SOCIETY IS NOT JUST SICK, IT'S COMPLETELY ABSURD!

at the big fancy art museum opening for the sculptor in oakland, the film i made was the highlight of the evening and had people reeling, including the photographer who inspired me to make the film... the sculptor's wife told me people were sitting in the auditorium watching it loop 8 or 9 times ~ i did not attend the event, but have since received an invitation to attend an Art Table Meeting with the same racist, narrow minded bitch ass snobs that would instantly give me Stink Eye before they saw that film at the exhibit.

*pfffft*

for MONTHS in preparation for this exhibit & corresponding book on his work, i was made to feel like everything i do is just amateur bullshit by upper class art hags who then went about REDOING all my work by paying a "professional" 8x the amount of money i make to take the IDENTICAL photographs and redesign an IDENTICAL book.  so this is indeed POETIC JUSTICE, that i STILL MADE SOMETHING they couldn't ERASE ME FROM, something that they COULDN'T REMAKE before the exhibition, and it turned out to be the "Best Part of The Show". 

the bittersweet guts inside : when i recorded the "music" for this soundtrack last summer, i was alone in the studio working while the sculptor and his wife were on one of their biannual holidays at the studio in the south of france.  suddenly, i decided to try an experiment and pushed my face up against one sculpture that i liked the best, pushed record on my android phone and emitted random frequencies that reverberated through the steel. i did 3 separate takes, then, with audacity, put the 3 recordings on top of each other randomly. 

i thought of him as a mentor after working for him these 20 years. i thought he had some respect for me in return as an artist, as a woman, as a human being. i was so grateful for his presence in my life...especially since he was now one of the only people i ever saw or spoke to on a regular basis. he was the last thread i was holding onto, he was the last semblance of this life i was living in california. 

so while singing these notes, i was OVERFLOWING with gratitude & the sadness one feels for the passing of someone they love ~ at the time, i could not imagine my life without the sculptor being a part of it, but he's 80 years old, so i had to start imagining life without him... after so much loss experienced during the last 5 years, i did not think i was ready for more. i thought i couldn't handle more death, more grief. i thought wrong.

that would be the last time i'd feel this bright shiny way about him because upon his return, his friendly pats on the back gradually began slipping further down to the small of my back and once, even reaching under my clothing. that's where my deluded loyalty to him ended. 

i've often said to him that making art is so difficult, but more so for a woman because EVERYTHING you do is considered for it's artistic merit only AFTER considering the fact that it was made by a woman, and that a woman has a CUNT. duh. whenever you lose yourself in the creativity itself while making something that is Not About Being A Woman, people who see that work Always Assume You're A Man...wtf?  he and i spoke on these issues Deeply Ad Infinitum for Years...  you THINK you know a person...

and yet, he KNOWINGLY paid me far less than i was worth, saying to the woman i was training in the office to do my job, "Why should I pay a designer or photographer thousands of dollars to do work for me when I can get Tena to do it for free?"  

$20/hr is ""free" in his mind, i guess. in comparison to all the other photographers' $150/hr fee, i guess it is nothing.  but it was more than i'd ever made, and i was happy being around the art and ideas, so it's partially my own fault for not knowing my own worth or for not being completely concerned with money as if it were life itself... but a discrepancy that massively huge is not easy to overlook, it's just insulting. these are people who spend $25,000 on a 3 day hotel stay on a regular basis for christ's sake. 
it's not like they couldn't afford to pay me more. 
but it no longer mattered, i was done. 
all the love was gone.

i always knew in the pit of my stomach that something was not right here, that something was being hidden from me, and once i was ready to see the truth, it revealed itself to me ~ on paper, in emails, in receipts, invoices, even in words said directly to my face, and then i could no longer feel any of that former love or gratitude or loyalty to someone who essentially just saw me as a cheap weekly entry in his jerk off bank, but who also just so happens to have a good eye for design. 

ironically, the sculpture i sang all those grateful and sad notes through was called ELEGY, and it's one of the most prominent pieces installed at the exhibit.  

so i say FUCK YOU to the art world that is no different from the pathetic 8th grade corporate world with it's unequal pay and discrimination in all ways across the board.

i say YOU'RE WELCOME to elitist art fags for giving me the chance to prove to myself that i do exist and that i am worth something, or at least worth as much as you poncey prats.

i say THANKS BUT NO THANKS to the sculptor for not having my back, especially since it was not going to give him access to the only thing he was really paying any attention to, my fucking ass crack. i'm sure i'll forgive him for all of it when there is no longer an older man in my life making decisions about where i will live or how i will pay my rent or how much i am worth to him Without Putting His Money Where His Mouth Is and/or Without Also Consulting Me In That Decision-Making Process About MY FUCKIN LIFE.

then i borrowed the camera with which i took over 5000 pictures of his work; pictures that were always credited to him in publications, even though he never took the photos or even knew how to work the camera, until the last set of three pictures on the exhibition invitation, when i was finally "allowed" to receive a photo credit in print, after a week-long argument with his tight fisted control freak of a wife. then i cashed my "little vacation" non-employment compensation pay that is, in fact, and unbeknownst to them, my Final Severance Check. 

MORAL OF THIS STORY:
please world, don't force me back into that corner, cuz I WILL FIGHT BACK, I WILL LASH OUT, AND I WILL CUT YOU A NEW ONE ~ I HAVE NOT LIVED THROUGH THIS FULL BULLSHIT LIFE WITH OPEN EYES TO JUST END UP ON MY KNEES SUCKING OFF SOME RICH MAN BOOBS BEARDED DICK FACE CUNT. 
I'D RATHER DIE.

*u can call me ph!*

WHAT GETS MY POST TRAUMATIC GENERAL RELATIVITY GOAT RIMBAUD?

