Saturday, February 27, 2021

Praise Poem for Elliot Page

 PRAISE

            Elliot Page

  for making so many

        movie pictures

     from inside a closet —


his little hands & feet,

             wrists & ankles

splicing scenes between

               the slats

of the accordion doors —


hundreds of frames

             serving as visors

into any # of parallel 

              universes


In scene 3, take 7

he is pregnant

he has a super useless power

he rides a pink bicycle

he plays a white violin


*Snap*  he’s grown from

                     girl to man

in a ghost town, a trailer park,

    a post-apocalyptic past &

a now that still doesn’t quite

                     understand.


12-3-20





Comments and critique welcome

Monday, February 22, 2021

Unrecognizable Octopus!!!

 FRIENDS,


In the Spring of 2020 I decided to write a series of Praise Poems that might possibly grow into a chapbook. It’s not the most original idea, but I wanted to celebrate small conquests in a quarantined existence. The original goal was to write one a day, but I fell quite short of that. That’s okay, because I still wrote way more than any chapbook could contain. I’m in the process of sorting the good from the bad, and as I do, I’ve found a few that are not quite publishable, but which I don’t mind sharing here in the Octo Diary. I welcome any commentary or critique anyone wants to offer.


This first one is about everyone’s favorite barstool poet, Rupi Kaur….





PRAISE Rupi 

Perched on the lip of her barstool

Like a vulture upon a gargoyle

Atop the tallest bank-owned tower

In Edgeville


She perches defiantly, serenely,

Then does a little swivel, twisting the

Barstool’s head toward the clouds &

Off she flies,


Or raptures, making the slightest sound,

A tap gurgling its last breath of ale

Few can even detect it

Let alone cum from its rarefied

Hush


She opens her folded hand to blow

A kiss & shows a tiny word

Written in bold 50 pt type —

             ‘SO


She swandives from the edge

Of the sky & into the depths

Of herself


6-1-20

Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Are We Vignette? (Almost)

 FRIENDS, COUNTRYMEN, & Some Sucky Trolls:



Lend me your Sears catalog spans of attention.


What can I say about this year? There was a lot of down time, then a lot of cabin fever, then a lot of time on the porch & in the yard. In our natural Florida habitat w/ all the clover & bumble bees & raccoons!


There could’ve been lots of arts & crafts & belles lettres going on. And there was some of that, but not nearly as much as I had planned. We did a couple episodes of the Buzbee & Whitman show but found our enthusiasm for the broadcasting arts had waned. But more on my failed arts projects later…


…what I’ve really enjoyed this year is YOUR arts projects & social studies adventures & technical advances. You’ve all come a long way. And I loved seeing how you filled your extended time slots so creatively.

Quiet Time



One realization I made this year was I am the master of my crafts. All of them. Up until now I have considered myself a foolish little dilettante playing at being an artist, or writer, or musician, or surgeon. But now I see that I am good at these things (not gifted, but finally arriving at my own latent pace). And you all are even better at your things than I am at mine.   


That’s okay. It’s not a competition. I always have been competitive though. I was an athlete before I was an artist. I grew up in a frat house full of brothers and was forced to compete at everything, even when I didn’t feel like it (most of the time.)


But I gave up being competitive this year. I’m just ready to plant flowers & vegetate. To read all the books on my to-read pile. To worry about growing old w/ depression & mental illness. To continue on the spiritual journey I started in 2017. 


Publicity Photo 2020


FIGHT CLUB


Speaking of the spirit journey, which I don’t speak of much because of y’alls’ maturity level on the subject— (Yeah, I got all your backward Zeppelin warm-fuxxies. And such. They made me cry & laugh at the same time. That’s what comedy is to me now — first the tears then the laughter. Must walk the path of darkness right into the whoopie cushion of light. [fun fact —didst thou know Led Zeppelin almost named theirself/theyselves “Whoopie Cushion”? Somehow I think their majesty would’ve been lost no matter how great the song writing, had they gone with that name]) —


Anyway, the spirit journey—which started with some shaky automatic writing in late ’17 and progressed to a vivid & violent encounter w/ the spirit world in March & April of 2019— is something I still don’t want to pour out here in this blog because it is an ongoing exegesis. 


