Tomorrow
on turning 60, catkins, and all ages needed
I felt pretty awake at 4 am thinking: it’s surreal I am turning 60 tomorrow! And also a host of other thoughts that I wrote in my diary thinking I could share on substack. If I could just fall back asleep and wake up again.
So here I am. Awake again and ready to write.
The Last of my Life Review Before 60
“Every time you go on Facebook someone you know dies” - Muffy. Then I went home got on Facebook and yep.
I haven’t finished a total life review- there’s a lot of life to review after all! But I did review a period of time in my later twenties, and a relationship I had once with an ex boyfriend in Minneapolis, who died the start of the month, that shocked and saddened and perplexed me with mixed emotions. I was sad. But then thought how he did really great work when I was in his life. And did he actually like or miss me? Did I just support him. And yes know him. Love him. I thought of the good times and the bad. And maybe I over reacted to a few things. And didn’t react enough to things that I should have. I did a lot of things wrong to be in that relationship but I always knew that, and I always knew why I was with him. It felt better to be with him than all on my own. I had been too alone. I was sliding though society and I didn’t have anyone to really throw their chips in with mine. At least he was a fun maniac so we could dream of better together. It's uncomfortable to remember. He was such a baby maker. He owes a lot of people support from behind the veil, but it would be nice if he supported my art now too. I remember thinking when I left him: I HAVE to be the protagonist in my own life, the Clint Eastwood, the Salvador Dali, the asshole it has to be me. His death really threw me a bit. I took a lot of photos of a sculpture he had made of a heart; and thought about my heart.
Pussy Willow Blooms: My Publishing Life Review
Next I reviewed my publishing life as I prepared to speak on a panel about Publishing as Community Care and a Creative Practice. I began to say how when I was born, at the end of the month, at Saint Agnes Hospital, where my parents took me home after they first took me to my great grandmother, my mother noticed how the pussy willows were blooming by the trailer door. She always tells this story to me about my birth!
Her life had changed forever. And the pussy willow bush was so big and so in bloom, with yellow pollen around the fuzzy little catkins.
I talked (at the panel) about how my mother read to me, and made collaged books for me out of notebooks, and my great-grandmothers scrapbooks where she cut out images and poetry from magazines. How she embellished so many things and was so creative. That I learned from them the power and comfort with creating things yourself. But it was a power that was supposed to stay within a certain realm, and I thought this power should be outward too, everywhere, the power of making things yourself; and the power of women, to care for others (as well as yourself, and each other, but to care for the young, the old, the natural world, and culture; values; spirit; community; society; the world—as well as caring about your own unique fresh evolving vision upon this well tread web of life) and create worlds.
How I thought when I had a baby at 21, and went on welfare, that would be a great time to write a book! But it was harder than I thought. That I made my first zine two years later, in 1990, compelled by the desire to find others and make a better society for my child to live in, compelled by revolutionary necessity.
I can’t remember the circumstance of laying that first zine out. But I do remember laying other issues of my zine, The Future Generation, out when I moved back to the East Coast to get more support by being closer to my mother. And how when my daughter was old enough she could take her for the weekend. And the desperateness of laying out a zine, of trying to do anything and everything that you had wanted, in this one window of time, where you could work undisturbed.
I talked about putting fliers up and no one answering them, when I was a young parent. And then later in life, when my daughter became a teenager and my hands were more free, I did find collaborators. Victoria Law and I began doing “Don’t Leave Your Friends Behind” a series of workshops and zines geared to the non-parent together. Then with Harriet Moon and Sine Hwang Jenson, we formed Kidz City, a radical childcare collective. Then I joined Mai’a Williams and Alexis Pauline Gumbs in becoming the third editor of Revolutionary Mothering. How I felt targeting racism at that particular time, for me, was the most important thing to address in order to make a better world. That I wanted to support this beautiful anthology anyway I could. And so I decided, yes I will work on one more project related to mothering before I start work on my own books. And how being a co-editor of that book nourished me too, in ways I didn’t realize it would going into it. A return to the power of mothering.
And now finally, I had put out my first novel. Something I had always wanted to do.
Plant Medicine
When I woke up early this morning, I was thinking about some of the events of the previous day and week. I thought about seeing Iris, who I first met when she was a young activist with Red Emmas. I went to go see her for a plant walk. And she wanted to support my birthday month writer wishes of selling books, so she bought three! I hadn’t seen her for some time. Anyway, I said how I feel like I was flailing around during mid-life. It wasn’t the perimenopause really. It was more about the empty nest, and being on my own, and having the time - but time not being everything I needed, apparently, not ONLY time, to write a book. It was still hard. I disappointed myself not living up to what I thought I would. And I had a hard time finding my own self in this life. I said Midlife feels like adolescence again.
She said, in typical wonderful Iris fashion, “ I love midlife! Because I loved being a teenager! I’m doing all this crazy teenager stuff again.”