Last night was the longest amount of time i've sat in my room in the company of a male friend since Feb 13th 2011:

[that date being the last time i stood in this room, holding onto my broken bones while a full-blown psychopath thrashed about destroying my shit (not including the 3am break-in that occurred 2 weeks later), and simultaneously giving my roommate/landlord the real reason why i should be evicted~eh whatever. wrote a song about it that i care about more than either one of those 2 fuckers.]

lo and behold, here i was, actually feeling nearly comfortable. i didn't flinch, didn't feel weird if my back was turned toward him, i was not afraid to leave him unattended in my room with my piano....and i thoroughly enjoyed having a conversation with someone who knows when to write "you're" not "your"  -- albeit my reoccurring case of mouth-diarrhea. it was good to be around someone who was there because i'm a person, not because they want a tattoo, or because they want to make their partner jealous, or expect anything from me. we were just Being There.

after the movie was over and he went home in the wee hours, for no reason that i can explain, as soon as i sat back down in that spot that i've been sitting in for these long 5 years, i just started bawling like a baby. 

i'm not even sure if it's because i was happy that i was able to enjoy the company of another person for that many hours in my room, or if it was gratitude for the body and spirit's unquenchable ability to heal, survive and overcome trauma, or if it was the still present underlying fear of ever being close to anyone again - maybe even the loss of that fear - if i let people into my life again, am i just going to make all the same mistakes and find myself in the cross hairs of another cunning sociopath's gun? (i don't feel my current company was anything like some of the people i used to hang out with; he's a much gentler person and made no demands on me, but it's more about the ACT of letting someone in as opposed to the person themselves.)

i'm 5 years old again, completely helpless in the face of being a full grown fucking human being that Cannot Deny that it DOES feel better when there is some form of social contact, even if it's just a meager amount. talked myself down fairly quickly though, made another cup of tea and tried to stick with thinking about other things today instead, like how amazingly awesome that movie was…especially the ending, and in fact, i think INTERSTELLAR could possibly be the Best Film I've Ever Seen, despite how much others say they hated it.

i also absolutely LOVED "ALL IS LOST" which is one of those films that only a person who has experienced the broken-down-on-the-side-of-the-road-dragging-a-ton-of-bricks-and-an-empty-gas-can-to-the-next-town-that-might-as-well-be-a-thousand-miles-away-but-you-have-no-choice-but-to-deal-with-this-difficult-situation-so-you-do-just-that-&-deal-with-it-scenario could appreciate. people who have not lived through much hardship hated that movie too. they found it boring. because all those quiet subtle moments where it's just you and that cold wet cement you're up against, but somehow you find a small piece of string hanging off the end of your sweater that just might hold your heart in it's chest cavity long enough to get to the next tiny moment which offers you some small but immense feeling of relief that you've made it this far. 

i've seen a shit load of films…..

BUT HERE'S WHAT GETS MY OVER-GENERALIZING GOAT:

every big space adventure movie is always about how necessary it is to save the human race and yet the reality of our current situation on this planet clearly shows us that if people had any interest in saving the human race, along with all the other species facing extinction, all those billions of dollars would be spent on stopping the rape of planet earth, instead of perpetuating it, even if out of our own apathy and/or nihilism.  and yet, just as it is the case with Burning Man, we humans always seem more willing to spend way too much money, effort and time to EXPERIENCE CREATIVITY AS A REMOTE ESCAPE FROM THE REALITY OF OUR LIVES IN SOCIETY instead of CREATING A DAILY REALITY WITHIN OUR OWN COMMUNITY THAT WE DO NOT FEEL A NEED TO ESCAPE FROM, experiencing a society made better with all that money, effort and time, a society into which you do not need to decompress before reentry.

but the impetus for this kind of shift would probably only occur after some drastic loss of convenience, after people had overcome their cell phone separation anxiety, and start to see things differently  -- really SEE just how much blood is dripping off all of our hands, to hold that bottle of water after you've just gulped the last drop, and KNOW this plastic bottle in your hand will exist on this earth LONGER THAN YOU WILL for that short 10 minutes of refreshment. refreshment who's RIGHTS HAVE BEEN BOUGHT, yes water rights, by yet another corporation. 

it's the same thing that is so frustrating when it comes to every genius invention or discovery that could potentially do so much GOOD, but the best ideas are derailed or corrupted in order to cause more harm. 

for example, the Rife machine, which can cure just about every disease known to mankind through the direct application of FREQUENCIES that alter or eliminate that molecular structure. it's been discredited widely by mainstream funded experts saying some people still died. yes, people do still die. in fact, the number of people dying every year from side effects on psychotropics is over 100,000. but if it's got the stamp of approval from "trusted" medical establishments, it's ok that so many people are test subjects for this great experiment that has yet to actually substantiate any of it's claims. better still if those people are poor. 

our endless anthropocentrism = thinking we humans are The Shit, and still doing Really Stupid Things to the earth like FRAKKING without having an ounce of distrust that the ENERGY COMPANIES THAT EXIST FOR PROFIT, NOT BECAUSE THEY LOVE US are lying about how much methane is leaking into the atmosphere and making our situation 8X WORSE than it was with coal emissions.... and we cannot claim ignorance anymore, we already have all the pieces of the puzzle and slowly as people lose their fear of how they will be judged by the mainstream, the parts will come together.  once that habitual assumption of respect for some antiquated authority erodes after everyone knows that the authority figure was secretly fucking all those kids behind closed doors, the authority figure cannot keep the fear mongering machine going because now you reject it's authority and no longer listen to it.

none of this, in my book, will be possible for the human race in general, until one thing becomes crystal clear: ALBERT EINSTEIN DID NOT DISCOVER THE THEORY OF RELATIVITY ON HIS OWN. Mileva Maric, his wife, saw this in a dream, and brought it to the chalkboard to work it out with her (then, EQUAL) husband....only to be whitewashed from it's publication, divorced, and eventually committed to a mental institution purposefully, so that she could be closer to hers & albert's schizophrenic son.  if the human race can't even bring itself to admit that one half of it's population is worth being considered equal, not treated like a dog tied up in the back yard, or paid less than, or derided when in positions that "should be" held by the other half of the population, then we don't DESERVE to fuckin live. i've heard a theory on why man looks upon something beautiful, loves it, then goes about destroying it -- because he has no uterus. he cannot create life. and since women CAN create life (with men's spooge duh!) then, she shouldn't be allowed to DO ANYTHING ELSE OTHER THAN GIVE LIFE.  pfffft.   and the LAST thing this planet needs right now is More Fuckin Human Beings.  so uterus-envy. get over yourself. although, the upside of that is, if men could give birth, abortion would probably be globally legal and more children would grow up without being damaged by parents that didn't really want them = less crime = less drug addiction = less sexual slavery = less of lots of shit that all stems from the fact that women are still not 100% allowed to have control over their own reproductive systems. 

it's easy to become overwhelmed in that scenario, and the ONLY way anyone could sane in the process of so much fluctuation would be to look at the changes ahead in the same way that the surviving mountain climber actually made it down off the mountain in that documentary K2 == never look at the TOTAL DISTANCE you need to cover.  Look only at the next small mile marker and aim for that. once you make it there, aim for the next small mile marker, and just keep going, in small increments... 

