space

and portability, and the body as micro-environment

idk i probably need to go back and read more jay prosser abt the trans body as home as un/achievable

and obv i’m rereading house of leaves and. fixating some on mental doorways and emotional hall(o)ways and. echoes and sounding out invisible boundaries and the sublime as the edge of us by which we know ourselves

and idk, queer theory crap about death and sex and obliteration of self, the same hooks that always catch me

and consciousness and multiverse and un-world and bleeding into each other and alpha timelines and realities

heh. my crazy.

compiled my portable practice of witchery for visiting the dubiously safe childhood home, and it’s basically just tarot, some rocks found with good company, a resolution to light candles and sing

i’m hoping to nurture inside me the space that i need?

for i have ping-ponged around so much trying to shake loose the awful doll-inertia that sets in every base i access.  and mourned so many spaces like a piece of me.  far more than people, even my external hard drives.

fff.  space.  and holiness.

eta: i did a spread and got fortune for blood fam, three of cups for chosen fam, and queen of void for space. heh.  very apropos.

(picture a jet-black card with a raised texture, tangible, that tilted to catch the light just so, reveals a martini party in the desert, glasses all empty, host holding a mask-face away from the blank ripples where face should be.)

(emptiness becomes us, yes?)

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