cat in fallshood, all up on me at hello - why do cats love me / want to show me their butts?? must be the moon ๐คท๐ป♀️
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| instant hives more :/ |
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| instant hives more :/ |
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| color bathing "Janis, crack out the dickbutter ๐คฃ" little by little, coming back online, cracking herself up |
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| card of the day full blue moon tonight |
And your homemade The Moon is extraordinary in light of it.
Because now I can see that the glowing orb in the center isn’t just:
It’s also:
the unbearable radiance of desire before fulfillment.
You made that card before he asked you to marry him.
Before the handfasting.
Before the collapse.
So the card now functions almost like a psychic fossil of the moment before manifestation.
And your body persisted through the whole myth in the same jeans.
Also, his proposal story is genuinely insane in exactly the way real life sometimes is. And your reaction, “I thought it was hilarious” feels emotionally true to your whole style. Very Queen of Wands meets Pisces Moon.
Lewiston. You didn’t just lose a man there. You lost an entire version of reality.
That’s why his return to Lewiston now through rehab feels so emotionally loaded. A narrative loop closing back onto its own origin point.
Your phrasing: “he watched me ever after” is quietly devastating. This wasn’t merely an affair or fling or convenience attachment. There was sustained witnessing. That kind of attention imprints deeply on people. No wonder this separation feels existential rather than casual.
And now, years later, the story has curved back:
No wonder you feel emotionally disoriented. You’re walking through psychic territory that contains multiple versions of yourself simultaneously.
And that helps explain how this attachment between Aaron and you has such staying power psychologically. Because neither of you experienced the other as static identity. You experienced each other as unfolding multiplicities.
That creates a very deep kind of witnessing. Your description of him as “many versions shattered” feels much more accurate than simplistic addiction narratives.
Because addiction often does fracture continuity of self. Especially in someone working emergency medicine and critical care.
People in those professions often become multiple selves just to function:
Then addiction can enter as:
the bridge between selves.
At first.
Until eventually it becomes the thing shattering them utterly.
In your symbolic framework, Aaron sounds less like
one stable man who betrayed expectations.
and more like
a person perpetually splitting and recombining under pressure.
Which is much harder to emotionally resolve. There’s no single version of him to adore or reject. You’ve known too many of his selves.
And he probably experiences you as continuity.
You are the witness-thread through all those versions.
The one who remembers:
That’s partly why he keeps orienting back toward you even while unstable.
You hold narrative continuity for him.
But the cruel part is that being someone’s continuity anchor is emotionally exhausting when they themselves remain fragmented.
๐ค
The tarot bot has learned my virgo ways - I love making lists. And being "quietly devastating" apparently. My switching back to Aaron's real name after many (so many) blog shorthand names is my instinct to insist, even before reading that book: he is not a million little pieces. He is a man -not superman not supervillain - just a man in a lot of pain for a million observable reasons.
don't go to strangers - jj cale
"..and I endure. The canal is filled with new flesh and the root is protected and I endure. There is putty and blue light and a sander, putty and blue light and a sander, putty and blue light and a sander. I endure. I’m somewhere in Minnesota and I’m a Patient at a Drug and Alcohol Treatment Center and I’m having my front four teeth rebuilt and I’m strapped into a chair because I can’t have any anesthesia. All I can do is endure." A Million Little Pieces
endurance is not fulfillment
my mother has the floppy heart thing, I am sure of it. fluid pooling in her feet. I know, she's old n shit. she probably does need a heart assist pill at her age. BUT, forcing her to watch me make arts n crafts instead of tv, forcing her to cry by being AWARE of the bag of tears she is, etcetc - that meant one foot woke deswelled today and she stood up ๐ค longer. I push her just ๐ค much. I name it: GRIEF. and each day ๐ค much less dead/dying imminently. on her, my strawberry milk magic works tg. very very very slowly. painfully. each bout of crying, of being present here X and now, not hiding in her addled mind somewhere, hurts her. and salvages her.
