Dangerous Compassions


Last night the Sri Chaitanya puja was good. Not that many people came. I was agitated by something: there was a chant for Sri Chaitanya that Swami had the core men devotees read out loud all together, and it bothered me that no women were allowed. Any time the men are afforded a privilege, I get filled with angst and think about how I don’t belong there and should leave and never come back. That’s why I avoid satsang: the men sit at one table and the woman sit at all the rest. It makes me sick.

Erik and I were supposed to go observe a live action Mage game this evening, but it was canceled, which is actually fine.

I dread work Monday–we have a two day in-person job scoring CSET. Then we go back for a one day job scoring a different CSET project on Friday. I haven’t been to that place in a long time. When I was on disability, I didn’t have to go.

Trying to think of something not cranky to say. I’ve been working on some poems lately. It feels good to write. I wrote a little poem called “outage” about the power outage we had in January. And I’m working on a longer poem about my friend G. I think the third section’s got to go, so I need something new to stick there. I like to be in the middle of something.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

2 replies on “cranky”

Laura-Marie meet Count Mockula:

Another Sacramento blogger/poet who saw wild turkeys in her previous blog post, too!

What a coincidence!

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