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!
May her faults be a lesson, her virtues an inspiration and her love ever part of your blood and bones.
I hope Polly rests easy; she worked with great energy up until her 80’s, and treated retirement as an invasion of her dignity. I never had the privilege of meeting her, except through the reminiscences and travel diaries of her descendants.
They told me what would happen. I started following racism eradication activists on twitter, and they told me, down to the last squeak of privilege and bleat of illogic and roar of cognitive bias and growl of hatred and whine of misdirection and concussive threat of personal violence and siren of tone policing, exactly what would happen to me when I started confronting racist speech in others, in public. In a three round conversation, I got it all but the threat of violence, including how the other person’s spelling and grammar devolved as (I assume from the name) he completely lost his shit.
I’ve spent a lifetime avoiding conflict and trying to talk pretty; this is going to make the friendships I have with people who want to help me with the work even more important. It already IS ugly. Up until this point I’ve had no skin in the game. That’s what privilege does. Now I want to have skin in the game without getting my feelings hurt, and that’s just not going to happen, and I have to get over it, and I’m scared.
One of the things that is helping is learning about the Japanese-American and African-American troops as they served their country fighting in the Second World War. They wanted to prove two things, their patriotism and their worth. Many made the ultimate sacrifice to demonstrate both. As they fought in their campaigns, they encountered the worst of what human beings can do to each other, and helped destroy the engines of fascism and racism, although they could not eradicate those ideologies. With their sacrifice in mind, I will get off my ass; I will quit whining; I will do the work.
Eddie was my best friend. He and Gizmo helped me through a difficult time in my life, and having lived (and slept) with them almost every day for so many years it’s difficult for me to comprehend that they’re both gone. Allegra’s cat Miss Margot is sleeping with me now, which is a comfort. She snores like a banshee, but so did the boys, so I sleep right through it.
Eddie’s proper name was Edgar, after Edgar Allen Poe. We got him with his tiny sister, Penguin, in 1997. We had to give Penguin away, for reasons I won’t get into here. After that, Eddie wandered the house howling softly, presumably looking for her. So we got Gizmo to keep him company.
Eddie had a deep bass purr. He loved to have his fur rubbed the wrong way. When we first got him, he had one white whisker, which we decided was his Indian name. That whisker was replaced by a black one for most of his life, until quite recently, when the white one grew back and he became One White Whisker again. Eddie was a tubby cat most of his life, which made his skinniness toward the end particularly sad. I miss you, buddy.
This is what Play it With Moxie played at the Banquet at GAFilk.
my response to two of them
You fellas are adorable.
When the first peoples came to Turtle Island, there was nobody to conquer. (Although the megafauna, were they still around and sentient, might object most strenuously to that categorization). They spread out, established territories, and sure, fought among themselves as people do when displaced by climate change and natural disaster, but they established collective lands and for the most part respected those lands with natural boundaries and traded like mad. (Although modern Haidas laugh and say that their name comes from the other tribes yelling Hide Us! when they saw those fricking war canoes….) The notion of federation was borrowed and improved upon (arguably, but not by me) and codified by the descendants of the people who kicked the Haudenosaunee off their lands by right of conquest. Except that they made treaties and broke them for convenience, for racism, in the name of the conqueror god, & for capitalism.
In the end the land will reclaim the settlers. Without collective care of the land we’re all going to die horribly as capitalism dirties and endangers every creature now alive. Private property rights are a wonderful idea, but they are unenforceable and serve crony capitalism by atomizing opposition. Those rights will be less and less enforceable as time goes by unless you bare your ass to whoever controls the legal (or otherwise) monopoly on the use of force.
When your government can rain death down on you unopposed from 20000 feet up if you annoy the people at the joysticks, I hope your spirited defense of property rights shields you and your children.
