Author: zenzalei

Into birds, music, nature, science, hockey, movies, fitness, books, chocolate, wine, and spooky things.

Batty Boo!

It’s the most wonderful time of the year again: Time for Horrordailies! This is the precursor to Holidailies, and while only a few of us have signed up for the spooky stuff, I’m looking forward to it. Check out my nifty bat tumbler:

It goes with my bat earrings, which have purple sparklies:

My plan for Horrodailies is to offer up a dark poem, likely a Haiku, with photos from photographers I think you need to see and, if they’re looking for work, hire.

Unfortunately, I got thrown off my plans already because of the not entirely unanticipated letter that was stuck to my door by my landlord tonight informing me that my lease will not be renewed when it’s up on December 31. It’s a long, ugly story, but the short version is that my apartment has had mold issues for three summers running and this summer they actually had to remove and replace panels from the ceiling and wall. So, rather than do what Virginia law requires of landlords who must do a mold remediation, which is put the tenant up in another unit or in a local hotel for up to 30 days at the landlord’s expense, they’re just not renewing my lease. This way they can take their understaffed crew their usual infernally long fix-it time to correct the moisture problem that’s causing it.

Am I sad? Not really. Not like I was about a month ago when it became apparent that I was going to have to move, either voluntarily or involuntarily. I’ve lost some minor property to mold here, things like a leather jacket that couldn’t be restored (that I didn’t wear anymore anyway because it doesn’t go with my vegetarianism), some old Salomon winter boots that were good up to -20 degrees F, and this summer, an ironing board.

But I also lost something VERY precious to me this summer, which was the box of birdie mementos from Inigo the Nanday and Jimmy the Green Cheek. I had cleaned Inigo’s wood perch after he passed, but one day this summer when I opened the closet in my home gym, I smelled something rank coming from the birdie box and it turned out that the perch was covered in green mold. All of the soft materials, like rope perches and palm and fabric toys, had spots. Then, when I opened the plastic baggies that held wooden toy parts, Jimmy’s old and smaller toys, and Inigo’s leftover popsicle sticks that he loved to chew so much when he was healthy, they all smelled of mold and mildew. I managed to save some of Inigo’s half-chewed toys, but the only toy Jimmy has now is one tiny blue wooden star with one tip chewed off that I put inside the little tin that holds his ashes.

To say I was devastated by this loss would be an understatement. And yet I am SO very grateful that last winter I decided to take the baggies of feathers from Inigo, Jimmy, Louise the Alexandrine (who lives my ex-husband), and an ex-boyfriend’s birds out of that closet and put them in one of my nightstands. The baggies are doubled and sealed well, and I believe my bedroom furniture is made with cedar, which is mold-resistant, so they’re safe.

At any rate, I knew this was coming and I cried my tears over it a month ago—enough so that the problems and annoyances I chose to overlook about the place are now on my last nerve. I even got annoyed that a seam on the light fixture in the dining room is where you can see it instead of facing a corner. I just didn’t expect to get this letter until Halloween, 60 days before the lease ends, but instead they gave it to me today. It threw me, even though I know it will work out in the end. New year, new apartment, and I’ll likely have to cheat on Holidailies and write a few in advance in December.

But first Horrordailies. Here’s an oldie but goodie vamp poem that I originally made with Magnetic Poetry online, titled “Velvet and Cake.”

More tomorrow, friends and fiends!

The Void Is So Full

The Milky Way Galaxy as seen from Earth at night.
Image: Graham Holtshausen on Unsplash

Is it really mid-May already? When last we left off, it was the end of February. So much for my New Year’s Resolution of maintaining this blog.

For what it’s worth, I didn’t write in an online journal in April at all, but to check in a couple of times. I took a month off from all of that, and writing in a paper journal, just to rest and see if I could regain some semblance of motivation for anything as things had become a relentless grind since January. Get up, log on, work, log off, eat, watch TV, sleep, rinse, repeat.

I’m still a bit stuck, but have concluded that I’m in that weird place Carl Jung talked about when he described how people lose motivation after their awakening, enantiodromia. I’ve stopped chasing, stopped worrying about to-do lists, stopped caring about hustle, proving myself, and achieving—all the things that keep Washington, the institution running—and now find myself thinking “How much of this really matters?”

Part of it is that I’ve made some time to refocus on Zen and Stoicism. The first “rule” of both of them is to concern yourself only with what you can control: your actions, reactions, thoughts, and perceptions. The second “rule” is to let go of what you cannot control, and oofta, there’s a LOT of stuff I cannot control, like other people’s behavior and reactions, the evil in the world, and what happens around me.

When I stopped to think of all the things I can’t control, I started bowing out.

I will not engage in political discussions beyond agreeing with strangers’ social media posts. Someone wants to think I’m wrong? Okay.

