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Yes I still have covid. Sorry that's not convenient for capitalism
If you tell me I'm probably not contagious anymore I will climb out of your phone and punch you
Day 11 and I’ve gone back to getting a dark, red, immediate line on my covid test.
CDC recommendations are that I’m “probably fine” and can go back out in the world. Sadly those appear to be based on capitalist math. A dark red line that appeared 20 seconds after the test started cooking means just what it would intuitively mean. I am Covid AF.
Luckily I don’t have a job or places I need to be for another few days so I’ll stay right where I am, in the bedroom, alone, with every window open, all the fans on, and an air purifier between me and the doorway to the rest of the house. I’m fine in here. It was in fact rough going for a while when I had to reduce the seroquel dose to take the paxlovid, but that’s passed now, and while yes isolation is making me crazy, I was already crazy so whatever.
WHAT AM I DOING IN HERE, ANYWAYS?
Drinking a lot of ginger turmeric kombucha, which my friend Renee recently described as the “beer of the goddess” yes, that.
Making hot electrolyte water from unused ramen seasoning packets with an electric kettle and my nalgene bottle. Then drinking it.
Rewatching True Blood. So horny, so bloody, so southern, so bizarre, and so queer. thinking a lot of deep thoughts about the nature of violence and the urge to do bad things.
Shitposting on LinkedIn. Don’t miss these gems:
In which I rant about how the cyclical backlash against product management as a role is a gender-tinged war usually driven by a bunch of men who don’t want mommy around telling them they can’t do whatever they want with their legos.
here’s one about tech founders all making the same mistake and not leaving room for slack on their teams. this got some traction, with a lot of people wondering if I was talking about their specific situation, which I was not. Like I say in the post, it’s boring because it happens so often.
Just a general rant about bad leadership with reference to Elon Musk.
Please enjoy. If you wish I would tell someone you work for these things, you can try to get them to hire me as a coach (but they probably won’t), or you can hire me as a coach so you can complain to me about them and also ask what to do when faced with these situations (sorry, none of the answers are pleasant). Frequently, company L&D budgets will cover career and leadership coaching, which is technically what this is. Yes, this is my one bone I’m throwing to the gods of capitalism in this entire post, do with that what you will.
I’m ‘keeping my sanity’ by thinking of this as a very long vision quest in which I’m transforming into an even more powerful witch via an epic battle with a killer virus. It’s far more interesting and optimistic than “I have covid and I can’t kick it and I just lie in bed all day drinking kombucha and watching tv that’s my life now”
what else is on my mind…
All of these creator platforms send constant propaganda about this or that best practice, how to hack your newsletter growth, blah blah blah. I’ve been thinking about it a bit lately because Substack default wants me to insert little subscribe reminders every half-thought, and it’s getting on my nerves. I will not.
I trust that you know if you want to subscribe and how to do so. I trust that if you want to give me money as a means of indicating that you like to read my words you will do so. I am not trying to growth hack this newsletter. I would make a zine and leave it in little free libraries instead and maybe I will, but this right here is my path of least resistance right now so an email newsletter it is.
I have 200-ish subscribers and some of you actually do seem to read the shit I send (which I do not take for granted, I assume the opposite, in fact, that nobody is reading what I write), and that is a fucking blessing all on its own. I don’t think my “Impact” needs to be larger than it already is.
I am BLESSED AF with a few people who care what I have to say about whatever it is I want to talk about. I love it when you write back to me and say you actually read a thing. That’s actually much more important to me than sharing or liking or posting or re-whatevering. I don’t believe I need a very large audience. I’m not seeking Publication, Approval, A Book Deal, some number, accolade, award, milestone metric that will tell me I’m A WRITER, I’m doing it, I’m MAKING IT.
I am a woman of many words. We all know this about me. I am so full of words. Years ago, when I still got ketamine infusions, my ketamine doc remarked that she’d never met someone who was so verbal on such high doses of ketamine. No one needs to anoint me A Writer. That shit’s in my blood. It’s part of what I am in the world. I do not require anything further at this time to validate that to me. I’m done with the part of my life where I needed validation.
My part here is to write or say some of those words when the spirit moves me to do so, and to send the words into the world by some means or other, whether by text to a few friends or voice text to just one person or newsletter to 200 people or Linkedin post to the vicissitudes of the algorithms, and trust the mysterious world to do the rest.
Those of you who are here along for the ride, I appreciate you. Everything else is optional. I’m not out here to Grow My Impact or Maximize My Everything.
What am I here to do?
live, laugh, love.
no seriously though what am I here to do?
Here are my current thoughts on the matter:
look at slugs, look at mushrooms, look at slugs while they eat mushrooms. make weird art. say things other people can’t because they still have fucks left to give. have slack time for the people I love. watch several seasons of tv while isolating myself in one room so as not to infect people I love, or anyone else, with a shitty virus. read books that don’t improve me. masturbate. make shitty art. try new things. love on the people I love. walk in the woods. move towards solidarity. breathe flames. watch the supermoon rising. feed my microbiome. let my soft animal body love what it loves. feel. feel. feel. not to forget that we’re all made of stardust. not to forget that the things of this world that seem so solid and permanent are not, they are not solid and permanent, and that is good. breathe.
here’s a picture max took of me while I was out bog-witching, before the covid.
PS loves i know you mean well but don’t AT me about the covid. I’m managing my health very fucking carefully and unless I already asked your advice or help on the matter (thanks Moupali) I am not in need of it, and your further information or commentary only invites my whole complex precious mind-body-somatic system to get all up in its head, which is not helpful to me.
PPS here are some other posts of mine you might enjoy if you’re interested in my “I hate metrics” attitude: