Reynaud's Disease or Phenomenon. I don't know if I'm right, but I choose the phenomenon. At least it's not lupus or scleroderma or rheumatoid arthritis. A famous painter - can't remember - had RA. In England, they call Reynaud's the Union Jack - fingers turn red, white, and blue. My feet and fingers will fall off. I thought meditation would help, but it does, but it doesn't.

, for they were happy to be alive.
, but he had a problem on the chromosomal level.
, and he unloaded the cage in the back.
,so the dead tiger had a light inside.

I found I have an easier time writing if I make a box at the top of my page. I then fill this box with a color. I've already tried yellow, green, magenta, blue, and green and green. Whenever I get stuck or stumble or feel insecure, I look at this box. The box becomes a field. I go in the field. Sometimes, I did a hole into the field - the magenta - and scream in the hole. Then I return. I try to move from the coordinate to the subordinate. I move from the compund to the complex to the compund complex. I have thought about elliptical clauses and laugh when the subject and part of the verb falls away. I shorten auxiliary to aux.

So, to make the Reynaud's better than ever, I attempt to meditate. I should follow rules or go to a class, but I've made something for myself instead.

I start by breathing through my toes, my ankles, my shins, my thighs, my penis, my stomach, my chest, my shoulders, my elbows, my forearms, my wrists, my fingers, my brain, and my face. At each stage I imagine whatever part I'm on has lots of pores. The air goes in the pores and out the pores. It's not MY breath. It is THE air. The best part is breathing through my fingers and face. My fingers always tingle. When I breathe through my face, I imagine I breathe through my skull nosehole. I once wanted to start a club in which everyone had to take a clean razor and cut into his/her face. He or she had to cut all the way to the bone - the skullbone - and tap the razor edge on the skull. He or she would have to let everyone hear that tap - we would all hear that tap of the razor on the bone, and we would know she got deep down. What does that tap sound like, do you think? I imagine wet bone. So after all that breathing through my ankles and my penis, I move on to saying the words Black Bear over and over again to myself. As I say these words, I imagine a shiny black door slowly opening and closing. The door is in a white wall that's vast like the idea of white or black. I do this for only ten minutes. When the temp dips below 50, my fingertips still turn death white. Maybe I should change my meditation? I thought I should imagine my friend at her brother's wedding in Mexico. She's the bridesmaid and she's there and she doesn't know what to do. She looks very pretty, and her teeth are smaller than everyone else's. After all that, she goes to Las Vegas and wins 215 dollars at the Men in Black slotmachine. The idea is to take ten steps away from your face before you take ten steps through your face. Then you get in your face and ruin it so you only have your skull nosehole and you can breathe through it. It's a lot easier.