Hallway to Nowhere

  • Questions (Poem)

    How do I die?

    (How do I live?)

    What do I take?

    (What do I give?)

    Where am I from?

    (Where am I now?)

    How do I BE?

    (HOWWWL?)

    https://youtu.be/fGnfAcLVp90https://youtu.be/fGnfAcLVp90

  • Being In Community

    What does it mean to be part of a community? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. I have a disparate group of friends, you see. They don’t overlap, except for the intersection of me. In each, I have encountered difficult people and befriended them. This might seem like odd behavior on my part. But I view myself an outsider in many ways and am aware that others might also. Perhaps I am also seen as a difficult person by some. But these particular people I write of do not have many friends, due to their habit of driving others away. I don’t let their peculiarities upset me unduly, nor take their actions or words personally most of the time, even when they might be directed at me. I realize that more is going than I can know and act with detachment and kindness as much as I can. Because THESE, just as much as the people who like me and WHOM I LIKE AND GET ALONG WELL WITH, are my neighbors. THESE represent my community also. If you say that your neighbor is ONLY they whom you like, then your definition of family is stunted indeed. In my definition of how to be in community, I was taught that all of my NEIGHBORS count: good, bad, indifferent. And you help ALL OF THEM, whether you LIKE them or not; whether they LIKE you or not; no matter WHAT. And this includes reaching out to the lonely; checking on the person who lives alone; and hanging in there even when the going gets rough. Not because we’re all in this together. But because this is how it works. OR doesn’t. How’s it working, from where you sit? I’m hearing that it’s not, really. I’m hearing that from both my groups. Are there answers? I don’t know. My answers are the same three sentences I read every morning. I have them written down on a piece of paper on my kitchen counter. BE KIND. DON’T ASSUME. TRY HARDER.

  • Harbinger (Poem)

    I have fallen into dereliction,

    Such decay heralding future loss.

    Something is approaching over the horizon.

    I can hear its soft skeletal hoof beats

    Clattering clickety clack, clickety clack.

    The dread beast approaches.

    I laugh in welcome and toss it my heart,

    A worthless organ but still a sacrificial deed.

  • Second-wave Feminism And The Fight Against Racism

    I was listening to a friend’s cri du cuour over fighting racism. I have some thoughts on the subject. Remember that old second wave feminist slogan THE PERSONAL IS POLITICAL? Boy, howdy, whoever came up with that MUST have been from Appalachia. B/c that is how I’m seeing the battle against racism and white privilege fought here. It is being waged on a home-front battleground: in conversations in pick-up trucks on the way to Lowes; talks over family dinners; chats on transit on the way to Krogers; exchanges in front of that Confederate statue on Main; LTEs in the paper; groups teachers formed themselves in the school system; the swift retirement of a police chief. THIS is how change happens here. It might not be as swift as we wish. It might not be the sweeping overhaul we want nor need. But it IS reflective of the way we have conversations and conduct business that are ongoing with those messy things that are human beings. And I believe, to quote Sam Cooke, a change is gonna come.

  • “We’re All In This Together” : FALSE!

    During a Zoom meeting last night, one of the participants repeated this phrase several times. By the second reiteration, I wanted to PM her and ask, “Seriously? You STILL think this?” But not the time or place. So here we go, b/c apparently some of you out there do believe that this hackneyed phrase applies. I’ll even do it bullet-point, to make it extra simple for you:

    The United States has the highest number of COVID-19 cases (both infections and deaths) in the WORLD. I’m not listing the number here, b/c it changes so rapidly. And that is not a RESULT of our (poorly administered) testing; indeed, it is a glaring indictment. Most credible medical expects think the number is much higher than the number we know, because we still aren’t doing things like contact tracing. Due to the hodgepodge manner in which states were forced to address this on their own, rather than have it addressed on a national systemic level for EVERYONE, we’re seeing states reopen, close again, while cases and deaths continue to rise.

