A small story:

After over a quarter century together, Consort and I know how to argue. In fact, I’m going to say we aren’t bad at it, abiding by the intimate partner version of Marquess of Queensbury rules which is to say, we sue Oscar Wilde.
(We do not sue Oscar Wilde)
We fight reasonably fairly, we rarely drag in any grudge over 120 days old - unless, of course, it shows a pattern of behavior or I feel like it- we even own the irrational stuff by beginning, “This isn’t rational but also, still mad.”
We have nearly always traded off who is “the upset one” and who is the “I was having a nice day, eating some cheese but sure, let’s do this one.” The few times we’ve both been the upset one…it’s not good.
But anyone who has participated in a ritual long enough begins to recognize certain signposts, markers…omens, if you will.

There’s a point where the original problem has begun to bore both of us and the end is in sight. The argues only have to agree and move on.
There will be two tempting exits, both marked “THIS WAY TO WINNING.”

One is hearing a natural endpoint, sitting with the silence and the blurting, “It’s just that (rehash entire argument.”

In the interests of full disclosure, that one is me.
For some reason, deep down I’m convinced Consort is just one “Previously on Same Stupid Argument You Two Have Had 127 Times” highlights reel away from saying, “ Quinn, not only are right, more importantly, I am wrong.”

“Has this ever occurred, Quinn?”
Shut up.
This is argument Chutes and Ladders and my “It’s just that…” put us back in the first square.

“Poor Consort; that man is a saint.”

Oh, 100%; I live with me and I’m a lot. But his hands aren’t completely clean, either. He has his own siren song at argument’s cease:
“You’re making my point.”
No, I’m not.

Because I’m here and you’re over there and I don’t support arguments from over there and the very idea that I would makes me want to chute you back to square one with a very logical recap.

Newly refreshed by sirens, we doggedly begin again.
And now, HIVEMIND:

Is there something you do, or say when arguing with a loved one that has never worked, but still seems like a good idea in the moment?
And now, THE AD! If you like these Small Stories, can I coax you into helping to support them? I promise to mumbles "Chutes and ladders" at you when you are about to reanimate an argument.

patreon.com/user?u=4846197
And now, the other ad!

I have a deal for you on
@librofm
(libro.fm/redeem/Quinn)

My membership benefits
@vromans! Yours could benefit your local indie bookstore! They not only have audiobooks but here are some Indigenous-owned bookstores!
blog.libro.fm/indigenous-own…

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More from @quinncy

6 Nov
@DoodleWrangler Did I ever tell you about the time I quietly avenged your father by ruining a drunk's night?
We knew a couple where Consort was longtime friends with the husband and I usually got stuck with the wife. She was and, I suspect, still is a therapist.

She was also nearly certainly an alcoholic.

Maybe she wasn't.
Maybe it's perfectly normal to not be able to stop after a single drink, maybe all the most abstemious drinkers turn into an utter jackass after downing a bottle pretty much on their own.

Maybe "weekday breakfast wine" is a thing.

Anyway, she was my responsibility.
Read 10 tweets
4 Nov
OH MY CARBGODDESS. @VillageBakeryLA Image
Unofficial small story and a request:

Recently, 6 @LAPDHQ officers came in; one wasn’t wearing his mask correctly. One of the young women working asked him politely to fix it. They left, gave them a bad Yelp review.
Aren’t you guys busy doing an actual job?

LOL.

Of course you are not.

Also, Nick T? Women shudder at your touch. Image
Read 6 tweets
29 Oct
America has a weird habit of going to war with nouns and adjectives. The problem with this is that it's hard enough to figure out an exit strategy when the war is with another country over an island; how does a country declare a win on a war on drugs?

Cancer?

Terror?
(You don't)
What put this in my mind was tugging on my mask to enter a store this morning. As I have a few times before, I wondered when the mandatory masks will end in California. I mean sure, they've ended in Florida but apparently DeSantis is a necrophiliac.

We're now in a war on COVID.
Read 4 tweets
28 Oct
That’s great! You got through hell and are here and you OWE NOTHING TO NO ONE.

(Bites tongue, taps foot, begs self to leave it there)

(Cannot)

The plural of “anecdote” is not “data.”
Mammograms are problematic.

bmj.com/content/346/bm…
(Shouts at self to see third rail labeled “Mammogram PR” but not touch third rail “Mammogram PR.”)

(Will definitely touch rail in a bit)


Also?

Read this.

Mammograms pick up everything and what we don't know about breast cancer still dwarfs what we do know. The little one may already have twigged off and be taking up residence in your liver; the stupid one may never cause you harm.
Read 8 tweets
27 Oct
A small story:

One of the most dangerous sayings among artists is "Jump and the net will appear." The idea that if you risk the universe will automatically protect you from the worst possible consequences is very seductive and is not actually true.
(In my twenties, a friend of a good friend of mine had a habit of announcing a change in career or life's longing monthly, each time blithely announcing that "The universe will provide." My friend once grimly noted "The universe" looked a lot like the woman's husband)
When you produce an indie, money is gathered slowly, painfully; I'd say you chip away at the amount you need like a sculptor working some marble, but imagine if while the sculptor delineated a leg, a bunch of marble sometimes grew back. Money gets promised, not always delivered.
Read 21 tweets
25 Oct
I have about another week of this @RenttheRunway dress business and, so far, it was an excellent experiment, worth the cost.

That's right; they did not pay me for this or even give me the dresses for free. I am paying out of pocket to do their work for them.

#Chump
My life has taught me that I can either be comfortable or I can write but also, I can be irrationally terrified or I can write. There's a sweet spot of unease where the writing flows.

A sour spot, if you will.

Wearing a dress puts me right in that spot.
Read 33 tweets

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