HOT LINES. by Angel Brynner AOLAB 28JUNE2014.

It’s hot outside. I made myself get up out of bed and go experience it around 1127am, after making myself find images of triplets in utero to remind me to stay on task. Sometimes staying on task equals making yourself leave the spiritual detritus of home for an iced cappuccino and a blueberry crisp in an Italian café. Sometimes it equals packing up and moving when the triggers for the negativity trying to engulf you are compacted into every street corner you’d pass trying to walk it off you. That was New York in the end. An end that was a long time ago.

A lot has been up lately. A lot of nothing. Old instances that don’t even matter anymore trying their damnedest to do damage as I take even steps to move forward on things that mean something to me now. To put it mildly, it has been a bloodbath between the old and the new, one that has had me washing gore out of my hair on a daily basis as I own what I truly desire to see in myself instead of what I have gotten used to. A battle to truly BE me is one I can’t say I expected. But I am handling it.

But this whole LOVE thing? The motif that has come for me so many times through my walk that you’d think I must have done some down and dirty shit to some demons a lifetime before. But in the past few years the press of “You are not loved. You are not cared for” has cast such a pallor across the joys of my life that I have just made space for it, as if giving it ground was the fastest way to shut it the fuck up.

I mean, I stopped having sex. Outside of one backslide a year and a half ago (that I couldn’t even complete as an artist, let alone as an angry, feral cat-woman hurt over the absence of one who never showed up with love anyway) with June second of this year I have been full-on celibate six years. The topical boon of that is as long as you aren’t physically fucking people with tendencies to do things that make you feel unloved, you’ve no need to wash the blood off your hands from ripping their hearts out in return, ruining them for whomever comes after you. & if there are no channels with which that energy can fuck with you due to not fucking, it must find other avenues.

But the aforementioned energy just found its expression in other relationships, actually the ones where it was first seeded. The Family shit. But a funny thing happened there. A lot of things got healed enough so that the familial limp from wrestling with generational angels has pretty much gone. & the channels still proselytizing that “you are not loved unless I can abuse you” rally cry have succinctly died in light of their own actions.

I’ve spent a lifetime convincing myself that family I knew didn’t love me did simply because of being raised in a society that compels us to believe that party line even when we haven’t lived it. Canceling out actual experience that was to the contrary with slogans of “we are family” with people I consciously now barely know.

And without the sex? I’ve done similar dances in mental affairs with men who have no real connection to me whatsoever because…well, when it really gets down to it, being raised in the absence of love makes it very easy to be comfortable “loving” in the absence of it. Which may take a moment to get. Doesn’t erase the possibility of heartbreak. If anything, its nothing but Jesus that has my heart beating normally after the tremendous crash and burn of yet another debacle of one-sided emotion that because I have yet to know actual human love I was proof-positive was it until I couldn’t anymore under the incessant roars of unloved from the viewing stands throughout the entire thing.

…and its so funny because its my favorite sentence, one I am always trying to use but never have a sincere instance to do so until this afternoon…

But something strange happened today…

A few times in the whirlpool of it at home I lay there & just said “I am not doing this.” & I could literally feel the rush of it beating down on me like rain, but I was quiet in the center of it. Then it tried to force me out of bed-the stillness freaked it out, but I refused…and laid there in it until I wanted to get up. Conscious. I made myself get up, get dressed, walk some of the spiritual sallowness off through the now torrential downpours and up-roarings of “you are not loved, you are unlovable, you are not cared for,”…enjoyed my café experience, read a bit of my meditation book & even found a random swim class lead.

…and as I walked home, it pressed all the more on the state of my lovability. & when I wouldn’t care, it tried to convince me that what I once wrote off as love but had failed WAS love again…as the only road to having what it was trying to hit me with have any import or sway at all. & I just rolled my eyes watching it.

“Then fine-its not love- “we” aren’t loved-but “we” can find it! “we” can look for it, high and low until-[yeah, like suddenly it & I were this happy team,just having a doctrinal set-back…]”

Suddenly, I said. “…No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I’m not going out looking “For love. fuck that. No. I’m unloved?” I asked it.

“…yeah- Yeah, you are.”

“…So what?”


“So what. I don’t care. I actually do not care. Look around. It’s still a beautiful day. Look at the sky. Look at these oak trees. I don’t care.”

I’ve lived this life predominantly alone. No one but myself, whatever angels God has spiritually had encamped around me, the spirit of my art projects, God himself & his son hanging about whether I call on them or not. heck, I just saw my kid sister for the first time since 2008 a few weeks ago.& it was cool, conscious…and fun. I haven’t seen my dad in six years & he never calls me nor appreciates when I check in on him.

