Bitch Goddess Revelation: A Story of Forgetting

I give you this now as nothing special:
A story of forgetting,
A promise of all great things,
The sounds of a song beyond time,
The shining of some kind of light
That God never gave us.

But only God knows that
Even the Sun gets confused before Christmas.
I am ready to die even though I reject Him.
I've tried to bring joy to this life
To be a light inside this darkness,
But I remain at best a dim shade
Hanging halfway in the sky myself,
During the day my spiritual glow is not enough
To illuminate the facts of even
My own watery beginnings
Long frozen over.

Truth is,
My Earthen mother
My Leviathan father
Have run off together this time for good,
Dancing nude, ugly young again and wild lovers,
Shamefully happy.
They've finally succeeded in forgetting their children,
I cannot blame them for wanting to be younger.

Back then I was skinny and shiny
And everyone would look at me with proud lust,
Even my mommy
Even my daddy.

Truth is, I will never clean up my life, never be a pathway to love.
I have some surprises: I am not a virgin.
I was born with clay in my vagina and I spent my days
Squatting in a pit and pumping out children
Screaming with life.

If you look long enough into my eyes
I may want to to sleep with you.
Everyone says this and I believe it:
You didn't want to hit me and don't really hate me.
You didn't really mean it.
Even if you touch me now, one more time
I am trained to comfort you.
Sometimes you make me so angry I could kill you.
I moaned for two weeks next to your bed
Made tears on the floor
Stains in the carpet.

I refused to be your muse
And look where it got me:

I am now sexy heroin mamma, dirty little trash eater,
"Let's check the dumpsters again, and get something to eat."
I saw the day coming, when I'd become old banana skin,
Rotting in the dark light of our room.
"Will you still love me if I take your last dollar?"
"Shut up" I said, "and give me the pipe."

I am now stinky shriveled stick women,
"Why can't you remember my name? I told you a hundred times.
"The sun is coming out, you know, it'll be back soon,
And later we can watch a nice sunset. "

I am now lifeless hag on a stick, crippled stinking
Beer can woman, everyone hears my nightly beatings,
You gave me rides in the morning to buy booze,
You didn't mind enabling my destruction.

I know that sometime soon you will see me standing
Quiet and lovely, waiting in my young black hair,
Renewed with clear mud
You will know me better then,
Finally we will kiss and hold our arms together
Stomach to stomach, smiling into each other's eyes
Like real lovers and forget a little while
That my body is filled deep with clay,
The long time since we touched will be even longer.

Soon you will be with me and we wont have to worry,
Worry what our bodies look like
We'll be immune to the smells of aging
The stink of dissolution.
We will sing into our hearts
And make the earth hear us.
We will dance again
With our with mother and our father.

Bitch Water Preparation: Invocation
(enantiodromia)

Welcome back now
To the old wet beginnings.
We start again to how
It never was:
When mountains were not mountains
And water was not water
And all shapes were formless
When nothing was healthy and certainty was dying.
Welcome to the black clouds of massa confusa
Covering entirely Anima Mundi
Black waters flowing over maternal
Prima materia
From which everything had its first beginning.

Call in your thin, intellectual spirits
Timeless words and useless invocations
Gather up all 4000 years of your history
Bring in the body spiritualized
Bring in your stiff baby soul too pampered and paterinalized
To recognize that everything will be drowned
In Her black waters of imperfection.

This time, there will be no mistakes
There will be no mercy.
Mountains will no longer be mountains
And water will not be water
Everything you have known will be changed forever.
From here on out
All truths fall apart.
Expect nothing less than complete unhappiness.

Call in the old material flow of your being barely living
Turn inside out all of our own rotting soul receptacles:
Never to die, never to go away,
Always coming back again
In the messed-up that's implied
In all you that you don't know
About my feminine fluids.

Now that Luna is strongest
Now that nights are longest
Now we are farthest from the Sun
(though they may try
no one will ever squelch
our night time cults)
Moon will abandon you, take away her glow
Close up daytime shop
Break down the stage
Put away props
And prepare for your destruction.

Menorrhea Mamma will stop all your tomorrows
Take apart this dying day
Unravel the unorganized night sky
Break apart Time and the cycle of days
The terminal patterns of yonic deification.
No more time for Gods, only smelled up liquids,
Stenchy crotches rotting eternal.

All of us whom you have not met,
Have been living in rage in the dark wet of uncomfortable
In here swims the first set of untrained females
Scheduled for doom and disbelief,
An entire ensemble of unrestrained
Cellular babe structures
Witnesses and participants of all this dumb fuck drama
Our asses sticking up through the mud,
Poking through the membranes of all lost girliness:

Tonight we disassemble skin, sweat, and vaginal lust.
Tonight, it's been decided
You cannot return
You cannot go back to your family.

