loversandcousins

[loversandcousins]

poem after reading In Defense of Food Memory

its not my childhood anymore, it's someone else's my niece and the new baby getting born and doing all that she'll remember only my roller, my cat, the Peepys, the tea set, if even that

willfully

from childhood, you don't choose the memories that stick but when you're older, you want to make memories and take photos and you have weekends and events and maybe you meet someone special and you think ,

listlessly

lets make memories lets make babies and they'll make memories, the really special ones and they'll betray them, and us remembering us as complicated and flawed

endlessly

i realize i am not loyal but i remember fondly and when you die you'll release me though i am scared to be on my own because i do not know enough i do not own enough

wishfully

i leave a paper trail which you dont seem to have not the way i do this texture is different, the colors i choose from we go into it, and after it, and when i die i'll release you

[loversandcousins]

We want everything Biden could give us– and so much more: reflecting on the September 17, 2023 March to End Fossil Fuels

written 10/18/23, and newly relevant since last week Biden announced a “temporary pause on pending decisions on exports of Liquefied Natural Gas (LNG) to non-FTA [free trade agreement] countries until the Department of Energy can update the underlying analyses for authorizations.” This is his attempt to pander to environmentalists and yet...

At the Socialism Conference hosted by Haymarket Books in Chicago in early September 2023, I talked to a guy from Left Voice about Workers Voice members' efforts to mobilize folks for the End Fossil Fuels march in Manhattan. This guy responded to my short explanation with a pointed question: "Isn't that what nonprofits do?" His tone made it clear that he had a critique of nonprofits and the Democratic Party, which I wholeheartedly share. 

When I first heard that Worker's Voice was planning to mobilize for this march, I wasn't entirely convinced. I was skeptical of the demands of the march, and of the organizations putting them forth. However, I had been to two big climate marches in the past, in 2015 and 2019, and had good experiences. Furthermore, I trusted the motivations put forth by other members of Worker's Voice. 

The last time I went to a big climate march was in 2019, as a teacher bringing a field trip of kids. When I planned that, I remember talking to a busy organizer on the phone once, then texting her, and then I remember her coming to my classroom and handing over a bunch of BART tickets. It was up to me and 2 other teachers– both union reps and guys I had organized a bunch with during the strike the previous year– to get permission slips together. 

That day in San Francisco at the Youth Climate Strike in spring of 2019 was beautifully chaotic. For the kids, it was perhaps mainly a chance to get out of school and see the city. We barely brought any signs and the kids were only somewhat clued in on all the current events and facts. But it was a very easy sell in terms of recruiting students for the field trip–  global warming and environmental destruction were real– of course we needed to change our entire world order. They definitely understood the issues and what was at stake. 

My two coworkers and I almost lost a student that day, and one coworker got food poisoning and threw up in a Panda Express bathroom, but I'm really, really glad we went. I also appreciated that the march took place on a Friday–on a work and school day. It wasn't a strike, but it was a one day walk out (with permission slips). 

In comparison, the March to End Fossil Fuels was on September 17, 2023–  a Sunday! Some part of me finds it surprising that I even convinced people to go. The demands were incomplete, to say the least. But I did learn a lot by mobilizing people for it. For example, I learned about the Willow Project, which I feel slightly embarrassed about not learning about before! 

The whole march was put on by big non profits with a lot of resources. That much was absolutely apparent, from every aspect of the process. The "organizers call" became a stump speech for Rashida Tlaib, with no time for discussion or even the opportunity to use the chat function on the Zoom call. Two weeks before the march I received 5 newspapers of full color original art from Big Grassroots, and I did appreciate the art greatly. 

The march itself was protected by the police– there is a lot of work to be done before we can occupy the streets of Manhattan in a way that is safe for children and families without police presence. And where the need for "family friendly" police presence becomes state and police repression is a blurry line– after all, soon before the march, the route was abruptly changed so that we didn't even end up marching to the front steps of the UN. We shouted at them from blocks away. 

Leading up to the march we saw one of the only concessions made to our demands. On September 7, Biden announced he was canceling 7 oil and gas lease permits in Alaska, which seemed like it was in direct response to plans for the march. That same day, the show of civil disobedience at the US Open was impressive, a remarkable escalation. It was good for morale when Coco Gauf supported the protestors.

