chicating

Seriously, it had been literal years since I moved very much from my e-mail box, somehow. But in trying to get organized, I discovered that the rut I'm in(Though real enough, and not fully self-inflicted, but a combination of personal and systemic factors that I'm gonna have to be pretty fucking clever to make more than a token difference against) But I am, though. Even if the last thing an already-lagging life needed was a 3+ year pause to wait out a plague--which part I have been both blessed and excellent at avoiding(Except in writing...my muses return to it copiously)--the rut, while no-bullshit real, is not as deep as I thought. Although it can be hard to get excited about a personal evolution that feels like one of those old flip-books where you have to turn the pages very fast to see the picture move, it isn't really the same picture. Close enough to be annoying, at times, perhaps, but I've done some good work, both artistically and politically, and I have worked through some of my more ancient family drama--a little disappointingly, don't really think there are any happy endings there, but it's not a wound anymore.

Expected to put out a new blog post today, but it's just too loud and I'm too distracted...pretend I'm in solidarity with the Times Reporters or something.