I belong to a collective of like minded people who are working our way back to food safety and security, as well as shared land. When I’m done I’ll be working less than 30 hours a week to feed myself and our animals, have the comfort and security of family and friends around me, I’ll have access to light and power and musical instruments, and private property rights will be ideological road kill on a highway long since grown over by bushes and weeds. Using scare tactics about shared land, rather than educating yourself about where it exists and where it is working (because you’re right about it not working, often, but do not really understand why, and shoot yourself in the foot by not seeing where it IS working), is in my view inertia masking fear. Private property is for people who already have something and are FRIGHTENED of losing it.
But like fiat currency, marriage traditions, organized religion and tailgate parties, private property is a social convention, not an absolute right, pace Bastiat and all of his heirs. My only absolute right is my person and the tools of my trade or trades, and they are not rights I may individually enforce. Everything else re property is a stake through the heart of my connectedness to other people, which can, and should trump my right to sit on any dunghill, be it shit or gold, and crow that I am wiser and better, for I have something to lose, and need never think of who died or was injured for me to acquire it. The concentration camp you threaten liberals with is in your own minds. Free yourselves, humans, with whom I share the immense and shameful legacy of conquest and genocide! You are looters and do not seem aware of it, do not seem equipped to even consider it as possible, and may not be able to admit that the violence of your scorn betrays the weakness of your position.
And of course I don’t expect to be on the side of any government, local or otherwise, at any point in the future, but I’ll leave the fighting and dying for land to others, and try merely to keep planting food and saving seed and tending those weaker than I. When I have finished shedding this crust of goods and have nothing but my instruments and seed bags, I will stop being a looter myself, at long last. A thing is what it is, and not something else, as a wise man once said.
Jeff is as you can imagine, (“Both my boys are gone,” he said last night), and I’m sad too but with nothing like the sadness of someone who lived with a cat from his hyperactive kittenhood into maturity as a sober minded and dignified cat. Who rescued the kitten on at least two occasions. I guess Margot isn’t the kitten anymore, unless we decide we want to break our hearts again and adopt a senior cat. We watched Pacific all day yesterday as it was the only show dark enough to match our mood when we took him to the hospital.
I feel lucky to have known him. He was a very handsome creature. I knew he was dying when he no longer left the room when I sang and played… he always hated the sound of either instrument or voice, and disliked loud tv. The bloodwork we learned of yesterday confirmed it. He had days at best, his mouth sores were making eating impossible and drinking painful. He had a good run, but dammit, too short; a year ago he was so sleek and energetic we had reasonable hopes he’d make twenty.
And now, we must site and dig a grave. He’ll be buried in the towel I set under him to keep him warm and comfortable in his last days, somewhere close to Zeek! and Gizmo, his adoptive brother, and Kira, and Bounce, who has rested here these last fifteen years or so, up against the south fence, shaded by a dogwood, close to the deck where he spent many hours in feline contemplation, lazing in the sun, waiting for Jeff to come home so he could run up and greet him.
I have followed lots of men to hell and halfway back again
but you’re e-ffic-ient
Your critiques ring in my ears and you play on my every fear
and make me feel somehow deficient
I will follow you
and hand you gear when trouble’s brewing
I will follow you
When a brand new ship needs crewing
I will follow you
I’ve made a lot of bad decisions
Made my mind up this is what I’ll do.
You say we’re off to Africa and going to visit Prester John
I don’t believe you
I will keep an eye on you and find out what you’re really up to
and if required somehow retrieve you
I will follow you
hallucinate and dance till morning
I will follow you
my hero worship you are scorning
I will follow you
I’ve made a lot of bad assumptions
I will prove to you my trust is true
This time it is Iceland and it’s not a very nice land
’cause vol-ca-no
Also it is wintertime and there is much terrain to climb
before our fortune we can gain-o
I will follow you
You found a man trapped in a snow slide
I will follow you
We caught a polar bear alive
I will follow you
I’ve risked my life and reputation
You’re my best friend, I will follow you.
