Hardwood Floors and the Change of Seasons

Do you remember the gentle parts of you?
The ones underneath those metal plates.
Do you remember when you swore that all you needed was a gentle hand?
That you would instantly melt the moment someone welcomed you
without strings
to sit down and show them who you are?
Or perhaps
offered you scissors
to reach up
and cut the strings
that others pull
because they have been making your wrists ache
and your heart hurt

for years.


Do you remember the jingle of your laughter at your own jokes?

Your sweater
and that thin mattress
on the floor
and the shifting darkness
of that room

as the sun went down.


It isn't the dark that scares you

it's the softness

While They Lookin Mad; I'm Just Lookin Good

Let's just dedicate this one to full and total appreciation of Young M.A.'s gender. It is fucking amazing. Sure,the PettyWap video, even in all of its suaveness,  is also kind of boring. But, you should check out this first episode of her being interviewed by a therapist, if anything because now is the season when the veil between worlds gets thinner, and she has a story about something that keeps happening since her brother died that is pretty incredible. And, I can relate to her assess-before-trust thing. And she has good stuff to say about the process of letting folks go after death.

Also, duh: She's hot AF and and SUPER GAY.

 You can watch the 10 minutes, here.

I've been thinking about Chaya a lot, lately.  She showed up in my dreams a few days ago and that is how I got out of denial and realized that day was the anniversary of her death.

Be well; be loved.  Be bold, be true.

k.

(title: lyrics from PettyWap by Young M.A.)
(image: via hot parade tumblr)

Forever Be, These Necessary Angels

I feel so fortunate to have people in my life that I can trust.

Last night I learned that the Stalker Creep I was dealing with a few years ago had a friend of theirs introduce them to a friend of mine. Stalker Creep knew that this friend of mine and I were taking some time so that we could be in each other's lives in the future. Within 60 seconds of meeting my friend, SC started asking her about me and focusing on trying to get information. My friend felt uncomfortable so she stopped SC and said "Look. I love her. We are taking space from each other right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I love her. I don't know what you experienced with her, but that is not connected to me."

SC backed off.

A few days later, SC saw my friend again and started getting her drinks. Then SC started asking about me again. My friend shut it down, again. SC tried to tell her made up stories of me showing up at SC's place of work and at places where they were putting on shows- that was when my friend saw a second big red flag. (Admittedly, this one made me and anyone who knows me chuckle.) My friend said, "As soon as (SC) said that I was like "This is a total lie. Anyone who knows you knows that you're not a fan of being around a ton of people period, let alone going to a place where you would run into someone you do not want to see."

A few days later, SC contacted my friend through Facebook and asked if she would write a character statement against me.

To which, of course, my friend said absolutely not.




As time goes on, these freaky puzzle pieces keep being handed to me.

What freaks me out is the intention behind it.

That SC went to lengths to try and scour and find a weak link in the people I have loved and that have loved me and have been in my life .  It is no surprise that the only person that they could find was a person who assaulted me some 8 years ago.

This isn't because my friends are bullies or loyal in the way a weird, low-grade mafia is.

It is because we have been good people to each other, even when - and  maybe especially when - things have been hard.

That was some intense ass news. The kind that makes your throat tighten up because you can feel the target upon you.

It's the people in my life that make me feel protected.

Love to my family. Chosen and otherwise.


be well; be loved,

k.

(image: Marc Chagall, L’ange à la palette (1927-1936) via Deadpaint tumblr)

The Blood in My Eyes; The Blood on Your Knees

My eyes feel bloodshot from the amount of reading and writing on a computer that has been going on, but I will say this:  I feel mthfking accomplished in the amount that I have gotten done and the fact that I have been able to remain social.

I am not tempting the Fates on this one, but just need to remind myself that that whole Work (Resist) Hard  / Play Hard thing is no joke. 

I'm all in for all of it.


k.

Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder: On Being Strong Enough to Hold Love Long

I'm feeling such deep, deep gratitude, humility, emotion and love right now.

Sometimes, it is hard to set boundaries with people and to love them so much from a far.

But what is true is that, any and every time it's had to be done: It works out exactly how it needs to, and some.

Tonight I met up with someone I consider family. She and I lived together in three different places over the course of years and experienced one death of a friend between us.

Three years ago, we had to part ways for a while and both promised each other that it was with the intent of being in each other's lives again in the future.

Tonight, when she sat across from me for the first time in three years and told me the things she told me, I felt so completely humbled. She told me what our relationship to each other had meant, how it has impacted how she has interacted with people since then. I told her the things I learned from her, and the things I have been thinking about since we had to part ways for a bit.

My friends have all known that, eventually, she and I would be reconnected and each one of them made a mention of their excitement that she was back into the fold.

It feels really good to have had years of love with someone, to have gotten to a point of recognizing we needed to give our relationship space and time, and to come back with the love more mature, complex and present.

I think the thing that got me the most (the thing that brought some tears  balancing on the lashes of my eyes) was when she thanked me for having the boundaries I had with her when I did.

I needed to hear that. On so many levels, and for so many reason.

It's odd how the timing of something can support and salve something completely unrelated.

She told me that I gave her space to be and feel what she was and felt and that I encouraged her to share her feelings and to tell people what she wanted and needed.

(pause)

It felt good to have the conversations we needed to but couldn't at the time. Our apologies to each other. Our forgiveness. It is deep. It is true. It is what life and relationships are made of.

I'm just feeling really grateful and really proud of her, of me, and of us.

Sometimes, holding on to each other from afar, no matter how sad or hard it can feel, can be one of the most loving and radical things we can offer each other.

I'm so, so glad to have her home again. The love is so full and so deep, it is palpable.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

Here is to loving in ways we never imagined we could.


Always,

k.
(image: Frederico Garcia Lorca Antoni Tapies, Ernest Altes)

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.