break time 2020

Seattle Electric

busysmartypants is taking this week off to breathe and rest and catch up on some reading.

After feeling some hope--there's a vaccine! people in my town are actually getting shots--it feels like real progress is still lurking a ways off.

More vaccine shipments are delayed both here and in other states. On purpose? Simple mismanagement? And someone dies every minute.

My houseless neighbors were forcibly removed from the park. AGAIN. With brute power and dozens of police and days of low-flying helicopters and arrests. It feels like the neighborhood is being punished. I don't understand why we can't do better for our citizens. Does the mayor think people are living in tents in the park with no toilets because it's fun? I just don't understand. 

The Current Occupant's delusions continue and are increasingly scary. 

And not incidentally, drivers are harried and careless and now that we have wet, rainy streets and sidewalks I feel as though I'm cheating death every time I step into a crosswalk. 

*

Take some time for yourself!

Do yoga.

Meditate.

Read.

Stare at the sky. Or at the ocean.

See you in a few.

she's speaking

 Seen on Westlake Avenue. Artist unknown.

Don't let anyone steal ya joy. Missy Elliott

 

I'm speaking. Kamala Harris

yes, more signs of the times

Seen on my gallivanting around town.

The Woods

Rain City Fitness for the win

 

small talk is big talk

I stopped at the co-op this morning and the clerk seemed distant. It's hard to tell these days--we're all in masks and I'm trying not to step too close but also put in my debit card and throw groceries into my bag while keeping my bag from touching anything near the cashier.

Anyway, they finally asked How's it going and I thought for a moment and said, It all just feels weird.

I know they were making the small talk required of clerks, it's an upscale co-op and sometimes the chipper checkers are TOO much. Usually I just nod and say Great or whatever, just to get in and out.

But I also couldn't think of a way to just lie and say Great, and move on. 

#

In a year of unprecedented and challenging times, a pandemic Christmas was another punch to the gut. I spent about 6 hours on video chats on Xmas Eve and it was so nice to hang out with friends and family and keep up traditions by watching Dina Martina's holiday special and toasting my Capricorn pal's birthday. Xmas Day was a lot of driving around in a Zipcar in the rain and cold, dropping off vegetarian snacks at my sibling's and saying a quick masked outdoor hello, another stop to gift dog treats in a friend's back yard and another cold masked outdoor hello, and then sloshing home to shower, drink water and open up a few gifts alone.

I know it's what we need to do. I try to accept the loneliness and sadness and anger. It's hardest when I hear from younger family members that they're feeling the loneliness and sadness too. Or from friends who've gotten sick or whose livelihoods--art, dining, drinking, music--are dead. When I see houseless neighbors slumped in doorways or at bus stops. I can take it--I know hardship and pain quite well--but I want better days for those who have been hit hardest.

And, if I'm honest, I want revenge on all of the selfish, venal, criminal, hypocritical American politicans who have made this much MUCH harder and deadlier than it needed to be. Karma is a bitch, and I hope she hurries.

#

Anyway. The clerk at the co-op smiled under their mask and agreed. It all does feel weird.

I added, I think I'm running out of words. 

They nodded. I keep trying to explain to my partner how small talk with customers has changed. No one knows how to talk about--this.

I can't even imagine how small talk has evolved over the pandemic, I said, thinking, I wish there was a way to find out, what a fascinating story. Nodding to the clerk, I took my receipt. Well, I hope you have a good day.

They nodded back, eyes crinkling. Please take care of yourself. 

It was a brief moment of feeling understood and connected, between two strangers. It was small but for this morning, it felt like enough.

i don't know her

My 2020 writing project has been all-consuming. I'm not done yet, probably not even close, but it's taking me pretty far down the old memory lane. I'm reading things I wrote decades ago, when I had no one but my sisters to talk to or confide in or learn from.

It's like reading someone else's writing.

I was hilarious, sometimes.

Deep.

Petty.

