(no subject)
am in the process of moving to Flux 53. i had no idea how big of a deal that place/living there is until tank asked where "this warehouse [was]" and i said where, and he said, "are you living at flux?" and i was like "yeah, howd you know what its called?" and he got all excited because i guess he knows it and its kind of a big deal, and then when i walked home today i saw doug from the buchwalds at the strawberry stand, and i asked him if the buchwalds wanted to play at my new oakland art collective warehouse thingy and we chatted for a minute about how he cant because hell be touring, and he asked where it was and i said its called Flux 52 and then he was like "whoa, thats a really good venue" and i guess he has played there before and he is a pretty serious and accomplished musician. im so tickled by the fact that i actually just sort of stumbled backwards into this Oakland Thing, which is such a socially established, recognizeable Thing that people like come here and seek out to do. living in a big open industrial mixed-use space with a bunch of young alternatives, these kind of intentional-culture art people with their lofts and fascinating interest-based niche scenes and stuff. i never thought i could climb into this kind of thing, or even considered whether i would like to, but now i kind of get that it doesnt really need to be so like perfectly compatible, or like Deeply Right For Me or whatever, not so much effort and crazy thinking about what it is conceptually for my life needs to go into it, and i can just go ahead and jump in and see what happens and its fine because it would never be permanent anyway, its something thats really well suited to being young and wanting to get a lot of tastes in my mouth. its so lucky too, that this is the version of That Oakland Thing that is the kind of dirty, street-ish, casual, DIY, fringe, couch-surfers-and-cheap-beer one, (the fun one) and not the bicycle, vegan, more expensive clothes, radical politics, cleaner, more serious one (that would never take me anyway). everyone there is very nice and the building is fascinating and it has a full size legitimate theater with theater seats and a backstage and lights and everything. i live in a really tall loft nook above the bedroom of a funny, pretty, intimidating, somewhat motherish third-generation-seamstress named lulu. pictures to follow.
after the first two harrassment termination things failed, i got workshift-terminated. there was a pretty infuriating bunch of misconduct in the process by people with authority, and so i am in the appeal process, but its complicated by a bunch of things and incredibly stressful. i dont want to live in the BSC anymore anyway, so its a little bit whatever, i mean, i feel like my time with the coops has run its course anyway, i feel like i cleaned my plate as far as this goes, i learned the thing, and grew out of it. that isnt to say my heart isnt totally broken by the shock and betrayal of how it actually went down (carefully planned trap/surprise attack), because i really loved castro and generally the coops and im crushed that as a whole it failed to love me back. right now is a weird time anyway, there is a mass exodus and a lot of that is my friends who have also grown out of it. i suppose, cheesily, the adaptation thing, kind of: it is my love, it belongs to me, and i sort of think that the experience of loving something is closer to the middle of being a person than being loved. i dont know which one is more edifying. castro broke my heart, but i still really feel like i came away with the better end of the split.
last weekend i went home and spent most of the time in the OC with that crew, getting my heartstrings pulled on and remembering where parts of me besides my body really live. i want to write down way more about that also, i have to make myself promise to do that before any more of it slips away. id been having a really really hard time lately, like, i hadnt really been talking to anyone or feeling like myself or feeling like i belonged to anything or was right or good or possible or worth anything in any way, i felt deeply and totally homeless and alone there for awhile, and being there just kind of reminded me that not every thing is in the bay area, that in fact of my three bases, the bay area is the one that is least my home, and i love it but im not and never was Of It the way i am southern california and even curiously new york, in a certain way. i remembered how much i love how gross and stupid la/orange county are, and i was totally overwhelmed by how much and how honestly and how smartly and trustably those kids still actually actually love me.