The point I really want to make is that no matter what Biden throws at us, any concessions to our demands– it will never be enough. We deserve much, much, much more than what can be legislated by the Democrats, adjudicated by the courts, or even written by all the academics in the world. 

In a world of police and UN peacemakers,  the vast majority of people in this ravaged world already want the abolition of police and an immediate transition to a different energy infrastructure and land usage. In the last few short years we have seen promises of the bourgeois government broken without shame– the repeal after repeal of civil rights we thought indelible. Janus, Roe, and Affirmative Action. We already know the system doesn't work, but we didn't even get to make that point at the March to End Fossil Fuels. By the end of it, the mic was given to AOC, who talked about the Green New Deal– she didn't address the stated demands of the march, let alone go in depth about something pressing like the Willow Project. 

I am writing this for the people that I marched with. Biden will listen to what he wants to hear, and he will use the Climate March as evidence that he was able to make a "few hard, but impactful" choices about our earth. Our earth.

I am always happy to go to a mass march. It was a beautiful September day in Manhattan, it really was. I'm always down to pull out the markers and cardboard, and chant, and meet up with friends before and afterwards. 

As for the guy at the Socialism conference, who accused me of doing what nonprofits do, I answered the best that I could– explaining that our particular intervention in Central Jersey was to try to get as many groups as possible to agree to meet a few weeks after the march, in order to plan a local action plan of sorts. I explained to him the importance of not doing a one off march, which I had personally done before. After a bit of back and forth, he asked me, "well, what do you plan to do after march?" 

I'm glad that Worker's Voice was involved with the March to End Fossil Fuels, and look forward to our local climate work in Central Jersey. We are planning to meet for a forum, where we can discuss and debate and figure out what we are going to do. But one thing is clear– we want everything Biden could give us, and so much more.

#lng #biden #climate change #revolution

[loversandcousins]

Then and now and again

when memoir reads like fiction / Inspired by re-reading the first 16 pages of Mrs. Dalloway:

_________________

On Friday nights a group of college students went to tutor inside a local prison. The prison offered college classes, and Friday was an open study session for the incarcerated students. Tutors and students would pair up or sit in groups and go over the latest assignments together. After 2 hours, all the participants would sit in a circle and share poetry or other creative writing. There was a sense of mutual respect in the room that gave Kinnera a reason to keep coming back and keep volunteering. It was eye opening to go inside a prison, it made her feel good to help and chat and be friendly. The students were all men, and she was young, and they would flatter her, which felt good too. 

She started that Friday routine in the winter, letting her Friday nights be all that, the drive and tutoring and pizza with other volunteers afterwards, coming home by 9 pm full. When the summer came around, the nights got hot, and one Friday she made plans to go to the city after tutoring. Her friends were meeting up earlier than she could make it, but every now and then the night did not intimidate her, it was warm enough and welcoming and worth the effort. It takes about an hour to get to Penn Station, and then easily another 40 minutes to get to Brooklyn, it's a long time to be awake.

The first coincidence of that night was that another student who tutored was on the same train as her. He was a graduate student studying comparative literature who was eager to talk. His name was Eric and he studied dreams. "A few months ago I came back from Alaska," he started. "I stayed there for months to interview this man about his dreams." Kinnera's eyes glazed over as she listened to this man talk about a man who dreamt in fragments, run-ons, bright colors, and premonitions. Dreams have their own logic and time keeping, and Eric tried to explain this in so many words. Many, many, snowglobe-like words, falling gently around her, passed the time easily. They parted ways at Penn station.

From there, Kinnera walked to the Herald Square station so it would be just one subway to Brooklyn instead of two. The M took her over the bridge and she got off in Williamsburg. She ducked into a McDonalds to change her shirt and put some makeup on. She walked to the address of the club and stood outside, looking. It was quiet, there was no club. A girl standing at the front door of an apartment building looked at Kinnera as if she recognized her. Which she did, they knew each other. It was Sahara, who graduated two years ahead of her in high school. They squealed. "Kinn what are you doing here! How are you?" Sahara pulled her into a hug. This was someone special to Kinnera, someone she had always admired for being beautiful and artistic. This was a meaningful coincidence, the night was so warm, Sahara one of the dreamiest people to run into. "I'm looking for 98 meserole…" she started.

