#oh and sorry for all the redacted b.s.

[razorsadness]

My life is pretty good, these days. Not perfect, of course, but I’ve had a lot of moments recently when I’ve been in the middle of doing whatever and said to myself, a la Kurt Vonnegut: “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”

For a while I was going through an “ugly phase,” where every time I saw myself (in photos, in the mirror), I’d go uggghhh. I felt old and hideous. But I’m past it now. I got over it partly by focusing on other stuff that makes me happy—when I’m focused on other stuff, I care less about how I look, but what ends up happening is that the happier I am with other aspects of my life, the better I think I look.

My gender has flipped again, and I once again feel like a woman. I’ve also gone back to using both they/them and she/her pronouns (like, officially; unofficially I’m okay with they, she, and he, especially if people switch them up a lot), for several reasons which I don’t feel like enumerating right now. Every time something like this happens—meaning I change pronouns or genders, particularly when the pronouns or gender align with my AGAB—I go through a brief crisis of: “Oh my god, I’m not really nonbinary, I was just fooling myself the entire time.” And then I remember that I’m genderfluid, and pronouns =/= gender, and even calling myself a girl or a woman doesn’t have to mean just one thing. Like I wrote in my recent novel-related zine, about the character Whiskey (who is me and not-me): ‘Girl’—or any other gendered term—isn’t a box, it’s a signifier. When you call Whiskey a girl, you’re pointing toward a set of characteristics they have, which may or may not be the same characteristics any other ‘girl’ has. You know what you mean when you say Whiskey’s a girl. If the reader doesn’t get it? Fuck ‘em. That’s their problem.

Saturday night was the big Literacy Council fundraiser at the Roma Lodge, which I was an invited guest at, along with some of the other previous and current Writers-in-Residence. And I got a plus-one, so P. went with me. The dinner was good; they served it family-style for every table, so we passed around salad and bread, followed by fried chicken, mostaccioli, and meatballs. The best part of the evening was the timed Scrabble tournament. Our table won, and they gave us all these really nice journals as prizes; but just the playing itself was so much fun, and full of hilarious moments that I was laughing about for days afterward. And it was great to be around so many of my friends, and to have my husband with me—most times when I’m at an event, he’s home with the kids.

Sunday night I attended an online (Zoom) poetry open mic. A lot of my friends and acquaintances read that night, and it was great to hear them, but then there was this mix-up with the sign-up list so I ended up never getting “called to the mic,” and I was bummed. But then the next day I got a message from the host—he felt so bad about the whole thing that he offered me the feature slot for April. I accepted!

And speaking of April… For years now, I’ve thought about applying for [redacted], and I finally went for it, and I got accepted! So in April I’m doing [redacted]. I’m excited, and a little nervous, but mostly excited.

Monday and Tuesday were super warm—in the sixties, which is incredibly warm for the upper midwest in March, especially here by the lake. I spent a lot of time outside, both days. Monday, C. and I took a quick trip downtown, to get this year’s veggie garden seeds from the library; afterwards, we got gelato at the cafe. Tuesday, we took a long walk, and I got to have my first iced coffee of the year.

Wednesday, late afternoon, the temperature dropped, and I got a massive sinus headache (as I often do when the air pressure changes rapidly). It hurt so bad I got nauseous and shaky and wanted to cry; I had to lay in bed for a while with my heated sinus mask on just to make it even somewhat bearable. Sometimes I think my sinus issues don’t count as a real disability, but then something like that happens and I’m like: wait, the pain is sometimes so bad I can’t do anything? Yeah, that’s a real disability.

