Full Moon : Dry Dopamine

Full Moon Dry Dopamine

The other day I uploaded a poem lacking audio to continue this video series. Well, here’s the audio, including other recorded drafts from writing of experiences down in Oaxaca, brought back up to Tucson, & finally grounded into a performance over-looking downtown Tucson’s ambling & passing trains.

“how do you wake marrow up to the pain it’s feeling—”

“FULL MOON : DRY DOPAMINE”

Tucson, AZ, US, 4.5.18

 


The Star, A Decision 

It’s funny—these were recorded on this past Full Moon, a day that all my prior lil plans fell apart, & I received a new tarot deck that shuffled me more than I it as we walked silent dead yacked out night thru deader parks under bruised purple sky w. silent homie & silent lips & a tarot reading that read again & again of Temperance  Temperance  Temperance  —a warning & an invitation.

Then, heh, of all the decks potential mirrors, Justice fell from the shuffle, into my lap, face up, staring, rigid, holding her scepter—& that, that mothafucker up in the sky, that bright bringer of rise & fall & tide… laughed. Like water. The shape of water Temperance watches shift & gurgle & rush & coil like millions of lil blue snakes coagulated together between the jars she holds in either hand.

That night continued into details that can be left unexplained to this medium. Those there know the directions it took. Regardless, that night felt like an incarnation of the exact definition of habit I’ve been working w, “trying to recreate the past in the present.”

Well that shit failed. Here’s some testimony to it, where there is no Temperance, where the moon is veiled, where there is no absolutes or absolution.

& no… healing. At least, not beyond performing the notebook scrawls & scratches to embody the emotions, & attempt further release by making them public 

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

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Full Moon : Silence

“MAKING SPACE TO FEEL :  

Tucson, AZ, US, 4.3.18


[ update : this was an experiment w. removing the audio to make space for others to insert themselves : their words over the hand motions, & interpret it w. their reactions + feelings : maybe this experiment needs more intent instead of mad midnight scrambles. we’ll see how similar experiments form in the future, w. more intent on their production + release—thanks for listening  ]

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

What’s The Difference Between The Physiological & Psychological? Nothing. Eat Me.

jeremiah-walton-poetry
Eat them, then watch Jeremiah’s poem, or, maybe watch the poem, then eat them. Regardless of your appetite, for Walton or distraction, there’s no walls separating the physiological & physical.

This poem “I Hate My Body : On Making Love” is the first piece in this “Write The Poem, Record, Upload,” series I’ve been anxious to upload—but that’s the point of this, learning to use “social media publishing” to let go of shame surrounding vulnerabilities, to practice that elusive healing hiding under scabs & over futures (futures yanked full-torque by renditions of the past forgetting the present & wrenching a volatile sensation of aliveness associated w. aliveness) & to slow down into acknowledging hurts while continuing to grow, expand, consume & produce.

Luckily, there’s plenty of anxiety left to spread over following pieces as new spaces for new feelings are made.

jeremiah-walton-video-poem-3
I Hate My Body : On Making Love

All that shit. I’m still in the space between burning myself off the internet

or…..not sure. Yet. To quote a line in the next video to be posted :

“Maybe I should crash my car in Panama, say I did what I could
to sacrifice the scapegoats & hold the ideation accountable—well, at least
until this note smolders w. life—or maybe,”

but that’s not today’s poem. Today’s more… “outside those mornings

that crack open your car w. dawn’s yolk, & you open the door 
& the air sticks up your skin for water, mugs you
awake, & reminds you, ‘aye—ain’t that

your body right there…?'”

**inhales** Okay. Those words aren’t in the poem,
but maybe they’re between the performance & the page. **exhales**

Fuck it. Here it is :

“I HATE MY BODY : ON MAKING LOVE”

Gate’s Pass, Arizona, ~4.9.18

 


 

Shout out to Suza Weise for coming out w. me to film this, & helping hold up the piece in all that wind. Suza’s a dope Tucson artist & practitioner of integrative healing. Dig her love & work on Patreon as she moves towards creating a podcast on vulnerability & healing ❤

& thank you desert stars : shadows : cacti : these shadows’ shadows : those coyote howls : those mountains : all these forms moving thru the imaginative dark & massaging this form w. a silence that allowed these muscles to relax for the first time since I’ve been back in Tucson 

Yeah, & a little pot helped w. the after-care.

