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1/2/12

I am judging myself.

Because I am white

and there is never enough time to tell my whole story.

To let everyone know where I came from, to where I'm going or where the fuck I am in the moment. 

Do I even know?

Do people know my mother never listened and only opened her mouth

for food and to say I was no good.

Or compare me to a better blonde I was not destined to be.

That I am Mexican in my upbringing, the food, the big family, the molestation

of 6-year-old me for 4 years

choked on the silence of a tortilla in my throat.

Yes, I called him brother.

Penis in my hand that made me yearn for the comforts of sticking things in my holes--

to know who I was.

Do you love me? How much? Tell me with your fingers.

Los Angeles gives me chills in the desert fucking heat.

Still, I am here, each time, memory forgetting the heart aches I have endured.

This time it will be different. This time I will find nirvana.

Be the distillery of dissatisfied secondary nature.

But, here I am, no matter what time of year,

14-years-old at a Thanksgiving Dinner being interrogated

for being myself.

Mom says don't judge as she called herself fat.

I see the emotional noose tightening with every bite of mashed potatoes.

Pass the peas.

I'm fucking queer.

I'm transgender.

What does that mean? Aren't you my little girl?

This time, dad left for good.

I remember the last day we spoke.

He used the word nigger twice and called me “it”.

I dropped him off at his silver Santa Fe, flipped on the right turn signal and never looked back.

What he doesn't know is I made two more right's so I could look at him down the street.

The last image of my father is his slumped shoulders holding the car handle,

erasing the memory of my infant body seeping from my mother's orifice.

Maybe I should have never been born.

But,

here I am,

unable to attest to all of my wounds because I am in the midst of something called healing.

When we grow, we ache.

Ache something awful in ways which,

remind me of times

I got high off of lying, of being malicious, of telling you to your face you could trust me.

While I crossed my fingers so deep in the uterus of infidelity’s faceless female.

Me, here now, stands with a beating heart, wondering if it is telling the truth.

Am I still living for you?

~Fe(lix)


www.alexgrey.com

The Seer

From the caves of Altimira
To a New York studio,

The Seer has inspired the artist
With Vision's unceasing flow.

The Seer is the soul of the artist,
Magus through ages untold,
Transmuting the lead of matter
Into bullets of spiritual gold.

The ego picks up the weapon of art,
Childlike, it plays with the trigger.
Blowing the head off it's contracted self,
Awareness is suddenly bigger.
By slaying the ego and stunning
The chatter of thoughts as they rise,
Great art shuts out distractions
Delighting the heart through the eyes.

The Seer is the soul of the artist,
Revealing the Mystery as form,
Advancing our civilization
By inventing and destroying the norm.
The redemptive Sorceress, Art
Can heal the nausea of being,
Opening vistas of hope and beauty,
Revealing deep patterns of meaning.

The function of art is to stop us
And take us out of our skin,
Unveiling the spirit's pure nakedness
Without beginning or end.

The Seer is the soul of the artist,
Gaze fixed on primordial perfection.
Radiance emerges from emptiness,
Each point of light etched with affection.
The boundless Void, open and formless
Is the basis of all creation.
Visions appear and then dissolve
Reinforcing this realization.

From beyond the vision descends
From within the vision arises
Coalescing in the divine imagination,
Source of continual surprises.
The Seer is the soul of the artist
The Maker is the artist's hand
In the studio their conversations
Translate a timeless command.

These dialogues of Maker and Seer
Weave together matter with soul,
Consecrating the practice of art
As speech of the ineffable.

Art making transforms the artist,
And to any hearts truly under

Creation's intoxicating spell
The Seer transmits holy wonder.
~Alex Grey

                                               

Self Induced Headache...

I am convinced of some things. 
Grad school is only for those who have a specialty or have no idea wtf they are doing with their lives, using mommy and daddy's money. 
I'm not anti-grad school or education. But, I am anti doing something if your heart is not fully there. 

In the end we're all gonna die. 
And when that day comes I believe if you can look yourself in the mirror and say, 
"Damn, I lived a really fulfilling life for myself!"
Then, you actually lived. You didn't just survive. 

This is just practice. All just practice for the big test at the end.
Which, will never come. 
There's no test. 

Your life is now. 

Woah, that's a lot of USA!

Finshing what I start! 

