what i've been doin'...

After about 5 months of hard, all consuming, tenacious crip sweat and tears I have converted this 12x16 tuff shed into and e.i. safer work space. oh- my- god. I sealed the entire interior with safe seal, put down cork flooring, installed a wood stove and chimney, cut holes in the walls and put big sliding windows in, insulated with formaldehyde free insulation and dry walled it all in.....fuck. of course its not totally totally done but whatever...i need to stop for now. i'm so sore and tired of construction and am so so so eager to get on with using it. I'm hungry for the space to work and stretch and think.

 now it sits all cleaned up and ready to go. so i lit a fire in the stove today and just sat in the mostly emtpy space on my little chair and stared out the window while the sun set. then i looked next to me and saw my dusty spinning wheel. I haven't touched my wheel in 9 months. haven't even had a moment or reason to look at it really.
But suddenly there it was, and with a heavy dreamlike motion i reached out to touch it. wrapped my hand around its finely worked hardwood throat and pulled it towards me. fixed the drive band. adjusted the tension. and i wept. it was such acute moment of calm. Simple, in the moment memories.
and then of course theres my looms. I'm so privileged to have all this beautiful, well crafted equipment just sitting and waiting for me.
so, i've been moving my stuff in. stuff thats been in forgotten boxes at the back of our tool shed or crammed beneath my bed. my stuff, bloomin' like flowers all over this odd little shed turned workshop.
 Come spring i'm gonna paint the outside some combination of of teal and yellow.

I'm a little nervous about the toxicity of the space. My tolerance for shit is sooooooo much lower now that i've been in town for 2 years and esp. now that i live with other people. Even after sealing (safeseal by AFM ) the crap out of it and running my super duper -extract all chemicals from the air- filter . Its goes against all E.I. instinct to enter a tuff shed. It -seems- ok but....eeeee. we shall see. right now i have to believe its gonna be ok...i've got my heart all excited.

new dance/no bootstraps

i've been dancing at the gym.
at certain times of the day the aerobics room is empty and open. its full of mirrors and large expanses of wooden flooring and its like stepping into an old skin when i go in there. The vast space begs to be filled with movement and muscles making beautiful things happen.

my life as a dancer began when i was 3. but over the past decade its become sparse.very sparse.

in my early 30's dance classes became too inaccessible to attend. the impact and recovery factor too great.

so nowadays i go solo. i dance in my living room, or in a garage, on a lawn
or at a gym with an empty aerobics room.

and today while marked and messed my way thru some random choreoghraphy, i felt very tired. so so tired. like lead in my veins kinda tired. aware that i'm a soon to be 40 yr old outta practice chronically ill dancer. I'm the dancer that at that this point in life should be choreographing and teaching younger dancers. I think of the director of the dance co. i was in when i was 20, how she'd teach class with a heating pad strapped to her back, trailing around an extension cord, waving her arms and shouting instruction.

 I've got a thigh muscle thats like twine and won't stretch. just feels like wood thats gonna snap. I'm dizzy, lethargic, my back hurts....frustrated that i can't do the steps i want to do . can't bring to life the dance in my mind. my body is not gonna do it. not like it used to.

so i'm home now with my heating pad thinking hard about dance and the able body. how does dance exist outside of some sort of relative able bodiedness. i can't move like i could 20 years ago. so how do i own how i move now and call that the dance i need.
crips dance all the time.
i know this.

feels  like yet another life lesson in tackling internalized ableism.
just another milestone of letting go. my life of letting go, balancing the acceptance of change with the need to understand and resist the systems that want me to disappear...
the lure to call it -only- loss.
all the things i was supposed to "be", and dancer was one of them. how my brain and body just couldn't keep it up. school, work, dance and that fire under my ass screaming hustle girl! be the best! theres no safety net.
no safety net.
my political critical analytical brain whispers capitalism, ableism, class ...baby...class. but beneath it all is the subtle defeat.
the moving , once again, of the goalposts of my life.
this always slightly humiliating effort to be ok with who i am. what i am. aware of the blasphemy of those words since theres nothing necessarily righteous, radical or defiantly self loving in them.
theres no well timed poetic uplifting message in all of this. no bootstrap revolutionary lullabye.
just disability and poverty and yes, loss and how the up moments are still about ability.
seductive  individual   ability.

hormones, humans and home.

