| aphrodite's garden volume 2 part 4 - 1985 november-december | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
6 November 1985 The ego made in such a way as to be what the hunger (id) wanted. "The ego is formed through a series of identifications." Ego ideal - what it should be but never can be. She gives up her wish for a --- and puts in place of it a wish for a child, and with that purpose in view she takes her father as love object, her mother the object of jealousy. She really is weak and mutilated. Identification with a weak and erotic aspires to a ---, "a paternal representative with sufficient institutional support to discredit her mother"
[Kristeva?] 7 The way it is today - strange - since the faintness thinking of the perhaps mass in the breast - just now tears - M's dream that I and the kid have
gone - it's November - imagining that I'm going to die because I'm willing to - I'm going to die because I'm sulking - I don't want anything. Photographs - Rowen's head as if floating - yes mysterious - a head in water like a girl with hair down and a pearl earring - I won't say - nose chin mouth - look - a being. 8 M runs into Marianna Schmidt. Keep going over the strange faintness. Afternoon, envelope - Rubinfeld? Put into my hand. Action, action. When I find what to do, do it. The sky is open, cowboy boots, standing at the crossroads in among colors. Kiku's henna hair. Russet trees, sog on the brick. Pink edged cumulus halves set on the roofline. Bubbling.
9 Two nights ago with Tony. He says she died of liver cancer. Last night the Indian music in the Ukrainian hall. The belly derelict he sez is a Nazi - I saw in the libe - singing unbridgeable in an Indian language. Mary O'Hara, Dorothy's age, 1885, looking for spirit, stallions, mares, foals, land and weather and nobility and money, mixing success out of real and wished. She left Wyoming and the second husband too, '41, '43, '46, then back east. A scatty breed but she turned out to be the racer. [Jam's letter to Trudy read through the envelope]
- Cold - the baby scaring me crying - M offended, don't stay - unbalance, how can it go on - downstairs a hell cackle - refractive index changed - in my head - "I own-lie want to be with you" oddly singing it in the bathroom, then the horrible laugh, then imagining compulsion. The Marianna fantasy. Today sick of artist
10 Sunday morning. Phone! [Cheryl] "Are you up? Are you gathered?" "Oh I wish you were in town!" Snowing in Montreal. She found out New York art is about New York. Small birds pecking at snow. The texture of really a friend. It's not at its best, I'm not, but I could be, close. There's sleaze but in it experienced watching. Do you feel like you've flown the coop? Yup. The charming consul. Just a minute - did you get that? - it's important - you won - it's because you won. Bright day. I'm going to see Jamila. [ie her house on Wall St] Blue fence. Once I wrote a cabin that color. Jittery and not absorbing, am I trespassing, is someone there. The garden lying low. Proclaims a big R and is inhabited by a scareface of theirs. But basement doors are open. In the porch corner a spirit letter, black jacket hung. Ocean chopped dark blue. Pigeons turning crosslight above the sugar towers. Red, purple, and the riding boots. "It's the heart, it's romantic." M crying because I brought competition misery. "I brought the devil to the door." "My old friend."
The forbidden. "A little thing with everyone, it's enough." Vancouver like a cult.
11 Sun and holiday, antsy, anguish. "Because I was thinking of fighting as resistance not penetrating exactness." 13 I dream: Jam with Trudy. Her long hair. My mother says, seeing her from behind, she thought I was looking wonderful. Realized it was -. She solves it appearing with her hair cut. She's going to Hong Kong, shows me shoes. Too soft. Jelly plastic sandals weak at the instep. I say she could have a sole put on. She says, expensive? I say not necessarily. A thin one. Bridesmaid for a Chinese girl's wedding. All the doing. Then - does she have a dress for me? She looks through mine. She wants a short one. One she likes but no it's frayed in the back. What about the bridesmaid dress I made? Evasive. Somewhere I'm in a street. I go into a trance and am traveling over the ground of a hillside. Spikes of grass detail. Saying it's very real and I can stop it and be back in reality of schoolyard. And the something like. Is there another reality this is the dream of.
