Nothing I see means anything. I have given what I see all the meaning it has for me. I do not understand anything I see. These thoughts do not mean anything. I am never upset for the reason I think. I am upset because I see what is not there. I see only the past. My mind is preoccupied with past thoughts. I see nothing as it is now. My thoughts do not mean anything. My meaningless thoughts are showing me a meaningless world. I am upset because I see a meaningless world. A meaningless world engenders fear. My thoughts are images that I have made. I have no neutral thoughts. I see no neutral things. I am alone in experiencing the effects of my seeing. I am alone in experiencing the effects of my thoughts. I am determined to see. I am determined to see things differently. What I see is a form of vengeance. I can escape from this world by giving up attack thoughts. I do not know what anything is for. Above all else I want to see. Above all else I want to see differently. I am not the victim of the world I see. I have invented the world I see. There is another way of looking at the world. My holiness envelops everything I see. There is nothing my holiness cannot do. My holiness is my salvation. I am the light of the world. Let me not forget my function. My happiness and my function are one. My grievances hide the light of the world in me. My salvation comes from me. The light has come. I am entitled to miracles. Let miracles replace all grievances. Let me recognize the problem so it can be solved. Let me recognize my problems have been solved. Miracles are seen in light. Miracles are seen in light, and light and strength are one. I am one Self, united with my Creator. Salvation comes from my one Self. I am spirit. Salvation is my only function here. I seek but what belongs to me in truth. Let me be still and listen to the truth. Truth will correct all errors in my mind. To give and to receive are one in truth. Forgiveness offers everything I want. All that I give is given to myself. The world I see holds nothing that I want. Beyond this world there is a world I want. It is impossible to see two worlds. No one can fail who seeks to reach the truth. I loose the world from all I thought it was. I will not value what is valueless. Let me perceive forgiveness as it is. If I defend myself I am attacked. Only salvation can be said to cure. The power of decision is my own. In my defencelessness my safety lies. I give the miracles I have received. I am at home. Fear is the stranger here. Your grace is given me. I claim it now. By grace I live. By grace I am released. I trust my brothers, who are one with me.
“Since she died, I have come across hundreds of what my mother liked to call Kittisms, written on everything from lined notebook paper and hotel stationery, to napkins and post it notes. Whatever was close at hand that she could write on. I’m not sure if she really came up with any of these sayings herself, or if she decided after hearing them somewhere, that they could have been something she would or did say. But, for those of you who spent any time with my mother, you know it really doesn’t matter, because once she spoke them, they were hers.”
You are not here. In this moment all that exists is here. But you are not. There are so many footprints leading to my door. Let us enter, they say. We cannot sleep in the desert it is too cold. Our tears will dry too fast. Our ears will hurt from the silence. Let us in. And so I gather them all up, swing wide my door, and step aside as they enter hoping they will lay in peace beside my fire.
(Still don’t know what to you call; faceless, borrowed-names heroin.)
She doesn’t connect others in a weaved singular now.
Synchronicity is low.
She keeps them behind separate doors.
Simultaneous realities.
The Actress (2002)
She dressed up pretty like an actress
With several countless sweet-a-face
And for each man an original smile
As they hung hungrily for her grace
And everyday t’was someone new
And everyday a brand new mask
And in between twilight and daylight
A man became her forgotten past
5/9/2015: Angry love letter from TDK:
So it goes something like this:
You’re a two-faced arrogant tramp with ultra pretentious conceit and grotesque pride. Who truly do you think you are and how dare you. How dare you assume such a cavalier attitude under such false pretentious pretenses. You should be pulled off the stage with a giant hook immediately, yet you continue your routine performance with an offensive smirk on your face and that feather in your hat. Make it stop! How do you continue day in and day out to prolong such an ignorant repeated pattern of behavior and maintain your disrespectful indifference to any human virtue of any real value. It is unacceptable the way you’ve treated me the short time I’ve known you- how you play off your casual attitude in such a cool unaffected manner, disregarding my plea and telling me goodnight sir. What a scumbag you are. I’ve gone so above and beyond and far out of my way to conquer this entire fallacy you’ve turned reality, with your dim awareness and clueless convictions. You’re quick to size something up with your cold shoulder and your blinders on. What insanity to make such sweeping gestures out of your delusion in denial and your flat out inept sense of judgement. I’m baffled by your egomaniacal presumptuousness. I’m shocked by your aloof diagnosis of your own twin. What a sickening outrage! I’m stunned by your prideful indifference masquerading in an opaque mask. I’m simply broken to pieces over your stubborn efforts to maintain such a hollow form without a genuine substance. But ever do you manage. Always do you rise to greet each new day with the same mistaken rigidity. You hold true to the self-same non-person that blends into the amnesiac crowd under authoritative hypnotic suggestion. You could never make any effort to right any wrongs while your automaton heart beats a muffled, dissonant rhythm and your blood runs cold through your hot veins. You seem to refuse or have no concern for this person that is me, whom you’ve pulled the rug out from under and left out to dry. Just who do you assume you are to take me or leave me. Doesn’t matter to you. You think that’s a strength. That’s just absurd. What kind of towering fool on stilts are you. Do you know how much I’ve gone above and beyond and far out of my way to conquer all false pretenses between us while trying in vain, with