"Street or avenue?" Sahara asked right away. That was it, it was the wrong address, the street not the avenue, it was a common mistake. Sahara pointed in the right direction and Kinnera gave her a quick squeeze goodbye, they were never very close, the admiration one way, no need to make plans to see each other again. 

It was a 30 minute walk from where she had ended up. The night was still warm, that was all she needed. Sahara was her favorite person to run into, the diversion was worth it, she was running late to a party that would last all night, there was no rush. She pictured herself in a dream, like the one that man in Alaska told Eric about. She thought, in passing, "Am I safe?" as she walked through the dark, a quiet neighborhood outside a park. It was safe, it was warm, that was all she needed. 

The club was there, at the right address. Avenue not street, the Good Room glowed red. Her friends were inside, not waiting, not wondering, happy to see her, happy to hear her story though it was hard to explain why it all meant so much, why this was already such a good night. And so, she did what she came there to do– drink, dance, and melt into the club until it was all a soft roar and shadow. There is a bad room inside the Good room, but she didn't do anything bad, she never really did. Kinnera danced like she learned to dance from her friends where you don't have to bother anyone around you, and you get your personal space, you can look around and make eye contact with others if you want to. They stayed until early morning, tumbling back to a friend's parents' second home in Brooklyn Heights. 

Over the years, every now and then, Kinnera would take a late train to the city to go dancing. Usually in the summer, and only rarely in the winter, but years later it was a mild winter, and there was a friday night in the low 50s, which isn't freezing at all, the warm was all she needed. New Year's Eve was that Sunday. You're allowed to wear something sparkly that close to the near year even in Brooklyn, and it would be so much easier to get in and out of the city than the 31st itself. But Kinnera kept missing the train, the first one she was late for and let go while still getting ready in her apartment, but the next one she ran for and then it was canceled. It wasn't that cold, but it was too cold to wait 40 minutes on the platform. She ducked into a bar around the corner for a gin and tonic, wondering how old the bartender was and if he was mixed or just white. He flattered her, asked her, "leaving already?" when she asked for the check. When the train finally arrived she knew it was still an hour to Penn Station, and another 40 to Brooklyn. Choosing to DJ carefully the transit time, she played 100gecs on her headphones, staying bubbly while conserving energy, remembering that chatty grad student from years ago who studied dreams. 

This time it was a straight line to her friend's apartment, always nice to stay subterranean and take an ACE train straight from Penn Station. On the subway a young man sat next to her and spread his legs until his knee gently grazed hers, the touch happening so gradually over the course of the 20 stops that it felt unintentional and safe. They touched knees as if it couldn't be avoided, both knowing it was entirely optional, she thought for a few stops about about moving away but decided not to. As she got off the subway he quietly asked "Can I have your number?" and Kinnera laughed, behind her mask, flattered. 

Your 30s are like your 20s, but with money. She had read that recently on a mug or fridge magnet recently and it offended her but also seemed optimistic. She thought about this as she waited for the elevator. Her friend wasn't waiting, wasn't worried, was happy to see her. The ketamine hit and they got tickets to a set they thought was sold out. The thrill of the k hitting as they got lucky was confusing and fun. The k made Kinnera feel big. In the warm of the car, listening to her friend talk about going to a casino with his estranged uncles' kids, she felt her hands swell and her mouth open as big as the car was wide. A little carsick, cracking the window helped. Then, distracted, it seems astonishing to her that they had already arrived.

The coat check is a necessity in the winter, something considerate. Then, onto the dancefloor, dutifully checking in with Papa Theo, inching to the front to see for herself that it's really him, like that boiler room video, like that set she heard, with that long lost friend who put her on, years ago. Then, and now, and again... The unsaid theme was prom– with New Years' so close and everyone eager to shake off the wholesomeness of Christmas– it made sense. 

Kinnera danced like she had learned from her friends, all the years pouring like melted cheese folding back and forth. Making one-way best friends in the crowd, letting her eyes rest on the disco ball, feeling how lucky it is to be in a club, to be reflected back by something as magnificent as a disco ball. Feeling like she was a wonderful dancer, that she was beautiful and perfect, yet cool and aloof enough that no one would know she was ecstatic on the inside. Maybe they were very well feeling the same thing. There was no problem with that. Putty in Papa Theo's hands. 

