Marfa, Tx: The First Two Days: Original Draft

*had to find self before loving self. No technology starts tomorrow now*

Car Scene: Leaving Marfa

Hear a few muddled thoughts then go “shhhhh” stop thinking and leave the left” with a decrescendo into a whisper.

Watch the snow draping the town as I leave heading towards I27 and US 87, roll down a window as Elastic Heart by Sia fills my air waves. Don’t show me at first, have the camera in my eyes as the window is stared out from and Texas rolls by with me.

Start singing to the song as I stare from side to side then out the front, then roll down the window. Take another bite of the core of a red and green lettuce head after staring into it for a moment and then throw it out the window.

Open the mirror and see me for the first time (camera’s in eyes the whole time) with hair blowing and no smile, no makeup, just me and stare. Move the blur to where my face goes into a blue while the hair comes into focus as it blows towards the open window.

Stare back into my eyes and the words Human Animal come into my lips and then fade out to black, then my voice says “wait, wait”, capture me again, and it focuses back on the eyes before fading again.

In the car later:

I turned up the screaming metal sounds, thinking my ear drums would blow, but instead they vibrated the air around me to the point I became nothing. I could no longer feel ‘me’, just a space where ‘me’ was, and I felt the air around me turn to music that filled the air as only my skin touched it, but even then I don’t think it was my skin that felt it. The ‘feeling’ was only in the air. I suddenly understood metal, and screamo, and the immersion factor. You weren’t seeking to make your skin go numb or your body to explode, but you were going for this blissfuckrape of a feeling where you become nothing and music becomes everything.

If only I remembered the song…I’ll try to get that feeling back with a different song but we’ll see how it goes.

Also while here I’ve already had more creative mind musings. In sleeping with each waking I’d hear this incredible thoughts, like Marfa was giving them to my mind and it translated them into the most artistic sentences I’d ever had came to thought inside me. It was of no effort because my mind wasn’t even awake. They were just fucking put in my head as the energy of Marfa created art into my words. What is this place? Are the souls of Marfa wordsmiths buried in the ground and they send up the words they never got to create? Do they hear the English language as it is now and still try to write with it by using the artists here as their conduits?

Maybe the ripe energy of Earth just takes over the humans and every emotion in the right becomes pure words in the left, the translation of the callosums is so pure and artistic that we become whatever ‘art’ is and expel onto the forms of land here. Whether in paper of our ink scratching out words or in the paint as it coats the white hardened paper of a canvas.

Separate car moment: Times Two

Using hand to cover yellow lines about an hour outside of Marfa after leaving Ft Stockton

I became frightened as nature suddenly came up. There were no buildings, there hadn’t been for tons of Texas miles, and I got scared. My body had just left the desert and was no longer used to nature. I had been thrilled at the idea of finally feeling one with nature, but now that I was it was horrifying. I was immersed in my own horror novel of the power and fear that came from nature vibrating around me as my body crinkled out a couple of vibrations and then tried to withdraw into just being skin captured in a car, but nature still felt me and I tried to call it but my phone was a potato and it wouldn’t let me eat it.

I rolled the window down to let the nature into the car, but the cold just screamed into the air and my adaptations took moments to make me warm. I’d been in Lubbock so long that I was no longer able to adapt to nature.

I knew that eventually I’d human out again like the hulk in a mild Ainsley (for now) form, but right then I kept thinking “I shall become one with nature!!” and then nature came in and I was like “I shall become a thousand with nature if you just let me explode into it!!” and then finally “No, one is good, one is very good, Imma just stay in here now” and I rolled up the windows.

Then some thoughts scurried into my brain and I got scared of them being nature again and tried to hide. Turns out you can’t hide from nature when you’re in it. Seeing a house was like a church popping into a Christian’s view right after an atheist broke up their marriage, I was saved.

A fox was capturing though…somehow that fell me into nature and I could feel the Animal Ainsley try to follow it.

