Tuesday, July 7, 2020

(space ghost)

(space ghost)


for a moment
i actually thought it was you
whisper secrets on 
missed connections
then i had to remember
that word
s p a c e
and the only word to describe what happened next
g h o s t
every corner was a no coming from your lips
why would i even think i had a chance now
i must be really dense    

Friday, July 3, 2020

Kid A

(wip) 
i have been listening to kid a on repeat tonight. while not one of radiohead's most popular albums among die hard fans, it holds a special place in my heart. i mostly love radiohead because lisa loves/d radiohead and i loved lisa. she might have been my first love. she was the person who took my virginity in the way of the first person i chose to sleep with. i thought i was in love with her. i am not sure maybe i was. i write about her a lot but this story is about kid a and living out of a van in seattle working six days a week at two jobs, almost sixty hours a week. both of my jobs were a boogie five star vegetarian restaurants but i especially liked to listen to kid a at cafe ambrosia. it was usually just me there half the time. this fancy restaurant literally sitting on lake union. *vegan *raw *organic buzz, buzz, buzz... empty, empty, empty. at least compared to what i was use to. cafe flora's brunch shift turned more than ambrosia did in a week. just me and music. it felt so surreal as i listen to the lyrics of how to disappear completely. “i am not here.” “this isn't happening.” whispered to my soul as i stepped courageously into this world of being queer and soon trans.

lisa didn't take to this new me well. this lose of her only girl friend. as her boyfriend was throwing all his earthly possessions into the street or maybe she was throwing his shit into the street. i forget, it was so long ago, truly. we were maybe 22. it all blurs together now. she was always falling in love with some hot mess of a guy. or some not hot mess of a guy who adored her that she would treat like shit. i probably would have been in that category if she wasn't straight. when we had sex she was wet but not into it. i remember she tried again years alter with another hot butch and also nada so she tried really she did but she loved the d.

fuck at some point we were all living together, lee, lisa and me in a fucking one bedroom right there on the corner of john and 15th. i was such a party kid those days. we partied, we passed out. lee was a lesbian, totally a lesbian. we had a nickname for them when they got drunk and tried to start fights they couldn't win. something like floyd. lisa and lee ended up living together for a while. at this point lisa was working at this pizza place and she became obsessed with this pizza delivery guy she worked with. he was an aquarian. it was like one of the only times she paid attention to me. asking me about how to attract an aquarian. i don't think she ever even asked him out. one of the only times i saw her not totally own a man, or really a person of any gender or sexual orientation. i mean introduced lisa and lee but neither cared about hanging out with me. i... i am use to this. my libra and scorpio life mates with many different faces – all ignoring me while staring through me.

i am not use to that feeling of ripping, gnawing through my sensory arm in a panic from the overwhelming pain. maybe somehow despite my love and devotion i never attached to lisa. i had not realized i had attached. i can admit i freaked out. usually the removal process is slow and tedious. i literally gnawed off my sensory arm. it hurts, still. i want to be angry. i don't want to think about you. why are you here? why am i here? why did you do that? i now think of you because it started hurting again. 

my ancestors keep taking over. or maybe it is my heart. something not logical. i feel so confused. pulled in so many directions yet all alone. am i so lonely to be writing strangers from craigslist at 2 am? am i so crazy that they are responding? i keep pulling in the consciousness from the cyber world and yet reality is further and further away. i grasp at straws yet fall deeper into the land of creepy old men who stalk and harass me.

then i have to reflect on if i am now the creep old man. i am the crazy old person who is slightly creepy, is it no? it is ok. it took about ten years longer than i thought it would, than i saw in my future sight but the unraveling of what is real is there. i see myself gone staring away at something, some other world but not here, not anymore but will anyone notice. will i slowly starve to death in my studio, in my building, in my neighborhood, in my city, alone, staring at that wall?

i have plenty of space. but people would rather write to me on craigslist than say something other than they need some “space” … soml. 'boy stares at me from shadows' some how is the least creepy person i can think of... my life is fucked. can you not see how fucked my life is? and the best i can reason here is that someone erased my number because they felt rejected … after rejecting me countless times, actually never doing anything but reject me. never once reaching out. i want to scream then say it is cool, tell yourself you are the victim without ever trying, while actively rejecting me. write me notes on craigslist about seeing me again then just run away. it is cool because i am use to being fucked with and having my heart broken. do not feel sorry for yourself when you are poking at a healing wound that you created. do not reject me then blame me for it. do not pretend like i did not try. ... whatever kick me while i am down. i am use to it. don't be surprised when i get back up again. 

