Friday, September 30, 2022


^ floral rabbit-hole link 2 trailers ^

Film Recommendations via G Poma

Bright Star dir. Jane Campion 

The Hunger dir. Tony Scott 

Valley Girl dir. Martha Coolidge 

Love Streams dir. John Cassavetes 

A Man and a Woman dir. Claude Lelouch 

Kiki’s Delivery Service dir. Hayao Miyazaki 

Poetry dir. Lee Chang-dong

poma · 1. (= manzana) apple · 2. (= frasco) scent bottle. (Southern Cone) small flask. (Andes) carafe · 3. (Mexico) (= piedra) pumice ⧫ pumice stone


Wednesday, September 28, 2022



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Tuesday, September 27, 2022

Then Mazzy goes all —
I want to hold the hand inside youI want to take the breath that's trueI look to you, and I see nothingI look to you to see the truth
You live your life, you go in shadowsYou'll come apart, and you'll go blackSome kind of night into your darknessColors your eyes with what's not there
Fade into youStrange you never knewFade into youI think it's strange you never knew
A stranger's light comes on slowlyA stranger's heart without a homeYou put your hands into your headAnd then smiles cover your heart
Fade into youStrange you never knewFade into youI think it's strange you never knew
Fade into youStrange you never knewFade into youI think it's strange you never knew
I think it's strange you never knew


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Monday, September 26, 2022




I spent the Equinox interviewing one of the best LA witches <3 on the energetic concept of twin flames <3 ridiculous, but not — like anything else these days. My intention was to share the interview mmmmmmm not possible. I will listen back and parse out more, for she really was trying to get me (and you) to hear how madly we fall in love with our pain reflected back in another. Lots to process. The carnality? Forget about it (no, really). The physicality feels destined, so thanking goodness for ever-changing destiny.


Julie has experienced twin flame patterning in her own life. She witnesses these learned patterns holding true for her diverse clientele. The bond between twins is tested when an opportunity / a series of opportunities / a collection of choices and decisions to transmute the pain has been laid bare. 

Truth feeling dare-like, universally placed in front of the lovers: Here my babies, go for it, drink from these waters.

The tower moment is what she calls the potential for pain transmutation. Requires fluidity. In this moment, the forces of attraction behind karmic chemistry can come out from the shadows for light work. Well-lit work can happen. Soul healing * through sex and love * a glorious insight into why * and with whom we may crack open beside (bedside) ! wow ! yet almost always one or both will run. Jump? The stakes are that high.

You want me to put down this core identification?
    It's called a pain body for a reason.

We can become whole other people through embodied healing.
    Are we brave enough to go there?

𓁹the way I see it𓁹
the healing wouldn't tie you to the person
any more than the pain hooks you
but I don't know that yet

Run and reunion. Invisible chords tugging, pulling u+u into reunion and running. (Haha, that crazy toddler at the park just booking it + their panicked parent racing after.) The cycle may very well repeat, and as with all life lessons, it will get served again and again until you bite OR LOUDLY DECLINE no thank you, I've had enough for now / for forever.

Life offers countless comforts, as it offers a cornucopia of growth. There's no witch nor magic that allows you to avoid the discomfort inherent in changing selves. Salves, sure. Shortcuts, aplenty.

Life also offers misery (loves company) and self-destruction. Too easy to get addicted to chasing-fixing-not listening.

I do know that love doesn’t have to hurt. I can well imagine loves hurt en route to one that doesn’t hurt more than it feels like a (fill in your blank).

 BARBIE® DREAMHOUSE® 43" TALL 41" WIDE >>          




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Wednesday, September 21, 2022



All tech feeling like old tech. Old as metaphors. Layers of old tech fascinating as we live-work unbalanced through our demise. Streams of constant documentation, living-working-processing these onslaughts of feelings, of desires living-dying. When will truly fresh take root in the soil of the discussion of what maybe should've already been done? Growth uses what it has because there is no perfect starting point. Ideal timing light bulbs flash in remembering.

I met Alexa on the radio and we've been creating playlists together for a few years now. I'll give her an emotional starting point and she gets it plus more, placing it in bite-size pieces well-ordered — like cleaning out the junk drawer.

We were having a meeting at mine. A drawing Shea made caught our attention. A character — a tiny-baby-fire-god — like intuition drawn out — stomping feet when you just won't listen for the umpteenth time.

