Telemachus’s Realization

While living in Nashville I wrote a series of songs… 15 or so… about the Odyssey (by Homer) & this was the third one. I guess it relates to Telemachus coming into his own power & realizing how awesome he is.

On a personal level, hi! How are you doing? I am fine I suppose. Recently I have been trying to become more yellow again by sitting in front of a yellow light for an hour or so a day. It has me feeling a little out of sorts, but we will see if I can stick with it and reach the other side.

What will be on the other side? I am not quite sure, I just feel that yellow is a color I lack. While I am intelligent, I don’t feel yellow intelligent- the sort of down to earth intelligence that knows how to get from point A to point B on this space-time continuum. If you are yellow enough, the world is your oyster. And least I hope that is what I will find when I finally reach the Yellow World.

Here is a better picture of Patton, the new dog. The last one I posted was from when we had just found him, so he looked like a wild animal. But here you can see he is settling in well to family life.

Wife Head

It has been impossible to write on this blog recently, because I have fallen into wife consciousness.

Around a year ago, probably due to James’s inaccessibility, I started connecting my emotions to the faceless glob of possibility known as “The Public.” I enjoyed connecting with these invisible people on an emotional level and somehow felt they were my friends.

But then, around a month ago, a change of heart caused me to seek emotional fulfillment through James instead. This only led to my disappearance as an individual. After all, James is absorbed in technical things 99% of the time. Trying to connect with him by discussing feelings & relationship issues is a recipe for disaster (although he is great at helping me solve problems that don’t involve him).

Females connect by sharing negative feelings & problems. Men interpret this as criticism or a demand to fix something. So you open yourself up to receive empathy but instead get anger and defensiveness. Now you feel more needy and alone than before which makes you try still harder to connect. Before long it turns into a degenerative cycle with all your energy going into a circuit that returns pain.

Whereas with The Public, I can be more real. I can share feelings and always receive soft love in return- even if only in my imagination. The public is the moon- gooey, silver, magical, reflecting you back to yourself until you feel you exist.

But still- the thing about me is I am REALLY into being a wife. It is an unhealthy obsession. I don’t know how to give up on having a perfect ultimate connection and settle for something brisk, sporty and casual. But when you are too idealistic, it causes things to crash.

Plus, I just feel guilty about investing myself emotionally in any other direction. I feel guilty seeking fulfillment through writing a blog post or a song. It feels like I am giving up on love.

And wife consciousness makes it hard to express yourself anyway. While I am ok with making myself look bad- I sort of expect it- the idea of reflecting negatively on James feels like committing triple homicide.

And realistically there is little you can say beyond “Everything is Wonderful! I am so happy!” that doesn’t potentially cloud your husband’s reputation. If you say “Nice dicks, boys!” that could reflect badly on him. If you say “I hate my life- I am so miserable.” that could reflect badly on him. If you say “I love idiots!” that could reflect badly on him.

So I really don’t know what to do. As an artist, I have to straddle the crack between Stepford Julien & being real. Of course, James says he doesn’t want me to make him look good- he doesn’t care about that- but this is hard for me to believe. Making men look good is the whole reason society is fake, isn’t it?

If it was just women, we would be talking about our insecurities & failures all the time, but men- being soldiers- don’t do that. And so women- caring about men- become fake as a way of protecting them. That is why there are only Stepford *wives* & no Stepford singles.

If I was single, I could be transparent, but since I am married I must be opaque, like men are. I WANT to be opaque and fake to make James look good. As an expression of love. But I also need the moon juice that comes from transparency.

Even just writing this could make James look bad.

There is no way out.

I am doomed.

Ps. I hope I am making sense & there aren’t too manny spelling errors. My brain is pretty tired, due to the new dog, Patton, waking me up in the morning, while James’s schedule keeps me up into the wee hours of the night.

The new dog- Patton. I sort of wish I had named him Hazel because it sounds more vicious. But you shouldn’t switch beds midstream. He is a good dog but very demanding.

The Lamp

Originally the chorus was “I feel you growing like a lamp behind me,” but then I got paranoid that lamp could have some alternate sexual meaning, as 90% of words seem to, so I changed it to Light, just to be safe. No one will read anything seedy into pure, disembodied Light.

Open the shade- I know what is coming
The stars, the sky, the moon- they are all watching
Kidneys hurt- too hard to stand
Hello floor- it’s me again.

Down on the floor- I see him beside
His golden eyes- they shine they guide.
He can’t touch; he can’t do nothing to save.
Those are the rules and he is just a slave.

Give it just a little more time- I’ll know you’ll save me.
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby.
Give it just a little more time- I know you’ll find me.
I feel you growing like a lamp behind me.

He is silent, he is strong and standing in his square
A pane of glass between us and his body made of air
Sometimes I will slump down on that glass and I will breath him
Till I’m weak and I am crying from believing that I need him.

