gwydionmisha
NecHocNecIllud
I'm Androgyne, trans, poly, and Androsexual/Androphilic (It the old school meaning of a non-binary person attracted to men inclusively, not any appropriated exclusionary meaning). I guess it's maybe Diamoric now? TERFs/NAZIs: Why we can't have nice things. Ze/zir/zim. Nec hoc nec illud is Latin slang for bisexual, but I use it because it translates loosely as "Neither one thing nor the other." I think this is a good description of me, even though I'm not bisexual. This tumblr is also neither one thing nor another. It's random stuff I'm randomly interested in. I don't do "reblog if you believe X" posts, as I feel they are coercive to the reader and if you read my stuff you already know what I believe.
I will generally answer non-troll asks. TERFs, SWERFs, and NAZIs can fuck right off somewhere else.
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After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
Did this.
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
Questions.
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost.
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
(via bookoisseur)
I’m really glad I read that.
(via selfesteampunk)
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Walls - C.P. Cavafy
With no consideration, no pity, no shame,
they have built walls around me, thick and high.
And now I sit here feeling hopeless.
I can’t think of anything else: this fate gnaws my mind—
because I had so much to do outside.
When they were building the walls, how could I not have noticed!
But I never heard the builders, not a sound.
Imperceptibly they have closed me off from the outside world.
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Antilamentation - Dorianne Laux
Regret nothing. Not the cruel novels you read
to the end just to find out who killed the cook.
Not the insipid movies that made you cry in the dark,
in spite of your intelligence, your sophistication.
Not the lover you left quivering in a hotel parking lot,
the one you beat to the punchline, the door, or the one
who left you in your red dress and shoes, the ones
that crimped your toes, don’t regret those.
Not the nights you called god names and cursed
your mother, sunk like a dog in the living room couch,
chewing your nails and crushed by loneliness.
You were meant to inhale those smoky nights
over a bottle of flat beer, to sweep stuck onion rings
across the dirty restaurant floor, to wear the frayed
coat with its loose buttons, its pockets full of struck matches.
You’ve walked those streets a thousand times and still
you end up here. Regret none of it, not one
of the wasted days you wanted to know nothing,
when the lights from the carnival rides
were the only stars you believed in, loving them
for their uselessness, not wanting to be saved.
You’ve traveled this far on the back of every mistake,
ridden in dark-eyed and morose but calm as a house
after the TV set has been pitched out the upstairs
window. Harmless as a broken ax. Emptied
of expectation. Relax. Don’t bother remembering
any of it. Let’s stop here, under the lit sign
on the corner, and watch all the people walk by.
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Gravity loves me and will not let go
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Photo
Sonya Taaffe
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Personal: 4/24/24: Thank You All
Arm torture started today. I can barely do any of it just now, but that's okay. Medical transport did not collect me. I think she parked at the wrong address because about fifteen minutes after the three minute warning call, a car matching the description drove past on the way out of the complex and didn't even slow down. Sigh. I bet this is what happened the other time they did the same thing.
The car repair came in slightly under budget. I've a soft ban on driving. Puttering around my neighborhood at low traffic times is okay. It hurts, but it's manageable as long as I'm careful when putting it in park or drive. I am absolutely not allowed out in rush hour or on the highway. This is fine with me.
I would like to thank all the people who helped with car repair and the other bill. I can put more half down on that now while will tide them over.
You are all incredibly kind with your help and good wishes.
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couples who roast together stay together <3
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youtube
Folk Alley Sessions: Anaïs Mitchell & Jefferson Hamer - “Tam Lin (Child 39)
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With a Bird in Your Palm - From the Eternal Wager by Odysseus Elytis
1
That one day you will bite into the new lemon
and release
huge amounts of sun from it.
2
That all currents of the seas
suddenly illumined will reveal you
raising the tempest to the ethical level.
3
That even in death you will again
be like water in the sun
turning chill by instinct.
4
That you will be catechized by the birds
and a foliage of words will clothe you
in Greek so you will seem invincible.
5
That a water drop will culminate
imperceptibly on your eyelashes
beyond the pain and way after the tear.
6
That all the worlds’ unsympathy will turn to stone
on which you can sit like a prince
with a docile bird in your palm.
7
That alone at last you will harmonize
slowly with the grandeur
of sunrise and sunset.
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