barbie

Gaseous Nebula aka Violet Sky

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For a star to be born, there is one thing that must happen; a gaseous nebula must collapse. 
So collapse. 
Crumble. 
This is not your destruction. 

This is your birth.

~Zoe Skylar, poet

It is that time of day, that time of the month, that time of year, that time of the decade, that time of a generation, that time of a millenia, that time in history where we have hit the swirls of things in such a way that a seasonal change tipped with atmospheric significance means something to many looking for the grounding/footing of hope/optimism in the face of stark realities, or perhaps just plain and simple purpose/meaning. It is permission to speak of things we find resonate with us in a holy deep down soul-y way.

I am getting used to being alive in a world butterfly-affected for me by the absence of my father, community changes, global realities, and my own inner world dynamic playwriting the acts and scenes of my life.

You know – saying farewell to the season of homemade cherry limeades and such where pithy citrus bits find their way into nooks and crannies of a well-loved cutting board. Or coveted dragon fruit juicy juices stains. Or unexpected maple tree saplings thriving where once there was an herb garden. Or witnessing a developing street-cleaning group on our twisty turny rural road. Or SonHerisme beginning his path to driving. Or the lovely masonry repair on the front stoop. Or NiecesHerisme having successfully shipped off to universities. Or the arrival of new bras since my transition into crone phase seems to be sweeping out some of the fluff.

Things are moving in unanticipated and anticipated directions.

Which is to say, I finally went in for a physical and lady exam (thanks Barbie, for the peer pressure to follow-through!). Some things need immediate attention but nothing too dire.

Also I saw a meteor/dying star dramatically zoom to its brilliant death over our heads at the senior night celebratory “pink out” football game this past Friday (nods to Barbie and cancer, I suppose?).

Because life is what it is, we continue to support murder killing fascist authoritarian behaviors, which sucks. One could argue in the past – well, they did not know any better. Well, they were not given the opportunity to evolve or be compassionate. Well, they did not have access to understanding or information to lead to understanding. But, nope. Turns out we are just assholes hell bent on forcing zero sum games whenever and wherever. Good job us! Pat ourselves on the the back! Let me know when we have reached the pinnacle of forcing submission, total control, or obliteration of whatever group of humans we deem unworthy of being human so that I can cheer and applaud you with all of the accolades and applauses I have…

Gen Z is coming for you. Unless you succeed with squashing them with repeated viral infections.

It is apparent to me that it is none of my business to even ask – when is enough, enough? When will we have targeted or murdered enough humans? When will we have removed enough access to health care from enough humans? When will we have burned/ banned enough books/access to information? When will we have dehumanized and other-ed enough humans to satisfy our thirst for ultimate entitlement and control?

In the meantime, I earned $6.40 by recycling metals from my home. I donated adult diapers and used medical equipment to our local Rescue Mission. Like you, I grocery shopped, cooked meals, did laundry, and cleaned the things. I continue to attempt parenting a teen, volunteer in my community, and provide day-to-day 24/7 care to MotherHerisme. I sent my court ordered weekly progress reports #376-#410 as a batch. I meditate and send comfort, peace, and love out to every living thing, with special attention to those suffering or frightened.

I can make some soup and tea for you – and a batch of cookies.

Over and over in my head:
I can be brown, I can be blue, I can be violet sky 
I can be hurtful, I can be purple, I can be anything you like... 

And then a little:
I couldn't figure it out, if you wrote it all down, please write down
How, how do you love me right now?

Plus some:
And I know, its only in my mind
That I'm talking to myself and not to him

Rounded out with:
I don't want french fried potatoes, red ripe tomatoes
I'm never satisfied
I want the frim fram sauce with the oss-en-fay with sha fafa on the side.

I guess I am however I am and the world will be as it is. UNICEF, Doctors without Borders, World Central Kitchen donations going out from my house. Trying to allow the feelings to be what they are while pushing out comfort, love, and peace *sigh* I just do not know that there is anything else to be done. Live. Find moments of joy and grace as we can. This is my crumble collapse.

Love, Ms. Herisme xoxo

I’d like to change my irl name and grab a giggle sometime (Whittering Whitehalls, AndieMarie Tillman, Pinky Patel, Yuri Lamasbella, Katherine Ryan… you know, the usuals).

Also, can we please get Colin Farrell or Matthew Goode to quietly record every single audiobook, or even just lists of things or poetry, please and thank you?

