Poem: "A Crazy and Drunk Life"
May. 6th, 2021 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ysabetwordsmithThis poem is spillover from the December 1, 2020 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by prompts from chanter1944 and Anonymous. It also fills the "International Day of Persons with Disabilities - December 3" square in my 12-1-20 card for the Winter Fest Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred, ng_moonmoth, technoshaman, and mama_kestrel in honor of the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls. It belongs to the Iron Horses thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. For the introduction of the main characters, begin with "Whatever You Do to the Animals," "Reaching Out to Rescue One Another," and "To Prevent Future Tragedies." This poem is the third in a set of four, after "Ways to Make the Pain Go Away" and "Quicker Than You Can Lower Them," followed by "Repair Just About Anything."
Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes the aftermath of a drinking binge, needing to talk with someone, rude language, panic and anger, arguing over consent, feelings of betrayal, example of a drunk tattoo and other unfortunate experiences, reference to physical roughness, self-condemnation, violation of personal standards, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"A Crazy and Drunk Life"
[Saturday, October 3, 2015]
Warshirt pulled into the driveway
by the big beige roundhouse
where Many Tongues lived.
Inside, he found everyone
in the open entryway.
Nuttah was crawling over
the smooth wooden floor as
her mother Soo watched.
Many Tongues rolled forward
and said, "Good morning. What
brings you here today, Warshirt?"
"I need to talk," Warshirt said.
Soo scooped up the baby.
"Uncle Theo is visiting with
a friend. Let's go see Kenzie."
"Kennie!" squealed Nuttah, who
could already name several people.
Many Tongues waited until Soo
had grabbed her coat and left
the house before he said,
"Have a seat and let's talk."
Warshirt sat on the couch,
and Many Tongues rolled near.
"Everything is all fucked up,"
Warshirt said, rubbing
his hands over his face.
"I'm sorry to hear it,"
said Many Tongues.
"How did that happen?"
"I got drunk," Warshirt said.
"Yesterday sucked. I didn't
sleep well, woke up cranky.
Then a tire blew on my truck
and threw me into a flashback.
I wound up at Ick's, and Allan
bought me a beer ... some beers."
"Well, that's not the best way of
handling problems, but you have
survived worse," said Many Tongues.
"What else went wrong after that?"
"By the time I got home, I was
pretty wrecked," Warshirt said.
"Spotted Deer took care of me.
I think that she ... did something."
Many Tongues raised his eyebrows.
"Did she touch you the wrong way?"
"No, well, she peeled my clothes off
and got me into a nightshirt so I
could sleep," Warshirt said. "She
didn't grope me or anything."
"Then what has you so upset?"
Many Tongues said. "You look
pretty shook up about something."
"This morning," Warshirt said,
swallowing hard. "When I got up,
she asked me how I was, and I
told her I was fine. She said that
was good because it didn't work
on everyone. What the fuck?"
He threw his hands in the air.
"So, Spotted Deer used
her gift on your behalf, and
you ...?" Many Tongues said.
"I yelled at her, because people
doing things to me when I'm drunk
never ends well," Warshirt said.
Like the flag tattoo on his ass.
"Did she do anything that actually
hurt you?" said Many Tongues.
"I ... no," Warshirt admitted.
"I don't even remember feeling
anything when she did ... whatever
it was. She just smelled so good, like
fresh-mown hay. Made me sleepy."
"Are you sure that you didn't just
pass out?" said Many Tongues.
"Well, no," said Warshirt.
"I was drunk enough for it."
"What about in the morning?
Did she try to take advantage
of you then?" said Many Tongues.
"She wasn't even in the room when
I woke up," said Warshirt. "I don't
think she'd been gone long, though ...
not sure why. She left me a bottle
of water and some aspirin, plus
a pile clothes on the nightstand."
One hand petted the flannel shirt.
"It sounds like Spotted Deer
took pretty good care of you while
you were drunk," said Many Tongues.
"You don't always get that lucky."
"No shit," said Warshirt. "That's
what freaks me out so much."
"Okay, think it through. How do
you feel now?" said Many Tongues.
"Still pretty freaked, but ... I probably
shouldn't have yelled at her, she's
had enough of that," said Warshirt.
"And I swatted her hand away
when she tried to reach for me."
Many Tongues pinched
the bridge of his nose.
"I meant physically."
"Oh. I'm fine. Better
than I expected, really,"
said Warshirt. "I didn't
feel hungover at all when
I woke up, just a little fuzzy."