Off we go to the Levant and I, unwanted mendicant
Need you and gold
Patriarch of Antioch I cling by faith to Peter’s Rock
You can flee but I am bold
I will follow you
You are crucial to my scheming
I will follow you
You always need a verbal reaming
I will follow you
To free all of the Christian nations
There is nothing to you I won’t do.
more later…
SO many awesome things.
Met a lovely man, skated right up to having FEELINGS, and then sensibly consulted girlfrenz on those things I might want to know about in advance. So I had 12 hours of hope, and have gone back to my usual thinking guys are, well, you know – strange, difficult and clueless. And go me for consulting people before saying or doing anything stupid. Wish I could have been like this 35 years ago, but we get too soon old and too late smart.
Concert went great. Travel was within acceptable tolerances. Phoenix Airport is nice, and Atlanta airport is so awesome I want to fly back in there with people who haven’t seen it so I can show it off. Hotel was good, room was good, everything I brought except my space babe’s bag sold at the Interfilk auction, and my Matrix coat is now being rocked by a very hot trans*person who looks WAY better in it than I ever did. I bought Keith a tshirt but made the mistake of wearing it home, so now I have to wash it. I bought myself a cicada hair bob, Gwen’s Box of Fairies album, Cat Faber’s Medicine Show album, and I acquired a copy of my own performance, which is great…
Otto, not so great. He survived the trip but the strings all broke when I retightened them and the strings I took as replacements DIDN’T WORK. They were loop as opposed to ball strings. CRAP. So France and Steve helped me get strings and everything was fine for the concert, except loosening all the strings changed the intonation so bad I now have to get Otto into the shop. The low G sucks dead bears now.
I wrote 3 SONGS ON THE PLANE this morning. Some little muther stole my pen, though, but it was all worth it. One of them is below, I don’t have permission from Peter Alway and DB Cooper (a stage name) to post theirs.
I worked up a fucking awesome bass line for my Gateway filk, plus optional instrumental bridge.
KEPT CRYING during Cat Faber’s singing, because NOBODY does social justice songs like she does.
anyway, a song. I am still buzzing – this week I must avoid con crud, look for work and keep practicing!!!
Lady Miss Banjola
She will stab you with a needle
to guard you from the flu
I will be keeping a trip diary and posting irregularly… I have decided not to take my computer because I simply cannot afford to have it confiscated by the US government. I have NOTHING on the computer which would warrant that, but I’ve been complaining under my real name about the US government for 10 years now. Most hotels have a guest computer room.
If I do write any George stuff while I’m gone it will be cursive, or uploaded to Google drive…. they aren’t likely to confiscate that. I will take my phone and charger.
I pack today. It will be a big batch of weird stuff I take, I hope the TSA and Customs can deal with it all.
I’m going to drop the keys for the business off with the landlord. I have been trying and trying and trying to sell it, and almost 60 people enquired, and I showed it to at least 30 sets of people, but I can’t pay rent any more. I closed the file with Fraser Health yesterday. It has been a year out of my life, and we only operated for three months. I learned a lot, got my heart and my shoulder broken, and I really think I’m a better person. I certainly have more self-knowledge, a lot more respect for restaurateurs. Knowing that I will never ever step through that door again is, candidly, more of a relief than I can say. Anything else I say will be oversharing.
I am practicing and writing every day – music or one of my other projects. That’s really the only thing that counts.
Jeff can handle getting a bolus into Eddie by himself with no difficulty, so I don’t feel like I’m abandoning Jeff over that. Eddie is moving as little as possible to accomplish his goals of just barely eating, just barely drinking, and getting to the litter pan. I’ve taken to leaving a hot water bottle next to him as he was cold to the touch the other day, and lifting him up into the chair he is sleeping in pretty much 24/7 these days. Margot is being very sucky towards us and practically knocked Eddie over with her tail the other day, a liberty he simply would not have tolerated a couple of months ago.
So many people have told me how much they are looking forward to seeing me at GAFilk! I feel genuinely underrehearsed, but I recently read that if you’re feeling nervous, make yourself MORE EXCITED. So I will.
