taking "intro to knowledge" at ccsf. turns out to be mostly analytic philosophy. it's ok - not as horrifying as green's critical thinking class. which i dropped after one session. but something about being in the class, amongst cocksure young men who enjoy arguing that there is no God, well, it fills me with a sense of my duty in life. a sort of adverse opposite reaction to all of the logic and reason. thoughts come to me like "i just want to put more love into the world," as they are talking about these concepts of true and false. i enjoy learning the things, plus it serves to remind me of my own path.
the horrible cough i've developed keeps me from sleeping, and causes me to think about my perpetually challenged throat chakra. various health indicators point to a spiritual lack of art, or lack of self expression. before, i would have expected myself to paint or make visual art along those lines. and i do consider that and enjoy that. tonight in the bath i was curious about the possibility of academic output (writing) as a way of satisfying the begging emptiness of the second and fifth chakras. as they work together in my mind and give me trouble. the fifth most of all, these days. vishudda - expression. as a connection to spirit. energy is trapped and angry there. and connected, poetically, to the fibroid.
also there is this thing about needing to wear something around my neck. i guess since this entry is what it is already, it won't make it any worse if i say: i wonder if there is some stone i could wear that would help. should email megan, who knows these things, and who i think of often.
considering facing down the sheldrake paper.
spent some time on the deck talking to astrid. i feel great about her being my neighbor.
now maybe i will sleep sitting up... since laying down causes the coughing. the sleep deprivation is starting to really get to me.
something is going on today. it's an undercurrent. after living in san francisco for a certain period of time you will begin to pick up on the strange waves of data which come from the street. even longer and you will start to understand how to integrate them into your own religion, until the mantra of your routine harmonizes with the low frequency hum of street activity.
in new york, you might see 10 crazy things on the street in 10 minutes. a near hit and run, paris hilton with her dog, a bellboy screaming at a cab driver, a hasidic jew, a drunk businessman. together these items will add up to the tally of over-the-top activity. whether or not there is a spiritual thread of connectedness between what you see is debatable. the truth is that there most likely won't be, but that you will be happy all the same.
in san francisco, it's overt. imagine a web of light. it will look like the string sculptures amy makes. like when you played cat's cradle with string on your hands, when you were little and your skin was softer than now. seriously. imagine it as large as all of san francisco. picture san francisco in your mind, then picture the string sculpture, made of light, laying over it. at each juncture of string there is something, then at another juncture of string, something else. inexorably related for all time.
some of the things which may be related are as follows:
a shopping cart full of bottles
graffiti
a t shirt
a haircut
something spoken
the way a face looks
a gesture
art in the window of a house
a kiss
a streetcorner
add your own as you see fit.
today, for me, maybe because of the sunshine, the strands of light were conspicuous.
. . .
i was walking toward dolores park cafe when i heard the sound, but couldn't see where it was coming from. it sounded like horses, which was comforting, though i knew it was a trick. as i got closer i came to understand.
in the full secret february sunlight, a member of the tribe of the street (your parents would say: homeless) was executing his obsessive need for rhythm. here, you learn a way of watching things without looking at them, and that is what i did when i walked by. he was beating on his shopping cart with a stick, with some talent and compulsion. he was shirtless, hands about 10 shades darker than the bare chest. he stopped the banging to pull more wood off some trim attached to a telephone pole. with concentration, he broke the wood into more satisfying lengths. more beating.
by the time i had aquired my food, he'd made himself drumsticks he was satisfied with. he frantically banged out a paradiddle on the handle of the cart. from two blocks away, i could hear the sound of horses and obsession and human need for something satisfyingly predictable. his success warmed me as much as the sun, i felt happy for him to be meditating with the sound in that way. and comforted by his dedication.
later as he walked by me while i ate outside, i saw he had a piece of fake hair or felt or yarn tied like a raccoon tail to the back of his hair.
the incident, however beautiful i found it, was isolated at the time. i respected it quietly. a background process.
later, while i walked, i passed the construction site on the corner of 18th and shotwell. the high fence has green tarps attached to it. it's so tall and leans so violently out over the sidewalk that walking next to it is like walking through a greenhouse or a tent at burning man. warmer, but darker.
the site, as you can imagine if you know the neighborhood, has become an encampment. it is also a rare expanse of open space. the raw dirt has begun to grow sparse grass - an urban meadow. in the center of the meadow, an altar to the gods of progress: an enormous dirty yellow construction tractor. the tractor has been there so long it seems like it is rusting. around the edges of the site there are mattresses, and in a specific corner, which you can smell from shotwell, the mutually agreed upon latrine. here is a communal paradise for some, a safe respite.
today, the strands connected my paradiddle friend and another person who was having a moment of worship, near the tractor-altar. he danced, alone in the expanse, in the sun. black, dirty, some would say crazy. he was chanting as he stomped in time on the ground. a moan chant, deep and harsh and from the chest. he moaned rhythmically while he stomped in a cirlce in the urban meadow. i peeked from behind the green tarps. it looked like some kind of tribal worship to me, like he was posessed by a spirit, like he was taken.
i realized all my feelings about these things while i walked around to shotwell street. so many times i can imagine writing this all down, noting the familiar piles of trash that are like snowdrifts against the curb. and the deep acceptance of my surroundings, and my respect for them.
a dreadlocked kid rode by me on a longboard, squinting into the sun.
i imagined my thoughts of the past hour becoming tiny and being poured into a box. the box floated in my chest, tied with brown ribbon. i kept them there safely until it was time to pour them into this other box that i'm typing in now.