Someone didn’t respond to a text? Okay.

Someone doesn’t have time to get together? Okay.

Someone doesn’t want to reschedule after breaking plans? Okay.

Someone didn’t respond to an email or call at work? Okay.

Someone gets angry after asking me to do something for them and I set a boundary and say no? Okay.

Traffic? Okay.

Bad weather? Okay.

Number I didn’t want to see on the scale? Okay.

No one wants to join me in something I’m doing or going where I’m going? Okay.

I’m not chasing. I’m not forcing. I’m not striving to make any points, get people to agree, impress, perform, or bring people into my sphere who don’t want to be there. I welcome those who are with me, let go of those who aren’t.

At any rate, that’s why I haven’t been around. I’m in what the video below describes as the Hermit stage, the phase between death and rebirth, and it’s all swirling around with rising detachment in the Zen sense. But I’m still floundering around a bit. Although I’ve begun to say no to things that don’t resonate, I’m still learning to let go of wanting things to be the way I want them to be rather than how they are. I just have to trust the process.

Third-Party Sellouts

I’ve had the flu since last Friday and have been home recuperating all week. Yes, I’m vaxxed, but that doesn’t prevent infection like some magic forcefield that rebuffs errant sneezes. It just means that if one does get infected, one can fight it off better.

Anyway, yesterday the illness broke. I was tired but definitely had rounded the corner and was starting to feel human again when I VERY STUPIDLY decided I was well enough to handle Threads and other sources of public discourse and news. And there I was in the wee hours, calling out Jill Stein supporters for selling out women, children, people of color, older people, the poor, LGBTQIA+, and immigrants in THIS country to throw their little political hissy fits.

Oh, my good GAWD, I am so tired of the trope that voting for Kamala Harris was a vote for genocide. Ever notice how so many of those types going on about that are men, usually white ones, who will not be affected in any way by Project 2025 who expect the rest of us to sacrifice our safety and reproductive, civil, and human rights to take a side in a conflict between two groups of people 10,000 miles away who have hated each other for 1,000 years and will hate each other for 1,000 years more? Nah, brodudes. I didn’t vote for genocide when I voted for Harris. I voted to protect my own country from fascism. I voted to protect my fellow Americans from Project 2025 and exactly the crap that’s happening now. Domestic policy matters. And right or very, horribly, disgustingly wrong as it is now, the U.S. will always support Israel to one extent or another because the U.S. gets a lot of intelligence from Israel about entities in the region who are hostile to the U.S.

Well, if you were Palestinian- or Arab-American you would–

VOTE THE SAME DAMN WAY I VOTED THIS TIME. Look, if Gaza were Italy, I’d still vote for Harris. I say that even as my sister is headed to Messina to meet cousins we didn’t know we had. My father fought for the Allies. My mother, who was part German, supported the Allies in WWII. My paternal grandfather, who was direct from Italy as a first-generation immigrant, was all in for the Allies in WWII. They were American first, tied to the old countries second. That’s my attitude, too. My goal in the voting booth was to do right by my fellow Americans—my friends, loved ones, neighbors, colleagues, and myself, right here in the U.S.—by trying to stop Creamsicle Caligula.

Furthermore, Stein is nothing but a shrill cicada who comes up out of the earth every four years to make noise, only instead of having the good graces to fly away and shed her mortal coil after giving everyone a headache for a few months, she goes back into the earth to await the vibrations of a campaign speech so she can re-emerge and do it all again. If I were a conspiracy theorist, I would see how some feel she’s a right-wing plant because she does nothing but deflect and siphon votes away from the Democrats and then she drops off the face of the earth. She’s useless, her candidacies are hopeless, and voting for her, or not voting, makes one partially responsible for what is happening in the U.S. right now. Those who threw their votes away—votes that millions of Americans have fought, killed, and died to preserve—have no moral high ground, and they’re about to find out as much as the idiots who voted for Apricot Pol Pot thinking he would lower the price of eggs. As I told one transgender man who was nattering on about how the Democrats weren’t much different than Republicans and who will likely be screeching an octave higher from a beardless face in six months when the regime takes his hormones away, “I voted for the [candidate] who would not take away your gender-affirming care AND who had a chance of winning. You threw your vote away. That’s on you.”

And don’t get me started on all the Drumpf-humpers who are now going on like, “Well, I didn’t vote for THIS. He betrayed me.”

Yeah, you voted for this. You just didn’t think it would affect YOU. You were fine with it as long as it happened to someone else. So you, too, can sit down and shut up.

As for the regime, holy hell, someone needs to do it soon. You know exactly what I’m talking about. Yes, you do. And, like the punchline of an old joke, whoever does it needs to take no chances and do all three.