now I am crying

having re-read this part of this blog entry from August 31 2008:

 

"...and a part of me is just so fucking eager, beyond even my own previous imaginings, to get out into it all. to travel, to plunge headfirst into cultures so vast and old and exciting and alive, to come back with a song in my heart and a glitter in my eye and to make my friends and family proud. and to give it back - to learn and teach and dance and cry and inspire and be inspired...



"and i hope that, when i face the void again (which i know i will many times in this life), i will have the strength of heart & mind to be inspired by it, and not to deny/fear/run away from/try to control it. it makes me sad sometimes when i see people who have let it get the better of them. people perhaps i once loved, or still love, or have the potential to love. i hope those people see/think of me and smile."

 

Here I am. Inspired by the void. Song in my heart, in my hands. Making my friends and family proud. Giving back. 

Having one of those moments where something so small and yet deeply felt from so many (18) years ago returns and is true. A hope that I had for myself at 18, being realised now. In the process of it. That the desperate void and emptiness is simultaneously terrifying and just bloody gorgeous. The things that broke me are reverberating with rich, complex sound.  

 

i love screaming into the void, what a joy

 let's write a new blog post. here I am, it is me, still. I am sometimes too far inside myself to know. So it is good to come out of myself and back into this place that is reserved for me, this, rambling being that I can call to when I need.

 

Always have been yearning, the eternal ret-yearn, over and over or a continuum. Shit I swear I was different then, I had some open sense of the world and that needs to retyearn to me also. hey are you yearning for me somewhere? what are you? where do I look for this, or do I just lie back and float hoping that you find me

 

it's such a strange thing to try and describe all of this nonsense that makes my heart and mind and body turn over, roll. The wheel is important for this, the wheel that turns, that cosmic wheel is actually right here you know, it is the allocthonous object, it is the travelling being that has always moved from place to place. but my body rolls too, along the ground, and the folds and rifts and densities all autotopographically following... 

 

how do I follow what I wrote before? I really did write that. I did a good job there. It feelse so deep in me. And that somehow it is also not present now? What I am I yearning for, who do I miss, and how? Ah maybe it's time to fall in love again anew. In that way. I want to be struck

dumb

 

welllll bloggy mc bloggerson there is no real way to say one way or another what I am or what I am becoming. I just reallllly want to be genuine and not full of shit. I would like to speak from myself honestly. And it is this process that I am in. Speaking, writing, being in my own voice. Holding the ideas out to the world and saying okay, how does this feel to you? I feel like it is good for me, I feel I need to say it. Why do I need to say it? What am I trying to prove? Hello impostor cutie pie. I know you're there and you can do what you need to do and then just move away okay. It's okay to feel like this and it's also okay to keep going, necessary to keep going. You'll find out later what the validation is. Let it be enough that you are being loved and supported by so many and just breathe. Breathe, sing. It is okay. 

 

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh god fucking hell my heart is actually just broken all the time isn't it?? Just a bit numbly too. And that might be why I feel that lull in libidinal energy, that lack of juice, that I am just yearning to be in contact with that. That part of me. That flow of energy in me. Where is it? Who has it? Can ya give it back plz? that would be hellllll nice of you

 

dreamy dreamy I have a good life hey. I am really unsure of myself allllll the time except for every now and again. I have a lot of fear it seems too. I need a little wisdom pocket. I need a little hellp you're good here just do everything and walk through the world bold and bitchy ha. No shrinking !!!! Shrank it up enough already. Now reach, stretch, play. It's so good. Play play play. Let the writing and imagining be playing. 

 

Play time ! is not over yet

 

Where is that poetic urge? that song writing urge? that lyrical urge? 

 

how is it that something comes out of me once in a blue moon and is fully formed weirdo??? 

 

bah I am definitely feeling a grief for those parts of me that are dormant. those parts that feel like it is not happening for them right now. I want to kick them into gear and I also know that it's just not what is happening, I am exploring something else right now, I can do things alongside though I think, I can create some things that feel true to me but also it is just a bit ~~~~~~~~ yow. A bit urgh. a bit *insert noise here*. Silly.  

 

Why the ageing stupid thing??? Why the lacklustre of it all??? Well it's not it just looks different. I think I am grounding. I think I am finding a stride. I am truly in an incredible position and isn't young Justine just so incredibly full of awe at this situation?? You cool ass cute ass smart ass person. Just calm down beb. It is really really realllllllllllly good and you CAN HAVE THIS it's okay. Allllllll okay. Space to dream and be and make. What do you want to make? Little blessings, little healings, little processings. All linked in a chain or a river that runs runs runs. Sing sing sing. Still trying to work out how to heal that one. And this long burn slow grief??? The grief of loss and greying mind??? The slow heavy grind of time wearing down your mother? The foundation being worn by water, wash wash wash. Okay. The Tao te Ching says this is the way of tao - the water is soft and most yielding, and the water wears down the stone that does not yield. I am the rock and the river. 

