ccgurupoet

[ccgurupoet]

February update

I think I am struggling with the cold 

and learning that people are not 

always what you want them to be.

 I am struggling to contact “God” because lately

 I have been fearing death, 

unusually. 

[ccgurupoet]

Tuesday poem 01/22

a new Monday and

anxious skin I have anxious skin

which I slip out of

when I sleep

and breathe

but wear in January

Hiding

[ccgurupoet]

On geography

It seemed as if the nature of Los Angeles began to open up to me The broken passion of an artist And LA with its placelessness But a place for anyone Who wants to be an anyone In the room where it happens On the lips of the actors I knew that maybe it was Not a dream I was chasing But Los Angeles, itself.

[ccgurupoet]

IN SEARCH OF VITAMIN D

there’s something about the morning,

In search of fleeting sun.

A pill for your deficiency

And enough general satisfaction

To start really spending time alone;

No voids to be filled.

Nothing for the ego this morning

No pancakes or a cups of coffee

But a piano wherever I go

Something to keep the soul alive.

[ccgurupoet]

found stream of consciousness from my notebook on a Wednesday 11/09

I should not smoke a cigarette on a Wednesday There are things I can do to avoid a cigarette on a Wednesday Someone’s big personality Their big persona + their melody I should not smoke a cigarette on a Wednesday At least I know what is good and what is bad for me

I cannot help putting hands to the face being soft this vessel soft + small that is beyond me much better to be safe

It does not make me feel good What about them and their feelings? I bet they do not feel shaken I feel shaken often And have spent a lot of time in the car. Going places, I have yet to understand Or have been able to find my place in…. yet.

He should be gone now.

Its not even relaxing instead, it makes me feel a little drunk Like I am trying to achieve a feeling that isn’t stable Like a snake wrapped around my leg. now I start the film research.

I’ve got to stop smoking cigarettes on a Wednesday Adding to the baseness of my fragility

I will not smoke a cigarette on a Wednesday It imposes nothing on me but a feeling

[ccgurupoet]

LEARNING TO FLY  11/21/18

PART 1: BEGINNER’S PLIGHT

Step #1: Assume Maximum Ease

I never expected our paths to cross or to know someone who would respond to what I had to say. I never expected to create my own project with my own truths

I don't think it has settled in for me the feeling of many months and an arrival of summer. 

I am so worried It will feel slow or in a year I may not be on a plane but missing him

I never expected New York

I don’t know if Brooklyn will suffice 

      or if it’s Los Angeles to stay

PART II: MIDDLE AMERICA

 Step #2: Become Familiar With Geography

I waste energy on grief 

    because my past taught me too

Evan taught me to hate myself

    he taught me to seize on planes

    he taught me to expect non-responses

Oona taught me to hate myself. 

I’m so glad I no longer know an Evan or an Oona. 

PART III: GROUND CONTROL TO MAJOR TOM

 Step #3: Envision a Graceful Landing

Coming home

How can you be arriving when everyone is leaving?

it has been 3 times since

I knew I had to stay

I like highways, too

I prefer them. 

[ccgurupoet]

An Essay on Being Glass

I have just not felt this alone or alive or on the verge of breaking. It’s going to happen when I least expect it. Its not October anymore or September or August  or I didn’t just move to Los Angeles and all I want to do these days is sleep off my own thoughts. I have never felt more on the brink of being alive. And the differences are there, I just can’t see them. 

Afraid of myself, afraid of my own feelings, afraid of my own depth, afraid of my own dad. 

Crippling anxiety -- wish we were able to discuss it in 3rd person objective. No comparison -- one day the negatives won’t be negatives but positives that I have overcome... Ready to do a show and perform a play... Caring so much but I am where I am because I deserve it. It’s okay. Divine Feminine. 

Became a non-feeling human being. Afraid to feel, afraid to express. Want to come into my own + deserve to have an open heart + speak my truth. Allowed to be upset + hurt because I am a human being. Known as like this ‘other’. I can’t listen anymore. Blaming myself but these were experiences I wanted to have. Maybe they did suit me once, but now I can speak Freely as Myself. 

Santa Monica this summer. Did I do it wrong? Did I move here wrong? I think it is changing inside of me and I have grieved and I am adapting, learning to move slower through it all, to be Easy on Self, something I don’t do well. I had been intuitively thinking about slow and I think he’s right. Wanted to hit the ground running but for what? things I didn’t even see in myself yet or recognize in myself and I had to learn them through time. 

