The Literary Swirl

Many influences swirling in my brain just now.  As November approaches, so does NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month).  I’m planning to write a draft novel, just as I did last year.  Meanwhile, an article of mine is on the verge of appearing on a fairly high-traffic website, and I’m excited about that.  Then there’s the slow formation of a South Bay Writers group focused on “underground” writing—whatever that means!  And my own exploration of such writing—watching a documentary about Charles Bukowski; attending our South Bay Writers October meeting in costume as Geoffrey Firmin, the main character in Malcolm Lowry’s novel Under the Volcano, publicly reading an excerpt from William Burroughs’ Queer.  And we’re starting a third Open Mic, exact schedule to be determined, to be held in downtown Los Altos.  The next month should be full of literary events!

Laugh at the Rest?

Hermann Hesse said “Learn what is to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest.”

But people get so serious about certain things—and I want to laugh about it!

Yesterday I read a lengthy online post about “different from” vs. “different than.”  Both have apparently been in use for centuries and both are apparently “considered acceptable” (by whom?).  But “different from” is strongly preferred.  “Different than” comes with a strong advisory (a strong admonition).

Some people have rules for when to use each one.  “Than” is for quantities (“less than one”).

Okay.  Or have we simply become overly pedantic?

I’m smiling already.

“Another Kind of Polyamory—or Not”

(from the October South Bay Poly Newsletter)

I’ve seen multiple discussions in progress lately on the subject of polys who are involved with people who “aren’t really poly,” or people who are “kinda sorta poly,” or people who “might or might not be poly,” and so on.

I told someone a month or so back:  “You know what polys are calling a poly/non-poly relationship now?  A mixed marriage.”

Well what do you call such a thing?

I’ve always suspected that there might be two kinds of polys (although I’ve also often said that “there are poly ways to be poly.”  That is, many ways to be poly).

But anyway.  We usually say that polys want or are drawn to multiple relationships.  But there are people who aren't drawn to multiple relationships—but they can accept their (single) partner having multiple relationships.  What do we call these people?  Shall we call them “Co-Polys?”  Or maybe “Passive Polys?”

I don’t know.  But I know that these people exist.  And I’d hesitate to call them “monogamous.”

“How Did *You* Become Poly, Anyway?”

(From the South Bay Poly September newsletter)

I’ve just written up about 600 words for a friend of mine to post on her blog, about “how I became poly.”  When it’s out, I’ll provide the link.  Of course, in my case, I tend to think that I’m poly by nature somehow—I don’t recall making a decision to “become” poly.  Though in this blog piece, I hedge my bets a bit.  In reality, though, if I chose anything, it was to explicitly acknowledge something I knew I already was.

I grew up as a Christian who believed in marriage for life.  My parents had one marriage:  To each other, for over forty years.  My sisters both married once—for life.

At the same time, though, I wondered why, when my college girlfriend moved away during my sophomore year, she thought I was sending her a “Dear John” letter simply because I told her I was seeing another woman since her departure.  And later I wondered why, if my fiancée truly loved me, she would break our engagement simply because I had once seen someone else.  What did she mean by “love,” anyway?  To be fair, she probably wondered what I meant by it.

Maybe I’ll tell this all to the Unitarian polys, who seem disturbed by the possibility that polyness may not be something that some people “choose.”

How did you become poly, anyway?

Perceptions and Misperceptions

It’s interesting and challenging to be a person who apparently perceives the world differently than others.  I wonder whether it’s neurological, psychological, or something else.  I wonder, am I on “The Spectrum?”  I don’t know.  I just know that I seem to perceive the world differently than most people.  I apparently don’t make the same assumptions that other people make.  I’ve always liked to think that I wasn’t making the same stereotypical judgments that others were making, that I was outside their prejudices.  But how would I know?  I do know that I’ve often chosen non-standard answers to life questions.
 

When I was a around twenty, and pretty much a pacifist, my father asked:  “If someone attacked you, wouldn’t you defend yourself?”

I replied, “It would depend on what I wanted to accomplish.”

When I was in graduate school, a man from India asked me what I would do if I was adrift on the ocean in a boat with a friend, and we only had enough food for one of us.  I said I thought perhaps if we shared and tried hard, we might somehow both end up surviving.  He said, “That’s your Western approach.”  His approach was more like, he would drown himself so that I could survive.

People like to take their own attitudes as obvious—but there’s often a different way of looking at things.

Memorial Day 2014

Remembering my uncle, who fought in the Pacific in World War II.

Remember my father, in the American Red Cross for something like 30 years -- almost entirely with the U.S. military -- including the Philippines, Korea, Japan, Vietnam, and Germany

Remembering all the people I knew while living on airbases -- that would be about 13 years of my life -- in the U.S., Japan and Germany; plus 2 years living a few blocks from an airbase -- including Col. Morgan, who went missing over Vietnam.

Remembering my mother who bore this all and put up with years of my father being away, while she cared for 3 children.

Thinking of my sisters -- the 3 of us were profoundly affected by our connections with the military.

And thinking of our responsibility, as members of a republic, to use our military wisely and not send people to kill or be killed for questionable motives.

Dispatches from Dee Land - 1

Drove down last night – 500 some miles.  Stuck in traffic towards the end, crossing the Big City, but most of the trip was fine—beautiful weather, warm, blue skies; a view of the ocean eventually, then arriving at Dee Land.

Drove down the main U.S. highway, not the Interstate.  Each town along the way, no matter how small, had a McDonalds; most had other mainstays of American cuisine:  Jack in the Box, Subway.  Some also had In-N-Out burger.

Stopped along the way, multiple times.  Bought a diet coke and a token or more amount of food at each stop.  Took about six hours to get to The City.  Then I hit the Saturday night traffic, and it took another two hours to get to Dee Land.

A strange place, Dee Land.  Many children, cartoon characters, parents, smiling employees. A Happy Place.  A Paradise.  A land for dreams and dreams come true.  Fireworks in the evening.  Music emanating from “somewhere.”  Hands coming out of the bathroom wall, holding the lamps.  A bedside lamp that also played eerie chime music if I pushed the other switch.

Slept well, though.  Woke up fifteen or twenty minutes ahead of the alarm, in plenty of time to catch the shuttle to the conference I’m attending.  Much to ponder, indeed!