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Jivana's Memoirs 57I could not help but feel that Victor’s text was somehow a friendly gesture. That despite what had happened, he was giving me a tip he was not supposed to give. He didn’t call but he didn’t have to send that text either, and so I felt I better take heed.
Admittedly, I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t know how much time I had but I figured that I had been given fair warning. Nothing would happen immediately, and so I went to bed.
In my dreams I went back to that place from the rave. The place of elation, the place of connection, the place I could only get to in some form of altered state. It felt vivid, and for enough time for me to think it was, then it started to fade and I started to come back. I could see in fuzzy view that space, but I could hear this world around me. It was my phone that was dinging, alerting me to text messages, but before I came back completely I had one last very clear thought. I had
Jivana's Memoirs 56I knew after the newscast that my career at Koch was affirmatively over. If we were framed, then they would know who we were and they would know who I was. If the images had been blurred then this was being looked into and quickly. Instead of fear, I had a sense of release but I did know that there would be something I would have to deal with that I really didn’t want to, Victor’s reaction. He would surely be one of the first people to know.
To my chargrin, Victor arrived at my house the next morning. The twins must have left before I woke as there was not sign of them.
My heart skipped a beat as I looked out my peephole to see Victor very noticeably agitated. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, centered myself, and turned the doorknob.
“Jivana” he nodded toward me. This was not good. He was not charming, he had no sparkle to him, he was being formal to mask the emotion I felt steaming from him.
Jivana's Memoirs 55Back at the house, as we sat there I reflected on the feeling I got when we had entered the warehouse again. We had decided in the spur of the moment that we should grab our stashed computers. Running in there had given me a temporary but instant sense of not just
relief but revival. I felt like my energy recharged -and I did not think it was just my adrenaline.
Zephr was pacing. Zoe sat next to me and we alternated in sighing somewhat frequently.
“We haven’t heard from the other teams yet”. She was very upset.
“Well” Zoe said, “we haven’t even heard from our own”.
I decided to contribute. “You know, it might not be time yet. We had made that rule. Phone silence for 3 hours. I mean we were all most likely raided if we haven’t heard from anybody else”.
And then our phones dinged. Text just in, then Zephr’s phone rang.
“Yeah? Uh huh … alright fine ...
Jivana's Memoirs 54I remember looking back over my shoulder at the warehouse before I left. It’s as if some spiraling breeze ooze tapped me on the shoulder. I smiled; it filled me with hope -and I’m glad it did because I would need it later.
We joined our friends in the fields. I thought I would tend garden that night. I mostly pulled weeds from medians, getting them ready to till so I could plant some seeds. Around me were our friends painting the streets, the walls, the bus benches and shelters -spreading rainbows everywhere, sharing our light. Painting messages that needed to be seen. Those that would give pause, and those that would inspire.
Zoe came up to me on a break. Still dawning a school girl skirt, her white top splattered and sprayed with paint, Zoe walked up to me in a funny dance pantomiming sending me energy with her neon painted hands to a song coming out of a fanny pack.
“That’s cool” I said as I looked up at h
Jivana's Memoirs 53It was Wednesday night. I hadn’t been back to work yet. I had been working feverishly on the websites and they were coming along beautifully. The Technorati core, members of the New Moon Collective, and some newbies were huddled in a large circle in the warehouse.
“Well I’m happy to report to you all that in just a week and half we have collected 400 bags of trash, created over 50 gardens, started the golden road paths leading into Democracity proper toward the Koch building”
“They are like rivers heading toward the ocean” said Zoe as she brushed her blue streaked bangs out of her eyes.
“Yes … that’s true. If we had an aerial of it, it would probably look like it’s spiraling in. It’s like I can see it …” My voice drifted for a moment as I imagined what we were creating on macro level. “Anyway, stickers are everywhere. Tagging is everywhere. There is buzz around
Jivana's Memoirs 52In the next week we had attracted more people and we were able to break into more groups and canvas more territory. When Cutter showed up, coming all the way from the desert to work in solidarity with us, I felt we were really on to something.
“Dr. Rave sends his regards and wishes he could be here. I come with the message that we support you”.
I think I blushed. “Thank you Cutter”.
The artists we assigned to paint, while most of the others alternated between sticker duty walks and gardening. Every night we moved closer and closer to Democracity proper. Everday that anvil of guilt got heavier but I still powered through.
