i feel like i'm drowning sometimes. Or that i am on a steep steep incline in severe weather, loosing strength and breath, sliding, scraping inexorably down.  and i fortify myself again.  and i drive. and i drive.  almost as if that were the only safe zone.  but each 'pep' session is weaker and less enthused.  soon i'm only in there for lack of any other viable way of being.  i have no ability to relate to anyone beyond a superficial degree.  i watch women and men alike refuse me on all kinds of levels. always looking at me from a  point outside of warmth. I truly do feel an outcast.  i am one without a country of the heart. didn't know you couldn't come back. the whole texture of your being changes when you withdraw your soul from the world.  and i do not see the point of it all.  i have no other option than to accept, and re-accept what i am, how it is that i am with my life.  it is painful to know the extent of my power and yet be so cut away from it.  Severed. Amputated.  Totally unable to walk in it. So, here is this: Unable to feel beyond a very circumscribed range. Cut off. I know I am a writer.  It is part of my power.  Yet I am unable to sink into that subterranean range and drink deep, and deeper yet, and then, ascend to the surface of my tongue and speak words to your soul. This, i am certain, i used to be able to do.  Unable.  Cut off.   Heart.  Music.  Writing.  i am marooned in an arid, taunt place. All that i cannot reach, all i know and long to be, i can see only too clearly. Lucidly. Unambiguous. But, sometimes, for reasons i've yet to understand, i become empowered. i walk in it and feel incredibly real, perhaps even at home in the world. I am suffused with it, swollen with it, pregnant with life and the force of my intent.  But, I tumble back into exile.  Powerless.  Enthropic.  Adrift, but not on a journey.  Marooned. No wind in the sails!!!!!         SOS ?????          MAYDAY?? i am still trying to keep this frigging journal.  i did succeed in getting a power walk and tan in yesterday but didn't get up in time this morning.  at this stage being broke is just continuing to wreak havoc on my fucking workouts, that, and this insidious lethargy.     well, my first trip canceled so i will do my power walk.   These riots going on ( cincinnati spring 2001).......i was to take the president of the NAACP to the airport this morning, he canceled as he is staying on to continue meetings. but i imagined what i would answer were he to ask my view on possible solutions. and i remembered ( in imagining my response) Duwana, the black teenager i was to have been mentor to.  and didn't. because the chasm was too deep and my motives suspect.  some aspects of my relationship with her were too much about me.  White woman recuperating from cancer or fighting it and doing this shit.  i mean, was it for my spiritual rehab or because i had a real heart to teach her lessons she could use in her life.  well. i think the former. results are bottom line and i had no results . had i a heart that burned for her, i would have had results. so it was more about me. the story of my life that i'm writing includes this scene.  not good. then, even if i had sufficient heart, i lacked sufficient knowledge.  first of all, I have poor coping, life skills. budget, planning, discipline      ......all you need to create a stable foundation to erect your life, well, obviously i'm slightly flawed there. or so i judge myself. so, how teach her what i can not master? then, her life was an alien world. she had to know how to set a course within her world and how could i help chart such a path when i had no maps, no language, not even familiarity with the cultural customs of black folk. nothing . it was, the more i think about it, really pretentious crap.  now. i do know i have a heart for teenagers.  but it is also suspect. for the hunger i have to salvage their gifts for them resonates with my need for my own healing there. i just don't trust my motives there either, even though i consider that to be one of the more sincere elements in me.  but i still maintain it is wise to keep  in mind that all motivation starts with self gratification, before there is an ounce of true solicitation towards the 'other'. i mean, i genuinely enjoy teenagers, because i don't want to grow up probably.  but i also truly the love the intensity of their life force. really.  the flame burning so strong, warm, and empowering. the swaggering and posturing.  watching them trying to find their faces.  but you see. i am describing my enjoyment of them as if it were somehow laudable to feel benevolence to the breed.  i mean, it always, in any instance, comes down to self gratification.  that is what is so annoying about this constant struggle with money. The fact is, at some level i must be gratified or comfortable with or benefiting somehow from this grueling cycle.  