The set lasted longer than she did, and even though you could always eat or do more drugs or drink something caffeinated, she didn't want to. Still astonishing that a car can take you exactly where you plan to be. At her friend's apartment, brushing her teeth and doing a child's pose before sleeping, she thought to herself how she never does anything too bad. Staying up all night its own medicine, she fell asleep flat on her back.

#mrs dalloway #stream of consciousness #memoir #fiction #dancing #new york city #theo parrish #summer #winter

[loversandcousins]

Something to say about - SZA

Lizzo released a remix of her single "Special" in early February.  the remix features SZA! If you had seen Lizzo's documentary from November '22 you know this version of the song. I'm a Lizzo fan, and SZA and Lizzo are real-life friends who are sharing a huge moment of success, with SZA's album "SOS" coming out in December, a winter album following Lizzos' summer album, "Special." 

Now say "Lizzo-SZA" ten times fast. 

Soo this is what Ive been thinking-- and forgive me, i'm going to mention ariana grande--

"Consideration," from ANTI, a duet with SZA and Rihanna is INCREDIBLE. 

"Good As Hell," by Lizzo, where ariana grande sings on the remix, has one (1) charming moment, where ariana plays the girl that Lizzo is serenading: ("I gotta bottle of tequila waiting for you" "thank god!") Otherwise, it sounds like lizzo's intern ripped an MP3 of an iphone note and sent it in a glass bottle thru the ocean to ariana grande's studio and then they transmitted the finished track on a laser beam of eye shadow.

"Special" featuring SZA sounds way better, but is still not transcendent like "Consideration." 

we need Rih/Lizzo, and SZA + Ariana Grande !! or since these people are massive celebrities that will never do what we want them to, a fan should make a mashup as good as this one (megan, dua, phony ppl!)

As an ariana grande apologist, I was listening to SZA sing and felt like she has all the lightness that we collectively admire in ariana grande's voice, and then so much more. 

this is my © ariana grande to sza spectrum of pastel colors ® 

The Lizzo concert documentary special (Lizzo: Live in Concert) surprised me in many ways and made me feel an invigorating range of emotions. I loved the special appearances of Missy Elliot, Cardi B, and SZA. There was a political moment that moved me– Lizzo singing "Naked" in a skin-colored bodysuit, a light show on her body. The last image projected on her was the message "MY BODY MY CHOICE," and after the song is over Lizzo calls out "politicians" on their stance of reproductive justice. It's a 5-7 minute sequence right in the middle of the performance, and packed a punch. 

Ok, that's it! Back to listening to CTRL on repeat because I can only incorporate so many new sounds into my life

[loversandcousins]

Saturn enters Pisces on tuesday and IM READY ♡♡♡ !

[loversandcousins]

introducing Doll. the anatomical heart #1

crate digging with Mei. the anatomical heart #2

[loversandcousins]

working musicians

[loversandcousins]

[loversandcousins]

No snow yet

[loversandcousins]

In a world...

[loversandcousins]

Agitprop

[loversandcousins]

New painting

30 x 40 inches, oil paint

[loversandcousins]

Houseguests

1/13/23

1/19/23

For 3 months I welcomed Stonehouse and Kerry James Marshall into my house. I checked out The Mountain Poems of Stonehouse (Copper Canyon Press, 2014) and Kerry James Marshall: Mastry (Museum of Contemporary Art Chicago, 2016) from the library. Both are books that you can flip through and read in short installments. In November I renewed Mastry. Finally the due date for both books approached and I gave them back a week ago. 

I am not usually so sentimental about returning books to the library. But these two I had gotten used to. Before returning them I scanned a few pages from each, a digital memento for the box of memories and muses under my bed. 

