A Meaning-Based World

This morning, live, I watched a pixelated storm, coming to deliver promised devastation. I got bored. Tired of waiting, I smoked some pot, and felt better knowing I needed to take that shower right after I clean and rearrange the balcony. Going to give it a good pre-Fall clean, move some things. I’m wearing my new pajama pants (for Fall/Winter) but they’re so flippin’ cozy I am going to go outside in them even though it’s 108f in the sun.

Ugh, I assossiate pain with the heights of living. On some level, I always miss pain when it’s gone. It’s a sick world inside me, but pretty cool, too. My spiritual life is the true reality – the most full way of being I can have. I am quite sure not everyone has a spiritual life of some kind. How can that be? How can that not be? I think a big problem we all have here are the expectations and limits we place on other people. We cripple them from delivering the beauty they are soon coming to give us (are giving) …oh shoot, lost my train of thought.

I’m going on a trip soon, and I cannot wait to see it/it, feel it/them, share the experiences and beauty and shared personalities. What will I be writing about it in the future? What pictures will I marvel at and in many years be so glad I took? Will the weather suit (hoping it will be cool or cold, even)? It would be heaven if it could have gray skies and red-orange leaves.

Baby, I find it hard to believe we’re in Heaven.

I need to reconnect with the Other Side, and soon. ‘Tis the season and boy, can I feel it. I miss the structure of chaos

They should make music-less versions of movies for people who either a) think the music takes away-from; or b) its over-stimulating and the movie could be more focusly felt by the music being gone. You can have too much fog, in other words.

I’m going to publish this, too soon.

I can really sense winter. Winter will be intense and beautiful.

Thank You For Being Here

Not to Cigarettes After Sex, but I danced and stretched my body to music tonight. It was exactly good for me. I just close my eyes and dance like I do -when I allow the spirits who love to dance access to my body – and…and I follow along to what they’re showing me how to do. And its wonderful.

Dare I say I feel my life is somehow upward and positive? Even amongst all the truly Awful?

I am aware that most of my experience of life is inside me. But to change the experience is to change the self, and that means a kind of death of personality. It means the loss of someone we know and love – us. But the total opposite of that is true, too. So interesting and so fucked.

Advice to Masterly-Dependent Personalities Out There

Whatever your pleasures depend upon, that is your master. Therefor, any man that wishes to please that of which he wishes to possess, must master that said-thing’s happiness.

I have ideas that men and women are extraordinarily different from one another. I think individuals are extraordinarily different from one another, but why… Oh, hmm. We float over an abyss of dark chaos. We think we are flying in space, but we are being pushed-forth, by some Object behind us, yet also surrounding us.

I am afraid to die. You know why? Because I don’t like to not know where I am going and also what it is going to be like. I want to know the end. And the amazing part is that I’ve seen this again and again, like a thousand times.

Its such an amazing album. I’m surprised all the time how much I love Ben Howard. I fight it at first, but then I am totally sucked in by it and am drawn into the life I live inside of it. A beautiful North-East Coast girl in a black shawl, pining on an icy cold beach for something she will one day be old and cold of – to her dismay.

I’m having a cold moment, but it somehow feels good. I think because it is emotional and dark, yet I know I am safe. Somehow safe from it all that which would/could drive me mad and over the edge. Oh, Ben Howard, he fucking nails it.

I like this, I’d like to keep this post. Someday to look back and see an honest and true representation of a specific, isolated, point in my life. I don’t need to feel guilty about being this way. I am loved and I love those people, even when I don’t. Others, enslaved to my Self, are in good and mutual company.

This is the most painful song ever written. LOL. I literally have to sneak this upon myself. His is: DEVISTATING. Even the guitars hurt my ears, no joke. He is a master.

I want to say to the world: Answer me.

So beautiful and calming.

My curse is sadness.

There’s a filter on SnapChat that murdered me from laughing. It makes you look like you are fucking crying and it is SO good. ((Aww, shoot, I can’t upload videos unless I upgrade, so nah. Maybe someday.))

