| dames rocket 5 part 2 - february - march 1977 | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
Forbidden:
- "Dear Lord Jesus, thank you for this day, thank you for our food, thank you for our house, thank you for Mama and Daddy. I'm sorry I fought with Judy and Paul. I'm sorry I shouted at Mama. Please help me be good. Please make the kids at school like me. Bless Mama and Daddy and Paul and Judy. Bless Grandpa and Grandma Epp and Grandpa and Grandma Konrad. Bless Uncle Walter and help him get saved. Bless Billy and Warren and Dewey Stickney. Amen." Prowling the night bedroom, potty, bedclothes, an edge of pyjamas, flannel, very black and white, hard, not quite dark. The dangerous road. Paul fainted when he remembered.
Something special for Luke's room The remembered times are the conscious times Your 'elegance' makes such a distance It seems to me that I'm seeing the spectrum of minds that are in me and it's making me conscious of making finding choosing a home among them, that would be connected to the first or favorite minds of childhood - retain the distance and also have the quick response of inside-outside. Alchemy indeed. How to be a genius. What parts.
Se faire une personnalité de ce qu'on aime. - You haughty thing in your stiff mask I'm going to laugh and break you. Not only that but take on your work. Another café - Joann's warehouse - a breakfast café the man and woman still in dressing gowns uncombed. L and I welcome. This one was a city.
- The work of many people a training in just that, focusing closer - but what about the feeling relation. Exercises puzzles riddles forming a mind just as a stated pattern does. As a Greek statue that has lost its colors tempts the sculptor into the sight of marble. Imagine a chest really just a place full of air. Notes: what to do instead, only write down distillations. The burnt message. First act of the magician. - So. Is it your confusion I have in me, funny friend? Do I go there to be with you? Not looking at you just seeing your hands come forward, not far, and then seeing them quickly go back into the pockets. I like that I knew to ask you. (You have to.) I liked being with our tremour, yours maybe, that tremour, even for a second, you know it satisfied me. I liked that you knew to meet me. Plant the ashes. Will you trust me? My wish growing into the bones of your house. Burnt it. Put the sticky residue on my belly. Questioning existence. You support Trudy in her freedom, you do you know. Oh it's getting more real. Got a warm steady place in the liver and that's me saying I love you I do love you it's nice I'm glad to love you because there's something there that I'm not ashamed of. In fact it's my pattern to go into worlds without connecting them. How you live is to hold yourself together. Walking about I say to myself I exist, differently than ever before. I exist differently. I exist differently. Turbulence. Paul's bloated baby face set in petulance against me, I was hard for the first time. "You are not good enough for me" I said. All that time and a hunger to get out of the human triviality, that made me neglect to see Luke for years. See him. Buy him baked beans, canned peaches and chicken noodle soup. "Now you're being more like a real mother to me." Can't write though. You/she think she's the real artist and you ain't. - How to do it
Unconscious is always conscious, that's what makes it possible to find it The evening in which we didn't feel anything - it was alright no it was everybody closed secretive discontent Once it has learned to dream the double, the self arrives at this weird crossroad and a moment comes when one realizes that it is the double who dreams the self. Paul in his indulging - "true to himself" no matter that it makes him a baby in my eyes - Wende "But I need strokes" - seems a persistence in oneself as hunger - hunger is a very definite self. The I want experience and not the I want to get experience that's why you're flabby. Sense of the way symbols have power because they are coded messages - if we hang onto them as power objects we will not get the message only transmit it. Imagine reading a book about a brujo teacher in order for it to be clear to me that the brujo for me, is the book. And rumors of Americans combing the desert - Borges bless me Borges it's time. Another wish on the stone this one stated as an intention. Have a look at this body. Is it well? Is this face steady? Then I'm not crazy. Faces and bodies. We collude in their intended expression while hearing dimly their actual one. I have always watched people for something - 'alertness' - my father's task not my mother's. We know who we're talking to by how we talk. The shock of Paul defining something. The shock of not explaining anything, speech so direct it stuns. The veil the curtain of the tent. This time Tales of power is talking to me so directly. Says beware. Come and go, know how. Clarify the self before you go so far away from it. Relate it to what I know about women and the direct knowledge of animals plants, the rich life of being in love - all of it mirrored so strong. My form is to look for confirmation. Not hanging onto something past its time. I am not quite myself, but here is a house being rained on - self and world interchangeable. I am not myself because the world is dim. Trudy. The difference. Quietism.
