It's All Write

[mandyjw]

EMILY DICKINSON Wild nights - Wild nights! Were I with thee Wild nights should be Our luxury! Futile - the winds - To a Heart in port - Done with the Compass - Done with the Chart! Rowing in Eden - Ah - the Sea! Might I but moor - tonight - In thee!

Eh. I'm afraid people will fall in love with me. Don't do it. Don't love me. Don't be attracted to me. Seriously, I'm a disappointment. I... that's why I never danced with Michael. Had to be a bitch to him, or I might break his heart. Lead him on. Deceive him. 8 years of childhood with someone liking you when you never liked them back. My sister broke men's hearts ruthlessly, time and time again. Me, couldn't live with myself if a broke a heart, so I never loved. I wasn't protecting anyone's heart. I was protecting myself. I was the grand royal bitch the entire time. At least she loved em and left em. Till she got left, with a baby, and man kind enough to forgive it and raise it anyway from the day it was born.

Haha, so sometimes it pops up and fucks me over in the form of obsession. Then I'm Michael. There was nothing wrong with Michael. He just wasn't very bright. So I chose and married someone who was really very smart. Spiritual. Rich even. And I freed him from his chains, and we threw away all that money. But it didn't go anywhere. It just kept coming in from elsewhere. And then I made him into Michael again. Oh Michael. 

There's nothing worse than realizing you attracted someone and then you have to let them down. My heart leaps out of my chest. I stopped making eye contact. Stopped even looking at men. Afraid of hurting someone, covered over my own vulnerability. Afraid of hurting myself. Painfully shy. 

I'm not what I seem. 

Why do I attract exceptionally good, kind men? What is WRONG with me? 

My sister is law *in-law mentioned she was terrified when she picked up blueberries at a farm. She didn't know if she was in the right place. A woman a love with men she didn't know. *Alone* misspelled alove. We were taught this as Christians, always be ware. I hated this repression. I hated the people who enforced it and who complied. Yet I bought it, hook line and sinker. I didn't realize it was me, I was making the rules. 

I've given this subject a lot of thought. Not the outright kind of thought, the lazy, split energy kind. 

Sometimes I wish I could start a youtube channel about art. I could crush it. I wouldn't have to worry about doing anything wrong. But this THIS is what I want to talk about and share. 

Worry about doing anything wrong. 

There's a way to be outrageous, isn't there? And yet be exactly what's called for. What's asked for. 

outrageous (adj.)

c. 1300, "excessive, extravagant, exorbitant, immoderate," from Old French outrageus, outrajos "immoderate, excessive, violent, lawless" (Modern French outrageux), from outrage, oltrage, from Vulgar Latin *ultraticum "excess," from Latin ultra "beyond" (from suffixed form of PIE root *al- "beyond"). Meaning "flagrantly evil, atrocious" is late 14c.; modern teen slang usages of it unwittingly approach the original and etymological sense of outrage. Related: Outrageously; outrageousness.

I am for ever and always, too much. That's ironic, because my biggest insecurity is being too small. 

Your biggest insecurity is being too small. You made it into a real big deal. 

?‍♀️

 

[mandyjw]

I wrote this a few days ago and guess I forgot to save it. The wares, beware, aware connection is pretty awesome. 

*Napoleon Dynamite sigh....* I'm not sure this was a good idea. I think we've talked about this before.

Good is an idea itself. What is really good comes before ideas. You think you know me, we've talked, before?

No one else would put up with your bullshit you know.

And who puts up with yours'?

Touché. You know, I'm not supposed to be entertaining the idea of separate selves, and yet here I am publicly talking to one. Complete devilry. 

suppose (v.)

early 14c., "to assume as the basis of argument," from Old French suposer "to assume" (13c.), probably a replacement (influenced by Old French poser "put, place") of *suppondre, from Latin supponere "put or place under; to subordinate, make subject," from assimilated form of sub "under" (see sub-) + ponere "put, place" (past participle positus; see position (n.)). Meaning "to admit as possible, to believe to be true" is from 1520s.

Suppose means think. "I'm supposed." Damn. Who would have thought?

