Mom Not Mother

- I guess I just really don't, like actually really truly do not know what to do. I remember reading a zine that said that one thing you could do in this situation was organize a potluck. Like to rally support. I guess what I am saying is that I want to rally support. Like, I want to be surrounded by loved ones and the food they've made. Maybe for my birthday. Not much of a celebration.

Who wants to come to a potluck?

- I fucked up my back, in bed, on Sunday night. Asleep. I had a dream about earthquakes, that I was in Seattle and there were earthquakes and I had a cat and I wanted to leave the cat at home, but it insisted I carry it around with me outdoors, downtown, to see the Earthquakes. The cat told me psychically that it would be okay, that it wouldn't mind if I took it out, it would let me know when it wanted me to put it down. But then these earthquakes kept happening and while I wasn't exactly scared (I like earthquakes) the cat was terrified and was clawing at my chest. Also in the dream, the woman who was driving us around town to go to the Earthquakes, who I felt like was my mom but wasn't actually my mom, left us alone and then went into an apartment condo building. She went in, and then a helicopter bombed the building (she had been a spy?) and there was another earthquake and I woke up. So I fucked up my back real bad, woke up in pain.

To fix my back I did a yoga class podcast last night. I didn't do the one my friend Ben recommended, and the instructor who was leading this one wasn't very clear. I feel like I was doing the poses wrong. I've never done yoga by myself. I should be more confident. I kept looking up postures online, which was distracting. I thought: it's probably supposed to feel difficult. I know it is. If I was working alongside someone I wouldn't have thought twice about it. Alone, however, I doubt everything.

Maybe it felt strange because my bedroom is on a slight slant. Some muscles have to work harder than others. Maybe that's what my problem is. A broken mattress in a slanted room. Keep zooming out, taking in a wider view. The axis is the problem. Now my back feels a little bit better, and strange asymmetrical muscles are sore.

- People want moms but they don't want mothers. They want, it feels good to people when their stamina is noticed. It's a good way to flatter someone: "You've been through so much and you've done such a good job" or "I know it hurts" people want you to recognize something about them which they have trouble articulating themselves. But it's such a fine line, because people don't want to feel condescended too. They don't want you to impose your own values onto them, they just want to see themselves reaffirmed without asking for it, I guess. This is what I am saying, a mom but not a mother. Just some ambient nurturing force, without blood, without a pulse. Certainly not. The hand that feeds you, so to speak, this is not a human hand. We want machines. We want love-pills. It is too much to ask so you learn eventually not to, maybe.

Always loved that Shannon Wright song.

I feel kinda pretty blue. Blah-blue. It feels grey, evacuated. Bored and upset. Inedible and yeah temporary, I guess.

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