The Mother of Invention once told me in a lucid dream:

"If you take lots of little steps to hell, 

you will eventually end up in hell. 

If you take lots of little steps to heaven, 

you will eventually end up in heaven."

To which Rimbaud now replies:

"To whom shall I hire myself out?

What beast must I adore?

What holy image is attacked?

What hearts must I break?

What lie must I maintain?

In what blood tread?"

P>S> regarding the recent double-edged event of the solar and lunar eclipses & 

all the crazy things happening everywhere therein...

don't think i'm done processing the effects of this major shift yet...

still trying out this Becoming Friends With Death & Endings, but we're still in the honeymoon phase

and so far, it's like depeche mode says:

it's a lot

*u can call me ph!*

Don't Be A Dick

it's always a little bit disappointing when you realize not everyone who is creative also understands the fabric of collective thinking, or gets the theory of Mutual Aid. When the ugly head of possession instead of involvement rears up, it's not only disappointing, it's like a kick in the gut to us sensitive types. 

i will always choose to know the Truth when it is knowable. 
yeah, i know how acrid it tastes, but it's always better To Know, than to go on believing a sweet and tidy delusion.  a person's true colors always reveal themselves sooner or later. and yeah that hurts too, finding out how someone you almost trusted Really Feels About You. 

but what the fuck can you do? 
other than walk away and let go, not much. 
how can anything be fixed or repaired if one or both parties shows no interest in communicating clearly and perhaps Resolving Their Issues with each other and being even better friends afterwards?  

it's easy to see how some relationships were not actual friendships to begin with, but just products of convenience because you both worked at that place. but once you no longer work there, it's next to nothing, that supposed friendship.  communicating would now require effort, so that makes it pretty obvious who actually Wants to see you or talk to you and vice versa. 

there's an older chinese woman who helps run the luggage store below bleakhaus - during the summer that i tried to make the front room into a tattoo studio, all kinds of shit was falling out of the broken windows as i was attempting to fix things...she was so pissed and yelling at me, i was pissed and yelling at her that it was an accident, and pissed that i'm trying to better this falling-apart poor house while no one else gives a fuck. a couple days later, i saw her outside and apologized for yelling at her, she did too, & we commented on the fact that the landlord will never fix anything but that's the price we pay for having cheap rent, so we shrugged and stopped being mad at each other. 

ever since then, she smiles warmly at me, and i return the sentiment = BECAUSE WE GOT PAST BEING ANGRY AT ONE ANOTHER. so in some ways, i feel closer to the chinese lady downstairs than i do to most people i wish i could call my friends; people who will NEVER air their real feelings or be willing to resolve issues, or say anything confrontational for whatever lame unspoken reasons... you know, All Those Things You Talk About Together During The Winter Months When You're Trapped Indoors & Forced To Deal With Each Other Til You Can't Stand It, Then Spring Comes & You Feel Closer To Them Now That You've Weathered That Winter Together.

i like the cold. i like snow. i like being so frozen that i am numb FOR REAL instead of only emotionally. i even like the pain of feeling returning with warmth.  

it doesn't snow here. 

lesson learned: be more careful about who i let into my life.  but i am actually hopeful about being around others of a creative bent who Do Understand That When You Share Your Joy With Others Rather Than Taking Possession Of It, Everyone Within That Circle Of Creative Joy Enjoys It More.  All those ideas or inspirations that come to you, as if you are just a radio, both transmitting and receiving, do not debase themselves with ownership, just as a radio does not consider the radio show as Belonging To The Radio Through Which You Heard That Broadcast.

example 1: i asked my "friend" to move into the empty room at bleakhaus. she did. later in a group setting outside of the house, she said to a bunch of folks there, "Let's all go to My House." i replied, "Yes, let's all go there, to Your House." she blushed and stammered, "oh yeah, you live there too." it's painfully simple: the word you are looking for is not Mine or Yours, it's OURS.

perhaps in this culture of media sponsored fear-mongering and self-inflicted isolation, people have completely abandoned having thoughts about others at all in any platonic sense. 

example 2: all week, in preparation for Going On Tour, i've been hauling massively large and heavy items on my bike rack on bart because i do not own a car. for all the 10 to 15 times the heavy items fell over or got caught in the turnstile, or were difficult to maneuver around rush hour traffic, an amazing but astonishingly LOW number of people acknowledged that i looked like i was having trouble and offered to help me - 3 people to be exact. 3 out of the close to 60 people witnessing these difficult events. (i say "witnessing" loosely since most people's heads are up there arsedroids) some rude cunts even went so far as to STEP OVER ME, like i am a pile of garbage and not a person going in the same direction they are, and then throwing me this stink-eyed look for being one of those pieces of shit that needs to Make Way for The Great White Zombie Plague of The Entire Bay Area. 

honestly, collective thinking is the ONLY way mankind has even the slightest shred of hope in evolving at all. if more than 51% of the human population never come to understand this, and continue to just STEP OVER OTHERS (all forms of consciousness included) we're all doomed.

oh well, at least i tried. yes, i failed. but i tried nonetheless. 
a gentle fuck you if you don't like it, i'm going to keep trying.
trying to not harden in spite of how others sometimes mistreat me, 
or actively ignore me - while i take it with a pinch of salt for my own 
oversensitiveness and autistic inability to act UNWEIRD around others.
trying to keep my sense of fairness and generosity. 
trying to continue committing acts of kindness toward other humans. 
trying not to get angry when they don't say thank you.
and trying to stick with the simplest mantra for life ever: 
Don't Be A Dick.

god love all those assholes steeped in ignorance, indifference and greed, 
but i don't have to.
i've got memory encrusted objects, both good and bad, to burn in the fire, to drown in the water, to let go of in the wind, to bury in the dirt. 

