goodbye year, goodbye

what can i say about this year before it disappears into the history books? with only a couple more days left of 2020, i am feeling grateful. unlike hundreds of thousands of others, i survived. beyond that, i was gifted with the privilege of working from home so, unlike millions more, i continued to maintain a livelihood (and for the first time ever: a savings account). this allowed me to support mutual aid efforts during the initial lockdowns in march through the racial justice uprisings in the summer and through the current moment that is still so precarious for so many. and i also feel lucky that instead of paralyzing social isolation i have been able to embrace this as an opportunity to slow down and just take care of myself. instead of being constantly on the move with daily events or social obligations, i've been able to sleep and read more. and i finally started playing guitar again. this social transformation has forced us all to put everything into perspective and to value what truly matters. or at least i'd like to hope so. 

as we look back on this unforgettable year, we also look forward to 2021. i'm excited to spend the next 3 months immersed in a new zine project about turning 40. it will mostly be a reflection of this past decade, of my 30s, since 360 months was published. the goal is to have it all finished and printed by april 1st and then celebrate my 40th birthday later that week with an online release reading and discussion. instead of feeling anxious or sad about getting older, of being "over the hill," i want to embrace this new era and honor people in their 40s who have inspired me. growing up is still awesome. 

and i don't know where i would be at this point without music. all the songs i discovered or revisited these past 12 months have really helped me get through 2020. i'm looking forward to making more playlists in the year ahead and sharing them with the people i love. here's my end of the year playlist featuring some of favorites released this past year: goodbye 2020, goodbye.  

pulled teeth & late passports

may day 2019 culminated in a midnight outdoor dance party in west philly. i placed my portable speaker inside the community lending library case which yielded shockingly excellent acoustics across the entrance of cedar park. earlier in the evening i had brought up things we were looking forward to and things we were fearing in the month ahead.

for me it was simple: i feared my upcoming dentist appointment to get a tooth pulled. and i looked forward to my trip to montreal later in the month for the 20th anniversary of the anarchist book fair.

as i sit at my bullshit job typing this, a lingering dull pain persists where my freak wisdom tooth had been growing out of the side of my gums. now it's just a healing wound. it has been nearly a week and yesterday i finally began eating with both sides of my mouth.

a different type of dull pain continues to persist this week as the calendar gets closer and closer to our departure date for montreal: the bureaucracy of the passport overlords. i made the fateful mistake of not expediting my application to renew. it has now been 4 weeks since my materials were shipped to a po box in philadelphia and i am still passport-less with less than 48 hours to go before my friends and i embark on our journey north.

i remain hopeful. but it has been a rollercoaster.

the past couple days i have received various updates on its status. first, that my new passport had been printed. and then that it was being shipped--hooray! but then...that the estimated arrival date was may 27th: a national holiday here in the states and the day we are planning on leaving montreal. i finally spoke to some humans on the phone who were eventually able to communicate the grand passport wizards that i needed it stat. so now i am getting periodic updates as my passports mysteriously departs from arizona on the long journey to my house in west philly.

the good news is that i didn't have to waste a bunch of additional money i don't have to get it rushed last minute. but now it's completely out of my control and i just anxiously wait.

fingers crossed!

you don't like fridays. you hate capitalism.

we're building a new world, all of my friends and me 

it's not an exact science yet, but we have the technology 

now all we need is an economy where everybody will get enough to eat

we usually have free bagels in the office fridays, but not today. the kitchen is under construction so our collective equilibrium is off. a heart-shaped donut did appear on my desk so perhaps there still is hope. and the days are getting longer. i turn up the volume on my desktop, earbuds in deep, as pat the bunny's music reminds me what it's like to truly feel alive again. but that was yesterday. today is eerily quiet and my body has already begun to enter the social construction of the weekend. and later this afternoon there will be free ice cream.   

