I’m a queer-for-short Black American who is doing their best.
slice of life
Do you ever think about The books you left behind? Every time you moved-- and then-- The very first move was an adventure to something greater. Our first real house, with a garage and and attic and my own room. The move after that, a grander adventure away from home.
poetry
From the green world Floating beyond collapsed stars I glide for many, many years For so long, time stopped for me. And when I arrived In another galaxy A gate waited for me In welcome: "Salutations. Rest here and you may see old friends." After the shaky landing
throwback thursday
I wrote this sometime in 201X. Episode 35. She's sitting on the swing, not rocking much, and staring out into space. She had little idea what she was doing, and had been walking, wandering, for awhile. When her name is called she runs off. Today, because I'
slice of life
It has been a rough two years, and for me the world didn't even shut down. It moved on, and me with it. While others were able to stay home and bake bread, or walk their dogs, or just slow down to enjoy time with their families-- I
slice of life
My grandmother was dying when I penned this post. There is a lot of what my mother bitterly calls it, drama, concerning the surrounding circumstances. But most of it is not important; what matters at this moment is how she does not want any of this drama when the time
poetry
I can't find her on Facebook anymore. She hasn't updated her blog or Twitter. She never answered my WhatsApp message. I think she is gone. I haven't said goodbye in over 15 years. And I don't know how to feel about this.
educational
Two weeks ago, I had to leave an online space. It was an oasis-in-a-desert type of online space. If you're in a marginalized group, you know exactly the space I am talking about: the kind where it's a safe haven, a group to
slice of life
And before you knew it, two seven months have passed by. I had no drafts or throwbacks to throw into the queue, so the silence lingered. A bit has happened since then: we've moved to a bigger and better house, I received my vaccination (edit: and booster!), I
poetry
The city can't take it away from me. Despite all this concrete Hard angles Grey-white walls The wind still carries the scent of forest. Oil is nothing Once I find The undertone of flowers. All that remains may be grass, But the weeds escape to remind me.
slice of life
I was on vacation last week. Before, I made plans: to fix things around the house we've been putting off, to play video games, to talk to people, and to write. Before and during, I also focused on making my space feel more like "me." That
slice of life
Throwback Thursday: Fri, 03 Oct 2014 15:00:55 on the VerboseTerse instance, yadda yadda yadda. Notable that this was for the write31days challenge for that year; I decided to write about my non-binary gender experience. This is from the third day, about my doubts before coming out. So
culture
I blame my depression/anxiety on top of current events, but lately I've had the urge to reread something-punk dystopian hellscapes. The Windup Girl, specifically. When I first picked up the novel years ago, it took me some determination to get through the (what I thought was
Raintree Ruckus
Was bitten by the Harriet the Spy writing journaling craze, hopped on the Internet, and never left.
https://raintreeruckus.com
