050104 Okay. I’m going to say this so I will remember it the next time I’m all drunk and chatty with the boys (yes, that includes you, trudy): red barn “gets it” more than we give him credit for. I’m right on the verge of exploding. I’m right THERE at the cusp of that next “level.” “...if you choose to express yourself this way...” says flip. AND I DO. What if I could express myself that way just by going around everywhere, even in the “normal” world? Who would I be then? I’d be the guy from my dream. That’s who. AND I AM. Guilt is a quilt. It’s not about force; it’s about freedom. “it,” YOU know! They call it “flow” but YOU know it’s moving like the girl you really are! And, amastonashingly, it works! It’s losing the tight hesitations--not by learning the secret skills for losing them, but simply by losing them! All you gotta do is volunteer to reLEASE it, sistah! A large part of “getting” the drum to sound how you want it to, is really WANTING it to! A large part of “making ANY movement fun” is connecting your hips to all parts of your body, and letting the whole assembly sway! In other words, if you dance all the time, you will “become” a dancer! I’m going to be an angoleiro: THAT’s why the spider’s on my chest! Okay. Here’s my little pinprick theory on why my back started paining me at age 17: I was shit-honey-fuck in love with Ella. We were on our way to London, Scotland, and the rest. We stayed overnight in St Louis with the first gay couple i had ever been that close to. All during the trip abroad, I questioned myself sexually. I secreted some part of me away, locked it in my ass for safekeeping. The keyhole was right in the small of my back--sexy place for a tattoo--and I’ve kept it shut tight since then. Now I’m almost twice as old as I was then, and I’m starting to open it up, let it stop hurting. come on out So red barn wants to do tricks! So what! He’s a monkey! Deal with it! MALICIA Loyalty Day? You have got to be shitting me. I encourage all Americans to spit on this travesty of a twistedly simpsons-esque charade. Mr Bush, you’re fostering a nation of stoned, disloyal, pissed-off americans. Okay, the hostile takeover is well underway. We can all stop being astonished now, and get on with our lives. What is that going to mean? One way to win someone’s loyalty is to trounce their enemies--even if you have to invent some, or make your own look like theirs. TEH-Dsa hel.ps me DEEL with the fAK that {crtn knd f stff\} even EXISTs. trudy emphasizes teaching red barn how to reinforce positively. one way to teach him that is by granting him the same respect we’re asking for. How often does she say to him, hey red barn, nice {cl}ass! 050304 you got2 Ride on the current that Isn’t there roll down&up the hillock of your buttock relax into the upsideDown of flying stay loose brother&sister let your Hips lead the Way that’s about it in a Nut shell “if You choose to express yourself this Way” I (and maybe this is unfair because I haven’t fully tested it) still suspect Cholula may not really support me if I came all the way out (whatever that means). The greatest fault of Word is not that it is cumbersome on disk, nor that it’s byzantine inner workings often befuddle, but that it’s conspicuous. It leaves its spoor all over everything. The epiphany of my latest leafy road trip is: <blog> is the new [index cards] It don’t matter how hot she be, I’ll want a boy eventually ! masturbate, or save it for wife? Okay, seriously, before you go: conjure for me. Please. 050404 I think maybe next time around I’ll be a tragic hero. FACE IT, WHORE: Heirarchy is built in. Dynamics of power both subtle and overt interlace our whole love-sex-romance-alliance network. Relationships are defined by service and mastery. Therefore choose your allegiances well. Is your lover a good leader? Is your president a good lover? No? Then dump his sorry ass--one way or another. One thing Internet shows: just how normal weird really is. Yes, jay is a girl. Too. 050504 Jyleel, Oldegobo, whoever you are right now: losing you was the biggest mistake I ever made. So this little boy a little older than Moonbeam just tripped up the stairs and spilled a little of his milk. Some of it spilled on his arm. It might have hurt a little, but I don’t think that’s why he was crying. He wanted a new milk. He wanted his mom to get him a new milk. And I felt so bad and so good for him, and I just wanted to reach out and give him a big hug and really make him believe that everything was okay, everything was going to be fine, but of course I couldn’t, and of course his mom did exactly the right thing, which was to help him clean up and tell him to stop crying, and eventually he did stop, and i’m still so full and so miserable and so lonely and so and so almost ready to get out of here and go play some capoeira i guess. 