Dangerous Compassions

a special treehouse for fat people

I have a new zine we copied yesterday.  Ming needs to poke holes in it and I need to bind some.  The zine fest is today.

Someone was going to stay at our house a few nights, but I have very low resources right now, and I couldn’t handle some difficulties.  I go around seeming ok much of the time, but I have very little resilience.  The smallest thing is a huge obstacle. 

Sleep deprivation plus anemia can be ugly.  Sleep deprivation can wear you down.  I have nothing to give, right now.  There’s no margin for error.  It’s like breaking down on a road with no emergency lane.  It’s like breaking down on a bridge.

People are like, Sleep deprivation!  Yeah, I know about that.  I didn’t sleep well one time!  But it’s been four months.  I think my body is starting to revolt. 

I was thinking, Well, maybe it’s not so bad.  I enjoy writing in the night–how quiet it is.  A lot of people say they’re writers and then write once a week or twice a month or never.  I’m writing for hours every night and day.  If that’s my reason for living, this lifetime, I better do it.

The new zine is about fat liberation, doctors and the little diagrams they draw, what “healthy food” might be, speaking up, fat yoga, loving myself, and sitting in a sturdy camping chair for the first time.  I love that camping chair.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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