...and other beautiful lyrics, like when gillian welch sang
i'll take you as a viper into my head
a knife into my bed
arsenic when i'm fed
while i was puttering in the kitchen and you were depressed. you were hugging the white pillow in the living room. i thought maybe gillian had done it. yoko thinks the white pillow is her mother. it's sort of sad.
....
i just don't know anymore. the world continues to spin out of control, and everything we set foot upon turns to jelly, over and over. solid ground: a myth.
in the philosophy class, someone said he can't tell the difference between when he's awake and when he's dreaming. the atmosphere is such that it was only his poor command of english inflection which made him think it would ever possibly be ok to say something like that in that class.
ren tells me they opened a japanese candy and toy store near the office. i thought about bringing you a sushi eraser. would that help?
a couple of weeks ago when i hurt my hand, i went to the ER. it hurt so much and i was crying and upset and delerious with pain, so i thought i did something really bad to it. so i went to the ER, just to get an x-ray in case it was busted real bad. once i was there and calmed down i started to realize i probably just sprained it. i should have left when i realized, but i stayed.
they didn't do anything, but xray it and tell me it wasn't broken. they didn't have a brace or anything for me. they prescribed me some painkillers, which i don't ever take (when i got my wisdom teeth out, i took advil). i was there for five hours, waiting.
on saturday, i got a bill for the whole fiasco. i haven't reached my thousand dollar deductible yet, so the result is that i now owe $640 to the st luke's ER.
i am really sad. i am really broke and can't afford this. i'm especially sad because i had an extra $600 coming to me for some contract work, and i was really looking forward to having some extra cash to use to get stuff for the house, pay back some debts, and generally breathe with. but now, i have to give it to the ER for a totally fruitless and pointless visit.
i am angry, because this is one of many times i have had health insurance fail me and fuck me over. i am still dealing with a three year old bill from a service that should have been covered, but wasn't due to stupid clerical errors on the part of the insurance companies. every couple of weeks i sit on the phone for a few hours and try to get it taken care of. and every month or so a really horrible angry person from a collections agency in sacramento calls me and screams at me for not paying it.
i feel like that people who are able to deal with "the system," -- things like paperwork and medical bills and legal issues and beaurocracy -- look down on people like me who seem to have problems with it. i feel like i try hard to live up to the various requirements of living in a cold systemized society - taxes, health insurance, paperwork, voicemail menus. but in the end, the system has rarely taken care of me. i feel ashamed of myself for stupidly trusting insurance over and over again, only to be fucked over. i am angry with myself for not leaving the ER when i realized i was ok.
in addition, i am sad because when i look at the big picture of my financial status, the truth of the matter is that i'm living paycheck to paycheck, have a lot of debt that doesn't seem like it will get paid off in this lifetime, and have no obvious hope of ever buying my own home in a city that i want to live in, or creating any financial security for myself. it's fine for now, i am mostly healthy, can take care of myself, and feed myself and pay my rent. but if i were to lose my job, or lose oliver (who helps me a lot), or lose my apartment, or have a serious expensive medical problem like being hit by a car or getting cancer, i would be in dire straights immediately with nothing to fall back on.
most people don't stop to think about what it must be like for someone who has been buffted around so much that they can't play by the rules of the system. homeless people who have no ID, social security card, or bank account. imagine trying to do anything without your ID. imagine trying to create any security for yourself with no "line of credit." this is why some people really need to count on other people for help -- because they can't navigate the complex, cold, and demanding system of voicemail menus and faxed written requests that is involved with doing many of the things required of life in this society.
generally, i think that people who are good at managing these types of beaurocratic situations, and can ride and manipulate the system, have a responsiblity to help people who can't. but maybe i'm a communist.
anyway i'm sad and broke and angry.
bye.
enough whining about money.
oliver brought me flowers and a balloon to work today, DESPITE THE FACT THAT WE HAD AN AGREEMENT THAT WE WEREN'T DOING ANYTHING FOR VDAY. he is rotten but also awesome. he also gave me a chariot ride to get a burrito from my favorite burrito place, cuz it's raining. happy.
i am bleeding and have lots to do, including work, writing a horoscope column, and homework. all tonight. but i plan to go dance anyway. it's only for an hour.
ooooh the cramps are starting!!! i really like bleeding, and i like making my herby peach seed lady tea for my fibroid. but i don't like drinking it that much, even though it doesn't really taste bad.
ok bye.
