jellyfishmeanderings-blog

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

3/19/16

p>Party remembrances: -Talking to Kwame about MMA on the front porch. -Talking to Elmo about anthropology, the maya, zombies, neo-tribalism, humans as animals, Mattson. Him asking me to hook him up with my friend who is just like me in every way. Including the hair. -Smoking and hanging out with Cassie. -Telling Baker to stop being lazy and start writing things down. That he is better than he let’s himself be. That he doesn’t like to do things unless he knows he’s already good at them, and that is holding him back. -Baker bringing me Corned Beef and yelling fuck off as he walked away. -eating the Corned Beef with Keri with our fingers. -the deconstruction of the patio roof for the fire. -the destruction of the door. And then trying to replace the broken door. -going to In ‘n’ out with Baker and laughing so hard I couldn’t breathe. -Baker’s Man-ses -The Masturbatorium -Baker literally can’t even while thinking about the effort of burying my corpse in the backyard. -Falling asleep with him and waking up to him rubbing my arm affectionately, telling me to sleep a little while. -sneaking out in the middle of the night like he told me to. -driving home in the fog and rain.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Dear you,

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to make you understand the ways my life has changed since you came into it. How I have changed, or maybe become more myself. I have not felt half as alive as I do now that our orbits collided.

I think I may have fallen in love with you that night we cuddled on the couch and watched Bob Ross as the hours slipped away. Or maybe it was when you held me in your bed and talked about making pottery together. Or when you were excited to show me the bass song you were working on. Or the first time you drove too fast through the canyons. Maybe it was all at once or it slowly trickled in over time, like water in a desert.

I want you in my life. I want you close. I want you to hold me and make me safe. I want to speed through the night-lit city streets. I want you to keep making me laugh. I want to experience life with you beside me. I want to drink too much and eat too much and kiss too much and fuck too much.

I want you to hug me good night and pull back and place your hand on my cheek I want you to lick your lips and lean in and blind me with your kiss. I want to feel your body relax into mine. The shadow of a moan in your throat. I want you to hold my hand while you drive, and then my thigh and then place your hand on the small of my neck. I want you to look at me with the fully realized look that I sometimes see playing around your eyes. A look of amazement, amusement, arousal.

I want your lips and hands to burn my flesh. I want your capability and surety. I want your force and power. I want you to tell me what you want. And I want you to take it.

I want more. Of everything. I want more nights in the backyard looking at the stars. I want more days seeking out dumplings. I want more oysters. And trivia nights. And art days. And beach days. And concerts. And parties (but only the ones where you talk to me.) I want more moaning and wingeing and laughing. I want more of those lovely sincere moments. I want more of you claiming me in front of people. I want more “for your scrapbooks.” I want more trips to Ikea and pretend open houses. I want more intoxicated states and slob days. But I find this game of yours exhausting. I don’t want anymore broken promises or flaky dismissals. I’m worth so much more than being forgotten and forlorn. You have the most exquisite way of making me feel small and useless.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

3/31/16

Remember that he said you were his muse. That you were amusing and he doesn’t have much of that in his life. Remember Calypso music. And when he asked if sitting outside in the grass, looking at the stars, listening to reggae, and getting stoned was weird or if people would think it was weird. Remember his reaction when you said it was no weirder than the rest of the relationship. Remember the strange flickering light. Remember how later he got mad and stormed inside and came right back out and told you that he could never be mad at you. Remember how happy he was and he even said that he almost never felt that good. Remember how he seemed upset that you weren’t more demonstrative of your enjoyment of the moment.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

3/8/16

Remember how he came all the way to the valley with you to go to the dispensary, even though he is broke and couldn’t buy anything. Remember how taken aback he was when you told him you appreciated it. Remember how he remembered the weird popping videos you like to watch. Remember that he was grateful that you bought taco things. Remember he pointed out to Koala that you deserve the credit for dinner. Remember how jealous(?) he seemed when Koala and you talked for so long without him. Remember, he brought you your coat because you were cold. Remember he said he wasn’t kicking you out and you could stay as long as you needed. Remember that he suggested hanging out to do arts on the weekend. Remember that he said that although he couldn’t do the social things it would be ok to hang out during the week. And remember the face he made when you said you’d make time.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

3/3/16

Remember that tonight he told you that he had a hypothetical discussion with Josh about how you are “probably” his best friend. And accepted when you told him that he is “probably” yours. He told the group that our connection/mind-meld thing was immediate on the first day we met. He smoked cigarettes with you in his car. He pointed out that your painting hangs in the most prominent position in his room. He amde a point of saying he wants you to come to the next Sanctuary party, and tried to convince you of how awesome it is.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

2/14/16

For memories sake. Valentine’s weekend. Friday night: Devon, Baker, and I ate pho in Westwood. Missed an Xfiles themed art show. Went and saw Deadpool at the Arclight Hollywood. Saturday: Baker and I went shooting at the Glass Factory in SB. Listened to punk-o-rama 2 and got mad nostalgia. Got high coming back. Went to AYCE sushi. Went back to our apartment. Devon came home. Baker spent the night. Valentine’s day: Devon, Baker, and I made art, ate pizza, and watched Pokemon and some documentary about chefs. An almost perfect weekend.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

I don’t want nice. Nice is the itchy, stiff dress your grandma made you wear to church. Nice is that girl your aunt introduced you to that you had nothing in common with. Nice is forced and formal. It is adequate but uncomfortable. I’d rather have honest, supportive, reliable, capable, smart, compassionate, and real.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

I had an especially bad night’s sleep. And when I did sleep I had bad dreams.

Last night was the first time in years that I dreamed of Shriver. I think since just after his suicide.

