Return To Sender For Miles With Smiles

Observations of affirmations provided by December 3rd premie labor exercise

1) My intention for the evening ritual was to occupy that which was empty with that which fulfills. Succeeded in locating a vacancy, rendering the proximities of cavity walls and setting the ambiance to welcome coven squads from east, west, north and south.

2) During a period of pure play on space and volume, we whipped the ethereal sounds and grooves of PYRAMYTH's percussions, twits and slides from a stringy texture into a foam of marshmallows and eggwhite -- the space was a massive meringue. Lifting our arms was difficult and spongey. Lifting our feet we stretched sticky tacky.

3) In attendance were [the unnamed and the undead] and the sons of lords and lepers; the usual watchers who prefer my pussy's work to that of idle hands; the abundant feeder; the finicky fool; my great-grandfather who had participated in his first shamanic ritual over a hundred years ago; and schools of dolphins and narwhals.

4) When sending intentioned charges, employ an authentic smile to accelerate and amplify the charge's vibratory reach and resonance. Avoid clenching the jaw or furrowing the brow in a classic Care Bear Stare -- the Care-Bare Stair is less effective and costs more energy than holding a smile for a mile.

5) The Banishment Ritual is one sexy sexy striptease: burlesque in rhythm, bordello in blews. It marks the separation between ordinary walking and bardo walking. Performed in silence, exceptionally sensual, impossible to ignore or dismiss, a single glowing dance to welcome the weary warriors: Come Be Entertained! We Honor Your Hour In Our House. And they came, beaconed by the twisting amber flame of art's vehicle, across vast darknesses and vacuums, to rest their alien spines and partake in jubilant celebration of The Real Work.

6) Ejaculate was slick and lightly viscous, flavored guava with a hint of sweet potato. Female ejaculate was hot and oily, clarifying the menses a translucent sanguinity. There were no signs of clotting, no symptoms of trauma.

7) In an open jam session, participants benefit greatly from stepping back to simply listen, allowing one or more voices to build into a movement, then initiating support to the movement by consciously extending the inspiration into instrumentations. In an open jam session, the diva is useless and can afford to recline, making room for a chorus fully vested and inline with the sum of us over the one of us.

Spoils Of Ritual Go To The Distant Present

I'm not going to be performing at today's Riverside Art Walk after all. I roll with the punches a lot better now than when I was a kid, so I'm not to sad about not performing today for the public.

I am ready. I am so ready.

Some of my troupe, however, is far from being able to help efficiently -- their help will cost (have cost) too much already. I am looking forward to January 7, for the first Riverside Art Walk of 2009 -- that shall be our debut at the fair.

I will have some workshops or demonstrations at The Pharoah's Den during the month of December. I love the vibe there and what the men of the den are creating. Get me a piece of that action fo sho. Creative collaborating -- you're there to push boundaries, stimulate a response and provoke insight... sure, it's a fucken turn on. I get hot working with other writers, musicians, graphic artists and directors. When I ride the bitch seat behind a track virtuoso, I wet for hours after I'm off the bike. I love the ways I am turned on by creative people. Fuck me already and take a picture. Even if it's only on the level of astral intentional thought patterned experiencing. I dig it, baby.

Last night's MMORPG was smooth in cool places and chunky in some awkward places. I shared the stage with my shamanic partner and he's been having a tough time this year -- even though we are finally together, we've both had to work so damn much and I think he's still holding to some belief that life owes him a break every now and then, that he's entitled to recess. I am all for it except the entitlement part, and that such a break in the Work is either inherent to or rewarded for the process. I'm creating at a fervor where breaks are for dufusses -- I'm here to rock it! I wudnt want to be doing anything else with my time, my investment, my love, my body, my nerves, my everything that The Real Work -- and the fact that I am both artistic with the process as well as effective, damn, fuck off with recess already, unless it's a working recess....

But shit happens, and it's not at all about what I can do -- but what I can accomplish with others, treating them well and aware of our intentions and will to follow through and commit.

I'm going to perform my MMORPGs on my own performing sacred shamanic masturbation rituals and I will begin to video and document my games for my Subscirbers on YouTube... so is the plan. I think it will help my shamanic partner to value what it is that I send to everyone before he can contribute that which will enhance the transmission. When we danced in ritual yesterday, I almost felt him acting jealous, even though my t-shirt read, "mi novio es no celeo" -- i could tell, any lucky bitch could

but it was hot -- i just wish he would have let go of his need to be macho and i could have blown more cocks. even in sacred space, i had felt my shamanic partner conscious of the energies i engaged in and beckoning me to return my attention to complete him... i felt a little monopolized. it feels good in a way, because i do realize how important i am to him. but it is also manipulating and needy, and a cover for some dis ease of the heart.

turns out, my shamanic partner had participated in our ritual with compromised integrity. unable to be completely clear with himself, his movements in the sacred space lacked that clarity, was clouded with shame and scanlessness. I gave my best performance as I know and pride in doing, but felt that the performance would have been more dynamic and far-reaching had I performed on my own, or with my shamanic partner bound by Tyvek tape, facing a corner, on MDMA.

Speaking off, during the 2nd and 3rd acts of the ritual, we sustained the sensation of being on E for half an hour or more -- completely on the way we swayed the energy and filtered the flow through various charges of Aka Dua and consciously provoked the musical strands of PYRAMYTH. It was hot and groovy.

The finale was especially sweet -- Solarco and I sent the energy in our sacred space out to all in gift-sized packets. We had plenty to send away so everyone received, no one was left out. It was a great end to the party. Please let me know if and when you receive something special over the next few days, particularly flavored with chyna pi.