He says- Stand up on your legs. Oh, no, no, no- I am too weak
And if I don’t crumble like a slut who will be there for me?
Because half of all these days I can’t remember who I am
I just look around and grab onto the first hand that I can.

Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time, I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.

When God is your witness please say you will vouch for me
No no not to say that I was good, nor that I tried to be
But please tell him that my leaves reached up like arms towards his sky
Tell him that my roots would suck so hard they made the earth grow dry.

Give it just a little more time, I’ll know you’ll save me
Though you are not my man and I’m not your baby
Give you just a little more time I know you’ll find me
I feel you drawing like a light behind me.

Download MP3: The Lamp

I also wanted to make love (video)

Well, I have explained this before, but I wrote this song while living in Nashville. My rule at the time was that every single song must have “making love” in the chorus. It started because I found those words somewhat icky, which then made me strangely attracted to using them.

Regardless of how it began, once you use words enough, all of their old connotations fall away & new ones develop which are personal to you.

It’s a bright blue day, it’s a horses’ parade,
It’s the very first day of spring.
And the men are tip tapping to the steeple bells
as they shine through a golden ring.

And the ladies are swaying and they’re dancing and playing
with their hair so long and gold,
But every time a pony shakes his mane
I grow cold.

You offer up a ribbon for my hair;
I give you a frown and a shrug.
Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.

A pole is painted in bright red stripes,
A tent in stripes of blue,
And the horses got pompoms in their hair
and shiny saddles too.

And every lady wears a little bouquet
that was picked by a little man.
But my daisies are crushed beneath the pony feet
into the sand.

I need to find me a mountain
so I can rise high above…
Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.

You wear a great big top hat,
You ride a great big horse.
You got a knack for politics
and muscular discourse.

You got no need for
You don’t believe in prophecy.
You got no use for trifles,
You don’t need me.

So put away the pompoms and the polka dots.
Put away the big parade.
All the men dressed up like fairies,
cause fairies ain’t welcome here anyway.

Small things, little things, odd things, pretty things,
All the theater and display,
Cause you don’t like, don’t like, really don’t like
fairies anyway.

You’re going down to the valley so low,
I’m gonna walk high above.
Oh what about me? I also wanted to make love.

Sausage Time

This is just a symbolic representation of the problem & not an actual drawing of it.

Well, this is something I have wanted to write about for a while, but it is hard for me to put into words. Also, I question the wisdom of exposing weaknesses in a world where enemies are squirrels and friends are unicorns. Nonetheless, sharing is part of my life’s purpose (I think), and if you don’t fulfill your purpose you will be thrown back into the fire at death. So here we go.

Basically, there is something wrong with my head. I will try to describe the problem through 2 ideas which are probably interrelated.

  1. Sausage Time

    My husband calls this going fugue. I have tried to explain it before. Basically, all the sudden something will switch and it becomes hard to remember and relate to whatever I had been doing in the moments and days prior. It is like one sausage has been pinched off and a new one begun. The beginning of a new sausage coincides with new perspectives, ideas & approaches to life.

    But it isn’t changing ideas that are problematic. The problem lies in the sense of disconnection from who I was previously, as though my memory and identity- rather than running seamlessly like a river- have been pinched like a sausage. Like how you feel when you are waking up from a dream… even if you remember parts of your dream, there is still a feeling of discontinuity, as though you have moved through a veil. The dream self shared the same name and soul but not the same mind or stream of consciousness as your waking self.

2. No Skullcap

I am the normalest person you could ever hope to meet from my toes up to my ears. But from my ears to about six feet above my head, something isn’t right. It feels like my skullcap is missing and where my own head should be there are a million overlapping heads instead. They all belong to different people and sometimes to things that aren’t people.

Which sounds like schizophrenia, but probably isn’t since I don’t experience psychotic breaks from reality. I do experience the air as being filled with the thoughts, feelings and consciousness waves of other beings, but this is a stable part of my reality which never stops me from flossing my teeth. It co-exists with shared social realities but does not override them. And in these days of wireless technology, the idea of air being filled with information shouldn’t be a stretch.

Nonetheless, it feels like some kind of barrier is missing at the top of my head and I am constantly being pelted with endless chaotic inputs. It helps slightly if I wear a hat, sunglasses and ear plugs. But, in general, I try to deal with it by staying busy so my consciousness has a specific thing to focus on. According to my astrology chart, though, my life’s purpose lies in exploring these invisible realms and NOT trying to escape them through work. But that is easier said than done, since if I don’t try to actively avoid that part of myself it feels like flying in a tornado (from my ears up), and I feel despair- knowing that whatever this stuff is is so infinite & complex that ever getting a handle on it must be impossible.

Still, the chaos and overflow of information isn’t the problem. The real problem is the absence of a center point I can identify as myself.

To make matters worse, when I DO occasionally look at it, before long I tend to get sucked into one particular consciousness wave and then BAM! a whole new sausage has begun.



