dreamt of a white elephant portrait. in some type of museum I was trying to protect. dream of a party with xxx ended up making out and then pushing him to have sex with his girlfriend.
my brother is dead.
I’m gay.
It’s ok to feel pain.
10/21/2016
I review my 2016 goals at the beginning of the journal, after I’d written my dream down:
yoga
trust body and intuition
write in journal every day.
it also says: 2/10/2015 the dream of double moons. written near it. and “my last life on Earth.” I make a lot of declarations.
I woke up feeling aggrieved. usual. even with new particles swirling inside of me they still went right to the rage.
this week I practice exploring density. I have a hard time dating women. I am in between phases of myself and feeling depressed. trying to be water, feel like a grave. i’ll finally let it go.
10/20/2016
today is my brother’s birthday and to celebrate I ate whatever I wanted, which became a lot of cookies which became a habit. I also wanted him to read the cards for me. I was still using the spanish Labyrinth deck. it was my only tarot deck. I lit one candle on the dining room table and then three candles on the mantle. for Lilith, for God, for us. I ate some of his ashes out of the black and white handmade ceramic jar that looked like a genie bottle. someone had made it and gifted it to me. it was very dramatic in presentation and it was the perfect urn, always placed neatly out of sight but around. I wanted to feel my brother always and especially now. just sprout inside of me as a memory. that he had happened. that my house existed. that before he died, we spent ten years estranged to talk again about the pets and chit chat and busch gardens. and he wanted me to move back. a year before he passed, I blossomed in the mountains of colorado away from him dying. that it was possible to see The Sun reversed again. that it was possible to move on.
I became dense..
10/19/2016
“but what if I’m wrong?”
–4:40 am, any given morning
(winter, 2016-2017)
Rick: [about his club] “It’s not for sale”
Ferrari: “You haven’t heard my offer”
Rick: “It’s not for sale at any price”
It took me two hours
to let the ants out.
“I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and its drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap.”
–House of Leaves
in Boulder,
it was the same reason.
it was called “Unity.”
I was invited by a girlfriend.
we talked a lot about
life and mysticism,
the way currents showed up
for us. I wish I had
documented more of the tension
of the room. like the gratitude meeting,
I stayed with meetings that forced
everyone to share.
they went in a circle.
I sat in a room
among them, mostly
men, always mostly men:
some young,
some old and reluctantly,
shared when it was my turn,
becoming chair,
inviting others.
once I remember saying
I can be really manipulative
and a guy that I had reached
out to about something,
never responding,
made eyes at his sponsor.
at the risk of being
labeled shrewd,
I still liked being seen.
“unity”
I used to
leave class
in high school,
go to the bathroom stall
and masturbate whenever
I let dirty thoughts
build too long.
usually it wasn’t
the subject of the class
but the way a boy
brushed my sleeve
on the way to pick up
the beakers.
I used to ask men
to reach under blankets
at house parties
and touch me.
my shorts not so
tight they couldn’t
be pushed to one side.
I used to pay their
way in when there
was a cover,
crawl up
their stomachs,
my mouth smelling
of Bud Light and
cigarettes and smiling
bright asking them
if they were still seeing
Mariel and if they wanted
to reach under the
blankets.
I always had a spare
five dollars on hand,
at least three cigarettes
and a way to materialize
fire, a way to morph
into lap cat
for whomever I
craved. my name
is a whispered name.
a baleful sweep
of syllable in halls.
“the rooms”
I trap ants
in containers
of sugar to
see how long
it takes them to suffocate.
“the rooms”
daturamoon.com 