Dangerous Compassions

no borders


“Did you crush the garlic?  Did you tell it it would never amount to anything?” I asked Ming.

He was standing by the bed, eating a carrot.  I was lying on the bed with my feet on two pillows, in the half-dark.  “Yes,” he said.

“Did you chop the carrots?”


“Did you slice the sweet potatoes?  One centimetre?”


“Wow!  You did everything!  Did you put salt in the water?”


“Would you?  Just a little bit?  Like a forth of a teaspoon.”

Another way to crush garlic is to tell it, “You’ll never be a real clove!”  I was having butter on everything–now I want tahini on everything.


Ming told me a phrase I never heard before: add oil.  It has to do with some protests in Hong Kong I’m not supposed to call riots.  He was watching videos of street medics in Hong Kong.  He said they make him cry.

“Why do they make you cry?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Because you’re so moved?” I asked.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said.

“I used to cry when I watched friends get arrested at Creech,” I said.  “Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“What’s Hong Kong?  It’s an island off China?  Or it’s part of China?  Or that’s the question.”

“Yeah, China says Hong Kong is part of China.”

“It’s like Tibet?”


“Ok, what’s going on in Hong Kong?  It’s the same as Tibet?”

“No, separate thing.”

“Oh, Bunny thinks they’re the same.  Bunny believes in no borders.  He’s such an anarchist!  Kiss me, Bunny.”  I kissed Bunny, and we were laughing.  Ming offered Bunny a bite of his carrot.

I used to have a policy of not having sex with pro-lifers.  I guess that was my dealbreaker.

Last night I considered a policy of only having sex with anarchists.  It was a funny scene in my mind, requiring a vow at the bed edge.  Some enamored aroused person renouncing socialism in the heat of the moment.  Hahahahaha!

Then they would be socialist again afterward.  Hahahaha!

Ming is peeling shallots for me.  Now that’s love.  Shallots have sticky borders.  He’s going to freeze some for me.  J grew them in her garden.

I was thinking of my introduction to anarchy–or my re-introduction, really, as anarchy is the default setting on people.   We’re all born anarchists.

I was a kid and heard “When the Children Cry” by White Lion.  My ears pricked up with “all that we destroy, you must build again.”  Then the deal was sealed with “no more presidents / and all the wars will end / one united world / under God.”

Thanks, White Lion!  If I had hair that pretty, I would be a strong, brave anarchist too.  Oh wait, that is the case!

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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