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#mildeditting
Still more, in words In experience Confusing Familiarity with Comfort Confusing Comfort with Peace Reifying confusion, but not successfully Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky Forgetting Seeing through, a single pinhole in a perfectly realistic backdrop Pinholes everywhere, more than can be contained Not containing Torn all over Dispelling everything Stripping away the Stripping away Trying to stand very still and very quite so I can feel, hear, sense Perfect realism Wanting to be convinced by rage Agitation, but only conceptual Feeling tight Feeling rehearsed Feeling like an imposter Wanting to impress Wanting to be convinced of Self, of Realness Fortified by others knowing, or preferably- admiration Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, likes, thumbs up Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse Compassion, like collapsing into a safe lap Relinquishing No pretense Bare being More naked than when unclothed Total exposure Outed, in the light of knowing Self forgetting and glimpses of freedom Trusting sighing Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad Feeling continuous Feeling fragmented Feeling like motion, like flow Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering Grasping at impermanence, visceral Resting in the middle Dancing down the tightrope Knowing perfect poise, brief equilibrium Reifying stability. Gone. Everything is hysterically funny Hysterically But also, sometimes, just plain humorous And absurd Crying Loving people Grateful for people Seeing beauty everywhere Encountering this, intimate, me, indistinguishable being, but everywhere Ouch Awareness Always coming back Like an epic Like a great love story Like the last wring of that silk dress you weren't supposed to squeeze dry Feeling like I shouldn't know what I know, like I couldn't. This must be illegal, cosmically illegal Knowing the inside of my hand Knowing teenage shame Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong softness Loving with understanding Loving with teeth and nails Music, lacerating Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving Becoming one single, concentrated point Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. Like physically with my body. Knowing I am not this voice Or this writer Or this narrator Though I am also all that
0
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 12:07 AM UTC
vi-2
Being is like this
Still more, in words In experience Confusing Familiarity with Comfort Confusing Comfort with Peace Reifying confusion, but not successfully Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky Forgetting Seeing through, a single pinhole in a perfectly realistic backdrop Pinholes everywhere, more than can be contained Not containing Torn all over Dispelling everything Stripping away the Stripping away Trying to stand very still and very quite so I can feel, hear, sense Perfect realism Wanting to be convinced by rage Agitation, but only conceptual Feeling tight Feeling rehearsed Feeling like an imposter Wanting to impress Wanting to be convinced of Self, of Realness Fortified by others knowing, or preferably- admiration Like being constructed out of sets of other peoples' eyes Like being made real by propagating in more minds, many more minds, specific minds. In countless beating and virtual hearts, likes, thumbs up Not wanting to be forgotten, while alive, while dead Taxed by maintenance and constant imminent collapse Compassion, like collapsing into a safe lap Relinquishing No pretense Bare being More naked than when unclothed Total exposure Outed, in the light of knowing Self forgetting and glimpses of freedom Trusting sighing Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad Feeling continuous Feeling fragmented Feeling like motion, like flow Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering Grasping at impermanence, visceral Resting in the middle Dancing down the tightrope Knowing perfect poise, brief equilibrium Reifying stability. Gone. Everything is hysterically funny Hysterically But also, sometimes, just plain humorous And absurd Crying Loving people Grateful for people Seeing beauty everywhere Encountering this, intimate, me, indistinguishable being, but everywhere Ouch Awareness Always coming back Like an epic Like a great love story Like the last wring of that silk dress you weren't supposed to squeeze dry Feeling like I shouldn't know what I know, like I couldn't. This must be illegal, cosmically illegal Knowing the inside of my hand Knowing teenage shame Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong softness Loving with understanding Loving with teeth and nails Music, lacerating Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving Becoming one single, concentrated point Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. Like physically with my body. Knowing I am not this voice Or this writer Or this narrator Though I am also all that