One thing I did not want this spirit journey to be was me writing predictions for the future. That was not my intent with the auto-writing this time around. I’m nowhere near the psychic writer that D Foster Wallace was, but if you’re a quiet & astute reader you’ll find the virus, the search for a vaccine, the race riots of the summer, plus something about all game show hosts being sadists —(I’m looking at you ellen, and even you late alex!)— all made it into the mix.  


No, the thing I wished to address with my written meditations, the thing I wrapped up in white light as I scribbled away in the night, the thing I prayed rabidly for has been wiped out, at least temporarily, by this virus. And that’s a morbid twist I didn’t expect, but it has worked much faster than the legal system ever would!

Quantum Quintuplet Cartoon Doodle



ART


I told you how much I’ve enjoyed your creative efforts during our mutual quarantine, but let me say a little bit about these new scribbles you see before you — 


    first of all I know what you’re thinking “Vin, you are most definitely not the master of your craft”


But what if I told you I drew all these (most of them) w/ my eyes closed. I’m pretty much blind as a bat these days no matter how much light there is. I’m not even sure if DOTS are possible for me anymore. So there you have it…my new technique invented out of necessity. 


Art is something I wish I was better at, or went to school for, or could’ve handled going to school for; I did go to school for a few weeks, and then I flipped out (mostly about the cost of art school, but also my inferiority complex kicked into high gear around so much talent — see paragraph above about competitivity).


But I’m also glad that my artwork retains a child-like spirit, an unschooled sloppiness that no amount of framing & matting could disguise. I think it’s fitting for my quintuplet comediennes too!


4/5 Quints Ice Skate in Berlin



TRANSITION


I know I declared my transition COMPLETE on 4-25-19. I was feeling mighty masculine & toxically aggressive*, potent*, volatile* around that time. And I was looking pretty strong & fuzzy too. But I’m happy to say my transition was not complete.


I’ve changed & transformed some more since then. This really is an exercise in patience. I keep wanting to say, Yes I can see a dude in the mirror at all times. But there are stretches of time where I go back to looking quite feminine too.  And having to cover my fabulous soul patch w/ a mask has resulted in much misgendering during the pandemic. 

But someday I will be able to do one of those slideshows that starts with my first day on T and ends with Whitmanesque Whitman gazing through grey whiskers at an amazed audience.


[*These are not adjectives I want to embody as a male, and I don’t believe that these traits reflect masculinity on the whole; however I struggle with these bursts of self-dominion now, just as I went through bouts of sadness and low energy as an estrogen being. Hormones >: / Am I right?]


So….now let’s talk about my other transition. The one that took me from Baby Boomer to Gen Xer to Millennial Snowflake — all in the course of 50 years.

Pub Photo w/ initials



INCLUSIVITY


I began my life as a Baby Boomer only because I was born to Baby Boomers. I was expected to mirror their traits & values — hard work, self control, emotions way way on that back burner meant for melting butter…comparing yourself to everyone else & making sure you were just like them…but better. Not in any overt competitive way…but a sly comparison, a tallying of goods and accomplishments.


Only after moving away from home was I able to fully experience the traits & values of my poor little generation - Gen X. Oh what high ideals this generation possessed! Unfortunately we were pretty damaged by our lack of greatness to fulfill the promise of our ideals. But we also possessed enough of the hard work ethic of our parents to push through our slumps and create the world we wanted. We made progress, especially social progress, but also technological progress. And that’s what we were good for.


And only lately do I feel that I have been absorbed into the massive mosh pit of emotions that is The Millennial Generation. You who are the product of my gen’s loins do possess that high idealism, the urge for social progress and the verbal communication skills & digital intuition we passed down to you.


But you are Gen X on speed.  Our identity crisis became your mess to clean up. And while Gen Xers made progress in incorporating natural human emotions into the capitalist machinery that made up the bulk of our lives, Millennials required the capitalist machine to bend to their emotional will.


Wolf Howls to Warm Up in Iceland



Millenials are sensitive (as snowflakes apparently). This is just fine with me, as a bleeding heart libertarded artist dude, I like what the millennial & zillennial generations have allowed us to consider that we were never allowed to consider before. Mainly, that each one of us is a special stardust masterpiece—a unicorn that can’t be lumped into some Venn diagram of what a man or woman or Latino or black or Asian or disabled, etc…human is.


This, I learned, is called inclusivity and I was eager to participate in the new social order. As a Baby Boomer-Gen X prototype, designed to compete and compare at all costs, this seemed like a damn fine idea.  Even though it required some self-censorship, some uncomfortable realizations, some tears, some guilt…I felt like things were not going to go back to the old Boomer way anytime soon, so I might as well embrace something that I’d silently believed in all along.