But by the end of the next week, I had resolved that I could not go back. I needed to focus my energy and with an anvil on my heart I could not give my full potential. Like the end game, I wasn’t really sure how I would approach the end of my career. I would just have to call in on Monday.
Jivana's Memoirs 51“Boycott Koch?”
“Do you think people will know what that means?”
“It doesn’t matter, we need to bring drag it from the darkness into the light. They own almost everything and yet very little is in their name. But what is, is important. --It takes at least 7 times before someone is exposed to something before it enters their consciousness. Advertisers know this. We need to people to come to know their brand, and what it really stands for. The secondary marketing is well, secondary. First we get people to see it, and see it again, and see it again … until they start to question it and they start talking to others.”
“Jivana, don’t you think that’s dangerous?”
“Yes, I suppose if they find it they will not like it. That’s why we go back to the old spots first. We educate the border and the outskirts first, and then we move in”.
Jivana's Memoirs 50So we met with the group and everyone was in agreement. We would buy supplies that night, make some decisions, and start the following night.
The wish list from the artist friends was spray paint heavy. So I put cash in the hands of all my Technorati friends, and we went separately, to different stores to load up on supplies.
The brainstorming session with the group proved useful in that we outlined which areas we should hit, and which ones we should hit first. Part of the plan was that we would start in and around the Outskirts and work our way in. We all watched the movie again for inspiration. We wanted to plan some of our messages but some we knew would have to come off the cuff and we would need fresh memories for that.
And so we started. The first day ( those that showed up) we all worked together. It was our core Technorati tribe. We were armed with paint, seeds, and gardening tools. We quickly realized we would need to add
Jivana's Memoirs 49The truth is that I had known all week what needed to be done and I definitely knew it the night that I went to dance at the bass cave but I was paralyzed by doubt. The dancing burned through my fears and made me clear. Poignantly clear.
“We have to send a message” I said.
“That’s it? That’s all you …” Zephr started by Zoe cut her off with the wave of her arm in front of her sister’s mouth. It was the first time I think I had ever seen Zoe act somewhat aggressively. Well, besides the fight night.
“Let her finish Zeph”. I could tell that Zephr wanted to say something back like “how do you know she was finished”, but something made her hold it in, and I could see it wrestling in her jaw.
I breathed in deeply, my breath filling me up with courage.
“We take to the streets. We align with street gangs, and we start tagging for change”.
Zephr’s mouth dropped. Zoe
Yelling Written Words
If you write me a letter
with your heart full of hate
your words will burn away the paper,
leaving ashes in its wake.
Please keep your written voice down,
the yelling hurts my heart.
Just please don't ask my secrets of me,
it will only make this
that much worse.
Delving deep inside myself,
I push you far away.
These wounds mean nothing to me,
not a feather or a sand grain.
My hands are burnt,
my heart is scarred,
just leave me be,
I'm too far gone.
You gave me bread on a rainy day
Such goodness took my breath away.
You told the world how you felt.
Through shallow confusion my heart melt.
We grew close and drifted apart.
I still love you with all my heart.
I found you hurt and to a cave we fled.
I could only kiss your lips but I watched as you bled.
I had to go to save your life.
I broke a promise that ended your strife.
You found some berries and ended a life.
We heard a cannon; a dog was near.
We ran for the Cornucopia and fled our fear.
Climbing the metal, making it safe.
Cato appeared but I had faith.
He grabbed you up, said it was over.
I had more luck than a four-leaf clover.
He fell to the dogs and they chewed him up.
The Capitol said, "YO MAN, WASSUP?"
"Only one victor can win in the end!"
I told him I wouldn't go without him.
So we grabbed our berries, sorry Prim.
The Capitol wailed, "NO STOP!"
"The winners are Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!"
The Simple PoemThis poem will begin from here.
It shall start with a dusk and a child. Trying.
Trying to fly a kite in the rain.
The sunrays have just dimmed out.
Or mellowed down, surrendering to a dark azure.
The pitter-patter of rains
Drenching the fingers of the child on the roof. Fingers
That hold on to the thread that connects, quite shamelessly,
The dark skies to a kite, blue coloured. Throughout.
The dusk. I would have thought of writing a poem.
