Category: Church

qahveh save me

Qahveh being the original word for coffee, which I only know because of Dunnett. All the threads lead back to her. Of course I can’t get Dave to read l’œuvre but at this point if he ever did I’d have to own up to all the shit of hers that I outright thieved for various aspects of my own work, and how embarrassing would that be. Besides, he doesn’t read ‘light’ fiction as a general rule, although it was kind of him to read Totally Boned. Speaking of which Suzanne is finishing up Totally Boned yes. and yes there are Dunnett squeaks all through TB.

Suzanne is not having a good birthday week. She found out about two weeks ago that her youngest son’s gf was pregnant, but since nobody told S that she was VERY pregnant, the birth announcement this week was a bit of a surprise. Learning that you have a new grandson who’s detoxing in the NICU when you have zero access must be a horrifying experience. mOm asked me to send her a hug and a kind word and I will.

On the plus side, this week somebody sent the most good looking man you can imagine – to offer himself sexually to her – WHILE SHE WAS SITTING RYKER so after she unswallowed her tongue and ungoggled her eyes she said, er, no, and he wandered off to find the woman he’d been prepaid to bang. (This is the kind of stuff that only happens in novels so I’m going to steal the anecdote for a fanfic because he showed up in house slippers and a revealing outfit and said he was ‘auditioning for the bedroom’. I can see it all now, hommina hommina)

ALRIGHTY THEN. and at no point did Suzanne say anything othering about the sex worker. Damn I love that woman. I should get the rugs she washed out of the dryer. The washers in her building are crap and SUPER expensive so she’s ALSO been doing laundry here.

She said Ryker loves coming to Grammy’s house; he gets second breakfast, he has a million versions of Lightning McQueen, CARS runs hot and cold in the background, and there’s a cat to chase. WHAT COULD BE BETTER. He’s learned to say MCQUEEN and he apparently never stops.

I do not have Alex until Tuesday, but I’ll see him for a Thanksgiving meal. Apparently Peggy’s old friend is going to deep fry a couple of turkeys at church and I’m simply overwhelmed at the prospects for catastrophe why I may even bring a camera.

Putin claiming that Prigozhin died ’cause Wagner soldiers were providing in-flight entertainment by tossing live grenades is like an entire Russian army of MOODS.

WROTE almost a thousand words yesterday on an aziracrow fanfic that no one but me will ever look at. Nobody asked for it and it’s fundamentally flawed but I wrote it anyway. The new Brad and Omar story has a shape and I will slowly pursue it.

Laid out my pills for a week just now.

Whatever shall I do with no childcare required of me until Tuesday morning??

Congrats to Leo and Linda on getting the last kid married off (Kevin, and of course I have embarrassing memories from his last visit to us LOL which I will NOT share) and this is all teasing because of course they didn’t do anything but help celebrate!!! it’s not like they hosed’em down and pitchforked ’em to the ceremony…. anyway it’s happy family news and the pics were lovely thank you.

Church yesterday

It was a service with a LOT of music. It was all standard white people music that wouldn’t have been out of place any time in the last half century, so it matched the congregants quite well.

I was the ONLY PERSON who brought animal flesh to the soup lunch (there are always meatatarians in every crowd) so I’m proud to say that two thirds of the chicken thighs I baked last Thursday got consumed by people like John H. The leftover leftovers went with Keith back to the Junction where I imagine Dax and Katie will consume it.)  I had lentil chickpea soup, which was quite tasty and had the right amount of salt. Keith is so loved at church, everyone wants to talk to him and he’s always helping out.

I was seriously peopled out and came home and consumed media. Jeff took me to White Spot for breakfast and I still have some in the fridge. I’ve already had my coffee and scritched and trained Buster.

Posted this to FB yesterday:

why you want to train your cat to understand you speak, example the entienth.
Buster: I am minding my own catly business snoozing in the music/spare room. (Further note – we leave this door closed as it bleeds too much light into the media room so Buster has to ‘ask’ us to open the door for him when he wants to use the room)
Allegra: Enters room. Holds up guitar. “Noisy, Buster. Noisy. Can you get down please?”
Buster: Teensy-weensy put-upon mew, jumps down from bed, finds another place to hang.
Allegra: Vigorously and noisily practices after closing the door.
Allegra: Opens music room door after 45 minutes. “All done Buster, no more noisy.”
Buster jumps down from the media room sofa and retakes his music room perch.
The most important thing about communication is respect. I know he hates it when I play. It’s kind of a drag after Miss Margot, who loved music (especially the theme for Stargate Universe and U2) but Buster and I seem to have a quid pro quo….
I am extremely happy to say that Paul has signed a lease for an elder facility and he will be living there starting July 1. it is walking distance from here. MY RELIEF MAY BE IMAGINED.

apology accepted

Jeez I could have gotten this over days ago. C. has been kind enough to hear and accept my apology and did not consider my considerable display of ill temper enough to make her hate me…

Don’t know what I did to deserve this life.

