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I’m beginning to really resent technology.

Reminding myself again that a day out on a boat in the middle of the lake is a goal. Within the next month or so. It needs to happen. I would actually prefer a frosty mountaintop, but a boat on a lake will do for now. Jesus. Even a fucking rowboat at this point would do. I don’t fucking care. Hahaha.

Things have been far too stressful, and while I”m tempted to say I’m not handling the stress well, I don’t want to pile self-loathing on top of the stress. I’m doing the best that I can. I’m finding moments to relax. I’m trying my best to control the things I can control and not let things get away from me. But it’s just that both of the children need ALL OF THE THINGS. And all of the things are breaking. And I keep settling down into a groove at work, only to have that groove interrupted by another “opportunity.” And I can’t turn down opportunities because all of the things are breaking, and the only way to pay for things that break is by taking advantage of opportunities. And you can’t really have opportunities without some degree of disruption and discomfort.

And I’m all for temporary discomfort for more permanent gains, but it would be nice to settle for a bit. It doesn’t look like settling for a bit will be happening until after December, so I need to find a way to settle within the discomfort.

Poetry is helping, for the most part. I should say, Plath did not help. Plath made things worse. But today, some Gary Snyder nature poems fixed me right up. Gave me reason to drift. Realigned my soul-spine. Reminded me of that Kerouac quote from Desolation Angels, “When all is said and done, it doesn’t matter.” Also, “You can’t fall off a mountain.” (though for some reason, I remember (and prefer) those quotes as “When all is said and done, nothing matters.” and “You can’t fall UP a mountain.”)

Because I sure as shit am not descending any time soon, so I might as well find a way to appreciate the labor against gravity.

 

 

That’s no way to say goodbye

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This is all I have to say,
and normally I shy away
from these cryptic posts,
but I’ll call this my poem of the day

As a parent, I expect to have
my children take me for granted.
As a friend
Not so much

And while I understand
The nature of the man
And don’t expect a
“Thank you”

I expect more than I got,
I expect more than vitriol
I deserve better than a temper tantrum
And a scrawled note.

And I’m not going to list my sacrifices,
Though there were many unspoken
and unacknowledged
I’ll just say
You’re Welcome.
All the best.
And take care.

“From the story of Ajaolele’s trip to a distant market I turned to these ideas about evolution and about art to expand on the notion that Eshu is a god of uncertainty and accident, and that these functions are necessarily connected to his ability to change someone’s lot in life. These are all one and the same thing: leaving the village, the accident in the market, and the change of fortune. Ajaolele’s altered situation, his conversion into “a person with followers,” would never have come to him in the context of his own village, for the village is rule-governed and no man gets “brides without bridesweatlh” there. For a fundamental shift of that sort Ajaolele needs a happy accident, and for that it helps if he puts himself “on the road” and “in the market,” phrases I put in quotation marks because we should remember not to confine ourselves to their literal reading. At stake here is an attitude toward life, and you do not really need to leave town to have it. Duchamp makes that clear. You can be on the road at home and in the mind, attentive to the plenitude of coincidence that habit and design sometimes obscure. There is an old saying: “Luck is the residue of design.” Being “aware of Eshu” means entering a frame of mind in which the eye notices that residue all around it, the plentiful and ready-made world right at hand.” -Lewis Hyde, from Trickster Makes This World

It is a(n) (anti) habit of mine to make random choices as often as possible. I’ve developed this process over the years as my life has become busier and busier and the amount of conscious decisions I have to make on a daily basis has become more and more overwhelming. To the point where choosing a movie or choosing a book or choosing a topic to write about can paralyze me. There are so many wonderful things in the world to observe and ingest and participate in…sometimes it feels like the only option is to choose at random to ensure there is no confirmation bias preventing me from experiencing something new.

I realize it sounds a little crazy, but I actually have a process for choosing things at random. Several processes, actually*. For books, for instance, I use Goodreads as my gigantic reading list. I use it as a holding place for every single book that I see or hear referenced or recommended, and when it comes time to buy or borrow a book, I choose randomly from my gigantic list (generally using some sort of random number generator). I also usually choose multiple books – typically a mixture of fiction and non-fiction – which adds an element of mixed context to the randomness. The books I am reading together influence my experience of them individually.

