Sunday, August 26, 2018


Boy this past week has tested me. World events notwithstanding--I moved apartments, dealing with surly landlords and malfunctioning doors and a moody elevator. Who needs a gym membership when you spend days schlepping boxes and art and all the freezer stuff down five flights of stairs, hustle it all into a Zipcar, then schlep it all back up 2 more flights of stairs. Then hurry to return the car on time. But, I've cleaned and Goodwilled and the moving boxes were picked up and c'est finis--I'm out of the old and into the new!
Add to this the happy circumstance of 2 different sets of visiting friends plus a 206 friend's birthday celebration, and stick a fork in me, I'm happy but dunzo.
Speaking of pressure, here's a delightful throwback: Flight of the Conchords' "Inner City Pressure."

Friday, August 17, 2018

wander lust: travel book reviews

Check out me new video, reviewing the travel books of Paul Theroux, Redmond O'Hanlon and Jeffrey Tayler--yes white Western males, all of them, I'll address that in a future vid--and also intrepid characters who have the resources and the nerve to set out for faraway places--across the African continent or Siberia or Borneo, and roll with whatever happens. The whatever including leeches, surly border guards, extremes of heat and cold and strange food and great kindnesses and excitement and boredom. In a word: travel!

Thursday, August 9, 2018


So much recently has served to remind me that I do not belong.
Just now, a text from a friend, referencing a DJ I've never heard of.
"He's famous," friend writes, implying "DUH," and I feel sick with shame.
Likely the DJ is someone I would have known about, had I grown up going to school and having friends and been cool, and not been shut away in an uber-religious household, not been un-cool.
This same conversation came up a few weeks ago at a casual drinks hangout. I mentioned homeschooling, thinking belatedly that it was a terrible idea (I rarely do so) and was promptly reminded why, when one of my companions rhapsodized about how strong I was and how had I ever survived. Have I survived? I honestly don't know sometimes. I might still be there, and only imagining my future, my now. It was such a lonely and sad and painful growing-up. During the rhapsodies I dissociated, feeling as though I were in a tunnel. I could not stop the hot tears from coming. My companions chattered on, not seeming to notice, not even after I fled the table to sob in the bathroom, and calm myself (I'm good at this, I know how to do this) and dry my tears and take a deep breath and return. Not even then did they acknowledge my pain and suffering. So. Now you know why it's a terrible idea to bring up homeschooling. It identifies you most certainly as "other."
At work I feel alien and misfit, slapped down today for requesting funding (a meager two grand) and slapped down last week for asking for relief from misophonia (my co-facilitator didn't want to hurt our trainees' feelings, nevermind mine).
What to do? What I have always done. Cope, Deal. Hide away inside myself. My shrink asks me if I want to be known by my friends, and I say no. Absolutely no.

Saturday, August 4, 2018

I'm no fan of Drake but wait, now I might be? This video for "In My Feelings" has humor, mad cameos and some uncontestably sweet beats.

bsp videos don't sleep on 'em