When an exchange leads to a blank what's happening The difference between knowing a thing and not saying it, and not knowing it She's been talking about humility Few warriors survive the encounter with the unknown that you are about to have; not so much because it is hard but because the nagual is enticing beyond any statement, and warriors who are journeying into it find that to return to the tonal, or to the world of order and noise and pain, is a most unappealing affair. The decision to stay or to return is done by something in us which is neither our reason nor our desire, but our will, so there is no way of knowing the outcome of it beforehand. If you choose not to return you will disappear as if the earth had swallowed you. But if you choose to return to this earth you must wait like a true warrior until your particular tasks are finished. Once they are finished, either in success or defeat, you will have command over the totality of yourselves. - Q. What to choose to create in this life. Given what consciousness is - what work with it. A. Find the mind, then ask it.
The tonal is involved with
The exercise of thinking without writing - 10 February Factually. C in the telephone playful voice says "What are you up to" - I don't want/desire/feel anything much about coming downtown - we can't decide on a coffee place - T in the background "Tell her you're not alone" - of course not - refuse to come immediately - spend half hour costuming, something hard and conspicuous, the self-canceling male-female modes silk scarf and steel-toed boots, eye makeup and grey fedora - on the bus do square breathing to try to put some feeling into my head - Hyatt - walk through feel the money place has an interest in me that the streets don't - up the Polaris - the dim maroon mirror hall upstairs - there I am Charlie Chaplin spotlit in black mirrors all around - look straight and compacted in my head - at the top of the elevator T in black very shabby - C comes out of the washroom with the look she has of walking on a wall - pigeon-toed - wary - go down the escalator 1-2-3 samesize lurks at 2-step intervals - I'm being cool and mean refusing to give anything and am not very interested in them - Polaris T making big show of being scared - little womany and at the observation place she won't trust the edge - the elevator full of squealing Indians sharing the Ferris ride - C and I take it as natural levitation, buildings growing and sinking, a movie (movies dissociate us) - into the restaurant - blank - these beings denied - ask unreal questions and are refused with a smile - a refusal so blank only has an edge when expressing itself as refusal - T without much plays a silliness some of the time but hasn't got a [slant to] her mind - C watches me and is enclosed willing to talk about Zo but without her fire - she's taken in her sheets and sits quiet - on the street she walks ahead to the left and T ahead to the right and I behind - we make a broad sickle on the sidewalk and I imagine people refusing to walk through/into it - watch the little bums primly walking - C's shoulders are pinned back - we all have hands in pockets - she looks stiffened in her top half while her flexible feet in their little boots and her patched bum go carefully. T is loose in her shoulders and toes out comically - my shadow limps between the two, hat, scarf blowing left - da da da da da da - these are boys but elaborate perverse boys - on the bus an old formation in the back seat - C refuses to imitate T - I mock C's stiff back and tight arms - two boys speak to me at the bus door - I like to speak to them but am selfconscious on the ladies' account - find ourselves descended at the Classical Joint - street smells of public toilets - walking across the Gastown intersection the Europe Hotel strange interleaf of another 'time' - the little ideal coffeehouse red tablecloths candles coffee machine hip attendant carafe of wine cappuccino nothing to say. I would be glad to keep silence obstinately - T makes up 1955 in New York, painters, she wants to be Kline C wants to be Rauschenberg I am not interested in any of that idolatry and say Georgia O'Keefe for the sake of making a point about being female. What were we actually in '55 - I bring up a crush on the hired man, sitting on Bobby's knee, C says she was a punk in fantasies, "I would be up all night and in the morning the birds would be so loud" - power tripping - motorcycles - "I liked the jackets, I wasn't really into their hairstyles" - sense of her story and mine existing in unrelated memories with the dimmest of indications to mark them in each other - maybe they were the same dream - that's the deep hope but cynic'd over in that meeting fasure - T not having this kind of story - "It isn't about power" I say, "it's just natural, the self is a queen" - C says her kingdom was disordered by incest - she sent out husband and brother to war - "Armies?" - "Yes" - I try to imagine her in a city bedroom with dawn grey outside imagining battles - "My kingdom was very peaceful" I say, "I was more interested in making up cultures" - "Were there more than one" asks C - there weren't, and I'm uncomfortable feeling I tell this story to present myself in some lying way