December 2023 - early dissociation
Moved out of my apartment. I dragged my feet on it and overburdened myself.
Rule: Deepest relaxation – in every moment – like Jerry Jeff Walker
This time the game is for real. This game is for real. “Don't play it for real until it gets real”.
~
Be careful what you pull out from behind the glass.
I plunge into this world without reservation and we'll see what happens.
and now it's here, in --. Now what I wanted to happen, has happened. I'm in N's area, physically (if my family needs help I will throw all this away and go back). It's the area I will frequent.
W messaged me to say he loved Kiss Me Once Again, so I sent it to my dad, who immediately said it was super. I'm not sure I can write something else like that.
I said goodbye to Ai, to Ay. I met up with L along the way.
I guess I needed to be here so I could continue weaving this story, this fiction.
N is just a regular guy. But in my mind he has set all this in motion. He made a wish. He reached for me and pulled me out from behind the glass.
Now I am in a life that is a movie. My whole heart is in my life now. Dark wizard "N" can build the cage, can make me write love songs and move across the country to be near him the less he says to me.
In the very center, kernel, of my heart of hearts I remember always O and the fact that we met and danced together (“I saw you dance and I loved it.”)
N the man wrestles with this dark wizard past and nature, by attempting now to be a man of Christ.
We had a conversation recently where I poked fun a bit at him, asking is one can really create a game separate from themselves, to observe another separating one's self. Can one remove oneself? He didn't reply. It was in relation to his “labrats”.
I have seen his soul. And only once I had made here my home.
He wrestles with his evil nature. His dark nature.
But N doesn't want to play. He wants to walk away from destiny, by his free choice.
O becomes more and more human. He can, will, be a wonderful husband and father, maybe even soon. I don't know, I can't forget him for even a moment. He is beautiful, he lives through his heart in totality and learns and learns, absorbs everything. He is living his life, as he should, and I mine. Inwardly, he, his presence, keeps me on the straight and narrow. He pulls me toward a goal, a point – I can publish a book, I should put myself out there.
Outwardly I start this job.
But on my own time I must write and write and write. I have so much to say now.
December 4, 2023
Everyone in training is interesting.
There's nowhere to get away in a small town.
Crestfallen because no message from N, no nothing, just silence.
Why did he text me earlier? I need to calm down. Too many changes.
Hard to be in the world, learning about fish – there is another world going on in me and I have to keep it up by concentrating on it, by isolating myself and thinking, writing about it, connecting these people whom I've met. It is important to me not to let this go. “Ignore your vision and it will go away.”
There is no time to write it all down anymore, but I need to. I need to write the screenplays and books I want to, which require concentration on an entirely different realm of ideas.
And I need to write my interpretations and thoughts of what happens as it happens.
And I need to learn for the job.
~
“That gray streak is what makes you unique” - O is clairvoyant, that's why he could see what I see. He's a recovering addict who has clear and perfect vision.
There is much I must block out. I must not get involved. I must remain aloof with the people in training, at least for now. Hold my energy to myself. Simply bypass, let them pass.
The more of God's gifts you refuse, the greater gifts he continues to give.
Many of the people in the program are those who cannot be professionals – they blatantly and openly say that they can't sit at a desk, or talk about their mishaps. Those who aren't coming directly from school all meandered and did interesting things.
But doing interesting things around the world is not the same as being in that invisible realm, the realm of the vision.
It wouldn't have been the same for me if I had just done this after school. The path creates the meaning. Now is the richest: it ties so many pieces together. Even the cloth covid mask I wear is the sailor's bandana I bought in Florida, during that whole disastrous time.
I feel like I was chosen to play this great play, I can't look back.
Time has change. Any experiences with N don't matter anymore; all that matters is that I'm here. Because of him I ended up here.
The wind moves too quickly through me.
God's joke is that life is the only real art and can never be captured; it only passes through us. He gives all this infinite beauty and it just passes through us never to be caught or replicated. The greatest art is living perfectly. JJW was an example of this. He had nowhere to go but down.
Life is not about writing novels – that gets in the way. But some of us have a compulsion. I have a compulsion, to write, to preserve, to show something of it that I caught. The game of freezing life.
“To find some truth and not forsake it.”
I must maintain my sense of self, through all this. My chief challenge. “Self-abandonment”.
I want to talk to O but I won't; I can only, finally, focus on living my life, real life. I feel like something really changed in me since meeting him.
My heart will never forget his heart. It is so far below what my personality experiences. He is with me always, like a warm coal in my chest. I feel I have finally slipped into the stream of life.
