Better Than Yesterday: On Repeat

Cracking down on these goals. So far; so good.

That's it for tonight. If I want to keep going at this rate, I have to get my ass in bed.

I'll leave you with this bad ass clip from Unapologetic where Laverne Cox is asked about the importance of trans actors and actresses playing trans characters. So fucking quick, brilliant and completely on point.

THIS (representation, suicide, murder...) IS WHY:

Thank you, yet again, Laverne.




Be well; be loved; shit matters.



-k.

Cuffing Season

Cuffing season is upon us.

Movies, blankets, cuddling up to get warm, fireplaces, candles, sweaters, warm socks at the end of intertwined legs, the jolt of someone else's cold nose touching yours when you first start to kiss, hands warm from holding mugs of tea pressed up against the cold of the inside of your thigh,  the particular kind of chill that runs down your body only in the fall and winter when a lover kisses your ear, kicking the covers off of your sweating bodies even though you were freezing just a few minutes ago.


Sugar and spice and everything nice; dirt and rain and semen.



---



k.

(image: Angel Series, Rome, 1977-1978 Francesca Woodman)

I'm the Queen of Talkin Shit, Then I'm Backin' It Up

Things feel good.

Toenails painted a cinnamon red. Fresh out of the warmest shower ever. Wet hair combed. Feet propped up on a chair as I type. 

I've been thinking a lot about boundaries as of late. How for people socialized as women, who by definition are supposed to be at the disposal for every man and his dog and cow and pile of crap in his backyard, setting boundaries goes against every grain of of socialization.

For people who grew up in abuse and violence (something that, inherently, seeks to destroy and has no regard for one's body, mind, or emotional well being), setting boundaries goes even more against the grain of the lessons they were taught.

It's for these reasons- and everything within them- that I am entirely unapologetic when I set them.

What I've noticed over my life is the following:

The people who don't see value in themselves having boundaries are the ones who will hate or resent you when you have them. That is their own lesson to learn. They may act entitled to your time and to your attention. Simply put: They are not.

The people who do see the value in themselves having boundaries are the ones who tend, not only to respect them, but to actively support them. They are the ones who will become some of the most fabulous people in your life.  They can also just simply be characters in your day that you appreciate.

A former boss of mine once told me "I would love to play poker with you" summing up the fact that she knew exactly how I felt about things and what she could expect from me. There was nothing hidden or obscured. There was no claim or promise I would make that I couldn't back up. As it relates to boundaries, it is the same. One knows what to expect from me. I won't be compelled by crying, anger, or confessions to cross my own boundary. Follow the boundary, and we'll be alright. Try to dig up under it, go around it, throw crap at it, or bully me into taking it down and you'll just see what it means to see an unmovable, unbreakable person in action.

There's a lot I've done in life. There is a lot more I will continue to do. Boundaries make sure that no one is wasting my time. Boundaries make sure I'm being treated how I deserve to be. In turn, these boundaries are what lets the people in my life, and the people still to come into my life, know that I'll respect and support their boundaries. This has been something that comes up a lot and has been a point of pride for me. It feels good to know that the people in my life feel this way about me.  It is important.

(pause)

This has been a love letter to boundaries, more or less.

And a cheer and an encouragement to all of you out there that feel pangs of guilt sometimes when you set them. That happens sometimes.  Especially if you are one of the folks who are even *less* expected to have them. Keep setting and having boundaries. They matter.
 
Because you do.



Be well; be loved,

k.

This entire post inspired by this song released six days ago that I can't stop listening to Yep.

Strange Silences, or, When We Are All Brands of Hustlers and End Up in a Courtroom Together, the Rule of Jank Prevails

A courtroom.

You know how it is: People on opposing sides go at each other and play dirty or perhaps, instead, they tell their tales in a civil manner to just be done with it.  But, no matter what, the part of engagement that is certain in this context is that they are never, really, to work together.

Today I was driving and started laughing thinking about one of the more comical moments in a court case I was involved in.  The moment revolved around a particular, accidentally conspiratorial silence that happened while the case was being heard.