I am an artist. And I love normalcy. A fear that I’m going to go through this without feeling anything ----> moving on -----> Now it leads to Having Respect for Myself + Setting Boundaries. Allowed to <3 someone immediately. 

Wish I had some hash browns and a cup of coffee and eggs and wouldn’t have to say anything, we’d be completely comfortable in ourselves and we’d make something. 

accept my own frailty, that I am a human being, not some de-humanized other; I am frail and I deserve to accept Who I Am. the de-humanization + the judgment + the frailty. 

But there is an ocean inside of me. There are so many thing I carry in myself to be proud of, and no one can take that from me. I am an artist. And I don’t need to prove that. I live and breathe it. 

[ccgurupoet]

2018 Artist Statement

The year of 8 is the number of infinity and the God energy. 

There is an inherent need in me to create this, an urge in me to make this. And I don’t know what it is yet exactly, but its my own. And it has my name on it. And it’s colorful and introspective and quite frankly, genius. Because I have created it. Because I have created something out of nothing. Nothing but a thought, an inspiration, a collection of experiences and moments that have been handed to us by the notion of where we’re born. I think I am beginning to understand it now. 

I begin by following my heart. 

This is a purely feeling based artistic process by which I explore myself and what I am drawn towards. 

The ideas in my mind and projects I aim to pursue are not defined by work or a need to accomplish -- they are defined by an urgency to make, and by creating what it is that makes me feel most fully alive and inspired at this moment in time.

created by me, cc. 

[ccgurupoet]

10/24 stream of consciousness

I want to put you and I in a box and bury it in the past. I’m tired, so tired. All I want to do is sleep and eat burgers.

time of day so much time in the day when you’re busy filling every hour. brain power lost my brain to a boy back in May that isn’t worth the time in my day but i did all that and we did that and they did that making choices that i don’t value its a long story but maybe my worth is worth more than that more than an hour or a minute of regret or a second or a timeline of sex and noise, bereft that’s how I’m feeling these days sitting here outside @ CalArts drinking coffee but I’m always doing that thinking of nothing looking @ nothing but my mind’s on one thing, and its not me anymore. Why did you steal my voice like that? I want my brain back!

[ccgurupoet]

08/12

In all honesty, I’m sitting here listening to Erykah Badu on a loop. I look so beautiful, because I have grieved. And when it’s finally over,  you can always tell because my entire visage is brighter, and my eyes are whiter. 

The year I met God, I met him in song, in baptismal showers 

I am on a warm vibe. I wish I could feel like this forever, comfortable... I have no room anymore for anything but this warm feeling that is like a soft lighting.... ambient hue. 

I don’t know what the fuck to write. I want to write my song of Self, in it’s imperfect tempo and number, in the spirit of a lover. 

I’m an artist , blah blah blah....

Tell me I’m an artist. I have no room for people who cannot express themselves. I am realizing now I don’t know any other way to live but by expressing myself... 

 doctors and lawyers, mothers and daughters....

Just be fucking nice and try to be easy on yourself. I’m afraid I’m on some spiritual guru shit because I might be overcompensating for the fact that, well, I am in an uncomfortable period of change....

77

[ccgurupoet]

AN ESSAY IN AUGUST FOR REASONS OF CATHARSIS

I can’t look at numbers any more without assigning some type of meaning to them; the time on the clock, license plates, random numbers on books, on papers. Some could call me illogical, that time is simply fleeting numbers which measure moments. But I could argue that my mind is drawing from the ancient practice of numerology, by which each number carries a very specific value of energy to it, and gives meaning to it. For instance, I just looked at the clock and it’s 10:48. Four and eight are the numbers I associate with my ex-boyfriend, but maybe I’m just afraid to let go. That’s probably it.

I have woken up every day for over a week between the hours of 3 and 5 a.m. Without fail. I prayed to God last night, literally God, that I would get a full night’s sleep. In fact, I googled what this meant, to wake up at these haunting hours of dawn, consistently, without even trying. Apparently, it means I’m becoming spiritually awakened. Wouldn’t that be nice? But also, according to Japanese practices of medicine, specific energies flow throughout the body at different times of the day. Disturbances in sleep patterns mean that the energy assigned to that time is blocked and not able to freely flow, therefore you wake up. It sucks. And when I read that energy associated with 3 - 5 a.m. is sadness, my heart sank.

The internet knows us. And the internet knows that I’m really fucking sad. Of course, it’s not like I read this on WebMD, so it  must  be accurate. I read it on trustedpsychicmediums.com and trustedpsychicmediums.com revealed my truth to me. It’s all in the numbers, people.

