I come to you from the stripped-down carcass of our apartment in the still-wee (7 am ) hours of the morning, having taken a break from scraping the cat-hair off of everything. I’ve realized there’s  enough excess cat/husband hair to construct a sort of cat-husband Gollum, should I need a Gollum whose  sole purpose was being hungry/hairy/making puns. I don’t.

NOW.

In the past week we’ve had an earthquake in Mexico. Hurricane Irma. Hurricane Harvey, (cute af old people names now ruined forever) and we don’t know what hurricane Jose is going to do to the already devastated areas. Myanmar is on the *brink of genocide. North Korea continues waving around its cock. America flops its tangerine penis back.

Equifax accidentally gave away all our social security numbers, oopsy.

Tee-shirts under tank-dresses have returned to fashion

Clearly it is the end of days. If I were a  religious fanatic, or even just  a reasonably  religious person who took the bible as the word of the Lort Gawd, I think I’d be shitting myself right now because this is some unprecedented BULLSHIT.

Back to cat-hair.

Stay woke,

Dez

 

*and some of us liberal Americans are still shocked that Buddhists kill people. It’s always about the religion in power. All religion is eventually used to oppress.

 

 

 

 

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Coffeeish

So, Nootropics. I’d started looking into them at the behest of a friend , sometime in 2015. I wasn’t confident in my ability to weed through the bullshit or snake-oil or Silicon Valley propaganda at the time. Recently, I decided “fuck it”, as in the past few months, my ability to hold one thing in my head at a time has just totally gone to shit. I wonder how much of that is my mental life being influenced by what I do for a living. I do a lot of multi-tasking, which I learnt early last year isn’t really a thing. Multi-tasking is really just jumping between a million programs in your head, not genuinely thinking about multiple tasks. I should and likely will talk to a therapist about more conventional treatments for ADD, but having been on  Adderall before, I know it wrecks my adrenals so I’m going to try stacking the fuck out of some nootropics first. I started a regimen today.    In case you were wondering, while writing this, I’ve made a note to have new mop ordered for the kitchen, got side-tracked by Gigi Hadid’s jaw-structure, went down a rabbit-hole about grammar because of a Facebook post(so I also looked at FB) and told Alvin he was “the king of my pants”. He is. but CLEARLY I CANNOT FOCUS.

Thoughts? suggestions on nootropics?

Go write your message in the pavement

It’s taken me a while to come to terms with or even understand in any real way, who and what I am as a person. In the scant years that have passed since I’ve figured myself out, I’ve tried to be honest with the world about my being, to varying levels of success.

My background and my early personhood doesn’t lend itself to total revelation because it sits outside “the way things are usually done”, and tends to weird people out.  It was weird. We’ll leave it there. It’s also not really something I enjoy talking about and frankly, unimportant , other than how it informed me as a person. I could’ve been  far worse off, given what I had to work with and I’ve crafted myself into an attempt at a good person so that’s what ultimately matters.

The past few months I’ve been  low-key navel gazing and have decided to out myself in regards to a few things.

I’m gender-fluid. After years of trying to make excuses for the ways I feel/live/experience my existence, *I’m okay with saying that. I fluctuate day to day as far as the masculine and feminine go.  (I’m not going to  even get started on gendered language, gender in media or social enforcement of gender here, but trust, I have opinions, specifically that the gender binary is outmoded )The way I choose to perform my genders changes. I’m not going to throw a label at anything, because it feels unimportant to me. I’m two souls in one physical body. That’s the truth I know and have known since childhood. I don’t feel much need to look to die on the hilltop of forcing people to understand me right now and the world has more important things to think about than my definition. You can interpret me and how I appear to you in any way you like,That’s my superpower. People see in me what they need to see and I roll with it. #yolo.

I believe in something. I’m actively spiritual and I’ll call myself pagan with a little “p” for the lack of a better-fitted word. I’m also fascinated by transhumanism, but I’ll save that for another conversation. I was furious at the idea/construct of the Judeo-Christian god. That religious construct wrecked my mother, and therefore my early life. I called myself an Atheist for a long time, but what I really am is a person who believes that people created gods because we needed them, maybe some of them created all of us or some of us, and we have no fucking clue. I believe in universal consciousness, astral projection and that people have more power inside them than most acknowledge , and I believe in the reach of science soon explaining all that and de-mystifying it. It’s our lack of understanding that makes things mystical. We live in a time where science and tech are peeling away so much mystery and I’m so thrilled about that, aren’t you? FUCK YES YOU ARE.

 Religion is a tool of the oppressors.  The largest global religions are used by whoever’s power to oppress. I believe in your right to all the gods you need or don’t need to pray to to fill your life with meaning, joy and peace. I fucking hate religions and dogma and narrow-minded thought.

My own practice is my my business, so are the gods I send prayers out to. You do you. I’ll do this.

I believe in using what you want to free your mind, because it’s you goddamned mind. I believe I have a lot of beliefs and opinions jammed into my logical brain and I’ve not sorted everything I know out yet.

I Love You. Whoever you are in this moment, whatever you are, I love YOU. Close your eyes, and feel it.

 

*

I’ve said this in a handful of ways , for many years., but always sort of skirted around really saying it.

no, my husband isn’t weirded out by my gender stuff. Thanks for your concern.

 

 

 

Come get your cat

There’s a special place in hell for people who move into an apartment complex and just decide(like assholes) to let their cats be “indoor/outdoor cats”. BRUH. of course your cat is going to (probably) like that, because it’s a tiny murder-ball. Our little familiars really aren’t that far removed from proud, wild things. So, when let outside, they form weird carnivore-musical cliques. 