Somehow thoughts came up and when I captured them I realized why humans want to take drugs even with the withdrawals. It’s been bothering me that the human body would want to continue stuffing drugs into it, even thought it brought the body out of homeo and even then would signal our minds to engulf them into these substances that we didn’t actually ‘need’.

Then I realized, humans take the drugs when having to adapt to a situation. There’s a ‘trigger’ of adaptation.

I was thinking thorugh dependency that we have in relationships. How woman go back to men over and over, and eventually every ‘adaptation’ they have to face will involve that person. My twin, for example, wound up relying on her husband to take care of her after our parents kicked us out for having sex. Honestly though my father did wind up reading a sex conversation between me and a man since I forgot to close out my Skype and he thought it would be a slideshow I was putting together for him. Yeah, that’s how the news broke in his mind. So they had a rebound reaction of realizing their daughters had to wear black to the wedding and decided it was time to cut off all that ripe financial bliss they’d been giving us. I’m still grateful we got the years we did, but in that moment Abbey and I left and actually…instead of feeling scared we felt free. We went to go paint a buiding for charity that we had already signed up for, and called our purity takers (which…they weren’t because I’d popped my cherry all over another the year before. I did wait until 21 and even waited until I thought I’d get married to the man). My ex and my current twin’s husband were friends at the time, in fact, my ex introduced my twin to her current husband, and Randy (my twin’s husband) came to get us. Then we redirected the plans to Abbey and I driving to Dallas after painting and staying with his parents.

We needed a pen at some point for something, and the Internet, and stopped in at a public library. There was this odd fear we had. We had no money and yet needed something. We stopped and talked about what we could do. How do you use someone’s Internet without money?  We shyly went up to the desk lady, fearing her fate powers, and asked if we could just use the Internet for a few minutes. “Yes. It’s right over there. Take your time”.

Alternate reality mode activated. Eyes widen of reheaded twins in their twentys that were sheltered and helpless. Feel helped but scared it’s an odd dream as it is so separate from their reality.

“Thank you”

*walk off before reality changes*

*pause*

Can we borrow a pen?

“Sure”

*scratch at air to make sure they haven’t come to heaven so God can prevent them from ever having sex again*

*Realize they are in reality and feel overwhelming sense of gratitude at humanity*

“Thank you so much” (in the most genuine manifestation of that phrase you’ve ever felt/heard..depends on how well you can imagine it  😉

*pauses and looks around the room. I fucking love this place. *think of texting mom about how amazing it is, but realize it will take too many words *brain reprocesses based on new emotions and remembers about drugs*

So that exploded and eventually we went back to Lubbock. I wound up breaking up with Woulfe, but him and I were poor. He lost his job and I supported him on my waitress salary while my parents forgave us, paid my rent and started paying my tuition again. It took some time of course, about a year. During that year we were just poor and my parents didn’t give us a dime. They actually still kept me afloat by letting me keep the car, paying my health insurance and my car insurance, but I was too scared to mention them and my ADHD mind just thought if I ignored them mom and dad would forget they were paying them and they would just go away. That was the main way Abbey and I dealed with life. If it got hard we ignored it until it went away. When Abbey read that in an ADHD book and then told it to me I felt reality shift into itself. It was so true.

Eventually my mind became more adapted as I learned how to survive on four dollars mattering and eating McDonalds or rice. When you’re starving adding butter to rice is like God fondling your food and saying you can still go to heaven. The rice even gives you an orgasm of mouth pleasure.

Admittedly I was loving sex and it made it to where God became this abstraction. He already was and my belief had dwindled, but the first time I had sex and nothing happened the next morning was the most odd existential feeling I’d had in decades. Something should have changed, but nothing did. I even wrote about it in Animal (to be inserted when I have WiFi again)

The day after sex wasn’t an emotion.  It was more of a not one.  There was pain, oh God so much pain because he is large and I am small, the David to his Goliath.  Oh but, don’t think too large; he is only about 5’ 7’ from the cancer that stunted his growth.  The cancer doesn’t stunt the penis and thus 8’ had to fit.  So it was our second night to try, and let me tell you that on the first I was mostly trying to tell myself it wasn’t sex because just the head was in, and thus we were using our heads.  Then it kept going.  I had thought and prepared myself for it but now I think you don’t need preparation except to be sure because afterwards, those swirls of emotions that were going to take you under aren’t there, and that is what feels wrong.

