Ink In My Coffee

Tuesday, January 13, 2026

Waning Moon

Uranus and Jupiter Retrograde

Snowy and cold

I hope you had a peaceful weekend and had a chance to rest and recalibrate. We must rest when we can, so we can get back into the fray.

The Community Tarot Reading for the Week is here, and it’s more complex than the typical week’s reading, because we are living in a more complex time.

Friday was disjointed, for obvious reasons. Congress continues to sit with its thumb up its collective ass and allow people to be shot in the street. Because actually doing their job is beyond them, for at least 90% of them. My Rep is still unreachable, although my Senators have been hearing from me more than usual.

I managed to get out of the house, pick up my mother’s prescription, do a light grocery shop (well within budget even, which was a nice change), do a library drop off/pick up, mail a bill at the post office, and take care of a couple of other errands.

Got home, hauled everything up the stairs, put it away.

Didn’t get as much work done as I hoped, because how can we just move through the day pretending none of this evil is around us? We can’t, not if we have brains and hearts.

The newly released video of the execution, taken by the killer himself, is even more sickening, and underlines the misogynistic aspect all sane women already knew was there. People are saying this was a dumb move, but I am sure it was calculated and approved by his superiors. The video is deliberate, to show that this is what happens when you don’t comply. You are murdered by a cosplaying paramilitary goon squad.

And Congress does NOTHING. Law enforcement, which is supposed to “protect and serve” their communities do NOTHING. I mean, I know the latter is not much of a surprise to anyone who’s been paying attention, but still.

The early months of the pandemic didn’t kill enough of the population to suit that insane, greedy, evil, syphilitic old man, so now masked, armed goons are sent out to shoot us in the street. It won’t matter if we comply or not – they’re going to kill us anyway, and we need to work from that realization.

And Congress –who could stop it in a moment – does NOTHING.

It’s not because they’re scared. It’s because they would rather do nothing and still be paid than do their jobs. It’s because the special interests who have compromised them – and I’m looking at Chuck Schumer as much as every Republican – are more important than the people they swore an oath to serve.

Make no mistake, Congress’s inaction is a CHOICE.

The way Democrats continue to vote for this administration’s appointees is full proof.

They are complicit.

I sure as heck hope someone primaries my House Rep, because he is useless. One can’t even contact him. For a WEEK. And all the months I have contacted him, I get mealy-mouthed non-answers. He must think his constituents are stupid. We passed placebo responses being okay by 2017.

We’re facing another government shutdown, and Democrats are going to do another performance pretending they will “stand strong” but we all know they’re going to cave. Because Schumer is complicit. A real opposition leader would have behaved differently since Day 1. Don’t pretend you’re waiting to defund the monsters until the CR vote where Vichy Democrats then cave anyway. Defund now.

But they don’t care about murder in the streets as long as they can keep grifting. And all weekend the violence against people by these goons kept escalating. Because Minnesota has been invaded by hostile forces and Congress does NOTHING.

I was annoyed by an email from the company that bought the coverage agency I used to work for and shut the agency down. They are looking for coverage readers for their latest contest and said, if I was interested, to “send along a resume.” No mention of how much they’re paying (I bet it’s crap). They can fuck right off. I worked for the agency for four years. They know the quality of my work and my dependability AND my credentials. They can make me an offer, or forget it.

Anyway, in the evening, I meant to do more work, but got distracted (how could one not)? I did take a break and read THE HEARTH WITCH’S GUIDE TO MAGIC AND MURDER by Kiri Callaghan, which was a good way to calm down for a bit. It seems like the start of a series, but I almost hope it’s not. I really like these characters, but not everything needs to be a series.

I then stayed up until 2 AM, reading Jim C. Hines’s latest,  SLAYERS OF OLD, about a trio of retired Chosen Ones running a bookshop in Salem, MA. Only there’s an apocalypse coming, so they have to get back to work, dealing with aging, found family, and old friendships gone bad. The tagline is BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER meets GOLDEN GIRLS, but it’s more than that. It’s very clever, and works well on multiple levels. Since I was longing to read a stand-alone, it was a good choice.

The cats still had to be fed early Saturday morning. I tried to go back to bed to get some more sleep, but no such luck.

Morning routine, and, after breakfast, I did a few hours on the ghostwriting, which went well. That was a relief, after all the struggles the past week, and the looming deadline. Did my civic duty down in Pittsfield, adding my voice to the pushback on the horrors. Ate a quick lunch, checked my bags for the workshop, loaded the car, and headed to the gallery. One of the other members was there to back me up (always a good thing not to be on one’s own for a workshop). We set up. I took a couple of photos of my piece, for archival purposes.

There was a decent turnout, which pleased me. I had no idea how many would show up, or if anyone would. I’d posted something on Instagram that morning, promising we’d have space to deal with the horrors, and several people came from attending protests. So, we took some time to share our anger, our fears, the sick feelings in the pits of our stomachs, acknowledging our humanity in inhumane times, and then settled into the work.

Most of them had never done ekphrastic work before. I had some steps and suggestions for it, that we talked through, and that were in the handout, so they could refer to it. Because I AM the Queen of Handouts. We did 3 sessions of 20 minutes each. Participants could sit with the same piece, or they could work with three different pieces. Or come back to one, if they switched, but felt a pull back.