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76
Sleep deprivation *** Guilt Sense-making and maps of meaning Revisiting memories Crying Staying away from scary corners of my mind Deliberately going toward scariness Not resisting Yes resisting Respecting resistance Compulsive tv watching Dropping or letting go over and over again Exploring Curiosity Forgetting and then remembering that it’s all happening on its own, noticing this, knowing this, realizing this Realizing that realization comes and goes on its own Being in love with everything Crying Playing with time and concepts Craving emptiness Love Catastrophizing Ranking what "works" (i.e. sleep deprivation is effective), noticing that the metric of “effective” and "works" is = resulting in greater illusions of "forgetting" with a capital F Loving everything Being everything Self-flagellation Not really believing any of the stories or narratives Procrastinating Being irresponsible Getting off on self-loathing Forcing intimacy Compassion, large, whole, unrelenting, everywhere Oversharing Falling in love with a homeless person at a traffic stop Being bored and sad and hopeless and desperate Remembering inherent wholeness Being stubborn Getting out of the way always feels like dying Loving dying Loving mourning dying Dramatizing dying Wanting to be seen and loved Self-loathing Intensity Craving intensity Hating craving intensity Knowing that nothing is a problem Suffering Being impatient Being very very patient Feeling like I don’t belong in the world, like people and things and money and social media are alien, foreign and scary Feeling like I am the world Forgetting that knowing how to verbalize isn’t the same as knowing Wanting knowing with words to be the same as Knowing Wanting knowing to be a Real, solid thing Fear Mortal fear Bewilderment Constant background anxiety Hating this body Not caring for this body Being burdened by this body Feeling trapped in a body Feeling more trapped in a mind Wanting knowing to resolve everything Wanting to be saved Thinking that I probably don’t need to be saved Thinking or knowing(?) there’s nothing to be saved from Knowing that I can’t be saved Feeling open Feeling vulnerable Feeling exposed Feeling bad Feeling like I'm doing it wrong Believing it all Wanting to both believe it and have a choice about when, where, and to what extent I believe it Not knowing where the edge is until I've fallen off Feeling violated Feeling like existence is non-consensual Somehow trusting all of it, totally, exactly as it is Watching the panicking More crying Being one Being very very aware Noticing and letting go of effort in one swift move Compulsive clenching Compassion Dissolving Disillusion Dying without the novelty Being ok vey very briefly and for no apparent reason/because of no reason./? Wanting distraction Respecting needing distraction Getting out of the way of intelligent coping mechanisms Villifying coping mechanisms Understanding only in retrospect Frustration Compassion, deep, like warm water Compassion, hard, like being ****** vey very slowly Torture Life-giving torture Never wanting to stop Marveling Abundance like grace, like not deserving, like not needing to be deserving, like deserving is perverse language Tasting everything Endless kaleidoscopes of being and tasting and knowing Non visual seeing Clarity, brightness, nothing is a problem Being alive Being sososo tired Wanting to rest, to die into void and nothing Wanting to hibernate Wanting to still Dying to get off Begging to get off Finding the edge more thrilling than the center (because then the center can be anything at all?) Loving all the previous versions of this being Needing to hate, loathe, earlier renditions of this being Hating repulsion Trusting repulsion Getting stuck because resisting repulsion Knowing that there's no way out Knowing that the way out that I'm seeking isn't a way out Not wanting to do the work Dancing around the center, constantly Feeling dizzy with chaos, with knowledge of power Feeling comfortable with mediocrity Hating mediocrity Waking up with jaw tension from the enormity of my own suppressed power Telling stories about sensations Relying on self-bullying methods I know don't work Perfecting the art of pretending Perfecting the art of self-deception Wanting to make the stakes higher Being overwhelmed by my own storytelling Not wanting to give stories credibility by dispelling them