Just having a beautiful night. A beautiful day.

Today just listening, listening, listening. Some thinking, thinking; then some listening. Unsteady rhythm but happy to be dancing to something different that moves me. Oh god, my life is moving me – and it feels very good. This feels more different than anything else in my entire life. A true “new” beginning. I think it’s because so much has been lost and so much has been gained. What’s gone is truly gone forever and I feel like I’ll be dealing with that (grief?) for the rest of my life. But what is new has passion and interest from me and for me, it seems. I feel like life is responding to me once again. Somehow I am already inside a new world. I have got to keep working on things so I can see them in a new light, or to be able to see them at all. I have not felt this level of openness in my self in a long time. A feeling of interest means a feeling of connection and that can be a sanity lifeline for me. If I feel connected, I feel sane and safe.

A real cat in a real dream

Maybe the only free kind of cat there can be is the kind of cat who lives outside in the world. I want to feel cold, wild air in my lungs; or alternatively, the pungent rush of life, stinking off of the summer swamps. Indoor cat – this is fine, a fine life. But, I want both. I think I may believe that I can have both and that I may be happier if I have a balance of both an indoor and an outdoor life.

What does this idea provide for my life? Well, I suppose in terms of feeling and depth in a human way, that I wish for more depth of feeling. Like in the newer days of my life, when I could feel so much just from the well-spring of my Inner World. A time when I felt the hum-and-tink of innocent color combinations; when I fought the lump in my throat that grew from the anguish of music and cinematography, together or autonomous.

A real dream is not one in which one projects a vision of their Self in the future, but a work of very finest Art in which is depicted one’s Self in their Present.

I did not know this relaxation thing (fetishhhhhh) existed!
OMG this will knock one right the efk out. I think I love it? Want to be her/do her? I don’t understand it yet I love that it exsists!

This comment made me feel this era and these Americans while listening to this Janis Joplin song:

“When did I enter my sixties? I hear this album playing and my best friends and I are sitting on a bed in our smock tops and bell bottoms…long hair, parted in the middle…smelling of Flex Shampoo and Coty Wild Musk Oil. My boyfriend drove a ’69 Nova SS. Weed was $15 a lid 🙂 It and Boone’s Farm Strawberry Hill were a recipe for a Saturday night. We were good kids too….we studied hard, we went to college…we just had such dreams of a better world and wanted a freedom from the confines of the 1950s when our parents were young adults. Wow, I can’t believe it was that long ago.. My grandmother was 60, heck, my mother was just in her late 30s then….I couldn’t imagine 60. Janice, I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the 60s with us. You would’ve rocked AARP :).”



Soon, the powdered blossoms

Soon, the powdered blossoms of jasmine will dress the traveling winds, in every direction, on warm-honey asphalt, licking up remnants of the sun on its chin.

I dreamed of a man I hardly know. He was with me in a place I knew well but was afraid of, so I was relieved by his being there. I felt drawn to him and he wanted to draw me in, so I went close to him and we kissed. It was lovely and sweet. He loved my face and soul from what he could see, and I loved being loved and for that he was special and loved by me. (Then things just got weird and dreamy and I felt good when I finally woke up. These kinds of dreams are so fucking anchoring. I'm always so amused, happy, and grateful when I have them). 🙂

I’m Writing A Book

Joel V., you have one of the most noble auras of any human being I’ve ever met.
Dustin H., I wish I could help you. Alas, I don’t have time and oh how I wish I did.
Frank P., You will be wonderful when you open the door that is waiting right in front of you. I know there are better words. (clickety-clack my keyboard is so fucking loud).
Bonnie B., I hope you think you are as super-cool as I do.
Doug J., that “J” does stand for you.
Jeff F., I don’t want you to leave the program.

Sweet, sweet men (and one lady). genuinely sighing at my desk in my chair*

My badge and my keys, my cat-collar jingle. genuinely grinning at my desk in my chair*

I am very afraid of myself.

((god i love this song. those wavery-wavering harmonies))

When you hurt yourself because you love yourself
and you know you’re not alone
You can collapse on my lap and say your good=byes
because honey you are gone.

I am very afraid of myself.

((I’m publishing this now so I can get passed it))

Jen, Art is an elegy.

“Elegy, meditative lyric poem lamenting the death of a public personage or of a friend or loved one; by extension, any reflective lyric on the broader theme of human mortality…
…not restricted as to subject. Though some classical elegies were laments, many others were love poems. “


The quote of my note:

Contributor:The Editors of Encyclopaedia BritannicaArticle Title:ElegyWebsite Name:Encyclopædia BritannicaPublisher:Encyclopædia Britannica, inc.Date Published:June 05, 2017URL:https://www.britannica.com/art/elegyAccess Date:March 02, 2019