When I was doing the ‘zine, I often made a point to specifically express that submissions were open to women, queer folks, people of color, etc… This did not mean I didn’t want subs from white guys, it just meant that I was already getting a lot of subs from white guys. I occasionally solicited work from poets I had friended online, and even then the men were more likely to submit stuff than the women. [Maybe because I have a masculine name now & they thought I was being predatory? Or why, I don’t know]


Anyway, I feel like this in itself offended some people, and I am still wondering why? I’m not a social justice warrior out to crucify those who aren’t on board with the identity politics of the day. But I’m also one who believes being a decent human doesn’t fatally wound anyone’s freedom of speech. So… I’m still in the dark as to why things are still so divided in these two camps.


If anyone wants to chime in, please do so.

Asleep in Austin



 I dragged the line into a space so new & vacant


                   My frenemies will never find it


             Maybe I do speak in the voice

                                                     of a Trumpet,


when the solo needs interrupting


                                          But remember


                               how Bush corrupted our vocab in the oughties


        & how like Obama (aka boring) we sounded


till 2016…


[piece of a poem I wrote in Oct ’19]



IN CONCLUSION


Thank you for reading this far, if you have. This is my progress report for 2020. And most of my progress is into blindness & old age. But I’m happy with what I’ve accumulated from these years on planet — I have a lot to take back to the mothership.


This is a terrible photo & I wanted to delete it but new Blogger doesn't have a delete photo option anymore. Sucky. Music lessons in Austin.


So…what about Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby? and The Octopus Review? and Singlewood? And regular old poetry submissions? and DOTS??? And Adventures in Reality? and all that stuff I used to just GIVE YOU FOR FREE?


There may be more…if I feel like it…remember…I’m only an 11% blogger & social media presence now.

Sunday, March 22, 2020

DOT PANDEMIC

Dear fellow plague vectors,


I am a pro at social isolation; how are you doing?

Hang in there; you’ll get used to yourself & all your own quirky charm.  Until then, offer yourself some kombucha and ask yourself some open ended, non threatening questions.  Try not to make yourself feel uncomfortable or scrutinized.  You might get nervous and try to run away from yourself…

If you approach yourself like you are your potential new best friend, who knows what might happen?? A whole new world could open up, OR you could die of the plague anyway…


Friends, my 3 favorite astrologers warned me that I should be more charming & less alarming in 2020, so here is the pretty landscape I ripped up in the Fall & promised to reimagine in the Spring. From memory alone! All I remember is how the sunlight pouring in the window made the couch look. And the mermaid sign. And that we were in Unit #8. 
(extra plague blessings to anyone who can read the T card : )))

I have so many ideas of what I’d like to be doing with all this time. I’m still trying to chap a book of poems. You all do not understand how difficult a chore this is for me. I’m not sure how you guys do it. I could keep submitting my books to contests, or I could patch them together myself (& perhaps include some art!!)  But neither way seems to be happening for me. I am so envious of people who can self edit & present a finite masterpiece.

Plus, I thought I was on a writing hiatus last year. and I was from May to August. But apparently I wrote tons between August & January & I don’t even remember it. Do we call that vacuum-of-consciousness? Yes, let’s.

I have dot fever. Pointillism plague. Stipple syphilus. All I wanna do is make some dots.   

not dots ^^^


Unfortunately, it gives me a headache. But I’m a do it anyway!!!!!!!
Dot cartoons. I have so many cartoons I wanna do… Shelter Cat & Trust Fund Baby (remember them?) I did one episode & it gave me such a headache I never did the next one.

I feel the qabalah in this work & call it 'Delta Jerk'


The Gentoo Emperors!!! There will be more from them I promise. They have so much to say.
And my newest cartoon family The Quintuplets, a group of toddler comediennes doing the publicity circuit.



I also want to revisit my TV show (Singlewood). I have ideas now. And we need ideas during a plague.

Singlewood dots c. 2012


Eeeyore (Tony, Moonchild) is also getting us technically ready to do some kind of broadcast/podcast/talking/laughing thing. He has all the technical skills. I have all the ideas. Together we will fight the negativity of the virus. With our proactive & Syd Barrettish antics.