Naval gazing Loving philosophy Feeling dried up, tired, stagnant, disinterested, not engaged, not here. Sleepwalking. Sleep writing. Sleep talking. Sleep caring Not sleeping Vivid dreaming High weirdness Questioning my sanity Romanticizing insanity Wanting to blur all boundaries Wanting to smooth the edges of reality Questioning reality Destabilizing reality Feeling destabilized Feeling irresponsible Guilt Feeling sick and tired Feeling scared Feeling hopeless Wanting to reach out Feeling like everything is inevitable Feeling like suffering is inevitable Recognizing kindness Discerning well (properly? Clearly? Well.) Fearful trusting Thinking too much Not wanting to love my dad as much as I do. Chasing the intellectual high Disappointment No need for resolution Feeling caught in existence Feeling caught up. Like in a potato sack; I can explore the exact measure of my confinement, the sensorial elements, the scratchiness, the filtering light from the outside, the stagnation, the wanting to stretch. I love this being. This. It's not a problem. Confusing familiarity with comfort Confusing comfort with peace Reifying confusion, but not really Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky Seeing through, like pinholes in a perfectly realistic backdrop Dispelling everything Stripping away the Stripping away Trying to stand still and feel Wanting to be convinced by rage Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad Feeling continuous Feeling fragmented Feeling like motion, like flow Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering Grasping at impermanence Resting in the middle Dancing down the tightrope Knowing perfect poise, so so brief Everything is hysterically funny Hysterically But also just plain humorous And absurd Loving people Feeling grateful for people Seeing beauty everywhere Always coming back Like an epic Like a great love story Like a violin solo in a forbidden song Like the last wring of that silk dress you're not supposed to squeeze dry Knowing the inside of my hand Knowing teenage shame Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small, nowhere to go Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong soft body Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving Becoming one single, concentrated point Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. With my body. I am not this voice Or this writer Or this narrator Though I am also all that
0
Aug 5, 2022
Aug 5, 2022 at 11:58 AM UTC
vi-2
"I" is a verb/The art of Selfing
Sleep deprivation *** Guilt Sense-making and maps of meaning Revisiting memories Crying Staying away from scary corners of my mind Deliberately going toward scariness Not resisting Yes resisting Respecting resistance Compulsive tv watching Dropping or letting go over and over again Exploring Curiosity Forgetting and then remembering that it’s all happening on its own, noticing this, knowing this, realizing this Realizing that realization comes and goes on its own Being in love with everything Crying Playing with time and concepts Craving emptiness Love Catastrophizing Ranking what "works" (i.e. sleep deprivation is effective), noticing that the metric of “effective” and "works" is = resulting in greater illusions of "forgetting" with a capital F Loving everything Being everything Self-flagellation Not really believing any of the stories or narratives Procrastinating Being irresponsible Getting off on self-loathing Forcing intimacy Compassion, large, whole, unrelenting, everywhere Oversharing Falling in love with a homeless person at a traffic stop Being bored and sad and hopeless and desperate Remembering inherent wholeness Being stubborn Getting out of the way always feels like dying Loving dying Loving mourning dying Dramatizing dying Wanting to be seen and loved Self-loathing Intensity Craving intensity Hating craving intensity Knowing that nothing is a problem Suffering Being impatient Being very very patient Feeling like I don’t belong in the world, like people and things and money and social media are alien, foreign and scary Feeling like I am the world Forgetting that knowing how to verbalize isn’t the same as knowing Wanting knowing with words to be the same as Knowing Wanting knowing to be a Real, solid thing Fear Mortal fear Bewilderment Constant background anxiety Hating this body Not caring for this body Being burdened by this body Feeling trapped in a body Feeling more trapped in a mind Wanting knowing to resolve everything Wanting to be saved Thinking that I probably don’t need to be saved Thinking or knowing(?) there’s nothing to be saved from Knowing that I can’t be saved Feeling open Feeling vulnerable Feeling exposed Feeling bad Feeling like I'm doing it