Tonight was spent watching a film for class that was almost three hours long. The main character of the first third of it was a red headed elementary school age girl who somehow managed to have the demeanor and face of a 52 year old alcoholic. I don't know if I would go as far as to say that it was creepy, but it was definitely distracting.
I've been learning a lot. What is exciting to me is that I am getting into the layers of what I have been craving to know more about both historically but, more so, factually and research-wise around how much stigma of mental health diagnosis and misinformation can really fuck shit (and people) up in profound and horrific ways. One class I am in goes very deep into Mad Pride, psychiatric survivor movements, pushes towards getting rid of diagnostic manuals, and the lack of reliability and validity in tests related to said diagnosis. I enjoy the class a lot. I always knew that there were rooted and deep reasons that all of the radical disability advocates I know include mental health in their analysis - I have as well but have felt very shallow in my understanding of the histories of why. It's very satisfying to be remedying that in a "deep dive" way.
(pause)
and of all the meanings of the word, the one I choose is this:
a part of a deceased holy person's body or belongings kept as an object of reverence.
synonyms: remains, corpse, bonds; cadaver
May Sebastian forever look over me
erase your thighs from my mind
with his
angled arrows
and heaven-bound gaze.
***
You, my love, still asleep in August,
my queen, my woman, my vastness, my geography
kiss of mud, the carbon-coated zither,
you, vestment of my persistent song,
today you are reborn again and with the sky's
black water confuse me and compel me:
I must renew my bones in your kingdom,
I must still uncloud my earthly duties.
-- from Still Another Day; Pablo Neruda
be well; be loved,
k.
(image: Tine Bek via untrustyou tumblr)
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