- Patti Smith wrote the lyrics for "Because the Night" while waiting for her lover to call. If only my frustration were that poignant.
- I submitted a new poem for publication this week, we'll see if it goes.
- Still working on the damn succubus story.
- Healing from surgery continues apace. Scar tape is annoying.
- Work is going well, lots of new projects and exciting things to work on.
- No progress on the moving to NYC at this exact moment--I have a game plan to start on after some work things settle down.
- I am going to SO MANY EVENTS this month--seeing Aladdin in the theater, a pagan discussion group meeting/friends out to dinner, a Fleetwood Mac dance party, a Litquake event, a Welcome to Night Vale book release party, a Halloween story reading. . .SO MANY THINGS. Social Charlie is social.
- I need to pick up my knitting again and finish that enormous scarf before scarf weather hits.
- I want to create a casual (work-wearable) Cheshire Cat costume. Because Reasons.
Yesterday and Next Year
with gratitude to Alyssa Harley
was hard. The Supreme Court
decided I could marry
a man or a woman with impunity,
just three days after a Latina trans immigrant was booed out of the White House
for saying the struggle is not over
because she has bigger problems than a hers&hers wedding registry.
I did it too. I said to friends, to family, jesus, can’t we take one day to be happy,
can’t we let people celebrate and rest for a minute
and come back refreshed in a minute
ready to fight again?
Some people quietly agreed, and some shouted that thought down, and some quietly disagreed,
and I was angry. And I slept on it, and thought what do I have to be angry about?
Despite my intersectional identities I am sitting pretty high up on the privilege pyramid
(English as my first language, white skin, citizenship and
if I take it in any particular moment the ability
to pass as a straight cis man, if you don’t look under these clothes.)
I realized that yesterday I was angry because of my privilege,
the privilege even for a minute to feel that we have worked hard enough
that a break is coming, that I
will reach the top of that pyramid and sit in the sun.
There are people at the bottom holding me up,
holding you up. They are crushed under the weight
of good enough and not my fight and that must be so hard and next year.
They have fought the fights that were not theirs,
shown up for rallies and on picket lines,
paid their dues and listened to the promise of next year.
you can stay in this country
your rape will be prosecuted
your name will be your own
your body will be safe in bathrooms and bars and the streets
you can have privacy
you can make your own medical choices
your identity will be respected
I’ll sign the nondiscrimination bill
I’ll remember that Stonewall was a riot
next yearyou can be proud too.
I also changed one of my romantic relationships, moving to a more friends-with-occasional-benefits situation. I needed to let go of long-distance relationships for my own emotional health. I need more people in my time zone, as my mother says, in the metaphorical and in the literal senses. That doesn't make it sting any less, and I'm really glad my partner in that relationship is kind and loving and truly wants me to be safe and happy.
I've emailed to see about starting a barre exercise class--working out and being healthy will help make space for other things, too.
I didn't plan on needing to work on this kind of space, and it's heavy.
In happier news, I'm about to embark on Camp NaNo for the succubus story, and bass lessons and time with Mr. K. continue apace.
- Moved! Again! Still in SF, and here's hoping I can stay settled for awhile, because I threw out some boxes. That marks the 14th time in eight years. Far too much. The room is still a mess, but Nimbus and I are getting settled in. It's really cute and relaxed here, and there's not much in the way of expectations between the flatmates. It's been restorative.
- FoGCon was delightful! I made a lot of new acquaintances, had a lovely time with Mr. K. and his wife, and got my arm signed by Cathrynne Valente. Both panels I was on went very well, I got to wear the shiny red pants, and even got asked on a date. (It'll be Friday.) I was asked to come back and be on panels again next year, which is always a good feeling.
- One of my friends had a really bad week last week. I did a lot of caretaking. It was kinda heavy, but it seems like things are more evened out for them now.
- Haven't gotten anything new written, although a few poems are percolating. One about the apartment I lived in in France that should be good if I can get it out. I'm kicking around ways to revamp The Abbey if I take Kit out of it, we'll see how that goes.
- I'm revamping what a personal practice needs to look like for me. I am a hard polytheist, and I need to own that at this point. Debating how church fits into that. It'll be an interesting direction meeting this week, for sure. I'm also going back through some of my Grailwood notes and materials. Kind of angry that it feels like I'm always in flux with this as with so many other things.
- I'm turning thirty next week. Working out how I feel about that. I wish I'd created some more permanence by now, but I guess I'm basing the whole idea on what my parents were doing at thirty, and look how most of that turned out.
- I'd really like a primary relationship in my life at this point. I'm a bit worn down by always being the secondary, even though I have lovely partners. I want someone to do those everyday things with. This might be helped by finding a partner with less of a commute and more of a compatible schedule, too.
