The Big Apple

Heading to NYC...I can hardly wait.

The Met, the food, the shopping, the city...the cabbies. I cannot wait.

Isn't the sign in this picture great. "Don't even THINK of parking here." We need that kind of direct, in your face sign here in Cleveland. It's something people would understand.

Mono!!??!!

Mono?


Mono.


Not strep?


No. It's probably mono. The blood test will be back in a few days. You have to take it easy. I can write you an excuse for work, you need to rest for three or four days.

This was a portion of my conversation with my doctor last week. I got sick on mother's day. Chills, then a fever, and then in the morning a swollen throat. Well, the nurse and I, and later the Dr., were shocked when the rapid strep test came back negative. They tested me twice.


Now, back in February it also came back negative. But then we assumed it was strep and I was treated as such.


For the past 6 months I have been running myself ragged. I have been existing on 2-4 hours of sleep, working full time, and taking care of my granddaughter. I have been exhausted. I thought that I was so run down because I haven't been taking care of myself--not sleeping, not eating properly. I just figured that I needed to catch up on my sleep.

But it was mono.

OK, no big deal. It's a virus. Get your rest and take it easy while your body gets stronger.
But the issue is that I ignored myself.

If my mother, granddaughter, love....anyone around me had been as wiped out as I was, I would have bugged them about going to the Doctor. I would have nagged about an appointment or kept asking to the point of being a headache. But for myself, I blew it off. I blew off the fact that I was just miserable and couldn't seem to shake it.

I never thought of myself as one of those 'superwoman' types. I never thought I would be one of those women who did not sit down, or go to the doctor because I was just too busy. So many women die too early of heart disease, cancer, hypertension, complications from diabetes, etc. because they don't take care of themselves. I don't want to be one of those women.

I won't be one of those women.

Not again.

Ne me quitte pas - Nina Simone

Nina Simone is one of my absolute favorite singers. Her phrasing, the passion. She was incomparable. Even Jacque Brel's own version is not as incredible as hers.

This is roughly a translation of the lyrics, in all the years I have listened to this song this is the first time that I have bothered to look at the words. Just listen to her voice.

Don't leave me.

We must forget, all that can be forgotten. It is already gone. Forget the times, the misunderstandings, and the time wasted, trying to understand how. Forget those hours, that sometimes kill, the reasons why, the heart of joy.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.


Me, I'll offer to you, pearls of rain, from a country, where it doesn't rain. I will mine the earth, until after my death, to cover your body, with gold and light. I will make a land, where love will be king, where love will be law, where you will be queen.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.


Don't leave me. I will make for you, foolish words, that you will understand. I will speak to you, of these lovers, who twice saw, their hearts blaze up. I will tell to you the history of a king, who died without, without meeting you.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.


It is often seen, fire flashes anew, from an ancient volcano, that one believed too old. When all is done, the burned grounds, gives more corn, better than an April sun. And when the evening comes, so that the sky is aflame, with red and black, are they not married together.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.


Don't leave me. I will cry no more, I will speak no more, I will hide myself there. And look at you, dance and smile. And listen to you, sing and then laugh. Let me become to you, a shadow of your shadow, a shadow of your hand, a shadow of your dog.

Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me. Don't leave me.

Pat Parker

Pat Parker (USA) Poet
Sunrise: January 20, 1944
Sunset: June 1989

“If I could take all my parts with me when I go
somewhere, and not have to say to one of them, ‘No, you stay home tonight, you won't be welcome,’ because I'm going to an all-white party where I can be gay, but not Black. Or I'm going to a Black poetry reading, and half the poets are anti-homosexual, or thousands of situations where something of what I am cannot come with me. The day all the different parts of me can come along, we would have what I would call a revolution”

I used to think that there was never going to be a place and time when ALL of my parts would be welcome anywhere. Actually, I still think it, but now it doesn't matter. I take all of me almost everywhere. I realized very early on that I was not who/what people expected. The setting did not matter; I was a misfit. My style, appetite, sexuality, music, everything was just wrong. It seems that there was always something suspect about me.

I say was not because anything has changed but because it no longer matters. I know that I have to honor all that I am. I have to 'tend that inward fire' (to quote Van Gogh). It is ok that others scratch their heads or do a double take, I can embrace myself. I celebrate those seemingly opposing sides of me.

That word 'queer'

queer /kwɪər/ SpelledPronunciation[kweer] adjective, -er, -est,
verb, noun

–adjective

1. strange or odd from a conventional viewpoint; unusually
different;singular: a queer notion of justice.

2. of a questionable nature or character; suspicious; shady: Something queer about the language of the prospectus kept investors away.

3. not feeling physically right or well; giddy, faint, or qualmish: to feel
queer.

4. mentally unbalanced or deranged.

5. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive.

a. homosexual.

b. effeminate; unmanly.

6. Slang. bad, worthless, or counterfeit.

–verb (used with object)

7. to spoil; ruin.

8. to put (a person) in a hopeless or disadvantageous situation as to
success, favor, etc.

9. to jeopardize.

–noun

10. Slang: Disparaging and Offensive. a homosexual, esp. a
male homosexual.

11. Slang. counterfeit money.

—Idiom

12. queer the pitch, British Informal. to spoil the chances of success.

[Origin: 1500–10;perh. <>

—Synonyms 1. unconventional, curious, freakish, eccentric, weird. See strange.

—Antonyms 1. ordinary.

Dictionary.comUnabridged (v 1.1)Based on the Random House Unabridged
Dictionary, © RandomHouse, Inc. 2006.

