sweet jesus. jesi? plural?

Get this: 2 or 3 weeks ago, I run more than half a marathon cold wearing these well worn in (well, more like worn well often for short periods of time, no marathons, half or otherwise) sneaks and I come out the other end relatively unscathed.

Last week, I go for a 30 hour jo- - oops I meant 30 minute/half hour jog in nike sneaks I hardly wear cuz they are not as comfy (and not just because of their bright non reflective therefore wholly unnecessary pink accents) and it feels like I broke something in my right foot. I destinctly remember feeling something shift somewhat uncomfortably that last time out but passed it off as regular running kinks. Not so! I limped around for like a week, unable to wear my clogs, single footing a bunch of yoga poses until I got to the point where I'm like, this is getting old.

The last time I had ouchie foot bone probs was when I wore around for most of a day these cool looking old blue sneaks. Awesome in the aesthetic department, not so much in the support department. My feet ached like I pulled something/stoned them and the only thing I did that made them feel better was to stop wearing them and walk some in my regular shoes. The pain ceased over the course of a short few days. So then I thought, That's it! I'll just run in my good ole shoes and my feet will return to their normal state of awesomeness. Like resetting a bone that broke and healed improper. The only glazed over part of the equation is the part where you put a cast back on the broken bits and lay off it while the newly in place parts settle down ie heal.

The running on a bad foot after not for a week hurt, I won't lie. But not terribly. In a, this is better than it was, kinda way. And continues to do so, several days after aforementioned (8 minute) outing. But it hurts in a different way. More of a sore bruise than holy crap, the bones in my foot are separating like an unlucky astronaut floating away untethered from the mother ship circa 2001. I am confident my country/artsy doctor remedy did the trick . . . – I'm sorry I'm at work and got really distracted by 2 Jesus' dancing with 2 nuns to the live hip hop show I'm running sound for. I heart my job. Anyways, Happy Halloween.

Published!

Hello Friends,

I am pleased to inform you of my recent publication of 6 of my haiku! (haikus? I gotta get that figured out.)

5 of them are printed in an art zine called THE NORTHERN SPECIAL, issue #7.

(La Norda Specialo 7
Jo Baer: Radical attitudes to the gallery
D.W. Burnam on ‘subjective detumescence’
Brian Murphy talks about masculinity with Leo, Claudia, Jeffry, and Joey
Matthew Offenbacher: Power in the Gift Shop
Ilvs Strauss: Five haiku
illustrated by D.W., Brian, Matt, and Kimberly Trowbridge.
8 pp. black and purple ink on legal paper

info: thenorthernspecial.org

Available free in Seattle: at Ambach and Rice, 4Culture, Greg Kucera Gallery, Hedreen Gallery, near the lockers at the Henry Art Gallery, in women’s bathroom at The Hideout, James Harris Gallery, at Lawrimore Projects ask Scott for a copy, SEASON, Soil Cooperative Art Gallery, and Western Bridge. Also available free by mail, by sending a SASE envelope to 1402 NE 63rd St. Seattle Wa. 98115 (regular business-sized envelope with two 44 cent stamps please). This issue has been supported by a grant from 4Culture.)

and the last one can be found at the following website: https://sites.google.com/site/thesubversivehuman/current-winners-1

yes, you read that right, CURRENT WINNER.s. I entered a contest and received 1st prize.

I am rather pleased with it all. Hope you enjoy it as well.

xo.

i thought about it for a long while

bad ideas one and two.

while I hesitate to fall in step with the age old binary of good/bad right/wrong that we as humans in the north west hemisphere are so want to do, it does make for a strong title. that being said, a more appropriate one would be maybe not such a good idea idea. or, save it for your diary idea. regardless what hole I end up pigeoning these into, I bring them up here, a one sided discourse, for my own getting off my chest sake, and, hopefully, for your reading enjoyment.

so without further ado, here, using the aforementioned confining nomenclature, is number one: I ride my bike. in and of itself, not a bad idea, bear with me now. while riding my bike, I see in detail a lot of things that most motorist register as an off colored blur, if at all. garbage, dead animals (RIP, non human friends!), tossed aside articles of clothing, specifically gloves, tho more so in the winter time, and a veritable banquet of other random things I have not the time nor will to go into at this moment (does that just make you wanna get up and ride your bike or what). while I have thoughts/opinions on all of those things, the only one that I have carried thru in my brain that has ended up in the delete file is this: what if I started a website, no first, what if I collected all of the single gloves I see on the road, then started a website where I posted pictures of each of them and then people, when they find themselves in the situation of having lost just one glove, they can go to the website and see if it, or some unclaimed glove like it, is on there and a magical reunion would happen and the world would be that much more awesome. oh, and I would call the website this: ONE GLOVE. and when you were on the site, that's right, bob marley's one love would be playing on a loop, just the chorus part tho. genius! I gave this idea some serious thought for a while. this was back when the interbot was just tadpoling its way into our lives out of its little ether pond. I mean, it exists to connect people, right? (says the human with no facebook account). and what better manifestation than that of which we seek out so than the prodgical return of one 5 fingered bundle of warmth to its rightful owner? yeah? no? maybe? sigh. fine, I'll drop it. it would take too much upkeep, I suppose. and knowledge on how to make a website. things I'm not kicking down the door to do. but you gotta admit it was kinda clever.