There we were, going back and forth and this way and that and then, as the timeline was being reconstructed, there it was: The silence. The weird glances back and forth among all of us- from both sides. Glances that were imperceptible to anyone who hadn't actually been there that night. An event that all of us- the plaintiff, the defendant, and any of those who took the stand that day decided not to speak of.

Not because we were doing anyone any favors.

Simply: It would have made us all look bad.

It's one of the few truly funny memories I have of that whole, awful experience. No one on their side could have mentioned it because it would have thrown off parts of their fictitious story.  No one on our side mentioned it because the one that held the story knew that it was the part of the story that was the most brutal and aggressive.

I remember sitting there watching to see if anyone would call it out.

I knew that they wouldn't.

They couldn't.

They didn't.

It was a seamless silence we all shared that day.

A strange, forced bond that united us all.

And

solely in a recollective way

still does.




be well; be loved,

k.

On Knowing Your Worth Under Fire: The Beauty of Family (Chosen and Otherwise)

This week has been a mixed bag, but my loved ones are solid and that makes all of the difference.

For the trash bag:

1) Headache from hell earlier this week.

2) Received lash out #56239 from an ex I set a boundary with long ago. This time, it was a spit towards me and my father who, as many of you know, is currently in the ICU.

It's such ugly behavior.

I am glad I set the boundary back when I did, and continue to feel solid in having done so.


(interlude)

Dear You,

When, long ago,  I said "You can't talk to people that way" in response to too many stories where you went for the jugular with people you love, it was for a reason that included me. And that is why there is no chance I would ever talk to you in the contexts you propose.  I'm simply worth more than your cheap shots and the trash talk you seem unable to control at this moment in your life.

You continue to contact me from time to time with lash outs of demand/upset of why I have set and keep the boundaries that I have set and kept.

You cross the boundary to take sad shots and toss insults at me, never truly seeing that these actions of yours are the exact reason and necessity that the boundary exist in the first place.

As I have already said: The no is absolute.

Love,

Me

(interlude fades)

Highlights of this week include but are not limited to:


1) My niece, who is fucking hilarious and I can not get over our tag teaming on family matters. She keeps me laughing my ass off and we have each other through this in such specific and hysterical ways.

2) J and I ransacking the tea store: Fall is upon us.

3) Great readings this week.

4) My brother who I am excited to see again.  I'm into where all of this is going.

 5) Absolutely every living, breathing and burning part of the beginning of fall.




be well; be loved,

k.

(image: nicolas ripoll juan manuel arancibia via yvonne constance tumblr)

Slipping Duty, or, Your Stripes Have Been Revoked

Sunday night. My second company of the evening has just left. There is the smell of candles just blown out in the air in the living room. I'm curled up on the couch.  My refrigerator is humming. The lamp I've put in the dining room offers the warm glow I'm always craving.  I'm such a weirdo about light.  Jun'ichiro Tanizaki wouldn't think so. He'd be exactly on my side on this one.

I'm listening to a song by Nils Frahm called 4:33 or 4'33" off of his Late Night Tales album (open this in another browser and listen to it) on repeat.  It makes me think of all of the plans I had that never came to fruition.  I remember wanting to take you to see him when he was in town. I think you would have enjoyed it. Maybe not. I was never clear on how you felt about pianos.

Tomorrow I have a 6:30am phone call that is of importance.  Attempting to string together words of clarity and engagement can be more than a bit difficult for me at that hour.  But things have been different lately. It's so strange to think about all of the things that have happened energy/body/health wise in the past nine months. I am so grateful to be where I am at, today.

This evening was the slow enjoyment of other people in my home. There are conversations that happen that are different, here. It's been a while since someone commented on and asked me about the books on the bookshelf in my living room. It's the shelf that is my reference books. The books that, to me, are the most important to have in physical form in my home.  It was ironic that she asked me tonight. I have two books arriving tomorrow that will be added to it. One is the book I just finished reading that I want a copy of to own (White Fragility by Robin DiAngelo) and the other is DeRay Mckesson's book that at last is out, On the Other Side of Freedom: The Case for Hope. Listen to/watch this recent interview with him about it that was on the Trevor Noah show a week and some ago when you get the chance.

