Primitive, Creative & Repressed

Not a good combination. Gonna write this one with "Weird Fishes" (Radiohead) on repeat.

I want to work with my hands. I want to feed babies. I want to feel the grass under my feet all day and pee outside. I'm sick of toilets.

I want others to describe me as visceral, instead of me describing myself as visceral.

If my dreams could be my life, I'd have squashed berries on my lips instead of designer gloss - what a farce! I should take my Chanel mascara tube and use it to grind up pieces of corn on a rock! I should've never cut my hair. It should be snarly and gold from the salt and the sun. Sea salt bath scrub, $38 from Sephora. Who am I? Why are we paying more for the things we can make ourselves, and less for the things that kill us?

There's a reason I was mesmerized by my favorite movie, The Blue Lagoon, and my favorite book, Island of the Blue Dolphins when I was little. Life counted by many moons. Nothing to exhaust you other than the toils of simplicity. Meeting basic needs with your own body and mind. Imagine what that would do for the soul.

I want to sink my fingers into some pottery on a wheel right now. I want it more badly than my teeth wanted the food I had on my passenger seat on my way home from grabbing lunch to-go today.

I want a house made out of palm, and some damn stars in the sky. What the hell have we done?
What have I done with myself? I'm ready to pack a bag and head for the equator....