August 25, 2021

I was born in the sign of water. Magnificent song. I want it in my tombstone; over my heart, neck, breast, chest and head.
This album art is atrocious.

I’m too hard on myself. It’s ok to be tired of how things happen, how things are made. it is ok to be tired of living life in a certain way. Change requires physical action; requires discomfort.

I have a hard time not exaggerating discomfort. I have gotten through 100% of everything, so far.

Riding. Waves.

That’s how I have gotten through everything. Every one of those waves, high or small I had to ensure I stayed on top or, alternately, had to go through. This is exactly a fact.

Each wave? Ride it. Focus on the breath (the action). Focus on timing (the meaningful appointment with Self).

I didn’t know what to make of it, and I was confused.

mf source: https://www.thesaurus.com/browse/long

Silence means: stillness; quiet; quietness; speechlessness; soundlessness; still; hush.

So, here are some beautiful synonyms for my confusion (because now I think I know, but I’m not sure):

a deep stillness
a continued quiet
an enduring speechlessness
a great soundlessness
a prolonged stillness
a far-reaching hush


It’s very important that people start teaching what they love. Teach. The question for me is: What do I love? When I was a child, I was somehow also fully grown; we come to life being so self-aware and exponentially growing that is seems (or is) an invisible (and non-material…!!! !!!!! !!!omg omg omg, I love writing.

Maybe I should work on becoming a better writer. I would like to write books about being alive and illustrate them. With photographs, with drawings. Maybe only occasionally music. For my blog, yes, music I’m loving in the moment is crucial to memory-keeping. But for my separate, give it to the world when its done kind of book-making kind of thing.


I should bring my aromatherapy oils to work to share with the other girls. They could be quite brightened by the aromas. Deb gave these to me – to us; she dropped them off on her way home from Earth.

Don’t snack; and, don’t eat after dinner. Why must we control ourselves from having too much goodness in life? Because our bodies aren’t built to stop us from killing ourselves with how much “fun” is out there to be had. we are so inundated with bounty that we are totally on overdrive and we hate it and we can’t stop.

I think this has become an interesting journal. It’s been coming along for some time now. I made it! If this was the last post ever, I’d feel I made something that is “whole”.

With Roses This Time

There’s still so much more of life left to enjoy. Velvety, red roses atop my table; in my beautiful room, a long time in to Summer now, but not too long till Fall.

We had a beautiful time. I don’t have a shot of it, but the wines were divine. I felt blessed by the togetherness and good and beautiful surroundings. The visuals were really just so terribly pleasing.

The roses…so special. Even now, the day after, I have gone to visit them many times. My sad little black dragon. He goes so well with this all, too. I am glad I brought him home with those roses.

Adam and Debbie are so precious to me. What beautiful people I am lucky to have in my life. Am I just as good?

Endings and Beginnings In The Middle Of Nowhere

Life without purpose is a virus

Life without death is a cancer

Pick a problem and help solve it – either through money or action or something else.

Loved this, visually. The music is good. Great for relaxing an tripping out a bit to.
Maybe I’ll always have 10 years left to live?

I just finished the last page of my journal (means, I have to choose the new one…a nerve-wracking experience), and I continued on to the even lastiest of last pages, and finished my thoughts (and no, I have no plans to die in 10 years 9- actually, it’s 9 now). Anyhow, the fucking pen was out of ink. Both finished at the same time. Wow?! And lol…!

The sentence was going to be “what a weird ending”.

In another universe, we never stopped being friends and we had so much fun all those years. It was so good that we were shaped by it into being totally different people in a way, not like we are now. Not better, not worse, just – well, yeah, yes, it was the better alternative. But what can you do? You can only go on. And bask in knowing that all the love you ever had was real and is the only thing that continues until death. Love is always there. Always.

And it was. (A weird ending).

It Was Never Meant To Be Pretty

It is better to have love than naught.