Yesterday I hung out with my mom. It’s so weird. Half the time she stresses me the fuck out and I don’t even want to be around her (like—half the time I love her but I don’t like her, ya know?), but the other half the time we have a blast and I’m really glad she’s my mom. Yesterday was a lovely day. We went downtown. She treated us to brunch. I had a twist on an Irish coffee, what they call an “Irish Americano”—a cafe Americano with both Irish whiskey and bourbon in it—and the Mediterranean skillet (eggs served over hashbrowns mixed with red onion, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, kalamata olives, feta cheese, and hummus). We sat there for a long time, even after we finished eating, and had a great conversation. Then we went to the art museum, and I saw a lot of really amazing pieces, and got inspired, and got emotional, and gosh I just love art so much!! And I’m so happy our town has not one but two art museums! And then I splurged a little in the gift shop. Oh, yeah: I have a credit card now! My first-ever credit card, at age forty fucking two, because I never qualified for one before. My bank offers secured credit cards to help people build their credit, and I applied for one earlier this month and got accepted. I purposely set it for the lowest limit possible, and believe me, I’m being very careful not to overspend to the point where I’ll never pay it off. But if I never use it at all, I’ll never build my credit, so…yeah, I splurged just a tiny bit. I bought a gorgeously illustrated book of excerpts from Pablo Neruda poems (that one’s for me and the kids), and a card game that involves both visual art and poetry, which, well, sign me the fuck up.

We also had a neat interaction with one of the gift shop cashiers—he’d seen the umbrella I was carrying when we walked in, a University of Michigan umbrella, and told us he’d recently moved here from Michigan. We asked him what part, and he said Flint, and we were like hey! We lived there, too! He’d lived there his whole life up until six months ago when he moved to Wisconsin, whereas we only lived there for six years (and left 34 years ago), but still. Small world.

Last night, P. and I had some wild, passionate sex.

On the not-so-good front: this morning, P. started coming down with some unspecified yuck. He’s testing negative for CoViD so far, which is good, but I know there’s a gnarly non-CoViD chest cold floating around right now, too, as I have some friends who’ve had it. Unfortunately, this means we can’t go to the St. Patrick’s Day parade tomorrow, which sucks, but what’re you gonna do? I’m trying to take precautions—I’ve changed out the sheets and towels, aired out the bedrooms, wiped down surfaces, and taken Emergen-C. P. is keeping to himself as much as possible. So far, the kids and I still feel okay, so hopefully we don’t get whatever it is (or that it’s mild, if we do).

I had to go out and run some errands today (post office, grocery store), so I masked up and went out (I’m not perfect about masking 100% of the time, but I always mask if I have any symptoms of anything or if I know I’ve been exposed to something). I had a lovely interaction with an old woman at the grocery store. (I say she was old not as a pejorative, but because she was definitely in her late eighties or maybe even in her nineties.) We were both entering the liquor department at the same time, and she said: “I love your hair! I used to be a redhead, too, before it went white.” “Thanks! This isn’t my natural color, though.” “I know,” she said. “No one’s hair is that shade. But it suits you! And I love your boots, too!” (I was wearing my tall black boots with all the buckles, that I got for my birthday.) “Thank you!” I said again. “And I love your jacket!” (She was wearing a very pretty yellow jacket.) Then we happened to both be going for the Jameson. She laughed and said: “I can’t drink like I used to—I used to be able to put ‘em away with the best of ‘em—but you have to have a little Jameson on St. Paddy’s Day!” “Or just because it’s a day that ends in a ‘y’!” I said, half-joking. She laughed and said: “Oh, I love your spirit, too! Perhaps I will just take you home with me!” I don’t know if she meant that in a queer way or an “you’re the granddaughter I never had” way, but either way, I appreciated it. I love encounters like that with elderly folks; I like knowing that one can live that long and still have that kind of energy.

What else? It’s Pisces season, still. Which means I have strange, intense dreams nearly every night, and during the day I’m either horny, or sad, or both. I know, I said I’m mostly happy these days, and I am, but I’m still sad a lot, too. Maybe ‘melancholy’ is a better word for what I mean.

I have a crush, my first proper crush (i.e., not a friend-crush, and not a crush on a celebrity) in a while. Her name is K., I first met her back in November, and for a while I tried to convince myself it was just a friend crush. “No no, I don’t have a crush on her,” I’d say to myself, “I just think she’s neat and wanna hang out with her.” But then when I compared how I feel when I run into her or see pictures of her, or just even think about her, vs. how I feel about my friend-crushes, I was like: “Ooooh, okay, no, she definitely gives me pants feelings and a little flutter in my tummy. It’s a crush crush.” Nothing shall come of this crush, but that’s okay. I’m fine with casually crushing on her. It’s nice just to feel those feelings again. Gets the blood flowing, makes me know I’m still alive, y’know? Plus, since she’s also a poet and spoken word performer whose work I love, I’m using some of the crush energy to try and impress her with my literary artistry.

