All over the place
a glimpse inside my head, lucky you
When I was in college, I took a life-changing course in Renaissance Literature, the first assignment of which was to simply take a look at what we had in the impressively wide University database as far as texts digitized from the period, and simply respond to it. I wish I could remember the full title — it was basically 3 sentences long — but I remember the phrase “of sundry sorts” because ultimately that’s what it was: a book of unrelated advice and medical cures, alphabetized, to basically help you live.
I can’t claim that my sundry thoughts will help you live, though in all fairness, this forgotten expert’s advice on keeping humors in balance wouldn’t have actually done so either. What I can tell you right now is that there are four unfinished essays in my inbox whose focused points and thoughtful on-topic meditations stop unceremoniously in the middle. I kept waiting for the day when I could finish them and present them one by one as something worth your reading time. That day, I have accepted, won’t be here for a bit, so in lieu of silence, I’m going to fill you in on life-at-this-second. It’ll quiet the chaos, I think.
1.) I’m currently so epically anemic right now that I feel like my teenage dreams came true and I have in fact fallen victim to a vampire, but instead of my skin porcelaining up and my night vision getting preternaturally sharp I’m just paler than usual and physically tired in a way that should not be possible while sitting here. Truth be told though, I like the semi-psychedelic sensation of brain-floatiness that my body conspires to cook up at this time of the month, every month, since I was 12. It would be pleasurable if there wasn’t such extraordinary fatigue involved.
2.) The New York Times published an article called “12 Ways to Cook Up a Delicious Mardi Gras,” and my rage knows no bounds. No one to whom Mardi Gras means anything i.e. no one who knows anything about the culture where I come from has ever professed to “cook up” a Mardi Gras. That is not a thing people do. NYT’s continued exoticization, fetishization, and aggressive ignorance of my hometown became insufferable years ago. But somehow it’s gotten worse when I didn’t think it could, just like the potholes of New Orleans.
3.) Not since my 20’s have I been as pulled into, affected by, and cosmically thankful for the existence of a TV show like I am for Netflix’s remarkable You, which fearlessly examines the effects of unresolved trauma through the no-holds-barred story of a deeply literary bookstore clerk turned, um, thoughtful and deliberate serial killer. It is one of the smartest, most insightful, most devastatingly funny and fierce screen-stories I have ever seen. I am in love with it, and with everyone involved with it. It’s got me back to my teenage assertions that exceptionally talented actors are actual deities. And the writers? Well, shit, suffice to say I probably shouldn’t meet any of them. I’d go groupie-in-the-golden-age-of-rock-n-roll way fast.
4.) A guy who always says hi to me at the gym finally stood next to the ab machine for more than two minutes to casually offer me a paper towel I didn’t need, and I got the impression he’d been planning this greeting for some time, which is part-flattering and part-just-weird. He asked me if he could refill my water bottle for me and I was glad to be able to say that actually I had just done that. (This seemed to be a situation where acceptance of assistance could be potentially misread.) He then informed me in a nervous-sounding way that he sees me here every day, not possible, I’ve got discipline but not that much, and then! He was about to call me inspirational! BUT HE STOPPED HIMSELF. He cut himself off in the middle of the word and rephrased! For this reason, I’d probably give him a chance if I were looking. I am not (though I’d consider making an exception for anyone who happens to be on the writing staff of You.)
5.) I bought this octopus, and now no evil can come to my desk or home:
6.) I was recently published in two online magazines, Just Femme and Dandy, talking about disability and fashion, and Lit Angels, edited by Francesca Lia Block. The curious can read my fashion essay here.
My retelling of Persephone/Demeter/Hades’ myth, “A Softer Darkness,” casting Hades as the hero and Demeter as the villain, requires a subscription to Lit Angels to read, but I can share the staggering illustrations by Jade Lynn Goh. I’m still reeling from the knowledge that anything I’ve written inspired an artist to make these:
“A Softer Darkness” is an excerpt from a novella of the same name that would not have seen the light of day but for passionate encouragement by someone who’s no longer in my life, but made the above possible. Honestly, contending emotionally with both of these truths has occupied a greater portion of my day-to-day consciousness than is strictly ideal. But then, what is strictly ideal?
7.) Ian is currently on the phone with his mom describing my which-MFA-committee-will-determine-our-next-move anxieties with such extraordinary empathy I could cry. If there is a strict ideal, Ian comes close.
And there we have it. Newsletter indeed! If you’ve made it this far, I’m more grateful for your time and attention than you’ll ever truly know.