All that matters is what I think of and about my Self. That’s all we really have control over, truly. Prove me wrong. I’ll fight you for it – you’ll lose.

Extroversion and enthusiasm and zest for flight – these kinds of people I don’t like to see those people suffer. But they do. Here’s an important thing:

It is a fascinating time to be alive. Fascinating, I suppose as it has always been to be no one in particular. A freckle on the nose. A cute feature of a gnome’s dream, us. Us. The absolute and total separateness of Us. Yet here we all are, together, embracing fully only in our dreams. Dreams lost to tides of hopelessness and helplessness, we. Yet life, it is so truly beautiful, and magical, and MYSTICAL!!! Violet and indigo! Fuscia and yellow!!! Light and shadow!!Beauty, filth, and chaos. Together. Dividing, and multiplying. Ruination. Reincarnation. Revelation. Reunification. Regeneration. Regulation. Ruination. Reincarnation; etc. It sounds scary, and it is.

I would like to make videos of me talking to the Universe about what it is like in this glass jar.

Oh, Brittney Spears is a fucking human-trafficing victim.

This is a hot piece of music and a trippin’ video. I’m an instant fan of Yves Tumor!!! Visceral but innocent, like meat-eating angels.


Hilarious. Adorable.
This sound is so good!
Surely I have posted this one before, but can’t remember. I always think it isn’t good enough, but then it sneaks up on me now and again and I’m in another place, and I hear it in the background and I lazily fall in love with it, and realize “i really love this song”. It’s profound even though I don’t necessarily want it to be. Interesting is all.
“This” + “video” is “fire”. This takes me to the spacedance.

You know why you really have to be yourself, and really love yourself, and really know yourself? Because no one else, no matter how much they do, will ever love you or know you fully. No one person. Never. Ever. That is why self-love and self-acceptance are crucial to one having a happy life. Critical; needed; a must.

An Everyday Angel, or, a Rude Genius? Which one would I rather be? The one in the middle. And that one is? Human. Totally, straight vanilla human. A monster and a savior. I have that inside me. It’s the secret to my understanding of self (and acceptance and understanding of everyone else, too), kinda like the first truth I ever knew about myself. I would love to save you, but under other circumstances, I’d love to see your bones crushed and such. Needed: broader understandings; better interpretations. Goodness for once and all. Who we are is important. Who we are matters. Profound, are we. Really, I really mean that.

When the waters come in, what is tall will fall.

Some days, you just ain’t winnin’. Some days you’re the bully and somedays you’re the victim; but usually you’re just some guy out in his backyard, trying to

Symbolizes such a huge part of life for me. Good things, and great. It’s on the soundtrack of Who I Am. (The other song is ‘On The Turning Away’. *Caw**!!Caw~**!!Caw~**~!!

Good Art is worth making, Jen” That’s what my guardian angel told me. We, in life, carve our knives through the body of the Ocean. We weep. I am an artist. I am a mystery writer.

Understanding is not the same as knowing. There are many schools. Higher schools. It’s a serious time. Some types of times last years. Many of them do.

A client brought me a huge slice of chocolate cake from BLUEBERRY HILL! The memory of being outside, facing east at pre-dawn. Watching the magical-blue sky of the Unicorn Dawn. The stars, the planets Venus and Mars. Empty desert lots that were turning the sharp corner of going from nothing-really’s to becoming extremely valuable. Before Walmart was everywhere and all hope was lost.

I feel like I should go back and delete at least half of this post here; but I don’t want to edit. I just don’t. They can’t all be gems. I may have to let some fields grow wild and be full of repetative daisies. Shitty, obvious daisies.

Everyone should have a church inside them that worships their rainbow self. I know I’ve got one, and I know it makes me batshit insane, but it also makes me very special, even if no one can or will ever see it; BUT, but, everyone relates to this. They know at the core how special they are – that’s part of why a lot of adults hate a lot of children, you know? Anyway, everyone – every fucking one of us, of them – is just as golden. At the core we are all lonely and that makes us a little sad, but there is a cure for that: it is Self-love and love of the Other.

