June Jollies

and colonial capitalist environmental crises

Knuckles and me (picture me sitting on the bench) relaxing at the botanical gardnes

Hello friends,

Here is my June update! I almost missed it—June has been a whirlpool, a Bermuda triangle of sorts.

On the writerly side of things, it’s been abundant. My essay, “He Could Be Like Cronus,” about my relationship (or lack of relationship) with my father, who I’ve never met but who I know thanks to the Internet was published in the Rumpus. The Internet is a strange place to get to know a father. You can read that essay here.

In other writerly things, I won the Sonora Review Memory Contest. What?! I know. I am still reeling, too. It’s the first writing contest I’ve won. The essay is about my sister, and well, also my non-relationship with her. I suppose all my stories are about lack and therefore longing. It has not been published yet, but once it is I will post a link.

And the final writerly thing of June—I attended the Kenyon Review Writers Workshop (virtually). It was a lovely week of copious amounts of writing, reading, and leaning into my creativity—experimenting, playing, and growing. I love spending time immersed discussing writing. As always, I have the urge to apply for MFAs after. And perhaps this time I will. Spending two or more years being a writer—well, it sounds fantastic. And as we spin toward what feels like end times, maybe I need to do something that will make me happy. Though all the logistics around it frighten me—such as moving, quitting my job, filling out applications. We shall see!

In other news, on Wednesday, June 17, the solar panels on the roof of a Lineage cold-storage warehouse caught fire, and the fire spread to the rest of the warehouse after ammonia leaked (ammonia is used in refrigeration). It then burned for eight days. I live about three miles away. The warehouse is next to a neighborhood—people literally live across the street. No evacuation order was issued. People who could, left. Because, who the fuck would want to stay next to a burning building?!? Like seriously. But not everyone can leave for a many, many reasons (kids, animal companions, jobs, no other place to go). And the city—Mayor Bass and other officials—claimed the smoke was not dangerous. Like, seriously? The building was described as a giant ice chest. The walls were full of insulation. Burning insulation—that absolutely cannot be good. I’m working on an essay on it. I am not sure if words can capture my fury. This shit is so not okay. Yet, here we are. (A similar fire happened in Finley, Washington, also at Lineage cold-storage facility.)

Other than all this, my day job has been swallowing me whole. And I don’t like it. Hoping July is more chill and I can have more time to write, read, and also rest.

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