She Meme's Well: Essays

What a gem…... in light of her Emmy last night (9/12), I felt compelled to post this now, though I am not done reading it yet. Bravo Quinta!

Here are some currents that have my attention:

Reading - She Meme’s Well: Essays by Quinta Brunson

Listening - Megan Thee Stallion, Traumazine album with *Anxiety on repeat

Drinking - Cafe Bustlelo via Kcup, 1 cream 1 sugar

Watching - House of the Dragon

Eating - Imaginary baked goods from my 7 y/o nieces plastic bakeware set

Touching - Pages of psychoanalytic articles, on repeat

Smelling - Patchouli essential oil w/sandalwood incense

Playing - Animal Crossing New Horizon on Nintendo Switch

Dreaming of - Learning how to properly dig a drinking well & the upkeep of it

Card of the Month - 10 of Pentacles

1 Small Secret - I’m keeping an emerald gemstone “on me” until the end of 2022

In Honor of the 6 Planets in Retrograde: A Bit of A Throwback to a Post Written March 1st, 2019

“Wow. Wowowowowowkwkwkwkwksjdjxbxbdbxbxbdbxbxbdbxbxbxbxbdvxhxndbbcjnsbfbfjkdbfnxjdbdzksnbxjsndnbcnddjndnfbfjchjstryuuotipqryhnjkahfiyhohgafhjkhk

That is a sliver of what my brain did while reading this phenomenal memoir. Hunger. Used mostly as a verb throughout the text, with a morsel amount of usage as a noun. The table is set. Shall we?

I am shell-shocked at how delightful reading this was. I experienced the work as comical, sassy, intriguing and intensely traumatizing. How is it that Roxane’s life story, written with such depth & intensity left me grasping for respite?! And as the last page turned I yearned for more. I was literally hungry to read more about Roxane’s life. She’s like my dad’s Pen Patat. She’s like black cod with miso from Nobu. Like Nonna D’s oatmeal lace ice cream. Like a chopped cheese from the bodega on 130th & Lenox. Like watching my guests eat my take on my mom’s homemade mashed potatoes with root vegetables & salmon.

SAT-IS-FYING! I’m close to speechless at the ferocity in which she allows the reader to know her at the most unsatisfying junctures in her journey called life. Bingeing, purging, swallowing her trauma. Lonely, isolated, concealed with zeal. The bravery is astounding on the grand stage, page after page. The extent of self loathing that pounced itself around chapter here, paragraph there. At one point four chapters straight she pounded away at each pound of weight; accumulated tactfully day, month, year in & out. There’s no doubt that the torment & suffering was pronounced.

Ms. Gay, a fellow 1st generation Haitian-American; though our sexual proclivities are not entirely the same her identification as a queer woman sealed the deal in purchasing her memoir opposed to testing it out from my local library or borrowing from a friend. I am going to continue to invest in her. I will continue to recommend her work as a fellow Bad Feminist. Via youtube videos of various talks she has engaged in, I have learned that she has quite a unique online presence via twitter. She’s corky with a dash of sarcasm that borders being self deprecating in a relatable way, while still leaving a lot to be imagined & experienced. Hunger matched her personality and not all memoirs are true in that form.

What a spectrum of intensity. Chapter 72 was remarkable. Read the book if you haven’t already, there may be another chapter that captures your attention. The critical other, be it inside or out, within or without - allures my curiosity.

Yuen-Sing thank you for sharing this goodness with me!

Sweet Micky. Ayiti. This song resonates now as I stew in Roxane’s vulnerable creation, Hunger; especially the bridge between 1:40 - 3:04. My identification with her Haitian roots brings up so many raw reverberating feelings and so I choose to share nostalgic music that is both beautiful, depressing & expansive in all of its glory!”



Libations for you to Drink

I got a call the other day
Liberation was on the other end
Speaking harsh words of hate, violence and the dread of tomorrow
Words cut short
An intruder in her space
“Call you back tomorrow”
Happy she got off my line

I got a call yesterday
Liberation was on the other end
Speaking indifferent words of apathy, isolation and the detachment of tomorrow
Silence
Ghosts in her space
“Call you back tomorrow”
Worried she, got off my line

I got a call earlier today
Liberation was on the other end
Speaking sweet words of love, safety and the potential of tomorrow
Words expanded
A guest in her space
“Call you back tomorrow”
Frustrated, she got off my line

Can’t finish this poem
Liberation is calling me

Gemini Season Strawberry Supermoon in Sagittarius thank you for the inspiration to freestyle

4 minutes and 6 seconds of my time and mind

Perhaps I’ll write again

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