regarding images in my head
if i look like i am thinking, i am just clearing my head
The best thing to do as a woman with a computer access for at least eight hours is to look at images.
Stigmata – according to Wikipedia: in Catholicism, are bodily wounds, scars and pain which appear in locations corresponding to the crucifixion wounds of Jesus Christ: the hands, wrists, feet, near the heart, the head (from the crown of thorns), and back (from carrying the cross and scourging).
Think of all the mysterious blue-black wounds on your body, think of the hours you have spent obsessing over them, nursing them into a placebo sickness. Yesterday we talked about phantom diseases, hypertension. How I said I am grounded because there is somebody operating within reason next to me. If not, I would be on my bed, hands crossed over my chest, waiting for my imminent death that won’t come for a while. Meanwhile, I would end up missing the world, the ways of it, the ways of seeing.
Pilgrimage – Pilgrimages frequently involve a journey or search of moral or spiritual significance. Typically, it is a journey to a shrine or other location of importance to a person's beliefs and faith, although sometimes it can be a metaphorical journey into someone's own beliefs. (Wikipedia)
There’s a light that never goes out, and for that I am grateful. It leads me to places unknown until. I refuse to die, because it’s simply too much of a hassle at the present moment. I have scattered my life across ports, and I will need to reach them all.
The blueprint of my dream house is a lighthouse.
A girl is a gun until the bullets are lost. A girl is a spear when it is time. I think I am headed in a direction with light-like intensity. I promise I will not make a sound. I am also on fire. I hope I end up in water. That is the way I have always wanted to go. Despite reading about it extensively as a teenager, and what happens in the last few moments, I think water is where I must end up.
I do not know how to swim.
When they come for our jobs, I will gladly surrender. When they come for my life, I will have nothing to give. When they try to imitate personhood, I can merely laugh a void.
On Keeping A Notebook, before it all. I have kept this image of Butler’s notebook in my head for at least a decade now. I look back and see piles of notebooks, scattered with names and facts of my life. I see a story in the making. I will make it; a pile of dough, kneaded into a file of known, compiled for everybody’s entertainment. I hope nobody’s watching.
