Monday, December 22, 2014

How I Feel About Life Today

I have been going through my writings the last few days. A big thick manila folder, and that's not even counting all the stuff on my blog, or the countless journals I have kept through the years. I'm going to start posting some older stuff and see how it goes. Stuff that has never seen the light of day. I would like to write a book, if I could get my shit together about it. This is a dream I've had for so long, and after talking to a good friend today who was there through most of my adventures, and I told him I'm just trying to figure out what to do with my life right now, he mentioned that I should  write a book about my life and all the crazy relationships I've had and everything I've been through. He said it might help somebody. It's already written in those journals, I just have to find a way to put it together.

How I Feel About Life Today
August 4th, 2008

I see a guy today walking up the street crossing the railroad tracks drinking from a bottle encased in a brown paper bag. He is wearing business casual clothes, not really a bum. The look on his face is not  one of despair, happiness, or agony, it is nothing. It's that look that says, Fuck it, I just gave up...and I'm Ok with that. I pass him while I'm driving and I think, maybe that should be me. Maybe right now I should just ditch my car, buy a bottle in a brown paper bag, and be the non-happy but not unhappy. I forgot this is an option, just not a very good one, and like my Kerouac, lying by the side of the railroad tracks in San Bernardino in the 50's, alone, broke and crying, there is a price to pay for everything.

But, my friend, which breaks you worse? The daily grind of trying to figure out how to pay your bills, put a roof over your head, where your next tank of gas is going to come from, what to do after you loose your job, all the while getting up each day, going through the motions, grabbing your coffee and heading out to work in a world that is not built for the vulnerable? Or, saying fuck it, walking up a busy highway, with a bottle in a daze, leaving it all behind, if only for a while. When Kathy Hilton criticizes John Mc Cain today for his insensitive humor in his recent ad campaign due to "millions of people losing their homes and their jobs," maybe it's time for us all to grab a fucking bottle and paper bag and make our way to the railroad. If the rich start caring that much, you know we're screwed.

~Jenny Miller

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Some may have heard of practicing a program of rigorous honesty

Me, at the cusp of 40, trying to practice a program of

Rigorous selfishness

I have to remind myself of this on days like today

When something doesn’t feel right

When I don’t want to do something

Because inside I know it’s all bullshit

And just for appearances and such

I have to ask myself

Is this in line with living an authentic  life

Cause after all this time

You owe yourself an authentic life

That means no fucking faking

Cause your afraid of what people will think

And you want to keep up appearances

And someone’s feelings might get hurt

It’s time to lay all that to rest.

If people really knew, they would thank you

For being genuine.

A program of rigorous selfishness

Means I still help the people I love

I am helpful by nature

It means that I don’t do optional

If it feels like I will not be true

To myself and others

I have quit my stage job

I’m just an unemployed actress now

Looking for a new profession


Monday, November 10, 2014

There will be many choices

On the way to your destiny

Choose wisely

They all lead to the same


The question is

Will you choose the road

That is rocky


Hope testing

Or will you choose the road

That offers the most beautiful


The smoothest ride

With the best travel


There is no shame in that

Too often in this life

It is touted to take the road

Less traveled

Well I say,

It is ok not to

take that road

There is no valor

In being a hero

For the simple sake

Of being a hero

Heroic lives

Happen accidentally

Choose the easiest road

And enjoy the ride

All roads lead

To the same destination.


Monday, October 20, 2014

I’ve been sitting here in the home office
Looking up what happens to pets after they die
After my parents have lost a 2nd dog
In a 2nd week
According to psychics
Dog utopia, it says
And I look over
At my cat
Laying on the window sill with
A back drop of beautiful blue sky
And ever so subtly changing
From green to autumn colors
Leaves gently blowing in the wind.
He is watching them,
My cat, then he looks at me
And says, in his greenest eyes
“of course I know, I know everything,
And. I’m sorry.”
And I wonder what really happens to them,
And to us after we die.
 And as I was looking out
At my cat gazing through
The screen
And we both looked at
The peaceful trees
And I thought of Roy the dog
Who we just lost
Who I was with on his last night
Being sick
Who we all took to the vet in the morning
who looked kind of like a puppy again
the last moment I saw him
on this planet
as they wheeled him into the room

I thought this, in that quiet moment

as I looked at my cat

and the trees and the leaves

blowing gently

against the blue sky:
“Maybe there is a world I left before this one
And the people there miss me
But I just don’t remember
Because I’m not supposed to”