got my old macworld badge tangled up in some prayer flags.
class was great tonight. the existence of god. i enjoy ccsf because you can see all the antennae - sutro tower and the row of blinking ones on the hill. blue and red.
i am thinking so hard lately. tonight is the first night in some time that i haven't had a lot to do. there is so much to consider. i've been trying to take notes. write more. think more. i love it.
yoko is round and white. sometimes when i pet her, her fur looks like snowdrifts or like pictures they show on tv of the sahara.
i have a plan about dancing.
something about henry darger is kind of the most inspiring thing in the whole world. him and the woman who jumped out the window, the woman amy likes, the woman who takes pictures of herself like an angel, it doesn't matter that you don't know who i mean because i know.
i'm getting older. i gained some weight. just a little. or didn't gain it, but it's moved around on my body. today i examined some flesh on the inside of my thigh, it had lost its previous form. i felt concerned. it's a strange idea, not being young and pretty. what will i be made of then?
health is important. exercising is a weird concept though. i wish that activity came from my life, like when i worked outdoors at omega. natural forms of moving the body - through work.
time to lay down.
well, it's all falling on my head again. bills, insurance issues, and vicious resurfacing tax debt. it's a goddamn financial war zone over here.
and you know what?
i'm not taking any more shit where money is concerned.
capitalism has been flattening my heart and mind for years. as saturn (the planet of structure, lessons, and hard work) moves into my 8th house (the house of taxes and other societal debt), i begin to do fierce smouldering battle with my various financial problems. this doesn't mean that i'm agreeing to play the game - i'm not. i'm just ready to fight back against the bullshit instead of trying to pretend it doesn't exist. i won't join the side of capitalism, i won't chase, but i will hold my ground in reality here.
the idea of trying to fight saturn (earth & tangible things) from my usual vantage point of mercury/neptune is ridiculous. i have been trying for years. it's the feeling of trying to fit a key in a lock, but the key dissolves into thin air before you can get it in. you want to believe that just completely disagreeing with the state of the physical world can make the physical world not exist. that doesn't work. so for some short and fierce period of time, i will fight this war in the real world, if only to prove that i can.
it may be true that i was somehow born into a karmic situation where money and debt is concerned. in some way it's spiritual, and from the outside it may look like laziness. but i'm telling you, it's just bad luck. where other people must make one phone call to deal with a money problem, i must make 10. it just works out that way. i don't know why, but if the monetary system is going to do battle with me on the karmic plane, that's fine, i'm just tired of losing.
it's definitely a healing process.
CERES CONJUNCTS MY SUN
I REMEMBER OMEGA
DANE RUDYAR
CAROLIAN, A SHAMAN, CHANNELING POWER INTO MY TATTOOS
I MISS MY BODY - WHERE HAS IT GONE?
I THINK OF THE TREES ACROSS THE ROAD MELTING IN THE RAIN
THE FIBROID TWISTS AROUND ITSELF
I AM DOING TIME, OF SORTS
AND I HAVE FAITH THAT EVERYTHING IS ALRIGHT
but i'm thinking about how different things have been, how many times they have changed, and feeling like i have some clues about how to maintain my wellbeing.
god i feel like shit. my body is a fucking broken fat piece of crap. i'm in terrible shape and it's not getting any better. the fibroid has started a new game - causing my left leg to ache and hurt horribly for the two days of ovulation. excellent. so on top of the fucking awful hormonal psychosis and depression that comes with PMS, the cramps, the heavy chunky disgusting abnormal periods, now i get to hurt and wake up in pain during ovulation also. it seems like there will never be a time when i have a break from the nightmare of my hormones. i know that if i would just exercise more and get out of bed earlier, i would be so much better, but i haven't been able to motivate. i feel terrible about myself because of it. i feel like i'm always fighting to make myself happy again so that my body will follow suit... and never making any progress. i am angry. what am i supposed to do about this? why didn't my veganism, my yoga, my dancing, omega, astrology, keep me from this? why do i have to end up like my mother? i feel so ashamed of myself for having things wrong with me, for not working hard enough to make myself better, for sleeping too much, for being so isolated, for being in a couple, for riding around in a car, for never having any time to myself, for not making art, for not dancing, for not even trying to be anything but a boring whiny hag.
sorry to be like this.
someone just sent me a really wonderful email, too.
i wish that anything i felt was real and not easily ignored due to the fact that it's just caused by the hormonal dip that happens after ovulation is over.
homework.
it's raining. yoko lays on the cushion in front of the heater until she is too hot, then she takes a break. she just came to visit my lap. i am about to get some homework done. real soon now. caitlin is playing me the new ani difranco which is actually really good.
on the way back from boogaloos oliver pulled over so i could accost a cute girl carrying a hula hoop and ask her where she was going. turns out there is hooping in cellspace sundays! damn i need a hoop!
tribe.net is really neat. they seem to have actually created a community site that people really use - even people who normally wouldn't use mailing lists.
there's lavendar tulle and a half made scarf on the floor.