It made me happy.
She said she couldn’t really write books now, in busy mid motherhood. But I gave her hope to see me being older and vital.
I told her - nothing wrong with if your body isn’t - but my body works good in all the ways just my knees were sore. It was my mind that has aged more than anything. I’m so forgetful - but even that I’m OK with. I’m melting into the universe now.
She says, it’s buried, but that she has a tincture for that.
It made me think about the thing I have read about being old. Sometimes you - or a doctor - disregards a real issue thinking it’s just being old. When you are like on the wrong dosage of meds or something.
I might accept this - but maybe I shouldn’t yet??
Cats > Heterosexual Relationships as I’ve been conditioned to know them as
I just kinda feel I’m banged up: too much heartbreak, sadness, depression - it’s had a toll on me. Too much isolation.
I don’t want to endlessly fight and be tormented - so I accept things. I accept singleness - avoid abuse and toxic patterns by giving up completely on any interactions of that nature at all. Didn’t really figure it out. Maybe a dry toxic love person (like a dry drunk) is the best you can be.
And my cat’s love IS the best love in the world.
It feels so resigned. But is it? Isn’t “love” so delusional and exhausting? And cyclic. I don’t give a fuck. I just want to be happy with what I got and my old damaged brain.
But maybe there are herbs that could help it? Maybe community works? Thats what Iris shows me. And I show her there can be a time in the future, without kids, where you do cool stuff.
I say how it’s all a struggle. All times. thats what I have learned. Take your moment and do your best in it. There are MORE time but don’t just wait for it. Do what you can in the time you have.
I was so disappointed with myself to find that time wasn’t all I needed. It was hard to be alone. And it’s hard to write books. Being alone wasn’t what I imagined it would be. You have to embrace who you are not who you imagined you would be.
The Hampden Writers Live! Event, March 28
It was cool! Here is the recording
I think about my conversation with Deloris, age 68, at the Hampden Library after my book reading the day before. How it made her feel good my novel had taken 22 years. She too had a novel, she had been kicking around forever and couldn’t finish. Talking to me, about the original novel was twice as big and had been cut in have (this is its own story) she was inspired to have a brand new idea, she could have part 1 and part 2. It was actually done! It just needed a little work.
About daily writing in your diary and notes and in your mind. But how cementing it into something takes work. The difficulty of writing.
She acted out how her kids would say to her “get it down!’ She could tell them now, China Martens took 22 years to get her novel out. And then they would say to her, (she acted it out) , “But she is published!”
We laughed, and imagined a future with Deloris writes a thank you to me in the acknowledgment of her first novel. Her book does actually sound really good. I look forward to reading it one day. Writers can see a future others can’t, sometimes. We see our books before others do.
You can give up some days, just don’t give up everyday.
I stop by my friend Megan’s house. I haven’t see her for a while. I love her house. Her library/writing room is the best! She often pulls a tarrot card for me at that desk. Just walking by it to the bathroom I grin seeing part of the shelf of books on the wall.
She tells me that when others say they feel inspired to write by one’s writing, after a reading, it’s the best! She says she likes the topic of our panel at AWP alot, that is what publishing has always meant to her: the community of it. She says she is part of the judges of a city wide contest for school kids writing, and it’s really special to her, especially as a non parent to see what the kids are concerned with. And inspiring, for folks to still be investing in writing, and all the goodness it does for your brain and thinking process and life, in a world where A.I. is making writing seem even less important.
How to Breath and Talk
I enjoyed my 30 minute reading at the library immensely. I “committed” and got into my remix/medly of novel selections, starting by planting us all down firmly in the interior world of an antique store in 2004, while Teresa’s slide show concentrating on the outside store fronts on the avenue. I didn’t mind a long reading. I just didn’t know how to breathe.
I could hear my voice sounding breathless, a weird sound. As well as discomfort. But I powered through it. I didn’t know I don’t know how to breathe and read publicly. This must be a voice coach thing you can learn or a YouTube somewhere.
It reminded me of the scene in One Battle After Another where the girl first did her martial arts moves, and her teacher said : Your not breathing! Do it again but breathe.
My mom looked it up and it said to breath from your belly. To take in a breath between sentences, and then read while you exhale. My mom says she feels breathless sometimes. I said, well it could be a heart condition, sometimes you have had that symptons. No she said. It feels deeper to her. This breath from your belly thing, while talking.
She thinks she’s held her breath a lot in her life. Especially when she was young growing up in the 50s and working as a secretary in the 60s. Those pencil skirts. She remembers all eyes on her, in the office, the small typing pool in a sea of men. She would hold her belly in when she stood up. The men behind her watched her every move. And even if you took a deep breath, with those tight sweaters back then. Your chest would rise up and down. So you did not take deep breaths. You tried not to breathe. You held it all in. You did not learn to breath from your belly.
Its weird, that you would have to learn how to breath, she tells me. But sometimes I don’t think I know how to breathe.
