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Normalcy is Hella Expensive in Deathstar Village

February 28th, 2014 § 5 comments

OBVIOUSLY, there are a few newsy items we might discuss when it comes to Latinidad, México, Xicanism@, and so on. The arrest of El Chapo, head of the Sinaloa Cartel, is one, for sure. (I smirk wide enough that my head falls off and I have to pick it up and screw it back on my neck. Yesterday’s US partner in crime is always tomorrow’s headline villain, eh? It’s telling that some people are even using the specter of Osama Bin Laden to galvanize public thought and feeling on the issue. Not that in doing so, such writers will underline the fact that Bin Laden was another old friend. And why on Earth would most media discussion avoid the topic of the “violation of public international law …and of due process and of human rights” that was the DEA/Sinaloa alliance for over ten years? Now, the DEA is filling the web with seeds about how they’ve wanted to capture El Chapo for all that time, and that THEY have evidence that HE was selling drugs on Chicago streets. But yanno. Of course they are telling the whole truth. Oceania has always been at war with Eastasia.)

Anyway. I’ll admit that I’ve had a lot more on my mind and on my plate lately than these motions in society. Not to minimize world events. Good ole Maslow’d know.

Close friends and readers (in the right spaces) have been aware that I spent the last couple weeks in a motel off the side of the highway after having to leave my last place with little warning. That’s been an adventure. And when I say “adventure,” I kinda mean ‘a test of my sanity.’ I kid. Wasn’t so bad. In fact, feeling my entire life hovering a few inches off the wet pavement was a blast. It made me feel like Neo. Especially when Neo runs wild with the pent up kids to keep them exercised, and loses his iPhone in the wet, charcoal, night. Now you’re stuck in the Matrix, kid, with a motel key and a bowl of cornflakes. The milk just ran out and there is no spoon.

I closed off the blog for most of it, as you might have found. I wanted to write on all the intense thoughts and experiences that I was having (I began and continued in a few places), but as I went on, and the rain kept falling with no clearing in sight, it felt too raw to broadcast in realtime, and I needed all the peace of mind I could find in order to weather the time.

Finally, while I was trying to hook up shelter for me and loved ones, I felt safer removing my political, brown pridey posts from sight, where I could be assured they would not interfere with any opportunities that arose. We know how that goes. Playing “Goodboy” as blogmig@s of olde might laugh to recognize, and to read typed out again….

So I wrote offline where I could explore my thoughts with no self consciousness. I may end up publishing the handful of blurbs and paragraphs and entries as an e-book or something rather than a series of blog posts. Something about a contained collection feels right about such a chronicle. Or maybe I’ll read it all over and want to delete it. You never really can be sure. Maybe I won’t have too much time because I need to cook on the freelance scene and fast. But if and whenever I do, it will be a story of the last two months.

The good news now is that at least for the time being (and I’ll be working hard to make sure it’s not too temporary a thing if I can help it), I’m back in a house and have Internet again. Ah, and an address. A front door, a yard, a refrigerator. a roof. It’s amazing how easy it is to take such things for granted. Even when you know better. It’s amazing how sweet a bare, wintry, tree looks, when it’s standing up from the grass of your own front yard. Cultivate gratitude, if nothing else, for the everyday and ordinary.

That I’m here and still going is mostly thanks to good luck, good friends, and a bit of my own stubbornness, maybe. But primarily because of friends who in some way, big or small, helped me to stay afloat and land safely. Thank you. Your generosity and selflessness will live on, as it has become part of my own heart and mind. So much of it was unexpected. #youknowwhoyouare

The blog is obviously back up, and while the front page is not quite displaying right, it works. Again; nonpaying HTML and css/php work is not something I have a lot of time for at the moment. Bear with me.

Today is a good day. I finally feel a low enough level of anxiety and stress that I can breathe deeply. My body’s gradual breakdown under the nearly continual pressure of stress can perhaps begin to reverse. I can turn my mind, finally, to creating. Now that the lights will be on for a little while and I have a front door lock and some food in place—and I’ve let people know what’s going on (sup!)—I can turn my emotional powers and energies toward art and business.

Yeah. I’m ready. Now that I’ve driven five gold screws into the underneath of my desk and am ready to spiral like a starfish with a damn persistent vision of the sparkling shore.

No sleep til Shell Beach, Dr. Schreber. And no looking back.

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