miresistencia

RANT. Plenty of fish?

Seriously, the amount of “men”–or, as what I am about to write might indicate–Peter Pans on the dating site makes me laugh again and again, makes me shake my head. Ok, truth? I guess my curiosity HAS gotten the best of me, I need to know– What has your life been like that the amount…

Open Letter to Brooks Long, on the prophecy moon of summer fruit.

Catfish, I was sitting on the floor in my hobbit house, on two plush pillows that are hand-me-downs from the upstairs neighbor who moved out. I live in a hand-me-down house. I was sitting in the hand-me-down hobbit house on hand-me-down pillows on the floor, on a hand-me-down rug from the woman who lived…

Virgil McFarland

Virgil McFarland called me eighteen times in one night. The honey-tongued woman on the recording said nine of those times the same thing into my voice mail, “an inmate from the North County Penitentiary is trying to reach you, press one to accept this call, press the pound sign to deny.” When you pressed one…

On Oak Street

….having memories.

In the summer you write in the morning.

What can I tell you that you don’t already know? The 101 in Ventura County in June smells strawberry sweet. There are paintings of seagulls on a wall in town, circling a convertible. My sister-in-law is 8 and a half months pregnant and I never got to hug her when her belly was big…

Against Patriarchy: 20 Tools for Men to Further Feminist Revolution

THIS. Every time I get discouraged (and forget that Hope means standing despite the ordeal of obstacles with which you are confronted) Life delivers something like THIS…

It happened every place we ever lived. I hated cleaning.

This little hobbit house. I can count on one finger the amount of times I have cleaned it, like scrub cleaned the way I was taught when I was a girl. When I was clean, like sober clean, almost two years, I had moved into my first place just for me, no roommates. It was…

Beltane Moon

On the rise

Big ol magic moon: Lunar Beltane in the hills

That big ol silly moon, just a stand out in the sky like someone shot a paint ball up there and smack-landed it on the flat east canvas, a perfect white slab. She was staring at me while the sun was still out. A smile I couldn’t reach or run from, just had to laugh…