I’ve been hiding from the page.

The world is burning around me. I like to think I do what I can, but it often feels like nothing.

I suppose that is the point. I am supposed to see myself as insignificant. I am supposed to crumble into despair. We are all are.

But here we still are.

I would remind you that hope is resistance. Our words and our images can be a part of that resistance. Yes, march if you can and provide supplies and support where you can. None of us can be idle in this moment. That said, do not let the sense that you are not doing enough become an excuse for doing nothing. You do not need to be on the streets to resist. If you can and are, I admire you, but that is only one part. There are so many ways to stand with others in defiance of hate and fear, and I am proud of all of those who do.

I don’t want to be a pundit. There are more than enough voices clamoring for those roles. I want to talk about sex, media, games, art, and poetry. I am not going to tell you this isn’t a political site, though. Politics, sex, art, and poetry are deeply intertwined. Everything I write here is political¹. There is no escaping that. If you cannot see the connection, you are either willfully blind or frightfully unaware.