I’m so fucking sad that I’ve cried every day since May 22nd. It’s like my body has become addicted to crying, a toxic release. I probably should orgasm. I see 22 everywhere I go. And when I looked at the clock just now, it was 11:02. I am 22 years old this year and I was born at 2:20 p.m. The morning after my heart was broken at Toast on West. 3rd Street, (where the shak-shuka fucking sucks, by the way) I got the dumbest FB notification that I should be celebrating my 2 year “Friend-iversary” with, ironically, the person who did the heart breaking. He was wearing all blue from head to toe, and my toe-nails were painted the blue of his t-shirt. Ugh. But I also love shit like that. I love that I have these hilarious nuances in my life experiences, like we were both characters in some shitty rom-com, and we just  had  to break up at a trendy restaurant like Toast on West 3rd. Street and here we are subconsciously trying to personify Picasso’s blue period because we both knew what was coming.

I am so petrified of moving to Los Angeles that something as menial as a photo of an LA skyline sets me off nto a small panic attack and I start sobbing. Three months ago, a picture like that would have set my heart into a stupid little pitter patter for what my future held, for what  our  future held. But life never goes according to plan... and that is sort of fun, I cannot lie. I have this weird dichotomy of being so fucking emotional but then poking fun at my life, all of these ridiculous stories I have to tell. I’m one of those

people that would do something just to be able to put a finger down in a game of Never Have I Ever.

There is a need in me to be alone right now, to only communicate with people I completely trust on a soul level, and that is very few. It’s been a minute since I’ve communicated in person with someone under the age of 61 or over the age of 10. But I finally saw Tamara yesterday. That saved me. Thank God for friends like that.

I would like to move to LA and maybe disappear for a bit from my “undergrad” life, do my own thing, focus on my art, meet people who I resonate with -- people who would agree with me that numbers hold meaning. But who knows? Maybe emotions aren’t real and I’m just creating this reality when in fact we are all just large animals, walking around, being dumb, making noise by way of language, falling in love.

[ccgurupoet]

THE CATS LISTEN

The cats listen to the jazz when they’re sick  in the  _________ singing songs they cannot hear licking their wounds with salt

In the month of May when jealousy reared its ugly head under the guise of the full moon and the cats rejoice in anger, in control

They feel nothing but the heat of their thoughts imprinting words on their anxious brains turning friends into enemies and love into hate

The cats are dancing  and the fog is thick.  the music is loud, the air is quiet with restlessness

And the cats do grieve  for their lovers lost no one can hear the piercing silence of the wails of the lovesick-laden cats

Beware of the cats with their questions, assumptions filled with greed and the tar grips to their nimble feet and they are stuck in all that they have done

And the cats do listen listen listen….

I listen to the jazz  cause I’m sick in the head singing songs I cannot hear licking my wounds with salt

And January, and February, and March, and April, and May

When I spoke silent screams of despair and these words did come to me in monthly spurts

Judging the cats who listen but it’s I who hears the jazz and I am out of tune

 it is the blues now

And the jazz does simmer as the sun does set; all that I have heard, my lover on the brain; and now I rest my head to say a prayer to a God I do believe can hear

cat nap

[ccgurupoet]

April mood

it is not what it is not who it is not where it is not the stars and the sun but the changing tides it is the changing tides and the waning moon

[ccgurupoet]

IM DATING A CELL PHONE

BLACKENED MIRROR TO THE FACE @ DINNER ON OUR DINNER DATES HERE COMES THE WAITER WITH THE PLATES LETS TAKE A PICTURE OF THE STEAKS MAYBE NEXT TIME WE CAN MAKE SOME PLANS THAT WILL BE FACE TO FACE

[ccgurupoet]

I FEEL SO SICK

I’VE GOT THE SICK LOVE AND THIS AIN’T NO RICH LOVE BEATNICKS + POETS, DRUMMERS + STICKS LOVE

[ccgurupoet]

PIANO HANDS

HELP! IM MELTING I CANT CONTROL MY CLAMMY HANDS ALL OVER THE PIANO

HELP IM SLIDING MY HEART IS IN MY CLAMMY HANDS BLEEDING ON THE PIANO

HELP IM BLANKING COULD YOU PLEASE FIX MY CLAMMY HANDS BANGING ON THE PIANO

HELP IM TRYING I WILL NOT USE MY CLAMMY HANDS THAT CANNOT PLAY THE PIANO

[ccgurupoet]

COLD FEVER

ALL PLAY AND NO WORK MAKES CAYLEY A DULL GIRL.