so far i don’t like jitterbug perfume as much as robbin’s other books, though anything he writes is still better than most, and i’m a fan of the subject matter (immortality and the like).   these are my favorite points thus far:

i met two rude characters, one a shaman, one a god, and though each treated me disagreeably in the beginning, one gave me special courage, the other special fear, both of which i require for this journey that i am on.

a person must be prepared to receive wisdom, or else it will do him more harm than good.  p.92

if desire causes suffering, it may be because we do not desire wisely, or that we are inexpert at obtaining what we desire.  instead of hiding our heads in a prayer cloth and building walls against temptation, why not get better at fulfilling desire?  p. 97

but there is a sense in which awareness can be as stagnating as sloth

an overpowering urge to steer in the direction of darkness

if the earth needs  night as well as day, wouldn’t it follow that the soul requires endarkenment to balance enlightenment? p. 99

 

nature’s dandruff is so ocd pretty.

i’m sorry i forgot to bring my homework friday though i did do it, no dog ate it, and nobody really died, ever.

more automatic writing re: a’s cue

the even stranger dangers are the ones that avoid crystallization, never clearly formed, they morph and muddle like malleable mannequins making alliteration their only starting point, diving point, knife point nosebleeds and saving the bees, i wheeze whimsical when sick of it all.  i’m sure there’s an avenue worth opening a headlamp onto, don’t be so easily angered= discouraged.  for christmas i’ll give you the gift of a cowardly lion, so you can always feel sure of yourself and strong, in that equilibrium way you do how do ya do howdy do, i do, i love you too.  (<—i’m wide awake)

 

 

-somewhere it all becomes l’eggo my ego.

-i wonder if you know the name of the world, or where to go?  i read the book this afternoon.  i think it’s all about the van of a florist.

-who doesn’t prefer the orchids?  n of course, most importantly, the scattering of identities…

-the home of the toy (the tone), n then the blind girl of course who was watching did the same.

-Not Blind.

-NEVER.

-i let her..

-i know.  i’m sorry.  i get so scattered,  like leaves n orchids, playgrounds, toys, noise, novellas, please- i love you today.  the sky has never looked so gray.

 

 

me age 3, the year i decided to stop speaking.

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I also do skywriting.  But I try not to proofread that.  It’s too high, and it hurts to fall down so far.