matter botattica is my life. i don’t have the free time it seems, since i take my hobbies very seriously. even leisure is productive. reading and listening to books and whatnot. taking care of my health and body is key. the morning ritual affects so much. a lot depends on relationships which depends on character and mindset. being a business owner has changed my life, forced me to grow in ways i would not have otherwise. it’s been almost two years now. i didn’t start working part time until i worked completely for myself. it feels like i’m doing a nice thing for my art, by not demanding that it cover my living expenses, it can breathe deeper and be more honest and move on its own time, because a rushed pace is not required. i’ve become more flexible in the ways i allow myself to show up. flexible meaning listening to my needs, checking in with aspects of my identity that need to be watered to thrive and share.
ever so often it’s good to switch up the time management schedule just like with exercise, muscle confusion invigorates new parts of your body, bringing excitement and making things feel new. the beginner’s mind is hopeful and confident, not brow-beaten and bitter.
i don’t claim seasonal depression anymore, we broke up last year. i lost a lot of fat in 2017 from jogging, eating less, being more active. if i can use my legs to turn any sidewalk into a track, i can alter my internal physiology to shift my external circumstances. i can heat my body up, no excuse. time doesn’t stop just when it’s hard to get out of bed. that’s the kind of body confusion that jolts your bones and muscles awake.
i only need seven hours of sleep, so to wake up at 6am requires me to go to sleep at 11pm. if i stay up until 2am i can still get up around 9. ever so often, i go to bed but can’t sleep. usually 5mg of melatonin and a binaural frequency will do the trick, other times it still won’t do. even when i can’t get sleep, i’ll still get rest, not checking the clock, not opening my eyes, stubbornly playing sleep until i get there. i wake up, not remembering when i fell asleep.
i love mondays because it’s full of possibility and potential, it is the quiet morning of the whole week. halloween hasn’t past although people wore their costumes and did their partying and potlucking over the weekend. last night i carved a pumpkin and brought out a skull and candles for the window display.
the place only feels inviting if you’re invited. lots of people pass by, looking in the windows but i don’t mind if they don’t come in, i’m busy working and although it’s functional as a store front, it’s not there yet. i don’t have a register set-up or price tags or have the inventory displayed properly. i’ve been using the front counters for storage more than display.
october is the april of autumn, the spring of the cold, the beginning of the holiday season, starting with death. all hollow’s eve, samhaim, dia de los muertos, all these different cultures know that the veil between worlds is the thinnest around this time.
i think of my dead homies, friends who i knew in their lifetime but are no longer in the physical: icky, samba, hassan, mike. i think of my relatives that lived and passed oceans away from where i grew up, i see the face and hands and smile of my grandmother.
i ask the spirits to bring warmth and sweetness and good health to my family and friends, i thank them for allowing me the space to hold others space.
harvest season: virgo, libra, scorpio.
service, assessment. benefits, association. focus, transformation.
this week i have to: design flyers, cancel a shop account and switch platforms, make signs, draw some tattoos, finish a illustration for a book cover, work on window display for isaac down the street.
i’m going to start posting every monday and thursday, and maybe another day in between, even when i feel like i have nothing to share because i know i always do, just overthinking it. truth is, i have more to share than i know what to do with, just got to do it.
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ntozake shange’s passing is making me think of how language can be utilized, inspiring me to honor the power in poem. this unchained undulating dialectic tone, the same letters forming words the way you hear them, so they are not just terms on a page but living descriptions of noise used in a world that needs to say more with less.
my favorite poem i know of hers: “my father is a retired magician”
My Father Is a Retired Magician
(for ifa, p.t., & bisa) my father is a retired magician which accounts for my irregular behavior everythin comes outta magic hats or bottles wit no bottoms & parakeets are as easy to get as a couple a rabbits or 3 fifty cent pieces/ 1958 my daddy retired from magic & took up another trade cuz this friend of mine from the 3rd grade asked to be made white on the spot what cd any self-respectin colored american magician do wit such a outlandish request/ cept put all them razzamatazz hocus pocus zippity-do-dah thingamajigs away cuz colored chirren believin in magic waz becomin politically dangerous for the race & waznt nobody gonna be made white on the spot just from a clap of my daddy’s hands & the reason i’m so peculiar’s cuz i been studyin up on my daddy’s technique & everythin i do is magic these days & it’s very colored very now you see it/ now you dont mess wit me i come from a family of retired sorcerers/ active houngans & pennyante fortune tellers wit 41 million spirits critturs & celestial bodies on our side i’ll listen to yr problems help wit yr career yr lover yr wanderin spouse make yr grandma’s stay in heaven more gratifyin ease yr mother thru menopause & show yr son how to clean his room YES YES YES 3 wishes is all you get scarlet ribbons for yr hair benwa balls via hong kong a miniature of machu picchu all things are possible but aint no colored magician in her right mind gonna make you white i mean this is blk magic you lookin at & i’m fixin you up good/ fixin you up good n colored & you gonna be colored all yr life & you gonna love it/ bein colored/ all yr life/ colored & love it love it/ bein colored/
Spell #7 from Upnorth-Outwest Geechee Jibara Quik Magic Trance Manual for Technologically Stressed Third World People