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Jivana's Memoris: 41“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed it’s the only thing that ever has.”
To believe in what they believed. Did I believe it though? I had to.
As foreign as it might have seemed to me, they were right. I had been broken free. I was bare in a new domain. If I had issues dealing, it was just that the sensation was new on my skin, a little raw. I’d have to acclimate but no matter what, there was no going back. I was surprised at how I was dealing with it all actually. I am sure I was in a state of shock. Shocked and shocked again. What resilient systems we have.
I pulled over to fill up on gas and give my mind a rest. As I pumped, my skirt flirted up in a passing breeze, and my thoughts, just briefly, were replaced by a feeling of coolness on my skin. As I pulled out, I noticed the fading and dilapidated "Gas" sign, painted in pe
Jivana's Memoris: 40As I drove, that first 40 minutes or so, the sky seemed to have a golden cast that seemed to match my mood. I drove on the long, straight, two-lane highway with shrubs like green and brown polka dots covering the great expanses on either side of me. Highway poppies ate my dust and a wildly blowing flag in the distance seemed static next to the immensity of this timeless landscape. Flags, why did we always have to stake our claim? Would we ever really change?
And why did I think it looked timeless here? Because it always changes from the constant resurfacing of the wind ... yes and that is why they were not worried about track marks maybe.
I thought of Hope, some etheric being as she was described to me.
“Granted we see the shadow people too” joked Wolife. He had been passing by Zoe and I as she was describing Hope to me.
“What are the shadow people?” I asked.
“Oh, you haven’t seen them yet” said Zoe softly, with big eyes
Jivana's Memoirs: 39Pulling out with my car I heard the crunchy sound of dirt on tires. Looking in my rear view mirror, a cloud of dust masked the already well camouflaged lair.
Hazy memories of the films and the happenings fogged my mind. Concentration was not an option. Instead, I felt compelled to just allow myself to watch all the different thoughts, like projections on my fog, fade in and out. Finally, it struck me I popped my head above the clouds and I knew what we had to do. Well, sort of …
All I really knew is, I had to do something. I had the power to do something. I couldn’t wait for them to tell me what to do because I’m not sure they knew themselves. That was clear. They just kept telling me they knew they needed me but never once for what. Everyone has their own part to play and mine was at very least to figure out what mine was.
Everything in the new world was about marketing. I had to do something with marketing … Mark
Jivana's Memoirs: 37“Let’s get you some coconut water. You’re probably dehydrated” said Zoe.
“I was mostly dry heaving” I said
“Um, yeah well I think I still have something to clean up” she joked back with me.
“Regardless, we should all replenish our electrolytes. Lovely idea Zoe” said Paris.
The girls escorted me back into the debrief room. It’s like the room carried a strong and swirling essence still, or perhaps it was just the memories of what had just happened, that made me want to fall over. They brought me to the bar, got me on a stool, so I could at least sit upright but prop myself up on something.
Zephr was in the room with her back up against the wall and one knee up. The timeless tough girl stance. And she was so comfortable with panty shots I just found it remarkable, although I said nothing.
Without anyone asking she said “It’s a Kombucha”
Zoe smiled and then I saw her look
Jivana's Memoirs: 38My eyes popped open. I don’t remember dreaming anything but when I woke I felt refreshed and clear. The film was off. It seemed like everyone had resigned to nap time.
Zoe and I were back to back, curled up in opposite fetal position like spinal fused Siamese twins. I couldn’t remember any specific message from Dr. Rave’s film but I had this clear sense of what Zoe might have meant before … with this being so much bigger than myself. We were part of something not just here and now but almost like something that has been going on for eons, perhaps since the end of time. We represented something, some aspect of the human spirit that continually emerges. The tribes we saw in the film, their customs, are endangered. Even though we risk losing them, and knowledge we might never gain? Somehow part of that was being reborn through us.