Shipped off 1450 words to mOm this morning after an 850 word day, thank you very much.

The brilliant sunshine is so wonderful. I just popped the back door to let the late afternoon sun and air flush the house.

Paul took me to lunch after we took EIGHT BAGS of mostly clothes (I did a quick peruse to ensure it’s stuff he can lose) to Value Village. Next time per his specific request they’ll go to the Sally Ann at the bottom of the hill. I can’t talk him out of it, that’s fine, he’s entitled to his preferences.

May I be conducted to hell

with ‘certain parties’ as my escort.

That was without a doubt (music aside) the most bland and unobjectionable spring festival service I’ve ever been to. There were many mitigating factors so I won’t linger but A. bless her came up to me afterward and said there was entiiiiirely too much God in that service and I could not but agree. Of course if you’re going to suck up to the three remaining and three closeted theists in the group, Easter’s the time to pull da bunny fum da sack. The bunny in this case being a fantastical holy-ish trinity of Reb Jeshua, Ramadan and the seder. I remind myself of mitigating factors and turn to

HOW I GOTS MISTOOK FOR A MAN TODAY while wearing a dress

and earrings that matched my

tights that matched my

decorative scarf in pretty colours that my mother made, and I haven’t worn all those things together in likely a decade at this point, probably church the last time too…. L. greeted me most sweetly and kindly but I was somewhat reserved as I had just put my mask on and my – you know – social anxiety spikes when I’m indoors and masked however ecstatic I am to see various people.

I digress to think about what happens to middle aged women wearing face masks. Bigots don’t want people wearing face masks because they want to be able to ‘clock’ you. You are assigned a gender at birth and wherever you migrate on your gender journey, most people want to believe they can tell and understand when presenting and presumed gender at birth don’t line up. But that doesn’t actually have any bearing on the reason I was mistook for a man…. I be somewhat digressing again, the thing, the evil thing I do for effect.

So I sing tenor now among other things (I recently checked my vocal range and …) and Keith got asked if he was the one providing the harmony. LOLOLOL I was literally as gender presenting as I can physically manage at this point and MY VOICE gave me away as a man, hiding behind a mask I MEAN LITERALLY folks for those who understand …. .

& I don’t mean to boast, but this life of mine gives me the most perfect moments of clarity and solidarity. I’ve been gender non-conforming all my life. I have no problem with my assigned whatever-as-normative, but I keep having little moments like that, and it pleases me. It’s not just the autism that makes me gender divergent; there’s something in me, neither brain nor frame, that makes me other than ‘woman’. Not 100%. Sure, able to do the madonna thing, co nursing your children how hard core. But I am not 100% woman, and I was like that before having Keith literally

And then I fucked it up totally by going off in a classic autistic meltdown with C. May I be conducted to hell. Which was where we came in. But somehow, you know,

—- SCROLL DOWN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I DIGRESS

Peggy was there and fled as someone else arrived, but I don’t know if the two events were connected so she just might have felt like walking home. I’m going to call her. Maybe she just got sick of the service. As far as I could tell they were still getting people drifting in at half time, including a previously called minister.  (Love what she’s done with her hair.) Rob W was there and sat next to me during the service. In case anyone in the audio radiance thinks there’s anything between us, he told me I was too fat when I approached him after Paul and I broke up and I’ve only gotten fatter since, and I’ve reached the age when perfect isolation from romantic relationships is accompanied by nearly perfect peace. Had a few words with Rose, Marilyn, collected a hug from John, and it was all good. Even with me being a complete ass I still feel better, and Keith bless him dragged me out in good time AND I mailed a letter on the way home. Cast your bread upon the waters (it was a letter to the landlord asking if she had any vacancies this summer), and may Christ and his sanctified angels come to your aid in terms of finding food for delivery in this town today….. I reject McDonalds on this Holy Sunday.

visitation dream

I dream but never remember, so waking up with a dream is a good thing.

Jeff and I were living in an old house full of beautiful panelling. A whole bunch of guys appeared IN OUR HOUSE as if they were having a meeting. They were all settled in with their papers on their knees and joshing with each other the way people do before they settle in to business, I said, “Well you’ve come to the wrong house, I’ve got COVID, you all have to leave.” Then I realized it was ALL guys from Beacon, and one of them was Tom. He gave me an amused but guilty look. There were a couple of other of Beacon’s dead there too, so I got a package deal. Hi Dennis, Hi Ralph. You were so loved.

