> VARIOUSLY CONGLOMERATED ENTRIES

Today is the 81st anniversary of the US bombing of Hiroshima. It is unknown exactly how many nuclear detonations occured on earth, in the atmosphere, underground, in the waters, since trinity day, july 16 1945. Estimates online state "over 2000," 2053, 2156, 2476. [Wikipedia's nuclear test page] sheds a little light on the subject.

(does it matter what day it is?) Time is rapidly speeding faster though in a strange way. Ecapsulated days dialate then fade, bluring into each other I look back and another month tears away. Most of my days are rountine, the same, so I have little memory of what the month contained. Still, in physical stillness, I plod along, attempting to relocate my mind to my heart center and slow it all down.

It's a Friday, after the monsoon. The sun reappeared and its making my thigh hot through the widnow. I'd get up to pull the shade down if my back wasnt locked in an arching slouch that I need to roll out sideways from in order to stand up. So I stay here, compressing my spine, bearing all my weight down on the ball of my right foot. I managed to wiggle up, out of the sun spot into the shade

(selected days I've forgotten)I'm excited for my poetry chapbook/artzine that will be shipped from the publisher soon. I'm not the self promoting type, I would like others to read my words. I'm sure I'll figure it out. And I am. I don't want to "promote" myself at all. Still, I want people like me to find my words (if they want). I have felt joy and connection finding others' weird indie doing-it-for-no-other-reason-thna-artisitc-expression creations and I want to pass that along too. Something for someone else to feel encouraged in their weirdness and individuality. I certainly don't want attention, I mean, I used to think I did and in someways I did, when I was in a loveless marriage with a jerk all I wanted was to be seen and loved by someone. It was sad and a little pathetic and desperate. Now that I'm free, all I want to do is put out creative expression/art not content, eff content, it's waste, it's trash, its effluent. Eff monetization. I am lucky enough to have the means to support my own production of the output my creative expression.

Ima figure out how to post codes for bandcamp on here also. It's a slow process relearing basic coding, I'm not computery, although I spend most of my waking time in front of a screen. Its wild how the myspace days encouraged me to learn and how the time in between then and now caused me t forget. I don't know what happened but it seemed to happen to all of us who are in my age range. Life just went left. I'm lucky that i yanked the wheel back in time to have a few more years of fun I guess.