in ink and flood

hi tinder, welcome to the blog...!

and also hi to jake malone

who decided to cross through the veil

so i figure he's not too far away now. maybe closer than before.

and remember your words and your life are fucking powerful and important and so so much needed in this world--and please

don't stop now

If I ever find forever, I will share it with you.

"Hello, darling," she says and looks me straight in the face. I blink.

"You look different," I say. "My nails are longer and your hair looks more mussed than it should be and your cadence flows sweetly where my voice sounds like a zipper being opened and closed. You're wearing that dress I don't want to wear and I'm wearing the one you won't wear ever. You're in the circle and I'm standing in front of the crowd. You've been rubbing your temples and I've been twirling my hair. But we're both wearing sunglasses. I'm lost. I'm confused - what exactly is going on here?"

Today I run smack dab into myself and we recognize each other immediately. We exchange bows, baos, and to-do lists. "Oh" we both murmur "that's you then" and can think of nothing more to say. We both saddle up for our days. A parting shot, "I like your necklace" or "Nice tights." We can't be best friends but we can learn to live with each other. We will pass each other in hallways, on the CTA, in cafes and we will nod to each other every time. There's no ignoring one another.

Culture of excellence, culture of hugs, culture of the upside down, culture of fog and wandering, culture of specificity, culture of no no no no thank you, culture of apology, culture of mourning, culture of why don't you call anymore, culture of leading to follow, culture of following to lead, culture of living in your head imagining your body doesn't exist, culture of living in your body imagining your head doesn't exist, culture of needing people, culture of lists, culture of winging it, culture of washing our hair, culture of playing the same three albums for three months, culture of knowing about persona.

Hi, me. Do you know when it's time to take over?

for the good life is out there somewhere, so stay on my arm you little charmer

from my journal at 7:30am today, or 8pm on monday 4 u, 

dunno if it will be interesting at all

what IS interesting, is that it is RAINING

not as hard as it did i'm sure during winknight's stay in summer 05, but wow i was soaked earlier walking to and from dance. i haven't seen a rain like this in... who knows. certainly not in washington nor in pune so far. so june or july in chicago. it's wonderful except that the water on the street is full of ambiguous matter.

ok ok.

i'm at home [in hyde park] talking to justin on gmail, skype, phone or something. he is at the baohaus, i have to go soon [to india? somewhere permanent, so there is an urgency] but i want to see justin before i leave but i project that he is reluctant or doesn't think it is important [or like seeing me when i'm about to leave would just open up new wounds or something so it's better not to see each other at all... a familiar train of thought for me]. i go there and find my vest/package, sand, no rock, cigarette wrapper from cigs i bought in bombay. justin is kinda sorta in the other room[i originally typed 'kinda aorta'!].. i don't think i actually physically see him. [second or third dream where this happens! i havent seen justin in weeks]. i go through give away boxes of clothes and take a striped shirt from ali. 

SWITCH

i'm wrapping electrical chords around irons, playing "like a virgin" by madonna, britney, and christina [remember that vma performance where they kissed and it was scandalous?]. then scene change to wearing wobbly high heels (like from the kingfisher swimsuit calendar model reality tv show) at a dilapidated opera house. amulya mandava is claiming something about rewriting/organizing some great music masterpiece of orchestral music by a composer i don't like but i can't remember who, now. the stairs are difficult. i hear someone say "it won 2 tonys". when we get to the lobby i'm with granny, granddad, and mom. the opera-food-place is baking $3 cookies and granny remarks that they're finally baking their own, and needs to throw something out. 

SWITCH

in a mildly dilapidated grand building [the opera house after being abandoned in 50 years? which reminds me of the train station in bombay... marble floors and nice stairs, but dirt and funny smells everywhere]. i'm finding anastasia and ali, they're in class or something. i'm doing something with blue ink. it's raining and coming through the roof. i pee while walking down the grand-ish stairs [same scene as walking down stairs in opera house, only no high heels and i'm with a&a] . i'm not wearing pants. there might be more. a&a are nonchalant, not interested in me.

then? the interview with the nice couple, how they met. through craigslist. a cute ad. they have fun! they do such n such! then i see he has a computer. on the side of the building. it is big, about 3 feet tall-- looks like "tsunami dream" comp of my dad's. outside, still colonial bombay architecture, 

THEN do i go to the part where i am part of a murder scheme? i waylay someone (the target?) by reading something to them, and then a guy down the street shoots them. i move on and question the ethics of what i just did. maybe that person was hannah because i also dreamt that i read a long sentence from a yellow paper that was my high school transcript with multiple clauses, conflicting imagery, weird vocab, also claiming that india was in africa. hannah said "what does that even mean?" ad we're like yeah wtf i dunno. 

also at some point i'm stretching in some kind of gym class and my legs look more like granny's and a little diamond-like shaped (like harlequin babies) and some dude shares that he used to know a kid who had it who could never poop. but that when he was a kid his poops were too watery. maybe the kid with weird skin died? or had some other strange ending. 

============

that's the end of my journal entry. wow it was boring, but i was so excited writing it this morning. i can pretty much clearly identify where all of these images situations and feelings come from in my conscious life, so in a way, i thought that sharing this with you all lets you know how my unconscious is processing the stuff i'm seeing thinking feeling and talking about. instead of writing those things down directly. home, love, place, bodily discomfort, language, death, buildings, art, where the fuck i am/am i.

An apology

Apologies, proud squids, cephalophods and sea creatures for the prolonged period of estrangement. I have been rolling by land (terra inCOGnito) most times, though infrequently by the flimsy hairstrings of my Armadillium vulgare body, the legs of a terrestrial crustacean (oh! to be a penguin, and supply zoom through waves!). My wanderings and wheelings have, however, not been free of squids and their close relatives the octopi. One appeared on my arm, black, blue, swirling white for half a day, though it slowly flaked off (amazing how skin is a material that can never be completely stained!) and eventually disappeared completely in the waters of Lake Michigan, perhaps gliding on its currents from Southern Michigan to Illinois, to a less sandy crowded shore. (Elliot had a similar tattoo, though part of her painted swirls did not wash off and sheltered a curlicue of her natural pallor from the sun, a swirling sunburn that returned with us to Illinois). Another squid appeared in a Michigan night, when the black night was literally set ablaze with the flaming effigy of a ship (we burners danced around it, fucking heathens, soaking the heat and smoke into our nostrils), and after the ship's skeleton had been burned to ashes all that remained was the light of glowsticks, stars, and a giant green squid, moving through the campsite and dancing in the air with the aid of fourteen hands. Another squid: different setting. White white walls, dusting dirt off of the chairs, "art" (Bukaka says that institutionalized art is shit HAHAHA, so excuse me for the quotation marks), and suddenly a mosaic! A SQUID of red and blue pebbles! She sits on my wall now.

Many squids for a short period. The spirit has remained. I plead with you, forgive me, baptize me with your ink.