"How drunk were you when you
got home?" said Many Tongues.
"How many beers did you drink?"
"I lost count," said Warshirt. He
usually did, when he was drinking
to drown his sorrows rather than
just having a beer with pizza.
"Spotted Deer came in while I
was throwing up in the bathroom."
"You should be a lot sicker
than this," said Many Tongues.
"Yeah, I know," said Warshirt.
"I don't know what to make of it."
"What I make of it is that Spotted Deer
healed your drunk ass and then you
yelled at her for it," said Many Tongues.
"She didn't even fucking ask!"
Warshirt snapped, lunging
out of his seat to pace around.
Many Tongues let him go for
a few minutes, then said, "I can't
follow you around the room.
Please sit back down."
"Sorry, I forgot about
that," Warshirt said,
returning to the couch.
There was plenty of space
for Many Tongues to maneuver,
but not enough for him to follow
when Warshirt was pacing
around like a wild thing.
"Do you have any complaints
about how Spotted Deer treated
you, other than the fact that she
did so without asking first?"
Many Tongues asked.
Warshirt thought about it.
"No, I guess not," he said.
"I'm just freaked because
I don't know what she did
and I'm afraid there might
be something I can't feel yet."
"Okay, that's not unreasonable,"
said Many Tongues. "How do
you feel about your response?"
"Ashamed," Warshirt said.
"I shouldn't have yelled or
swatted at her like that. But
I was ... kind of panicking a bit."
"It happens," said Many Tongues.
"You got upset, not because of
what she did, but because she
didn't ask first, and you've had
bad experiences with that. Right?"
"Yeah, that's it," said Warshirt.
"Think about what usually happens
when you get drunk," said Many Tongues.
"Compare that to yesterday's experience."
"This was better," Warshirt admitted.
"Usually I just stagger home on
my own and pass out in bed."
Or on the bathroom floor.
Or, on one regrettable occasion,
on top of an anthill in his front yard.
The bites had taken a week to fade.
"What about if someone else brings
you home?" said Many Tongues.
"They pour me into bed and
let me sleep it off," said Warshirt.
"It's usually fine. Well, except
for that time when Tristan let me
find the toilet with my face and I
split my lip. We were both drunk."
"Then there's one advantage in
coming home to Spotted Deer: she
was sober," said Many Tongues.
"How much do your other friends
usually talk while taking care of you?"
"Not very much, we've done it --
oh," Warshirt said. "Well, shit."
"Exactly," said Many Tongues.
"When you're too drunk to think
clearly, other people just do what
they can to keep you safe."
"I hadn't thought of it like
that," Warshirt said, although
he probably should have.
"Had you even mentioned
to Spotted Deer that you
have a drinking problem?"
Many Tongues asked him.
"I don't think so," said Warshirt.
"She knows I'm a bit messed up."
"So you didn't warn her about
the issue or give her any kind
of advance directives to follow,"
said Many Tongues. "She
had to make her best guess."
"Pretty much," said Warshirt.
That made him feel even worse.
"It's just ... people ask. She
should have known that much."
"Given where you found her,
I think you should consider
why she might not ask,"
said Many Tongues.
Warshirt's belly sank.
"Yeah, that's ... probably
not good," he admitted. "I'm
still pretty rattled by this, though."
"Okay, let's try coming at this from
a different angle," said Many Tongues.
"How many antidepressants and
other prescriptions have you tried?"
"About six, I think," said Warshirt.
"The last one made the nightmares
a lot worse. The one before that
made me feel like a dead walker."
He shuddered, rubbing his hands over
his arms to soothe the goosebumps.
"None of them really worked. I gave up."
"Now compare those results to what
Spotted Deer did," said Many Tongues.
"Did she help more, the same, or less?"
"More," Warshirt said firmly. "Actually,
a lot more. I blew out a tire on my truck
and felt like I was back in Afghanistan.
I should've had nightmares. I didn't."
"Any unfortunate side effects that
you can think of?" said Many Tongues.
"Other than me freaking out this morning
because she didn't ask first? No, not
that I can remember," said Warshirt.
"How about therapy?" said Many Tongues.
"You tried a few things there, I believe."
"Disaster after disaster," said Warshirt.
"Most of those programs just rubbed me
the wrong way. The Red Road made
me realize I wasn't done being a drunk,
so I stopped going rather than mess it up
for people who might get something from it."