I cannot explain. There is the surface, beautiful and varied as it is, and there is the life of the heart, beneath all sense, hopes, distances, time.
December 6, 2023
All gone... it's all gone... it never was.
I think I know what happened: I cut out N and nature abhors an energy vacuum in a woman's soul; this draws people in. M wasn't strong enough to hook my attention onto him for more than a day; then O came in, and he was strong enough. No one really did it like N... who's effectively gone now. I don't even want to meet with him anymore, though. But we may in a week or two.
I haven't been very open to the people in class so far; I've just been trying to preserve the boundaries of my inner world. I must go sit by myself and write every day.
It's just a job.
I quite like being here, though. It feels like I have no past. When you enter a new realm, you forget the past. A new realm, era... really, a new time. A new dance with time. I know so much happened before, I know all that happened before and how destructive it was, but it feels like my old life already doesn't exist. I never had a job before this one, none of it matters. Is it just my mind's coping with drastic change?
I like it here. How uncanny. I can't imagine, right now, being anywhere else, and the only reason I really came here was N, who's no longer a figure in my world. There's my personal world, and the world above that world, of figures who move about and we maintain contact on some level (I fade in and out in awareness). These figures are O, M, even N maybe. But I feel I am not in contact really with the egregore that is N, but with the egregore that is O. A woman needs a man to be in constant contact with. Even though we do not speak. It is the energy that moves together.
Every region of the country (USA is the only country I really know at all; I feel like I never really knew Belarus... but, paradoxically, I've been having strong memories lately of Georgia in 2018) is on its own time; that is, its own time is encircling it. Each such place has a distinct spirit. New England has a very strong spirit, its own lore and legacy kept up. A lot of white people, a lot of Irish spirit concentrated. Maybe it's simply the homogeneity that drowns the vibe of a place to flourish. Yet, while I was driving up here... Jersey, NY, even Connecticut, doesn't feel like the northeast or like anything special. The northeast begins with Rhode Island to me.
New York State I recall as feeling like a spiritual No Man's Land. The West must have other regions. Seattle and the PNW in general felt like a mirror world. But so does this compared to MD.
~
What is there to say? If I look within and am honest, I made the biggest mistake of my life. O offered me his heart on a silver platter and I was too afraid to accept. I couldn't match him. I'm not interested in anyone or anything in my external life. I'm not even interested in N anymore.
It's so hard to trust the truth within my heart when nothing outside validates it. How could a teenager who messages 20 women a day, whom I've never met, be the love of all my lives? How could he be him? And yet he was. And he drew me into his orbit. All I see and feel most strongly is the state of this inner world. He sees it outwardly. That's why he goes crazy all the time. And what else was I afraid of, other than being a pedophile? Of being crazy. Of seeing things. Of thinking he was talking about me and seeing what I saw, feeling what I inexplicably felt, when really he was talking about someone else. But it's better to be crazy than to betray your heart, than to not live by your heart and forsake its improbable reality out of fear of this world.
Maybe life is very beautiful, but that doesn't mean it will be kind to you, favor you in some way, or forgive your mistakes. It could only mean that you will see its true mechanisms. You will still be punished for your cowardice.
I would give my love a million chances. And more.
“Do you like younger guys?”
“Younger guys like me since I turned 28”
“Well I'm one of them”
I'm not going to want anyone for a while – not really.
It was so sudden, so intense.
(I said a lot there about trying to be careful, having intense brief interactions and then nothing, then tried to clarify that that's what always seems to happen)
(I tried to be careful. I saw it from a mile away – the implosion/ I would say or do something wrong that that'd be that. And that's what happened.)
“Have you ever tried opening your heart to love?”
(I laughed)
“Wow”
“My heart is always open to love”
“Hello”
I couldn't just fucking say “hello” back. Or even smile. I shot him down so brutally, my love, and I didn't mean to, at all. Then he didn't get on for a week. I tried to message him, to barely any answer.
Two days later I sent him a message: I like you also. Just feel weird about the age diff. I don't know why I couldn't just say that.
But he never checked it. Even if he did see the gist without clicking, it's fear-driven.
For this failure there is nothing left to but but annihilate – sepukku. It's the only appropriate response to the gravity of the situation, which I must think about in truth, forever, maybe the rest of my life. It came so fast, out of nowhere. And it blew through so quickly, my reaction was, how could this be it? Could this be it, really? Externally and internally?
It doesn't matter how horrible he is, or the age gap – these were horrible wrappers necessary to contain the most beautiful, fine, sublime, because only those are the cracks through which it can slip into this horrible, horrific, eternally sad world.
