Today K and I beat the arctic cold with a screening of Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse and HOLY SHIT IS THAT MOVIE GOOD. Really, the best of 2018 because (aside from Black Panther) it’s the only film fully embracing the medium’s possibilities with joy and righteousness. Spider-Verse is all fourth and fifth dimension multiplicities–intersectionality and concurrent realities aglow in one big colorful valentine to the Brooklyn that never will be gentrified. I feel certain that the message of that film–that we all are superheroes when we live as our bravest kindest truest selves–summons the 2019 America that can and will transcend the white and orange demons currently in charge. Which is to say: Everyone should see this movie, if only to remember who we really are and what art can unlock. Here’s to the fresh start of a new month and Imbolc and Monday’s new moon in Aquarius and magic at the movies! Someday soon, we’re all going to thaw.
I hugged my permakitten. I ate a huge burger while poring over Susan Cheever’s excellent biography of Louisa May Alcott. I fumed over the cost of tampons. I planned the Oscar TV show we’re taping next week. Four worthy organizations and one uninsured ill acquaintance canvassed me for cash. I learned I officially qualified for Medicaid. I had 3,245 obsessive thoughts about how much I hate the GOP and Valdetrump. I cried about all the kids in the terrorist camps, everyone not getting paid in the wake of the shutdown, how much I miss my last lover. I cooked some salmon and greens and watched last night’s This Is Us. I hugged my permakitten again. I am a 48-year-old woman in America on January 23, 2019.
He was 39 when he died. He was only 39. I think about that all the time. When people hit that age now, they are still using the word “adulting.” Or at least, the entitled people who have a cushion of some sort—a cushion of money or education or white skin or some other privilege they’re wantonly taking for granted. Something that makes them think they don’t need to pick up a pitchfork or a picket sign or the concerns of others. Martin Luther King Jr wasn’t one of those people. He was a person who led with light but also might, who loved everyone but suffered no fools, who knew he would end up sacrificing his own life for a line that was not just ancestral not just racial but the dream of the human race at its absolute best. He said, “Freedom is never voluntarily given by the oppressor; it must be demanded by the oppressed.” He said, ““Human progress is neither automatic nor inevitable.” He said, “Every step toward the goal of justice requires sacrifice, suffering, and struggle.” Continue Reading →