Day 147.

Having another "wish I'd taken the blue pill" kinda day.

Day 146.

Day 145.

It rained all day. It's June 28th, and it rained all day. Almost all of the customers who commented on this peculiarity today had to let me know that they didn't mind it at all. In fact, I love the rain. Or, It reminds me of home! Or even, It's so refreshing after the hot days we've been having. Even after saying, I've lived here 30 years and this has never happened before. It's unbelievable. 

Day 144.

The late-evening stylings of our heroine.

Day 143.

I look sad, but I'm not at all! I'm just in a hurry and don't have time to keep taking pictures. :)

Day 142.

Dyke March.

Day 141.

I'm excited. It's Pride weekend! Pride always gets me thinking, at least for a a little while, before it all blurs into parties and sunshine and bare boobies in Dolores Park. This time I'm thinking about how we humans often treat other humans as though they are disposable, and that Pride, for me, is a great time to point out that we are just the opposite. We are precious beings, each with a set of gifts and talents and contributions to make to our human family and our planet that no one else can make.

Day 140.

I want to take all the prettiest things I've ever written and put them here . . . because maybe then you will love me. Maybe then you will want to come be around me, and hold my hand, and sing songs with me and eat food with me and run around on sunny days with me. And remind me that I am loved, that I deserve to be loved.

Day 139.

The days are already getting shorter.

Day 138.

Day 137.

Things I was reminded of today:

1. Social justice work has next-to-nothing to do with what we are paid to do. What we are paid to do has to do with capitalism. Social justice work is about how we are, who we are, what we say, and what we do, all the time, but in particular during those precious moments when we are not caught up in the capitalist machine, not producing or consuming or selling or purchasing. Those moments in which we are just being . . . just connecting with one another, talking, sharing space . . . who we are in those moments is everything, our true work.

2. I am beautiful, worthy, fiery, lovable, smart, and uniquely gifted.

3. Hugs & chai & coloring with crayons really make everything just a little bit better.

4. So do bike rides.

5. So does therapy.

Day 136.

Day 135.

Yesterday, one of the customers at my job had on a shirt that said, "El Salvador. A sunny place for shady people." I know you've heard me say this before, but yes, it was a white guy. And he wasn't from El Salvador. To be sure, I asked. He was just a blatantly racist, nationalist white guy, flaunting his ignorance. Sigh.

Day 134.

Not naked again. Same tube top as yesterday. Gotta enjoy these sunny days while I can!

Day 133.

Gratitude.

(Also, not naked. Wearing a tube top. It's hot out there.)

Day 132.

The other day, a regular at my job, who is a person of color, shared a story with me about a TV show featuring primarily people of color who are about to lose their cars because they can't afford to keep making payments. Apparently, the show asks them trivia questions, and if they can get three out of four of the answers right, they get to keep their car.

Day 131.

Day 130.

Major writer's block. Just a photo again.

Day 129.

Day 128.

Day 127.

This morning, I went into the bathroom to put my contact lenses in. Just as I set my glasses down on the shelf and picked up the saline solution, I heard the dog barking. I had left the side door that leads into our yard open so he could go in and out at his own leisure, which is usually fine . . . except for the barking, which happens only when he feels that the perimeter of our yard is threatened (ie. someone walks by.) This basically means that all of our neighbors probably think of our self-important Pomeranian as a barky little twit.

I called to him and called to him and he just kept on barking. Thinking something might be wrong, I ran outside to grab him, leaving both my contact lenses and glasses on the bathroom sink. And of course, a neighbor I had never met before was trying to befriend little Poo-Bah, hence the non-stop barking. I stood there kind of awkwardly, as she decided that was the moment to befriend to me, as well. I debated telling her that I was seriously visually impaired at that moment, but felt uncomfortable at the prospect of saying something like, "Hi, it's nice to meet you, and in case I am blinking repeatedly or looking at you funny, I feel I should let you know that I can't see a thing without my contacts, which I don't have on my eyeballs right now." I kept wondering if she thought I was acting strange. Then, she decided to tell me her name.

"I'm Wendy."

"Wendy, it's nice to meet you. I'm Mahfam."

All I noticed then was: Blurry human shape in front of me who, if I really focused, appeared to be trying to comprehend what I just said. It was SO AWESOME. I didn't have to experience the scrunched up face and the dropped jaw and the raised eyebrows or ANY of it. I want to take out my contacts before introducing myself to everyone I meet for the rest of my life.

(And that ends my practice of writing for the sake of writing.)

Also:
Tracy Morgan is a douchebag. I don't want to reiterate everything everyone else has said. I just want to remind people that little queer kids are fucking awesome.

Day 126.

Day 125.

I am such a slacker! I swore I would write a bunch today but I had a ton of things to do and now it's date night and the boi is drinking a glass of wine and so am I and the dog is playing with his kong and I can't keep writing . . . I must attend to the fam.

Day 124.

Searching . . .

Day 123.

How do you get unstuck?

(Feel free to comment below . . .)

Day 122.

There is no respite from the heat in June in New Orleans. There is no moment in the day when breathing becomes easier, and skin stops feeling sticky. Showering only makes a difference as water hits skin. I can't imagine how people get anything done here, and my respect for the resilience and spirit of locals grows when I imagine the challenges they face and overcome, all while blanketed by a lingering heat and pervasive humidity that feels as if the very trees and houses and cars are sweating.

Day 121.

It's been a hot and muggy day here in New Orleans. I have all kinds of things to say but the heat is slowing me down. I'll be writing more soon . . . but for now: my face.

Day 120.

Non-sequitur for the day:

"A soft feminine cloth that soothes and refreshes and gently cleanses to help remove odor."

Sounds like something that probably shouldn't go in your vagina.

I'm in NOLA, on very little sleep, so this is the best I got right now.  Say hi to Ada back there!

Day 119.

Just the face again . . .

Day 118.

It was hailing this morning. It's June 1, and I'm in Oakland, CA. Call me climate change-obsessed, but I'm pretty sure this is not normal.