I just came home from a bad night a bad week a bad year so far, who am I kidding? Stopped at the bar at the corner before I came back because I had no booze in the house and it seemed wise to take the edge off all the pistons misfiring–the fight I had tonight, the hot-hot-hot flamenco to which I bore witness, the revelation that my burning love for someone had been a tiny subplot in his burning love for someone else. So yes tequila tequila before entering my house. (Don’t want to scare Grace.) Continue Reading →
I woke craving chocolate cake, as I do when PMSing despite having quit refined sugar or dessert of any kind more than three years ago. It’s miraculous that I gave it up, really, given my passion for sweetening things up literally. Am I utterly vice-free? Goddess no; I’m still more of an isolationist than is healthy, I still drink “adult sugar” as a goddaughter once called wine, I’m still waiting for that last sweet-faced narcissist to leave my bloodstream. But the more I detox my family’s favorite drug–and apparently it takes years to do so–the more I recognize it as one of the most odious and culturally accepted tools of end-stage capitalism. Keep them loggy, keep them sick, and fill their spiritual voids with empty calories. People will swallow the worst kind of shit with a spoonful of sugar, and no one rises to fight from the throes of sugar coma.
Do you hate when people tell you about their dreams? I don’t. I like hearing about them, and I like sharing mine. In this messed-up world, it’s the only time we talk about the divine unconscious, which is why dreams often offer an ideal entry point to my Ruby Intuition sessions. Goddess knows dreams reveal all.
Last night: A dream of tiny vicerous* teeth embedded in the diamond ring he once gave me; the nightmares always nightmares of other people owning my body because i am pregnant. i did not wish either state, either title. I did not wish to bear young nor be a mother. Nor did I wish to wed nor be a wife. Wife and mother, mother and wife: no thank you. I wished for writer, actor, woman of the world. And i knew by age 20 that it was a fancy of the wealthy–a fancy of the fancy, if you will–to believe that women did not have to choose …men butch people really didn’t but that’s because even in 2018 they were the exception to a golden rule if they made parenting their raison d’être. The miracle was they could choose at all and from an early age i knew my choice but did not own it until I was nearly the age I am as i write this. you are not living up to this calling, whisper the voices as i drift to the surface of consciousness. you must be of service not just nervous….
I wake with dread.
*a word my unconscious manufactured meaning “viciously, viciferously visceral.”