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poet with no overall plan

A prayer to let me change profession to change my being and existence to something else bread

To give up my degree and experience and walk away feels 30% great

20% sad

but mostly inevitable

to celebrate i’m steady drinking a cocktail with kratom that’s bad i know but the 20% sad is incredibly menacing

i don’t do sad, it’s not safe for me need to keep head up, kopf hoch (german) i want to do a craft, a service that’s needed i want to do women’s work and survive on it

i don’t want to teach in capitalism i present myself, chewed up, spit out like a hairball, or a tonsil lolith stinky, calcium deposits, suicides i don’t want to do it anymore

so i’m just sitting here waiting for them to call and fire me while getting tipsy and high because i intend to not degrade myself with self pity i plan to soldier forward and forgive myself facts i did my best in their world nothing more you can do than that i apologized for my anger to the kids that’s the most i could do, after the fact but no more teaching, while teammates judge me i’ll hermit as much as i can from now on the kids are going to psych wards and prison either way i was just a sometimes sunny dot in there world, but then also a scary dot in their world. i admit it. i retire. i can’t stay calm in some circumstances, like when i’m sick and they’re understaffed, i can’t do it for sure 100% i might crash out again and honestly that’s par for the course, so hopefully everyone forgives me for it. that’s not the real me.

No Place Like Home

Well, I think I’m going to be fired soon, for real. People reported the details of a couple crash-outs, and me being a bitch to kids, or sharp toned. Who knows what all they complained about. Maybe I wasn’t doing a good enough job. But it was my best! Doh!!!

So wth am I going to do? First of all, find a new type of job, but what kind? Would it be possible, one that’s easier for more money? I think I tried teaching enough. But I also got in trouble at other (corporate) types of jobs for being myself. There’s no job like home.

So, there goes that. This is a hard time of year for me, like my mom said. She’s right. It is. I don’t know why. I’ve crashed out at several jobs at this time of year. At least I turned in good reports for them before they let me go. Hopefully they’ll still give me some kind of job reference. Like, hypothetically I’m still fit for other types of jobs, right? What kind, even? I’ve always been desperate, not chosey. I take the first one offered, and settle in a couple weeks after spending 1.5 years at a place, on average. I knew this was would go bad, though. I’m not what people want in a teacher. I’m just a person who’s barely surviving the psychic reality of 2006. Or the physical one. But I was showing up with shit for them to do, and interacting with them all day.

I guess we’ll see. :/

Tiny Victories My Amazon Prime Subscription was up on April 8th I chose to put it on hold I will probably never use it again though after 10+ years Goodbye, Auf Wedersein, Ciao It was so much harder to leave you than you’d think Dear John, I got so many good things from you You’re so convenient for me, shopping was cheaper with your discount of complicity, and I’ll miss that in material ways that I hope are worth it in the bigger picture that includes other people than me, that includes the whole world and an infinite future, where working, participating, and growing food happens locally, and progress happens locally, while peace spreads globally

I have more investments in the big tech and big America to shed More tiny benefits to relinquish Excuses are excuses I can’t because I need this until I don’t need it because I replace it with something local with a human face or faces. I was worshipping the god of convenience but the idol is getting smashed on cheap vodka and whiskey

Cheap friends

Expensive enemies

I might not get the best deals anymore delivered to my door like Santa Clause working year round, but I get to know that I escaped, for now. I escaped part of them, a part of it, despite logic saying, oh hush, the energy centers and slavery will happen no matter what you do Might as well get 30% off, but then my name is on the books.

It’s already on them. I’m already a flawed role model, if anything. I bought and sold and mixed and mingled with the lowest shelf liquors. and I paid for that sin with misery, like Iran said on social media, a living hell What did they mean by that? What do they know about our particular hell and living it? Do they really know or do they bluff? Men don’t know about suffering, they’re bluffing, but they hit the nail on the head with the missle either way, it’s true it’s hell. Never being good enough, rat on a wheel for love.

I did have a magical poem to say in New York and Brooklyn and even way back in college, and it worked for sleep and all kinds of survival, to sum it up you can relax, you can love yourself, you can figure yourself, and accept everything, exactly the way it is JUST LIKE THIS, Not after it resolves or improves, but during it. Not with faith but logic, believing in the science of unconditional love. I repeated that to get through a lot of anxious hours.

does it still work when the problems spread out? Some information got in- about the world- about us and we’re guilty as carnivores eating carcasses and we’re done for, and we did it And we could stop it, but we don’t We say we can’t and someone laughs maniacally and church music starts

It still works It will work in any setting that you need to accept

because even if i run across that border while shots ring out, and i make it, somehow i have to leave people behind and then i have to go back for them so there’s no use waiting until the trouble’s passed to relax, better to sleep here, in the trenches, meter by meter This plan has the longest range, the most control, but there’s nothing else now, at all

