Tag Archives: southern california

Trigger Imprint: Birthing Illumine, Drive-Ins + Feminist Pictures

30 May


Movies, life situation: it’s a durational arc.

Trigger.  The picture.

Someone had said, the word Feminist -it really triggers me – He had said, I mean is this something new you are doing or is this you all along.

This is his truth, a reveal. This is his highest Good: this is what he can offer.

And I have no interest in changing, converting a fixed sign. But I can do receive, receive and communion.

I see things in circles, a consistent back-stitch. Looping back, and moving forward again. Weaving the self in.

The answer is both. It’s who I was, and I am. My words are the core of me. Take it or no.

Heated is not hard, we can discuss. We can also talk quietly, getting-to-know. Even in disagreement, we can hold calm space. Does not have to be heated, it’s just a transmission. And you did put some coolant in before we took off for soul food, so we should be good.

On the phone, I had said, I want to see your face when you say it, what do you mean exactly?

I had said it is not a war, my connect with Feminism, it is an assessment of systems. There are things in place. Yeah, in the picture. This is what I see.


Of all the books to reach for, he located

on my case by his own cue,

the RE-Search Anthology Angry Women 

pulled it out

and didn’t say a thing. I might have begun the conversation then, but we were busy sharing music, then, and he had said,  you have a nice voice. 

I showed him how to do an exquisite corpse, but it got all fucked up. Drawings on opposite sides of the paper. Gravely funny, but I’ll miss becoming friends.


There was road and he was driving, and yes my battery was down,

and I was down with it, when he was talking about his vision:

– gonna do art again, he said, and I joked, maybe you’ll play the flute!  He had called me out, saying, see I was open in telling you something and you teased me. I did, but it was kind play. I was in on the tip, feeling supportive, way to the top, friendly high note yeah, and I’m human with my words, meaning.

Meaning, mean is not my arrow. So, shoot me.


This blog has been a God send. This blog, yes, a new coming to writing. A return. A life line. Yes, a birthing. The response has been amazing. Men and women have emailed me, fb me, even called me saying they connect. Not a bitallion, but a river; a sweet stream. Yes, it is about transmission, about the connect. Yes, there is strong language.

Helene Cixous, Coming to Writing:

All I can say is that this “coming” to language is a fusion, a flowing into fusion; if there is an “intervention” on my part, it’s a sort of “position,” of activity – passive, as if I were inciting myself: “Let yourself go, let the writing flow, let yourself steep; bathe, relax, become the river, let everything go, open up, unwind, open the floodgates, let yourself roll…”

A practice of the greatest passivity. At once a vocation and a technique.

The mode of passivity is our way – really an active way – of getting to know things by letting ourselves be known by them.

You don’t seek to master. To demonstrate, explain, grasp. And then to lock away in a strongbox. To pocket a part of the riches of the world…


Oh snap, and I’m birthing hieroglyphics.

Double trigger. Yes, consider it dually.

Like attracts like, they are vibrationally twinned. Angry Woman, yeah, and ask her to drive you, submissive. Bros b/f hoes, but that’s none of my business.

Their dual echo, palpable, pointed:

dissecting, distant, a very very harsh lens.

Both of them, same, and yes I see your beauty. But so different from the others- they who have given to and received me face value, and words are included.

After a panic, monkey on my back. Something about a picker, gonna get to that later, for sure. And he’s way mixed signals, red bullet, friends are saying, dodge. Cuz, the first thing he noticed, he pointed to my timer. What he saw, yeah boy it was dirty, yeah boy and it needs cleaning.

Clocked is not my need, can’t you count me in. Can you be curious, can you be kind. Cuz u get more bees w/ honey, in sweetness there is safety. The first sign of control, here he’s got a pointer. Here are the problems: yes he’ll want to change her. That corner there, by Jesus, the feng-shui is way off. This is the truth of it, this is what he will offer.

