Settler words&music in S'ólh Téméxw, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming soon, Hair Sinister after that. —Restore All Indigenous Lands!
Probably during the week – the staff at the Cedars want to go.
Work is awesome, and will be even more awesome when I have email, ERP and a proper phone for the call center work.
I am thinking of my dad and it’s hard not to cry. It doesn’t matter how much you expect it, it is still shattering. And while shattered, you must get up, and eat, and deal with lawyers and doctors and arrange things and make lists.
The memorial is February 6th.
Guess I have a eulogy to write.
From my mother’s email.
We hadn’t thought we would be, nor had we planned it, being there only
three hours a day, but we were there for Grannie’s last breaths. There
were indignities in her last weeks, but her last moments, and her
appearance in the process and afterward, had great dignity.
A lot of very cute interspecies animal friendship videos. The Boston terrier and the pig video is my fave.
I met Caroline last night to watch Awake My Soul; she’s the gal trying to put together a Sacred Harp sing here in Vancouver. This is a worthy goal. I also met her cat Tully, who is a Superior Creature and who trained me in door management within minutes of meeting me. Sacred Harp or shaped note singing is a kind of Xtreme congregational singing. The trebles, altos, tenors and basses sit facing each other in a square and the song leader (who can be anybody in the congregation, and it alternates among congregants) keeps the beat. The music is upwards of a couple centuries old, or as new as the Nineties, because the singing tradition has had a revival in this past century. It is, among other things, intense, loud as blazes, polyphonal in spots, fugue like in spots and entirely weird and strange and although it’s a total piece of Americana, it seems almost too spiritual and pure to be part of the American worship tradition.
It would be bloody amazing at Beacon, but I ain’t the choir director.