a drop

What is the purpose of posting in social media? Is it the howling of a wolf hoping others will take up the cry? Is it an ask for someone to acknowledge you exist? Are you the tree in the wood that falls? I am a drop that makes an insignificant ripple. Perhaps less than that…which is why I write this here instead of as a fb post or even a …

What Queens teach us

Bingeing, because that’s how I do. While there is no small amount of manufactured and edited for tv drama, ultimately shows of Rupaul (in all its incarnations), Queer Eye, and A Queen is Born are about self-acceptance, otherness, and what beauty can mean. It’s a happy thing and makes me feel if they can love themselves, I should absolutely be able to.

Embody

It’s a shell; this container of mostly water propelled by questionable mind. I feel the exact opposite of grounded. You know? Where you are so very present and in the world? My mind lives in the ether. It connects through wires and the web. My persona is this edited carefully lit entity that gets pushed through zoom or discord for some time before I disconnect. “Disconnect” is a good word. …

The Doing is the Thing

This object (me) at rest is so very invested in remaining so. I’m not sure if I’m depressed. It’s not a matter of shame. Probably its the whole notion that depressed means sad, and I am not sad. I am tired. I am withdrawn. I am unwilling to engage. I am numb. Having been diagnosed as depressed a number of years ago, I have vague recollections it was just like …

Lone voice

…in the wilderness. So, 2020 is a thing. Those of us who are living it right now get all the weight this year is slamming down. For future me, who may very well not read this post for another year unless I get back to my writing thang (or maybe you who are not me who are wondering what in holy hell are you talking about?), it is the year …

On the Need for Something Real

The day is full of stuff. I think that is the correct noun. Stuff it in, flotsam, detritus, junk, anything and everything. So much needful arbitrariness. Then there are the moments of tangible where the emotion is real. It doesn’t have to be big, just has to go beyond the threshold of stuff-you-have-to-do-to-get-through-the-day. Even that takes discipline. Like slowing down enough to enjoy the ritual of opening the canister, smelling …

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