if you are my friend

let's keep going, let's get to the grandeur
let's come back, let's touch absences 
to one another

our next hours wait patiently as the present

life can be a cold war sometimes

its firings accidental 

our lives recognizable as burning pages
opening in flame before curling
sullenly into ash

let us finally acknowledge our condition 

know we are holding our breath-- 

to avoid inhaling smoke

____________

Pic: The Red Cedar in Spring (yay) thaw. Sprigs of forsythia (yay, Spring) in the corner of the frame.

nice/surprise

 It's April 1st tomorrow and who knows what the day will bring--here are a few things that took me by surprise on this last day of March.

I woke up from a dream in which I marveled how in a crowd of strangers we unhesitatingly call ourselves "we." It's true, isn't it? There's something beautiful and magic about that.

I was on a walk and 30 mins from home when a neighbor called to say she'd found Max wandering around her yard and had put him in her screen porch. Obviously, I panicked and called Nu to go over and get Max. Nu went downstairs and then called to tell me Max and Huck were downstairs cuddling on the sofa. Ha. The other puppy was reunited with their family soon after.

For the first time ever, a book I put on hold at the library (Claire Lombardo's The Most Fun We've Ever Had) came in before I caved and got it myself.

Yesterday, while sheltering from the tornado, I realized that Nu and Big A had ordered an arcade Ms. Pac-Man game for the basement. I thought we were in our frugal era! I'm mad. Also that thing is going to be 5-ft tall when it's put together.

Pic: I commented to Suzanne that I planned to make sushi cups from an insta reel I'd seen. I did! I did not expect them to be as as easy as they looked or come out so well (esp. as I ad lib a fair amount). They look a bit color deficient to me as I want all five colors at every meal, but a blueberry-mango-raspberry compote completed the gap at dinner. 

Trans Day of Visibility Rally

An up and down kind of day--I guess that's the way it is when your opportunities for community and solidarity are hemmed in by the big events and policies beyond your control that makes them necessary.

Off to the Trans Day of Visibility Rally at the Capitol today with L and Nu. There were such great signs at the rally today and people were happy to be photographed with with them when I asked (I'm documenting for L's newsletter). But one parent said that their kid was nervous about being photographed, and while I completely understand, it made me quite sad.

Today's rally was designed to be celebratory and joyful, which is why I invited Nu... but I think it still felt a bit overwhelming and they needed some time over the evening to go off by themselves to decompress. They were telling me later how they had such great hopes for the country in 2020, but feel defeated now. It's a bit depressing outright miserable to hear a 17-year-old think and talk like that. At got there just as we three were leaving the capitol and met up with us later at the house for dinner. 

I'd originally planned to have a great, big gathering at our house, like we used to after the Women's Marches.  But I scaled things back as I didn't know if my scratched eye would be healed (It's 90% healed, BTW!). We ended up with a tableful of guests and just after we said goodbye to the second carful, the emergency sirens began going off for tornadoes+thunderstorms. I went out again to call our guests back to shelter in the basement (as we were about to) but only got taillights. I was glad to get the texts about where people were sheltering a few minutes later. 

Pic: I've never seen "Cistem" before, and I love it. 

note

 

don't let the one with the coconuts tell the story

Three traders set out, board the boat,
eager and dreaming of success

each with a sack of their wares
upright in the restless breeze
by their feet

it is a completely ordinary journey

their chat common, dealing 

in bargains and markets... 

until the storm bursts

until the boat floods 

Uppulu

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of salt...

as all the salt slips away in rivulets 

of milky wetness beneath their feet

and the sack empties into nothing

Poppulu

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of lentils...

though really, some lentils are soaked through

puffy as flowers ready for the pot this evening

but the rest may survive to sell after an airing

Koppulu 

Aiiyo! I've lost everything

weeps the trader whose sack was full of coconuts...

though the coconuts look fresh as children just bathed 

What? Say the others. No, you haven't lost anything!

Your coconuts look like they got a free wash. Shut up.

____________________
Note: From a story my ayah told me in Telugu to illustrate how the well-to-do love to complain about their misfortune even when it doesn't really compare or isn't really a misfortune. (I wonder now if there was something that prompted it--like if she'd had some argument with my parents who would have seemed well-to-do to her.) I came up with the retort to the coconut trader and the subheadings (salt, lentils, coconuts in Telugu) because they so neatly nearly rhyme. And I gender neutralized the characters without losing the plot.
______________________
Pic: The beautiful spring view from RS's window at book club today. There was more resistance talk and organizing than book discussion, which was ok with me. Especially since I'd read You Think It, I'll Say It literally years ago and forgotten many of its finer details.

proud teacher

I've been skulking around campus like an obnoxious person of mystery in sunglasses because I scratched my cornea two days ago (while helping myself to a tissue!!). And because it hurts, I've been heading home early and missed the faculty bake-off yesterday and the reception to celebrate LV's tenure today... Boo. 

But I love this part of the semester because students are working on their research projects and I love seeing how fired up they're getting and all the ideas and connections that are taking off. Who knows where that will go. A paper on Baldwin's Sonny's Blues from last year's critical theory class just won first place in Sigma Tau Delta's (the English honorary society's) international convention that concluded in Pittsburgh last week and the society's journal editor asked the student if they could publish it! 

Pic: At the WGS Symposium with one of my student's projects about rehabilitating body dysmorphia in dancers. Their point is that as dancers they always stare at themselves critically in the studio mirror so they wanted to use the mirror as a canvas to enable dancers to write empowering complimentary words for themselves and others.

And on compliments: A couple of weeks ago, when I gave the talk about the Trump administration's rhetoric, a student told me their friend who'd come to the talk with them said I was pretty and had terrific hair--I got so self-conscious, that instead of saying thank you and moving on, I blathered on about but did they like my talk. The next day, Lisa said something nice about my hair as well, and that weekend I reacted awkwardly when something similar happened. L's advice: "A simple thank you will suffice."

like an open window

today I go on into

this leftover world 
with its great gifts 
of unfastened earth
and lightened tasks 

                                walking altogether
                                talking to myself 
                                and my gods--as if
                                anyone else would
                                even be listening--

waiting for beauty
opening like a fire 

connection a flash

the moments of 

understanding like

                                the peace that passes 

                                in the long silent times

                                of waiting as my heart

                                circles red the sounds 

                                of recovery and rises 

________________________________

Pic: This love. I get to handle this level of mopey, smitten affection for hours every day. Mostly from Max. Huck (further down) is a bit more sophisticated about it.