And only thought, when the thread shall snap
Taking the kite down. And the child too.
Let's watch the two as they progress downwards
Let's watch the two and see if down's the place they'll be.
Let's watch the two.
One spiralling down through the open air, not knowing
Where it shall land. The other
Climbing down the stairs
Running down the stairs
To a place,
To a land where
The first one promised to land.
I should have known, is ants.
It shall eat through a poem I should have written.
A simple poem, it would have been
Losing MeI find peace in loathing
I suffer pleasure from pain
I feel comfort in dark clothing
Whether judgment or acceptance is my bane
I have cried all my tears
Still in darkness I am bound
Wandering desperately through the years
The true identities never to be found
Lost is all
A blanked out, thrown out memory
From the abuses that do appall
Hope and love was my every
But now my life will soon dissolve
Into a screaming dark place with no resolve...
There was Once A Butterfly - PoemThere was once a butterfly,
too fragile - forbidden to take flight.
to see up close,
what had, before long, won plentiful foes.
There was once a butterfly,
timid and shy;
too quiet yet to be blinded by the sky.
The others watched
carefully and close,
he was to fail as the monsoon blows.
There was once a butterfly,
learned and strong;
too tired yet to sing his own songs.
His liquid wings
of colour and light
caught eyes of envy every night.
There was once a butterfly
confident and sure -
almost broken but not tired anymore.
before his eyes
and led him to his own colours' demise.
There was once a butterfly
too afraid to admit that he was alone.
His wings of paper,
were met now only with sights of scorn.
And so that butterfly
with teary-blind eyes,
awaited the end of eternal black skies.
He was to fly
but that desire died,
with his will and nerve to stay alive.
Once, his predicament
I knew and saw,
so anxious to rid him
Empty Souls Empty Souls...
The night is black
Nothing but broken stars
And empty dreams
To frame its d.a.r.k.n.e.s.s.
The book is
Its pages numb & mute
It is empty
Because what is a book
Without majestic words
To make it feel
W H O L E
The wind is cold
It speaks lies
With an all-deceiving tongue
It dances with the trees
The lonely moon
With its scent
And I am
My BrotherI watched my brother go through the door, wanting him to stay with us for more.
He's too young, he has too much life,
to go where death comes on swift wings.
My mother cries, my father is silent.
I stand as a vigil on our doorway, watching as he fades from sight.
I look through the newspaper, seeing if America won against Iraq.
I see soldiers who are only boys, who have seen more bloodshed than most old men.
I look through the page of the dead, praying I don't see my brothers' name.
He is not, but I still don't sway,
because my brother is still away.
I pray for the day that he comes home,
safe and ok.
Amrita Awakeningstill and silent in the purple silken night
the city smiled in twinkling lights
making night clouds still glow white
i sat before my pool, i knew not really why
with a crystal in my hand
still and asking, i looked to the sky
no answer -i close my eyes
and go deep within
tapping into the darkness inside my skin
so much pressure, my forehead tense
i push against dark walls hoping to make them...
but pushing doesn't make your shadow friend
i realize that -
relax and breathe, sink deep, be sweet
the night became more silent
sound dropped out all around
high quality, empty, profound.
a piercing quiet
an acoustic knowing...
i let go of my fear-
a thought emerged
it was so clear.
my being felt the crystal's plea.
and I knew now what to do.
i let it's knowing enter me.
it shot me with energy
a rising heat-
amrita rushed between my knees
hot and reaching for my heart
i fall face first into my pool (of new me)
mercurial –beautiful rainbow reality
held under by bliss, col
Parenting for Sex AddictsThe half-day.
We are not those folks that need an occasion to try. And that’s what they call it, too. Trying. As if the very idea of it is taxing. It’s not taxing and we are not those people.
No. We do not go by some magical calendar. Schedules aren’t really our thing in general. That’d be too organized. Too stuffy. Too… I don’t know… too planned. And we’re not the type of people whom plan.
If we could—plan—our lives would be much different. I think. It’s hard to say because this is how we’ve always been.
Our very togetherness is a result of impulse. I’m almost certain that the amount of time it took us to decide to move in together was significantly shorter than the amount of time it took us to remember each other’s names. We might have had our first conversation moments after that first… what I mean to say is we didn’t plan. Because planning would have been much t
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