i.
Wherever in this city, screens flicker
with pornography, with science-fiction vampires,
victimized hirelings bending to the lash,
we also have to walk . . . if simply as we walk
through the rainsoaked garbage, the tabloid cruelties
of our own neighborhoods.
We need to grasp our lives inseperable
from those rancid dreams, that blurt of metal, those disgraces,
and the red begonia perilously flashing
from a tenement sill six stories high,
or the long-legged young girls playing ball
in the junior highschool playground.
No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees,
sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,
dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,
our animal passion rooted in the city.

from twenty-one love poems
by adrienne rich

reflections on "beasts of the southern wild"

(from my journal--in kings beach on lake tahoe where the fuck what the fuck where are the pinenuts)

WILD a wrenching ode to dysfunctional whole lives in place loyal to death, invaded by colonizers social service "health" "care"--not animal, yes civilization--NOTHING RIGHT destruction rampant death everywhere & is it inevitable? as the earth rears up? is the father right? tribal king-daughter of a wasteland home, survivalist ethic disrupted by mandatory eviction kicking & screaming--& the other dream sparkles with alcohol & "barely" & fire. why live if not with fire? ultimately we are our own & what is there but to care for our own?


i'd recommend it if you can go see it.
on a mad ridiculous search for pinenuts, to nevada today...

gotta say it gotta say it

oh this song -- "loose lips" by kimya dawson

[so if you wanna burn yourself remember that i love you
and if you wanna cut yourself remember that i love you
and if you wanna kill yourself remember that i love you

call me up before your dead, we can make some plans instead
send me an IM, i'll be your friend]

i have been sitting with the recent suicide of my friend, this beautiful beautiful 18-year old boy i knew who wore funny sweaters and had just alit into flight, hitchhiking across the country from one portland to another to a punk show where he danced hard hard hard and shouted "i need a place to live!" and he went to the library every day and was a feminist and queer ally and hadn't really fallen in love yet and i wanted to kiss him one day when he was a little bit older. i don't have that much to say about it right now. except the realization that of course of all the people i know and love there are probably at least a bunch who walk a line of wanting to fall off the other side and maybe i don't tell people enough that they are hella important and their voices are needed in the world and i love them and i would miss them. so this is the stupidest way to do it perhaps but it's real right now for me.