"So you finally found something that helps,
and you freaked out," said Many Tongues.
"Yeah," said Warshirt. "I guess ... it feels
too good to be true. I don't know how
to handle not being hungover the day
after a bender, even if it was nice
to wake up sober and healthy."
"That's why you pushed her away,"
Many Tongues guessed. "Don't do that.
In the middle of a crazy and drunk life,
you have to hang onto the good and
sober moments as tightly as you can."
"You're probably right," said Warshirt.
"It just made me so angry ... and scared.
I didn't know what was going on, and
that really made me lose my grip. Like
I wasn't sure whether to yell, or cry."
"The world, even the smallest parts
of it, is filled with things you don't know,"
said Many Tongues. "If you care about
something enough, it's going to make
you cry. But you have to use it. Use
your tears. Use your pain. Use your fear.
Never let them control you, or all is lost."
Warshirt knew that, had known it
long before combat cut it into him
deeper, going over old lines.
"I fucked up, didn't I?"
he said, looking down.
"Yep," said Many Tongues.
"I am such an asshole,"
Warshirt said glumly.
"Yep," said Many Tongues.
"I owe her an apology,"
Warshirt said. "I don't
even know where to start."
"Well, you could start with
the part where you fucked up,"
said Many Tongues. "Let her
know that you figured it out
and you're real sorry for
acting like an asshole."
"Yeah, but it feels like I
should do more than just say
a few words," Warshirt said.
"She'll eat meat if I make it, but
it's not a favorite, so I don't think
my usual hunting would help."
"Then you will need to think of
something else," said Many Tongues.
"Candy or flowers would send entirely
the wrong impression," said Warshirt.
"Then stop thinking of the usual and
flip it around," said Many Tongues.
"What kind of things does she like?"
"Fresh fruits and vegetables, mostly,"
said Warshirt. "I've been giving her
first pick of the forage, but there's
not a lot of that this late in the year."
"It's fair to buy something for her,"
Many Tongues pointed out. "It just
needs to be something she likes."
"The local stores don't carry
that much produce, and nothing
I'd call a treat," said Warshirt.
Then he brightened. "But there's
Natural Grocers over in Kalispell --
they have all kinds of interesting stuff."
"That's a three-hour round trip from
your place, plus here, not even counting
actual shopping time," Many Tongues said.
"You had better call and let Spotted Deer
know that you'll be gone the whole day,
and you're not still pissed with her."
Warshirt winced. "There's a phone,
but she hardly ever uses it. I can't
be sure she'd get the message."
"Then you call someone else
and have them knock on the door,"
Many Tongues said firmly. "You
can't leave her hanging that long."
"I can call Lin Growing Thunder,"
Warshirt said, not at all looking forward
to that conversation. "Spotted Deer
knows her and will open the door."
"That's good," said Many Tongues.
"Lin already knows how much trouble
to expect from your drunk ass."
"Yeah," said Warshirt. "At least
this time she didn't have to arrest me."
"See, now you're looking on the bright side,"
said Many Tongues. "You'll get through it."
"Do you think ..." Warshirt swallowed
hard. "Do you think Spotted Deer
will forgive me for what I did?"
"I don't know," said Many Tongues.
"But you are worth forgiving."
"Thanks," Warshirt whispered.
Many Tongues was one of
the best things that had
happened to him in
a crazy and drunk life.
Spotted Deer was another.
He just hoped that he
hadn't fucked up so much
she would leave him.
Warshirt desperately
needed the good and
sober things in his life.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear elsewhere.
chanter1944 and Anonymous. It also fills the "International Day of Persons with Disabilities - December 3" square in my 12-1-20 card for the Winter Fest Bingo fest. This poem has been sponsored by fuzzyred, ng_moonmoth, technoshaman, and mama_kestrel in honor of the National Day of Awareness for Missing and Murdered Native Women and Girls. It belongs to the Iron Horses thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. For the introduction of the main characters, begin with "Whatever You Do to the Animals," "Reaching Out to Rescue One Another," and "To Prevent Future Tragedies." This poem is the third in a set of four, after "Ways to Make the Pain Go Away" and "Quicker Than You Can Lower Them," followed by "Repair Just About Anything." Warning: This poem contains intense and controversial topics. Highlight to read the warnings, some of which are spoilers. It includes the aftermath of a drinking binge, needing to talk with someone, rude language, panic and anger, arguing over consent, feelings of betrayal, example of a drunk tattoo and other unfortunate experiences, reference to physical roughness, self-condemnation, violation of personal standards, and other challenges. If these are sensitive issues for you, please consider your tastes and headspace before reading onward.
