bad sci fi movies. said hola to the tamale lady today on way to trabajo. passed the pupusa stand, no sexy dads today. yeah, hmm. the noise outside has died down, leaving a lot of room for inside noise.

banjo, day 296

the neighborhood. banjo player just walked by the window. it's a good thing,
change. music. friendship. something to look forward to. hate the screams though, like in my old neighborhood periodiacally you'd hear a really bad car crash. and then silence. fuck.

hustlin'

looking for fire

and, ease

humility is

knowing how important you are

knowing how powerful you are

knowing how precious, unique, and needed you are

and knowing that only you can, in your adulthood, choose and create your own thoughts, actions, and surroundings. inner and outer. 

you are responsible, and you bow to this grand responsibility, with the deepest gratitude and reverence for this life. no one can tell you who you are. 

paint it, write it, do it, dream it, believe it, be it. 

yo yo yo (skip ad)

http://youtu.be/N9Wph7BnK78

practicality, foul mouth, on the law of attraction

(on practice, and pragmatism)

when conditions are sufficient, manifestation occurs.

i want to comment on this. no street news. except, please, be kind to your children.

my scientific experiment:

includes only one test subject.

my attention to the desire is quantified, vaguely, in proper suzn fashion, as follows:

well, it was consistent. daily. and gratitude takes many forms. it also presents in many forms. god bless the child whose got his own.

vibrate higher. 

rise up rise up. with wings like eagles.

(i've mentioned this in a previous post but if gratitude doesn't come naturally you can also practice sending well wishes/blessings to those you care for, even strangers, even everything. the metta prayer.)

i told the story from the end. how rich, how beautiful, how blessed. who showed up. what i accomplished. i visioned. i wrote it down. i felt the body as it imagined the love radiating through. success, laughter. i relished the sun on my skin, the scent of magnolia, jasmine, rose, wild california sage. i gave thanks for my life, my family, the beautiful people i've collected who tell my story. i composed letters to my beloved.

overall, as i see it, the focus was 50%. (the rest is in a category called domesticity and dicking around.) i took action steps toward loving and knowing my own heart- approaching new heights, setting new goals, inviting friends, let's do it, getting that shit done, or at least started. it starts with idea. idee-fucking-ation.

thank you, thank you, thank you. thank you.

as often as you can, pick something in your life and shout: I FUCKING LOVE YOU.

it's really fun.

something you love to do. something that feeds you. someone who makes your heart fly. a job well done. even if it's imagined. appreciate. appreciate. appreciate. feel it.

feel your body flood with the [imagined] feeling- feel it come through you and from you and around you. consider the effects. the way it multiplies.

it's gratitude. that's what it is. practicing vibrational alignment with your highest desire. there is no service in small thinking.

to be loved, to have loved, to be seen, to be your best self. amplify your brilliance! humility is to know your own worth. to love yourself. to trust yourself, to forgive yourself, like a best friend. to ask hard questions of yourself - who am i? what do i want to experience in this life? what are the relationships i hold most dear and how do i show people i cherish that they mean so much to me. do i make new friends? am i kind? are there people i need to forgive? can i take responsibility to make changes and choices that set me on a clear, healing, evolving sensual ecstatic path? what feels good? what do you want? really???

feel your body get awake. there is no other time. it's right here. right now.

do it.

password?

are you available and can u trust? is your heart free? can you temper the fear or maybe remember it is your nature to be free and in love? 

angels made my playlist

they got in there

sneaky sweet quiet little things

i put a spell on you, dood

and

wing, that one rarely comes up

and

i forget the rest

oh yeah, the velvet underground or lou reed- what was that? i'm beginning to see the light. 

earlier in the day it had been science fiction, double feature.

and

cash in crockett

you got your peanut butter in my chocolate, again.

can we just be the ones for eachother and cross that one off the fucking list?

you know- 99 problems? 

unconscious and conscious

in play

attraction repulsion and the middle place, as previously noted

falling in love series

skip ad: http://youtu.be/DqEYJnIWgeE

these compulsions

a song for everything

a cigarette of some sort

a beverage

the fone

it's my child's 11th anniversary of birth tomorrow. my greatest teacher.  

fog, dream series

part of the house burned. 

just the top corner. we put it out in time.

but then i felt compelled to change the topic to advice for dogs, repost:

if ya wanna catch it, ya gotta drop it.

advice for dogs, dreams; same thing.

the shit that goes past my window

there must be thousands of people thinking the same thing about their windows. in different vernacular. obviously. 

and, it's all love. does this trip anyone else out?

en francais

ce nest pas un chapeau

growing things are all around

i have a dear friend who plants gardens where there were none

i see it in his smile when he tells me about nurture and his roots

he is not a father in the literal sense 

but he reminds me of mine, conversations sometimes feel surface 

or

similar or limited 

i am lucky

i am healthy

i am active

i am surrounded with abundance

fathers and father figures lighting the way for gratitude

words, seeds, growing things

lightning field

warm rain

no mistake

***

imaginary conversation:

dad: i have a surprise 

me: (it isn't april fools and i am not five) you are secretly a millionaire but you 've been waiting to make sure i could take care of myself before you made me trust fund child at age forty six?