such tenacity, to bring us back into ourselves and love and honor who I know we are. What a concept right? I could have, and did, look past all the imperfections in you and your sordid history, not to mention all the things you found wrong with me, all your rejections of me and what I thought was to be our life together – my life with the woman I always wanted and always knew was there somewhere – my soul mate twin flame my whatever – my choice among billions. And you are that girl, but you are not controlled by you. There is some little troll that lives inside you that you’ve handed your life over to. This little gremlin has an agenda. Why why why, why are you so cruel. I have never done anything that you liked. Ever. You shoot me down on everything. You did it again. I guess I shot myself down I suppose. All I wanted was to make something nice for you, to draw you, and you were happy and excited about it, but I guess I fucked that up too again. You never have anything good to say. I can never make you happy in any way and I want you to make your peace with me and just be on your merry way. I doubt you’ll have anything to say to defend me or fight for keeping me around. You always wanted me to hate you. I’ve heard it more than once. So why don’t you just tell me that I mean nothing to you and try and explain why you still talk to me. But you won’t do that either; not worth your time and effort. And all I want now is for you to go about your insensitive life in which you have no dignity and defined by the people you find yourself surrounded by. With me you’ve burned every bridge that I painstakingly built back to you, back to me, back to what really matters above all else. I can’t continue being a fly on your wall while you waste days and months and years living a self-centered, drab life in a country where women are sub-human and killed off like dispensable pieces of garbage. Go be progressive in your contemporary urban wasteland though…. and best of luck. Gloss over the dirt with money and clothes and toys and cars and food and supermarket novels and the internet and anything and everything you can use to circumvent the horror of your soul damage. By all means go glorify your worldly affairs ever so smugly, with the lights gone out in your eyes. Be the earth-bound dream that died for nothing, and be it well why don’t you. Be a cunt, a bitch, a whore, an excommunicated daughter, an ex-wife, an accidental mother. Be a taller, more organized fourteen year old girl. Be an actress, a fiction teller, a prop. Be a killer of love.
“You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” -Mark Twain
Dear LB,
When am I going to sprout wings and fly us to that ashen moon. A ‘sticker in the sky’ you call it. Exactly. I adore that. I wonder what’s going on up there on that thing. Some sort of a Truman Show I think we can be certain. Do you remember when we had to construct that monstrosity in the absence of gravity as we floated like feathers in space trying to get that sucker as round as possible? That sure was a lot of plaster, sand, and play-doh we had to roll into a gargantuan ball, only to have to tow it through such a great expanse of blackness as we lugged that heap of material to it’s current fixed position. Boy, was that a task.…
Forlorn struggle; the disconsolate plight, Crestfallen angel of the techno lie, Circling abject destiny at the helm, In the hangdog adventures of a servile quest in the dark, Among the flagrant escapades of feminine impurity, Reformed to a red-blooded manner of being, Desolate concealed realities of inner and outer space, Unrevealed exotica on the lam, No longer researched in the unrequited cold light of day, Unreciprocated hours upon hours, Enchantment with horns, Unjust dissent on a roll, Merciless lack of sentiment with wings, The glowing appeal of a dark heroine, Goddess in the making, Above this forsaking ecstasy lays a claim made for the universe, And the captivation of dismay, Playing charades with god, The heavy gravity of idealism, A birthright to he who knows himself, This bright white enticement of a blackened magnetism, Courting the inclination to have it all, or nothing at all, Taking the bait of a beloved’s unstable promise, The indeterminate flux, The wavering touch & go notions of a relation presupposed, She invented presumptuous future events in her bent mind, And self-proclaimed the art of prediction. She had a solid conviction like a brick tossed through a window with an obstructed view, She knew she was jumping numbly to a pessimist’s conclusion, Alluding to a base reality – more of a bore than her current standings, She was demanding of the storied ending before diving into the thick of the plot, She was not prudent toward the effects of the future, Nor too sure of anything save the safety of her seduction.…
[The past couple nights I’ve had very interesting dreams. Yesterday morning I wake up, smoke a cigarette, then before falling back asleep ask repeatedly to show me my twin, bring her to me….whoever she may be. An hour long dream of Laila (plus Julie who’s a bit older) ensues. Never happened before like this at all. Only saw Laila in passing, or perhaps dreams I do not remember. I was upset. Maybe I’ll write that down later… I’m still processing it. I didn’t want to dream of her anyhow.]
This is the dream I felt the need to jot down this morning upon awakening:
Dream – ‘She always must be looking at art’- April 9th, 2015…
I am grappling with how or where I should start this. . . perhaps overthinking how not to understate it, or vice versa. Please have a seat and read without any distraction. Be fully present in this moment with me as I attempt to write you a letter proper. If you have a J, light it up before you continue (pause). If you can see the moon from where you are, let it shine in your eyes, take a few deep breaths and redirect your attention here on your screen as I bare my soul to you as purely as possible in English, god willing.…
I am a small spacecraft. I am this individual person on the earth, sitting alone with my thoughts. I expand with the universe over aeons. I am enormous – bigger than any telescopic view. I am one giant heap of memories. I am history repeating itself. On a bed I lie, overcome with debilitating despair, held down by heavy gravity. I am a star, a moon, a galaxy in spiral. I am defeated human man – immersed in these lower frequencies. But once I was golden.…