as a born artist - "Mostly I made up erotic rituals" - T is quiet - "Do you know this story already?" - we neither of us are willing to get into our stories and give anything but I am interested in C's story. Is this how she feels when she refuses and blanks me. Interest paralyzed not wanting to desire the other's life - the wine makes me drunk but does not give me speech. I go to the toilet and like my thin reflection in the purple crepe which I'm wearing to remind C what she's given up but feel cheap on account of that - she has on a green boy's sleeveless sweater that gives her breasts - T is bodiless. The timid bookrat Ed comes to pay curious tribute. C sees him coming and I watch her deal with an inferior - both she and T looking, smiling, asking questions. "You ladies" he calls us three times, wanting to make sure he's said it. What he's said is you are ladies although you look like the mafia and make me uncertain of myself - he's trying to hold us to it. It's feedback says C. He looks at me carefully as he leaves. I play to it looking hard - they both get up - "Are you going together?" really alarmed - C consults the man and girl having a late beer after cleaning up after the last clients - when T comes back sends round a joint immediately. We're more willing to talk and start word-playing - "Let's not do that it takes too much energy" say T - we're sent out - "We're homeless tonight, I mean the three of us" says T. "That's why we're here" said I. Out in the streets it's one in the morning walking parallel and closer now at the corner of Pender and Carrall already in Chinese land two on the west side and I with my back to home. "What are you doin'?" "Keeping my toes off the ground" - heels on the pavement - in all this story seems I'm more interested in me than in them and that was what the costume was for. It hurt when Cheryl left last time without holding me. To get close and be denied, have to follow and beg. No wonder this time there was bitter satisfaction in not seeing or caring - walked home the little stone giving me for the first time to see objectively what my lameness looks like - hat so gallant, scarf so light, one supple leg and one peg used stiff like a prop - it might not have to do that - stump - another thing that hasn't grown up in me - god too. T and I scuffle to have some rough play and do not meet at all. She looked in my eyes as she never used to. What this is for is to catch up with the nearly conscious things that happened then - if I can do it I bring everyone with me - it's what we want to do together - have in mind the account while it's happening. Last night thought it was alright to have not met, today mind. Last night tried to fuck myself couldn't find a fantasy at all. Body stubborn resisting at a superficial sensation not deepening even when coming. Thrashing in that bed. Locked even to me. It wasn't good ----. Assumed they called me idly because they were bored - wasn't going to give them me as a sensation. A trip into the Hyatt instead - it wasn't the right time. - It was time, today, because I had the leaning in me again - "Didn't you feel it today, that it was time?" - oh she was scared offended stiff tonight her face was heavy and mouth and nose tied too tight - I was leaning on her hard taking advantage from the moment I first spoke myself - but why press on that person - who doesn't understand - who needs security in such a way - Trudy jerks her stumbling after - Cheryl you don't seem to be willing to take the gifts - "I have an extraordinary memory for pain" - she suspects me of directing things to her which belong to Trudy - she remembers betrayals and says she remembers them as pain. - No this isn't right, I have to start again and do it as facts. I was in my room - the living room made beautiful - with the window open making more connection with outside footsteps - they come up - my door when they close the downstairs one bumps shut from wind - laugh in the corridor - I intend for them to come and find a tableau. Have to go find them looking for stuff in the kitchen. The ritual occupation of filling the kettle, plugging it in, washing cups. T is pale and wants tampax, says she's 'unwell', combing her hair forward to grow it out, C's face is big - she has such black eyebrows since her hair is short, wearing that green vest she's more covered and not so enticing. I wanted the south position but T took it while I washed cups. Some laughing but I have a grievance. C brings out the blue envelope with a fragment from the spell, looks like a body with a line drawn through, she's anxious that I won't tell - comes out later why - I demand to know how they decide to come because I don't understand why - C says in various ways that I should just be glad for what I've got, trust the fine meetings; I say that I exist betweentimes and want to know how she carries me around in those times - I tell her she's mean - T as usual tracks it down to the evening when I ran after them to the bus - C set me up for that I say, and T by stringing it out - I say either I have to be closed and nothing can happen, or I am open and it hurts when they go home - I didn't say the most direct thing then or at all, Cheryl you have to touch me sometimes. That