Globalboho.Life: #Joysparks, globalboho style/ the MarieKondo edition.

These jeans were as deep indigo as the ocean at 2 am when they first arrived.

Then…amped by a tendency to  think in #twosminimum when it comes to denim that perfectly fits in the first place (#Hollister jeans, the best [mid-priced] kept secret for short-waisted leggy amazons with a bit of #fashist ass a decade deep(#justsayinglol- & don’t ef it up, you guys*)]20181003_150856-11785699703.jpg and a followup twitch that makes it utterly necessary to differentiate between the fraternalization of it all, the #gbgeist took hold.

…of bleach.

as I now understand that It must do, like clockwork. This is an actual thing of mines. Speaks to something I’d never taken the time to explore, just followed to often visceral, beautiful places when it came to outfitting myself and gearing up Others in general.

Maybe that’s what makes it so cool to finally get what I’ve been doing to denim across all these epochs of this crazy-assed life I’ve been allowed to live so far… in the afterglow of the spirited beginnings  of #RAWKTOBER lol.

…and it revealed itself absently, eloquently…and  echoing the guitar strummed in They say Vision by Res, who totally jumped her place in the line-up  to participate in the fiery protest vibe of this morning’s Rawktober  meditation.


I pulled them out of the dryer-this has been a placid, five day-ish process that always reminds me how strong my patience and long game is when it’s something perfectly in key with me- and the simplest question floated up as they did in my stoic arms, my eyes studying them like Adam studied the being God place before him when this whole thing reset millennia ago and nudged him to name it.

“…What IS this?”



I grinned up into the ceiling of a one hundred year old basement that was somehow flooded with light.

“This is Cielo.”

“Hmm.” God himself seemed to whisper, accepting my christening.

…I’m sitting here chuckling to myself as I write this because I SEE beyond a shadow of doubt that  this entire time this… right here?

…It’s always been about Flight.

My ass feeling like I’m flying. It’s Sky. It’s always sky. Always.


“Love wakes me up in the darkness of the early day

just to see my spirit spring forth and slash through the last stretches of stars

to watch the heatwave of heaven slide over to our side of the globe.

I dance in my bed then atop the firmament with battalions of Angels in tune,

ready to fight for our stupid human rights to live our best lives

to the hilt of our seemingly puny abilities whilst on earth…

and I call it the meditation that,

to God,the Heavenly Host that’s my cloud of witnesses and me…it truly is.

… and you can call me crazy all you want for it.

I prefer Nuut lol.

Because I know the frequency I’m riding…

I know the Neter I AM before all this is Was,

& Ra called my spirit Nuut forth as the firmament itself

to protect this stupid  human experiment as his first born child,

a daughter and sky god all the same,

…the stique they don’t speak on in your so-called schools.

 I agreed to  this solely for the beauty that can come from it-

from the actuality of us, fragmented into bizarre yous and eyes, 

documenting our rising up into  all we can one day eternally be.

…Since the books didn’t survive from the last time “

…No wonder when I put my hands to fashioning armor it comes out looking like the sky I am, even before the Angelic energy I put on… before I became this time’s me.

I prove this fleshy shit is worth all we spiritually risk wrapping ourselves in it…with every breath I take.



…but does it bring you JOY, tho?

Yep. Like sugah…so sweet, it surely does.


*Yes… Hollister Jeans, a fricking line with Junior-esque Odd number sizing…that is the ONLY company cutting anywhere NEAR how Levi jeans used to fit in the nineties before they started with #thefuckery.  Some of yall know.

If you can master figuring your sizes in Men’s standardized numbers- you’ll be fine.

This aint for everybody lol.

Only the shortwaisted, long inseamed chicks who aint starving themselves for Nobody.



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