sneaky peek!

a preview, open for comments, hopes, questions.

I am not called to be a teacher or leader or healer or guide.

I’m good at some of those things, but I don’t feel called, really, to any one thing at all.

no dream jobs here. not even words. nothing forever. no claims on eternity.

I am not called; I just listen and, sometimes, throw myself into the mix.

& I don’t want to sell you a need or attend to your wants. I don’t want to find the pain point and build content in relation. dear god, I don’t want to be niche. I don’t care to be tapped into what folks are craving. I don’t want to make for you. I don’t feel excited by that + I think you know when savviness obscures enthusiasm.

sis, I create for myself only, sincerely, and sometimes I invite others into that cycle + we’re all better for my curious resistance, my joyful defiance, my biting refusal..

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good company society is what I named, basically, the container for all the creative work I share with others. I could use my name.. but it sort of helps my thinking and inevitable code-switching to have a little space from what’s of me and what’s by me. 

ok, mother of the year is a creative season my spirit feels compelled to explore. the term is a posture, a ‘gesture toward home.’ I thought it would end this June following the incubator, but I feel my guts shifting.

right, so, the incubator: striptease. 

blink, and you missed it, but six glorious, reverent, magnetic, unfolding spirits converged to self-seduce their wildest dreams and it was everything we made it. every single thing we made it to be: more more and nothing less. we have an unspoken Fight Club rule, it seems, as not one of us shares publicly about the work, and I think we like the opacity, but ‘twas: a six+1 month experiment in interdisciplinarity, unraveling tired narratives, and embodying creative ferocity.  

ok, so now the lab is coming to a close and we’re mourning, and sweet + sassy Time rolled through to remind me she’s running things, and all is cyclical.

so, I popped off of Patreon, which was clunky and frustrating, and I ditched Flodesk and moved to Substack for all long-form writing to bring word lovers into proximity with one another. I thought it would be a one-for-one newsletter swap, but it is, instead, a redesign of my capacity to share, so it’s a redesign of my interest in such sharing, too.

here’s what I’m brewing..

one class, twelve weeks, writing “beyond I”: mother/tongue.