And I have been missing past loves, what else is new. I’ve been missing A.D. and A.C., my two boys with the same first name from the same Chicago suburb. I’ve been missing "Sullivan," and S., and F. And of course other than the two A.s, I haven’t seen or spoken to any of them in years and years. And even with the A.s… I realize that I don’t know them anymore, so when I miss them I’m missing who they were—and I’m also missing who I was back then. What’s that quote about desire? About how it’s not just a desire for a person, place, or thing, but rather a desire to be the person who fits with that person, place, or thing? It’s like that. When I miss old loves (or old friends, or places I once knew, etc.), I don’t just miss them, I miss being the person who fit with them, once upon, however briefly.

But then there’s the flipside to all the yearning for new crushes and old flames, and that’s realizing: I do have a lot of amazing people in my life. I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years, but I still have so many wonderful friends, both old and new. In the past year, I’ve even reconnected with some people whom I thought were out of my life for good, and it’s just good to know—though some friends may leave my life forever, others will come in and out of it. Maybe "Filia" was right, all those years ago. Maybe some “see yas” really do mean “see ya down the road,” not “goodbye forever.”

And romantically—every day, I look at P. and am just so happy he’s my person. We’ve had a lot of ups and downs over the course of our relationship—as of June, we’ll have been together fifteen years—and I know we’ve both had times when we’ve thought of calling it quits. But we’ve always managed to work it out, and our relationship has gotten stronger and stronger, and I just love him so much. I can’t imagine having anyone else as my primary partner.

The kids have been flooring me lately, too, in the best possible way. Again, there are struggles, but overall I’m just amazed by them and love them more every day. Especially as they’ve both been getting into music—both playing it and listening to it. D. has gotten really into Pearl Jam, which is so funny. Partly because until fairly recently, he was ambivalent about rock music, and was more into techno and hip hop. Which is obviously fine; I like music in both those genres, and I’m definitely not the type of parent to force my kids to like what I like. (I introduce them to stuff I like, but I don’t make them like it, y’know?) So it’s kinda cool that he’s coming around to rock and its various subgenres on his own. But it’s also funny because he’s twelve, and it was around that same age that I first got into Pearl Jam.

I’ve been rekindling my love for Shakespeare’s plays, recently. Not that it ever really goes away completely, it’s just that it’s such a long-running special interest of mine that it’ll go on the backburner for a while, and then something will spark and it’s like oh no, I’m obsessed with Shakespeare again. Which is what’s happening currently. I’ve decided that I’m going to study Shakespeare with D. as part of his curriculum next month. We’re going to cover one comedy and one tragedy. I’ve already chosen Hamlet for the tragedy (he’s a moody tween, I think it’s perfect), but I haven’t chosen a comedy yet, because I love all of Shakespeare’s comedies so much.

On a related note: my mom recently had me go through the few things of mine that were still at their house, and one was a book called Shakespeare for Beginners, which I got when I was 15 or 16. I wasn’t even really a beginner at that point—I’d already seen many Shakespeare plays, and had been in A Midsummer Night’s Dream twice!—but I think I got it for a school project because it does have pretty good summaries of all his plays and a bit of his poetry. Anyway, I was flipping through it, and I found a letter inside, from the American Birding Association, thanking me for registering as a Young Birder of the Year, from the year I was 16/17. I laughed my ass off, and thought of that quote from Tight Pants zine about being the strange, smart kid. Because that time in my life was full of similar dichotomies. Yeah, I studied Shakespeare and was an amateur birder. I also had sex with boys and girls, went to punk shows, and got stoned. Punk? Punk! Or, you know, to quote Whitman: Do I contradict myself? Very well then, I contradict myself.