and of course that is as always the crux of the matter and the object of my never ending inquisition into my psyche.  WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE THE PAYOFF AND WHERE IS THE SCOUNDREL IN ME WHO ENJOYS IT?  WHY? WHY? WHY? ahhh well. I digress.  But my response as to this racial issue is that it can't be resolved.  None of these wars and none of the alienation will be resolved until such a complete shift of being occurs, simultaneously, in the entire human race.  In my mind, fear promulgates the need to differentiate and label. ( meandering convoluted pondering up ahead...sorry) if you can identify something or someone.  distinguish it as separate from 'others'.  well, you code that instinct, as it were, with labeling.  to offset fear you try to increase the number of those labels you can identify with.  reinforcements. strength in numbers...........but in order to label, you have to first distinguish one thing as apart from, different than, something else.  if the label is black people , implicit is it's opposite, white folk  .......as opposed to just "folk" .....i mean, why did skin color become the defining label anyway?  why not a code using eye color or other overtly obvious features    .....i mean  ....if skin color simply had no significant cultural meanings then you would just have 'humans' but.  but, then again, you'd have russians and nigerians and egyptians .......so then what .......planet-teers?  well, that is impractical because if planet-teer 1 wanted to fly to see planet-teer 2  someplace east of him , he would have to name who he is visiting ( that jew in israel) and where in order to go there. i mean, it is fascinating how language can so structure your reality.  syntax, emphasis. i mean . just imagine a world without the terms we use to distinguish each from the other.  but, then again, by sheer practicality things would have to be named and there you go. black, indian, spaniard, fat, tall ugly ......and all those arbitrary fickle values assigned to each and all.  and i do say fickle. i mean we are the same creatures who sacrificed children in mountain top fire rituals  .....i mean, we who now purport to 'value' and esteem life and freedom beyond all else.  i mean, u see. it is frigging endless. but the spirit that animates the whole charade. (please excuse the following caps..too lazy to correct.)  BECAUSE HUMANS, I TRULY BELIEVE, ARE MANIFESTATIONS OF A VERY HIGH SPIRITUAL/ENERGY/LIFE FORCE/CONSCIOUSNESS/AWARENESS/GOD/GODDESS.....WHAT THE FUCK EVER.  I MEAN THERE IS THE ROOT AND THERE IT MUST BE CLEANsED AND CLEANSED AND IT MUST ALL HAPPEN SIMULTANEOUSLY BECAUSE IF YOU HAVE EVOLVED FOLK LIVING OVER THERE AND PRImiTIVES OVER HERE  .....WELL, SHIT .....YOU HAVE TO GUARD AGAINST EACH OTHER AND HAVE LAWS CONTROLLING ALL .....SO.  ...THAT IS WHY IT IS SO FRUSTRATING To HAVE HAD THE JESUS THING BLOW UP IN MY FACE .....THE CONCEPT IS PURE GENIUS. A POWERFUL SPIRITUAL BEING WHO IS SO PURE HE IS ABLE TO INHABIT FLESH WITHOUT being fouled by IT, THUS "REDEEMING" IT BACK TO ITS ORIGINAL VALUE AND PERFECT HARMONIZED FUNCTION.  aND In HIS ONE TRANSFORMAtional ACT ONE MIGHT PURIFY THE WHOLE HUMAN RACE. A FULCRUM OR GATEWAY ...what is it.. ..transmutation?  Boom . done. no more bad guys left to beat each other up. i mean....one can only speculate what other complexities would arise because of freedom, because pure energy is not static, change is constant...just spiraling in complexities, myriad's of tableaus. ....but the crunch here with the jesus thing is like......how do u tap into his energy so you can get the transformation thing going.  this i don't know and i will not buy into the christian conceptualization of it ...not for a heart beat. the only religions or whatever that i have studied that resonated with what i "feel" to be true is wiccan and tsaoism........ oh well....here i am again. gave myself an hour to hang and write and shit and i'll be damn if i didn't actually stick to this ....but must must move lazy ass now. must. _______________________________________________________________________ 04.14.01 i miss the net.  very much. i feel exiled. fuck. i am too often close to tears and i find that very  annoying. i think, as far as i can tell, i feel nothing about mom.  then i feel something that promises to be painful and i might even cry, but i maneuver away from it because, isn't it, after all, another story?  the truth is, as i have said before, i have always 'grieved' the loss of a mother, and the tears that come now are the same, a continuation of a long running theme.. so it seems to ring false to add any more pathos to it than that.  and it hurts as it always has hurt but pays little to dwell on it. _______________________________________________________________________ 04.17.01 ______________________________________________________________________ 04.20.01    i feel paralyzed.  