"A Crazy and Drunk Life"
[Saturday, October 3, 2015]
Warshirt pulled into the driveway
by the big beige roundhouse
where Many Tongues lived.
Inside, he found everyone
in the open entryway.
Nuttah was crawling over
the smooth wooden floor as
her mother Soo watched.
Many Tongues rolled forward
and said, "Good morning. What
brings you here today, Warshirt?"
"I need to talk," Warshirt said.
Soo scooped up the baby.
"Uncle Theo is visiting with
a friend. Let's go see Kenzie."
"Kennie!" squealed Nuttah, who
could already name several people.
Many Tongues waited until Soo
had grabbed her coat and left
the house before he said,
"Have a seat and let's talk."
Warshirt sat on the couch,
and Many Tongues rolled near.
"Everything is all fucked up,"
Warshirt said, rubbing
his hands over his face.
"I'm sorry to hear it,"
said Many Tongues.
"How did that happen?"
"I got drunk," Warshirt said.
"Yesterday sucked. I didn't
sleep well, woke up cranky.
Then a tire blew on my truck
and threw me into a flashback.
I wound up at Ick's, and Allan
bought me a beer ... some beers."
"Well, that's not the best way of
handling problems, but you have
survived worse," said Many Tongues.
"What else went wrong after that?"
"By the time I got home, I was
pretty wrecked," Warshirt said.
"Spotted Deer took care of me.
I think that she ... did something."
Many Tongues raised his eyebrows.
"Did she touch you the wrong way?"
"No, well, she peeled my clothes off
and got me into a nightshirt so I
could sleep," Warshirt said. "She
didn't grope me or anything."
"Then what has you so upset?"
Many Tongues said. "You look
pretty shook up about something."
"This morning," Warshirt said,
swallowing hard. "When I got up,
she asked me how I was, and I
told her I was fine. She said that
was good because it didn't work
on everyone. What the fuck?"
He threw his hands in the air.
"So, Spotted Deer used
her gift on your behalf, and
you ...?" Many Tongues said.
"I yelled at her, because people
doing things to me when I'm drunk
never ends well," Warshirt said.
Like the flag tattoo on his ass.
"Did she do anything that actually
hurt you?" said Many Tongues.
"I ... no," Warshirt admitted.
"I don't even remember feeling
anything when she did ... whatever
it was. She just smelled so good, like
fresh-mown hay. Made me sleepy."
"Are you sure that you didn't just
pass out?" said Many Tongues.
"Well, no," said Warshirt.
"I was drunk enough for it."
"What about in the morning?
Did she try to take advantage
of you then?" said Many Tongues.
"She wasn't even in the room when
I woke up," said Warshirt. "I don't
think she'd been gone long, though ...
not sure why. She left me a bottle
of water and some aspirin, plus
a pile clothes on the nightstand."
One hand petted the flannel shirt.
"It sounds like Spotted Deer
took pretty good care of you while
you were drunk," said Many Tongues.
"You don't always get that lucky."
"No shit," said Warshirt. "That's
what freaks me out so much."
"Okay, think it through. How do
you feel now?" said Many Tongues.
"Still pretty freaked, but ... I probably
shouldn't have yelled at her, she's
had enough of that," said Warshirt.
"And I swatted her hand away
when she tried to reach for me."
Many Tongues pinched
the bridge of his nose.
"I meant physically."
"Oh. I'm fine. Better
than I expected, really,"
said Warshirt. "I didn't
feel hungover at all when
I woke up, just a little fuzzy."
"How drunk were you when you
got home?" said Many Tongues.
"How many beers did you drink?"
"I lost count," said Warshirt. He
usually did, when he was drinking
to drown his sorrows rather than
just having a beer with pizza.
"Spotted Deer came in while I
was throwing up in the bathroom."
"You should be a lot sicker
than this," said Many Tongues.
"Yeah, I know," said Warshirt.
"I don't know what to make of it."
"What I make of it is that Spotted Deer
healed your drunk ass and then you
yelled at her for it," said Many Tongues.
"She didn't even fucking ask!"
Warshirt snapped, lunging
out of his seat to pace around.