14 Sorting again. Childhood and Burghley Road. Setting things out, two child rocking chairs with one rocker each. Keeping a loved light short black sweater. It seems the tarot death card is death of the forms of ambition. 15 Kiku's story of Jan, Rick and herself. "We had been lovers for two and a half years before I realized, I'm really very in love with this man." 17 I opened the door ... telephone wires were already falling ... the noise was overwhelming ... mud and lava ran in through the door ... I stood on the table and with my elbows broke a hole through the roof ... I pushed my wife and three children through it onto the roof ... a wave came, a big wave swept through the kitchen ... cuchina ... the kitchen fell, and my children and my wife went down ... I fear they have died ... so much struggle and hardship to raise them Crying in a spotlight, the Canadian young man silent, holding a microphone toward him. Behind them a deep black, like coal, spaced glitter off muck and boulders. 18 Rock and then snow. Light on the roofs of river town, mountain wall. White, strong, thin light in a cold room. Reading with my feet folded up into it. Robert in Nepal, a Tibetan called Jam. When I go to his room Michael with a girl's face diffident, soft, proud and shy.
19 Waking at night seeing in fact: snow. [visiting Robert MacLean] You really hate her, the woman who cracked up. Her wig. $3000 on a bathroom with glitter. "All those years of being terrified of her own nature." When I speak for her he wishes I'd go. Sorry, dirt and amoebic dysentery in Nepal. Challenging glare: thinks I've had it easy. "We're good friends, I think. We don't do each other very much harm." Rowen this morning flipped twice, 4 months late. Miserable gums.
Last night I dreamed yelling at Ed. It was important. That's all I have. He said I'm not what I used to be, my nerves are damaged. As if he believes it's on account of the time I was lesbian. I yell that it's his fault, the fault of his coldness. Wake thinking again his contempt for Paul. We'd been in a market looking at stuffs. While I'm ironing the baby crying in a far room, thinking about it. 20 In a house with Mei-Lin and (Hava). They've moved into a house I fixed with Jam. Looking at the stripped wood, doorframes, lintels. Instead of a baby bed, long glass tanks for exotic fish, water heated. Mei-lin flipping a notebook, they have one each of all the kinds there are. Do you like this house? Near Jam's. Looking around, Oh yes, it's magic. In the party I'm silent. Fury of envy. Get up and leave without saying goodbye, the way I do. Front door is what I find. I've walked off with a brassed chain - didn't mean to - through sideyards to the edge of town. (Hava) arriving says I trampled the garden. No I wouldn't do that. But I go back through and lay the chain on the step. In another walking with Michael at night past the backs of some shacks - near Vedder - "Is Vedder in Ontario?" - I don't think so but can't be sure - the remarkable thing is that with my parents and Opa, talking, laughing, not knowing they're observed, is Oma. Stricken today - blue gold rose plumy day - by looking in Jam's book - I wasn't good enough - I wasn't clever enough. "I'd give up all my dreams and ambitions to be happy for one year." [Robert said] Wouldn't take the Buddhist vow though.
