October 17th, 2020

Dear Lover,

I conjured BabyCakes this week. Dug them up from the depths of my pelvis, my heartspace, and that spot from behind my ear. Yeah, you know the one - that spot your tongue lands when you fuck me. Together, BabyCakes and I banished patriarchy, capitalism, and white supremacy. And no matter how many times I practiced that ritual, I still fucked it up, ha! I forgot a whole wardrobe piece, and an entire line. BUT BITCH! I think it ended up being pretty powerful.

TIME

November 1st, 2020

Dear J.,

What a time it has been loving you. Lately, we have been stuck in pandemic time, while dreaming for the next portal to get us away. We have survived queer time, manic time, depressed time, lost time, confused time, and Black time. Well, we are always in Black time. Black time is simultaneously the way we wake up in the morning and smile at the melanin still blessing our skin, and also the alert in our eyes shifting side to side, neck whipping around and spine erect to ensure the police are not following us home from the protest.