Monday, June 23, 2014

She stands there
silent and still
in the quiet
summer afternoon

Summer vacations
she would run wild
all over the neighborhood
playing all kinds of impossible
impossible for adults

she was a builder
of cardboard houses

the president of a clubhouse

the boss in the office of her bedroom

she was her royal excellency
Miss Pippi Longstocking

She stands there
outside the office
under the sun
smoking a cigarette
staring off into space

that she should just
get on her 1980's
pink Huffy bike

and ride
“ride, like the wind”


Friday, June 20, 2014

There has been the
the grooming
the trimming
the pruning

the forcing a shoot
the small pot for root

opening my blooms
by day
closing by night

a bag over my branches
to prevent frost bite

no more
no more I say

let me grow
and open my blooms
by night and by day

let me grow wild
in rocky soil

cut off the top
and start again

these buds are not mine
they are where you began

let my own buds grow
spread as far as I please

wild thorny shoots
wild spreading roots
growing so far
opening to heaven
under the stars

I am a wild thing
no more pruning
or grafting their
its mine
its mine

I am a wild
and natural


Tuesday, June 17, 2014

How It Feels To Have Chronic Fatigue

I open my eyes early
Monday thru Friday
to the classical music

Usually a cat is lying on the bed.
I try to muster my strength.
Everything hurts.
Old age? Or, Chronic Fatigue?
I feel like a failure.
I feel like an old lady at 39.

I shuffle in for coffee,
my boyfriend is one of those
morning people
I try to be nice,
but some mornings
even to speak,
is a challenge.

The very act of pushing
the air it requires out
of my body to make the sounds
to communicate
is in itself

So I have taken up whispering
some mornings,
or just waving an apologetic
hand while shaking my head no.

Then comes the inner debate,
when was the last time I called in
sick, last week? 2 weeks ago?
Is this serious today, will there
be a worse day ahead I will need it more?

I feel guilty that it hurts too bad
to stoop down to pet my cats
to say good morning. It breaks
my heart.

I gather myself for make-up
clothes, walking to my car
which is sometimes too far away
for hurting joints, or weak muscles.

I tell myself, I can pull this
out of my ass today.
I can create a fucking miracle
and pull this off just today.

I can crash when I get home.
So I get home, and there is
no time, no energy for anything
more other than dinner,
and the basics.  There is no time.
Because there is no energy.

I wonder if I will be able to do
anything on the weekend.
Or if I will feel like shit then too.

Now mind you, this is not
everyday, and perhaps not
even every week,
but when it hits, it hits.
And there is nothing I can do.
It robs my life. It robs the people
and things I love.


Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Death was nothing to me then
as I sit here in a mundane life
typing away meaningless shit.

I am brought back,
something brought me back to it
and my ears started ringing.

I am very young.
And that day comes again.
Riding in my grandfather’s pristine
car with the white interior.
My grandmother’s mother has died.
We are going to her funeral.

But, it is not sad.
But, it is not happy.
It just is.
As I watch it all out of my
little girl movie camera in my head.
I see us pass by the trees and green
green grass on the road in Ohio.

are all together.
I know it is for something special.
But that is all I know.
We are all together, in our souls even
and it is a beautiful day outside.
And other people are in charge.
I always liked it when other people
were in charge.

And the white leather of the seats
is so soft. And the grandma and grandpa
smell is beyond comfort.

We get to a church.
I look up at big glass windows
in the wooden tower
streaming in light.
I think some people are crying.

This is something for great grandma.
But I do not feel sad for her.
I just observe.
I somehow know she is not here anymore.

At the cemetery, there is a tent,
and a casket is lowered,
and a priest says some words.

I will never forget.
“Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust.”
So it is to the dust we return.

We can throw some dirt on her coffin
in the hole to remember this for her.

It is my turn.
I take my handful.
And I let go every last bit
and brush both my hands together
like one would after gardening
to get all the dirt off.
To make extra sure this was
good for her.

I do remember this.
This was death
to my little girl mind
to my little girl soul
who was not so far away
from her source at that time.


Tuesday, April 29, 2014

Every once in a while
I see one of my people
It is not often
because we are in hiding
hiding from the world

Like this morning
pulling out of the gate
on my way to work
I saw a little red headed
his face mostly covered
by his hoody
as he fought the wind
while walking his dog

Just a glimpse
of his elf face
sparse red beard
shy eyes

I could just tell
he was one of us
and it made me
not feel so alone
it made me feel


Thursday, April 24, 2014

I am sorry
things turned out this way

I read your stories
the ones you wrote in school
you’ve been to the North Pole,
Mars, and even other dimensions

Your heart filled with wonder
& hope.