So the visitation dream is me kicking Tom out from a church meeting because I’ve got COVID. We never spoke, but you don’t normally in visitation dreams. I find it really weird that I wrote that poem the Sad Enterprise and a day later, boom. We’re coming up on the anniversary of his death. The anniversary of his diagnosis has come and gone.

Did a load of laundry and ran the dishwasher, did a shop, worked on The Sword That Cries Ruin! Got the wordle in three tries today. I can sort of feel my brain under all the cottonwool.

gorgeous day

I suppose what I should have been doing was mowing the lawn, but if it’s not raining today that’s what I’ll do. Maybe I’ll put my two loads of laundry away LOL PROBS NO.

Tested negative for COVID again.

Putin didn’t mention victory in his victory speech. Nor did he mention nukes. Soft good traitor tyrant.

12623, I think the writing drain is unclogged and I should be able to go. It’s hard to match the 4000 word day I had earlier on this story, sigh, but at least I have all the protagonists herded into one place psychologically for their life changing phone call.

Katie called first thing yesterday and PULLED ME OUT OF THE BATHROOM and then we howled laughing, thinking ‘MY TODDLER NEVER LETS ME POO IN PEACE’ and how that just never changes because THEN WE PHONED OUR MoM and got her away from her exercises so she’s PUFF PUFF PUFF it’s so PUFF PUFF PUFF lovely to hear your – PUFF PUFF oh that’s better – voices.  Katie and I also breathed sad and mad at each other about RvW because what the fuck can you do.

I didn’t hear from Keith but I heard he was playing with Ryker when I Katie called and that was good enough for me. Later in the day, Tammy, bless her, called, and we had a good long chinwag. Trying to time the market is a hard and always potentially expensive game. Paul and I got lucky, is all. Toronto is not a good market right now.

I got amazing feedback about my ‘activism’ from back when I actually was an activist and not just a keyboard warrior yesterday and it was lovely. I’m not going to repost it but to remind myself in future, 1100 reddit karma points for my welcoming congregation post was COMPLETELY UNEXPECTED and I cried at some of the comments. REPRESENTATION IS IMPORTANT and in this case it was an asexual saying ‘thanks for making me feel seen’ and that was a moment that made me feel THIS IS WHAT I WANT FROM LIFE.

So now I suppose I need to be more of an activist. I’m doing what I can given that I never leave my rental. LOL.

I miss my filking buddies. This is the ‘other’ Jeffrey in my life, lol, and what a lovely man he is, married to an even lovelier person, Jeri Lynn (well she makes homemade raspberry soft candies that taste like a trip to the Hesperides so of course I like her better.) Jeffrey gave me his dulcimer capo, can you believe it? what a guy.

 

millennial prayer

Biscotti batch 3 in oven, this will be AWESOME

Image

https://www.chickenscratch.co.uk/shop/the-millennial-prayer is where to buy this AWESOME MERCH PLEASE ensure that Keith sees this I’m sure he’ll be amused this is from @wangleberry on twitter and she lettered this after something her ‘idiot husband’ (WRONG) said.

If Phyllis was still alive I TOTES WOULD GET THIS FOR HER

October 2004 now complete

I’ve copied everything over to WordPress.

I was a different person then.

A worker was trimming roses at New West Quay yesterday and I got some to take home. We had a lovely walk, and I got a teensy bit of shopping in.

Paul’s 70 next month; we’re having a shindig at his place. I have a short list of people to call to invite. He wants sushi and something in the Instant Pot so that will be easy to wrangle. I’m slowly assembling a list of things to do.

It’s been four years since I stopped talking to Sandy. I miss her, but not enough to pick up the phone or email her. She’s still plugging away at Red Deer according to social media.

It’s been almost 18 months since I quit facebook. I’m good with that.

I didn’t realize I’ve actually quit church three times now. I’m not going back and this time I think it took.

Weird to review 2004.

I just watched the spire of Notre Dame fall on twitter

 

I’m crying. Why wouldn’t I be.

This is a fucking tragedy, and it was all triggered by workmen. I’ll bet anything there were safety shortcuts forced onto them by the construction management company.

 

later…. 52 acres of primeval oak forest was taken down for the pillars

 

jesus

Ringing in the New Year via snow shovel

Dug out  the front stairs, walkway and sidewalk, the back stairs, side walkway, garage walkway, and the snow blocking passage to the laneway.

