talk show generics

She held the boundary for as long as she could and then caved. Her eight year long fascination with him subsided into a temperate love affair punctuated by flurries of drunken fists. This was a special kind of music few could hear, a subculture where the despotic meet those who prefer to be ruled. She had run out of furniture to blame on another blackened eye.

under an influence

I wonder about changes in perception a lot, in myself and other people. I love to be under the influence of marvelous ideas, and my perception of the world changes when I am immersed in the creative process; time becomes more pressing, life becomes more valuable, and a lot of toxicity is flushed from my system. I could be under the influence of a particular process, or a particular person, or a particular substance, or a particular form, or a particular place, or even a particular recurring dream or nightmare. Then there are collective influences like war, music, drugs, politics, books, coffee, environment, food, culture. Strange things happen when perceptions become altered and altered perceptions become new accepted norms and their own reality. I find myself taken aback almost yet always curious when confronted with various subcultures. There is the experience of being under the spell with others (immersion). Or being outside looking into (visiting) a subculture. There are the subcultures which we subconsciously accept (internalize) and those we reject. Change rolls in and covers a former way of being, and may sometimes obscure and distort, exaggerate or undermine what we know to be true. The truth becomes difficult to pinpoint.

All I know is it is hard and painful at times to be up against a subculture that I am not part of (rejection is too strong a word). If I walk down skid row, I will feel pain. If I go to a political convention, I will have trouble relating. If my friends are all on methadone (or any other drug), there may be something they are perceiving which I am missing, or something they are misperceiving which I am getting. This is curious to me. And how and why I would feel pain? I guess it is partially that my perception of reality is being undermined (rejection is too strong a word), and not really consciously. Usually subconsciously. When faced with a conscious rejection of my reality, recently, I stood up for myself -- I literally stopped my car and told the person to get out. I think they thought I was joking but I was not. We were only about a thousand yards from the destination, so it was not like I was stranding them. But it was a very painful split.

All I know is it is better to tread carefully and not reject anything completely out of hand, for I have felt the tremendous pain of having my world rejected out of hand and it feels terrible and violent to me. I would not like to impart this feeling on anyone, ever. But outside of personal relations and differences, how do we handle collective influences like war and indiscriminate violence? Aren't these also part of human nature, part of human experience? How then can I reject them? How can I not? IDK - I just wanna tread carefully and watch myself, and try and form and adhere to a personal code, so that I don't get swamped by my subconscious. But I cannot control my subconscious, that's why it is sub: under the surface goings on! But I do believe that what I am doing, consciously, every day, over and over, makes a tremendous imprint on my character. So this I can consciously control. And try and remain flexible in my self as reality goes through its changes and shifts around. Nobody wants to be left behind! But there is one thing remains eternal for me and always hopeful and refreshing, I believe, and this is the creative process. So I continue on, despite adversity and rejection and mistakes I have made. I am in constant search of a greater creative community of caring and sharing, enlarging upon this can only make life more worth living.

notarize the thighs -ii)

And there in the alleys, lay the sweet marrow of culture...

With ink on the arms and legs and the core. boys and girls who seek safety in all diverse self-expression; who know no other refuge in a lifestyle recession. all races and creeds and classes unite. welcome to the miracle of usa subset! creative. inspired. inspected by #444 yet mostly misunderstood. resistant to the tool and die cast condemnations. flipping the script on all morality-play machinations. the courageously stumbling around in the dark. the seeking to define a new future for all. taking chance to defend the foundation integrity. shooting down any luck of the draw. this is where we found shelter, or where it found us.

where you found me, and i found you. the intimacy between us, beyond any screw. the end of the end of the end of world wars. the anti-authoritarian seam. running up and down the side of some chix flicking-eye-lash. An awesome metallic spark for the scene. The rebellion burning through the black-leather soul. A heavy-hearted embrace, from one to another. In the eyes, we see home. We drink sumatra. We eat seaweed. We laugh and we cry. Back home and we missed you, the whole place got shy. Without the wild heart of a beloved lost soul out at sea. Nourished back home now, and got love for you and me...tbc  xxoo

Katya Mills, 07/13