my cabbage rose obsession

 

retrospective, my Oregon trails

The sky was always full of ash there;

waiting at bus stop on the way to work at Rare Earth in Ashland

Self serve, the best tomatoes; there was a cash box and their trust

My Goat friend in Talent on the walk home

my knee and a Mountain View eating lunch

Ashland bookstore 

 

i fear I am so dreadfully sad. i do not think i am ok. and the enormity is stunning ….and cannot, shall not, will not utter aloud to anyone because they would never understand

is there nowhere left to breathe.no place to rest a heavy head no warm shoulder; this cold world

What if —as a human race— we lose our memories because of AI ?

passing shades black thoughts

Those chapters that you flip through ….in a dictionary 

the thumb-cuts at letters to save time 

shut the dictionary—snap

Then open again …..Electra ….

like Alice we call through the pages. We do not exist. she is lost in that vast abyss of nothingness ….i invisible. i am invisible 

nobody sees she exists/she doesn’t exist —she slammed the door on me but we didn’t feel it. how stupid; to put a shield 

quality of life who has the right to rob anyone of that

The will ….of the human spirit is the individual’s right to be. All stars in the galaxy.

There was this sense ….like a compass. The needle. It just wiggled there—like the Bermuda Triangle. And with it, the scent of my riding saddle from the back of my primary blue Hyundai hatchback ….his autobiography id stolen of him from the library ….on my passenger seat…. a dizzy surreal sick waxing feeling with prickles of electric on my face and hands. Sweat. Fear. Dry mouth. Who am I? What am I? Who is what

Lately I have been thinking about ‘Voice’ and how any of us of whom walk this earth has any. 

As an artist.

As a thinker.

As a citizen of this planet …. And The Love Letter We Leave Behind ….

it feels like 

        there is something important to preserve that —may be is becoming lost. Is this the role I should take then. 

There is so much futility. I don’t wish to add more to the heap. But still—no….it feels lazy to shrug it all off ….not my problem, not my generation, not my place, not my role; and it could be true. But I ….can’t. It seems I just can’t. It seems I am unable to sleep at night because I am haunted by the sense….I just did not play my part as I should have, and it won’t shut up so it could be it’s just a mental dysfunction I have…. DNA memory from dear old dad. Believing I needed to make an impact on humanity. I ….could have just inherited the delusion and it’s time to snuff it out….but….it seems wrong;a waste; an irresponsible attitude after everything —all the shit of the past.maybe I’ve been aware all this would happen and would have to first ….before I gave my voice 

Jm muse; disarming the complex noir

“You know those subtle things that ….happen—looking back….you realize what ….” I stop to take a breath —then, forge on, “you missed….” 

Jörn watches me. We have spent days together enclosed in this ….time we have together ….it has allowed me to learn how to let him in again 

He says,

“go on, tell me….duva—what was it ….? I am not here as your head shrinker, or spy— you should know by now ….we have a bond ….”

I must turn away. I am not used to any such ….kind words ….life has been so brutal to me for so long. Kind words make me cry

I will all of my strength not to weep and swallow as a painful tear breaks my wall. But I cannot let on. I am me. I am mine. I belong to me. And I am fine….nothing comes in and nothing goes out and we are very very far far away ….not here….

“he said ….” I stop. I start. “He said….” I stop I start. 

“‘Cuckold’ he said,” I glance at Jörn, “it was always in their fights! And point to me! He’d say, ‘you think I don’t know I was cuckhold? That bastard nigger baby….’”

and the asthma kicks in. 

I don’t let on. 

I am strong. I am tough. I don’t need anybody ….and there, the agony releases —my shield 

I am armed. I am prepared. Nothing comes in….

“….yeah,” I say, “it was scathing and hurtful remarks to me—he said ….cruel things all the time, of course. Stupid. Was number one. But I tested genius as a kid. He put me down for being dyslexic but he never came out and said it to my face but he said that no one in his family history had my problem. And pointed out physical things about my body as I was growing up. They were insulting now thst I understand what he was saying ….

“but I was just in the way…. Wasn’t I? He just hated me for what we know now for a reason that is ….i was a product of sin; adultery. The product of his wife fucking a notoriously famous politician. You know? Even though she knew Ethan first; loved him all her life; was her first and true love; forced not to marry!!! Because it was the way it was—born on the wrong side of the blanket. I blindly have carried the weight of their ‘sins’ ….and offered myself as scapegoat to thst father —why, Jörn? Because I felt it! I felt it. I could never quite grasp why ….but I felt dirty ….and I didn’t know why ….what did I do? What was this curse….?”