 

Ritual song ritual song.  I can make these also. What are these songs? I have so many in there and I can keep making them. Deeeeep in me are just chant after chant after chant. I can just make them into really simple lovely songs. Wordless, just sometimes with a word or 5 in there, slow long deep. How to do this? What instrument? Guitar says yes, maybe I just need a pedal, an electric guitar, or some other methods, what do I have? I can make it so, even if clunky, it is magic magic, it is all in there. Just make it !

 

 

 

Ramble ramble. Might not even post this one. But it's good to type some shit out not to do with this masters. I need that too. I am still me inside it all. Still silly billy funny cunt playful serious deep curious. Poetry and voice and art. Been doin it still doin it and hell I am not boring so that is cool. Just a bit tortured but that is gonna stay forever OK hahahahahahahaha oh boyo ! laddy jim sonny boy boy. what a treasure trove I have left the world here right here on this ol' server lol

 

i love screaming into the void, what a joy 

in the name of This:

slowly the ripples of rope coil-uncoil in my belly      iron star-hearted whisper in a language too magnetic for me to know    condensing confusion has my cells clustered - neck, lumbar, always the jaw, always    or at least since that day I began germinating in the abyss

force of will and force of cosmic chemical death     we have been flung in all directions   I am                 over here now.   but not afraid    just uncertain of the barrel-bodied lesson coming, made exact by every place I have never been    in the hive of my understanding     subtle threads wind   ok I can be patient I can be    This is     yes    

watching forming-re-forming cloud peach hued lilac by the deep blue all thoughts left me I remembered being made-re-made by time and love over and over     I am not afraid         to have been dispersed so energetically in all directions    it is an honour    to even come close        to anyone anywhere        in love, with This,
yes


I remember you     and I         smoking and speaking and singing out into that valley the stars slung themselves over like a wide net
I remember the catch         in my belly    as you unwound desire electric
hope    that I could be loved        how many lives    listening closer to my heart for it, that sound you noticed, it is a few tones, two
or three     and I am listening for it    over here     now    uncertain    germinating there is another voice     now    and it is us

 carrying gently all that history cardboard box hollow and a stacking that is unnecessary

unfold and unpack the layered remembered 
in order to burn and cleanse

I am in a letting-go
it hurts a bit there are some joints and junctures that do not wish to relinquish
So,

splits and bridges, floodwaters and musty sacrifice
scarified in the mud clay slippage and sundered 
healing up that damp song inspiration dripping out pulp on the wet grass

concrete if it comes to that

You remember that big pile of junk? How much dumping until the boot sunk quicksand by the new-old riverbank
and a bridge you didn't cross

A real big pond

and little shards of softly collapsed cardboard box filled with smoke and cornflour paste shit

that dream you left home for underneath the mouldy carpet for a solid decade spilt the bong water babe thats a baccy cone punishment cough ya lungs up and pass out in the post-rape shame

whodunnit I mean this mystery novella is still a young girl unknown unremitting unreminding

was it you or me or both of us and
did I hurt you in the same way I hurt me years later when I chose to pair with the parings and take em on to my own dismemberment?
to my own disgust, locked long internal could they be even buried under the floorboards now who lives and dies in that tiny chamber blood oozing out?
mystery mystery I'll tell myself out of fear of being free 

at some point it became a wet sock nightmare on the merry-go-round and I was just nailed full of clippings, fragments, grippings, ragged hope
locked up in the base meant numb out the lower half and take it babe

store it there for the next time you forget how to hide and remember how to see and summon the anamnesis of the dying dead shadow hunter kid who saw the kingdom split a sundering a summer recklessly wondering a holiday with the family a touristing uncanny widow

next chapter

I dreamt I was pregnant this time last year
my timelines splitscatter and the tangles pulled through make a fine temporal tapestry entwining
ddddddd does it matter I mean hhhhhhhh hey I feel fatter than ever before I have more matter do I matter more? shame on you sickness on you pain on you which tells me that you can slough it off honey get in the bath please

I guess a day bath is a good thing

I guess a light-filled lounge and a womb room is for silent solitude resting

if only the fire could crackle in the hearth literally,
but I am learning to be patient
follow the winding path
I know how much life has entered into me I can see it in navy blue grey sky ocean eyes

Gently slowly choosing to rewind threads and selective relinquishing through steady breath moving
Rocking
Reading