Many Tongues let him go for
a few minutes, then said, "I can't
follow you around the room.
Please sit back down."
"Sorry, I forgot about
that," Warshirt said,
returning to the couch.
There was plenty of space
for Many Tongues to maneuver,
but not enough for him to follow
when Warshirt was pacing
around like a wild thing.
"Do you have any complaints
about how Spotted Deer treated
you, other than the fact that she
did so without asking first?"
Many Tongues asked.
Warshirt thought about it.
"No, I guess not," he said.
"I'm just freaked because
I don't know what she did
and I'm afraid there might
be something I can't feel yet."
"Okay, that's not unreasonable,"
said Many Tongues. "How do
you feel about your response?"
"Ashamed," Warshirt said.
"I shouldn't have yelled or
swatted at her like that. But
I was ... kind of panicking a bit."
"It happens," said Many Tongues.
"You got upset, not because of
what she did, but because she
didn't ask first, and you've had
bad experiences with that. Right?"
"Yeah, that's it," said Warshirt.
"Think about what usually happens
when you get drunk," said Many Tongues.
"Compare that to yesterday's experience."
"This was better," Warshirt admitted.
"Usually I just stagger home on
my own and pass out in bed."
Or on the bathroom floor.
Or, on one regrettable occasion,
on top of an anthill in his front yard.
The bites had taken a week to fade.
"What about if someone else brings
you home?" said Many Tongues.
"They pour me into bed and
let me sleep it off," said Warshirt.
"It's usually fine. Well, except
for that time when Tristan let me
find the toilet with my face and I
split my lip. We were both drunk."
"Then there's one advantage in
coming home to Spotted Deer: she
was sober," said Many Tongues.
"How much do your other friends
usually talk while taking care of you?"
"Not very much, we've done it --
oh," Warshirt said. "Well, shit."
"Exactly," said Many Tongues.
"When you're too drunk to think
clearly, other people just do what
they can to keep you safe."
"I hadn't thought of it like
that," Warshirt said, although
he probably should have.
"Had you even mentioned
to Spotted Deer that you
have a drinking problem?"
Many Tongues asked him.
"I don't think so," said Warshirt.
"She knows I'm a bit messed up."
"So you didn't warn her about
the issue or give her any kind
of advance directives to follow,"
said Many Tongues. "She
had to make her best guess."
"Pretty much," said Warshirt.
That made him feel even worse.
"It's just ... people ask. She
should have known that much."
"Given where you found her,
I think you should consider
why she might not ask,"
said Many Tongues.
Warshirt's belly sank.
"Yeah, that's ... probably
not good," he admitted. "I'm
still pretty rattled by this, though."
"Okay, let's try coming at this from
a different angle," said Many Tongues.
"How many antidepressants and
other prescriptions have you tried?"
"About six, I think," said Warshirt.
"The last one made the nightmares
a lot worse. The one before that
made me feel like a dead walker."
He shuddered, rubbing his hands over
his arms to soothe the goosebumps.
"None of them really worked. I gave up."
"Now compare those results to what
Spotted Deer did," said Many Tongues.
"Did she help more, the same, or less?"
"More," Warshirt said firmly. "Actually,
a lot more. I blew out a tire on my truck
and felt like I was back in Afghanistan.
I should've had nightmares. I didn't."
"Any unfortunate side effects that
you can think of?" said Many Tongues.
"Other than me freaking out this morning
because she didn't ask first? No, not
that I can remember," said Warshirt.
"How about therapy?" said Many Tongues.
"You tried a few things there, I believe."
"Disaster after disaster," said Warshirt.
"Most of those programs just rubbed me
the wrong way. The Red Road made
me realize I wasn't done being a drunk,
so I stopped going rather than mess it up
for people who might get something from it."
"So you finally found something that helps,
and you freaked out," said Many Tongues.
"Yeah," said Warshirt. "I guess ... it feels
too good to be true. I don't know how
to handle not being hungover the day
after a bender, even if it was nice
to wake up sober and healthy."
"That's why you pushed her away,"
Many Tongues guessed. "Don't do that.
In the middle of a crazy and drunk life,
you have to hang onto the good and
sober moments as tightly as you can."
"You're probably right," said Warshirt.
"It just made me so angry ... and scared.
I didn't know what was going on, and
that really made me lose my grip. Like
I wasn't sure whether to yell, or cry."
