When I opened my back door this morning to let the dog out, I was surprised to feel that the impossible heat had broken. I could almost hear the cogs of my little brain working, freed from the apocalyptic stasis of the past few days. I might even cook tonight.
Wasn't it just a short time ago that the NFL thought that the admission of gay players into its hallowed, manly ranks would bring it down? I hear the tinny sounds of dirt hitting a coffin, a grave being dug, and I can't help but think hmmmmmmm.
My friend Jeneva Stone, the brilliant writer, poet, advocate and mother of a severely disabled young man, wrote a post on her blog the other day that is living inside me. You should hop over and read it at Busily Seeking 2.0. Oh, it has nothing to do with football.
Jeneva's post made me sit up in my own bed where I'd been lying, yellow wallpaper in my mind. I am strengthened, galvanized. I was also made whole by the incredibly generous favor from my friend Cara. I can't reveal what it was, but it came along with a tub of Lalicious Sugar Kiss Extraordinary Whipped Sugar Scrub that I dragged myself out of bed for, took a shower and slathered all over my body. When I slipped into bed, I was reminded, again, of how small the measures are that one must take to feel replenished.
Absent anything interesting to binge on as far as television, I've been on a bit of a reading frenzy. I finished Anthony Doerr's All the Light We Cannot See, and am making my delighted way through We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas. Next up is Tana French's In the Woods, a genre that I generally don't like but recommended by my friend Vesuvius whose taste is impeccable and for whom, despite our age difference, I aspire to be more like. This morning I discovered newly crowned MacArthur poet Terrance Hayes' poetry and can't wait to read more of it.
Christy Shake, a beautiful writer and advocate, my soul sister in Maine, has been making THCa oil to give to her son Calvin whose seizure disorder is as devastating as Sophie's. She wrote a letter to her doctors this morning that ya'll should read, too. Here it is: Dear Docs: Calvin and Cannabis.
It's amazing what a bit of cool air, literature, poetry, feminism, NFL-bashing and freedom from seizures can do to one's little brain, isn't it?
***I'm going to see La Dolce Vita tonight on the big screen for the first time since college. I am so excited I can hardly bear it.
