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The authority of your diligence and dedication yields fulfillment.
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

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@readsal
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The authority of your diligence and dedication yields fulfillment.
Straight Shame Month begins now 🌈
Riding the rails, roaming towns you’ve never been to before, doing light work for cash or food, sleeping outside when the weather’s nice.
All while engaging in various types and degrees of BDSM along the way:
vagabondage — n. / ˈva-gə-ˌbän-dij / 🪢
Laura Palmer is The One—she is the dreamer. Dale Cooper is who she long ago dreamed up would save her (from murder, sa, addiction, and all of her suffering with its physical/mental/emotional horror). Continues to dream him, even in death.
But it’s such a fervent, potent wish that her dreamed-up, would-be hero becomes sentient, with a flawed agenda. Cooper begins informing and over-complicating her dream state with his often inadequate methods, actions, and questionable history.
The “angel meant to help” Laura is not the literal one she sees at the end of FWWM; it’s Cooper standing right next to her. He meant to help her but obviously couldn’t because everything had already happened when he arrived on the scene. And then, 25 years later, he crosses time to prevent Laura’s death and bring her to her still grieving mother who has been consumed entirely by regret, guilt, sorrow, and loss (not simply inhabited by a demon; those are the real demons).
Laura is “saved” but then displaced and forced to remember all of her pain, all at once. Her mother doesn’t even exist, but Laura hears her.
Cooper fails. Not because you can’t undo the past—IT’S NOT ALLOWED.
And neither of them realize this. 🕳
Halcyon future—
turn out more than each rider’s
lost & passing scene...
Cycle ’way caution instead,
faces embracing all wind
Sal Ortiz | 2026 🎠
Happy Birthday, @avmlsu, aka Foxy Andy! 🌟🦊
5 / 1
May the 1st, firstly, be
a well-appointed honeybee—
Knowing true its line,
blossom to varied blossom;
For welled within its ’hind,
a cartographic dance
fares sublimely awesome.
May the 2nd, segue to
full prosperity, pull a mantle
from each dozing seed;
One robustly gilt, vimmed—
to be strewn proliferative
o’er leas lain fallow for
tread of loss, doubt, woe.
Beltane! Beltane! Beltane!
Peel back the hind’ring mesh—
I reach for your splendor
by simply tending to my own
roving bit of earthly flesh.
Sal Ortiz | 2026 🌺🐝
I left work today just before 2 pm cos they were tearing down the front part of our floor and sealing us in with plastic to protect from all the dust and also no bathrooms cos they’re being redone too and we have to go next door to use a kitchen and my boomer coworker was just then coming in with his two brain cells and I had to save the cutlery and paper towels and it was all giving me
A N X I E T Y 😖
Update: This wasn’t just about me. While I was gone, my other coworker was fired. :(
Kiddos, never think or feel in a Hollywood way
Resplendent | Sal Ortiz | 2026 🌸
A.M.
This poem is
a photograph of the
exquisitely
ordinary cereal
I had this morning...
because
aesthetic.
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶
This poem is
persistent palms of
fresh wind
up onion skin shorts—
frisking the
overheated runner
just enough to
stay the course.
Sal Ortiz | 2026 🏃🏻♂️🥣
Indisputably...
Indica indoctrinates
in inchoateness;
Sativa self-satiates—
satoric saturation
Sal Ortiz | 2026 🌿
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I have to become the Daddy.
A little cock and ball torture for what ails ya
– – : – –
Good night’s the fairest thing to say—
It sighs a scratch across the day;
What’s done is done, attempt no more—
Rather, succumb to tranquil store;
Within your dreaming and restful bide—
Friend, be allayed by stillest tide.
Sal Ortiz | 2026 🌔
3 / 22
All branches, so bare,
raking slate skies for more light;
arboreal qigong
⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶
Tap tap tap tap tap—
feathered hammer stops, inspects;
repeat until grub
Sal Ortiz | 2026
Leaf Trap | Sal Ortiz | 2026 🍂