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[entitledrichpeople]

Another group of homeless moms and families is taking over a house — this time in L.A.

Inspired by a similar occupation in Oakland and fear of the coronavirus, homeless residents moved into a home in El Sereno long-owned by Caltrans.

[tzshsprsth]

wrtrs do u evr

do you ever just think about sentences in your head that create a story or the start to a story or the plot to a story or just tells a story all in itself? do words ever just echo into your membrane and dance together like a tangoing couple looking for the party? do topics of discussion ever just linger your notepad waiting to be established because you know how much detail it would take, how much little time you have, to describe such a simple matter? do you ever dream too far ahead and believe that you’ll accomplish writing a series of events that tells a wonderful story that contains enough metaphors to let the reader think about the characterization of their life? do you ever feel so good about something that you reread it and reread it and then remember that all of that and everything before that is going down the shithole? do you ever just think to yourself that you’re insane for thinking you can turn a hobby into a career? do you ever just enjoy the crowded headspace falling into the lap of your keyboard as it finally dances together like an awkward frat party, wanting to find the perfect pair and best-case scenario, yet you, as the host, so anxiously, just wants to form an eternal cha-cha line? do you ever?

[tzshsprsth]

streets of la

Walking through the alley where the devil wins 

each soul by tarnishing the bodies

who smoke glass and poke needles and itch skin until it rips

Rapid highs and slow losses

Quick fixes and severe diseases

Rolling on the floor of a street corner high 

while the rest of the world passes by and knows 

she was once a person before she was unidentified 

[tzshsprsth]

Love is born of involuntary attraction that our free will transforms into voluntary union. Voluntary union is love’s necessary condition,the act that turns bondage into freedom.

Octavio Paz, The Double Flame

[tzshsprsth]

heart twist

listen to your - No, don’t listen to my heart. 

Yes, hear it. Acknowledge its bass. Counter its striking repulsions with confirmation and not condemnation. Words from the hearts center flow like black ink pressing out of a fountain pen. Blots and tears come dripping out onto ivory paper. Agony and whining, fears and deceit are impressed on my soul. Keep listening. Lard, lard! Be lard! As the electrifying nervous system paralyzes my body These words, these images, these unresponsive reactions are just distorting me and my emotions. This contemporary world is so bad at reminding us that it is just temporary I am a fool, unfulfilled and wanting filters. Save me from my foolishness, and please don’t ask my heart to try

She is a mess.

The next morning. 

Drained. 

My heart keeps beating while  my mind is muted in slumber Beating me up inside until, my body’s habitual instinct to improve self-loathing finally succeeds oppression.

Books. Podcasts. 

Professionals endure the experiences I long to solve, enabling me to hear them out I want to know more about this thing I keep failing at

How can I communicate the words on my heart when it is this very muscle that has not exercised enough clean-ups from being spilled milk on the floor? Vengeful static, no moving on.

I’m not just listening to you anymore, heart I shall reprimand each scathe. I am done scolding your iniquities. I am letting go of the treacherous thoughts and stale face expressions. I cannot do this anymore, heart, be replaced, and do what is best. 

And love. 

And read.  and reread. and listen to the book that tells all about  the heart. 

Ancient love contains wisdom while modern affection robs growth

Keep going. 

[tzshsprsth]

Good morning Greyson.

[tzshsprsth]

up here.

Five hundred feet in the air and a tranquilizing cliff under my feet. Up close to a far distance view, like a nineties cartoon brought to life. Vibrant colors illuminate the pearl white sailboats which rest at the shore, as lifesize toy boats bobble with the waters. Only the ocean is colored outside of its lines; the sapphire blue bleeds a lighter color, producing a halo-like trim.

I remember feeling empty in my own home, even emptier in a farther place. But today, at this moment, I was not haunted by the distance or the fear of missing someone. After soaking in that truth, I turned to my side and I saw you. 

This island doesn’t hold me at night or encourage me in the morning. This view does not remind me of my worthiness or drive me to my potential. But this view, here, with you, is nirvana. A great gain. One earned. And most graciously given.

Home is where the heart is. My heart has been unraveled by your protection and your care. The winds peel open a wide, genuine grin on my face, and an ecstatic “Woo hoo!” escapes my breath. I need not say the words, “I’m so happy here with you” for this moment paints it all and my heart reveals that truth.

[tzshsprsth]

the sum of things.

It has been an up and down battle with the way I value my possessions. Cash flow and freedom to afford luxuries and comforts escaped my control, as I was preparing to learn the cost of a life worth living. 

Sorrow pockets are better than empty hearts and delusional minds. Numbing stress is defeated by learning how to combat it. You couldn’t put a number on my soul anymore, another price tag to be sewed into; I was after the infinity. 

No object, or activity, experience, or ensemble, can satisfy my quenching taste for abundance in love. There are revelations, and moments, opportunities, and surprises, to encounter the pure and simple bliss of being loved by the Lord. In His presence, a roof is more than a home, a sky is more than a view. 

Whatever it may be that I need, I need not want. My needs and wants aligned with His plan unchain me from the cycles; they free me to live my worth. Quite simply, wise minds and pure intentions outlast fast earning and sleazy work. 

“For we have brought nothing into the world,  and neither can we carry anything out.  So, having sustenance and covering,  we shall be content with these things. However,  those who are determined to be rich fall into temptation and a snare and many senseless and hurtful desires plunge men into destruction and ruin. For the love of money is a root  of all sorts of injurious things...”

1 Timothy 6:7-10, The Apostle Paul

[tzshsprsth]

to the island.

The air is as fresh as the waters; the boat sardine-packed with half a thousand guests. Leaving the docks of sea legs behind was an exciting farewell, a refreshing departure. Moments of soaking in a small piece of the largest part of the earth’s composition quickly vanished into an uneasy feeling of discomfort. 

Motion sickness is one hell of an ache. It’s funny what the remedy is to motion sickness, considering you just want to curl into a ball and puke your insides out. The crewman suggested we take out our headphones and focus on the sea. Take off our sweaters, because our minds and bodies adapt strangely to our tricky environments. Now I’m at the edge of the railing; meters away from a prolonged death and one wise mind to prohibit that. The gusty winds push my body while my insides fight back. All I see are two prominent shades of blue, the sea and the sky, framed by thick, numerous strands of hair that border my eyesight. I see goosebumps and arm hair poking back up at me, but couldn’t feel a single sense of being cold. “Focus on the island,” a close couple shared in the same condition. “When you focus on the island you won’t be so caught up in the motion of the ocean.” 

There it is. That rocky plateau, which I could hardly make out through the overcast, just showed me how land-filling mammals we are. Land is where we thrive. Land is where we survive, where we multiply, where we mark our destinations. Surely, men at sea are made of different skin, but the land they left is a piece of them. I placed all of my hungry hopes on that island, and it’s assurance boldly reminded me how much I need land. To the island, we went, and our hearts followed track; our minds drowned with weariness, but our feet in the sand.