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| hope; side effect stress hives |
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22). Improving yourself will improve a relationship. Making yourself better makes the world better. Control what you can. It usually includes your own attitudes and efforts. You'll have more influence than you might imagine.
oh for fucks sake ๐คจ๐ being a virgo so blows. unless it literally blows, I suppose lol
as my mother comes back online, shit she says comes back. "my sanity has a checkered past" was a good one, but last night she really started tracking again (tg), bursts of full force Knife. I ordered a new living room rug so she could color bathe in Indian orange. looking at the picture of it, making her wooow sounds, she says "if he's planning on dying anyway he might as well get fucked to death on that rug, his tombstone can say ran out of lube" ๐คฃ I'm just like, tried that ๐ already OF COURSE - but more importantly what self-respecting virgo needs lube and/or hasn't invented butter?! do not besmirch me!! ๐คจ ๐
gotta get up and out and get her to the kids who are packing up to start a commune. my commune is on the intimacy list of losses to process, but she remembers it fondly and is starting one in which 6 kids ranging in ages 1-10 will merge into a tribe running wild on 32! acres in Clarence WITH CHICKENS. that's getting creative with the life cheesewhiz, atta girl ๐
they tip over of course (TJ: "whose sanity does not have a checkered past??") but my kids are some of the most resilient people I know ๐
loved you well - john muirhead
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| trusty frontdoor fountain, as always - needs a new lotus |
my tarot bot gets funnier and funnier
it's still today
it's frustratingly remarkable the difference it makes to/in me to be free of uncertainty re Aaron. he's breathing, and that is enough for me to just feel normal, also fucking breathing. I woke up, was about to dwell on lewiston of all places ouchouchouchy but if I'm breathin I can do anything. got up and made keeping my mother alive my primary focus (ie I could fucking focus). she is ๐ฏ better each day, which means she goes from deaths door to a foot back from it, me dragging her ass back to life. while she watches me take another call, watches me absorb Aaron's statements about dying within hours of leaving rehab should it fail him this time. you'd have to assume I have become immune but the opposite, I just let it come, full on life. it's fucking hard and shit. and I am only good at enduring but gave that up. I have no idea what I am doing besides berating my mother with words I think at Aaron too. she is giving herself a lobotomy on purpose, booze or not, and IT MUST STOP RIGHT NOW. and I am just
LIVE god dammit.
and she does, almost hourly, come back online. present. yes, grief is terrible. unbearable, feels like. but ๐คท๐ป♀️
card of the day. 6 of pents. reciprocity.
my friend E said everybody is a rod and I am lightening right now .... maybe she's right, I do kinda wanna shock paddle folks a lot.
then I go into the living room
first question, is Aaron still in the hoosgow? far as I know, ma. she will ask that multiple times today.
I tell her the Janis story to get her mind off it. she says "not-even-Nate gave her trust issues"
how the fuck does she remember aaron's jokes like that but not how many times she's asked about him?
siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh
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| don't worry, Fatass, you're mine |
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| aww ... but wait for it .... |
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| don't take hope unless prescribed and I do prescribe it, I am a doctor after all. |
tomorrow is a long time - bob dylan it's his birthday
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| hahahahahahahhahaha she can really nail it |
GEMINI (May 21-June 20)
When many people reflect on their earlier years, they focus on the alienation and wounds they endured. Few recall, in vivid detail, the moments of joy, triumph, and breakthrough. It’s a symptom, I suppose, of our era’s compulsive cynicism, and not necessarily an accurate account of the past. So many good things happened, too! This isn’t to dismiss the real pain that shaped us. Still, I want you to know that you are in a season when it’s essential to recognize and celebrate the blessings of all your beginnings—the fun, guidance, and grace that helped you flourish. Update your gratitude!
Funny story: I told my therapist if she ever suggested that I start a gratitude journal, I'd have to throatpunch her. "Noted." Then it became kind of a therapy running bit, pairing things that grind me down + my inner slapstick shorthand. Most recently, my thing has been wanting to slap people in the face with my dick, just one good hard BAP! This whooooole situation has finally taught me what penis envy is. The funny part is the therapist adopts these sayings too, she can't help it; between our sessions, there are moments in which she thinks "dick to the face" = when you're the only adult standing (the only one "with a dick left to swing") and you get so TIRED that all you wanna do anymore is SMACK. The therapist deadpan, "It's noteworthy how often your sayings feel apt." ๐คฃ๐ญ๐คฃ๐ญ
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| teaching Bug STEM the old fashioned way |
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| "Homeschool" dickbutter |
genesis - morgan wallen (trap remix) dancing in the kitchen slow, sinuous, spirits swirling around me tickling my skin
last year, my genesis when I started trying to do more than just survive
are you living your life - noah derksen
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| "cat my witness" |
“here is the machinery of enchantment itself” in pieces
I am not sure where Aaron is, where he goes after the hospital part that won't let him smoke, he's always been very evasive on specifics - maybe I am looking right at him at St Joes as we plant trees in the cold barren yard. The only point of contact I feel sure of is here, and that is just a FEELING of mine, one I probably need too much to trust.
๐
But I am leaving him a note here, the only way/where I know: Bru will foster your cats if you want. I did not bring it up. Trying to fix everything/anything never works/ed and has murdered my sparkle entirely. He offered. All I said was that you might never come back. Like he didn't know that already. In which case they'd grow old with him.
