I will unblog all but the first line, the only one that really counts

It is done. 

Not exactly as planned but irrevocably none the less.

I don't understand all the ways in which Nebraska is tracking me. There are so many available, it is borderline terrifying. I was at my desk 5 minutes before I got a threatening email about "getting unpleasant" and coming here to get his dog (which has lived with ME for 5 years - he just wants an excuse to GET AT ME). My heart rate thru the roof, nauseous, all of it. 

I replied with my long suffering lawyer's phone number. And blocked even work email.

Then I called my long suffering lawyer. 

Then I called my realtor and told her no matter what, I am not going back there after today. It will not be clean, I will happily pay them whatever they need to make it so, and left 2 stained glass windows as a home warming. I am being stalked by this asshole. No (!) more where he can see me.

Somewhere in there, I went to a long thing at work.

Somewhere in there, I went to Tmobile to get the internet for the new house (I don't want to be on the same systems, I want to not be in that life any fucking more) and for $1/month, I could get a tracker that I could put on anything. 😳 Though appalled, I got 2, one for each dog.

Earlier, I had gone to the house for hours, emptying emptying never emptying, as it has been for weeks and weeks. 

Later I had a session with my therapist to get my meltdown 😭🤮 buttoned down. 

Then back to the emptying, now frantic, with poor Ears who in the big empty house can't help but hear that whole therapy session. 

Then we kept it up until it was as good as we could do, ie until now and then stopped.

I need a gun. Now. And am getting Shield over here. 

I am never going back there. And I am making Al talk to Fuckface, NOT ME. 

Somewhere just after I had a heart attack, I thought about how up his ass she is / felt in my own body a revulsion for Nebraska to be so much as in my inbox. How??

I was gonna tell that to the therapist but ended up losing it about the roofer. I just couldn't stop crying over being forced to be angry. Like a poked prodded fucking animal. And my dad my dad my dad fucking dying 😭 I do not want to end up like that. Angry All The Time. Angry, which is all the shitty feelings like terrified scorched to the hot pan of your brain (which feels like my stomach). How much it hurts, physically hurts like low fever, to feel this way. And the roofer set me off because he was a contractor being shitty to me for no reason. Why, why did he have to terrorize me? And why am I like this? "So you think it's your fault?" Well I am the constant, now aren't I? Why do I want to be able to trustfall at anyone in the first place? The best part of my day was ordering wood. The man was so nice and no I didn't have to pay ahead, he would leave a self addressed stamped envelope so I could mail him a check after. I mean, he still lives in a world that expects the best of people! I legit laughed at him with joy over that and he laughed back. "Look, you have two of the biggest life stressors at once, moving and death of a parent, there just is no way not to feel like shit." I remember learning about the stress score card. Divorce rates above death of a partner (hence the once I wished him dead). Even taking a vacation gets a score / stresses humans out. I don't rememeber the whole top 10, but I think we might cover the waterfront atm, every shittiest thing. 

I wished I could hug the mover. Seriously. Ya know? 

New rule: "If you want my anger, you need to talk to my lawyer." Angry is not what I want or am willing to be right now. My therapist loves it, it's catchy. 

October one. Because even though it is not possible to feel anything but shitty rn, it has to start to not sometime 😭

In the Arctic, polar bears move through the world not by sight alone, but through scent trails that stretch miles across the ice. Their sense of direction is olfactory, intuitive, and primal. If I’m reading the omens correctly, Virgo, your navigation system will also be more animal than logical in the coming weeks. I advise you to trust subtle cues—like goosebumps, a sweet or sour taste in your mouth, or an uncanny pull toward or away from things. Your rational mind might not be fully helpful, but your body will know the way. Sniff the trail. Access your instincts.

Nova is sick. Medicaid runs out today. 

Both my daughter and I are already long awake, adulting our asses off while carrying that frightened burden right in the gut punched. She has a partner but he will be at work today. I am alone, with no choice but to finish this. 

It does not matter anymore who believes what about me, about any of this. That will never matter to me again.

this will be done 

by october one 

so mote it be

This seems nigh on impossible, and the roofer made me cry, not because the roof leaks and it's a huge hassle now (it is), but because he used to be a different person, a nicer one that I felt safe with, and like so so so so so many others, that dude is dead, and in his place is mr just making his money (and fuck you) and I had already gotten mad once, he had his shot at pissing me off ONCE (the ones gone mean love that), but not twice. No. Dead to me 😪. Then since that made everything harder, I upped the timeline on the manicure right in the middle of the day between endless rounds of Hauling Shit. I'm really into this plum color. 

