Dangerous Compassions

Noam Chomsky

“I was just cheating on you,” I told Ming.

He was entering our room after taking a shower.  I showed him my screen, which had this paused video of Noam Chomsky talking about liberation theology.  He’s been my pretend boyfriend for a long time.  Long before Ming.

We laughed.

“It’s ok,” I said.  “I’ll share him with you.   We can tag team Noam Chomsky.”

That is a weird idea, Laura-Marie.  Thank you for your specific perversions.  Thank you for working toward a loving revolution.  A better end of the world is possible, as they say.

I like what Noam Chomsky says about religion in this video.  I thought he was just going to slam it.  He’s so much smarter than that.

don’t let the turkeys get you down

We were at the food bank.  I wanted to get some food to cook for this family that just had a new baby.  At the end of the circuit in the large warehouse-type room, they have the meat.  Somehow in my weakness, I accepted a turkey.

They have been trying to give away these frozen turkeys enthusiastically.  Finally I succumbed.  Oops.

So then Ming and I needed to thaw and cook this turkey.  Wow, I had no idea how stressful that would be.  Cooking for the family with the new baby was supposed to be easy.  Some split pea soup, rice, and veg?  I could do that in my sleep.  But no–a turkey is a whole other thing.  I forgot how stressful meat is.


Don’t let your relationship get harmed by poor choices that stress life up.  Ming is wonderful about so many of my weird needs, habits, quirks.  But everyone has their limit.  Ming can do Noam Chomsy, but turkeys are a whole other matter.

It doesn’t help that the south kitchen has small sinks and a faucet with low water pressure.  I was struggling with technology.

And it’s frigid in there.  It’s not room temperature.  I hope the turkey was properly thawed.  Submerging it in cold water for some hours was supposed to thaw it.  But I’m not kidding you–feels like it’s in the 50s in that south kitchen.

Where’s my parka.  I refer to it as the arctic.  It’s horrible sensory-wise, to go from warm to freezing to warm so quickly like that.  It’s temperature whiplash.


Who do you love, who you don’t know?  Besides Noam Chomsky, I love Frida Kalo.  What about Sufjan Stevens?  Is it love?  Something like that.

What about Bach?  I love the music, but probably the person was an asshole.  Who knows.

I’ve gotten to know a few famous people lately.  They are like anyone else but famous.  People project stuff on them all freakin’ day.  Fame is confusing.  Being projected on is uncomfortable.


I made this heart-shaped sign.  It’s the back of the forest defenders sign.  I love the shape, and the orange with the red.


We went to a peace vigil.  It was rainy.  I hadn’t vigiled in months.  A nice queer lady told me about the local lesbian choir.  She took my email, promising me more info, but hasn’t emailed me.  I’m afraid I did a social faux pas that I have no idea what it might have been.

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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