My Book!

Dravet Syndrome Blues

Hello y’all!

For a long time, most of the people who read this blog were people I knew in real life. They are people I worked, went to school of church or jiu jitsu with. That being said, they’ve already seen this on facebook. If you’re one of those readers, I apologize for the double exposure.

But

I released my first book this week. It’s a poetry chapbook for Kindle called Dravet Syndrome Blues. Please consider buying it. I haven’t talked about my poetry experience a lot, but I’ve written it forever. In the mid-2000’s, I got really in to spoken word, and had to learn to write poetry meant to be read aloud-so lots of percussive consonants, alliteration, rhyme, and few turns of phrase that need to be read to comprehended.

Since then I experimented with form, and moved away from poems meant to be performed. When I lived in Utah, I started reading at PoetFlow . I enjoyed the community, and the folks at PF are one of the things I miss most about Utah, and I haven’t yet connected with a group in Albuquerque..

I’m not a salesman, I don’t know what I’m doing, but I do want my poems to be read. Thanks.

 

 

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Chicken Coop

coop

 

Note: This originally appeared on my Medium page.

Keisha opened the egg box of the vacant chicken coop, and saw a tiny man pooping in a feed tray. He shielded his eyes against the sun and yelled at her “Hey, do you mind? Whaddaya, some kinda pervert?”

“What are you doing in my chicken coop?” Keisha asked.

His eyes darted about. He cracked a half-smile. “What does it look like? I’m not knitting a sweater. I’m not in the joint no more, I wanna crap in peace without giant ladies or field mice watching me.”

Keisha thought it remarkable how deep his voice was, with such small vocal cords, and how he spoke like a cartoon character from New Jersey.

“What I mean is, why do you live here, in the chicken coop?”

“I (grunt) won it in a cockfight, fair and square.”

“There used to be cockfights here?”

“Just the one time. I stabbed that bastard in his liver, then slit his throat. Kept my distance as he bled out. What a mess! The hens split soon after that” he explained.

“They just up and left?” She asked.

“Yeah, flew the coop” he said, with another half-smile.

He grabbed a handful of woodchips to wipe himself. When he was done, as he walked over to his puddled cargo shorts, Keisha blushed when she saw his member. It was tiny, but in proportion to his body, an impressive appendage. He put on his shorts.

“So, listen lady, I guess you own the house now. I had it all worked out with the last people. Let’s be civil, okay? No coming by unannounced, and I won’t get in your way. Text me if you need anything, I’ll be doing the same. Keep any dogs or cats out of this part of the garden, especially cats. And I need a few things from you,” he said.

“Such as?”

“Those tiny bottles of liquor-once a week I need a bottle of Dewar’s. I need a water, some melba toast, and Vienna sausage. The rest I get from the garden, or I barter with animals. Can you do that for me…I wanna say Carol? You look like a Carol”.

“Keisha, actually. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Okay, cool. Keisha, I’m having a little get together later, not for nothin’, it’s poker night, and my turn to host. We’ll keep it down and be done by ten-thirty at the latest. The frogs get belligerent past about then. Last time they picked a fight with the chipmunks, sheesh, wadn’t pretty. I’ll need you to take out the trash bags later. Not much. 1 or 2 of them Halloween baggies. In return, I’ll scare off any tweakers or raccoons that come around.”

“Tweakers come in the yard at night? Is this a regular occurrence?”

“Heh heh. Yeah. You ask a lot of questions. Welcome to Utah, toots.”

 

Owning my body

I was talking to a dear friend earlier. She’s a makeup artist, and her husband is a tattoo artist. I realized both of them work in helping others own and customize their bodies. I think that’s beautiful.

Prior to that conversation, I managed to do a 25 min pilates routine with Paloma crawling all over me while I had spaghetti going on the stove. When dinner was prepped, I went to jiu jitsu. It was a short class, but one of the most technical, effective sessions I’ve ever had on the mat.  I feel great. I can often be in a rut, waiting for my alarm clock or lunch or sleep. I don’t want to be in stasis until I die. I want to be awake, to be present, to learn, to experience, and move.

I want to feel great all the time, but I know that’s not how life works. Still, I’ve been having a lot of nice days lately.

Things are looking up. Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday. For me, this year, it brings to mind the importance of relationships, specifically friendships. Also,for me, #squadgoals are mostly hoping to join or start a squad.

We caucused yesterday. This was our first time living in a caucusing state. It was disorganized, and they ran out of ballots. Towards the end, the kids were cold and tired, but they made it. Utah seems at times ruled by religious zealots and rednecks. It was encouraging to see a lot of progressives out, of various ages, colors, economic brackets. The enthusiasm was infectious, and it was therapeutic to be with a multitude of people who give a damn. It’s so easy to be cynical and not care- I did this around 2005 as a defense mechanism. I got better.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Changes

I heard this song ( Charles Bradley covering Black Sabbath’s “Changes” ) on the radio today, and it resonated with me. This is a time of change for me in nearly every area of my life.

This past weekend was hammock weather. I grilled with my shirt off. Yesterday and today have been snowing. The weather doesn’t know which season to wear.

I’ve started training jiu jitsu regularly again, praise the Jesus.

Our medical marijuana bills were both killed through heinous dickery/political gaming, which makes our future in Utah uncertain.

I interviewed for a job last week in a bad suit. I didn’t smile. I was concerned I hadn’t heard from them, it was Friday. I reworked my resume on Thursday, and was just about to send it in to the HR guy, when I got a phone call telling me I got the job. I was/am over the moon excited, this is finally beginning to feel real.

I don’t feel like I’m being crushed, but there’s a lot going on. I feel pretty stable and okay with it. I’ll likely feel mounting anxiety, and I’ll probabl handle what I can handle and ride it out, like I always do.

I’m going through changes.