That's where I'm at tonight. Something that resonates with me on so many levels and on so many things from large scale to the most individual change or accomplishment is something that DeRay says in this interview.  I'll leave you with it:

...our tomorrows can be better than our todays. And the thing about hope is that hope is real work, not just magic.

             --  DeRay Mckesson


Here's to hope and the real work behind it.



Be well; be loved,

k.

(image via giampixxx tumblr)

The Scent of Cinnamon Laced Into My Brastraps

What being in school has taught me is the power of focus.

If I focus, full force, on reading, writing, studying then, when I am done, I get to focus, full force, on enjoyment. Of food. Of my body. Of music. Of flirtation. Of everything.  I love it.

I finished the little-but-strict 5 page research paper that was supposed to be tonight at midnight by 1:40pm today.  Which means I've gotten to

enjoy
every
bit
of
everything.

Even though I have a bit of a cold, I am still looking forward to Indian food and a movie (for class, yes, but it's just a regular movie!) and the smell of a fire and blankets and good company and warm tea because, well, I still have a bit of a cold.

It has been a very good week.

Next week will be as well.

I hope everyone is doing well out there.   My absolutely favorite season of the year is beginning, and I could not be happier about it and the delicious aspects of my senses that it involves.

Let it be known, without humor or sarcasm, that if you ever want to get in my good graces, one avenue is to bring me the largest caramel-covered apple with nuts that you can find.



Be well; be loved,

k.

(Image: Tokyo, 1978, Daido Moriyama)

Mother of the House of No Shame

Everything is lining up as of late in such a tailored way that is, almost, unbelievable. The most recent reveal was four days ago. I laughed out loud at the person that informed me that I would be getting a small portion of one of the goals I'm working towards paid for. The laughter was out of shock and not-so-shock. Shock because I hadn't even asked for it. Not-so-shock because when you are on the right path, some things just...happen. I'm feeling incredibly grateful. I'm also feeling fascinated with the level of intricacy in which things are unfolding.

(pause)

I've been thinking a lot lately about Frankenstein, about the eugenics movement, about history and about racism: my own socialized racism and the racism that is wound into and around everyone in history and present day from different angles.

I'm also thinking, tonight, about this lyric from this one RuPaul song. It says "I'm a femme queen: Mother of the House of No Shame".  I think about that lyric a lot. Any time I hear it, I feel it right down into my bones. No shame allowed. People don't get to shame my friends. They don't get to shame me. They don't get to shame anyone if they are in my presence.

I'll never shame someone to get their attention. I'll never shame someone to get them to love me. It's not how I get love. It's not how I want to get love.

My love for myself, for my family, and even for the people who shame stands with thick, solid legs that have remained, unmoved, by everything from threats to insults to legal documents to slashed tires to posters put up with my name on a list of people who should kill themselves.  My love stares, unmoved and unblinkingly, into the face of people who have done these things, or who have tried to force a response by taking shots at everything from mental health, to intelligence to my relationship with my father. (Pro tip: Don't take shots at any of these things with people. It is ugly, unnecessary, and just makes yourself look ignorant and/or really, really bad.)

It doesn't get anywhere with me. I don't know why it would. It doesn't have much to do with me. Their actions reflect more on to their own hearts, their own relationship with themselves, their own love-that-they-should-have-had-growing-up-but-didn'ts.

I remain exactly, warmly rooted right where I am in my house along with those whom I love and whom love me. It is the house that I built for myself, and for the people that I love. 

Shame isn't how things are done in my house.

Anyone who is in it knows that.

Anyone who is outside of it knows that, too.



be well; be loved,

k.

(title: Said Rupaul lyric)
(image: Self-Portrait, 2006, Shinichi Maruyama )
(Shout out to the one and only TS Madison because she teaches and reinforces this shit I'm talking about almost every day. She is the absolute queen of no shame bad ass boldness and in that, she's a total role model. )

Warm hands

Be good to yourself tonight/today/tonight.  Always, but especially now.

be well; be loved,

k.

A/Second/Hand

I.