050604 Hey, guess what Trudy said to me: “You have something to pass on to your kids.” (when i told her about my idea for Moonbeam & the Monster / after she said her cat only eats rabbits and peas / after i said “Do you realize what this [the idea] means?” I’m such a weird fag wolf boy pirate. I love being gay with her but i also can’t completely resist the other thing.... 050704 It’s uh. Yeah. So. Right, like. Okay because I can’t um. I can’t seem to think anything except Trudy Trudy Trudy and I’m out of weed so I guess I’ll just sit here, lump on a log, maybe drink this beer and then what. Oh shit. A day. Shot shit shut shat shoot. Sheeeeeeeee-IT! Ah, shit. It always comes down to this. Well, being despondent with no tobacco at hand in a cafe or bar has shewn me at least one thing: I smoke to dispel the sadness. I don’t feel any different than usual, so I guess smoking doesn’t work. Therefore it shouldn’t be that hard to quit. I can be melancholic with or without it. Oh, also I remember thinking this, only I don’t remember it exactly: It was something about how “it” is not really always about resources, as I spewed before, but also about sex and power, which are really the same thing. But that’s really not what it was. It was lot more profound. Trust me. I was high. 051004 Everybody’s acting so shocked about the images and revelations of abuse of Iraqi prisoners by us and the brits. Why? All it proves is, We’re no better than They. Of course We’re not. Why would we be? People (in groups) are people! Combatants become one organism. That’s why trying to justify a war is tricky. Individuals need to pick their allegiances according to their own inner voices, and take responsibility for their own hypocrisies. And... scene. My little “projects” are seeming like complete Bullshit right now. Oh, I hate it when that happens. They’re not even satisfying on a completely selfish level. It’s just--all bullshit. 051104 Abstract, okay. Glimmering, sure. Chaotic, definitely. Fractal, I hope so. Unusual, why not. Weird, even? Hell yeah. But I have, at this point, no desire to be inarticulate. Call me old-fashioned. Pollock’s comment (from the movie we watched last night) about the bed of flowers (people don’t get all bent out of shape trying to figure out what it MEANS) gave me a nice little reminder. I’m just so STUCK. STUCK. STUCK. Need to get back. Get back. Find that vein again. That pulse, that, well, yes, in a way that inarticulate groove--and then articulate. In the meantime, I am going to read, smoke, print, fuck, play, and do SOMETHING BESIDES LOITER AROUND COFFEEHOUSES CHAINED TO THE FUCKING STUPID COMPUTER. I think it may help me to remember: it’s okay (I GIVE ME PERMISSION) to gather around you the things, people, pictures, animals that you love, and be there with them and have a good time. It can be as arbitrary as that. Personal preference. Love. Love is the seed for the random-number-generator. And then I also need to slow down and stop talking so much. Like, now. Right now. Bye. 051204 Could it be that the heydey of monolithic literature is waned? De-emphasize “ownership” of “manuscripts” and such? Is it no longer “my” words? Are we all alive to be bits? Each of us contributing as a droplet to a rainbow, and as ephemerally? Is this really the era of ghosts posting messages stochastically? Is that the thing? Is it? I’m afraid this smacks of a wounded ego decrying an egotistical art; “down with idolatry of so-called geniuses” and such, but then again, maybe, maybe.... 051404 How ‘bout this: Is Plot in stories a reflection of how we see the world works or is it our attempt to impose our presuppositions on how the world works? If plot is based on causality, then plot is based on scientific models, which are by definition always changing. Our current view is already archaic. 051704 down into the ravine under the barbed-wire fence up out of the ravine halfway up the hill hearing the old familiar buzz of bugs, sun, dirt, and the pricks of weeds eyes full mouth shut everything ready breath getting quiet just sitting there halfway up the hill i realize what’s been bugging me: reverence for established masters is commendable but you also have to remember that we are the ones who get to define “it” for the present age now it’s time to go back down the hill scramble back under the fence and across the ravine play some frisbee smoke some weed drink some beers and, not by looking for it, find lolling in a patch of sun at the base of a big tree on the far side of the slope behind the cabin, the biggest fucking morel these assholes have ever seen! I waNTEd Omsatigo to think I was a bad-ass mother fucker too. I wanted to suck Omsatigo’s cock. Him and his dirty feet and he smelled so fucking good. Damn that bitch stinks good. But of course it didn’t happen. I didn’t get a chance or take any opportunities to do anything hot-shit in front of him, and of course it wasn’t a cock-sucking type of weekend. Oh well. It was fun anyway. 