Showtime

doing nothing, or doing too much?

Jul 21, 2024

Hello dears. So many of you have written to me in the last few weeks about receiving the deck — that is now your deck! — and I want to tell every one of you personally how much it means to me that it means something to you, but I was floating in the Sandy river or reading a book (or taking my kid to the ER — he’s fine now) or chaining myself to several shitty printers in a last push to produce enough mini-booklets (and zines?! what, why?) before the show.

The show! This Sunday (the 21st! Today!!) at Oranj Studio in Portland, 5-7pm: all the prints, lots of decks, tarot readings by Juanita Esperanto, snacks and drinks, beautiful friends, warm night, full (Fool!) moon. Come celebrate the launch of Leo season with good fortune for all!

I have been in a pause — long sleeps, long walks, long days on the river. Until a few days ago I was easy-taking it slow — my dad was in town, the heat was waving, the water wonderful. Then Dante got quite sick the day Dad left and we spent Sunday night at the ER in fear of appendicitis (which it wasn’t, which was good). He’s much better now but mom-worry and show-pressure combined in a very familiar “how to handle shit in crisis” mode that is hard to shake. On Tuesday I met with my coach and wisely declared that I would only take on what’s required and not an inch more. So, naturally, Tuesday night I started curating and printing five different zines of past work, mostly comics, mostly from my tenure in Chicago. Why?? Was I like, the ten-day vulnerability hangover I experienced following the release of the deck and proposal wasn’t nearly enough to squash my innate desire to be seen and understood in all my raw and glory, how about I dredge up decades-old drawings of sex, death and questionable life choices and share those too?

Um, guess so. And so, against my better judgement (which is still on vacation), those zines are now (or soon) available in my shop in a very limited edition, until they sell out or I take them down… as are more decks, in case you missed the Very First round. Same printing, same box and cards, less perks, less confetti, less anxiety? (probably not). I debated with myself a lot about releasing more, or not — still hoping for a publisher, after all — but have determined said-publisher becomes more and more possible the more they circulate in the world. Every share counts! Sharing is caring! Care-Bears, SHARE!!!

TEN IDEAS A DAY (what’s next)

Speaking of better judgement, or not: I recently refreshed my Hinge profile and unlocked the app-dating door. I’d sworn to anyone listening (mainly Dayna) that I only wanted to meet people organically, but with 21st century reality continuing to slap me upside the head I realized that short of joining a sports thing or going to church I was unlikely to actually extend my social reach. le sigh. But it’s been fun, so far, while also highlighting a shitload of my internal interrelational hangups, communication foibles and coping mechanisms. And it’s only been a week!
My new friend Todd, whom I met in Arizona while having our minds mutually blown and souls cleansed by the 5MEO-frog (which I will one day write about, I promise), fell while painting a house on Tuesday and broke all kinds of inconvenient bones. He’s in Boise and newly sober so Dante and I will drive out to visit him next week, poor guy.
more river.
Some of you may remember my mutant stuffed-animal collage-critters … I have plans. Big plans. BIGGGGG plans, ifyouknowwhatimean…
Jewelry! Dayna’s been making some incredible lost-wax rings since we took a class together months ago and I am so inspired to fuck around and find out with metal and minerals. Ever since being bedazzled by the Tucson gem show I have been hoarding stones without the skills to set them — though I did make a weird necklace to wear to Sunday’s show. 🤓
I need to/want to plan some trips, to close or far-flung locales, to have something to look forward to and distract myself with during the long slow gray that will inevitably return but that’s so delightfully distant from these northwest summers. It’s also been over a year since I spent any time in Santa Cruz, my longest-ever away.
But there are so many places I want to go and meanwhile Dante will be starting sophomore year in September…
and oh god the state of things is just wild and will only get worse. The night before my dad left (also the night of Trump’s ear injury) we did a Tarot spread into the madness of the moment and, while insightful (the cards are always overturning seemingly stuck stones to reveal squirming undersides and previously unconsidered aspects, aren’t they?), I was left with a feeling that encapsulated so much of the polarity at play — the fear of fascism on one hand, an awareness of righteous human grievance and the desire to have one’s fears met with understanding and a plausible solution on the other. Much more thinking about this that isn’t articulable yet, but — we’re fucked, and it’s that we/them dichotomy that’s helping enable and increase the fuckery. Buckle up.
more books, more stories. Recommendations welcome! Drop it in the comments!
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and yeah. Somewhere in me still is the book that wants writing, though in the past few weeks I’ve been less sure about what it wants to be. On July 1st (that July 1st!) I received three rejections to my proposal from big-publisher editors, universally effusive about how beautiful the deck is and what a wonderful writer I am and all passing on the project due to my obscurity, the saturation of Tarot and oracle decks in the market and/or the unmarketability of grief. That last one got me most — like deep in the gut got me, inside-out made me. The phrase “grief memoir” (like the “Memoir-Wellness” section at Powell’s) evokes a visceral aversion in me, a complicated reaction that is in its complexity owed some exploration. I’ve ricocheted from “fuck it all (I quit)” to “fuck it all (full steam ahead)” but in the middle is a feeling that despite my mortifying desire for recognition, affirmation and validation (like, immediately)… or maybe because of it… what I need to do, actually, maybe, probably, is to slow down. To work, on one hand, on getting the deck into more hands and then, in my private space, to write the book I want to write — before it’s shelved before it’s even written. And also to not do those things, to do these other things too.

