to those who're studying the art of the mindful mind fuck...

(that 9/11 remark how the plane wouldn't have gone down if he were on it, made me think about what i've done with things like that.)

if you don't use your skills, they get flabby and die. so if you're turning from hustling and manipulating for small gains and want to start trying to teach epic lessons on the mindfuck level, you "get permission" from people to return to your old, evil bad side... but you must always strive to do it in the service of good, or what you spin will snap right back on you and you'll have a hard time finding footing in magic that's dark and bigger than you because others dogpile on drama and chaos from their own unexercised demons being bored and needing a high fructose white trash drama fix.

i say "un-exercised" as opposed to "un-exOrcised" because i think that even bad behavior learned from having to adapt to sick circumstances, can be turned into another direction. i no longer wish to try and rid myself of my demons. they are my friends when i treat them right.

fuck, that's when they're my PROTECTORS.

i used to think "manipulation" was bad and i strove to be naked and blunt at all times in a world that has perfected its own more sophisticated, layered forms of "manipulation," rendering me toothless without a jujitsu game to bat that shit back in another way.

if you don't get what i mean, move along.

anyhow, part of the reason i'm sobbing so much is out of mourning the constant monster i always believed i was because no one wanted me around for long. they either adored me or were horrified or irritated by me. nothing was rarely in between and life is still very much the same out there.

and now that i look back, i see how adorable we all were before we tried to behave and fit in.

i got fat as a way of hiding not only my sexuality so i could get some peace, but so that i could be quieter, more lethargic and complaining about my body with my mom.

(a part of me also thinks i added fat to my challenges as i never wanted things to be easy like when you've got privilege of any kind you didn't EARN yourself. i wanted my work to be tight and solid. i didn't want to be successful because of charm, personality, or anything i inherited.)

it was like i can look back and almost see as clear as a knife cut that it was like i had a choice about whether to be with lisa (and therefore, my father, who was nearby), and have an active life of adventure and lovers; or behave more like a white person on a focused trajectory even if it's in art (ESPECIALLY if you pick something self-indulgent like art).

and i may not have chosen the deadening cubicle corrals, but i chose to make my own body and mind a deadening cubicle that kept me down and from flying.

i remember how i used to dress after i got back from the bronx, when i was at that special school for high school bad kids in cherry hill. i was junior high age. but it was "little LA" and they didn't plan on having bad white kids yet in junior high.

and i remember sometimes seeing some of the older guys just confused as fuck about how to even take me IN their eyes. and then we could actually have a philosophical conversation?

being different is already hard. being different, sexual, and female, and obnoxious and loud and un-buyable is damn near impossible at times.

and i've had to learn more nuance than you'd believe, as crusty as i seem.

but nuance must be explored because there is more nuance in the nuance, and as you see, stories turn in on themselves and mean something else, then what you originally thought, but it's actually a GOOD thing if you change your paradigm, your GOALS about where you're going as a human being on this earth in this incarnation for only a tiny spec of time.

and what will you REALLY leave behind to even yourself if you have to come back and do it again but need reminding of the lessons you need to rediscover?

this is what i already mean to some of you.

i'm reminding you of who you always were but forgot.

many of us are waking up like the kids in the stephen king story, "IT," and now we have to deal with that scary clown we saw so clearly when we were young and didn't buy into some fucking manufactured reality that keeps us locking ourselves in our own cages for the night.

the scary clown is all this that we've made and inherited.

and so the followers of the mind fuck will have to learn how to gently or harshly teach us ourselves and sneak up on us because with the cacophony of shit everywhere, it's hard to LISTEN.

you have to listen in different ways than four or even five senses or six.

you have to focus and be quiet and hear yourself, and see how your own magic has worked in your life.
fuck that "rational" shit we buy into because none of THIS world is "rational."

go sane.

and use the art of the mind fuck to humble and teach. but you must also be humble and learn.

so here's how and when i got to use my old blunt, sadistic side that doesn't get a lot of run-around time in my life now that i strive to be more conscious and loving in a laid back way.

when i was with a welsh porn director who was so sexy i lost my mind, and he once said that the jews were basically pussies because they "allowed" themselves to be taken away in box cars, while welshmen would've gone down fighting.

unlike my mother, and more like my father, i said absolutely nothing.

