Art and Science

my darling, I have been letting life get the best of me lately. I have not had the strength to hold myself together. my body is trying but I'm not helping. so, that's the place to start. By taking care of my body. Eating better and exercising. I need to be well so I can give you 100%. You deserve no less. you are my art project. You are my science experiment. These things must be done with great care and attention. 

Layla lives in the dance studio. Maybe I can move my life in that direction. Dance is an art and a science. They told me that if you fast of food and music for forty days and at the end you want music more than food, than music is maybe a part of your devotion to the Most High. It is only then that it will not turn your heart away from the face of Allah. 

I want to fill myself with His word. I want to move only to The Music of The Soul. 

Origin Story

I'm not really sure where I came from. I remember "being," briefly. And then I remember not being, though that may sound strange to you. It's not like my consciousness was gone. I only remember staring into space. Literal space, btw. Though I don't think space was where I started. 

And then here I was, the goddess of naps again, this time on Earth. A former very, very, very minor goddess in a pantheon I am beginning to suspect extinct, which I suspect was an act of ontological warfare enacted by the current ruler of the heavens. I actually don't care that those guys are dead. They were the type that would take your life away and hang your undying body up in a space-closet until they needed you. Risk management, they called it. 

I'm fascinated I'm not gone.  Not that I thought the space-closet was my end. Naps are more powerful things than you might think and the old gods knew that. And it's not that I'm so minor that I can die. I've been around now as long as this universe has existed. No, the old gods didn't work like western mythology reports here. 

They say there was a dust storm. It blew longer than the human imagination can comprehend until it met an ocean,, not made of water, but wet, and a small ocean compared to the dust cloud. The wetness was vast enough to absorb particles to create a total of 78 of us. We all had different abilities but every single one of us could change our shape. 

On earth, I took a humanoid form for the first time, though I took various other forms before settling on my current species, sex, and looks. I do occasionally miss and seek the company of other powerful beings, but I have a habit of keeping to myself. It took me a long time to realize where the others went. And longer to figure out how it happened. I'm still not sure about the whole ontological warfare part, honestly. Partly due to a lack of confirmation from heaven (ahem) and partly because if it happened the way I surmise, there's something about me that makes my being different from the others, or else I would have also been vaporized in a cloud of logic. 

Anyway. Please take a nap at the next available opportunity. Cheers!

This is what happens

This is what happens when you don't believe in reaching your full potential. Take that as you will. And you know what else you can take? You bet you do.

Twittercide

You won't find me on twitter anymore. I should have just created a new account.

It baffles me that I have to create a new identity as a container for a different interest or life path. Okay, I get it, it's called marketing. Branding. Something like that.

How well can you distill one aspect of yourself and magnify it for broadcast? Which part of your personality or imagination is ready for a closeup?

Hell, I don't even like naps. They just put me in charge of them. My second job pays better. Just kidding! Naps are great. Take one soon. Now would be best.

I Grow Old In the Market

An old man asks me,
"look at this sugar plum!"
he wants to share
something gone bad, so,
"it doesn't look good,"
I tell him.

Ennui

typing a chunk of text, I am tired and my eyes glaze over. i see in front of me a gray mass with veins of white-space running through. i imagine pouring hot, colored wax into the top of the document, watching it trickle through and dry. i remember a candle, vanilla scented, that i found in the trunk of my car last summer. it was in a red garbage pail, melted, embalming the alarm clock next to it. i couldn't stand the smell of vanilla for months. and i remember earlier today, tasting something i used to like, what was it? but my taste buds must have changed and i don't like it anymore. i felt betrayed. by my own taste buds. what was it? what was it? maybe i took a nap.

Passing/I need a second job

Perfect grades
are not the same as being white
but they are close enough
for passing.