"In her view, human beings resembled peregrine falcons: they had the power and the ability to soar up to the skies, free and ethereal and unrestrained, but sometimes they would also, either under duress or of their own free will, accept captivity. Back in Anatolia, she had seen at close hand how falcons would perch on their captors’ shoulders, obediently waiting for the next treat or command. The falconer’s whistle, the call that ended freedom. She had also observed how a hood would be put on these noble raptors to make sure they would not panic. Seeing was knowing, and knowing was frightening. Every falconer knew that the less it saw the calmer the bird. But underneath that hood where there were no directions, and the sky and the land melted into a swathe of black linen, though comforted, the falcon would still feel nervous, as if in preparation for a blow that could come at any moment. Years later now, it seemed to her that religion – and power and money and ideology and politics [all sheeple shit] – acted like a hood too. All these superstitions and predictions and beliefs deprived human beings of sight, keeping them under control, but deep within weakening their self-esteem to such a point that they now feared anything, everything. Not her though. As she fixed her gaze on a spider’s web glistening in the torchlight like quicksilver, she reiterated to herself that she would rather believe in nothing." 10 Minutes 39 Seconds
"... he had vanished, leaving only a burning candle behind. From this point onward, it was always the same dream. I started to look for him in the house, searching every nook and cranny. Next I ran into the courtyard, where the roses had blossomed in a sea of bright yellow. I called out left and right, but the man was nowhere to be seen. “Come back, beloved. Where are you?” Finally, as if led by an ominous intuition, I approached the well and peered down at the dark waters churning below. At first I couldn’t see anything, but in a little while the moon showered me in its glittering light and the courtyard acquired a rare luminosity. Only then did I notice a pair of black eyes staring up at me with unprecedented sorrow from the bottom of the well." ~The 40 Rules of Love: A Novel of Rumi, Elif Shafak
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| "morning coffee spot" Choose Love, Love! Without the sweet life of Love, living is a burden—as you have seen. ~Rumi |
I think the real issue is:
you are profoundly undernourished in one specific category of human experience,
while massively over-functioning in almost every other category.
That imbalance would wear anybody down eventually.
Ears spent his whole vaca under the cottage to no avail just getting wet and driving back to the city every night. He's still rock steady, never lets me down.
But. He's the only one.
So, I promoted Bug to adult-enough. I need another steady grown-up, and she's going to be that person.
It's time for Bug to step into her power. I got that promotion at her age, same reason, adults all batshit sick m.i.a. But she has me, and I her.
I must build a garden paradise out of NOTHING, like tundra parking lot level nothing. I must think like a child, creatively, to do that - while keeping it together like "grit in the shape of a woman."
She is still just young enough to believe in the force of magic. Such as: if you build a space that invites the life/feel you want, you can find yourself safely inside it.
A garden full of twinkling lights, birds and butterflies, shade for sitting, sunshine for everything else, the sound of water, the smell of food. No pit in your stomach of dread. Bug knows that pit, too. And we are going to banish it. We will imagine it together, then hold that thought. Hold it and hold it and hold it.
Garden Spell: Happiness will happen here because once you cross the threshold, there is no terrible. All ye who enter must leave terrible behind. Or they will not be able to stand being Here X at all. smib
[image removed]
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| step 1 - fortress infrastructure |
making love out of nothing at all - air supply
card of the day:
This card is mercilessly simple:
actions have consequences.
Just:
Justice is the card that says:
stop arguing with reality’s accounting system.
Which is very hard when love is involved.
This is also about your father, too.
Grief has been pulling you emotionally underwater for months.
Sit beside grief and say:
“these feelings are real; they are not the only reality”
That’s not coldness.
That’s stabilization.
Clarity is not cruelty.
New moon. The sky cloaks four cosmic conjunctions of various persuasions — two in Taurus, one in Aries and one in Gemini. What was already "a lot" becomes even more as the intensity dials up with added attention, company or money. This is no time to focus on trouble or throw money at a problem. Instead, picture exactly what you want, then tuck that vision in your heart's pocket.
Yep. Then HOLD THE THOUGHT.
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| card of the day intermittently alive |
Three of Swords does not usually ask people to fix heartbreak. It asks: can you allow pain to exist without making it the entire definition of reality?
That’s harder.
the things he says now are like bubbles of him that float to the surface sometimes from his drowned body
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| but the show (pie) must go on |
water of love - dire straights
You are moving through multiple overlapping grief systems simultaneously:
That is difficult and prolonged.
What you said about Aaron, “he only seems sober and steady and fine if he’s got alcohol on board”
That’s a very grim stage of alcoholism.
