Tuesday, October 8, 2013

I'm Crazy...So Is Everyone Else

People are people are people are mortals are humans are earthlings are beings are homo sapiens are physical bodies…

possessed…enlightened…occupied…by something.


non-thing…that throws every-thing over that way…

and there and here and wayyyy over there to a place where comprehension often goes blind and madness has the potential to run so rampant that it runs away from itself…

(insert visual of humanoid hamster wheel here)

And we're all fucking crazy…

And we all think and yell and feel and cry and hurt ourselves (and others) and love and laugh and say

'What's wrong with me?!'


'What's wrong with you?!'

and there may not necessarily be anything 'wrong' at all.

Maybe it's different…just…different.

Or maybe it's not intentionally 'wrong'….

or maybe it is.

Or maybe it's the food we eat, the air we breathe, the 11 commercials that come on every 10 minutes, our parents, our neighborhood, that crazy mother fucker over there, the car accident, the abuse, your neighbors that won't stop fighting, the $10,000 medical bill you just got in the mail, the mental pollution that is the 'news', our landlord, our job, our goals, our choices, our wants, our false needs, society, our educational system, that person that broke your heart, or that person that never says thank you no matter how many times you open the door for them…maybe it's all of that…

and then some.

Or maybe…we forgot.

What felt 'right'…

(Ask yourself)

Maybe those things made us forget and maybe we just have to work on remembering…and maybe that's what will make you stop feeling like a lunatic or making others feel like lunatics.

And maybe the terms 'right' and 'wrong' have us eternally fighting against ourselves, within ourselves…

because now there is an 'enemy'

and maybe that enemy was just a figment of our blessedly powerful beautifully creative imaginations.

Oh balance…how I long for thee. 

Maybe we just strayed a little off that familiar dirt road…

soil rich of our thoughts, hopes, fears, desires…


forget about those things that have made you forget.

And just this moment

Feel the blades of grass on the tips of your toes.

The wind moves gently…press back upon it.

Eat the sun.

Align yourself with the stars.

They will always be there for you.

To guide you…back to your road.

We are cosmic dust.

There is no 'right' and 'wrong' in nature.  There is rapture from torment and beauty in death.

(An autumn leaf falls).

There is life…there is energy…there is creation…there is love…everywhere.

There is one.

We are but cells…

Feel your cells.  They move and dance as we generate 'wind' ...

We became crazy when we forgot the stars.

When we forgot that there are more than people and people and more people and mortals and humans and earthlings and beings and homo sapiens and physical bodies…filled with some-thing...out there.

And that we can laugh, cry, worry, live, torment, feel, experience love…

and be able to attempt to understand it…to identify it without trying to identify it…to feel it…to consciously project it…to set intentions…and fulfill them.  To have the choice to fulfill them…to have the choice to love…even in our darkest hours.

No-thing…can take that away from us.

We are not 'crazy'…in the conventional sense…we are longing…we are searching…we are feeling the forgetfulness that so often accompanies the human condition…and therefore separating ourselves from the love that is inherent within us.

That is denying your breath, your heart beat, your livelihood, that is denying yourself.  That is 'crazy'. And we all do it.  At some point.  To some degree.

We are all 'crazy'…because if we weren't...we wouldn't be human.

And that isn't necessarily a bad thing...

Just please, remember the stars and the grass, and the trees and the soil and heart beat and the breath…

Because you were blessed with the choice to do so.

(c) 2013 by Jessica Freites 

Monday, February 20, 2012


Free Love.
Free it from your ego,
your ideals and expectations,
from society's ideal,
from the shit, the life-storm of shit,
or all the happiness you once knew and are dying to replace,
free it from that.
from all the hurt and pain,
from the future and the past.
Free it from your intentions,
positive and negative,
from your motives, ulterior especially,
Free it from the baggage of life.
Love with your spirit...
the heart and brain are too juvenile in their understanding
of something so...other-worldly.
Free it from your thoughts,
and free it from the word LOVE itself...
LOVE probably hates the sound of its own name.
Its so entrapped by false pretenses.
Man-made words cannot adequately describe something out of man's conceptual reach
Free it from your conditions, or standards.
It is THE ultimate condition.
There to condition US...not vice versa.
Let love condition you.
Free it from fear,
or hope,
your wants...and needs...
let its existence continue to boggle the mind and wound the heart
and let it do so most willingly
and don't try and understand it too much.
Just let it.
Because only in absolute freedom, will you know absolute truth
Will you really know LOVE
...at least, this is what I tell myself.

(c) 2012 by Jessica Freites

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

My Normal is too Weird for You

What exactly is 'normal'? How does 'normal' exist?...I mean, if you take the infinite number of possibilities of situations, thoughts, objects, etc. that someone encounters in a lifetime and ask every human being on earth what they would consider 'normal' in each and every one of those situations, not one person's entire cumulative thought stream of 'normal' would be the same as another. So what fully encompassing definition of 'normal', what scientific measure, what mathematical standard, to what degree can we be justified in labeling something as 'normal?' It seems as if that question just happened to clearly answer itself.

