DON'T FUCK WITH ME DURGA!

so I tried starting this once before but my ex objected to some of the content. we've since broken up even more and I'm feeling I once again have the freedom of expression

I'm sitting on my bed, to my right are four old cameras from the 70s to my left an old futon propped against my radiator that I've been using as a couch, a speaker acting like a nightstand, the decaying corpse of a cat murdered chair which has found new life as a shelf and occasional backrest. behind me two six foot high shelves of old electronics, toys, pieces of wood and hindu statuary all collecting dust. the dust was here before I left and it's still here now that I'm back with more books and cloth and art supplies. All of which will collect more dust. I'm trying to rationalize this, make it seem pretty or interesting but I can't put a value to it, not even a negative value. it's just stuff, there to be ignored until needed. I feel bad saying that while Shiva and Durga are staring at me. Maybe this is my punishment for letting them get dusty in the first place. To be cast out of Montreal and return to dust and Albany.

My therapist thinks it's my mother. My lonely not very old mother who's best friend is an 18 year old black girl and who's boyfriend is a 60something black man who has heart problems and is married to another woman. But enough about my mother, I feel like there's more hope if my situation can be attributed to the insane woman and god of transformation growing dusty on my shelf.

so how to reinvent my little world without pissing off the many armed crazy woman with who thinks I might be a demon.