New Years Writing Resolutions:

 

Publish 5 books (4 out of 5 are written) block out five more, e-publish my book of homilies, write two more of fiction and two of non-fiction. Finally assemble all my filk songs as of the end of 2016 into a big pdf file. Dig more deeply into Scrivener and see what else it can do to help my work flow. Learn more about e-publishing. Print at least a small run of physical books (probably locally) so I can put them in my mOm’s hands. Put everything for free on my website so people who are broke can read it. Develop a mailing list for book marketing purposes. Learn to spam LinkedIn since it’s all they’ve ever done for me. Figure out if it’s worth it to put any version of the ‘trilogy plus bookends’ on Amazon, given all the hassles I hear about. Start a Patreon account. Move 1500 units. Start submitting to publishers once I have some sales. And remember that 1000 words a day is 4 books a year!

I am completely and utterly sober. I have five minutes to pour myself a toast of something before I greet the new year with some Moar Wrdz.

angry gesticulating and inarticulate howling

So I found out that one of my fave former church siblings is dead.

And I want to complain about it.

Not because she’s dead, but in consequence of how she was treated before she died.

Now, she had mental health problems, and she was forever going back to her doc to get her meds adjusted.  She started feeling poorly (she was well into her 60s); tired, digestive upsets, dizziness. They adjusted her medication.

She ended up in hospital, and while she was there they found out she had stage 4 lung cancer. They sent her home and she died four days later.

 

F*ck you you *sshole who didn’t check her physical status. You’re a f*cking stain on medicine and I’d stake you to a f*cking anthill in the noonday sun if I had a chance. You decided that a mentally ill woman, a beautiful, sweet, hard working bundle of awesome, was having mental health problems INSTEAD of physical problems and you didn’t even so much as give her a proper workup.

She was ANGRY BEFORE SHE DIED.  She’d been totally f*cked over by the medical establishment.

SO. I know for a fact I have mental health problems, many people do. I don’t take prescription medication because I’m one of those awkward people who hates the seven zillion side effects more than the cognitive relief I might get. And did get, for the four months (WHICH COMPLETELY F*CKED ME UP WITH SIDE EFFECTS) I was taking Prozac. Wellbutrin triggered dissociation and the desire to pick up knives and sink them in my family members, which thank the little fishies went away as soon as I stopped taking it.

And because I don’t go to church anymore I couldn’t go to her funeral, and because everybody assumes I’m connected to the church on facebook nobody called me.

I’m okay with that. I’m not okay how this beautiful person was treated.  Misogyny (oh she’s always complaining about her meds like old biddies do) and ableism (who cares, she’s anxious) KILL WOMEN.

The world can really suck sometimes.

I will remember you, church sibling, as a lover of beauty and a faithful servant of our community. And a super sweet lady. God damn it.

 

Isn’t it the strangest thing?

So there was a fooferaw in the press after the service for Rev Clementa Pinckney at which Barack Obama sang a few staves of Amazing Grace.

I don’t give a shit about what the white conservative pressgong said; they all lick rich naughty bits for baubles and won’t leave a lasting mark on human affairs.  I was much more interested in what the black & activist voices said on my twitter feed, being spoken in what are individual and human voices.

A lot of them were mildly approving, but a bunch of them said, “It should have been “Lift every voice and sing” instead of pandering to sensitive whites with Amazing Grace”, which as a song, in memetic terms, has long ago gone beyond parody and flown up its own semiotically charged ass.

Now, being a Unitarian… Marcy I hope you’re reading this, because it should give you a chuckle…the first thing I do, ten days later, but I did follow up, is go to the internet and check the U*U hymnal and make sure the damned song is in there.  O committee of U*U musicians, what hath thou wrought???? yup, it’s there, and my easily clenched shamey bits relax somewhat. Good work folks!

Then I go unto the internet, o weary ones, and read the lyrics.  Because that’s how we DO.

Then I go to youtube and randomly pick a rendition with lyrics.

It wasn’t until the second time through on the lyrics that I realized that the words native land appear in the last verse.

SETTLER COLONIALISM enshrined in a black hymn.

Yar.  Arg har.  Bleeble bleeble.

Okay, so first off I’m giving Barry a hall pass, the ****er’s unsingable, so he picked Amazing Grace as being a sound compromise in an emotionally and politically volatile public event.  I got no problem with that.

Second I’m thinking wow I’m going to filk that.  A better tune is coming, but the lyrics, except for the last verse which is where the song makes a right turn from social justice into God this and God that and God on every line, are OUTSTANDING.  I mean it.  Read the lyrics and tell me what you think.

It is now two in the morning.  It’s possible I’m cool enough to sleep.

 

side note, ever see that using U*U as a short form for Unitarian Universalism makes our symbol look like you’re mooning someone and showing your asshole?  I couldn’t love Unitarianism more now if I tried.