I was gonna go on to bad idea (I'm putting air quotes around that, you just can't see it) numero dos, but dinner is calling my name and I must heed the sirens call leaving you all in. . . utter . . . . suspense. . . . !

Ina Strauss 1, ilvs strauss 0, Mother Nature -1

my sister ran a marathon yesterday!!!!!! I am in chicago for a few days supporting her on the culmination of months of training, cheering her on across the finish line, nursing her sore bones back to some state of being able to function normally. something I have been planning on and excited for for months now. something I did not plan on: being almost too sore myself to be of any use whatsoever.

a marathon is not really, as previously thought, for crazy people. it is a milestone/annual event that sane people deliberately choose to engage in. they plan for it, train, raise money, sweat, cry/laugh and ultimately accomplish. it is a learning, growing experience, with positive effects that extend beyond it's legitimate participants, into the lives of those who love them, those who get overly involved as spectators. I, a novice to marathons, learned quite a few valuable lessons this weekend.

1-my sister is not crazy. nor impulsive. she is in fact quite strong and courageous (she signed up for the race as a 'non runner' person, trained for the End Aids team, raised them hella money). I am proud to have shared a womb/continue to share dna/rna with her.

2-marathons are well within the range of human capability. looking at the approximately 38,000+ different body types that spread over quite a bit of the spectrum of athletic ability, it becomes clear that running 26.2 miles is as much a mental challenge as a physical challenge. which lead me to my next point:

3-it helps if you train. I said something to the effect of 'I can see why people train for this!' to Ina and her team mates and one random lady who happened to be running with us at like mile 15 or so. She, random lady, Ina's teammates, and well, Ina too, all cast me incredulous looks of varying degrees. it's allowed in marathons for non-registered folks to jump in at certain points and run with the legits. it's called 'poaching.' and I thought, of all the ways to support my sister in this endevour, this is the one where I can really show how proud I am and that I am here for her for mental emotional support and sips of water of the camel bak I sported as to not deplete her own water source. that and it sounded like a lot of fun. so I jumped in at mile 6.5ish. Mile 15ish was just shy of 10 miles for me. right about the time when my body communicated to me via my feet, my knees, that maybe some semblence of a heads up would have been a really nice gesture. not *totally* necessary, but courteous.

4-yes and yes. a while back, I had a convo with Geode how I am so not running the chicago marathon with Ina, that had she asked me to run a half with her, I would have said yeah, no problem. I believe my exact words of the sentences that followed that thought were, 'I could probably run a half right now and be fine. it'd hurt, but I could do it.' well, number four lesson this weekend is that yes, I can just get up and run a half marathon and yes, as predicted, I am hurting.

the pace at which Ina and team ran was quite reasonable, running for 3 or 4 minutes, walking for 1, the weather was pleasant (what's up 87degrees!), and the company excellent. not to mention the thousands of random people feverishly cheering you on. it's like being in a parade. kinda. and so once in it, I got really into it. my original plan was to run like 10k of it (the most I've run ever before in one er, sitting, was like 6 miles. and that was mostly on accident), then passed that marker so decided to see if I could run a half marathon, then it was only 4ish more miles to where Jacob Ina's BF was gonna be so I figured I'd just get off there. (I'm glad I waited. After 17ish miles in the sun I was in no state to navigate my way back to the finish line by myself.) I graciously parted ways with my twin and her buddies, thanked them for the company, sent them off with well wishes and congratulations. then I sat on the ground, drank a bottle of water, and tried to figure out what the hell just happened.

that's a lot of learning for one day, I figured, so I saved some for today, the day after. this morning's lessons were in aftercare, both in giving and figuring out what's best for myself (eh, my everything hurts) and helping sis deal with the vacuous space left in the wake of any large character building event that consumes much of your energies for a given amount of time ie now what do I do?

dear ilvs, what was that all about? I mean, it was fun and all and I'd totally do it again, but maybe a little warning next time? and maybe not so much gatorade. we still love you. love, your extremely capable body.

