just in case i die in a flaming car accident out there on my way back in the dark, i wanted to tell everyone thank you for making me okay even when i'm alone. i never FEEL alone. i realize that the angels i always feel are the investments of love i've received throughout my life.
i may sound cynical, but i'm way more in love with everyone EVERYONE than you'd believe. i've never ever seen a truly evil soul and i've kicked myself around out there a lot. and when i think about how safe i feel about now and the future, it's because someone who loves, or WILL love me, always kicks in in the nick of time and i'm okay.
whether it's my father's supernatural love, or james' beautiful wild domestication of me, it was good to settle down. meditate wildly in the WAY i lived my life. not just 20 minutes a day or an hour at friend's meeting somewhere, or even some nouveau buddhisty thing with yoga wear.
so thank you. you've all been collaborators with me. that's why i don't feel like ONE person. i feel a maternal, deeply maternal and ETERNAL responsibility to anyone who comes into contact with who and what i'm trying to be.
i have to be there to figure out what happened because fuck if i EVER know. i'm just winging it like everyone else. i'm trying to put words to my intuition with words that never seem to fit. there isn't even a chinese way of pronouncing what is this whole other mystical magical side of life that is actually the REALITY that we avoid seeing.
and underneath it all, we're so fucking holy, no one's bad. not even you, alison. you're beautiful inside and out and time and dreams and accomplishments and your husband and your children can never take that very basic essence away. you are alive therefore you're holy.
no stories are ever really bad.
fear, fear everywhere. it's so, so dangerous. it kills hordes of people as well as tiny bad deaths within ourselves and whom we love.
i feel like i speak in bird chirps and i think i'm talking in english.
but i suppose that IS the eternally nagging thing that makes us strive to be ever clearer to each other. be seen. be understood.
the other side of plastic adoration is maccaulay culkin's current look. i never wanted the bite back from what there was to offer in the way i offered up my art, so i am finding peace in my sandpainting's immediacy and invisibility.
invisibility is also very, very freeing.
we all have to lose it. spin around. run through airports ranting about how fucked up everything has to be. that is when we know we are doing the rain dance and are TRULY alive.
we are not to use our time here to submit ourselves as line items in another nazi record book of deaths.
i don't see getting to our essences as getting beneath like layers of an onion, anymore. nah. all these "voices" are starting to come together, all of you, and all that i feel even from the unseen you, and my friends and parents and family---what i see is that you are in me and make me, and integration for ME is when they come together more like strands of a rope. and that feels like my soul reacquainting itself with the reason it is here.
to love and feel and experience you all, whether from afar or up close.
i know i've always been a catalyst in others' lives. i was the foster kid or the odd kid at someone else's house at christmas, and somehow, some little fucking observation that i thought was a meaningless joke or blather, would just make everyone go KABOOM!
and out i was.
i scared people and thought i was linda blair in her movies.
but i'm not.
i really am a sweetheart.
and when james fucked me like i've never ever been fucked before, i realized, "yeah, i'm a sweetheart."
and we ALL are.
so here i feel connected to everyone. like i am still living according to some bigger IDEA. i don't wanna be a line item. god no. it's so amazing to feel and struggle to find the beauty underneath.
THAT is art to me. art as life. art as religion. and yes it rapes you. again and again, if you're lucky. and it's hot as fucking hell even in the agony.
oh, i FEEL the agony. believe me. but it is also a form of ecstasy and letting go.
shibari. being tied up and dangling there with a ball gag in my mouth and getting rope burns that dot blood as life fucks me against the plaster wall.
gotta go. james will be here to get his stuff in 25 minutes.
x
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