Babes and bots,
I'm going to stop apologizing for the tardiness. We are leaving that in 2021. And while I'm at it, here's a list of other things I'm leaving in last year:
- cheese. You might say to yourself, "Becca is already vegan. Why are they leaving cheese in 2021?" My response to you is unremarkably long-winded: I am vegan except for grandmama's cookies, Rebecca D.'s cookies, my cousin Stefanie's cookies, literally anyone's cookies, chicken I cook for other people and feel unsure about (taste everything, that's my modo), and the occasional egg or three. If it falls on the floor it doesn't count. Why put myself through a miserable life with no cheese (I love cheese)? The environment is no longer the only factor. Now, it's IBS. So when they say Every Kiss Begins With Kay, tell them Every Shit Begins With Cheese. But sing it so they know you're serious.
- shame. We no longer have time for that. Viva la revolución.
- reading goals. I didn't reach them.
favorite reads and re-reads of 2021
Mitz: The Marmoset of Bloomsbury by Sigrid Nunez
Dust Tracks on the Road and Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston
In the Quick by Kate Hope Day
In the Dream House by Carmen Maria Machado
Don't Call Us Dead by Danez Smith
Bestiary by K-Ming Chang
Guidebook to Relative Strangers by Camille T. Dungy
Postcolonial Love Poem by Natalie Diaz
Tradition by Marci Blackman
songs I didn't skip in 2021
new/renewed obsessions
coffee
water
structure, schedules, routines, so nasty I love it
naked-outside time (all the kayakers do it)
sleeveless sweaters/sweater tanks/cutting sweatshirts
olives
what? and other updates
Okay, so 2021 ended in Mexico, which was awesome. But it really ended in a widely respected tattoo parlor where I subjected my body to all kinds of permanent damage. Here's the skinny: went to a tattoo shop. got a sick hand tattoo. as it was healing, I noticed some bare areas where the ink quite literally scabbed off my skin. waited about 2.5 weeks for it to heal-ish before getting it touched up because my baby was sparse. called my guy. he didn't answer. texted my guy. he didn't answer. called the shop. turns out he got fired. they set me up with a new tattoo artist. i did more research on him. he seemed solid. he told me my original guy was shady. told me the ink that was now permanently attached to my skin looked like dog shit, which is about as nice as calling someone ugly. I was embarrassed. I cried. I got a refund for the first tattoo after my new guy with bad bedside manners gave me a Whole New Tattoo on top of my Now Partial Old Tattoo. new guy is very responsive. he told me he hasn't had to do a touchup in years. my new hand tattoo that was tattooed on the old, bad hand tattoo is partially faded, but less-so, and i will, in fact, need a touchup from masterful no-touchup new tattoo guy. i wonder how many times you can tattoo the same spot before it turns into a blob. i showed grandmama my tattoo and she said, "hmm." she pointed to her own beautiful, perfect, speckled, 92-year-old hand and said, "when you're 90 it will look like a Christmas tree."
In other news, my sister took a very cool photo of me.
Saw a very interesting truck two weeks ago.
Ran 4.6 miles.
Wrote about death and dying while caring for my terminally ill Grandmama. These are the lines I keep coming back to:
...as I jog down streets shaped like rainbows, I find myself in gutters. And to my left is a tar mound, and to my right is disheveled death, a field of trash where things learn to live and die by waiting. Among the trash, a still coon splays its arms and legs to amaze the needle beaks of vultures high in trees. I pass the coon without examining its rapture, the pleasure of it an open wound.
and finally:
...these losses make a believer out of me, if only temporarily. "When we asunder part,/It gives us inward pain;/But we shall still be joined in heart,/And hope to meet again."
Heard a story from Grandmama's childhood best friend about a fantastic show of Northern Lights they witnessed as teenagers. I tried to find evidence of an aurora borealis sighting in Eureka, KS between 1940 and 1950 and found nothing.
Dissected a 12 oz. can of salmon with my hands, and now smell salmon everywhere I go.
Anyways, that's all for now. Thanks for taking a bite out of the sandwich with me. Stay safe, wear your mask, wash your hands, and don't be stupid.
xoxo
BLT
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