Monthly Archives: May 2011

/frustrated (do it anyway)

stencil graffiti: woman in a coat, walking awayGood morning good morning —

I am frustrated this morning because I don’t have time for the real writing I want to do: an hour or more just on prep, on the freewriting that would clear my brain, then being able to focus in and on and through and down on one subject for one write, another hour, two, three. But there isn’t time. Rush rush rush. Some mornings I can feel the rush and work through it. Some mornings I just get swept away by it. The train never even gets to the track before it’s derailed.

Things I would be writing about, if I had more time this morning: Continue reading

friendluv & friendjealousy

stencil graffiti: your existence gives me hopeGood morning!

Listen, have you seen the movie Bridesmaids yet? Will you go see it, so that we can talk about it here?

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let the body do its work

graffiti of a hand facing out toward the viewer, one finger touching a small skateboard; flowers drawn, tattoos?, at the wristGood morning — wow, is it a Monday. How’s yours going so far?

Here’s a story: Yesterday, I spent a bit of time helping my friend, Alex, get ready to move. I don’t like this part of the story, because I don’t want her to move. She’s giving away a bunch of stuff, and I snagged a small bookshelf, a mug, a bag of things from the fridge, a couple of pet carriers, a cast iron cauldron. Everything fit into the car–snug, but still–and we got it all home. I gave Alex a long hug and said See you later (not Goodbye).

When I was taking the bookshelf out of the backseat, I got a serious splinter deep in the third finger of my right hand. Upstairs, in the house, I fussed over the splinter for a long while — I squeezed at it, got out the tweezers and tried to dig out the wood; the Mr. went and got a needle and tried to pull it out, but that didn’t work either. I soaked it in warm water, then tried everything again, but it was just in too deep. So I went to bed, still with splinter, invader, in my hand. I thought about letting the body do its work.

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NaMaMo – loving ourselves over and over

graffiti that reads, "make love to your body // sing the praises of every cell"

yes yes yes

Morning, you — how’s your body feeling this morning? Your writing hand? Your heart?

So, it’s May — this means Spring in many parts of the (northern) world, and it also means National Masturbation Month! It’s the 13th now, which means we’re about halfway through this month dedicated to self-pleasure. NaMaMo was originally developed by  Good Vibrations as a response to the firing of former U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Joycelyn Elders, who had the audacity to publicly state that masturbation “is part of human sexuality, and perhaps it should be taught.” She believed that if we taught young people that masturbation was healthy and normal, they might be less likely to engage in riskier sexual acts.

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writing our lacunes

miss.tic graffiti in Paris with the words, A Lacan ses Lacunes (Lacan has its gaps (lacks?))Good morning! The birds are doing their short sharp morning songs out my window. Who’s complaining?

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I just thought of the last prompt for this weekend’s Writing the Flood workshop — it’s going to be a fun one! Just a couple of spaces still open. Please let me know if you’d like to join us!

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keep the channel open

photo of Martha Graham, en danceToday, Google tells me, is Martha Graham‘s 117th birthday.

Martha Graham was a revolutionary dancer and choreographer. I found this on the wikipedia entry for her, when I went looking for the source of one particular quote:

Agnes de Mille [wrote]: “I was bewildered and worried that my entire scale of values was untrustworthy. … I confessed that I had a burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be.” Martha said to me, very quietly,

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(change) on the canvas of my own body

tall-haired blonde women, sticker-graffiti from the HaightGood morning!

A quick post this morning — Yesterday and today, I set my alarm for something early, and my body decides only to rise when it’s something late. My nighttime self is overly optimistic about my morning self’s willpower.

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Write Whole and Declaring Our Erotic – 8 week workshops begin mid-June!

I’ve got the summer 8-week workshop schedule up, finally —

~Write Whole: Survivors Write
8 Monday evenings, 6:00-8:30pm, beginning 6/13
Open to all women survivors of sexual trauma
(Workshop held in downtown San Francisco)

o In the *Write Whole: Survivors Write* workshop, you’ll gather with other survivors of sexual trauma to create new art and new beauty out of life’s difficult and complicated realities. Learn to trust the flow of your own writing, and receive immediate feedback about the power of your words! Remember: we’re open to ALL women, and ‘survivor’ is self-defined!

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after mother’s day

watercolor of a smiling woman holding a baby up to her face

(check out more of Will Kasso's gorgeous artwork by clicking on the image!)

Good morning, all — good Monday to you!

Yesterday was mother’s day, which can be a straightforward celebration for some people, and quite complicated for others. Yesterday, I was thinking about those of us who can’t find cards at the Walgreen’s or at Hallmark that say what we really want to say to our mothers, who can’t take those flowery cards that say, “Thanks for always being there for me, Mom. Thanks for being my rock and my constant support. I know it was a struggle to deal with me sometimes, but you had faith in me even when I didn’t have faith in myself…” Those of us who are looking for the cards that say, “You were a disaster and yet I still find myself aching for a relationship with you” or “I wish I hadn’t had to be your rock and your constant support” or “I missed you for a lot of my childhood, but I’m glad that we can have a relationship now” or — what would your Mother’s Day card say? I always just go for blank cards these days, when at the store shopping for Mother’s or Father’s Day — the regular, pre-printed cards with that Hollywood-Mother message just won’t work for me, and my mom and I have a pretty good relationship these days. It’s just that we don’t have one based on revisionist history; we have one based on the facts of our lives, which are too painful for Hallmark to make pithy and flowered-pink.

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is it too much? wrangling with trauma memoir

stencil graffiti of a green butterflyGood morning! Bay Area folks, are you soaking up this amazing sunshine? You know how fickle our weather is here — get yourself out in it before it’s gone! Take a notebook, even better, and let the words flow while you sit somewhere outside; let the people, the growing things, the small birds around you be your prompts!

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(A bit of this morning’s post gets into some specific details around sexual trauma — just be easy with yourselves as you read, ok? xox, -Jen)

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