The first piece I chose, I found myself setting the foundation for two pieces in response. One was direct response to the actual art itself, the other was questions about the artist’s choices and where they hit me in terms of mythology, misogyny, surrealism, etc. I’m not sure what that will be yet. It needs percolation time.

With the second piece, I have the beginnings of a multi-stanza poem about Lydia, the contortionist, who ran away with the circus at age 13. No, there was nothing depicting a circus in the piece itself, but that’s where it led me. I roughed out about 3 of the 5 stanzas, and have a good idea where I want to go with it, and how I want to restructure it a bit. Heads up, Boiler House Poets, I will probably bring a draft of that into our residency!

The third piece wound up being the basis for an essay on potlucks backstage when I worked on Broadway at MISS SAIGON, and dinner parties when I lived a block from Chinatown in San Francisco.

At the end of the three sessions, we talked about the experience of working with the different pieces, what they brought up (in some cases, related to the horrors), and where we thought they were going. One of the participants shared one of the poems she wrote in response to a piece, and looks forward to sharing the poems with the artists who inspired her work.

I also talked about the journey THE WOMEN ON THE BRIDGE took from the Munch painting that inspired me at the Clark exhibit (which they all had seen) to the full-length play it is now. They want to do a reading at the gallery, which is great, but I have to track down (and pay) 8 actors for it, so it’ll be a minute!

People felt much more grounded by the end of it than when they’d come in, and excited to try this kind of work again, so the workshop achieved what I hoped. Safe space to create makes a difference, and lets people try new things. Plus, the pain of current events is acknowledged and shared, so we feel less isolated, and can channel some of that into the work itself.

And, of course, there were snacks involved. Nothing fancy, but there was sustenance for the mind and the body. And blankets. Blankets help when one is feeling unsteady, so I packed up some yoga blankets people could use, which they did.

I packed up and headed home after, feeling much better. My parking space was still there. I unloaded, hauled everything up, only put some of it away.

It was too late to start the dinner I’d originally planned (I was so not up for cooking chickpeas for 90 minutes), so I heated up some leftovers. I let the gallery founders know how it went, and sent them a copy of the handout for their interest/records.

I heated up some leftovers and just relaxed in the evening, enjoying the residue from the workshop. We definitely all felt better by the end of it.

Since I had very little sleep the night before, I went to bed fairly early. I woke up at 3:30, of course, and couldn’t get back to sleep. I finally got up a little after 6.

Morning routine was fine, Tessa coached me through yoga, I baked biscuits (the American kind that my mom likes) for breakfast.

I did the Community Tarot Reading for the week, which was intense this week.

Did my civic duty up in Bennington later in the morning.

Returned and spent the rest of the day on the ghostwriting, until about 10 PM that night. I paused to cook a recipe for Moroccan Spiced Chickpea and Carrot stew, which was really good. A friend sent it to me. Although I underestimated how the chickpeas would expand when they cooked, and I’ll be doing a pasta recipe from one of Deborah Madison’s cookbooks later this week that uses up the leftover chickpeas and leftover fresh spinach.

I also had a ZOOM meetup with Veronica Varlow and some people in her circle, and that was very well worth it, and helped re-energize me. Charlotte was delighted, and they were happy to praise her fuzzy little face.

I finished the bulk of the ghostwriting assignment, which meant on Monday I had to add in some character information, layer in a couple of plot points, and do a final proofread before sending it off.

Did not sleep well (who could, with what’s going on?), but got up late anyway, feeling that cold fury that leads to action.

Sat down and focused after breakfast, and got the ghostwriting out a little after 1 PM. Today, I start the next one. Well, I’d worked ahead a bit on it, so I think I’m in decent shape.

I was invited back to WAM’s literary committee for the coming season, and I definitely want to do so.

Once the ghostwriting assignment was sent off, I was practically immobilized. I wanted to burst into tears (how could one not?). I did a few things around the house, caught up on some email, and was cat furniture on the sofa for most of the afternoon.

In the evening, I made chicken marsala pasta, which was really good, and very heavy on the rosemary. Usually rosemary is in the background, but it was very much front and center in this recipe. And yes, leftovers.

I won’t be cooking much next week, because we have a lot of leftovers to work our way through.

Went to bed early. Had a dream about a meeting in a skyscraper and elevators. Yes, I was going upwards in the dream.

Woke up early, ready to go to the laundromat, only to find out it had snowed overnight. There was no way I was digging out the car before 6 AM. I might go later today, although it looks like it will snow again any minute. It’s supposed to get up into the 40’s, so maybe I’ll go later, or maybe I’ll go tomorrow morning. We are at a critical tipping point, laundry-wise.

After breakfast, I’m putting pork chops and apple in the crockpot, then putting together the new vacuum and giving the place a good going over. If it clears up, I’ll go to the laundromat. Since I didn’t really have a weekend, today is going to be about getting the house to rights, although I hope to get some proofreading done later, and at least start the next book for review.

In the afternoon, I have a session with the Author’s Guild about the Anthropic Settlement, since two of my books were stolen and are part of it. Later, I hope to get to yoga. That’s part of why we’re doing crockpot meals on Tuesdays, so I can toss things in the pot during the day, and not have to worry about cooking when I get back from yoga.

All I want to do is sleep. My soul is weary, my bones are tired.

Hang in there, and gear up for what’s needed.