Split

Two things are happening simultaneously. A propellor whirls. My being is moving in two directions. My body is twinned in two places at once. The present tense and my long ago past collide every morning. I am in 2020 Oaxaca City, Mexico City. And in my great grandmother’s nineteenth-century English home.

A Ghazal for the Dead – a University of Alberta memorial for flight PS752

A very sad occasion. The UofAlberta memorial to those who lost their lives in the deadly Tehran crash on January 8, 2020. I have felt grief-stricken by the hate and cruelty, the loss of life. So I was glad to attend with my neighbour, friend, and colleague - a wonderful young woman Zohreh and her beautiful family. The space overflowed with fellow mourners.

A Feminist Flaneure’s Passerelle

Wherein a woman walks and muses. The shape of the woods sounds like birds. Writers abound. The stories cross oceans and wave. All this to try to stem the tide in her head of climate catastrophe and the rise of authoritarian regimes here there & everywhere. Keeping a world on self-destruct at bay.

Give Me Too Much: An Ode to Excess

27 July 2019 Today feels very bleak. (A hasty draft journal in time.) Bleakness breeds hasty remedies. Cultish solutions seem tantalizing to thoughtful people. The news of the day is all about the bitter tyrants winning. All over the world. I am caught up in meditating on a death. In the public sphere, the global… Continue reading Give Me Too Much: An Ode to Excess