I've always wanted to know what it would be like to go camping with you.  Not because I like camping. I fucking hate it, generally speaking. I spent most of my childhood outside and roaming around and being cold. No, I've always wanted to know because I bet you'd be good at it. I bet you'd be really organized with your camping gear, and know how to start a fire in some weirdly impressive way.

II.
Today was long but good. I worked a lot. Made a presentation to my department. Wrote a paper to get it out of the way (one down; one to go).  For that paper, I had to read a lot of academic journal articles having to do with social vs medical models of psychiatric care. The readings we had to go over for class had a lot of current research having to do with suicide.  It is a strange week to be diving so deeply into this topic. But you know how it is. The universe has a strange way of linking separation.

III.

I celebrated finishing the paper by skipping the early birthday party I am supposed to be at right now and, instead, heading home to put on sweatpants, eat a frozen pizza, and wash my face with warm water. My feet feel good being out of their shoes; my back feels good stretching the length of the bed. I'm listening to the dragging sound of the analog clock in my room and it reminds me that, with some things, it is just a matter of necessary time.



be well; be loved,

k.

(image: Erimo Cape, from The Solitude of Ravens, 1976, Masahisa Fukase)

Sordid Splendor

I get up early these days, and want to spring out of bed to do what needs to be done.

It feels good.

The people feel good. The ideas feel good. The connections feel good. The warmth on my face feels good.

(pause)

I'm so fucking thankful for the people I have so many chapters with. Our writing of these chapters, and looking back upon them, is hilarious and intelligent and maddening and sublime.

I like looking over the past stories of our hands, I enjoy the drip of the ink of what we are writing each day, and I ignite with anticipation when I see the unwritten pages in front of us.

I am happy exactly where I am

with you.



be well; be loved,

k.

(image: daido moriyama)

Delectable

It feels like an almost perfect Sunday.

I'm typing this on my couch in little shorts and my most comfortable t-shirt, in front of my fireplace. The house is clean, the floor smells slightly of citrus. I have tall candles in front of the fireplace lit with flames, and I have the patio door sliding door open to let in the smell of the cold autumn that is brewing outside.  A few feet away from me, the dishwasher hums and gurgles, preparing the settings for next week.

To my left, on a yellow end table, there is cup of raspberry tea (hot) and a perfectly sized piece of chocolate cake. I have been eating the cake with a steak knife as all of my forks are in the dishwasher.  The knife stands stabbed into the center of the slice as I type this.

I had finished my week's worth of homework and papers six hours ahead of the deadline and decided to celebrate. I didn't feel like company this evening and so, instead, went for a long walk and to the grocery store. It feels good. All of it. Especially the ache in my legs.

I keep cold cans of the flavored carbonated water she drinks in my refrigerator, only slightly different than the kind she seemed to favor.  A different brand.  A different fruit. It's not in a wait for her return, but rather, something to remember her by.  A functional tribute of sorts. I am down to the last few tablespoons of the olive oil. I'll need something less hers to continue the march.



Be well; be loved,

k. 

(image: Robert Maplethorpe in front of the Patti Smith cover he did. 1975. Via secrectcinema1 tumblr)

Send to Me a Love Letter Written in the Ink of a Fearlessness You Have Never Known

What if the things I am learning about are so exciting and vital that they keep me up late at night reading and writing and talking with my fellow classmates?

Well, it means that I am doing exactly what I need to be doing.

Let me take a moment, here, to feel proud of what is going on and to mark its importance. I would like to shout out to Víctor who wrote one of my letters of recommendation (it will always pay to know punks who got so obsessive in their nerdiness that they somehow ended up in academia), and to Airen who wrote the other one- the bad ass intellectual organizing machine of glory who can throw down analysis as hard as he can, well, throw down, and to Sadie for being the person I sent admission essays back and forth with. Thank you to Lauro who made me feel blushingly capable when he introduced me to the head of the Spanish Department years ago and sung my intellectual praises. Thank you to Dani, one of my first Spanish professors who always let me go a bit off script with my assignments so that they would satisfy my particular intellectual thirst. Thank you to Juan Luís who, at some point, was only teaching to me because no one else in the class understood the Spanish and/or cared about the significance of Charlie Chaplin's speech in The Great Dictator.  Thank you to any and everyone who accepted me as the weirdo in the classroom who would always pick ridiculously specific topics but always come through on them. Thank you to the people who congratulated me on getting accepted, and the people who understood why I didn't really tell anyone I was doing this until I was doing this. Known or unknown to you, you have all been a part of a very necessary cheering section that made me feel less alone and more able to do all of this.

