back and forth
And
up and down
And
in and out
And
exhaustion abounds
but today
just forth
just up
just in
(except for some really excellent bagels)
and it’s *starting* to feel like
Home
back and forth
And
up and down
And
in and out
And
exhaustion abounds
but today
just forth
just up
just in
(except for some really excellent bagels)
and it’s *starting* to feel like
Home
the very same day
i became a homeowner
in New York City
i portrayed the epitome
of a stereotypical New Yorker
(pizza in hand, honking my car’s horn unnecessarily,
driving in that way that only New Yorkers drive)
(although, if i were a real real New Yorker
i feel like i’d have
neither house
nor car,
so there is that…)
road rage
comes from
feeling safe
and secure
and invincible
in your little metal box
but actually
you never know
who you’re honking at
so maybe
just maybe
just
chill.
(of course, in New York City, all bets are off,
because everyone honks at everyone
and no one really takes it as rage any more
it’s more just part of the general soundscape
of the city.
so…
)
the calm before the storm
creates excitement for said storm.
it’s the weightless moment in circus beats,
that moment that gives you a peek into the idea
that time is a mortal construction:
that second that lasts a lifetime,
you can tell what comes next
and plan your attack,
and set up a nest inside which to watch the storm
roll by.
~
i wrote this
on June 12
originally,
and i don’t necessarily remember
that particular storm
but i remember storms as i love them:
nature’s fireworks,
conversing with the thunder,
dancing in my hometown rain
before i’d fly halfway across the world…
but this storm…
the calm
before
brings apprehension,
we’ve seen one hurricane/tropical storm
flood our [hopefully](soon-to-be) borough,
we’ve seen the devastation
global climate change
can wreak
and we hope folks stay safe
and we hope not too much damage is done
and we hope to have a nice meeting with this
Henri
but we hope to not keep him in our hearts and homes for long…
it is approximately
one month shy
of the one and a half year mark
of Kip
going into work
physically.
and i’m getting all nervous
about them going into work
physically today,
though their work is vaccine only,
and mask encouraged,
and Kip told me they’d probably keep their mask on all day long,
but i’m still all nervous
maybe it’s because i’ve been the one to actually go outside
in this Global Patrick Stewart;
i’ve gone grocery shopping
and picked up prescriptions
and had doctors’ appointments
and circus classes
and marches
and protests
and Kip has accompanied me on a couple adventures,
a protest here,
a vacation there
(a vacation where
we still only stayed inside our airbnb the whole time)
so i’ve been out on my own
and Kip has not
and they are a grown adult
and used to make this trip
into physical work
every
work
day
arriving between 8 and 9
leaving between 5 and 9 (depending on after-work activities)
and they learned the streets of manhattan
around their work
and maybe i’m just nervous
that they will once again
have a life apart from our tiny Brooklyn living box
but i also want them to have their own experiences
so we can come together at the end of the day
and share our stories
together.
i have no need for them to only have a life as i can see it,
similarly, i enjoy their encouragement of my
circus classes
and acting classes
and film projects
and artistic endeavors,
but i’m still all nervous…
(i wonder if this is how they’ve felt every time i went in
physically
to an aerial space
over this last year or so…)
~~~
i know
it’s possible
to hold in one’s heart
the gratitude
that one has personally
dodged a bullet
as well as the support
and solidarity
of those who experienced it entirely
but i can’t seem to convince my physical form
that this is, indeed, a thing that can happen.
~~~
my creativity
is still part of me
even when i’m not actively
making up worlds
and writing new words
and surpassing my own expectations.
my creativity
never leaves
just sometimes
it might need
a bit of a
nap.
construction
on the road
right out our window
and the dog is so scared
but so brave
and the cat couldn’t find half a fuck to give
and for me it just reminds me how lucky we are
to be able to afford a garage
inside which we stash our car
and to Kip
it just reminds them
about the last time there was construction
on the road
right out our window
and how they had to carry the dog
a block up and down
in order to get her to our car
in order to get her to the emergency vet
in order for her to act completely fine in front of the vet
and then have her come back again the following day
to be told exactly what Kip expected to be told.