Its been a year and 8 months now and I still feel this time in the city is some sort of experiment. to find out if i can, and want to, be around so many many humans. what my stuff is about humans. my psych impairment stuff, my phobias, my ei, and just my goddam preference....its interesting how much of my annoyance, discontent and lack of access w/ being in town is about traffic. fucking cars. loud, fast, smelly, dominant. and fucking everywhere.
in the time its taken me to write these few sentences maybe 10 cars have sped by.

they especially wear my last nerve when i'm premenstrual. this is also when exposures in general feel way worse. I'm keenly aware of just how bad the air is. then, in the inevitable stay at home marathon that ensues in my attempt to avoid exposure to all things toxic/loud/hostile, i'm super vulnerable to daydream...ok...escapism.

and yeah, i daydream of my sheep. and my little mountain home. quiet. air. no cars. I'm not saying i ever want to live that completely alone again but christ, i could hear birds wings as they fly over the house. my sheep moving. the wind coming down the mountain before it reached my house.

whats vulnerable about the daydream is the tip into depression. inertia. dwelling on loss. scarcity.

somewhere in this hormonal,vulnerable state i wandered out of the house and into the thrift store and found this ceramic sheep sitting on a dusty musty shelf. its quite large, about a foot long and 9 inches high. i stared at it for a looong loooong time. i was feverish. i picked it up. i set it down. i picked it up again. then in a moment of compulsive need i whisked it away to the register and out the door.

when i hit the hot glare of the car-packed parking lot with my ceramic sheep gripped tightly against my chest i began to sob.
i miss them. I miss the mountains so so much.
I also cried because i'm now apparently one of those people that collect ceramic animals...

osmosis.

Cleaning out my suitcase

my tightly packed clothing still held the damp smell of home

so before it could be stolen by the thirsty sunbleached high desert air

I held the fabric up to my face

inhaled the water

the history

the struggle

I come from

towering trees and dense tangled ground cover 

encroaching enveloping

sleeping lakes that freeze over in the winter

beckon for entry in the too hot summer

green that softens lulls my eyes wide open

humid air so thick it saturates my bones

deer that consider me before they run on nimble hooves

willows that tower above but weep all the way to the ground

oaks that mock my arms wide open girth

and winters

winters that seem like they will never end

that the sun will never shine again

heavy endless grey

I come from

depression

shame

and a fierce longing

as green as the damn grass is

its gotta be greener over there

or over there

maybe Its greener in the high desert way the hell over there

I come from

rotting wooden houses dank basements too many layers of paint

and ends that didn't meet

I ran from

men w/ baseball bats down the streets of swillburg

I ran thru

the woods of mendon  dodging tree limbs and hopping roots

I ran like

Hungry deer through the streets and into backyards with less and less space to call home

I ran toward anything that looked like love

I ran

it’s the kinda place ya run from

where waiting suitcases hold the promise of sun

it’s the kinda place ya grow fiercely proud of coming from

unpacking dense tangled stories

I went to

wrap my arms around that blue collar city

I went to

weep on the ground

wade through the murky lakes of memory

I’m the first to confess

I come with

baggage

heavy w/ history

humidity

longing

and home.

oh yay...its sunflower time.