For instance, a month or so ago, I happened to be reading The Ecology of Commerce, which had been loaned to me by a friend, along with some essays by Wendell Berry and Plutocrats. These were all chosen at random individually, and reading them together provided me with an in-depth study of cause/effect. Not to mention I’m pretty sure Wendell Berry was mentioned in both Ecology of Commerce AND Plutocrats, which made things even more interesting.

This is the kind of synchronicity that I get from allowing randomness in my life. It very much does open me up to more “happy accidents” and residual fate. The weaving of disparate ideas together to form a cloth of eclectic patterns and color combinations is a great source of inspiration for me. I’d never really thought about the benefits of this tendency I’ve had for some time now – thinking only that it enabled me to avoid having to make so many damn conscious decisions and never considering how opening myself up to the arbitrary might spur creativity and expansion.

Poem of the day is by Rilke, who I admit I am not really connecting with…but this poem seems applicable to this topic:

What Birds Plunge Through Is Not The Intimate Space

What birds plunge through is not the intimate space,
in which you see all Forms intensified.
(In the Open, denied, you would lose yourself,
would disappear into that vastness.)

Space reaches from us and translates Things:
to become the very essence of a tree,
throw inner space around it, from that space
that lives in you. Encircle it with restraint.
It has no limits. For the first time, shaped
in your renouncing, it becomes fully tree.

Submitted and Translated by Gabriel Caffrey

Rainer Maria Rilke
*Buddha the Grouch, my eldest son, makes fun of me for my obsession with random selection. He tells me “You spend so much time fighting for freedom and choice, and then you give up your choices to a random number generator!” I just nod and smile.

Today’s poem is by Alice Walker:

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A Picture Story For The Curious

(You supply the pictures!)

I get to meditate
in a chair!
Or against the wall
with my legs
stretched out!
(Or even in bed!)

I get to see
maybe half
of what I’m looking at!
(This changes everything!)

I get to dance
like the tipsy old men
I adored
when I was an infant!
(They never dropped me!)

I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!
I get to ride a bicycle
with tall
handlebars!
(My posture improves!)

I get to give up
learning to sail!
I get to know
I will never speak
German!

I get to snuggle all
morning
with my snuggler
of choice:
counting the hours
by how many times
we get up
to pee!

I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!
I get to eat chocolate
with my salad.
Or even as a first course!
I get to forget!
I get to paint
with colors
I mix myself!
Colors
I’ve never seen
before.

I get to sleep
with my dog
& pray never to outlive
my cat!
I get to play
music
without reading
a note!

I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!
I get to sleep
in a
hammock
under the same
stars
wherever I am!
I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!

I get to laugh
at all the things
I don’t know
& cannot
find!

I get to greet
people I don’t remember
as if I know them
very well.
After all, how different
can they be?

I get to grow
my entire
garden
in a few
pots!
I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!

I get to see
& feel
the suffering
of the whole
world
& to take
a nap
when I feel
like it
anyway!

I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!

I get to feel
more love
than I ever thought
existed!
Everything appears to be made
of the stuff!

I feel this
especially for You! Though I may not remember
exactly which You
you are!
How cool is this!
Still, I get to spend time with myself
whenever I want!
And that is just a taste
as the old people used to say
down in Georgia
when I was a child
of what you get
for getting old.

Reminding us, as they witnessed our curiosity about them, that no matter the losses, there’s something fabulous going on at every stage of Life, something to let go of, maybe, but for darn sure, something to get!

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I’ve decided I’m going to attempt to write a poem a day in October. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to accomplish it, and I’m double not sure if I’ll want to share what I’ve written…but I am committing myself to trying, and as inspiration I’m going to read poetry every day, so at the very least I will link to a poem I have read. And I know it’s not October yet, but…

The Poetic Process

Drove home stoned on Cohen

and Waits had to write

a poem like a full bladder, brainsharp

pencil, ran

Into the house with a

simultaneous empty that felt like

Hunger, got distracted

by all of the Chores

that never get done

Poured

some water in a pot to boil

Divorced

myself from the conversation

To my room, tried to turn on

Music, music

won’t turn on, got

Distracted by Facebook

as I scrambled for

my journal, which

I found in a crevice

between my bed &

the wall, too small

to fit my hand in to

Got a stiff

bookmark, managed

to knock it over,

then flat

on the floor

once again beyond grasp

As I dropped my favorite

pen in trying

to retrieve it

Rolled far

Underbed, the metal pieces of which

Came apart, thankfully temporarily, as I

wrenched it

away from wall enough

for my fingers to grasp

Several other

Lost Items

Unknowingly Sacrificed

to bed monster

Until finally,

gingerly,

with very fingertips pinching

journal cover

Extracted from

hungry maw

but not before

accidentally pushing it

further underbed, causing

me to burst out

in glee of the fact that

At least now

I had something

completely absurd to

birth upon it’s recovered

pages

And that’s

when the water boiled

over.