dear mother earth, sorry for throwing the dozen or so paper cups on your sidewalks. usually I don't accept gatorade or water from strangers on the street and opt for filling up my water bottle from trusted sources - I even had a camel bak with me, but it ran out twice and was too tedious to fill while running. I hope the pitter patter of 45thousand x 2 feet felt good on your paved parts, a change from all those heavy cars and trucks. I promise to write a letter to the marathon organizers to take a look at their carbon footprint, see if they can get some recycling thing going. I love you very much. love, ilvs

combo science and book report: only one of which I needed to be paid to do

I spent part of my morning yesterday collecting my saliva in the name of science. I have voluntarily participated to be a participant in a study on twins. for money. How hard can it be? Fill out some paper work, send of a spit sample - which, in my head, I assumed it would take the form of some cotton swab to the lining of my cheek. that's what they do for those HIV tests with the short turn around time. this test, different. it involved a small plastic cup and directions that where particularly adamant about how much sample they needed. FILL TO HERE (red arrow points to the half way mark). NOT WITH BUBBLES, WITH LIQUID. ok, ok, geez. and so I did. and it took not forever, but long enough to make me realize how gross of an activity I had involved myself in, long enough to thank the universe that studying other people's spit is not my job, long enough to think that if I weren't getting paid, I would be really annoyed. instead of just mildly, curiously annoyed. and so it goes.

'so it goes' has now been entered into my speech library thanks to a very interesting fellow by the name of Kurt Vonnegut. I just read Slaughterhouse 5. I may have read Breakfast of Champions in high school, I don't remember. I plan on looking back to the time that I read this particular novel with some degree of fondness.

Kurt V writes in the beginning how he is telling others his intent on writing an anti-war book. One reaction goes as follows:

"You know what I say to people when I hear they're writing anti-war books?"

"No. What do you say, Harrison Star?"

"I say' Why don't you write an anti-glacier book instead?' "

What he meant, of course, was that there would always be wars, that they were as easy to stop as glaciers.

wait a minute, so does this mean, that with our current state of environmental crisis, ie melting/receding/disappearing glaciers, that we are finally coming to our senses and phasing out war? that peace shall prevail? oh, hey wait, didn't there use to be a glacier right there. . . argh.

what a lousy analogy that is, Mr Star, if that is really your real name. I say, yes on saving glaciers and waging peace simultaneously. and no thanks on melty melty and that whole war thing. so there, put that in your tiny vial and analyse it.

Dear One, I got your S.O.S.

Recently, a friend clued me into Dan Savage's online project called 'It gets better.' You heard of this? Basically, it is Dan and his boyfriend sending an internet message to queer youth that life gets better, ie livable, after high school. They did this in response to the rash of suicides of queer kids across the country. What news does not get to me via the few hours I am tuned into NPR must get to me via the few hours I see my friends. This trend is news to me. Which explains my initial reaction to the video: Is this a joke? Are they for real? It seemed laughable in it's sincerity, in it's implausibility. As in, this is really necessary? Life is not like Capitol Hill - a big gay bubble? Then my incredulousness turned to something else. Whatever it is called when you suddenly realize that, no the rest of the world, especially Small Town, America, is not a big gay bubble; when it sinks in that people exist in the world that really do hate queers. Oh, shit, I thought, this isn't joke.

Then I just got pissed. Where the fuck are the out of high school jerks making videos for the still in high school jerks telling them to 'Knock it the fuck off! Beating people up and hating is not cool!' ? Why is it just the older queers having to tell the youngins to just Deal with it, grin an bear it, there is nothing you can do, there is no one to help you now so just hang on. That fucking sucks that this is their message because what they are saying is tragically, inarguably true.

Dear Young Ones, Adolescence is rough, kids are mean, your peers are cruel. And unfortunately, adults can be the same sometimes, too. 'Cept they don't have to hate you outright, they can just allow their kids/other kids to hate you for them and make it seem normal, make it seem like you are crazy and immoral and worthless. I had supportive parents and teachers and friends and it still sucked. I cannot imagine having to go thru that with no one having my back. This makes me infinitely sad.

Writing this from my apartment in Gayville, USA, I cannot help but feel a bit helpless. What can I do to extend love to those who need it? Dan, your video makes sense to me now. I applaud you. I mean, I saw what you were trying to do in the beginning, I just had a giant reality check get in the way for a minute. There is talk in my friend group of joining the project, posting more videos, extending their support. Cuz believe it or not, it does get better. SOOOOOOO MUUUUCH BETTER. You 'just' have to make it thru high school; graduate, move the fuck out of your town. For now, that is the solution. And if you can't make it to 18, make it to 16 and move and finish your education at a Community College. If you need a place to crash, I have floor space. High school can be a sick joke, but it doesn't last forever. Ignore the meanies as best you can, learn to love yourself, life, yourself, learn as much as you can.

In the meanwhile, we who have graduated have some work to do in the realm of changing the minds of folks our age, making this place more acceptable, expanding the gay bubble to include all. This shit takes time, so apologies, but we need your patience. And know that we also need you, Alive and kicking, to add to all the coolness that exists in this world. Gay people can't just conjure up gay babies out of thin air, we use straight people to do the dirty work for us. The draw back is that we don't get to hold you and squeeze you and tell you how much we love you until you are like 18. Which is totally backwards, we know, but it's what we have to work with at this point in time.

So, Dan, thank you for doing this. Queer youth, we love you. Jerks, knock it off. Everyone, it's time we focus our energies on something a little more productive. May I suggest a little something called love.