Have a Break
To be clear a daily list of what I ingest would also be a good self-portrait:
Coffee, Blood Pressure Meds, Algae Omega-3s, Mitochondrial enhancer, Testosterone booster. Local organic CBD oil.
A selection of poetry, long-read articles: one about babies being switched at birth in Newfoundland and another of an individual at the epicenter of a cluster of suicides. Politics, both nauseating and humorous.
Comments on this week’s poetry efforts. Several well-adorned consumerists traps. Zazen and nothing, nothing, nothing.
2, 2 mg. Nicotine mini lozenges. An excellent Loa Lewena kava from Fiji Fresh.
This great broken music Glitch Collection, inspired by LAYC's last post on “Glitch Practice.” I found many gems but laughed out loud @ https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=1kNRjdxn-SA&feature=share
Being vegan and high fiber for a month consumed ‘elevated’ muesli with cashew yogurt.
The conversations I have with all of you and recipe planning, I have between things. The quieter my practice the louder they seem to get. probably a subject-object inversion.
Con/Jur/d Selfie 4/15/2021
Tony over at PMO, you are welcome to any on this page. Ha!
Self Portrait as a City-Garbage bag on the Kitchen Floor
Con/Jur/d, 4/15/2021
When I,
when I first,
when I first moved
here, having come from San Francisco,
the shock lasted 3 to 5 years, unclear,
broken parts, healing at different rates.
The glitch,
the glitch these,
the glitch these scars
revealed, spoke volumes,
volumes, volumes, volumes.
The City Garbage bags in lieu,
of a monthly bill seemed, coming
from a place aiming for zero waste.
After a while, after a while, I got used
to it, more plastic in the landfill be damned,
this is how I live now! Sure, sure there are
other ways, but like the trash being burned
in the Caribbean, who am I to judge, judge,
Judged myself,
when I noticed the bag on the kitchen floor,
below the dishwasher, where the water-purifier
pours had been put away, where it belonged.
Dropped when I noticed, it was the wrong
the wrong, the wrong size for the waste bin,
and I was going to pick it up, pick it, pick
I needed,
I needed smaller,
I needed smaller bags,
for the accumulated spring waste,
blown, buried, revealed, by the pass
the passing of winter. I was, was, was
In the middle of,
in the middle of my cooking,
in the middle of my cooking practice,
And so I filed it away as for later,
later,
later the,
later the next
day and the one after that.
The filing was,
the filing was repeated,
but I, but I, but I, don’t live alone.
(we share the same dream)
When I,
when I first,
when I first noticed,
I thought, I thought, ‘Now what?’
How will the trash get picked up?
When will I ever get the wrong bags again?
Why would she mess with my filing system?
My system,
my system needs
an occasional reboot,
reboot, reboot, reboot, reboot,
There that’s better.
No mess was hurt in the making of today’s substack, but later before she gets home.
TY y’all,
Con/Jur/d