Journal # 12- Hey Mama. Hey Beat Baby. Everything Is Fine.
yeah, it's not inventive anymore. it's not new, it's not fresh, it's not hot off the press. some people think that everything in every entity eventually loses its energy, its interest, its life. as though everything and everyone dies after a while. But i think, like Martha Graham said, that nothing loses its energy- the energy simply changes, and just because most people aren't intuitive enough to see the change, does not mean that the energy no longer exists. in fact, it is still very sparkling and alive. souls never die, they reincarnate. love doesn't die, it hibernates.
Q: what happens when life and love are way more interesting than a journal?
A: i think they call that a welcome reality.
well anyway, here's what i wished. here's what i wanted. and here's what i got.
"she was floating underwater, bloated corpses, dark seaweed daughter. she was grating, grinning and bearing, silent screaming, sinking. her vision blurred by murky pearls and rosetta stone writing on mouldering rocks. her subconscious- artistic, intangible, and unquenching.
then like the breaking off of an icicle, the punch and bleed of a broken mirror; a splash of color and an opera note: she broke the subtle, silky surface. she flashed white and clean and gasping amidst glistening, flying bullets and a cold spray of salt tears. she shed her luminescent scales, ripped lace-fringed fins, breached unfathomable depth. up above, her head was so light and her hair was so tangled and dry.
now she's stumbling off to see what she can see. inhale humid breeze and soak tan light and sift warm sand, before it's all a broken sun dial and jagged sticks in the sand. then darkness reigns and she loses her wobbly land legs again."
sometimes i want to be a mermaid. i could be a mermaid..... Or, i could just be a human girl. *shrug* i don't feel bad for not being more interesting.
Q: what happens when life and love are way more interesting than a journal?
A: i think they call that a welcome reality.
well anyway, here's what i wished. here's what i wanted. and here's what i got.
"she was floating underwater, bloated corpses, dark seaweed daughter. she was grating, grinning and bearing, silent screaming, sinking. her vision blurred by murky pearls and rosetta stone writing on mouldering rocks. her subconscious- artistic, intangible, and unquenching.
then like the breaking off of an icicle, the punch and bleed of a broken mirror; a splash of color and an opera note: she broke the subtle, silky surface. she flashed white and clean and gasping amidst glistening, flying bullets and a cold spray of salt tears. she shed her luminescent scales, ripped lace-fringed fins, breached unfathomable depth. up above, her head was so light and her hair was so tangled and dry.
now she's stumbling off to see what she can see. inhale humid breeze and soak tan light and sift warm sand, before it's all a broken sun dial and jagged sticks in the sand. then darkness reigns and she loses her wobbly land legs again."
sometimes i want to be a mermaid. i could be a mermaid..... Or, i could just be a human girl. *shrug* i don't feel bad for not being more interesting.