last thing: i started working at St Johns Childcare Center about two weeks ago and its going pretty well. nobody is angry with me, i dont feel like i fail everything, the kids seem like they really like me, its a real job that is related to my future, i need them to give me more hours but other than that its great. i just want to tell you guys that when i put the kids down for a nap and they kind of curl up around my legs or hips on their mats on the floor next to me and just kind of gently cling there, or fall asleep with their heads on my lap, and i just gently pat them or rub their backs or stroke their hair until they go to sleep (this is my job),and i look around the room at all the sleeping preschoolers and toddlers, for little bits of time, i dont feel separate from the universe, and impenetrable and like nothing can come inside of me- i feel like im a part of it and my life is not nothing. knowing that right then its extremely important to these small people that i take care of them, and feeling this insanely intense empathy and compassion for their astonishingly sincere and precious fear of the possibility that i might not, and being totally astonished that they just look at me with not even the remotest question about whether i am a good person, and the younger ones calling me momma sometimes, all of this wells up in me this crazy surge of mortifyingly gay love and it just overflows all over everything. i walk home through this less-collegy neighborhood which is just so richly and casually opulent with flowers and clapboard and trees and porches and its so lazy and graceful in its berkeley beauty, i almost cant stand how much i love this stupid shitty retarded world.
ps: weirdly and inexplicably way more emotional and sentimental now. pregnant?
after the first two harrassment termination things failed, i got workshift-terminated. there was a pretty infuriating bunch of misconduct in the process by people with authority, and so i am in the appeal process, but its complicated by a bunch of things and incredibly stressful. i dont want to live in the BSC anymore anyway, so its a little bit whatever, i mean, i feel like my time with the coops has run its course anyway, i feel like i cleaned my plate as far as this goes, i learned the thing, and grew out of it. that isnt to say my heart isnt totally broken by the shock and betrayal of how it actually went down (carefully planned trap/surprise attack), because i really loved castro and generally the coops and im crushed that as a whole it failed to love me back. right now is a weird time anyway, there is a mass exodus and a lot of that is my friends who have also grown out of it. i suppose, cheesily, the adaptation thing, kind of: it is my love, it belongs to me, and i sort of think that the experience of loving something is closer to the middle of being a person than being loved. i dont know which one is more edifying. castro broke my heart, but i still really feel like i came away with the better end of the split.
last weekend i went home and spent most of the time in the OC with that crew, getting my heartstrings pulled on and remembering where parts of me besides my body really live. i want to write down way more about that also, i have to make myself promise to do that before any more of it slips away. id been having a really really hard time lately, like, i hadnt really been talking to anyone or feeling like myself or feeling like i belonged to anything or was right or good or possible or worth anything in any way, i felt deeply and totally homeless and alone there for awhile, and being there just kind of reminded me that not every thing is in the bay area, that in fact of my three bases, the bay area is the one that is least my home, and i love it but im not and never was Of It the way i am southern california and even curiously new york, in a certain way. i remembered how much i love how gross and stupid la/orange county are, and i was totally overwhelmed by how much and how honestly and how smartly and trustably those kids still actually actually love me.
last thing: i started working at St Johns Childcare Center about two weeks ago and its going pretty well. nobody is angry with me, i dont feel like i fail everything, the kids seem like they really like me, its a real job that is related to my future, i need them to give me more hours but other than that its great. i just want to tell you guys that when i put the kids down for a nap and they kind of curl up around my legs or hips on their mats on the floor next to me and just kind of gently cling there, or fall asleep with their heads on my lap, and i just gently pat them or rub their backs or stroke their hair until they go to sleep (this is my job),and i look around the room at all the sleeping preschoolers and toddlers, for little bits of time, i dont feel separate from the universe, and impenetrable and like nothing can come inside of me- i feel like im a part of it and my life is not nothing. knowing that right then its extremely important to these small people that i take care of them, and feeling this insanely intense empathy and compassion for their astonishingly sincere and precious fear of the possibility that i might not, and being totally astonished that they just look at me with not even the remotest question about whether i am a good person, and the younger ones calling me momma sometimes, all of this wells up in me this crazy surge of mortifyingly gay love and it just overflows all over everything. i walk home through this less-collegy neighborhood which is just so richly and casually opulent with flowers and clapboard and trees and porches and its so lazy and graceful in its berkeley beauty, i almost cant stand how much i love this stupid shitty retarded world.
ps: weirdly and inexplicably way more emotional and sentimental now. pregnant?