The greatest part was that I bled, thus the idea of being raped is gone.  It had plagued me for so long.  There is something that happened when I first went on his penis area.  I once asked him to force me…thrills and all that.  And suddenly I was tense in terror, especially when he put his hand on my head and held.  I did not bite or freak out loud…just in my head.  There was a sudden screaming darkness. I continued sucking and moving to his moans, dreaming of this feeling leaving, and it finally did.  When I told later, he promised to not do it again.  The things is…people that were abused have a natural fear of certain sexual acts.  I was very afraid. It felt like flashback.

Background:  My twin and I are never naked around each other…it scares us.  We also never hug…our first hug was a few days ago…it was amazing!  She feels epic.

The thing for me about touching him down there was that I didn’t know how at first so I just asked.  Apparently many women just pretend to know…this seems so pointless.  I learned what he liked and didn’t like, then worked off my own experimentation.  I used Wikipedia a lot.

What if the relationship just becomes not being able to leave?  Your friends, your twin, they all just…like him.  Then it is as though they are in the relationship and you are just on the strings to play along.  Kiss here.  Fuck here.  You want to be known as an individual, you want to develop as an individual…how can you do this as a couple?

I do not want to lose him…but more so. I do not want to lose myself.

But if I now, right now, imagine it over…I see my life and it is missing something.  It is missing Zach.  

We are going to try sex again tonight, it has been …two nights.  Somehow I am losing track.  How?!  I need to put this on some type of calendar….I did it. That was supposed to matter.  My vagina hurts when I wipe.  It used to be so abhorrent I could barely wipe, had to dab it to get the gross pee off me.  Now I can very slowly and gently rub.  I am scared of sex.  My elder boogie man.  I know you will be reading this after it is over, but please hope for me that it doesn’t hurt.

Oh and you may be thinking about my Christian background…I thought of it after and it was the only thing that made me feel guilty.  I am anticipating the teary break down…my vagina itches.

But at first in Animal this was written:

I can’t have sex yet.  I really want it to be only one person.  I want myself to be his first.   When he goes inside me I don’t want the memories to merge.  The memory of her vagina sinking over his skin and pressing in.  The individual smell she sunk him into.   How could I stand knowing that he was remembering her voice beckoning into his ears?  As he kissed my breast or saw me naked I shan’t hold another’s reflection gazing over.  Yet I have done one…with regret I remember, I remember someone’s body on mine.  We didn’t have sex, but he did wrap his lips around my breast and pushed his teeth into them.  I hope that memory is disturbingly vivid and awful because I wasn’t emotionally connected.  We tend to go farthest with our rebounds…. always trying to escape but just ending up with more to escape.  Yet there is no soap to wash away my blood sinking into another, the admittance of virginity unfolded in crisp awakening of lost purity.  Yet is it lost within marriage? I do not know.  If you are not a Christian, then can you use morality to wait?  Logically you could go with not wanting to get pregnant.   Such an embedded force should not be limited to one mind set.  I was trained in their ways and thus some remain.  Are you pro-choice or pro-life?  I am neither.  For a long time I was avidly pro-life since I do see it as murder because they do have the potential for life no matter what stage it is and no human has a right to just stop that life.  They say it can fuck up your life, but that doesn’t give the right to fuck up a child.  I also see it as pro-choice people are supporting the mother that can speak and I support the fetus that can’t.  The reason this view changed was because we were discussing abortion in ethics and he asked if you think a shitty life is better than not existing.  I think not existing is better, most people seem to disagree, but why?  Do you feel that strongly for existence?  There seems to be so much importance on whatever it is we have.  Invertebrates are about 90% of the species on this planet and yet we put the most importance on vertebrates since we are them and those with spines will benefit us most.  Just because you have sex and biology plays out gives humans this automatic right to bring people into this life, so we feel.  That seems really fucked up for people that didn’t plan it.  It is wrong of them to choose to bring something into existence.  It was a choice they could not make.  It is also wrong of them to decide that it won’t exist.  Yet that leaves no choice but to not get pregnant…and then our species shall die off.

