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August 7th, 2019

Dreams and stranger things

Sorry for the radio silence lately.  It seems like all I do is work and sleep.  I have no life.  I barely have a relationship, since Kent's working days (we essentially see each other at work between 3-4:30, and maybe for an hour or two when I come home after closing.  I am SO not a night person).  I feel like I have zero agency any more, pver ANYTHING.

Hell, I can't even remember the last time I read a magazine, let alone a book.

Which is why I find it interesting that last night, I dreamed Kent and I were at this strange lecture/symposium/performance art piece about Henry Miller.  I was amazed at how much I remember about him...and what incredibly weird, fucked up yet totally plausible things my subconscious came up with to fill in the gaps.

The really funny thing is that I was always more of an Anais Nin girl.  I discovered Linotte, her girlhood diary, when I was about 12 or 13.  I felt like I'd truly met a soul sister.  I spent that entire summer reading my way through her diaries.  In retrospect, I am a little surprised Miz Powers (the most rockingest rock star librairian EVER) didn't tip my ever strict mother off to what I was reading.  Maybe she didn't know.  Or maybe she did...who knows?

Two take away points from this:  1)  I'd always considered Henry Miller a footnote in her life, not the other way around.  2) the earliest (positive) influences on my early sexuality were drag queens, Jareth, and Anais Nin's more...er.grown up work.  That explains...er...rather alot.


The fucking YARN FAIRY!

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