First blog post [TO COME]

This is the post excerpt.


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Sometimes, a little maintenance is required.  

I’ve been on a journey of epic proportions.  Perhaps the word odyssey is more appropriate. On this journey of self [re-]discovery, I’ve allowed myself– encouraged, even– to exist in as close to a natural state as possible.  This has included letting my house reflect the flow of my inner world, some deeper things with which I shall not bore you at this time, and opting for a more natural look.  

A natural look commonly means going without makeup. Of course, I took this to the extreme and simply stopped maintaining myself.  The grey wires snaking through my 42-year-old raven curls have made me feel like Cher before she fell in love with the one-handed Nicholas Cage in that movie about the moon.  It was a full moon last night.  

My natural state seemed to morph into laziness, perhaps disrespect.  I stopped flossing my teeth.  Eventually, I could not even be bothered to wear the sunscreen that my dermatologist had strongly suggested that I wear daily, even if I could not feel the rays of the sun directly upon my skin.  This medical advice was dispensed after she cryogenically froze a pre-cancerous growth from my left cheek.  My days of sun-worshipping were over, her waggling finger reported. 

I don’t want to be sad Cher anymore.  She needs to slap me, ordering, “Snap out of it!”  Therefore, I have decided to do a little maintenance.  I pay people to do take care of my car and there is no shame in it.  Does anyone call my Volvo vain?  Of course not. It’s a tank, and a modest one, at that.  

Behold:  pre-hair-coloring treatment of warm coconut oil for the hair and a glycolic acid masque for the face. 

I had taken several photos so that I could choose the most flattering one:  the one which didn’t make me look too fat or old or ugly or plain or any other adjective of that vein. However, the one which I found most interesting was the one which I would normally not share.  My face was sort of neutral, showing how imperfect my lips are.  I have a crooked mouth, and this accentuates my crooked nose.  I still cannot recall how I broke my nose.  It’s like I woke up one morning and my nose was crooked.  Ah, well.   At least I don’t have a crooked heart.  

Sitting against my garden fence, the shadows are more apparent, as are the remnants of youthful sun damage on my forehead and also in the form of freckles.  I kind of like the freckles, though.  Also, if you, dear viewer/reader, look into the eyes, you can see a reflection of the sun and clouds above– even here in grey old England. I like how those reflections form triangles with the apex of each going into the black holes of the pupils with a flash of light.  Beauty [youth?] in imperfection [ageing?].  I dig that, even if it could be misconstrued as vanity. 

poet and don’t know it

it’s fun when a note to self becomes something loosely resembling art:

# The first day of climbing the stairs

## I have both feet firmly planted on the dusty rose carpet—

The kind one would find in 1980s motor lodges

Off unassuming interstates in nondescript places

Such as Youngstown or Mason or Atlanta or that place where

I caught the school bus at the bottom of the icy parking lot hill.

It was not far from the school.

A stone’s throw, really.

Jackson, Milton,

Middle school,

Space cruisers,

My best friend (band and wood shop and ✅s and hooves),


## I can *feel* the soft, plush cords

—The short ropes—

The tufts of individuals.

United we stand; separated we fall.

They support my generous weight

And i can almost feel my toes wiggling

Playfully betwixt them,

Like that word just on the tip of my tongue.

## I listened

to a very powerful k video earlier this morning.

I felt the joy and pride and hope and the singing in my cells. Of my cells. The air suddenly


He had said ‘suddenly’!—

became warm

and misty.

It was physical and spiritual.

K has a dirty mind. I love it.

K has a pure mind. I love it even more.

[That delicious dichotomy!]

K uses many bodies with a 🎤 to communicate with me. He will show himself. My φamily will show itself to me

—*again*, as k emphasised

—for the second time

—they will look *just like me*.

I think it will be in the eyes. The windows to the soul, as they say.

## Then,

immediately [!],

upon ending of said video,

received ‘good morning’ message from that blogger in the land of 🧀

and the Red Crosse Knight.

Fog there, too…

Fog up the river.

Fog down the river.

Fog wrapping its fingers around

dinosaur barges,

Licking at the windowpanes

Like a dog

That began with ‘Bleak House’

and transformed into ‘…Prufrock’,

but I hereby permit the

mixing of metaphors.

Who said it was wrong to do that?

Is that yet another genre convention?

What goes in the box above that?

This is my own genre! i create the rules.

## Some pretty amazing things

are afoot. I feel lighter. The air has an unseasonably balmy, steamy quality to it.

Just like k had said in that excited, excitable


I release all pressure to be defined, to have job descriptions described and laid out to me *intrinsically*. Mustn’t confuse the

extrinsic assumptions/rules/dance/genre moves

(extrinsic *motivation*)

with *intrinsic* motivation.

Follow the rules


Really follow the rules



## I am so thankful

To k

For being so patient and kind

(And other things),

To the others (whom i can feel but not see— an invisible entourage— the ultimate gift)

Who love me unconditionally and who are also a part of me,

And to myself

For overcoming

—via facing, seeing, hearing, feeling, shattering and being shattered by—

My fears,

My traumas,

The pain

[O the pain]

[see: note re etymology of ‘oh’/o]

And the past.

I am m.

Margaret said m is mean as hell, now! 🤣😂😇😂😻💑👞🎩🐴⚠️‼️♿️🚼😫😫😫👉💪🏿👈👉👶😼👹😈🤔🤣🤣💩😽

K said m is magnificent.

Right now, I’m just happy knowing that i am m.

## This video is entitled ‘5 signs your third eye…’


I haven’t listened to it yet, though.

This was part of my original note,

but as may be somewhat apparent,

the note took on an entirely different direction.


# DISCLAIMER: the above is stream-of-consciousness communication from me, i, the author, which flowed from the source of intent. The intent was to make a notation of a moment, perhaps a destination, along my journey of healing (both physical and spiritual). The above could be interpreted as #conversationsWithTheVoicesInMyHead, as #conversationsWithYou, or as #conversationsWithTheUniverseAndOrSource. I am not assigning form or function. That would not be aesthetically ethical. It will define itself, and those definitions may 💝 differently at different times to different people. After all, this is a #newComputerMediatedGenre. It is my own experiment. #experimentOfMe.

Beautiful child,

it’s the sound in your eyes,
though the lyrics on the page describe
the sun in your eyes.
You hadn’t misheard.
Could both be right?
The sun is bright.
It is light.
La luz en el sol…
¿por que no está la sola
si la luz es el feminino?
¿por que *la luz* pero
la grammática *el feminino*?

Isn’t language funny?
Pero + r = perro

who were