Saturday, March 7, 2015

DEATH LIFE



retrospect:

i had all things arranged to set up shop, from sectioned & alphabetized videos to an operating print and paperwork station, before boss came clean about having not even written a business plan to approach investors for securing what it would take to erect the one wall i needed.  i had to move my personal belongings twice because of it's collapse AFTER having already been the primary transport for boss into the house we would go on to share.  mid-upper white art students coagulating hive-mind focus on late-night pseudo-partying in "cooperative" spaces and budgeting smaller tips to afford more beer.  ran a noise dungeon just to watch people abuse it so they could feed their followers.  still managed to finally eliminate debt i had been carrying for almost a decade along with earning trust in: a collective that welcomed me into working with them, a farm willing to let me break myself to grow clean food and an independent business opening itself to my operational skills.  i left those things because my family couldn't help me with them and i was in a position to, instead, return to where i left to promote their projects.  i trashed or sold more than half of my possessions.

everything was moved into the glenn house before realizing the kind of gallows it really was.  boss didn't bother addressing my stance or the willingness i had for engaging boss's gardening projects along with keeping up boss's house under the terms already offered ... but, again, beer money (previously recorded).  my tank moved three of us away from that AFTER i had been a primary transport to relocate other family and i watched my debt return to a place higher than before i went to grand rapids by necessity of engaging western medicine, compounded by the trauma of a close loved one's near fatal experience.  my ability to engage the last community i may have felt any proactive connection to was dissipating and my propaganda took a back seat, again, for white, happy-go-lucky "music" centered around conglomerate-run bar-like culture.  still managed to settle myself in a situation that secured several necessities under the existential terms i had been regressing to promote along with establishing myself as a strong part of helping operate an old friend's ground-works print shop.  i also learned how to cherish a new form of communication with an animal that should one day eat me under terms of a lifestyle we'd both rather be living and bonded with him enough to feel like i had a brother, not a pet.  i left a smaller pile of garbage in that garage than it started out with.

my slipping emotional disposition through this time stood in the way of supporting desire and i was losing my ability to communicate, as such awful feelings shouldn't burden the things or people we love.  drastic change amidst trauma didn't help absorb the concept of polyamory well, having seen conflicting results in a recent past, and i struggled to know my own triggers let alone understand how to confidently express boundaries in hopes to avoid pulling them myself.  i became static; paralyzed without idea how to support a partner's wild love while openly communicating feeling repressed as a result.  the triggers i was able to identify were swept under the "old shit to let go of" rug and i stopped moving.  "(i) ruined everything for (them)" and "(my) existence in (their) life is offensive".  managed to come out of it with perspective of a new person i had no idea how to want becoming.  i trashed or sold more than half of my possessions, again, and have to cope with losing a little brother over trust gone wrong through a crystal aura of having to be someone else's gender.






introspect:

so many of these elements shook my trust toward communism and love in a way that i worry i'll be able to rely on myself to believe in them again.  i have shattered myself hoping to help others for the last 2 years through three winterous situations and i am searching for armageddon.  i wanted to give for things to be better than i was and feel with little left but the unspeakable parts.  the insight from a collection of darkness can still allow me to see light anew.  i can't simply bury those things. i will teach myself to ferment such situations for sake of assimilating their grief, that it may promote a natural sense of awareness against allowing impact and help understand what kind of environment can promote the most essential of devolution, however slowly it needs to be found. 

i focus mostly on where i come from with what took me there, but that allows me to act more naturally to recurring variables while limiting necessity.  i've been asked too many times to use whatever i wind up with to take me wherever i go and drifting about on such external abstract concepts does not promote the constructive mentality in demand.  the only consolation i've been offered to my concerns about feeling forgranted and repressed are that i am responsible for my own actions, yet i can still be reminded as the failure i already recognized having been.  i learn about currents and the things/situations that can inhibit them, not simply the ideas they embody.





i want to love communism again but believe that stalin lives much more inconspicuously in modern people than goldman should.  i will always love her in fighting for it.


hail, myristicin.  hail, megatherium. hail, the cosmic void.






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