We call now for Mother
Tell us the way
Lead us now
Into Her temptation
And deliver us
Into all evil.

Early Beginnings - the Bitch Goddess Sermons:
Removal of the Mask & The Widsom of All Futilities

I started this thing with lots of currency
Admiring my own firm booty
And my own pretty eyes and my hot young lips.
I made myself look good and had lots of energy
Until the day came when I was deemed ugly
And they took away my skirt
They took away my shoes and cut my cute hair
They tore off my mask
They shamed me daily with public scrutiny.

I'm pretty sure now all I know is destruction.
Every time I turn my head and stop paying attention,
Blood rises in my cheeks and heats up my heart.
Pagan history shows its head and reassert itself.
The pure instinct of desire starts slobbering
Over an apple or my vagina
I begin choking on seeds and lose all my hair.
I contribute to moral decay and the breakdown of families
I embody spiritual vacuity and think the worst thoughts,
Because I can
Because somebody needs this job
Because someone's got to do it.

I reject all beauty and hate pretty things
I destroy the flower and eat wilted petals.
I burn lipstick and tear up my panties.
I throw away all affections from my mother and father
I eat all their words.
I fabricated meaningful relationships.
I built a family from air and sincere wishes
And then destroyed it for pure pleasure.
I gave my love to the sky and was rejected
Impregnated with air and bloated with hurt
Completely occluded from family inclusion.
All my friends got married and I stayed in the bathroom
Staring at the tiles and the vomit in the toilet.
I stayed up all night and lost my childhood
Prematurely aborted and all cells evaporated.

I left my friends and siblings and went into the desert.
I learned to drink from the sand and eat from the bush.
I was placed at the bottom of the cross and missed all crucifictions.
I took out my tampons and put away my fashions.
My soft cheeks and pouty red lips dried up
And I became pure destruction.
All of this and nothing.
All of this and nothing.

Notes of a Native Dude

Apparently, a linguist has deciphered the term 'dude'. Found in this news article. )

I remember watching Fast Times at The Movies in Victorville growing up a young desert dude. That and Purple Rain - in fact watching them both with a load of other dudes and dudettes. Seeing and hearing Spicoli use the term reified my own till then unconscious solidarity with the term - aterm which both defined me and allowed me to communicate with my speech community. Having had the world validated now as part of the larger social structure, that word definitely became part of my vocab for a long long time. I was a dude. It was a term of identity and endearment, a multipurpose word that could express a wide range of emotions without seeming uncool or having to say very much. "Awww, dude, you OK?" "Dude, you're one sick freak." "Dude! Careful." "Dude, pass the bong." Just using the term instantly included you in a culture, a place, an identity.

When I moved north to San Jose I noticed that it was used less, perhaps because the Bay Area is notorious for its high falutin cultural & intellectual aspirations (though some people, such as those who lived closer to the coast, still flagrantly and unashamedly used it). Using dude identifed you as a loser, a street scruff, a surfer stoner, a decidely non intellectual. It suggested a lower class, younger, uneducated, perhaps even intentionally affected surfer type dumbmness, a pose of dude ineptitude. Looking to move up in the world, I shed the term in hopes of becoming more mature, more refined, more cultured, and pretty much banished it from my vocabulary through grad school, as I perfected my wanna be educated, professorial voice.

Moving to Spain furthered my estrangement from the word, mainly because no one where was going to get it. while I realized that all cutlures have such a word. In Barcelona, for adults the word was "hombre" (man), which was used much like dude. For teens, it was "tio" which was uncle. E.g., "Que pasa, tio?" (S'up, dude?) or "Aaaaaa la, tio, que va? (Duuuuuude, what's up?)

After coing back to the US and moving on in my career and life, and having gradually sloughed of my pseudo intellectual persona by leaving academia, I unepectedly returned to the word (or it had found me, a linguistic prodgial son welcomed home with open arms and fatted up calves) after having not used it for almost a decade. I don't know why or how, but one day I gave in and just used it among a group of meat head jock dudes, and it felt like home - though I had no affintiy with these bruisers. Using dude in California gave me access social groups of men I would otherwise have nothing to say to - or even be admitted to. I could dude with my bros, real or social, bro-down with the homies, my peeps, and chill with all good dudes. Using it identified me as a Californian, a home dude, a native dude, a man from this land of the coast and mountains and desert, the promised land where all dudes prosper. I still use it, proudly, despite any pretensions I may have beyond my own white trash origins. I'm a dude, you're a dude, you're all dudes, we're all dudes. I have accepted my dudeness, and I am well! Bitchen, dude!

DUDES!!!