*u can call me ph!*

the art of NO

AFTER THE VERY LAST LIVE SHOW IN SF
a girl came up to me and said she liked the sound of the tea kettle boiling at the end... i'm not sure if she meant it as a compliment or an insult, but it's actually hilarious cuz  THE VERY FIRST LIVE SHOW IN SF i took part in was at kimo's, 1998. my friend gabe's experimental noise band was onstage and invited people to come up and scream in the mic, so chupa and i ran up there and did just that. behind us was a single burner with a kettle slowly coming to a boil, and of course, you can imagine the climax. yup. 
it made me want a cup of tea. 

a mere 16 years later at submission, playing to my "draw" of next to none, as my usual draw over the last decade and a half has consisted of the guy i was currently fucking and maybe one other friend.  however, having just celebrated my 4th SAN(e)niversary of Embracing Hopelessness in which i gave up sex + relationships, i have also recently ceased instigating conversations with people who talk to me as if i'm a cardboard cutout of a very scary monster and not a person, so you do the math. it's important to note, shows have never been about "blowing up" for me, i usually prefer smaller crowds so i don't shit myself, but also because it has nothing to do with money or rock star whatever, over the years, it has moved more and more into the realm of devotional, an act done in reverence for the activity itself, cuz there is nothing else quite like that feeling of Being In The River.

20 minutes in, i hit room tone.  i have never hit room tone at this level of massively loud with a sweetly balanced korg analogue synth signal before ~ and OOOOOOOHHHHHH MMMYYYY GGUUUUUUUUUDDDDDD.........for a long series of moments, i sat there feeling all things vibrating themselves apart in that bass frequency.  i was sure everyone's solar plexus felt the same as mine, but i was so in love with Sound at that moment, i wouldn't have noticed anyone or anything else in the room...... other than a couple former coworkers and the girl who asked me to come and play the show (wanted to tell her thanks for inviting me, but she left while i was packing up gear) so, with all the people i knew gone already, in this roomful of strangers, i entertained myself with thoughts of this being My Big Going Away Party. 

then i saw my roommate/landlord come in, the One person who hates my existence to such an extent it has made life at bleakhaus into an absurd french film most of the time.  it's hard to be in spaces where there was once so much joy and light and see it now filled only with darkness and derision. but since my role as the scapegoat/common enemy will of course, have to be filled by someone else once i leave, i'd hate to see how that pans out. it's become a mental mantra, the image of Escaping this Trap of Stagnation, finally being free from the demon-like infestation of all things and people evil. So many objects are marked for sacrifice in the beach bonfire i will build during the upcoming solar eclipse. 

due to the fact that i am "such a downer", this thought of This Is My Life Slash Big Going Away Party was at a level of depressing so deep down in the gorge of abysmal after living here for 20 years, that it was instantly fucking hilarious!! so i laughed a lot with my monumentally melodramatic abandonment issues -- who were now joined by my Total Defiance Of Men Who Want Me To Fuckin Die If I'm Not Gonna Do Whatever For Them -- and schlepped my shit home down mission street, giggling most of the way. 

i am sure i have never felt so alone in my life, but am weirdly ok with it...it's so...weird.

the best part of the night was the sound guy K2, who answered my technical question without the slightest hint of condescension or arrogance and made the entire experience so much more pleasurable by helping me LEARN SOMETHING...and i like learning things. i especially like when other people actually HELP me learn things instead of hoarding knowledge or intentionally misleading my unending curiosities.....curiosities that have never killed any cats in the past, curiosities that keep me just interested in life enough to stop me from jumping off the golden gate bridge, which is good, i think. though some others might disagree. but when i do fiddle with thoughts of suicide, doing the things i am afraid to do in life always seem like an easier option to deal with -- cuz ultimately, It Doesn't Matter if i decide to go there or stay here, or live now and die later, or cut bait or switch, cuz in every single scenario of every decision made ever, all that results from anything is:
YOU + DEALING WITH = THIS.


unfortunately, i had the formula backwards all these years - i always expected the best out of people and was constantly disappointed, but expected shit from situations and usually got shit, so at some point, it finally dawned on me that i need to flip that around - and stop expecting anything from people, and instead only expect good things from choices and changes and situations in life i can manifest for myself.  reactions to reality you can control, but why waste time thinking another person can or should be influenced by your control?  how up-yer-own ass would you have to be to think you need to control someone else's decisions in life? 

when i think back on dudes that i knew had crushes on me, and had that notion for a minute, "i could probably get him to do ____ for me" but within 10 seconds, i felt sick and knew that mindset is against my nature. the mindset of GET. it's all we do most of the time, it's what capitalism has turned us into, animals that have to GET GET GET. never GIVE. (funny thing for a "shady junkie" to say, huh? yup, folks know me SOOOOO well....cuz they've all spent SOOOOOO much time hanging out with me......HA HA HA) ..... so after having been on the other end of the GETTING stick for so long with my Obvious Dumb Girl Crushes on dudes that would then use me for this and that, and show off my gullible loyalty for shits & giggles - i always wondered how the fuck a person could do that to someone else and still be able to sleep at night? and i NEVER wanna be on the receiving end of the OVERGIVING stick either -- cuz it SUX BAWLZ having to say in 8 million different ways that get increasingly harsh with each non-listened to version "I AM NOT INTO YOU LIKE THAT, I DO NOT HAVE ANY SEXUAL ATTRACTION TOWARD YOU (or anyone for that matter) & I DO NOT WANT TO BE YOUR GF, OR ANY OTHER THING LIKE THAT."  playing any kind of game with other people's emotions seems so heartless and honestly, DANGEROUS. no good can possibly come of it, so what is the fucking point of it? it's thoughts like these about people's behavior that make me SO FUCKING GRATEFUL FOR MUSIC & ART, that i can spend endless hours engaged in playful activities that do not allow space in my brain to know how to Play People.

