i've moved.

one click away, don't freak out.

http://www.alyssalobit.com/blog

it's better, i promise.

SOOOOO proud of my soul sister and brother from another mother!!!

alana and nate, gettin down with the get-down!! their ideas, their designs, their amazing manifestation:


and more and moRE and MORE!!!

<3 <3 <3

the glorious dawn that awaits dances on the insides of my eyelids like the scent of apple pie

spoons for noses mean flowers taste good.

i was gonna post about chemtrails, but decided it's a better use of my energies to just bust those "clouds" with my third eye when i see them (or maybe transmute them into love clouds, which will rain down upon all of humanity, opening up fourth chakras worldwide). so, instead i will use this post to announce that i love my offbeat family, i cherish my unique friends, and i am open to more and more and more <3

(i couldn't get the spoon to stick on my nose, so instead i devoured dessert.)

tomorrow the dead dance and i'll fit right in

(photo by athena lobit, featuring julie becker and alyssa lobit)

i'll just be here, watching this, ad infinitum.

taking pictures of poems.

i enjoy surreal word mash-ups and language "distortions" because my desire is to break language of its limitations, its deceptions about the true, mutable and paradoxically constant nature of reality. a thing is limited in naming it. it is hardened into a cage of letters and meaning, and it is my goal to free the things i can by presenting them in odd letters and combinations. shakespeare knew this: the sweetness is the thing, not the letters r-o-s-e. a rose is a flower, and a woman and a kiss and pure consciousness.

when strange and new combinations of words pop into my mind, i feel like an explorer, discovering an ancient ruin, which is at once as old as life itself and new to me. it's the same sensation i've gotten when struck by a beautiful sunset, the clouds and colors arranged in a way i've never seen before, but there it was, all along, waiting to happen. there are no two sunsets that are identical and they happen every day.

the desire to communicate that which cannot be communicated is the ultimate fuckaroo. it's like taking a picture of that beautiful sunset. that photo will never be the sunset itself, it was only for my eyes to see from my exact pinpoint of perception. i've stopped taking pictures of many beautiful moments, instead opting to savor the moment. but then i find myself--sure, only sometimes--wanting to share that moment with someone else, so i write a poem to jailbreak that image from my mind, hoping to give it to someone else.

someone once said i'm cryptic, like it was a bad thing, and it made me wonder if i was. it was a while ago and i haven't been pondering it daily, but nonetheless, it gave me pause at the time. after this somewhat random but highly detailed exploration of my motives and recognition of my obvious delight in discovering new word combinations, i see it as a valiant effort to connect, which also happens to feel like a nice long brain-exhale for me. the universe is cryptic and there are no secrets... just things waiting to be discovered and described and then set free.

the veil, lifted. (and into the mirror: yes, i do.)

this is what the voices say. i just write the shit down.

maybe sometimes in our lives
we should care not at all about any thing
and that means anything
but we should love it all
love being joyful acceptance of what is
without a reaching towards what ought to be
or could be
it's just this silent hum
of molecules bumping up against each other
and laughing cuz it tickles

philosophical bender is on
i'm off to make-out with a forest and merge with a 3,000 year-old tree
i keep thinking perhaps it will share some of its secrets
and it's wondering the same thing of me

planet earth, you are a perfect playground <3

(sadly, i don't know who to give photo credit to)

we are humans being, happening'd.

new arts.

noodle doodles by me.

taming the rose. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

come what may. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

traveling light. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

out damn'd spot!

the sun rained down
on the grassy green
landing on its back
kicking at the wind
trying to right itself
as the telltale tree
watched giggling
like a ragdoll dream
all floppy and clean
dancing legless
pinned to a bright blue screen

and:

(this video goes with my cliff meets sea tweet)

a beautiful reminder.

much love to my dear friend whose father passed away recently <3

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

- Ellen Bass

it's called love, people!

when curiosity and cuddling supersede survival instincts.

thanks johnny :)