COMICS ABOUT

You may notice that this comic is unfinished, and it’s not because I stopped to rest (or read or float or snack). I drew this while watching the X Files with Dante the other night (season 1! we’re in for a long ride) because I couldn’t bear to just sit and watch a show, I had to be doing something. And I stopped because as soon as he went to get ready for bed I was released from momming and back into the splashy pool of my zine-printing, show-prepping anxiety of do!do!do more! … so there’s some self-inflicted irony or hypocrisy for you.

DRAWING CARDS

Above, the post-assassination-attempt spread I did with my dad. I won’t go into each card and its position but some standouts were thus:

— the first cards we pulled were for Trump and Biden, respectively (if not respectfully) the Nine of Pentacles for Trump (tilted right) and the Wheel of Fortune (leaning left) for Biden, second row from the top. When the square cards go right a push or forcefulness is implied, while a tilt to the left suggests a hesitation or withholding. The Nine of Pentacles is material success and self-satisfaction, & I read its lean as an amplification of what is traditionally a quieter card — a performative aspect, an outward projection, a public portrayal. Trump is clearly riding high and confident in his triumph, and the display of such confidence is and always has been the key to his success as a charismatic leader (I shudder). The Wheel of Fortune I read both as the clear and apparent slowing of Biden’s own wheels (!!) and his (and his administrations’s) reluctance to get off the ride and let others on. What goes up must come down. The hubris of Biden appearing to make the question of his candidacy be all about him and what he personally deserves is tragic. I also see the left-tilted Wheel and note the nausea of being stuck on a tilt-a-whirl, desperate to get off — and I see that reflected in both the apparatus and the people of the Democratic Party, wringing hands over mechanics and speed while the carnival clamors on, and faster.

— we pulled the reversed Seven of Swords for Trump’s still-unannounced VP pick and yet when I saw it I just knew it’d be JD Vance (love it when I’m right, but…). This is the card of the Trickster (in its less savory aspects, I’d reckon) and suggests subterfuge, masking, manipulation and hidden agendas. Not only does it shout out to Vance’s 180 on Trump himself, it’s an interesting harbinger of Vance’s own motives and goals… I foresee power struggles between the two, of a far different flavor than those with Pence. Vance is young, not-dumb, and has already shown himself to be ideologically flexible in service of his ambition. Sound familiar?

— the final card we pulled was Temperance, and we could all use some. Temperance always reaches beyond the binary and “over the aisle.” We need to continually remember the humanity of our neighbor, our opponent, our adversary — even if, especially if, we are afraid they don’t see ours. Temperance tells me to meet my fear with love. Even when, especially when.

INHALATIONS

ice cream for dinner
backyard blueberries
the Sandy River in Oxbow park
dusk from the balcony
full moon light
long walks with new friends
long walks with old friends
visitors
the first three seasons of Arrested Development only
air conditioning
the 4x6” thermal label printer I bought to print shipping labels but have been using to print anything and everything in strict black and white:

that tee-shirt Patti Smith is wearing is on my list of must-prints

Dante and I went in to Oranj yesterday and not only did Tamara once again slayyyy my cut and color, her & Eric tag-teamed Dante’s head through a touch-and-go ordeal of perfecting the shape of each hair and angle to pass extreme self-critical teen-boy muster and they absolutely nailed it with patience and aplomb. He loves it, I love them. Book an appointment and stare at my Tarot through the mirror!

STILL LEARNING

about what I want to be when I grow up.

and so…

If you’re in Portland, I hope to see you tomorrow (Sunday! today? today!) evening at Oranj. If you’ve written to me about your new deck or posted about it on various social channels — thank you, thank you, I am so truly honored. May it bring some of the insight and creative thinkery that creating it brought (and brings) me.

Happy birthday to this newsletter on Monday! It’s not so new anymore. In honor, here’s my second-ever post, a one-page comic about maybe starting a Substack: