America Goes Backwards 50 Years, Karyna McGlynn’s Terrific New Book, and Spending Time with Flowers When You Want to Burn It All Down

Towhee is outraged

America Goes Backwards 50 Years

This was a terrifying and terrible week for women in America. Not only did this activist awful Supreme Court turn back a gun law that had been on the books in New York State for over 100 years, as they swore they would not when they were approved by congress, they overturned Roe v Wade. As someone who uses contraceptive pills to live (literally – would not have survived without the birth control pill to control the bleeding from my heritable bleeding disorder – and getting pregnant would kill me and the baby, so that’s a big no) it makes me so angry that so many people I did not elect are controlling my medical decisions and those of half of the population. If it was about children, conservatives would pass things to feed children, educate children, keep pregnant women and babies alive (we have the worst death rate of babies and pregnant woman of any developed country), or literally anything to make sure children are taken care. Instead, they scream “life” when they are literally condemning some women and children to death, whether fast (like me, or any woman with a bleeding disorder – or a woman with an ectopic pregnancy, like many friends of mine who would have died without sacrificing the implanted cells) or slow, with no health or child-care support for women in poverty or crisis. This is no joke. It has made me consider moving to a better, more progressive country, like Ireland or France. I’m sure I’m not the only woman considering this. By the way, these laws also put the kibosh on IVF. And the Supreme Court seems likely to continue its terrible path. Am I mad? Am I protesting? But what else can I do?

purple alliums

Spending Time with Flowers (When You Want to Burn It All Down)

I’ve been so down this week. It’s also turned from freezing cold spring to blazing hot summer, in the nineties now where it was in the sixties last week. It’s horrible for anyone with MS to deal with heat and these extreme weather changes.  I can usually find some solace with flowers and birds, in nature, but it has been hard, honestly. I went to the Bellevue Botanical Gardens when it was cool enough in the evening but today it’s too hot to go anywhere. It’s pretty miserable to go from supercold and wet to superhot and dry but that’s been the pattern on the West Coast the last few years. Meanwhile, in the background like radiation ticking, people are still dying of covid, and monkeypox is spreading and the CDC does not have it under control – they’re not even testing adequately. Like they’ve learned nothing from the last pandemic. It’s shocking, and also, not shocking at all.

I thought about things we can do. We can donate money to the right causes. We can ask congress and the President to do something to stop the runaway evil train that is the Supreme Court and do things like pass sensible gun laws (some gun laws were passed this week, but pretty weak) and pass a national protection for women and doctors to make the choices about their health and bodies. These seem like reasonable things to me – and with a Democrat President and Congress you’d think we’d be able to do it, but Trump did so much damage during his Presidency that we may never be able to fix it – and the Jan 6th hearings have shown there are still people willing to kill the police they pledged to support to get their way, even if the Democratic vote says otherwise. We should be worried. But what can we do, practically? I mean, we can leave if we have the means, the health and the job flexibility. but what else?

Sylvia poses with Karyna McGlynn’s new book

Karyna McGlynn’s Got a Great New Book Out

Another coping mechanism of mine during stress is reading, and I had a wonderful new book to enjoy this week, pictured to the left. My literary cat Sylvia poses with Karyna McGlynn‘s new book from Sarabande, 50 Things Kate Bush Taught Me About the Multiverse, which is a fun, flinty, 90s-nostalgic Kate Bush love letter with terrific titles like “I Wake Up in the Underworld of My Own Dirty Purse,” which starts:

My stage name is Persephone./ I perform nightly for a smattering/ of ill-informed Tic Tacs.

And oh, any girl who went through an all-male barrage of poetry professors when they were young will immediately understand and identify with “How to Stop Raping the Muse,” with lines like

in workshop suggested/ my poems had Teeth but no Tenderness…my lines were called sharks and shameless/ hussies.

Anyway, get this book from Sarabande, terrific for a summer night read with a little rose. And maybe a cat and a typewriter. Will this solve all of our problems? No, but it will take your mind off of them for a little while.