the alive non world

i want the world that is glowing in fluorescents..
the one i need to press firmly to induce
the life that blinks when i say my name, in capitals and numericals and hyphenations...
i want the life that tells me you are there yet i am here,
pausing to take a drink
fill a glass
reach for air
pull down the shades...
i crave the world that releases me when i say ok,
the world that signals bleeps and blanks .. when there is a shortage of space
the one with the filters filled up
the one that looks murky to the eye and bloody to the page,
yet clean and crisp
like tissues falling out of the sky
paper used for nothing other than filler
for packages we unsend
and letters we unwrite in our minds.

open

what .. did we used to do before

the springtime let the leaves be borne

my hands reached deep in-to the soil

and in mourning, i woke my names to all.. ?

Death.

i often said that the walls surrounding me were scribbled with words, mirroring the insanity of communication surrounding me before i was contained to that box. white walls, white-washed, a clean blank pure canvas, my dreams echoing around me in pure language.

i have the power to tell right from wrong. this is an intensely volatile skill of mine. i've been given sharp utensils as a mistake. i take them and scratch on surfaces. incise and let the feeling flow however it desires. the results are infinite. long and windy, released of any regulations, reaching beyond the corner, beyond the length width, beyond the box. eventually there becomes a saturation beyond comprehension. language, words, as you and i thought we knew them, cannot speak these marks. i can listen vastly or deeply and hear it, see it clearly as an aura both surrounding and penetrating me, and make my decision from that point onward… while sitting in this room with nothing but white light.

Hunger..Nourishment..Survival

27

changing to

41

27. Hunger
Line 2: Hunger is at its top. Rejecting the customary. With an empty mouth, undertakings bring misfortune. Needing something a lot, but rejecting the usual way of getting it. This makes it hard to undertake things.

Hex 27's about nourishment, about getting fed. Getting fed, in the context of your question, is getting love. For me, Hex 27 is one of the most mysterious hexagrams in the Yi. I mean, it's about getting nourished, like I said. But it goes way beyond just filling your belly or your heart or whatever it is that you need. Hex 27 counsels us to *contemplate* our nourishment and become clear about it. It also says that this contemplation of nourishment, through which we thoroughly familiarise ourself with its nature, arises out of a concern for substantial, quality food.

Okay, so in your case, what is substantial, quality love? How do you get it? I suppose it's as true of love as it is of friendship that the best way to get it is to be it. You know - the best way to get friendship is be a good friend. Loving people draw love.

But aside from talking about how you can get love, I'm really interested in the fact that you drew *27* in answer to your question. Don't take that for granted. 27's about nourishment, which means that the Yi is saying that for you, love is like food. Or *is* food. Think about that for a moment. For you, love isn't something that just enhances your existence; it isn't a passing excitement; it isn't a learning experience; it's something you NEED to survive. Okay, ALL of us need love. But for you it's written in great big letters that flash like a neon sign. My guess is that when you get the message you will start making the changes necessary to get your needs met.

http://www.onlineclarity.co.uk/friends/showthread.php?t=3727

new.

sort of the way you "plant" things when your desire to grow is in that one very moment. but more about growing through time, calling this one instantly important and setting a crystal on it.

your fingers are gentle. against mine. the soil is soft. it moves once we barely touch it. but i think its important for us to dig two fingers each, into the soil. open the wound and let drops fall in. its january now...

xmas day.

anxiety around the shuffling involved in getting ready to leave. getting ready to leave when there's a holiday in the way of being able to run errands. deciding to work on xmas day instead. really disliking that table i am almost done working on. started having Major fear and nervousness around seeing family again. then a difficult conversation about the likelihood of future in or not in a partnership. wanting to be loved, for me. so the story goes and its boring. no, you can't think i'm perfect if you're not available- and you shouldn't find faults if you are. not sleeping full nights. woke up really early, called parents. last time was thanksgiving. i don't know how many times i have seen or heard them cry about me in one way or another. its never enough, and once i accepted that more into my life was i able to live my life more fully. (and not call them too often). thought i'd call and get it over with for the day, but i'm expected to call again later while my brother and his family are there. never enough. mom cried about her health and that i'm not there to help her. dad's going in for tests and surgery in the next month. he told me stories about (not sure how this started) how he worked that factory nickel-plating job for 10 yrs from 69 to 79. 2 jobs (3 for a while, one overnight), one from 7am-4, came home quickly to eat something, and then other job from 5-11. named so many people that died from that job, including his sicilian friend who worked there for 20yrs. it was extemely toxic. ...oh yeah, it started cuz he was going on about radiation and evil people in the world- and then cell phones and how he keeps his turned off- and, well, he started off our phone conversation with a rant about the (H)oly (S)pirit which is just his thing to do now.
he told me he heard about that job being toxic to people and found 4 houses to mow lawn at. realized he could make a few bucks more doing that than that toxic factory job. he asked me if i remembered him bringing me and my brother along with him to highland park after dropping my mom off at some seamstress job she started (the factory she worked at in new brunswick since 1963 when she moved to america closed down a yr before i was born) while he knocked on people's doors looking for more lawns to mow. 50 houses. no one said yes and no one called him. somehow after a while he said he found 20 houses to work at...
i remember him taking me to that factory to get his paycheck or something. it was scary as hell! NOISey, huge machines and weird chemicals. the best thing i remember was that people were really nice and happy to meet me, and my dad had bought me a canned grape soda which i was carrying around in my little hand.

so i cried after hanging up. my cat licked my tears (it was kinda gross but sweet so whatever, i was sad). he wouldnt stop though and my face ended up feeling a lot more wet!

Leaves Tonight

i tried really hard. i made you warm things and listened well to the way the light moves. gave you things in accordance to that law. wrote in script, cut words out, then glued my saliva onto backsides of leaves. captured sweet smells in little jars and took them to you when you were sad. . . . . . what more could i have done, if we couldn't make sense of each other... linearly, reading a book from left to right... waiting patiently for each day's routines to pass... watching your face glow then sink deeply underground when we couldn't understand the simplest things.......