"How do I learn to get along with others when it seems I can hardly get along with myself?" How many of us are struggling with this crisis within ourselves right now?
your comment about the post-COVID world startled me. "a gathering inferno" indeed. a shitstorm coming in over the mountains (i'm in denver). the pandemic changed me. i just cannot make myself go out except for groceries and to visit a dying friend. when i do go out i'm paranoid and furious. i have no idea why. i'm 71 next month. i don't want to live the rest of my days this way. i was teaching high school in 1980-87. the very best 7 of 37 years teaching. the music of that era feels like my own as much as the actual music of my own teen years in the 60's. i often dream of my classroom in the 80's. i crank up AC/DC live in the car sometimes to get good and thunderstruck--enjoy a primal scream. i often feel i know well who i am but others seem utterly unknowable.
"The heartbreak that is the debt of living." I always appreciate your writing, because that *is* what you get at, and somehow I am encouraged, no matter how discouraging the topic. I'm sorry the boys at Pine Hills missed your poetry workshop. Why do we punish people by withholding what would heal them? The contrast with the boy at Crested Butte reflects how our current culture has emboldened young white men. Over the past five years, I've found myself feeling deeply disappointed with humanity. I am a "sad and wiser" woman. Keep sharing the sorrow and allowing us to share it with you.
You write from the heart and touch my heart. As Shakespeare wrote, “... Music is the food of love. play on.” Also, when someone asks me a stupid question or makes a self serving comment, I never answer, even though I would love to punch him or her in the face, because I learned that one cannot rationalize with an irrational person. Enjoy your music and poetry above all. They give us the emotional lift to heal our hearts. This column is fantastic.
Yes, maybe it is all of the above. I suffer from the same addiction to nostalgia having just wasted an entire evening watching Prince making his guitar cry, not just gently weep, in the company of Tom Petty, Steve Winwood and others. Then falling into the rabbit hole of suggested youtubes. As always love getting your newsletter.
I started reading kinda agitated and pissed off but by the end you had me. A couple weeks ago you said you were a mediocre writing talent; I do not agree. Thanks for this one…
Aces, man! Write on!
"Their voices must be heard." CLT
That cheeky kid. That triggers me to channel my father, who would whip out his hand and get in your face. Of course I DON'T do that, but the instinct comes through me like a charge of electricity. Only I don't reach out the hand, I still the voice. Trying not to pass on the generational trauma. Nonetheless, I feel outrage at the shitty toxic bullshit kids parrot from their parents. "White people were slaves, too," "Africans traded away other Africans," "Native Americans traded," etc. All of it apologetics for colonial genocide. I'll carry our part in it forever (my ancestors', my actual slave-owning family). The instinct to defend my "white honor" stops with me.
I'm impressed that you didn't snap him in two. Baby steps. Giant steps. Whatever.
Catching up with your last few posts. "Your art is the dignified display of the heartbreak that is the debt of living." AAAAAAGGHHHHH. Uh, yes. Very grown-up. Oh hell.
Thank you for so candidly sharing your memories, process, struggles, and insights. This column is always worthy of my attention. ❤️
Always love reading these. Parts of this post made me LOL hard and I’m so grateful for those laughs this week. Big love!
This was such a good read this afternoon. One thing I really appreciate about An Irritable Métis is getting to read about Missoula and Montana in general from your POV. My grandpa was from the same area and so it’s just really cool to hear about an area I grew up hearing all about.
Certain songs just put you in that place and time--something about songs that were peak high school sends me right back to the 80s. I also remember how terrible we were to our teachers, even as the supposed "honors" students. We could be monsters...