Relentless Lent


I ended up in the desert for more than forty days
and I did face Satan and his servants–
My own inner-demons
who spin sad fantasies
Satan tempts me with guilt
and fear.
I was to be the bride of Satan,
I was going to commit my life to the worship of my neuroses and insecurities:
“I must be miserable as pennance for my sins”
“I have sinned”
“I don’t deserve to be totally happy”
“I’m getting older”
“I’m not attractive”
“I must be made ‘right’ by someone”
“I am deficient and lacking”
“I must be schooled in order to feel challenged. To feel alive. And I need someone who can teach me every single day.”
“To be schooled, I must be overcome, and be dominated”
“Suffering is the greatest teacher”
Leciferic inversions and almost-truths
I was seduced by the illusion that all suffering is virtuous,
That I would fulfill my existence by sacrificing joy—
Satan disguised my misery as joyous things,
attractive, desirable things—
and nothing was what it seemed to be.
Satan offered me all of these things if I got married to my misery
He impregnated me with these fundamental doubts and delusions I have about myself,
that I am deficient,
When in Truth, I am always whole

that I owe my progress to misery,
When in Truth, I make progress by the miraculous

These ideas began to grow inside me,
I felt my light dwindle.
I saw my life shutting.
My energy draining.

I gave it all up—
I gave it all away—
Everything I had
Everything I had clung onto
And depended on

To realize that I must refuse the temptation of misery
I must turn my sights upward
And resist the temptation of fantasies that require my misery,
That these wild fantasies must not overwrite my Self-narrative.

I am refusing.

My Easter has come.

Written on the day of the Women’s March


Our democracy is a perpetual dystopia
we are the land of progress, never terminal:
a more perfect union.
We strive for more,
and every moment of our progression is inherently perfect,
it could always be more.

Sweet land of liberty,
full of the people who
risk their wellbeing and their livelihoods for the
opportunity to make ill-informed decisions for eachother
Willing to gamble their
reproductive rights
trusting the blind to lead the blind
The people who will risk it again and again
to see decades of
two steps forward, one step back

My Identity Was Forged on the Internet: a millennial trying to make sense of her world


It was sometime around the age of 12, I think, when I really started forming a sense of self-identity. I have proof of it– its adolescence– in the form of an old e-mail account I made at that time:

My identity was forged on the Internet. I’ve just realized this.

I guess that firmly situates me among the millennial generation. But as a pioneer of the Internet, I carry with it the weight of centuries; I use the Internet the way that I imagine a nineteenth-century, time-traveling artist would. It is a miraculous, unfathomable collection of information. Precious, precious information. I can look at a painting that is thousands of miles away, that I would never see in my lifetime… In a second. On a whim. In my pocket. Wherever I go. I’ll never be able to forget a beautiful poem because it is stored in this tremendous cloud of consciousness. It is a vast depository for all of humanity’s greatest accomplishments. Sure, it has become full of a lot of other things… Mostly other things (mostly porn)… But it has all of those positive things too. The Internet gives you what you put into it. And the options are infinite.

I still see its sheen of glory: the great democratizing, ubiquitous force that the baby-boomers brought into fruition. A technological gesture that said “Let everyone in the world learn from eachother and connect with eachother.”

I can meet– and have met– people from everywhere across the world on the Internet. I have made deep and lasting connections with people from every continent*.  By doing nothing more than sitting down at a keyboard somewhere in the comfort of my home. A conglomeration of ideas from all over the world. THE WORLD. The Internet has made me feel like a  global citizen. Someone who sees herself– and humanity– in people from everywhere. I wonder if this has anything to do with the progressive social values of millennialis.

We don’t understand the world’s divisions as they’ve existed. Because on the Internet, we’ve all been hanging out together, wasting time and doing pointless shit together. We’ve been playing video games together and talking about the same funny videos together, sharing music with each other. Us millennialis have just been chillaxin’ with each other for most of our lives. I feel like my global peers are my buddies. Text on a screen has no race, no religion, no political affiliation . I just met people’s ideas: this was that pioneering era of chat rooms and forums. You only saw their picture after you had actually talked to them; you had to ask for it, and it could be easily refused. We weren’t all advertising ourselves the way we do now, not until MySpace (and yes, it was once a thing).

This is the Internet I know: the wonderous playground of ideas, a space of unlimited potential, that anyone can participate in… Given the freedom. It is on the Internet that I feel my freedom most deeply. Yeah, the NSA might be tracking everything we do or whatever, but this doesn’t worry me because I doubt if they’re terribly interested in which volume of The Keats-Shelley journal I’m reading, or the documentary on transsexual couples in Britain that I watched last night, or the ABBA songs I’m streaming. The Internet is my playground, where I feel like anything is possible, where I have access to whatever I can imagine, and where I feel connected to humans everywhere.


*With the exception of Antarctica