Hearing Gods

Tuesday, February 21, 2006
I need to bring this discussion out into the forefront

Goodday: I wish to announce myself:

Widsom is known by her actions...Matthew 11...to what can i compare this generation? they are like children sitting in the market-places and calling out to other:

"we played the flute for you,
and you did not dance;
we sang a dirge,
and you did not mourn."

For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, 'he has a demon.' The Son Of Man came eating and drinking and they say, 'here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and "sinners".'
But wisdom is proved right by her actions...

If I could explain...

She painted me, as I sat...'when she picked up the knife, I told her...I asked her why...she was there...why she was there but not REALLY there, when she could have been...

I have been praying in 'pigeon' hebrew...

the only way to relax was to hear someone play a harp song, in another flat...while I tried to sleep, the words 'rightful heir'...came into my head, while the neighbour was watching TV upstairs...

And then someone said, we are getting you both out, and I could see bags being packed...

do you have an address so that i can send my books for safer keeping????'

Perhaps she painted me,

I carved a six-pointed Star onto a borrowed bed last night...

I threw myself on the floor looking under the bed for my phone, and then lay there, and cried.

My painting looks darker, I am affected by mood...call it German Expressionist...

I don't have a teacher...

I don't know who is holding my hand...

I saw a vision of a beautiful woman laying in bed, and conversations...with her...days before the stabbing/painting...

So, this week has been good and bad, and I'm so confused because I don't get advice...

I'm going to finish that painting, today...Doves painted with fear and misery, and love and confusion...

I won't tell you everything...

BUT, next time I hear someone FUCK in the name of....Y/J
and hear the word devil each time I paint...

Painting is not Iconoclastic...
And a name like that is not to be known......

I remember a house somewhere, where ther was singing to God, in a conservatory on a roof, and it was so uplifting and I cried, and wandered outside in the wind, where I had been shown tiles, painted with every country of the world on each one, more than one country on eaxch tile, facing in all directions...I stood in front of the tile with the word England on it, and tried to pray and cried...