I'm sorry, but I feel most alive when I feel alive. I will pile it on more all day if I have to. Big wet warm sloppy life. My feet are covered in blisters. 

skin - hans williams (yep) 😴

me: my horoscope sounds like a five year old running around with their privates out "just to see"

tj: honestly I think that's reasonable

me: 🤣 what stage of grief is 'fuck it'?

tj: acceptance, I think

me: ah, that's probably why I don't know what to do with it, because I've never actually experienced that before. I've just said I was fine. And it's meant the opposite. 

tj: maybe you're fine, or somewhere close?

me: well, if 'fuck a bunch of this' is that, then definitely getting there 🤣

tj: I was sitting at the beach yesterday thinking about how I could be happier and I decided I needed to be more open to the world and other peopple and I thought, Why didn't I just think of this before? 

me: you can definitely blame that on mom in therapy

tj: 🤣

me: 🤣

tj: then on the way home, this guy chased me down the street, yelling how supportive he is of trans people, and asking me if there's any rallies or anything that he could go to, as I'm running away from him

me: 🤣 please tell me I can find this funny

tj: oh yea, and he was a mailman on duty

me: 🤣 priceless

hotter now - lu kala I know no one listens to this shit, but I don't care la la laaaaaaaaaaa 

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22). Sometimes getting perspective isn't just metaphorical. Literally changing your environment, moving your body or taking a trip can help reset your mind and shift perspective. Time to travel.

Funny, I woke up thinking about this again. Not crying. I woke up at the asscrack of dawn, thinking about running downhill, like getting down the mountain after a long-slog hike up. In blinding rain. Which I have done pretty recently, like a mountain goat leaping from rock to rock sure-footed, it felt like flying. 

I have SO much left to do with this move. That last push to the summit is always beastly, but I know it's close.

I am scanning my body, thinking about a pedicure, a haircut, a microderm, au natural pubes but waxed legs - these are not deep thoughts, but they aren't Dying thoughts either. 

What does inclusive / resort mean for the california sober? The 'free' watered down booze no longer desired. There are so many of us now, such resorts are alllll over, many with decent mocktail bars, phony negronis. The US has tons in places like Colorado, but all things considered, a 'let's see other countries' break might be good too, yea? So looking around Jamaica. "For those interested in cannabis and related wellness." That one is $1200 total for a 4-night weekend in early December. Warm CBD oil massages mmmmyessssss, food deliveries to choose from bc you're chillin, presumably....

I know I will probably only make it to my cottage in reality, but in my mind, I am over shooting that goal in order to land at at least as far as Java by week's end. And to resist the urge for a cigarette.

rn listening to Bahamas - Somebody Just Like Me

tentative tipping

So much left to do, holy god whole houses fill with a city block's worth of shit somehow. But I went shopping a little today. I know what instapot I'm getting. I moved gumbo ingredients to the freezer and my last pound of butter. I ordered bedding in exuberient colors that don't match at all. 

I gained another few pounds. 

I don't know if I am ready to feel anything but the mostly numb acceptance that rolled in like a fog with my dad's death on top of everyhing else (broke me more). I take it as it comes. I am almost ready for a manicure, I think. I mean, while I wait to feel better, I could look less frazzzzzzled.

the laundry room - avett brothers la la laaaaaaaaaa 

intense live acoustic version and my goodness the beards (remind me I'm not dead)

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22). Restrictions will be lifted. Some see it as an invitation to be carefree, but you see it as an opportunity to work without obstacle. You're thinking ahead and eager to build the resources that could help in tougher times.

Yes, but my definition of "tougher times" has totally changed, and that change is deepening daily.

american lonely - marfa

"the couch"

rehomed ❤️ (note to self: I love their yellow)

(do I even want a couch?🤔)

suffering - boy golden  hahahaha ya everything hurts 

The boss who started all of this in terms of the end of my career has been fired, which I should be happy about but I feel nothing about it at all. Instead of interpreting that as despondency, I'm going to choose to interpret it as "I'm over it". OVER IT in the sense of truly gotten past it, not just feeling like I want to put a fork in my eye. 

I am doing my normal drink coffee and cry thing in the mornings as my phone blows up and blows up about work news, about which I feel absolutely nothing. Not about that.  

I don't have any stretch marks that you can see, but I think I have a lot of them that ya can't. They're just signs that something happened and they fade.

I feel a lot. Sometimes, like yesterday, I can't hold it all, my arms don't reach. In a way all of this pain is a good thing, because it clarifies what matters enough to feel about and what does not anymore to try to hold in the first place.

song tbd

update: thank god for Ears 💞 it'll get better now, he stayed at the house after I raged out of there on another repair emergency run saying I didn't want fucking dinner 😭❤️‍🔥 so he moved one set of boxes at the top of the stairs - ONE little pile - and worked up a sweat doing it AND left the dogs out with the gate open, his mind fried tired. And he saw me. Thought holy shit. He ordered dinner and promised to come every day right after work through dinner until it's done. 