Lainie

9/13/2013

It’s all done! ❤

Tattoo accomplished! I feel complete, and at the same time…I suddenly have the desire to get a bunch more tattoos. I just saw a picture of a really cool crow tattoo and I was like “Oooooh…I could have a crow on my right arm.” It’s like that. I’ve heard many people say tattoos are like potato chips…you can’t stop at just one.

But for now I’ll enjoy my artichoke, and be glad that I finally got it done. And, as it turns out, I waited just long enough for it to be perfect timing. Everything that is happening in my life right now enhances that tattoo, gives it more meaning, provides a particular context, and makes it even more special than I thought it would be when I first had the idea to tattoo a flaming heartichoke on my arm many years ago.

That’s just how things go. We always think we know the best timing for certain things, and frequently discover that the universe (or whatever you want to call the infinite stage upon which our lives unfold) has other ideas – often better ideas – about how and when things will unfold. It’s why I’ve never put much stake in making plans and having goals. Instead, I try to pay attention to natural rhythms in my life and focus on a center based on how I feel about life. I mean, to be sure, I make plans and have goals, but I try. I try. I really try to remain open to all of those variables that tend to rearrange those plans and throw a monkeywrench into those goals.

“There is no way to suppress change […] there is only the choice between a way of living that allows constant, if gradual, alterations and a way of living that combines great control and cataclysmic upheavals. Those who panic and bind the trickster choose the latter path. It would be better to learn to play with him, better especially to develop styles (cultural, spiritual, artistic) that allow some commerce with accident, and some acceptance of the changes contingency will always engender. -Lewis Hyde (from Trickster Makes the World: How Disruptive Imagination Creates Culture.)

I have many things in my life that I am thankful for. One of which is an early exposure to Taoism, which has always allowed me to convince my frequently fraught mind that, really, none of this matters. And if I just sit still and wait patiently, a lot of times things just work themselves out. And when they don’t, I have more energy to devote to working them out because I did sit patiently the last time. And when they REALLY don’t, fuck it. In the end, it never mattered anyway.

Bird, age 12, mentioned today that he suddenly didn’t have any idea what life was all about. He said it as though he had known 5 minutes before and lost it. It was one of those moments where I thought maybe I was being called upon to Be Wise. I did my best. I looked to punk rock for the meaning of life, as I frequently do, and told him “Strive to survive, causing the least suffering possible.” I also reminded him that he’s 12, and it’s ok to just enjoy life and maybe not worry about what it means so much right now. But who am I fooling? This is the kid who, at age 2, would walk up to me and ask “Why am I alive inside this body, mom?”

My job as this child’s parent is to learn the lessons he is constantly teaching me, teach them back to him, and try to honor and welcome the trickster when our plans and goals are sidetracked or rerouted.

I’m in the process of writing a long post about my experience with the Occupy movement over the past 2 years. I started writing it on 9/17 – the anniversary of OWS. But it’s such a personal topic for me. I want to be careful that I don’t make my experiences sound as if they are universal experiences, which is what frustrates me most about what I read about the Occupy movement. So, it’s going to take some time. Perhaps I’ll have it done by 10/6, which is the anniversary of Occupy Austin.