i'm still in motion, but, it's of no use.  nothing changes.  so moving or not, trying or not, trying again and again...... or not.  but now i am not hoping for much.  it, hope, foolish hope, springs up but it gets slapped down sufficiently fast enough to do minimal damage, just bruise.  but its bruise after bruise after frigging bruise.  no healing.  its now i'm increasingly convinced that i am incapable of relationship.  not unless some creature of great empathic depth and wisdom for some reason takes heed of me and actually wants me.   well.  not gonna happen.  someone at that level of growth does not bottom feed.  they don't need spiritual cripples like me to make them feel good about themselves and have no reason to travel the scarred interior landscape of one continually wounded when they have access to lively effervescent humans who have managed to travel this planet sans blight.    so i have some fear, some trepidation as to how i can be safe.  how to  contain the pain and incredulity at life's blatant fucking inequities.  how to not let bitterness seep between my lips during conversations.  how to hide and appear normal as i become insane in my soul. ______________________________________________________________________ ok, the topic is , the QUESTION is, WHY do i so hate sex?  Really.  It could have gone many other ways, from mild interest to nymphomania.  But, being me, which is a perverse and demeaning thing to be, sex is elevated to my top 5 list of boring, banal, and hateful.  It's actual rank is #1. On a very academic level, i understand it's potency.  It's simply one of the strongest human instincts to perpetuate the race, and since it is, purportedly, one of the most desirable of experiences, well, hard-wired instinct combined with pleasure is a hard combination for most to resist. It is ridiculous how men are immediately enslaved by the sight of a nipple or the ripple of a firm buttock muscle.  Boom.  Gone.  To me, ( without rancor, please. this isn't all sour grapes here) but really, can anything be more ludicrous then to watch otherwise competent men loose all semblance of constraint or dignity, their faces growing fox like shrewd before your eyes, at the sight of tits and ass.  It's sad really.  no.  It's pathetic. More over, i resent sex.  I resent it's omnipresence, it's tyranny, it's uselessness.  The human race is all here.  There will be enough fucking going on by the ignorant masses to more than perpetuate the damn two legged primates. YOU WOULD THINK SOME ONE WOULD EVOLVE TO AN AUTHENTICALLY INDIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP WITH SEX.  NOT THE ENFORCED CELIBACY OF PRIESTS, BECAUSE SEX IS MORE THE MASTER BY IT'S ABSENCE THAN were it readily  AVAILABLE.  nO, JUST AN EVOLVED BEING WHO NO LONGER CAN BE ENTHRALLED OR DISTRACTED WITH IT.  IT MERELY BECOMES AN ALTERNATIVE ACTIVITY. YOU KNOW, BIKE RIDE, GO SAILING, FUCK, JOG, CLEAN THE CAR.  ONE OF MANY FAIRLY POINTLESS MEANDERING ACTIVITIES we do. goddamn mother fucking caps.  i am NOT going to take the time to retype. ____________________________________________________________ 04.22.01 just as an aside to the above entry, i have always also been curious as to why ones' sense of identity can be so inextricably linked to ones sexual desirability ( as determined by the cultural dictates of the moment).  I experienced this distinction myself when i was rejected as a lover, but welcomed as a friend.  The conclusion being that i was desirable for my wit, or humor, or wisdom, whatever, but not physically.  Now why did that hurt so much.  Why was that a knife to the heart? After all, i value my other attributes more highly ( at least in the long run) than my allure, but, perhaps i lie.  God knows how (sadly) important it is to me to appear attractive, 'hot'.  I want to be wanted and am satisfied with just that, because i really do not necessarily want to be 'had'. Be that as it may, i find it horrifically unsettling to realize i value sexual and physical acclaim so highly when i at the same time loathe the whole sexual game.  Same when i rejected someone sexually and, upon realizing her intense hurt around it, wondered why my valuing her company and conversation was utterly inadequate for her once she realized my interest didn't extend to her bed. so, the question remains.  How is it that sexual identity is of such primary importance to us humans?  Why is that more intrinsic to our evaluation of ourselves than the overtly more valuable attributes such as intelligence, integrity, spirit? ___________________________________________________________ i don't know that i have ever recorded, in print, the acute shame i feel around my body or if it would be the least bit therapeutic to do so.  