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