but as for today
i think about tow trucks,
and reversing down roads,
and loud buzzing instead of beeping,
and jackhammers and how the dog will act at lunch when i have to take her out by myself,
and whether or not i’ll be able to/want to nap later today
and when i’ll feel fully rested again
(and how the last time i said that, i feel like i didn’t know what actual, persistent exhaustion was)
and how exhaustion in itself is probably very subjective
and at least we have this playlist
of loud horns
and louder drums
and apparently spotify calls it Nu Funk
but we usually just label it after our favorite bands of the genre
(perhaps the originators of the genre?)
Moon Hooch
and
Too Many Zooz
and i know Too Many Zooz used to perform in subway stations
in NYC
before we lived here
before there was a global pandemic
before
before before
before before before
(is the new labeling of time
going to include BC
Before Covid?
that would make sense
if we did anything to change
the capitalist hellscape
that preceded this global panini
but instead,
we just continued more of the same)
but we are in late-stage capitalism
so maybe we can actualize industrial collapse
and rebuild something kind and caring
from the ashes
of this atrocity
that is the American experiment
that i’d say worked really well for those it was intended for
(white upper/middle class, cis, straight, able-bodied men,
particularly those of monotheistic religious extremes)
and not at all
for literally everyone else.
ah, so this is what it’s like
to contemplate the morning
in Morning Pages Poetry
to follow each thread of thought
until it lets out into a new concept
a new process
a new subject matter to contemplate,
and
i suppose
this *might* be what they mean
when they say
follow the dopamine
?
if you are
barely over
five feet tall
and your short-legged stride
outpaces
all the New Yorkers around you
you may have a problem
however
if you are
barely over
five feet tall
and gay
and your short-legged stride
outpaces
all the New Yorkers around you
that’s just fine.
i’ve started thinking
in poetry.
(even when i wrote in prose
every single morning,
i still only rarely would ponder in words;
usually as a way to plan out
how to describe a certain feeling,
or express a certain something
out loud
to another human being.)
but i’ve started having
words,
phrases,
in poetical form
pop into my head
riding the Q train,
pounding the streets of manhattan,
seeing the sun set
over Prospect Park
and i don’t know how i feel about this…
i, who have always felt some sort of
vindicated otherness
from not thinking in words
(as, i suspect, a slim majority of people do)
but it does bring me joy,
feeling more connected
to this art form.
storm
flooding
climate change
(she doesn’t need to change for anyone)
(but maybe this is her indication that she’s breaking up with us,
humanity,
and this is her signaling that she’s done with our abusive relationship)
(in which case; hey, you do you.)
i’ve been involved
in many a Pride:
marching in the parade,
spectating,
only coming for the afterparty,
staying late,
leaving early,
volunteering,
forgoing because of work,
forgoing because of travel,
forgoing because of emotions,
huge Prides,
tiny Prides,
side Prides,
marching,
listening,
shouting,
chanting…
i’ve been lucky
to learn
beforehand
what i needed to know
to appreciate
each message,
each Pride.
i was introduced
through friends,
chosen family,
strangers,
the internet,
leaders,
who really was Marsha P. Johnson,
and i listened to Sylvia Rivera call us all out,
i learned of the sit-ins,
and the die-ins,
Act-Up,
papier mâché,
the quilt,
what Leather Daddies
and Dykes on Bikes
gave to the communities,
Stormé DeLarverie,
and so many more
i’m still learning about,
and even more
still unnamed
still faceless
who gave me the right
to fight for others’ rights
today
and i hope we continue to march,
that instead of forgoing Pride for comfort
we forgo Pride for Queer Liberation,
or at least include Queer Liberation
inside our Pride.
that we continue to march
for Black lives,
for Trans lives
for Black Trans lives
for a free Palestine
for disability rights
for a Pride
that supports us all;
sans cops
sans rainbow capitalism
supporting what Pride originally stood for
(not because i want to go back,
but because we really cannot go forward
until we are all truly free.)