I'm on couchsurfing, working out the deets about New England.
Then, Toronto to Detroit to Bellinghamn, Wa to live on a farm with Nikki, my spiritual sister.
After that settle in Santa Cruz/ The Bay Area for a few months... go on a 10 day silent retreat 2 hours north of SF in Nov.
Make monies in the gay bay via piercing, haircuts, busking.
2012- move to New Orleans, La.

How did all of this happen?

For the last two years I have been dreaming about it.
Everyday, I have been excited.
I just needed to get thru some seriously dark, deep, scary stuff first.

But, now I see that healing is a process and one that has to be hard all the time. 
I want to know healing that is effortlessly catered to. Let go of my need to be perfect.
I am simply me. And that is good enough!

New York City, you are my gender home. 
You are my drag queen- can do anything I want, when I want, at whatever hour. 
The place I learned to walk barefoot on concrete.  
Only thing is, I need to feel my bare soul on other types of earth for a bit.

When I come back to you we will dance.
Theatre, romance, kink, hanging out eatin' gyros in BK.
Different terms.
Different space in time that will be flowing thru me.

I Wrote This in My Dream...

Happy Independence Day!

Are you really free? Am I really free? Perhaps that is not the question I should merely pose as simply as such. People will make different claims; depending on economic situation, country of residence, country of origin, familial ties, current spouse dynamic, walking toward or what appears to be away from furthering your life goals. I'm writing this, not to be preachy. The message may not even be in my words exactly. But, after taking much time for myself. Many days of mostly being still and silent. I have learned, truly, for myself, that freedom and bondage are not opposite ends of a linear spectrum. They are merely a continuum on a cyclical event we call life.

"OH MY GOD, THAT MEANS I HAVE TO CHANGE!!!!" 

That's what I thought too. Breathe. Just breathe. Remember that in every moment you are doing the best you can. You have all lead lives based on principals others have influenced over you. This is not a bad or good thing. What is bad or good anyway? Opposites? Black and white? I believe it's deeper than the moral ambiguity these words pretend to inform our minds with. We become inundated by what we think we know. Our thoughts tell us a myriad of ways in which we have a choice to act or not act upon. Patience, sitting with threatening information, silence is a choice. It is also in our power to act. To become restless minds and feed into our insecurities.

Buddhism has this idea that we CAN BE the mountain and that our thoughts are merely the clouds that pass over. There are neither good nor bad thoughts. They are simply ways in which our minds try to piece the puzzle of our deeper intent together. They say, "This too shall pass." And, every time, these clouds do shift, or evaporate, or become new clouds, we are reminded that everything can be transcended to a new place. That everything comes to pass, if you wait.

If you shift your perception you don't have to wait so long.   

All the things you are looking for are looking for you. Your greater good. Your loving relationship. Peace. Completeness. Finishing your goals. Traveling. Going back to school. All these things are just waiting for you to say yes to it. What does it mean to say yes? It means, very simply, that you are willing. That's it. It just means yes, in this moment, right now. It just means deepening your consciousness. This might scare the day lights out of you. It has scared me in the past many times when faced with questions of, "What does that look like realistically?" or "What will come of this?" I don't know. What I know is that it is your choice to believe in something greater than what your thoughts can lead you to see.

This doesn't mean running to or from where you are right now. We are all trying to work out our own lives at our own paces. This is not a judgement to say that what you or I did yesterday is who you are right in this moment. This is about being awake, right now. Wake up. When you are ready, you have the choice to wake up and be fully here. You don't know how you're going to get to the next moment. Just be here now. Enjoy your lessons, even when you think the lessons are something that will magically come later. Your life is now.
Or you can still sleep walk through eternity telling yourself that when you posses other things, that'll be when your life actually begins.
Stop looking for people, places and things to fulfill you.

Yes, we cannot do it all by ourselves. But, do not hang up your soul at the coat check when you're surrounded by what seems like distractions. Every moment is beautiful. Every moment is now. 

I am a human. I am not perfect. Even what I am saying now is not always what I have embodied. I do not say this to condemn myself. I say this to level the playing field. I say this, because I am awake in this moment. I say this because I am humbled by what freedom has the possibility to transcend. Just for this moment. Just for today.

Letting go simply means saying yes to what is. Accepting your current situation and surrendering to the healing of it.

