الاثنين، 10 أغسطس 2009

Ok Here's Mrs.

pj harvey-black-hearted love

what did she say today?:

"You love me? I love you! But Don't Fail!!!" (Art School)

"You Dog! You are going to success! You are writing God! You get a little house! and you are Camden dog! A shared house!!!"

"...And two women, that think you're hot!!! You bonk women!! You marry the Russian girl, you get hip...she is divine!! Look at that face!! Lucky Dog!!"

And the one I love, I've been listening to her, since 13 years old; Mum said she was a witch...I said, she was holy, she brought me to love Jesus, she was rock, feminist feminine, magical moons sleeping in caves on beaches;

Good Fortune-

This is Love (live)

Orlando called her, he found her in New York, she got drunk, we talked for months; I was nothing...
Saturday, June 03, 2006
Praying For The City

Men went mad in NYC, much as they did here, shouting from their cars, so I eventually prayed them, 'men away' and white lights, didn't know that one prayer could be so simple after this 'curse'.

conversation I write down as it happens, trying to relax in the first days of sunshine, at a garden table with my new diary notebook, and a cup of tea, feeling calm yet, exhausted from all this 'mess':

'the men in cars are quoting Nietzsche, you shit!'

'you're telling me men don't fear God here.'

'It's best to go out!'

'you're being spics.'

'they're telling me their in the blackhand hand gang.'

If you're hearing English, Yes!'


'Now they're coming out with white hand gang.'

'don't let me shout.'


'You're a pig!'

'Then I'll rub my nose.'
'Don't shout.'

'It turns pig.'


'You think we need to be in good mourning?'

'They're telling me you're the devil!'

'Stop screeching, have you got an I-Ching.;

'I've got a bible.'

'may be worse.'

'this is a curse.' outside

'Did I say that or did you.'

-----missing good words......

'I'll read a good book.'



'I'm hearing this man has wasted me.'

'You know what I think.'

'I'm not a man.'

'You're being a girl!'


Colours in my brain

'you were hearing me sing.'

'when I cry I sing.'


'they pack my bags.'



And then not quite sure what I was doing, perhaps flipping and shouting too loudly, like bad magic, or messengers bringing love letters that got caught in laziness, or a belief that the song she sang, had been sung to them, like mad dogs in love in the bright summer's heat unable to get out of their cars and talk to her themselves, I MEAN men that knew she there in that hotel room, words repeated on the radio?, LOVE, fear during these times?, repeating words from God, that SHOULD be words of God, ME not quietly reading, but hollering about poinsonous flies in the market place as I walked too and fro in the kitchen, perhaps any of that, 'whatever', too much energy, I put my hands together, leaning over the rusty silver table, a hood and a coat over me, in the balmy weather, with some frost, and tried to pray, the lights flashed in front of my eyes, and I mumbled words in English, and then, immediately: 'men away.' and they had gone, quietened down...

I think praying for someone else works best, than prayers for oneself, because something like that had happened here, and it went on for too long, and yesterday she prayed for me to relax before an appointment and I could feel it...and a man appeared in my room, and said 'give her a wedding song.' and I didn't know how to...

I've given up reading Nietzsche, I only have a pocket book version, and I get too theatrical with it when I hear insults...

Then you know what my baby Orly and Erhu, finding her does, just didn't know she was there.

He has drawn some good pictures, pictures with his mind that float into mine, and this time with my eyes closed I have even heard his voice, everyone lately has been talking about mogs, so he has drawn some, witches with big hooked chins and thin hooked noses, much like you see in old paintings from a few centuries ago...

And she met me in a dream, and I asked her to describe the dream to me, we both sat down on a settee, and I told her we are free, yet that I had gone too 'jack', she said that man seemed like a worried ghost, that Orly arrived (second name, chosen after some time, best for him to have a Hebrew name, Yana, 'Mat', after Mr.Groning of Simpsons fame) and he tells her 'we are free' and she can be his mummy too, and he took us into a scene where we were swimming in the sea, and she watched me turn red and shimmer, as though all this is hurting me, or someone is angry with me...

Adel shakes her fists at me, (i have had so many visions I cannot write them all down, I have met a man I believe is a Tibetan Monk, there has been lots of explaining to give, as he believes almost evverything in this modern world is too devil, how men kill...how I should give men and women I meet three tries) she's not angry about 'us', but angry that I have done nothing here, while men of God work, and I find it hard to know what to do in this town as I have suffered some hate crime, only from walking down to the shops, being called names for having my head covered...

Men have been given Time...and sometimes I have to forgive men when she can't...

enough, another worried rush of writing

ليست هناك تعليقات: