gIRL mess HC

Hair Care 4 gIRLs in and with class

Wait as long as you can to wash your hair

Strip off your tee, and honestly, just toss it; trash it; been yours for years but before that it was his and that cognition is there each time on/off, so it cannot be a rag

Let the water warm on your head

Do a scalp scrub even though it's hard to get in there with all that hair; tried a sample sized scalp scrub and next time will make my own with some ACV and sea salt combo

Shampoo with Mane 'n Tail, twice, using a scalp massaging shampoo brush

Put a hair masque on — another sample from Ulta with Shea butter and ACV; heavy application from nape of neck down and comb thru to distribute

Leave it for ten minutes or more, so shave or dance

Rinse really well

Rinse with ACV

Cold rinse

Quick brush and then air dry, sunroof open and windows down running errands on a very warm spring day

Wait as long as you can to wash your hair

Wait long enough to watch two movies, even though each movie takes you a few nights to finish

The Comfort of Strangers 

 

Jade

Decide to go into NYC for an adventure

Take the bin to the alley in case you spend the night in the city

Pull Oaxacan ceramic garden art out of garage to hang inside somewhere when you're back

Drive to NYC

Face rational fears about parking in the city 

 

Drive back, facing rational fears about the Holland Tunnel

Discover Radio Zindag ! before it fades out

Moon roof open for pink full moon light gathering

Flash of inspiration to rotate bed tomorrow

Tune to catch favorite song, this rendition by Stanley Turrentine

Stream KJazz to bring it on home

Don't brush out the city tangles quite yet, just teeth

Sleep 'Animal Pile' style with your kid and their stuffies

In the morning, strip the bed

Two cappuccinos

Few dishes, little laundry, bring in the emptied bin

Wear a thick headband and tease the crown

Reset your bedroom again, taking notes for class !!

Take your spring breaker across the Bay Bridge to order a white television for the new bedroom layout

Pick up your craziest lamp from the local lamp doctor

Run it home, set it up, biggest bulb, wipe it down, plug it in, tidy the wire

Back out for tortellini bolognese and a glass of chianti to watch the thunder storm

Mario Bros on the big screen

Hold a sticky hand the whole time

Apply rosemary oil to ends, working your way up the scalp

Massage head and neck with gua sha comb, then hands

Read in bed

Muse from bed

Allow LOVEly knowings to come thru

Text a bestie

Meditate into sleep

Get up @four:something

Thank a wave of panic for leaving

Pray for continued guidance

Two cappuccinos, back in bed with your laptop

Left hip talking?

Mantra per Louise Hay: Hip Hip Hooray — there is joy in every day. I am balanced and free.

 

Gather soft, smooth hair into low, loose pigtails

 

Walk under early morning grey skies and acknowledge how much you love where you live

Spy a stark white feather, then again !!!

Realize that to mother is to be willing and able to nurture oneself

Note the mailbox full of ants and leave them be

Prep deviled eggs for a feast later; invite a new friend to join

 

Blog in a straddle at the chabudai in the eating nook

Reluctant Medium recommends this hip opener

Wait as long as you can to wash your hair

Place Home/body Castile soap, scrubber mitts, scrubber sponge in shower for later 

 

56

had been contemplating a return to dating, in some new-to-me rhythm, but on second thought — no thank you. I don't want to do It again. I've actually spent way too much time on this throughout my life.

Current dating *culture* feels like a frenzied orgy of spreading mess on top of mess, then lighting it on fire while feigning surprise at the destruction for the sole sake of destroying. I shudder when I think about the hurt babes who have juiced up The DJ's new signature mustache. He's got no let's talk about it muscles but he'll drink your juices to make his depressing love songs. Little memento for your kids to scream silly things about when played on the radio. MOM! REMEMBER?! Yes, of course.

Dating seems a sham for the masculine ego to feed off of the disenfranchised feminine. I like numbers. I wonder about how many boob jobs were done for a deflated solar ego? So yeah, double it for how many boobs were sucked on, nursed from, by sad bois? Fill your own mohair sweater set and leave him out of it unless he cares.

I mean, I had my first boyfriend in like the third — no kindergarten! — I had a boyfriend in kindergarten. He put a note in my winter coat pocket and a small orange plastic lizard in my desk. Remember the pull-up desk tops? I had the same redheaded boyfriend in third grade and fifth grade. Three and five, those are the grades my redheaded sons are in now. I'm almost 40 years old. I'm good. I fuck myself so well, you know? I am good. I can facilitate consciousness in other realms of the human experience and receive fair energetic exchange for my jump-start services.