Here’s 2 of the jerks. 

Tbh, they’re adorable.

My husband is defensive of our cat and actively roots for the destruction of our local tribe of switchblade-pawed assholes. It’s precious. Also precious, was his confusing “West end” with “West Side ” which I think we can all agree would have  been a very different ‎Leonard Bernstein experience .

I’m writing this on the couch while watching Kathleenlights tutorials and wearing dinosaur pants. It’s almost 11, and I shouldn’t be in dinosaur pants because there’s shit  want to do  out in this beautiful, green world before I leave for work at 4:00.

So, I’ma do them. 

You do you.

PS. 

I know that if you’re not a Trump supporter, you’re pissed right now. I am fucking livid and also worried. Remember to breathe,  remember to fact – check, and live your life as an act of beautiful resistance. I love you. 

Yesterday

Rain’s pouring out of the sky and reminding me of gray cities with bridges for backbones. I’m at work, sitting at the little square table 5 rows from the door that I occupy when there’s nothing to do and no one to serve: There’s  a cornucopia of things I want to do for the enrichment of my own personal brain, but I keep getting distracted.

 

I came to some realizations about things and myself this past month, so here they are in no real order or importance.

 

1.I’d like to genuinely be all the good things I aspire  eventually to be, rather than just be perceived as being them. I’m far being the full person I’d like to grow into, in experience and spirituality. I’m hungry and ready to be filled.  When I was younger, I spent time planning out what I’d like to do and be. Time goes so much faster now.

3. My heart is soft and uncallused somehow, but nothing horrifies me anymore.Nothing human feels alien.

4. I need the frivolous things that bring me joy when the world shows more of its dark side. I’m not ashamed of my frou-frou. I like fashion and makeup and weird architecture and being in places that are beautiful to me.I despise “common” and I plan to continue to rebel against it in the most beautiful way I can think of.

 

I know this is disjointed. I started writing yesterday and got busy half-way through because life interrupted. I’m publishing the shit I write even if it’s terriblah , because that’s the deal I made with myself. Sorry about yer eyeballs, friend.

 

 

February 14th

There’s decent artwork on the walls of  the Red Rock coffee shop, this rotation. I’m sitting across from a canvas bearing a painting of a rather interpretive bobcat and baroque doorways in blues and burn umber. It works, wether or not it should. There’s a Meetup of Hebrew-speaking people behind Alvin and I and  as we have computers  out working on various projects.

Yesterday, Alvin and I got married. We’d talked about it for some time now: I don’t have people, per se. No family to speak of , and my friends are spread out all over the world. His friends and family are in Malaysia. It would’ve taken a bit of effort and so so much time to have a wedding , and it wasn’t important to either of us.We might do something bigger later, but we’re married now. Just like when I got my cat, I committed to feeding his dumb little cat face for the rest of his life, I’ve committed to loving this person and sharing our responsibilities and becoming the best versions of ourselves together, and I’m blissful in this choice.

 This isn’t my first marriage: If you know me, you know this. I got married too young to someone who was and currently IS lovely, but because of failings on both of our parts and some general un-ready-ness on my end things didn’t work out. That’s all I’ll really say about that union.While things didn’t explode, but it wasn’t a good match and it didn’t end easily. I’m a very different human now than I was then.(Something that thanks to Faceboook, I’m reminded of on the daily.  years ago me was occasionally cringeworthy, fuck) I’ve changed and  steered and danced off into the mountains and moved and survived a thousand times since then. There was Jeff, also. How do you talk with any comfort about getting married after a divorce and the death of a partner? It’s not like I’m 40 or something, thats low-key a LOT of baggage for our age.  I felt anxiety about announcing anything until afterwards, and perhaps I shouldn’t have felt any. I don’t know. Life is delicate, and i was too indelicate when I was in my twenties not to learn from my many mistakes.

Here we are, though. My husband is a wonderful man.  I look at him often and see every facet and am amazed at how  how much we both contain. This is the beginning. Here we go, Love.

“Why does everyone hate me?”, and other questions often-asked by young, suburban female rejects.

 

I packed up a to-go container of assorted cheeses and hiked them  to my tattoo artist’s studio, across the street. I’ve recently had a large amount of cover-up  work done on my chest and upper-left arm, and he had a lot to work over. The last time I was there, I accidentally tipped %15 in the Square app because that’s my default at coffee shoppes. Now, there is quite a large difference to me between the intimacy of 3 minutes of conversation during the preparation of my exceptionally large Latte(which I genuinely adore you for making, don’t get it twisted) and  the almost ritualistic injection of ink into my epidermis, painfully(sometimes for both the artist as well as the canvas) over a span of hours. Fifteen percent isn’t enough, so.. I could bring more cash back later:That is a totally plausible  solution. Unfortunately, I am myself, so that’s too anxiety-producing and awkward  so the answer is cheese. Cheese and me overtipping next time.

You spend  several hours taking an idea out out of your mind and pounding it into my chest, and I’ll feed you. You give me solutions, I’ll edit your paper. Watch my cat and I’ll take you to shop when you don’t want to but have to. Just know that I’ll feel uncomfortable when you acknowledge that’s what I’m doing, because It feels so odd in this sterile place.

I often feel American culture is too sterilized: we’re so impersonal, and I’m not an impersonal human. I’m intimate and small in a world filled with open-plan , overhead-lit workspaces and florescent bulbs. I refuse to change this.