I have existed within this latitude and longitude (37.8044° N, 122.2697° W) for almost a year now. It’s time to unpack and pull the threads of the past into this chapter of our odyssey.
The gravity of this settlement persuades me to acknowledge. My hindsight is perfect; it’s the horizon that feels myopic. I surrender to this subtlety.
In Keeping Things Whole by Mark Strand, he writes:
“We all have reasons
for moving.
I move
to keep things whole.”
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I answer obligatory questions and watch my referents evaporate into confusion. The whiplash from my assumptions generates a spark every time. Those moments are when I am reminded of my capacity to render myself authentically.
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This era of blank wave feminism has produced a cacophony of ideologies. From lipstick to victim, we continue to separate ourselves inside self-identified categories. These categories codify and they assist in commodification. I think this evolution is natural; application of theory assumes reification.
I walk Antonia’s Line.
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Active desire: I’m going to have an Olympic summer.