Try putting your hand, fingers spread, on your chest / breastbone, push down a bit and take deep breaths. I invented it today, had to cz 🤯, I made a thunder shirt made with my own hand. 

fuuuuuck thiiiiis fuck you horoscope, fuck you moon, fuck you selfhelp books, fuck a bunch of all of this. I even want to slap my mother right now. sure, Mom, I'll just move a 4 story house filled to the brim with "important" things belonging mostly to others  and left in my care, I will just sort and box all of that, and then take all the rest to goodwill packed up nicely, and then move all the small furniture myself and all of the kitchen and all of the dishes amd all the art and all the other zillion categories that movers don't move cz they only move MOTHERFUCKING COUCHES and shit (duh). Oh and all those fucking garden shit you keep harping about like the CONCRETE bench, all by myself, cz movers don't do that either because, as they said, that would "get their pants muddy". I'll just do all of that, so you can pick some motherother fucking wallpaper Ma, that's a great idea❤️‍🔥🤬 

it's a good thing I am ALWAYS FUCKING FINE (a life sentence) 

dedication - julian taylor

"Here’s the thing about withdrawal, from any drug, substance, person, or behavior: The reason it’s so excruciating is that not only do you have to feel the pain of losing access to that thing you desire more than anything else, but you also have to feel the pain of every other loss you have ever experienced along your life’s journey. All the previous failures, all the previous crashes, all the previous disappointments: It’s like a twenty-car pileup of failures on an icy highway—and there’s no way to get away from it. Worst of all, withdrawal forces you to feel your original suffering again—the deepest childhood grief or ancestral wound that started you out on this journey of addiction in the first place. And who wants to feel that? Not me. Not most people, to be honest. My friend the writer and teacher Kemi Nekvapil was once asked by an interviewer, “If you could make everyone on earth do one thing, what would it be?” And Kemi replied, “If there’s one thing I wish everyone would do—one thing that would actually change the world—it would be to heal.”  But healing is hard. Healing is expensive, time-consuming, and painful—whether it’s physical or emotional healing. This is why so many people cannot and will not heal. Instead, they use, in order to not have to feel their suffering. And when using doesn’t work, you can always just blame." ~All the Way to the River

death row

death row metaphors are melodramatic but waking up to another day of this 

I will never do this again like this, alone. not to mention exhausting, there is no fun in it, no shared agony to make it funny

when I moved here, I had my youngest child with me, we still laugh about almost killing each other that one hot day

everyone hated all of this, this time - is hating it 

crescendo-level over-it

and rarely saw each other 

I bet that if we'd all showed up on each a full day with all vehicles and all hands, it all would have been half as bad

we had to admire the heroic efforts of each other from afar, each alone with our own, instead

cool cool, but never will I ever again

chris stapletons beard would have to be between my legs with chickens running around shitting rainbow eggs 

fuck. this. 

I am deciding it's still yeserday, hoping it won't seem like karmic punishment by 8ish 😴 

"Good, bad, right, wrong: Do we even have time for this kind of language—any of us? 

I mean, aren’t we all running out of road here?" ~All the Way to the River

"Can a person survive forever at this pace of weariness and productivity and sorrow?"

update - they lost my bed in transit and refunded it (note: whole new set of difficulties getting shit delivered to what was almost a black neighborhood wtf ) - so I had to order just a quick platform, too high for Fat Janis to make the leap, so I will have to get the sexy ottomon FOR THE DOG 🤣 - that sums it all up so wonderfully 🤣 I couldn't have written it 🤣

... and my pants have been on backwards all day

I don't remember yesterday's list of Things but it ended with getting the child-required vaccines. I figured, eh, I'll be fine. I'll just be a little extra not-fine.

ng

☯️ 

Do you read me? - Rory Gallagher 

It is the fall equinox. Half night half day. "Pause to honor what has ripened, and bless what is yet to come." Trying, but not feeling it. 

I have a month-long crying headache. 

So I am just Doing shit that needs done. It's better than Dying, but it ain't quite Aliving.

king of possibilities - goldie boulitier chosen by TJ as my song of the equinox, logic "good to have those, if you can"

Play me a song? 

one way out - allman brothers ha, hi Dad😒

I rearranged my friends to keep the cottage open and empty for a few last precious days. And I am going to bust my ass to get this behind me by 10/1 so that I can be there for some time 10/2-5. He wished for it (say when), but being realistic, I had to want to go anyway (alone). 

river of tears - wiliiam prince ft serena ryder feels like water

thinking about rugs not lamps - I once had sex in front of a fire, the same woodburner insert that I am having installed again, on a floral wool orange rug, he took pics maybe still on one of zillion SD cards around here... that'd be the comparable location

#daddyissues 

the bedrock - wild river 

wrong wrong wrong - great lakes swimmers

This far gone - marcus king 

I just got shit done allllll day, periodically bursting into tears to clear the pipes and keep going going g....

the real thing - parker milsap

about that gun..

