Welcome to the fondue party, everyone.
So, it’s almost the end of August. Which is great. I’m really looking forward to autumn… Spring and summer this year: exhausting as fuck, mostly because of the loony weather. It’s nice and cool today, and this feels fantastic.
Hit the Road: I’m not anywhere near having finished this book, BUT I will have a new book out soon.
I’ve begun a new project, and I’m quite excited about it.
It involves a series of short books, 36 pages in length, one per month. It’s like a kind of literary magazine or something.
Here’s the blurb:
Logospilgrim, prolific writer and disco tomboy, has embarked upon a series of short books that will be released on a monthly basis. She shares candid, maverick thoughts about the small joys of life, being who you are, personal freedom, and much more in her unique, unapologetic stay home vagabond poet style. These books are the written equivalent of instant photographs. Join her on the road to nowhere and everywhere.
And here’s the cover of the first issue, titled The Corner Store Epiphany:
I went for a simple, 70s-inspired look. I’m thinking that the front cover colors, and the back cover photograph, will change each year. Haha, I’m already hopeful this project will endure for years… I think it just might, though. This is the first time I’ve written exactly what I wanted to write, and it felt wonderful working on this short book. I’m already looking forward to the next one. Same cover, different title.
The August 2017 issue is available on lulu, and will be available on Amazon as well in a few weeks. It’s only available in print form, in keeping with the spirit of this series.
Allow me to reiterate how good I feel about this project. As usual, I’m unsure whether it’s crap or not, but whatever. Doing it anyway. Doing it my way.
My writing in a nutshell:
I’m still pretty worn out re: this whole year. Fortunately, I’m much, much better at taking care of myself.
My record collection keeps expanding. I’ve got Heaven 17 on the way, more disco, more New Wave. Vinyl rules so hard. Every time I go to one of the local record stores, there’s more vinyl, new and old. This thrills me to no end.
Digital can be useful, but it can’t be everything. I think the hawkers of digital (“enjoy your convenient nothing”) are realizing it can’t be everything. For the most part, digital can blow me, to be perfectly blunt.
I’ve rediscovered the absolute joy of portable radios. That wondrous “tinny” sound transports me right back to days when songs like Born to Be Alive were new. Last night, I was working on something or other, and Funkytown came on a fave local station: my heart skipped a beat. Streaming simply does not compare.
My small Sony AM FM portable radio will be joined by a Panasonic AM FM radio (that I’ll be able to plug in), and a pocket Philips AM FM radio that’ll go in my Fjallraven backpack.
Bags are happiness.
And check out these sweet vintage Snoopy plates… Snoopy is everything.
I am still working on a photocopied zine too. Thinking it might be a bi-monthly or quarterly thing, because they take more time to produce…
Which reminds of another recent old love: instant photography. My Instax 9 fills me with pure ecstasy. Every time a small semi-fuzzy photograph emerges from the top of the camera, I want to do a little dance.
Here’s a photo I took the other day. 80s tomboy, baby.
Speaking of the 80s, I can’t wait to get my hands on this thing of beauty:
Gaston forever. Agendas are my happy place.
So, all in all, everything’s good. I’m creating, resting, taking a fatigue/stress tonic, enjoying my life and my home. Not putting up with bullshit. Doing what I need to do to live with PTSD: setting limits, reinforcing my barriers, giving priority to all that is helpful to me, gives me relief, and allows me to cope with life in general. I’m more and more aware of what I want and don’t want, what’s good for me and what harms me. I know that when I’m confronted with situations that are even remotely similar to original traumas, the “off” switch to sky-high stress reactions just doesn’t work. You could even say that it’s not there; it doesn’t exist. I calm myself by avoiding such situations as much as possible, by going into hyper-arousal mode when they occur (“bug out bag” syndrome), and by requiring extensive periods of recovery afterwards. That’s how it is.
Sometimes, by going numb. This does still happen, though it’s not as severe as when I was a teenager.
Oh, and by writing. Especially by writing. As a friend recently put it, self-expression is self-preservation.
I’ve been giving myself permission to say “no” to shit that is particularly damaging to me.
As a result, I feel good. I can function. I can be happy.
I am finally living life on my own terms.