something for yourself

The word ‘blessing’ reminds me of church, where 40-somethings addicted to drugs and guilt shouted their self-conscious imaginary at me, futures of shame-riddled embodiment.

fortunately I flow with curses. And like Grace Jones says, “I’ve got the Williams blood in me.”

So I’ve never liked the word ‘blessings,’ so I only invite you to read forward if you want to. Don’t make me a deacon.


I wanted to write a blessing that would exceed my, stand the test of, resonante <-? through


which probably tells us something about my own time. And I know I can’t do that because a blessing of Netflix and intersectionality will be a blessing of telegrams and Manifest Destiny in 100 years. I think wisdom is timeless, and language relies on temporality, and so there is a tension to what we’re doing today

So I bless you with your own time –
that you should know your time, and inhabit your time, and not rush through time, or feel like time is running out, because I bless you with the
knowledge that you move your own time in your own time at your own time.

I bless you with kindness to yourself, with forgiveness to yourself, with patience to yourself. I want you to know that you are living in your time and you cannot judge yourself on the past times you knew or the future times you envision because that is not where or when you are now. I bless you with knowledge of your own time.

I bless you with slow, deep, craggy breaths. The kind of breaths that you can feel expanding your lungs, crunching your ribs apart, nudging backbones back into place, lifting your neck and head above your shoulders and up and into that space

where time doesn’t exist and we move in a seamless mutation of things and energies and thoughts and feelings and one is not after another and language is forced to unwind because a verb cannot proceed a noun or precede an adverb when there is no before and after and tell me


when is your God now?

(I bless you beyond) time to the best of my ability at this time. I bless you so that you might slip out of and back into time from time to time. Moments of joyous forgetfulness, of inattentiveness. The daily out of body experience of staring at the blankness of a wall or the weave of a fabric or the micro-caverns of a stone and temporarily – but not temporarily on the other side of things – moving out of time. When you move to you have always and never been because there is no time there. I bless you with time to think about that, if you should choose.

I bless you with the time to choose, the time to decide, the time to weigh options and go forward confidently. And I bless you with moments of impulse and haste which let you change, mutate timelessly as a person into a new form. A different form

Can new and different be outside of time?

If so, I bless you with that kind of differentness and that kind of outsideness if you want them.

Be where and when you want to be where and when you want to be. I bless you with a long enough life to look back at this blessing and see its particular time and its particular flaws and the ways the flaws of me today leave swiss cheese holes we can see through from the perspective of tomorrow

unless you don’t want to live that long, in which case I bless you with the knowledge of when your time is according to you. I bless you with the power to know your time and take your time and rush through time as you see appropriate. I bless you with a shell of courage to withstand the untimely and untimeless and timed opinions of others.

I bless you in the present and I hope that my other selves at other moments join me in this blessing, but I accept and acknowledge my own right elsewhere and elsewhen to otherwise ignore this call. Otherwise, we will/have/had/are/were/bless/ing/ed you.

I bless you with the knowledge of your infinite plurality and its simultaneous indivisibility and finite, granular sectionality.

Is falling apart a blessing? Disembodiment? Disentanglement? Disaggregation? I don’t think life is meant to be good, or anything for that matter. That frees us up for other things, bigger dreamings.

Grace Jones says she won’t love you to death, but she’ll love you to life.

I bless you to curse as you want to.

I curse you to dream as you need to.

Blessings and curses are the same thing, in the end. Do what you need, take what you need. Funnel this text into what you need; undetermined wishes. Stem cell magic. Divide my words out into something for yourself.

You might not know it, but I’m writing away old curses, and blessings that were never meant for me.


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