One More Thing. And this is important, so listen up with your eyes:

I know a (the) lot of you were trying very hard to figure out what offends me. 
Is it WORDS? Nope, I love words. ( even words meant to hurt me don’t in themselves offend me)

Porn? Nope, I like porn a lot now that I’m the next guy. 

Dick jokes? Naw, I like a well crafted dick joke (that’s not a rape joke or a misogynist slur in disguise.) I made a pretty funny dick joke the other day, (you should’ve heard it. Now I’ve forgot it.)

The C word? The B word? The N word? The P word? The x word? The pH word? The brown word? The slang of the 1930s? 

No. What truly offends me on a visceral, splenetic level is:   Rumormongering. Gossip milling. Groupthink. Herd mentality. Mooing. Viral speculation. Fear of self. Camouflaging ones depth w/ a slick surface. Or hiding out in a crowd.

By the by,

    I know which two words offend all of you more than any others and, man….you’re weird : ))) 
i think this is weird too ^^^^^


******************ALSO, I have a serious question

What happens to our deployed troops during this outbreak? Are they quarantined somewhere? What about rogue groups like ISIS? 
Does the war on biology end the war on terror (for now?)
What about all the refugees in Europe, and all the families in cages by our border? What’s being done to to keep them safe?




I don’t hear much about these demographics in all the reports about the spread of the virus & they seem important, ‘mmmkay…I’m looking into it now… 

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Uninstalling the Old Aeon

J/k! It’s my… 

Favorite Music of 2019

60. Bodega — Shiny New Model (dig the single but the rest of EP is very brief)

59. Ava Luna — Moon 2

58. Shikoswe — Back in the Tall Grass (love the single—haven’t heard whole album)
[thanks, Bagel!]

57. Vagabon — Vagabon   [thanks, Sheila!]

56. Plague Vendor — By Night (+ single)

55. The National — I Am Easy to Find 

54. We Were Promised Jetpacks — Repeating Patterns 

53. Art d’Ecco — Trespasser

52. Mondo Cozmo — (love the new single, hope there’s more!)
[thanks, Sheila]

51. Kiwi, Jr — Football Money (fratty but likeable)

50. GRLwood — I Sold My Soul to the Devil When I was 12 (great single, listening to EP now)

49. Surfbort — Friendship Music [(late ’18) thanks Bagel!]

48. Mannequin Pussy — Patience

47. Holiday Ghosts — West Bay Playroom

46. Dog Orchestra — Pity Party single (2018, always a year late on Dog Orchestra)

45. Blood Cultures — Best For You single [thanks Sheila!]

44. The Foreign Resort — Outnumbered

43. Pottery — No. 1

42. Pip Blom — Boat

41. Baxter Dury, Delilah Holliday, Etienne de Crecy — B.E.D. [thanks Bagel]

40. Alex McArtor — 2 singles (Touch & Party’s Over)

39. Julia Jacklin — Crushing

38. Crumb — Jinx

37. Tullycraft — The Railway Prince Hotel

36. The Regrettes — How Do You Love?

35. Ladytron — Ladytron (sounds like Ladytron)

34. Greys — Age Hasn’t Spoiled You

33. Def!cit — Appleseed

32. Methyl Ethel — Triage (my favorite single of the year on this album)

31. Vivian Girls — Memory

30. Guaxe — Guaxe [thanks, Bagel]

29. Body Type — EP2

28. Drab Majesty — Modern Mirror

27. Olden Yolk — Living Theater

26. Abjects — Never Give Up

25. The New Pornographers — In the Morse Code of Brakelights (sounds like The New Pronographers)

24. Mattiel — Satis Factory

23. Rubblebucket — Sun Machine

22. Panda Bear — Buoys

21. Seratones — Power (woo!)

20. Operators — Radiant Dawn

19. Polyenso — Year of the Dog

18. The Coathangers — The Devil You Know (sounds like the Coathangers)

17. Elbow — Giants of All Sizes (it was an Elbowy kindof year)

16. Sink Tapes — Enough to Flood the Cow

15. Du Blond — Lung Bread for Daddy [thanks Bagel]

14. Ride — This Is Not A Safe Place [thanks for not waiting 19 years to put out another album]

13. Guster — Look Alive

12. The Proper Ornaments — Six Lenins

11. Juliana Hatfield — Weird

10. Kim Gordon — No Home Record

9. FEELS — Post Earth

8. Wand — Laughing Matter

7. The Twilight Sad — It Won’t Be Like This All the Time

6. levitation room — headspace

5. Dry Cleaning — 2 EPs (Sweet Princess & Boundary Road Snacks & Drink)
[thanks Bagel]

4. SQUIIIIIID!!!! — Town Centre EP & single

3. Ezra Furman — 12 Nudes (yowzra)

2. Sofi Tukker — DANCING ON THE PEOPLE (perfect new year music)

1. FONTAINES, DC — Dogrel ( I didn’t want to give this first place because it’s so obvious, but it’s also undeniable)

*********

That's a ton of great music! Now I must compress it all into a 2-hour time slot by Saturday. 