So I  had to adapt to poor life by calling companies and asking them to extend our deadlines (which was freaky and scary and I thought impossible until I watched Woulfe do it. Then I grew up the capability of calling people that have power over you and asking them to help you, without having the money to convince them into it. I hated it at first but became thrilled by it. You had to be more alert and more willing to figure out situations and all their routes besides the one that had no effort. I learned to lie and watched as that lie gave me electricity for three more days and ten more hours of phone use. Those hours began to matter and I used them like a dying kid to chocolate cake. I paired them with honey sickles and dipped them into coffee. That was too much flavor so I went back to rice.

While Woulfe and I chose between rent and food Abbey was living with Randy. He had the job of a Tech kid right out of college that also has a strong personality and experience. They were set in a cast of green bills that held them both up. For the summer we’d actually all lived together. This was right after we had been kicked out by the parents at the same time we didn’t have a place to live. We waited for the next morning and then drove to home, gathered what we ‘needed’ (for me it was three boxes of clothes and other things that didn’t matter as much. I’ve packed my life into my car three times now and each time clothes were priority and took up the majority of space) and then went to live in their house for the summer. Yeah…there was no other part to that plan.

Then Abbey and Randy moved to Austin. Abbey calling mom and dad to tell them this, that she was moving with an atheist to Austin before they got married, is actually a stark memory in this mind. We were outside and she was so scared. She asked me if she even should and how to do it. I told her it wouldn’t be too bad, they would have to understand, and besides, they couldn’t do anything about it.

That call is probably still part of why Abbey can’t handle the reality of being around mom. I told her it would go okay, not even great, but that they wouldn’t yell and hate her….I didn’t have an ear into that phone call since the Weasley shopped is closed to Earth, but watching Abbey’s face as it went from telling them excitedly about her life plans after crescendoing into it with fear as the base note, and then watching her face turn to pain and regression of mommyhood cowardace, was like watching reality break across the face of an adult as it turned into a child.

They were pissed.

They let her know it.

The relationship broke and its remains are still shattered and break skin open when we try to pick them up. We keep healing and the pieces are starting to form a gorgeous..montage of broken glass thing, but it has hurt and gushed out our innards like blood wetting every pure blanket of white we once believed was our love for each other. The love was real, but the purity of it is forever stained. I like the new colors though. We finally got some purple in after we started doing yoga. Mom started it and now we all love it. The girls that is. And Randy. I don’t know about my brother Zack…we don’t talk much. We block out each other’s existence in our minds…it was automatic and I only realized it two months ago. For years I’ve said I forget he even exists…I thought it was kind of funny and didn’t think much more of it except that he had told Abbey she was his favorite twin and him and I were good with words so our fights caused so much pain that we didn’t need each other. Then I’ve been thinking about repression of the amygdale and hippocampus binding, and in doing so thought the same thought of Zack. I forget he exists…or did I block out that he does?

We’re getting closer to the drugs logic I promise.

So I adapted to life on a large scale due to poorhood while Abbey learned to adapt with Randy and a new attachement to money. Instead of my parents giving and providing and that being what we went to when our cars had lights on or we wanted new clothes, Abbey redirected that blueprint onto Randy. 

I couldn’t rely on Woulfe because instead he was relying on me. I worked at a bar that was a cross between a dive bar and having a kereoke night on weekends. I loved it. We had regulars and we had college kids. Old and young coming together for a Skooner of cold beer or a rum and coke. At one point the frats found us and our cheap drinks, but they didn’t tip for two weeks and we banned them.