OK, I have a problem with this word. I don't know why, really. It sounds kinda cute when you say it, but I don't like being called queer.

Lesbian? Thank you.

Dyke? Umm, ok.

Bulldagger? I don't like this one either and it makes me laugh directed at me, but it's not a word I use towards others ever.

Woman who loves womyn or womyn-centered? Ok, but why dance around.

Queer? No, I am not counterfeit. I don't think my sexuality makes me of questionable character. Although my viewpoint is unconventional, I think most of ours are. I am not ruined, hopeless, or in jeopardy. And, though there are some who question my sanity, I am far from being deranged.

I just don't like the word. It's the whole connotation of the word. It says to me, there's something not quite right there. And while I know that a lot of people outside of the community would agree with this characterization, I won't define myself by them.

I also don't like to refer to dominant/aggressive/tomboy or tomboi/butch womyn as studs. It doesn't sit well with me, but I do respect the label others give themselves.

It's one of those words that have been used against the community. So, to lessen the sting people figure they could adopt it and make it ok. I can't get there.

Just my opinion.

just a few fine womyn...

Sharon Bridgforth,



Skyler Cooper

Toshi Reagon



Pippa Fleming,



D'lo,









Mercy, mercy me.




There is something to be said for butch womyn...

there is a Sexy Dark Chocolate womyn missing--I don't have her pic.


Mercy.

Fleeting thought

So many want to move to warmer, sunnier climates,

but if you really knew what rainy days do to me,

we'd be somewhere in the Pacific Northwest...

and you would be singing in the rain.

I love butch women

OK, what in the world is it that you all do? How do you do it?



The walk. Head high, shoulders back. Erect...so to speak. Almost a swagger, but umm, so smooth.

Those hands. Handy, strong, sure...damn.

The shoes. OK, I have to sit down. A beautiful pair of square toed shoes or crisp white sneakers.

The cologne. Just enough to make me have to lean in a little more. Heaven help me.

It is amazing.

Hair that is short, or not. Creased jeans, or maybe not.
A handkerchief-- Yes, I said a handkerchief...makes me blush.
Chapstick, lickable.

I just love butch women. You all are amazing.

Thank you.

Renewed, almost.

The past few months have probably been the most trying time in my life.


Everything spiralled out of control and I found myself standing by myself. I felt so small and worthless. I felt so completely alone. There was no one to be found, but I had tons of strings attached to me. There were strings leading to small things: the cat, the lawn, the vacuum cleaner, a broken window...just stuff.

Then there was this one huge rope, that could be used to anchor a ship. Now this rope began with my daughter, except she was nowhere to be found. This rope had so many things attached to it that I thought I would suffocate with all of the knots and just the sheer volume of it. I heard a noise, I had missed something and had to find what it was. As I got closer, I heard crying, it was my granddaughter. I picked her up, fed her, put her on my back and continued on.

I found one rope that had nothing attached to the end; that one was left behind by the lover who promised love, but tried to break my spirit because she did not understand how I could love and not ask for something in return.


During this unraveling I got tired, lost sleep, went through a period of denial, went through a period of anger. I wanted to cry but was just too damned tired.

I kept finding so many ropes with nothing and no one on the ends. My sister, aunt...gone. Wow, did I do something?


At one point one of the ropes pulled me, it was my best friend. She tried to help navigate, but there was only enough room for me, so she offered encouragement, advice and support. I thanked God for her, then I put her in my pocket for safe keeping.



Now, I have piles of things to get to and organize but I have gotten some things accomplished. I am still exhausted but I feel better.

Finally I had a revelation that although it is not clean, simple, or neat...I am able to look around and see exactly who and what I can rely upon.

At first I was crushed. What did I do? Why is everyone mad at me? What happened? But the more I cleared things away and looked at things I saw that it wasn't me. I was just the one left standing after the mess was left behind.


It has taken so long to get my head up. It has taken months for me to realize that stuff happens to people and it does not define who they are. What matters is what I do with it, and how I handle it. What matters is how I 'wear' it.

It took me a minute to get back to the point where I can sit across a table and look someone in their eyes and know that I am flawed but not devalued. I am worthy. I am no less a good woman. I am no less funny, articulate, creative, sexy, honest...I was no less anything. I am not defined by my circumstances. I am worth knowing. I am worth the time it takes to stop and take a closer look.




My neighbor has these flowers in his yard every year. Nasturtium, the flower is usually under the big flat leaves. The flower tastes peppery, like a radish. He explained this 3 years ago when I moved in, but I don't like radishes so I kept moving through their paradise. Last year I finally pulled one of the flowers off and ate it. It was delicious, better tasting than a radish and very appealing on a salad.

I am like that flower. I am not the prettiest, but by far the tastiest surprise for someone willing to take the time.

This is not a bad place to be.

I will blame it on spring

Ok, I will blame this post on Spring. Northeast Ohio winters can leave me quite desperate for sunshine and fresh air. Yesterday was the first real kiss of spring. I was out without a coat.

I am positively giddy. Who knows for how long, and I dare not question why. This is so much better than...not being giddy.

So, I was playing with my poetry magnets tonight. I let my eyes fall on random words. (You know the mind is a very dark place sometimes.) This is the unedited copy of what I saw:


Make me...

chant.

scream.

shake.

frantic.

delirious.

water.

consumed.

pant.

gorgeous.

cook.

tell.

easy.

fast.

rain*.

yours.


See, I really should edit myself 99.5% of the time. Though at 2:50 AM I am far less likely to do so.

Since this was what I came up with first the rest of the words seemed worth exploring...but, the further I went through them and the more I wrote...let's just say I don't want to start any fires.