"...the kinds of things that happen when your life is falling apart. Suddenly it’s raining hammers. Everything unravels. You sprain your ankle, your car breaks down, your dog dies. You can’t handle anything. And that’s when the madness really sets in, because it seems like the world itself is a machine of pain that has turned its full force against you." ~All the Way to the River

No more.

"half a bubble off plumb"

potentially

better

in love now (tape redux) - field guide 

'The three men approached. O knelt down on the rug, her green dress in a corolla around her. Her bodice squeezed her; her breasts whose nipples were visible, were at the level of her lover's knees. "A little more light," said one of the men. As they were adjusting the lamp so that the beam of light would fall directly on his sex and on his mistress's face, which was almost touching it, and on her hands which were caressing him from below, Rene suddenly ordered: Say it again: 'I love you.'" O repeated "I love you," with such delight that her lips hardly dared brush the tip of his sex, which was still protected by its sheath of soft flesh. The three men, who were smoking, commented on her gestures, on the movement of her mouth closed and locked on the sex she had seized, as it worked its way up and down, on the way tears streamed down her ravaged face each time the swollen member struck the back of her throat and made her gag, depressing her tongue and causing her to feel nauseous. It was this same mouth which, half gagging on the hardened flesh which filled it, murmured again: "I love you." The two women had taken up positions to the right and left of Rene who had one arm around each of their shoulders. O could hear the comments made by those present, , but through their words she strained to hear her lover's moans, caressing him carefully, slowly , and with infinite respect, the way she knew pleased him. O felt that her mouth was beautiful, since her lover condescended to thrust himself into it, since he deigned publicly to offer caresses to it, since, finally, he deigned to discharge in it. She received as a god is received, she heard him cry out..' ~Story of O

The offending passage. 

In its stilted old-timey translated way, it's not entirely unlike the good news bible vibe - no? 

Maybe I'm making that up, my sexual being so swamped with sadness on this earthly plane atm that I have to take it on faith that it still exists at all. I did find the 5 of Cups Betty Paige collage photo - the exact image meant to represent that faith, been looking for it for months. That collage is the first thing I am going to make there, sitting at the kitchen table. And wouldntcha know, it's the card of the day (again) 

Ima gonna put a spin on it

I also got a pistol permit, notice of, and the promise of all needed assistance all of which I intend to accept, and that'll take me into pheromone alive land, ie give me something to fucking do with my self besides wallpaper. Aim. Shoot. Bang. Chaperoned and shepherded so I don't gotta chit chat, love that. 

But. I gotta get through this first. There is a rain cloud directly over me every day all day, and I do not want to take that sad monsoon season forward into the new time. I would rather stay in the shitty moment and see the storm through.

he sent one every year, not xmas or bday just a valentine, and I will never get another one 💔

I will finish half of what I need to by end of day in order that tomorrow is the end of packing. So I can stop finding things (hurting myself). 

🤦🏻‍♀️fuck me

what would you do to you? - tucker wetmore decent question, though I would add "for"

play me a song worst way - riley green acoustic

rebuttal god needs the devil - jonah kagen 

"It will end when it ends— and when it ends, it won’t be you who ended it. Can you live without knowing any more than that? Can you live with accepting things just as they are? Can you take what you’ve been given, and leave the knowing and the wanting to others? Desperate and cumbersome, your mind lurches from desire to fear and back again— taking breaks only to feast upon your own heart. But what if you gave up on all your hungers now, and traded them in for a life of peace and dignity? And what if everything that was offered is simply this: Whatever you see before you right now? That is what’s yours. A world called: Enough." ~ All the Way to the River

Awake, haven't been here so no milk, barely anything here to sustain LIFE. That is what I mean by homeless. Except the bed. It'll be the last thing to go and the first to be set up. I used to sew all my bedding, sumptuous conconctions of soft cloths. I was poor but I wanted queenly blankets. Bedding might be a good gift. Like his gun to me, his love language. I have a PhD in English, so I've spent at least a third of my life doing what I am doing right now, lying naked in bed while doing it. I have been thinking about the word companion. I will gratefully accept the gift of the "sig", which has 3 pieces. It's not that I am an idiot, he knows I could figure out something complicated, but I need it not to be. Because guns make me nervous, and he knows that but wants to give the joy in owning a gun, what he feels. So bedding? Cz the other thing I wanted to do is take us somewhere, anywhere, for even one day, somewhere quiet, but currently "staycation" is putting it mildly. He is burrowed and I am buried. My guess, he'd immediately reject the idea of bedding, he already bought it, it's already nice bc he's not poor (growl at me). In truth, I have no idea how to help him. Except to keep invading the privacy of his thoughts (the book says to). I have no idea what more to do to help myself, either. 