'cause our friends, they are enough

and our neighbors are enough

and finally we're enough

please help me be, please help me be

please help me be enough

possibilities beyond the trash fire: looking back (and forward) on 2018

on december 31st, 2008, i moved from northampton to philly--10 years ago, tomorrow. a full decade ago! this is, by far, the longest i have lived anywhere outside of where i grew up. and i really did not plan on staying in philly this long. but here i am...

as i begin to reflect on 2018, this 10th year in philadelphia, i feel more hopeful than the common narrative around me that this was yet another trash fire of a year. i think something shifted this past year. despite the immense challenges ahead, a way out of this nightmare world finally feels possible. it's impossible to deny that our collective political imagination has expanded. what lies ahead is still uncertain, but i am feeling more hopeful now than i have in a while.

this outlook has probably come out of my own experiences in philly. it has been so crucial to build affinity with people here from my radical reading group to the neighborhood abolitionist salon and coordinating events at the wooden shoe. all of these spaces have helped me point toward a liberated new world while also critically taking on the historical legacies of white supremacy, capitalism, and patriarchy. if i didn't have that i would likely feel paralyzed by the trash fire. but paralysis is fucking boring and we have way too much to live for moving ahead...

* * *

so much happened in 2018. in january i moved into a new house, just a few blocks away from where i had been living in west philly. it's been pretty nice going back to my punk house roots, living with a bunch of sweethearts, and paying less money in rent to boot. living closer to the trolley route, i stopped riding my bike as often which has been both a blessing and a curse: i can read and listen to music on my morning commute and avoided getting into any collisions with cars this year. at the same time, i have gotten out of shape and have hemorrhaged way more money than i would like to admit to SEPTA ("we're getting there"). i planned on riding my bike to this coffeeshop (where i'm writing) today, but after failing to successfully pump air in my rear tire, i just resigned myself to walking. and that felt like an appropriate way to close this year out.

walking is still honest.

* * *

in 2018, i stayed busy by organizing a ton of rad events at the wooden shoe: a bunch of queer poetry readings, acoustic shows, and movie nights along with book launches, talks, and discussions on a wide range of issues. these ranged from revolutionary mourning to street medic training to the secret history of tear gas to antifascist education and resistance to greek anarchist organizing to police and prison abolition to overdose prevention to the historical legacies of 1968 to local coalition building to indigenous politics to dreaming up trans utopias to making spaces safer to decolonizing gardens to ecosocialism to troubling islamophobia to feminist re-enchantment beyond witch hunts to grand jury resistance and more...so many events!

i continued to do much of that organizing on the clock at my straight office job. i feel lucky that i have been able to carve out that time on the clock to work on the stuff that i really care about; the work that is actually meaningful in my life. it's bizarre, though, that i am approaching my 3 year anniversary at that job. who would have thought i would be doing that for so long? not me. but it's okay for now as it allows me to live my life and not create too much stress or pain.

i also had the pleasure of seeing a lot of great live music in 2018. almost every band on my top 10 album of the year list came through philly including screaming females, la luz, parquet courts, deafheaven, and pile. i celebrated my 37th birthday by seeing yo la tengo and, earlier that week, mirah at johnny brenda's. i went up to new york for may day and got to see screaming females again, this time opening for the breeders who i love so much. their new album 'all nerve' was my favorite of the year. and i still have never seen the coup live, but their soundtrack to 'sorry to bother you' (the best movie of 2018!) was also one of my faves. and i did get to see boots riley introduce and discuss the film at a pre-screening later in may at international house.

in 2018, i finally got a credit card. this allowed me to take a spontaneous trip at the end of the summer out to chicago to visit my dear friend kelly berry from bard. we celebrated our old professor joel kovel's life on what would have been his 82nd birthday by seeing a musical tribute to the haymarket martyrs. and i sang an against me! song at the eco-collective (where kelly lives) for the touring show on vulnerability 'i am a naked person.' it felt good to be able to say yes and to not really know what to expect.

on labor day weekend i travelled back to cape cod to celebrate my grandmother's 95th(!) birthday with the rest of my family. we reunited again for the holidays with her which was really nice, but also a little hectic and stressful--like the holidays always tend to be.

and now i'm back in philly. 10 years after moving here, i'm appreciating the philly people in my life and missing those who live far away, wondering if or when we'll be neighbors again. i don't see myself in this city forever and that's alright. it's been a good run, but it still doesn't quite feel like...home.