Even though i understand that i am choosing to believe all that i believe about my appearance and it's essential role in attraction, i really cannot see where the 'facts' dispute my final conclusions, i.e., no looks = no life.  and then there are those  who swear that looks are irrelevant. yeah, right, but i don't appear to live on their planet.  The planet the so-called 'big and beautiful' women inhabit.....i actually do think it is delusional on their part to maintain that their obesity has nary a negative effect on their lives.  I mean they are gathering enough adherents that they can support their reality if they stay amongst themselves.  Much the way christians maintain their rip from reality by not participating in the larger (heathen) world, thus having nothing to contradict the inanity of their positions.  I mean, i'd really like to be able, like, say, debbie ooten, who is at least 130 too heavy, to state emphatically ( as she does), with straight face that  "i am beautiful."  She, i guess, actually can walk with that, feel it.  Yes, to me, her mind and her power are indeed beautiful things but i do not find her physically pleasing or enticing or alluring.  And even though i know it is all mass conditioning and media induced myopia that conjures for me beauty in slender, waif like images, none the less, i can't seem to find anything in me that disagrees.     so, when i see the sad and debilitating encroachments of age claim what beauty i may have ever had, i am, quite literally, in absolute terror as well as in acute, gripping shame. and try as i may, i cannot get around it.  And, actual experience bears me out. ( i cringe to reveal the following, but, uh, therapy? right?) i recently was foolish enough to take a 25 year old to bed and the revulsion i felt for myself the next day, upon realizing all the imperfections that i had exposed, well, i'm still repulsed and anxious around the whole incident.  and the proof is he didn't seek me out for more and that is usually bottom line with men. they want more if they liked the first serving.  and i am not used to being discarded sexually.  as much as i hate it, i have always excelled enough in technique to fool the man and get him off beyond his dreams.  that was the victory.  the power i could have, fleeting as an orgasm, but the power to make them defenseless, helpless, in the throes of a physical sensation that, for a moment, removes from them all of their power.  It is only i, at that moment, who has power.  who owns them. who can spit in their face with impunity.  but, of course, i don't.  I allow them to believe whatever they need to believe they just experienced. i even allow them to believe, to some degree, that they pleasured me.  just enough so they can save face. i let them believe whatever they want.  i know what was true for me.  and what is true for me is that if i can not own a man by virtue of my looks and sexual prowess i do not, do not, want the experience. which leaves me in the unhappy position of resigning myself to complete solitude for i am never again going to take a man without the perfection of body that is mandatory to conquer.  if i can't solve the cellulite, and frigging dried up skin and gut than i will just have to continue to be alone.     And then the fools, ( when on this topic, conversing with this man or that)  state that looks are not the ultimate criteria for them.  That they overlook cellulite or extra pounds.  EXCUSE ME?  Does not pornography (primarily populated with firm bodies) , male mags, sports illustrated bathing suit editions gather in billions?  do not men spend inordinate amounts of money to sit in blurry dark clubs to watch the perfected female strip.  If they do not consider that the ultimate in desirability and compare all women by those standards, then someone explain to me the enormous profits those industries enjoy.  Now, in the given moment, i belive the line men laughingly employ " put a bag over her head and fuck her."  that line, i believe is quite true for them when ever they are within sniffing vicinity of a pussy.  at that point they really don't care what it is attached to.  But, post ejaculation, even the bag is not enough and they cannot distance themselves fast enough.  And the men who claim to like fat women.  Sorry sweetie.  What it is ya'll love are lap dogs.  Women so grateful for the attention that they will play along with your charade of affection just to get held.  Just to belong to someone.  And you guys, you sick fucks, are quite content that no other man will want her and you own her lock stock and barrel, not by love but by pure manipulative deceit.     Now, no one. absolutely no one likes to hear this shit.  They abjure and deny and sputter " oh, how bitter you are.  What a frigging cynic."  Well, that i may be, probably am.  However, it doesn't change whhat is true, what exists, what is pervasive, in the majority. Looks are the bottom line.     so, i am captive to these notions.  can find no evidence to refute them.  isolated instances do not count.  