Early morning gates. versus the goatman

 

Monday morning: Hard lines of penitentiary writing versus a soft warm paste of fecund imaginings.

 

New people, new ideas, I need a creative imagnary escape. MB

Jeanmarieart

Finally finished this one, despite the garden bulb pulversing my sleep.

 

The washer woman

She moved awkwardly, as the day rained heavy, under a slate grey sky,  full with it's own misery . Walking gingerly on her one good hip, she picked her way through the ankle deep mud, as the sadness of life seeped In. All around closed faced people stared blankly out from half made shelters, scavenged from nothing; as each fresh down pour, brought fresh burdens that sloshed into the overfull gutters; as first warmth and then despair gave way. She stopped every so often , adjusting the heaviness;eyeing the dread ahead, the low dense bank of  grey cloud threatening in; more rain would come she knew; as she struggled to retain grip. Her arms hurt. The basket was too heavy. It contained too much. At one time, or another it had been her mothers; and like all her mothers burdens it had eventually come to her.  A settler's town had been no place for a child. But came her mother had , with  all her misery, and soem of another's; chasing a man who would not stay put.. And that Misery had  grown till, hovering above the open sores of suffering, around which people like them tried to form their lives . But that was 5 years ago, and it was old woman  now, who  sat wordless and muted in the black long years of memories, swallowed down in things of which she no longer spoke. Those many walled-off, secret sufferings that lay stale and buried in her throat.. MB

Still chi struggles, but you reach a point in your life..

 

Breakfast with Angel.

https://twitter.com/WomenReadWomen/status/1422890831615168526?s=20&t=I_E1jZTZXyyGiNSph-nPPw

 

The second rug and the second stress. #moneywasted

 

Finally finished. Thank you Dara

 

I want me some of that 90's love/kate moss day

 

The house is very trying/ hanging with the tension of no firends since paula left/ Making bread for pitchforks.

 

Sasha

She does not want the good thing in her hand. It is too bright for her, too strong, too burning. It is a discomfort, an infestation- so instead she becomes the subtle rising to my falling in the chaos of wanting to belong throat. That no comfort place. Too high above the ground, riding the currents alone. She likes small circles and bright things. Things that do not give, things that let her down. Every part of her is a liar, and yet I seek admittance to this blood dead heart with the jet black tongue. It is loneliness, because  with her there is no light, or give, or mutual offering; she is entirely dormant, like the false rays of a false sun-  tearing the world up, leaving the world wrong.I am both hooked, enthralled and simultaneously rejected . I need a friend, I want support, and yet with her I am pesistently rejected. She must never be the thing I want. MB

Breathing air in a house via the gaps near the floor.

 

Chris.

I remember the first time I saw him, sat back, leaning on his chair - relaxed, in a room full of other kinds of people. Their superficial activity contrasting with the stillness of his soul. His vibe, a tribe I immediately recognised and gravitated towards, as if it was my own. We had a sweet unfurling after that, mutual, even though I still approached the wire with caution. And at each step of subsequent nearness; a natural kind of acceptance would emerge; one I would be amazed by- with none of the usual rejection and or fleeing away on foot. It seemed clearly, that,for this one, I was not too much. For he seemed to hold me tight and as precious as they come. It was all heart, the way he walked and talked the perimeters of my lines, not fleeing or fainting like the rest. Clearly, I was not too much in this meeting of intelligent hearts and minds. I needed that, I thought he was the best. I believed i'd made contact and a friend. I have no explanation for what came after that. I wonder if he was a small man, a thin man, a man with bending bones, a man for whom the weight of a large female body became too much; that perhaps it impinged upon and threw him out of his own orbit; all those heavy mounds and heavenly- coils of emotional female flesh. This older woman story, with the scratchy walls, and the past that burrows into sometimes mess. I Wonder if his legs began to seize and buckle, as he first took, and then sank within the weight. Whether his eyes bulged as his manhood shrank with a stomach that rolled in big, nauseous, not-quite so-grown-up- enough-mature-man waves. I wonder if it was the pressure of saying yes, when the shrinking tongue inside him, could not say no. I dont know what unmet need it was, that caused this sweet young lamb of a boy to break his vows and go. I do not want to scratch or bite or break the past, or diminish the soft light of sweet intensity with which it glowed. In all honesty it  would makes no sense or difference; except to say that the air has gone and all the fields now lie silent; bathed only in a red flush of poppies; their broken stalks and black-eyed gaze, the only indentations in a newly dug, and as yet corpse-less, unidentified grave. MB

Therapising chris, crumbling into breaks and bits of stuffed nothing. The sofa emf rug tales.

 

Not good. Can't function

 

Finding the correct sofa to rug ratio

 

The healer vibes.

 

So that's what the realtionship stuff was all about. #unblocking chris. #banishing fasha and Markup. #lastnight's fullmoon in scorpio.

 " clipse and Full Moon in Scorpio. One of the most intense astrological events 2022!

Most affected:

water Moon/Water dominants, especially Scorpio

placements 20-30° Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Leo

your Scorpio house vs Taurus house axis especially if there are placements

This energy might be felt for weeks up to 6 months and brings radical change, major endings and letting go. The energy reminds me of some Tarot cards: Death, Tower, World, which symbolise final goodbyes, closures, chapter endings.

Chiron conjunct Venus may reveal for us our deepest wounds connected to relationships. Past heartbreaks, feelings of rejection, love disappointments / all those experiences may influence your choices and mindset and maybe stop you from living your life the way you would like to. Happening in the sign of Aries, may trigger wounds related to "What I want and don't have/ can't have / have no courage to do right now... Saturn might emphasize that feeling. " This energy can help you face and heal your broken heart. Allow your inner wounded healer to show you the truth.

Last words on chris.

 

I do what I want, when I want, with who I want. Don't give explanations. Do what benefits you

 

Is this going to benefit me?

When you say no to something, you are actually saying yes to yourself.

The snot of harmful waves.Post fruiscante and post chris.

 Every writer has his own voice. (Every serious or dedicated writer.) This is achieved by the way he punctuates; the rhythm of his phrases; the way the writing reflects the processes of the writer’s thought: all the nervousness, all the links, all the curious associations. An assiduous copy-editor can undo this very quickly, can make A write like B and Ms C.

selfcare. purpose. miracles.Change. Creation.

 

I dont care who it is. ( the last of christos)

 I guess Im referring to that monstrous murderous primal violation energy, projected against woman creatrix/ mother God. The rage and entitlement of disconnection/separation.

As an aside I know plenty of " normal" men who had present fathers and stable families, who when the chips are down, will without a second thought instantly resort to the intensely felt and sincerely uttered: " bitch!!" . I think it was germaine who said most women have absolutely no idea, just how much menz hate them?  MB

It's been a John fruiscante kind of day.

 

Graceful humanitarian who deserves loyalty.