Tag: Sociologist (Pereseasonal Quakes w/ Mental Disability + N-TBI.)

I’m sitting here wondering why
Spectral is the font I’ve been
Choosing to write in.
Type in.
As if I’m a chauvinistic cheat.
Unwrapping,
And the old-geezers of ogog-lore
Always call me
“You’re very old school.”

How many pioneer and amish dishes
Must I cook.
To lay to waste my age,
In all it’s modernity.
A Screaming Alexandria
And another brits folks
That took a trip across the pond or born in the pond.
But sing like the pond.
And my bed is the pond.

Feet starting to get wrinkled – they didn’t get wet.
Just been doing laundry.
I talk about Laundry Day so much.
With so much anticipation, even knowing it’s
Some of my best mundane work.
Writing mundane work.
I’ve talked about stoves being only about 30-40 years in regularity.
Well 67, or the default-chinese-age of still calling myself
68 because 0-1 goes heavy
In asian-youth
And the closest I got are Irish or Dominican Native.
Depending if we speak Upanishad around anyone.
Looking at what we culturally discriminatorily think of phonies
That speak the common core stuff
Even the spain-spanish stuff is so new.
And I’m thinking of my apartment in Valencia.
Sometimes still finding photos of my art in
Some new uploads
Graffiti they left in my old hand-built train stalls.
Smoothing liquid granite.
A tough job.
A more enjoyable job than Laundry Day.
And more technical difficulties and storms knockingout
Or saying some sassback and inevitably seeing my blindly-trusted-figure
In my life.
Break the fucking machine.
Before my eyes or behind em.
I heard it.
Machinist talk.
And everyone here was a blender salesman and vocational career aesthetics found in the military and community and military/civilian community
The married counterparts.
I was deployed so much when I was married and didn’t do that.
And rejected it.
Still accosted and hated it.
When it’s no-wives.
And I’m the only wife that shows up.
Their starving kids malutrish-
And I decide to cook something that’ll beef em up with nutrients to last
6 months
And they would never do laundry this way.

Like their generational ancestory.
Didn’t carry the vigs to the river.
Doesn’t know how to use a washboard which is pansy shit.
Rocks – you didn’t soak them and they’re concrete stubs not river rock?
You can’t pick one up 3 feet into the soak?
Oh my… this one’s gonna have many kids and get married quick.
A sad wash and your hair tarnished forever.
By all that crag, brag, and sediment.
Tary on tarny phony.

And Me Washing Clothes at Home or in The River was actually my life
In America, North Carolina.
Another subset of America.
I didn’t have much laundry day while I was deployed.
Oh Camis.
I only get to wear out on the outs.
And even then.
Wash my clothes in those giant european square sinks which are just sinks
But basin-sinks and high-luxury anywhere in America
But like cheap in the rest of the world.
I like bowl-toppers they make sense.
Good for washing your face.
Chili pepper in the eye – go soak.
And I look at the stacks of my folded clothes.

I wash my clothes once e.very 1-2 months and {itsa} problem every time.
Someone perusing and investigating what’s in my fucking bin.
And it discompels. Me.
3 months in.
And I lose to tyranny.
And downess.
And depression.
And hate my fucking life.
“I hate my fucking life.”
And anyone I blindly trust into seeing-not-seeing
Is concerned
And I feel I’m treated badly.
Defending myself.
For cleaning my shit and my own mess in an efficient and time orderly way.
It takes less than 10 hours.

And the wet-wrungs on a bloated load of bullshit
And threats to broken machines when IT was broken purposely a few months ago
For attention.
I’ll never understand that.
Do damage for attention. Cali-White-Girl-Happy Dialect I learned out there.
And it. Does not. Call to me.
To be that way.
White-girlness aside, I’m simply not.
No Cascadian here.
But other girls just like you – do this too.
It’s a sentiment to ur bland.
And block me is a prayer blessing.

I always wonder how they show up in shows
And like pop up on their boyfriend
That isn’t their boyfriend and the not-boyfriend
Never gave you them their address.

[and it was a 90s thing on TV that black-people always asked for an address. THE NORMAL WAY??? I think about this constantly and white boiesrowdydowdyhomies laugh and just look so distant and happily-hurt in their placement bc they can’t change their race and committed decades to being Irish and not Dominican bc we left Miami in 86’ ShitSHowIndeed.]]] (Asians are Black, I’m Js. First Civs since Africa bc Africa was part of Eurasia then. HMMPPHHHH… moving on. ESNB Shit an’ all.)))) =/] [you can’t lie that being able to walk every divide between Africa, Asia, and “The Middle East” aka Arabia… is pretty close. Like Morroco and Spain. Defiremenae mea . I’m js.] {Colorism Swap-Hiding + Code_Switching: I’m talk about this soon. Bc a lot of people “are a different thing” depending on the area they’re living in. “I’m not Mixed, I’m Hispanic.” I’ve never asphyxiated myself so violently via bonghit and only 3 people here Chino-Latino DowntownBrownTown-as-Hell; but 2 raised with the culture and 1 lives the culture while uc for the DEA. oh my, I heard that show related to Jacksonville. -__- that’s literally the older brother kid in my grade that sells everyone weed and gets arrested all the time and he’s the same dude and he got the same rodentmarsupialyass street-name. Miso Honey, indeed my guy. The jUniORS say HOney. With yo animal tribe. How dare you call me a Chipmunk in the Cuckoo Nest you piece of shit. All love homie. This next section is about you! And yo counterparts (my counterparts.) 🫶🏼 -Sam thinking in Ed.Note;.]]]].}

I remember drunken y’allternative aplacements of drinking
The shining40 out the bag of your dad’s or dad-figures’ place.
A safe, harmonious place to digress thine culture here Native-Brother.
And the sanctity to sacrimonity feels more
Placent than
A animal house of dumbasses
And what tis sacred.
Amen, the leggo-me-yolkos of hard boiled
Morning times. [would thoust like an egg in these fortuitously difficult to melancholic-misanthropic {hum hum don’t steal my shit underthebreath} times?]
Tell me thine relationship issues.
For why is brother at the club when his bitches would most certainly be coming into his shopping plaza realty license failed my parole board again – vibes.