So I am doing a tarot spread. 

Situation card, Knight of Pents, all about providership and being able to offer it. Not just money, more like resources and what do you bring to the table uniquely.

Challenge and solution. There he is again. Feels like he might as well be a mirror / we wave at each other through our current comparable cell bars. Bloodletted turnips. Fair to call that a challenge. The  

Chariot always means move. No other way to go but through with it. It means keep going. Or literally get a new car.

Outcome: 6 of Pents. Generosity and reciprocity.

 

Welp. I hope to live in an entirely different manner after this fucking interminable transition, everything feeling differently than it does right now and has for too long.  Everything. Except the kids, they're ok except I see too little of them while cleaning up this mess.  I am trying to feel well enough for it whatever it is and accepting of it whatever it is. Open to it.  My chest feels like someone plowed their fist through it.

"The reality is that, at any given time in a human life, we cannot see beyond what we understand to be true right then. We are only ever working with the level of wisdom that we have acquired up till that moment. We cannot access tomorrow’s wisdom today, much less yesterday. And when wisdom finally does arrive, it often enters our minds through the pain of lived experience. If you haven’t lived the experience yet, then you don’t get the wisdom." ~ All the Way to the River

"always touching"

love shack - b52s

RIP dad

Tbones final playlist 

Days like these that have something like 1000 pounds of emotional tnt but no, like, clear culmination. I dunno. I mean, I don't want every day to end in a fight or a fuck but. This stuff - life BREAKING - it's a bitch and where are the pressure releases? (Seriously.)

I finally just left the funeral party, which is literally raging upstairs now - I think the women are fighting and the men cleaning up in bemused spectatorship. 

It was a great service, great party. Amazing to see my cousins. In a way. Also devastating. My cousin Perry's son killed himself. He is the one who gave me Hammy. I spent the most time with him at the service, him and his wife, they're broken totally but broken together but still. "We have a grandson and a new baby, Shirley (my mom's mom's name, crossing family lines). But are we really allowed to be happy ever again?" They both shake their heads, No. 

Then switch gears into the past, everybody go back and remember my dad's life for the service. By far, the best part of my dad's life was when he was with my mother. They danced and laughed and fucked and loved the shit out of life, from which my sister and I sprang, and which we all remember. We ALL remember my parents being all over each other, music playing, food food food, everyone wanted to be with them as much as possible. my cousin Perry had a terrible stutter, but not around my mother. My parents loved life like hell through each other, and that spilled over onto everyone. Then they lost it. And nobody, not one family, not one cousin on either side, didn't suffer for the loss of the authentic Happy To Be that they were together. Like a bubble machine. And the person who suffered the most was my dad, the one who died without her. That story, their pictures, her visceral adoration, his mustaches, their voracious joy in each other, their chemistry, all of it - it's just - no wonder I am so. I don't know what to call it. Dying of thirst while drowning. 

😭

My mother looks like she got smaller somehow. She talks way to much about everyone's past, drives us all a little nuts, but to her the past is a much longer shelf to choose from and now it's relentless. Omfg. To her, everyone is dead but us.

She's killin me. She is killing her :/ 

As always, my sister and I try to make everything funny. If we are going down memory lane, let's list all the ways our parents tried to kill us. Not psychologically, in that regard we were always treated like people. (I bet not once did my parents babble at me - I can see it in how my ma treats the baby, asking her philosophical questions about how she feels being the only thing that consoles everyone she currently knows. They look at each other like 😳👀. "Consuela," I whisper at the non-verbal baby.)

My sister fell out of the van on highway 12, 45-50 mph ish, me sitting in the one passenger seat, her standing in the wheel well, then woop out she went, end over end, my jumping out after her. This is one of our fave mutual memories. My mom picked gravel out of her and we continued the journey (to the then-cottage). This happened TWICE. Like, she at 4 yrs old shoulda learned to close that door tightly! Not to mention me!!

There was also that time Sis took a header off the picnic table, nowhere else to sit but on it and nobody to catch her. She still has the dent in her forehead. "You looked like a unicorn," my mother adds, with some pride. I mean, she was a mere toddler then became a mythical beast - seems a good trade off.