You must not only want to attain nirvana for yourself, you must also want with all your heart that the whole of Being should enter into bliss even the small insects and the blades of grass. Everything she does is dedicated without regard for the 'self' that gives. You want to be perfect, so you can be of help. Alright, the way we want to be perfect is so we don't have to be like THEM. He said, It's my task to accept being alone. I said, No, it's to learn to make a relation between those two people. The poet wasn't thriving - patronizing the poet - mad at - competing with - ignoring - instructing -
21st Nov La Glace school, Mr Mann's, on a rope in the gym swinging in small loops that make the larger loop, feeling the even sweep of the bigger orbit created by the spin of the smaller loops. From that understood the earth's rotation creates its orbit. Then what is the place the rope is attached to the ceiling. That's the sun. Looking for the library to see books I read in childhood but don't remember reading. Pippi ---- -- ----, not the first one, its play. Find a shop instead, downstairs too, fruit in sacks. There is no library any more. Behind the stairs a few romances, one of which I'm then in. Earlier, with Bernice along a country road. Stopping in a shack, the bachelor died. Looking through his stuff, she thinks we shouldn't take anything. I say the good stuff has been taken already, if I can make anything of any of this it's alright to take it. Old leather from a jacket, beaded. I could make boots. A little bunkbed for the kid. When I go back for more of the leather, see - what'd I tell you, they're bulldozing it, the little bed on a heap of earth. Petulant - disillusioned - I was an idiot - I was blind - again I didn't keep vigilant - I forget - who am I mad at today, Jam - I'll never write her, she with her dead eye, in a mentat hunt to destroy the girl - the nastiness of the contest. 22 Heart opens to the ideal - love makes beautiful work - crying to be without it - I see you trying to make dreams - there are many ways to make energy. Cards say shortly, do some work. I wash the kitchen walls. Pumpkin seeds dumped on the good vegetables in the fry pan, webby, gritty, and little white grubs, worms - the small moths there were butting in the cupboard. But Michael won't refuse. Stirring and laughing. Baked with cheese on millet, wrapped in a towel, carried over sidewalks with black ice footprints and car-shaped glaze patches, in a Produce City bag, to Michael's door, that I open carefully. If the baby's asleep - but the room opens empty sideways to counterpane, chairs, table, and back into the corner with the crib. Warm and quiet, afternoon cubby.
He's bought the eating walker. He likes the food. I bring my chair alongside to look at, be lit by, nectarine west, but he holds my shoulder and breathes in a tumble beside my head. How it is - how it is becoming - the baby still so fretting except in the water (sweet singing tonight after he's been frantic). Robert, consideringly: "If he's been there for the months with a crying baby, he's there for the years." Let's not think about that. Mesmerized by my bum. When he puts on the green pants for dinner bending over the baby on the bed. Odd what I've been sent, there's a wrapping-up feeling to it, the powers giving me someone so mending. "What have you been doing, your eyes look sad." Always sees and usually knows why. Oh his blessed freedoms. This morning running up the stairs, cold whiskers, green wool toque, so pretty, a tall little girl going carefully flatfooted on the ice, leaning forward over the baby in his warm harness. Lashes dropping - are they - as we cross to the sunny side, go back to the bun shop. And knowing I've got this health instead of what I had been dying for, the deep slight visionary (writing) I made in marriage with Jam, that she has taken to buy her in with death and the devil. She where no one. Is it really a ladder. She thinks so. 23 Squalling the way he does. Seagull fret, misery face. He'd slept, he'd drunk milk, and then again, clawing my face. Tiger hands wanting to pinch his bum. The little claw on the side of my mouth. A tiny nip. Now he bursts into real crying, angry, shocked. But then sits quiet in my arms, looks quietly out. And later on my knee facing the twilight, carlights white and red, plumes of steam, yard lamps of the carwash. Absorbed.
Lying beside him so curiously alone. Is it? So little to be with.
Not concerned. Wrong not to be. But other times so anxious. I held onto the idea of holding someone: I'm holding a soul. Grandiosity. Robert's hero poets. Jam's manic webbing. Mine too. Jean Morrison. Jean Morrison saying Thomas Wolfe was more a young person's writer. That grandiosity. Jean Morrison in Ottawa in her kitchen fifty years old, Eastern, tall and pale red and civic, at the counter breaking lettuce. On the kitchen stool the young woman lover of her son with bright face telling about listening to the radio in Alberta, Sunday afternoon on a farm, alone, legs over the arm of an armchair next to the old gramophone cabinet with a car battery,