Sometimes heart breakingly desperate to escape.

 

 

yes/no person

I don't think of myself as a yes person.

OK OK I'm a contrarian, I freely admit it.

That said, these are tough times and I'm trying to keep kindness front and center. To others, and to myself.

This whole idea of "we're in the same boat," though. The toxic positivity folks.

Nope. 

That ain't it, not now, not for me. Not even close.

I'm lucky, in so many ways, and I'm struggling. Like most people I know.

This week I checked in with two white ladies of a certain age, former co-workers and people I know (knew) to be educated, kind, and generally well-off. 

One chided me for asking if she was "hanging in there." She hoped we were doing better than that! Life was pretty good. She's been ordering takeout. Her daughter adopted kittens.

The second spent a long time talking shit about diversity training (all they focused on was black people, she complained). And Trump voters ("those people"). I said that those people were my family, and while I disagree with them--vehemently--I also despair. I feel sadness. I feel kindness. I don't know what has happened.

Maybe the I'm fine/you be fine mentality is a kind of protection. If I'm not fine/you're not fine then there are bigger questions to ask.

And I think there ARE bigger questions to ask. 

Let's not stop asking them. 

more signs of the times

As we close in on the end of this scabrous year, the door signs around town are getting funnier. 

Have we given up? Given in?

what a time to be alive

Per the Washington Post on Saturday, only 25 Republicans (out of 249 polled), would say on the record that Joe Biden won the 2020 US Presidential election. I'm linking through Complex in case you don't have a Wapo account.

Profiles in courage, as always. 

It baffles me. Boggles the mind. It doesn't seem accidental nor does it seem cowardly. It's a choice. A decision. It's treasonous, really. 

*

I also read the live chats on the Post website. On Fridays, Carolyn Hax hosts what's billed as an advice chat and it is, but it's sensible, thoughtful, funny advice (I guess as opposed to what I perceive as the Ann Landers/Miss Manners corporate advice business). Reading Hax is like a conversation with a wise friend. In the December 4 chat, a person wrote in about living alone and working from home during pandemic times, and how their friends no longer check in on them and how very alone they feel. 

Then another a-loner wrote in. And another. Soon there was a flurry of posts.

Busysmartypants is one of those a-loners. It is a lonely time. I try to stay busy with work, writing, mutual aid projects and online hangouts. I try to check in regularly on my other lone friends--a quick text or meme or e-mail, sometimes an actual greeting card--and am happily surprised on the rare occasion someone checks in on me, too. 

There is a mental health toll that will be paid on the other side of this pandemic/political nightmare in which we live. Especially for Americans.

we don't need the state to help each other

 

#mutualaid

legendary library

 I can't say much for my own city during these dark days.

The mayor seems incapable of governing, rich whitefolk in my neighborhood sport "Black Lives Matter" right beside "Recall Sawant" signs, and who knows when Pony or The Blue Moon or Neumos will be able to safely re-open.

That said, my old friend the library--the Seattle Public Library--has been a beacon of solace, learning, and community. Last week SPL hosted "Legendary Children," a night of drag, trans and queer artists' performances. What a treat.

The other day, I saw this sign outside the Capitol Hill branch, offering restroom services. It made me proud. And also beyond mad, that we still have houseless folks in this extremely rich city, people living outside and using a public toilet during a pandemic. To our everlasting shame.

 

sunday beachday

Last week a pal and I gallivanted to Camano Island. 

Mindful of the pandemic, I rented a car for the day, wiped it down with handiwipes and masked up. We hit the road and diverted off I-5 at Marysville, for a beautiful drive through the Tulalip Reservation, with no stops until I spied a "Bakery" sign just over the border into Island County at Camano Commons. 

When I say I may have had the best oat/raspberry jam scone of my life, I am not exaggerating. A light, oaty pastry, with a well of tangy sweet jam. Wow.