Who would have supposed?

I'm not feeling how I'd like to be feeling. 

Everything you want I instantly give you. I mean, it's yours. But you don't want it instantly, and so instantly, you've got it. The best of both worlds. So I ask, what do you want? 

Nearly everything I read is shit. I bought a few books and I get them and I'm like yeeeeah, fuck that. Just about everyone I talk to doesn't know a fucking thing. 

Is this like that time you thought you'd discovered all the good music there was and would ever be when you were like 13? Adorable. Imagine if you listened to the same old music all the time. Eating, sleeping, 24/7. Now imagine how great yet maybe at first, unsettling, silence would seem.

That's how thoughts seem. Reading, talking, writing, the thoughts seem heavy, disappointing, unsatisfactory, like drudgery. 

What effort? Effort to run away from something unwanted? Are you aware of how you feel or beware of how you feel. 

Beware. I'm afraid of feeling crappy. So I thought that the company of people I love and people are are unique made me happy. What was really going on there?

They are so interesting and compelling to you, that you use them as an excuse to become aware. You aren't thinking your circular plugged toilet water thoughts then. There's power behind it. 

Ok, so why do people I really want to spend time with and have a great time with seem to make me anxious.

Because then you starting thinking you're a ware. You aren't a ware. You don't need to care so much about how they value your wares. You're aware. 

Ware rhymes with care! 

ware (n.)

"manufactured goods, goods for sale," Old English waru "article of merchandise," also "protection, guard," hence probably originally "object of care, that which is kept in custody," from Proto-Germanic *waro (source also of Swedish vara, Danish vare, Old Frisian were, Middle Dutch were, Dutch waar, Middle High German, German ware "goods"), from PIE root *wer- (3) "perceive, watch out for."

Usually wares, except in compounds such as hardware, earthenware, etc. Lady ware was a jocular 17c. euphemism for "a woman's private parts" (but sometimes also "male sex organs"), and Middle English had ape-ware "deceptive or false ware; tricks" (mid-13c.).

ware (v.)

"to take heed of, beware," Old English warian "to guard against, beware; protect, defend," from Proto-Germanic *warō (source also of Old Frisian waria, Old Norse vara), from PIE *waro- "to guard, watch," suffixed form of root *wer- (3) "perceive, watch out for."

BEWARE EVERYBODY, I'M A WARE. But no one ware it like me. This is really starting to ware on me. 

Just drop the e and what do you have? 

I thought I was cheap wares. Huh. 

There's no such thing as cheap wars. Always expensive. And no one ever wins. 

We've really gone to far with this now. Ok. I like to own source, I want to be responsible for other's connection to source. 

How is responsible working out for you!

It's not. 

It's the same thing, the beware, a ware, thing. You cannot be aware, if you're afraid and when you get afraid and have to deliver, you're a ware. 

You know, you should start a blog. 

I couldn't do it without you. 

I feel like that's supposed to be bad or wrong, did I write that or did you write that? Oh wait.  I think I really wanted to be told that, I couldn't do it without you. Like there was some sort of ghost waiting to be told that before she would leave and stop haunting the damn place. Like I wanted to believe I was bad for having manifest, having stepped into... it. 

Are you a ghost or are you manifest?

Neither. 

You keep trying to make have your cake and eat it too into a problem. 

Why does attention feel good?

Because it borrows awareness from Awareness, someone is aware of you and they... "Like what they see."

 

Edited October 19, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Well then, you lived your whole life thinking you were a thing in time and space, and you're not. Lots of embarrassing misunderstandings! Except we're still implying time and a whole lot of other things. 

 

embarrass (v.)

1670s, "perplex, throw into doubt," from French embarrasser (16c.), literally "to block," from Italian imbarrazzo, from imbarrare "to bar," from assimilated form of in- "into, upon" (from PIE root *en "in") + Vulgar Latin *barra "bar" (see bar (n.1)).

Meaning "to hamper, hinder" is from 1680s. Meaning "make (someone) feel awkward" is attested by 1809. The original sense is preserved in embarras de richesse "the condition of having more wealth than one knows what to do with" (1751), from French (1726). Related: Embarrassed; embarrassing; embarrassingly.

