lost diary of an unknown female

found at the base of a willow tree

Aug 12 – today I’ve been rewarded with having lunch with an Osprey

Aug 15 – this is a difficult decision at this juncture in my life. It feels counterintuitive. But I’m getting guidance to be on my own. I received a sign on my way home that what I’m contemplating is a healthy change.

Aug 18 – congrats on your soul journey, bro.

She tripped on a dip in the uneven sidewalk and stumbled a bit before she caught herself.

“I haven’t always been this graceful.”

They laughed. It sounded like a joke. But they had not known her when she walked with braces.

Aug 20 – Dear future husband, the moon is beautiful. I don’t believe any of the songs are about me. I wish I met you tonight.

I saw three cormorants today.

Aug 22 – How To Love An Aware Empath: don’t bullshit her. Be yourself. Allow yourself to make mistakes, because she also needs that room.

If she bolts, take a deep breath. When she loves you, this is not running from you. It’s running from the possible pain.

Bring her a bouquet of oak leaves from your yard or your favourite park. Bring her to the ocean and walk with her along the shore.

Give her your exclusive number and encourage her to use it.

Shortcuts make her feel unsafe. You can keep her heart safe and never use one shortcut, because she loves you and that creates a buffer that no other man will have the honour of sitting with.

Once you have bonded, she will ask you to check her breath for traces of liquorice. And black leg hoses.

Aug 25 – at my funeral, I don’t want you to post up pictures of me. I just want pictures of other people when they are thinking about me.

Aug 27 – this loneliness. It erodes my clarity. It erodes my faith. It erodes my resolve.

And I say to this loneliness, Tell me, why should I withstand this suffering when I know now that suffering is unnecessary?

Sept 3 – I just saw myself way back in 1993. She was sitting in the backseat with the window open and her hands ready to catch her head. She doesn’t believe that anyone can see her sadness.

Sept 7 – Dream: first it was like I was on stage trying to put on a show, sing a song, do a comedy routine.

I had just broken up with someone and he was on stage with me. It was like we had to work together even though we had split.

We yelled at each other. Like, right on stage. And one of us yelled something mean. Like, hope you bomb, or good luck doing this on your own.

Then Steve Correll was talking to me, commiserating, telling me that he knew I could do it without my ex.

And we were laughing. And then he was kissing me. I had to push him away, because I knew it was a dream. I told him I need in real life.

Sept 9 – regardless of whether I’m understood in this lifetime, the words I leave here on earth – and in the hearts and minds of those who read them – are part of a new railway. At some point, this will be home again. There is a rush of divine power that comes with those words.

Sept 12 – woke up thinking about trajectory and exactly what the weight is as it leaves me.

Sept 14 – praying about releasing and healing, saw a Bluejay.

Sept 16 – I can’t stop thinking about how The Matrix got it backward. The oatmeal is yum. Fuck the steak. But no, in spiritual truth, the steak is reality, you know?

Dem pricks may see us as batteries, but that’s their heavy karma.

Sept 17 – the guy at the counter asked if I was with the gentleman and I said no. Then I said, wait, what gentleman? The one who paid for people, he said. And I said, no. I wish. But no. And then I kind of screamed IM WITH NO ONE. Why, I joked to take the edge off, does he want a date? Then I used a coupon to purchase a single meal.

Sept 21 – the anticipatory grief aspect of this is done now. I’m actively grieving for this loss which many would not consider a real loss.

Sept 23 – I’m struggling. I’m struggling with motivation to get out of the house and do things.

I’m struggling to hold onto my faith that I will fucking not just be okay, but better – that things will get better.

I would like to have more faith. I would like to have more joy. I would like to enjoy life.

Sept 26 – I want to feel safe for fuck sakes. I want to fucking feel safe. How do I do that?

It’s more painful to be betrayed by one you trust than by one you expect on any level to betray you.

That was so exciting – such an adventure for me to find out.

Sept 27 – had lunch in a bee graveyard today. It was horrifying.

Oct 1 – here is me in another cafe flushing out reclaimed memory, turning without into with, looking up from this page, unable to source this sadness.

Oct 3 – it would have been different. That’s what kills her each time she chooses an avocado at her corner grocer.

Oct 6 – and since truth took away the last film of tempered glass, this nothing I have just got bloody.

Oct 8 – now I feel like shit. I feel too full. I feel too in touch with my body – the way it breathes and feels and the way things smell.

I hate the smell of these pickles. I just discovered this now. Right now. The smell of these pickles makes me want to throw up.

I mean, all I can smell are these pickles now and they are in me. These fucking pickles are in me.

Oct 11 – (oh shit, I just figured out the karmic purpose of mental distortions)

I tucked my light under my mattress.

Oct 15 – I understand the meshface girl a little more now.

The feeling of loneliness that is hardest to feel is the kind after feeling a good, happy connection with someone.

That’s the girl who wants to cling and never let go. That’s the girl who fears leaving or having the fun connection end.

I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life because I’m scared to try.

