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N.O.W. H.E.R.E. T.H.I.S.

This blog, as you know, is the infinite garden inside of which my truth—the truth peculiar to me—blossoms like a big sexy flower that’s not really a flower because it’s actually an unparalleled eruption of fireworks in the pupil of a malicious crow, an orange fish swimming fat and slow in the ocean of pristine green consciousness, and sparkling gold confetti that covers the skin of a virgin purchased for a damn good price to obey the limits of my sadistic whim’s fancy. Spank Spank Spank! Aw yeah, girl. The truth hurts. But it’ll set me free.

Because I’m worth it. I deserve it. My truth. My truth. My truth is on fire.

In 2011 I thought I bloomed in the glow of truth’s translucence. But nope. That was last year. Shackles, man. Straitjackets. Blindfolds. Ball gags and delusions. The truths of last year are this year’s gummy meth addicts. Can you hear them cackle? That’s because they stole your wallet. When you were staring in disbelief at their yellow gums, they pilfered your wallet, sucka. But forget all that. Your wallet, your money, your expectations—those things are like 2011, gone, deluded, old men drowning in seas of senility.

But 2012. Here. Now. Light beams on my nude frolicking body rolling around in the grass after my picnic of organic vegan stuff in the sun, which is to say the light and the vulnerable warmth of truth’s rays on my bare hairy ass. A more truthful truth that’s way truthier than those lie-truths from last year that I mistook for bliss but was really suffering in the clutches of untruthlihood compared to my current truthiest truths of all truthful truthitude in the light of aletheia.

Amen. Suck my chakras. Rub my dick on the quivering cheek of a fledgling life coach.

I’m here. It’s now. Time and presence are tiny rafts floating on endless bottomless oceans of everything they’re not. I’m worth it. I deserve it. And I refuse with the love of every last cell—each of them smiling, wishing you peace—to let fear inhibit my rabid foamy joy. Lightning bolts shoot from my fingers. Guilt! ZZT! Shame! B-ZZT! The idea that I can’t have everything I want all the time whenever I want it! ZAPOW! The feeling that I’m not enough and perfect and whole and light and truth and a sermon of poems about snowflakes and bowling alleys. SHAZAMMM! {Smolder}

I am this here now in 2012 and I am perfect just the way I am in the bright white hot fluorescent sun of light and candles and reflections on the lake. Sorry no more for my sadistic tendencies. For my white privilege. For wetting the bed. I wet the bed proudly. I wet the bed with the blessing of several Hindu deities. I am The Fearful Blue Bringer Of The Yellow Night Rain. Wetting the bed is my truth, my light, the source of much laundry.  

What’s your 2012 truth? What’s keeping you from spilling it like blood in the comment section of this intimate garden? Come wet the bed with me in the truthy loving light of being okay without end.

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Reader Comments (11)

Lighter up for Truthiness and general Being of Self. unapologetically and shameless and whatnot. more please. and thanks.

January 4, 2012 at 10:03 PM | Unregistered CommenterSilver

So then, it's good I waited a day before messaging you to make sure you're alive & shit.
Wet on. Golden showers in the comment section sounds like something different for 2012. Why not.

January 5, 2012 at 4:40 AM | Unregistered Commentersummer

Love is my truth. But you know this already.

Beaming with joy and laughter over all this. Hugs and kisses and shit. xo

January 5, 2012 at 5:27 AM | Unregistered Commentersweetney


truth hides - silent, snarling way down in it's throat - in high Serengeti grasses.

and me?

I'm on safari, motherfuckers.

January 5, 2012 at 5:28 AM | Unregistered Commenterc.


January 5, 2012 at 6:59 AM | Unregistered Commenterlisa

Sitting here in an old curling sweater with my mouth full of ding dongs and I'm pushing the ding dongs to the side of my cheek to say THIS? WINS BLOGGING. THIS. RIGHT. HERE. OMG.

Your truth just way outtruthed my truth.

Your truth just saved my life made my life changed my life acrylic.

Your truth just made me wonder if my truth could take your truth in a streetfight. For sure it could because my truth is the Not Enoughiest. My truth got kicked out of my soul for littering.

But still. Your truth is Very Very Alright. I honour it.

January 5, 2012 at 8:38 AM | Unregistered Commenterkate inglis

But won't the wet sheets chafe?

January 5, 2012 at 10:36 AM | Unregistered Commenterthe muskrat

This really is the best little chunk of comments that ever was. I wish I could live in it.

I'm only taking this post of yours as 1/2 true and the rest mostly sarcasm. I could be completely wrong though.

Ode on a Grecian Urn had it right about truth - "beauty is truth, truth beauty"

January 5, 2012 at 1:34 PM | Unregistered Commenterrachelle

Chuckling here...

Cheers and Happy New Year to you BHJ, You are truly one of a kind. May your truthliness abide.

January 5, 2012 at 10:17 PM | Unregistered CommenterClare

This post is awesome. This line . . . is EPIC
"Amen. Suck my chakras."

Nicely done :0)

January 6, 2012 at 10:40 AM | Unregistered CommenterElisa Hirsch

ahhh BHJ.Black snakes have found a home with in me. Life coaches have learned to open up and say ahhh and spread their sweet lips on the therapeutic couch when they see me coming. And there will always be a comfortable bed in my living room, in whatever part of the world I roam: Thank you for introducing a new vision for this new beginning.

January 8, 2012 at 8:22 AM | Unregistered CommenterBB

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