JESUS! 

I thought it was about them bare asses the whole time and it really means to bar. 

Oh I'm so embarrassed.

 

Edited October 19, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

hide (v.1)

Old English hydan (transitive and intransitive) "to hide, conceal; preserve; hide oneself; bury a corpse,"

hide (n.1)

"skin of a large animal," Old English hyd "a hide, a skin,"

hide (n.2)

a measure of land (obsolete), Old English hid "hide of land," earlier higid, from hiw- "family," from or related to hiwan "household," hiwo "a husband, master of a household," from Proto-Germanic *hiwido-, from PIE *keiwo- (source also of Latin civis "citizen"), from PIE root *kei- (1) "to lie," also forming words for "bed, couch," and with a secondary sense of "beloved, dear."

share (n.1)

"portion," Old English scearu "a cutting, shearing, tonsure; a part or division," related to sceran "to cut," from Proto-Germanic *skeraz (source also of Old High German scara "troop, share of forced labor," German Schar "troop, band," properly "a part of an army," Old Norse skör "rim"), from PIE root *sker- (1) "to cut."

 

 

 

[mandyjw]

Oh sweet blinking cursor. How beautiful thou art. One second you're there, the next you're gone. I really never notice you, never pay attention to you. I never thanked you for all you've done for me. I've been so busy focused on what I wanted to write. I never noticed you were here for me, here before me.

I love you, you know. Like the tick of a clock, in and out of existence. In and out of awareness. Are you really there? Are you holding a place for me? Or am I, like you neither there nor not, pure potentiality. In breath. Out breath. In and out. Sex. Prior to conception. I couldn't conceive of you. Oh cursor. I'd read you my last writes, but I never did write them. 

cursor (n.)

c. 1300 (as a surname) "a running messenger," from Latin cursor "runner," also "errand-boy," from curs-, past-participle stem of currere "to run" (from PIE root *kers- "to run"). From 1590s as "part of aslide rule or other instrument that slides backward and forward upon another part." The computer screen sense is a 1967 extension of this.

 

If it's writing in cursive, should it only be curse words we write all fancy? 

Huh. Explaining myself doesn't feel write anymore. Write. Did I even mean to do that? 

Oh cursor, you even erase. Take me back, cursor take me back. I want to be in his thoughts, right before the end. I want to rebuild build on to everything he built, everything he desired. God, God, God, everything about him, how he lived, we truly are the same being.

Being. Be in his thoughts? Like you want a dead man to think of you, or you want to channel as he did? You are being... channeling. What you want is exactly what's happening.

Curse you cursor! Take me to bed or lose my forever. Godamn it I burnt the squash. Oh, the things you do in the throws of passion. Throws? Oh it's throes. What are throes?

 throe (n.)

c. 1200, throwe "pain, pang of childbirth, agony of death," of uncertain origin, possibly from Old English þrawan "twist, turn, writhe" (see throw (v.)), or altered from Old English þrea (genitive þrawe) "affliction, pang, evil; threat, persecution" (related to þrowian "to suffer"), from Proto-Germanic *thrawo (source also of Middle High German dro "threat," German drohen "to threaten"). Modern spelling first recorded 1610s. Related: Throes.

passion (n.)

c. 1200, "the sufferings of Christ on the Cross; the death of Christ," from Old French passion "Christ's passion, physical suffering" (10c.), from Late Latin passionem (nominative passio) "suffering, enduring," from past-participle stem of Latin pati "to endure, undergo, experience," a word of uncertain origin. The notion is "that which must be endured."

The sense was extended to the sufferings of martyrs, and suffering and pain generally, by early 13c. It replaced Old English þolung (used in glosses to render Latin passio), literally "suffering," from þolian (v.) "to endure." In Middle English also sometimes "the state of being affected or acted upon by something external" (late 14c., compare passive).

Oh, that don't sound good. 