I dehydrated a lot, once in the badlands when my dad luckily said 'she seems kinda limp' and I wound up in a s. dakota hospital for A WEEK (deaths door), it took that long before I could actually drink water not sucked from a half-dry rag. I still vividly remember the hallucinations of almost dying by my brain becoming a raisin.

Etc.

My sister, always the better spreadsheeter, has at least a dozen near-death anecdotes at the ready and we howl laughing at the outrageous acts of neglect.  But apparently this is a GenX *thing*, routinely a dinner party subject, 'parented by crapshoot' it's a wonder any of us physically lived. Across the board, we all have near-death stories. The 'remember when mom let us drive dad's sport car when we were 10 cz she was pissed' type stories. 

Like the f2f sex thing, I did not know this fact and my Gen-A"pocalypse" friends don't share this reality. Their parents were up their asses while emotionally withholding, and they hid out in the internet getting "political" in response to that environment.

Early childhood memory of "politics" at a family gathering: my mom picked up 'a giant black guy with one leg' (Sis's succinct portrait) (named Sam btw, of whom my mother made a bust, like of his head, I remember it, white plaster) off the side of the road, it was 8 degrees out, he was hopping down the highway and she knew the next exit was 2+ miles. So she brought him to my aunt's house, the one where we got to eat White Castle for every family gathering. Everyone of course thought 'what the actual fuck' but my mom had discovered a cruelty that I am all too familiar with now: university students without family resources have nowhere to live during American holidays that don't line up with any family time they might have in their own traditions. Many college students are serially homeless for myriad social-economic (political) reasons. And we are contractually no longer allowed to home/help them ourselves in any way (liability). Wanna talk about that? Let me apply for a grant? Nope. 

"How's work?", asks Sis. It is just work, which is better than no work. I don't gotta sleep with dudes I don't like anymore 👍 But. I mean. Nobody would give a shit about a freezing to death student nowadays except as a "problem". 

I do need help imagining Better Than This. My sister wants to prioritize my new house projects (spreadsheet) in the order that will make me happiest. But I don't want to make any decisions much until I feel less crappy. I cannot, actually, pick a kitchen floor at this very moment. I tried. But I am still stuck mostly in the "no"/ "not THIS" phase. A chicken/egg problem - can't make-pretty a house, which would be fun, because I am too sad for it / moving sucks. At least I thought it was a only a phase until my mother, listening to us, says "don't worry, in the end you will only remember the good things."

My sister and I wait a beat. Sis says, "Let's dehydrate her, I mean skin and bones already so we could probably get her to deaths door remembering only good shit by the end of the weekend." And we crack up again. I say "mouthfeel" and put a finger gun on my tongue, spreading the current fave fam joke wider, my sister laughing her ass off.

Tomorrow, a million uncles and cousins will arrive. My mother's side of the family (sense of humor side) because it is more intact, although mostly medicated for insanity, will arrive in groups led by those still allowed to drive (no thorazine [sp]). My father's side, welp there are those left who have not committed suicide, but in every family there has been at least one suicide, so that side arrives in pieces pre-grieving. About 60 folks total, says my sister, making enough food for 300. It soothes her.

My brother-in-law hired a bartender. I can't imagine alcohol doing anything but making all my relatives their worst selves. But, this is WI 🤷🏻‍♀️

I promised no praying for favors for the rest of the year, or I would say God Help Me 🙏

I don't think there is a joint for that. More likely I will be smoking Lucky Strikes with my non-alcoholic wine like an oxyMoron. The only thing I can think of to talk about is music. There was always music. Always. My father's vinyl collecting is probably how this blog exists in the first place. All the covers I have posted, so so so many a queering of an original, in TJ's dos I put them, unknowing. 

The End - The Doors "I'll never look into your eyes again lalalaa"

"Music is a mediator between spiritual and sensual life."

building the shed in Lewiston, probably listening to Led Zepplin 😪

you're gonna make me lonesome - shawn colvin my personal fave Bob Dylan covered by a woman song - I will look for you in Ashtabula lalala

"8 years old" 

"I’d let go of every substance or person that intoxicated me, numbed me, took control over me, or altered my mood or mind in any way. I’d been learning how to feel my feelings and process my emotions without reaching for anything or anyone to take the edge off. I’d been using my voice, setting new rules and boundaries, and living in my own integrity as guided by my own higher power. One day at a time, I was getting my inner house in order." ~ All the Way to the River, Elizabeth Gilbert

what is and what should never be - led zepplin 

(White Snake, " here I go again on my own lalalaa" playing through an airport as I read that)

When I watched this last night, I had to tap out at the grim middle. The 2nd half was gonna be about his dying. I came back to it today, earlier so stronger.