Oct 20 – being separate brings me peace and this has inflamed old guilt.

Guilt for not breathing through the anxiety of the woman sitting across from me in this station.

Guilt for not halving the impact of negative energy being directed toward the woman next to me on this bus.

Guilt for not being able to share my safe, peaceful space.

Oct 26 – I sit here shaking in fear. The fear that I’ve tapped into has left me paralyzed.

I’m sitting here thinking about getting ready to get out of the house so I can get out of my head and let go and let God.

I’m facing the fear of not having a safe space. I’m facing the fear of standing up to bullying. And the possible repercussions.

Why have I come up against something so big, so ugly?

in the mix

for the record

When I met u I knew we’d make something together.

That was a while ago, I had already lined myself up with collaborations forever and I didn’t see how we would fit. I knew there was no way u’d get along with my PR manager.

And I’d signed a contract with a zero competition clause. Except the contract laws in my state at the time force the retrograde of previous contracts.

U were new to me back then. From a different state. Knew nothing about the contract laws over on my side of the tracks.

But then my PR manager started getting a little crazy. He went nutty or something. People in the office knew he was losing it, but I was just the talent.

I had to get out of that contract, so I talked with some of the original retrograde guys and they got me out clean.

(Or so I thought.)

And I was suddenly free to think about all the amazing things I would make with u.

We met, we talked about some ideas, started to shape things, flesh them out.

Together we made some really good music. I wrote the lyrics and sang. U played the drums.

And holy fuck those were great times. I mean, not without pain, some artistic conflict, but we were good together. I thought.

With ur beats behind me, I got a rep for having a sick flow.

tbh I didn’t know I had it in me until u drew me out. But there it was.

When my old PR manager got news of this coming success, called by so many main players in the industry, he got pretty pissed.

He felt like he had made a mistake in getting crazy and saying the things he did.

I mean, fuck, my flow is sick. I know this now.

And I guess in a way, he felt the egg on his face believing that I had been holding out on him, not even that it just wasn’t working anymore.

It didn’t help when u told him to fuck off. And I had no idea he was listening when I said what I did.

But what is done is done. Some have a hard time letting go, tho, that’s just the way it is.

Despite what was going on with my past PR manager, I was focused on u. All I wanted to do was write songs all day. To ur beats.

I was smitten with ur easy talent, with ur flow. It blew me away that u wanted to make art with me.

And then u started acting different.

By that time, I’d already fallen for this idea of our beautiful upcoming collabs. Nothing stopped ur beats. Nothing stopped my flow.

I could see the future. I saw us with the rising sun between us and felt the warm pure light of the noon sun connecting us as we walked the beaches between gigs.

when u changed, we started doing songs long distance and it seemed okay for a bit.

But then you got thrown into the mix quite by accident. I don’t think you had heard about my sick flow, but you were into it and wanted to check out my lyrics.

Our meeting was kismet. And I started to get confused.

We were meant to create together but your style was so different than even the most different of those that I was used to that I had tried to collaborate with.

I don’t like trying to work on more than one project at a time when there’s other people involved.

Solo projects are different. Too many people make for weak beats, if you ask me.

So, never having been in a similar situation, I didn’t really know what to do.

And the post u sent me got lost, but the mail kept coming through. I didn’t notice anything different about the flow.

The whole time, though, it turned out to be an imposter who found ur style on SoundCloud and said it was u.

There I was waiting for u to come back to town, trying to figure out what you were all about, if it was real too, while the conman was sliding into my fucking inbox like he was u.

If I had received the letter u wrote, I would have read that u no longer wanted to work together. U found a new sound. U didn’t think my flow was that sick anymore. U had moved on.

But I thought u wanted me to keep sending my lyrics and my samples.

The whole time I was making songs with a liar, a poseur, a pusher of beats that weren’t his.

And you were trying not to scare me away because you saw my hands tremble when I picked up that last drink. You were taking it slow and steady because you saw my fear.

I didn’t realize u had stopped sending me beats. I didn’t realize u weren’t into my flow.

On top of all that, it turns out the only reason u wanted to work with me is because u knew my girl from way back. And learning that really hurt.

I wanted to be discovered on my own. I wanted to break out without relying on my girls, right. That’s just me. I’m like that.

I ended up missing out on possibly making some great stuff with you because I left a space for u in my career when u didn’t even want to be part of it anymore.

And the whole time some asshole was sliding through with ur beats acting like u, writing like u, everything.

I’m feeling a little depressed about my career now.

I tried to get back to you, but I didn’t get very far.

What does that conversation sound like? Hey, listen, I know I treated you like a total bitch when I finally said no, I can’t work with you. But can you forgive me? Do you still want to make music?

Why would anyone give me a second chance to work together after a no?

That is the kind of thing I never understood.

This is why I like to work with one person at a time. It’s fair. It’s honest. It’s simple.

And there’s less chance of losing people to work with. Or maybe that’s not even true. Maybe it’s a story I tell myself.