Autumn List

the best things of the current season:
>>leg stretching flexibly, arms extended to create a star
>>steady fall of now crispy leaves on my street. it took a week. now they are almost all down. the floor, beautiful, filled with colours, turning the page, facing an accepted stage of decay. i feel intoxicated. my skin jolts at the stretch of each little hair standing up, brushed against the cold breeze.
>>staring vaguely out a window, fully qualified and even encouraged to do so.
>>hugging missed loved ones in foreign establishments
>>2010-made dreamelectropop with guitars
>>Chia Bread
>>condensation on windows.

and a picture

bumped into a babe

dressing a cradled doll up like a real baby
with torn pieces of
yellowing gauze
the true
original
essence
of a heart
filled up to the brim
with the magic ability
to see past the present
into the world of a caring happy family hug.

i caught a wisp of the tufty fabric
walking slowly with patience
my steps at different pace
to the pram pushing magician.
my fingers sighed with relief
at a task to distract them from
not having got there yet
not having picked at
each other's varnished gloss.

she suddenly stopped her stride
and breathed in with alarm.
around she turned
her feet slowly moving consecutively
one inch at a time.
the rest of her body gently lifting
pushchair made of plastic.
i caught a glimpse of magic
the baby smiled at me.

standing too close and in front of her baby

i backed off as quick as i could say
'oh my'
bowing a little
while inverted voice asks me
'why??'

a serious question to threaten my integrity,
ever apologetically,
i fake i know and sigh.

orange

list of lists
carved on a miniature Shetland pony

she's absurd
she's gone off
curdling with any exhalation

inimitable
authentically tense
tasting the test
your intense pessimism
has cast upon her

failing to figure a feeling,
she's designed to dismiss
as irrelevant
compulsively
with her hands still shaking

her chin drawn in
and away she goes
unaware
of anything ugly
still straw stuck in her hair

handle with caution
not care
her correct proportions
popped out in a personal best
cut up upside down
rules to detest

she's so into that

What stigma?

juggling unhappiness is like a crash course to meditation without the safety net to hold you.
you drop in and face your demons. ugly motherfuckers with the power of your internal narrative and the familiarity of your external voice, as heard through your own ears when you talk and your nose is kinda blocked. you know, the pitch we all hate to identify as our own in some accidental recording. but you are not guided by an elder or safe in the space of the circle. you haven't extensively searched for truth and plateaued and remained high for weeks or chose to be part of the activities. what's more to note, you will never reach any higher level of anything.
stuck in a super-murky puddle of shit you ruined your only good shoes and made your mama disappointed a million times all over her most favourite of happy memories. thrown in by nothing. by yourself. you took the step you never do when standing close to the coming train, close to the platform edge. you move forward without any doubts and any ability to stop the movement. you accept. you look at. you understand. you embody it.
like meditation, you reach the trancelike phase of only thinking of the one concept without effort. without attention. with all your energy.
you get accustomed to shedding your skin and sitting there amongst your own shit for everyone you ever craved respect from to experience. you are a nothing made of feelings. the uncoolest mass of the wrong type of hair and always uncomfortable skin and dissatisfying bone and squidgy cartilage. you get your period every second. you start wanking for the very second time, when you know what to do, and the entire collection of your personal enemies and teachers who never believed in you and bosses who were jealous of you and shopkeepers who refuse to connect with you and doctors who only see you as a statistic walk in. you look up not knowing to take your hand out of your pants or to carry on and live out a sick fantasy but the meta- of this occurrence makes you pee yourself and there go the only dry clothes you deserve.
every day life made out of hell. you, like meditation, know this is exactly as severe as everything else in life and as important as this very second you live. you know to pull your skeleton up by the head, with a string attached to the highest point in the middle of your scull. you pull the puppet up and with your wobbly rusty hands you pull your joints in, to click in position. you stand tall and carry on despite the hurricane fighting against you. you lose your coat but you're already in shambles, who gives a fuck?
and then you try to announce to yourself that it's all ok. it's fine. you'll make it to the other side of the room, even if other people have been able to do this so much better and your inability is merely a sign of clear incompetence. it's fine, you try to say with a breaking awkward voice you can't control the volume of. "if i didn't deserve this, i wouldn't be here" you rationalise to the intense eyes looking in and out of you. as you say that you slip on a banana peel and fall over. you break you legs and have to start all over again.
yes. having experienced sadness is a bit like meditation.
but after it you're left with something more solid than the importance and insignificance of matter. you have looked at yourself. you have looked in the eyes. and it stays with you. you can look for it and see it in the eyes of your friends. those who know salute each other with a jitter of an upper lip and a little quick sniff and look away and a scratch of the head. just look around. and you will see that this place doesn't exist. like nothing does. more than you or i perceive it.

