Capricorns do it and then feel bad in the morning

I can only describe it as a kind of epic stoner brunch: Piles of food on the kitchen counter, piles of bodies on the LoveSac, slow-motion sledding into bramble bushes, Tarot readings on-site, getting home at supper time, and promptly falling asleep on the couch for two hours (instead of doing laundry).

When in doubt wear goggles

Last night I played a set as part of Deep Frost Slow Thaw, one of five bands in the show whose members were randomly assigned. My friends all said we sounded great, and those who are not necessarily my friends said we looked great. (Our uniform was short shorts and swim goggles.) And we sold five copies of our tape, which is really just recordings of our practices on one of those old rectangular cassette recorders with a built-in microphone. It's so lo-fi it's not even fi. It's like sub-fi.

Happy. Birthday.

Last night I celebrated my friend's birthday at her apartment with pizza, costume changes, and booty beats. She asked everyone in attendance to make a list of 31 (her age) things that make us happy. I thought it was going to be really hard; it sounded like so many things. But I was actually the first one to finish my list. Does that mean I'm happy?

Haiku for March 22, 2013
(for J.D.)

Hard cider. Dildos.
Naughty naps. Hot baths. The moon.
Cassette tapes. Haircuts.

With a rebel yell

My ailing love for humankind got a shot in the arm last night at the bowling alley in a neighboring town. Once in a while there is a karaoke crowd that is so fearless, so heartfelt, and so tipsy that their cracking voices crack my cold, hard heart.

The magic is gone

This is what I wrote last night.

I don't want to talk about it.

Haiku for March 20, 2013

Sorry, too pissed off
Don't feel like writing haiku
Good night, you assholes

We are all made of stars

So, last night I read the following passage in Imogen Binnie's debut novel Nevada, available for preorder from Topside Press:

She can't think of anything else to write, though, and after four and a half words her hand is starting to cramp. She can type all night, but with a pen, not so much. Maybe she should keep a haiku journal, in a non-appropriative way.

For my mad kin

I know someone who is having a really intense experience of being able to foresee the collapse of human society. Technologies, economies, governments, all failing. Their calculations have placed this event in the next couple of years. Everything on the news and the Internet is confirming these predictions. I can see this person's physical health deteriorating. Coffee and cigarettes and weed.

Facts of life

Today is my maternal grandmother's birthday. She would be 80-something today, I guess. She's been gone for a few years.

This is her and me a long time ago.

I'll have a Sticky Navel

You learn something new every day.

And by "you" I mean "I," and by "every day" I mean "on St. Patrick's Day."

And by "something new" I mean "what a body shot actually looks like."

Haiku for March 16, 2013

You slurp rum off me
As I stretch out on the bar
Who's this "St. Patrick"?

Take these D cups from me

Yesterday I realized I had been wearing a binder every day for a week straight. I also realized it hurts a lot when I turn my head or breathe. Lifting things and driving are difficult. I made an appointment for physical therapy.

Stitch-n-subvert-the-dominant-paradigm

Last night I hosted a rad, queer stitch-n-such, attended by one other person. I unraveled a blanket I had started weaving, and my friend made several inches of progress on a rainbow latch hook rug. We discussed the prevalence of sexually violent language in our everyday vocabularies and sang along to Flood in its entirety.

Fuck destroy the patriarchy! Build a little birdhouse in your soul!

Haiku for March 14, 2013

Asking queer questions
"How do you identify?"
"What does romance mean?"

3.13.13

Yesterday I got an unrecognizable tattoo and an unpopular haircut. I'm fairly pleased with both.

Haiku for March 13, 2013

Pinball inked on wrist
I have three dollars left now
"What's your tattoo of?"

With apologies to Bashō

Last night right before bed, I decided to write a haiku a day because g-d knows I can't commit to keeping a journal any other way.

Today I made the mistake of telling a friend my intention, and in response she uttered that most unflattering word to be crammed into the English language in the last couple of decades: "Blog."