ME-1st Slideshow and MY ARTWORKS-2cd/bottom Slideshow

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Tuesday, May 11, 2010


"she said, with her eyes in her tears and her hands on her eyes, she said and she felt, weeping into the marshlands. the forest and the snow, and all of it surrounding, and the only quiet stirring was the hummmmm of the catscan. and the MRI and the EKG and all the beeps and all the hums. that cold tiled room and the unescapable sentence. she said and she told him quietly. she told him all so, silently, as she gazed into the near future with her hands on her eyes. that there would be no more dancing. that there would be no more fantasizing. that this was the end that she saw coming, so very long ago before she met him. but what was he to say? just what could erase the bitter taste of this dreary day? she looked up at him, smiling, with a twinkle in her tears, she looked into his weeping heart, smiling, as she told him she was dying, as she told him that in a year there would be nothing left of her face. and he held her face in his hands, and together they both cried and laughed. and she took a fist of snow and threw it across the dune. and they stared at it smash into the white hill. they sat together on the log rail. they looked all around for an avalanche or a deer or something to disturb the finality. and she put her hands on her eyes, and she put her heart on his hands, and she looked up into the clear blue sky as the snowflakes danced around her black hair. there was bliss and only grattitude, only pure and fragrant eternity. the cancer had spread from spine to shoulder, and next year on this day she'd be under the ground buried, but in this moment she held her eyes and his heart, and together they'd go thru this. and the tears they stopped a-fallin'. and the wound it stopped a-hurtin'. cuz the death of her simple cells could never destroy the moment."

Two: I am on the brink of something. Something is always, every day, every minute of my wretched existence, I am so close to It. The truth, the answer, the solution, the sky dive of euphoria. But I cannot reach it. It is like I am late for a train, rush to catch it, and arrive at the platform huffing and puffing just in time to see it clamber away on the tracks. I run after it, but it's just out of my reach. It leaves me behind. Or I, let it go. I'm not sure which. I think, maybe if I run faster, maybe if I just run until the legs in me have died and I no longer feel them, then will I be able to catch it? Then will I be able to grab on to it's ledge and pull myself up? Then will the doors open and the dining hall revealed to be full of biscuits and gourmet dining? The smiles of the passengers, the lightness of the air? The truth displayed to me for my feasting?
Why am I thus cursed? Why do I have this craving to find something, to discover? Why cannot I ever just, be, exist, with no want of anything else? Sometimes I have it, sometimes the nothingness completely overtakes me and I can be at peace. But it is broken by something else always. By hunger, by horniness, by restlessness, by thirst, by a need to shit and urinate. Oh! What total wastes of time. I anger at the universe, how much time I have spent shitting and pissing. Years of my life probably, just spent shitting, pissing. I have refrained from drinking and eating sometimes for days, just to prevent the shitting and the pissing. But the joy of food soon overtakes me, so I accept that in order to eat I have to shit and piss. But I don't think I actually Accept it. I just tolerate it. I tolerate, this life. I have Tolerance, for it. My tolerance builds with things that give me pleasure. I tolerate it all until I die. But I have no acceptance that this thing I am always just at the brink of is my fate. Why is it so? And again I ask the universe, I ask the energy and the power, why, why, am I cursed with these talents and these convulsions if I have no way of releasing them? It's damn near impossible, for me to exist. I can only think of a few selective moments in my life when I have been close to ultimate freedom of everything I am. So brief they are that they quickly give way to other realities. No, life refuses, people refuse, to see me and let me be in what I am. I cannot be crazy and sane, I cannot be prolific and empty, I cannot be horny and celibate. I have to choose bits and pieces of myself and pretend that they are the whole me. And none of them are. I cannot be hungry and not hungry at the same time. My body forces me to choose which path I walk on. If I choose hunger then I eat. And if the other, I do not eat. I am not allowed to both eat and not eat. It's not possible in this dimension. It's not possible for food to enter my mouth and in the same exact moment for food to not enter my mouth. It's either one or the other. But this is so disastrous to me. This is so heartbreaking. Where is the 4th dimension? How can I access it so that thru the wavelength of time I can both be here and not here, alive and dead? Perform one action and not perform it simultaneously? Why does this cruel universe always force me to choose? It's sadistic, the choice. I don't agree with either path, not fully, not 100%, but I have to act upon one or the other and have the action show that I agree with it. But I do not! I do not. I do not like one thing over another, never like only one thing, over the other. I see, feel, believe in them all equally. But that condition of not being, that condition is one which life does not seem to want to give me the freedom to do. Freedom! That thing again.

The nothingness, it is still here. And it is being interfered in. It is being muddled with, I am being poked by life to do something with it. Why why why why why? I am always neverending, unfinished, unsolved. But everything which surrounds me demands that I be solved! Demands that I be finished!

I don't want to take my place in the world. I don't want to be a rat on an escalator clamboring to get to the last piece of cheese. I don't want to choose to be anything, because I feel I am everything. I feel I am on the edge of it. I am on a wild ride, I am lifted and fallen.

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