i heard a hipster douchebag walking down the street the other day say to his coworker/friend, "yeah, that guy is SO SENSITIVE about everything, it makes it Really Easy to Make Fun Of Him..." so i guess that IS the goal for most "well-adjusted" individuals...entertain yourself and others by attacking the sensitive - who has almost always been attacked since day one, thus the sensitivity. ugh. gross. and boring.

it's no wonder people go on killing sprees when the bullshit in the sandbox NEVER GOES AWAY throughout adulthood and yer stuck dealing with the same 4th grade shit post 40 yrs old.... but since i do not understand why people do or say the things they do 99% of the time, trying to figure out Other People would be fantastically futile....and that's when i say out loud to myself in one of several thick accents, "Sometimes, it's OK TO NOT UNDERSTAND" or in Hal's computer voice, "This Conversation Serves No Greater Purpose, DAVE" or in a (nothing like) Christopher Walken voice "Forget about it ~~ Now It's The Year For People-Free Thinking" whereupon i will engage in learning how to focus all this never-ending rage i have for society in general & the raping of planet earth by corporate greed into consciousness, activism, lucidity, in communion with music and art, off in my own space, making time sacred.  

you won't need my cell phone number because i know you will never call me. 
also it does not exist. 

and please californian confrontation-phobics, try to learn how to say NO. 
it really is ok. 
no one is going to shoot you, or hate you. they might even like you better. 
it's respectful to say NO, in fact, because it doesn't waste anyone's time, and others can make informed decisions when they know you are NOT gonna do whatever they're waiting for you to do.  once you start saying NO it's hard to stop, cuz it feels so much better to not fuck around with yourself or anyone else. NO has made life more POSITIVE, more DIRECT, less higglety-pigglety, less fearful, less lame...

NO is a GOOD THING. 
and thank you, 
i'm glad you came all this way.

*u can call me ph!*

PUT EM UP!!!

saw this hilarious and inspiring performance by Bridget Everett and Dj Ad Rock on Inside Amy Schumer and decided to turn it into an mp3 to take on the road with me for those low moments of wondering why I exist - cuz so many of us lacked the presence of that strong woman in our lives to tell us "Fuck Em, Don't Be Ashamed, Be Who You Are!" in fact, some of us not only receive very little support from our mothers, we are often encouraged to instead Hide Ourselves, Dumb Ourselves Down and Be Less Visible for the sake of pleasing the men that would have us. 

on my last visit to see my parents, my mom shuffled around serving my father while he insulted her intelligence approximately once every 20 minutes. every time he did that, incredulously, i'd look at her, like Are You Gonna Take That?  and she would sigh, shooting me a glance of poor me... having been removed from this environment, i'd forgotten how prevalent was this air of brow beating and the resulting acclimated victimization, which obviously never bothered her enough to DO anything about it for the last 50 years of their marriage, so why was she looking at me with these pleading Save Me eyes? as if i could do anything about the choices she made in her life.  YOU GET WHAT YOU SETTLE FOR : a personal mantra & life altering reality check that works every time.  as soon as i left their presence, i could breathe again and immediately decided not to see them again.

it's taken more than 20 years to process/heal the damage done to my ability to successfully function in society, and to feel complete forgiveness toward my father. to some degree, he was just repeating the treatment he was exposed to as a child, and that is certainly no excuse, but it does warrant an explanation as to why he would violently beat and sexually molest his children.  why adults of abuse choose to even HAVE children, i don't fucking know.

so now that i've finally cleared away all of the rage i had concerning The Dad The Fist The Dick, underneath that lies this other beast: the rage for the mother and why she did nothing to protect us, not before the abuse, not during, and not after.  
what the fuck is her excuse???  

apparently, in 1976, my father attempted to get psychological help immediately after the first incident of the sexual abuse occurred and spoke to my mother about it, but she said not to worry, that everything would be ok. in 1991, she said she regrets having said that to my dad. in 2005, she then said she regrets marrying him, she regrets leaving england, and she regrets giving birth to my brother and me. i think if i can reach the age of 60 and not scream out a list of regrets like that one, then i'm doing ok. 

one of my earliest memories is being at a doctor's office in germany due to an ear infection and screaming for her to stop this guy in a white coat from hurting me with those things he's poking into my ears, and she just stood there, looking at me... the same way she would just stand there looking at me during every violent beating throughout my childhood. when i recalled this memory, she said, "that's impossible, how can you remember that? you were only a 18 months old..." so could her excuse be something as simple as the fact that she just never loved me since birth?  shrug. it happens. i can actually understand that, and i think if she ever had the courage to tell me the truth, instead of coating everything in sugary denial, i could garner some shred of respect for the woman. but that will never happen. and the closest i've come to forgiving her is to knowingly decide it's not up to me to tell her the truth, or to even tell her anything at all, i can instead just let her live in the peace that her sweet denial and quiet consensual victimhood give her. 

it's sad to say, but i actually found great relief in discovering that this kind of relationship is most often the case with female survivors of sexual abuse and their mothers. it's actually more common that mothers will knowlingly expose their daughters to permanent damage rather than find the strength to leave their abusive husbands. [sometimes, if the mother is also being beaten, she doesn't leave because she believes there is no way out, that he will find them and kill her and her children, and too often, this ends up being the case.] but the fact that mothers are also more likely to view their own daughters as sexual threats - seriously..?. as if any 5 year old girl has the desire to fuck her dad...??! UGH. i think NOT. 

so, it's like we're fucked from day one, and when we turn to other women for support, but get MORE of the competitive you're-a-threat-to-my-being-the-most-desirable-object-in-the-room-and-now-i-will-be-a-back-stabbing-bitch-and-throw-you-under-the-bus attitude from female "friends" throughout the rest of our lives, it's not entirely a surprise to us since our moms did that shit to us already. cunts.   