    • WHO is affected by COVID-19 in terms of severity is wildly disproportionate. African Americans and Latinos have been much harder hit (as in likely to be hospitalized and die) from this than whites, while having less access to heathcare resources. Seniors and those with preexisting health problems are both at risk groups, as we’ve seen COVID-19 decimate nursing homes and assisted living facilities. Those who are lower-income have fared less well, though they get less press than glittery celebs who got infected. (See, they were TRYING to show us that they’re human, too! And I know that some died. I’m sorry.)
    • How you survived during quarantine would vary. If you had money to cushion the nest, that helped. IF you had a social network to call upon to help with the isolation, that helped. If you HAD INTERNET (and where I live, this is NOT a given for people!), this would be your absolute lifeline. But for some: those surviving on a limited income; those who live alone and had no social circle: those who depended upon public outlets such as the library and the Community Center: this must have been a nightmare.
    • Essential workers. Let’s mention for minute about how THEY might feel about this “ALL IN IT” nonsense. Healthcare workers who couldn’t get needed PPE? Those unseen who work (often at minimum wage) to keep healthcare facilities OPERATING? How about grocery workers; warehouse workers and those who harvest the food we depend upon? Those who work in the meat-processing plants that keep getting shut down b/c of COVID-19 outbreaks?
    • Masks and social distancing. By now everyone knows that wearing a mask will help prevent the spread of COVID-19. Or at least, everyone has HEARD this info. But obviously not everyone believes it. Or cares. Or thinks it more important than their individual liberty or political belief or whatever. They are content to let OTHERS do the work (wearing a mask) for THEM and also to put OTHERS (those of us wearing masks) in harms way. In other words, they DGAF about the rest of us.

    I could go on. But you get my point. We are in NO WAY “all in this together”. Like everything ELSE humans do, we are divided by our beliefs, our values, our culture. I could get discouraged here. I DO get discouraged. But then again, I’ve never expected much from humanity taken en masse. My motto is: expect the worst and do the best I can.

  • When Worlds Collide: A Disconnect

    I spent this morning on the Mass Poor People’s Assembly and Digital March On Washington. It was very intense; extremely moving; and full of testimony of people affected by the issues: systemic racism; ecological devastation; lack of healthcare; low wages; the war economy; and at every turn, POVERTY in some form or another would rear its ugly head. There was so much pain, fortitude, suffering, hope, grit, and determination in the stories I heard, the songs that that were sung, the interpreters’ gestures (one man in particular stood out as a rock star), and the fiery calls to action from the organizers. There were tears, also. From me, much of the time.

    AND then there was this, going on at the same time outside my door. My landlord and family were getting his nice boat ready to take out on the lake. It was hooked up to his truck, which is one of his many vehicles. He owns more cars than he has family members. This is in addition to the afore-mentioned boat and his Winnebago, an R.V. approximately the size of my apartment. Oh, and I almost forgot to include his motorcycles. I’m unsure as to how many of those he has. (I lose count between motorcycles, dirt bikes, and vintage scooters.) The point is, my landlord is a dude who LIKES his toys and can afford a lot of them. Nothin’ wrong with that, right?

    It’s just….the collision between THOSE two worlds today felt so surreal, especially given some of the other conversations I’ve had with the guy. Won’t go into those, but I’ve written about at least one of them earlier. Let’s just say sometimes I feel like I might be living here as cover, or something similar. A friend has to talk me out of moving on a semi-regular basis, saying that one, SOMEONE’S gonna give him money and two, maybe, just MAYBE, our little collisions do some actual good.

    Sigh. It’s not that I dislike him or anything. (Most of the time.) But he lives in a world of white male hetero Christian privilege that is SO pervasive and pernicious here. I suspect that, apart from me sticking my queer disruptive head in every now and then, he never hears anything with which he DOESN’T agree, unless it’s portrayed in a negative and unflattering light. He is literally lord of his domain, though he makes frequent wife jokes to the contrary. Despite being a university-educated attorney, though not of the court room variety, he shows little aptitude for critical thinking, IMO, and seems content to let the television do his reasoning for him. (I’ve heard him parrot Fox talking points almost verbatum.) His favorite to repeat to me, and I confess I do not know the origin, is one about how everyone has stopped talking to one another. “Everyone,” in this case, being “progressives” and “conservatives”. I point out to him that WE talk fairly frequently and get ignored. I go on to say that I make a POINT of talking to conservatives, and I have some other friends who also talk to conservatives on a regular basis. Also gets ignored. (Maybe we don’t count? Not lawyers? Not government officials? Idk….) What I don’t say is how, given that we keep having the same conversation over and over, I’m hardly surprised that more progressives and conservatives don’t talk. This is damned hard work; it is tedious AF; and, frankly, I don’t think it’s working.

