"I simply know different things from what you know."

It's been a week where I removed myself from one conversation and unfollowed a half-dozen people because I cannot let myself get snarled into open-ended firefights over sexism if I'm going to meet my next deadline (and the three on its heels), and yet, and yet...

*seethes*

So this leaped out at me when I peeked over at Eileen Tabios's blog, where she talks about reading a collective autobiography whose authors include Lyn Hejinian:

Two of the male poets asked her if she'd read this other author and she'd felt the question to be a "test" .... I get this. I know this. While not proposing acrimony, I am reminded of several conversations with males and male poets, including one with an older, male poet wherein, at one point, I told him, "You do not know more than I do. I simply know different things from what you know."

In happier news: I sold a poem this week (fourth acceptance of the year; first one I'll receive cash for), my publisher sent me a royalty update a few hours ago, and I'm tickled at the company said book is currently keeping over at Amazon (it has been purchased in tandem with books by Neal Stephenson and Merrie Haskell [the latter is currently giving away copies of her new book and pretty bits of goat, by the way], and it is for the moment on a Top 10 list with Janet Wong, Cathy Park Hong, and Maxine Hong Kingston).

Also, it was 68 degrees F when I went hiking this afternoon. The turtles were out in force, and we also spotted a huge wild turkey and tiny little flowers.