elly.org / journals

May, 2002

May 9, 2002 - 10:43am

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good afternoon. it is 4:12pm on may 5, 2002. tomorrow morning, at 7am or so, i leave san francisco for upstate new york. i am going there to do some work at a spiritual learning center. that means i am going to be away from the internet and etc for many months. i am taking some books with me to upstate new york, where i'll be living in a tent and working outdoors some. the books i am taking include a book by alan watts sent to me by chris joyrider, a book called 'godesses in everywomen' by jean bolen, and a willa cather book. my other agendas in new york include some astrology lecture listening and homework, and learning to play the harmonica. also working 30 hours a week at the omega institute, where i'll be living.

the reason i came here to post, though, is that my awesome pal wayne bremser sent me some mail with a good idea in it. i'd like you to read the mail and decide if you want to be the person i trade journals with from his idea. if you do, maybe you should email me. the requirements are, you should have been journaling online for a rather long time, long enough to at least somewhat match the amount of content my journal has (five years worth of mostly consistent updating), and a somewhat serious devotion to writing, not just "this is what i did today" writing. let me know. send me an email, but don't expect an immediate response, as i'm away from the internet for a while. 

Date: Thu, 9 May 2002 16:16:21 -0700
From: wayne bremser
To: le , brian moseley
Cc: Austin Swinney , elly 
     Amy RU Squires , jem
Subject: Re: who'll stop the rain (was Re: (wb's) TND DISPATCH)

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you know that gertude stein book, autobiography of alice b. toklas ( i'm
sure they didn't let amy out of mills without making her read it )...

here is the description:
The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas is actually the autobiography of
Gertrude Stein. With complete self-assurance and audacity, speaking through
the unassuming persona of her companion Alice B. Toklas, Gertrude Stein
indulged herself delightfully in this ode to Gertrude Stein and her
literary/artistic circle.

ok elly what i propose you do is you find somebody with another large body
of online journaling...a justin hall for example. ok what you do is you SWAP
your master list of entries and he/she edits yours and you edit theirs. you
can add a little, remove a lot, all the things you would do to make your own
thing presentable as a single work, but you are doing it to the other
person's. it would work, trust me.

wb

May 16, 2002 - 12:00am

being at omega

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

hi there.

today, i drove a golf cart down to a big empty theater surrounded by trees. i helped my fellow production crew members mop the floor there. i have keys to every classroom on this campus. i eat well. on the pathways and sidewalks i stop for random hugs, induced by two days worth of group sharing workshops which, tho i wince at them sometimes, really did bring us together.

we live here for free, for six weeks or four months or some time period in between. we are fed or we feed each other. both, actually. it's not what you would expect. it's not an ashram. we are not silent, humorless, isolated, or even devout. it's just a community.

i always have someone to eat with. there are meditation gardens, tons of workshops and classes. there's internet and it's not what i DO, it's just one small part of my life here. more important is learning about these new people who surround me, and doing my work.

my work is like this: wake up 5:30am, go up the hill, open the doors to the sanctuary. ring the big bell. i haven't done that yet but i'm totally looking forward to it. also, ride the golf cart around to unlock doors of other classrooms. or maybe i work at night and i lock up all the classrooms for the night. the best part of the job, though, is the intent to provide the most beautiful and harmonious space possible for workshop participants and faculty. it is a tedious glory: perfect circles of chairs, measured with footsteps and stunted geometry skills. even chairs and pillows off to the side must be stacked symmetrically and neatly. the point is to create spaces with the least amount of distraction for people who are trying to grow.

it can be quite meditative to carefully arrange chairs and cushions like this. it is also incredibly joyous to coast along paths in the golf cart saying hello to people and just generally spreading joy. staff here exists to create a nice structure for participants who are only here for a week.

i am pleased and happy. the food is fucking great.

also, i have been wearing my maglite in its holster on my belt, in tribute to mister yeti radavich, my true love. also, i carry a leatherman.

yay!!!!


