I wake up mid-morning and can't move, and I glance up and to my upper left standing over my bed there's a dark figure, and I feel utter malevolence.
I close my eyes and pray prayers of exorcism, and after several minutes, I can move again.
Then, although I'm agitated, I eventually fall asleep.
When I get up several hours later, it's like I'm in a different reality and that what happened earlier was just some kind of dream, though I can see how a reflection in my mirror might have appeared like a person to me, earlier.
The terror was real when I felt it, though.
Saturday, August 4, 2018
Friday, August 3, 2018
Another person on the subway the other night, like around 10:30pm:
A (skinny) (young 20s) (black) guy with a beard and an arm tatt, who wheeled in this giant extended baby buggy with red awnings and two seats for kids, first the one and then the other, each one containing a small (black) baby the same age when you peeked in, like maybe just four or five months old.
Thursday, August 2, 2018
More on my (Tibetan) coworkers.
The other day I found out, that when a few of my (Tibetan) coworkers work with this one (older) (white) woman who can experience rapid mood swings and get really cranky at the drop of a hat, that they break out into snatches of this one song that goes something like "We're better / together / forever," that sounds super old-timey and that seems like something they picked up from somewhere that makes her happy really really quickly.
"Hey, [her name]," they're like, "don't you know that we're better, together, forever," and as they sing she joins in, and then they break off and can get her to go do her routine without any problem.
And, when they sing, they have their heavy (Tibetan) accents.
It's interesting, too, how anti-materialistic my (Tibetan) coworkers are, on the whole.
I'm not sure if it's because they were refugees or are Buddhist or what, but every once in a while when we talk, one of them makes just some short, genuine observation on the sad state of humankind, like "Some people, they love money," and they do a tsk-tsk-tsk sort of thing.
Also, the other day the one (American) RN was commenting to them on how she was just amazed that most of them speak 3 languages, Tibetan and Hindi and English.
"That's just amazing," she was like. "I can't even speak Spanish."
"But you live in a country that speaks Spanish," one of my (Tibetan) coworkers was like, "And you see, you will."
"Hey, [her name]," they're like, "don't you know that we're better, together, forever," and as they sing she joins in, and then they break off and can get her to go do her routine without any problem.
And, when they sing, they have their heavy (Tibetan) accents.
It's interesting, too, how anti-materialistic my (Tibetan) coworkers are, on the whole.
I'm not sure if it's because they were refugees or are Buddhist or what, but every once in a while when we talk, one of them makes just some short, genuine observation on the sad state of humankind, like "Some people, they love money," and they do a tsk-tsk-tsk sort of thing.
Also, the other day the one (American) RN was commenting to them on how she was just amazed that most of them speak 3 languages, Tibetan and Hindi and English.
"That's just amazing," she was like. "I can't even speak Spanish."
"But you live in a country that speaks Spanish," one of my (Tibetan) coworkers was like, "And you see, you will."
Wednesday, August 1, 2018
Two more subway riders the other day:
1) Earlier in the ride, a (taller) (rather filled out) (younger) (darker) (Indian) guy in khakis and a snazzily patterned blue-and-purple dress shirt, and with a flashy gold pen sticking out of his back pocket, and an aroma of somewhat prominent BO.
2) Later in the ride, a (younger) (bearded) (black) guy with earbuds in who was sitting forward in his seat and intensely knitting a mini-strip of something pastel almost like a baby's scarf, and who when he got up had on socks with big weed symbols on them, and a t-shirt with something about weed and hip hop.
2) Later in the ride, a (younger) (bearded) (black) guy with earbuds in who was sitting forward in his seat and intensely knitting a mini-strip of something pastel almost like a baby's scarf, and who when he got up had on socks with big weed symbols on them, and a t-shirt with something about weed and hip hop.
Tuesday, July 31, 2018
An interaction on the subway the other day: Mystery food.
The other week I was on the subway, and this (early 30s) (vaguely Slavic) (white) woman in moddish black tights came on and sat down opposite me in the filling-up car, and right away she pulled out a tupperware of this thin purplish goop with chunks in it and held it up near her face and spooned some now and then into her mouth, as she stared off into space into the middle of the car.
After a while, the curiosity overwhelmed me.
"Excuse me ma'am," I was like, "Is that borscht?"
At that, she clicked into reality and seemed amused.
"No," she was like, "It's a smoothie, I just have it in a bowl.... Borscht, that's great."
And, she seemed genuinely amused.
Also, when she spoke, her accent was just normal, she wasn't some Slavic immigrant at all like a chic Russian or Bulgarian or something like that, though maybe her family was and that's why she looked that way, above and beyond her moddish black outfit?
After a while, the curiosity overwhelmed me.
"Excuse me ma'am," I was like, "Is that borscht?"
At that, she clicked into reality and seemed amused.
"No," she was like, "It's a smoothie, I just have it in a bowl.... Borscht, that's great."
And, she seemed genuinely amused.
Also, when she spoke, her accent was just normal, she wasn't some Slavic immigrant at all like a chic Russian or Bulgarian or something like that, though maybe her family was and that's why she looked that way, above and beyond her moddish black outfit?
Monday, July 30, 2018
On lesbian separatist culture.
My one coworker at my one caregiving job is a lesbian, and she sings in a lesbian feminist chorus.
She's currently on a break from it for various reasons, but she wants to get back into it really bad, and soon.
For over 25 years, she's done many many rehearsals and then concerts, often for just medium-sized crowds, although there's a huge amount of effort in the preparation of it by all of the members, which can include arrangement of songs and even composition of new music.
On the one hand, it's sad that it's not bigger and that more people aren't appreciating it.
On the other hand, this is women's culture, where women focus on women's spaces and lifting up other women, without regard to the larger patriarchal culture and its judgments and priorities.
And, I think that's what you need to focus on.
When you get down to it, isn't it wonderful?
There's almost nothing better than lesbian separatists, in my book. So strong, so grounded, so idealistic and real at the same time, it's just wonderful.
She's currently on a break from it for various reasons, but she wants to get back into it really bad, and soon.
For over 25 years, she's done many many rehearsals and then concerts, often for just medium-sized crowds, although there's a huge amount of effort in the preparation of it by all of the members, which can include arrangement of songs and even composition of new music.
On the one hand, it's sad that it's not bigger and that more people aren't appreciating it.
On the other hand, this is women's culture, where women focus on women's spaces and lifting up other women, without regard to the larger patriarchal culture and its judgments and priorities.
And, I think that's what you need to focus on.
When you get down to it, isn't it wonderful?
There's almost nothing better than lesbian separatists, in my book. So strong, so grounded, so idealistic and real at the same time, it's just wonderful.
Sunday, July 29, 2018
Dreams (2 of 2): A Car and a Cure.
The other week I dreamnt -
A (middle-aged) (white) woman with shorter brunette hair was standing in front of me and I couldn't see her face, but she had an abscess on her forearm, and she took out a needle and thread and calmly drew it through it, like the doctor had told her to.
Later, I was on the street and was looking into an abandoned car that had one window down, and I saw a lot of stuff piled up high in the back seat, with a few tattered older copies of a magazine I subscribe to scattered on top.
. . .
A (middle-aged) (white) woman with shorter brunette hair was standing in front of me and I couldn't see her face, but she had an abscess on her forearm, and she took out a needle and thread and calmly drew it through it, like the doctor had told her to.
Later, I was on the street and was looking into an abandoned car that had one window down, and I saw a lot of stuff piled up high in the back seat, with a few tattered older copies of a magazine I subscribe to scattered on top.
. . .
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