startrekstairs interview

-when will it be the time to admit my disillusionment?

-i've looked for reasons to encourage my involvement but in reality, the truth of the matter is that i can no longer support or explain my presence in this surrounding.

my advanced introspection has aided me in reaching the brand new lonely level of meta-meta-meta-modern post-development. now can your cat do this? i didn't think so.

my astral aura is solid gold and can take any vibration or intrusion from any humanoid or planetary presence that may visit the space nearby. it is the tribute to any doubt anyone has ever voiced towards me. Take that you mothermiserablebiatches! you hear me? put this sheer solid proper G O L D in your crack pipes. and lose your lighter so you can't even smoke it. ha!

-i'm sorry, i occasionally allow my superior criticism to come out in the form of playful banter. it's jus' bants though. don't take it serious. nobody take it serious. i'm not to be believed or trusted, if you want to be safe. for most humans, knowing something magical or other-dimensional is not tolerated well by the body. your system could overload and break, you could get stuck in a purgatory state of non-enlightenment without guidance. so no, be very careful. accept your physical limitations. you cannot and shall not push yourself further than you understand, you promise? now that's good good. i'd hate to be responsible for your breakage.

-yes, i smoke do you? it is my one sinful human body habit i have allowed myself to have. i tell you i don't fart, or smell bad or am overweight or sleep more than 7 hours a day, but cigarettes, yes. i am allowed to have that one. the Skylar world is a vast space of new and the same. smoking is hardly an actual barrier to reaching the information projected by the magnetic fields. also it makes me look sophisticated in front of my crystal ball. a little old-school like a retro fortune-teller. like the one my great great great grandma probably paid to keep in her castle or summat.

( please don't include this: i've had enough of this interview now. can we take a break? i can only bullshit for this long before i get a headache. tracy pass me the cocodamols will you? tracy! hurry up. i am not gonna fucking suffer for this bullshit. come on, darling. ah thanks. and can you empty this ashtray, it's starting to look like your miserable face. it smells like it too. * aggressive coughing* yeah yeah probably need a bit of drink too. -shouts: why is my glass empty and dry?? who's responsible for refilling it? that's right ziggy, it's you and you've lost a point off your personal development lessons. no, it's fine you can earn it again, oh don't you fucking dare cry. man up. how will you fight alien soul demons if you're so soft? oh come on, you know i love all my kids. yeah, some bourbon would be great yep. there we go. there i go.)

-where was i? oh yeah, so you'd like a prediction huh? normally i wouldn't do this in public. and of course money is not required although a lot of my guests do feel happier with their karma balance after they have made a donation to match the help they get from me. so, let's see. you have rough hands don't you? hmmm i think you are a stubborn and hard working person that doesn't give up, but you need to make time for yourself and forget other people. your spirit guide cannot reach you while you're working and the money you're making is too much for your, sweet'art. it's literally messing with your resonance to the universe and stopping you from being truly yourself and truly happy. did you know, that we instinctively know how to bend and support our bodies just the correct amount of heigh adjustment so we can climb up or down a staircase? see this is not really magic, but haha i'm using the power of knowledge to impress, you see? (chuckles)

-thank you for this. it was very interesting for all of us. may you be lucky and pure. bye bye.

-and one more thing, daaahling. you jus you, come here for a sec. bye to the rest of you! you, i know you hate me, you b1tch. you can not leave. never leave this room again. go sit in that chair. girls, i have someone i'd like you to meet.