Part 1: Turning point and arrival

In 1980 Kerry James Marshall painted Portrait of the Artist as a Shadow of his Former Self. He was inspired by the 1952 novel Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. He was 25 years old, and the painting is tiny, only 8 x 6.5 inches. This self portrait marks a turning point and an arrival for Marshall. Previously, he made mainly mixed-media and collage. From this point onward, Marshall has almost exclusively painted Black figures in everyday life, painting them with black skin, with black paint. I've heard artists say this before, that there is one piece that they make that shows them who they are, something that speaks back to the artist and illuminates a clear way forward. 

A year later Marshall painted Portrait of the Artist & A Vacuum, which I am obsessed with and very much want to imitate.

Part 2: "Right now I'm writing a right-now line"

Here are some of my favorite lines from Stonehouse:

very practical… sometimes feelings linger.. i would love to take my basket across the ridge and gather vine flowers… 

In the accompanying commentary, the translator Red Pine explains that in different times in Chinese history monks were given land to live off of. Stonehouse lived during the Yuan Dynasty and was temporarily head of the Monk affairs office in 1331. I don't want to glamorize this system, which Stonehouse clearly has a critique of, but throughout the whole book of poems you get a picture of a very different society from ours, one where being a monk is an established vocation with some supporting infrastructure in place. It is cool and thought provoking as we are currently pressed with the urgent work of crafting a new world.

"i've never been cheated by a hoe," good for you stonehouse… also very relatable, feeling lonely because your friends are out in the world striving for success. 

this verse stuck with me and I copied it into my journal. sometimes i feel a bit desperate in terms of not wanting to make the same mistakes again and again, wanting to break habits, especially those that harm my relationships with others. I really like how Stonehouse says "when life becomes simple old habits end." it strikes me as both optimistic and pragmatic.

hold the PHONE "right now I'm writing a right-now line" is an unreal line, tattoo-worthy, sky-writing plane worthy, very good, very excellent poetry. Stonehouse gets an EGOT. 

In Conclusion:

Those were 2 very good books. Furthermore, returning books means I check more out. Currently I am reading:

Cassell's Encyclopedia of Queer Myth, Symbol, and Spirit by Randy P. Connor, Mariya Sparks, David Hatfield Sparks

Dyke Strippers: Lesbian Cartoonists A to Z Edited by Roz Warren

Act of State: The Execution of Martin Luther King by William F. Pepper

Rock Steady: Brilliant Advice from My Bipolar Life by Ellen Forney

I am finding momentum in reading poetry, comics, and nonfiction, especially any text that is illustrated and/or that you can read non-linearly. On that tip, Act of State is the outlier, but it is so eye opening and righteous that I am locked in. I'll report back later~

[loversandcousins]

609 PSA

this is a PSA i guess..

If you drive down the new jersey turnpike, right at Exit 10 you will see a billboard that says "Stop bigotry against Hindu Americans." The first time I saw this billboard I was with my parents, and I explained to them what I summarize below.

a collage of various billboards around the state. from stopdemocratsbigotry.com

This past August, during the India Day parade in Edison, a bulldozer rolled down the street. 

It was decorated with pictures of Modi and Yogi Adityanath, Chief Minister of Uttar Pradesh. The bulldozer is a known symbol of anti-Muslim hate, ever since Adityanath used them to destroy Muslims' homes in UP in 2014 and again as recently as April 2022. Adityanath is a known fascist who has blood on his hands. It's worth googling him.

After the bulldozer was seen in Edison, The New Jersey chapter of the Council on American-Islamic Relations (CAIR-NJ) and the Indian American Muslim Council (IAMC) issued a public statement against the bulldozer and Anti-Islamic Hindu nationalist ideology, in general. New Jersey Democrats Bob Menendez and Cory Booker spoke publicly in support of CAIR. Then, a group called the Teaneck Democratic Municipal Committee issued a resolution against "Hindu National Hate Groups Operating in New Jersey and Across the United States." In their resolution, they named specific tax-exempt organizations with "direct and indirect"  ties to the RSS. The groups that they named were:

Hindu American Foundation

Sewa International 

Infinity Foundation

Ekal Vidyalaya Foundation

Vishva Hindu Parishad of America

These RSS-affiliated groups responded to the Teaneck resolution with this billboard campaign and website. They re-framed the issue as the Democratic Party discriminating against "Hindu Americans;" completely obstructing their original anti-Muslim act, and their overall violent ideology. Soon after the billboards went live, the New Jersey Democratic State Committee (what even are these groups?) issued an asinine statement about unity and inclusion that dismissed the Teaneck resolution without naming any of the relevant issues of Islamophobia or Hindu fascism.