“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

“This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

An Attempt To Exercise Humility That Doesn’t Confuse Itself w. Self-Loathing

jeremiah walton rest 2
writing process

RECORDING AN EXORCISM

EXPELLING SELF-LOATHING FROM WHAT’S BEEN CONSIDERED HUMILITY

This is the poem that kicked off the “Write The Poem, Upload, Record” series—an exercise in humility & using social media publishing to shed shame, be vulnerable, & learn compassion for the parts of myself I hate.

To unlearn humility as self-loathing & learn it as an active silence, receptive dialogue.

Reactions & red ink are welcome, though that’s not the point of these scribbles & scrapes. You can read up on the series, & its intent, at the FB album used to compile the poems.

Also, add me as a ‘friend’ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow’ to keep up w. the posts! This site, while it’ll be regularly updated, is more like a fishing net to bring people in to the community that’s forming over there.

I’m also throwing updates on the series & travels thru @RuntRaccoon on IG

I’m awkward w. that self-promotion shit, so thank ya for bearing thru w. me. Let’s dig into the weird-side back-stage shots of this confused head-space bumbling around the country ❤

“REST WELL”

Tucson Greyhound, AZ, US, 1.22.18

 


“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

The “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album.  You can add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,”

Much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤

Gratitude For The Silence Smoke Brought

love who you can as the world burns
Tucson, AZ

THE WATER IN THE FIRE

Each of us wrote our intents down. The intents were held by paper, by our hands, our heads, & we sat still—focusing on the inhale : exhale : inhale : release. We sat silent to try & embody what we intended to burn, what we intended to leave behind & accept.

Here, “love who you can as the world burns” was written & filmed, just outside the cement scrape of Tucson’s city limits. The hill we stood on over-looked miles of saguaro & cholla, & paled in the sun against distant cloud shadows crawling over mountains like the backsides of prayers that didn’t quite make it into the fire they were thrown to, or

maybe like the slow crawl of tears being released after centuries of damming.

A friend’s tobacco they’d grown was placed in a metal bowl. They lit it. When each individual felt they’d personally embodied their intent, they’d toss their paper into the fire. Our intents unified in the  & smoke & ash.

We ate baked baked that morning, & left a small loaf for the desert 

Here’s a good reminder why this body’s back in Tucson; as it’s been murky & lonely & sober (mostly) out here, living outta the car & quietly moving w. the poems to learn to go thru instead of against.

Thank you for inviting me to make space physically to ground myself, & get outta my fucking head for an afternoon ❤

FINAL NOTE before the poem; shout out to Suza Weise for helping film this piece ❤  Suza’s a dope Tucson artist & practitioner of integrative healing—dig her love & work on Patreon as she moves towards creating a podcast on vulnerability & healing 

“love who you can as the world burns

Tucson’s Outskirts, AZ, US, 3.25.18

 

 


“WRITE THE POEM, RECORD, UPLOAD,”

This poem’s a continuation of the “Write The Poem, Record, Upload” series, a compilation of “first-drafts” recorded & performed to ground cultivating a humility that’s not self-loathing.

The series is posted + archived in a FB photo-album. Add me as a ‘friend‘ (whatever that means to you), or click ‘follow‘ (whatever that means to you) to keep up.

If you’re not down w. FB, another option is to view the series’s on-site “Table of Contents,” & follow the gathering mileage + poems via @RuntRaccoon on IG.

&, I mean, I guess you can also hit me up on all 3… ya know? Show some love to this weird kid who’s shit w. self-promotion! Thanks for the support y’all!

& much gratitude to the folks that have helped me get this far ❤