today, DR told me that he would be teaching me this new technique of "moving toward" to replace my instinctual "running away". it sounded all swell at the time, i moved quickly passed the contradiction-laden patting of back he did regarding my most recent escape, a lengthy endeavor, but by far my grandest runaway yet.
then i saw the trailer for moonrise kingdom and stepped in the "shit of life" that DR used to say i had on me...realized "moving toward" as opposed to "running away" will never exist for me you or any of the thems, these motions are inseparable. you can walk back and forth muttering to yourself and call this movement because it is. you can even turn this particular movement into a three thousand mile trip to a russian doll eversummer. i did.
sitting on the floor of an east village living room, this guy asks me if i am a witch. he had just given me a shot of pure juiced ginger, and told me to drink it real slow. in the raw juice bar downstairs. i drank it slowly, as advised. slow like i could do then, weak from self-starvation, fast only came while possessed by wicked bouts of mania induced by no phantoms yet known to me. i thought about the shot of ginger before i replied to his question. it made me feel more in the slow duration of intake than i had felt cumulatively in the same month. this individual had poisoned my skin with tingles, locked my jaw in digestion of dynamic flavor, i don't know of no word for what my tongue would say if it could speak. i answered, "no, but it would be easier if i were," suspecting juice of magic with a scientifically damaged mind.
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