Dangerous Compassions


“I wanna tour an aquaponics place!  Do you think it’s pretty?  Do you think the fish have a good life, or a sad life?” I asked Ming

“I dunno…” he said.  We were cuddling in bed–he was waking up.

“I wanna do my own aquaponics, honestly.  Does that make me a real hippie?  Or a real permaculurist?”

“Yeah,” Ming said.

“Did you do aquaponics before?”

“I helped with someone else’s,” he said.

“A big one?  Or a little one like our neighbor?”

“The neighbor one,” he said.

“Yeah, that would be so cool.  But I think I would fall in love with my fish.  I wouldn’t be able to kill them.  Are you supposed to kill them?”

“Not sure,” he said.

“I would have a tank that’s a pasture for the old fish.  I would be like–there you go, old fish.  Enjoy your life.”

Ming laughed.  “They would be the old grandpa and grandma fish.  They would have little canes and white beards.”

Ming laughed.  To see him smile is my favorite thing in the world.  In my mind, those fish look cartoonish, like Simpsons fish.

eggs in toast

Yesterday I made eggs in toast for the first time.  When I woke up in the morning, I wanted it.  I don’t eat bread, lately.  So I made it for Ming.  I wanted to smell that particular smell.

eggs in toast
[Two slices of bread in a frying pan, with circles of bread removed and to the side, and butter melting.]
He liked it.  Felt good to do something different.

When I was a kid, that was a common breakfast food my mom would make me.  Eggs in toast and eggs on toast were two common breakfasts.


There’s a green cone I was thinking about a lot.  I would see it often–we would pass by the vacant lot where it had been forgotten by a work crew.  So Ming and I went for a walk, and he photographed me by the cone.

vacant lot
[Fat white woman wearing all black clothes smiles by a bright green traffic cone in a vacant lot.]
I would like to take the cone, cut it open, and use its insides to carve like a linoleum block, and then make prints from that.  It’s a fantasy I can’t shake.  Someone else did it, which I saw–an artist hero of mine, Ravi Zupa.

That walk we also saw a pretty pipe, a bullet shell, trash, and where a volunteer mesquite had intruded on the sidewalk for years, and had recently been hacked down.

[Picture of the green cone and my leg, taken by Ming on accident.]

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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