I’m also immersed in a spree of overtime. Like ACTUAL overtime that I’m ACTUALLY PAID FOR! Time and a half, and everything. It occurred to me tonight that I haven’t been able to take advantage of overtime pay since before I had children. I’m really enjoying being paid for every fucking minute I work. I can handle a little temporary work/life imbalance for that. I’m also really enjoying my job. It’s gotten to the point where most of the situations I deal with are easy for me to handle, and I really love the fact that I get to talk to people all day in the spirit of helpingness. Plus I really love my team, who I only have to interact with in chat. We’re on a team of about 20 people who all work different schedules and are from different cities, and every person on our team has some sweet, endearing quality that I adore. Today I worked an entire full day of overtime and I actually really enjoyed myself pretty much all day. I’m missing my friends and activist activities, but all in good time.

from _Gregory_ by Marc Hempel

I’m pleased to say that both of the boys are settling into the school year nicely and seem to be doing really well. I feel like a broken record, but I’m so proud of those guys. It really has been a rough couple of years for them, and I hate that. I especially hate that decisions I have made have made their lives more difficult, because I want only for their lives to be peaceful and easy and uncomplicated. Ha!

But the awesome thing about those guys is that they really are totally brave and strong and resilient. And also really quite funny and fun to be around, even though they do both have their teenage moments that occasionally stretch on for days and even sometimes weeks. At this age, parenting requires a magnifying glass, to enlarge fragments of microcosms of moments into a bonding experience. I don’t want to give away too many of my secrets, but I have recently discovered the wonders of plopping down on my sofa and watching a dumb movie as a means of enticing my children to emerge from wherever they were hiding and clamor for conversation. And I’ll take that!

 

from _Gregory_ by Marc Hempel

Tattoo gets finished on Sunday. I’m already wanting another one. Several. Maybe even that little mouse, Wendell…or Herman Vermin. hahaha.

 

Mommy-Son time with The Tao of Bird today. We went out to breakfast at his FAVORITE RESTAURANT ON EARTH, Donut Taco Palace.

We ate donuts AND tacos, and enjoyed some tasty beverages.

Juice…or no juice?

I kept trying to get a picture of Bird, but he kept, as he called it, “Sean Penning” me.

I have embarrassingly few photos of my children. Both of them started to hate having their photo taken at a young age, and I gradually just trained myself to take pictures of food and trees and birds and stuff. I can’t say I blame them…I’m not terribly fond of being in photos, either. But I need good material to embarrass them in front of their dates wi…er, I mean, to send to relatives who have no clue what my children look like.

After breakfast, Bird and I went to the library to check out some books. Bird is really enjoying Lord of the Flies. He is just certain that’s the way it would really be if children were stranded on an island. I told him he needs to watch Lost…or Gilligan’s island…for slightly different points of view. He says he likes books that are grim and depressing and unsentimental. I tried to get him to read Native Son by Richard Wright, but he chose some sort of weird space cowboy mystery, instead. I think this is going to be an interesting reading year for him. He’s exploring new things. I chose some awesome books that I won’t be able to finish by the time they are due, and will probably end up buying, after paying my overdue fine at the library. Because that’s how I roll.

In the car on the way home, we listened to this episode of Radiolab.  What’s funny, is I remember listening to that episode of radiolab on a walk by myself one night. I was going to pick up Bird at a neighbor’s house while I was listening to it. I have no idea why I remember that, as the day was completely insignificant, unless you consider that radio show to be significant, which I suppose you can. It’s a pretty good episode.

Back home, I watched Heathers while Buddha the Grouch scoffed. As a 16-year old (actually, pretty much since he turned 5) he seems morally obligated to scoff at anything I like. In fact, he has actually told me that he’s not allowed to like anything I recommend to him. I keep telling him that’s going to bite him in the ass, especially when all of his friends start talking about how awesome, say, Raising Arizona is…and he’s either going to have to admit that it’s a great movie, or he’s going to forever be a closeted Coen Bros. fan. But I wonder if Heathers is really only funny in the context of all of the ’80s John Hughes-formula teen angst movies. I guess I’ll have to ask someone else’s kid. I hadn’t watched the movie since my 20’s, and I laughed out loud at some parts, but OH, THOSE SHOULDERPADS. hahaha. Of all of the eras of fashion, you have to admit…the 80’s were pretty fucking ridiculous.

The rest of the day was spent grocery shopping, driving to the other side of town and back, and avoiding being sucked into an endless “How It’s Made” marathon, because apparently that’s on Netflix now. I’m so toast if they ever start streaming House Hunters. As it is, Buddha the Grouch keeps trying to get me to watch “just this little bit” of How It’s Made, and I keep objecting vociferously.