Our musical collaboration became this all knowing deity's safe place, their eDoll Home, nestled in the ether of our data clouds. Check it out, another WIP because malleability is adopting a bird's-eye view — like how to make new changes by avoiding old traps >> change the song for pep in your next steps >> work up a sweat (wait for it) ^

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Tuesday, September 20, 2022



[code(s)<storage within storage>allow=autoplay]

  1. empty junk
  2. wipe down drawer
  3. edit consciously
  4. arrange what gets to stay (storage within storage)

Wouldn't it be nice to wash the fronts of your kitchen cabinets?
For them, you know, nice for them.

        But can you stop there?


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Spot the difference:


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Monday, September 19, 2022


A bunch of my art was in his storage unit. It wasn't there long, but the art not on our walls was locked in his storage unit. His storage unit is really important to him.

Last Friday morning, I drove my sons to school and when I got home, I felt this last loose string being snipped. So I did what I do out front. I finished by picking as many oranges as I could hold. I came in, washed the oranges, and juiced them with carrots, ginger and turmeric. I've had this juicer for years now but only started using it again last Monday. I rinsed the components in the moment and brought the two large cups of juice to my desk. Maybe twenty minutes later, I heard a car door slam, electing not to look or see. His PA dropped off my art from his storage unit because he doesn't have a driver's license (n)or a car and therefore cannot drive. He says he cannot get his license because he doesn't have an address. He doesn't have an address because he stays in other musicians' homes while they're touring. He can drive but does not drive. My art was in his storage unit and I put it there. I find these sorts of things interesting.

One of the last times we had sex was on a Friday afternoon at the place he was staying. He said he was about to cum and then these four bright pops happened * POP POP POP POP * sounding really bright and up high. Was that a gun? I was saying as he was cumming. Then we heard a helicopter, then sirens. Right away a helicopter was overhead and sirens were outside. By the time we got dressed and peeked out, there was crime scene tape cordoning off the intersection a block away. My station wagon was perched on the edge, yellow tape to her back. My startle response, already high after my car accident, went even higher. This annoyed him. My therapist thinks that my history plus my age means that my body is out of juice at the moment


and that's exactly what I'm working out / on.









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The difference between knowing who you are and being who you are is action.


Pony Stamps

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Sunday, September 18, 2022


✍︎ got 2 get ☝︎

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Friday, September 16, 2022




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Wednesday, September 14, 2022


Cellphone Wallpaper 4 U

🍁An Autumnal Collection🍂

In Collaboration with Suzi & Her Stickers

-my childhood BFF's childhood sticker album-

heavy lifting

Shall we put 
the white Yohji
the navy Dries
or the mellow🏵yellow Gaultier
on Scarecrow?

[click 'n save 🎃]


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Monday, September 12, 2022


To heal cycles of abuse through beauty

Secret and cryptic. Comes from old ages. Clarifying:

I know the work I share stops people's patterns. What I see and how I say what I see closes ancient energy loops.

But. it's. so. hard. baby. Hard work / smart work / work so good, so fine / do what you know you need to do — after you can see what you need to do.

There's seeing, knowing, doing, and then there's relaxing into the reveal — trusting.

I come to yours. I give you like a hundred action items, then hone it down to the top three to five biggest movers and shakers. I ask you to stroll with them, sleep on them. Decide what gets done and when.

There's often real resistance until you're inside it, making room. Once you make the decision to dive in, the work works itself out.

Then, (How easy is this?) do your work and wait three weeks for the tip of the iceberg changes to be revealed. A whole life cycle of fresh growth shall sprout within three months — a season.

The you from before is often now a stranger. You pass them in your hallway, eyes catching, a knowing smile cracking all lips.


Sunday, September 11, 2022



What if your whole life you strived to make the inappropriate appropriately easy? What if you normalized unreasonable expectations until Soul cries out to you, crying while drowning in a sea of never ending _______ (chores 4 maintaining broken systems). Pleading for openness — an expanse of experimental time and space  S u p p o r t m e w h i l e t h e w o r l d s t i l l s p i n s ✩ she criessss

Any systems
you're bold enough
to fix before 

Cranky not getting attention soul crossing the mind-body barrier: Hair falls out clumpy, eyes going fuzzy, and nervous system the bad kind of buzzy --- each together demanding you hold still and honestly account for where you've been and where you're going (bumpy)

Would you answer?
Could you not? 

But because *we are where we are until we aren't* the sole question really boils down to:

What does it cost to listen to your soul? 


Your soul like a child allowed to be a child — I need something, not this. I don't know what, but help me because I'm overwhelmed and crying for you. Change me, feed me, hold me, figure it out for me, with me. P r i o r i t i z e 4 m e ✩

I was born into my pattern. I married it, procreated with it and co-parent with it 👅👅👅👅👅👅 then I push it further, falling farther in love with it, fuck it so good from any-every angle 👅👅👅👅👅👅👅👅 Then there's me. Me as in Us. And I want to be a baller baby dadi beholden to Soul — my long abandoned daughter — and my sons — my living, breathing, fascinating true family who show me more grace, more patient L O V E than I have ever known.