time when I was in tears in rage and distraught she did put her hands on me. She's so oblivious! "They don't want us to be close" she pouts. T: "It's always like that with couples, people resent it." C: "We've never talked about it before." She wasn't being direct, I was slow to know what she was saying, that I was one of those outside people trying to put pressure on them. "No! No! It's different than if I'd always been at a certain distance, I've had more than I have now." "That's true" T says jumping in justice. Innocence. T thinking. "Cheryl wants to know what you're thinking." Sent the evening into a heaviness. I've had freedoms with you don't you understand. To be so contracted. Meantime there's an easiness between T and me - I can't give a sequential account of all that it seemed a homogeneous mass, me attacking C defending irritably and without much imagination and as a sideshow T and I are having fun. I go out of the room when there seems to be an exchange necessary between them - C I hear complaining about all the pressure she's under - "There's a trust that was broken" blah blah - T says I presume of me "She doesn't trust that energy at all." "Those things you give me I don't think they're for me" she says. Well serious question. Let's see if I can answer it. Somebody there. Frustration says C. "I don't mean that you're not stupid also, but ..." something. T there supporting right away - "She's being hard on you." When she sees something her vision often isn't heard because T is so much more skilled. So far I've told the things I feel righteous about, but sometimes there is no problem and I see everything very clear and I know what it's about, but for me to stay there I would have to be stronger than I always am. Knocking on doors that don't open What a bore It's always me transcending my body It's an old history: my body is impatient It's never had enough of holding its choice in peacefulness Or in wild flying Still she was so dim and tenacious, angry You don't have to give anything, you have it all Focused on one place, driving T crazy with it Why don't you despecialize a little What is it that I have to find you Was that my lonely raving Mind in its lonely raving Invents Oh, what this historian chooses to say, out of grievance - it was also true that I looked at Trudy and loved her plainly. Of course I do but I'm peaceful about it, I feel like I have to break through something with you so it won't be so stiff and weird. T "the smell of innocence" C "what does it mean, frustration" "You describe my predicament" she says. Hopefully I imagine she's about to say I like you I miss you in my life, but it's Trudy she's talking about. - Valentine's Day I went to bed early and lay wide awake telling myself what to think about - think thoughts that make you like yourself - voices talking to C and T saying you're selling out my sexuality for the security of yours - saying I don't care - knock on the door I hope it's not Bruce - it's two - what's this for? to see the things between the times - wanted to learn to think without writing. T upstairs grabbing papers - C saying it's rape - me grabbing her, it's the game, she reads things aloud wants to read the names - the way T is seems odd, excessive, is she just rambunctious to enliven me and make me grab her? C disapproves as if that were so - I was the whole time making sure they remembered my grievance - they were hinting already that they'd come prepared among themselves - the Greek Islands, retsina, Anna leaning on Cheryl playing with her hair saying "It's too long just here, you want to bring it forward" - they are both nice to Anna and the retsina is good but we were stiff and quiet until the second carafe when a good explosion was building in me - knocking the glass on the table going to the washroom to dance pounding refusing to look at C - the extraordinary moment when two Native girls one short and buxom the other tall and thin in a white suit that cut into her crotch, with their arms along each other's were doing a beautiful gentle Greek dance, knowing the steps, wrapped in silence with each other, concentrating, looking down. I went right into them. The young sailors with long hair, big and stout sailors, glasses smashing and self love, they build up a good strong feeling of self with the way they dance, the women not wonderful. It's another time and place. Paying - the sense of our magic formation as magic dolls, the black three etc is less, less glamour, I'm returning from my enchantment we're all cooling and what precipitates is not coming from otherworld as it did - Trudy takes responsibility for everything in her punky way, "You're lovely drunk" says C with that poison of wanting to be her - C fawns like a child sometimes under the carpet when she's down there - I adore you she says with her gestures and her tone - that's nice says Trudy - I adore only you, I want to sacrifice everyone to you (to keep you, you're my soul, you're my way out of the darkness of me, you're my wife and I want you to ease me of the terror of losing you, oh seal me make a man of me) - and there's T who somewhere has a clean affection for my being and misses my body a little, feels it curiously, touches the nipple