SAN FRANCISCO LOCK DOWN TIL 7 APRIL: MARCH 17; DAY ONE:
i feel an odd calm. like this is what i’ve been waiting for in regards to other shoes dropping. my rediscovery of KPOO 89.5 brought me back from the dead a decade ago, and they’re gonna keep me in the game.
DJ Marilyn Fowler was what Lalita at Fragrance Shop NY, where i get my kitten lopez custom perfume made to protect all this NEW me out in the world, she’d told me a decade ago as my career and life and WORLD were dying before my very eyes, she said, people like me were necessary when things were bad and we’re underground in bunkers from all this.
when i was on a cross country tour and saw what’d come of america, i knew it was Over. but the party seemed to just be getting started.
so this feels real. lock down. no money. irrelevant, detached markets finally crashing from the potempkin village b.s that IS america now.
so lock down feels like what i felt and saw inside is finally OUTSIDE.
and people like Marilyn, Petunia, and me– all the ones who’re used to getting our heads smashed and flushed down toilets—THIS IS WHAT WE ARE MADE FOR: riding crazy times like these like maverick waves.
Marilyn reminded me complicated girls like us know how to spend time alone inside from the rain making up our own worlds to dance with the real natural and mystically magic world as WE saw it.
so we got this.
it’s time for you all who’re struggling to befriend the formerly suicidal. we are the ones who can help guide and escort you past the graveyard you don’t wanna whistle PAST anymore. pay attention.
so this feels like lockdown when i was young and forced or tricked into group homes or foster homes or when i was punished for not being easily controlled like the other kids. i WANTED to be on “level 3” and isolated alone with my sketchbook at the bad kid table so’s i could draw write and PLAN my future once i was “of age” and out from under the control of crazy grown ups who had fucked up lesbian cheating dramas.
and i was the “bad” kid.
i’ve been here many times before.
and thus i am glad i have been cogitating on how to “own the means of production” and go the OPPOSITE way of the internet/global world and try and become an expert at something you have to come to ME to get. you can’t race me to the bottom regarding price because no one can DO what i aim to do now. it was killed out by industrialization.
i’m going back to another type of thinking that will try and use local made fabric if possible. learn to be brilliant with less. not with mass crap.
so i’m using these 3 weeks of stasis as the perfect opportunity like forced study and plotting scheming and art work and FOCUS.
this time is a gift. a time of catching one’s breath before the “re-set.”
i fear “regular people” because they are weak and will try to continue whistling past graveyards even as people who’ve been buried alive are screaming, ringing bells attached to strings tied to their stones.
so we’re on our own now.
i aim to research a way of getting others involved locally, beyond just stores. how do i work with gym trainers who might help get clients? how do i come up with archaic ideas to help us regular po’ folks so’s others don’t make money off us, but we learn to create and support our own collective underground artistic ECONOMIC movement?
how do we rely on ourselves and each other in a country that was locked down ALREADY on us in regards to the rich owning everything and renting it back to us?
i don’t know HOW yet.
i only know that women like Marilyn from KPOO, Petunia from wolfstreet, and me… we are superhero sex goddesses MADE for this shit.
i’m writing this diary of the lockdown to INSPIRE others who might be suspecting they are the same things. be it gods GODS or Gods (words have many differnent meanings to ME. like “white people” or “white girls” –and i’m going BACK to spanish with a small “s” as a fuck you to this LatinX bullshit. it reminds me of new york when i was wild and free and guys b-boyed in the streets every do da DAY).
so good luck at hunkering down and remembering you’re HUMAN.
i actually hope to help pray and pull the BEST of what i miss about humanity, back OUT of people.
the quiet the wonder the IMAGINATION…
everything’s different. / don’t waste your energy trying to pretend it’s not.
be beautiful sweet and young and idealistic and romantic…
this is the TIME. we desperately need NEW voices of love power fighting and kindness…
it’s a new era. everything is DIFFERENT.
can’t you feel it?
we artists creatives lovers… good luck. dare to be mad beautiful and embarrass yourself by carting too damn much.
Marilyn thanks for the stripper music.
you all check out KPOO 89.5 or stream from their .com site.
rediscover real people again. fuck the computer algorhyms of clear channel or corporate media jamming shit in your head. this is serious pensive time.
like we’re all in prison.
and yeah, Petunia… like you, this all feels a little too “pat” as a story plot line being conveniently jammed into my head. and like you, i’ll also “go with the narrative …for NOW.”
but i’m plotting and scheming on the low about many different layers and tendrils i won’t write here. fuck, they’re already using this corona virus shit to hack into your magic PHONES to see who you were near.
back to analogue, you all. analogue and looking into eyes and reading minds in this surveillance state. don’t become and believe the shtick you play during the day. it’ll be at your peril.
use this time to reconnoiter. know yourself and what YOU believe about anything. especially the value of your own and OTHERS’ lives.
everything’s different. i KNOW you can feel it.
time to try new shit, envision a New World. even and ESPECIALLY if it’s on the low. because we are very very much on our own now. us po’ folks i mean.
the ones who aren’t getting kind SALARIES during this time. we’re so on our own, even i have no idea how bad. only i can feel it…
things feel normal to me when shit is out in the OPEN. i’m shit at pretending.
and you don’t have to be miserable. / i laugh til i pee or cry. well, my chocha muscles are strong but my eyes leak tears of happiness or sadness at any given time.
la la la…
we are little girls and boys again in our homes. like how we all become children around our parents.
besos… don’t waste this TIME. / this is a once-in-a-lifetime moment. don’t waste it…
this is a stop button so you can catch your breath before it all starts up. it’s like the halt button on the stock exchange to keep things from crashing.. but it doesn’t REALLY.
however YOU have to know your story going forward before they all TELL YOU FOR YOU. like how biden was somehow fucking passed off as a great idea instead of the warmed over obama leftovers because they apparently didn’t finish what they started when they gave our houses back to the banks and no one went to jail but everyone wants to kill the poor little white boy who hoarded 17,000 cases of sanitizer. he was just being AMERICAN!
doing what’s been done to us with the praises of our tiny little puny “gods”. gods in quotes is a joke, by the way.
shit’s gonna get bad. money’s cheap and the rich are gonna buy up whatever little we have left and rent it back so we can fight for our lives with uber drivers with no unemployment insurance or social security, whose legs are going numb.
think up a new WORLD with this time to stop and think. put down the magic phones. no good ideas there.
this is all just a prayer. my diary. my own focusing…
now to work for ME…. 10:30am is my start time.