Bus Life

Its been so long since I’ve written on here. I made another website cause I wanted something to show people without it being connected to sex. But now I’m stuck between the two, neither is my home. I have posted on the other site, but kept more recent stuff hidden. I wrote just on my desktop today. Just a dump of words. An expansion on the understanding of everything. I have been writing disjointed, unfinished dumps for a while as I have been otherwise occupied mentally. I decided to move back int the bus this winter and have spent the last few months prepping and moving out. Mom came to visit at the end of February and everything has been about moving since then. I have now been in the bus just over 3 weeks. And I feel lost and confused and disassociated. I mean, right this second as I write this I am having a massive wave of nausea and dizziness. I am listening to some Indian raga and have switched playlist about 10 times writing this paragraph. I am writing about writing and being confused as I don’t know why I am doing any of this. Why do I think? Who for? To what ends? Why do I synthesize the information and search for new ideas? Why haven’t I ever been able to stop thinking? What can I do with it all? Who could benefit from it? Who do I want to share it with and why? I asked ChatGPT to help me figure it out.

1. What initially inspired you to start philosophizing, creating art, and exploring sexuality?
2. How has your work evolved over the 25 years? Have there been any recurring themes or messages in your creations?
3. What aspects of your work do you find most fulfilling or meaningful?
4. How do you currently share your creations? Have you explored different platforms or methods for reaching a wider audience?
5. Are there specific goals or outcomes you hope to achieve with your work?
6. How do you envision your work making a positive impact, either on individuals or society as a whole?
7. In what ways do you feel your work could be more aligned with your values and intentions?
8. Have you considered collaborating with others or seeking mentorship to further develop your ideas and reach?
9. What would success look like to you in terms of your creative endeavors?
10. How do you feel your work contributes to your sense of identity and purpose?

Pretty good things for me to work through. I also know I have a backlog of content to create with. I could be creating with. But the idea of focusing and laying it out gets muggy, foggy. I want to do it all. But I also feel like if I am gonna be focusing on something, I should be putting energy into things that might/should make me money like work or creating content. Being in the bus was supposed to make doing it all easier. Do something hard so I do more, as sitting at home doing nothing was too easy. But I am tired, And sore. And not eating as I would want. I am smoking too much. I am not walking enough. But I have had some big and interesting posture/mechanical development. I feel an alignment on my left side that I have been told is my vagus nerve. It would make sense. I am feeling a lot more at the moment. And I don’t like it. Like I have real time access to the information in that nerve. Its making my left leg and hips look good. Almost like a real body! Its also done something in my shoulders and feet. Really actually made big physical progress since I’ve been back out. Mostly cause its kinda all I can do. I think also I am overwhelmed with Dad retiring, me being 40 this year, my Aunts being gone, not having worked it so long, not having patterns or routine. It feels like all the plates are spinning. And in the house it was so calm and so simple and at least one thing was stable for me to relax into to.

I had to think over what word to use and as I thought of stable, I realized in the house, I felt I was able to be what was stable when I was in the bus and everything else was moving. I do feel that I am, compared to me previously, I am just feeling it. And its hard. Not collapse in bed and give up, hard. Not, unable to cope. But staying coping is a full time endeavor. Not leaving me time for art, writing, thinking and moving in the way I had hoped. And yes, I know, as I am saying that…it has only been three weeks. I am still learning, settling in, its the busiest time of year and there are people everywhere, I am also reaching new heights in ecstatic dance and the community that is giving me lots of feelings and validation I am not used to. It is a duality of informational input. But I was so cut off, so sensorily contained, I didn’t realized that is why it was all so smooth. Just existing in reality, not in my bubble, is a full time experience. Constant stimulation. Now however i don’t have to narrativize the sensation. I just know I am feeling it. I don’t need to tell a story that takes me to a previous pattern that opens up hard emotions and memories. I can just accept what is real in the moment and how it feels. Not narrativize it. Not tell a story about what is happening in order to feel more. A good or bad experience and feeling, doesn’t have to lead into a story of what it means about me. That process somehow allowed me to not feel the direct thing but use it to enforce things I already thought I knew about me. I have this statement now “I need to find out how I really feel.” That is a lot of emphasis on the I. Cause there is a deep me inside, one that does feel things directly, and has wants and needs that is very hard to hear. The outer me, the coping, the defenses, the reaction is so used to getting my attention I have to make a point of emphasizing that I am trying to hear what I ACTUALLY want underneath that. Doing the right thing for me isnt always the thing that feels good and that is hard to remember or accept. A good example is the “fuck it, I’ll get take out” idea. One afternoon I had been on a drive and had some revelation about doing the right thing for me or something, and to celebrate I said “fuck it, I’ll get a take away”. But immediately a voice inside me said, “but what about the food you need to cook?”. I had all the veg to make a nice bolognase to last me a week in the fridge and I think I had had them too long already and was feeling bad about putting off making it. And I realized, what i REALLY wanted, was to cook the food for me. Take out was a quick fix. A dopamine rush. A frivolous connection to make, doing something that isn’t “good” for me (money, cooking needed to be done) to celebrate something actually good cause it is conceptually exciting, not physically and mentally satisfying and calming. Really. Was the inner me so tired of feeling bad every time I opened the fridge or got hungry and snacked that she forced the outer me to do what I said I was going to, for me?! Its that regulated inner nervous system that is speaking to me. It is me hearing my vagus nerve.

What if feeling, reality in the moment, means I can’t think? I think, therfore I am. So letting go of thought and moving into knowing is a letting go of self. The stories dont matter. Only the vibration you experience and exude. Words arent needed. So what is the point in me trying to communicate something creatively?! Who do I want to speak to? What do I have a drive for? What do I really want?

Who am I now I am not the bubble lady? How do I really want to spend my time?