this post is about the Kid A album and it's impact on me and my life especially in regards to my first "love," my first but not last libra love. she hated Kid A and i loved it and i told her. she tried to make me conform to her belief of hating it but i would not. i said it was my favorite radiohead album. she couldn't own radiohead and she no longer owned me. i thought that is when i figured out how to stop trying to be what everyone else wanted from me but sadly i did not. those are stories for another day. this is still a wip but a good start. we all have to remember where we started from even if it was a restart. 

Thursday, July 2, 2020

hope

i thought

i thought you were hope


for a moment i had hope

hope that another could find me

lovable


do not misunderstand

i love myself

i like myself

a lot

i would hope so

i spend enough time alone

it would suck if it didn't like me


mostly i am stuck confused why others

do not

it has always been this way

i am too queer

too weird

too different

for most people


i am a unicorn

i am not real

that is why i am stuck to be alone


i am ooloi in a world of humans.

they are repulsed by and attracted to me.

they need me for survival but

they will not look at me.

they will not meet my eyes.


they throw words

they shoot looks

but they do not

love

me


they do not

like

me


they want to watch me on stage

they want to want to

poke

at me

prod at me


they will

never

love me


they will

never

understand me


who are you?


other than the person i restarted my heart for


who am i?

i am the one who lay on my acupuncturist's table

and said open it up

i want to try

i want to believe that i have a chance for love.


who am i?

i am the fool

i am the fool for having hope

for believing in love again


somehow


despite the fact that

this heart

in my chest


is broken beyond repair

it has been so mistreated

that it won't work anymore


i frankensteined it for you

hooked it to electrodes

so that it would beat

for you


i still have no idea why i did this

it is got to be one of the stupidest things i have ever done in my life

i knew better but i did it anyway

i did it

because

for a moment you smiled at me

in a way that made it pound for a moment

on its own


i didn't know what to do

it, my heart, was dead

i had thought

it had no beat

the ravens cry out to me

nevermore

as i walk by

they know we are both intimate friends

with death


so you can imagine my surprise

when it not just tried to beat on its own

but tried to leap from my chest


you awoke

sleeping beauty

or maybe i should say sleeping ugly

not in a coyote ugly sort of way

but in an ugly sort of way


ok ok, i give others tell me this part of me is broken

they say i am very attractive

i just don't believe them

they are just trying to be nice.


most days though

i wish you would have never woken me up

it would be better to be still sleeping

than to wake up to this

loneliness.  

Friday, May 15, 2020

the inspiration


the inspiration was the crazy

i mean the crazy was the inspiration

the mess, from the mess came the 
art

but it is all just a mess now

i am
alone
in my mess
all mine
to clean

is it really my mess
or the mess of every other fucker

i can logic out numerous possibilities
but i don’t know which is the most likely

i think it is the one 
where you want to keep him all to yourself

i think this is why the ancestors gave me the message for you
i did not understand
i never understand their messages but they seem to mean something to those who they are meant for. most of the time. if you listen.

no i shouldn’t be petty. it is more likely that 

i am just fucking nothing.
how would someone like you like somebody like me.

heartbroken
not at the loss of you that i never had
but the me that i thought for a brief moment was lovable

For a moment i realized
for this moment
i have been able to see that it isn’t me
it is you

for a moment i realized that i need to stop trying to change myself to become something 
that you want

i need to change me to something i want

if you are not ready for me than that is on you

i showed up


is it weird that the place on my back
where my wings would have been attached
hurts
it just aches
….