I guess I'll throw the throes. But I'll try to save most of the squash. Appearance. I let you seduce me, but I don't know about these throes. I was never conceived of, I never conceived, why the labor pains? You know, I used to think this was who I was. The passionate one. Oh how funny. How funny! 
The passion ate one. Communion. The passion of the Christ. Eat my flesh, eat my blood. Now it's even funnier. Yup, that's exactly it. 

Oh Jesus. 

Edited October 25, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Oh Jesus.

 https://youtu.be/dYeXBA7x-MY

All Fired Up

Petra Based on Psalm 104: 4, Luke 3: 6

"When the weight of the world begins to show
When the flames of faith begin to die before I know
Time to be rekindled by the everlasting Source
The all Consuming Fire, illuminating Force
Like a blacksmith bellows aim
He fans the embers to a flame

I'm all fired up - I'm all fired up
There's a flame burning in my soul
And my heart is a burning coal
I'm all fired up - I'm all fired up
Those who wait up on the Lord
Find their strength has been restored
The flames of renewal burn within
I'm all charged up in my spirit again
I'm all fired up - I'm all fired up tonight

I've been told not to let my feelings go
I've been told my emotions never had the right to show
But I have this feeling burning deep within my heart
Won't wait to let this heavenly celebration start
When the Spirit gives me the nod
I'll get excited 'bout the things of God

I feel my faith renewing - I feel revival brewing
All over the world there's a burning desire
I feel the Church is stirring and it's gonna keep occurring
Till we're all baptized in His Holy Fire"

The very first music I ever listened to talked about Source? With a capital S? You know there's no fucking difference between Source and God. It's ok to say you are Source, but not ok to say you are God? You fucked up the word God. You personified him. 

You personified him. 

You.

You.

You.

personified.

 

"You want to change - with all of your might
You want to do right in His sight

It's His delight to give you your desire
It's His desire to set your life on fire

Sometimes it hurts when reprimanded
It hurts Him more than it's hurtin' you
He'll pick you up from where you landed
When He knocks you down, turns your life around
He'll turn your life around

Hit you where you live you can't hold it back
When you're struck by His love you will know
Hit you where you live, it's so close to home
When you're all sold out the mark will show
Let Him hit you where you live

The evidence leads to conviction
When we don't live everything we say
There's got to be a crucifixion
We can live dying everyday

You've got to tell Him He's free to take a shot
He wants to hit you with everything He's got

A lost and dying world is dying to know
He lives
The only way they'll know what He has to give
Is when we're hit where we live"

 

Being a good Christian, a "Good" person was the start of personal development. There was nothing to develop! The God I was developing for was... Oh well played, Universe, well played!

"It's His delight to give you your desire
It's His desire to set your life on fire"

This song shows a light and a shadow. I love you, so you can hurt me. Come fuck my life God. 

Personal. Personified. 

I really, really wanted to make God happy.

Bahahahaha. 

I. desire. make. God. happy.

Lyrics

… Words and music by Bob Hartman
Based on Luke 19:40, Psalm 69:34, 148:9

… Somebody's gonna praise His name
Somebody's gonna call Him Lord
It'll either be you and me
Or it's gonna be a rock or tree
Somebody, somewhere is gonna praise His name

… Jesus said that it couldn't be stopped
Jesus said that it had to be heard
His creation will praise Him
Jesus said we could be assured
If we all maintain our silence
Even stones will cry out so loud
His creation will praise Him
All alone or in a crowd
In the end every tongue will confess
Every knee will eventually bow
His creation will praise Him
It's so easy to go for it now

… And it's gonna be me
It's gonna be me
Somebody's gonna praise Him
And it's gonna be me

… Lord I lift my voice to You
And I magnify Your name
You are Alpha and Omega
You are everyday the same
As long as I draw breath my lips will praise You
As long as I have strength I want to praise Your name

 

Oh, I can still belt that out with as much passion as ever. 

Somebody. Somewhere. is gonna .praise. his. name. 

Make. God. Happy. Praise. Name.

What does this even mean? 

Mean is an anagram of name. Same letters, rearranged. 

Adam, you little fuck! 

God told me to name them. I'm not mean, if you know what I mean. 