I hate to kill in the name of people already elimated but here we are

Goodbye, Google

it has to be done, it has to be done starve them, war of attrition

we go somewhere else we leave our ghosts it has to be done

it can’t be avoided we can’t stay here and we can’t stay there with our old lives our old needs

we have to simply leave them before they kill us and we don’t have weapons we only have to walk away

well, we might have to run and we might have to hide

we just have to rip ourselves free with our minds lose a limb, lose a lip we have to go or die blindly and leave them behind

and leave our old haunts and our networks and doctors and our stores and brands and cars it’s us who has to leave it they won’t leave us they’ll suck our blood dry

the illusion of stuck is real to a horse stuck in the mud no threats or bribes will move her no sweet talk no tug no beg

they’re waiting for us to leave this and we’re saying we can't

Friendly Intruder

I had a sweet dream about you, last night, old man I crept into and onto your porch, I crept into your house cuz I needed to sleep, and it was cold outside, and I laid in the corner and hoped you didn’t hear me come in. Other people showed up, I don’t remember who, could have been family I wasn’t mad at them, but they woke you up and you came out, and found me sleeping on the floor on my coat To just let me rest a little longer, old sir And I’ll hurry on my way as soon as I can, maybe now

I often dream about entering other people’s houses. Sometimes I need a shortcut, and their house is on its path. Sometimes I’m just curious.

What kind of person wouldn’t yell at scream at a stranger who came right into their house to sleep in the entry room? What kind of resigned, gentle soul wouldn’t be afraid of that? In any case, he wasn’t, and I snuggled back down on my coat. If I close my eyes, he can’t see me.

Real Goals for the Rest of My Life

Regain balance and fitness (do physical therapy exercises) Be able to do yoga again Walk without pain or discomfort Have a flat belly again Feel strong

Call mom and dad at least once per week Pay off my (small) loans

That’s it

I’m not a great teacher because my students get high scores on tests (they don’t). I’m a great teacher because I’m good at writing to describe and quantify behavior. I could quantify your behavior at the drop of a hat. I can quantify my own behavior. And I do.

I’m not a great teacher because I never yell at kids. I’m a great teacher because I expect them to yell at me. I’m a great teacher because I can delegate shit. But mostly because they know I love them

Just like this: criminally minded deliquents Drops of rain just falling wherever I don’t promise success or even tomorrow I acknowledge I’m not particularly loyal or dependable I call earning “bribes and threats” They know I’m not perfect

I’m not a great teacher I’m a great writer

and lover of the unclaimed luggage.

This morning I worried Since I said I want Iran to get some hits in Since I said I’m glad China is still getting through the pass Since I said I want us to lose

I thought, (imagination providing unnecessary anxiety) What if they come to pick me up? Like, I wake up and there’s a man or woman (more convincing) in my house, in the penumbra and they say, You can come with us now, it’s the revolution to fight You’ve been talking about, and we need you. For some specific reason, we noticed you and we are recruiting you to the armed forces of proletariat, or something “Will you everything and come with us?”

What about my dog and cat? They can’t come. Then I can’t come.

You’ve got the wrong person. I just want to post online while other people risk their lives. I want too see flames without throwing the cocktail. I can’t bare leaving my pets.

Then the recruiter laughs bitterly, YOUR PETS! Ah, little American brat, pets are nothing. I lost my pets as par for the course Wait till you see the children you love, and your parents blown up by the enemy. Pets are nothing. We have dead pets everywhere where I come from Pets are lucky if they survive but most won’t Come with us, now.

I can’t come with you! I have pets! I can’t disappear from my students or my family, they won’t understand. They won’t believe it. And they shouldn’t. You’ll have to kidnap me to take me, and I don’t want it. I’ll stop posting shit online. I’ll stop rooting for Iran, China, and the other “enemies” of the West. Because I’m not a sleeper cell, I’m a shitty American at heart, no guts, no brains, just a straw man. Goes up in flames from one arrogant cigarette improperly disposed.

It wasn’t easy to face our class yesterday, when I came back after the weekend plus a personal day on Monday. Tom was still very mad about how I’d been mean and called him bratty. I said I wish I could do the whole day over. I’d do it totally differently. I’m sorry I was mean and said you were being bratty. So, I’m sorry, you know.

Yeah, said Tom, with smug relief, You’d better be, he said, and his eyes lit up, met mine a little bit, grateful, hopeful, then flitting away, rocking in his seat, drawing something incredible.
You’ll have to, ah, give me another chance to try to work on not yelling when I’m feeling sick or not up to everything. He had some idea it had to do wtih my parents, or something I didn’t understand, but he said clearly, but you still can’t do that, even if “something” or my parents are sick. I didn’t realy understand but it was in front of the whole class and my job was to listen and model apologizing, not seek a logical narrative. Everybody let us move on, so I’m grateful for that. Speaks to the trust we’ve built already as a group. First thing in the morning, I let him glare at me a little bit. I was in a totally different space than last Friday, when I “lost my temper” being scary teacher. After seeming like I was a nice teacher (that was one of Tom’s complaints last friday, I thought you were NICE!). When my teammates said, and he said, you were mean, I agreed right away. I am mean. I can be mean. I was being out of control when I started yelling back at them (because I was sick) NOT an excuse, Tom! I agree. Let’s both agree on that being fair. It’s not an excuse to be mean (yell at) people when you’re sick, or break the computer or window, but it’s much more likely to happen. That’s a timeline of scientific facts, ma’am or sir.