With that thought, I felt the needs to sit up. I did my best to not disturb Zoe. This t
False ConceptTime is an illusion
And we make a delusion
As if we know the conclusion
Better than the real resolution
How small we are in this c n u i n
o f s o
Of what lengths of time envision
Much greater than our own observation
Our knowledge is a masked intrusion
Obscure in our own consumption
Time has its sessions
And we are just a provision
In an never ending mission
Is like a butterfly:
And difficult to capture,
For the short moment
When you cup it in your hands.
Never Lose HopeSometimes
In the midst of
A dark night of the soul,
Will perch in the tree
Outside your window
And sing to you
That the morning is coming.
to the powers of secrecythe silhouette suggests
a whiff of
chloroform or dior;
could still be black;
taste of power
is in the wound
still fresh but-hidden;
this wellspring is eternal,
deepening the curves
& shadowing the sheets;
you into undressing;
there isn’t much; a fine mixture of
SacrilegeI hope sometimes, when I hear the thunder,
that when I stand in the middle of a field
and watch the clouds roll in far above me
like a curtain, dark enough to substitute night-time,
I won't be ignored by the God I never believed in
and it will not be daylight
any time soon.
My grandmother used to tell me that
"thunder is God moving furniture"
and that "it's so loud because it's actually very heavy."
and I'd just think, that if God has bedposts made from gold
why are we still starving?
why are we still poor?
why are we still so afraid of the booms in the sky
Woden GivesWoden gives to those that take
blood for blood in walking flesh
a gift of wisdom for seekers’ held
the wheat shall sift from grain
and chaff is more a dirty word
it’s kith for kin in our own world
children young and withered old
a hunger for and a thought about
the spinning wheel inside the circle
that turns about throughout all ages
faith and family and Blood and Gods
it is the cycle of our lives
no more schemes and no more violence
our Fate is in our hands.
Les querelles et les religionsLa religion des querelles.
Querelles de religions ou quand Dieu se mord la queue.
Une religion reproduit dans les fosses
De l’iniquité et de l’intolérable
Un christianisme de l’inquisition.
Ceux-là aussi se disaient des saint-hommes,
Œuvrant pour et au nom de Dieu,
Qui torturaient et brûlaient l’innocent.
Quand une religion se bâtit sur
Une perversion des valeurs morales,
Il n’y a plus dans sa foi de lueur
D’une quelconque spiritualité.
Il est heureux que les prophètes morts
Ne voient pas cette abomination
Que leurs révélations ont suscitée.
Dieu se querelle avec lui-même…
Via ses propres révélations!
Ternie, l’image de Dieu n’est plus
Que cette caricature de lui-même
En bête sans queue ni tête
Déferlant en barbarie sur le monde.
Tout chacun interprète la Parole
Et le débile qui crie le plus fort
De sa Kalachnikov a toujours ra
fly high sharpie flagthis was supposed to be a filling-out
-the-tax-form kind of poem.
the end of travelling and the beginning of commuting.
gluing wings back onto dead gadflies,
a backwards rendition of childhood.
now you will stick beak to broomstick,
carve ships out of plastic bottles,
catalogue your little deaths.
but you won’t get there.
how, oversized &
wrapped in plastic bags? first it’s
“mother when i’m separatist
mother when i’m lobachevsky,” then
vsop, still no wisdom (hopeso,)
and let it scream.
and leave it on a tombstone like a scarecrow christ in rio:
"how could anyone be
A Guide to Writing DialogueWhat is dialogue, exactly? The definition from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary was several lines long, so I shall summarize it in a short sentence for the sake of the readers; it’s the writing that illustrates conversations between two or more characters in a story. We read and hear it all around us, but creating it in your own work can be a challenge. However, if you find dialogue an obstacle in your writing, then don’t push the panic button. In this tutorial, you’ll find by analyzing what dialogue can do and how to use it, you can turn your greatest fear into your greatest ally in your story.
What dialogue is
Like I’ve asserted before, dialogue is basically what the characters are saying to each other. It can be found in multiple mediums such as books, movies, comics, video games, etc. We even engage in dialogue daily without even thinking. When you talk to your best friend, a co-worker, or even your dog, you create dialogue. It’s exchang
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