What I have lost. Who I have lost. Who he has lost, who he was for a moment – the most beautiful, fragile heart in this world, living through his full heart. Why did it go away? Why did he suddenly stop talking to me? I did not take this vision away. On the contrary I tried to hold onto it. But I couldn't step in....
Maybe he was put off by the realization of how old I truly am. But I sensed that seeing this shocked him, froze him. “I sentence you to be sincere before your peers” and he disappeared for a week.
All this horrific play and show to create the conditions necessary for him to slip into the world for a moment, be embodied, before becoming disembodied again. I cannot find him in weak comfort and little ascent, in nice, pleasant, and ordinary facets of life [because of how robbed of such beauty our modern conditions really are – there are no nice, pleasant, ordinary facets in truth]. He appears for a moment to see me and cannot stay there long – he is too pure.
What it was really about was courage and freedom, delivered within this wrapper of a horrible man and age gap, a most taboo topic these days. And I failed him. I failed to step in courage and openness. If you doubt you lose. If you look back to the burning city, you lose.
December 7, 2023
I've been thinking about time a lot for a while without realizing.
(Even in my thoughts now time is all over the place or irrelevant).
The first things N and I talked about were time.
(“You can be frozen for 20 years and then everything happen in one.”
“Are you living in frozen time or flowing time?”)
I've been having very emotional dreams without any images the past two nights. They are hard to describe. There is a presence – O – and the emotions are big, like a giant red glowing oven or orange room lit by the heat of a warm fire. They occur on the level where I feel I must live now. The land where all the symbols of TIF come from. A depth to them, a wholeness, a fullness, an emotional life, life of the feelings, life of the soul. Where the soul lives.
~
When they say don't go to the bar tonight before a strenuous day tomorrow, it feels like that much more of an escape to a secret place when I can take a breather, when I go and nobody else is there. To go where you're not allowed.
With every passing moment I get much more settled in here and more remote from Maryland. This is a nice little town. I feel quite at home in New England and quite happy to be out. I think I could just get a little cabin up here and live out my days (as a witch of the forest and sea, in this life) and have people visit me. I feel like I belong here, my home was always here. It's amazing that my love for N, who seeks another but closely related light, led me here, shifted the pieces of the world kaleidoscope to bring me here. He really is a wizard.
Maybe growth is coming to want a different light that yet may help you, may change and advance you. Maybe one day I will be his light and he will be my only one living and beating inside my heart.
December 9, 2023
The people here are quirky, but they live nice calm lives. Down here there is mildness and stability.
I never give enough. “I don't know what I would do if you died. A part of me would freeze forever,” I sent. It's still not enough. It's not “I love you, you are my lover of all ages, you cut through the noise to the core and bring me there, I need you in this life.”
I need to be there. Even a paradise can become a hell with its mildness. A paradaisical heaven of seaside true salty dogs and marines living off a cliff, a place that values obsession, a casually disorganized procession of weathered faces, realism, flannel, and brown hair
(I will write for him. I cannot simply say “I love you.” It's too simple, and too untrue. But I can be more like him – immediate in action, seizing the moment, not overthinking and ultimately doing nothing, plunging deeply in, bypassing the mildness.
I shouldn't have entered this interaction if not ready to pay the cost.
I shouldn't use him like this, for depth and meaning. He gives infinitely without choice, to one who takes.
The more I think about him, the more I find in the core.
We can only communicate through side glances and stories. I will write to speak to him.
There are many who are great and do not destroy their lives. Oda Iselin Sonderland comes to mind, an artist I only saw today, somebody who pulls me out of this fish-town and maritime life, out of becoming imprisoned in this cute, quaint cage.
I talked about this with R, a man who is similar to me – makes music, lived out of his van for ~3 years.
~
Time is like a cross. And it's our cross to bear. Time is our cross to bear. The world and all that's around us goes on without stopping, ourselves included – we're carried along. Eternally. How deeply can we dive into a moment, or rather at any moment?
This is him, this all-encompassing circle, how much he can contain.
Don't stop at Paradise.
Time is our cross to bear. The world flies by without stopping for even the tiniest portion of a breath, which you cannot catch.
Does true life happen in one breath? This is the goal – an impossible goal).
We are enslaved by this constant motion that never stops. To be fully awake is to feel the speed with which the Earth moves. You can never fully feel it.