Best wishes for 2020

Saturday, November 16, 2019

DOTS!! and Dash

HEY GUYS!!   HEY FRIENDS!!   HEY PEOPLE!!!

After five decades of planeting with you ,You’d think I would know your preferred nouns by now. But I don’t.  You’re still the mystifying organism known as Humanitor

But it’s okay—I misclassify myself on occasion too. I’m one of you & though less mysterious than you I’m still not fully solved.

*****

It’s not the New year (new Decade) yet, but I’m desperate for change so I’m going to elasticize a bit
past Thanksgiving to the knowledge that the Internet (and social networking) was the strangest & most magical & also least wholesome experience I could’ve ever imagined in my life;

I think in 2009 I proclaimed Facebook “more enchanting than attending one’s own funeral” and I meant it. it was a blast and it was more entertaining than television, or my real introverted life before the extronet;

for me being alive on the internet was more lively than going to a party in real life. and that’s…not as sad as it sounds, it’s hard to see people having fun in real life when I’d rather be home writing reading singing or just about anything.

So this has been quite an enlightening, evolutionary, revolutionary decade we’ve spent together & I think we’ll look back at it & pat ourselves on the back for being such brave magicians.

The Gentoos perform their own version of The Crying Game


***************** BUT WAIT

I haven’t written enough about being trans here, and I apologize.  When I started this momentous portion of my life, I thought it would be more newsworthy : ))

But my change has not been as drastic as the younger (& same age as me, in fact all other trans guys I’ve seen) and it has puzzled me, and my friends, and my doctors. But I changed more this year than in the first 3 years on T combined. I’m finally at a plateau I can live with without wanting to murder the person in the mirror.  I love my post-post-post modern pubescence!!!!

I never expected to be Aquaman, and yet I felt like him at times this& last year. My T was high then, but it’s high now. I never, never, ever understood the female hormone cycle, no matter how many times I read about it in Cosmo or a doctor explained it w/ charts & all. I just never got which fluid was in the beaker at which time of month. And why it had to affect me so much [??]  I know that’s problematic, but I hope you understand

Anyway, I’ve never been good with hormones. They’re like little foreign languages flowing through my endocrine system.

I feel pretty good gender-wise, though.  And that’s something to be Thankful for as we bypass all the turkey talk.

The Gentoo Emperors — Teduardo, IO Pine, Cayden Haydenson, and Susie G (full biographies to come)


I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that sometime in 2014 my brain broke and its probably not going to return to the way it was. I’ve adjusted to a different level of foreboding that tells me something absolutely catastrophic is going to happen all the time. It took five years to calibrate my new levels of foreboding w/ PKD-approved reality. But…

…I’m still not sure something catastrophic hasn’t already happened???!!!?? 

Anyway, I tried to fix this many ways, including yoga, fitness, all the healthy stuff that I was told to do by well meaning folks
and then had to feel like a huge failure when I couldn’t live without medication any longer.  (I no longer feel bad about this—I’m old and brains go bad.) I just worry about my liver now. But let’s not start a hypochon-CON.

I’ve had a good life and I know for sure there are enough good people out there, even if I can’t talk to them regularly.

Pixel gets in on the act


THIS YEAR…I did what I’ve wanted to do since 11-8-16. I lost hope in people. I gave up on life. I know, I know…I’m a rich, crazy, asshole who can do something like that…that’s partially true…but a little exaggerated : )) Anyway, I wouldn’t recommend it if you have many real world commitments…it’s a feral adventure…and be sure to have the support of angels (living and other) around you. 

I had to unconsciously face some conscious [biases?/terrors?/glitches?/some of which were not even my own] and that sounds so easy but nothing was labeled and all the pie was in uncharted territory,

the soft innards leaking past the tinfoil...mmmm, pie.