it aches like the place where i just ripped
out
the cords
that
attached
me
to 
you

i couldn’t wait
i couldn’t wait for the right tools
i bit into the cord
a frightened animal
trying to gnaw my leg off to get out of a trap

tears running down my face
i cast the spell
that
breaks
you
from
me

from
my
thoughts

from
my
heart

my ancestors start screaming at me
and i cry more

i try to burn sage to appease them
they take it all

the casting container
burns hot

i can’t stop crying
they won’t stop screaming
they have been enraged for months

i am not sure what i am too do differently
i tried to do what they wanted

now they are calling me back
this corporeal body 
to separate from
this spirit

i am sorry i failed

Tuesday, May 5, 2020

the world is falling apart


the world is falling apart
so are my dreams of you
my dreams of the future

we are a part
we were never a together

in this life

my mind wanders into 
parallel dimension
where we spoke

where i know the 
feeling 
of 
your
hand

on my side

your breathe 

on my neck

i can no longer 
dream

how can i exist
with this knowing
with you so far away 

the heart
in my chest
that started to beat again
struggles

under the weight
of our world
our identities

this life ain't something for someone like you and me

i should have stayed at home

kept my love locked down

i have no words so i have to steal them from others

your eyes trace me, steal my heart from across the room
yet run anywhere but at me when i am close

you the hunter
me the prey

a cat batting at a
half dead mouse 

part of me truly
did
desire
to
be
consumed
by
you
die
an
ego
death

find
myself
in 
another
but 
i am truly
lost
lost in the heat of it all

denial
helps nothing

i have to face the reality that 
i am unlovable
broken

burden

let me alone
in my
suffering

this mortal body
these nerve endings
expire
transpire
in the depth
of my
disorder

i am anger
for a moment 
i believed

no more
i packed up my woes
and put them in a rocket
in a pocket
in a song
yet to be written

words, lyrics fall onto a page
then fade
like
love

has an expiration

don’t lie to us
you don’t want them to fail
your love buzz

but the heart stopped working again
is it all in my mind
is it all in this broken failing heart

we fish in swollen art
curated by the oppressor
we cannot break free from those
likes

feeds narcissism

a moth to a flame
i fly in search of you

a moth to flame
i burn alive

suffer
the scars of my past

the red flags

people actually punish others for 
not doing something they have decided should have been done
in their own heads

well back up
people punish others
what is punishment

power over
it is abuse
punishment is abuse
it doesn’t matter why

we oppress ourselves
no need for any work from the
oppressor

the love suppressor
meant in two ways
from tuesday
yesterday’s
cake cake cake

colonizers using love to 
control the herd
to bred
societal pressure to uphold standards

colonizer suppressing love
interracial love
queer love
disabled love
black love
indigenous love
suppressed
repressed
oppressed

obsessed

i might struggle with ocd
but don’t tell my psych

i have it under control
managed

i am done
i was done

i am so tired of being invisible

you are way outta my league

it’s a silly little game and the sentences are scribbled on the wall

and i am back to my ways ‘cause
i’m heartless

Monday, November 4, 2019

A lot of words about attachment and sauca aka disgusting rotting bag of flesh


Today in class we talked a lot about attachment. About the enjoyment of carnialist desire. I have been thinking a lot about this human experience. I feel like I have been living this yogi lifestyle even though i haven’t been practicing yoga regularly. I have just detached from everything and mostly from the idea that i might find love again. I see this person and it scares me but also i feel obsessed. I can't stop thinking about him. I don’t want to stop thinking about him. I want to be in love. I want someone to love me. I want a chance at happiness. At this moment I have a mix of 80s love ballads in my head mostly Foreigner - I want to know what love is. I really want to remix this song to something more danceable. It has a good base but it is pretty boring. I am watching this video on youtube and i forgot how ugly this dude is. Wait that is mean i am not “suppose” to say stuff like that. Lol. I probably cannot survive without making fun of white people.

I am also thinking about the tool song:

"Today a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration. That we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we are the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather." - Bill Hicks 

I mean if the goal is to experience oneself subjectively, if that is what we are experiencing then we should experience it and not deny it. We need to live in the moment and remember everything is temporary, yes. We do not need to deny ourselves everything in pursuit of liberation. It is true we will not know suffering if we do not know its opposite but i want to know joy, love, passion. If i am trapped in this meat suit then i want to be able to experience it. What are we even transcending to? No one fucking knows but everyone is like cut off all feelings and attachments to achieve liberation. I mean cool if that works for you but that sounds like why even be alive. I want to live every moment. I want to live every moment with the fierceness of life. We have a fierce pose. Why is there a fierce pose when we are not supposed to be fierce? 

