Re-reading calmly:
poems written months ago
feel like yesterday
Old words remembered:
today they make me wonder
if I’ll ever change
Re-reading calmly:
poems written months ago
feel like yesterday
Old words remembered:
today they make me wonder
if I’ll ever change
Carrying silence like it’s my birthright
…
In this stillness
I choose to imagine myself
…
This year was a bit of a fucking mess, honestly. Important but painful lessons were had.
It was in the springtime when
I decided to do an important experiment
I had a hypothesis to test
…
Today I look at my hands
My tiny, small, woman’s hands
And run fingertips over the
Small callouses beginning to form
The skin beginning to dry
And crack in places
And I feel happy
For everything I can do now
All these things that younger me
Wouldn’t even dream of
November 22, 2024
Will I be tempered in the crucible
Of this cutting new awareness,
Maybe even sharpened to a razor’s edge?
I have had enough with being met with angry responses to my attempts to be helpful, kind, and considerate of others.
I will no longer engage or pursue. I will distance myself. I may forgive sometimes, but I will not forget.
Those who bite the hands that appreciate them can get absolutely fucked.
I guess the only thing I can do is find something else.
Maybe addition is not the answer. Good design is typically subtractive, not additive. Design my life – what needs to go?
Maybe remove something before adding something. Not enough breaths in the day.
What do I do when writing is no longer enough?
Maybe adding an alternative is not the answer.
Maybe subtraction is the way.
“The best design is subtractive”, I once heard.
In the design of my life, what could I let go?
What would bring peace in its absence?
Time to try harder now
You stupid little bitch
You tried to push and shove
But you just gave me the itch…
To my current way of thinking, budō as a solo practice is somewhat of a non-sensical concept.