ATL is not currently experiencing delays in or outbound with the exception of international flights outbound. Travel will be icky, but not impossible due to weather.
I’d like to call out Patricia for helping arrange a drinkypoo on my return, and a very warm hug for mOm and Chipper, who have been extra specially supportive beta readers for George, and for Tammy, who provided me with the book that unblocked my last objections to the writing. I have something very specific to say on the subject of first contact, which is that we’ve had 100 years of science fiction in popular culture, and we have to start writing first contact fiction that allows humans to respond intelligently to aliens. Not to freak out or say stupid things. To say, “Cool! Weird! How can I help? What’s in it for me? Where’s your ray gun?” when somebody who really does think globally comes along.
Everybody who can, have a good day!
I’ve actually started a super non sekrit project “10 arguments for the abolition of the NFL”, but I suspect I’d have better luck championing indignities to human remains in terms of how the internet would respond if I published it. I do watch sports, but I do not follow the ‘rules’ and it’s largely to keep my brother company. If the officiating at the NFL is as bad in the post season as it was this year, he has threatened to give up on the NFL entirely. I watch NASCAR for two reasons – it makes me want to either write or practice in rebellion against it, and because Margot looks hilarious watching it. (Little head whips round and round). The only other thing we watch is soccer, because it takes a lot of what I consider genuine athleticism and is relatively concussion free. Go Barca!
It’s been a lively couple of days. I’ve been writing hard, practiced almost enough, played at church to sincere and life affirming compliments, showed the shop, made the decision to hand the keys over to the landlord, got into last minute negotiations with guys that came in at Christmas, had a spider drop onto my keyboard and scare the shit out of me, I’ve stopped having nightmares but the insomnia has fired up again, we finished watching Jazz, which made me unhappy because it was SO wonderful, and I received some Buddhist wisdom which allowed me to release a lot of stored animus toward my life and situation. I learned that my travel plans into the US are probably going to be completely fucked up by the INSANE weather ongoing in most of the US – shit, it’s warmer in Alaska – which reminds me of the time that I wanted to get to a con which would have been crucial to my development as an SF writer and 9/11 intervened, except this time it’s all expenses paid and guess what, they’ll WAIT for me, as I don’t imagine I’d be stranded more than two days so I’ll still get to do it. I learned that Pearl, Cat Faber’s octave mandolin (ALSO by Peter Cox) experienced technical difficulties and is now in the shop, meaning I do not have an octave mandolin as a back up if United destroys or loses Otto. (And I know that as sad as that might be, I would just ask for the bits back or get Peter to make me another one, him being obliging that way, if remunerated. Who’s to say the replacement wouldn’t be even more amazing?) This means I would have to do the entire concert on a regular sized mando – which I DO NOT WANT – or transpose EVERYTHING to a guitar, which for a couple of songs would be fine and for everything else would probably cause my nervous system to implode – or sing the entire concert a capella, which would be extremely wearing for my audience. I will be taking Lemming’s advice about packageration seriously. I reproduce it below. Jeff invented the word garbarcage to describe when tv shows are shitty because they have too much arc and too little of what we watch the shows for. Eddie is needing fluids at least every other day, he has started to refuse his meds and he’s gone off his food, although he’s still making the trek to the litter tray. Margot has gotten very sucky, which is unusual. I’m making plans to travel after the shop is gone. I found out that the Squamish name for Thomas Mulcair is “Angry Beard” (okay it’s just one Squamish dude who is calling him that, but DID I LAUGH when I read that) and that it’s too cold outside right now for the Lincoln Park Zoo Polar Bear. I’ve been applying for jobs every day, no response. However, I am relaxed about it. What will be, will be. No use flinching or being rebellious. The leathern thong descends whether I’ve been a good girl or not.
