the other day my friend told me about a burlesque performer named Qualms Galore. i positively yelled. my friend said, right? we were in awe. so utterly epic and endearing. and resonant. for heaven’s sake, or our sake.
one etymological root of galore is “sufficiently enough.”
here with all our qualms. aka scruples. swimming through them. i imagine a qualm as a baseball and thwacking it to the outfield. coordination. home run. then another inning.
what if “strength doesn’t have to hurt”1 ? what if it’s kind of funny? sometimes i laugh at things because they’re true.
what if the qualms remind me that i am paying attention, i am regarding the world around me?
precision at once somber and gleeful. and i wonder if this is because i am relieved that someone else gets it, someone else is here too. regarding the mix of irritation, grief and resplendence. TGIF.
“pain withers when shared, joy grows.”3
galore. that’s amore. when the moon hits your eye.
how we shore each other up.