    https://youtu.be/omEX35pbelI

  • The Ledge (Poem)

    Trying to hold on.

    Unsure if I can.

    I’m on the precipice.

    I don’t know whether

    To look down

    (To see the void into which I’ll fall)

    Or behind me

    (To see if there is anything to steady me).

    For now I remain here in painful indecision

    Alone on this ledge.

  • STOP (Poem)

    Texts do not get answered.

    Phone calls go to voicemail.

    Or else I interrupt a task.

    Email disappears into the void.

    So this is life now. I get it.

    If I need a specific thing done,

    Then that will get an an answer.

    And you, being the kind friends

    That you one and all are,

    Will more than likely do that thing.

    But quit this wanting to TALK.

    It’s intrusive, time-consuming,

    Exhausting, and frankly

    NO-ONE WANTS TO HEAR IT.

    People are busy.

    It’s not that they don’t care.

    But just stop, k?

    That’s why you have a dog.

    Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

    Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

    Abingdon Abraham Lincoln Alabama alt-right Appalachia atheist autumn breathe Buddhism buddhist change Christian Christianity Civil War compassion connection death depression Donald Trump gratitude grief Hillary Clinton home illusion immigration impermanence kindness LGBTQ love meditation memories mental health mountains mourning path poem poetry pouncepunk art challenge practice suicide tea tears Texas Trump wisdom

  • Mortal (Poem)

    I am evanescent:

    A transient senescent shadow

    Hidden in the already dark background.

    I once would make myself known

    And keep some aware of my presence.

    Now that effort has proven

    Costly beyond imagine.

    No more ventures beyond the shade;

    No more steps into the light.

    Night is coming quickly for us all.

    I await here on my own.

    An Impermanence mala…..

  • Food Blogs (Straight-Up Rant)

    Warning: This is a biased opinionated RANT about food blogs. So read on at your peril, k?

    Because of being burnt too many times in the past, I now have a practice with food blogs:

    I look at the PIC of the blogger first. IF they have a “blonde (usually but sometimes not), pencil-thin (like they live on a stalk of celery a day), Insta-perfect” photo and are dressed in clothes no-one would DREAM of actually wearing in a kitchen to cook”, then I move on. That tells me quickly that the recipes are probably not theirs. They are probably using this as a side-hustle. The blog will contain more chatty details about their wonderful life with husband and kids (which I do NOT care about) and less info about the important thing: RECIPE. There will be GREAT REVIEWS from readers saying HOW EASY the recipes are; how every recipe turned out JUST as it looked on the site; and the glow will fill my screen as I read the comments while I’m trying not to gag. (And I know from past experience with these type of bloggers that the reason all of these comments are SO positive is that they REMOVE the negative ones.)

    So. I look for blogs that are written by bloggers that LOOK like people who cook; that I’ve found in the past to have recipes that reliably DO work, even for folks with special diets; who don’t go on and on interminably about non-food matters (I wanna read about that, I’ll KUWTK-ugh); that have been vetted by friends who also have special diets. OR are written by flour and other product makers, cook books, and cooking sites. Those ALREADY have revenues and aren’t looking to gouge me. (Yeah, some ads might crop up if you don’t have ad-blockers, but that’s a different convo.) But they are less likely to have recipes stolen from other sites, weird recipes, or fake reviews. AND added bonus: no extraneous lifestyle chat!

    Okay, rant concluded. I got that out of my system. Do I feel better now? Maybe. Consider yourself warned, if you have hadn’t discovered this already about food blogs.