- Work's going pretty well, thankfully. We had one of our remote team members in town for the last 2 weeks, which was super fun.
- I emailed Dad for his birthday, and he emailed back. Progress!
- Been catching up on stupid adult things, a bit. I have a consult for surgery next month, so hopefully that ball can start rolling, and I'm working on financial planning and transferring my ID to California and all that jazz.
Nothing much else to say. I miss Mike and Grailwood, but I'm mostly OK, and excited for November.
How's by you?
- I have not yet done a Pi-Con wrap up, which makes it highly unlikely that I will actually do one, so for the record, it was freakin' awesome, I had a great time, and I now have a lion.
- Speaking of the lion! His name is Aloysius, and he is the Lion of Chance. He was named by shadesong, and he has a collar of dice, and he helped with my shot today because I was having muscle tension of doom, and he is basically the rockingest lion ever. Pictures eventually.
- I am back on www.sparkpeople.com, once again tracking my exercise and food intake. Here's hoping I can get back into some good habits.
- I have been writing, a bit! I am thinking of retooling the Headvoices so that they're not a script, and tell a more coherent story. If anyone has thoughts on this, do comment! If you'd like to read them, they're tagged as "voice" here.
- I am applying to Brooklyn College because they have a Master's program in French teaching for 7th-12th grade. This is exciting.
- I have three (three! wow!) interviews lined up so far for tutoring gigs, on Monday and Tuesday of next week. Good vibes, prayers, thoughts, energy, incantations, etc. would be much appreciated.
- I have been horrible at making plans to see people, mostly because I keep getting hit by the nap-hammer. HOWEVER! I got through today (a shot day, even!) with no nap, so hopefully I can stop sleeping so much extra.
- Yay #Roombed.
It's neat, that's all.
I want to be a dad.
I want to homeschool my kids.
I can write better than I do, and more.
Having a life is like having a cardboard box. It's what you put in it that matters.
Inspiration is taking a bunch of stuff out of the freezer, throwing it in the stock pot, adding water and spices and lighting a fire underneath.
I want to build my life with my hands, something I can be proud of.
I am a fighter, a dreamer, a warrior, a realist, a lover.
Sometimes I don't know where to find you, and so I look for something to guide me home.
Things I want more of:
Things I want less of:
Laziness without enjoyment
I want nothing more than to sit at someone's feet,
To curl up, writing, at your feet,
Writer's, speaker's tools, always at my hand,
At your feet. Where I sit, waiting,
Not, even, for acknowledgement, but for the Muse,
The only place I find her, away from distraction,
Stripped of the day-to-day,
At your feet.
what i was thinking? eyes so blue (brown)
voice(s) so dulcet (sometimes) and so (more often) shrill
revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse
but you always hated when i quoted shakespeare (dante)
or when i asked for what you didn't want to give. you took my jeans (shoes) (kisses) (care) (shame)
without asking. could you not take some occasion. . .
there i go again. there are photos of us (just one Us, not all)
and i look at them and see who i was through your eyes
who you were to me.
It’s too cold to be naked, but I couldn’t find my t-shirt when I left our bed. I woke up and you were gone, I’m looking for you. I walk through the long dark wallpapered hallway, feet slapping on the wood floor. I have goose bumps but I suddenly realize it isn’t cold, I am just chilled. I woke up disoriented from a strange dream of beaches, sea glass and driftwood under my feet. I was looking for something then, too. I have reached the end of the interminable nighttime hall, found the latch of the screen door, stepped out into the sweltering heat of the screen porch. There you are, curled up in my shirt, legs hanging over the side of the heavy cotton hammock I brought back from Uzès. I climb up beside you, kiss your nose. « Hey. » You look at me with faraway star eyes. « How long have you been out here ? » « You were dreaming, » you say, not really answering me, as I feel like I have been dreaming for months, years, as if I am dreaming now. I look at the sky, the moon, try to gauge time. It must be almost three by now. You turn, nestling into my shoulder and pulling my arm close around you. Your hair is against my cheek, soft, slightly damp and smelling like chamomile. « Did you shower ? » You nod, your head bumping softly against my chin. « It was hot. » Your breathing, the weight of you, the gentle sway of the hammock, are soothing me now, and I lay still, resting in your embrace. You look up, kiss me, your mouth unexpectedly cool, you have been sucking on the mint ice cubes we made earlier. I pull the t-shirt from you, admiring your pale skin in the moonlight, the curves of your body that I have just begun to learn. Kissing your collarbones, running my hands down your back. It’s almost too hot out to touch you. « It’s hot, » I say, echo. We are moving languidly, slowly, desire fighting with laziness and the strangeness of the hour. We lose the fight, we are heavy with dreams and cannot move. I regain sleep, the sound of your breath turning into the waves of the dream beach I walk until morning.