monday miscellany.

a missive on losing Andrea Gibson, moving apartments, the final stages of book writing, & more. <3

Friends - 

For a number of reasons, I didn’t send out the usual note on Friday. One of those reasons is because a bulk of those notes are what I’m reading/watching/listening to from the week and because I am deep in book revision mode, I have been mainly reading my manuscript, watching almost nothing, and listening to the same instrumental work songs (I’m partial to the Past Lives soundtrack for deep focus). It wouldn’t have made for a very robust curation. 

I thought I’d make up for it with this little missive on a random collection of things on my mind/in my orbit today…. 

***

First, a quick announcement for local readers. I’ll be doing a reading this Thursday, July 17th, with Hanif Abdurraqib. (!!!). Hanif, as many of you will know because of how often I talk about him, is one of my absolute favorite writers. I’m really excited (and nervous), but it’s an extra-special event because it’s also a celebration of my friend, Joy David. Joy has been organizing a monthly poetry event at the Rhizome House, our local radical social center, for almost as long as the space has been open. Joy is such a dear community builder, and a remarkable poet in their own right, and it is no wonder that Hanif wanted to make the trip up to Cleveland to celebrate them too. <3 Come out if yr in the area! I’ll be reading new stuff! 

***
…& now, some miscellany, including a note about the loss of Andrea Gibson, an update on moving out of my apartment, a few sweet pics from the last week, & more.

1. You know how for some people Ikea with a partner is a recipe for distress? For me, that’s a phone store with my mom. (Bless her. Love you, momma!) We were at the Verizon store for four hours today. It was supposed to be a quick upgrade, which was long overdue, our very old phones were both hanging on by a thread. Reader, it was not a quick upgrade! Lots of errors and money stress and emotional-dysregulation- that-reminded-me-of-my-childhood later, we both have functioning phones again, and also more practice at getting through challenging situations together. “Another fucking opportunity for growth!” Anyway, there was high tension and the de-escelation of it, and hugs and eventually laughter. (I love when mom and I laugh together. Our laughs blend like a helix, til they are indiscernible.) 

2. While we were at Verizon, I saw the post that Andrea Gibson had passed away. I started crying softly while mom was busy trying to figure out her Apple ID. It was a lot to hold the loss of them amidst the fluorescent lights and frustrations of the store. But it also struck me as a moment in which Andrea would’ve found profound beauty. Grief amidst the sterile tasks of late capitalism; it’s something feral and human to be moved to cry while waiting for the staff to deal with the AI bot that messed up our transfer. Something lucky. 

   

   @andreagibson Instagram

   I got to see Andrea perform in 2013, at a theater in Michigan, with Gregory Alan Isakov.  It was a dreamy evening, Andrea’s heart-wrenching poems coupled with Isakov’s soundtrack-to-a-2010s-Christian-girl-autumn-Tumblr-page songs (not derogatory, that shit is *cozy*). I was with my former partner, whom I’d only been with for about nine months. We were trying to live together for the summer and it wasn’t going well. I started a fight after the show, I have no idea what it was about, but I know I demanded to walk home separately from L. When six months later I would get a C-PTSD diagnosis, I remember thinking of that moment as an example of “trauma brain.” I had invented something in my head, gotten cruel, and insisted (because I really believed it!) that I was the victim. It was a terrible way to end an otherwise beautiful evening. But like the Verizon store, I think Andrea would appreciate a little trauma-toxic queer relationship drama. They knew about sad and broken brains, and they sure as fuck knew about love. 

   prentishemphill

   

   A post shared by @prentishemphill

   Years later, I’d share Andrea with my current partner, through a poem about suicide. They appreciated it so much. A year after that, Andrea received a cancer diagnosis, and then a year after that, my partner did. A couple months ago, P and I went to see a screening of the documentary Come See Me in the Good Light, which is about Andrea and their partner Meg, and living through—being a poet and a partner and a pet-parent through— terminal cancer. For several minutes as the credits rolled, we held each other and wept. 

   andreagibson

   

   A post shared by @andreagibson

   This evening, I texted my ex, who, (like Andrea’s exes/like all good queer/lesbian exes), is still my friend. We talked about that 2013 night. We talked about gratitude. Then I texted another queer ex, and we grieved and said, “I love you.” Then I cried into a voice note to my friend, T, who is queer family. I said “I feel close to you, states away, and to all the queers weeping tonight over our lost poet.” 

   andreagibson

   

   A post shared by @andreagibson

   Thank you, Andrea, we’ll see you in the good light. 

3. We are getting ready to move. The apartment is in more disarray than usual.