Hey!! You don't need instructions or a permission. OK That's all

I remember in 2019 when I had a Very Libra Year of Indecisiveness and I kept thinking very neurotically about: what is is that I want? how would I like to spend my days? how would I like to feel? and I would try and try to tap into my intuition and find this feeling that I am yearning for or some type of picture of it and what I kept imagining is. Being buried in wet ground I mean in the way that my face is out that I would still be able to breathe, but besides that buried in wet ground somewhere where it is lush and green and raining and I would be surrounded by very big leaves, leather-like vibrant-green large leaves like a little frog that goes under such leaf when it is raining. And that picture is something I keep going back to once in a while to check like ok am I buried there as I'd like? am I under that leaf? and if not then I do something that makes me feel like I am under that leaf. Like going swimming or going to the forest.

It's funny how the things that escape speech and language only do so because the language hasn't developed around it. Obviously birth and childcare -- how all the great stories would be about them if men would be the ones to do it...

Also my mubi one free month code still works :)

There are no words or concepts btw for what I am trying to grasp, whatever words touch it are so layered and tense already that they escape the vast space of it all; to say "motherhood" is already too much but always too little, its meanings are like little hooks that tangle in different parts of the consciousness whereas it is not at all in the consciousness what I am trying to reach. I would try to go beyond it, but to say "the miracle of creating life", "the miracle of giving birth" -- the miraculousness of it which lies deep in both the spirituality and the corporality of it - how it is completely utterly beyond words - is impossible to touch, or maybe it is not impossible, maybe it just takes time -- and maybe, when you know, you know... but I think it is similar to death in the way it escapes words, but as we can never experience death, birth and what follows from it is something that is *completely* experienced, so completely experienced in the body that words can only decorate it. Also just had a first all-nighter of my daughter's stomach bug maybe that's why I am feeling deliriously clear...

Lately instead of picking up my phone for the 3-8mins I might have in between I have been reading poems and rereading poems and (re)discovering the joy of preserving a poem in your memory. It is completely different to read a poem and mull it over for a bit than to have it live in your head to mull over it at any time, to mull over any line at any time, to see what you remember and what you forget, what you remember wrong and why... it really feels like the words live and grow inside my head. Gives me so much understanding of how people "used to live" as in learning things by heart. To have a little library in your head to return to is so different than using external memory tools. One day I read a poem in which there was a horse that really settled down in my heart (its coat shining earth in the moonlight/ (half-earth itself, half-wind)) and reading my daughter a children's book there was a horse and I had a deja vu of -- oh, where did I meet this horse who really touched my heart? only to realise it was in the poem. Words, at their best, can contain physical touch...

To all of us Foucault Heads who have watched the foucault-chomsky debate a thousand times since we were 15 yrs old the fact that after it Chomsky said that F is the most amoral person he has ever met and seems like from a "different species" really gains some depth of meaning after C's name all over the E*stein files :)

I've just mixed mushroom spores with used coffee ground and put the box in a dark place in hopes for there to be oyster mushrooms in some weeks... Everything that is now real has once at first been imaginary...

I love that part in the Heart of the Winter where the possibility of Summer starts to feel real again.

Even the sea has frozen up <3

Every day I think about Henry Darger...