heard on the street, series, alamo square

don't be the first one to text, whatever you do

you know what i like about my neighborhood?

the quiet. 

grammar epiphany

enlightening comma however rigid period single space next subject

p.s. i'm sorry i said you were average

p.p.s. i'm not 'good people.' i'm magnificent, brilliant, luminous, liquid, and on fire. i am stardust, divine; i am a goddess, a sunchild; i am golden and i am worth everything; i'm GGG, and i'm on a mission from gaaaad.

wtf was that loud sound? dream series

erotic city

slept thru most of it, dreams, loud as fuck thing driving down the street. sometimes these loud spaceship sounding vehicles drive down 21st. 

 

*the note will say

i want to write you a note 

with my fingers the ink and your body the paper*

YOU SEXY MOTHERFUCKER

PRINCE!!! 

up there with the stars. 
wrap our dreams in purple, make love with our hearts,
cleanse and free our sexualities, you draw us in, open us up, make us smile and slide, step, move, laugh.
SO MUCH LOVE
SO MUCH GRATITUDE

dream series, and car alarms!

renovating an old house. the electricity is completely fried and has to be replaced. the box on the pole outside is sparking precariously.

***

at last! the car alarms have returned! good fodder. i was starting to miss them, not really, but then i heard one, a loud close one. the annoying kind *)

autoresponse: you've got to be fucking kidding me. never fails. srsly people. yey! i still live here. what a crazy fucked up beautiful world.*

who's that lady? who's that lady?

*devo.

oh my gosh, that is great

heard on the street

and

you got to get responsible!

today was a day that i earnestly wished i spoke chinese

ma god

the way this old man spoke on the cellphone at the peet's- it was like music. i wondered what dialect sings their language like that. but when i asked, he just smiled amd said chinese and told me not to bother learning it.

beauty in the unknown. gifts. gifts.

why can't i touch it

http://youtu.be/L1G0jl0Vc64

sometimes we wear happiness and hang it up like a coat on a rack

hipsters 2.0 on speed, and dream, and grass

y'all, wow. talkin bout lifting weights but with such meth like enthusiasm.

packs of conversants -what, that isn't a word? should be. 

people are sleeping here! if you must chatter loudly can you talk about something  philosophical or ironic or even unintentionally poetic? 

dream- was dating jack kornfield who i met on okcupid. he stayed up all night printing my silkscreens and in the morning my new lover was strapping, long haired and beautiful. we were gonna go to FLAX (alas, a dream).

i may or may not have a blade of grass in my pocket.

 

i fink ur freaky

online profile, in song lyrics, draft

lookin' for a lover that's gonna last,

i can't believe life's so complex when i just want to sit here and watch you undress, this is love, this is love that i'm feelin.'

ask me what i did with my life, i spent it with you. 

i love it, so do it.

i need a gangsta bitch.

i'm just a sweet transvestite.

kill my landlord, kill my landlord, kill my landlord. 

every man has a woman who loves him, if he finds her in this lifetime, he will know.

it's called love, and it belongs to us. 

i am human and i need to be loved just like everybody else does. 

would you let the system make you kill your brother man? no, dread, no.

ooh you make me live.

i hate the rich. 

i love jah. 

and the men who hold high places must be the ones to start, to forge a new mentality, closer to the heart.

before you cross the street, take my hand; life is what happens to you while you're busy making ofher plans.

all those beautiful boyz, kings and queens and criminal queers.

be my fucking be my fucking be my fucking boyfriend.

slave to love. 

99 problems and a bitch ain't one. 

i wanna be the sunshine when you're down, i wanna be the one you run to late at night. 

when i'm fucked up that's the real me.

le soleil est pres du moi. 

all i want is a photo in my wallet.

a man who loves beauty, a man who loves art, respects the spirit world and thinks with his heart.

sexy boy.

i cover you in roses. 

i believe in miracles, where u from?

'cause he is the truth, and he is so real

and I love the way that he makes me feel, and if I am a reflection of him then I must be fly.

is this desire? 

the last time i saw you we had just split in two; you were looking at me and i was looking at you. 

well it would be nice, if i could touch your body, you know not everybody has a body like you. 

i wanna dance, do it all night.

i wanna take you higher than you've ever felt before..

wild is the wind. 

and if i am not prominently featured in your next light show...

oh lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.

we can fuck forever but you will never get my soul.

did i tell you you're divine? when you were alive? 

these hoes ain't loyal.

if you want a lover, i'll do anything you ask me to.

no makeup on, that's my sugar; won't you come and lay it down on me?

hello hello hey hello hello.

fiction tends to illuminate truth

lay flowers at the feet of your muse.

