leave jesus out of this

i dont need people to say "god bless you" to me when i sneeze or when i am on the way out of the rite aid. i dont need them to speak on behalf of "God" for me. who gave them the power to bless me on God's behalf anyway?
i'm just annoyed in general. as usual. for someone who has nothing to write about, i sure am annoyed a lot. maybe it's the writing i hate. maybe it's the sound of the words in my head as i try to write. maybe it's the fact that i cant type as fast as i think. i dont know, i'm just annoyed. i love david cross, the comedian. he is so hilarious. god, i hate myself right now. look at me, telling god, how i feel about myself. god and jesus shouldnt even be in my venacular. i appreaciate that there are people out there who have faith, i guess. i mean, i guess i appreciate that they have that strength to believe in an almighty dude up there in the sky, who gives a shit about their puny, average lives.

but they are selfish people. entitled. god is helping their family make ends meet but what about all the other poor and starving people around the world? why has he turned his back on them? how can you take a book written thousands of years ago so literally? and how many versions are of this holy scripture? catholics, protestants, mormons, church of latter day saints, king james version, just all these fucking versions of the same thing? but these versions, these factions still keep humanity separate from one another. still hating on one another. what their GOD is supposed to stand for- love, peace, kindness, giving-- he only doles that out or recommends that treatment for certain groups of people?

don't try to fight or hate in the name of god. you dont deserve to have that opportunity. you are small and pathetic if your god tells you to hate or kill or fight against other people because of what is written in the bible. the bible is archaic! it is primitive. and you dont deserve to judge other people's lives in god's name. What do you care if you think others will burn in hell because of their non belief or how they choose to live their lives? what, do you think you get brownie points up in heaven if you hold up hateful signs and are cruel to nonbelievers? you are a fucking idiot!

believers piss me off, they do. they believe in all this magical shit that supposedly happened hundreds of years ago. jesus rose from the dead, blah, blah, blah. gimme a fuckin break. whatever, i know not all religious people are a bunch of stupid assholes, but from what i see happening around the world in the name of GOD, i am just disgusted by religion and all it's followers. whether you believe in allah, mohammed, jesus christ, it doesnt matter to me. it doesnt give you the right to make other people's lives miserable or kill others for your god.

it's really terrifying to me how brainwashed people are. and it's all about getting up into heaven and sittin next to jesus on a cloud for eternity. no. sorry. that's not going to fucking happen. there is no fucking heaven and there is no fucking hell. hell is the killing and the atrocities happening on earth now!

live in the moment people. stop trying to explain what this is or where we are or how it came to be. we will never know for sure. just be a good person. be kind. be helpful. be gentle to the planet and animals and other humans. not because god told you to do it or he will punish you, but because it's the best thing to do as a human being. leave jesus out of this. that dude has been dead and gone for hundreds of years. he was a carpenter, an olive skinned, middle eastern carpenter who was a good dude to people. who helped people. just leave it be. please. you all are so fucking annoying.

11:33 am now

another sunny morning in beautiful los, angeles, ca. i am back from driving to the west side. sitting down on the 60 buck green couch my b.f. bought off a friend. drinking a warm ice tea. just trying to "mind dump" as my comedy teacher would say. i would call it stream of consciousness writing. getting rid of shit to make room for better shit, hopefully. i like typing it rather than hand writing it. i am a pretty fast typist if i dont think about it while i am typing. i type with 3 fingers. two index and an occasional thumb gets in there. whatever. i have to organize myself. i have to get things together and start doing some research on my comedy career. when i think about it, i get excited. i believe i can do this. i am surrounded by mess right now.

i am forcing my b.f. to go to therapy with me. dont start guys, i dont want to hear it. you dont know how to communicate. well, not all of you. but, i am going to be 36 in less than a month and there are certain things that i want that i dont feel i am getting. like passionate hot sex and beautiful romance and the sharing of ideas and feelings and desires. i want that. so sue me. dont expect to make any money or win though. ah whatever. time to light up a smoke. american spirits yellow are my fave. something about seeing that yellow box just ignites my desire to smoke. colors are interesting that way. they evoke different feelings in a person. theres something about seeing an indian with a headdress on that makes it seem less cancerous. tea and tobacco leaves are flooding my system as i speak through the keyboard.

am i a modern day artist? sitting here, writing, trying to express and create? to sift through my thoughts and ideas? i dunno. i'd like to think so. a modern day artist that nobody knows. but i dont care. i still have lots of hours to tackle if i'm going to reach 10,000. lets just say i've been doing 20 mins a week of comedy for the last 4 years or so. that's only about 450 hours, right? i dunno, math is not my thing. i went up twice last night. by myself. i was proud of myself for doing that. it is hard for me to not go with a comedy buddy. but i forced myself and it wasnt so bad.