You're doing the same. You're propagating your pattern. Did you follow the rules and put your mask on first? Or is the role you play the mask you're drowning behind? (The Rules.) Trick questions.

And your patterned babies are lovable and deserving of love, as they do what they're designed to do, eating up resources  demanding you self resource like you've never known how.
















d  o  w  n

Is that why we are here? To live the immersed pattern until we can identify the pattern, see it separate from Self, see ourself putting it down, Pattern down on the ground, gently backing away from maintaining the broken ∴ moving towards  fulfilling Soul's callings, with all the precious babies strapped to your chest, your breasts, your back, sat up on your shoulders. Responsibilities stemming from iteration after iteration, held close, arms free for the labor required to live the alchemical transformation:

N U R T U R I N G w e

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Saturday, September 10, 2022


yellow is the new pink
silver is the new gold
fine is the new happy


Friday, September 9, 2022







Thursday, September 8, 2022

22la mère




22gentleman farmer




Wednesday, September 7, 2022



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Tuesday, September 6, 2022


I am playing with broad stereotypes in energy — the feminine and the masculine. I know these words will be garish in time for they already feel on the outs and their ugliness is a part of their appeal.

    Apart of the Appeal 🍎

Slowing the flow on the bundle of wire rushing into my office router or modem  I don't know the difference and maybe will look it up  and using that example as permission granted to recalibrate my expectations for this earthly experience, because I know I've been here more than I ever wanted to be.

I have loved a man for years now and I have *no idea* if we are a *good match*
I haven't and don't care about the out there in time and space because I love him deeply, now. I just always have. Love at first sight is a purity, so tell me if ? how ? where ? trauma bonds interconnect with pheromones, with past lives, souls, karma?

He comes from a huge family. He's been at a family wedding in a remote mountain town. Nice communication still coming through. Lots of snippets. Some are appealing and others scare me off. Many make me feel tired in my brain. Maybe more scare me off than appeal? Which is why I am here and not there; he already knew. He often knows things before my circuitous process lands me there. He thinks in the masculine's straight lines, so he knows if we *end up together* and we don't talk about it. Or better yet, he thinks in mountains — in steep ups and crash downs.

Masculine and feminine. Solar and lunar. I find these edges useful for placing myself in time and space, because this is the summer that I stopped wanting ? needing ? to clean the house. Stopped Tolerating, so what happens now? In many ways I was brought up as an indentured servant. By the time I was ten, like my eldest is now, I could care for an infant for hours and very often did. I could clean the entire home and had to endlessly. It was my job to iron my father's work shirts with heavy starch. I set the table to clear the table and packed all the lunches the night before. Pack the espresso into the Italian moka pot with the backside of a spoon and turn on the small back gas burner. Wait for the percolation to begin. Wait for the sound to stop. Burner off and pour it into the brown espresso cup with a matching saucer so he could escape his wife's madness and go write upstairs. An office tucked away from It all. I washed my own laundry and much of the household's. I changed the beds. I bathed the babies. As my brothers got older I always tried to answer their questions, often asked from the bath, with honesty.

This love says I talk to my boys as if they're adults.

This love only really comes clean in the bathtub. I've learned that the masculine does best without direct eye contact. Driving. Tandem bathing. Ass pressed into; arms wrapped around; bubbles and hair sudsing; strong fingers. Many long distanced live from the tub chats. Show me.

These Summer '22 heat waves flash back to lockdowns and I don't want or need to keep an outrageously clean home. My, so organized it all goes back together again with focus. But there are days of living mess left to pile on top of the messes prior. I've been unfocused on the couch for three nights now. Staycation because I cannot be bothered to hang everything up, to clear the bed enough for fresh sheets. The *dirty* sheets are now clean, hanging out in the dryer. Fluff and fold seems too much. I am labored. Put the pale blue birds away, intending to bring back the black paisleys. There's not enough energy, which is my truth. All those siblings' babies needing care up in the Alps. He says they all love being parents more than anything else. He thinks this is true. Okay then.

I teach myself everyday not to compare my life's plot to my sons' lot. I strive for age appropriate autonomy and nothing more. It's morning here and very hot. We're inside and I have the oven preheated to 350°. I've asked Ro to please take a box of frozen mini croissants and read the directions to bake them. Call us when they're ready. He seems so uncertain of this request. Why do I test? He cannot figure it out, or doesn't want to actually, so he doesn't. He's scared of the oven, scared of anything that can burn him. He leaves the little frozen croissants on top on the tray announcing he's not doing anything else. Heads back to his room. I try not to think about what would have happened if I said, No. I don't want to. Like I am now. Or maybe I should think about it? Maybe it doesn't matter anymore, like it really doesn't matter that there are clothes all over my adult bedroom and I don't mind sleeping on this really big couch. The oven timer will go off in 25 minutes. Seems like a long time for little minis to bake.