After another drive, we stopped at Cama Beach State Park, paid the park fee, and spent the next hour or so wandering the cold, rocky beach, giveing the few other beachcombers a wide berth. A seal popped up in the Sound, fur sparkling, to have a look at us. 

I stood for a long time just watching the tide lap in.

It was a peaceful, satisfying jaunt.

living life on camera (or, donald duck-ing it)

As I noted, this has been a holiday of alone-ness, quick outdoor hello's and virtual gatherings. 

I don't like it much, but it's what we need to do. The Capricorn within doesn't allow for much wallowing in sadness although I had a moment on Thursday where I looked out at the misty morning and felt so sad not to be rushing to my sister's place, laden with food and drinks and looking forward to the festivities. The Zoom account I invested in back in March has gotten a real workout, for better or worse. 

• A pre-pre Friendsgiving hangout with California pals, admiring their dog and laughing about "donald duck-ing" it on work video calls 
  
• Shared a Thanksgiving Eve happy hour with great friends, raising a glass to a dearly departed kitty, giggling that 5 out of 6 out of us were wearing plaid shirts (sooooo PNW) and then 6 out of 6 when that person ran to fetch plaid; and one late arrival logging on through a vocoder that turned his voice into Daft Punk. 
• Thanksgiving morning with my s.o. and family, the first ever.
• Thanksgiving afternoon with my actual fam--West Coast, East Coast and Canada--catching up on the haps, and giggling through several rounds of skribbl, an online Pictionary-type game.
• A birthday chat yesterday with long-time pals
  

I hope that better days lie ahead. It's difficult to imagine them because we still have some tough times in the interim. Be safe and of good courage.

when the music stopped

Many of  my beloved holiday drag shows are moving online this year and I'm buying tickets and coordinating with friends and it reminds me, suddenly and achingly, of how I miss going to live shows. 

Miss isn't a strong enough word.

I long to see a show.

I can't wait to see a show again.

I feel desperate sometimes for the whole experience: to pre-funk with friends at a nearby bar, to walk into the dark club, show ID and get my  hand stamped, hear the opening band already killing it onstage, shoulder through the crowd to the bar, sip on whiskey and talk loudly into a friend's ear, dance a little, close my eyes and feel the sounds. 

I walked by Nectar in Fremont today and you can see from the posters when the music stopped. March, 2020. 

I cannot wait for it to start again.

*

In the meantime, shows abound. Support performers and musicians! Follow friends on Soundcloud.

• Jingle all the Gay (Kitten 'n' Lou, Cherdonna Sinatra, Randy Baby and more)
• Our beloved Dina Martina
• Shoemaker's War on Christmas
  

a solitary holiday

This is the first Thanksgiving I've spent without gathering with family or friends since I was studying in Germany. (The Germans were fascinated and a little repulsed by the visual imagery of this very American holiday, wondering if people really did cook turkeys--why not a goose?--and pumpkin pies--they viewed pumpkin as a savory dish.)

Anyway, it's 100% not safe to gather, and also I've been fighting some kind of bug. Not covid-19, I don't think. My test came back negative, I've had no fever, no dry cough. I'm guessing it's a sinus infection or cold, so for the past 10 days I've stayed home as much as I can, resting, drinking beet juice, watching reality TV and and chugging 7-11's cheap and effective "night time sleep aid."

On Wednesday I felt better--finally!--so I cleaned the house and showered and sanitized the kitchen, put on a mask, and cooked up mashed potatoes, gravy, and cranberries, for a hand-off later with my sis. My niece chefed up homemade pumpkin pie, with from-scratch sugar pumpkin and her own homemade sweetened condensed milk. Maybe the best pumpkin pie I've ever had. 

Thankful for small and delicious kindnesses in 2020. 

