Sea of pink

I’ve had the chorus from Patti Smith’s Gloria running through my head for the last week or two and finally decided to try to exorcise the ear worm by listening to it on Saturday night.

It didn’t work.

What’s odd is that I’m not really a fan.

I respect her work and its place in the pantheon but it’s just not my cup of tea.

I read Just Kids and loved it but returned M Train to the library after only reading 25 or so pages. It didn’t work for me even if I could see why it might work for others.

Borrowed Horses from the library a year or so ago and pilfered a digital copy. Might be time to burn a disk for the car and give the entire thing another listen.

I usually don’t listen to women singers with the exception of a few.

Maybe it’s time to add to the list?

My favorite artists tend to be men.  Is that because it’s what’s available or a true preference?  How does gender affect a writer, painter or singer?  Is gender the primary framer of a world view or is it just part of the vast web of personhood?  Up until now I’d say it’s been the former, hopefully we’ll be moving towards a world where it’s the latter.

Watching all the posts of hope and unity scrawl across my feed Saturday was a welcomed balance to the divisiveness of the day before.

Image from

Yes, it was exciting to witness this moment in history.  Hopefully it’s a turning point towards equal rights for all and love trumping hate but it doesn’t change anything in the daily grind of this single mother who is struggling with balancing my precarious physical reserves with my meager financial ones.

I’ve been fighting for 47 years.

I’m getting a wee bit tired.

I’m exhausted.

Time to get to work.

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