because she knows how, but she's on the other side of C and my hands want to be on the body I'm next to and I feel I'm giving T's head a less attention, there are two hands on my back, one alive and one not. Then she touches Trudy's chest with hands so different curious rapt. It's there a->b->c-> again. But C next to me pushed up against me I don't put my hands on her for a long time, it's nice and it's a lot, all that person along the front. It's warm there. When I touch her - find the edge of the sweater the collar put my hand inside the sweater - it is so delicately erotic I'd be content with that (have to be) because it pulls all of me into it. Hello little neck. Ah shoulder blade I love you. My hands get so intelligent. T's body soft - she has a tender unformed little body - that's it - I look for something harder in bodies and this is for the softest love not the bite of curiosity. Well Trudy we can't do that again (not for a while) - and treacherous C she was wanting to get into some trouble tongue looking for me oo it was a nice kiss I remember those with her it's always me making the love she's waiting for me to make her - in these meetings - "Let's all go in the living room and feel nice with each other" says little Trudy so nicely drunk - and when we are laid down in that bed whose cover isn't wide enough I will not move toward C and I won't let go only a little it's nice to feel the familiar crying it's just something shaking loose - Then the lie that makes C so uneasy is that T holds herself back - she harps on it - it isn't good enough for her, that T will protect her - she wants the sweetness for her oh eats her up listen turn a little on me - "I don't want to scare this lady," it flies out, "she's no good unless she feels safe" - "She feels safe" says T and kisses her nicely. "Do you just only want passion? Don't you like affection? Do you have enough affection in your life?" I say. "You'd be surprised" C says. "I would be surprised! If you said yes or no even I'd be very surprised." T laughs. "I could go on for hours with nothing happening but I think it must be because I'm not Jewish." C laughs. - This is family life I'm talking about. Luke comes to my bed in the morning and says "Well, how did it go with Cheryl last night?" There was a moment with T - you see one is enough - when we rolled our heads together and then kissed each other dryly like old friends - everyone knew it was fine and greedy Cheryl did her leaving act. We were both cross. "Why'd you do that?" She doesn't like to see how we play. It feels like complicity to her. - There was this too: looking at her feet up I said "Have you always had your feet on your chair?" I was asking to make the bond, something, no not that - "You know the answer to that" - flash of dismay, I have asked her, I forgot. Wanted never to see her again. - Have to look at Luke this way also. It's hard to remember a time when everything in it is so interesting all the instants. Mythologizing easier than remembering. Does C object to the pictures she sees, T and me, because visible in them is something very real and she imagines that it is not real but for her? Then to see it makes her picture flip entirely? They each gave me pictures - C's tale of her hippy period, I was so touched to imagine fierce contracted Cheryl a hippy mother, long dress wrapped in a blanket, her husband bringing home crashers, always had music in the house, "I fed a lot of people", the patriarch's womanly woman relating around peace love and making up every moment - "I used to dress Don, I made him flowered pants and a brocade shirt, I went up to --- and got pieces of brocade and put them together, I used to sew in those days." "Don and Zoe are the only people in the world I'm comfortable with, he doesn't see through me but he accepts me totally, he lets me be. I get raucous." "Were you mystifying it?" "Not at all, I don't do that anymore." How she pins her shoulders back. When I see into her life which has had the strange warps mine has, sewing, self-contempt, long dresses Her boy steps Throwing the apple (hard) Wrong time - - The ballgame - take a discreet part - three samesize female black persons among the trunks of some trees in wet ground. The green ball thrown from one to the other, our eyes and the eyes of two cats on a hot rooftop go with it - there's Trudy so slight in her black clothes, today she's a boy, she moves like a boy kid, the fishing boy of calendars a bashful smile and full ownership of the body direct hard throws not like a girl - "You have to follow through," throws high ones, she varies and invents. She likes herself, what a practical person is Trudy both of us such shoulders and she can throw four times as far - "You have to become the ball" - (I would too, I could youknow, I have - yes! an athlete in me, it is my shame that stops me, imagine not caring how it looks and doing it to do it - Ellie doesn't like to make a spectacle of herself so Ellie will learn to be a body from inside - hey in the video I went slow and felt it out and made music with Cheryl). [T books a video camera at the Western Front. She and C go off and leave me alone with it for a while. I take off my clothes and walk around in front of it, speak