Sutnam, y’all!

Welcome back to A Thousand Serious Moves! On today’s episode I have a conversation with Houston comic, Doug Sanders. We talk about mental and physical health- therapy, yoga, etc. We also chat about the subconscious and relationships influenced by said subconscious. Doug has an upcoming show with Ku Egenti at the Houston Improv July 18th at 8pm. Make sure you check him out!

On this episode, I also further reflect on quitting drinking and read a reflection by the Hindu Mystic, Vivekananda called “The Open Secret”. I also reveal a secret of my own; stay tuned until the end for the big reveal!

Pussy, Money, Weed, Enlightenment,
Amanda

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Namaste, y'all!

On this week's episode of A Thousand Serious Moves, I chat with an old friend from Faith Christian Academy, Adam Lecea. We chat about our spiritual journeys, Atheism, Buddhism & more!

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Namastacey,
Amanda Holstien

"Dead King"
by: Amanda Kay Holstien, Sr.

You are my Dead King
where even in my dreams
you reign
but with a shaky scepter-
Your skin, grey and soft,
sinking.
I could've sworn you were dead,
yet there you are
teetering amongst us,
a little drunk, it seems-
the truth, not so far off in dreams.
I go to hug you
and your body melts.
What was once a great ruler, now
draped in dark and dust.
Daddy, King
you too have fallen
amongst the many men you thought you were invincible. 
Now, I am no longer
easily convincible
that you were a god.
I believed in you though
up till now-
where here you are before me
behind a smokey screen, in my dreams-
where even now you fall
flat, hard, a heavy pillar,
now shattered into large chunks and ashy pieces-
piece, piece, rest in peace
my once alive and now Dead King.

"A Song for Light and Dark"
by: Amanda Kay Holstien, Sr.

If the gate slams before me,
you can find me
rolling in the dust
or bathing in the mud.

The carcass hands on the wall,
bleeding before us all,
but your hero's been gone too long,
so you start singing a somber song.

Fall in and out of love,
you fit me like OJ's glove.
Where once we were inseparable,
now we're incompatible.

But I'm trying to keep it light,
I'm trying to keep it light,
trying to find the light,
keep fighting,
though I'm scared
and breathing
that heavy air.

Acid and Adderall
fills the void
after all.
My body's a temple
for you-
just put it in your mouth,
consume, consume, consume.

But the song's not over yet;
I've got a whole pack of cigarettes.
With a backpack
and no regrets,
I must be on my way.

I once heard a river
weeping for her mother
and her long lost brother
in the metaphorical war.

I've got prison letters
from a man I once called home.

Pairing a white gown
with some high heels
and a red frown.
A honeymoon in Disney World,
the older man
and his blue girl.

But the leaves started turning green,
the night that you left me.

If the gate slams before me,
you can find me
blooming
in the dust,
I flourish
in the mud.

I'm but a blossom,
blooming in the dead of night.

"Enlightenment, or: Contradiction, Unsettled"
by Amanda Kay Holstien, Sr.

Cheyenne, kombucha
& natural cigarettes;
acid & yoga:
am I enlightened yet?
Meditate when I'm angry
& smoke when I'm sad;
it's hard 2 b a woman
w/so many guys named Chad.

I found a razor in an ashtray
on the Upper East Side;
all my friends are snorting snow,
and I'm trying
to keep
my stride.

Still though,
I know
not necessarily
does every
truth
have a rhyme
or rhythm
or calming effect.

Life is form, unhinged:
I am a flower blossoming
after being
plucked.
Both flourishing
& degrading:
fasting,
but not to be thin.
Or maybe thinness second,
Enlightenment first;
thinness, a happy accident.

One foot in my body,
a twitch in my third eye,
let's roll another doobie,
& pray we get real high,
like the first time.

Still I try
to find
my intuition,
only
to find
life, a contradiction,
unsettled. 

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by: Amanda Kay Holstien

What if I don’t know anybody?
What if they’re all dicks?
What if he falls out of love with me?
What if I never make it?
What am I working towards?
Why is she further along?
What if I compare myself,
But my comparison is actually wrong?
Evaluating my time like it’s money
And my decisions, commodities
Like buying stocks
When I’m ill informed of what tomorrow might bring.
Luck and hard work
Plus ego and delusion
Equals: why should it happen for me?
Self-doubt for 29 years is too long,
I could’ve died by now and never had the chance to change it-
I could be pregnant,
Barefoot in the kitchen with only dreams of fucking another man,
Praying my husband doesn’t think of another woman.
I feel I’m floating, like a lucky feather,
Fluttering and uncomfortable in any one place.

Please leave me alone,
So I have time to contemplate
All the ways in which I’m not good enough.
It’s sad, really,
To feel alone amongst so many friends.
Authenticity died with Sartre,
Yet hell remains the Other.
What if I perish
Without having published?
What if inspiration never comes
And my emotions are never given a proper name?
What if we think we’re so different,
When we’re really, mostly the same?
What if all the right questions
Still don’t lead to a satisfying conclusion?
What if what I believe to be true
Is actually just an illusion?

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It's mostly all in your head. 

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Second guess your second guess.