Like real life grown-ups in real life dream-reality.
Because I car(e)(ry) with love.
Without the Russians.
Or the gambling.
Or the guns.
Plus rainbows,
and light beings,
and love.
Here you are my sweet, tender, gorgeous, bad-ass, mermaid-ean, southern belle, island babe, my little crab: hard on the outside but oh so soft on the inside
It's your favorite.
Peering out at you,
underneath the shade of a pareo.
Blue green eyes squinting.
Salty snacks and salty bums.
Coconut oil and coconut wireless...and that coconut syrup.
Tales of excitement and disgust.
Sharing the tiniest, most observant, most poetic,
and romantic details of someones face,
of the way they walk, the way they sleep or breathe.
Long past are the days of iced chai's and sandy's.
Almonds with raisins.
Oranges and gargantuan salads.
Sandy feet in lavender scented trucks.
Acrylics and oils.
Canvasses.
So many canvasses.
Of Chinatown and mopeds.
Evening gowns on city streets.
Kicks with pink laces.
Fire chains spun.
Dance floors destroyed.
Hearts destroyed.
Hair destroyed.
Hopes destroyed.
And rebuilt.
Again.
New lives now.
So different.
Much the same.
It's all still right here, right under the shade of a pareo.
Sun blazing on my skin,
Blue green eyes peering out from underneath.
I see you there.
And it warms my heart.
I am so blessed to have you in my life.
Even when you drop off the face of Planet Earth.
Even then.
You're there.
Elektra.
Whose who?
Nemine already, bumbye da who's of the who goin' get huhū.
Lose money, fo' ack mynah bird kine li' dat.
From heart to heart.
Planet, that is.
Gone teleported back to China, he did.
Invisibility cloak in hand.
...always...
The pornographic obsession with violence and domination has indeed been the fertilizer for a strange and bitter crop of entitled, misguided white men.
An old story. A familiar recipe. Blending ingredients of racism, misogyny, and privilege to prepare appetizers of repeated desensitization, followed by entrée of distraction and anesthetization, topped off with a dessert of glorified cruelty (and don't forget the alcohol...a cherished, time-tested elixir of abusers).
I am not about to excuse myself for stating the obvious. I don't "hate white men." News flash: I'm white. I deeply love many white men. Obvs. Though leveraging whiteness and male-ness to justify violence over entire groups of people (Black, Muslim, Indigenous, Women, etc.) is absolutely abhorrent and unacceptable. Know that ignoring privilege (in any positionality) also comprises a kind of indirect violence.
You gonna come at me with "But if 'Merica wasn't so aggressive we'd all be slaves to Russia and China!" Uh huh (because we aren't in debt slavery to China already or anything). Furthermore, in that case why then of all the "advanced democracies" of the world (OECD) does the United States espouse: The highest poverty rate, the highest homicide rate, the largest prison population per capita, the highest infant mortality rate, highest obesity rate, shortest life expectancy (oh, I could go on)....
The U.S. attitude towards international policy (or lack thereof) is reflected here at home. Duh. Abroad (and brown) they are called "terrorists." Within the borders (and white) they are called "disturbed."
For real though y'all. White men ---> It's your responsibility to stop this ridiculousness. Quit making the "minority" groups and the women do all the hard work of calling out the obvious. On. The. Daily. Stand the fuck up and come correct with your white brothers. In big ways. You have agency too. Use it. Black lives matter. Women's lives matter. Muslim lives matter. Women's bodies belong to women. Black women and other women of color are not sex toys.
Some of you already do this, I know. Hooray for you (srsly). But hey, do more. Because according to the FBI, your crazy backwater white militia groups are way more abundant, threatening, and annoying than any other group on their list. So don't go hiding behind your colorblind rainbow flag from United Colors of Benetton claiming your black and brown friends like Boy Scout badges. It's like being in the airport; if you see "suspicious behavior" (replace "suspicious" with "gawdamnracist" or "fuggingmisogynistic") report that shit because (1) that is not okay and (2) it will for sure harm someone you love in the near future.
Want an easy place to start? I got you:
(1) Take it easy on the booze. Like, for serious. Drunk men is some of scariest shit I've ever had to deal with.
(2) Take it easy on the Halo and Call of Duty and Scarface and the porn. Don't make me explain why, I'm already frustrated enough as it is.
(3) Take a deep breath. And repeat...and repeat.
(Plans Changed)²
#Geminikittenextraordinaire
The coast is clear.
Winter is over.
It's always Summer.
It's always been, Summer.
Land of Vikings, Wooden Chickens, and Good Love.
We've been chasing our shadows,
chasing each others shadows,
for long enough.
It's time for light to set the course.
For shadow to take its rightful place
as companion to radiance.
No longer its master.
For(e)shadow(ing) no more
than the coming
into being
into sacred darkness.
(At least the ones I buy are)
And that's just what they do.
Nope.
She's rockin' that quantum superposition.
Entanglement until collapse.
Dead. Alive.
You choose.
She chooses?
Who chooses?
At what moment?
And when you you've pried opened the lid,
hoping to find the final answer.
Entanglement becomes decoherence becomes entangled decoherence.
Dead. Alive.
All states.
All at once.
And you're going along for the ride.
Simultaneous perceptions.
If only transmission to the observer dependent world wasn't so often lost in translation.
If you're gonna' be stuck in between,
you may as well make the best of it...
...and get your monkey on.
Complete role reversal.
In 30 seconds flat.
Table turned around.
Just like that.
Reality is such a malleable little critter.
Crown and all.
Humbling comes in all forms.
Man on his knees.
Repenting sins.
Swearing allegiance
to the sacred ground
that remains unmoved.
Before growth,
before Spring,
before Summer,
the gardener
must shamelessly
tend to the soil
beneath her feet.
Sowing the soil
with prayer,
devotion,
diligence,
dedication,
and discipline.
Earth,
she is anchored.
But,
always unfettered.