I have a lot of great ideas for my public debut live performance. I don't need to rush the process. My success would be pointless if I were alone to acknowledge it. I do more with the works of others than with my own -- this is fact. And it's one I am very proud of. I will keep practicing and performing on my own, but I know my best art/Work has yet to manifest in me... and it is going to take an incredible leading supporting cast of horny talented psychedelic freaks with lateral vision and shamanic mask eyes.

Have You Heard This Before?

"He tainted our food."














-- um, yucky

Going To The Garbage Can To Eat Some Worms

"big worms, fat worms, skinny worms, curly worms -- worms, worms, worms, worms, worms"

it's my first time on my own in Canada. my mom is getting bigger and i need to get "show-shell-eyes" before i go to school after the summer. we came to Canada too late for me to go to school so i am going to daycamp.

i was happy to get out of the house and have my own life away from my boring tattletale sister. she's okay, she just started talking -- a lot; about what i do, what i say, what i eat, why she watches me all the time? especially since my mom tells me to watch her, but she doesn't ever do anything but look at me.

well, i'm free today. it will be fun to meet other people. i hope they are nice.

"be nice," my mom said to me after walking with my sister in her stroller and me to a big brick house with lots of cement stairs up to a porch with church glass above the door and window. "listen to mrs. marshall and don't play on the furniture. i will pick you up right here at 2 o'clock."

"today at 2?"

"have fun," my mom nodded as she handed me my lunch bag. "i love you."

a big white lady wearing a big red t-shirt and big red hair, bouncing down the steps towards us. she's nice. she smiles and laughs with my mom who shakes her hand. "you must be our new student?" she says to me as she puts her hand with red spots on my head.

"uh-huh."

"yes, mrs. marshall," my mom corrects for us. "thank you again for letting her come in so late notice."

"how far along are you?"

"five months. this one will be three next month."

"wow, you're tiny. you look like your first tricycle. and this is your daughter, too?"

my mom is so pretty. i look more like my mom than my sister does. and the lady reads my mind because she smiled at me when i thought that.

the lady holds my hand as we walk up the steps and inside the house.

it was full. so many fighting, smelly like rain and b.o., poo smell, crying, music playing and the tv on loud. i took off my jacket and put it on top of another jacket on the wall where the lady pointed. i saw all the shoes lined up along the wall so i took off my wet sneakers. i should have listened to my mom when she told me not to walk through the puddles. my socks were squishy and green from my sneakers. i sat on the end of the couch and waved at the kids.

"hey," they said as we made eye contact, waved back and we all watched tv. i opened the lunch bag and saw it was an albondigas sandwich and apple juice.

"why do you have a paper bag?" an old boy asked me. he was the biggest in the room with wet hair and a jeans jacket and skinny legs. he looked like he was ten years old!

"it's my lunch. am i allowed to eat here?"

"you have to share with everyone if you eat in the front room. or you can eat in the kitchen but only when they are not cooking, so you have to wait until lunch. so, are you going to share?"

i hand him my sandwich without opening the saran wrap.

"what is that smell? what kind of sandwich is that?"

"pork."

"gross. you're eating a pork sandwich for breakfast? i don't want any of that. anybody here want a pork sandwich?" we look around and the other kids are making faces at me and sticking their tongue out. "what else do you have?"

"apple juice."

"i'll take the apple juice."

i give him my paper bag with the apple juice in it. he takes the straw off the box with his mouth and stabs the box with it. after, he blows up the paper bag and then punches it, scaring everyone. the lady runs into the room, and the whole house is bouncing, and yells at my friend to go outside.

"she gave me the juice." he said to the lady when she made him give it to her.

"i gave him the juice. i didn't want it." i said.

he smiled at me and i smiled back, then he went outside and down the stairs with a bunch of younger boys. i watched them go outside the gate. i looked at the lady but she wasn't in the room anymore. when i looked back out the window from the couch, the boys were no longer in front of the house. i put my sandwich in my jacket pocket and put on my shoes and went down the stairs and out the gate.

i walked up the street until i reached an alley and heard the boys laugh, then i saw my friend as he stepped back from behind the garbage bin. he threw a cigeratte from his mouth and hit a box that was thrown away. he saw me looking at him and walked behind the garbage can again.

i went into the alley and held my nose as i smelled poo.

when i saw them, my friend had another cigarette and was passing it to his friends -- they were like my age, all boys.

"hi," i said and told them my name. my friend told me his name and the names of his friends who said hi. "can i play with you?"

"it depends. do you have a worm? we only play with kids who have worms?"

"worms?"

my friend opened up his jeans and showed me his worm. "do you have one?"

"no," i said.

"are you sure? let me see, sometimes it's small at your age and you can't see it but i know how to look for it." he points to one of his friends and says he has a small worm that's hard to see unless you really look. all the boys showed me their worms and i could see how some looked liked they didnt have worms at all.

"you know how you get a worm?" my friend asked.

i shrugged my shoulders.

"you have to eat another worm. when you eat enough worms, you grow your own worm. right guys?" they all agreed that is how you get a worm.

so i started to eat worms. and they were squishy and stinky and slimy and moved around in my mouth and made me cry a bit and snot a lot. afterwards, we checked to see if i grew a worm and i hadn't.

"i guess not today, but maybe tomorrow you can play with us. you can eat more worms later if you like."

"okay, thanks. bye." i said and went back to the house before someone tattletaled on us. i am so happy i saved my sandwich because i was so hungry. after eating all those worms, i just wanted to eat more!

later, we learned a song from a tv show that the lady put on and it made me laugh so much!

"nobody likes me, everybody hates me, going to the garbage can to eat some worms. big worms, fat worms, skinny worms, curly worms, worms, worms, worms, worms, worms."

we all laughed.