It has nothing to do with not loving men. Men can be fantastic. I even met two seemingly kind men at a restaurant last night. But I really trust that if Spirit intends a partner for my next phase of life, he'll be placed right on my path, which will also be this guy's path. We will know one another. We will be the people on the sidewalk making eye contact, phones tucked in our back pockets. Not gonna be like finding a needle in the algorithmic haystack. I don't believe that's how life / love works. I’m gonna stop doing things I don’t like doing and don’t have to do.

Reluctant Medium dated all the men aged 26 to 29 on the Los Angeles Internet and it had me nauseous by proxy, because I've been there too — my I'm getting divorced version of there. Her conclusion is shocking: casual sex is overrated.

Now her nausea has kicked in 2 so we'll work it out as she works me out. Obsidian egg up the puss and sacred circles of auric protection. She's never been more clear.

When I first started sharing this work, I had a momager with an incredible horniness. We overhauled her apartment of 20 years. Lord, I still remember how we hauled that bed frame out to the street. She went from crawling around on the floor in a sub collar to being honestly uninterested in dick.

I thought I broke her libido. I didn’t. She harnessed her power and quadrupled her salary. She launched a MEN-O-PAUSE COMPANY today. I had her give Reluctant Medium a good talking-to.

My renovation client was punched in the gut by a guy she is making a documentary about. Mind you, this woman is an angel who rescues dogs others give up on. Well, her cycle went MIA for 90 days post-punch ● then yesterday ● we both started to bleed after nipping an attempted electrical shakedown in the bud.

I asked her if she would please put her left middle finger inside herself to paint a bloody heart where the punch hit. Thank you body.

an elfin man on the F train this morning 

red beanie with golden embroidered letters:

MARYLAND

hat on . took it off . smoothed it on his knee . put it in his puffer

back out and on and exit

sparkle eyes show guides working overtime

54

this is Reluctant Medium

🐫

S&M

Reflexive Thinking, 2023

 

Back in the day the girls at the nail salon um I mean the bagel place are all cooing over my nails. Can I touch them? Do you dip them? Yeah, thick, they are tools of sorts, I work with my hands. This one, shorter more square, is the packing tape peeler nail. Curved narrow pinky, this one, can scrape an ear canal. My mother would freak out about trimming nails short, cutting below the white line into pink. Show off frightened new skin. Washes her hands till her knuckles crack and bleed and sometimes she will sleep with hands lotioned up in old cotton socks. Does it have to get there? Be bold enough to label your perversions and you can keep going, keep refining, keep elevating your vices. Reset the balance of power of who is steering what and where. S&M. Sun & Moon. So-Cal & Mary-Land. Knowing that the movement beneath you is beyond you, until, not. Stroll & Make Love / Make dinner / Make your bed.

The reluctant medium is becoming much less hesitant when receiving and communicating clairvoyant transmissions. Her gift gains strength as she builds the muscles of reframing her personal narrative. Lube up a life lived in flow thanks 2 outer work—inner work. Pulse the outer through the body and watch the piles of inner organize themselves. Takes the time it takes. Miraculous when it clicks. Isn't life funny?

When I feel rushed, I weigh the difference between having momentum accrued

or 

I was looking back at pictures from my first year post-separation,
or, when I was there

Slut

fun

crying / wine

This writer named Scott

Amateur boxer, rides a mint green Vespa with glitter helmets, on and over the canals. I give him a little wind-up antique teddy bear. He walks and chimes together cymbals. He gives me a vintage basket purse. Basket With A Lid — that was important to him. Inside was a silk robe. He called all the plays before they were made, and then stepped out of the way. I thought I was sad.

All sorts of misplaced stuff works its way out, which is why I find it so terrifying when people plug right back in. Missing piece and off they go, plugging. Makes me queasy to see their work get piled on top, but that's why I am working on the anger. My anger. I am angry about

He used to run me a bath and read to me. Huevos rancheros for breakfast, or just juice and the paper, and self-guided Shintoism studies, falling asleep. His assistant grew up in The Dakota. He went darker when Prince died and I had black calla lilies delivered because I was working for a florist and could.

Stay in touch and fancy lunches for birthdays. Time and space and pace yourself when you are changing everything. Not saying be alone, but don't not be. Why postpone it, entangle another, work stacked on top?Though if they're entangled with you, right now, they're also in it and that = an exponential equation that won't be avoidable, forever.

Came back

Think, reflexively

The pattern will jump around, crashing or nimble feather feet

Pat down all the embers. Fire turns to earth and from earth grows wood. Gotta ground down and grow up

Stretch & More

Spirit

&

Material

☎︎

BB HI
it's your Auntie Laur-Em
answering your call, reaching out really, to say 
YES the divine feminine is alive and wishing WELL

BBs your mama toils

LIFE PATH

ABUNDANCE

LEGACY

strengthening the signal

LIVING ROOM

PRIMARY BEDROOM

G

U

E

S

T

⚜

B

A

T

H

CAN U 

BE 

HEAR 

NOW

?