Do you know how crazy it makes you look, seeing through language? 

You? Seeing through language? Is the thought that others might think of you seeing through language?

Language was never a problem. That's why you're Adam.  

WHO is doing the naming now? 

AHHH!!!!!!! Every single time! You get me, you get me good.  Who do you think you are?

I don't think. I am. Who do you think you are?

Edited October 26, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

There's still this illusion, that people are magical and unreachable. 

You took God, and like fairy dust sprinkled it all throughout, you powerful Creator you, that's you. They're you. You're doing it. You magical little fuck, you. And you're perfectly unreachable. Can you see your face and live? Can you find the thinker of thoughts? Or can you just think it? 

I'M unreachable. 

So unreachable, you can even reach to wipe your own ass. You see unconditional is not a condition. It stays unconditional while seemingly making conditions. 

A yes, just went through me. It was so insignificant, and so fucking powerful.

Mister God this is Anna. Best book ever written. "Where is God"

Yes.

Edited October 26, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Passion

Pass I on 

DAMN! DAMN!

Well played universe, well played. 

[mandyjw]

I'm jealous or something. I feel like no one gives me any credit. I don't know if I want it. Do I want it? Yeah, I want it. I want some fucking credit. 

credit (n.)

1540s, "belief, faith," from French crédit (15c.) "belief, trust," from Italian credito, from Latin creditum "a loan, thing entrusted to another," neuter past participle of credere "to trust, entrust, believe" (see credo).

Awww. fuck. Trust again? Credit. Trust. Money. That car loan I feel a bit sick about that we took out. I thought these were two different subjects. 

Alright, what's my problem? I had a problem. Who the fucks knows. 

I want to feel amazing. I want to teach, like in person, in conversation, actually actively teach. But I know I can't teach. Whatever speaks in italicized font can teach, and it's not separate from me. I want to make money. I feel like these two things are impossible.  I don't know why I'm so hung up on it. 

Oh Vortex. Oh Source. https://youtu.be/ipqqEFoJPL4

I get confused sometimes. Everything I can think, write, attribute is not. And this is the best news I never heard. 

Shirtless guy in an old perfume ad. A field. My idea of what California looks like. An old clock. A woven chair. The ocean. 

I tried marijuana. 

I have too many dreams. How can I shuffle between them all? 

You can't. All are not subject to time, never a problem, never separate, each serving the other, serving the whole. Are there too many people? Too many animals? Too many trees? Too many planets? Too many stars? I Am prolific, and never divided. 

Nice to meet you. I'm too lazy to cook and live off rice cakes. 

What nothing to say? Have you abandoned me too? 

Too? 

Sigh. 

What are you focusing on not being here, that is?

 

[Gili Trawangan]

Hey, sorry in advance if commenting here is somehow inappropriate. I hardly ever come to this section of the forum, but stumbled upon this last post of yours - just wanted to let you know that your contributions are very much appreciated and don't go unnoticed, and that your way of communicating nonduality is truly inspiring and unique.

Just a random comment coming from you-know-what 

[mandyjw]

@Gili Trawangan Comments are fine, and thank you so much. ❤?

[mandyjw]

Before I attracted a kind comment, I noticed I had verbal diarrhea with my husband this morning, and just everything was coming out of my mouth with no filter, and luckily he's always just too chill to be bothered. Then I thought of something I said in conversation recently and part of the youtube video I have ready to post. And I thought...

"I really wish no one took me seriously. "

And like... with nonduality, you have to have both, you have to not take it seriously and disregard it and also, it's the truest thing you ever heard. At the same time. 

So likewise, in my relationships and interactions I reflect this. I Am hollow. I Am hallowed. 

I am full of shit. I am fertile soil for ideas. 

I am never the ideas. 

Edited October 28, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

What? I want to tell you what's wrong with the world but the sun is streaming in my window through the leaves and curtains and it's so fucking beautiful. It's unreal, perfect. I am sheer appreciation, surrounded by beauty. Loved.

And I'm just an asshole who sometimes is like... Nope. Let me tell you what an asshole I am. 

No, listen. 