bottom feeder

I hold onto this old bitter theory about class.
why it is middle and upper class people don't rub elbows with the poor
its the cold draft
its because need is frightening
hunger is frightening
poor brings the edge
presents it at your feet
the scream quick drop off to nothing
cold drafty need will find the cracks in any brittle bootstrap
i got mine cuz i worked hard facade and wear it down down down
crack it open.
so they turn
they turn their backs to the draft
Hold close their frightened hearts
the middle and upper classes prefer their own
where ends meet and make a fortress a circle
of i got mine

and speaking for myself, i prefer my own low class kind
i'd give my last dollar. and i have.

for me, being in the company of  relative wealth is exhausting
confusing
numbing
enraging
the effort to locate common ground
stretching and stretching to empathize with their problems
when all i really wanna do is beg for help
beg for money
for a job
for housing
for someone else to call goddam human services cuz their ignoring my calls and my food stamps didn't come this month and i'm worn out by life
by the constant stream of shitty news from people i love
from my total lack of solution
crumbling resources
and worry

the raspy screech of worry

wanna add that i'd be lying if i said that truly homeless, forgotten people don't unnerve me
because i'm scared shitless i'm next
because i can't help them
because theres not enough
the ground opens and the edge is right there
the scream quick drop off to nothing
but bitter updraft from below

i get cold easily
so i turn
holding close my wailing heart.
my bitter old theories self evident  and so what?
so what?
what do i do?
what do we do?


let bootstraps crack and fortresses crumble
let screeching worry fly
let go our hearts
let go our hearts
wanna say i don't need you
but i do.

a bit o' crip humor

call to action.

neighborhood watch

of all the houses for sale and sitting empty
this one sold
and the new owners brought with them the cop car
state police black and yellow hornet just waiting to sting
and i watch the whole block lower their eyes and leer through their lashes
we’re gonna keep an eye on that car
and that man in uniform as he’s home from work eating dinner in front of the television
spinning racial profiling
as an officers mandate
cuz theres no war without troops
this
is a solidly working class neighborhood of strollers, pick-ups and a-shirts
the boom boom boom, trumpets and persistent polka rhythm of a moments sanctuary
and cops
they too are working class
thrown a hornet
a sting
a bone of power outnumbered
we’re gonna watch that car
and the man in uniform as he stumbles out of his house bleary eyed
in the early morning
gun on his hip
with children running in the road.

Arizona...and possibly texas...utah

 The human rights emergency that we find ourselves in the midst of is of course felt everywhere but seems particularly stark here in "new" mexico, a border state, a state thats predominately people of color....suddenly surrounded by racist militaristic legislation. Arizona is first up...and shit is definitely up....and meanwhile this green light to an unabashed police state has begun to spread to utah and texas where similar legislation is being drafted. May Day has been slated as a day of protest, to demand human rights and immigration reform. I'll ad more links as i get them....am searching now for a comprehensive list of may day marches across the country....? anyone know where to to find this?
wait...i found one i found one!!... reformimmigrationforamerica.org

borderaction.org
altoarizona.com
dignidadrebelde.com
boycotting_arizonas_racism

is this thing on?

oh sorely neglected blog
is anybody still out there?

long gone is the heyday of daily posts and photos. i'd blame it solely on being less isolated than i was back in the farming era...which is a good thing, and having children in my life....which is fantastic, but i know plenty of folks with people-full, busy lives that craft their blogs much more intensely than i do. so, eh....what could it be?

 well one thing might be the end to a decades worth of living completely alone. often in the middle of nowhere.  and now a moving van comes in 2 days to carry me into the home of my lover and his children.
could be that.

could be the intense physical labor i've undertaken for the past few weeks. a week of which was taking up old carpeting and installing cork flooring. i've never done that before, cork flooring...i think i did a pretty damn good job. but man, installing flooring is hard on the body.

i get a deep deep satiating joy from physical work. gardening, fencing, house renovation/rebuilding/repair or just building period. even though it kicks my ass to the point where nothing else gets accomplished in my life...dishes, phone calls, hygiene....nothing. you get the idea.

so yeah, shacking up w/ a lover and all that entails. its a whole new adventure. a whole new way of living. i'm sure once the dust settles i'll have plenty to write about....its all piling up in the back of my mind. taken a backseat to packing sorting storing lifting and finding moments to hold his gaze and express the love. this undertaking working at all is dependant on sweetness, mindful love, appreciation, patience... more sweetness.....

and remembering to breathe.

the nine day crack.