But you know what?

I’ve witnessed more beauty alone in this life than many could living the way they do.

And  I may not get love from people. So what? I literally HAVE the experience of God making the world-the trees the bugs- life without human bullshit sing  out to me on a daily basis.

I don’t care.

I am not going out to find “human love.” I Have it. I am it. I am Full of “human Love” & God pours it out of me onto others every damn day whether they appreciate it or not. I am so full of love that even the spirit realm -that witnessed todays attacks as clearly as I did-shores it up every single day.

Human Love?

It’s going to have to find me and come in because I am not searching for it another day of my life. & it’s going to have to be on par with that “i actually hear the mountains rejoice over God” tip that I live out everyday in lieu of bathing in the spoiled sicknesses of those upset I wont slowly kill myself alongside them with drink, drugs or dumb sex games …because I actually LOVE in light of this life… I’ve wasted enough of this beautiful life on things with no sense of the love flowing from me to them.

I have a set number of days. And its been made clear to me that from God’s point of view, I am not someone who can only see and appreciate this life using the added eyes of someone else…or that person would have shown up a long time ago. & it’s something I have never naturally done. But Everyone doesn’t need that. & those that do go through a life of that in a serial sense.& that’s okay for them, but it would be a prison for me. & its weird- I have so much love in me that I’ve been allowed to aspect myself out & heal the past parts of me that  were severely wounded by that absence. That’s a beautiful gift in itself. And I’m just embracing the love that is.

If you like jealousy, God is not going to let you near me because he knows I can’t fathom it as being worth any part of me. If you like games God is not going to let you be with me because he didn’t design me to. & I’m finally committing the rest of my life to walking that design out. Its like I finally see… the blessings in all this relational mess that I’ve had such a press on me to be ashamed of for not participating fully in..

My name is Angel Brynner… and I am unloved in this world.

But so what? If I don’t care, and no one loves me then who is it that is supposed to be all moved I am not loved? Where it is big deal?

I am unloved by people…but the birds sing me awake every single day.

I am unloved by man…but the rains honor my request to hold off until breakfast is done whenever they’d be too much for me to bear.

I am unloved by others…but all I have to do on a hot day is say ” I’m hot,” and God literally sends a breeze to cool me off every single time.

Little kids and puppies with God in their eyes charge me with glee every chance they get. Old people with wisdom & God in their eyes grin at me like they are five all over again every chance they are given. I go swimming in the ocean and baby sharks come up just  to say hello lol. I return to South Beach for 48 hours and the green parrots that used comfort me on my loneliest days swell up & squawk in clouds of celebration at my ambling past that scare the shit out of humans meandering around us. Every day I have to shake off the cruelties of men and women in this city, white egrets find me wherever I go to remind me of what is really afoot here. And now they come in pairs.

And its so strange …a recent attack abruptly stopped upon it falling out of my mouth that the person who orchestrated the attack against me was going to die this year. I wonder does he realize how lucky he is TO be going home.

I know…I may not be mourned or missed by people when I die…but the clouds and dragonflies will sing out for having been loved and seen joyfully spiraling by me. Cicadas will scream out goodbye for seasons twice as long as normal at my finally getting to go back home.

And all I’ve seen from humans freely classified under the moniker of love pales in comparison to the crescendos God has worked into the fabric of this life that scream louder than all those sending me hatred combined ever will be able to.







Seaweed salad is something that I can say I’ve spent upwards of at least a grand on in my adult life, in various countries, towns, villages. Going commando with it and trying to re-create it myself was nothing but Jesus. In fact, when I got the wakame, I wasn’t even Thinking seaweed salad, I was thinking “natural source of iodine” & “I miss the iodine in the air at the beach.” AKA replenishment. But it is too simple to make to not try.


As for the SHRIMP NOODLE SOUP: I started by heating up some water and adding Chinese egg noodles to it, throwing in local dried shrimp and bok choy to simmer with basil & garlic. I pulled that out, drained it and set it aside as the broth continued to cook, adding fresh shrimp, soy sauce, acv, olive oil and the 1/2 cup of seaweed water retained from the wakame unfurling.

Then I pulled out my trusty chopsticks that have seen the world with me and devoured it all watching Seven Psychopaths, screaming at the screen…I was hungry two hours later. But it was all really good. The splice of the two kinds of shrimp really got me going.

And I may never order seaweed salad out again.