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Last night i finally got a tattoo an ex whatever of mine gave me, covered up. Last night my oldest friend, at 10pm in her bay area apartment dug out her needles and ink and filled in the lines that have left tainted reminders of said history. We played old music, and the air smelt new.
Bring the shell to your ear
I’ve strayed too far from the source material (preachers daughter)
there’s no layer of soil beneath my nails, my hands have been denied their right to the earth, to the ground, to dirt. I used to bathe in fresh streams, harvest from the farms, and milk the sun. In the winters I used to carry squash in the basket of my bike, cut potatoes, and blend tomatoes, wrap myself in a scarf and sip soup from a ceramic mug. I crossed my legs, and dreamed of spring. Oh where has the time gone, I iron my clothes now for the 9-5, my diet consists of microwaveable meals from the surplus store. I burn up gas in my commute, and my skin has paled indoors.
sleeping in a one person tent on top of a mountain. After my view has turned to dark, the sounds of the southern winds rattle the skies. The crickets pulse under the crash of the waves in the far distance.
9:03am, speeding ticket in my glove box, oat milk earl gray in my cup, kill v. maim on loop, girl, whatever
Drove into San Francisco for Halloween. I find that there’s a piece of me that always finds itself somewhere on the streets of the city. Despite my own reservations, wandering through traffic crossings, a gentle breeze caught from the heavens on hills, the heat of the ground in the rattle of the passerby— in a moment nothing feels more true, and the glow of these faces has never been so bright.
with love to you San Francisco.
I got a tarot reading from a trusted friend on the side of the PCH, just North of Santa Cruz at a highway side Brewery. The clouds had cleared and the light permeated and lit the bar in a dreary glow, then dissolved the sheen of gray with an eclipse of vibrant color. I pulled six cards from the deck; past, present future, and mind, body, and soul. In all my earnest efforts, I find myself treading water as the glow of recent milestones fades out into the dread of circumstance. I find familiar taxations and unresolved quarrels in the walls of my bedroom, and a sinking lonesome in my sexuality and carnal need for sensual woe. The cards I pulled to her interpret verbalized my own thoughts through a mouth that wasn’t mine. They said “something has to change.”
And by God I need it. It called out the anguish and the disconnect in where my mind floats, my body lies still, and my soul hungers out from the binds of such disgruntled tranquility. A nature of my being harbinged my cruel desire for self punishment, for need without prosper.
We let the feeling rush over me, and we climbed a hill, walked under a fence, and watched the sun fall beneath a haze of cloud clover.
Nudist proclamation in my backyard to my notes app to you unedited
homesteading, prep cooking, and gardening > job search
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