👠👠

29 (not 39)

☎︎

Sunday's fullll moon thru my window was a landline phone home from Spirit. We talked allll night long. Lovers on a marathon call, falling asleep, the matching breathing, cadence, waking up to still there: hi u

Thank goodness Spirit loves unconditionally. I make and break promises and my crew keeps rooting for their home team, no Encino little league dustbowl required. No adults screaming at their hyper-scheduled offspring. Loving ~ knowings ~ floating ~ from out there ~ to down here ~ to us mere mortals ~

Goddesses, gods, guides, and ancestors as angels🪽 thank u for keeping me honest. Mercurial and dark in all this sunshine, busy-busy making room for the honesty to bubble out of the cauldron — a cauldron formed from working around-around-around the real thing that needed to get done. To be done. A decision crystallizes a turning point, a tipping point on the tip-top of the bellcurve. From clawing to coasting in a (much closer to a) New York minute. That's power. 

Deciding is power.

A best girlfriend is a reluctant medium. Fearful, but she's working through it, and good thing, for my (dead) family won't stop pestering her. My father's side keeps telling her to tell me: take the keys

I am! Lots of stuff with keys right now. Bicoastal post office boxes and old home handovers and new homes with new locks, plus farm and barn stuff with padlocks — though any sense of security has to come from within. Ritual helps. I will declare a sacred circle around myself on each leg of the journey, indoctrinated by defensive driving.

Speaking of circles, it wasn't technically a date, but a few weeks ago I went out with a man I used to go on dates with. A designer from Sardinia; insane manners; plates (and cooks) food so beautifully; funny too. He asked if I was in the mood for hidden or a scene. I picked hidden, though when we walked into Hidden, he knew two of the tables. That's the thing about secrets. (They get out.) The out just happens one way or another. You can listen to yourself (be your own (reluctant) medium) and take the keys. You can pull cards, visit with witches, have nightmares and odd rashes for years, fuck jerks. You can stop that. You can intuit impending illness and chart a cross-country course to regenerate farmland and your true well-being.

Ciao Ciao, the table behind us left with a buzzing big charge all around them. He whispered even though they were gone they're having an affaire. So I guess they used to be married to one another, then separated, divorced and started seeing other people, but their sexual obsession won't quit. He was confused about the why because they make each other miserable. Really, he stressed — so miserable.

Well, it's tricky until it isn't, right? In my own getting over It, the understanding is coming in.

The pain we come from *and we all come from pain* intoxicates until we are ready to move away from it. Intoxicating pain, devilishly disguised — wrapped up in all these pretty packages. Wants are not needs, no matter how easy creepy Bezos makes it to confuse the two, while he jets out of here looking for a better that isn't.

The Sardinian and I met up again a few nights ago. He's newly living a mile from friends of mine who are about to get married. I'm styling the bride and needed and wanted to do a full look check, so picked him up, happy to introduce neighbors.

My friend was writing her vows before we arrived, which had her deep in reflection on how they got to this point. She shared it really started with her decision to no longer date based on pathology — pathology being the study of disease causation. 

i.e.

She decided not to let her pain pick.

That same day, in vow crafting of a different sort, I had junk haulers go through the decrepit farmhouse. I'm easing the old gal closer to the relief of demolition. To collective surprise, these haulers discovered an entire unknown room, filled floor to ceiling. Holy crap means cut a $econd check. As I'm not yet on that scene, my (third) cousin swung by the bank, then the house to survey the transformation. While far from broom swept, she lay empty. Just a single photograph left on the floor. A photo of my grandmother, like a sister to my cousin growing up. My cousin says we have eerily similar energy, my grandmother and me.

Weslia, my grandmother

Wishing I remembered her more.
Know I will, in being there. - my grandmother

Still, in the City of Angels, 2021

I asked if the photo was found in the front of the house. I asked this question because a former farmhand told me she's seen the ghosts of the two ladies — Mildred, or Mimi, my great grandmother, and Weslia, Mimi's only child. Saw them standing in the front of the farmhouse. She also fainted once, in the back of the home, and swears my great grandfather Earl caught her. Earl was an undertaker-cum-farmer infamous for smoking a pack a day despite being tethered to an oxygen tank.

Yes, found face up in the front room. And in answering, an old memory was jogged. When cousin Hoppy was a boy on the Eastern Shore, the men would be invited to the dinner table first. Once they ate their fill, the women could join.

Mary-Land Movement, 2022

A flash. Remember heat (rage) between my fifth grade legs learning how a pioneer man would be first to bathe, leaving his leftovers for his wife and children 🥀thx