You live in the core. From there everything comes. I remember what it's like to be in that place, to get closer to that place, when I think of you. (Conclusions you can never say). (All truths should be written in secret code, and the key thrown away, lest freezing and the light, the most popular of the human ways, destroy them).
I understand kitsch. I understand why people paint pictures of fish. Studying the shapes of the sea you can glimpse much about the human psyche that you'd only see in dreams.
I touched him and he died. I didn't know you had to be so careful with him.
Touch the fragile without knowing you are. Now I sit and feel his soul break in sadness.
This sadness is necessary to you, I tell myself.
I write from a warm place that can never reach you, too stuck to comfort and hard reality.
Hand to the windowpane – only glass
Hand through the mirror – only air
A car beyond drives into a man sitting on the other side – only in the twilight, or only at night.
I would give it all to you if I could, but it's my limitation to be calm and sad and mild. Paradise is mildness here and if I think about it for even five seconds I can feel its weight.
Those on the outside and in keep finding me; I keep on letting them down. They love me.
By my sacred hand they enter pain. God made me but he let me go; if I have to be hated, let it be so. If I must be the ruin, I'll play my part. Study my own evil core – it's bathed in brightness and goodness and mildness, in love for the old winter forest and its contemplative fruits its breezy amnesia its callous wave of the hand its letting go when the red light comes on; some at the party, they speak your name, remind me – but for only a second – less than forever and ever is failure.
I'm not in the core; I am a failure
of courage. You come with instructions
for me. Crossed wires
some are your friend; they see as you see. Forget my name.
What is a glimmer on the tree here? Another mild accoutrement. Nothing disturbs the colonial air here. A comfort of ghosts.
I feel myself sinking into the 17th century painting that keeps up with time. This town is like a painting that keeps up with the times and bends the world to its will by sucking in souls and accouterments of modernity, arranging them into a patterns locked under the stamp of its name.
Everything that happens here is beautiful because it happens here, and not where they only talk about it. This is the real game, the lightest and most serious, always simultaneously.
The core roils without stability and all the sea life within it comes up in accouterments, lands in the mild and steady as the windowpane closes – my hand to the glass, it cannot pass back through.
Hand through the glass – only the cold winter air; there's no other side here.
You're gone. I'm locked up in paradise, swallowed by the painting and this town of old mildness.
Some people see me, and like what I do; I'm only my best-attempted reflection of you.
This morning while waking up I saw flashes of beautiful brilliant light when my eyes closed, 4 or 5 times total. One, a window came into view from the right edge of my view, gradually.
If he's dead it's game over. There's nothing in this world for me. Please God.
Wash me out to sea.
Maybe it wasn't because of me, but because of another girl. How do these people treat it all as a joke?
The light in the window was a beautiful, pale pale gold, and flashed brilliantly upon I finally seeing it, like starlight, liquid light that shone unlike anything.
~
It wasn't over me that he took heroin, but another woman. I'm freed of the spell. All I have to do is relax now, chill and do nothing. Still, I'm glad he's alive. But I don't want to and can't do anything with him anymore. Still, I think there was something. Something did happen. Now it's as if it never happened.
Only thing I can do is write epitou and take every opportunity as far as working with people on music, etc, come up.
I liked R's music actually, pretty creative and conceptual noise/electronic/field recordings.
December 10, 2023
I met up with N. Barely could sleep all night before and didn't feel my nervousness, and still don't fully feel everything which I feel, but it was nice just to be next to him. I don't know how to explain the space between where we started and now. We are both different in some ways. He seemed a bit haggard, frayed, when he first came up, but I think my presence this time had a good effect on him, a healing, balancing, stabilizing effect. He picked up a cigarette habit (which was very hot), might be a little thinner, very cute, maybe cuter than before, older seeming. He feels like a real man. I was nervous to meet him but it was early and I didn't put the same pressure on as before.
I always think I'm not enough but in that case I ought to go back to my apartment (I don't have one yet) and make music or something. I'm not going to compete with other women. I'm not going to play that game. Mostly because I can't and it's my energy down the drain. O's girlfriend is an Irish American, who posts coquettish things, what she needs from a man (what kind of drip, appearance.
Maybe if I did this it'd make N feel good. Instead I'm boring and shy with not a lot to say and not a lot to play. How to externalize myself? He said in the end, “Don't be a stranger.”
The point is, it was a nice time, and in the end I almost passed out from a wave of attraction. I told him I mostly kept to myself and didn't share much about sea tales.
He said I was a sailor. I said no, just someone who's drawn to the ocean.
It was nice just to be close to him.
Physically nearer and nearer to him.