It's gross seeing these billboards around, it's pathetic seeing the Democratic Party take a non-stance. It's also an accurate representation of how strong the grip of Hindutva ideology is on the Indian community here in New Jersey, and how out of touch municipalities and politicians can be. Just 10 days ago, for example, the Plainsboro library hosted the traveling exhibit "Darshana: A Glimpse into Hindu Civilization." I love the Plainsboro library. In 2022 they got rid of overdue fines, and they have one of the best, open spaces in our community.  I guess nobody told them that the organization responsible for the exhibit is directly linked to Hindutva groups. Or worse, the programming was intentional. Either way, creative, generative interventions, achieved through grassroots and collective organizing, are much needed as Hindu nationalism becomes more visible and influential here in Jersey. 

[loversandcousins]

Stealing time

nov 1 / nov 14, 2022

What I'm listening to now:

De Todas las Flores by Natalia Lafourcade (October, 2022)

The Loneliest Time by Carly Rae Jepson (October, 2022)

There Goes Rhymin' Simon by Paul Simon (May, 1973)

Been thinking about how you don't have to do a single extra thing. You could eat and sleep and do nothing more. I am very grateful to Tricia Hersey, the Nap Bishop, for her consciousness-raising work around rest as a form of resistance within the context of US slavery. I am very grateful to my family for teaching me the basics of naptime. It goes like this: after lunch, everyone drops. We reconvene around 4 to drink tea. My dad can add to this, tell you about napping in the parking lot when you're at your job, and sleeping at 9:30 pm daily. Lately I've been napping almost everyday, and I wake up feeling like I went to another dimension. That can be disorienting, but mostly it's good. It's something to look forward to. Going to sleep at night is still tricky. The depressed, pessimist part of me feels like sleeping is giving up, but there is a way to make it a ritual of self love. I love being snug like a bug in a rug. It's a time for nursery rhymes and lullabies, a cup of sleepytime tea, returning to the soft few square feet that know your body best, a pile of clean laundry lying peacefully beside me. 

What happens when you sleep is that your ears turn off. The eyes are easy, the lids close and it's obvious what is happening. It's harder to notice when your ears stop listening, because it's the last thing that happens before you sleep. And so, when the ears stop, it's extra exciting to wake up in the middle of the night and hear a song or thought playing on some nonstop livewire of the subconscious. Not that it's even deep, it's usually the last song I was listening to before I slept. But there it is, the innards. 

Natalia Lafourcade's new album De Todas Las Flores is her first album of original music since 2015 when she released Hasta la Raiz. The album is inspired by a romantic break. Ed Morales interviewed her for the New York Times recently, and she said: “Breakups can be so deep, at the cellular level, that you have to reconstruct your life and reconnect with yourself. It’s difficult work, forgiving yourself, forgiving the other person. So I went to walk in the mountains, and returned to my garden, a metaphor for a field of emotions and possibilities that had to be explored.” 

Relevant to sleep, rest, silence and listening that they allow for are these few lines from the mid tempo, waltz-ish dance number "El Lugar Correcto:" 

Perdona si lloré, lloré, lloré mientras bailaba

Tenía dolores viejos que atender de aquel pasado

Entonces regresé a ese silencio necesario

Para escuchar el corazón hablar de la verdad

I don't really want to translate this, because translating is so difficult, but the gist is: "I'm sorry if I cry during this dance / I have old pains that I need to tend to / so I will return to this needed silence / to listen to my heart speak of the truth." It's nice to hear her emerging from her silence with this song, the intermittent tears a reminder that there are unspoken things that will end us unless we visit the quiet heart regularly. 

I have a lot less sound in my life right now. I used to live with 3 roommates, work on a staff of 60, and spend my day with four different groups of 30 teenagers. I had a tendency to cultivate the kind of close friendships where I didn't always know which voice was mine and which wasn't. It's ok, that happens, it's pretty normal. When you break up with a person, place, job, or whatever, we use metaphors like "snap out of it," or "wake up," but now I realize it sort of felt like I had my eyes open the whole time and couldn't sleep. It's been a disorienting and ongoing thing, to recalibrate. A lot of my recent experiences are marked by confusion: is this quiet loneliness? Are my innards, laid bare, inadequate? (The answer is always no; you can always do absolutely nothing; silence and space are not the problem). 