* * *

in 2019, i want to focus on health--both physical and mental. i want to be more conscious of the ways i'm living and work on making healthier decisions. since i haven't been biking, i want to start going to a gym at least a couple days a week. and i want to cook for myself more and eat out less in the new year. this will be a way to save money too and make healthier financial choices in general. hopefully i'll start getting paid a little more too. we'll see!

here's to new possibilities and love to you all in the new year and beyond.   
   

the last moon of the fall

november is almost over and we remember to keep writing down words. we add extra layers and avoid searching for our winter jackets until after the solstice arrives. we remember to prioritize experiences over material possessions and abundant social relationships over the scarcity logic of private property and job titles. we stand in lines for the chinatown bus, music in our ears. we remember to look at the moon each night as it waxes and eventually wanes. and we prepare our hearts for the winter air.

from a notebook in a west philly coffeeshop on the evening of the midterm elections

as the work day drags on, we sit in our respective cubicles almost 100 miles apart. we listen to the playlists we shared with each other. "yours is helping to make my day here more pleasant." our imaginations are crushed by excelspreadsheets, but the music playing in our headphones keep us centered. this personalized soundtrack to a dreary tuesday afternoon in the office keeps us going. these songs help bridge the gap between the double lives we live. we're physically at work but our minds are hitchhiking across state lines, dreaming up adventures as a bowie song kicks in and the data reports melt away into the gutters of the corporate septic system. "it's like i'm keeping you company at work." i smile and forget what the fuck i'm even supposed to be doing. what am i doing? i wish we were dancing instead. i want to feel this music and nothing else. no more distractions or to-do lists or e-mail notifications. just beats and rhythms and melodies and vibrations and heartbeats. more music, less work.

music & work, revisited

three years ago, i found myself in tuscaloosa, alabama. i had spent the better part of the previous four months travelling with my zine about music and work. my dear friends dave and jo were both teaching anthropology at the university of alabama and were able to set me up with a number of events on campus. these workshops created space for students to share their experiences working in the service industry and the music that made those jobs either more tolerable or, often, even more insufferable. it truly was a space to honestly share our experiences about life under capitalism.

fast forward to fall 2018. a local artist here in philly tracked me down after learning about the music & work project and my zine. she is collaborating with a UK-based artist/composer to explore the songs that workers in philadelphia listen to while selling our labor to survive. the research will culminate in a chorus of whistlers performing an original composition next spring. this is a nod to how workers historically would whistle songs of solidarity together in the workplace. and they would get away with it since the boss was unaware of the political lyrics.

so we were able to connect wednesday night and talk about these questions of music and work. we could've talked for hours, sitting on that bench in rittenhouse square. but then at 6:00 the church bells rang and we walked across the street to the philadelphia ethical society for, appropriately, a panel discussion on philadelphia labor history. 

i'm excited to engage in these ideas again and to be inspired to keep writing and listening and working. 

you don't hate mondays

the worst thing about daylight savings is that it will be dark when we get out of work. on this gloomy, rainy monday i'm dreading the transition into night, into darkness. of witnessing this shift from my desk, through the window of the office building. like some greater force prematurely turning the light switch off on us. and in doing so, extinguishing the possibilities beyond wage labor that we have all taken for granted since april.

but i don't hate daylight savings. i hate capitalism.

