sun showers are here
how’s it going, friend?
I’m happy to be here on another Sunday writing to you.
I have been thinking a lot about community and what it can look like. I see the pitfalls of being such an individualistic society when I look at the pictures of protestors who want to be allowed to go back to restaurants and stores or even when I walk down the street and see mask-less people vacationing at the beach like these are normal times. Often, this makes me angry. Right now, though, I’m feeling curious.
What would society look like if we were a bit more collectivist? How would our neighborhoods and workplaces shift if we could tap into a communal mindset? And how can I, an admitted homebody who, in normal times, might choose a night on the couch over a hang with friends, make shifts in my own life?
I am interested in seeing what community can look like in this new paradigm. That’s part of the reason I wanted to start this newsletter. It’s my own attempt to send out a flare into the dark night. Are you there? I’m here. Let’s connect.
On that note, I just listened to a great episode of the podcast Imaginary Worlds about the solarpunk movement. I hadn’t heard of it before, have you? I’m trying to get into reading more speculative fiction in general, so if you have any suggestions or leads (either spec fic in general or solarpunk specifically), hit me up!
prompt #6:
This week, think of someone who you love and admire. You’re going to take five minutes to describe them. Sometimes we take the people we love for granted. Maybe that isn’t the case for you and this person, but either way I’d like you to hone in on them in detail.
Rather than saying “she is kind,” do you have a memory that illustrates that loving spirit? Rather than mentioning their blonde hair, what is the scent that instantly evokes them? Use this as your chance to explore sensory details that bring this person to life.
As always, when your five minutes are up, you can leave the piece as is, or develop it into something longer or in a different form.
ashley’s piece, A Mess and a Feast:
Piles of dishes in the sink,
a mess and a feast
made by women’s hands.
Adulthood, worn in long, smooth fingernails
and soft, brown skin.
I wait for my own to burst those sinewy veins.
They don’t make you look old,
they reveal our lineage.
Sometimes I see myself reflected in a window
and I think it’s you.
You’ll post a picture of yourself,
and I think it’s me.
There’s fear.
There’s joy, too.