There is no 14-year-old girl here. Nor any mama. Your dumb pie will land on the wall way above my head.                                        

No papa bear eating toast, but there was a jaguar spotted swimming across the channel.

Misuse my words and treat them as you would my torso when you thought it was yours

and it may be funny but I hope it’s also a big load off your…

…..


…..


….

shoulders.  [There are no puns here! Only double thrusts and ironic jabs; so sharpen or grow up]

Muchi gratz to Matt Groening for learnin' me to draw a proper bun!


******************AND THIS!!!

I’ve always known what everyone wants to know (as soon they get away from you & with their friends) is all the sexual stuff.  I encourage everyone to do their own research on the effects of testosterone & estrogen  [freud missed 

the boat when 

he didn’t guess it could flip over]

I was going to do a thing on transitioning bathrooms, but it wasn’t very exciting. I never was a fan of public restrooms, even as a lady. And let me tell you, no matter how strongly you identify as male, the women’s restroom is a luxury you give up when you pass too well as a guy. The lack of privacy is a bit alarming, speaking as a human of either gender who is accustomed to stalls or peeing in a cup in my car : )) But I think the most bizarre bathroom experience was running into my brothers in there at a wedding! I quickly ducked into a stall so I hope it wasn’t as awkward for them, but thank fuck that stall was open : O

Usually men’s restrooms are darker and quieter than women’s. That’s nice. But women’s rooms smell better! That’s about all the bathroom data I could gather. I hope that was entertaining enough for you.

WRONG!!!!!!


With the help of colorful dots, medication and Eeeyore, I feel better than I did when I decided to give up hope on people (March-ish). I think the pendulum will strike a less vertiginous balance, though I’m not sure it’s done swinging in all directions…

…which is to say I’m still 115% for Free Speech. Especially for artists and whistleblowers. I had to wrestle with my own peanut gallery of voices with the question of someone’s right to incite violence using hate speech, after the Australian guy went to NZ and shot up a bunch of Muslims and then claimed prominent world leader DT’s rhetoric as his inspiration,
[ I wish I knew more about clauses and addendums about gagging potential dictators. Did we not clausify this stuff after WW2—what was the verdict on Free Speech then?]

Can he shoot someone on 5th Avenue and get away with it? The only thing I see in my perfectly conscious and wide awake mind is YES.  And that’s not a the Tiptree-approved reality I saw myself growing ripe in.

Anyway, I know there is a faction of free speech activists who defend it just so they can get away w/ promoting their hateful nationalist racist sexist agendas. 
I hope this is not us, Miss Question Mark/
                                 Madame Asterisk!   << misgendering someone else is kinda fun!

************ IN CONCOLLUSION

Are you wondering why I keep talking about the internet and the social networks in the past tense? As if they are something I enjoyed at one time, but not so much here and now?  Well, I’m bout to deliver a premature new years resolution for the whole decade of the 20s — yay The Twenties! Let’s all be Dadaists together (or separately)—

My resolution is to be on the internet less! I’ve gotten down from a steady 77% to a nice comfortable 44%. But I’m gonna crank it all the way down to 11%

An 11% internet life is all I can handle from now on : )) and that includes this blog too! 11% Octopus, I hope you understand. I am thrilled to have reconnected & known so many new people (esp writers). But now I shall go have my Syd Barrett years, so don’t be surprised to see a fat old bald guy growing roses in the garden next time you stop by!



************Post Script Re: DOTS

Hey GuyFriendPeoples, you know I don’t do much art that’s pretty. It’s just not what inspires me. But I want you to know I was making the most beautiful dot portrait of the view from our cottage on Siesta Key. It was turning out quite nicely, but…

…the art gods demanded a sacrifice out of the calypso blue   So I ripped up my landscape &

kicked my own ass

& everyone was happy

I will try to recreate the landscape sometime in the Spring. Now is too soon.


***********Post-post Script re: 8

This summer I found out I had an 8th sibling. Along with my 2 natural born sibs, my 2 long lost step-sibs, and my 2 younger adopted sibs, there was a sister born before my parents met in college. It was treated as a huge secret & swept under the rug, but I knew from a young age that my family was a very secretive unit, so I wasn’t surprised to find out five decades later that there were even more secrets than I’d figured out on my own. I haven’t met her yet. But I have no doubt she will be more welcome in our family than I ever was.



And so it goes.