W.H. Auden-Poem 889

"...
All I have is a voice
To undo the folded lie,
The romantic lie in the brain
Of the sensual man-in-the-street
And the lie of Authority
Whose buildings grope the sky:
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
..."

Rant before sleep

Un. deux. trois. quatre. cing. six. sept. huit. neuf. dix. onze. douze. treize. quatorze. quinze. seize. dix-sept. dix-huit. dix-neuf. vingt. (7,305 jours)

Find more artists like ESTHERO at Myspace Music

Thank the Lord Myspace still has music. Cause nowhere else does.
I needed my cottonbelly mix to Fastlane asap.

So this year is proving to be one of the most transformative in my life to date. I have yet to expire; I guess I'd better make the most of this. And on the rise is my spirituality, my career. It's all very individual. I have to engage to remember that I am alive. I can't knock on the screen of my computer and whoever I want will pop out. I have to go get whatever I want. And sometimes social life as of late is proving to be more challenging.

People get older. People get stubborn. People get pregnant. People die. I just pray a lot, and occasionally have self pep talks. Lol. I know you might think that is weird, but I pray my audience consists mainly of people that understand me. If you do, you understand that is normal. Only child syndrome. If I waited to tell someone I would die first.

Anyway, sometimes when I watch the way they interact I just think she is trying to hard.
I wish women could all just each have their own man so I wouldn't have to feel like they think I'm trying to steal them. *yawns* I just like guy conversation sometimes. Calm down. Nobody was asking for a relationship.

Well, I'm only 20 now. Lol. We will see where the road takes me and you. Yes you.

Eye C You

My eyes are constantly changing.
I found a unique website that makes tons of sense.
I am about to sit down and read over economics again.
But before I do, I wanted to save this website: http://www.agingeye.net/visionbasics/visionmyths.php

Single is as single does

Random beautiful woman who helps me rethink my hair process. I am thinking.

S.i.n.g.l.e. is my silent motto.
I remember when I first started that mantra: "Single". "Single and not looking." But since when did that turn to single and happy and liberated? Well, I think fairly recently.

It all started in that first moment when I read the story about the woman whose husband died in the train accident. She locked herself in a room and slowly began to acknowledge her new found self. This was poignant and refreshing to me somehow. She didn't have anyone to answer to. No one to tell her what food she had to like, or where she was going--she could be herself, without anyone's help. "Free," she whispered at first, and then louder and louder. She she stood up slowly looking out the window at the beginning of spring. Spring was her metaphorical new found self. A part that had yet to be explored. She was shaking with elation.

This feeling during this time of the end is the single most focused thought I have ever had the privilege to experience. The silent knowing. The devotion I can give to my relationship with Jah. The tip toeing of my feet into my bed with no one in it to cater to. The kisses I bestow on myself. The love I feel anyway. The friends I find time to meet. The places I find time to go, at liberty to do them without leaving him out of the picture.

This is subject to change for I am still young. But I relish in it. My body shakes with elation, inside that is. It is nice to feel...peace. Who can know the freedom of letting go.

Of course no man-woman relationship in my life is replaced by something else. Voids are terrible really. You are itching to fill them. But when you have found you replacement, you know you are sustained.

In a world where so much of your time is spent doing so many things, when you get a break, do you really always want to spend it with your significant other? I don't. Lol. I want to breathe and do what I want, at my own pace. Really. I love you, I love you all. But as a friend, I need to chill and not feel like I'm married to you either.

Is this the story of my life? Of my joys? Will I never get that close again?
I think this is a realistic question. One that you cannot answer for me, nor would I want any man to. It is my journey alone, excuse me, only with Jah is this possible. He has liberated me and I answer to him. And I genuinely want to commit to this single course for a while.

I remember getting older and watching all of my favorite women in fascination.
These women found themselves and knew themselves by themselves. Even the book, Their Eyes Were Watching God moved me because Janie found solace and was able to walk alone confidently after she lost her husband. Not all miserable, but dignified. She picked herself up after Teacake passed on and did her thing, and still looked bangin. I love it. She had hopes and aspirations to live. This is what she wanted most. These women I knew all tried love, and accepted their losses. They were all very beautiful in their own way. And yet, as we get older, some of us get lonely. Well, this is something understandable. This is something that is practically impossible, if you find comfort in the things I do.

But my dear friends, that is a private matter. One which I'd rather have a more intimate audience. Sometimes you just have to let things go. Release them. This singularity needed to be released like the stereotypical phrase like bird from its cage. Whether the bird will come back, who knows?

Sidenote-
I love men, but the relationship realm does not entertain my thoughts. I bid you adieu les hommes. At least for this part of my life, at least until whenever. At 30 I want to be strapped to a bed my my ovaries start dropping. I pray to Jah about that all the time, and I'm sure I will then too. Or at least, I'm trying to, far more often.

So long, and good night. *Bisous*

Wasted Time

So many hours spent rushing around doing monotonous things...

Love is not always an action word.

I sit in wait.
Maybe I never really knew you.
When you thought you were getting to know me.
Maybe all the hours spent in your red convertible
gliding along 95 were meaningless.

Although I know this not true; but this is how I feel.
My heart does not hurt.
I do not lie in want any longer.

I wake to a brighter morning,
I find more peace in sunlight than I ever used to be able to.
I pray for us both.

Though I miss knowing you, and what you are doing, or why you are doing it,
I know that it is simply my love for you that will never die.

And what I remember most are the cozy nights at bedtime, and that how
we would stare at each other into those long summer nights.

And that is why I can rest peacefully.
I hope you are safe, wherever you are.

Consumption in a (Nut)Shell.

Since the beginning of Anthropology class my professor has been experimenting on us. I know it.
Slowly but surely peeling the layers of our cozy over-consuming, greedy, self serving, spoiled ignorant minds to reach the inner layers of skin--like the part if exposed to the air will immediately start to burn at the thought of...consumption.


Yes, I now know we are all slaves to consumption. As we sit in our five star restaurants, as we stand in the checkout lines of retail and department stores, as we pump our gas, as we think about the next item we want, as we grab the plastic water bottle, as we pull on our new shirt...we are all slaves to something.

It is with great pleasure that I announce my apathetic attitude towards purchasing new clothes. I like clothes, really, I do. But mass production and the whole hoopdy doo surrounding every store I imagine stepping a foot into somewhat repulses me like garlic to a vampire. I look like you. I speak the same language as you. I blend in. But I feel like an animal inside, itching to walk around in my skin. Yes, my skin. Not A&E, not Victoria's Secret, not anything but mine. And if I do buy from someone, I'd rather it not be a sweat shop, or overly attention grabbing. Hemp shirts and recycled rubber soled shoes make my heart swoon. Or is it the sound of local veggies sizzling in my cast iron skillet?

All the while I realize without my love of Jah all of these things would quickly cease to be acknowledged. You are but a means to an end clothes, you keep me warm, you are somewhat of a reflection of self, and yet I had no part in making you. And that my dear friends makes me sad.

------Yet another Into The Wild like film: 127 Hours
http://trailers.apple.com/trailers/fox_searchlight/127hours/