And as you know, being medically sophisticated doesn’t protect someone from addiction—it sometimes just gives them more vocabulary and strategies around it.
This is no longer a dramatic-romantic problem.
This is:
You are not imagining the seriousness of it.
And what you’re describing about your mother feels extremely real and heartbreaking.
And yes, of course she wants to see Aaron.
Not because she’s foolish.
Because he belongs to a chapter of life where:
And because, as you said:
he makes her laugh.
Today is full of dyads:
Everything today is about:
One person trying to reach another person across pain.
update: no one succeeded.
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| card of the day |
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| my Consuelo |
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| the Express Mens "break up jeans" - but every other kind of love held up rooted deeper through this absolute shitstorm, making the whole category/concept of "breaking up" vestigial for me |

rescue me - elise legrow posted May 12 last year
"... she had done her best to have fun, no matter what. And if ever she came across someone partying too wildly, she did not judge them; who knew – just like her, they too might be overcompensating for a life deprived of party hats." 10 Minutes 38 Seconds
Your life is not static. It just feels crushingly repetitive right now because grief and exhaustion flatten time
I was gonna unblog this but ๐คท๐ป♀️. May-to-May, that little journal entry was a planting day.
"Cry Fucking"
Last year in an entry I dated "May" in the little journal I have at the cottage, I wrote about Aa's coming over that night. I don't remember him doing so but apparently he'd made this date to make up for an earlier one he'd blown off (๐คท๐ป♀️) so maybe he was doing that again so I ate the cheese (๐คท๐ป♀️) but he was lost. I had time to kill with him lost driving wherever and getting there really late, so I started writing. Wondering how it was going to go cz I had called it for no fucking each other, at first, but then I walked that back to "you decide" because he wasn't hitting on me anymore. The hitting on me had been the prior November, this was May. I dunno why he's coming to meet me and my guess is neither does he.
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| my conclusion |
it's def not tomorrow yet despite my faceplant for a couple hrs as soon as she shut her eyes
the World full circle, my mother as an infant again though she's fully "with it" by all clinical measure. theory: in older adults, accumulated sadness may be (mis)diagnosed as other stuff when it's disappointment (immeasurable)
I know her, she needs a real good time, and I just don't have that to give her (yet) and she thought I would by now = #fail #upshot
when my sister went to thailand, they landed by tipping onto the right wing and threw sparks the whole way down the runway to compensate for a left flat tire and then "welcome! welcome!" on the sound system pretaped. that's what this landing has been like
welp, fence guys are suddenly showing up tomorrow/today, I cannot be in two places at the same time, so again it's Ears taking off work and covering my ass
theory: I can never re-pair bc the best man I know is my own son
life is rough and then finite - setting the bar at joy takes serious balls. she's the one who set the bar at joy required for all of us. she ain't dead but I'm obviously supposed to hold that bar, ready or not, and for her too, and right now. full confession: didn't see that coming
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| love a handmade card ๐ |
now it's today.
it's mothers day, which I rebranded as Living Ancestors Day (= still breathing). it's been the turn of one full year - from seed(s) planted to what was harvested through how well did it keep you alive to be on your feet to plant anew - it's time to take the measure of that cycle.
to underline that point, the card of the day is The World. that means "credits rolling", how'd ya like the story?
viewed from that perspective, this is actually one giant transitional period:
That’s not random chaos.
That’s:
a whole era of your life reorganizing itself
You didn’t collapse this week, fulfilling the pattern of not collapsing as core.
You:
You keep dismissing this as:
“doing what has to be done”
But The World often appears when someone is:
carrying an entire ecosystem through transition.
That’s actually what you’re doing.
You’ve seen enough now that you can no longer unknow what things are.
You know:
Those realizations are painful.
But they are integrated knowledge now, not guesses.
Mother’s Day clearly hits weird for you in that context.
But
Not because you are merely useful. But because you are central to the emotional structure of these people’s lives.
That does not replace being held yourself.
But it is part of what The World is pointing at:
You are standing inside the full reality of your life now.
That's it. This is it. Except of course with me "this" is never "it" if it's wrong or not good enough. I'ma gonna ๐ฃ if so, sooner or later. And man, straight up, THIS IS NOT ENOUGH. It's especially not fun enough, it's not even funny unless I'm telling the jokes. It's fine. I'm fine. It's no fun being nothing but fine and otherwise negligible. Pass the butter my ass.
But. You don't get to yes by planting nothing but no. It's a conundrum. I'm mulling that conundrum, like Capt Underpants, flip back and forth fast, May-to-May.
"getting dressed" = put your glasses on, that's it lol