frosted clawed cables, under it. Family Herald's, Country Guide's. The radio on an embroidered dresser scarf. Critically speaking, her friends' voices. Said, It's interesting you should have chosen the two best programs on CBC. Oh. I think cancer is the disease of abandonment, abandonment first. Why do I love her. She welcomed me. Grandiosity is, I have to be, have to be, marvelous. Al Morrison was there, a girl called Jewel left a message, I am the voice of the lord. Judy and I laughed. Weeding some little boxes I might've planted, a pale sweet pea vine. Recognizing others, drier. Watering the boxes, little red dipper into swimming pool. Want to set them on window sills in the sun. Around the corner the Nijland boys building, their tools and lumber spread on our side. A music I liked was the saw blade. Young man
shaking my hand, What's your name? -----, one of the little ones grown up, I assume. Returning to our side, looking down into the yard of the little house tacked on, junky, vacated, in front of the two wings of our side and theirs, row houses being renovated, all the houses in the row are, redevelopment. On the porch of the old house a baby's highchair? Short, set on a table. I'll go down and get it. We do. A doll with a load of clothes I take off, to get to the little rocker. A woman is there, old, young. She looks like Mary Janzen. She's bewildered - dark hair, little girl, Mary, says, Do you know anyone who'd like to rent this house while I go away. We look at each other. I'll tell her. How old are you? Seven. Do you know what year it is? Seeing behind her into the porch, up steps into the kitchen, various dark green cactus. A large family of dark-haired children. "1950." We - standing on the verandah- are in 19 85. Relieved to hear I know. Calculating, she's 7 in 1950, that's 2 years older than me. "You must've been born in 1938. Looking after the whole family at your age, that's very fine." Blond children on my side, dark on hers. May we take the little chair. Uncovered, a small rocker, differently made on one side and the other, odd, wicker. Going away. I should ask where's the baby. Where's the baby? Not here, you were holding him. She passed him to one of the other children. She passed him to one of the dark children. The baby's been left in the past. Can we go there and ask for him? He'll be already absorbed in that time, he'll be 25. Thinking back, see a young man bedridden. Bring him out to us, he'll be a baby again and we'll bring him up to be well.
l'oeuvre au noir Make something between Dorothy and Ursula. Winston Yourcenar: though I don't know you very well, you too will be with me after you leave. I don't think I ever relinquish a person I have known, and surely not my fictional characters. I see them, I hear them. You listen to a voice and ask, What does this person have to tell me, to teach me? And once you have heard that voice well, it will never leave you. They each provide one more avenue by which I can penetrate reality. Through them I've lived parallel lives. The same is true of my friends of flesh and blood. In moments of fatigue I've occasionally had the sensation of holding Zeno by the hand. Marguerite Yourcenar Black the way of renunciation and destruction, white the way of service and red the appearance of powers. 25 On the wild side, lost, so many times I've tried to find you. In dust, cloud. You said, If there's any way to get through to you I will. I keep fearing. Who is she anyway, someone I used to know? Dragging in the tide. Leave her there. Ellie/Emily Andy. 26 Overnight at Michael's. Next to him dreaming and in hatred: it was always Rhoda she wanted, from before the beginning, she didn't want me, she was to me the way I am to him. Not wanting to say what won't be heard, not giving herself into her body, abandoning me among her family. She liked Rhoda's work better, she always loved her, and she just wanted the role fantasy with me. Do her despised work for her so she can be noble and sophisticated. Gave them Laiwan, gave them her book, gives them her best, her long hair.
Michael said he was craving. Craving what. But what? Craving to make this body hot, craving a body that loves a penis. Oh - so far from what would reach me. Invitation he couldn't see. In fact I liked the night, soft visions, and the baby delighted this morning, hours into the dark, chuckling with us, his place inside and outside close. But hatred and stiffness moved in. He looks, she's sullen, gone in some old blackness. She tells her old stories for hours. I make her food. I bring her bicycle up. I praise where she indicates. I reassure. I go out twice, spend all my money buying her Pepsi. She farts continuously. I give her my bed. She doesn't touch me. I hold the baby so she can sleep. 1980-84 stagnant, agonized killers. Looking at the writing of the killing time - torture - confinement and abortion - agony - war - leavetaking - a tree killed by nails driven into the trunk - a temple falls over - grease a few of the boys - drunk Indian - darkness, rain, crying - suicide. Jam sold me - it turned me on - Bad timing - what I didn't want to see. Nicolas Roeg dir 1980 Bad timing Rank