Listen.

 

Thoughts just fire like fireworks. Pew!

Ooooo......

Pew!

Ahhh......

BOOM

RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!

What in the fuck God, seriously you make people. Well you know what, I should be here forever. I SHOULD BE YOUR FAVORITE, GOD. I WANT TO BE YOUR FAVORITE. You made him too, and her? She even has way prettier hair than me. Like, what the fuck God? I thought we were best buds. I'm your right hand girl, right? I wanted to be special. Not a species. Not a specific. Humans think they're special. And I can't be infinite and be special. I'd have to identify as a body. MOTHER FUCKER. Why? Why, God, why? I want to be the fucking Queen, God. I will smite all those women with better hair and boobs than me. None of them have a better ass though, I know that. Maybe some of them do. Oh well. This might be a losing game. And it's my game. I made the rules. 

Sigh....

I used to sort of idolize this woman when I was younger, I didn't know her well, she was more a story. Her name was Ruby and she was a missionary to Africa. She never married, or dated. There were some mystical stories about her being protected. I felt like she had sacrificed her whole life and given it to God. And I wanted to do that. But I was afraid to go to Africa. Germs. Worms. Machetes. My childhood best friends Mom had been in the Peace Core. I was fascinated. I so wanted to do something like that but I didn't have the guts. I couldn't give it up. 

Instead I gave it up in the back of a Mustang. Husband, house, kids. 

I'm rewiring this story. Rewriting, not rewired. Oh ho ho Source, you're so funny. Ho ho. Like the SANTA I NEVER FUCKING BELIEVED IN. WHERE'S MY FUCKING CHRISTMAS AND HALLOWEEN CHILDHOOD MAGIC? Instead I just got Jesus.

Jesus.

Jesus. 

I'm rewriting it. I get to have my cake and eat it too. You know what. It's perfect. It's perfection. It's a bunch of fuckery, sure, but it's perfect. 

So where do we go from here? Oh glorious cursor. 

We stop the self defeating bullshit. We start just having fun. We push ourselves. We explore. 

Yeah, what's with this vague shit though? I feel like shit when my thoughts are present, but unclear and unformed. Also, I feel amazing sometimes when thoughts are vague but that seems to be the case when I feel the worst. When I'm really in a funk, it's just as it's described. I've had very clear discordant thoughts before, but rarely. Sneaky little bitches basically just squeak by unformed. 

vague (adj.)

"uncertain as to specifics," 1540s, from French vague "empty, vacant; wild, uncultivated; wandering" (13c.), from Latin vagus "strolling, wandering, rambling," figuratively "vacillating, uncertain," perhaps from PIE *Huog-o-  and cognate with Old Norse vakka "to stray, hover," Old High German wankon "to totter, stagger," Old High German winkan "to waver, stagger, wink," Old English wincian "to nod" [de Vaan]. Related: Vagueness.

Just the opposite of clarity. But we don't have an opposite. 

Emotion is the precursor to thought? Emotion is preformed thought. Emotion is never separate from thought. 

I feel like I had a shitty childhood, lonely as fuck. No opportunities for fun. Did I do that? Am I continuing to DO that? Was that just a façade?

Dude what is this? The lights, the show? The party? I'd go, but I'd want to go home. 

Ohh... this is why journaling rocks. When I feel like I'm just bonking my head on the wall I stop. 

Of I could flow of consciousness write. Ha, I'm too fast, I'm way to fast, I have to pick the most... I HAVE THE PICK THE BEST THOUGHT! It's impossible. Fuck me sideways. 

You cannot write without being choosey. You have to form those sons of bitches to write them, and you have to align with one to write it. Why do I swear so much? These aren't my thoughts! This is just communication. This is why I have a such a need for communication. I don't know what to do with this. What do we do with this? 

It's all write. You're pure potentiality. 

potential (adj.)

late 14c., "possible" (as opposed to actual), "capable of being or becoming," from Old French potenciel and directly from Medieval Latin potentialis "potential," from Latin potentia "power, might, force;" figuratively "political power, authority, influence," from potens "powerful," from potis "powerful, able, capable; possible;" of persons, "better, preferable; chief, principal; strongest, foremost," from PIE root *poti- "powerful; lord."

