4.17.2014 Thurs. 7:19 AM
Like some kind of unseen clockwork, I awake at 7:12 AM, without hesitation, still sick, my body working to get into equilibrium again.
In my dreams, there was music, different kinds.
I know this body is a good body because it expels waste. It knows when something no longer belongs. I cough and this big green mucus mass comes out and I spit it out (the sink is nearby). I feel sneezing coming on + I sneeze twice. More green mucus, a lot of it, comes pouring out of my nose. For me, I need to see what comes out of my body whether it's shit or blood or sickness mucus (+ even vomit though that actually really repulses me because I loathe being nauseous...on a side note, although I did not experience “morning sickness” [a lot of people do not], during pregnancy + miscarriage, I experienced pretty much every bodily function there is, including two horrible horrible vomit expulsions as well as the most major one, the miscarriage aka the complete miscarriage aka the natural abortion). I need to see where my body is at and the type of waste I produce communicates. Right now it feels like Diarrhea. I knew it. Last night - no veggies except for a pickle + that instant mac/cheese, completely processed + barely food, but I was so sick + couldn’t cook so I didn’t. I know it was just something to fool my mind + body into thinking it’s eating (and though the mind can be deceived, the body cannot). And also I’m sick. But what do those words really mean? It has such a negative connotation. My body was out of equilibrium. But it is this imbalance which helped make the art + writing happen. Things aren’t all “bad” or all “good” because there is no such thing. They are all states of being. I write this as if it’s so easy to be me in this body-ejecting-waste, but it is not. Sleep + rest. Sleep + Rest? These I have always resisted, even as a child. Am I not a child now? The anxiety lies in the dreams, so many dreams and remembering almost all of them contributes to a disturbing and exhausting waking life. But these/those dreams come from me. Am I frightened of myself?
The unknowns are everywhere including the universe of the body, the mind, the subconscious (your “spirit”?).
But still I need to rest to be “better”. And still my body continues to expel shit + mucus though all the available passageways.
We are living, breathing flowers, pores + openings all over, meant to take in + take out. We are designed this way. Evolution is beautiful thing.
(It’s 7:43am + still there is more shit pouring from me! Welcome to my life! My daily morning routine.).
p.s. Everybody Poops, by Taro Gomi, is possibly one of the best books ever created, definitely in my top 10 favorites.