"The world, even the smallest parts
of it, is filled with things you don't know,"
said Many Tongues. "If you care about
something enough, it's going to make
you cry. But you have to use it. Use
your tears. Use your pain. Use your fear.
Never let them control you, or all is lost."
Warshirt knew that, had known it
long before combat cut it into him
deeper, going over old lines.
"I fucked up, didn't I?"
he said, looking down.
"Yep," said Many Tongues.
"I am such an asshole,"
Warshirt said glumly.
"Yep," said Many Tongues.
"I owe her an apology,"
Warshirt said. "I don't
even know where to start."
"Well, you could start with
the part where you fucked up,"
said Many Tongues. "Let her
know that you figured it out
and you're real sorry for
acting like an asshole."
"Yeah, but it feels like I
should do more than just say
a few words," Warshirt said.
"She'll eat meat if I make it, but
it's not a favorite, so I don't think
my usual hunting would help."
"Then you will need to think of
something else," said Many Tongues.
"Candy or flowers would send entirely
the wrong impression," said Warshirt.
"Then stop thinking of the usual and
flip it around," said Many Tongues.
"What kind of things does she like?"
"Fresh fruits and vegetables, mostly,"
said Warshirt. "I've been giving her
first pick of the forage, but there's
not a lot of that this late in the year."
"It's fair to buy something for her,"
Many Tongues pointed out. "It just
needs to be something she likes."
"The local stores don't carry
that much produce, and nothing
I'd call a treat," said Warshirt.
Then he brightened. "But there's
Natural Grocers over in Kalispell --
they have all kinds of interesting stuff."
"That's a three-hour round trip from
your place, plus here, not even counting
actual shopping time," Many Tongues said.
"You had better call and let Spotted Deer
know that you'll be gone the whole day,
and you're not still pissed with her."
Warshirt winced. "There's a phone,
but she hardly ever uses it. I can't
be sure she'd get the message."
"Then you call someone else
and have them knock on the door,"
Many Tongues said firmly. "You
can't leave her hanging that long."
"I can call Lin Growing Thunder,"
Warshirt said, not at all looking forward
to that conversation. "Spotted Deer
knows her and will open the door."
"That's good," said Many Tongues.
"Lin already knows how much trouble
to expect from your drunk ass."
"Yeah," said Warshirt. "At least
this time she didn't have to arrest me."
"See, now you're looking on the bright side,"
said Many Tongues. "You'll get through it."
"Do you think ..." Warshirt swallowed
hard. "Do you think Spotted Deer
will forgive me for what I did?"
"I don't know," said Many Tongues.
"But you are worth forgiving."
"Thanks," Warshirt whispered.
Many Tongues was one of
the best things that had
happened to him in
a crazy and drunk life.
Spotted Deer was another.
He just hoped that he
hadn't fucked up so much
she would leave him.
Warshirt desperately
needed the good and
sober things in his life.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its notes appear elsewhere.
(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-07 04:42 am (UTC)Fix the header, please?
Date: 2021-05-07 12:37 pm (UTC)"A Crazy and Drunk Life"
Story Date: Saturday, October 3, 2015
Summary: Upset by everything that's happened, Warshirt seeks advice from Many Tongues.
358 lines, Buy It Now = $179
Re: Fix the header, please?
Date: 2021-05-08 03:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2021-05-08 01:29 am (UTC)One question (possible typo)?
"Fresh fruits and vegetables, mostly,"
said Warshirt. "I've been giving her
first pick of the forage, but there's
not a lot of that this late in the year."
"It's fair to buy something for her,"
Warshirt pointed out. "It just needs
to be something that she likes.
Should the second stanza be "Many Tongues pointed out," rather than Warshirt?
Fixed!
Date: 2021-05-08 04:19 am (UTC)Yay!
>> I like the idea of hanging onto the good you can find even when most things aren't.<<
It's a necessary survival skill for reservation life.
Back in college, I took a course on Native American literature. The myths and legends were fine, but the modern stuff was downright toxic. Okay, things like alcoholism, poverty, and communal trauma are all real and need discussion -- but if the only stories about modern Indians are severely fucked up, that is damaging in the same way as Kill Your Gays. So I aim to write things that include real challenges, but also solutions, allowing both characters and readers to see a way out. Eventually other people started writing more positive Native American literature, but it took them a while. I think the first time I destroyed Europe and wrote a noncolonial Turtle Island was in junior high.
>> One question (possible typo)? <<
Fixed, thanks.