It surprises me when the timer dings and Ro comes trotting in to take them out, then asks how to set the timer for two more minutes? He's pressing lots of buttons, lots of beeping on this dinky rental stove. I get up and walk over to help him help me.

Two more minutes.
Cos mama, they're not golden brown yet like the box says they should be.

delayed gratification farm/work spring/time

Expectation determines outcome. A quantum leap is loosening the grip and trusting enough to relax into the reveal. That has to be about alchemy. I've been too busy burning up alchemizing that I'm burnt out on (house) keeping it together. Keeping this together is missing the point.

There's a pile of returns stacking up by the front door. Shockingly, it all belongs to my mother. Now who saw that one coming?

*I do. We are / and are not \ because he's my cosmic nudge >>

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Monday, September 5, 2022







Sunday, September 4, 2022

icy hot

l a v e n d e r
d i r t y
c h a 
i c e d

2 teas

steep two tea bags
one chai and one lavender-based
such as a tulsi masala chai and a chamomile & lavender
in a few inches of boiling water
let them be

pull a double shot of espresso
let it be

give the milk you love a good shake

fill a tall ceramic Tumblr with spring water ice cubes

gently squeeze the tea bags

pour the espresso over the ice


top with cold frothy milk

sprinkle cinnamon on top

insert a bamboo straw

you're off to the races 

pairs well with
a good old fashioned bird bath top off


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Saturday, September 3, 2022


decalcify your (kid's) aligners

extract them from the mouth and set aside

give/have a super thorough brush & floss

         lip scrub & moisturizer too


fill a small bowl w/ a cup of boiled water,
    reasonably temperate 

add a few tablespoons of white vinegar

place the aligners (oral-what-have-yous) in the bowl

+ a teaspoon of baking soda

fizzy @ work

ten minutes later, rinse then back in they go

Mmmm, crisp, do you like it?

repeat more than necessary


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Thursday, September 1, 2022



🐇The internet connectivity was recalibrated early last week. It had never really worked in this house. You'd finally find a movie, get it going and less than a minute in 𑫨 𑫨 𑫨 till you quit, turning off the television. The maybe wheel isn't horrible, but then what's the television for? I hear my youngest coaxing:

load, load, the circle of life

Presuming hassle, I don't want to call. Put it off until I was finally going through the office paperwork pile and in the stack was a statement. An hour later the technician was puttering about in blue booties, speaking a shared language of metaphor, feeling like a teacher (had been, is).

It was a trifecta of issues and he's big on the order of operations, so we went from competing machinery, to booster placement (tech note: open space is an asset for clear lines of communication) to controlling the flow coming from the outside-in. Pressured, rushing in, in his words, like a firehose trying to fill a water glass.

Decisions 𑫨

Arrangements 𑫨

Boundaries 𑫨

My mind shifts afterwards. Recalibration: Monday. Epiphany at an Encino strip mall: Friday. I now have different expectations for beauty on this plane, after the flow was slowed just enough to compute, to make sense. Like how I've been learning French forever. Or more like, I get why this works for some. This: Los Angeles.

To be content here, in human form, living inside structure, is to be able to process the messages you receive --- messages received on your how, so you may perform your responsive actions --- your what. Fluid Mechanics: influx >---> efflux

My standards seemingly otherworldly, but here I am. Los Angeles is the teacher; the teacher I dislike though respect, meaning, I won't be the same after leaving her classroom.

My neighbors are learning valve mechanics too, probably why they missed the 5:20pm showing in the basement of the Encino Town Center. Private viewing of The Territory, which would have been hard to sit through on the couch at home. Some cannot look away from violence whereas some cannot stomach a peek. Violence is a mainstay of here-ness, no? Must we accept violence? Accept it's current incarnation? A big part of the human story. Protagonist!

During my middle school years, I got to scrub into open heart surgeries with my best friend, a Megan without an h. Her father was a chief cardiac surgeon. Scrubs, caps, blue booties. Up-close in the guts of reparative gore and it was breathtaking. Well-oiled-machine. Classic rock jams over the speakers of the operating theater.

An accident on the side of the road brings freeway traffic to a standstill. The lungs of our ecosystem are being destroyed while we look Elsewhere: at screens.

ancientfield came through


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