Friday, April 19, 2024

2 Minutes. Go!

How could you be so small minded as to prevent someone from speaking their truth, especially someone you claim to feel "love" or kinship for? You support people you love. You should support people you don't love, too. It's one of the things that makes us special as animals. We have our problems, but we also have empathy. Most of us. We all have things about us that others don't agree with, but that doesn't mean we don't deserve courtesy and respect. 

I absolutely cannot understand why anyone would want to destroy anyone else's methods of expression. You don't like the book? The song? The movie? Don't partake, and shut your fucking mouth about it. We all have the right to be ourselves, to speak our truth, and to feel safe while doing it. You disagree? Wait until the cultural tides shift against you and "your people," and I bet you have a whole different view. 

I pay a lot to live where I live, and part of the reason is that I like to see the writing on the walls, literally. I love to see the protests, even when I don't agree with them. It doesn't matter if I agree. That's not the point. I'm excited that my fellow citizens are advocating for themselves and the things that are of import to them.

You take down the art of a friend of mine...or an enemy, for that matter, and you have joined the ranks of the book-burners. The knowledge killers. The one-minded. Think for your fucking self. That includes deciding what you want to "subscribe" to and what you don't. Don't prescribe for other people - that's not your job.

I'm thinking about Leland, of course, but it's not just Leland I am thinking about. My students are doing a walk out today for racial equality. I support them every step of the way. I want to see the signs in the air. I love to hear dissent in young voices.

Women have checking accounts now. The queer community has safe spaces, and the ability to express their truth. Black people can eat in the same restaurants as white people. Farm workers' rights are not solid, but the idea of rights for migrant workers used to be a joke. These things changed because some people had the heart to stand up, and because people with hearts supported their right to advocacy. 

Go ahead and take all Leland's books down. I've taught them to my students. I have given them to people. I will loan them out forever. I don't give a sweet goddamn what anyone thinks about it. 

I can think for myself. 


  1. Macbeth

    Colouring in the edges
    of style. The scene sets, a stage
    wracked with unconditional charm.

    They act in parts. Depart apart,
    together, unchained, eclipsed,
    two swans gliding on water.

    It’s a fake battle with plastic swords.
    The dressing-up comes easy,
    but the lines, the lines are lost.

    Someone laughs and the game’s up.
    There are no words because he forgot,
    and so the curtain must come down.

  2. Sunrise

    So small.
    A peck. A dot. It slides,
    honey spilling out.

    A pencilled-in line or two
    makes merriment,
    and we are beyond talk.

    An aside, like a sandwich
    sat on a dish,
    waiting to be devoured.

    Someone waves out there,
    but it’s just breeze.
    It goes unnoticed.

    Surf sounds, soft curves,
    the horizon lights up.
    A bird flutters out.

  3. TY jd. You mirror my thoughts & frustration. I take comfort in not being alone in my feelings.

  4. Why me?

    It was so peaceful when you "punished" me by not speaking to me. I didn't have the heart to tell you how relieved I was when you shut me out. But all good things must end.

    Yes, I've worried. You're aging, slowing down, experiencing the traumas so common to seniors. The falls, aches, pains, and the loss of mobility—both driving and walking. I loath to end my peace by reaching out to you.

    In the end, it's you who breaks the silence. You've taken a bad fall this time. Broken bones, surgery looms. You've driven away anyone who might care, might help. In desperation you call on me, your daughter.

    And just like that, my peace ends. I will cancel work, abandon my life to come to your far off home and assist you. And it's not because I've any love left for you. It's because I feel it's my duty, and dammit, it's the right thing to do.

  5. The world collapses. His head fills with snow. The smallest things become all he has. The minimums he once used to disregard are all he has.

    Not a fantasy; his reality is featureless and grey. He wakes, then he waits to sleep, knowing that constant ache in everything he does. With no freedom to choose - just continual suffrage – a broken bulb providing its own shade. Depression is his companion. He knows it intimately, its convenient lies pulling him in, not caring for life or light or anything beyond his blur. The steady bliss of his complete surrender, the seductive balm of letting go. He disappears into a deep, dreamless sleep of sour regret.

    Without light, there is no hope. His horizons falling in on themselves. A well without a bucket, a freefall into the black.

    Life by rote. Step by step. One, two, three. One, two, three.

    A long spiral toward his origin. A wick without an exciting spark.

    1. It's good to get that off my chest. I'm a bit maudlin at the moment. I need to put this behind me and focus on getting my head up again.


Please leave comments. Good, bad or ugly. Especially ugly.