Moon Memo: Time keeps on slipping...
Moon Memo-February 05, 2025
Hello from Portland, Oregon, where I am writing a lot today.
Yesterday was a brief snow day, and today is all grey mush. But I'm spending the day in my office, in front of my 3 screens worth of to do lists, calendars, the two texting apps, email, my scratch pad in Drafts (where I'm writing this right now), my library of quotes and gathered ephemera (in Obsidian for now), my RSS and Web Browser bringing the horrors of the world in but in my own curated way, Music and melancholy. I put up a new white board on my desk, because I need more around me I guess. Too much coffee, and poetry books behind me. My little notebook when the keyboard is too much. Mission Control. My beloved place of work.
I've written 3 poems already. Most of them were born in the little notebooks. You should never start with a blank page. That's why we carry notebooks, to jot shit into.
Still no word from GLSEN. I want that job so bad.
I wish I could get 100 dollars per poem. If I could do that, I would be able to maintain my current level of luxury. But that's not how the world works. This is not how it ever will be. So I have to find another job.
The horrors keep coming in. I have a system in place where I only read the news once a day. Read the news once, and then you can marinate in the horror, but only a little bit. My current news stack is the AP newsletter every morning, OPB newsletter every morning, Portland Mercury (for local stuff), and the wikipedia current events portal (which give a very good brief overview of what's going on outside of the united states...we live in a wider world). But after that, unless someone messages me with the new horrors, I am done for the day. Read the news like my grandparents did. Stay informed. But don't live in the misery.
That means I don't really go on blsky or other social media much anymore. I love my friends, and I want to keep in touch with them. But I also don't want to spend all day getting yelled at about the miseries of the world. Someone's gotta keep the hope up.
Sunday is my birthday. 46 years old. Almost 9 since the divorce. 8 as Misha Moon. Time keeps slipping into the future, doesn't it?
Below I hope you find some pictures from the last week. I think that'll be enough for today. I just wanted to check in. Take care of yourselves. Don't let the despair keep you. Find something you love to do, and do it.
Misha Lynn Moon
