I just watched hours of spanish explanations of grillos, their songs, the why they sing and how it’s related to temperature on youtube. This was my saturday fucking night. It was splendid. There is something singing outside my window every night. Maybe it’s a chicharra, though it seems to early for chicharras, maybe it’s a grillo. Maybe a frog. I’ll take it. It’s there next to my window singing to me almost every night, then is still for a few hours. Starts up the next day. I’ll take it.
Did you know that texas chicharras distinguish themselves by sound and not look? Sort of like when we adults say look at the actions of a person instead of what they say.
I got in trouble with my ex-significant other for posting personalish stuff online. It’s a hard habit to break. Its hard too because I’m isolated and don’t have close friends. It’s hard because even before I put out my first zine 15 years ago I’ve been posting personalish shit online on blogs and livejournals and places that make it seem like I’m less alone and less isolated and less of a social anxiety-filled person that has difficulty forming close and lasting relationships.
So as to not do this, I end up, then, talking about grillos and food I’ve eaten or posting cute pics of mermaids. I don’t get the getting in trouble for exploring deep personal shit via open lines on these tech airwaves. I was reading some self-help articles, I can’t even remember what the subject was about, but the advice was, try to understand it’s not always about you. It’s a big step to realize that words and poems and articles written by your s.o. are not expressly about you but about their insecurities, or pains, or emotions. What do you do, too, when you are in a relationship with someone who writes paragraphs and paragraphs about being in emotional turmoil or about empty uteruses or dreams that never materialized when that’s something that they do. It’s just something I do, overshare online about deeply personal stuff in an ambiguous way.
Do you ask a musician or song xanax writer to stop writing about stuff that ends up in songs? i’m not a song writer or a musician but some of what I write, ends up in poems or zines or just ends up out there/here in the wide shark infested internet.
Way back when, I wrote personal zines with super detailed descriptions of my life and struggles and other usual “perzine” material. Then that was used against me in court, really. It was the damnest thing. So I pulled away from zines in the personal sense and starting writing both online and in zines in a way that could be broadly interpreted, that could be purposefully confusing and that was purposefully ambiguous.
And then here I was being scrutinized for everything I wrote on facebook or online or tumblr, poems dissected, and let me tell you, it was not a good feeling. It made me feel wrong, that I was at fault (well I am) because I didn’t have close personal friends to discuss any of these issues with. I caused my own isolation, I choose to talk about personal, ambiguous, yes but still personal stuff online and it was my own doing.
Sometimes when you are alone, your compass gets thrown around and your ship seems unsteady, is this wrong, am I in the wrong, is this a red flag, why is everything a goddamn red flag now.
Friends who have known me for years know that I am a vocal survivor and have put out zines written by PoC & WoC survivors of sexual violence and domestic violence. So when I reblog something about abuse for example, or about gaslighting, I was not accusing anyone. When I reblog or tweet about hotels being safe havens for survivors, I am not accusing anyone. But this is my birthday month and I’ve been alone for so long that chipping parts of my personality to please someone just isn’t something I can do anymore. This is my birthday month and my daughter almost died last year and I can’t, I won’t sacrifice parts of myself, because I love myself too much.
this is the sound of the chicharra