Tis may not make sense.
But I’m always Han soaked.
Apparently vividly to semi-violently forehead sunburned
And tan lined
To what is very tan now
And what has never been white is snowy
Cancer tummy.
And eternal pregnancy tummy.
Took me out of menopause.
I’m gonna shit kites.
And I just enjoy my alzheimers and dementia a little more.

Ah womanhood – apparently I’m not good at it.
A standard of most women I’ve met that just like sued and adopted
Some ex’s children and their children
Are not theirs and they’ve never had one biologically.
Alright ur part of the “fuck-every-witness-one-meets.” generation.
To coocky-girls.
Hmph. [they meet them all like over the age of 10 and the judge is always their uncle…grrrllllll lemme tell ya’ now honey. Even for some in the same category.. Dem kids know you isn’t ain’t not their damn mamma. Let alone their mammy or mum. Biiiihhhh… grrl tripping they only got this single daddy’s number. [and that’s a Elder Lesson for the Non-Cascadians Permypermutations. Ya get the lingo and if you don’t you don’t know how black people talk. Asians are black in NEw YOrk too, I’m js. Blasians be mad proud, and that’s what everyone called me back in the day. Cancer steal some ya color and war take some of et away, in the healthiness… Vitilism is a thing. It ain’t Vitiligo – that’s Colorism Injections. Otherwise; old souls turn pale like the hair turns grey. It should. Be proud you’ve been around or { busy=working+hard.} stressed out enough to earn em. “Don’t rip em out that that that now is filipinoshit and ur gonna why ya ain’t gotta much density follicully one day dontcha? Probably now..” I’ll always remember that. That was my Vitilism Lesson by a Black Native. “I’m Korean-Black.” Ah, you do get it.
Thank you.
And he ended up being my middle school bus driver in 2011 like he was the first time in 1957 when I speed-wayed my way through as a Class of 56’ Member for the MarineCorpsSystemsIn.c. and the FBI. Umbrellas, mine are always Purple.
I’ll leave it at that, Airmen.]]]

I don’t mean to change in empithets.
Non-Binary Woman in all that can be
Degradated.
It’s a military-term.
To be registered Non-Binary.
And correctly assigned Female at Birth.
Sex, not Gender and even the Gender says Genderless.
In my complaints.
I chose Co-Ed. Dorms.

I didn’t want to be alone in a perpetual grounds shack my whole life.
And have peer talks with my combattants and mentors.
And it did me pretty well.
i ‘ve worked male-dominated careers my whole life.
And Now I’m Director.
And it works out.

Just sucks when the only people who can blindly track you down.
Or peruse Attic-Grate-Mans studs ands
Watches me with popcorn.

Leave the launder-water on the floor.
It’ll dry and make the room smell well.
Stacked haney-haneys.
That’s how much I understand Men.

It still has the fluid and launder-chemicals to dry quickly.
Gardenia & BloodOrange+Ginger.
Why go to rosebucks to buy the fragrance oil.
Scientists of the Scene made that 1-2 spritz only.
It’s not always for herbal usage.
I never buy wax cubes.
I just tear out the hull of the burned out bottom
With the perpetual butter knife that sitz with dry erase markers
I never use.
No plans.
No views.
No texts.
No friends.
Fuck family.

Well I suppose I do have quite a bit of in-laws by peradventure. [to be catty about it and how secrets are.]
I didn’t know you guys were related until I was over 50.
You and your Affairs.
And my thoughts internal pouring on digital page.

I rather let the wet
Folded clothes.
And half, whole, quarter and third
Of woven throw and towels
And gifted old sweeneyshrillshores towel
Dry.
And my stacked black haney haneys.
Mosaia of Undies.
And tank top a few that are left.
I see most are gone and I remember the one given away.
Stop stealing my clothes.
They don’t look good on you.
I suppose that’s what you like about yours. [mormontreasuretroves..sigh. I don’t get it. There’s no power in making me feel ill of my existence and disrespected. “There goes the Italian part now…” No there goes the perpetually-poor way looking for dismal sacntity of peace and 5 minutes alone, but that’s scary talk isn’t it for people i don’t know or don’t enjoy nor like even a little bit. Not my crowd but you’re always here and I don’t ask you to leave most days. Anyways. It’s just thievery.]

If everyone else is doing it, why can’t I?

You choose to be mean, imaginative in ways to catch attention
And I am the perpetual Wolf.
Lan Villalobos.
The puppies never stop grouping around me.
I did not let them be guppies for long.

Never try to earn affections of a
Forensicist.
To Forensic Psychologists.
Everyone here did Blood Spatter?
And everyone fights watching the old seasons.
Jesus I forgot about that; the first time you proposed and I said no.
You didn’t recognize me, neighbor.

The Girl Next Door’’
Had a different name then, even working the way up the force.
No Legalities, but identification provided. [primed.xx.3.]
I think how I fold wet laundry’and lay it all out on the surface
Or make my bed
Or prine the playlist algorithm
Is more identifiable to my originesentown
Than a CAC Card.

You;d know that wound’t you?