Ode to joy

Every spring we have this thing called Eurovision. The Eurovision Song Contest. Around forty countries perform at the semi-finals, and even though only one will stand victorious, it's more a love and fun and inclusiveness and queer energy and positivity fest than a cut-throat competition. That's why it's so widely and well-loved; it's a ray of light even in the darkest of times. Everyone rooting for everyone, absolutely no assholery allowed, mutual support is the name of the game. It's kind of a prerequisite. And it works! Haters and bigots need not apply. How wonderful and rare is that?

Ukraine is last year's winner, and as wonderful as it would have been to see them host everyone in Kyiv this spring, a hater and bigot did his damnedest to ensure that didn't happen. Runner-up United Kingdom has graciously stepped in and will welcome the Eurovision family (if you're a fan, you're family) to Liverpool in May. Which leaves you several weeks to follow national selections and get in the mood and the groove.

The spirit of Eurovision. We need more of that.

Stop! In the name of love

So. Monday. Another Mayday. I'm sad to report that the carnival weekend in the state of São Paulo, Brazil, ended in tears. Torrential rain, more than twice the monthly average in just 24 hours, led to landslides, mudslides and flooding. Lives lost, homes destroyed, the climate crisis in devastating action.

For the love of whatever you value most, abandon all hope. I'm not joking. Let's stop hoping someone or something saves us from ourselves. Let's hope less and do more. None of us will fix all of this but we can all do something. Considering everything we are (as mammals), everything that surrounds us, everything we eat, wear, live in, work with and build with and otherwise consume comes from nature, every choice we make affects nature.

There is no disconnect, no distinction, although the fossil fuel industry for one would like you to not notice that fact. Well, screw that and screw you; you broke it, you bought it, now clean up after yourselves at your own expense because you damn well should.

Hell yes I'm angry. Aren't you? I love this planet of ours; I love it so very much; it's fascinating and full of beauty; it gave us life and what do we do in return? I am sorry for all the ways in which I may have harmed her, and I am sad for all the ways in which we keep harming her, this system that sustains us.

Love your mother. Make good, smart choices whenever possible. Vote conscientiously. Demand answers and demand action. Brook no bullshit.

It's your world. Honor it.

Rhythm divine

Carnaval is on, sweetie darlings! The pre-carnival street parties, blocos, have been going on for weeks, but this last week before Lent pulls out all the stops for the biggest and loudest street party on Earth.

Oh, to be in Salvador right now. Yesterday, Ivete Sangalo (a fantastic, formidable baiana) opened the folia with this song, three minutes of riotous joy. 

Get your heart pumping, your feet thumping, and have an ardent, bouncy weekend, my dearest, dearest denizens. 🎊

Before I forget

A quick word on art, museums and the power thereof! Something recognizable, something unfamiliar; something that puts your soul at ease, something that gives you a jolt. What art and museums have to offer. A connection to the past, present, possible futures, and yourself.

If you happen to be in/coming to Scandinavia, visit Amos Rex in Helsinki for The Quiet Parade. I went round and round, walking through a dreamscape, an ashen landscape beyond time but anchored in our world. Ah, Helsinki. The city that said no to Guggenheim. I admire their chutzpah. (And they must be sooo glad they did, the Covid closures would have cost them an arm and a leg and who knows which additional appendages.) Two exhibitions to look forward to: Albert Edelfelt is coming home in April, and Tom of Finland will be parking in Kiasma for a six-month visit.

And let's not forget Fotografiska in Stockholm and Tallinn. (Yes, I know, Estonia is not geographically part of Scandinavia, but Tallinn, Helsinki and Stockholm are great friends and a ferry ride away from one another.) No matter which Fotografiska (more than those two, mind you), no matter the exhibition, you are never disappointed. Seriously, no need to know, just go.

What do museums have to do with love? If it puts your soul at ease and/or gives you a jolt, it must be good for you, an act of self-care. (Still oddly uncomfortable with that word.)

[The news, though! He could have been a white hat. He chose to be an asshat instead.]

Be still my beating heart 💓

I know some shun this day for its commercialism, but you don't need to spend a cent to celebrate it. Use this day as an excuse, if indeed you need one, to cultivate loving relationships; with others, and yourself. As the late but great Whitney Houston used to sing, Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.

Never pass an opportunity, however small or fleeting, to honor love. Today, why not do something, anything, that makes your heart beat just a little bit faster. (I'm going to devote this afternoon to writing.)

Happy Valentine's Day, dearest denizens. 💋