We are everything that means that we are the now, the past and the future. I remember flipping through Be Here, Be Now as a child and it somehow made more sense than it has to me as an adult. Between being surrounded with metaphysical and esoteric books and conversations growing up and listening to too much tool while doing a lot of drugs as a teenagers has made me a very interesting person. I learned yoga as a child. My relationship to many of those poses is as a small child pretending like i was an elephant and other creatures. I am not sure how they are originally taught to children in India but probably not like that but it wasn’t devoid from the culture. I even was hired at an Ananda preschool once because of my culturally appropriated dead name. This was 79 and my father was deep into spirituality. I mean it translates into “the act of being” & peace. The only people who knew were from the cultures my names comes from and me. And… I knew. 

In another language it means noble, high-born which is sometimes (mis)interrupted as pure or separate from lower class people who are less than. There was irony surely lost on my dad when he named a part native child by a persian name. (For those in the back that is because we are called Indians because Columbus thought he landed in India. I left it legal for a long time after i knew that i needed to change it. No real excuse, change is hard especially something like your name. In a lot of ways i am of the nature of the word/name. It fit my character. By the time i changed it i had been going by Smitty for so many years it didn’t really matter. It only served as annoying when having to deal with issues regarding legal documents such as jobs. At some point I decided, yeah this is not from my culture and it is just weird as fuck to have it. And yet here I am writing about yoga and being part of a yoga teacher training so i can be certified to teach yoga classes ten years or so later. Certification is bullshit. It is a gate. Do you have a couple thousand dollars to throw down? If not no matter how much study and practice you do then you are not “qualified” to teach others what you know, what bullshit. At the same time it feels like there is some kind of bare minimum that i went through and hopefully that will help others trust me. Also i might just try to get a job at someone else’s studio or something. In a lot of ways I am just not really sure what I am doing right now and it feels like i just dumped a couple grand in the toilet. I am bored in class. I feel like i talk to much. Both places have fluorescent lighting. And the Sunday space is so bad; I can’t breath.

Today I went to get water and I was standing there to fill the filter up but got distracted trying to talk about hating chlorine because i am allergic and it is like in our water supply and accidentally went to put it in the fridge out of reflex and this person, presenting as a cis women, snatched it from my hands and curtly told me that “We keep this for our guests and so we like to keep it full.” I was like woa, i don’t know you or this space so i am pretty sure that makes me a guest. I was like do i say something or i just looked at the person i was having a conversation with that was interrupted in mid-sentence and left. Like more than anything I just felt this deep rush of anger and hate coming at me and I am in this like yoga space trying to be energetically present so totally get overwhelmed by the energetic attack. It took me like an hour at least before I could be present in class again. I am like it is cool if you don’t want us using the filtered water but like tell the renters not the “guests.” I am already dying because the soap is so stinky that everything stinks and there is a faint ode de mold all over everything which i am also allergic to. I am not really sure what to do anymore. The space is not accessible and now i am afraid of getting energetically attacked by the person who sit there quietly venting the whole time we are in class. I was thankful for the gift of La Croix today from a TA because it meant that I didn’t have to go refill my water bottle. I almost went to refill it in the bathroom so I didn’t have to pass by her again. I have serious bully anxiety. Bullies have came after me at my jobs as coworkers and community members - like that is my survival and it is disturbing that people just fuck with that because they can. 

Also in class one of my teachers brought up Dr. Motoyama as a predominant chinese medicine practitioner. But the guy is from the US and practices in the US and well he is Japanese. I am ignorant so i can’t name drop any of the experts who are actually existing in China. So I asked for clarification and got a response of well he is based in the US but travels all over. Like… I am just tired of these “woke” white ladies talking about all these white gurus and like it is just very eurocentric. I am not sure what I was expecting but I am underwhelmed. I am also extremely glad that I did try to sign up for some other bs yoga training. Probably would be worse. 

I mean I guess I thought we would be actually doing more yoga. We are doing one hour of yoga for every ten and a half hours of class. We are suppose to do 60 additional hours and are expected to do at least 30 of these hours through Poseurs. Like paying full price that is an extra $20*30= $600. <side eye> I mean I guess I am lucky enough to not be able to afford that and get to feel ashamed thirty times but it is whatever. I can see why some programs offer free yoga. Those programs also cost more. Or it is expected you buy a monthly pass while in training. 

