Eaton Hamilton

the problem with being trans is cis people. The problem with being queer is straight people. The problem with being disabled is abled people. The problem with being Black is white people. In other words, prejudice.

Tag: swimming

Swim, much?

Painting: Eaton Hamilton 2022 acrylic on paper 6.5×9″

Hello, folks. I see we are very close to the holidays, while I’m lost (as usual) many months back. The acceleration starts in the spring and keeps going the rest of the year. I can’t quite keep up.

I’m doing a fundraiser to cover housing for Jan, so these little paintings are only $100 USD, incl shipping continental N America. So many folks ask after work but can’t afford my prices, so these little pieces are for them. See Hamilton Art on FB for more.

Meantime, I’m writing. Are you writing this week? If you are, what are you working on? Me, I’m turning from project to project–whichever one I have energy for. Novel rewrite (again? Are you kidding me? This book has had ten years of rewrites) and memoir rewrite (which makes sense because only draft 3 and still looking for the shape). I try to keep more than one project on the go at a time because it helps against blocks.

I hope you’re keeping safe against the new omicron variants in this worsening SARS2 pandemic, and managing to keep away from RSV, influenza and the other viral/bacterial resurges. Here in BC the government behaviour is catacylsmic, and many adults and now children are losing their lives due to gov’t’s “let ‘er rip” policy. It’s heartbreaking. More still are feeling the sequelae to infection because covid presents as respiratory but its damage is deep and long-lasting, from mini-clots, sudden heart attacks, heart damage, brain damage, liver damage, kidney damage, vasculature damage and new study this week noting accelerating osteoporosis. It’s the anti-gift that keeps on giving. It’s worth doing everything in your power to NOT CATCH IT. People are going to have to be a lot more careful, and this means N95 or better masks, building CR boxes (google it; You Tube has instructions; dead simple), HEPA filters in all your spaces.


Be well this week. I know how stressful Dec is, especially for parents. Hang in there if you can. The shortest day will soon be upon us, and then every day will be longer again, thank goodness. Loads of my plants are loading up for spring already, in particular lilacs and magnolias. It’s going to be beautiful, and we’re going to need it.

Celebrate love. Celebrate your friends. Celebrate your animals. Find a thing of beauty to remark upon today if you can.


Take a flashlight down to the lake and shiver on the edge of the dock, naked in the chill, trying to convince yourself that you love night swimming. Remember a foggy night at Blackburn Lake with the car headlights almost illuminating the dock, and Sarah, maybe 10 years old, running down it with her towel clutched like a cape, jumping out into the white wild and disappearing. Miss her, and regret life’s changes. Remember the dog and his yellow canter, his bellyflop.  Look up at the concave sky, the masses of stars. Shape the dive in your muscles. Do it. That moment where you can’t take it back. Slice the water. Come up happy. Everything you once believed is still true: The water is as tepid as bathwater, and you still love it all, the ink spreading out around it, the power in your arms as you do the breast stroke, nitro on-board, the way you can effortlessly float, the skinny way that your mind, for a minute, rests in its carapace. There are bats squeaking, winging out above the black, swooping and skimming, maybe catching dragonflies or just mosquitoes. As you swim out, things invert. Now the stars are diamond chips around your shoulders, your hips, your toes.
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