on friday night my dear friend nazia shared a preview of her brilliant new book on islamophobia and the paralyzing limitations of liberalism. in a small west philly apartment this group of organizers and educators met to share food and drink, radical inspiration and solidarity. these abolitionist salons will help keep us all sustained in this increasingly dark political moment. i feel so privilege to be part of it.

i also took a last-minute trip to baltimore this weekend. red emma's--the radical bookstore/restaurant/bar/cafe/community center--recently re-opened in an even larger space than their previously location on north ave. i took a bus down from philly primarily to check it out and i'm so glad i did--especially since the new location is just a 5 minute walk from the bolt bus stop. plus i got a one dollar return ticket!

i really could've spent the entire weekend just at red emma's: coffee/books/vegetarian food/coffee/books/beer...repeat. the entire street level is completely dedicated to the food and drinks side of things and the subterranean floor is where the bookstore and event space is located. i ended up buying the new 33 1/3 book there about the raincoats' self-titled album which i can't wait to read.

it was also just really nice to further connect with new and old friends. over beers at red emma's bar and then delicious homemade burritos across town and finally at the weirdest (and extremely fun) karaoke bar i have ever experienced in my life.

my one dollar bus was late sunday morning, but i didn't even care. it felt good to have a mini-adventure and also feel the bright autumn sun on my face before returning to the darkness of mondays and cubicles. 

hello, old friend

in november people inspire each other to write words. the temperature has dropped and the collective introspection arrives alongside post-halloween hangovers and the political anxiety of yet another electoral spectacle choking the air we breathe. our imaginations are hungry. they have become lonely. and so we write.

i'm not writing a novel, but i'm back here just before the end of this strange year. who would have thought when i started this blog in a public library in madison, wisconsin nearly 14 years ago that i would be sitting here today in a dystopian future. i'm here on the 14th floor of a corporate office building in philadelphia covering the front desk for the receptionist's lunch break. the florescent lights drain the life from my eyeballs as the hum from the air vents vibrate the dropped ceiling tiles above my head. i stare at this screen and think to myself: "how did i end up here?"

hello, old blog/friend.

yesterday i listened to every misfits song i memorized by heart in my youth. i even got a chance to sing one to a room of drunk strangers. strategically moving the cordless mic a full foot from my mouth, i passionately shared with them how much i NEEDED their skulls.

earlier in the evening, i found myself at the anarchist bookstore where i have been coordinating events for nearly a full decade of my life. even though i was by far the oldest person in the space (besides a set of parents) i still felt like one of the kids at the halloween show. after a black and white screening of a live cramps gig from the 1980s, local riot grrrl band cherri col@ charmed us with an acoustic set replete with covers by the ramones, lady gaga, and the rocky horror picture show soundtrack. afterwards i turned all the lights back on, turned up my (real) misfits playlist, and started putting the chairs back in the basement.

as the kids lingered around, the dad of the band's drummer came up to the counter and told me i was being way too nice--noticing that i clearly was ready to lock up and get on with the rest of my night. eventually i did interrupt a photo shoot in the back to say that i was just about to close up the shop. i hope their night was almost as much fun as mine. hopefully they will all...remember halloween. 

another new years (backwards/forwards)

2017 (backwards)

this year began with moments of personal irresponsibility and the looming specter of trvmpism. new years was followed by the black friday of bad decisions as we all awaited the inauguration (protest) later that month. 2017 started messy and has had its share of regressive moments since then. but it has also been the year of growing up, of truly taking seriously concepts like accountability and solidarity.

it was important to get together with like-minded people to help make sense of the dumpster fire our country is further descending into. a couple friends started a reading group last winter that morphed into an affinity group. we cancelled our discussion the day of the airport protests to join in against the racist muslim ban at the philly airport. we kept reading and discussing a radical politics that aims beyond dogmatic sectarianism to carve out a space between the dead-ends of liberalism and nihilistic anarchism. we spent april scheming for may day and then marched alongside undocumented activists with juntos from south philly to city hall. we never got around doing our collaborative writing project, a manifesto of sorts, but there is still potential moving forward as we take seriously the challenge of anti-fascist organizing in the 21st century.