into it.] What I saw was this: there is no disguising it, it's really too bad for that - I hear stupid Eddie telling me to walk carefully so it wouldn't show so much - girls! - to be not so undesirable - I'm a conspicuous cripple all my little moves are disasters wow time to let it show and be a body there's no bluffing it out - I could be it - there's a relief relief relief in that - 'passing' for. Also the direct passionate moves are better than the selfconscious ones. What she was, was a strange body, the pubic triangle skews very strangely, the body is all there but part of it works just to support the other side during steps. The work I do on everything else - it is bizarre what a dream I've lived in - the whole body is a deformity, as a visible body - as a vehicle it is better than I think it transports me it dances it catches balls when I don't frighten it. It loves to love. Alas. What was it. It was muscle, it was so beefcake, so not like their elegant boybodies so mature in its heaviness, but likeable, not immoral, erect, with its worried head, it was nobody I'd seen before not my mother not my father, she didn't offend me, I dressed her up and took her to Cheryl to love and comfort her - it can clown it can get into things - it can clown - it's going to have to get funny now it's lost its innocence. Trudy. She moves like a child. Trudy is her child in some way, she is so brilliant in her practical ways, so not superstitious, so applied psychology not waiting for help but making it work - that's it Trudy so immensely receptive knows how to regulate it in and out. "She courts your pain," says Cheryl, "you give yourself to her to be cured." The thing it's hard for me to know what to do with is that it should be there, as part of the picture of me for everybody who loves me or sees me. Exorcise it, make them say it. - The wall 15 Feb [images on the wall above my desk]
Use any way to get to it but bring it back otherwise it's not in accessible place - The New Music concert - Theo Goldberg's grid airplane, various grid drawings and overlay, planes I like and want to know more about ways of making the air ring. Certain qualities A piece with piano and electronics playing off The piece with the bubble - - "I need to go out firm and brave" says Luke at the door. "Why's that?" I shout. "On account of the dogs." Dreams. After C and T the other night dreamed an incident with my father where he aggravated me and I threw a cup of something (milk?) on him and waited in suspense for his revenge - he threw something over me and I laughed. Last night dreamed a young man with a tender body like Steven and as a consequence a baby girl, some night journey to prepare things to be packed. (Hilde is going to have a child.)
Luke and the Hulk, the superheroes - not paying attention, not being of one's time What was it then, what is it now The fantasy powers, Dr America, Superfly, Don Juan Cheryl, the journey, a red town in Missouri, she was leaving, I wanted her to leave the car, seemed like she was likely to take it. C's warrior protects somebody who feels sorry for herself. Don and Zoe the only people she feels comfortable with, that means - she's locked in and doesn't know how, very special, oo baby I just wanna hold you. (Choke) "But she used to be my lover." Hey there was something strong in holding her little head. "I want to beat you up" she said. "If I hold you a little I want to hold you more."
After acid - Chinese paintings - the clear outlines and the sense of color like Persian paintings - red blue green pink - birds and feathered flowers - made on brown or beige paper. A few things seen in the clearest light. All these forms show the mind that makes them, some minds more than others have it - art is looking for it coding it remembering it. If it comes from a good mind there's no need to doubt its value. It is value. A thing you do in grace. A thing you do looking for grace.
In the acid found the porch to that house, Cheryl was telling her house, basement with ping pong table, red and white linoleum with her father's initials carved in it, mirrors, a bar. Brother Alan who played good ping pong so she had to be the defensive, as she says she is with T. "I never got a chance to develop a good offensive, he was always ahead of me." How can he have such harmonious handwriting? [my dad] Beautiful, in charge and bare. The way Paul looked, a satyr, a hairy Pan, face shining very transformed with eyes boring out very blue - but obstinate obstinate willful presenting himself a head like a penis quite blind in self assertion. When I tried to penetrate with jokes he would stop himself laughing. He was a satyr before the bored women who sat slightly touching around the corner of the table - presenting his case, righteous, 'sincere', but (Trudy in her fantasies touching strangers) in a completely wrong mind. Making a gesture on one level, thinking of his act as that, and on another crying out. Wasting our time trying to deal with his web. The Change, the transformation, the physical radiance Josie saw (her wet face, a truthful pain it was no longer hard to see, the fearlessness of that right mind, wet but very warm, I love Josie and I know she'll mend, she'll keep the wound clean).