one night, in upstate new york in the winter of 1980, my mother woke my brother and me up at 4 am, and told us to get in the car. she had decided enough was enough and said she was taking us to live with our grandparents in england.  we were both ECSTATIC~! finally, our mom was going to do something to protect us!  just before getting on the highway, she pulled into a burger king parking lot, turned off the car and started crying. my brother and i just sat quietly in the back seat waiting... she stopped crying. no one said anything. after about 10 minutes, she started the car. at the stop light, straight ahead was the highway, she turned right, and drove us back to that house. 

at that moment, my brother and i grasped each other's hands with a feeling of the darkest, most utterly inescapable despair, knowing there would be years of this shit to live through with no one on our side, no one to protect us, no one to tell us we should not be ashamed of being alive.

so yeah, i have been one aggro fucker for a very long time, but now that i am aware of the exact time and place in which that rage was born, that pure defiance of the weak victimized woman who would do anything for her man - even at the cost of her own children, and why the instant trigger finger whenever belittlement enters the picture...
it's a lot easier to attempt let go of the aggression and rage when you know where they come from...but i am still trying...

emotionally, i think this is why i was able to connect with the 4 to 6 Muwekma Ohlone women that were killed on this spot of land on which bleakhaus sits ~ circa 1770-1812 during the gentrification "settlement" of white san francisco and subsequent enslaving and genocide of the Muwekma Ohlone tribes.  when it was first established in san francisco, the mission kept native women as slaves having killed off most of the men through violence and disease. if women attempted to escape, they were often captured by other members of their tribe who were convinced assimilation would work and forced the captured slaves to then turn around, and go back to the mission. 

that turning back to the place of torture by those that are supposed to be on your side.  that darkness and utterly inescapable despair, i understood it. although, i was not forced to witness the near total annihilation of 4000 years of my people's culture, religion and language, and it was then i could emotionally grasp the depth of their sadness... and...THERE ARE NO WORDS. 

but i had to act on it...and since i don't possess the language skills or felt i had the right to address them, i relayed all of the details of this experience to the remaining descendants of the local tribe in hopes that they would not think i am crazy, but instead could perform the appropriate ritual to free their souls from this place.  
  
so whenever i hear people loudly say Be Proud Of Who You Are, i instantly start crying tears of joy, just like i do when someone small wins something big or simply succeeds at anything great. i love that feeling of being told that It's Ok You Exist! it goes straight through me, straight through to the only ones who are telling me things like that...but they are not people at all...they are The Moon, The Music, The Wind and The Water.  


*u can call me ph!*

EVERYONE GETS A FREE LUNCH

freedom comes at a cost and i am now paying the price of righteousness. but what are you gonna do?? NOT stand by your convictions??!! that would be truly horrible. i might as well roll over and die right here right now if i thought that every single time i stood up and defended myself, it would be an easy breezy feeling of liberation with no ugly backlash to then wade through, insult to injury as it were, but harder things have not killed me yet. the rejected male is a dangerous creature, all that pent up desire for a dick sucking travels from the scrotum to the frontal lobe and signals him to kill the object that is not doing any dick sucking.

in other words, ever since confronting my boss about my not wanting to be felt up anymore, in a surprisingly gentle manner ~~ which is all new to me, being the crazy aggressive femi-nazi monster that i am apparently ~~ i have been put through a series of further degradations to my amazement, not only by him, but also by his wife ~ who is now more my boss than he is.  she calls and dictates every minute detail of my entire workday now instead of the usual once a day update on whatever, while he no longer tells me anything on the current administrative goings on. 

often, i find myself gobsmacked by all of this.  he is aware that i was sexually abused as a child, i've told him a couple stories during the last decade. that being the case, i find it horrifying that he would think it is OK to tell me about his sexual fantasies...he is also 80 fuckin years old. HOWEVER he does not know this: my dad used to share with me his sexual fantasies involving me when i was about 14 years old on our drives to family therapy sessions in new jersey AFTER i had gone through the exposure of said abuse; testifying in court, lying under oath to make the abuse sound a lot less harsh than it was so that my father is NOT incarcerated, my mother is NOT deported, my brother and myself are NOT put in foster care, and the result is 5 years probation for him, he has to receive counseling and we cannot move to a different state. my mother doesn't speak to me for a very long time after this, and my brother soon leaves to serve in the military.  so, you can see how something as seemingly INNOCENT (ha ha) as telling your "secretary/girl" what it is about her that makes you jizz in your pants could really be opening a door to a specifically NON-sexual NON-pleasant realm.  

during the last 17 years, i've taken all the photographs of his work in the studio, but in the book that is currently being designed by another party, i will receive not a single photo credit, they are all credited to him. and now, instead of asking me if i want soup or salad for lunch, he asks me if i want lunch at all... i'm guessing since my body is no longer available for groping, then my internal organs no longer process food and get hungry or take shits.   

like most people on the planet earth, he seems to expect or assume that i'm going to do something really sketchy like a scumbag junkie would, and even though i am constantly choosing the more down to earth, level-headed approach to all stressful situations, this never seems to sway the expectation for stupid drama to occur...but it never does...this must be so disappointing for people when they're expecting a big show from the crazy scumbag junkie, but all they get is no eye contact. for example, i gave notice on my intended departure from this job instead of just a middle finger and a thanks for the memories. perhaps all this strange behavior is his passive aggressive way of saying he'll miss me instead of Just Saying He'll Miss Me, being somewhat supportive and understanding that i need to do some things in my life to fulfill my own self-respect and growth, that My Entire Life is Not All About Serving Him for the Rest of His Life.

so here i am with the same question again to the world: why can't people just be nice to me instead of treating me like a piece of total shit?  i am certain that i'm no longer attracting this kind of treatment subconsciously as the meditation has made me so painfully aware of self-talk, so why am i still standing out here getting rained on at the shit parade?  

i've decided all of this is a blessing in disguise, half as a last resort coping mechanism to the current stress levels and half as a blind leap of faith in a future i cannot see but have to believe exists in order to persevere. no one is ever gonna tell me why it is that as soon as they look at me, they need to be in total control of my life and then fuck me up the ass and if that desire is thwarted they are going to do their best to destroy all the things i do, all the things i say, all the things i am. but since this has been an ongoing theme in my life, it's important to note that i am becoming a lot less belligerent about choosing my own way than ever before.  kicking and screaming seems to have been replaced by quiet sobbing and reassuring myself that i have done nothing to deserve being treated this way and even though all the other people in the room do not love me, i do and i always will. 

the ground has completely shifted beneath our feet.

