I hope this is a video where I sing the song thru to the end rather than messing up in the middle & stopping, but I can’t bring myself to watch it and find out. The worst part of music (beside the technology) is having to think about, look at, and listen to yourself. I can’t really deal with that, so as much as possible, I don’t. I hate having to consider the impression I make on others & have a hard time doing it anyway, since I don’t know how others think.
Some people enjoy sculpting their self-image. For many musicians this seems to be a big part of their job. I think that is why I avoided music for so long, because I didn’t want to have to think about or promote myself anymore. But now I don’t, so its cool. I can stay in my own world.
The way the media portrays it, the essence of femininity is an obsession with one’s own image, but- for the average women- I think this is far from true. If anything, women have a diminished sense of self and increased sensitivity to things around them. Their focus on appearance is mostly a shield against the negative judgments of their value which they have been trained to fear since birth. And I don’t think these judgments come from men but are really a media creation.
I feel like a dork talking about the media, but at the same time I don’t know if you can overstate the influence Hollywood & its sister industries have had on our collective mind. They have truly seized control of the collective imagination- how we see life, what we think it is about. This is tragic, because the spell they cast is a dark one which seems consistently designed to make people devalue themselves & life.
And they are the one part of our society which is consistently misogynistic as though they are led by people who specifically have it in for women. They objectify women and see women in their natural role as worthless. The only way women can redeem themselves is either by 1. being a perfect object that many men want to have sex with (in real life being a perfect object & having a lot of opportunities for sex are probably not very related, but the media links these together so females will see being hit on as a sign of validation) or 2. being able to do masculine things as well or better than men. Both of which, for most women, are going to be unfulfilling.
I don’t think people realize the impact this has. When women complain about being objectified, men don’t seem to understand where they are coming from or exactly how deep the wound can be. They see it as an attack on men. “Hey, I’m a man, I like to look! Sue me! (Snort snort).” They see women focusing on their appearance and then asking not to be objectified and the whole thing seems quite hypocritical. In reality, men objectifying women isn’t the problem. Perhaps they aren’t even doing this. We’ll never know. The real problem is women objectifying themselves.
The problem with women believing that their value and power comes from their appearance is, of course, that it cuts them off from their true source of power and has them searching for water in a place where no water is to be found. In a natural state women retain the connection to those forces which created us and the memory of what we were before birth. Without female energy in the world, we become disconnected from our source and start a desperate search for something to replace it. We forget that we are immortal & the world is full of magic. Life becomes flat and dry. So many of the psychological problems in the modern world are related to the degradation of women. Women are the essence of depth but we have turned them into the essence of shallowness.
What is my point? I don’t know. I don’t mean to sound all goddessy- I don’t even like that stuff. But I see that people suffer mentally from the fact that our collective imagination is ruled by a heartless masculine cartel. As I’ve expressed many times, there is nothing I love more than masculine warriors, but ruling the collective imagination is not their proper place.
Mostly I just wanted to say sorry if the video is messed up.
Lyrics….
It was nearly close to sunset And the air it was swimming with flies They were swatted without regret As I laughed by his side
Dancing in the palm of his hand- fire Dripping through the blood in his veins I need to keep walking I can’t get tired Falling back again and again
Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river
First his shadow fell upon me Then he held my little hand in the fire So I tried to lift my eyes up But I was tired
Dancing on the back of my eyes now People always said he was gay But I saw him slip into the White Palm That was a good day.
Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river
Suddenly the trees begin to smile Twirl me on the pavement for a while You couldl give him one more chance After that I’m on my own.
Sink your fingers deep into the red Ringing in the air around my head You couldl give me one more chance After that I’m on my own.
Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river
Not much time until the sunset Just keep moving for a little more while Though he killed you without regret Still he always had the heart of a child
Dance into the river of regret Dance into the river of pain Dance into the aquador where we met That was a good day.
Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river Gonna see the river
Sometimes I have words to explain things & other times I don’t. This past week I was trying to expose myself to as much yellow as possible in the hopes that it would give me more practical forms of intelligence, but I don’t think it worked. I sat for long periods in front of a yellow light & afterwards just found that all the words had been knocked out of me. I’m not sure why. Probably just because yellow is so different from what I normally think about that I couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
So that is my excuse for not being able to give you any meaningful explanations for this song. Really though, it might have more to do with the nature of the song and not so much to do with yellow.
Hold me by the wrist.
Hold me to the ground.
Watch the world it flies
Spinning round and round.
Tell me what you know.
Tell me everything.
Pressed into a box.
Pressed into a ring.
See clouds that fly.
See them flying free.
That third one is I-
Do you recognize me now?
Their reflections fly
Flowing down the stream
Round my ankles I
Need you to release me now.