Oh Cheryl, don't be sad, you're so much. The neighbourhood I saw in it, had a lively house - the light footed man with an Assyrian face, their upstairs room. Paul coming and wanting to show me a tree. I began to laugh hysterically. The other thing that made me laugh was Luke's brilliant setup of the blanket, the umbrella and his bed, all his animals brought to be with them. His dream under the table, made up with an exact sense of what a dream is. Voice from under there. Cheryl came light and full of a lovely fantasy. "Manna!" she called into the sky, I flapped my wings. Trudy was her soft girl, very soft mouth very girl, taking Paul on mercifully but without compromise. She liked me. I liked her. Either one I liked to be next to some little part of their bodies. They slept next to me put their heads together little skinny scholarly Amazons. I was in the bath looking at thighs and chest with water on, Paul on the other side of the curtain, he made me into a goddess. "Do you have jewelry on?" "Only very ... casually." Giggle. He was posturing and I still have it in me, in relation to revenge, to scorn a man when I see through him, and it makes me fat. Seeing the bits of light on a part of the wall, like crystals. There was such a fine vibration in me, a great delicacy, vibrating mostly in the head. I went into it touching myself. It was the orgasm that let me know I was there, it rang in a certain way, echoed. Woke up thinner. In the park felt light and jerky, like Trudy. The mind makes the body. While waiting for them I looked at myself in the mirror and loved the woman I saw, her strong neck. Loved her shoulders and her articulated muscles, it's a right body. The doors opening to Luke and to body and to Josie. The girl on the wall, running, made of plaster and some little paint so directly impressed on the wall. There were times the walls buckled. I remembered Trudy. When you come to a strange place you take possession of yourself in it. You look around to see what you can see. You don't indulge in confusion. You choose who to be. You see what calls you and you choose your good self and then you find yourself unafraid and you give what you can. It was a treat, a seal. Oh my darlings I'm so close to you don't go away scared oh seal yourself beautiful Cheryl, I saw you such an old woman I saw into you, you're remaking yourself aren't you, going to the orphan to tell her once again. There were layers of clouds their movement stopping and starting, they would move stop move stop beautiful grey patterns. On the wall it was lace, stone lace very fine reforming constantly, colors, very pastel, shifting, a curtain of winged creatures embracing, patterns transforming every moment, grey with colors appearing. What delicate visions I made. The girl running arm up with wings running off it [ie seen in the wall]. What texture created - I like how the shape is just implied. - Nneww Dduon't don't Conk Mm mm (little car wheels sound) Mieww meeouw How do you like my sword-uh-plane This is how it lands, The wheel things go back like that (etc) . . . . aaaa Look at the size of this car if it was real Mama . . . . if it smashed it would make a huge fire But I know one thing that would make a huger fire (He goes out, a door slams downstairs) Here it is, look at the size of these flamer jets, Ellie Sometimes it goes like this right, this can be a very use landing space, see it comes down softly like this. . . . . You know what? Pretty soon I'm gonna want a bath (fixing lego) yuhh, phooey, yeahhhe puung uhhHH-hh eekt - conk - peuh - eeurk - conk - nyee - eeel (around ashtray on two wheels) You know what Kit calls himself? KIT MARLATT, I thought it was Kit Mahlatt. Emergency breakdown, runaway truck. - Woke from a dream very afraid - I'd had a vision of evil powers, I can't get back the sense of what they were and didn't wake well enough - no it was that I didn't dare think about it. It was a very subtle evil, my first vision of what evil might be - connected it with reading about alchemy. Colors vivid today. The acid made buildings sway. Later on dreaming a building with many rooms, stairs, a co-op house with a high up dining room. Traveling, a sea. It's dim - anyway I was traveling a lot. - And this night the pool was outdoors - daylight - ran across a road, straight to the deep end jumped in thought, while underwater, lying comfortably on my back, first falling and then rising, that I might not be able to swim to the edge, but without fear; rose and my outstretched hand felt the edge of the pool; there was a little admiring sound from someone on the side. [sketch] It was an evil of a certain kind of consciousness, some way of thinking.
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