Thank you.

In other news, someone incredibly important to me and I have reconnected after a bit of time we needed to grow.  There are some people who come into your life for you to learn from, but are temporary.  Then there are the people who you know, no matter what, will always be in your life and heart in whatever capacity fits.  There had been only three loved ones who were far in this way.  With this one back in the day to day breath of love, there are only two. It's just a matter of time and chapters when it comes to love.  It is always there. It's just a matter of knowing when to say no or yes.


be well; be loved,

always.

k.

(image: from untrustyou tumblr)

Walk With Me

Today was spent recovering and relaxing.  Good food, good film, good writing, a long hot bath, clean laundry, good coffee, closely shaved legs and oil upon them just out of the shower.

One moment from this weekend I keep thinking about was when D and I (D is the older gay bear who my mentor of sorts) were talking about relationships and about people we have been making out with as of late. He was in the middle of talking about this one guy he was considering and the exchange went like this:

D: ...there's this Cher song.  You're probably way too young to know this song because even when Cher sung it, it was a cover of an even older song.  Anyway, the song says "It's in his kiss"...

K (interrupts and starts singing the song)

D (looking completely confused):  How do you know that song?

K:  Are you kidding me? Do not Cher-splain to me. I'm fucking gay and it's fucking CHER.

In any case, after we finished laughing and singing the song, we got back into the conversation. He went on to say basically what the song says. You can tell how a person feels about you, and how you feel about the person, in their kiss.  Of course, I hated this topic because I immediately went directly past the tentative kisses that have happened to go back to thinking about really deep kisses that I've loved with a person I have genuine feelings for.  It's just no contest. It's knees weak, body attentive, fingers alive.

On that note, I'm going to send myself to bed. I have an enjoyable and early morning tomorrow.  I look forward to flinging myself out of bed.

Be well, be loved,

k.

P.S. Here's that song. Shoop Shoop Song

(image: Button To Secret Passage, 1938, Helen Levitt via secretcinema1 tumblr)

Guiding Guild

This weekend I spent 26.5 hours over the course of 3 days with a mentor of mine and became a bit of a mentor of his.  It felt good, this mutual mentoring.

In any case, we got into conversations about his relationship with his current man and then got into conversations about relationships in general. There was something about that mixed with the end of a very long week (and the end of the first week of school!) that had me thinking about so many different things. Possibilities. Futures. Lessons. Inspirations.

Somehow, in all of it, I came back to what has been my recent and funny dilemma of patience. I can care about and love a person so patiently. Keep a little chair at the dinner table for them forever until their upset and fear finally dissipate and they come to table.

Sometimes people are in a fight with themselves, inside, and you just have to wait it out.  Not put anything on hold, of course, but, just have that piece of you that thinks of them. Loves them even when you have no idea what they're up to or how they are doing. You wait the fight they're having with themselves out. Wait until they get out of the ring, bloodied by reborn, and come sit by you.

It's a weird reality, but in other ways, it makes total and complete sense:

It can be hard to feel like you are standing still when you grew up on a rickety boat.

(pause)

In other news, I feel proud and endlessly fortunate. Things feel so focused and excited and ready. Doors are opening and connections are revealing themselves in lightning speed. It hasn't even been a full week yet.

But, all of a sudden, all of these things that drew me towards them - all of these strange strands I didn't fully understand- are suddenly lining up. It's like having collected gold and silver pieces of thread over the years and then, one day, they all decide to weave together on the sunniest day you've seen yet. What you're met with is a wall of light and metallic reflection made only more profound by the sun. And you stand there, your mouth slightly open and your eyes stinging a bit from the light, wondering - heart beating in chest - how you could have never seen that this would happen.


be well; be loved,

k.

(image: msurfleet tumblr)