i dont need anyone. i want people, and i like them. but i can do this. i can take care of myself. that is reassuring, because for many years, i didnt know how i was going to take care of myself. and now i am transitioning once again. at least, i like to think that is what is going on. it's 11:23 in the morning and i am writing. i may have been heading to my job. and my job is my business. i started my own business 6 years ago. little by little, i think good things have been happening for me. i want to believe that good things can continue to happen. i probably have my anti depressants to thank for that as well. and my therapist. i have had a lot of people in my life help to guide me to this place where i am standing tall on my own two feet. no, not everything is perfect, is it ever, really? but i think i can do this. the universe is my religion. or my spirituality and i believe i can manifest things i want if i keep working towards them.

i wanted something different before, but it wasnt really happening and it didnt really fuel me. it didnt excite me. comedy excites me. speaking my mind, expressing my attitudes in my way. being big. i dont want to be small and contained. never have. there is an excited energy in me now. a lot of the time, i am scared or maybe distracted and unfocused, but the energy is always there. the desire is there. and it is the same. i felt like a failure on wednesday because the other thing i wanted hasnt really worked out for me.maybe i didnt work at it enough. but things change. and just because i am letting go of that for something else, doesnt mean that i may not have an opportunity again. but for now i feel it is important to grow in this direction. it makes more sense to me. my body, soul and mind are connected to this new change in a way that feels much stronger than before. so hopefully. hopefully. but i am just overwhelmed with all this fuckin mess around me. i dont want to clean it up. its a bitch. i need a maid.

making money is exciting to me too. i love getting checks. its been a pretty good year so far. with all the mess in the world and the noise and the suffering and stocks falling and horrible things happening to people, i feel grateful that things seem to be ok for me. i'm almost waiting for the other shoe to drop. but i cant live my life in that place nor do i want to. that is fear and you manifest more fear by thinking of fearful things. so i will stay hopeful and present in this moment right now, at 11:31 in the morning on a wednesday in the year 2012 and the month of september. i will stay open and happy and i will bring forth more prosperity. when you do what you love and your heart and your effort is in sync, how can that go wrong?

woodman

there is sand in the bed. its irritating my legs. he wanted to watch a documentary on a photographer named francesca that jumped off a building and killed herself. she was depressed. so now im up, drinking bullet rye with ice by the window. staring out into the dark and staring in at the computer light.  they showed her photographs throughout the film and excerpts from her diary. there were interviews with her parents, former classmates, her brother. it was haunting. and so now i am smoking again and drinking and knowing that i have a terrible smokers hack.
i told my boyfriend to pull the plug if i have a stroke and become a vegetable. he asked me why i had thought of that. he asked me again. i didnt respond. then he asked me again. i was silent. then again. because i smoke. the cat is perched upon the wicker chair. he had been sleeping between my legs. he has fleas. i tried to catch them between my fingers, to pinch and squeeze them to death, but they burrowed under the safety of his white coat. if you are an artist, you go to the studio every day. even if you have no ideas, no inspiration. you go every day and you sharpen pencils.

she had stopped taking her medication. she had tried to kill herself before. she was living under the watchful eye of her parents, in their nyc apartment. but she convinced them after some time that she was well enough to move back into her own apartment and live alone. and then she had probably stopped taking her antidepressants. she was in the morgue for a few days because no one could identify her. her face was unrecognizable from the fall. they identified her from her clothing. so, now i am wide awake, poisoning my system with bourbon and tobacco. thinking about art and artists and their work and what they want to say and how they say it and what the world thinks of it, or if they even notice it. her mother and father were both artists and her father did not really get any recognition fro his art until about 25 years in. and he had an exhibition with 19 other artsists or some number like that and the exhibition was to take place 5 days before she had died a year ago to the date. or maybe it was two years ago. i was straining to watch the docu from my horizontal position and also, i hadnt really wanted to watch it in the first place. so i was between trying to fall asleep, irritated by sand and fleas and listening to these people speak of this woman, this artist that they had known.

anyway, i am up now because i havent written anything in a while and i had to get up finally and brush the sand off of my side of the bed. and now i cant sleep. my lungs hurt. i havent been to the doctor in over 2 years. i havent been to the dentist in 2 years. before that it was 6 years. i cant even check my bank account. i dont want to see the numbers there. it scares me. i dont want to read, or delete or reply to emails. i dont want to think of horrible things or feel them. and yet, most days, if i am in front of a computer or a tv, i will watch shows about murders and solving murders.

this girl had a very focused determination to be a "capital A, Artist," as they said in the movie. she was very involved and knew exactly what she wanted to photograph. it's so easy to waste time. i just woke my boyfriend to tell me her last name. woodman. francesca woodman. maybe you have heard of her, maybe not. i hadn't. it was a sad story of a delicate person. i just wanted an excuse to get up and drink some rye. and try to sort through some thoughts. and relight an old cigarette and stare out into the darkness with the windows wide open and no screens to protect me from the bugs that fly in the night. and the thin little daddy longlegs that co-habitate in my apartment all around me. in the corners. hanging upside down from their delicate threads. its too bad we only have this one life to try and figure things out. so much of it is spent fiddling with silly things.