I'm also keeping in mind that we dwell on stolen land. Give, if you can.

o the glorious shade

 

Watch the Brian Williams salty shade at its best 👇🏿
pic.twitter.com/wR0pABt2uT

— Karine Jean-Pierre (@K_JeanPierre) November 21, 2020

 

Also: this concession speech was surprisingly satisfying.

the before

One of the side effects (or main effects?) of so many months of pandemic, quarantine, aloneness, and political upheaval is stress.

Capital-S stress.

It's constant.

Nobody is sleeping. I'm up at 2 or 3 am most nights, for a time. I turn on a light and do crosswords, until I'm bleary-eyed enough to fall back into restless sleep.

The mundane greeting "how are you?" is unanswerable.

Grocery stores are once again low on toilet paper and cleaners. Many bars and restaurants closed again too, for at least 4 weeks. 

Yesterday a friend wondered how we'll go back to some kind of normal, where there isn't a constant cycle of breaking, always-shitty news, where we aren't fear-scrolling Twitter every ten minutes and messaging WTF and OMG to each other. (Some days, when the news is really bad, you don't even need a qualifier. Just the exclamation. Like the day RBG died. We all know what the onslaught of OMG's meant.)

We theorized that, if and when there are better times, we could all do shrooms or drop acid for a week, in an attempt to re-set our over-stressed, cortisol-ridden brains and nervous systems.

*

I read Carolyn Hax's Friday chat on Washingtonpost.com. She's a sensible advice-giver and talks frequently about the Before and the Now.

It's a form of radical acceptance, I think. We don't have to like the Now. We can seek to change it. But accepting it will help us deal with it right now.

how worried should we be, late November edition

The AP and a host of news organizations called the USA presidential election for Joe Biden 2 weeks ago. We've since endured fourteen days of denial, allegations of fraud, lawsuits, Rudy Giuliani appearing to melt on camera, and key states certifying results confirming Biden's win even as their feckless elected officials making cringing fealty visits to we-the-people's White House.

The Current Occupant shows no inclination to leave. 

The pandemic rages. A family member who works in a hospital in a nearby state told me they are at capacity. 

My supposedly conscientious work team of 5 people includes 2 who are hosting or traveling out of state to Thanksgiving gatherings. 

Two more of my own family members have tested positive and I myself am awaiting results after a couple of days of a sore throat.

We'll get through this, somehow.

We will.

We must.

creativity among the chaos

big BIG BIG ups to artists who somehow keep on creating during this unrelenting time of covid19 and chaos. 

Today I'm listening to Tacoma's very own ILLFIGHTYOU.

Bandcamp here: https://illfightyou.bandcamp.com/

Earlier this week I checked out the National Boylesque Hotline show online. It was a hoot! Performers all along the spectrum of masculine, femme, gender fluid. A person in a gorilla suit performed on a rooftop in Tucson. Thrilling vignettes from Seattle's own amazing Waxie Moon and Faggedy Randy. New to me Tito Bonito. All hosted by mustachio'ed Ernie Von Schmatt.

And Michele Obama favorite Sassyblack is back with new music.

radical acceptance

I watched the HBO documentary "Transhood," which follows four transgender American young people from 2015 to 2019. I loved getting to know these wonderful kids, and also appreciated the focus on their support systems--parents and siblings and friends and one memorable shit-talking grandma.

There's a scene with one young person at a Unitarian Universalist church being welcomed and even honored as the person that they are. Even as a straight white kid, I did not grow up with that kind of welcome or acceptance. It feels like such a gift to see this kind of open, radical acceptance practiced in real life. I can't imagine extending it to myself.

#goals

white women, we (WE) have a problem

It's looking like white women voted for 💩🤡 at a rate of 53%.

More than in 2016. 

This statistic frustrates me so much. Partly because I know some of these women. I'm related to some of these women. They would describe themselves as god-fearing upright moral people. People who voted for a reprehensible, immoral, sexist, ableist, homophobic, transphobic, racist, selfish crook.

A person who's not even good at his job. Who despises average Americans. Who's only in it to enrich himself and strengthen his brand.

And voted for him not once but twice!

