in the war for trans existence

Big A's claim to show-biz fame is that he was in a play with Dave Chappelle. A middle school play. That he got kicked off--Big A not DC--for being mouthy. 

I liked the Chappelle Show, I loved Block Party. When we moved back to Big A's old hometown in 2008, I remember being faintly star struck about seeing DC everywhere. His older kids were in At's range, his youngest is a year behind Nu. Then he became just one more familiar face; it helped that he and his wife E were unfailingly kind to everyone. E "loves" when I post FB pics of the kids; I swoon when she shares pics of award shows. 

But I haven't watched any of his Netflix specials after the first one--it just didn't even seem him--not the funny Neal Brennan Chappelle, not the kind Yellow Springs Chappelle. I vaguely remember a joke he told on the the first one about two gender studies profs he has coffee with regularly and how all he's thinking about when they're talking is that he'd like to fuck them and I kind of checked out after that. 

And now the constant TERF war. RainOfTerra's tweet thread broke me and then I messaged LA (possibly one of the afore-mentioned gender studies profs in YS) around 5:15 am with a link and asked if she or anyone else could reach out to Dave. Her reply started with "Ugh, Dave." and ended with "So I will share this and see if any of Dave’s friends can speak to him in any way he can hear, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope."

And I wish I could do more.

"a fair day's work"

 

I stole this pic off of At's Twitter this morning...

and find myself looking at it all the time...

Not sure why (I mean he looks so good and so grown up but still)...

Even Ammama, his #1 fan, doesn't get it. 

But At used to love Capt. America, and I think my brain is seeing his circular UAW placard as a mashup of Capt. America's shield.

"Capt. America but make it union"  

404

 

Full day: 10+ hours of teaching and grading and meetings and approx. 2 hours of commuting...

And it's now 3:18 am and I can't stop reading Anthony Doerr's Cloud Cuckoo Land.

Help.

(I liked his All the Light We Cannot See too although its very eurocentric depiction of WWII irked me. This one, OMG, is incredibly lush and includes wide swathes of humanity and historical times.)

I have no plans to move

for history when undressed

is plain macabre 

I can recite everything I find

and lose myself  

in my stammered translation 

maps lose detail

some time leads to nowhere

poems get shorter

----------------------------------------------------

The Fall 2021 Jaggery issue went live today--I'd forgotten the pull quotes and had to scramble to get them done; I finished sending out the last of the NWSA mentoring emails; handed off SAWNET moderation to the October moderator; completed part one of the women's house orientation; started planning the honor society induction; finalized grades on the first paper; committee meetings; committee meetings; committee meetings; started a sabbatical review for a non college colleague; started tenure observations for a college colleague; picked up my laptop post repair. Dinner was leftovers.

"children are the future"

A pre-sunrise grocery run for the biriyani At requested; a gray and misty sunrise hike with L; and then I went to UU this morning after 18 months away. Nu is in OWL this year and there's in-person service again. Sadly, reduced services: no singing, no physical greetings, no collection baskets.  I had about 45 mins between the end of services and OWL pick-up, and I found these <<< urban woods behind the church buildings to tramp around in. 

If you'd told me six months ago that I'd be happy on the day At moved out into his own apartment, I'd have questioned if you knew me at all. But I've increasingly been looking forward to this actually, as it's the best thing for him to start adulting on this impromptu gap year of his. Except... here we are on moving-out day, and it's close to midnight, and there's a growing pile of stuff by the door... and the child is still here.

disappearance

you know something/ I don't
the turn into spring, into fall 
a new war... an old messiah 
the budding preceding it all

I try to remind you of love 
in the face of opening loss
we know life keeps taking 

uprooting even... thoughts

Parkinsonian expansion

I guess Parkinson and his insight about work expansion remains valid. 

But in a more neutral way, now that I'm on campus so much, a lot of work gets done at work instead of after dinner. Time feels a bit less scramble-y because home/work demarcations feel more natural. Plus I get to see and be around more people, which is me at my happiest.

I still do work things after dinner, on the weekend, in the middle of the night, etc., but it's freeing to know that I spent 8/10 hours working already, so if it doesn't get done, it ought to be perfectly acceptable.

Being at work lets me get at all the stuff that gets shoved aside--like the graduation gift I'd gotten for a colleague in financial services and was finally able to hand deliver yesterday (months late...).

Pic: I thought I was taking a picture of flying geese as I walked across campus... but look, guys: No geese! Lovely blue sky, anyway. 

too chicken

 

I'm too chicken to actually go into L and Nu's chicken coop (or you could say it's too chicken-y out there for me). 

But I just had to say hello to Ms. Margaret Hatcher (extreme left, looking directly into my camera).

the trip comes for us

(for L.B.)

by the time my thoughts arrive

helloes and hugs have played

our homophony

these trees nod their approval

and bird guardians sing 

of missing you, friend

Really, we could have climbed 

mountains today, survived 

whispered catastrophe

colonizing futures, monopolizing 

resolutions, our airy gestures 

perfect as finger-paintings

_______

Hike with L in Baker Woods after ages! I was catastrophizing, L was decoding and problem-solving. We mostly talked about changes to Big A's contract and how he may be working in Texas for a few months. I was actually so excited when he first told me because I have fond memories of visiting my Chelli in San Antonio, but soon realized he'd be going because it's a Covid hotspot right now... and...

placebo

the ceremony of each day grows hostile 
like a needle in my veins 
going under the shape of my resistance
and landscapes of hunger

I've been told to take each day at a time 
I abandon months in a gulp 
but the best minutes become sustenance
still so modest, but medicinal

swaha

clouds thick as suspended hopes
flame singing without words
where do we go from here
friend, there's only now

remember the last time we were 

here, you asked if I had always 

known about sacrifice--

it's how we survived 

this fire I built inside my head 

tenderly lifting all the love

and dread I have tended 

to replay, "let go"