The other week, in my Facebook memories, I saw a post I made in 2017: I declare this year my year of writing like hell and resisting despair. I reposted it, saying that I was gonna try to match that same energy this year, and so far I have been. I’ve got my novel in progress, I write 1-2 mini-zines a month for my zine subscription thing + the occasional installment of my Substack newsletter, and I’m still averaging 1.5 drafts of new poems per day. And then, Wednesday, I did my weekly tarot and oracle draw. This time, I drew one card from the Art Witch oracle deck, and one from the Rust Belt Arcana tarot deck. Both the cards I drew have to do with abundance, fertility, inspiration, and creativity—the Rainbow from the oracle deck, and The Empress from the tarot. I reread the chapter about The Empress in The Creative Tarot by Jessa Crispin, and in a creative sense, The Empress is all about having the ability to take creative ideas and bring them to fruition—and not only that, it’s all about being able to work on many different projects at once, successfully! So, that’s excellent news. Guess I can continue working on my novel, mini-zines, and Substack and still manage the [redacted] in April.

There is one project I’ve decided to…well, not give up on, just approach differently. I’ve decided not to pitch my book idea about [redacted] to [redacted]. I talked to a friend who has published in the [redacted] series, and… For one thing, they no longer offer advances, so even if they did accept the pitch, I’d have to bust my ass for six months to write it and not see a dime until it was published—which could be two years from now! And for another thing, based on what he said, I don’t think I’d have enough creative freedom with it. So I’m still going to write something about [redacted] eventually, but I think I’m going to self-publish it in zine form or as installments on my Substack (or both). Basically, I have such limited time these days, and so many projects I’m already working on, that I’m not going to take on another one unless it pays incredibly well (and fast) and/or I’m super passionate it about it. So I don’t want to start on a project that I wouldn’t see any money from for years and that I wouldn’t get to write the way I want.

Funny side note: The last time The Empress was coming up for me a lot was in early 2017. And yes, that year was incredibly fertile, in a creative sense. I did write like hell, and resist despair. But it was also the year I got pregnant with and gave birth to C. Thankfully, since P. had a vasectomy, I know that this time it means only the creative sort of fertility.

I made coconut curried salmon for dinner tonight, and it was awesome. Now I’m in bed, drinking a lil’ Jamo with ginger ale and lime, about to watch a movie, and crossing my fingers that I don’t come down with the yuck.

[hansungrp]

                MY HANSUNGU PORTAL : logged in as choi eunpyo.

student name : choi eunpyo. preferred name : louis “lou” choi. date of birth : 02/01/2002. occupation : student, e-sports player.

     enrollment status.

program : b.s. in computer science. status : sophomore. clubs : international student organization. sports : none. housing : e-house / floor 2, unit 2.

     student history.

