January 21, 2017
A few hours after the Women's March in Toronto . . . and in so many places
I didn't really pen The Change Room to protest Trump's frightening (read: neoNazi, racist, misogynist, anti-Earth) band of merry men and gals.
But any book celebrating the truth about women's lives IS an act of protest against stupidity and misogyny. Many people are resisting Trump. Many more will resist the havoc that this money-obsessed narcissist will unleash upon the planet. As this particular political contagion strengthens and spreads, we have to be brave for each other and for those we cannot see and do not know. Daily courage, focused anger, and radical KINDNESS must become the common currency among women and men and we-who-disagree but are united in our resistance to this new fascism. In the coming years, every human thread that holds us together must be stronger than the ideological positions that separate us. Otherwise (here my soaring language becomes dazzlingly complex) we are all fucked.
Perhaps we are all fucked anyway, but every good teacher I’ve ever had told me to resist pessimism, hatred, and self-righteous anger. They taught me to believe in human decency and the sacredness of this earth, of which we are an intrinsic (though, admittedly, often a dumb, blundering) part. So, I continue in my blundering quest to be a decent student.
Moving right along: DAVID LIVED!!! My brother not only survived a horrific motorcycle accident in Thailand (coma, two crushed vertebrae, broken ribs,shoulder,hip, leg,pelvis, lacerated this/that/collapsed lungs, ETC.) He can walk again, and eat, and pee! (Sorry bro, for bringing that up, but it was KEY.) He's recovered and will recover further. It's been six months (as usual) since my last post here, which was all about desperately hunting for his rare blood type in Asia, desperately raising money in Canada, and desperately soliciting spiritual aid of all denominations colours and varieties to save my brother's life after his accident. Did I mention that we were desperate?
NOTICE: ALL THAT PRAYER (from all over the world, actually) WORKED. That David lived and is still recovering required miracle after miracle, which was given. We will always be deeply grateful for that. Truly. Thank you. Life is a confounding, sweet mystery, and I am humbled by all the help we received from generous people and generous gods.
Still: it’s been a brutal year. The Year of the Monkey! Trump's reign is just starting, but thank heavens that wild leaping unpredictable creature’s year is almost done: January 28th, the Year of the Rooster begins . . .
Also known as The Year of the Cock—I’m thrilled. Why? Because I am a Rooster. Why else? In Rooster-like fashion, I will write in the next few months or speak on my new youTube channel (to be launched in February) on a few different topics: the Importance of Signing Letters Demanding Powerful Institutions Adhere to Due Process Especially When, to Protect Their Image, They Destroy People's Lives; the Crucial Necessity of Freedom of Speech, Opinion and Thought for All Citizens (including writers); and, finally: The World Comes with a Trigger Warning: It Is Called Being Alive.
If I have time, I will also pen a considered essay on Bio-Sexual-Politico Quantum. The Change Room raises important political questions (interspersed with the hot sex and annoying housecleaning scenes): am I mother enough to write about motherhood? Am I crazed with busyness enough to write about crazily busy women in the 21st century? Am I bisexual enough to write a book about women who meet in the change room of the local pool, then continue meeting naked for the foreseeable future? Am I heterosexual enough to write about the wife who always knows where the condoms are, even when the husband can never find the damn things?
The Change Room will be released in April 2017--a mere 3 months from now! After The Lizard Cage and Come Cold River, I had to write something both fun and sexy before I died. Life is so short, and, as Neruda said, “es tan largo, el olvido" forgetting is so long. The book makes me happy.
Why? 1) because I’ve resisted The Tragic (yes, it was hard) 2) because it's funny, with the humour that we all use in real life, the humour that hangs on, that keeps us going, that (duh) makes us laugh 2) because though the sex gets wild & crazy and yes even involves cruel betrayals (and a floor-washing scene) NO ONE GETS PUNISHED for 'immorality.'
No one gets punished for having adult consensual sex in my novel, even illicit transgressive sex. What an amazing concept. NO ONE GETS PUNISHED. No woman, no man, no child. Imagine that. Today, at the Women's March, I briefly walked with a sex-worker. She was on her own and understandably feeling vulnerable, carrying her sign proclaiming that freedom for women must include freedom for whores (meaning: sex work must be decriminalized fully and people who provide sexual services for others must be loved, respected and given the protection of labour laws and all legal rights and freedoms). She was brave as well as beautiful. I was honoured to walk and talk with her. Shar, a main character in The Change Room, is her fictional comrade and co-worker.
Here is to a new year that brings more freedom, less hatred, and an end to punishment for punishment's sake.