one of the personal low-lights of the year for me was getting hit by a car biking to work on the second day of march. it could've been a lot worse though. i was saved by the kindness of so-called strangers that lies dormant under the everyday pressures of late capitalism; only to flow like lava in moments that truly matter. and i finally have health insurance--something i did not have access to at the beginning of last year. by the end of the month i was biking again and even got the driver's insurance company to cover my bike tune-up with a bunch of new parts to boot. i was reminded of how lucky i was later in the year when a young woman was struck and killed by a private garbage truck while biking to work in center city. i was sick that week, otherwise i would've come out the next day to help form a human protected bike lane at 11th & spruce in her honor and in solidarity for all those who have been killed while biking. and that week the city repainted the bike lane. we need more than that though. i'm thankful for all the people organizing to make the streets safer for those of us who get around on two wheels.

in 2017 i got to see a lot of live music which i am also grateful for. in these dark times, there will still be singing. some of my favorite bands came through philly and these experiences of transcendence beyond whatever-the-fuck the president tweeted that day and beyond the mundane realities of the corporate office space really helped me get through the year. highlights included: against me!, propagandhi, downtown boys, pile, the proletariat, the mountain goats, and hurray for the riff raff.

i did spend 40 hours nearly every week in that office this year. working in the file room allowed me to see those live shows, to have access to health care, and to feed myself. but it is not a long-term sustainable situation, spiritually-speaking. my two year anniversary on the job is coming up in a couple months and i don't want to be there much longer than that.

so what awaits the future then?


2018 (forwards)

i need a change. the most obvious and responsible direction for me would be to dedicate myself to looking for and applying to more meaningful jobs "in my field." but that, honestly, still feels so impossible and out of reach. i'm not opposed to it, it's just that nothing out there work-wise is an end goal of desirability to me. the only potential future life change that excites me is going back to school. but not into traditional academia--fuck that. i have no interest in studying for the gre's and entering into that cut-throat culture that so many of my friends are either drowning in or have jumped ship from altogether. going back to school for me would mean being in the pioneering class of goddard college's phd program. after many years--and collaboration between faculty, students, and alums--the program's proposal has been approved by the college and is now awaiting external accreditation. they are aiming to accept applications this coming spring to begin fall 2018. that way i could work and try to save a little between now and the summer and then i would be back to vermont in august, ready to dive back into research and transformation. can't wait to say goodbye to office life forever!

i have said this every new years i've been in philly, but 2018 will be the year i start playing music again. phil and i talked about dedicating one night each week to it. i want to play bass and sing and maybe some acoustic guitar and drums. i want to learn and write and record songs. i want to play live again. i'm no longer content just being a spectator, a consumer of other people's music. i'm ready to go beyond karaoke and create again.

and 2018 will be about further taking seriously those themes of accountability and solidarity, of embedding them into my life even deeper. i still have so much to understand about how the white supremacist capitalist patriarchy has fucked me up. And now is the time to really do the work, alongside comrades and accomplices, to dismantle these destructive systems together.

this will be the year. i can feel it.

strange holiday // sunny solitude

thirteen years later, here i am--all alone on this strange holiday. alone, for now. this is what solitude looks like: it's reflective, conscious, and healthy. i'm sweeping my bedroom floor, doing laundry, and thinking about the future--all while remaining contemplative, focused on the present, on the gift of this sun-filled november day. this is refuge from the daily cycle of over-stimulation, work, and consumption. i am awake and alive. my mind is clear.

i think about all those years i drove to plymouth to march on cole's hill, against systemic amnesia and legacies of genocide and erasure. today i am not merely complacent to bask in the mediocrity of two paid vacation days, brain turned off in obedience to a four-day weekend granted by our corporate overlords. but it is nice. you could even say i'm thankful. i guess i'm somewhere in between those two points. after all, it was the militant labor movements of last century that produced such opportunities...for some.