louis choi bleaches his hair after school with drugstore dye, dishwashing gloves, and a death wish. the death wish is courtesy of his parents, who come home to a brassy-haired lou and lecture him for the whole night. oh my god, you look terrible. (thanks, mom!) that stuff’s full of dangerous chemicals and you did it in our bathroom? (sorry, dad!) it’s going to make you go bald early (that’s sort of true) it’s probably soaking in your scalp and killing all your brain cells (that doesn’t sound right) where’s the rest of the dye, we’re throwing it out, you’re never doing this again (that’s definitely not true because i’m bleaching it again tomorrow!) the lecture goes on through dinner and only stops when lou announces he’s going to his room to do homework. homework time is sacred. sadly, while his parents are inside the house, it’s the most privacy he gets. — fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:25 PM ) anyone up for scrimms on fri evening? found an available team n theyre like masters average i can fill btw iheartcatboys ( — Today at 5:26 PM ) Sorry bro i got plans server’s resident catboy ( — Today at 5:26 PM ) yep same here GummyWorm ( — Today at 5:28 PM ) Rip me too fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:29 PM ) LAME what are u all even doing if u say hw i’ll kill u server’s resident catboy ( — Today at 5:30 PM ) veronica nguyen’s birthday party i barely know her tho im just going bc free bowling fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:30 PM ) wait what like all of u?? GummyWorm ( — Today at 5:31 PM ) That’s the case for me as well … Oh boy wait Lou were you not invited fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:33 PM ) NO???? wtf what did i ever do to veronica nguyen iheartcatboys ( — Today at 5:33 PM ) im ngl man i think she just doesnt know you exist fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:33 PM ) but she knows U GUYS exist GummyWorm ( — Today at 5:33 PM ) Yes because we actually talk to people outside of computer club You wanna come with? Pretty sure she won’t mind fishstick69 ( — Today at 5:35 PM ) uhh no it’s fine i’ll just solo queue iheartcatboys ( — Today at 5:35 PM ) bro… GummyWorm ( — Today at 5:36 PM ) Bro…… — louis choi used to go to computer club every day. ever since he built his pc, though, he has no reason to anymore. so his only real outlet for socialization has disappeared, and he’s begun to come home every day directly after school, only sometimes stopping at stores to buy snacks that his parents would not approve of. he  only realizes how friendless it’s made him after he plays competitive games by himself on a friday night. and honestly? it normally wouldn’t phase him, because this night is no different than a lot of other nights, but sometimes he’ll see himself reflected on his dusty pc screen and feel a weird lurch in his stomach that he can’t identify, to which he says: maybe it’s just my mulan moment, and i’m fighting the masculine urge to cut off all my hair and join the army. when his parents come home from work, they reheat yesterday’s bok choy and  beef stew. lou takes a bowl up to his room, and pretends to start working on a biology lab due two weeks ago. it’ll pay off, he tells himself, taking off his headset to pin up his overgrown yellow bangs. it’s gotta pay off. — (it pays off.) — To Mr. Louis Choi, Congratulations! You have been selected to move forward in the player screening process for [REDACTED]. We’ve reviewed your vods and noticed the hard work you put into maintaining your spot on the leaderboard, and are interested in taking your potential to the next level. If you share similar aspirations, please review the attached PDF as soon as possible. We look forward to hearing from you. — his parents don’t approve, unsurprisingly. first, they don’t really get what louis is trying to do (do you guys not know faker? he’s literally on the same field as bong joon-ho and bts!) but when he explains it clearly enough he can see the expression on his mom’s face slowly changing. lou doesn’t know what his dad’s face looks like because he’s too afraid to check. his dad says, “this can’t last forever, eunpyo” (oh god, not the korean name), “are you really going to play games your entire life?” (if i can help it, yeah) “that’s not a useful skill” (yeah, like accounting is any more useful than what i’m doing. i don’t even know what they do and yet you’re sitting on top of a cushy retirement fund, so it’s all subjective, isn’t it?) his mom only says, “will you make money?” (yes yes yes) which gives him the tentative confidence to touch on his next talking point - and it may or may not be the equivalent of setting off a nuclear bomb in the choi household. “so,” says lou, fixing his gaze on the matriarch of the family. “since i’m already gonna have a paying job that’s gonna take up a lot of my time, i think… i shouldn’t have to go to colle-” — (BAD IDEA BAD IDEA BAD IDEA BAD IDEA.) — fishstick (No more 69 Bc Im Pro Now) ( — Today at 4:23 AM ) just landed in seoul [IMG_23835] got a selfie with bts catboy enthusiast ( — Today at 4:28 AM ) omg jimin he looks so flat and lifeless what did you do to him lou fishstick (No more 69 Bc Im Pro Now) ( — Today at 4:29 AM ) idk he was just standing outside of the airport innisfree i feel even more flat and lifeless thinking about how im forced to do higher education born to game forced to school GummyWorm ( — Today at 4:30 AM ) It’s gonna be fine just don’t take hard classes Make some friends and practice your Korean Aren’t your teammates almost all korean? fishstick (No more 69 Bc Im Pro Now) ( — Today at 4:30 AM ) yeah 내 거시기를 빨다 GummyWorm ( — Today at 4:30 AM ) Cant when you’re in a different country :/ — hansung’s going to be okay. it’s going to be fine. he’s got his computers with him and his contract in an e-sports organization and he’s away from his parents (all major dubs) — yet there’s still a lurch in his stomach every time he looks in the dusty mirror in his new room, one that lingers and squirms. it’s not because of his roots showing, because he just redyed them, and… well, lou has a suspicion that it’s something much more pathetic than that, heaving a sigh as he spread-eagles on his new bed. (maybe… maybe it really is because i’m lonely.)