I was thrilled last week when i found an ad for my long lost mechanic in santa fe.

I thought they had closed up shop.
so yeah,  thrilled.

 i was there today picking up my car and while the owner, neil, is ringing up my total he asks casually if i know where that woman...uh, carpenter???  her last name was carpenter?
if i know where she is.

Standing there in his tiny airless office my head spins
remembering how she and i used to come here
I'd forgotten this.
she had introduced me to him.
how badly she had wanted to be a mechanic
 how she longed for the title and the calloused, dirty hands of a tradesman.
remembering how she would banter on with him about calipers and struts and mystery knocks and proven solutions.

to him i say...she committed suicide about a decade ago.

now, being an earnest yet guarded older man he keeps his eyes on the task
nods a bit
says oh... oh... well, i just got to wondering where she'd gone.

i probably didn't need to tell him that
and maybe i shouldn't have it just came spilling out
perhaps w/ a trace of desperation
silence breaking urgency
and anger.

what i felt next on the tip of my urgent tongue was the need to fill him in on her death.

how she put up such a good front. such a good fight.
her desperate desire to become something more than what she felt she was.
her struggle for stability with unchecked disabilities and the scarlet letter of the street
how she could flash a smile
laugh like she knew a secret
lash out like a beaten dog
and spin one tall tale after another.
how depressed she'd been.
how after she took all those pills she changed her mind and called her ex
who didn't believe her and didn't come to help.
how for nine days no one came.
no one knew she was dead in her apartment
no one came
her cat had kittens in the closet during those days
her dog stayed at the side of her bed
waiting.
nine days
and a neighbor noticed the smell.

i felt the sum of this pile up on the tip of my tongue but i stopped it from spilling out.
i stopped it.
dammed up the desperate urge to testify
to tell him the story of her effort and her loss
to pour it out into the air where it can converge with all the rest of it
into the paycheck to paycheck to no check and the struggle to find self love and meaning.

let it out into the air.

help fill in the cracks she slipped through
her story fills the cracks she slipped through
stories like spackling in the cracks
like hot tar poured into the crumbling street

and neil, with his careful, calloused and dirty hands
he hands me my papers and my key
says there you are aaron, should be running just fine.
i turn and open the door to the outside
fresh air pours in and cools us
repairing the common ground
he flashes me a quick smile
its good to see you he says
be sure and come back.

yarn dyeing day!

 

these are my freshly dyed hand spun yarns for my next rug. Its gonna be a water rug.

exciting.

 

lately

I notice the birds.
Any bird.
Crow in the tree over my car.
Robins quarreling outside the kitchen.
The reflection on a windshield of sparrows in an upward spiral.
And when I say notice
I mean
A Silent noticing time stops clocks stops ticking moving thinking stops quick.
Suspended.
Its all about the birds.
Its been said a million times I know but I think its their access to the sky.
How they meet us briefly but they don’t need to stay.

the wild, the city and me

dreams.
lately i've been swamped w/ dreams. vivid imagery that stays with me for days.
these have been night dreams.
bears and sheep.
dramatic arguments w/ a lover.
landscapes red cliffs rushing rivers.
naked at a bus stop.

last dark i was living in an old matte-black school bus and a storm came and took half the roof off.

but today walking the dogs through the mud and slush, in the warming sun, i was overcome with the memory of the elk.
how every spring in the mountains where i used to live if i was lucky I'd see them
migrating in droves across the green and misty meadow above me.
just stunning. keenly aware that i was the only human seeing this.
one of those moments that stops everything. suspends time and fills it with wonder.