De Todas las Flores is very good. It's serious, very beautiful, timeless, which has sort of been Lafourcade's vibe for a while now. One of my favorite tracks is "Canta la arena," because it's bouncy, and it's about the ocean, and features lap steel, the beachiest sounding instrument. It offers continuity for those still wishing for summer, as if Lafourcade is simply doing her healing on the quieter side of the same tropical island as Bad Bunny. The lead single off the album is "Mi manera de querer," which is, unexpectedly, a bisexual anthem. Now everyone can wonder if it was a woman who broke her heart. 

Along with Lafourcade and Carly Rae Jepson, the other artist I have been listening to incessantly is Paul Simon. I adore him. It's surprising to me how endlessly relatable his music is to me. Right now I'm listening to "There Goes Rhymin' Simon" from 1973. At a pace:

"One Man's Ceiling Is Another Man's Floor:" It's just apartment house sense / It's like apartment house rents / Remember- one man's ceiling / is another man's floor." I got new neighbors on Nov 1, which I at first thought was a family visiting my neighbors for the weekend. But no, there are children and they live here and they scream and run around and I can hear everything. 

"St. Judy's Comet:" "Little sleepy boy / Do you know what time it is? /Well, the hour of your bedtime's / Long been past / And though I know you're fighting it / I can tell when you rub your eyes / You're fading fast."  My sister, brother-in-law, and baby niece stayed with my parents for about 10 days this month and it was very sweet seeing the little one do things like sleep, eat, and scoot around. Loved hearing this lullaby from Simon, about what I realize now is a very common situation for parents (baby doesn't want to sleep). I added this song to my playlist of songs by artists addressing their children. which is a lovely playlist. It's also cute to hear about this son a few years before he goes on a trip to Graceland with his "famous daddy."

"Take Me to the Mardi Gras:" Just to mention my favorite lyric on the album: "You can legalize your lows / You can wear your summer clothes / In the New Orleans," which is such a great moment of alliteration and slant rhyme, as well perfectly evocative of the desire to be sad and wear your summer clothes (again, if it's not clear, I miss the summer, go ahead call me Miss Summer!!). 

"An American Tune:" The album is from 1973 and he is Paul Simon, so he kind of does this annoying exoticizing thing with New Orleans, matched by the off putting patriotism in "American Tune," but whatever. I recently saw Rhiannon Giddens cover "An American Tune" when she performed a few weeks ago at McCarter Theater in Princeton, and she shared that Simon re-wrote the song for her in a different key so she could play it on banjo, and also changed the line about the Mayflower. I wish I could hear her perform now, after I'm much more familiar with the song, but whatever. Probably still a little too patriotic for my taste. But there are beautiful moments, including the last lines which are fittingly sleepy for this blog post: "Still, tomorrow's going to be another working day  / And I'm trying to get some rest / That's all, I'm trying to get some rest "

Yeah so that's all folks, just trying to get some rest so I can listen to my heart!! 

[loversandcousins]

Swans

I never listened to Carly Rae Jepson, but there's nothing that I am more susceptible to than the love of a fan. Last week during my shift at the grocery coop, a person was talking spiritedly with the manager about the band Swans. I was quickly swept into the conversation, as I could not resist asking questions and encouraging them to play music by the band. I learned a lot about Swans, and one thing I learned was that many Swans fans love Carly Rae Jepson. I liked learning this fact, because I knew my bestie liked Carly Rae Jepson. My bestie and I co exist harmoniously even though I like Taylor Swift and she doesn't; even though she believes in Hyperdeep fall and I think Summer ends on Halloween. Anyway, a few days after my Swans encounter, another bestie sent me the song "No Thinking on the Weekend'' from Carly Rae Jepson's recently released album, The Loneliest Time. It took three times, but then I started listening. (3 CRJ fans knocked on the door to my heart, I opened it). I instantly loved it "No Thinking on the Weekend." It's difficult to listen to the song without drifting off into space; so writing about it is especially a slippery thing. I love the flutes, the horns, the beat, the production is fantastic. Buttery smooth and a little jazzy, dare I say. CRJ's voice floats effortlessly and delivers a clever, timely message. And the rest of the album is a similarly sparkling array of gems! I particularly love the back-to-back punch of "Western Wind" and "So Nice." "Western Wind" is co written and produced by the guy from Vampire weekend, Rostam Batmanglij, which made so much sense and is a cute fact (I'll certainly be telling the Swans fans at the coop). I'm excited to listen to it with them too, if any happen to be at the coop during my next shift, Wednesday from 4-8. It's always a listening party when I'm in there. 

