{"id":4218,"date":"2014-07-30T14:32:00","date_gmt":"2014-07-30T14:32:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2014\/07\/30\/a-collection-theory-of-unlinear-operators\/"},"modified":"2014-07-30T14:32:00","modified_gmt":"2014-07-30T14:32:00","slug":"a-collection-theory-of-unlinear-operators","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/2014\/07\/30\/a-collection-theory-of-unlinear-operators\/","title":{"rendered":"a collection theory of unlinear operators"},"content":{"rendered":"
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell<\/i><\/p>\n

leaving is not enough; you must
\nstay gone. train your heart
\nlike a dog. change the locks
\neven on the house he\u2019s never
\nvisited. you lucky, lucky girl.
\nyou have an apartment
\njust your size. a bathtub
\nfull of tea. a heart the size
\nof Arizona, but not nearly
\nso arid. don\u2019t wish away
\nyour cracked past, your
\ncrooked toes, your problems
\nare papier mache puppets
\nyou made or bought because the vendor
\nat the market was so compelling you just
\nhad to have them. you had to have him.
\nand you did. and now you pull down
\nthe bridge between your houses,
\nyou make him call before
\nhe visits, you take a lover
\nfor granted, you take
\na lover who looks at you
\nlike maybe you are magic. make
\nthe first bottle you consume
\nin this place a relic. place it
\non whatever altar you fashion
\nwith a knife and five cranberries.
\ndon\u2019t lose too much weight.
\nstupid girls are always trying
\nto disappear as revenge. and you
\nare not stupid. you loved a man
\nwith more hands than a parade
\nof beggars, and here you stand. heart
\nlike a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
\nheart leaking something so strong
\nthey can smell it in the street.<\/p>\n

– Marty McConnell<\/p><\/div>\n

  • Leatherdo – a stainless steel multitool hair clip designed by Yaacov Goldberg.<\/a>\n
  • Beautiful Beast – a golden spider broach worn as a temporary piercing. <\/a>\n

    I’m flying out again on Saturday. This time to Vegas for a week of security conferences: BlackHat, B-Sides, and DefCon. I’m only official for one, but another is free and the third I shall attempt to sneak into, because I probably can and it’ll be fun. Also, what else is there for the poor to do in Vegas?<\/p>\n

    My time “home” in Vancouver has been busy, but mostly without anchor. I domesticate well and gladly, but my attachments are to people, not places. My days, instead, have been spent on phone calls with New York and messages on-line with Michigan, Washington, Ontario, and Oklahoma. Nothing that digs me in where I am. I have spent the majority of this summer away, living basic out of a suitcase, and confirmed that not only do I enjoy\/prefer it, the only things I miss are my ferrets and (sometimes) Seattle. So the crusade to pare my apartment down continues. The desire for rococo minimalism continues. Soon my life will be nothing more than a pair of ferrets, some media and data devices, a spot of taxidermy, some art, a few weapons, and an elegant wardrobe of motorcycle and combat gear, Victorian lace, and kevlar flounces.<\/p>\n

    A more telling list may not actually exist. <\/p>\n

    Which reminds me, as soon as I get an influx of cash, I have projects to work on again. I’ve been window shopping for a used motorcycle, drive shaft, no spokes, a machine with muscle unlikely to break down, but first is safety. Sewing with leather, something light-up with spinal protective armor, and a jacket to resurface. LED’s, el-wire, arduino VS raspberry pi. Ideas nipping at my heels like starved little purse chihuahuas shaking in the harsh reality of my financial winter. Ideas that had long been erased. My resources are shifting, bruised heart on my sleeve, capabilities ratcheting back into gear, the coastal combinations of care like cards on a table. There are no aces hidden next to my wrist, but perhaps I’ll embroider one in. I have a deep love for those tiny, clever touches.<\/p>\n

    Meanwhile I find myself unable to spend more than three nights in a row in my own bed. Crashing over at Nathan’s, crashing over at Nicholas and Esme’s; laundry, dinner, a long run of Orphan Black. Different reasons, but the same underlying dis-attachment to my where I keep my things. To further push this, I am attempting to sublet my room for the month of August. I should have done it sooner, for June and July, given how little I was there, but starting now will have to do. I don’t know the map past August 12th, but even if I do not find my way to the desert, I will make do. I am inhabiting my language, embracing my internal architecture all the way to the edges of my vision and I have the keys to five other houses on my key-chain. I will be okay.<\/p>\n

    It is an awful place, but I am beginning to look forward to Vegas. The teal sky stretched like silk over the blind roads and senseless cacophony, the inevitable black t-shirts with witty taglines and open bars buzzing with abuse. It is not going to be at all like my last time there or the time before that or the time before that. Each visit before has been fraught with conflict, stress a thin note running through every decision. This time I will not be alone, isolated or rejected. I will not have been sent for to stand as a peace-maker to sordid drama, I will not have been brought along as a sop, I will not be going as a dismantled half. No matter how this week unfurls, (and it does have some very interesting<\/i> possibilities), none of the previous scenarios will have a chance to duplicate. There will be a tribe this time, there will be people I care for who care for me. (My best medicine). New people, new skills. This trip will be unique and for that I am grateful. The city will not poison me. Though the Vegas strip is a manipulative construct, a gigantic shrine dedicated to the worst of the states, the people I will be walking with share my inherent refusal to genuflect.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

    Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he\u2019s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so … Continue reading “a collection theory of unlinear operators”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[1726,8,1722,128,247],"class_list":["post-4218","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-conferences","tag-love","tag-poem","tag-poetry","tag-travel"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4218","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4218"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4218\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4218"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4218"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/foxtongue.com\/dreampepper\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4218"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}