Not getting high isn’t working out.

But I’m having a good, good life. A very good, interesting, sometimes fun, sometimes shitty life. It’s all good, even when it’s bad.

The Privilege of Being Raised Elsewhere

We see these animalistic liars – I do. I, myself and others, too. What good is an interesting character without the observation of the Other? How do we see ourselves, but as the object of another?

I made myself go swimming (fear of going there alone), and it was quick and lovely. I swam back and forth, with my eyes closed to keep out the light. Listening to the waters around me, being moved by me. After the pool, I got into the hot tub. Wondered if anyone was watching me from above. Didn’t care. Let them observe. Let them use me however they’d like to from behind the darkness of day-glass. I took a cold shower and rinsed my hair at the outside shower, taking the elastic band out, the clip, too, that held it all close. Long, wet and black, like a seal’s back, I imagined it looked from away. My eyeliner and mascara unflatteringly muddied under my eyes. I went home and rubbed Rosehip oil into my face. My skin feels good. Cool to the touch, my whole body. My damp hair. Freckles a little darker now, and plentiful.

The Space Between

Time doesn’t really pass quickly, ever. It’s just that there’s not enough of it. We have points in time where we can feel the potential for small worlds lose all likelihood and we lose, grieve and move on. Just shit people – all people – live through daily; go through all the time.

I want to paint a yellow daisy.

The person who pays me is a person who is on the edge of Chaos. Very interesting. I think it would be good to go into a very philosophical stage of thinking in everyday life for a while. If I were in a part of a cycle, I would place myself at a time in my life when I was into Klimt; Jung; cornmeal crust pizzas with feta, no red sauce. That time lasted a couple of years and I enjoyed a lot of what I read and listened to. That was about 2011-2013, I think.

This is what I should be listening to ONLY for the next month. Over and over again should I listen to this.

There is a better, smarter person buried within me; in the darkness of myself.

You can’t judge people by what they are wearing. “Identify and question your assumptions”. (The guy in the video).

Yes, he looks a little douchy, but what he says after the TedTalkese he’s speaking, is very interesting philosophically. I didn’t watch it all. I only liked parts. Why am I sharing this with the world? Oh, it’s because I’m not. This is a strangely personal place, this blog, here sometimes.

Perception really is everything. It’s why so many people try to control other’s through how it is they are perceived. And fine, that works for low-level thinking Some, but there are some out there who know that the world is different than the way it really is. Some are reactors who

Bruce Soord – Willow Tree

We describe the struggle of being apart from (whatever) using whatever means necessary. There exist so many options for carrying out emotional expressions. We fucking murder each other to get an idea of what our experiences are like.

This is the only song that makes me feel good about the ache of my loss=

You lose everything but You. Better see to it that you like You.

I really like myself of late. I really do.

Some people play basebal and murder people; and some people become artists, holding in great expressions and carbonizing them all. Self-cannibal. Anyone ever have the urge to eat themself?

Am I the asshole? No, it’s the name of my new favorite r/

You are the alpha and the omega. The mouth and the asshole. Congratulations, human. Now go along and play. Madness. I do like it, though. Pretty much I do. Btw, I’m really loving my relationships with my co-workers. I like helping the clients, but I love my co-workers and truly I am well-loved in return. They know I love them. They can feel it. They love being loved in return. We all do. But for some (not me), it’s “safety first”.

Enjoying the music this evening, after work. Adam, making chicken in the iron skillet to mix with greek herbs and spices and then pears and feta and kalamata olives. He cleaned up the balcony. Moved the rainbow chimes in to the middle, between the ferns (springerei)

I wish I had some art to post, but right now I’m using words, mostly only words and in a looser, possibly nothing to worry about sort of way is it being expressed. Remember that pale, pale green that was huge for a couple years? I did really like that color even though I’ll bet it made a lot of people sick. That kind of green I once would have defended to its death; BUT, nowadays I know that it is right in someone else’s mind what is good and right and pure.