small percentages do not matter.  it is the inexorable power of the big numbers that, unfortunately, finally, drive us all. ____________________________________________________________ harmonics .........to use the energy of thought as a tuning fork, as it were.  The object being focused on by a particular thought, being brought to 'pitch' with that thought.  Example.  An injured muscle being brought into integrity by a thought tuned specifically to achieve healing.  premise that an injury or illness is 'out of harmony' out of balance with the symmetry of the role it plays and the function it performs.  So if indeed touch and thought could heal, it's objective would be to restore harmony, integrity, balance. The power of an unadulterated intentional thought............_____________________________________________ ___ well, so here i am again.  no money no money no money. what the fuck am i doing wrong.  i mean, i feel my reasoning is not particularly self serving. When i was working ninety hours a week my glands started swelling and the fear of loosing my health is, i guess, more powerful than loosing my home.  i don't know.  i swore i would never again ahve to start giving things up. never have to loose everything again.  and damn it. i hate whining but fuck it i have worked hard.  always.  the only time i ever had to do the welfare thing was when ill.  all my frigging life i have worked hard and apparently far from smart.  that's what they advise - work smart, not hard.  and i am smart.  but not that kind of smart..     HOW IT SHOULD HAVE GONE............................................. or IF I WERE JOHN...........or IF JOHN WOULD HAVE ASKED.  WHAT DO YOU WANT........... I WOULD HAVE SAID.......While i work for you, recuperating, send me to computer classes and certification.  have someone teach me budget and set up budget.  help me develop business plan for training.  enable me towards independence and strength.  just help me learn the practical tools i never mastered.  but u tried to enslave me.  instead of calling out from me any beauty or grace i may own you called out in me that which is weakest.  you summoned from me my cravenness and greed.  and though i have much shame that your call found response in me, i am grateful that those qualities, though sadly present, were yet insufficient to the task you set them to do.   Thank the gods, I could not endure it..  though it has been well past a year since last we spoke, the assault on my being and spirit still amazes me.  bewilders me.  offends me.     i could well elaborate upon the vileness of your actions and the intricacies of your evil, but you, john walker, have mastered the art of self-deception and i know that, even in this very moment, as you read these words, you have very, very little left in you that can see this is truth. Words that say what is true are of little use to you.  you have become a blind man living in a pathetically narrow world of your own creation. a fiefdom peopled by the cripples that you solicit to be your sycophants, entertainers, appeasers.  no one enters or remains in your kingdom whose eyes are able to reflect back to you who you are for it is an image you cannot beat o see.  You require the gaze of a devoted dog worshipping it's master.  you need to see a touch of pleading, you need to see a measure of fear. You need to see videos of exactly that.  You who would have a child, no less a grandchild, do to an animal that which you cherish doing to people.  Of your siblings, of your children, of your grandchildren, and of phyllis, a once powerfully graced and beautifully spirited woman, you have summoned, from us all, our darkness.  With your deft maneuvering and pandering and oozing snake like charm, you come into a persons life and start whispering to their shadows. You are a rapist.  You defile , by the intimacy of pretended love, all whom you embrace.  you penetrate them with your ugly, vile obsession and blight the laughter of their days.  you leave them cold and naked on the floor of their shame. and you walk away. Know this John.  You are angela.  However, unlike Angelas' solitary family room, shrouded by a dark and dirty curtain closing out the light for 30 years, you have a much much bigger, lavish world shrouded by the dark and soiled curtain of your  heart.  I wonder John, just how much did you enjoy watching the cat die................. _________________________________________________________________________________ ___ 05.03.01     ok....just playing with this....the thery presented contends that one of the 'laws of attraction' involves an attitude of gratefulness, for the very thing you are trying to attract.  So, trying to attract money, one must be grateful for what one has now.  hard when your 5K in the hole, but, it tells you, this theory, that whatever it is you want, you already have. _

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