Tip #1: Depending on size of body, sometimes banjo cases work for octave mandolin type instruments. Tip #2: A way to save money on a case AND protect the instrument: Call guitar stores in area and see if one will give you an instrument-size box. A banjo box would probably work. Check airline regs for box measurements before proceeding. They’re supposed to allow some leeway for musical instruments. Invest in some bubble wrap. Loosen strings. Wrap instrument in bubble wrap, inside soft case. Wrap case in bubble wrap. Stuff bubble wrap in bottom of box, put in instrument, put bubble wrap on all sides and top filling box, seal box with heavy 2″ wide packing tape, about twice as much as you need. Pack one roll of packing tape so you can re-pack before you leave to go home. Add handle (easy to make one with tape, or tape on a handle, or tie on some rope. Mark stuff on package with large black magic marker “THIS SIDE UP! FRAGILE: DO NOT BEND. CONTAINS ANGRY ELVES WHO WILL HURT YOU IF YOU WAKE THEM UP” or some such thing. Tip #3: First, find out if the planes you’re flying on all have closets. Second, carry the thing with you, in the soft case, but do wrap it in bubble wrap inside the case. Make sure it’s small enough to fit in the overhead. Go up to the counter and ask if they’ll find space in the closet for your instrument. If they’re crazy enough to want to gate-check it, well, that’s what the bubble wrap inside the case is for, but if they do that, ask them if they’ve seen the “United Breaks Guitars” video, nicely. If you have to put it in the overhead, stuff a large coat or something all around it so no one tries to smash it with their luggage. Again, bubble wrap. Bubble wrap is your friend
Oh, and don’t forget the loosen strings part. Most of the time, no difference, but the changes in air pressure in the luggage compartment plus string tension will eventually cause the neck to break at the nut.
And take along spare strings because one often breaks when you retighten.
Chlamyphorus truncatus
To own you as a pet would give me status
An insectivore from Argentina
And the cutest little critter ever seen-a
You’ll eat exotic arthropods by the pound
I’ll never get to see you cause you’re underground
You’ll never ever sleep upon my pillow
Chlamyphorus truncatus: Pink Fairy Armadillo!
You will never get much bigger than my hand
Pandas always get more press & I don’t understand
You have armour plates upon your back and butt
which are tinted a most pleasing shade of pinkFrom the list of squee you never shall be cut
You’re my favouritest animal I think
Smallest in the fam’ly Dasypodidae
Proud member of the order Cingulata
You won’t be long, & nor should I
Cause I’ve run out of interesting dataSpoken: Really, we don’t know much about this remarkable mammal, apart from it being really good at hide and seek.
Chlamyphorus truncatus
To own you as a pet would give me status
An insectivore from the Argentine
A-a-a-and the cutest little critter anybody’s ever seen!
Someone had to do it, I suppose. I reckon I’d enjoy it. I provide the link for me mOm’s entertainment.
I made meatloaf yesterday. In case I don’t remember the recipe, it’s a pound and a bit of regular ground beef, four tablespoons of Heinz chili sauce, a good shot of black pepper, ditto powdered garlic, an egg and almost half a cup of bread crumbs. I think I’ll macerate an onion next time too. Jeff proceeded to abandon the leftover Chinese food for it, so I’d say that’s a good sign.
Today, I will be putting some effort into an interview between my main character and my newly hatched CBC interviewer.
The Jazz documentary continues to dazzle, likewise Attenborough’s Blue Planet. Wars between coral species are bizarre and disgusting. “I barf my guts on you and digest you on the spot!” “Aiyee! I am fixed to one spot and cannot flee!” Also, who knew there’s a colony species of shrimp? With a queen, and workers, and burly guards with extra large claws!?
I’m singing in church on Sunday, must practice some more.
Two Miss Margot moments.
1. This morning Jeff and I discussed which characteristic defined Margot better, fluffiness or silliness. Silliness won, despite her striking degree of fluffiness, because she could lose ALL that fur and still be silly.
2. She comes and watches TV with us the instant she hears David Attenborough’s voice. So she’s silly, but she has excellent taste.