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Telegram #42 is about city magic, befriending loneliness, borderline feelings, crip-days & crip-grief & crip-love, crying, un/dereducated writers & crazy people, connecting my high school dropout lineage to creativity & survival, ableism & loss, discussing chronic suicidality, asking whose stories are valued & why, imagining freaking out as leading to (re-)invitations rather than isolation & shame & gossip, politicizing recovery, &&&…


"I don't think loneliness and abandonment are totally personal; I think they're political and unavoidable under capitalism. Also they hurt. I feel that responses to loss (or abandonment, or disappointment, or grief, or…) are often pathologized (Microsoft Word suggests “pathologies anthologized”), with the loss being seen as not real, or not real enough, or the feelings triggered by particular situations as over-reactive. While loss and disappointment are complex & unavoidable, I try to see them (at least) as material, not as statements about who I am. Less personal. And I cope. Am coping. Am trying to cope...

...I need to know that other queer crips feel a similar grief-rage crying re: not being invited to things, or being invited & forced to say no. I want to know, despite how painful it is to know, that I am not the only one whose heart and spirit are being severely injured by ableism in the spaces we wish to be in. Before I transmute this stuff into the joy of missing out (and it is! it really, really is sometimes!), I do a lot of crying. My heart feels heavy and choked, my arms feel tingling numbness. I question the value of my life and my art. Again and again and again. It feels new and dramatic for just a moment, and then I realize, of course, it is not new, it is old and familiar but feels scary every time.

And it's no new thing for a writer to talk about loneliness and/or illness, either but I do wanna continue to discuss these things in the contexts of chronic pain & (lack of) access; poverty & social assistance; lack of formal education; how writers are en/discouraged in this city and elsewhere; and valuing us while we're alive.

I’ve written in the past about how I was uncertain if I preferred not being invited to things, or being invited and being forced to say no (due to illnesses and inaccessibility). I still don’t know. Both of them hurt. Both of them hurt so fucking much. And these feelings are intrusive. Intrusive in multiple ways. Intrusive in the usual way of intrusive thoughts and mental illnesses. But also, an interruption. A waste. The time I spend writing about ableism and inaccessibility? The time I spend repeating myself about ableism and inaccessibility? The energy, psychic and physical? It is an interruption to the things I really need to write, the things I really need to say, the things I really need to do, the things I really need to feel."

4,300+ words, 24 pages, photocopy-love.

*I also accept payment the old-school way: well-concealed Canadian or U.S. cash via snail mail! Just complete your transaction as usual, choose 'Other' for your payment method, and the confirmation email from Etsy will tell you my snail mail address. Please include a note telling me what zines / other items you ordered, and I'll send your order once I've received payment. Thank you kindly!*

Telegram 42