while the chudail puts me to bed

with witchy fingers she traces me

she doesn't say I'm here for you

she says, I'm there for her 

--to eat

                            her hunger is growing in her

                            like a child, but she hates it

                            her rage blooms instead

                            like a storm

 turning on me, she challenges: 

just who do you think I am? 

--I answer quietly to myself

"an asshole." 

*

                             Her anger is pointed, many-pointed 

                             like the sea. There are many things

                             to be angry about right now

                             so I understand

inside my body's cage she tests 

my plumpness, then lights me 

up and tells me to shine 

I'm not fine

                             I am bad and blood soaked but only 

                             on the inside... like her, another 

                            woman, I try to smile, and say

                             goodnight 

_____________________________

Note: Weirdos are all up in everyone's financial info and we have trade wars with the neighbors who sent firefighters to help with the California fires. Things are getting testy all around, I'm trying to stay calm.

Pic: The Red Cedar River is frozen except up by the rapids; walk with Big A.

uneven thoughts in uneven times

I break the trail     with an ice pick of panic      winter is removal       after all      and carry on      as if      I don't care     I don't want anyone     to see     I care

as it grows dark        with unwritten books      the ink shrinks     into ripples     of edict after cruel edict          they've called this chaos

shock and awe     rising to the center      into centuries    the injury       piercing the moment      everything swelling    out of reach     I witness     what is made--     

--for other people      watch it      come for me      I wait      as the wind loses its way     and wake to the wound     through which     the poem comes

_______
Pic: Max dares me to chase him on the icy snow. Look at his lope, he looks so lupine! 

Hopefulness is not a neutral position...

I found Timothy Noah's analysis in The New Republic really insightful and hopeful, where he argues that this administration's "Chaos Strategy Is Already Blowing Up in His Face."

The whole thing is worth reading, but this part here: "The main purpose, I think, of that OMB memo was to assert that the president has the power to impound appropriated funds. Trump was trying to just blunder his way into asserting this power over appropriations that he doesn’t have. It led immediately to all sorts of lawsuits, entirely foreseeable, and Trump withdrew. Trump is, I have argued, not a strong president. He is a weak president. He has authoritarian tendencies, but he’s weak. He’s mentally weak. He is subject vulnerable to all sorts of manipulation by his aides. He tries to do all sorts of contradictory things. He is not competent. And on the evidence of this particular example, neither are his enablers. Surely, Vought have understood that this memo was going to be challenged immediately in court. He ought to have been able to anticipate that Trump could not tolerate the bad publicity surrounding it so that Trump, even before there was a court judgment, withdrew the memo. These are all signs of a weak presidency, but weakness can cause chaos too. And we’re certainly experiencing a lot of chaos, a lot of fear, and a real degradation of the ability of government to perform its functions."

Pic: Words from Nick Cave, he's not not wrong here.  

prepping < resourcefulness < generosity

According to this article in the New Yorker,  many Americans are prepping for a second civil war. Anecdotally, I've certainly encountered my fair share of people talking about stockpiling canned goods, taking selfdefense classes, and buying firearms and so on since the election. Some of this seems sensible.

Extreme prepping seems like a lot. I'll never forget watching Cloverfield Lane with the kids long ago and being horrified by the John Goodman character. My At sagely told me that that was kind of the point--if you accidentally live through the apocalypse, the people around you are likely to be dreadful.

And here I was patting myself on the back, for being resourceful because I had a stubborn salt stain on my black boots that I disappeared by using a black Sharpie. I think I picked this up from the Julia Roberts character in Pretty Woman. She might have used a black eyeliner, but it's basically the same thing--we just have different tools of the trade, I guess. 

Pic: This is Mr. Arlo who was a welcome gatecrasher at my meeting with the MacCurdy students. I am so proud of my students' generosity and proposals on how they could use their house (a women's resource center) as a safe and welcoming space given the possibility of federal freezes, raids, etc. This is the mode that makes the most sense. 

seeing red until

Red Note: I tried the new place all the kids are decamping to in the wake of the potential TikTok ban--just to check it out. It was kinda confusing.

Red Book: Someone said: "Did you know that RedNote actually translates into "Little Red Book" as in Mao's Little Red Book?" That does not faze me. The Little Red Book has its moments. It's not like it's something written by Kim Jong Un. C'mon. I kept thinking about that person's outrage all day, and it was a bit funny.

Red Card: An international student wondered if we should be giving other international students "red cards." At first I thought it was something to do with the Lunar new year, but it was actually about how to prepare yourself for immigration raids. I was by turns sad and angry about this one. 

Red Envelopes: At the end of the day, dinner was with EM, whom I haven't seen in weeks and it was lovely to catch up. And of course she gave my grownass kids red envelopes with money in it for new year luck. Neither A's only sibling nor mine live near by so I'm glad and grateful for all the people who treat our kids as their niblings. 

Pic: Red envelopes for Nu and At today. Happy New Year of the Snake!

even the chipmunk does what it can...

One of my favorite bits in childhood retellings of the Ramayana is when Rama is building a bridge from the peninsular tip of India to Sri Lanka to rescue his partner Sita from Ravana who has kidnapped her. He has the help of his semi divine siblings and the Vanara army under the ace engineer and architect--Nala. But he also has the help of a little chipmunk who carries pebbles in its mouth to supplement the work of the huge army. Rama is so moved by the chipmunk's altruism, that he picks it up and gently strokes its back... and that's how the chipmunk got its stripes!

But the real point is that everyone does what they can to right a wrong. In fact, in some versions of the story, the chipmunk's pebbles cement the gaps between the giant boulders and are actually crucial to the structural stability of the bridge. I am reminded of this in so many ways. Two examples stand out for me today. One is StephLove putting her body on the line by protesting near the White House at the freezing of federal grants (the freeze has since been blocked by a federal judge). The other is a student who has been using their skill sets (English and Political Science) to annotate three significant executive grants so people can read and understand them more easily. 

Heroes. All the hearts. 

Pic: Huckie and Max, who clearly haven't eaten in days at the dinner table yesterday.

time after time

Time is remarkable. I was overwhelmed on Friday and the things I had to attend to seemed immense and insurmountable. Today, not only was I able to catch up to everything, but the things themselves could be despatched with a few breezy strokes of email... or so it seemed. Perhaps I've just punted everything to the near future? Time will tell, I suppose.

Anyway, it was busy, busy, busy. And part of that is pre-planning for my biennial travel abroad course to the U.K. And it's exciting and nerve-wracking. And some parts are icky. We're currently in the ticketing process, and I get to feel like a jerk asking people for their gender "as stated on their passports" like that has anything to do with anything. 

Pic: View from the bridge--this is the Red Cedar River frozen solid--people have been skating on it as the tracks show. Big A and I walked to breakfast to celebrate yesterday's anniversary this morning since he was working yesterday. That was quite apropos, because twenty years ago, we met up at a breakfast spot, and then walked across a bridge too.