reading #106

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man behind umbrella

You can try and hide behind the umbrella. you can hide behind your interpretation of the law. you can hide inside your home behind your money and your discourse. you can call for law enforcement. do not be surprised when they pull you out from cozy privilege and imprison you. restricting your arms at the wrists. rolling your fingertips in ink. will you smile for the camera? will you represent your vitriol? will you miss your mocha cappuccino reserve and high castle office? the fawning gucci assistants shredding papers, who you undress with your eyes, leaning back in your chair while stroking your gold-weighted pen?

be fierce

Dispassionately you were chosen and not for the content of your character. A pawn in somebody’s game, only the game was life. Gunpowder they packed beneath you while you were sleeping. They didn’t care you were real. And when they blew you to smithereens, they discovered they were the ones who were dying, inside.
Pretty soon you would recognize the injustice, when you got done crying and feeling bad about it all. You awaken from the nightmare to realize that though your feelings were hurt, your true character was undamaged. You were whole. Your real friends came over with donuts and coffee, and knives to throw at the wall. And you tore it up together like always before, hanging out like nothing had happened.
Stashed in a pocket of pixels deep in your eyes, the memory remained, to remind you of human nature and how awful they can be. So you can keep yourself safe and be fierce when your character may be called into question. And when you see the injustice being concocted against others, you look out for them. You warn and defend them the best that you can, recalling how it happened to you. Always realizing, in the end, the dirt will come out in the wash.

the universal human right

I am sad to have to say goodbye to old friends, but there is nothing to be done anymore to salvage a friendship sometimes, and though my friends may not wanna accept my walking away, walk away I will ’cause there is nothing there anymore, just pain. I am very sad to have to say goodbye and mean it. And then they reach out again to see if they can word something just right to cause me enough trouble grasping what they are suggesting, this old friend takes the pin and buries it subcutaneous and deeper towards my heart, hoping to touch me again in that dreadful yet stale way, to force me back into the dead patterns of negative thought and feeling and relating. And I resist as best I can. For what will it matter how I respond or how vehemently I disagree with what they are suggesting has happened, or some way they think I am responsible for the troubles in their lives? For sure I am equally flawed and in my life have brought storms and darkness upon my own world. I am no better than anybody, though I have my talents and gifts. I am trying not to waste them anymore. I am busy writing books, can you not see? I am busy hoping and dreaming and living in new light. I believe I must move on. I have the right to do so. There is no marriage, there are no vows to hold me here in this heart of mutual misery. I ask that anyone who once called themselves a friend, or still considers themselves a friend of someone who has expressed an interest in freedom to move on and be left alone, ought to consider this: THE UNIVERSAL DECLARATION OF HUMAN RIGHTS    and regain your composure and consciousness and self-respect by ceasing all activities contrary to the basic principles, stop phoning, stop texting, stop emailing, stop cramming your commentary and opinions under the door! Cease and desist in all communications and not limited to the five basic senses by which we perceive one another in this world! Unfortunately you have lost your right to my ever expansive circle of light, and so much as I know, I have lost my right to yours. I can light a candle for you, for sure, and wish you the very best (and get well soon). I have tried and tried for so long to restore a pathway between our hearts, like the one we first knew, but the conditions are no longer safe and the bridge has been devastated and fallen and sunk to the bottom of our sea of tears. I am sorry to see you go, sorry for the loss of a once great friendship. Now I must move on without you.

murder by memory (1 &2)

Will he come back to me? The silence in the house might break her delicate wrists in two, toss her on the woodpile, long nights, to keep warm. Abbreviated days. All of her memory of him coming home. The squeaking of the belt under the hood of his Jeep, where he parked beneath the sycamore tree. One of the kittens would bound out to meet him. Fatigue had not undone him. She would quickly get up and wrap a sweater around her, step into the sandals by their bed on the mahogany floors, and take the 45 steps down to the kitchen, the backs of her thongs clicking into her heels. She would grab a nice glazed ceramic bowl out of the cabinet, pour some oats and some water without measuring, into a pot on the stove. Oatmeal was his favorite. Then she would hop back up onto the landing, and click down to the front door to swing it open for him. The feeling of him pressing into her. The cool kiss on the neck. These were the memories.

murder by memory – part ii
A cultural analysis – or defrag – of the perceived madness and its development in the mind from inception on… The designated criminal who judged a fellow sentient for a difference on any continuum (ie sexuality, race, gender, education, age, ethnicity, body image, fanciful morality plays) would be taken to a room without furniture to stand upon an intelligent floor which assessed the sensitive points of any criminal scanning the foot with footprint technology, then, when any thought, feeling or behavior indicated a relapse into poor or judgmental bias, such would be confronted and corrected with a paralyzing shot of vibrational frequency dissonant to the criminal, and the corresponding organ would temporarily be shut down or limited of function for up to 24 hours. If the kidney got tapped, the subject would begin to experience blood toxicity and jaundice, and feel the attitude and judgment fall away as all energy became devoted to trying to locate and sweep out the source of infinite pain. An eradication of hate campaign was underway.      – KatYa