Shriver was a friend of my now husband. I had known him longer (since elementary school) but we didn’t become friends until I began dating D. In fact, he was one of the few that was supportive of our relationship. Shriver was quiet and thoughtful. But he was also very funny and exceptional at Smash Bros. The last Christmas we spent together he gave me a gift of 2 of my favorite, but very rare, books. I know he had to do some work to get them, and I’m not sure how he knew. I think he already had a plan then.

He moved to Texas shortly after that, and not completely willingly. His financial situation was dire and he moved in with his dad. As happens when people are not in your immediate geographic location. And you only have phones or digital means of communication (this was in the dark ages before smart phones), we all drifted away from him. Contact on both ends became sparse. And then one day we all realized as a group that no one had been able to reach him for a while. Eventually after many messages, his dad called one of the friends and told him that Shriver had killed himself. He had bought a gun and waited for a few months and then shot himself. Personally and communally, we felt responsible. We didn’t keep in contact as much as we could have. We didn’t push to keep him in California. We didn’t show him how much he meant to us. We let him push us away.

And now I’m in place where I’m debating, internally, the fate of another very important friendship. I have been debating whether it is working for me and if I should stop fighting and let this person drift away. And my brain sends Shriver to me.

I don’t know what it means. If it means anything.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Tonight after Koala started talking ghost things, I told him and Reid about my experiences, which Koala has heard many times. Reid was flabbergasted and spooked. As Koala and I walked to our cars, he told me for the first time that my stories always freak him out. As he is saying this, he looks over my right shoulder and says "What is that?" As we watch this black form come out of the night dark street. As it gets closer we see it is a little black female cat with green eyes. She danced around going behind my car and back to the street. She kept looking at us, checking is out. Pacing. Then sitting. The cat was displaying odd behaviour. I called out Bast to her. Eventually we decided to leave. It creeped me out a bit.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

What do you do when you are angry with the world? With everyone you know?

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Different ways to charge your sigils! 

Set it as your phone lockscreen/background and charge your phone.

Burn it on a piece of paper.

Draw it into bread, then toast it. 

Trace it with a crystal.

Put it over your pulse.

Draw on a polished stone then rub it off.

Use your own energy.

Sew them on scraps of fabric or inside clothing and then put in the washing machine. 

Draw on a piece of paper and hold them in front of speakers playing music.

Let them sit in a sunny place.

Bury them in the dirt (use environment safe materials!)

Prayer.

Sleep with them, your tossing and turning will charge them.

Dissolve it into water.

Glow in the dark paint.

And many more!

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Unlock yourself tarot spread: the keys to self discovery.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Children of the Gods: Nyx, Greek goddess of the night

Born to the personification of night, to a goddess who even Zeus feared, Nyx’s children hold the same possibility of power. With clothes of silken darkness, they glide by with the whisper of a sigh; ghosts in the night, engulfed in the realm of their mother. Creatures of the night call to them, and their fingers trail ribbons of black, influencing others from the shadows.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

Dream

Last night, I dreamt that Baker and I were in bed in a hotel or some strange house. Possibly Lexi’s aunt’s house.

We were laying in bed sleeping or cuddling. I hear a noise and turn. There is a little girl with a pillow coming around the bed. But she is not moving correctly. She is jerky and stuttered. And when she notices that I’ve seen her she disappears. I shake Baker but he’s already awake and he’s seen her too. He makes a comment about her feet or legs. I’m freaking out because it’s a ghost. I’m excited I’m not the only one who saw it. Also I’m terrified. That ghost wanted to get in bed with us. The next morning I ask around but no one wants to talk about it. The next night I’m in bed alone and I hear something behind me. I turn and the little girl is there with her pillow, but tries to run when she notices I’ve seen her. She is a little bitty thing. Between 4 and 7. Little in the way Lexi was. Her hair is a mousy brown. A little longer than shoulder length with bangs in her eyes. She is barefoot and wearing a slightly over sized tshirt and that is it. Before she can run I reach out for her. There is some solidness but it is strange like grabbing a handful of down feathers. She is freezing cold and looks it. I pull her into the bed. Telling her its ok to cuddle up and get warm if she can. She wants it, she is enjoying it but is afraid. She tells me that she not supposed to be seen. That she’s going to get in trouble. I ask by whom, she says “Mr. Pat” Eventually I fall asleep and she is gone when I wake up. Again I try to talk to people but they are uncomfortable and refuse to talk. In my wanderings, I see another ghost. I’m worried that it’s Mr. Pat. This new ghost is manipulating another guest into making origami. I know that he is not trying to be seen and when I see him, he’s a little mad, a little worried, a little amused. He is large, bald, white. He has a goatee. He looks like a larger more clownish Anton Levay. He is wearing a bright pink tiger striped suit. He seems at least a little dangerous. Like a trickster. And I'm concerned about his ability to manipulate people to do whatever he wants. I

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

I don't feel alive, except in the most grotesque of ways. The feeling of my teeth against my cheek. The straining of muscle against bone. The stagnate wetness of my eyes.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

To Rufus, my dragon seed,

I don’t know where you came from or exactly when I first noticed you. I only know you were already firmly lodged in my heart before I recognized what I was feeling. You have lit your fire deep inside me. All the dead parts have either burned off or have transformed in your heat.

I feel you more and more each day now. Even when you are sleeping and quiet, I can feel your breath against my rib cage. Your heart beats against mine. 

Our symbiosis is nearly complete. I hope if you leave, you know you will always have a home in me.

[jellyfishmeanderings-blog]

someone: what highlighter is that?

me: some sparkly eyeshadow I found at the dollar store