Sure, a slow boat to China is Good Orderly Direction. And my messy human beingness, sure, it already

laid the crater.

Curious Georgie, to myself, a kind hearted laugh: oh baby, that’s what you get for jumping on the bed.


There was a highway and rough sawdust low-grade terrain,

and then an amazing drive-in movie theatre. 4 screens at once, all around us in his car. It wasn’t a date not exactly, or clearly.

At the snack bar he said, not together, no Mam, separate, for me it’s just these nachos. She’s bargain basement, I’m making an effort, to make that clear.  

There was a round kid standing outside his family’s own car, and his papa handed him a chicken wing right through the window.

Hunger. Chickens. Movies they are wings. Thanks, Easter Bunny. Bok! Bok! 

Kid was standing there in dusty dusk and just kicking a ball around waiting for the screen to light up, so he could get inside the car.

Screen, and to get inside.

Inside, driving, later, I said, to connect, to get real: so on Feminism, yeah, did you read my blog, and he said, yes I jack off to your blog. 


Do it gently, then.

Gent, be gentle with it.


To give, and to receive.  

Yes, totally, in concert, repeating:  (She:) See I was open in telling you something and you teased me; (He:) And I came all over it. Here’s a napkin for your face. (LOLZZZ!).

Yes, Cixous: …of getting to know things by letting ourselves be known by them.

And so, the opportunity to witness an eclipse face to face. Birthing illumine. But I’m getting ahead of myself. And ahead of myself, I didn’t make time to respond because I knew he was joking. And truth – it is in joking.

Fin, goes the movie.

Showing his max capacity; what he’s willing to give me.  I had hoped that mean was not your arrow.  

And no, dude that wad, please don’t shoot it like that. 


Double trigger. Truth.

Blockbuster feature.

And on the screen was The Dictator.

The scene that stuck with me was when the guy got his cell phone stuck in a pregnant woman’s uterus who was about to give birth. That was interesting. Also, when he said, oh it’s a girl, so where is the trash can. Also, when he missed one hole and stuck his hand in another. Oh, and when the umbilical cord was not cut and he was pulling the baby from her, while still attached. I think the guys who made the film call that satire or funny.

Nothing was off-limits, even 9/11, even our government, so in some eyes this is fine. Not beating around the bush and all.

Thought about that kid in his parent’s car. What is he thinking when he sees something like that?

Snack bar, cherry coke, second bag of popcorn. 


Out there at night, there is this empty vast space that Southern California holds, and it always gets me, gets at me, even when the Santa Anna’s are all tucked in, and not tugging at us with their weight.

Their weight of what, yeah of wind. Santa Anna spooling through acres, spooling through even that empty slit, the LA River.

Yeah- spooling through me and my windmill. We all want harbor, in particular seasons. Thank you for the intercontinental trips, the movies, and, yes for brief lessons.

Suddenly, vast;  Somehow I  felt empty. Somehow with distance on the phone, I felt you were more present.

Out there it was strange to see that image of a defiled pregnant woman, poked and pulled and suspended in a screen at a drive-in City of Industry,

the hover over separate cars, stuffy in the car nasty-ass nacho cheese wiz smell and damn did he smell good– this shit it’s fogged up now, making it fog up, making it like

time to turn down the windows and head back, yeah telling stories get-to-know-you, stories making pictures in mind, keep-in-mind, note-to-self.

Mine the mind, keeping pictures. So much worry over anger, oh that black tar.

Nothing’s off-limits.

She’s so over anger ever had he asked her

– but he had pointed, and pointed few words, from his own ground only, and really just the top soil. I’m confident he goes deep, because that’s what drew me to him.

Yeah, it reminded me of a scene in Maxine Hong Kingston’s book Woman Warrior, really it did, when the protagonist is birthing out in some wide open field, that’s all I remember, and she is there and she’s birthing by herself and with baby,

using gravity as guide,

and I’ll have to pull that book down and read it over again, to tell you

to tell you what it told me.

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