Disengagement

I’ve always been ambivalent about social media and these days that ambivalence is tending towards the negative so I’m going to disengage for a while. Creating free content for Meta while Zuck and his oligarch bro squad are competing to become the first trillionaire at the cost of community and global disintegration is becoming onerous. Sure, social media can result in good stuff getting done as well but for me, for now, it feels like it’s tipping in the wrong direction so I’m stepping back from it.

“For the master’s tool will never dismantle the master’s house.”
—Audrey Lorde

Inspired by A Pleasant Pause. Illustration by the TV Sign-off Test Pattern.

Journal Entry #2

Dear Miss Pube,

You arrived unexpectedly much to the horror of my sister who announced it to the family. Our single father rushed to the pharmacy and returned with a book on menstruation left silently for me like a surprise gift.

I expected you would have come up during sex-ed class, but instead, there were only unrecognizable diagrams of penises and vaginas narrated by old people. You grew into a beautiful bush, and then with the trends you were stripped away into a silky sand dune on an island oasis. Today you are a Mrs. Pube; wiley, wielding and wise.

Inspired by Tom, Photo from Pngtree.

Tom

Flipping, last night, through our grade-school memories, Tony told me a story I don’t think I’d heard, about a kid in our class whom I barely remembered, but who it turns out had lost both his parents when we were all together in Mrs. Applebaum’s Grade 7 class. And you’d think I’d remember something like that, but the only thing I remembered about Tom was from the first time we’d showered together after gym, and that he was the guy who had clued me into the fact that people with red hair would of course have red pubes.

     Sorry Tom.

But wait, it gets worse, because Tony could barely believe it himself, and so I decided to show off a little and see what I could find online, because sometimes I think I’m pretty good at that stuff, and then other times I just wish I could stop, like when I found out that Tom’s mom had died on April 20th while visiting her family in Montreal, and his dad had died just nine days later, like when I discovered that Tom—their “chosen son”—had been adopted as a baby . . . and then that poor Tom had died in 2019.

Inspired by Dying. Photo by Walker School Photo.

Nutcracker

Bless UAW’s Local 444 because all of us Chrysler kids ended up with good teeth and mine is probably the last generation to have relatives with false ones. Not today’s veneers or implants but entire mouths quarried and replaced with full sets of uppers and lowers. How many of us had our childhoods mildly traumatized by Old Timers taking out their clackers and enacting some sort of Clem Kadiddlehopper kitchen gag? And they rarely fit. My own poor mom suffered through several versions, so on any given day her smile could range from Meg Ryan Chiclets to Trilogy of Terror.

Inspired by Baby Teeth. Photo by THEPALMER.

Baby Teeth

Tiptoeing in, I reached beneath her pillow to exchange her carefully-wrapped tooth with a shiny coin. The transaction would please her (Oh, the candy she could buy now!), but I had a quandary. Those little gnashers, like first steps, were momentous. It seemed callous to toss them out. So I secretly saved them all, till I realized that was kind of icky. What was I going to do, make a necklace for her Sweet Sixteen? That would cement her cool in the eyes of her friends. And so, I dumped them, un-commemorated and uncelebrated. Better callous, I decided, than icky. 

Inspired by Gap Kid. Image by Oxana Zaytseva.

A Pleasant Pause

Let’s shift from orange through tangerine and peach to bubble-gum pink and the deep crimson of valentine cards. Just a reminder, I prefer dark chocolate with no nuts. But don’t bother with the roses; cut flowers never last. And if you can’t get a reservation at that overpriced restaurant, no matter.

Turn off the news and come sit with me.
Let’s laugh and talk, even though after thirty years I know all your stories and you know mine. 

Let’s hold hands on the couch.

Let’s snuggle and soothe our chronically jangled nerves, and whisper to each other,

“I’ve got you.”

A reply to Orange Pizza Shit and inspired by a desire to change channels just for awhile, please! Image designed in Canva by Nancy.

Orange Pizza Shit

The tyrants are breeding too many fools
We’re all tired and it’s turning us cruel

They’re having another oligarch rally
It’s all fireworks and guns
It’s just a bit of fun
It’s all god and money
It’s all oh so sunny
It’s shiny trucks and combat boots
It’s billionaire business suits
All heiling every utterance of their fatuous keeper
Their very stable genius
Pussy grabber
Dictator
USA!
USA!

While all the world sees is
A nasty child howling, belligerent and inconsolable
An orange boy prone
On his big orange throne
Rubbing his little orange worm
Trying to make it spit

Inspired by February’s Cry. Illustration by Fred Ni.

February’s Cry

Early dawn breaks
Body heavy, eyes wide and too alert
Looking out to the bleak barrage of gray sky

Soothing sounds of Vivaldi, harshly interrupted
Black hawk down
Young lives gone
Families broken
In a fleeting second

Never mind the tariffs, turmoil, tyranny
Piercing twangy sound bites
Overreactions and condemnations
All too simplistic
For life’s true tribulations

The dark cold Potomac
Enveloped their innocent hearts
And cascaded fears into waves

Early spring sun will settle the river
And awaken their souls
They’ll make peace with the cherry blossom petals
Floating silently along

Quiet the outside and listen within
Humanity’s calling

Inspired by Sereni-tish. Image by Image Creator.

Sereni-tish

So, why did it take me so long to figure this out: that there’s really not a goddammed thing I can do about the politics down there? It’s not my fight; I cannot vote. I can’t even make a miserable campaign contribution without breaking their laws.

     So, instead, I’ve already given a few hundred of my Canadian dollars to support Wikipedia and the Internet Archive—nerdy, I know, but I fear that they’re due for some unwanted attention.

     And I’m already hard at work to send another proud Parkdale socialist to Queen’s Park on February 27th.

     This I can do.

Inspired by The Miskopalian Church of Parkdale and the Serenity Prayer. Cross-stitch by Steotch.