I learned how to use money and how to build up debt that has still fucked my credit. Woulfe said if I just got him a new toy on Amazon that he would pay me back, he had a job now. So I got a laptop and he got a game. He lost the job. I lost my credit.

In that time though I learned that life wasn’t a horrorshow frolic of you die without money. My timid knees didn’t fall to needing a pen anymore. I still appreciated the pen, and learned to appreciate life and whatever anyone is willing to give you more. People stopped being paid off commodities. Humans may have lost their sacred wings as I went from Dillard’s to McDonald’s, but those fat people behind the counter were giving me life while Dillard’s just gave me my 80th shirt. The fake needs of life turned into actual needs.

With that feeling I did also learn to lie in order to survive. The first time it worked it was better than using money, because I needed it to work. If they didn’t buy my lie I wasn’t eating. A lie was the only payment I had in order to have water running. If they didn’t work though I had to find new ways to survive, and it turns out there always was one. When we could no longer afford rent or food we sold the things we had. I sold my DS, my games and finally some of my clothes. It sucked and it hurt into the heart feels of Pokemon strings, but eating tasted better with a McChicken in my mouth. Plastic is too hard of a texture for me.

Abbey didn’t get these adaptations, instead she had Randy. When I didn’t have food money I had to think through possibilities and try them, while her mind just translated into Randy and became reliant to that thought. The brain would take the same stimuli and try to adapt. The brain adapts to what it knows and what it ‘remembers’ as working before. This is how we survive and how we adapt. The brain evolves when it has to take on new stimuli as the old stimuli no longer works. My brain may have tried to think of parents, but it had to lose that blueprint and that left side rationalization because it no longer worked. Abbey took that ‘parent’ translation of adaptation and simply replaced it with Randy. It’s like exchanging a fantasy novel for a new one. You keep that feeling of whimsy but you attach new pictures and imaginings to it. Of course fantasy has other layers, but I like the way it molds into this example.

A more direct example is when you ‘rebound’ after a relationship. That pain you feel at being alone isn’t acceptable/you can’t do it. To adapt to being alone ‘hurts’ too much and so your brain seeks to replace what it thinks will fix that pain. Well you ‘lost’ that person that was a sense of comfort and so you replace that ‘comfort’ with a new person. Your brain takes this new person and registers them as the new ‘blueprint’/ the new adaptation. Eventually in the relationship the brain either fully replaces your ex with this new person, or it realizes the differences in adaptations and can’t retranslate them. You ‘wake up’ to what is happening and move from the denial (where the brain can’t accept the pain and tries to replace that pain/put in that adaptation of love back into your adaptation reservoir) into acceptance (where the brain kicks out that adaptation or has grown past ‘needing’ it and actually adapts now that the pain has lessened and your brain can feel past it.

I think the same process is felt with drugs. The brain adapts to that drug but because of that adaptation being so stark in the mind, it tries to keep it. Your brain starts to figure out how to adapt to life while on that drug and then when you try to go off it and lose that adaptation the mind freaks out and tries to keep it, because it has adapted to it.

The brain takes a stimuli that you’ve adapted to with the drug and when that (adaptation formed with the drug) is no longer there (because you stop taking the drug) then the mind tells you to take it again. Abbey’s mind thinks of Randy while a meth user thinks of meth. The brain wants that blueprint/feeling back simply because it is what the brain is translating into your mind as the adaptation, because it is the adaptation that your brain knows.

This is how triggers make sense. Alcohol users can be off for years, and then their mom dies. The pain is so intense that they ‘need’ the drug. The brain is trying to adapt.

Maybe it even thinks through all the things it has relied on since getting off alcohol. It thinks of fluffy kittens and Klondike bars, but those adaptations aren’t as strong. Their brain memories are not as strong. Maybe they think of their new wife and how she has helped them. She has taken the spot of the drug in the adaptation reservoir. What if you don’t have a new wife? What if despite the love being strong it isn’t as strong as the drug memory?