[With Joyce] "Don't want me hobbling along after you ..." Shaking, frozen. I can't say I have a right ..., I say "I'd like to kick your head in. I'd like to jump on it." Violently shaking. "I'd like to BURY you. And I will." And then crying on and on, mouth open. I'm really doing this. Rubbing my eye like a little child. When I stop she's speaking hypnotically tapping her right foot. Let it melt you. Let yourself be melted. Breathe. Breathe down into your genitals and anal area. Both your legs. Don't rise above it. Don't armour yourself again. Professional watching. Hard to look at her. "I see you were crying with me and also your arms are held across you, you have to protect yourself too," from radiation to the womb and genitals. 29 "Your man is carrying your woman, she isn't grounded." Michael weeping. "All those years I had nothing other people have, I nearly died for it." The state that's completely solid. "The way I was when I was a child." Death, ambition, what else? "To just stay absolutely in the present." He was in love. : After. Telling a sequence, having to tell it again. Knocked into dismay. Then in the rest of the night not wanting to look. The way he can't handle double negatives for instance. The dismay is, it's a jail, we can gape at bums, he can make me laugh, I can act cute and bratty, we can observe this and that about the baby. (You're laying the foundation, Diana says. Gratefully: Yes.) When he was passionate in dignity, this one, yes, this one I would - 1st December RM shows me white sheets. I make up the sight of blue. Ellie Epp Selected Writing. Checking Jam's house, basement disrupted, Laiwan and friend getting stuff. A ruckus. Them having a party upstairs or next door. Lying down
listening. Renee flops down. You guys are having a pyjama party. This morning many cups of tea writing Cheryl what I actually have. Fury. 2nd Zeno: from 1500 to 1950 eighteen generations. Medieval, didn't dare see or think. Very much accomplished. Magic took over. Science, mechanics. But it's old sense of religion still. "Left nothing to the personal will of god." In the next while working on Two. I didn't say last week I bought a teddy bear. In Hudson's Bay toy floor looking at bins of them. This an oldtime little bear, soft, cinnamon, hinged arms and legs with claw lines, short body, sexy belly, a little back hump. Pook pook pook pook jumping to kiss the ba-by. Thrilling to hold. Thirty dollars. [sketch]
A Gund. Michael said, I think it has something to do with what you're doing. He meant with Joyce. The pleasure I have in him. Mm yes it's him. Rowen's my dolly. And what's the dolly. Looking after oneself. That means, split - does it? The letters to Jam. 3rd Fierce hands on little bum - is that from a programming - spanking the sexy part to substitute violence for - what - doing to it what I don't allow to be done to me - the violence of doing/done - where after that.
4th 27", 20 lb. Edge of a tooth through. 6 months.
This evening, it's Wednesday again, trying for RM. This morning, tonight when he's in bed. I begin with the women's college in Cambridge, thinking of home and alone the way I've repeated it, conflict, is that 'justice'? What I wanted from J and accuse her of, I want you to help me write.
Saturday 7th Frightened by the gathering downstairs, her power voice, by fighting back. Tea. The journals, of being shattered. Yesterday, in the morning shall I phone. Card is 10c. He looks squashed but we go on buoyantly. "What do you know about the daoist way," bold across the table. (Stroking the sugar cane, "It's a nice color," oop, but he hasn't noticed.) "You're the most provocative person I talk to." What I said about the hara. In the aft willing to kiss. Banging foolishly. What I did was like seeing him during the night, from his bed, he in the chair holding the baby straight-backed seriously chewing a strip of bread. The two profiles. "Nice Michael." You are just full of love and needing to find somebody. You're a third son, who shares his sandwich with some ants. Law-avoiding citizens. Buddha wake up.
A being that begins with conception: p'o, electric body. Another at birth: the hun, visual. 8 Sunday. Sleeping. writing Anne about her book. Michael wants to be lying down. He's charged I'm not, in his loose pants his belly like a dog's on my knee. Feeling every touch deep. Complaining I only go after him when he isn't hot and that's what makes it chaotic. Pick up the baby finally asleep and take him past Michael turning his back angry. Cautiously down the two flights of hotel stairs, entering the fresh outside, going consciously on black concrete, today's rain freezing in its pores. The young girl on the corner, do I meet her eyes, embarrassed like a citizen, limping past with the baby in poverty snowsuit. The light tall boots, my heel slipping. Finger in the baby's warm palm, asleep when I cross the corner diagonally, empty, at Hawks and Pender. Sometime his truth's going to come down like a cliffside. 9 Theory and the fantasia of origin. It doesn't matter what philosophy was. We should see and think. DR battling in the politics of perception, for what's to be noticed and how. Whose nervous system, whose endocrine balance, whose senses, whose upbringing, will feel at home.
