Settler writer/musician, (leanpub.com/upsun) living where privilege meets precarity in MST country. she/her/they———– Novels: Midnite Moving Co., Upsun; Sweep Off Those Waves coming in 2020, Hair Sinister after that. ————- LAND BACK . @TheCorrection on twitter.
My mental health is as bad as it’s been in years. I won’t talk about the repetitive thoughts, the existential dread, the total sludginess, my disordered eating, how fucked and excessive my sleep is. Instead I’ll mention how happy I am that Jeff ran that dishwasher this morning. No crying though – that’s a blessing. I hate crying.
I will continue to work on posting songs.
Barry has written – he got two handwritten letters in one day, one from me and one from Mary. I laughed out loud when I read that. Only laugh I’m likely to get today.
I’m hoping picking up some books at the library will provide me with some lift, but right now I feel like rocketship 9 … looks fine, fails to light two engines, crashes…. but in my case, it’s not even a spectacular memorable crash, it’s just February, the light levels, the regular thing. AND STILL NO WORD ABOUT THE EEG I’m twisting in the wind here.
A professional musician and educator told me this was the most nearly perfect folk song he’d ever heard and yes I’ll provide his name if pressed.
There are eight tall lombardy poplars at
the back of the factory
They nod their heads like people gossiping
but they’ve nothing to say to me
If I enter all this data then a slave will be set free
but they’re just pixels on a monitor, they’ve got nothing to do with me
The news is full of violence but it’s quiet on the bus
we’re all being civil what’s the story got to do with us
I get off and dodge great big trucks carrying tons of stuff
and the weather’s good and the stores are full and few of us have got it rough
But in the middle of this plenty I can still find time to want more
Those who are happy with little they’re the ones who really know the score
If I bring you hourly updates the news is seldom good
but there are old people talking on porches when I walk through my neighbourhood
My senses tell me that life is fine, the news is full of death and woe
or else it’s ‘LOSE WEIGHT WITHOUT EXERCISE! and this man can suck and blow!
the news theme’s like a bennie (benzedrine) and my heart’s an 88 (mm, like a cannon)
sure the world is sliding into a pit, but everything is going great
well I told you that I love you in the middle of the roar
and you said that you love me and I forgot what my heart is for
then you said that you would trust me I had to learn to breathe again
how can life be bad, how can I feel sad, when there’s moments like this now and then