May 23, 2002 - 12:00am

more being at omega

    this was originally posted at swinney.org. for comments and context, go to the original.

so, i have poison ivy. i don't know where i got it, really. it's a small patch on my hand. it oozes and weeps. pustules. i made some art about the poison ivy to honor it. that was remedy number one. i also applied various forms of calamine, benadryl cream, and dr bronners. dr bronners soothes best i must say. it dries the pustules. somehow i spread the poison ivy to a tiny patch right at the top of my ass crack. don't tell anyone that ok, i'm kind of embarassed.

today someone told me that putting urine on poison ivy, or any sorta fungal skin infection like that, is good for it. so i pissed on my hand earlier. don't tell that to the next person using this keyboard ok? it was good, peeing on my hand. it was soothing. i think it helped. anyway how can you resist pissing on yourself when you've been given full medical license to do so?

i think the rash is clearing up, though, regardless.

i met someone here who has almost the same astrological chart as me, down to the houses. that's pretty uncommon. talking to her is like talking to a slightly altered version of myself. we are both really into astrology. go figure. she is small, with narrow shoulders and less narrow hips. she carries a white cloth bag around sometimes. she holds it out from her body as if it contains something she doesn't lay claim to. i asked her, but usually it's only toiletries or food.

the theme, overall, is aquarius. community.

(at night i hear animals outside my tent. i've been having some weird visions the last couple of days when i try to sleep. specifically of being stabbed many times in the back. i'm not sure why. i think i'm a little lonely or stressed.)

i have met four, count em, four, aquarians that i want to befriend. i didn't choose them because they were aquarians, it just kind of happened that way.

i'm sorry for using astrology talk when it alienates so many people. don't be alienated. just send me an email and i'll explain myself.

this weekend some chicks will be here talking about being chicks. powerful chicks. the workshop is called "women and power." anita hill will be here. so will eve ensler of "vagina monologues" fame. my department will be doing some stuff around campus to help facilitate their existence here. i don't know what to think about anita hill. is she really a hardcore feminist or is she just milking it? maybe i'll let you know, after i see her speak this weekend.

ok.


May 29, 2002 - 12:44am

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i don't leave these acres.

today, the rain. we sat underneath white plastic shelter, surrounded by cars. beyond the cars, trees. i was learning to play the harmonica, i was talking to him about the self and the other. libran themes, aquarian themes, his father the aries. i became distracted from harmonica by the waves of wet green coming off the trees, the rain pouring over branches and leaves. the mist between here and there. the staringness.

i live here, with these people. daily i wonder if i belong here. what is it to belong? in some moments i feel that this is now the only place i have ever belonged, merely because it is where i have ended up. other times no one knows me and i'm so alone.

at night i imagine you, the distance from your armpit to your hipbone. so many times before you cut your hair i slept near you and stroked your hair while i sucked my thumb. i stroked it as if it was my own, in the same way i used to stroke my own hair before my own hair was unstrokeable dreadlocks.

recently, a caterpillar in my hair. recently, fishing a tampon out of the toilet to honor the rules about flushing. what to flush. recently admiring so many faces, filled with curiousity. i said to emily tonight: i want to know her secrets, which is kind of the same as having a crush on her.

a tapestry of foreign input. the sound of genevieve returning to her tent at 2am. a gentle smokers cough brought to me all the way from missoula montana. i hear her rummage and mumble to herself. leaves falling on the tarp above my tent.

work is a stress but also strangely satisfying. moving rugs, huge rugs. mopping enormous floor after enormous floor. moving the chairs, moving them again. 200 chairs in one hour. wanting so badly to please my boss then realizing i maybe just want her to like me, maybe not because of work. maybe because she's a brilliant writer with ice blue eyes. maybe because she reminds me of kristie.

found my tent in the pitch black dark tonight. given up on flashlights. it was a goal.

my head is killing me after three hours hearing music and poetry made by staff. crawling around on the floor with a redhead. we were children, we were kittens. laughing and howling, the last five people in a large spooky theater.

tomorrow i'll leave campus for the first time since i arrived. it seems unceremonious.

...

ps. yeti says this entry is morose. i assure you i am not morose in any way. i mean, actually, maybe i am, but it's like a joyous morosity. i am actually totally pleased and satisfied with my current situation. i think sometimes when things are so elaborate that people think i'm being upset or unhappy. but when life is elaborate and thoughtful is the best of the best. so don't worry.

...

two things that happened on stage that i want to remember:

"fuck the grave, put flowers on me now"

"you never know who's lurking behind that menial task"


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