Worried how it is with M. Don't cry don't cry, listen, you mustn't go on being wasted. Something wrong in telling him to do somebody else to get stronger. I feel, when I see him go silent that the daily pushing away, going home guilty, fattened, are hardening him away from the one who moved me. Natter as if to someone I don't think is there. thermal and electromagnetic images 10 The Ladakh picture book, looking at masked dancers he said are ego demons. Crowd faces, their ways of looking at the oracle. Thinking of his description of beginning to see it's a drama of selves. I see a face, European woman like Katrin a little, an absorbing thinking look. Then I see that it's him, Andrew Harvey. Checking with the photo in his book - yes. Looking again at the crowd faces seeing that I can see in. Frightened. Dope sight. The seeker may learn more from the master than the master has learnt. A dialogue of extraordinary beauty and complexity. To work in the world we will have to be strong. Test again and again what you have learnt. Because I loved X so extravagantly, something could open within me which otherwise would never have opened. I knew that I was not his plaything or victim. The essence of his gift to me was freedom, and I felt able to accept it and him freely, without fear and without any sense of abasement while at the same time being aware of his spirit within me, changing me, revealing itself to me in its range and splendour. That strength to welcome him was his gift also, a gift that his love gathered for me from that light and that rock. Will you renew each time before you meditate the vow to take all the suffering of the world on yourself and to give all your joy to others. until every creature can enter with you? Yes. Then I will teach you. I have seen that the images that will help you are images of love, that the energy you need is an energy of love. The way I will teach you will call out the sun that is your true heart away from fear and anger. You will understand in slow stages that reality is a creation of the mind. You will understand it practically, because you will be growing able to alter it. You must work every day. What you are beginning is a journey into a different world. Perseverance and trust and humility, which you will need to learn. When you can visualize - so powerfully you feel you could touch - who is looking into your eyes with a
look of immense love, then you make a sacrifice to --- of everything you are - senses body heart spirit - and you merge with ---. You become your highest self, which is ----. And in this state you will see everything with ---'s eyes, hear all sounds with ---'s ears. You will see world as ---'s body. You must understand that this merging with the god you have projected out of yourself, that you have visualized from your own deepest energies, is an experience of deep power. Yes, but of a power dedicated to all beings. A final stage. You must dissolve your projection, rest your mind in emptiness the mother the clear light of the void. - A continual outpouring of deep humor, of friendship. For many hours in those days I felt that everything that was happening was happening in the ----'s mind. Not directed or controlled, but contained. You must see that all the world is in pain, that all Being is suffering. Everything --- does is dedicated. Every thought to love all created things so much that you want to become perfect, so you can be of help. A mind, we say, that makes the world flower: that has denied nothing and transformed everything. Tantra the most dangerous way. Greed desire and anger turned slowly into loving power. Remote and present, abstract and immediate, stark and tender, fierce and hilarious, immensely almost frighteningly disciplined, and the most unforced unaffected Rinpoche means diamond. The 4. Perfection. We know it is possible. A man a woman a child. Atmosphere of liberty and freedom of spirit. only the perfect can have these
powers and not use them badly. The perfection of the use of power rests in an understanding of emptiness and limitless compassion for all things. All connections are of mind. Fictions. For ego which is fiction to live this understanding. The union with Shakti. Awareness and knowledge, love and mind. The face of true compassion is so beautiful it is frightening. I am afraid my art draws me away from spirit. I am afraid spirit will demolish my gift. (Your greed for fame, your greed to create, your greed to find significance) You should not believe there is no work possible that is not evil, no creation that is not in some sense the work of the deluded ego, the most beautiful is not always made from torment and bitterness. Often, from contemplation, joy, instinct or wonder towards all things. To create from joy and wonder demands a continual discipline. Severity toward all vanity and posturing of ego that loves its suffering and clings to depressions, despairs and fears. A continual looking out at and beyond the world created by the senses, toward spiritual reality, whose lines appear slowly after years of meditation and experience. You do not need to stop working, but you must work for a new relation to your work. You don't need to stop writing, you need to begin to explore another way to write, to build another awareness to write from. You will not find this quickly. You will need patience. Many people will tell you you are foolish. You must accept criticism but not be swayed. With time and sincerity you will discover a way to work that does not harm you spiritually, that doesn't tempt you to vanity. You will find a voice that isn't your voice only, but the voice of the real. Andrew Harvey A journey in Ladakh - A hook, crochet, back into that time. Diana's house, "Come and meet Donna," eyes, "I know your face from somewhere," looking at her at the table in a red jumpsuit, "you suit the house." She says, I think we know each other. That's too much to say, I think, and find myself having fled - following Diana's back that turns out not to be leaving yet. In the van I connect it. The one last week in old journal I jumped as over. 11 [with Joyce] If they're states, what does grounded mean. Are there two that take turns being unconscious. Someone afraid of death. Amazed and interested, Where are you? Behind the scenes. PUER AETERNUS. "Either have to have a rebirth or commit suicide," your form of it is passive. An early stage.
