My head bone is connected to my....toe?

It’s bizarre how, after a whole year of experimenting with new ways to better love a body that is all mine I’ve become so confused and detached with the being I’ve been trying to connect to.  As I was riding my bicycle today I looked down at my legs and couldn’t remember their familiarity but instead became repulsed with what I saw: a strangers calves straining under the push and pull of my bike, thighs that barely looked like something I would call my own and ankles jutting out from a pair of already imprinted shoes.  

Years ago I spent all my time devoted to understanding the inner workings of my body to help create an appealing aesthetic for myself and others to marvel at.  I would do leg presses and squats too many times a day while guzzling down muscle milk for breakfast and diet pills for dinner trying to achieve an outcome that would hopefully inspire oneness from the inside out.  This ended up being a failure and equated to me never being satisfied with the results my body was able to give.  This disease that infected me, a “need” for beauty and acceptance based on my appearance began to wear at me. I’ve spent this year trying to love my body for all the beautiful things it cant help but do.  I havent dieted , I havent shaved the hair that so eagerly sprouts out of my pours and I havent tried as hard as some to hide the odors it emits.  

This has lead me to, still, an extreme disconnection with the parts that are my own.  A straight up unfamiliarity that’s disturbing.  I began to consider the possibility of loving my body for its capabilities instead of what is seen from the outside.  My body is capable of writing letters to people I love, propelling forward to arrive at a destination, swining my hips to the beat of the sounds my ears can hear, smelling and tasting and chopping a meal for myself and friends but really and mostly just love.  One day when my senses start to fail and my bones lose all desire to carry or chop one more thing I will have the memory of my bodies once beautiful capability that lives on through myself and others minds, love love love.

Maybe everyday I can remember to love my body for its capabilities and eventually love the flesh that covers my arteries.  

Balance. Moderation. Get Fucked.

On friday I crossed the sands in a dodge neon.  We drifted through a hazy sand storm that left me blind to the world in front of us but opened my eyes to all the corners of my brain that I have successfully  hidden out of cruelty.  Ive been punishing myself, throwing away keys to doors and secret trap ways that once  brought me happiness...freedom.  I had been so fearful to let my body go, let my thoughts go to just go and go and go.  

Anyways, we traveled sunburnt and sand whipped with smiles spread so thick across our faces. We were on a journey without a clear destination, maybe only really a mirage.  The harvest moon came and peeked her orange peel head out of the trees and teased us for miles.  She finally gave in and let us glimpse full on in all her glowing and enticing beauty  There was nothing more sensual to me than that moon that night.  Lusty moons for lust young minds.  

Miriam WOsk is a genius

My nerves are all worn out from everyone rattling them this week. I've got no more fucks to give, not a single.  This is nice.

I've been doodling and writing and making my friends mixes this week and I've been feeling more like myself.  Sharing is one of the greatest joys I think I've experienced. 

I was reading my journal last night and shouldn't I have grown bits and bunches by now? I tihnk im regressing and becoming more and more detached from myself and everyone around me. Insecurities have gripped me by the throat and the only way to squirm away and stand on two feet is to slice those buggers in half and violently (just in case you were wondering).

My goal is to love people but how the fuck can I love anyone if I havent come to full terms with just loving myself. I use to stand tall and could quickly rebuke harsh words with a confidence and love for myself that I kept close and tidy at all times. The dust has settled and I can no longer see myself, I have some major cleaning up to do and there is no better way to change the future than to start today. So I'm making a proposal to myself (a signature is not necessary) and it's starting to look like this:

1. Breath alone for at least 10 minutes every morning and every evening.
2. Write as much as comes naturally every day without faltering.
3. Step outside of my house and be around/observe others around me and stop being such a sensitive hermit.
4. Go to the places I want to be and do things I care about every day
a.more shows more music
b.Quaker House
c.fnb
d.leu gardens
e.library
f-z. i'll let them fill in.
5. Pray.
6. do/say scary things at least once a day.
7. Create everything I've always wanted to create.
8. Save up all my money for Montana,
9. Finish every book I ever started and have only been able to love a quarter of.
10. Zen the fuck out of my house (i.e clean clean clean, good smells, food, fix shower)