6.05.2007

brezsny-on-the-blog

CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19): You've gotten a little addicted to habits that are rooted in fear and worry. I suggest we resort to exotic measures to pry you out of your rut. After you read the proposed actions below, compose four more of a similar nature, then go out and actually do at least half of them. (1) On an empty milk carton, paste a collage of cut-out images and phrases that symbolize your anxieties. Then put it on the floor and stomp it to death as you growl. (2) Slap your own hand briskly ten times as you bark, "Stop being such a wuss!" (3) Everywhere you go, vizualize yourself being accompanied by three great warriors who're dedicated to your well-being. (4) Gaze at a picture of a person who makes you nervous and yell, "I'm not afraid of you, you mysterious slime-sucking bastard."


mr. brezsny, i love you more than i love you. this is absolutely awesome and totally up my alley. i can't wait to get started, actually.

i'll take one of my empty soymilk boxes and make a fantabulous collage of all of my accumulated neuroses i've had the pleasure of sampling over the years. i'll try to make it as colorful as possible. midsummer is coming upon us rather quickly, as a matter of fact. 'tis the season for us to drag out the firepit and have ourselves a merry little bonfire. i think i'll drum up a little dark goddess energy (because since when has delena ever operated in the light with warm-fuzzy dieties?) and toss my neuroses in the fire to be burned down to their most basic elements. then i will take those base elements to fuel my Funk, and it will be Good.

i won't slap my hand and scold myself and say, "stop being such a wuss!" if you're going to be a revolutionary freedom fighter and destroy the apocalypse by loving it to death, then you can't really despise any aspect of this universe, now can you? this includes being a wuss. so instead i'm going to go out to some remote corner of the pacific northwest (which isn't really all that difficult up here) and shout at the top of my lungs, "I AM SECOND-GENERATION STAR STUFF COME ALIVE!" because it's true.

as for the three great warriors, anyone who's read the wheel of time series by robert jordan will get this one. my favorite has always been the green ajah. the battle ajah. this is me to the core, and the bonus is i get more than one warder. three? i can handle three. three wolfhounds at my side who dance with death and leave it breathless. just as my daddy's my talisman against fucktards, my warriors are my protection from everything else that seeks to destroy my Funk.

and while i don't have a picture of someone who makes me nervous, i have his face etched in my memory. i used to love him like a brother, father figure, and priest all at once. and he also intimidated the fuck out of me, to the point where i'd shake inside myself. he could reduce me to incoherent tears, and did so on a regular basis. he's not a slime-sucking bastard, though. but i'm not afraid of him, and he has no power over me. not anymore.

i think i'll also take a walk in peace. (thank you, you fabulicious bohippian mom, you!) i've been doing this more and more lately, and it's breathtaking. not only that, but it's phenominally amazing just how reflective the world is when you project the stuff it's made of: Love. but i think i'll add a new element to my peacewalks: Funk. i'm gonna project Funky Love. i'll pour it down the drain so it will make its way to the ocean. i'll charge my dryer sheets with it, so when the exhaust vent opens up, it'll release Funk into the atmosphere. my entire room is absolutely charged with Funk, and i have all sizes of amethysts and different rocks i inherited from Pops (big *c*'s maternal grandfather) when he died. maybe i'll take a few of them and bury them somewhere, like down by the correction facility a few miles from here. let them just permeate the topsoil with Funk. flowers will grow and blossom and release pollen, which bees will gather. they'll release perfume into the air, as well. those bees will then take that Funkified pollen back and make Funky honey (Funky Miracle Concentrate! WOOT!), and everyone who breathes in deep, cleansing breaths of those sweet-smelling perfumes will take the Funk into their lungs, and the Funk in those oxygen molecules will disperse inside their bodies from their funky heads down to their little funky toes. there will be Funk in the beauty they take in with their eyes, and it'll create a layer --like Funky seran wrap-- over their eyes and they won't help but be able to see the world through Funk-colored glasses.

i LOVE the Funk!!! wow, i like this game. it's funking fun! what can you come up with?

1 comment:

Bohemian Mom said...

i think I'll get a t-shirt made that says "Project the FUNK".
Love this post!