I go back to the path forward identified by Ijeoma Uluo in an interview this summer. 

--Learn

--Support/Do/Be of Use

dudes we (you) have a problem

I'm happily car-free and have tried to avoid Metro as much as I can because covid-19, which means I'm taking fairly long (2 or more hours) walks and runs to do errands or get to my writing studio.

Happily, I've dropped a few pounds. 

Unhappily, I've run into more than a few big-time, small-time dicks. (Props, Jezebel.)

A few months ago, the dude in the gigantic SUV who nearly mowed me down in a crosswalk, and when I threw up my arms and yelled, flipped me off and screamed, "Bitches like you always be tripping."

Yesterday, I walked down to the waterfront to pick up a package, and as I walked back up Pike, a guy in an SUV rolled directly into the crosswalk so that an elderly Black woman, properly masked, had to walk into 2nd Avenue to cross the street. She pointed at the crosswalk as she circled his SUV and he rolled down his window to scream, mask-less, at her. Oh, is this a crosswalk? I didn't know! Thank you for telling me, I didn't know. I heard his sarcastic screams and caught her eye. What an asshole, I said, in solidarity. She nodded. I added, You know it just means he has a tiny penis. She chuckled. You've got that right. I held up my pinky as the light turned. The woman in the passenger seat had pulled on her mask. Mortified? Over it? Dump him, sister.

Today, my walk took me along Westlake Avenue, where two guys approached pushing dollies loaded with stacks of U-Haul boxes. They took up most of the sidewalk so I slowed. The one pulled up his mask. The other just looked at me, smirking, and kept coming toward me. I stepped into the street--2 lanes of oncoming traffic--and said, Hey, mask up, dude. He just looked at me and came closer, beginning to howl with manufactured laughter. I pulled out my phone and turned. He was still doing this weird cackle in my direction. Let me get your picture, I called after him. Fuck, he yelled, and ran around the corner.

Dudes. 

C'mon with this toxic, petro-masculinity. 

Grow tf up.

leafy zen

 

Long walks have been a balm for my anxious brain these past months. Now that it's fall, there is nothing quite so delicious as a walk through fallen leaves on a cold, rainy day. The air is heavy and humid and rich. These golden leaves seem to glow in the perma-dusk of a November day. I inhale deeply and feel momentarily at peace.

a coup by any other name

So the Election of Our Lifetimes was called on Saturday.

Meanwhile, the current Occupant is continuing under the dangerous delusion that he won--calling for a budget, refusing to release the money for a transition, his frigid spouse so lacking in honesty and courtesy that she too continues with the grift. Many in his party seem to share the delusion--whether to avoid offending the sack of shit, or to save their own lousy criminal hides, who knows.

And, we have daily pressers now by the President-Elect, mercifully factual and featuring complete sentences and a lack of self-tanner.

It's a confusing time, where you wonder, Will They Go? 

Will they have to be dragged out? Do we need to take to the streets, AGAIN??

Whatever it will take. 

GTFO of our house.

links and ponderings

Tom and Lorenzo have a great rundown of post-election front pages worldwide. It reminds me that the world cares very deeply about what happens here. I worry that this is not an aberration, that extreme nationalism is a feature, not a bug. We have a lot of work to do.

On that note, check out Fair Fight. The 2 Senate runoffs in Georgia are hugely important. We all need to help out.

Lastly, this Philadelphia Inquirer article is a fair summation of what went into this election battle and the extreme odds American voters have had to overcome. Philly's role--Pennsylvania's role--was so important.

Also, Gritty (h/t Courtney Welch).

a get down pandemic party

The election celebration party on Capitol Hill yesterday was a real 2020 event: car-heavy because covid-19, hundreds of folks in masks, at turns defiant--FDT blasted from many passing speakers--jubilant and honestly just fun.

We haven't had a lot of fun these past few months. 