I worry about being too boring, not enough to say.
He also seems boring, from the outside. Like a nothing person, ordinary. But he isn't at all. He started all this motion. Reality bends around him – or at least it did. Today he just walked around with me. But everything occurs before it happens.
Some women are vibrant, exciting, and bright. I'm like a void. A blackness. A silence. But L said I seem like I don't know who I am or what I want. I simply have the same problem – of being too boring – as ever. I can't care about it. I'll just go read.
December 15, 2023
The cold really agrees with me. New England agrees with me. At least for now. I could call this home and be perfectly happy, I think. I think this is my place to return to, no matter where and how far I go. Maybe even a little farther north. I see in my mind's eye a blueberry pine/deciduous forest, ragged stone steps, beaches and roads, a forest going inward into a sunny land that doesn't exist, physically. But this is paradise. There is an invisible line that separates New England into its own separate world. Maybe it's just the climate line. It begins the north. The North. Maybe I am a northern person after all.
This is why the true reality is the reality between realities, between the realities of people. People are reality-generating machines, spiritualizing machines.
December 16, 2023
What's most important and biggest, I can't even verbalize. I'd need to be alone a while, concentrating, in my thoughts, in order to allow a film or something to come forth. All I know is in the spring we started talking and now I'm in New England on a gambit and, miraculously, my being here is right and all worked out. I feel like I'm in a different world. The anglo world. This is why it's important to preserve race – the fact that this hasn't happened in many places has led those places – most of them – to have no cohesive spiritual life. They lack a spiritual dimension. That very dimension I cannot put into words because it's buried within the language, in the average person's understanding of their language. I love it here, I love being in the anglo/celt world (but not so in the UK... Wales was alright, and yes, I did fit in well with Ireland...) but now I'm feeling that I'm not this. I'm not this anglo stock. Then again, I didn't fully fit in in anywhere else (besides some hostels, and then then...) either. I fit into the climate and nature... the latitude...
It's like a whole new world begins here. The world of the North. And what is that world? What is such a world? It's a mentality, that you can tap into.
I love N.
The ghost continues to move through him for me. He (the ghost and its host) is always with me. Tonight – yes, I can feel. It has always been this way. In middle school I conversed with H; now I converse with N. No matter where, at the pub, no matter the noise, that other realm is always with me. But I am not anglo. I'm not from here. Maybe it's not close enough for N for a marriage. I'll never be of anglo stock. I can't ever claim this as mine, as my roots. I'm only a comfortable observer at best, an observer at peace).
I don't think any man would tempt me right now. I don't know... I'm not horny. But emotionally I want to connect. There are so few. There was O, or who I saw through him. But there's his personality and there's that moment of inexplicable contact we shared, that must necessarily be forgotten, put out of mind, that can't remain in mind.
I can't even muster arousal at this point; out of sight out of mind. Same deal with R. I just let it go.
They remain floating in my memory, if they can. But that's all. It seems to all be even more transient now. I just can't hold on. It's like someone's cut off my lower half. But I can watch and enjoy very sexual, erotic movies like I couldn't before, because I'm so removed from the physical aspect of sex. I just can't do it alone, even in my mind.
You really have to strike when the iron is hot.
December 19, 2023
I'm going to miss R. How can I so easily fall in love all the time? I'm not in love but I feel good being next to him. There's such a pull to each other. And I like that he noticed me right away. I noticed him also but (correctly?) judged him as a leftie due to his bleached hair and tattoos. He has a mean looking and intense stare. I'm not sure what to make of him. He is very sharp and independent, and unfazed. He has a very steady stare. He is very expressive, unembarrassed, said I was too subdued. Him touching me felt so right and being next to him did too.
But how can I fall in love with a new person three times in one month? Or four? I haven't heard from N in days. It's time to let him go again.
December 21, 2023
I think I'm dissociating here. It's not as if I've never moved, but mentally it was – the timing – I happened to move right after experiencing 0 time through O (I don't know why but still he is one of my favorite people. I feel very protective of him; many do, I think. He needs a lot of protection. He may be pretentious but he suffers no pretension in others and the world, he always calls it out, and this is invaluable). It feels like a complete break, a new life.
I'm 34 playing at being a recent college grad, as if my whole life never happened (it feels like it never has; there is no karma left from it. All situations ended. S (girl from training) sounds like AW and has a similar personality. Bh, one of the others at the hotel for her recertification, acted and somewhat looked like, shared a personality with, B, whose ideal place to live was somewhere here. Now she is no more (on this Earth) and I'm here, in a new life.
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