My point is that it is total bullshit capitalism and I literally choose the least capitalist version. I get that these two white ladies love yoga and where it comes from and all the metaphysical spiritual stuff. They want to get paid to do the thing that they love and they believe that they manifested this. Maybe it was manifestations, maybe it is white privilege.


Maybe I should feel bad about writing this in a format where I know I am planning to publish it. Maybe I will let them read it after I have my certification in hand. Like they deserve a chance to improve as well... but I know white people and I am going to make sure I get what my couple grand is meant to pay for. It is hard not to be petty when they have all the power and we have to be thankful for the education. Cough. Did I mention I was bored?

I want to fall in love so hard that monogamy makes sense. I want to be secure that even if we fuck with other people that i know i am still going to be that special someone. I love everything about love. I love everything about passion. It is life. I want to be running through someone else’s brain. I want to be someone’s passion. I had that once and I pushed it away. I am not sure why. Maybe my memory of the experience was different than the reality but in general I felt supported. I felt like I had the strength to spend my time doing whatever i liked in the world. I had a boyfriend who spent all his time at school making art. I guess i was more focused on being an activist.

Oddly when i finally left i just made a shit ton of art. I didn’t even do much activism at first when i moved to Seattle. I started doing art stuff specifically centering trans people and because my community this also meant indigenous/poc. I also tried to start a book club for a while. We dumpstered all the time. I think I was still an activist in so many ways but i was not organizing... that much. I am going back to that space again. Organizing is exhausting and now it is all about people’s egos. I talk about that enough though. 

This week’s discussion is on sauca. It is like purification. In our book club discussion in class we each have to choose sutras from “The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali” to talk about. I choose 2.40- “Saucat svangajugupsa parairasamsargah” Translated as “By purification arises disgust for one’s own body and for contact with other bodies.” I am disgusting. I have moments where I can’t hold down water. I am just willing myself to not have to experience that level of sickness again but i cannot promise that to another person or even to myself. I have lost so much time. My level of cleanliness has gone to shit. I think it is mostly the kitchen but this space just seems to gather dust and crude all over everything so quickly. It feels harder to upkeep. 

A partner who understands and appreciates me and likes to clean. Wants to go do fun stuff all the time. Someone who just enjoys being around me. Someone that can deal with my trauma especially sexually. Also I just want someone. I want to experience the pleasure of another person again. It will probably last like six months. That seems to be my going record. Like I said I am great at the detachment. I also have only had one person break up with me [ever] and to be honest i was unphased. She was super privileged and her friends were super privileged and sucked. I was just too anxious to get physical. Her house was near the house my abusive ex was still living in. I was technically homeless (again). I was about to get on a greyhound to travel across the country to go hang out in the country hills of Tennessee and then to Atlanta. I was excited about hooking up with people while traveling and even though we had an agreement that meant hooking up while traveling was ok, i had been considering breaking up with her anyway. I just was trying not to be rash and also i thought that hi, i just wanted to tell you before i won’t see you for literally like a month that i don’t want to see you again. So when she told me that she just wanted to be friends i was like oh ok… do you want to give me a hug goodbye?

Yeah i have been known to be that asshole. I had an ex once nonstop text me and then facebook message me for like a whole weekend while i was visiting friend-family and like helping babysit their kids. Starting while I was about to perform Friday night to like Monday. I don’t even remember why she was mad. I was like not giving her enough attention or something. I just have the worst taste in people so why should i get attached, they will inevitably hurt me. Maybe it is best if the fucking gorgeous guy i can’t stop thinking about doesn’t like me. I like this idea of him in my head where he is not an asshole. Part of this needs to come from a place of where i think more of myself. Instead of seeing this disgusting unlovable sack of rotting meat, i am someone. There are reasons why people could love me. There are reason why good decent guys might like me. Maybe he saw my styling sleeveless jean vest with the print of Marsha P Johnson and ACAB. I mean that says a lot about a person. The session before that I wore my other jean vest that has a pegicorn and says Still Here. All my prints.