*

this is a strange moment. i find myself retracing all these life decisions, many of which i now see as unhealthy and destructive, like revisiting the ghosts from christmas past. i'm confronted by the revelation/reminder that i was never immune to the patriarchal conditioning of the dominant culture--the ways in which boys are empowered from the very beginning with the lure of endless possibilities while girls are instructed to wear pink or suffer the consequences. how we are all disciplined to never deviate from those rigid paths assigned to us, or else. and none of this is new for me, it's just that i have become viscerally aware of the ways in which i have perpetuated these structures and how my own desires continue to be colonized by rape culture and gender oppression. oof. but i'm not paralyzed by this despite its dark heaviness. i feel committed to further challenging myself and others in my life, together.

*

and i also need to find a new home soon. as i approach my 9th anniversary in phladelphia i remain open to moving away, starting over somewhere else. i could move a few blocks down the street in west philly or completely reinvent my world. either way, i want to try to live my best life and be more conscious of what that means to me as i get older.

this is what i'm thinking about on this strange holiday, with this sunny solitude.

when everything opens up

summertime brain fog give way to cool air inspiration and clarity. wake up and take a deep breath. inhale the freshness, exhale your unhealthy habits. delete and disable. wash it all off your body parts. go outside. in the park you discover old friends and new possibilities. compare notes. conspire toward something better. regional differences transcended by that thing that continues to connect us all, beyond internet service and hourly wages. our shared stories are bigger than we can even begin to understand. this meal we share, these soft clouds above us--this is everything. 

delete and disable. connect and expand. conspire and evolve...

living the dream

in the sterile office reality, she responds to the benign greeting, how's it going? with the sarcastic retort: living the dream.

living the dream?

it's clever because the person speaking those three words is absolutely not experiencing her life in that way. so, we all chuckle and sigh. yes, aren't we all just living the dream under these florescent lights, breathing in the conditioned air of the 14th floor hahaha...

it's cynical because we don't even know what it would look like to truly live the dream. we just know it surely is not this. the dream of our collective imagination exists far beyond this office building...somewhere. right?

for now, we laugh and then cry as we wake up to this banal nightmare.

it's the end of a fucked up a year...

one year ago, in the final moments of 2015, a dog bit my leg. it was about an hour before midnight and i was just about to leave a new year's party in my neighborhood. the host's dog had been staring at me as i grazed from the snack table. when i placed the last bite of tortilla chip in my mouth it approached me and proceeded to dig into my lower thigh with its mouth.

luckily, the bite wasn't serious. it did poke a tooth-sized hole in my favorite pants and slightly break my skin, but it didn't disrupt my night beyond having to treat the small wound in the bathroom with a bandaid and neosporin before heading back out into the world.

still, the dog bite was a metaphor for things to come--and also a reflection of the state of my life at the end of last year. after traveling across the country on zine tour for the second half of 2015, i found myself back in philadelphia broke, unemployed, and my body breaking down with no access to health insurance.

as i drunkenly walked to the next party before the clock struck midnight, i sang this dead kennedys song on the street, creating a soundtrack to the moment:

dog bite 
on my leg 
not right 
supposed to beg..
oh
oh
oh

the night was redeemed with good friends and a rooftop view of the citywide fireworks show. and that's how 2016 began...

* * *

eventually, i found a job. in early february, i found myself sitting in a office meeting room  on the 14th floor of a skyscraper downtown. i sat across the table from the hr rep who looking down at my resume said: it looks like you have a lot of interesting experience here. you're a writer...what makes you want to join corporate america?

that question lingered in the room like a toxic fart after he left to summon the manager of records management. i gazed out the window toward the peco building in the west. jello biafra's voice rang in my ears as i navigated the existential dread of survival under late capitalism. was i about to become a "terminal preppie"? my future boss eventually arrived and turned out to be someone i could easily chat with about music and politics and made me feel a little better about the potential situation.

a few weeks later, i still hadn't heard anything back about the job. the day after i decided to give up and make plans to stay with family and write, i woke up to the phone ringing. the voicemail congratulated me and offered me the position of document specialist for the company's filing room.

i was disappointed. what about my winter writing retreat? but then i reminded myself how important it was to start paying rent again and, you know, get my shit together.

