31-12-21 an improbable city of three or four massive concrete discs arranged like alternating leaves, running up a long dangerous ramp to the first of them, possibly doing a bit of flying, feeling very fit
29-12-21 19th century Black time-traveling doer-of-justice
??-12-21 a cable car from the lower, gently peopled valley to the improbably large lodge near the peak of what seemed to be a crab-claw/bulb-shaped mountain
16-12-21 hiking and climbing; wandering around a decrepit school
15-12-21 making food with P
29-11-21 R catcalling L, and she replying witheringly, and I trying to parent him into better behavior I guess; then a wild party involving fluorescent bonfires and a lot of fine-looking human beings
15-11-21 intergalactic travel
Playing a bass drum for more than musical reasons
13-11-21 arriving at a multi-story wooden sleeping-cubby wall - a daycare not unlike a honeycombed human-made tor - to help S with its kiddos. There were plastic pods that fit onto a vertical rail and ridden not unlike a bike that somehow helped with going up and down if they needed it
31-10-21 Mrs. C, the imperious P.E. teacher of my Pearl Creek Elementary School experience, was yelling at yet another child as a number of them sat around her on the gym floor. I quickly brought her attention to me, off of the child she was threatening to turn into herself, as I understood: I would teach this teacher.
19-10-21 Korean business owner assaults another and takes his money
17-10-21 under threat of sexual assault from a friend
15-10-21 bike trip around the Mediterranean, with a lot of high sandstone cliffs and tiny beautiful ports, and some beautiful human I was considering allowing to steal my bike
22-9-21 I was in a much more feminine body, and I was masturbating
9-9-21 A dirty, messy, evocative, and thoroughly heartwarming love letter to life! Via, of course, landfills.
I’ve never been to Africa, never been to South/east Asia, never been in the great Pacific garbage patch, never seen more than footage of the non/human peoples and places most heavily affected by the deregulated excrement of capitalism. I’ve barely been to my own landfill (although the Gwich’yaa Zhee dump: yes, many times). My only sense has been that they’ve been doing their damndest to make the best of the injustice that washes up on their shores and has been otherwise forced on them: they’re some of the most resilient and ingenious people in the world, and they shouldn’t have to be.
So imagine my delight in dreaming about a reality, a near-future, where power to discreate the necessity for landfills - the very idea of “othering” waste to nonwhite places - was not kept from the human and nonhuman peoples with the most skill and practice with it; was in fact given to them as a fundamental part of transitioning to a regenerative, need-based economy. I remember seeing people laughing and running among hills of “trash”, as some sort of site audit was being done, and the vainglorious possibilities of plunder still held excitement (HEY EVERYONE I FOUND A BITCOIN). I felt the earth and all the lives around me sigh with relief at their long-awaited reconciliation. I saw a bird, drunk with excitement, redisperse the richness of their shiny, shiny ball-bearing trove at my approach. And of course there were probably a number of details I can’t remember now: I hold them together with the ones I do as the unknowns of this near-future I have such hope for. Most importantly, I remember the deep release of anxiety within myself, that no life or need would be ignored, no part of the circle othered, in the healing that was happening.
More:
17–8–21 spending time with male friends and feeling comfortable and different; at least B C A and E, one of whose babies was in a living basket
15–8–21 dancing in a studio with friends and feeling very affirmed in my gender
14-8–21 practicing flying at the coast finding a cave in the face of a cliff that I eventually discover to be inhabited by an old white woman whom I avoid
27–7–21 driving rather recklessly but with great excitement down a mountain with C, arriving at an underground University
26–7–21 J hosting a dinner gathering and melting a heap of confections with a blow dryer
25–7–21 traveling with R through Canada, stopping at a hotel where check-in required us to give our vaccination status and country of birth
1-7-21 thinking a lot about parenting
Star Wars that was genuinely awe-inspiring and anti-racist and decolonial
2-6-21 living in a reconfigured G household
8-4-21 what even is a dream? Before I fell asleep I had been thinking about what a relief it should be to be wrong about our judgments of other people, and the amnesia that comes along with being presented with antithetical information. Then I woke up in the middle of the night with a deep sense of relief: something about just being where I am, doing what I'm doing, in life. I don't feel that very often, and I want to hang onto it.
I had a similar dream moment in March, feeling good about being seen in a wheelchair. Also in March, potentially unrelated, I alternated between the disparate first-person views of the vole-sized and human residents of a home as they negotiated sharing space.
More:
6-3-21 I was touring a new apartment option, and it had a nice big bathroom, and there was a cat so I wanted to be friends with them
23-2-21 Escape the hotel! Despite some intermittent aerial views of what appeared to be Hawa’ii that I very much wanted to go and make better relations with, I was apparently confined to wherever it was; dull, expensive interiors, insufficient windows, and colonialism-affirming presentations about vacation travel packages, complete with white people in swimwear. I think I had been trying to read on the edge of the room, and remember taking several walks through the rest of the hotel to work the frustration out of my body.
More:
27≤-1-21 talking and laughing in and out of Arabic with an imam-ish person outside a stone temple; jumping down tiers of offices; rehearsing with a rhythm section with a member with down syndrome who at last I didn't feel superior to
17-1-21 and then I dreamt that someone close to me sexually assaulted me. Oh, but it wasn't that bad: I don't even know if I was penetrated or not. Nobody ever said that before. Sad sarcasm. After an amnesic break, I found myself walking west on a sunny summertime road, eventually arriving at a dense assortment of open-air restaurants and coruscant merchants on a gentle hillside, feeling reassured to be away. I wandered uphill among them, numbly entertained, until I came to some offices, where I was able to tell someone what had happened.
Further exposition: does it matter that I know they would never do that to me? Yes. More to the point though, what do I do with the knowledge that this and other violence has happened in my families, is culturally pervasive, and has at times been represented though my own behavior?
11-1-21 S S saying hello and then disappearing into an extensive subterranean theater
6-1-21 kissing A H in an invitingly messy apartment and then letting her go as we search for cats
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