I forgive myself and others quickly. 
I love myself and others unconditionally. 
I am that I am. 
You are that you are.

Perfect, whole and complete.

 

Yarrow by Andrea Gibson

We packed our lives into the back of your truck
and drove two thousand miles
back to the only home you'd ever known.
On the bayou you ate crawfish
and god how I wished I had never become a vegetarian.

Here, whatever you came carrying
fell to the ground like Creole swamp rain.
Uptown you could watch the jazz notes float
from porch swings to sidewalks
of little girls playing jump rope and hopscotch,
to old women skipping rocks
across the gulf of the Mississippi
like heart beats they forgot they had,
while mid-city trombones
wrote love poems in lonely men's ears.

For a year we were gardeners.
"No, Andrea, yarrow doesn't grow here,
imagine a womb full of water,
plant like you would plant a daughter,
name her Iris, Rose, Magnolia, Gardenia."

You could hold the soil between your fingers
and smell gumbo and harmonicas.
Could smell po-boys and cathedrals on the same block.
"What do ya mean, you don't talk to strangers?
Come inside and see a picture of my son,
he raises hell, but he's a good one..."
Iris Rose, Magnolia, Gardenia,
when I heard of Katrina
I thought, "The flowers, save the flowers..."

I never thought for a second
we wouldn't save the people.
 

From:  Pole Dancing to Gospel Hymns, pages 11, 12
Note: Yarrows botanical name, Achillea millefolium refers to the ancient Greek hero Achilles, who, during the Trojan War, reputedly used it to treat his wounds. Its specific name means ‘a thousand leaves’ and refers to its feathery foliage. The folk name Nosebleed confirms its traditional use as an emergency styptic.


I'm 24...

I turned 24 on April 19th of this year. 

My birthday wish as I blew out my candles was to follow my inner voice, wherever it may lead me.
I have no plans.
Just an open heart.
And a brave new outlook.  

Emotional Homework...

Last week was beautiful: weather wise, relationship wise, gender wise. It almost lasted a full week. 

It was nice to have that much time of not questioning my shit.
But, in the growing process it's ok to revert.
I am learning to give myself room for error.  
I also need to learn to allow others to not be perfect. To often I am unaware of others.
I plow thru their needs. 
I plow thru mine too. 

Too many of these sentences begin with the letter I. 

Why am I making this all about me? 

Happy V D!!!

I actually feel really happy.
I will write why in list form:
- A travel friend named Melvin will be letting me crash at his place for Mardi Gras in a few weeks! nola!  
- When I get back from that trip I will go from 3 days to 5 days of work in the DAY TIME!!! Wed-Sun 10am-8pm! This is much better than Fri-Sun 8pm-5am! SWEET! 
- I have made a really awesome work friend named Sydney! She is really really kewl with neat-o hair! 
- I have neat- o hair again! A fatty mohawk that curves into a rat tail. The tail is small- for now. 
- I feel stoked about my moods on T. Once a week is SO much better! 

Tonight and last night were the first times I really enjoyed saying I was raised in Los Angeles. Most of the time I just tell people out here I'm from Nor Cal b/c it is more in alignment with my understandings. But, sometimes, I'm still hood and I enjoy flashing my street cred. I don't care to explain. But, when someone said the word vato- it made my heart really happy.

Apparently, that's only a West Coast term. 

Predictable...

So far this year I have been fucking up. I don't even know how exactly I'm doing that, but I think it has a lot to do with not listening to my needs. Same shit, new day. I have been slowly taking different actions to combat this. But, sometimes it feels safe to be manic. Peace? Serenity? What would I do with you?

Went on craigslist. Looked up postings in New Orleans. I found this under jobs...

Piercer Wanted (New Orleans)
Date: 2011-01-14, 2:13PM CST
Reply to: job-vyn2e-2160300823@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]

Electric Ladyland Tattoo and Piercing shop is looking for a second piercer. MUST have 3 years experience, resume, references, and a portfolio! Online portfolios will NOT be considered. This is an old-school shop, things are done a certain way, if you can not abide by how things are done, don't bother applying. Stop by with your portfolio, or give us a call at 504-947-8286 to set up a time to come in.

I want to get in my car, pack up 10 things and say fuck New York City.

... but that would be running, wouldn't it?