27 April 2024

On Jealousy

Her toes, wet, a significant splash of salty sea spits itself over her shins, a High Tide. The splash presses her into the future; she sees herself. Aglow. Awash. She's everything she's ever wanted to be. She's there

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Heat. Flushed. She fills with jealous rage at what is not, at what she is not. The overlap. The person she is not but wants to be sees her, looks over and smiles, "Oh to be in the same place at-not the same time." The person she is not but wants to be sighs a beautiful sigh of contentment. 

Her face, wet, the significant splash of salty sea slinks itself off her scalp, present. The splash recedes, a Low Tide. As she scrambles slowly down the shore to reach the significant splash of salty sea, she slides a hand into the water as the splash splashes her. The past. She sees herself, again, aglow, awash. She is everything she wishes she still was.

But it's not her. It's some other person who resembles her greatly.

Cool. Calmed. She fills with jealous sentiment at what no longer is, at what she was. The undertow. The person she was but no longer is looks at her and smiles, "Oh, to have been, to have been." The person she was but no longer is sighs an ugly sigh of smugness. 

She washes ashore

The squirrel, as it simmers, it speaks, "Took you long enough," and then he hits his joint hard. 

She rolls over and motions for the squirrel to come closer. Annoyed, the squirrel sits back and smirks, "As if," as he takes another puff. She slithers over to the squirrel's stone and props herself up. The squirrel, annoyed, holds the joint out to her, and she pulls long and hard. "I need a Frankie," she states as she sighs the smoke from her lungs. "There aren't any more, and if there were, I sure as fuck wouldn't let you smoke the whole thing by yourself," the squirrel eyerolls. 

"Whatever," she spits with another big inhale and slow, smooth exhale. 

The squirrel speaks, "Apparently;" she interrupts, annoyed, "What?" "We're early," the squirrel explains as a few "Fucks," exit her mouth in rapid succession. "Fuck." 

They each take another pull.

"How do you know this?" she asks. "That goddamn dragonfly basically confirmed it without me even asking. That asshole," squirrel responds. "Well, whatever," she scoffs. "Whatever?" squirrel challenges. "Yea. What. Ev. Er," she smacks along with her fingers gesturing a "W" and an "E." "Wow," squirrel yawns, "we really are early; you're still a fucking teenager." "Fuck you," she blows the squirrel kisses. Squirrel catches the kisses, because he must, but he does not want to accept them. "You have to," she explains. "Whatever," squirrel mimics. 




09 April 2024

On Unearned Power (of the white variety that black people have co-opted as their own *clap.clap.clap* [not a criticism, an adoration *iroll*]), Among Other Racist Shit, etc.

unearned power is exactly that

UNearned

&unearned power can never reign

because the wielder was not

forged in the ferocious fire of

EARNED POWER

&EARNED POWER develops over decades of proving one's self and one's reputation

that the reputation stands

that they are who they say they are

and that they do what they say they will do

&to think that we ought to bestow UNearned power upon someone

based off of the color of their skin

(cause that's how the whites have done it/do it)

and call it "diversity"

"equality"

&"inclusion"

is fucking capital-ARR Racist

of the whitest variety


eye'll give 'em something

tho

those whites and those blacks

they sure see the world in exactly that

*shivers*


^..^


Here's a dead giveaway that you're average (or below) ::

You imagine that High Achievers are "perfectionists," thus, you "walk on eggshells" around them because you think that they can't handle criticism (like the way that you can't handle criticism), and so, you believe that High Achievers are somehow so riddled with self-confidence that they are able to achieve so much...how?

An older [race redacted {cause eye've decided to no longer participate in the heavily Racist language utilized by black women on the internet who make and believe that everything, everything, boils down to race, when really, what everything, everything, actually boils down to is economic class, etc.}] woman used to say things like, "Oh, don't even try to tell her she's done anything wrong, or she will blow up at you," referring to me while we were sitting in our bosses' office discussing her terrible jobplace attitude and overall insubordination. And she's, quite frankly, the only person who has ever expressed this sort of view of my behavior, also, just fyi. The [race redacted] woman who came to retrain me, because the first [race redacted] woman who trained me left out a key piece of information that eye needed in order to do my job well even commented on the openness of my mind with regards to being retrained. 

Eye, obviously, thought that this assessment of needing to "walk on eggshells" around me was hilarious, because eyema High Achiever, and it was painfully obvious that the older [race redacted] woman was very shook by my arrival into her jobplace, etc. She viewed herself as doing the job well. I proved otherwise.

The races of the older [race redacted] woman and the [race redacted] woman who came to retrain me are, obviously, not the same. LOL!

The thing is, though, that the older [race redacted] woman revealed her own very-average intellect.

To think that a High Achiever is repulsed by criticism, critical feedback, people who are both capable and willing to point out flaws in their logic, is idiotic. You're a moron if this is how you think High Achievers achieve.

High Achievers are High Achievers because of the criticism and critical feedback and revelations in their flawed logic. 