 *u can call me ph!*

life is hard, then you die. death is hard, then yer born.

i have finally understood something about people. 

most of what they say to your face is completely meaningless, especially when it involves some action, or remembering that they said these meaningless words to a person who might be thinking their words were sincere. but they are not. they are just words. 

time and time again, on the increasingly rare occasions that i do see or talk to anyone for more than one second, i hear the same things come out of people's mouths, things said just to be polite, but no actual intention or meaning or solidity resides in politeness, it's just another form of fear. not that it upsets me at all, in fact, now i just find it funny.  the little plays they put on for each other, but it's all just fake. 

so now i know why no one listens to me, because everyone here talks total bullshit, so they've all learned not to listen to each other, especially if there's a drink in the hand and blah blah blah.  

but now i also know why others act all weirdly surprised when i actually do the things that were talked about previously.  so much wasted angsty energy trying to figure out what the fuck is wrong with people here in california, and had i known this earlier...but oh well.

so restless, and still confused but strangely calm. 
can't leave here soon enough and can't actually afford to go anywhere yet. 
oh, also i have absolutely no fucking idea where the hell i think i'm going. 
but it is time to go, that's for sure.

i've enjoyed saying good bye to people without them knowing it's the last time i'll see them.  
there's no reason to make a big production out of it. 
no need to be polite and fake. it just wastes time. 
time better spent contemplating how and where and what to live for. 
no whom. just me, the light that loves me, and the soft breeze that kisses tears dry.
til death do i wait to part. 

life is hard, then you die. death is hard, then yer born.  















*u can call me ph!*

L8Rmeebs....

'twas nice to see you people again ~thanks for the invite even tho i no longer work there.

until litigation is over with mute records, and official permission is received from Boyd Rice on the use of his music (from the NON album of the same name) much of the Children of the Black Sun soundtrack has been muted on the youtube film, but here is a nearly hi def version that is hiding on vimeo til then: 

*u can call me ph!*

nude krampus and bleeding eyes descending a staircase #2

this might cheer you up Lance.... 
but it also might not. 
i dunno. 
i tried. 

after all that stressing out, i finally just said aloud "i need some time off." yesterday, on my 3rd day of the only paid vacation i've had since 2000, i wondered why my stomach wasn't churning...for more than a whole day, no pain!!! then it occurred to me that This Is What Being Relaxed Feels Like.... FUCK!! so normal people must feel like THIS all the time.....DAMN.... no wonder everyone thinks i'm crazy.  so much of my time is spent in the turmoil of avarice...and just to stop myself from saying something i might regret on my last day at work, i randomly opened The Book That Has Changed My Life, "When Things Fall Apart" by Pema Chodron, 

and read "OPINIONS: When we hold on to our opinions with aggression, no matter how valid our cause, we are simply adding more aggression to the planet, and violence and pain increase. Cultivating nonaggression is cultivating peace."  and the sentence that was like a kick in the stomach and brought me instantly to Ouch-This-Much-Compassion-For-Self-Hurts tears, "Never give up on yourself." once, again - exactly what i needed to think about all day. it has already made a huge difference in that the attention paid to Nonaggressive Thoughts actually gave me a full 3 days of painfree living. it's a truly Great book, in the best sense of the word. that might be why i've never read it cover to cover and have only ever read the pages i open randomly in times of peril. 

it continues to serve me well...  

after watching a documentary about Delia Derbyshire, i was inspired to do something with the massive pile of tapes with piano recordings on them. in the process, i experienced a tactility that reminded me of editing super 8 film, but a Digital Tactility~never thought i'd see the day... so i made a new song, but can't really call it a song since it was more like an exercise in exorcism as there is also a large pile of things written on paper since 2010, and in order to put it behind me and throw them in the Ever-Increasing-Pile-O'-Things-To-Toss-Tosser!, i wanted to choose the best one and DO something creative with it so that all of that horribleness wouldn't have been in vain. 

so i did. some unexpected stuff came right the hell outta me. 

not sure how other people feel when they make things that end up scaring them, but it is most certainly an odd experience that i cannot say i like or dislike, as it almost becomes Someone Else's Work that you are looking at after completion.  [there is no easy way to say this, but...] the reason the music i make is so varied, as well as my general eclecticism, is probably due to the fact that there are a lot of us living in here. although we are a lot closer, aware of each other, communicate far more frequently out in the open, and are far kinder to one other than ever before...it's almost funny to me now, having actually met the alters and discussing this, that i used to think i was Not Lucky Enough to have my brain fracture into several different people in order to deal with the war that was declared on me by my mother and father, starting  when i was 19 months old until i was 19. then of course the post trauma ghost war that officially ended in 2013.

it was a good day, when i realized at sunrise, walking home down capp street after seeing my parents for the last time, trying to hold in the bliss fueled tears, that 

The War Was Finally Over. 

it's important to have things to look forward to, it helps curb the depression, so in an effort to reduce current uncertainties about where & when & what to do with myself(ves) when i move out of bleakhaus, out of sf, out of california altogether, i've been intentionally attempting to contact certain helpful entities during lucid dreaming and ask What Would You Have Me Do? but i have yet to actually have a lucid dream -- and it's been over a month of waiting for lucidity to happen....  while listening to a new Kate Bush song tonight, suddenly the word "horses" in her lyric reminded me of last night's insanely colorful episode in which i was lucid for a mere 30 seconds but went back in to dreaming without waking up. so, once again, for the 8 billionth time, i say Thank You Kate Bush, for without your work being in this world, i would probably not still be alive -- Hounds of Love, and specifically The Ninth Wave kept me going during a particularly crisis filled period from 1984-86 and it's still difficult for me to listen to that album without becoming overwhelmed with gratitude that you exist, that Dan Wilbur in high school told me about you, that the album came out when it did, and that i bought the tape immediately upon it's arrival in new jersey.  The Sensual World : same thing for 1989-91 in Massachusetts, but all for a crisis of uplifting because for a person who is accustomed to living in darkness, sometimes the light can be too much even though it feels fucking amazing & great to be in the light instead of lost & alone in the dark. (((0)))

