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sarita is with her best friend in london. i go onto her blog to see her photos and i feel her there. i see her walk and shaking her head and curling her blond curls, growing, growing, growing long...breezy is in LA - ! and maybe back to London we don't really know anything, do we? he says it's boring but it's not. its drama is the 1st car of a roller coaster and he is sitting there in coney island; being jerked around. i see him on the big screen and his eyes are closed, but he is not easy to read. and if i close my eyes, my step-father is conjured. overstepping his boundaries made him a type of psychologist and a scary presence to try to love but there are some times when i conjure his image, and a few of the things he said in 15 years stick. i do not know who those things were for. i see him doing "him" always, i see him training his body in an attempt to squeeze all the poisons out. i see him in his head working on a peace that won't ever come and i see that awareness as both torture and freedom. i see the "spiritual" path as a bunch of bullshit and i see each ones' own unique path as a pile of possibility. i feel for him because this awareness was only a cloak - not a movement itself. i see him sitting cross-legged; he and sarah always had such strong, beautiful legs - i leave them both there...i went to a meditation sit on bowery this tuesday. the speaker never showed (they made that a lesson into itself). i rolled my eyes. CHRIST!@ - must everything have a positive side? must i learn to change THIS pov? would i be a different person w/o these things i obsess over or that bring me anxiety? there is only one way to find out i guess - they say that if you explore and don't like what you see, hear, or feel - you are REQUIRED to reject it all - afterall, you're the boss. the best thing about the sit was the hard pillow under my ass and the cold downtown rain slapping the creaky air conditioner and every other fogged-up part of the huge windows of the studio. the room was so silent and several times i opened one eye as if the other were covered by a patch to take a peek at peoples' quiet faces. the man in front was at a 3% angle to the right. he looked like he was either finding oblivion, riding a wave, or having his hair brushed by a young indonesian in a two piece. i am sneaky and a lot of the time resistant, contra, and stubborn - so i peeked many times, as if to say, i guess, that i AM awake, in my very own way. but yes yes yes, i know that's too literal. you could be a part of a marriage but not actually be present, you could be in a relationship but love someone else, you could be the exec founder of an NGO in Ethiopia and be very very very asleep. my eyes wide open mean nothing but that i am fixated on this life...things change, and there is a lot of comfort in that.
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