-AlphaLimaYankeeSierraSierraAlpha

*addendum: or is this what happens only once basic needs are met? kitty knew she had a feast in mama baboon, so then it became play time. hmmm. still love, methinks.

the rubber band theory.

this started out as an email to my sister, but i decided to go public with it :D
awareness of possible conspiracy makes it easier to keep from engaging in water-cooler gossip, which, whether the conspiracy is true or not, is a good thing. case in point: mel gibson.
i hadn't paid much attention to the hooplah and then looked at a bit online. bottom line: whether he's being set up (he's pretty vocal about exposing the new world order) or is actually fucking nutso and abusive, why do i really need to bother about it? the chick who's been supposedly abused is handling herself (if she's really been abused -- there is plenty of surfacing speculation that ALL of it is a lie, he's being framed/edited/faked and/or somehow being manipulated because of his outspoken-ness about the new world order shiz). all of the "sources" of the proof of abuse and madness are the same ones that sell sensationalism... TMZ, In Touch, People and people. these are the mind-numbers, the gossip-mongers who get the masses to talk about petty things, other peoples' drama and mindless chatter in order to keep them subdued and distracted. this is true, even if i were to say mel gibson is an asshole abusive crazy person or his ex is a gold-digging snatch. neither of those opinions REALLY matter. why are so many people obsessed with talking about it? both the mainstreamers and the conspiracy theorists. speculating on agendas that aren't my own means i am a pawn on either side. there's gotta be something more interesting to discuss, like perhaps that rubber bands last longer when they're refrigerated.

i had to be reminded last night that i've been to borneo. what!?!

-alyssa out.

my favorite drink is water.

i like the crispness of her voice. it's like putting hot feet in a cool, bubbling mountain stream.



true story. i want the ride down the river. sometimes i forget, but hearing this awakens the truth.





a master speaks...





welcome home little feeshies.

slow down to speed up.

years ago, i hiked down the grand canyon with my family. if i didn't hike down, it wouldn't have been as beautiful, fun or amazing. that is, if i'd suddenly just found myself in the bottom of that canyon... sure it would've been cool. but 'cool' like looking at a photo of something pretty. the journey down filled out the photo into a 3D experience, laughing with my family, talking to God in my head, noticing the flowers breaking rocks to be there. and make no mistake, hiking, yes, even downhill, gets tiring. at some points i wanted to curl into a ball and roll down, my legs were so spent. did i mention we all had camping packs on our backs? stuffed with everything we'd need to camp out in the bottom of the canyon for a few days?? it was for this reason alone i didn't try the whole curling into a ball. der! that would never work with a pack on my back! anyway, we finally made it to the bottom and every single step i'd taken was reflected back at me in the beauty of a bajillion stars blanketing the night sky.

and then we had to walk back up.

now. it occurs to me that, in terms of reflecting on this experience as allegory, i could've chosen to *FLY* out of that canyon. slow down. speed up. balance in all things.

i am,
alyssa.

two thousand and ten reasons...

to celebrate. the first one on the list is that i made it through the last year. and the second one is that all of it - yes all of it - helped me realize that i will always make it through. we are immortal, after all.

it was a year of childbirth (the closest i will likely come. seriously). the first nine months were crazy painful and challenging. and then came moments of joy, fulfillment and bliss that exceeded expectations. the challenging stuff was personal, emotional. and i suppose the fun stuff was, too. i did things like screen TTWC at the iconic arclight, win seven awards in iowa, and start working with a tv/film agency i already love (metropolitan!). and that's just naming a few of the brain-poppin awesomes.

so many of my friends also had a challenging time. all year it was

soul sisters
soul brothers
soul mates
and soul lovers
keep going
keep going
keep going

it seems everyone is ready for 2010 to be here and it is striking, wonderful, that there is a palpable sense of *excitement* about the new year. more so than i've ever witnessed. part of me wants to give 2009 the bird, but instead, this is me blessing it, letting it go and opening myself up to a magical 2010. btw, when i say magical, i don't mean it's magic. it's not magic or luck. it is awareness. imagination. exploration. meditation. manifestation. creation. and yes, it's all love <3

below is some poetry i wrote throughout the year. this little fishie is casting it to the sea like so many flower petals............

