Today Clint and I went to the arboretum and handed out waters, then I went to Jame’s house and bought this journal (www.whitefoxlikes.blogspot.com), a new place to store my secrets. A secret- whenever I talk about how I paint everyday, I’m not! Ha! But enough. I’m in transition right now. No paint, just reading, writing, loving this space.
I never want to experience winter again. I was just thinking of the winter foods left on my shelf- a can of coconut milk, some sunshine dust, dried orange lentils, gogi and Indian teas, rice newtles, a bag of popcorn seeds. I never want to see these things again.
I’m outside at the picnic table. The last couple of days I’ve had to access the apartment through the kitchen window. I don’t feel like going in now because I’m all in boxes, homeless and loving it.
“Where I’m from”
inspired by George Ella Lyons poem “Where I’m From”
I am from a rainbow flavored coffee house between the hood and gentrified Lexington.
I am from spindly trees with shiny plastic necklaces hanging from branches.
I am from a womb carried east from California to be shattered at the hands of some other man.
I am from holy water.
I am from bread thrown to hungry geese, never wasting, never wanting.
I am from black hair dye, red lacquer on canvas, and on my face.
I am from autonomous signs. God. Is. Love. and the pennies thrown at our golden heads.
I am from recycling bins, the curious saving that goes unseen.
I am from newspaper.
I am from tomato seeds spit on trophies handed over by old men.
I was at Omega for the whole of this journal. I learned tarot, vortex healing, I became a Reiki master and began a personal yoga practice. I decided to seek my beloved when I found this line in a Rumi book, “The Beloved is all there is. The Lover is a dying thing.” This is also about the time I fell in love with house music.