The fact that low-achievers believe this way about High Achievers is, quite frankly, what makes you a low-achiever. As a low-achiever, criticism, or even the whiff of it, destroys you. You are wrecked by the idea that you are not perfect, that there are flaws that could be mended to make you a better person, etc., etc., &c.

BAHAHAHAHA!

Like, duh.

Ugh, it just must be like so fucking frustrating to be average. That's why you all stick together so tightly. I totally get it. Good news! You've got each other, y'all. Do it. Stick together like your life depends on it! (Cause it does, BAHAHAHAHA!)


^..^

 

Most people could not recognize a [race redacted] free-thinker if we punched them in the face

So, like, onward! 

Spend none of your precious [race redacted] time convincing anyone [race redacted] of anything

especially not the [race redacted] idiots!


^..^


And then it occurred to me, "Why do I value the opinion/approval of [race redacted] women? What [the fuck] have they ever done for my [race redacted] ass or for [race redacted] people? I don't fucking owe them shit. Goddamn." 

The clouds part, and I am free.


^..^


The two groups that represent

the Totality of Color

and its Total Void

have this in common

tote foesh

a Non-Asian mindset



07 April 2024

On Lists &List-Making

"Whose list is this?" you wonder in whisper. &Where the fuck am I? your mind whispers. The list sits loose between your fingers; you read it again.

Maybe it's not me, you console yourself; It's a common name, you decide.

"But is it?" you ask aloud, &then you start pacing.

"It is, but it isn't," you work out, "Cause, like, is this my list or am I an item on this list?" You stop cause something's in your shoe. You wriggle the thing free.

"If it's my list, then someone slipped it in my pocket?" you ask nobody in particular as you are alone, in a cold, dark cave, lined in ice, lit by a small wood fire. But you don't remember ever acquiring this particular list, so, "If I'm a line item on this list, what the fuck?" you shout, incensed at the thought, your voice echoing, echoing, echoing in the hollow cave.

"And where the fuck even am I?" you realize. Maybe I'm dreaming? Goddamn. You reach your hand out to the fire, No, fire's hot

"But..." you realize, "I am not cold, and I feel like I should be cold?" And why don't I remember anything? "No, I do remember, except that I'm not sure I should say what I remember aloud or even think it in my mind," you admit as you look over your shoulder at me. "What?" I ask, innocent. "I can hear you," you insist. "Hear what?" I challenge. You roll your eyes, "You're doing it, right now!" "Doing what?!" "Narrating!" 

^..^

The sun shines bright on a beautiful spring day on the horizon of the older woman's living quarters upon The Orbital, and as the squirrel, araft upon a thing of its own design and making, rides the creek—meandering, deeply, for the entirety of this day in a shallow valley through a forest—the creek opens out into a swaying field, and off in the distance the squirrel sees the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and at the base of the middlemost peak, the squirrel can see the green green hillside of the Listmaker's Ranch. 

The squirrel will not make it all the way to the Ranch by nightfall, and so, it sets up camp on the edge of the creek where it butts up nicely against a swaying field.

^..^


and then it poured

for an entire week it rained

and then it rained more


^..^

"One leaf died last week," the dragonfly informs, "And another will die in the next week or two, and so, I know that you are not from when I am from." The squirrel looks embarrassed, "I'ma squirrel. I'm obviously not from whenever this is that we are now." Confident, like all dragonflies, the dragonfly rolls its eyes, "Obviously." "So, should I pay you your $5 now for the analysis, or...?" squirrel goads. Above all of this nonsense, the dragonfly flies away.

^..^

The squirrel prepares itself a joint and simmers on a stone as the sun sets slowly behind the middlemost peak where the three peaks meet, and as the creek splashes softly by, the squirrel jots down a short mental list of the various things it would very muchly enjoy eating, that should be readily available along its journey to the Ranch. The squirrel takes another big toke and enjoys its life as it watches the sky turn from sunset hues to vast darkness sprinkled with specks of shimmery dust. 





02 April 2024

'A Rose By Any Other Name'

captured & edited 01APR24
on a handheld Canon EOS 4000D mounted w/a prime lens
in natural light
&on the Snapseed photo editor
using the Samsung Galaxy A14 5G
edited only for color amplification


VIRGIN

captured & edited 01APR24
on a handheld Canon EOS 4000D mounted w/a prime lens
in natural light
&on the Snapseed photo editor
using the Samsung Galaxy A14 5G
edited only for color amplification
(cause like, let's be real, all fucking pics that are published to places wherein things can be published
have been digitally edited
sometimes the edits are simple, simply to make the image pop
other times it truly is to deceive
&everything in between
&to know the difference is to understand at what you're looking
&if you don't know at what you're looking
then you're illiterate in images
you cannot read images
just like there are many forms of illiteracy
[for instance, you can be socially illiterate &not-know how to behave/interact w/ppl in social settings
cause you don't know how to "read a room," etc.]
there is a form of illiteracy that has to do with one's inability to read images
if you suffer from this condition
i imagine that these days are very confusing for you
which must be such a total bummer. *shrug* bummer.)