So the the middle, this dude's WHOLE LIFE WORK FOR 50 YEARS BURNS DOWN and boom, scorched earth. And he knows that now he is Dying, from that day forward. There is no coming back from some things. And he's pretty at peace with getting that done, but he slows it down. As if by will, even though almost immediately his organs start to fail and skinny af, but BY WILL he decides he has to live long enough (4 years, all of which he could do without the struggle of, but) to find a group of people who will come and rebuild and live there, nature nerds. He has to find someone to take the scorched earth from him, happily. And he does. And then they all have a kind of dying party as he watches them put it all back and every day he grows happier and closer to death. 

They keep showing these shots of the land itself, looked just like when I was a kid in Nowhere, and my dad would take endless photographs (film) of the trees. 

My dad would have liked to have died like that guy died. But he couldn't because he did not live like that guy lived. He had too much anger and sadness and self pity to live like that guy did anywhere, even in paradise.

But!, I decided dad did die in exactly the way this guy did, though, and that he sent this film to prove it. In his head, he imagined all that was true and died dreaming about it. (loophole lol)

I want to live like that guy lived, like a happy healthy hippie who thinks of this world as my mom does, seeing beauty everywhere, including in the falling(s). Yes. I don't want to fail at the simplest fucking thing, loving life.

And I have been epically failing at it. 

I am going to eat again now, mmm that pork. And then I am going to my father's funeral.

 

bobtail road - wyatt c louis  

All the men have died, the Marks and Tbones, and she's hauled ass to move to what's left of her mother-in-law's lands, for context:

"Wash thyself therefore, and anoint thee, and put thy raiment upon thee, and get thee down to the threshing-floor, but make not thyself known unto the man, until he shall have done eating and drinking. 4 And it shall be, when he lieth down, that thou shalt mark the place where he shall lie, and thou shalt go in, and uncover his feet, and lay thee down; and he will tell thee what thou shalt do. 5 And she said unto her, All that thou [b]sayest I will do." (Ruth, Ch 3)

When you've lost home, you don't really know how to land without crashing or turtling, you're going because you have to go, you have no home left where you are/were, you do what you're supposed to do / must. You survive and take care of your mother, working every day in the labor of that, picking the ground clean and thankful to be able to do it for her. Then you lie at some guy's feet and he tells you what to do and everything gets better. Right?

I decided to reread it after deciding on this.

I was 8 years old. I didn't just read the book of Ruth, I memorized it. I could recite any part on command (pet trick). They were hard-core Bethel Baptists, I got baptized all the time, they let you repeat weekly if you wanted to freshen it up, like very lite diy waterboarding in front of an audience.

(My mother only remembers picking me up there once and the Sunday school teacher said I was a natural leader 🤣 my mother rightly thought "cult!" but 🤣 she let me keep going anyways, of course. I mean, she got to sleep in on Sunday cz a bus came, so)

" 8 And it came to pass at midnight, that the man was [c]afraid, and turned himself; and, behold, a woman lay at his feet. 9 And he said, Who art thou? And she answered, I am Ruth thy handmaid: spread therefore thy skirt over thy handmaid; for thou art [d]a near kinsman. 10 And he said, Blessed be thou of Jehovah, my daughter: thou hast showed more kindness in the latter end than at the beginning, inasmuch as thou followedst not young men, whether poor or rich. 11 And now, my daughter, fear not; I will do to thee all that thou sayest; for all the [e]city of my people doth know that thou art a worthy woman"

And then he bought her. He went into town, gathered all the dudes in charge, and said basically I know she has closer cousins but I am claiming kinsmenship, all the land she's been gleaning and her with it (and the mother). And they said, OK. And so Ruth "joined Rachel and Leah among women who have worth" in God's eyes. 

Both sexual orientation and approach to life breakdowns, written into my operating dos. It is all right there, the seething chaste sideeye at party guys (don't touch me), the belief in moving and working yourself literally down to the ground noticing all the little things overlooked by others, the attracted to the familiar, the anxiety over elderly mothers and their bitter losses. The power to hold steady in the face of all that and submit only from a place of strong enough. Build me up if you want me at your feet. 

It is difficult to explain that ❤️‍🔥 to anyone. Wtf kinda 'submission' is that? There is no easy way to explain "then I just won't eat" until, either. Until what? Until I have done enough. Enough of what? Dunno, not glean barley since that's not a thing, and yes that probably means I need an antidepressant/benzo combo again, the whole 'moving across the desert' (to Cheekdavegas) part is fucking brutal. But no matter how much therapy I get, I can't rewrite the dos. My therapist knows that. That is the moral obligation, not to change who you are, to change how you're handling who you are, hurting yourself and others or not doing that.