wrong Believing it all Wanting to both believe it and have a choice about when, where, and to what extent I believe it Not knowing where the edge is until I've fallen off Feeling violated Feeling like existence is non-consensual Somehow trusting all of it, totally, exactly as it is Watching the panicking More crying Being one Being very very aware Noticing and letting go of effort in one swift move Compulsive clenching Compassion Dissolving Disillusion Dying without the novelty Being ok vey very briefly and for no apparent reason/because of no reason./? Wanting distraction Respecting needing distraction Getting out of the way of intelligent coping mechanisms Villifying coping mechanisms Understanding only in retrospect Frustration Compassion, deep, like warm water Compassion, hard, like being ****** vey very slowly Torture Life-giving torture Never wanting to stop Marveling Abundance like grace, like not deserving, like not needing to be deserving, like deserving is perverse language Tasting everything Endless kaleidoscopes of being and tasting and knowing Non visual seeing Clarity, brightness, nothing is a problem Being alive Being sososo tired Wanting to rest, to die into void and nothing Wanting to hibernate Wanting to still Dying to get off Begging to get off Finding the edge more thrilling than the center (because then the center can be anything at all?) Loving all the previous versions of this being Needing to hate, loathe, earlier renditions of this being Hating repulsion Trusting repulsion Getting stuck because resisting repulsion Knowing that there's no way out Knowing that the way out that I'm seeking isn't a way out Not wanting to do the work Dancing around the center, constantly Feeling dizzy with chaos, with knowledge of power Feeling comfortable with mediocrity Hating mediocrity Waking up with jaw tension from the enormity of my own suppressed power Telling stories about sensations Relying on self-bullying methods I know don't work Perfecting the art of pretending Perfecting the art of self-deception Wanting to make the stakes higher Being overwhelmed by my own storytelling Not wanting to give stories credibility by dispelling them Naval gazing Loving philosophy Feeling dried up, tired, stagnant, disinterested, not engaged, not here. Sleepwalking. Sleep writing. Sleep talking. Sleep caring Not sleeping Vivid dreaming High weirdness Questioning my sanity Romanticizing insanity Wanting to blur all boundaries Wanting to smooth the edges of reality Questioning reality Destabilizing reality Feeling destabilized Feeling irresponsible Guilt Feeling sick and tired Feeling scared Feeling hopeless Wanting to reach out Feeling like everything is inevitable Feeling like suffering is inevitable Recognizing kindness Discerning well (properly? Clearly? Well.) Fearful trusting Thinking too much Not wanting to love my dad as much as I do. Chasing the intellectual high Disappointment No need for resolution Feeling caught in existence Feeling caught up. Like in a potato sack; I can explore the exact measure of my confinement, the sensorial elements, the scratchiness, the filtering light from the outside, the stagnation, the wanting to stretch. I love this being. This. It's not a problem. Confusing familiarity with comfort Confusing comfort with peace Reifying confusion, but not really Yielding, on my knees, heart to the sky Seeing through, like pinholes in a perfectly realistic backdrop Dispelling everything Stripping away the Stripping away Trying to stand still and feel Wanting to be convinced by rage Always loving Sad, not despondent, just sad Feeling continuous Feeling fragmented Feeling like motion, like flow Feeling like thousands of still frames, constant flickering Grasping at impermanence Resting in the middle Dancing down the tightrope Knowing perfect poise, so so brief Everything is hysterically funny Hysterically But also just plain humorous And absurd Loving people Feeling grateful for people Seeing beauty everywhere Always coming back Like an epic Like a great love story Like a violin solo in a forbidden song Like the last wring of that silk dress you're not supposed to squeeze dry Knowing the inside of my hand Knowing teenage shame Knowing being yelled at, towered over, by my dad, in a narrow hallway, eyes glued to speckled floor tiles, feeling small, nowhere to go Loving with my body, with my hands, with my mouth, with my whole entire strong soft body Crying with tears, and snot, and heaving Becoming one single, concentrated point Wanting to envelope everything. Really. Actually. With my body. I am not this voice Or this writer Or this narrator Though I am also all that
Continue reading...
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