And this too, is why it can take 22 years for a woman to publish her first novel. And then when she reads it publicly, bravely, to be live streamed, she too finds out she doesn’t know how to breath and read in public.
But I’m going to learn how. I still have so many things to learn.
Baby Elder
I’m looking forward to this new stage of life. Of becoming a baby elder now. No more messy mid-life for me. I do feel more clear - like I am viewing everything almost with new eyes - at a great distance- more clearly.
I just want to be happy. More of a girl now than an adolescent. There is innate power, ability, selfhood, being, self love and acceptance, joy, less self consciousness in girlhood. I know girlhood isn’t free of abuse either or always a happy time, not at all. But it can center a kind of boldness to it, before adolescence.
I have to figure out my make-up situation. I don’t know how to wear make up that looks good anymore on my face. I would like to play around more and try to. Even though a naked face feels easiest and best to me too. I’d like to try make up sometimes.
I have to not give into the joy of saying “I’m too old for that” so much. (Ariel and I were having fun saying that together.) Even though goddamn it, I really am! And I don’t want to deal with the bullshit of the way the AWP entrance code emails didn’t come the way they said it did, downloaded the ap cuz Ayun said too, and there still wasn’t tickets on it, and then when I got to AWP - it was fine. they had my name on the list. And even the person working there said the ap was buggy. I am too old for all that shit!! But fuck it this world. Still please don’t give up on the world, and say it’s too wrecked, and people are hateful and it doesn’t matter - so you just use A.I. all the time. My neighbor says she doesn’t like people people are so bad, and what is so wrong with doom scrolling all the time? And I said, but hating people is also a side effect of doom scrolling. (We were having the funnest hang ever, my neighbor who I hadn’t seen for a while. Just talking bullshit bla blah blah. boy people need to don that more, just get together and talk and say whatever is on their mind, back and forth, freely together. shoot the shit. My neighbor has been isolating and overwhelmed by this impossible modern world and using A.I. alot.
Am I isolated too much and limiting myself too? Are many of us??
But I am also undeniably vital. China at 60. The good. And the bad. It’s birthday year. People will want to put weight on you to pull you down, when you are floating up, to pull you back down too. But crabs, we need to blame this barrel more than we resent each other. But I want to fly. Be happy. Be my best.
Realistically I guess life will just be more of the same, shit, ups and downs. But it’s also … potential. surprise. exploration. pleasure - fused into your very being. No one does pleasure as well as an older woman!
No Magic Bullets
And I haven’t given up writing. So, its work on that. The practice. Over and over again. No Magic Bullet. Just like how Cleve was talking about what he answers when people ask him how he has build such a great writers live! series at the Pratt Library Central Branch. “ Just caring , and doing all the things, over and over again.” Well thats not a direct quote. Just from my memory. “You're speaking my love language!” I said. It reminded me of how we build at Kidz City. You have to keep doing the work, and earn peoples trust by being reliable, don’t expect they will just give it to you.
Dance More, Travel, and go see your friends if you can
Still don’t say: “Your too old for things” all the time, Ayun Halliday says. Learn how to use your phone is also what I gleaned from her. Wiggle your butt! Also was part of the tips she gives me on her birthday. I do so enjoy all the zinesters, Noemi Martinez, Jessica Mills, and Ayun Halliday and I being so close in constellation as Aries. And I love watching all the Aries birthdays come, near or far, if I know them or not, in the week leading up to my birthday, the very last day of March. How good that is.
All Ages Are Needed: Resist
Recently I watched “One Battle After Another” and I thought I wasn’t going to like it - because of critiques I had read- but I did enjoy it. (which I wrote about in my last post) I was posting online with Paul about it and left a message on an conversation. I’m going to copy what I wrote there here. in response to him saying it’s the future generation that is really going to save us. the future generation is indeed dazzling, and worth all our collective efforts indeed, to protect and let them be able to live and grow. However, it really is going to take us all. Old and Young. All abilities. It’s going to take all the issues. You know this right? We are all important. We are all powerful. We are all needed. I know it’s not easy. I know I am very lucky. It’s easy to feel powerless as well, and hurt others (as well as yourself) in your powerlessness. I plan on standing, as much as possible, in my power. And celebrating my birthday year every day of my life from here on out. Even if I can’t always be happy. I will keep hanging on the way I have done so far. So yes, my 60th birthday is a celebration. I would love your support with book sales or cup of coffee or happy wishes - of course! :)
I loved Perfidias message at the end to her daughter and how life goes on. No generation has it all figured out. It takes us all old and young
P.S. I covered all the topics I had thought would make a good essay at 4am; and more. I’ve spent all day trying to get this down. So I’m going to push send and get on with it now, even though it could be better. I did put in some weird titles to help separate my 3,000 words so maybe it could be easier reading. If you got this far, wow, thanks for reading :) Take good care xo