Thankyouthankyouthankyou

Gratitude: Or, 5 things that give more meaning to my life, as of 11/11/13, as appreciated by yours truly.
 
1. good hugs
2. toasted pumpkin seeds
3. a really good, strong work-out
4. people who notice when your work-out schedule has changed.
5. The staff at the Y. And again: The staff at the Y. They have been my community, solidly, for over 4 years, and time and again they've come through for me; everything I've put in to my time there, the staff have given back 10-fold, regarding everything from encouragement, financial assistance, temporary child care, classes, community, outreach, and friendly engagement. When I asked for clearer communication about Y-sponsored surround care at Hamilton, I not only had a great sit-down w/Nate Torres, the director for after-school care, but found that he was able to take action and really support me and represent my concerns; this resulted in direct assistance and enrollment into afternoon care for both kids. This goes beyond gratitude--this is a domino finally put in place that assures movement towards a job; by knowing that my little ones are being safely cared for after school, in their school, I can move forward with my job search, eliminating one more blockade that was stalling my progress. I actually had to hug the guy, and I nearly cried. It's good to know when someone's on your team; it's AMAZING to find out an entire organization feels the same way.

We're here one minute, the next one we're dead...

This little piece of work has been sitting around since August, mulling, stewing, lurking in the dark corners between the houses of Too Much Information and Full Disclosure.  For the love of Eve Ensler, Amanda Palmer, bell hooks, Anaìs Nin, and Virginia Woolf, however, I've come to the conclusion that these thoughts and ideas and things are not only considerably valid, but inherently human and sexual and not at all profane.  These glowing thoughts and ideas and things presumably come from a little glowing spot, somewhere in the region of the second chakra; it's a region that has lain dormant longer than I should have allowed, and I do believe it has been awakened.

Corpus Manifesto, 

With Love to Eve Ensler, Anaîs Nin, bell hooks, Amanda Palmer, and Virginia Woolf, 

as of 11.07.13

Please know this:

I will not shave my legs for you. Ever. If I feel like having smooth legs, I will make it so. I will apply a straight razor to my tender flesh—that which has suffered the open-sore wrath of antibiotic-resistant strain MRSA—and I will do so because I want to do so. My hair is my own and it will never be cut or styled or removed for you or your desires, unless I want it to be so. 

My underarms smell. A lot. I like my smell, but it is incredibly strong. Something like skunk mixed with grapefruit. I’ve had no complaints yet, but I don’t care. I wear deodorant when I want to, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Either way, it is my smell and it will be with me longer than you will. 

My vagina is torn and wet. I’ve given birth to large-headed humans that forced their way to their first breath of life with the determination of a bull in a ring of matadors.  They both tore me, pulling me apart, dragging pieces of me with them, leaving me in tatters.  This is also mine, and I do not for a moment regret those gorgeous wounds of life that twinge on a rough bike ride or during jackhammer intercourse.  It’s a wet, torn, wild place of enormous strength and heat, ever flooding because of desire or your laugh or your blue.green.grey.black.brown eyes. I’m lucky to have such a reservoir. You’re lucky if you get to swim in it.

I’ve been marked, forever, in my breasts, belly, hips and arms by the growing and shedding of layers of genetics; stretch marks crawl across me like a thousand Arabic squiggles, each one with a story to tell. I don’t try to hide them.

I love sex. A lot. I have the freedom to use my body for sex in as many ways as I desire, with a willing and giving partner. We will treat each other like equals, neither seeking to dominate or belittle the other, unless it is part of agreed play.

I am not your exotic muse, nor will I be the one you chose to “slum it with”.  I am not to be placed on a pedestal, to be used as you see fit when you see fit. If I want to be used, you will know it. In the words of Momus/Amanda Palmer (see video below): I may want you, and I may want you to want me, but I don’t need you. And I don’t need you to need me to need you.

Note: The Amanda Fucking Palmer video is a cover of the Momus song. You can choose which one you like; I like them both for different reasons.

Listen To This

How many people think of how many ways to say that their music defines and/or shapes their lives? The obvious has been stated by us all--we love music, we breathe music, we allow it to transform our moods, our desires, our outlook on life...

This power was proven and set in stone 5 years ago by my son as he circled the kitchen, singing something nearly unintelligible, at full voice in the garbled tones only a two-year-old can screech; if I hadn't picked up "CBGB" I wouldn't have understood that he was singing "Life During Wartime" by The Talking Heads. My daughter was born to Elton John and Stevie Wonder. I always wanted someone to play "I Will" by the Beatles for me, but I got "Killing Me Softly" by The Fugees from my former husband. The end of my marriage was sealed by Aphex Twin's "Cliffs". It's been a long journey, and I quite like the path so far; "Cruel" by St. Vincent helped me in the early bits, and now the joy and sexiness of everything Nina Simone has ever sung is daily building buoyancy for me.

What's on your playlist? Any requests?

Ivor the Engine Driver Has a Remedy.

Lots of fresh, new ideas with the crumbling of familial archaic ones; with dissolution comes new, separate pieces, yet the same building materials remain.

