Back

in and out and in and out and in and out and in

I have been hiding at the center of my heart that has been floating at the center of my stomach. No jokes, no perverted stories, no amount of romance or accidental flatulence or shitting has compelled me and snatched me me from the ventricle I am hiding in. I have become one with my own walls. In and out and in and out and in and out. I began the summer by shitting my pants on the B26 and it is coming to a close as I recover from a 2 month long sinus infection caused by mold that was growing on the inside of my air conditioner. A lousy back drop of body problems to world problems- almost like it is all connected? No. Probably not! ha.

I keep reading tweets about how we have become numb to images and videos of blown up baby bodies and cement pulsated to the point of dust. Belongings and loved ones becoming ashes. I am not numb to it. Instead, I have hid inside my own heart- inside my own home.

And I hoard. I am hoarding all types of useless shit knowing that somewhere across the globe or around the corner from my apartment someone else’s shit is being taken away from them. Whether it be the incineration of a life or the incineration of a saved letter. Both make me weep because I am a water sign. Because I am sentimental. Because I have narcissistic tendencies that thread all evil to me. Because I chose to hang out with someone I love on the night of the pisces moon and fall asleep with my feet in his lap while he watched Beetlejuice for the first time. When I woke up to move to my bed, I realized my hands still smelled like tequila and cheeseburger but I didn’t wash them. I just got straight into bed smelling like the things that keep me going in this god forsaken country: Red Meat and Liquor.

Those aren’t my only vices as of late, though. Lately, I oscillate from Secret Lives of Mormon Wives to menial tasks at my admin job to popping edibles early weekend mornings to buying ugly $5 articles of clothing at a thrift store around the corner from my parent’s house. And when I am not doing any of the above, I worry.

This is my first Substack post in about a year and a half. From that point until now, a lot has changed. I deleted pages of writing and let relationships implode. I watched the health of loved ones deteriorate and I have spent countless hours organizing. I have abandoned creating anything and made dramatic statements to my friends that I am retired only to find my way back to it when bored at work, between sitting at a mahogany desk, telling strangers where the bathroom is. I am a personality hire. Months into the most publicized genocide, I became a fucking admin assistant at a fucking non profit that makes spineless statements about diversity. It is sick. And the most fucked up thing of it all? I feel at ease because it is fucking easy and I am good at it. I get the elevator and toilets fixed, I purchase toner, I send emails to the entire staff when there are snacks for the taking in the communal kitchen, and I wear my little outfits. I am competent and fake. A year and a half ago I worked for a grifter who claimed to be otherwise and now I am here, working for white people who religiously listen to NPR and play various games via NYTimes. And it is so easy. It is so easy to appease those who stand for absolutely nothing. I wish I realized this at my other jobs. I wish I held less stake and less value at my workplaces when I realized they did the same for my labor. My last job at a bookstore, I felt I had impact. The reality is there is no real substantial change or real impact a worker like me can make while trying to play nice with your boss. So, rather than try to strive at my place of employment, I float. I nod my head, say yes, put together treats for coworkers birthdays, fill out spreadsheets, use the office supplies to print materials for the socialist org I have committed to, then head home to continue the real work. The real organizing amongst comrades. The real work of having my family deal with the reality of our healthcare system. ETC.

Which is all to say, now that I am at ease at my bull shit job, I am back to writing a bit more. I am back to being annoying and over dramatic to people who probably forgot they were subscribed to this and are now like “not this dumb bitch again..”

Yes this dumb bitch again. Clawing out hoping to make something more substantial than my last round. Hoping to remove urgency from creating and save the urgency energy for the things that are actually urgent. xoxo