I just feel every time i am not that asshole, some asshole is that asshole to me. I work so hard not to be a cold piece of shit. I am a fucking human and we require touch. Not even privileged assholes who were raised in households where they were loved and given attention can self soothe as there only means of expression. I mean how do you start with a new person? Hi, i am a recovering asshole. I am a disgusting rotting bag of flesh, mostly cartilage. My body is disgusting and i am disabled. In my spare time i have been studying a methodology, practice and spirituality which is appropriated. I hope to use it to help trans, queer, disabled, poc and other marginalized people. I am not sure why i think this makes it better. I am diverging from that place of where hey maybe someone might actually like me. I smell. I have grown a strong scent. I am a very human person. I am real. I have a real laugh. I am smart and know a lot. I am creative. I make a lot of art. I think more than anything I want to fall in art love again. I want someone who wants to make art with me. Lol hey babe can we be art monogomous and intimately polyamorous? Lol. I think worse than not knowing how to start something is not knowing how to finish it. I think I probably left out so much shit. Yet, I have also said so much and feel like there is not much substance left. I think this is a good stopping point for today. 

The Hero Saga - All Hallows Eve


I am working on NaNoWriMo for November. I will be including work I post here that I am doing for Yoga Teacher Training, thoughts that I am not sharing with my Teacher or TA, or whatever i am writing about which i including these cute little stories i am working on that are like based on things that happen to me but are fantastical also so don't take them too seriously.


The Hero Saga - All Hallows Eve:
When we last visited our hero, they were getting prepared to go rollerskating but couldn’t find the top to their perfect outfit for the spell they were casting. They needed the magic of the sequins. Their companion and charioteer arrived and they were off. As they were dawning the magic skates they saw the target of their affection, our prince of the night. Our hero notices it looks like he is trying to see if it is us or not but then acts coy. We find this is a theme throughout the night on both sides likely even though our hero is petrified. Such beautiful magic spells that were cast in prior skate nights between two strangers, maybe per chance, maybe the prince is flirting with our hero but our hero is too dense to notice. 

Tonight our prince seems more aloof. Not skating with our hero anymore. Our hero is sad. What makes them even more sad is it may be their fault, it may be because after the first go round our hero went to rehydrate, gasping from the toxic smoke that the gatekeepers released. Suddenly the prince appeared beside them and our hero see a glistening of fang. The best they could do was gesture to the drink fountain like all yours and run away and then try to stand awkwardly a few feet away bc they still couldn’t breathe and bc they just realized they lost an opportunity. They really wanted to feel him bite into their neck slip into his embrace, fall under his spell. Maybe it is secretly our Prince of the night who can shapeshift into smoke.Vulnerable to the spell vampires put on their victims; our hero is really a hero in training. Our hero lusts for him. Our hero is afraid of that lust, afraid it will consume them. In their defense it is easier to talk when you have breath. You could say that this prince took our hero’s breath away and that would be accurate. You could say that our hero has thought about his face often in the past month since they last got to see them. It has been so long since they had seen another royal, someone worthy of their stature. So they are out of practice. 

Our hero has overcome so much adversity especially lately. They have met many princes and princesses and princexxes. They have tried to cast spells with these royals. It has been a while since they met a prince. The last one was a real piece of work, let me tell you. Toxic af. Sadly a lot of royalty don’t act so royal sometimes. So our heros fears are actually based in real life experiences. They like their freedom. They don’t want another person in their life controlling and restricting their ontology. There is not a hair out of place on this prince’s head. On our hero’s head lies a mighty black main that glitters and shines in the night. Like a stallion their mane flows wild and free in the wind. Do opposites attract or does the prince seek to take advantage of the innocence of our hero? Our innocent hero jaded by the world yet somehow still maintains some purity. A protected heart is still vulnerable to failure. 

The real problem here is our hero is trans and it is not something most people are attracted to because they are plebeian. Only a true royal is attracted to the mashing of both genders in the binary system. There are so many that try to act like royals but have lost their status because of their closed mindedness. Our hero cannot tell if this is a true royal or not. If they are not they could potentially be a threat. Most likely since this is a fairy tale, he is truly a phantasm, a cinderfella running out the door at midnight before the clock strikes and his perfect everything turns back to from which the spell was cast. A figment from our hero’s imagination. 

This quest was unsuccessful but tune in next week for our episode Pride Skate.