The noun, meaning "that which is possible, anything that may be" is attested by 1817 (Coleridge), from the adjective. Middle English had potencies (plural) "a caustic medicine" (early 15c.).

Wow. There is no opposition to actual, but there is only what's actual. There is never a point where potential becomes actual. I cannot conceive of this. So why does it feel so much better to form a thought? Can I be aware of a thought that is unformed? Are there really unconscious thoughts? This is almost getting into creepy territory. 

creep (v.)

Old English creopan "to move the body near or along the ground as a reptile or insect does" (class II strong verb; past tense creap, past participle cropen), from Proto-Germanic *kreupanan (source also of Old Frisian kriapa, Middle Dutch crupen, Old Norse krjupa "to creep"), perhaps from a PIE root *g(e)r- "crooked" [Watkins].

From c. 1300 as "move secretly or to evade detection," also "move slowly, feebly, or timorously." In reference to imperceptible movements of things (soil, railway rails, etc.) from 1870s. Related: Crept; creeping.

Can I tell my thoughts to shit or get off the pot? Are there thoughts I'm pushing away because I refuse to see them? That firework got fired off sideways, everyone had to run, no one saw it explode and then burn down Uncle Jimmy's shed. I dunno, whose fault was that? 

[mandyjw]

You cannot write or speak without selecting thoughts. You channel, select and become aware of them. Flow of consciousness writing. i should have finished eating the rice cake before i started doing this. Oh my God, I don't need other people, i need to do this. Don't stop to fix your punctuation. Mrs.Maker. Thought i was bad, actually i think she was a bitch. i'm sorry she died. I feel bad about that. Now I find this humorous, that's not ok. Black curly hair. I wish I had black hair. What will they think? Viszla! Oh Jesus, they're going to think I'm insane. the field, driving in a field. Sundays! What about Sundays? Oh God this feels like when you're skiing downba  hill, and you can't dig your poles, in, there's just no slowing down. Oh fuck, here we go. This is it. Lord Jesus. Cabin. That Shania Twain song, oh my God, my dad said to me today that women can't get enlightened because they can't focus. Oh shit. Don't stop now! You can't stop on that note! I have no common sense. Right. Yup cabin. What about the fucking cabin. It's the rotten cabin, they lived in a cabin. Cabin, cabin, why the cabin? My hands hurt. Mrs. Maker hated how fast I typed. Furiously. That bitch! 

Hmm. Ok. So focus is a good thing. I would not have chosen to write or communicate all of this, for sure. I'm rather entertained. My parents built a log cabin and abandoned it. I walk by it almost everyday. Mrs. Maker and my parent's cabin, what? Is this like a dream? Means something and nothing at the same time? 

Shit. She really was a spectacular woman. Why was my perception of her so selfish? I feel like I just got rick rolled. Reggae. Lana Del Rey? 

I may have gone completely insane, but at least now this song makes perfect sense. 

 

[mandyjw]

You actually demean the very thing you worship. 

"You shall have no other gods before Me." There is none prior to me, you'd have to split Me, demean Me to put me on a pedestal. It doesn't matter if you tie me to a stake and burn me, nail me to a cross, throw tomatoes at me to mock me, or put me on your wall or on a stage and reverse revere (fun spelling mistake) me.

I Am undefinable. Untouchable. Inconceivable. 

And yet...

Oh hi. 

[mandyjw]

 

 

[mandyjw]

I keep coming here. I go to cemeteries to cheer myself up, says a lot. 

Sigh...

If I didn't use others as an excuse to keep suffering would I lose my humanity? 

Hadn't we already told you, you never had humanity? You never were human?

I asked the dead, (Jeez, I'm getting into this witch vibe today. Must have been the hat.) I asked them, show me. What would you tell me? And what I got was this inexplicable bad feeling of horror and loss. WELL THAT WAS UNEXPECTED. One that I had no experience with. Loss of the living, not of the dead. Was it mine? No. Was it mine? Yes. I imagined that. It was not death is was misunderstood grief. 