Drugs are potent, they are vivid memories because our brain actually tells us to remember them. They change the brain and either stimulate it or depress it. Since our body is tuned to remember stimuli based on its effect to us (so that we either stay away from it or use it) we remember drugs.

If your brain is depressed and losing its hormones or action potentials or whatever is happening to it, it is going to think of whatever stimuli can lift us out of it. The brain is being met with all of this sudden emotion and pain, and it can either accept and adapt to that pain, or register an image in your mind of the thing it knows will help you survive. Trigger the drug image.

*pauses and realizes she’s already written nine pages….retakes that stimuli into memories and realizes that isn’t uncommon at all. Being in Marfa/ a new environment caused a feeling it was ‘a lot’ meaning that I am in a different mind….I haven’t felt like myself since being here, despite trying to trigger into me with old memories or trying to think with the thoughts that usually create a sense of ‘me’. They weren’t working and I didn’t force them too much because this is what I want. I want to be a new person, I just didn’t think it would work so well or be so scary. To be aware you are losing yourself makes you question everything that is ‘you’ and if those things are even true. Can you adapt past even being yourself and which parts of you do you keep? And once you calm down from your autoexistential mind …that pain is there. I want a ‘me’ and feel like I’ve always had one…but so quickly do I then get excited. That pain is so deep, that pain that a ‘me’ is just a translation of the human body, and that to reach a true me means getting pasat this human existence into remembering past lives that then make me truly question all over again…where pain becomes too deep and real and led into suicide (Animal excerpt of the end). Oh wait. *readaptation* I have Animal as a Word file as well. I suddenly recall where it is. (retranslation since my mind has moved connections around since the excerpt above where my mind realized it was on Drive and then moved on. This time it took that connection and remembered that it is also on Word. Felt that it was on Drive but then had “Oh” moment of a reconnection/memory to The Animal (the one here)).

Ugh…all these old memories might trigger ‘me’ too much, but that awareness also seems to be a cleansing. As I scrape out and feel out the past, can I control it and truly control the ‘sense’ of ‘myself’???

Continued Marfa Day Two

This is more of a quivering fright fest of life then I predicted or foresaw in even my primal mind of ‘I want to be as close to being nature as possible’ mind. I’ve met people and talked to them about the brain and about what I’m doing here. I spent way too much on props for characters. I got this rope necklace whip for Flyra that costs $175 dollars. Then I got the skull spoons for Sandra for $50 and then a necklace for Elne for $150 dollars and now I only have $350 left. I started off with $1000 and I don’t know where all the rest went. I know I spent money on Amazon and they drained more than I apparently noticed. Then I must have spend extra elsewhere. The $150 from my aunt didn’t come through so maybe I put in the wrong account number, and I can still get $200 from Kisa but he won’t be here until the 6th so I’ll probably mildly freak out with the idea that that won’t happen, and it won’t resolve until he actually gets here. I went through the fridge and all the jarred food for characters and think it will be enough to last. I also can spend $10 a night for ten nights and that will only be $100 but then I want to go those concerts in Alipine…but I could make those three nights only cost $20 each…so $40 and then eating out could be budgeted into a couple of nights at $20 each until that’s only $60 and then groceries of any extra could only be $40 for the rest of this month. Okay…it can work I suppose. *freak out mind pretends to calm down but secretly keeps making that *head cocked up on one side with eyes slightly narrowed in trusting but still leary in a joshing type of way but also serious manner*

I came to type in order to feel like myself again. I met this woman I was supposed to go pick up at five. I left the apartment at 4:52 because it’s only three minutes away. I went to the building I thought was hers by driving to this gas station that’s been turned into an art store that I saw kitty cornering the street and registered into my memories around 3:00 as I walked past it. It was near the other store I got the necklace at so I thought it must’ve been the one I met her in. The thing is Marfa turns all of these little buildings into art studios so it’s easy to confuse them…or for my mind it is. Then I go to that building at 4:54 and the door is locked. I look inside and see chairs and small desks, which look nothing like her studio. I freak out and try to force it into being her studio by walking around the sides and looking into windows until it turns into it. Yeah that didn’t work. I conceded to denial and rushed to my car in belated acceptance with a whip creamed top of fuck. Now I’m late, but maybe she hasn’t left yet since it’s barely hitting five. I drive to retraced memories as I backtrack and then realize it was definitely after I’d gone to the necklace store. I drove past the store but in front of it all looked wrong and I knew she said I could head down from her building to Food Shark. I took a right and then there was another memory building from earlier in the day. I’d gone into this art studio and found a just opened shop that flew in from Denver…or Denali..no something with a D in California, I just know those other two Ds better.

