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!
I won’t say it on social media, but this is my space, so… I’m really sorry about the death in Kamloops of the Snowbirds pilot and await with solemn interest the results of the enquiry.
Also RIP Beyond the Beyond one of the few weblogs older than mine. I wonder how long lived mine shall be.
In better news, I saw Katie and Alex today, and I’m so glad.
Today on twitter I said that Andrew Scheer makes a bag of dicks look like party favours for a charm school picnic.
But I don’t let that fuckin’ stop me.
Bert, Kim the landlady’s husband, has passed away, but in better news we’re rounding down our rent for the next little while….
Racial capitalism is a fundamental cause of the racial and socioeconomic inequities within the novel coronavirus pandemic (COVID-19) in the United States. The overrepresentation of Black death reported in Detroit, Michigan is a case study for this argument. Racism and capitalism mutually construct harmful social conditions that fundamentally shape COVID-19 disease inequities because they (a) shape multiple diseases that interact with COVID-19 to influence poor health outcomes; (b) affect disease outcomes through increasing multiple risk factors for poor, people of color, including racial residential segregation, homelessness, and medical bias; (c) shape access to flexible resources, such as medical knowledge and freedom, which can be used to minimize both risks and the consequences of disease; and (d) replicate historical patterns of inequities within pandemics, despite newer intervening mechanisms thought to ameliorate health consequences. Interventions should address social inequality to achieve health equity across pandemics.
from Sage
If god watches me
Is he bored or entertained
No answer today
fantastical lights from faraway places
retain their moment in time and I mine
settling myself into the gendered slurry
that is English
those lights
candles for my bath
as I stub the life from this lepisma saccharina
here’s a snapshot
it will be six months later
during a pandemic
when I finally stir myself
to clean up its corpse
grey in life, grey in death
almost indistinguishable from the grout
I can’t write today, I can’t
I’m a mote, should be mute, a little scrotey
blemish on the terrifying backside of English letters
all jealousy, a tunnel through inadequacy
reaching up through all this debris
for a garden of kindness
a shield against the noise
instead
a mask
over the top of my face
years ago I got the plague mask
years ago
and on the bottom of my face
a white rectangle, broken into diamonds
a fabric diamond on my face
I never had one for my hand
I am a metagraph of ‘something into something else’
my mind and my DNA
once I had a face and now
because I love you
I do not