After reading the news yesterday and a host of frantic phone calls, texts and messages, I tried to write, and gave up around noon. I stopped by the Protect Every Person event at Westlake, and then walked up the hill to where I was pretty sure some celebrating would be happening. I spent most of the next 7 hours outside.

Pine St, and then Pike, were a constant stream of cars, honking, music blaring, drivers beaming from ear to ear, flashing peace signs, victory fists. People hanging out of windows, standing up through sunroofs, one guy (inadvisedly) sitting Marshawn-like atop a car. There was a T-rex with a Black Lives Matter sign, a unicorn with a BLM flag. Everyone it seemed had quite literally brought their dog. From Subarus with big fluffy pooches to beater cars and tiny Chihuahuas to Teslas empty of all but drivers and high tech screens, the parade of cars was ringed on both sides by cheering celebrants, waving flags, homemade signs, Biden/Harris signs and flags, and open bottles of bubbly. Drunk girls hair-flipped and danced. Two young Muslim women held a sign saying Muslim Americans are here to stay and cried when we cheered for them. A UPS van drove slowly  through and was mobbed, briefly, by people cheering and whooping and clapping. A Latino family with Puerto Rico flags stood with their kids and watched the happy crowd. A reporter from Kiro 7 interviewed my friend.

A pedicab driver played Nipsey Hustle and Queen and chauffeured tired people around the scene. The Marshall Law Band arrived on their pickup-truck stage and played a half dozen songs. They reminded us that yesterday wasn't an end, but a new front in this battle to effect lasting change.

There were a couple of bitter betty's out there but it was a mostly cheerful crowd, although there was a shooting much later in the evening. CHS captures the news better than I can. I did see a group of black-clad protesters attempting to burn an American flag and yes I'm aware that there is anger in the daily protester community, wondering where all us folks are night after night. I want us to do better with sustained protest. I want to remain engaged in upending this racist, classist system. I also think people just needed a few hours to celebrate and feel the tiniest flicker of hope.

On the walk home, I saw Kamala Harris' image projected on the cement walls of the East Precinct. Madam Vice President!

the way we talk about the things we fear

Seattle being Seattle there were a few Election Day parties on Tuesday evening and not a few protests. The ad copy each one wrote for themselves is typical PNW. Arch, funny, wistful, hopeful, worried.

 

finally

 The Washington Post on November 7, 2020

I was at my writing studio and heard screaming outside, and then, "Fuck you Trump!"

Once I saw the news, I called a friend and we just yelled. Then I called my sister and got voicemail. All I could do was scream. Her vm thought it was a fax machine.

So many emotions. Imma just sit with it for a bit.

Courage, everyone. We are still in the thick of it.

now we are in the scary scenario

Facebook, Twitter, Insta--all proclaim at the top of the page that votes are still being counted. After a very confusing election return evening, it's stomachache time today.

Honestly, it has been for days/weeks/years.

Courage.

your daily bird

The cutest little birds chirp away in the bamboo every morning. Sometimes they stay put when I head out to the recycling bins. It's comforting that something seems normal. They're so tiny and alert and chirp the sweetest song.

a rundown of where we are

It figures that the only thing that could overshadow global pandemic is the USA's 2020 elections. I keep reading that Europeans are begging Americans not to fuck this up, and BELIEVE ME we are trying. We been trying. If all you non-US folks are stressing, imagine being inside the house, trapped with the bad guys who keep trying to booby trap us like cartoon villains. 

Anyhoo.

I've been screenshotting the various social media apps, posts and headlines of the past 24 hours. It's a slice of time. What tomorrow will bring no one knows. We've learned not to ask.

Facebook

Insta

Instagram says Vote

Joe Biden says Vote

White House on lockdown

Mandy motherfucking Patinkin and Kathryn Grody

MSNBC stating the obvious

Threats from a weenie

Proudly a covidiot

CNN.com

Kansas City Star

The Oregonian

The Stranger

USA Today

Washington Post