Stay Shook.

Recently finished reading “Saints and Madmen” by Russell Shorto.

Basically asks the question, why is something considered a mystical spiritual experience in some places…. and a psychotic episode in America / the Western world ? (and how do we change that?)

Very very interesting.  Apparently there was a revolution to look at psychiatry through a more spiritual lens at one time, but I gotta tell you when I was in the hospital that was CERTAINLY not the case. 

Also the book delves into the topic of psychedelic drugs as well.

Always find myself thinking of Rumi, when it comes to madness as a religious experience.  Here is one for you.

Shreds of Steam

 Light again, and the one who brings light.
Change the way you live.

From the ocean-vat, wine-fire in each cup.
Two or three of the long-dead wake up.
Two or three drunks become lion hunters.

Sunlight washes a dark face.
The flower of what is true opens in the face.
Meadow grass and garden ground grow damp again.
A strong light like fingers massages our heads.
No dividing these fingers from those.

Draw back the lockbolt.
One level flows into another.
Heat seeps into everything.
The passionate pots boil.
Clothing tears inot the air.
Poets fume shreds of steam,
never so happy as out in the light.

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HBTM

if you’ve ever heard me begin a sentence with “When I went crazy…”

we’re pretty damn close, friends-wise.

It’s my birthday today.  Thank you to everyone who got me through the past four.

this song is so good to slowjam to.

genetics or you know. Other things.

 

Thanks to my Grandma, my Dad, and my Mom, I am now:

A clean freak

A cheapskate

Crazy.

And proud of all of it.

Now let’s just hope I inherited some good relationship skills from my other set of grandparents.  Very soon this will be the longest relationship I have ever been in.  Which means from here on out I’m in uncharted waters.

I MADE THIS THING.  My friend saw it, and he’s all “Oh you made rangoli.”  Which I have never heard of before, but so be it!

People keep judging me for liking this song. I don’t care about them.

365


things are capable of changing
ice to water to smoke
over the course of a year


my heart has unfolded

the way a garden worships

spring

rebuilding itself from multiple
warzones of
a winter that has
gone on far too long

I can’t think where my
demons have gotten to
perhaps swatted dead
like flies while I’ve
slept

somehow
it took
less than twelve months
to finally be able to awaken
feverless
into a dark blue that is
only deepening with

stars

—–


time traveler. The past is looking more and more surreal every day.


you ever find yourself crying on an examination table to a doctor who insists you’re only sad because it’s winter?


you ever find yourself unable to even disagree because your confidence level is zero and you have de-evolved to something almost unrecognizable to anyone who knew you before?

—————-

Submit to love without thinking,

as the sun this morning rose recklessly
extinguishing our star-candle minds.

-Rumi

waltzing through the forest of juxtapositions

I alternate between writing these super happy nostalgic poems, and psychotic creepy ones.
this first one is going to make you sick but it was fun to write.  Also it is very inaccurate.  I was a tomboy when I was a kid. I got into fights with boys.

 example number 1

Elementary, My Dear

I am reduced
to grade-school levels of
puppy love

check yes or no
crayon hearts on the wall
no one around to
make me scrub them off

give me a dandelion and
I will write about it
in my diary,
hide the key under my mattress

let’s build a blanket fort

let’s climb a tree
while they chant the spelling
that makes us blush
K-I-S-S-I-N-G

let’s drink milkshakes
from the same glass,
then make our parents pay for them
when they tell us we’re
too young to date

compare that with this,
—————–
 example number two

Manners

 

she has a platter
and a glint in her eye
little miss fifties housewife
little miss fanged-doily
her voice is smooth
(try my patience!
or
try my patients!)
just what or who is she
offering you?
The slice is
pepto-bismol pink
you say to yourself,
“this looks ghastly,
but I mustn’t be impolite.”
she is ready
she is smiling
she hands you a fork
——–
I had a good talk with my friend yesterday.  He’s in treatment for depression in Houston, shout-out to someone he met there who supposedly reads my blog: Emily A. L.   emily? emily? are you out there???? thanks for reading 🙂
I was talking to my brother last night and it’s kind of sad when you’re surprised to see someone happy.   I haven’t seen him happy since before I had my mental breakdown.
Sometimes I get these horrible flashbacks of the way his face looked when he was in absolute misery
because of me.
That’s actually the one reason I regret well… what happened last year.  All the hell it put him through.  And my parents, grandparents, and cousins.  I also regret how public, and facebook-documented it all was.