[loversandcousins]

in conversation

with Neeta 💕

In late May, I said to Neeta, oh let me show you my secret blog, and then she said I have one too– What a good thing, what a revelation, how sweet it's been to read her secret blog. 

First of all, it's beautiful: http://neeta.works/blog/

I want to float in that yellow-green-blue. The blog used to be light green on dark green, like a tennis court, and before that it was purple. like an artificially flavored italian ice. Mmm. 

Hmm. Neeta writes about tennis, running, coding, and writing. Most of all she seems to write about process. The repetition, the sounds of it. Returning to the thing, whatever it is, again and again and again. Her posts from this past August 11 and August 13 are my favorite in this vein. 

On August 11 she celebrated the completion of her 4th notebook of "unpublished tweets." This is her practice of writing 140 character journal entries, mimicking the form of the old Twitter (each Tweet was 140 characters), an afterlife of the many years that she posted on Twitter. Anyone who keeps a journal knows the excitement of finishing an entire notebook. Neeta looks back at her notebooks and comes up with life-affirming self analysis: it is "a record of my self in flux." She gives space to her doubts, though. She wonders if she is narcissistic, if drawing the delineating squares on each page is neurotic, if she needs to kill her darling. These doubts  crowd the penultimate paragraph, like they are squirrely and alive, rushing to fill up a possible opening. She slams the door in their face with the last line, "I am just trying to stay alive." No one does this shit for any less of a good reason. But isn't it a trip, doing something over and over and over again? 

Two days later she writes again about transformation and repetition, but in a different language, the way that footsteps talk. After running on a treadmill one morning, she writes:: "...thump thum pthump thump thump thump tump thump thump thumpthmp thumpthump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump thump…" 

The onomatopoeia gradually transforms into the word runner, or "runr." What does it sound like to be a runner? To listen to yourself slowly become a runner with the thump of each step? What does it feel like to listen to yourself listening, and then go home and put words on a page to get that sound out of your head? 

Neeta's got range, so she also writes sentences like "I’m generally interested in making works in series, and for this piece I want to exploit the reproductive capacity possible in the printshop." (15 April 2022). And so, it's exciting when the secret blog is a window into her studio, and we glimpse the things she makes. My absolute favorite of this flavor of post is where we see the posters she designed and printed for graduate student workers at Yale University who are campaigning to win a union. The posters are beautiful, and the choice to use a Riso machine is especially satisfying. I personally have fond memories of using a Riso machine. You can really see the ink drying on the page and the way that it brings CMYK to life is exciting.

During the April rally, grad workers had already won a majority vote in support of unionizing through Unite Here Local 33, but the university officials were refusing to recognize the union. From an article in the Yale Daily News published mid October, it looks like the university is still refusing to recognize the union, and has escalated their union busting tactics, while nonetheless even more folks came out to the latest (rainy and cold!) rally in support of the union. An update from two days ago, Oct 25, shows that the grad student workers had submitted union authorization cards to the NLRB and the university has 2 weeks to respond. Well, I hope grad workers at Yale keep their foot on the gas, and that organizers at Unite Here consider the most aggressive tactics possible. Maybe Neeta will make more posters..

I've meandered, which of course she would understand. 

I've been wanting to write about Neeta's blog for a while, and possibly write about other friends' work as part of a "series" (ah!). Reading Neeta's blog gives me so much inspiration and courage to blog my own blogg, and I salute her!! Read my blog, read Neeta's blog, blog blog blog bloggi blogg, stay alive, seek inspiration…