** PS. If you have read my other blog entries, you may have read about ESP journaling which involves looking at the energetic things which are coming from other people. I will also sometimes journal the pieces of this chaos which are emanating from myself (which is easier to do.) But even after removing these 2 factors, tons of STUFF remains which I have absolutely no way to make sense of. I think it comes from realms beyond the human but that is so far outside my scope of knowledge that I have zero idea how approach it. Hence why I prefer to stay busy and never go near the top part of my head.

The Lights

‘Oh! I wish you were dead.
Then I could get some sleep, just please put a bullet in your head.
Oh! You better not speak again.’
Slide to the floor, let it hold me once more, my thick and heavy friend.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Oh! It’s like a parade-
Everyone dancing around in the sun while I’m searching for the shade
Or someone who can help me understand the things I’ve seen;
But the dark world engulfs me, he’ll never let go because I am his queen.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Oh! So this is the night?
And these are the friends who slide under the door in the guise of liquid light?
Oh! This is the Column of Heat!
You have arrived, now I will shut my eyes because I know it’s safe to sleep.

Here come the Lights! Here come the Lights!
I’ll follow them now, though they’re guiding me down
Because they’ve come to set things right.
Here come the Lights!

Made Love to My Father (video)

bandage on my eye
sun shines on the barrell of my gun
& the blood on my hands is dry

today i turn thirteen
i’m pretty strong but i ain’t that old
& they call me brave cause the truth be told
the very youngest in the calvary…

hey hey little boy blue
get over here we got something for you
the shiniest gun that you’ve ever seen

all the men are squinting in the sun
& they’re knocking the flies away
they treat me kind & they pat me on the head
& i think i’m gonna die today…

i made love to my father & now I must pay…

my horse i named him Queen
he does whatever i tell him to
tho he’s four times bigger than me

sun shines on grass of green
i watch the sun rise up in the sky
and the time slip away from me

hey hey little blue boy
i’m gonna show you something today
bite down on your finger son cause you’re gonna be a man today

childhood skips after the sun
thru the checkerboard of the sky
blue tears welling up in my eyes
& i think i’m getting ready to die…

i made love to my father & now i must pay…

a rabbit sits on my shoulder
& he sometimes talks to me
i do whatever he tells me to
tho he’s four times smaller than me

bugle splits the sky
drum beat pounds up thru the earth &
the men get ready to die

canon splits the sky
sun leaps up over my head
& it pours in through my eye

hey hey little boy blue
you’ve got a daddy up in the sky
he’s up there waiting for you
with his hand stretched down from the sky

guns unzip the gates of hell
but it seems much different to me
blood shines & peals like a bell
that’s how it seems to me

three clouds drift like kings
thru the checkerboard of the sky
they look so soft to me
that my heart begins to cry

i made love to my father & now i must pay…

Three Feather Man (video)

It has taken me a million days to perform the simple task of posting this video because

1. I went fugue & got lost in bizarre new interests & only recently remembered who I was again.

2. We aquired a second dog- Patton- who was found wandering an intersection downtown. He appears to be a 4 month old german shepherd mix & has a lot of energy.

3. We do not have heat & the house is very cold, making it challenging to perform simple tasks, like cooking & brushing teeth. Normally I would rise to the challenge & use it as an opportunity to go full on pioneer, but something about the cold combined with the stress of the new puppy has knocked me out of orbit a little bit, and accomplishing daily tasks has taken on the feel of climbing a mountain.

None of which has anything to do with this song though. It is just me wanting to say hi.

We were sitting together on the front porch swing
You started talking about everything
Like how the white man stole your land away

And I felt in my heart like I was to blame
Like it was my fault and I felt this shame
And then I felt your feathers tickle me

We were sitting on the porch drinking lemonade
Both wearing sneakers that were Nike made
When I first felt your feathers tickle me

Well I thought it must have been the wind on my shoe
Till I first caught sight of your big canoe
Moving slowly through those waters towards me

And though I ain’t been good, I could start tomorrow
Won’t cause nobody no more sorrow
Just please, sir, take your feathers off of me

Just take that green feather off my thigh
That red feather off my eye
Just pull your yellow feather out of me

It felt like running through the woods at night
I could feel your breath but their was nothing in sight
I could feel my soul just running away to die

Your skin was sticky but it wasn’t red
Your three feathers lined up in my head
As three feather man came slowly over me

Like curdled milk in a broken vase
A dead white man without a face
I could see that crooked finger point to me

Put that green feather on my thigh
That red feather on my eye
Put that yellow feather into me

It don’t mean nothing that you spared my life
Cause it ain’t worth nothing now since that night
Cause Jesus saw your feathers touching me

Yeah God was watching from his starlit sky
Staring me down with that humongous eye
And I know God won’t be forgiving me

And I know I’ m deserving of all this and more
Dirtier than dirt more down than a floor
But Three Feather Man I’m begging you for mercy

Just take your green feather off my thigh
That red feather off my eye
Pull that yellow feather out of me