If you're trans, you have to accept your gender. And stand for it. Even if people hate you. For instance.

That is what I do believe.

I don't know when or how I will feel worthy enough for hunger. I wish I felt it today, right now, because my lawn needs mowed like whoa and I am too weak. This morning I hoisted a concrete planter that prolly weighs more than half what I do, and then cleaned more and took down ugly drapes, got a kitchen floor estimate, I did did did until I gave out and came home to read the bible. Now I'm gonna smoke a joint and drink milk a while. Put things in carts for when I get $ again. I am so underwater on $ it's crazzzy. But it'll flip in October. And I STILL won't spend a dime until my mother gets here and says "now, you're good to go". And we will buy her a bed, and probably god help me an electric recliner 🤦🏻‍♀️, anything she wants.

kitchen floor, old school 

Ears, just when I am about to lament (I actually cry when I am faced with having to choose food 😪), texts: Niagara Cafe will be there in 45 minutes ❤️

He is taking this man of my house thing very seriously every day. 

omg so good

up all night - james bay ft lumineers 

see? sometimes I can 😪 grateful

 Feel Something - Madi Diaz

made for walking

I am ❤️‍🔥.  

The September 2025 Harvest Moon eclipse signifies a period of deep emotional change, healing, and completion for all zodiac signs, particularly the mutable signs (Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, and Pisces), highlighting areas like relationships, career, finances, and personal growth. You may be prompted to let go of what no longer serves you, speak your truth, pursue new knowledge, and lean into spiritual paths, with the eclipse serving as a catalyst for profound personal transformation and the "harvest" of your past efforts.

harvest moon (cover) - sierra ferrel I wanna see you dance again lalala 

VIRGO - Patti's birthday today, woulda been. She was never not trying to teach someone a lesson 🤦🏻‍♀️ lol. Yesterday, my PCP told me a horrible story about a young woman who blew off her monitor (that ring is $400! to replace, and do I really understand HRV any better? god damn it), it is ugly and flashes red if you were to dance, as she wished to do. This story was to impress upon me the seriousness of muscle loss. "I could punch you as hard as I could, I mean not YOU but.." We stared at each other a couple seconds, neither the blinking type. She settled for the push against my hand thing and a bunch of bloodwork. I lock my jaw, lock my stare, lock my everything, I LOCK UP, like slamming and locking the door behind me. I hoisted a book-box yesterday for Mover Dude to demonstrate that if his guys can't keep up, maybe be should hire women? The September virgos are different. They begin long slogs of miserable rain like today, with Xmas as a distant and sufficient reward. F that. I either got the last summer festival/hurrah of some kind or I did not. And this year, I got a dying dad and me hundreds of miles away, both of us alone, both fighting for what is left of our self-determination. If I could, as harder as it would make everything on everyone, I would order up snow, wind whipping ice water, sideways sleet, hail - today. Teach the appreciation of Augusts, before the blood runs cold. VIRGO You're not trying to teach anyone a lesson, but your example says it all. How you move, speak or shrug off nonsense becomes a model for others. You lead by living. Keep going; people are watching and learning.

I am going to pull up tacks and scrub floors and box up the Judaica there. And begin to choose boots here, what shall be sacrificed. Hey Dad, ya know that kinda guy who thinks he knows what God thinks, how much you hated That Guy?, he's on your side of the veil now, feel free to slam his head through the wheel/wall of incarnation, send him on his way to pretend he isn't part Black by pretending to be Jewish (for Jesus) somewhere else, Palestine perhaps; tell him to pick a lane and screw your courage to the sticking place.

The book I didn't find, Shakespeare, the one that dude should have read.

song to tbd, currently listening to victory - avett bros

1 schizo didn’t call me, kinda the problem with them

2 Darren was booked, 4 guys @$220 /hr, negotiating numbers of hours needed, 9/19 currently held 

3 hired the dog babysitter back for funeral travel

4 sister booked flight 

5 paid deposit on stove

6 removing tacks tomorrow with Ears and scrubbing that nasty kitchen floor 🤢 - mother son quality-quiet time we agreed, we are both very quiet people, and chronic upset frays our nerve endings in ways you either understand or you don't (generally not), so it's nice it worked out that way

I am currently off my acceptable pain tolerance smiley scale. Today I cleared yet another sad lonely old weird dead guy's life out, as I tried to fathom the whole Tbone Event Reality happening in real time. I don't need a ring, I know 💔💔. 

Ng.

"Out, damned spot; out, I say!" 

If I get the new place cleaned and myself moved and the plumber still ain't fixed it, I'll go to a hotel. My friend Renee's. Whatever. 

Cut the brakes cut the brakes cut the brakes ...