But I must now tell you
a secret
a terrible secret

Life.....eats childrens souls

It chews on the hope found
in your bone marrow
it slurps the stars & galaxys
that float around in your blood
& then it devours
your child soul
& cleans its teeth
with your little rib

So you are left with
an adult soul 
& we all know
that adult souls
are defective

Adult souls
are filled with fear
of things sillier
than boogy men
under the bed

 Adult souls
are slaves


Monday, April 21, 2014

I am thinking of deleting
of the philosophy books
I have on my kindle
of the positive thought books
along with ALL of the books
on spirituality, self help,
and how to thoroughly
mind fuck yourself until you
are so wrapped up and miserable
by trying to find out reasons and
solutions to things
that you forget the value
of ignorant bliss and just try
to be happy where and when you can
and to quote a friend, who when years ago
I was drunk and crying about how miserable
I was, told me to "just be happy and try to
enjoy your fucking life"
Perhaps the wisest words ever spoken.

Maybe life just is
and while I am trying to figure
it out, life itself may be
passing me by.

Has anyone ever dissected a flower
to find out what makes it beautiful?

Has anyone ever performed open heart surgery
to find out what love looks like?

Has anyone ever captured tears to find out
where they come from?

Probably not.
The experiment begins.

I will be reading stories, novels.
I will be going places,
to look at flowers and enjoy
their beauty,
I will find moments of Love,
and embrace them.
I will sometimes cry,
and not worry about it.

Adieu Plato, Socrates, Hermes,
Gurus, teachers, self help books.
Bye Bye.


Tuesday, April 8, 2014


Jack teaches to choose your words carefully
to pick out each one
beautiful open mind thoughts
catch each one carefully
as they flutter by
like butterflies
only certain ones
go together

and Jack teaches
have only true thoughts
true thoughts
are not judged
they are just thought
and its ok
because you can’t help it

No pretending
while you carefully
wade into the stream of conscious thought
while once thought haphazardly
writting down
from mind to hand to pen to paper
carefully let out
like water through the hose
so you don’t just end up
getting everything all ruined and wet
only water what needs to be said.

Jack teaches this
as in his ma’s house
he carefully mulled over
his words
his stories
his books
so sure that they would be
so sure they were what people needed
and we did need them
so desperately

“Everything is always alright, all the time”

Jack teaches.


North Carolina

It would storm in the afternoon
in North Carolina
Right after you stood at the end
of the dirt driveway
looking towards the horizon
guessing what color of car
would come over the hill next
testing your psychic powers
like a baby snake
tests its venom
and after
the sunny sky would darken
as you all stood there
in the outside summer sauna
sweat dripping off your bodies
clinging to your shirts
so you would have to change them
to fresh clean dry new ones
crisp ones
only to get drenched again
under the southern sky
in the land of your forefathers
whose shirts got drenched before you
in the fields
in the farmhouses
where there was fresh milk
and breakfasts, and suppers
with whole families after a hard
day of work
only to awaken the next morning and
do it all again

Yes, the sky would darken
and it was welcomed
though the damp and heat would remain
there in the rain
it was a comfort to see the storm move in
the black chasing the blue out of the sky
like a wave

and you would all go inside
and sit together on the davenport
talking, sewing
just being together
until the storm ended
and it was time
for supper.


Wednesday, April 2, 2014

As the clouds darken
with the beautiful green leaves
blowing, billowing in the wind
carry me home perhaps
beyond the storm.


Wednesday, February 26, 2014

New Rules

New Rules:

Do not put energy into things where there is no return.

In matters of duty at the moment, do the bare minimum
where there is no return.

See things for what they really are, not what you want them to be.

There are people out there that would like to see you stay
exactly where you are because of their own insecurities
and fears. not ok, have as little investment
and interaction with these people as possible. If you
have to be around them on a daily basis, IGNORE THEM.

Accept reality, embrace logic.

The solutions you come up with are sometimes
not the only solutions. There is not always an
A or B solution. Sometimes the universe has
a solution that you cannot see at the moment.

Never, never, let someone else steal your thunder,
or your sense of well being.

Do not bet on outside sources or other people
for circumstances to change or to “rescue” you
from your situation. Sometimes you
have to take the bit out of your own mouth, if someone
else or you have put it there, or take matters into
you own hands for change.

You may have to be temporarily uncomfortable
if you want change and to make a better life
for yourself.

If all else fails, remember, in the words of the
great Muppets, “Minah~Minah”, Sometimes
this can get you through the day.


Monday, February 24, 2014

An End To Providence

I can no longer rely on providence
my old friend
sometimes it gets so hot
under this big sun
that you just have to put on
your bathing suit
plug your nose
and jump in
to cool off
and you swim to
the bottom for a while
in the deep end
like when you were a kid
and just sit there
and it's quiet
just you and the water
and everything looks different
from down there
until you can breath air again
and come up to the surface
cool and refreshed.