Happiness in Dark Times

My Dear Theydy-loves,

Thank you for your patience as I get my Trump 2.0 Sea Legs ™. If you’re a long-time reader, you know that this bitch (me) has an assortment of spicy mental “issues” (shall we say) that flare up from time to time. The problem with this time is that it’s a little hard to remind yourself that everything’s going to be okay when, in fact, everything may not be okay. For the past few weeks I’ve been working on my Job-Job, but I’m ready to dip my toe back into the witchy little freak that I am. Next week we’ll discuss the Six of Swords, but until then, I’d like to offer some of the coping strategies I’ve been employing to survive the apocalypse.

When I’m in a “state,” “having vapors,” “hysterical,” or “depressed as fuck,” I tend to stick pretty close to home. I must be prodded to remove my sweatpants and venture into the world, and I’m usually very reluctant to do so. However, most times that I do venture out, I am glad that I did.

In the last two weeks, I’ve attended some joyful artistic endeavors. The first was an all-trans cast doing a staged reading of A Streetcar Named Desire at The Elysian. Jamie Clayton as Blanche, Brian Michael Smith as Stanley, and Rain Valdez as Stella? Could you ask for anything more? You could not. They were all brilliant, as was the rest of the cast (including Alexandra Billings who I always think is phenomenal in everything). I haven’t been to a reading in a million years, and it was fun to watch excellent performers interpret a tried and true text. I went with my friend Missi and we spent a long time reminiscing about the time she played Blanche and I played Stella (not in the same production, but I'm open if anyone wants to talk about it). That’s an important thing to do as a theater person at a theater event (talk about how you were once in a production of whatever it is that you’re seeing). 

The next night I went to Skylight Books to celebrate my friend Emily St. James’s new novel WOODWORKING. Emily was in conversation with Jon Lovett (of Pod Save America, a person who I strangely have occasional parasocial dreams about — we have a very close friendship in my dream life). I ran into an old friend there (Hey Kyle!), and I beamed from the side of the very packed audience as my brilliant friend answered questions and made everyone laugh and was gorgeous and hilarious.

I have recommended this book before, but here’s another rec for good measure:

WOODWORKING is a brilliant, beautiful story about a trans woman who has only come out to herself (and so the world sees her very differently than she sees herself). She’s a teacher in a small town and befriends the only other trans woman she knows, one of her students, a 16-year-old girl named Abigail. That log line alone will probably get the book banned across the country (another reason to read it NOW). This is a book about friendship, self discovery, authenticity, small towns, coming back into your body after a long time disassociating, and so much more. It’s funny and sharp, Emily’s dialogue crackles and her characters sparkle, and even though she’s one of my best friends, I promise you that I would not be going this hard about this book if I didn’t really think you’d like it. Please read Woodworking and gift it to your friends, neighbors, enemies, employers, cousins, and lovers. 

A few nights later, I went to Dynasty Typewriter with my friends Tamara and Jay to see a performer I’ve long admired, Amrou Al-Khadi or Glamrou. The show was Glamrou: Drag Mother, and it was phenomenal, hilarious and moving. Part drag, part cabaret, part solo show, Glamrou: Drag Mother explores the complex relationship between the performer and their mother. Where else will you get soulful renditions of Charli xcx, Lorde, and Lady Gaga, laugh your face off, and also cry your little eyes out? I loved this performance, and I highly recommend seeing this show if it comes to a city near you. 

All of this is to say: Art, and specifically live performance reminds me that being human can be inspiring and strange. I love that existing as a person is so intense that for thousands of years, people have told stories to one another to try and make sense of it. Yes, we humans are capable of unspeakable horrors, but we also write music, poetry, and plays. While we’re all busy consuming the many horrors of humanity, we should take some time to remember the good things our species creates. 

My friend, Thomas Krottinger, is on this season of Survivor, and he's fucking killing it. Zack and I used to watch Survivor when we were first dating, and have recently restarted (and when I say restarted I mean binge-watched like ten seasons). This season, my brother has me playing fantasy Survivor, and my daughter, Graeme, and I are sharing a fantasy team (which I called Thomas Can Tank My Engine, which is inappropriate, I know, but I'm not sorry). It is extremely fun to watch a show with clear stakes, obstacles to be overcome, and inspiring stories. And Thomas is amazing.

He's already an iconic Survivor contestant as evidenced by this clip:

I’ve also been feeling an intense call to put my hands in the dirt and to remember the smallness of my human life. This weekend I planted an herb garden — rosemary, thyme, cilantro, oregano, chives, mint, and basil — and a flower garden. I mixed soil, and dug holes, and my fingernails turned black with dirt, and my internal monologue repeated on a loop in my head — some day Trump will be food for worms and so will you and so will everyone. I don’t know why that is so comforting to me, but it is, and I need whatever comfort I can get right now.

I’m desperate to get out of the city and into the wilderness but I don’t have any solid plans, so in the meantime, I’m reading nature writing and watching nature documentaries. It’s helping. The book I just finished is Rooted by Lyanda Lynn Haupt, and I’ve been really enjoying The Americas as narrated by Covid Patient Zero, Tom Hanks (you can watch that on Peacock). It really helps me to remember how small and insignificant I am in the grand scheme of things. 

I’ve also been cooking — bolognese, ribs, banana muffins, pesto beans, chicken noodle soup. And as always, I’ve been dancing, in spite of the fact that both the state of the world and Daylight Saving Time have exhausted me. 

We took the kids to an Anaheim Ducks game, because Toby and his best friend are obsessed with The Mighty Ducks. We didn’t know that it was also Pride Night, but let me tell you: a stadium full of people watching a hyper-masculine sport in Orange County, California is not where I expected to feel hopeful, but sometimes life is surprising. Like most sporting events, there was a moment to honor the troops, which has traditionally darked me out (thousands of people cheering on the American war machine makes me uneasy), but as the Jumbotron cut away to a trans woman who had proudly served our country for many years and thousands of people cheered and gave her a standing ovation, I felt proud and comforted in a crowd of Americans for the first time in a very long time. 

Then, Zack bought the children a duck whistle thing and for the next twenty-four hours, the kids honked and quacked as the adults tried not to lose their fucking shit.

I also took this photo of my absolute lovebug of a nephew trying to sit in my dog's lap:

To recap, here is my ongoing list of suggestions for finding joy in this horror show:

1. Get off social media.
2. Consume art — live performance specifically, but all art, any art. 
3. Put your hands in the dirt. Remember that one day we will all be food for worms.
4. If possible, go be a tiny human next to a huge mountain. But if you can’t get to a mountain, watch a nature program. It helps. Also, read about nature.
5. Grow things, cook things — nurture yourself and others
6. Be friends with someone on Survivor.
7. Dance or your move your body in a way that makes you happy. 
8. Celebrate pagan holidays (next up is Ostara on Thursday!)
9. Go to an NHL pride night (but do not let your husband buy a quack whistle for your children).

What has been helping you this week? What has brought you joy? What are you grateful for? Share in the comments (I would be so grateful to know what is helping you — I need all the help I can get).

See you next week for the Six of Swords :)