(And for those of you going above and beyond the call of duty to make a calculated effort to be weird, unique, eccentric...to stand out as much as humanly possible for fear of blending in with 'normalcy'. You're far from abnormal...)

(c) 2012 by Jessica Freites

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Necessary 'Do It For Me' Qualities

Written around 6 or 7 years ago...not much has changed. Ha.

I've come to realize, after some reflection, what it is that I need in my next potential "social experiment partner," (I'm not a fan of labels) in order for me to know that there is a chance that this individual might stick around a bit...actually not even that, just that that individual will have an intense impact on me in one way or another and "do it for me" (one of the most awesome "relationships," although we had no label and it was very short-lived was truly one of the illest). I want to make it absolutely clear...these are not qualities that mean I will like someone. They're qualities that mean I'll continue liking them to a point where I'm impacted by them...the initial spark/attraction/interest must already be present. This is probably the most corny/sappy/sentimental you'll ever hear me but...here goes.


1) To be able to be so comfortable and free with him that we can sit in the car, not say one word to each other, listen to music, feel each other, and drive with absolutely no destination.

2) He's a non-sheep

3) When we're together there's no such thing as awkward silence, actually while in each other's presence silence is quite comforting.

4) We can slow dance in his living room with with no music playing

5) We meditate together

6) We fuck the shit out of each other's minds

7) I can play hackie sack, pool, video games, whatever...all things I really suck at but like to do anyway, and he tries to teach me, I still don't learn shit, but it's ok cause we had maaaaaaaaaad fun.

8) We laugh...A LOT

9) He understands that just cause I'm not in the mood to talk doesn't necessarily mean there's something wrong.

10) He can act like a complete fool in front of me

11) I can act like a complete fool in front of him

12) When I'm in his presence I want to rape him and I'm comfortable enough to act on it (I'm shy...at first)

13) He'll cook with me every once in a while

14) He understands my motivating factors for playing piano and violin and why I don't feel the need or desire to play for others...but he still wants to hear me play

15) The terms humility and humbleness mean something to him

16) He is aware of his health

17) He knows what a blackbook is and understands why I cherish mine so and why it is absolutely necessary for me to take it with me everywhere

18) I fiend and hang onto his scent like a junkie does with crack and when I come home I smell my clothes and smile because they're reminiscent of him

19) I usually don't bother arguing if I'm annoyed or upset, but with him, I actually care enough to do so.

20) He doesn't judge the homeless

21) We respect one another

22) When he falls asleep next to me I look at him and it makes me smile

23) He's a slightly more aggressive male version of myself

24) Sarcasm and wit battles are appreciated and are our version of mental foreplay

25) He's passionate about life

26) He is my best friend

27) He understands the difference between knowledge and wisdom

28) When I talk about hip hop/arts/music/poetry/spirituality for hourrrrrs, he doesn't think it's weird...because he does it to

29) I don't explain myself to him because I feel I have to...I do it because I want to.

30) He doesn't waste my time and is considerate of it because he realizes I have other things and interests going on in my life...and he does too

31) This holiday I already know what I want to get him next year...and I probably get him it now, just because

32) He's willing to teach me how to drive stick and go with me to the gun-range

33) I can completely be myself around him without fear of being judged...easier said than done

34) I can learn from him

35) He's good with kids

36) We can spend an entire day doing absolutely nothin and have the dopest time ever

37) When we watch movies at the crib we often times have a hard time making it to the end of the movie...if you catch my drift

38) We both don't care about "what we are" and our label cause we're just enjoying "what we have" and how dope the moment is

39) He lives spiritually as opposed to just talking about it

40) Play-fighting is necessary

41) When we dance (he must be willing to dance) we dance as if no one is watching cause we're too much into each other to frankly give a shit about anyone else

42) He gets why I want to adopt children and he does too

43) He understands the dopeness associated with chillen at bookstores, art shows, and little hole in the wall lounges

44) He thinks it's cool that my mom does charts and tarots and that I'm into studying the occult, conspiracy, etc., and even though he might not know that much about it, it triggers his interest

45) His corny ass gay comments/habits/mannerisms that would normally erk the hell outta me...well, they're cute

46) His random body parts, like his forearms, calves, shoulders, the back of his neck, etc...are the most incredibly sexy turn on ever... to the point where that rape feeling I mentioned previously becomes reality

47) His smile makes me smile

48) His musical taste is broad

49) He has ill style, but is confident enough to where he doesn't have to put it on display all the time...sweats and a beater never looked so hot

50) He's not a cocky fuck, it's just most people can't appreciate his bluntness/straightforwardness/sarcasm and someone who just likes themselves