undifferentiated tissue "I'm the slow twin" speaks in sight suspended path Breast cancer was with Jam. "She was starting to be afraid." She wasn't nourishing, she was torturing me. And she didn't acknowledge my nourishment.
Dewey Stickney Coming into a room where Max is packing. Can I have this place after you? No she's already given it to someone. I've walked into them setting up for a concert. T's sets, a play with Roy. Vast room, stone walls, like the top floor of a castle, down the other end a stuffed giraffe nearly lifesize, it was daycare I brought Luke to, we lived here - Yesterday eye-swords at the letter box. 12 Saying to J, If you torture me any more I'll do anything I have to to harm you equivalently, and them too. Yesterday in session she liked me sitting forward eager, bubbling. The boy. But today I've no feeling for Michael or baby. Imagining the boy my own in me. Effervescent. No one could refuse me any more. Not exactly I'd be him, but he'd be there, I'd be in relation to him, in love, inspired. 13 Battling in journals. I want to solve the years of dreams and books. Heartless with Michael. Run away from the baby. No one phones. Don't trust the letters I've written. Flat tire on bike. It's talk I like - my boy spirit. Afternoon magnetizing right foot lying down struggling in seeing how it looks if all the protagonists are states or structures. My 'father' who doesn't want to be seen with me - the I who doesn't see me as lame - is it?
The I who doesn't want to. 14 Pent and sulking, persecuting baby and Michael, persecuting the painter with opera. M said it could be all new, a way of seeing it. I said, I don't dare be open to it because they're here so close, I'm afraid of them. As if strengths come into me from other people and then stray from me in other people. 15 "You don't know anyone. When you're with someone and you think you're knowing them it's yourself you're knowing." "Then there's no one else." Crying. Looking at a thin mouth face, thin face stranger steady and keen. Began when I said, I'm acting all the time, you don't care. Then stop acting, this minute. I stop being for him.
Lie still. He lies beside me. Hot spread at the womb. Anguish crying at the forehead. Want to get away from him. I'm going to be punished. When I first spoke to you, when I heard your voice, I knew I shouldn't go on, but I was too desperate. "When you said, Do you want to talk, no, that's not what I want." "You saw right. I'm the one you saw. The talking person is nothing, he's just my dumb sidekick. I use him because I have to. You think your talking person is you." Asshole retard wood BABY "I'm mad at the language part because it's out of control. I'd be waking up at night and smoking a cigarette. It's a tyrant. It wants to stay in command all the time and not let anything else have any fun. I just want it to shut up and let me do something else, enjoy myself. 90% of it is just horrible nonsense." Hemispheres - body areas - chakras
In a ruined house with Michael sorting through cutlery in a drawer, looking for spoons. The bottom halves fucking some, the heads going in diff directions. Thinking he may kill me, strangle. Alert. Two derelict middleaged men I go speak to: to get out of it with them. Freud and Jung.
- Turquoise boy - antlerman
|