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Really good timing with this post. Idiot

Cormac McCarthy, Cities of the Plain

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Cormac McCarthy, Cities of the Plain

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Mount Hood, Oregon by Jim and Nina Pollock

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🐺🌕

The Crossing, Cormac McCarthy // Of Wolves and Men, Barry Holstun Lopez // “Full Moon,” Robert Hayden

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Hal Borland’s Book of Days

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It seems simple because it is. And refusing to resolve on the assumed terms that there’s something wrong with me or how I live has been a big help in making the exercise feel worthwhile, useful. I aim myself in a direction rather than treating myself like an employee who must be monitored and measured. The result is that I do find myself making time for a few things that make me feel physically, mentally, or spiritually good. And I don’t have to track what I’m doing; at most, I glance at my desk corkboard and see my MORE list pinned there and remember that I should try to do xyz thing that week—not because I “resolved” to, but because it’s something that I know I will feel better having done.

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I taught a required freshmen gen ed writing course this semester, and I repeatedly told my students that if they were going to miss class, they just needed to let me know ahead of time. I didn’t want or need doctor’s notes, obituaries, or anything else that constituted a detailed explanation about their situation. I simply needed to know if they would be gone so that I could prepare for class without them and make sure they had what they needed to be ready for the next session.

Some students embraced this practice, but I was crushed by how frequently I still received excuse emails that went into great detail about deaths in the family, car accidents, surgeries, and in one tragicomic instance, IBS. Students offered all manner of proof, begged for lenience, and overpromised the quantity of work they would put in while absent. It broke my heart, truth be told. It didn’t matter how often I told them what my policy was (and why it was); they had been well trained by the system to lay bare their traumas, beg for forgiveness for experiencing normal events and circumstances, and lie to themselves and to me about the priority my class took in their lives.

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Mervyn Peake, Titus Alone

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See also: Piss Docs

Just found out I was thirsty not by receiving a signal from my body about it but by dozing off and dreaming about cold water from different alluring angles. This is great. I think all my wants and needs should be revealed to me this way

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“When he first died, I did find this very difficult but by now I am able to carry the grief on one shoulder along with carrying the joy on the other”

Every year, in fairness to those who have a difficult time enjoying the holidays as much as I do, I have an Annual Christmas Cry. All is not perfect! This usually happens early in December as I am preparing the condo with my holiday decorations. I cry for those who have died and whom I miss. I cry especially for my husband Gregory who died eight years ago due to the complications of Dementia/Alzheimer’s Disease. We celebrated over 41 Christmases together, so you can imagine how hard his death has been! But by now besides celebrating a little with others, I enjoy the solitude of the holiday and the fond memories we shared. I cry for other family members and friends who, over the years, have played important roles in my life and are now gone. I cry for missed opportunities with family and friends. I cry for the changes in myself that at times create new obstacles in my day to day life (read this as aging).

On Christmas Eve and Day and for New Year’s Eve and Day, I prefer a quiet, solitude of experience, home alone. I spend the time with my memories of Christmas Past, which has become my Christmas Present, especially since my husband, Gregory RIP, is no longer physically present to spend them with me. I enjoy being with his Spirit, surrounded by the decorations and foods we used to eat when he was still here. When he first died, I did find this very difficult but by now I am able to carry the grief on one shoulder along with carrying the joy on the other. Just because he is gone is no reason for me to allow myself to wallow in depression, neglect the wonderful times and memories we had, and not allow me to enjoy myself and the holidays today.

Adding to my joy, I am not sure when the “Santa Sightings” began but they have continued for a number of years. For some reason family, friends, and strangers on the street think I look a lot like Santa Claus. I am honored by this identification of me by others. It may have to do with the fact that I let my silver/white beard and hair grow long beginning October, running through the beginning of January.

I will be walking down the street and young children see me, tug at their parent’s coat, and ask, “Did you see that man. I think he is Santa.” Living in a college town (Northwestern University in Evanston, Il), I have had young women shout at me across the parking lot, “Santa, we love you!” Just yesterday, walking down the street, an older couple announced to no-one in particular both at the same time as they passed me, “Hey Santa, we’ve been good!” A few times I donned a Santa outfit and did some appearances at charitable events. Other times, in my street clothing, people will ask after acknowledging that I look like him, “Do you ever play Santa?” I respond, “What do you mean play?” I am greatly honored that people give me the opportunity of carrying Santa Claus’s love, to those around me, friends or strangers.

An absolutely lovely read.

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Recently three separate friends (none of whom know each other) have all started recommending me music. None of it is exactly to my taste, but it's all also in the same rough genre, so I've started to just recommend songs I get from one of them to the other two. I am pathologically incapable of saying "you know, this isn't for me," so instead I will continue bypassing my insecurities by building this house of cards as high as it will go

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Lauren Eiseley trying to come up with a timeless parable:

Thousands of star fish washed up on shore in the Netherlands | source

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This fixed me

Affectionate peacock

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November

gold trees // gold pup // mantra // how do you do fellow students // neighborhood features 1 & 2

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feeling fish emotions today

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It is a moral imperative not only to oppose genocide, but to refuse the terms of the debate set down by the genocidaires. Bravo to this interviewee in Palestine.