Dangerous Compassions


Hey, I didn’t blog here yesterday.  I’m coming out of a multiple day health struggle. Feeling much stronger and the Laura-Marie who I want to be–more love, less bewildered anguish.

If this is my third good day, three days is the charm, so maybe I’m safe.  Ish.


I bought from a friend some essential oil rollerballs which delight me with delicious smells.  The one I got for myself is called Hope.  It’s a few different citrus oils and vanilla.  It smells amazing and helps me feel happy.

My mom had a cousin Hope.  One of the relatives in Colorado–meant something to my mom, but a mystery to me.  I never met her, that I recall.  Hope is a weird concept, to me.  But I’m happy to try it out.

I think cousin Hope is a strong ancestor, a kind lady I will never meet, but who I probably share some traits with.  Someone who helps me in ways I’ll never know.

I found this photo on someone’s facebook and stole it.  Beautiful graffiti, and the green squares.  Cloudy sky.  Graffiti is public to begin with.  But I hope the artist wants the message spread more than they want credit.


As for me, I definitely love my friends.  Fighting fascism I do in subtle ways.  My hands are not for punching anyone.  Arms are for hugging.

I enjoy speaking my truth, being who I am, doing radical mental health.  Working for peace, making community, feeding people a little bit, making zines, anarchy, giving stuff away.  Gift economy!

Speaking of giving stuff away, I got a slightly heavy package in the mail today, dense, and opened it up, from a favored friend.  It was nine cds, eight of which I’ll give away.

It’s fun to participate in the project of giving away believed in art.  Happy to help.

Speaking of happy to help, I love this cutie who let me take his picture yesterday in the driveway.  Love is patient indeed.  I love you, spouse Ming.  Thank you for helping me learn what freedom is.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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