51) He let's me be on top, but he's man enough to also take control, and good enough for me to let him be...visualize a predator prey role reversal type struggle that goes back and forth

52) We can waste an entire roll of film taking complete bullshit pictures of each other...and they're priceless

53) Money isn't his sole and primary motivating factor in life but he's rational enough to realize financial security is important

54) The terms social loner and practical idealist make sense to him

55) He can keep up and appreciates my randomness because he's just as random...and he realizes that they're really not that random, it's just that my linear train of thought moves in light years

56) During sex our breathing patterns force me to listen...hard, and make me sweat...harder

57) He buys me a card and actually writes something in it and knows that I mean it when I say that that means more to me than a bullshit gift

58) I can enjoy pleasing him sexually and feeling him inside of me in hopes of more than just reaching my peak or feeding my ego

59) He's charitable

60) He understands the necessity of giving each other space and that makes us want to be around each other more because our time together is voluntary not mandatory

61) He understands that I'm not yelling...I'm just passionate, expressive, and animated when I speak

62) He let's me pick at his back and his face

63) He doesn't necessarily completely understand me, but he's willing to try and accepts me for who I am

64) He agrees with my views on marriage...that marriage should only be a celebration of what's already there, and an unnecessary option, because the man I want to spend my life with, well, what we're going to have will be so secure and real that we will already be spiritually connected...marriage isn't the next step, it'll be an optional recognition of what's already there

65) He let's me do my occasional short-lived ranting and raving and let's it roll off of him because he realizes I'll get over it in a few minutes

Friday, December 9, 2011

Free Writing. Emphasis on 'free' and 'writing'.

Trying to write these days has been more than difficult; almost unnatural...But I'm a writer, right? Nah, prob not, just a vessel, who's chosen form of expression for an indefinite amount of time rather fancied the pen. But what to do in a world where pens and paper are but primitive tools to express primitive, thoughts? How am I supposed to feel a particular connection, a surge of warmth circulate through my tentacles of expression through a cold contraption, a mass produced contraption that's made my own handwriting unrecognizable to the portals of observation, otherwise known as my eyes. The connectors or synapses or whatevers between my emotions, thoughts and feelings and means of expressing the such are so...anti-social. My very own ideas have given me the cold shoulder...I suppose my fingertips haven't been getting enough circulation to feel their own warmth...to feel accompanied in the constant need or struggle to express. It's almost juvenile in a sense...narcissistic. A need to be recognized, acknowledged, for discovering or just unveiling the clusterfuck of sensations that most likely exist in us all...But I, said it first...and so eloquently, may I add. Maybe my ego is disappearing, maybe that's why implanting such words on a fixed medium seems so trivial amongst the greater scheme of things. Maybe I'm happier these days? since I don't have to talk to myself as much. Or maybe, my capacity for making words carry meaning has lost itself amongst the over-saturation of words primarily residing and bombarding our peripherals. Who's writing is this? I've never looped an 's' or rounded out an 'e' in such a manner. And for whatever reason, I don't care to change it. If the content of my words lack in their methods of expression, than their rogue appearance encrypts a message beyond conscious comprehension. At this very moment it makes me so happy to write as I please, without the authoritative intrusive red line that is spell-check. How can we grow if we don't make mistakes. How am I expected to flowfully spew out my inner most subconscious nuances, how can I expect for things to so organically 'slip' if consistently, my thoughts, are continually being invaded by that awful squiggly red line. I know what I meant to write. How can I learn the difference between me 3 seconds ago in that dimension over there, and the self-actualization that has occurred from the second I crossed out that word or rewrote the same word four times over again because as I crossed, underlined, circled, scribbled, I actually figured out, all by myself, what I actually meant...to say. Look how messy that sentence is...and I finished it in a just a few brief moments. Look, how much I learned in those few brief moments. I don't want to delete my thoughts. I want them refined, I want to SEE the growth. How else am I expected to truly identify with them otherwise. My energies, my words, my motivations, are real. Why toss them in the eternal abyss that is our computer's recycling bin. That's so...final. And that's just unrealistic, nothing about our existence is final nor permanent, so why deny yourself of the person you were 30 seconds ago. Connect to your scribbles, make love to your crooked letters, embrace your pen's confusion. It's why you're HERE. Why you probably understand yourself better now than you did at the beginning of this piece. Why now your curves and loops are far more grandiose, almost pompous, and why that panic attack has magically...disappeared. Take it out on the countless pages that lie beneath your fist. Embed yourself in its fibers. They're there to comfort you. To let you make mistakes and tell you....it's OK. Be rebellious, write LOUDLY. Make the ink SCREAM. Bet you can't quite do that in Text Edit. So...bland. I want to almost not be able to decipher my words because they appear so unconventionally drawn out...but KNOW exactly what they say because their personality is ALIVE! Because their context is a 3-D experience.

I've said enough...you get the point.

(©) 2011 by Jessica Freites

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Tuesday, November 22, 2011