i miss the elk. and the mule deer. the bobcat lolling in the sun across the way.
the coyote yelling at my house in the moonlight. the barn swallows.the red tail hawks. the bears. and the owls...
how the owls call would fill me w/ foreboding, hyper-awareness and an uneasy acceptance of the unknown.

and...the city thing is ok. you know, i like being clean, and mostly having enough to eat and of course having family. these things are huge. and i suspect i'd be enjoying the city even more if it were a city that met more of my needs and desires....politically, socially, poetically. but the family is here so...i persevere.

my years alone with wilderness rattle through me dreamlike. whispering. reminding me to seek out wonder. seek out the things that suspend time.

Olympic Resistance: Indigenous Groups, Anti-Poverty Activists, and Civil Liberties Advocates Protest 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver Oly-demo

i'm all for a hearty historic convergence of marginalized groups that are pissed and doin' somethin' about iteven though, being the flaming gay that i am i can't help but have a weak spot for figure skating....but i keep it all in perspective

my animals

A State of Emergency has been declared on the Pine Ridge Reservation

*i remember posting something very similar to this last winter.


A State of Emergency has been declared on the Pine Ridge Lakota "Sioux"
Indian Reservation. People have died. Many more people are at risk of
freezing to death. Another cold front is coming in, yet where is the
national media coverage?

Does the 'Lacreek Electric Company' - a non-Indian utility often thought
to be prejudice, care that people are suffering, since they are pulling
meters every day? (which is illegal throughout the rest of the u.s. during
the winter months).

What will Obama and the federal government do about this? While they dig
out Haitians, indigenous people right here may freeze to death. What are
we going to do about it?

Help put this message out for help. The children and families of the Pine
Ridge Indian Reservation need our help now. It is urgent that all 40,000
residents of the Oglala Nation have electricity and propane.

Call LaCreek toll free at 800-655-9324 or (605)685-6581 to see how you can
help pay into a customer’s account, example $5 into ten customers would
require a $50 donation by you. Tell LaCreek to make sure tanks are full
for ALL area residents between the months of November to March – and to
collect any delinquent payments between April and October.

Also, check out this non-profit to see if it is appropriate for you:
Arlene Catches The Enemy 605-867-5771 Ext 13.
Tax Deductable, Non-Profit (501-c-3). She can take credit cards over the
phone: Pine Ridge Emergency Fund, C/O Economic Development Administration
PO Box 669, Pine Ridge, SD 57770-0669

And call Lakota Plains Propane at 605-867-5199 and find out what homes have
elderly or children and if they need money put down on their account to be
able to have a warm home tonight.

*..........................*..........................*..........................***************

List to assist Elders at Pine RidgeShare

Below are several Elders in the Kyle Community of Pine Ridge that are in
immediate need of assistance. The contact information has been confirmed
and permission has been granted to share their information with you.

There are several ways I will mention where assistance is needed and I'll
share here before I begin the information for where you can assist in
paying for Propane for those who need it or to contact a local grocery
store to pay for food for families who need this. Other ways of assisting
the individual families will be listed with their contact information
below.

To pay for propane for any individuals listed below use the information
here and be sure to make your payment to the account of the individual(s)
you choose to help. The propane company requires a minimum order of $120
of fuel before they will make a delivery to the individual. You can also
pay for a persons propane and they will credit the individuals account so
that when they do run out of any fuel they may have at the moment they can

simply call and the company will deliver more.

Lakota Plains Propane (will take credit card)
Highway 407
Pine Ridge, SD 57770
605-867-5199
Be sure to request a receipt and use the contact for the person you are
helping to call and followup to be certain they received the help you paid

for.

Kyle Grocery (will take credit card)
Owner: Liz May
605-455-2824
Again be sure to follow up with the person you make a donation for to be
sure they received the appropriate credit for purchasing food.