SOME THOUGHTS ON BEING FELT UP & SOME THOUGHTS ON THE ACT OF KILLING

WHAT YEAR IS THIS?


almost every job i've had, i've been forced to "put up with" some form sexual harassment. in most cases, icing out that person and not laughing it off helped. in some cases, i brought the issue to management, which though it would be backed up by other women upon voicing the issue with coworkers, they would then be unwilling to take the next step with me. in more serious cases, a lawsuit ensued, in which one other worker and myself won the case and the offending person was fired. 


it seems strange now, that the actions for which that one manager was fired turned out to be the most prevalent behavior behind every job i was hired for: because men viewed me as fuckable.  that statement was actually aired, along with it's hilarious physical gestures to a group of coworkers immediately upon my leaving the scene of the interview.


the last job i was fired from was actually due to the non-fulfillment of that fuckability, so other minor infractions were blown out of proportion in order to get rid of me, as no one wanted me around if i was not willing to participate in the incestuous activities of the employee-after-party. 


time is the only true loss as it is irretrievable. 


generally, in life everyone makes the choice of either time or money. 
clearly, i chose time and therefore view it as extremely valuable, not something to be wasted attempting to please men or avoid the unavoidable loneliness of being a single woman with little to no friends. instead, it was spent on the only true love in my life: art and music.

but one has to survive, doesn't one? so i work as much as i have to, but that is all. 
after that, my quota for pleasing and putting up with others is full and every thought and activity turns directly to my true love. 


often, i find myself asking "what year is this?", not only due to the overwhelming frustrations of being taken seriously as a human being with thoughts and opinions that also happens to have a pussy, but when i am confronted with the victorian era thinking of other women who behave as though they must always appear to be the most desired woman in the room to all men present so that she will be taken care of.  even when not aware of this type of behavior, that is usually what is behind the malicious type of girl-on-girl assaults women regularly commit upon each other by spreading false rumors and gossiping in group scenarios. 


it's almost as if, on some unconscious level, women do not understand or fully accept that they are able to work and support themselves and no longer need to be sold like merchandise to a man that will have them because it would seem as though we still view ourselves as second class citizens if we continue to treat other women as obstacles in some deluded competition for whatever it is they are thinking they're gonna win.


it's sad, but now that i understand where it comes from, i try not to feed into it, and instead take the stance of the black wolf, choosing instead to remain on the outskirts of any group scenario, having felt the full brunt of false rumors that have followed me around for years, thanks to having come in contact with several women who get great pleasure hurting other women that they mistakenly view as some kind of threat. a threat to WHAT?! i always wonder aloud to myself... a threat to achieving that great big gold medal made of shit hanging from the sky, perhaps. now that i have embraced hopelessness and am no longer participating in sexual or romantic notions with others, i stay on the outer ring with the black wolf.

PUT THAT IN YER CRACKDOWN AND SMOKE IT.


i've always wondered why more murders, rapes, and violence of that nature is committed by men than women. statistically, over 80% of violent crimes are committed by males, upon females mostly, but also upon other males. 


recently, a neurologist in germany was wondering the same thing, and discovered after years of conducting research on test subjects, that the male frontal lobe is CONSIDERABLY smaller in size than the female frontal lobe. this region of the brain is responsible for controlling our impulses, so when a man has the impulse to hit something, there is very little gray matter in the form of reasoning that stops him, and he hits something. women, on the other hand, want to hit something, but go through a lengthy mental process that diffuses that impulse, and they don't hit anything. 


it makes sense, cave man: men kill animals to drag home and eat while women have to put up with all the irritations of raising children without reacting violently.


since having learned this, it has made the act of communicating with men completely different. 


less often, i come home seething with rage after having my opinions, ideas or abilities ignored, interrupted or invalidated.


now i see the male brain reacting to my face talking as it fights itself between the impulses to either fuck me in the ass or punch me in the face, and that battle is so loud - "fuck her in the ass! punch her in the face! fuck her! punch her! FUCK! PUNCH! FUCK!PUNCH!FUCKPUNCHFUCK!!" -  it's no wonder they can't hear a word i'm saying...  


for once, i agree with my browbeaten mother's complaint that i expected too much from others. but also, i feel a great sadness for all the things that society has done to women based on their brain size. let's not forget the theory of relativity was a dream that Mileva Maric had, which she then brought to the chalkboard to work out with her fiancee Albert Einstein. of course, her name was erased from later versions of the publication.


i don't have any close friends, obviously, but conversations with men who do not have those fuckpunch impulses toward me, the ones who are actually listening, are usually gay - both in and out of the closet. with most straight male friends over the years, i end up discovering that they will never view me as a person of equal value to their best friend from college, and when i break through the i'm-a-feminist-too display, i'm still viewed as simply a vessel or trophy in reference to them. always in reference to them. never as individual. never as an individual who does something well in their own regard. something to be won and possessed, and then, inevitably destroyed. strong women are of no interest to men, as these victorian era social standards still make men abhore being viewed "as a satellite" to a woman. just ask venus. 


when you feel like people are performing their mating calls and strutting around you to win your affections, it is in fact, in their greater interest to win against the other competitor, and you are just the pawn in the middle of a massive pissing contest.  and is it just your orifices they want to win, not YOU as a whole human being? without then imposing controls on what now belongs to them?  i've discovered this sad fact with both men and women.....so....yeah, no more for me ma.  there are more important things in life i'd like to concentrate my efforts on, like basic human rights....

and leaving california.

   *u can call me ph!*