Category Archives: ptsd

fly me. or not.

Looking at the anecdotes posted at tsastatus.net for SEA and SFO sent me diving for a Klonopin.

home is where. no seriously. where is it.

Like most urban dwellers in the US, I am from somewhere else. I have been from somewhere else for as long as I can remember. But what I mean to write about is going home.

ensign

In my dreams soldiers shadows steel-browed and tensile
summon aircraft screeching phallic and armed.

on my own

As it happens, I have decided to, if not systematically, then at least with some sense of deliberation, try to unpack the tangle of narrative and nervous tissue that constitutes my own origin myth. Some of this involves therapy; some of it involves finishing the goddamned autobiography already.

not my planet

You ever have one of those mornings you wake up before sunrise and you already know the day is going to be too bright and too warm and one whole side of your body is aching..

Rootlessness and restlessness in white America

I’ve been thinking for a long time about my own sense of almost complete alienation from the white Protestant suburbanism I myself came from and that is often thought of as the neutral American identity against which all others are measured. For some time I’ve been thinking and sometimes acting on the question of how it is that I can figure my own deeply-felt need to find a time and place in which I might belong without engaging in the sort of cultural appropriation that makes the Other a source of commodified artifacts.

A short treatise on religious rhetoric

Because I am nobody sitting here in a deserted corner of the intarwebs, my post on the subject is not in this list, but bloggers all over the place are still talking about the racism inherent in blaming California African Americans for passing Proposition 8 on Tuesday. Alas, a blog has posted a list of [...]

I know I said to wake me when it was over, but..

It is Friday for me although the clock says Saturday and Saturday is streaking across the Pacific Ocean towards the International Date Line where it will turn into Sunday streaking across the Pacific Ocean towards Asia and eventually back through here again and then it will be Sunday but right now it is Friday and [...]

Making the Sale

When I was a Girl Scout–about first through fifth grade I’d say, until I got bored out of my skull sitting in this one church basement doing hideously useless “crafts” using Elmer’s Glue and paper plates and construction paper and maybe if we were lucky colored pipecleaners when what I wanted to do was go [...]

Not expecting to fly

I almost cannot stand the sound of small aircraft flying overhead. I am reminded of this by the feeling I get when I hear a single prop engine plane passing over the city, something that does not happen often in San Francisco, I think because the airspace here is so crowded that most non-commercial low-altitude [...]

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