For him, I wish him luck with his new One.

For me, I wish me all that I have and more, less the one that was not all in and the other that is damaged beyond repair.

And openness. I cannot wait for open air and clean spaces, even when inundated with stick-figure drawings and math sheets and take-home reminder slips; my home will feel different, I know.

Frankly, my dear:
*Some have told me to try online dating, especially as my social network is "exhausted". I don't plan on dating my mama friends or library activists/grandparents, so the advice might be worthwhile (but really, I'm too freaked out about the sizable creep ratio to make an online effort).

*And, to tell you the truth, I like this time I've created to get my sh*t sorted out without having to worry about someone else or about the dramas that come with new relationships...But if someone braves the path to shake my hand, as it were, I'd lustily reach out my hand to return the shake...

*It's fall, I love Halloween, I felt awesome as Pippi Longstocking (strongest girl in the world!!), and I can't wait to make pie for my friends and family. PIE!

*Coffee. If you ask me, I'd say yes.


If you stayed for the whole video/song, you'll find that the young woman is forgiven her betrayals. I do believe he's lying.

Personalize It

Today my daughter told me her doll had cancer.

This afternoon my mother lied, again, to me.

The air is just a bit too thick sometimes.


I miss my sister.

Giving Up or Giving In or Letting Go?

 

Leaf Lives

We hung on so long, didn’t we?

Sinew stems clinging to our supports,

bark-bound life-lines feeding us,

phloem and xylem harmoniously pulsing

through our fine, filial veins.

Thus we lived, left alone together

we just hung about, blowing about,

susurrus our only soft speech

as warm fronts forced our faces to touch.

Remember when we bent toward the sun?

Then came the dryness, the heat of the summer

wilting our reach.

Tips of arthritic fingers

only able to curl in on ourselves,

neither of us could grasp the season to come.

Rumors of rain from trunk to treetop

spread…

Petrichor promises turned our bellies to the sky,

we swallowed the first drops of rain,

grateful and greedy for what cloud fortunes fell.

Some of us survived, revived by what rain came.

Others coiled, shriveled to crunchy shells;

empty of purpose they were freed,

collapsing and collecting

at the foot of our creation.

Our end is nearly here;

we will begin our next lives as nutrients

after we release, gathering together below.

I look to you to compare, to see,

Who will fall first?

The Ties That Bind

 
-->

“This could be the making of you…Or your ruining.”

This could be the beginning of all sorts of good, new, scary, interesting things—things that give me pause and wonder and alight on my heart like the migrating monarch—or I could be laid to waste during this time of fearful re-imagining, left to writhe and drown in the shallow puddles of indecision, fear, and uncertainty.  It’s better to not spend too much time on this, to allow my brain and my heart the space to seek out those darker, whispering corners.  

There are little life-lines, attached to my waist, gently tugging at my hips, that remind me not to go into those mucked-out doom spaces; little love-tethers of different lengths, some that pull Morse code messages of support, reminders that I’m not on this journey alone, that no matter how closely I stumble near those dark spaces, there are strong bands that will guide me to safer stretches. 

Most of these little life-lines, these ribbons of rescue and goodwill, are strong, no matter their length, their material, their tangles and knots. There are, however, a few tethers I have meant to cut loose as of late, as they are not there to help or guide, but instead ground my movement, impede my rescue, or serve to strangle the parts of my heart that need the most latitude.  Most of these churlish cords are obvious, presenting themselves as false friends, as liars, or even worse—as limbless lovers that remain ungrounded, offering decaying branches and rotten fruit.  I’ve begun to sharpen my knives, my machete and my teeth, preparing to slash and chew at the ties that bind—the restraints that fetter and fault my safe passage.

It’s a time for clarity and conscience and honesty and light. Anything else shall be swiftly severed.

And now for an update:

1. Still looking for a job, I've been tidying up my resume and have met w/the fine folks at the Workforce Center; I've some hope that career counseling might prove helpful.

2. Marriage/Divorce is tricky and illuminating. Not for the meek. Best to be bold in these situations.

3. Cheers to romance and love and sex and all good things that make you smile with your entire being. Horizons are best viewed after having seen the darkest days and nights. My lasik'd eyes aren't really searching for such endeavors as of yet, but I'm happy for you, on your path. 

4.  Went to New Mexico and Texas. It was hot and expansive and a most interesting experience. I doubt I'll return for the same reasons.

5. For those of you that have come through, I love you more than you can imagine. If I hadn't told you lately, or if you're hiding because you don't know what to say, just ask. I'll tell you.

6. Watch this space. Also, watch Space. It gives a bit of perspective on your own reality, especially when you're re-appraising your very existence.

New soundtracks are forming every day for me. Each day seems to bring a new set of songs that bring a bit of relief or relevance or reality.

Here's a few, for me:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BrxZhWCAuQw
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lqmORiHNtN4
 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9tRgYfQ48A0

I'm not good at being quiet. I talk too much, I think too much, and I want too much. For some, this is irritating. Cut your tether.