It’s a bit of a paradox, posting during a pandemic lockdown. On the one hand, there’s almost too much that’s different in the world, and reporting on it is both repetitive and depressing for all involved (no?). How do you catch up from the last time this blog mentioned reality? That reality was so long ago. Thousands are dead, thousands in my city, and people are reusing medical equipment and wearing handmade cloth masks like it’s normal. Not to knock the latter; I’m clearly one of them, thanks to a crafty friend in Philly. It’s just hard not to feel some kinda way about the new normal.
And all of a sudden, it’s pub day! (Forgive me for posting just past midnight. Call it a pub night, minus the alcohol.) Yolanda Sealey-Ruiz’s book of poetry, Love from the Vortex & Other Poems, is available on Amazon in print and in ebook, and will be in bookstores near you soon. It’s been a real honor to work with Yolanda and the team at Kaleidoscope Vibrations so here, briefly, are some thank yous I absolutely did not prepare in advance. (I should have; it’s late as I’m posting this.)
So…as I am making social media posts tonight about how I’ve busted ass this week to finish my work with Love from the Vortex, I realize I haven’t actually shared the pre-order link for the book ? Nor Yolie’s beautiful website (the envy!!) and the page she has for the book??
I don’t know if other people line up their reading material thematically or order their TBR shelves with the conscientiousness of a college semester syllabus, but I definitely…do not. My next book just comes to me by way of my own emotional oujia board, which means sometimes it’s very similar books in a row and other times there’s intense tone and subject whiplash. So, take my last handful of reads going back to around Thanksgiving. This is a rambly catchup post, so you should probably know that before reading on.
This actual website may not be very long in the tooth, but I’ve been off and on long-form blogging sites, whether my own domain or a Livejournal clone or somesuch, for decades. And yet this is something I’ve struggled with for years as my brain has spent many (formative?) years fitting itself into 120 or 240 characters on Twitter, or whatever the aesthetic seems to dictate on Facebook: what to write about and, by extension, what not to write about.