Renata Carmen Writes

A lil rhyme inspired by an ancient booty-call attempting to hollar at me out of nowhere. You should know that you're barking up the wrong tree Homie That you'd even try sniffing around goes to show how little you know me I don't know if you were just drunk or lonely But you should lose my number, like I did yours I had to reverse ID the 661 area code that popped up on my screen Anytime I see those three digits I automatically screen the incoming call and assume the worst So glad that place and state of mind are in my rear view 'cuz it hurts to reflect on how broken and askew I was then Too busy being consumed by doubt and shitty men like you Thankfully, I grew blossoming like a wisteria tree I learned to stand on my own two feet and find true love and community So, despite what you think you know It'd be best if you get gone and stay the fuck off my lawn {08/30/2021 - RCH}

5/21/2020, 7:20AM - I should be in bed still, next to my man sleeping past nine, like the night owls we are. Instead, I find myself bowled over with pain, gingerly sipping sparkling water and clinging to my bong like it's a life-preserver. My IBS has been flaring up again in ways I haven’t experienced since the initial onset of my Fibromyalgia in 2011. It feels like I swallowed poison, or a nuclear bomb went off in my abdomen. The pain is sharp and intense, and makes me cry out when it grips my insides with clawed hands. But, chaos has no mercy, and this is my burden to bear. Like Paul, I’ve asked God/Chaos/whoever/whatever’s up there to take it away. But, this is my roll of the dice, and there's no taking it back this karmic go-around. It’s exhausting, to be honest. I can barely keep my eyes open. The only things keeping me awake right now are pain, nausea, and the feeling I may need to use the bathroom. Again. For the millionth time in the last 35 minutes. Before 2011, I did

I'm not a medical professional, but I've been fascinated with the study of biochemistry and how the body works in general since I can remember. I'm on a quest to distill as much factual, well-researched information about the novel COVID-19 virus as possible. Here, I share my findings with you. Together, we can maneuver the noise and misinformation floating about, and seek the truth. Even if that truth is a bit scary and not necessarily what we want to hear. We cannot fix something or protect ourselves from it until we know and face the truth about it. Notes on “What Doctors Are Learning From Autopsy Findings of Coronavirus (COVID-19) Patients.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KzKvIYwqQkE TL;DR Version: - COVID damages the body by directly attacking the ACE2 receptors on cells found throughout the body, as well as indirectly through inflammation and blood clots - This combination of clotting and immune response can cause all kinds of symptoms and lead to organ failure, gangr

     Every week day, at about 4am, a neighbor down the street starts his car up before his morning commute. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. It would simply be a mundane part of someone else’s routine that would go unnoticed. However, this gent is a gearhead, like many in the neighborhood. One who likes vehicles with exceptionally loud, throaty, large displacement engines. As a fellow speed freak and car lover, I get the affinity for such creations. I’ve worked on Nascar level race cars at Irwindale, and clung to the chain link fence at Pomona while top fuel cars fly by at hundreds of miles per hour. It’s more addictive than sugar, and twice as sweet. What I don’t get is people who feel the need to drive the loudest car in the neighborhood when they’re one of the first to get up. It wouldn’t bother me as much if he didn’t sit there warming it up for at least 20 minutes before heading off. Idle? More like a minor earthquake!      Again, I LOVE cars, and understand

  From someone who's been living a home-based lifestyle for ten years.      It’s been 33 days since I started self-isolating because of the COVID-19 pandemic, and as things currently stand here in Los Angeles, we will continue following Safe at Home practices for another 45 days at the very least. For some parts of the world it’s been longer than others, but we’re all on stand-still indefinitely and struggling to cope as a result. Airwaves are filled with celebrities and talk show hosts remarking at how isolating, mundane, and boring being homebound is. It’s common to hear phrases such as, “We’re alone...together,” and “adjusting to a new normal,” along with tongue-in cheek-conversations questioning which day it is, and remarking on the now irrelevant concept of a “weekend.” When there’s no change in schedule and nowhere to go, it doesn’t really matter what day it is. It’s so weird hearing the whole world talk like this, because those are phrases I’ve heard before. Those are “spo

     These strange, uncertain times are the source of much anxiety and paranoia for the entire world tribe. For the first time in memory, we’ve been forced to come together to face a common enemy, one that transcends borders, ideals, beliefs, socio-economics, and all those other arbitrary human associations. But we aren’t coming together in an epic Kumbaya moment. This tragedy is bringing out the best as well as the worst in people. Perhaps one of these darker aspects is the apparently inherent need to hoard resources. This has transformed a trip to the grocery store into more of a battle than an errand.      On top of that, I’m immunocompromised, so leaving my quiet, safe, hilltop to handle necessities gets scarier each time. I feel like I’m testing my luck each time, and I know the more you tempt Lady Luck, the more likely she is to switch from friend to foe. So, I’ve been up since dawn, finalizing my list complete with alternate options in case they’re out of what I’m seeking or pu