• money where my mouth is

    by  • January 5, 2019

    I’ve been working for some time at my #deFB project, where, without closing my FB account I take gradual steps to unlatch from the teat.  I’m ready for solid food again, and to decide when and what I eat at least somewhat independently. Sometimes, this involves considering paying for content.  Fortunately, my considering paying...

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    the moment of truth

    by  • January 5, 2019

    So here we are.  Last week I suspended my Patreon creator account.  I felt like what I was offering was too scattered, too diffuse, not really meeting anyone’s needs–and it showed.  I don’t have enough subscribers to make it a good business move at all. But now I have this thing, where I have...

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    I seem to have a lot to say

    by  • December 31, 2018

    about saris.  And I’ve been to India more often, and I’m buying more saris on the internet.  In fact, saris (as a revolutionary garment but also as a beautiful thing, which is identity-revolutionary for me) are becoming a kind of a hobby. So expect to see more about that. I’m also thinking that there...

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    finding my people

    by  • November 6, 2018

    There’s this moment when you find your people the ones who breathe your air and speak your language on lips that look like yours. My people, among other things, wear draped clothing, long lengths of fabric that swirl around our feet and promise great things if you have some small patience.   One of...

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    White Saris on the Fourth of July

    by  • July 4, 2018

    I got up today and wasn’t sure what to wear. I decided to wear the 6 yard length of white muslin I got myself as the most basic of basic saris. It happens that white is the color of mourning in India, a color typically only worn (by women) as widows or the recently...

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    on not-fitting

    by  • May 9, 2018

    There was a side gig for which I had four interviews. I didn’t get it. I’m not sure how to feel about it.  On the one hand, it would have been good work.  On the other? On the other I keep getting nudges from the universe to re-expand my work back toward the body...

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    on saris

    by  • April 3, 2018

    I started this blog YEARS ago, and wrote a lot about how Indian clothing had influence my thinking, but didn’t talk much about actively wearing it.  There are a lot of reasons for that, but times have changed, and here we are, in 2018, and I am unironically, uncostuming-ly wearing saris as part of...

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    the rules that make it easier to be good

    by  • March 29, 2017

    I want the handbasket we’re in to have a picnic lunch and bread and brie and a checkered tablecloth that we can spread on lush grass in a country that isn’t being bombed and breathe clean air and invite the neighbors.   I’m feeling a little doubtful at the moment. but that’s what I...

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    india, day 5

    by  • February 1, 2017

    Shopping here is a full-contact sport. Shopping in India isn’t the same as shopping in the US. There’s a vulnerability in being seen and known and attended to, and most of us in the US aren’t comfortable with that.  In the US people want to be left alone, our choices private, our flaws and...

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    India, day 3

    by  • January 29, 2017

    I’m at the kitchen table, surrounded by the detritus of a day beginning: my tea, thick with milk and sugar, my dadi’s combs and her shoes.  She’s taking a bath the old way, bucket of hot water and a “mug” — a pint sized plastic pitcher to pour the water over her body in...

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    one-to-one cuddling, a primer

    by  • September 3, 2016

    I made a post on Facebook, and then another one, about cuddling.  Someone asked if there was a list of guidelines.  This is the result. So you’ve decided you want to try this platonic cuddling thing. You know there’s an epidemic of skin hunger. You might even be part of it. Or you might...

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    groundhog resistant gardening

    by  • June 5, 2016

    I’ve had a dilemma for several years now. I love growing food.  I love the magic of start-with-nothing, end-with-nourishment.  I love growing green things, I love having my hands and feet in the dirt.  I do not wear gardening gloves, and I don’t at all mind having grit on my fingers. There are two...

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