The Bloody Shed

Having been forced to take 2 weeks off has been really good for me. Essentially, I suffer from having too much stuff. A common problem, I know. Carefully, and siding with caution, am I ridding myself of the things to be rid of. This is the theme of my fucking life. The theme won’t change until I’m done, but I will not be black and white about it. I’m being patient with “yes, this. no, that”. I have all the time I want/need to decide, to photograph mentally and physically before preceding with literal shedding. Stuffed animals, miniatures, broken instruments. Things once on high shelves, now in boxes. Things once touched daily, a long-lost, new-found emergence of emotion both shallow and deep from the lakes and oceans of history. Once loud and ringing now revisited as a silent film, colorless and off.

I think about painting every day – naturally, too. It is rising up in the lake of me, as if it has been pushed down by my own oars as I row crazily every day at work, online, in contact with people I spend my time with. More than writing, which I love to do for fun and for freedom, I wish I could be a painter. There’s this painting I started a few years ago – it’s just the background of a green wash on a collage of medical pages and ink drops on top of that, a suggestion of grasses by way of black paint strokes. That’s all, but it’s always been loved by me and then hung on a wall and mentally left behind. Now, I have visions for its further purpose. I hope I can get to it before Outside me gets hold of me again. I hope I get laid off, secretly I hope I lose my job so I can stay home for the rest of this summer or at least a little while. Just some time to stand in the abyss of me and see what arises. Yes, this is my wish. AlsosupergratefulIstillhaveajob.

Row row row my boat, gently as I scream

The size of this is about 11×17″, I guess. I’ve always envisioned a skull floating inside of this, but I am also seeing the profile of a younger woman’s face, eyes closed, mouth slightly open, facing to the right. I’m not sure. I can play around.

True Story: Premonition of My Death In January

Walking out of a Michael’s shop with Adam a bit over 2 months ago, I had an instant knowing of something about my death. I even wrote it in my journal, not really comprehending what fears and possibilities the world was about to catch up to. How much of a relief and release it would be for me to re-read and remember this amazing gift. Letting go of my own fear has freed me to care about and for other people around me and to be one who stays conscious of facts and scientific truths, etc.

It’s good.
Cumulative Cases; New Cases; Cumulative Deaths.

My sites for Stats:

Our World In Data

Best site for constantly updating stats for the U.S. (and Canada). Can see state by state and county by county. Useful links.

What’s your full name? “Jen-nifer. Like Luci-fer, but Jennifer”.

For 2020:

I cannot abide silence, and on this fact I have reflected. To be unable to stand the absence of outside source is a proof of a lack of strong connection with my inner (more substantively real, more ultimately available, higher-everything than all-else Self. That is pathetic, people! To neeeeed an other, alllllways?! That’s insane! How is it that people like me go wrong? Well, I’ll tell you, people…

It all began long-ago, when I was a brilliant and beautiful little girl. I was also a brilliant and beautiful baby and toddler as people like me tend to be. Anyhow, as I was becoming a free-agency style being, I engaged in scenarios which made me fearful and confused. I didn’t have anyone with me, involved in everything I was doing all the time. I relied on myself and other young children for a lot. Also, I was different. I know we are all special, unique and lovely individuals, but that isn’t what I am talking about. I was different in that I had so little use for other people outside my immediate family that I was fully objectifying everyone in my path by the time I was 10. Objectifying like a total psycho. 😉

(Objectify means: I really don’t care if you scream in pain when I pinch your arm. I like the way your golden arm hairs crunch neatly under my twisting red and white thumb. I am fascinated by the way your mouth gapes open, and all your white child-teeth in horse-shoe shapes, upper and lower. Your scream is loud and I think you might be retarded.) ~Young Jen Crow

omg what a coincidence. I just found this. I’ve been thinking and writing about the silence on and off today, then give Manch Orch a chance (so glad I did. I think I wasn’t in the space to appreciate them fully when several people over the last many years have recommended them). Anyhow, then this song about The Silence is just beautiful. (The comment section is all, “i have cancer”. “My wife died in my arms”. Anyhow, wish I’d known, I wouldn’t have gone and looked. It spoils the personal meanings for me sometimes when I over-read. 😦

You know what? I don’t even know what this song is about, but it matchy matchy and super good, so.

These are my debriefs at end of day.

Such beautiful things I have to suppress. Such pure energy has to be hidden away and sometimes abandoned in this life. It’s just how we are when we are shaped by our yesterdays.

So much has happened in a year. Significan’t stuff!

Brilliant. I love her voice.

Don’t ever lie to people about having an inheritance. Because, you’ll never know who your true friends are or if they are just those who are using you for the money you don’t have.