tell yourself how you feel about love.

stand up straight, do your art.

fucking, an elaboration, or, dribble into hopelessness don't even bother reading this unless you're in a really godly place

no one will ever know what you mean and what does that mean and why does anything have to mean anything? living is for the living. what is so fucking difficult about finding a sexy faithful intelligent cool partner? too weird too rigid too selfish too married too christian too scared too stiff too self conscious too scientific too boring too head in the sand.

shut it down or keep going. i keep trying. keep on moving. that's my fucking family motto. science vs. faith. the ecosystem is fucked. basically, we're all fucked. rent is fucked. the banks are fuckers, racist haters are fuckers. trump is a fucker and every fucking stupid fuck who votes for him. work is ridiculous. 

strategies and boundaries and lines - the universal symbol for do not pass.

the only human i care about losing about knowing about being known by is lying in my bed uneasily resting and i'm uninspired.

how to stay tits up in this world.

how to even believe what you say to yourself. marianne williamson is pretty fucking sure of herself.

you are right where you need to be. you don't need to try so hard. just be a nice fucking person most of the time, clean the body regularly and try not to take more than you need, and pack your trash.

you are the creator of your reality. shit happens and you deal with it. i don't know if we attract the shit that happens. even the dog in family guy and bill maher made fun of manifestation today as harmful self help propaganda.

is it weakness to call the dreamlife your permanent home?

it's for me only. this. i'd rather be having fun.

i'd rather be in love. making art. laughing, so you know it's time to yoga the fuck out of this.

heard on the street

creative people don't live here anymore really

#badastrologyforcreepin lol

but the sky! the blossoms! springtime. 

... letter to the once lover

once lover, i don't want to be creepin. but i was curious. nostalgic. y no puedo dice todo en espanol. i didn't mean to be in visible mode. you said so many things about us, i don't need to memorialize it but it is a famous love story. and i still love you. i know it wasn't going to work, and you had more to lose than i had, you only had to cut off a toe or two to keep your body. i am still patti smith wing, i am free. it is beautiful. 

everything s still beautiful.

my friends didn't like you. you may not have liked my friends. but that didn't matter. when i looked in your eyes, at your hands, when i dreamed about you in little shorts looking irresistable and gay, when i asked if could lick you, that was pure innocence. i trusted you. hence, the art, the double fuck you, the stickers, i made stickers. dark dark dark day dreaming, oh if you knew what it meant to me. down with OPP. thinking thong. your laugh. and those occasional times when you were rooted in earth, clear, knowing. 

purple rain. i wish you well.

skip ad

the syncopation was off; one more pack of blues

white soul:

the best worst car alarm. horn style, cracked, strained. laughable. 

left coast represents was mindblown when boss' wife said no r & b no hip hop AND no disco. and new devil music. mindblown. 

florida always seemed faux from over here somehow. beyond belief. indeed.

you used to

you are everywhere!

we are creatures of light.
born badass. heart and eyes open.

once we get to be about two, like today by witness, you might find us licking a glass door, and later, around age forty, we tend to become entirely less likable, especially while driving motor vehicles.

what is your why? who are you? who do you want to be? do you want to be that guy?

shout outs to oingo boingo, erykah badu, aries, leo, gemini, taurus, virgo, and KPFA 94.1, and to all loving arms, college radio, and baby feet.

"i know what the universe looks like"

he says.

i do too. [dominating the narrative] it's black and crystal and rainbows. a grid, old tv static. pixelated. abstract. and flame blue.

i know what it feels like too. it's the feeling of a warm lick. it's lava rock sticky, gritty, english muffiny. it's our skin touching, soft grass. it's freezing. it's a bullet entering the skin. the slice of a knife, the snap of bone, water rushing over rock, bubbles popping out of a hot spring. it is a tickle.

bodies. insects. lizard skin. music.

it's grief without trying to get away from it. it's reverb. holy shit. endless boredom. shivering. sweat. whisper. the sound of moths' wings and of stone.

yeah so i did see the old man at 8am on a mostly empty street with a razor blade scraping - what is that other other word for unnecessary? - superfluous?* muck off the street poles, as if his civic duty or one remaining purpose. first amusement, then existential funk.

but what i really want to emphasize is, this bullshit has gone too far. power yields only when there is demand. and in the spirit of change, it's all so fkg crazy amazing.

*punctuation. vision. maple fucking syrup.

he sleeps

and the planets are where they are.

if you have a child, it's clearer to know, you create miracles.

i give my love of music to my father's second wife, and to both my first parents, who played piano and guitar, respectively and of their own souls, while i fell asleep in front of the fireplace or in my room. thank you life. musicians. skin. eyes. roberta flack, john prine. beethoven.

patti smith

all the things, the bits of string

crass reference.

you unraveled me and tangled me back up again

washed ashore like a mess of colored fishing line

what is a bundle of string to do, new life, feathers and seaweed all imbedded



memories of the swell

dry