8 months later, i'm still working full-time there. i still have health insurance and the means to feed myself. it's not my dream job, but it's good enough for now.

* * *

in april, phil had a going away party the week before he was planning on moving to chicago. he invited some friends to read under the suggested theme "arrivals and departures." the first thing to come to my mind to share was one of my favorite mischief brew songs, departure arrival. i started reading an old essay about work and capitalism and then interrupted myself:

"this doesn't feel right," i confessed into the microphone at tattooed mom's. "i think we need some music."

i started a beat, snapping with my fingers, that the rest of the crowd quickly joined as i sang:

you know i never could fall asleep on a train 
all the time dreaming about moving away...
if i ever fall asleep i remember my dream 
where everybody's there and nobody leaves

a few days later, becca and i met up with phil for one last hang--just like the old days when we all worked together at red hook. before becca arrived phil told me that since the reading/party he had given it a lot of thought and decided not to move away.

* * *

three months later, i got to see mischief brew play at the trocadero. they opened for one of erik's favorite bands from his teenage punk years. culture shock was the band in between subhumans (uk) and citizen fish and had embarked on their first tour in almost 2 decades in support of their new album attention span.

alison and i got there right before mischief brew's set began and sang along and danced a little to all their songs. culture shock played next and we cheered on erik as he joined them toward the end of their set to sing their classic anthem civilisation street. it was a beautiful and joyous moment seeing him up their with his punk rock idol dick lucas. a couple songs later, he emerged from backstage and stopped to say hi as he made his way through the crowd. he gave me a sweaty hug as i yelled over the music, "what a dream come true!"

that was the last time i saw erik. mischief brew was scheduled to play at philamoca the following sunday before leaving for a european tour. i texted thom the day before asking if he was going. he responded with a phone call explaining that erik had gone missing.

my heart sunk.

on friday july 16th, we learned that erik was dead. it was a devastating loss, not just for those of us who were lucky enough to call him a friend, but for the thousands of mischief brew fans all over the world, whose lives were forever transformed by erik's music.

i couldn't help but return to departure arrival: "may your songs never get stuck out of my head."

* * *

in december, i found myself in upper darby where erik's wife denise was hosting the 17th annual fistolo solstice party. they invited me back in 2003 after i met them and stayed at their house on a road trip that fall. i couldn't make it that year or any of the years since i moved to philly. it felt really important to be there this year with so many of denise's other friends that have been there for her over the past 5 months since losing erik.

as i was leaving, some people were putting together a gingerbread house decorated with icing that spelled: FUCK 2016

later on, they brought it outside into the cold and foggy december night and blew it up with fireworks.

* * *

goodbye, 2016. here's to a new year of struggle and resilience. 💗

fully-clothed in a west philly coffeeshop

sitting in the same seat at the same cafe where i first began to fantasize about grad school...7 years later. now i live in the neighborhood again and even though i finished my grad program over 2 years ago my life isn't all that different than that day i sat here doing that initial research. and that reality may seem grim, but it also means anything is possible, despite the overarching uncertainty of what lies ahead. 