So, you know, typical weekend of late. I’m glad I’ve taken the time to spend extra time with (or at least being available to) the kiddos lately. I’ve missed out on some important activities that I’d really like to be involved in, but I just don’t feel right not being here right now. Especially with the coming weeks and the work-hour craziness they will be bringing. Insane amounts of overtime – here I come! I’m telling people I’ll probably see them in October. Hopefully, I’ll still have time to write.

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This week has been kind of a whirlwind. I had really just begun to establish myself at work and not stress at all about whether or not I could do my job…and they threw us into training for something new. Which is awesome. It’s nice to learn new things…but I was just at that point where it seemed like I might maybe start establishing a good rhythm in my life & my schedule was thrown all out of whack, I’ve had to work extra hours, and now we’re being offered a bunch of overtime that I’d feel silly to not grab up while the grabbing is good. So, there’s that. A mix of bad and good things. Good things and their maybe not-so-great consequences, is what I’ll call it.

On my walk today, I had all sorts of ideas about what I might write about tonight. Apropos of the above, I thought a lot about how I have this love/hate relationship with chaos/order. I like making plans and schedules, but I rebel against them regularly. It’s possible I dislike commitment. It’s possible I am not fond of predictability. It’s possible that patterned behavior annoys me. OR…it could be an exercise. It COULD be that my rebellion against my inner organizer is just practice for when all of my plans go to shit and I work 12 hours of overtime in a week or something.

Maude (from Harold & Maude): Vice, Virtue. It’s best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much *life.* Aim above morality. If you apply that to life, then you’re bound to live life fully.

But mostly, I think I just figured out a long time ago that I will never ever get done all of the shit that needs getting done, and decided I might as well prioritize the fun shit as much as possible.

I also decided, after years and years (gosh, more than 20 years, really) of de-prioritizing my own desires, needs, and rituals out of fear of spending money on them, to get a tattoo I’ve been hoping to get for some time. Fuck the fact that I can’t afford it. I also can’t afford any of the other stuff I’m forced to afford, and I somehow get by. And how many packs of ex-boyfriends’ cigarettes, guitars, and whatever else have I paid for in my lifetime of waiting to get this damn tattoo? I could have gotten a zillion and a half tattoos by now!

Needless to say, I’m already planning the next tattoo.

 

(Not sure how that lyric plays out of context, so here’s the context.)

Today’s walk included several songs in a row that were fighting songs. As in, don’t stop fighting. As in “You Can’t Win ‘Em All, But You Gotta Win All of the Right Ones.” And, you know, in order to win the right ones…you gotta keep fighting. Maybe a better example would be:

Or my old standby pep talk song:

Anyway, you get the drift. I believe we have emerged, victorious. Yay!

(I knew we would, but it’s still nice to celebrate that we have.)

I’m celebrating by dying my hair and earnestly working on drawings for my zine. And FINALLY getting that tattoo that I’ve been wanting to get but have never been able to justify the expense of. Fuck it. It’s expensive. I can’t justify it. Well, I can, actually…it’s justified because it will be awesome, and it will remind me of my strength. And all of the strength it has taken to get here.

I’m slowly pulling things back together. I have another week of a weird work schedule, and after that I feel like I’ll be able to really participate in all of the things I enjoy participating in again. Slowly, and with priority. I’m already starting to read more…trying to take walks or dance every night. Really haven’t been seeing friends as much as I’d like, but I’m also feeling kind of introvertedy lately, so that hasn’t really bothered me. Working really hard to make sure we have at least SOME family time carved out so we don’t all lose touch with each other. These are the things I am prioritizing.

I’d like to keep participating in actions against ALEC and TPP, for sure…but probably not leading or organizing. What I’d really like to focus my energy on is housing justice. It was going to be what I focused on this year, but then I got laid off. And everything kind of got all weird. And then the state of Texas went to war over my uterus, and I kind of had to stand and fight that one. I’d like to get back to figuring out how I can be helpful in achieving truly affordable housing in Austin, and how we can ensure the protection of people who are being exploited or abused by apartment managers. That’s what I’d truly love to spend my activist energy on.

I don’t feel adequately educated to speak in any depth on Syria. I’m against all war, so I’m sort of working backwards from there. It would take a LOT of convincing to get me to support ANY war. Which makes it easy to oppose war, but is also kind of a cop-out. I still need to educate myself. I’m working on it. Slowly.