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!
Mike and I are going to go car camping next weekend, if all lines up (we’ll be self-testing before we go). So looking forward to it!!!
No progress on the writing. Very much enjoying the Burn Notice rewatch; Gabrielle Anwar is quite something as the volcanic Fiona Glenanne. And of course Bruce Campbell is just wonderful. I am now pronouncing the character of Michael Westen asexual – if one does, many of the things he does make a lot more sense.
12409 words (creeeeeeping)
Had an absolutely lovely and heartening phone convo with Sue, my friend from church. She has an ongoing part in a TV show here in town! which we had thought about watching but now we’re rethinking it. At least I am. An IMDb listing, good golly y’all. I’m sure she’s fantastic. Also the entire series is CRAWLING with Stargate series alumni, I was snorting at the cast list, Paul McGillion makes an appearance.
We spoke of many things. Renee Spakowski passed. She was a truly amazing person and a really good organizer. I knew about Jean Donaldson passing away. Other people from church have died, and I haven’t been making phone calls because I’ve been very wrapped up in myself.
I told her about my spot in Guest 23 magazine (thanks to Dave, being the editor lol) and she was very kind about the poem I read at Tom’s memorial service. She said that in the first few lines the congregation knew where they were and what was happening and I said all I wanted to do was write something honest that other people could relate to and she said I succeeded. That was good.
And we talked about R v W and we talked about the state of the world and we talked about what happens when you have to end a friendship and so I talked about the friendship that I had to end and how years and years later I’m still so SORE about it, because it’s a personal failure, or so I feel. But one sets boundaries and tries to live accordingly, and it’s damned hard.
and she asked me about Ryker the wonderbaby
I send morning greetings, hope you are all doing well today!
12386 words
Suzanne was falsely arrested this past week but released (it’s her story to tell but I nearly died of fright as she was recounting it AND FUCK THE POLICE MOST SPECIFICALLY THE RCMP) and one of her ex boyfriends passed away living rough (grandson Alex’s dad told her, otherwise she wouldn’t know, and they’re going to the memorial tomorrow) and I’ve never felt my privilege so hard. I want nothing but good for her and life is not providing it.
At least the fucking cops didn’t confiscate the gummies I gave her because they were excise stamped.
Tiny bit of writing last night, still balking at the convo. Maybe I should just write something bad and get it out of the way.
Just woke up after disturbed sleep. I slept from 3 – 8 am so I was two hours late taking my bp meds and my brain feels like a used sponge.
Brief walk in Fraser Foreshore yesterday. The chickadees were chasing me around, but no sunflower seeds for them.
My mood is cottonwool and vagueness.
No writing. Suzanne, hopefully, will be here today.
May the eighth is more important though. That’s when there’s supposed to be a Mother’s Day Strike in the US for abortion rights.
I am still extremely upset and weighted down about Roe v Wade. Abortion rights are under attack in Canada too. Until just a few years ago there were no abortion providers in PEI, and in NB you have to drive TWO HOURS FROM THE CAPITAL OF THE PROVINCE to get care.
Don’t be fooled. They’re coming for us.
I am crying off and on about it. It’s so horrible, and everyone sensible on the left in the US predicted it in 2016 and was called ‘an alarmist’.
Fuck ‘alarmism’. The world is on fire.
Bonus moose of war:
A moose being evacuated from the zoo in Kharkiv, per Ukraine NOW, social media arm of Ukrainian government pic.twitter.com/JSFQMtcrms
— Tim Mak (@timkmak) May 2, 2022
One load of laundry, ran the dishes, returned a library book. 12167 words. Talked to mOm on the phone.
Sadface that one of the few pieces of agricultural land in Burnaby will now be under the developer’s plow. Hop On Farms is closing after 40 years. I don’t know how many times we drove by that place, and how unreasonable is it that I wish the world would stop cutting my children’s childhood down…. anyway. It’s a stupid feeling, but I assert it anyway.
Buster’s stitches are itchy and he’s very affectionate this morning. Jeff has to get antibiotics and whatnot into him, I don’t envy him the task, and of course while he’s healing he’s supposed to stay indoors.
Did anybody actually look up the name of the species of alien I was shown eating yesterday? It translates as “Weird Surprise!” Now you know.
Paul and I walked again today. The heron couple was doing their thing and the eagles are sitting babies and screaming from their nests. The tide was way, way out and someone upwind was manuring a field, but otherwise it was gorgeous, and quite warm.
Started some laundry.
Buster has been to the vet to get stitches. He is now dopey and disinclined to move.
I dropped off my library book. I read six paragraphs and realized it was for smarter people than me.
I read “Résistant quoi” to Paul. He enjoyed the rather rough humour in it.
Spoke to Keith. He’s coughing lots and afflicted with brain fog.
Me, eating the viscera of a Cerritulus mirum (a non sentient alien species) in the company cafeteria in days of yore. Photo credit Dave Deroy.
Keith has tested positive for COVID. He’s recovering at home.
Paul and I sat in the park down the hill and blossoms fell on us. The dogwood tree looks, in full bloom, like something from a Tolkien film. We came back and drank tea on the deck.
Buster’s wounds are healing well.
12066 words, mostly revision. I’ve done a stem to stern adjustment and tightening of the story so far, and it’s stalled a little bit because I am pantsing and there’s three ways I can go.
Survey Sunday:
If you had a choice between living your life again and going back in time and killing Hitler in 1933 which would it be?