In the mirror there,
I saw you again
Like a foggy man
Close behind me then
Pressing into me
Your two hands were tied.
We’re in this world now
Like the square it binds.
Catch a bird that flies
Slice him into three.
Like a man he dies-
Do you understand me now?
Capture any bird
Capture anything
The relentless claw-
Do you understand me now?
When I heard your words
They were only sounds
Tying up my brain
Filling it with brown.
And my heart was tied
Like an animal too.
Our words weren’t the same
How could I explain to you?
Something isn’t right.
Something spinning wrong.
Shapes are scratching now.
Not where I belong.
Every cloud that flies
Breaking up in threes
Meaning something dies
Will you recognize me now?
I shouldn’t really have a photo of James on a post about trying to become a #1, but here it is. A photo from seven years ago when we lived in an all pink apartment. At the time, it was the only color I could tolerate. Please notice how much James eats. Do you think that is for show? No. He has two burgers, a chicken sandwich, chicken nuggets and two types of fries. He has the ability to eat everything or nothing at all, for days on end. At the time of this photo, I would only eat desserts. I couldn’t stand the smell of savory food and James would have to eat REALLY FAST (like 30 seconds or less) to keep me from freaking out. This pink apartment was also the place where I worked out a number of psychological issues which finally enabled me to tolerate all of colors, flavors, and smells. 🙂
Goodbye astrology readings. Goodbye ESP Journal. There must be no more staring into the mist. No more checking James’s phone for Snapchat every time he takes a shower.* No more obsessing over other people in general.
My goal now is to become an individual. To not just be a perceiver but also something that can be perceived. A specific, down-to-earth human with a personality, face and history attached.
If I had to describe my self as a number, I would be a 2 for sure. It is so easy for me to get lost in obsessing over other people, analyzing them, drawing their rectangle ghosts in my journal, absorbing their feelings and problems. Whereas the thought of being an individual, a separate stand alone entity, is inconceivable. And that is what must change. I have to find a way to become a number 1.
Two things that have always freaked me out are mirrors and photographs. My own image unnerves me, but also anything that reminds me of my own existence- from a certificate with my name on it to a picture I painted. The sound of my own music sends me into a panic. I don’t know why. I just find it easier to live as a shapeless octopus at the bottom of the ocean, watching and absorbing the colors around me, blissfully unaware of my own existence.
Everywhere I go, I seem to learn a lot about the people around me while remaining relatively unknown myself. It is easy for me to be fascinated by the tiniest details of someone’s life. It is less easy for me to share details about myself. My own self and life seem transparent and lacking a definite form…
And now I can no longer think because my husband is falling asleep. The second he begins to fall asleep thick creamy brainwaves fog up my mind, sometimes containing horrible emotions as well. It causes a headache and makes clarity impossible. Does anyone else have this problem? It is especially troublesome since he enjoys taking naps. Sometimes it can take hours for the goo to leave my head. I guess it would not be easy being married to me.
But still (I am now on the opposite floor & side of the house, trying to escape the white glaze) I am hopeful that by becoming more of an individual, these cracks will begin to seal up, and I will be less impacted by the emanations of others.
There is no point trying. I am not going to be able to outrun these brainwaves, so I must bring my musings to a close before my brain fogs over completely. The basic point is I must learn to become an individual, a number one. Perhaps I should start taking selfies. So far, I have only taken one, as a dare to myself, whoever that is.
My first selfie… doesn’t it seem so wrong though? Maybe I should sit up while taking it, to give it a more professional feeling.
Me (on the right) trying to get as far away from the phone as possible and smiling in horror that James has chosen to ruin a perfectly good moment by taking a photograph. We were waiting out a rainstorm in an alcove of the capital building. The strange look on James’s face is due to him saying very out of character things in an effort to make me smile, which is so hard to do with a camera around. He is probably saying how cute he thinks some man is and how he would like to cover his body in scented creams.
*No Snapchat or related items were found. But as a Scorpio, I enjoyed looking.
Trapped inside me is a mother Trapped inside me is a rolly polly girl I’m gonna shake it like no other I’m gonna spread my crazy fingers through the world.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy sees me in the mirror Mommy runs her crazy fingers through my hair Mommy knows I like her makeup Mommy knows I like those crazy clothes she wears.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy says I am her angel Mommy says I am her bouncy flouncy boy Mommy sets me on the table Mommy says that when I dance it brings her joy.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
Mommy dances beside me; in the mirror we are one Mommy dances behind me; mommy and me have so much fun.
Trapped inside a woman I dab her makeup when it dribbles down my face Trapped inside me is a lady Watch this lady dance her way to outer space.
We will always be together child We can get through any weather child.