Elders in need are as follows:

Adolph Bull Bear
605-454-2190
He remains in need of continued assistance for propane, his son who is
disabled lives with him and he is in need of food assistance which you can

contact Kyle grocery (above) to make a donation for food. He will also
need help with his electric bill.

Arlene Talks (age 72)
605-407-8243
She has a daughter and a granddaughter (age 7) who lives with her and is
in need of propane and food assistance and you can contact the propane and

grocery above to assist. You could also contact her for mailing address to

send items for her granddaughter such as clothes, etc.

Janice One Feather (age 61)
605-455-2889
Mailing Address: P.O. Box 44, Kyle SD 57752
For Propane Delivery give House # 307
She has two grandsons living with her. Asa Steele age 7 and Dillon
Westover age 9. You can mail donations for the two boys to the mailing
address above for her and if you mail by fedex, UPS, etc use the house
#307 Kyle SD 57752. She is in desperate need of food assistance and
propane and you can use the info for propane and grocery companies above
to pay for those items.

Donna Garnette
605-455-2527
605-441-7541
She has two grandchildren (Boy and girl), you can contact her for an
address to offer assistance in clothes, etc for the children. She is in
need of Propane and food assistance and you can use the info above for
both companies to assist them with that.

Lilly Mae Red Eagle (age 88)
605-455-2612
Mailing address: P.O. Box 2, Kyle SD 57752
For propane delivery give House #HC2
She is in need of Propane and food assistance. You can use the info above
for both companies to assist them with that. For deliveries by fedex, ups,

etc use the house #HC2 Kyle SD 57752

Perlene Yellow Wolf (age 65 approx)
605-455-1458
She is in need of propane and food assistance. She lives with her daughter

Crystal and three children. You can use the info above for both companies
to assist them with that. They have a lot of problems with pipes freezing
so if anyone in the immediate area could help with this that would be
greatly appreciated.

May you be richly blessed for sharing your blessings with these elders and
ensuring some relief to their suffering. Please help now as the need is
immediate but please remember to help again in the future if you are able
to as their needs are continual. Thank you in advance for sharing your
love and helping these elders.

a moment to notice beauty.

this has been a particularly bad month or so.
and not surprisingly, I'm quite ill...whats new right, but its the sort thats from emotional and adrenal exhaustion, really just keeps me still , in bed, drinking lots of fluids... and thinking.

In the midst of all the trauma and stress, I need to mention whats beautiful.

I've gained a sense of family. There are children in my life.
Children that love me. Children that i love.
I have the most amazing lover. we have a love built on 14 years of friendship, complicated lust, common ground and understanding. we fight hard to stay here and stay loving and kind and appreciative and mindful of each other and what we give.

even when things are unspeakably hard.

cleaning out my old email I found this letter he wrote me 2 years ago today. a letter that when i received it, left me sobbing...sigh...such was the state of my protected, untouchable and lonely heart at that point in my life. with his permission and encouragement, i'm going to share just a bit of it. Its a beautiful thing.

"...My attraction to you is simple: strong, ever present and enduring. It
flashes like heat, like pain and grief. It exists even as it is
complicated by life, by violent brutality, parenting , loss, privilege and
isolation: it has resided. tenacious, in Resistance, survival and hope;
Patiently."

i hold this to my heart.
close.
close to my heart.
keeps it open.
keeps it feeling.
and possible.

deja vu...Misinformation, Racism and Militarism Have Frozen Recovery Effort

"we don't need soldiers..."the spin of emphasizing the "unrest". racism and classism in the media does this with every natural disaster that occurs in areas that are predominately people of color.And as we saw in new orleans, the US priority is "security" and "law enforcement" ...not helping people eat and recover. Its a horrible realization each time there is a disaster of this magnitude that capitalists w/ all that military might up their sleeves -always- see these events as an opportunity.

and for all the shortcomings of bill clinton, i thought he handled this BBC reporters attempt to again focus on the acts of violence and "anarchy" quite well....check out the video...

visual

out my front door.

yay.