第八天 Dì bā tiān

Current Mood: Serpiente Dorada x Dengue Dengue Dengue

bah bah bah bah bah bah bah bah

I have a special relationship with Pusak, pusaq-ñiqin

Ocho

VIII

∞

e-i-g-h-t-h-s

Pheucticus chrysogaster vuelan por la cascada Peguche. It’s one of my favorite places of la sierra ecuatorial. Of all the music in my life right now, I was particularly enamored of a new flirty bird’s chirp. Mostly because of their commitment. For eight days, they’ve been punctual and the song is quite similar but I hear different moods. I wonder if they perch on the same twig or tree each alba. I know I hear them each day along with 4-6 other choir members but I haven’t noticed place. Perhaps, I behave similarly to all of them. Today I’m all about the psychedelic. So, today a cardinal befriended me. I love their song and I think we were trying to sing along to La Yegros.

screenshot_20200402-144729 — Mami responded that “esa es la nariz de la abuela Alina.” Oooooh so much chisme about mi abuelita. Yall may know one or two stories… My favorite story of la Alina was during a mourning period about a decade ago. Some fulano died and my grandma had stories about everybody to share to everyone in hush hush. Ya tu sabe’. After the whole, I dunno 5 days to 2 weeks of mourning and eating our feelings we are expected to be lively and well to carry a casket to the graveyard singing some oldass chants in “weird Spanish” while having fond memories of dead dude. In viejo Manabí the mourning time period is flexible – everyone knows we need different healing time. Due to the ever-expanding neoliberal capitalism colonial bs Ecuador, most jobs don’t even allow for mourning periods – or you don’t have a job that is consistent or pays you enough to take time off.

Well here are the stories abuela’s got. La fulano de tal le dijo a ese hijueputa que ni se meta…. bien hecho!… por metiche…. la concha de tu madre…. I’m only half listening to my grandmother or whatever is happening with half of Manabí and this dead dude because I’m mezmerized by these little people running around. At one point the maybe 3yo red-curly-haired one goes up to brown tits and begins lunch. A few minutes later the dark haired maybe 5 yo goes on the other boob. *Pero que ginga!* That’s basically, abuela Alina’s “shut the fuck up you immature uncouth child!” I was in my early 20s at the time and the only things about the whole thing that stunned me was full-grown fully-teethed people getting food from soft tissues and probably soreass nipples….. ahhhh q miedo

I may have been fond of cussing early in life due to my abuela’s influence. This is significant in my life’s trajectory because a traumatic moment in my life was being punished in school for calling a bitch a “bitch.” We used all kinds of cuss words on the courts or the fields; at recess me and Liza memorized all our favorite raps (in those days by rewinding tapes back and forth for hours). What made this event different? Blonde blue-eyed rich girl, Erin “told on me.” What is it with narcs? That’s, for me, such a White issue. I’m NOT trying to be politically correct right now. Fuck that. It’s definitely some weirdass colonial shit. I wonder if any of our languages had grossass words like schadenfreude on our tongues.

I was the first girl to get detention for cussing. I may have been the only person ever in that fuckin school to get detention for saying bitch. Bitch bitchidy BIOTCH!!

That bitch who snitched is now a cop. They say #acab… q se yo?

At that same school I learned to hate myself. It all started with my name. Forget that my given name is five syllables, A-L-B-A is actually difficult for many people to pronounce. It’s revolting.

GROSSAF

really

So, I got the question from one of my teachers in my first memories of elementary school. I have tried erasing my name for so many years. First with Dawn Elizabeth Ocean. Sounds like an old white lady. Then I tried Sunrise theSea. That one is aethetically pleasing to me so it took the longest to quit. I love the stories of my names, our names, how we mean to each other and our place on Pachamama. Why must I call myself something else for them?

Today I decided that people who don’t give a shit about my work

I don’t give a shit about them

Well, yes. Yall knew this. But I’ve gotten so often in my life folxs who are “down for the struggle” but only insofar (is that a word) as interests converge. It’s nauseating.

I want to create

Black and Indigenous Artivist Spaces

here there everywhere!

17:12

Ahora cantan conmigo otra vez.

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO COLLABORATE, PLEASE CONTACT ME.

I like how and why and how come and what else questions. Should I put it on my dating profiles? I don’t have the energy to date anymore. I think that’s what this time is telling me. But really I just need to be with someone who works as hard as I do at not just themselves or the relationship but all aspects of life. I ask for the impossible. Uggh, I hate when people say that. I don’t bend on my politics. Even if there are shifts in thinking, I don’t run backwards (except maybe in relationships).

Ooooh ouch.

fuck my subconscious

I should eat something now

People that give a shit about the same shit I give a shit about exist. They are everywhere. Okay. Now one has to come find me and make me feel like I hope this jam is gonna last…

We’re jammin’, we’re jammin’
And we’re jammin’ right straight from yard

18:00

The Offspring was a big part of my life for a long time. There music is smart, I always thought. I remember when our parents let us play Bad Habit on the last day of A.S.S. (literally their acronym). This song – Gone Away – in particular, taught me about grief. Just two years after one of the most traumatizing experiences in my life. Just as I was in an experience I did not know would cause traumas… when I learned that only our names came from Spain.

19:16

“This would be an appropriate time to close Rikers now. YES!! We wanted this yesterday, now here is the opportunity, NYC!!

2.3 million people deserve transformative justice