Radical. He says its radical. Well blind me by the light. 

De part.

Dearly de parted. 

Did we part? Am I a part?

part (n.)

mid-13c., "division, portion of a whole, element or constituent (of something)," from Old French part "share, portion; character; power, dominion; side, way, path," from Latin partem (nominative pars) "a part, piece, a share, a division; a party or faction; a part of the body; a fraction; a function, office," related to portio "share, portion," from PIE root *pere- (2) "to grant, allot."

 

[mandyjw]

My pumpkin has since rotted and one of the pumpkin figures has checked out. It was the guy pumpkin. The guys always die first. The weaker sex, you know.

We are what the light shines through and reflects on. Never the light. And yet only the light.

It occurs to me that I have been holding myself in a place of mysterious sorrow, sort of like melancholy, but cool. "Sad songs say so much". I listened to way too much Elton John as a child. Even saying this now is playing the same old song. How long will I play it? Well, it's pretty. It has depth. Depth people, I have depth. Look into my eyes. Completely fucking hollow. Hallowed. Hollow. Hallowed. This way of being and interacting seems to have some depth to it, but this is false. Because joy? Joy is dangerous. I must make myself undissapointable. I am only made of pumpkin flesh after all. The light is what creates the whole notion of shallow or depth. The most distant stars shine the dimmest. 

Don't you know how important I am? When I die, death does too. I must keep death alive. This is hard work people. Important work. 

Hmm. BRB. I have chores to do. Like throwing the entire fucking pumpkin on the compost pile. 

 

Edited November 2, 2021 by mandyjw

[mandyjw]

Overlooking

This wasn't supposed to happen. Everything I wanted, so deeply wanted, the connection, the freedom, the love, the fairness beyond fairness of it all, the never missing out, the sheer magic, it wasn't supposed to be logical. The world wasn't that way, I thought I was supposed to fit myself into it, poorly. I thought I was thrown in to survive. 

On Halloween night the feeling I received was tied to a particular circumstance and yet it wasn't, it was my interpretation of events I don't understand. Unfathomable, nonsensical death and loss. I have no idea why people attract the events they do and yet I do. It's so simple, so obvious, so incredibly beautiful and shocking that my face gets beat red from the fact that I dare understand. It's childish, it's stupid, it's silly, it's so, so, so simple, so available. 

There's a really wonderful family who lives nearby who has a mentally retarded son. He is very sweet, he isn't caught in thought, he just holds his vibration. If something tragic happened, he wouldn't be upset. He wouldn't lose sleep. He wouldn't say how sorry he was. He wouldn't bake you a casserole. He'd just be Bobby.  And that nothing, is so what is needed. Because nothing is needed. 

I've felt so overlooked. Sure, Source charges through me, the feeling, the release, the understanding, the shivers up my spine. It lifts me up to the status of mental retardation. But I cannot translate it. I cannot enforce it or even give it to another because there's no assertion. Only attraction. And sometimes I forget that this is too perfect for logic to grasp. I am here. 

translate (v.)

early 14c., "to remove from one place to another," also "to turn from one language to another," from Old French translater and directly from Latin translatus "carried over," serving as past participle of transferre "to bring over, carry over" (see transfer), from trans "across, beyond" (see trans-) + lātus "borne, carried" (see oblate (n.)). Related: Translated; translating. A similar notion is behind the Old English word it replaced, awendan, from wendan "to turn, direct" (see wend).

I'm not going anywhere. I'm just like Bobby. I transform by not doing. 

Can I do better? Can I translate myself better? Or is riddles and rick rolling only for those who have eyes to see the only way? If it's right under your nose, how arrogant of me to event assume I could do such a thing. Here, wait on me while I bring you what you already have, already are. 

Source why the complexity?

Cause the simplicity. 

simplicity (n.)

late 14c., "singleness of nature, unity, indivisibility; immutability," https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=simplicity

 

[mandyjw]

It just struck me, the not two, double meaning of "overlooking" as in not looking, not seeing, and over-looking as in looking too much, searching.