left blank on 5th, written close to noon on the 6th.
the cat left and didn’t spend any time on the 5th with us. it seemed like chiron wanted me to roll pack but even gods aren’t pulling me out the spot with the damn kids.
teeth hurt af, mouth sore tbh. woke up dopesick feelin, called the homie and just was honest that i needed medicine, they came thru with $$, from workin, provin my strike stupid af, but there is juice and herbs (also grocery friend brought some too) and i have to have hope because i am disabled, refusing food because i cannot be offered legit medical care, and set off both rent and general strike in this country while having feds as paparazzi and being underpromoted by any scenes adjacent to the neglect.
i do not want or need old friends. nostalgia is piles of shit, memories of old songs are just that, the past.
lovin on your dead friends is different but any living betrayer already gave reason to reject any notion of romance.
hardline isn’t wrong. it is just uncomfortable. i don’t even wanna fuck my own partners unless they are actively destroying something oppressive. sittin inside, followed while servin food, i have a short disposition, prefer not to make connection, understand isolation in crowded rooms.
every social scenario is a psych ward- but gaslit by people who screenprint about surveillance is the one i most don’t miss. a masjid was the fam biz but i never was the stats to be preference.
ACTIVELY AWAKE : 6 am to 3 pm; nap 330–6 pm; up & moving 6 pm — 2 am
INTAKES:
couldnt intake water or kratom, havent been using sugar in drinks
tried drinking orange, pineapple, banana juice
binge ate after losing vision at 2 pm : 2 tofurky sausages, mushrooms, damn near a dozen oreos
woke up, hella homeschool, made paper, used thoth deck, caught up in ways on articles, made a plan for the submissions, worked on that damn tofu towel. charlie parker makes me happy, keep thinking about that book lost souls by poppy z. brite and wondering about new orleans.
hunger strike is starvation. not actively being loved rn by someone that knows how this struggle feels like assisted suicide.
my intent with this is not to die.
it is to live, to have teeth fixed and to have access to medicine.
it is to fill all shell company homes with people who wanna live in them.
to open every prison cell.
to complete shut down the money systems.
to show people that mutual aid is better than scabbing at a job.
to get hospital machines & knowledge to people like me that can very well heal theyselves.
i wanna live on a transplanet.
to destroy billionaires.
i wanna have a forever house with yard & library & work area & a half pipe for my kids.
i wanna get outta my cage, like a mink, & leave the plantation.
