The blowing of branches and leaves Through my windshield is silent, But matched by the rush of blasting AC, chilling me in specific locations Here, in this idling pod I inhabit.
It’s much too hard to speak, even now To myself, arms too heavy To open the door, turn the key. Not even whispers seem real. And I’m trying to remember Exactly when I turned inward (Got tired Stopped trying) As the shrinking, distant Background voice that warns Of disaster says - This can’t go on much longer.
I have to wake up (all the way) Emerge from my brain and move forward With time - there were years when I Just did not engage with life But I decided that had to change. The moments march on, after all.
Soft, what trigger through yonder Therapy session breaks me Into incoherence, imagining A green tiled room where the form On the gurney is so cold. Icy mist fills the space And drag queen makeup covers the face Of a surgeon wearing sequined scrubs, Who leaps atop his patient, Singing to a scalpel while the nurses All turn in choreographed and Exaggerated poses. The practiced terror on the patient’s face Includes hands to cheeks, mouth agape As he waits for his verse’s turn.
It’s really become a script, by now, And I’d like to move on to other roles.
“While Ms. McKenna “did not ‘abduct’ the child,” the court said, “her appropriation of the child while in utero was irresponsible, reprehensible.”—
Sara McKenna, a former Marine, became pregnant during a brief relationship with Bode Miller, an Olympic skier. While seven months pregnant, she moved from California to New York to go to school, leading a judge to scold her for “virtually absconding with her fetus.” Now, the fight for custody of their son has become “a closely watched legal battle over the rights of pregnant women to travel and make life choices.” (via albinwonderland)
With new momentum to shatter long-standing taboos and stop tip-toeing around death — from “death with dignity” measures sweeping the country to projects promoting kitchen table “conversations” about our parents’ deepest dying wishes — a re-energized DIY death movement is emerging.
This “personal funeral” or “home death care” movement involves reclaiming various aspects of death: for instance, keeping the dead body at home for some time rather than having it whisked it away; rejecting embalming and other environmentally questionable measures to prettify the dead; personally transporting a loved one’s corpse to a cemetery; and even, in some cases, home burials. Families are learning to navigate these delicate tasks with help from a growing cadre of“death midwives” “doulas” or “home death guides.”
“When it comes to death, it doesn’t matter where you are on the scale of education or socioeconomics, many people are shocked to find that it’s legal to care for your own dead at home,” says Josh Slocum, Executive Director of the Funeral Consumers Alliance, a Burlington, Vermont, nonprofit that works on all aspects of funeral education, from helping consumers reduce costs to advocating on DIY methods. “And I think this speaks to how distant death has become for us in just over a century. In the late 1800s, even turn of the century, caring for the dead was as prosaic and ordinary as taking care of the children or milking the farm animals.”
It’s hilarious that non-Americans on Tumblr are all like “OMG DENNY’S TUMBLR MAKES ME WISH I LIVED IN AMERICA SO I COULD EAT THERE,” while us Americans will literally only eat at Dennys if it’s 3 in the morning and we’ve lost control of our life.