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they're part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there's more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there's more

---

sometimes
the only thing i can manage to write
is tears
and at a certain point
they write themselves
and i go off
into a dimension unseen
i come back to novels
of wishes
etched onto my face
in a language i can't understand
i examine them closely
skipping ahead to see
how they end

---

you are the phantom
i am the dream
it never happened
and it all will again
over and over
eternity upon eternity
this fleeting world
that no one sees
the end of a breath
the silence of trees
falling in the faces
of gods on their knees
i take walks every day
hoping to fall in love
with a stranger
or a flower
or my self
i punch holes in the skyline
hoping to see beauty
in the danger
and the power
of this life

---

i don't want to write
any of this down
so that i can forget it
wash it away
like moonlit footprints
on the sands of time
carried out to the blackness
by the cold hard sea
wish that i knew now
what i'll know tomorrow
that none of it happened
that my heart isn't breaking
against the cliff of who we were
to each other
in the dark
wash it away
by the cold hard sea

---

rumors are written on bathroom walls
and faces of strangers
sinking old ships in the night
dreams are dancing on the edges of razors
and lips of lovers
sucking the seed till its dry

---

all that matters
is who you are
and who you pretend to be
a handshake
a heart break
a thin grin on a blue plate
a marching band
lost on a desert road
a marksman
hits a sleeping gate
you'll never quite remember
who you thought you were
cuz all the shiny mirrors
get lost inside the blur
of who you are
and who you pretend to be
and who you wish you were

---

the distance between these selves
an ocean of remorse
the space between two parallels
that will never ever meet
no matter that the force
could bend every bone
pretending that would work
but work's for those who still believe
that love is something earned
floating down the river
of tears that cut and burn
all those years of breaking
we finally have learned
the price
the cost
the moments lost
the price
the cost
kills any sense of worth

---

you're getting farther away
and so am i
i'm with change
and things that don't stay the same
we danced on that moment
like it was all there was
a dandelion
twirling in the fingers
of god
but i'm with change
and things that don't stay the same
i check the rearview of my mind
as you fade away
your shining silhouette
cuts away
i'm with change
i'm with things that don't stay the same
you're getting farther away
so am i
and with enough change
the moment passed
that shining dance
was left to linger
fading with the rain

---

don't go back to who you were that day
you gave all your sweetness away
tear up the ghost you've twisted
it's shifted
like a stranger, a lover
in a forgotten bed
you're sitting here on the edge of your world
whispering nothing into your own head
tear up the ghost you've twisted
it's shifted

don't go back to those empty ways
you kept your heart beating anyway
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it's shifted
like a prayer, a feather
on a dirty wind
you're lying here at the dawn of the pearl
shattering roses and everything red
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it's shifted

---

there are too many wounds
to play any more
the scars on our fingertips
changed who we are
i look in the mirror
for a clue
for an answer
the thing that stares back
is wondering too
where did she go
that girl that we knew
with scars on my fingertips
i read my face in the dark
and neither of us could've known
but both of us knew
the healing that comes
is not a return
but a river of rain
paving a canyon of fingertips
smooth
and nothing will ever be the same
and both of us knew

---

we are here to be alive
not kill ourselves
do the math on that

thank you, my dear fellow divine beings. we kept going. and now, again, still, forever, we are here. party at my pad!! :D

so much love,
alyssa taesun lobit

interview with the sisters lobit

SDAFF Interviews Alyssa and Athena Lobit
http://www.sdaff.org/festival/2009/the-things-we-carry.php

that's all i got right now. but i think it's more than enough...
thanks lovies~
injoy,
alyssa