051804 Yes, yes. I’ve upgraded my converter. Hep helped me install a brand-spankin old Contradictite level. We worked on it in his garage, with the radio on. Remember when Pershidium was the shit? Remember when it was illegal? (I know, it still is, but the Imps don’t care.) I still have my double-tanked Pershid cranking wide open under the Contra, and let me tell you, it’s like a triple-toe-clip, wankin, spankin monkey-machine of turbo-dooooom! Wahooooo! Now I’ve just got to learn how not to burn it out in the influx. Hep says he’ll show me some tricks. We’ll see. Sometimes his tricks end up with a lot of... blood and cursing. 051904 I NEED A NEW STRUCTURE! I NEED A NEW STRUCTURE! Sir, there’s a broadcast on the general emergency channel--I think it’s some kind of distress signal. Shall we investigate? Of course! At once! (turning knobs and shit) Yes--yess, I’m getting it clearer now. Wull, put it on the fuckin speaker, bitch! --I NEED A NEW STRUCTURE! I NEED A NEW STRUCTURE!!!!-- 052204 Connig sed some interesting things: “If computers worked perfectly all the time, they would rule us, so I for one am glad they mess up sometimes.” Yeah, sometimes I remember why I likes to fuck her sideways! Okay. I like OSX in general. BUT THERE ARE MAJOR PROBLEMS WITH AQUA, particularly in regards to the appearance and behavior of windows. I wish we could do away with the whole clunky window metaphor altogether! Couldn’t we just have the screen itself be the window? Windows inside that master window add clutter and confusion. It’s a gratuitous, archaic metaphor that only serves to hold us back, psycho-technologically. Abrodatu doing badaneira all thru my shower dreams. 052404 Today I want to leave, leave and never come back. 052504 Okay, okay, it’s not that bad. Anyway. A lot (how many is that, exactly?) of people are sounding off about how the Internet is boring, especially the PC-based stuff, all we need is our cel phones to connect with each other, there’s no techno-utopia, etc. All very interesting. But I do have to say one thing about the boring, confusing Internet: it does potentially teach you to think for yourself. The anonymous myriad of opinions de-emphasizes authority. Suddenly, your bullshit-detector gets thrown into overdrive, by the sheer mass of poop to process. Is it worth it? Well, so far, sometimes, in some ways, yes. 052604 Breathe, breathe, breathe, my boy! and do not waste time. Is it possible to escape the tyranny of heirarchy? Is it desirable? Why am I so god-damned stuck? Why isn’t the Internet working? Why isn’t the United States of America working? Why haven’t I had a really good system since the index cards? Except for the original incarnation of teh-dsa, I mean. And that one remains questionable. Do I just need to leave the god-damned computer at home? What the fuck am I going to do with myself then? Why did that frumpy art-bartender ladygirl give me such a large glass of whiskey? What is Capoeira? Do I really suck as bad as I feel I do right now? Where is Walt Whitman? What happened to all the trains? What’s going to happen to all us pudgy peasants? Is there such a thing as a moral compass, and can it be trusted? Does anyone really know how to read it? And most importantly, why did I dream this last night: I lived in a dormitory with overtones of a commune. My roommate and boyfriend was a very close match to my elementary school friend Greg B. We had a pretty deep relationship. Anne K came to visit. She was a little cynical, a little dejected, but I didn’t know why, and she didn’t seem inclined to say why. She was getting into my bed, saying something about hoping I didn’t mind if she stayed there. I didn’t mind, really, but... Greg got home then. I rose to greet him at the door. We hugged. Quietly, for a long moment. It felt good and right. Anne sensed what was up and got out of our bed, started arranging herself to sleep on the floor. I was relieved and a little surprised at how easily that possible tension had been resolved, and at how okay I was with how it turned out. Not regretful at all. I entertained a brief worry that Greg might have been jealous, or suspicious, but it passed. Woke up feeling, once again, like a slightly pathetic, always romantic, kinda divided, closet homo. Yeah, so like I said, Why am I so stuck? Time to go to the lake and move around and flap my arms and yell. 052804 Is Kerry’s hypocrisy or fickleness about war crimes condemnible, or a necessary strategic slyness? I’m beginning to think I’ll vote for Nader. BushCo will probably fenagle the election anyway, so may as well make a statement, no matter how paltry.