So I see that store, think it might be hers in my panic desperation of denial mind, but retranslate and realize that it’s not hers either. Panic is getting annoyed at me and says that it must be the store, it’s 5:00 so I search around it while my mind tries to tell me it’s her store, and I finally see it. Krumpton…that’s not it but it does start with a K. I park without storing the memory as I leap out and go to the door. It’s locked. I peer in and see darkness. Fuck. Denial. Go to the window and peer in. See her desk and it’s empty. She’s already gone home. No way. She must have waited at least two minutes. Scan the streets and try to provoke her existence into them, searching for her like a Where’s Waldo book and watching as denial leaks into reality. She’s not here.

I get in the car and think that I didn’t really want to go drink with her. I had had a long social day and I needed rest anyway, but in thinking I realized I did want to see her and go out drinking, but that I could do it later. We planned to drink at five but the band doesn’t play until eight. I only have ten dollars to spend which is one drink and I can’t linger on it for more than an hour…so I can’t go now and just drink until she might show up.

So here I lay in my maroon hammock typing out to you so that I’m not alone and in order to get back some feeling of  a self that I’m supposed to be escaping but instead cling to because I feel so lost.

Tomorrow I have to go see her and apologize and go drinking. I planned to start Elne tomorrow but he’ll have to wait now so that I can make it up to her, unless I see her tonight. At 8:30 I’ll head over….eight forty five…social anxiety spikes, and wait to see if she shows up and listen to the band. Sigh. So much change. So little Ainsley. Also I super fucking want Internet, but then don’t, but then can’t anyway. I did finally look up and around though, and finally found the heater. The central one that is. The space one was found yesterday but didn’t warm the room before night tingled out all of its cold. The hammock was too cold and my body heat wasn’t warm enough to make it comfy so I took a lot of time trying to sleep and get warm.

Life here is scarier than I thought and it kind of makes me want to go back to some sense of home, but then that very feeling is also a craving of the want that I wanted from this place. The excitement and calm is more fierce and I can weed out that fear just by feeling and picking at it. The fear is real though…and now it has evocations of money fears and not picking her up fears and so it got to take over…especially in silence of solitude. Nothing to distract it….except the coffee chocolate ice cream I just ate. What? The silence couldn’t resist.

Thinking of stopping typing to return to Marfa mind makes me want more ice cream. Le sigh.

Earlier at Food Shark I connected to food so much that slow mouth movement was natural. I chewed and felt bursts and completions of energy with each bite. The energy became with me and lifted and spread like connections dropping barriers. Then I would eat the pita bread meant for the lamb kebob and the texture made me want to continue it, but then I ate the crispy pita and it hurt. My mind felt so tuned into the frequency of the food and the crispy chips tasted like AM static and out of tune flute notes trying to play country. That went too far but I’m overusing out of the fear of stopping typing. I hope this feeling leaves…I guess we’ll know eventually. This journey is enticing but…living in it is like translating fantasy. I foresee this beauty and grace and want to be part of it, but when it translates into reality as I live it there’s all this human blockage of fear I never cleansed, of adapting to stimuli I’ve never known and thus frightens my animal and tells it to hide so we can be sure it’s safe. Conserve resources in case we need them. Talk to some but then go home for a cave dwelling assessment. No no says Ainsley, we need to go out and be someone else. Le sigh. Le lehuneam.

I want to watch Scrubs.

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