Reading: Material World by Ed Conway, Enchantment by Katherine May, The Covenant of Water by Abraham Verghese, A Darker Shade of Magic by VE Schwab, Theogeny: Works and Days by Hesiod (translation by Hugh G Evelyn-White – how can you NOT read this with a translation by someone with this most awesome name?!!?)

Barbie-Queue

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Friends, Romans, country(wo)men, and sentient beings all around, lend me your ears. I come to bury occasional things, not to praise them (unnecessarily). 

The evil men do lives after them; The good is oft interred with their bones (from Julius Caesar, spoken by Marc Anthony, written by William Shakespeare)

So let it be with the occasional things….

O judgement! thou art fled to brutish beasts, and men have lost their reason. Bear with me; My heart is in the coffin there (...) and I must pause till it come back to me (from Julius Caesar, spoken by Marc Anthony, written by William Shakespeare)

FatherHerisme loved this speech and quoted it many times over his 83 years. I mean to say that it is stunning to be a world where he no longer physically exists. He was steady and explosive. He was wise and clueless. He was a curious learner and blind to some hard truths. He was my dad who wanted to be remembered as my “pop who was carbonated!” He would have guffawed and cried at the Barbie movie for all of its punchy points at societal flips/missed expectations. He was more than Kenough.

With FatherHerisme goes the knowing of parental guidance and safety (whether real or imagined), buried among the personality, smell, touch, conversation (which was indeed a challenging effervescent carbonation), books, ephemera (a zillion books and santa-embellished suspenders), and the hidden secrets of a life we only understood through our distorted vision from the outside.

Like many of you with your loved ones who have died, there will never be a day where I do not miss his presence. His brain understood my brain, and for that I am lucky and grateful. I am so glad he is not in any more pain. I am so glad he left some support for us to find and encourage freedoms and the betterment of lives around us. This is his legacy. We are his legacy. I hope we can queue up to carry on all of the best things – especially as we grab the torch (as we can) to continue generational healing where he could not.

Sidenote: I loved Barbie. I loved all of the clothes and accessories; all of her iterations; all of her potential. I loved changing everything about her all of the time. I had Barbies with cut/burnt/markered hair, tattoos, marker make-up, and all of the imagined interesting twists on life (including leaf-clothes only). I had Barbies who were treated like royalty (Ballerina Barbie) and never ever scarred or introduced to dirt. I had Ken dolls who performed for Barbie. When Ken was too busy (or lost somewhere) G.I. Joe, Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, a weary Benjamin Franklin, and the most beloved Lando Calrissian were always at the ready to fill in for whatever Barbie needed. I made use of my brother’s dolls (ahem, figurines, I suppose). With money being tight my Barbie collection could all fit into one grocery bag, including all of the clothes/cars/furniture/blankets/pillows/spaceship/stick houses I made on my own. I was in middle school when my mother purchased a set of handmade wooden Barbie-sized furniture from a local church Christmas bazzare. It seems so incongruous with middle school today, and perhaps it was then as well (?) but I was thrilled beyond belief! I still have it all packed away somewhere. For what? I do not know. Maybe it will bring a chuckle moment to SonHerisme when it comes time to disperse and bury the ephemera of me. Cue the curation of a future walk of mourning – as the occasional things queue up to be buried. I suppose this is what happens while waiting for your heart to come back to you from the buried coffin of another life.

Life sure is something. I suspect Death is as well.

Love, Ms Herisme xoxo

ps. Currently reading: Enchantment by Katherine May, Persuaders by Anand Giridharadas, 101 Essays that will Change the Way You Think by Brianna Wiest, and Pineapple Street by Jenny Jackson.

pps Yesterday was my birthday. I am queued to crone. Gyno appt next week. Saw Barbie yesterday with a fabulous pink polka-dotted jumpsuited friend. I did not eat Thai food (saving that for the weekend with SonHerisme).

ppss Sinead was a magical mystical awareness blossoming heroine of mine. I admired that she defiantly refused to pander for anyone’s appreciative gaze. I made a Barbie Sinead before I knew what that implied or meant – Barbie underneath the Barbie. Buzz cut with nail polish remover applied to remove her face and feet cut off in order to fit into GI Joe’s boots and Ken’s sneakers. She was best friends with perfection Ballerina Barbie, natch.

pssssst Speaking of barbeques… I do not like bbq sauce or meat, but I like the idea of hanging out by a fire with good company, Olipop rootbeer, hummus on beefsteak tomatoes, and brow-lifting conversations. Unless the world burns itself up first or we all covid ourselves outta here, in which case… Barbie-queue up in pink to synchronize dance with a tra-la, it’s been real. Hug your neighbor. Take care of yourself. Ciao. Herisme out.