* * *

i wasn't able to make it to the naked bike ride those first couple years living in philly. it started when i first moved here and after i left this neighborhood--along with the relationship i moved here for--i was finally able to participate. in reality, it's more like a scantily-clad critical mass ride: that uniquely liberating experience of taking over an entire city with thousands of other people on bikes. it's one of the freest moments i've had in my life. 

i went two years in a row, sporting my pink undies and faded red sunglasses. since then i have been out of town, visiting friends and family in massachusetts that particular week. but yesterday i was here, in philly, and just decided not to go. partially because it has just been too fucking hot. but also since i wanted to go to a reading that my friend denise invited me to. i've only seen her once since erik died so it seemed important. and it was. so i definitely made the right decision, but seeing photos today of all those semi-naked joyful cyclists taking the streets back from cars made me wistful. 

maybe next year?  

back to...and everyone's the same

last event

last word

last city,

no show.

the ink spills out of my pen

all over my phone

and my journal.

and now 

there are ants.

everything 

looks perfect

from

far

away,

the song in this cafe

whispers.

the body 

feels like 

it's failing.

nothing is flawless,

despite what we project.

a late capitalist rant

so what's going on?

that shift in tone revealed this was going to be a serious talk. and that seemingly benign question was essentially demanding: in order to receive our support you must defend not only what you're doing with your life, but your entire value system. also: we have your value system all figured out. and: this is why it makes us feel uncomfortable...

i believe in relationships, but not partnerships. the only thing that truly matters are the people in our lives that we develop and maintain a vast array of connections with. this is how we grow. this is how we make sense of the chaos in the world. this is how we don't just fucking give up. no one has a monopoly on that--we all deserve way more than that. and this is not about sex. stop saying "just friends." all relationships are important--in different ways. stop saying "in a relationship." we are all in relationships with the people that are present in our lives.

but back to the matter at hand...

i believe in dignity. but i'm also not dogmatic. i don't want to be doing something that i hate, something that is disempowering and soul-sucking for 8 hours straight, 5 days a week. for the rest of my life. fuck that. but it's not even about me. i want to live in a world where that is no one's reality. the current system is unacceptable. but i recognize the reality that this is where we're still at. i just think we need to tear this motherfucker up.

and now it's time to get real.

after putting me on the defensive about the direction of my life, you explained that you're worried about my future. oh, and that you love me. but i don't need the condescending speech. it's actually not helpful at all. and it just shows how out of touch you are with what i have been doing, what i am continuing to do in the world.

i'm actually really excited about my future. but thanks for pretending to care.

these frameworks labeled "home" (revisited)

back at home. sometimes it's less about roots and more like an anchor. that paralysis of childhood, of being stuck with no way forward. but this is temporary. and i wake up from this dream and everything is moving too fast. everything is too real. i open my eyes again and now i'm standing in the dark library. it's after midnight and even though it's haunted, i'm still turned on. you lean against the railing and my ears are ringing in the silence. is this weird? hearts race. ghosts whisper. i don't want to go home.

this is everything

so. i made it happen. i quit my job, put myself out there, traveled all over, engaged in conversation and ideas, saw old friends, and made some new ones. and now i'm back. i just woke up again in the waiting room, not sure what happens next. this is always exciting and scary. here i am.

and then my phone rang--one of my dearest friends reminding me that the only thing that really matters are the relationships we maintain with the people in our lives. these human connections are all that is truly keeping us going. and if we pay enough attention and continue to care for them, then truly magical possibilities await. this is everything.

risk big (revisited)

the week before i gave notice at my job, i woke up in a fancy hotel room with a famous author. as we walked up broad street after the bar closed the night before, i shared my wild dream with her--my summer scheme to travel around and talk with people about music, work, capitalism, and liberation. she was into it. after the sun rose and her wake up calls rang as scheduled i sat up on the bed and shared my fears about trying to raise money--both the weird act of doing it and the lurking potential for failure. but i also shared how i keep reminding myself that people like chelse@ clint0n get paid $75K to speak at one place. one night. so raising 5% of that to subsist on for a couple months and make my dreams come true really shouldn't feel that scary or strange. "i'm one of those people too," she added. it's good to already have supporters who have put themselves out there and know what it's like to risk big. now it's time to quit my job and just make it happen. xo