Before the Cataclysm

The Dream I had a dream, which I’m becoming more and more prone to doing these days. Was a time that I didn’t remember my dreams. The entire time I was with Jon and had AIDS, I didn’t remember my dreams. But I’m remembering them more and more lately. Age perhaps. So, the room is white, or the mise en scene is very white and seems 2D, but is indeed a 3D space where I find myself with a functional version of my Mom. Mom is as enamoured with the surroundings as I am and we’re seeing a bunch of lambs/baby sheep (in the dreams, we don’t call them lambs, we called them baby sheep for some reason). And the sheep are more or less a stuffed animal version of the real thing. But to us they seem 100% real.  And as we are standing there, a white-haired terrier with a black tipped snout is herding them. We are charmed by the dog and the baby sheep. My Mom and I are gloriously happy. We don’t know what’s going on, but we’re seeing so many of them, too many to count. And so I woke and h...

 Feb. 20, 2023 Dear Katriona, Thank you for your Valentine’s Day card. Nice to hear how well Blair is doing. I love hearing tales from college. UW…that’s big time. I’m super happy and totally un-surprised her Mom (and Dad) created a mini-genius. Glad that life with Kyle is settled too. I’ve been on your husband’s journey from his late 20s as a solo-prenuer for a while now. My first two years were exceptional (2021 and 2022), but as I head into 2023, the waters are turbulent. Frankly, it’s been a weird and disturbing 5 months for me, so I thought no time like the present to gift you some Schadenfreude so you can enjoy looking at how even keel your life is (given how inconsistent my relative happiness has been). I nailed down a new client rather seamlessly in October 2022 when NIH kicked me to the curb ( on a 3 year contract, and they surreptitiously ended our agreement!), and then nothing. Nothing. Silence on the new client front. I’m sitting here after 4 months a bit rattled...

The whole thing is odd and alarming.  I'm gay and this situation smells of, "I am scared and young and vulnerable." And adults are out of their depths. My parents had no idea what they were dealing with. I'm glad I never said,  "Oh, boys like girls,  so I should be a girl. " That would have been insane and wrong for me. But I could imagine a 13-year-old version of me saying that to my mom, in the hopes the boys would all wanna date me.  Dumb.  The truth is some kids think to themselves,  "What gender is safer?"  Some grew up in "safe" crime-free places that were super dangerous. Other boys would think nothing of kicking you till you stopped moving.  You've seen the flip side of this with Tomboys. They go this direction because it's not safe being around boys who can hurt you physically. Many girls are just putting on armour.  Imagine the "thoughtful" parent giving her safer reassignment surgery.  Yeeeesh.  A similar resp...

It's funny, but I have so many cities nationwide with recommendations about where to go and what to be sure to do while you're there, but I've not really kept it updated. So today, I'm going to begin with Nashville. While I wouldn't want to fund the state which is cancelling women's right to choose, still, one day, it may be worth returning and seeing a free populace and the wonderful experience Nashville is. It it's still safe, which I assume it is, walk the streets behind Broadway after 10pm and wander into free performances of session musicians who are just making some change. Incredible musicians with Voices! Guitars! Drums! Who aren't famous yet. They're everywhere meeting connections,  getting free drinks and tips from people like you and me. Wander. Nashville was the home of wandering and I hope it still is. Have a ball.  Find out where all the latest is going down.  Report back!

  For everyone who tried on the slipper before Cinderella Ariana Brown after  Anis Mojgani  and  Audre Lorde For those making tea in the soft light of Saturday morning in the peaceful kitchen in the cool house For those with shrunken hearts still trying to love For those with large hearts trying to forget For those with terrors they cannot name upset stomachs and too tight pants For those who get cut off in traffic For those who spend all day making an elaborate meal that turns out mediocre For those who could not leave even when they knew they had to For those who never win the lottery or become famous For those getting groceries on Friday nights There is something you know about living that you guard with your life your one fragile, wonderful life wonder, as in, awe, as in,  I had no idea I would be here now . For those who make plans and those who don’t For those driving across the country to a highway that knows them For the routes we take in the dark, trust...

They say when god closes a door  the shooter will fire through the door’s  windows.   "The girl calls again and watches the door and covers herself in her dead friend’s blood and this is how the door between heaven and hell cracks open." “Uvalde Shooting Highlights Role of Doors in Security Plans” Deborah Paredez —AP News headline The teacher remembers pulling the door closed. She thought the door would lock because that door is always supposed to lock. The door failed to lock. They say when god closes a door the shooter will fire through the door’s windows. At first they said she left the door open and the shooter got through the door. She remembers she had opened the door to carry in supplies, propping the door open with a rock. But she closed the door when she heard the shooter just outside the doors. I ran back into the building. I still had the rock in the door. So—I opened the door— kicked the rock—and then locked the door. Later, they verified she had closed the do...

 

It's the final night of the January 6th hearings and the country is better for the work. But about half of the country seems to think it's not important. This effort to not hold accountable 45 and his cronies makes you wonder how Watergate ever happened. The efforts to actually make the voting machines vote differently would be a crime. But not wanting to leave office isn't really much of a crime.  Even assembling your fans and riling them up isn't really a very convincing cause of action. So, because a handful of better angels and Capitol Hill police were able to, Pence didn't hang and Pelosi wasn't attacked on national television.  The hideousness isn't illegal. So...now what? It's so bad, and hopeless, that my entire MAC (Music Appreciation Club) is holding our last summer gathering instead of watching. In fact, our meeting is the very same time as the hearings. I feel like a traitor to the committee. I feel wrong. But I also know however high my high...

Thought this poem provided interesting vague references to "our times" and employed a compelling use of language. There were interesting sentences and confabulations that make it worth reposting. Saturnine Patricia Spears Jones for Karen Taylor We cannot feel microbes in the palms of our hands or hear nanoseconds—we can see the laser slice wind. But  how it shaves beards remains mysterious. This talk of science & biologicals & viral crowns   make old mean men crawl into bowls of cotton  waiting to be plucked at some point by cadaver slaves humming Tin Pan Alley tunes.   What’s a pandemic but one more mortality wake up call. Tongue dulled by wine salted and cabbage stews happily forgotten. Buffed shoes shining, not worn. No more the perfect Windsor Knot because the definition for knot has swerved from necks to bandages. If ever we could color the subatomic particles and smash them up would they look like a Ken Tisa  Quarantine Drawing —how that...

 Just impressed with this poem's structure and thought some of the content timely and of interest, despite not being my experience. I Never Felt Comfortable in My Own Skin So I Made a New One Xan Phillips I was on a walk when I was struck by the precarity of the gender that wore me, which moved my matter, wrote books, and fell in love. as a child, I scoured  the forest for brittle cicada skins abandoned on trees. husks present differently now a pair of nylons caught in the thicket, a beak surviving its decomposing bird,  a mural of George Floyd with a purple cock spray-painted on his beryl cheek. among these discreet mutilations, I pull a line of thought through flesh  where a misled margin slept. I was uninhabitable before I snared a man for his hide. I was not unlike the skin of a drum thriving under a stamina  that made music of me before I split. you wouldn’t recognize me now if you saw me in the trees, played out, scattered to the undergrowth. I took a life...