Walking around the humming vessel and gently climbing inside
into the hollow space
kissing, touching lightly, caressing this room,
It Is Not To Be Crushed By An Other

Love me

time on our hands no washing it off

time in our minds let it ripple through as if we know what it is

let it be what it wants

time forming new threads and windows

a pattern shift and recognition lifting from the roots of the sea

pull outwards and dive down in

where the gold is held in

deep the god is suspended in liquid iridescent form caught orb and coiled 'round

serpentine

meandering

follow the trail down into the valley find

the grave find

the hollow branches and soft bristling birches

make the forms you desire and meet the desire that forms you


a unique opportunity I am

glad to be here

to be here

here resting

here resetting

here resurrecting

the practice I knew I could find


swoop and cycle through

they are feeding and calling warbling the warning here it is

here we are

come gather,

come,

be here

together

be nourished


seek deep down in here here is the magic here

is the gold you know this I already told you listen again listen you must

think

you must

feel really, now

really?

yes


answer yes or no

yes

it is true I know

no

all things are changeable

so

what can be made?

I am glad that there is an online outlet that is essentially anonymous for me still. 12 years and counting this is a electrical radiating vessel of memory and thought and expulsion. ramblings and bullshit. deepest longings and fears and grievances and long stretches of forgetting and angst and yearning and curiousity and zero assessment, zero reputation to uphold, just whatever. thank fuck.


and I am glad to know it is still a function, somehow, in some way, just when it is required, when the regular journal isn't quite the thing and the poetry blog isn't exactly it (too refined, trying to be seen and liked you know? yeesh) and the instagram is now just about trying to make a buck maybe also share what I'm looking at a little square-shaped projection of what I want them to see

but you

ha

you don't know me

and yet

you know me better than most.


joy in this


thanks buddy





today reconnections created themselves. I'm curious. It's such a strange time. I participate. Forgiveness is easy somehow now. Just needing to be connected, ensuring that we aren't casting each other away unnecessarily. And maintaining the correct boundary is the continual work. the work - ask those questions, turn it around.


going for a walk now

I sit, sensitised

I stand, I walk up

the hill and my hand

tingles where the air kisses it

I am always seeking

      something but today

I wait for it to meet me -

  and it does not take long.

The lichen.

   Symbiotic poetic

   cross-collaboration cell

   integration performance

   a way

      for both of us

         to survive 

the body bursting

      from the dirt

      in slow power

      lifting rocks and forcing

      the compacted matter

      aside, away, to display 

the efforts of decay

   Continuum

being nourished by the dead

emerging in the autumn

performing the all-time (long-time)

heavyweight champion

the rush and swirl of

   the unhushed world,

      oceanic traffic distances

      being-becoming

      entangled in birdsong

      softly, gently,

      the aircraft rumble in cloudscape meeting rock and scrape crunch step by step and step 

here

  to stand, here

  to breathe

     the ridge and

the world

   has heard this

        story before

the world has heard this

      story before it is a 

   love story,

                remember?

it is desire

      the desire to exist 

             to feel

                    to be

in cross-collaboration

         in sympoetic elation

    symphonic dégustation

to taste the possible

                     combinations

pair me, love meet me

      here I am

            listening,

                my glands 

                     activating

   my spirit salivating 

I have room

       and room 

           and room

     for you -

this dirt become wood become lichen-carrier 

rock crumbled pigmenting sap infinite drip

star infinite map slipping 

between my organs listen the many-called organism glistens 

ready for the infinite potential of

             dreaming -

I am sensitised.

      slow, slow fast

the pace of

           the living.

I am buffeted, there are waves, there are ways to swim and float and thrash and drown and dive, I walk, I sit, I breathe, I dig, I sing it is all here I

   am

     here

each moment

    rustling gently

         against its companions

I    am          here

Thank you for

      being - becoming - rock -

      ground - root - leaf - 

      sun - fire     here

I     am        a

          lichen 

          fungus

          bird song

          engine

          companion

          collection

               here.

Waves,

   the flux of rush-relax patterning,

   an ebb-flow action and depth

I’ve not known til now.

  What are our realities made of?

microorganism interrelation symbiosis

   symbiogenesis integration

   consumption and procreation

we

  have always been

      lichens.

The birds take wing and

    sing in the golden light

long shadows, settling sun

   play

      and

   desire

         reaching towards the light -

oh, my love

      is all I need

Come close to me, my love

   I will show you how I feel

I am here

  a live

I feel fine

      and absurd

fear and love

    freedom is calling, dear ones, in all its forms.

  just a choice away

     to choose each day, each moment

        to listen

        to return

again, here

            alive

    love