It’s been two months; I think it is time that I dance into a submission about what’s been moving around. So much! And nothing! In this ever-present slow dance memorial that refuses to pass on to the next reincarnation, I’m slinking along. Attempting to spruce up ‘my look’ but, sometimes, I drag my feet. I’ve gotten pretty good at simply swinging my hips from side to side. Staying in motion, with any true progression bouncing back n’ forth rather than drag race darting ahead.
from the BK Museum Studio 54 Magic Nights exhibit
I wouldn’t say it’s cheating, but I’m not sure I can truly call it dancing. But I surely have my moments to shine. There are, indeed, so many things to be grateful for, so many things: hot tea, good friends, rambling conversations, love of having a home, learning new things, bicycles, 30% capacity museums, park benches, outdoor drinking FOREVER, etc. etc. etc.
But, anxiety is making my cheeks sting with tannin overload; totally manageable until I realize I haven’t been sleeping too well. It seems I’ve ricocheted back into an early COVID-era sleep schedule: 2:07am, GOOD MORNING. Alcohol related? Definitely part of the equation, though Nov. 3rd is just one short week away and my lack of ease with the world, I believe, is more than coincidental.
GINA BEAVER
Though it’s palpable and potent, this ever undulating freak show will have a different name next week. There will be a progression as deadlines will have passed and actions will have been taken; tectonic plates shifting to offer some type of new stability. The plates are so big, they will inevitably impact me… impact all of us. But my impact is going to be in how I act with this new information. I can’t stop earth quakes, but I can dance with them in celebration for what we will build next.
roadside yogi 