Reconstructing my voice

Fair point.

If you ever get in a conversation with me about music — it will be hard to shut me up. I typically don’t recommend it.

It’s not just fangirling either. I started singing young, participating in competitive vocal events as early as fourth grade. I picked up random instruments here or there (I would really love to get a dulcimer again) but mostly enjoyed singing and writing.

In high school I started having stomach troubles which I shrugged off because I figured it was part of the chronic anxiety & agoraphobia (or drugs I was taking to manage the conditions), but by the time I was in college I was profoundly ill.

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Summer break

Tonight is new moon and I am not going to have time to pull and write my quarterly tarot read.

I had an abnormal Litha, spending most of the day shut up in my office writing. I had a 20k word day rewriting and revising two half-ass old manuscripts that I am weaving together with a refreshed, well-developed common lore.

The week was busy in other ways. I was mostly reading. My TBR pile is stupid right now. I have four different novel-length projects I’m in research mode with. And I obviously hate myself because the project I mentioned in the last paragraph’s research list included shit from Schopenhauer, Saint Germain, & anonymous (“The Chymical Wedding of Christian Rosenkreutz”). I think my brain has been officially liquid since about 3 a.m. Saturday morning.

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Work update / July’s Camp

I want to preface this with another plea for everyone to give what they can to bail funds, BLM funds, medical funds, legal funds, LGBTQ+ funds, etc. right now. I know things are tight for people, but there are also ways you can contribute for free. Here are some resources I’ve found: Bail Funds & Legal Help by City, Homeless Black Trans Women fund, Black Lives Matter on, Trans Women Pandemic Medical Fund, Antiracist Allyship Starter Pack (both donos & links to articles, books, & videos). If you’re strapped for cash but want to educate yourself, here’s a free drive resource of black revolutionary works.

I’ve allowed myself to become very emotionally involved in a lot of current events* & there is some guilt when I admit it has really dragged me. Nobody asked me to care & my ability to help has been greatly hindered by both my superpower of emotional overload & living in relative obscurity in the middle of nowhere. So to sum it up, I feel bad & tired & also feel bad about feeling bad & tired.

That said, this is not a huge problem because now is not the time for my shit & there is zero problem with staying quiet.

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Reading the stars through a thousand shards

This is the second of three articles about how my philosophical & spiritual ideas inform my creative work. I’m writing these in spring of 2020 in the throes of isolation, presented with a unique opportunity to sit with my thoughts.

Home, for better or worse.

“Without contraries there is no progression.”

William Blake

I’m never going to be a memoirist, any story is more interesting to write than my own & the practice of trying to weave it into something resembling a cohesive narrative is not a thing I particularly enjoy.

The truth is, I’m pretty ordinary — I’m fucked up in all the ordinary ways. & I’d like to believe that there are a lot of us are walking around with fractured faces. Our personalities cut into facets we show in different situations — work, & friends, & home.

& while I may be cracked a little deeper than some, I think there may still be some shine to it all.

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Things to look forward to

Since all the spring & summer tours have been cancelled or postponed & I’ve been bummed & emo & inconsistent with most of my creative work, I’m going to make a list of things coming out in the next couple of months that keep me going.

This is both as an exercise in being grateful, & an excuse to plug the things that are getting me by.

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LE’s grand theory of doing shit

This is the first of three articles about how my philosophical & spiritual ideas inform my creative work. I’m writing these in spring of 2020 in the throes of isolation, presented with a unique opportunity to sit with my thoughts.

I am good at lots of things.

I know it’s the middle of Camp NaNoWriMo & National Poetry Month. I know I should be sticking to the things I have set goals for. But the twin influence of isolation & immersion in my projects has my roots itching. & so I’m going to freewrite a bit about why I am the insufferable way I am & why I love all the people who do the things they do.

I’m promising no specific organization & stumble forward with the rustiest non-fic organizational instinct remembered from my days of working at a community newspaper.

The good news is that this blog is in large an exercise of how much of my voice the void can swallow. & if you are out there in the void making your own shit, I love you and here’s why…

It all started with William Blake.

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Day two

Me before I got locked down in a country with a failing, decaying, for-profit medical system — imagine how blasphemous I am feeling now.

Hey, I’m still rolling with this writing challenge shit. Not giving up just yet!

Today our governor, Jay Inslee, extended the “Stay home, stay healthy” restrictions (a fluffy, upbeat shelter in place order) through May 4. So, it seems I’ve little better to do for the rest of the month.

While Seattle is slowing down, it seems like eastern Washington is gearing up. And while it pains me to say it — I expect it will be a lot worse here because the few times I have gone out to pick up groceries I was really annoyed at what I saw. People are out everywhere acting as if nothing is wrong — heavy traffic, crowded sidewalks, huge groups of people clustered together without even homemade masks…

Hopefully, I’m just being a joyless asshole, but I have a nagging feeling I’m not and there will be real hell to pay for this.

Anyway, onward to the art that shall distract me from the misery of it all…

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