When I introduced this month’s IndieWeb Carnival theme belief, I was terribly excited to take a quiet Saturday morning and really put together a beautiful piece on how I relate to the theme.
We make plans, and God laughs. In late October, God laughed when I triple-fractured my ankle. My original recovery timeline, which included surgery under general anesthesia, had me use first a cast and then an air cast until December 25. (Continue)
As we approach the end of 2024 (wow, already?!) I’m pleased to do something I have been anticipating for months: host the December 2024 edition of the IndieWeb Carnival ( What is that?).
The theme is belief It’s an open theme, one that I hope will inspire you to share whatever pops into your head when you think about it. A few prompts to merely inspire you:
What is something you can’t know, but that you believe? (Continue)
I had the pleasure of being the +1 at
The Black Archives Bijlmer Book Club, where we read Travis Alabanza’s None of the Above. Meredith and Wally were excellent hosts, and I loved meeting new people with similar interests.
I had strong feelings about Alabanza’s insistence that this work “feels like theory”, in response to it being marketed as a memoir. Calling Get Out a comedy diminishes the value of Black storytelling in horror narratives. But calling it a documentary is just as ineffective. “Feels like theory” very much sits in that spectrum, for me.
I enjoyed the lively conversation my strong feelings sparked about respectability and Black works, and was surprised the lyrical essay appears to be such an unknown genre when I offered it.
The first and last photos were taken by Wouter Pocornie.
They open their roti takeout, unfold their pancake, and start eating. Strike a pose, there’s nothing to it. I ask them if it’s okay that I watch them eat before I start, so I can see how in the world I’m supposed to eat sauce without cutlery. (Continue)
My pastors have a way with words. Bible study on Thursday, and we use every pronoun but he reading Mark 6:1-13. She’s just a carpenter — Mary’s girl. Who does she think she is? Give me a second, let me hear that again. (Continue)