(fuck...this is sooo much like my father, i'm just realizing. only he would never EVER cop to it, even under penalty of death. he does this with both men and women in the world without thinking much, anymore. but when he's mindfucking the hell out of a woman, i know he's "breaking" her because women try to colonialize or control him---i love them, but i see it all the time--- and it's impossible IMPOSSIBLE with my father. and he'll jujitsu someone's controlling energy to snap back on THEMSELVES. so i love love love men who tell people to fuck off even now.)

so i said nothing.

i actually was surprised because i don't come up on anti-semitism at all, except my own casual anti-everything-ism. jews really are like white people with a dash of cinnamon to me now, and so it took me aback as if i were with old people who talk like you're back in time.

i wanna hear what it was like, so i just listen...

but i see what people DO.

when you're colored in an uppity social climbing white family, you know you're not gonna be the one claiming your membership to the D.A.R. (daughters of the american revolution is--or was--like this old white pride thing in white families. i hate that shit.)

anyhow, like my father, i knew my work was cut out for my sexy welsh man, and i checked to see if it was a momentary spew or if he really was that much of a racist asshole.

he said it again later when i casually asked him about what he meant exactly, and he elaborated with a straight face without a trace of absurdity.

so like my father, i worked with it. in order to teach him humility, i slowly moved out of an "equal" learning thing and into a more of a sadistic domme thing and by the time we were done, he was curled up in the fetal position wondering what the fuck happened.

i didn't know. when i go into the mind fuck mode, i'm actually letting go and taken over by the whole thing as well. that's when larger ideas work themselves through me with the best of long-term intentions.

i never can care how anyone thinks of me in the short term. i know from the numbers of people who come back, that my love has always BEEN supernatural, and it gives all along, but they really know later when they can catch up and FEEL it.

and i broke the welshman gently but deep and hard. one fat puerto rican girl with no money and a huge open heart, because i still love him even now. i was not the gestapo or a whole fucking SYSTEM of mass insanity taking everything away little by little.

he will have shuddered for awhile. and unlike the jews ghettoed and eventually corralled into cattle cars, he will have the tools to immediately come back to himself whenever he is ready.

and that is how and why i can quit art. it is just what i show you all. what i tell you.

i have done my best work behind the scenes to only an audience member of one.

you can't find this on match.com.

this is the shit that just "happens" and you've gotta catch it when it appears. that's why i can't do "returns" on people. we had our moment then the magic moves on once we try to "prepare" for it.

waste nothing.

focus. get over this looking away and calling things "toxic."
the most annoying things net the most gold.
stop looking away.

something about the scary clown being sweet after all.
i don't know what that means. it's an image, a feeling.
back to what i said that things are often what you originally saw when you were sweet.
that all the extranneous bullshit is dressing to distract us from being overwhelmed with the holiness of our sweetest and most innocent selves.

that's why i cry when i read the letters from My First One.

all this time i thought i was slutty. i tried to be "FUNNY" and beat everyone else to the punch.
that's what you do when you're the fat comedian or the old slut. beat 'em to the punch.

fuck it.

i'm sooo over that tearing myself down and what i could be. it's a waste.

those of us who remember when MTv was amazing and new know that you can't fake talking like a valley girl without talking like one. it's contagious like bronchitis.

i sob because i was so much more than i knew. we all were and are.

i thought i was shit and struggled to not wanna die.

i was a fucking amazing experience even then. no wonder this poor man is going insane. he forgot about the scary clown, and how we dared to toilet paper him while we were dancing and fucking.

but he grew up and got a straight corporate job and it was all a dream, but i come up out of nowhere to remind how he fucked a 12/13 year old girl wildly on the floor and held her hands over her head.

and you know what?

she's okay.

in fact, she's way more than okay.

she jerks off to the memory every now and then when she wants to feel at home with when her body was more than enough and she wasn't "too much."

what more can you possibly give a girl like her?

it's a benchmark that keeps her in the game, hoping it can be passionate enough to not know our last names and still have a passion that rebels against decades of stupid flat stories.

and she wasn't raped, killed, etc.
no less or more attempts made, like anyone out there in the big wide world.

be smart. you only get fucked over when you go for the security. the short cuts. when you forget all that archaic stuff like honor and love and nurturing.

invest in your own fucks.

invest in your own WORLD.

use what you know to show people themselves so they can see they're actually not so bad after all.
we're all adorable and amazing.

when we know it, then we act like fucking sweethearts for a change.

x