I Wasn’t Even Talking to You
more of a snack than an actual essay
Some news and some links. Just a little update newsletter… a snack, really.
If you read my recent essay about anger and standing up for myself (and my difficulty therein), you may have noticed that I struggle to take up space in my daily life. Now, yes, I’ve got a big voice and a lot of electric energy—but I’m also a folder, a yes-man, a master of the ol’ shout-then-back-down move. Classic Sandolore.
So let me tell you a quick story from my little world.
I recently joined an amateur theater group led by an incredible actress and artist. Her way of working has been deeply inspiring—and not just for me personally, but for the workshop I give to developmentally disabled students. I’ve started borrowing her warm-up exercises, and they’ve already helped me get non-verbal kids up on stage, actually using words. This theater class is research as much as it’s experience—I’m searching for a model of how to be a better teacher myself.
That said… I’m a bit of the odd one out in the troupe. They all know each other, share the same sense of humor. Meanwhile, I’m standing there with a stiff smile, waiting for the clowning to end so we can get to work. That’s what I’m there for.
Anyway—last week, one of the actresses (we’re preparing a spectacle of monologues, and yes, I wrote my own!) exploded. She reacted violently to feedback from another actress—pacing, red-faced, shouting, “I told her this was the last time, I don’t even want to be here anymore!” It went on and on—like a monologue, but not in an art way. The woman she was yelling at stood frozen, trembling. The fury didn’t even seem aimed directly at her—it was just… unleashed.
And in true me-fashion—because I always jump in when conflict starts mounting—I butted in (because in Sandolore-world, conflict must be diffused at all costs). I said something like, “Couldn’t this anger be channeled into your monologue?” Which, ironically, is about taking up space and refusing to be shaped by others’ definitions.
She turned, furious, and gave me a look that said, crystal clear: Get the fuck out of my face, Sandolore. I wasn’t even talking to you.
Clearly she didn’t want to pull out of her state. And part of the problem with rage is how it wants to swallow up all the oxygen, crown itself the victim, take everything for itself. That’s one reason I don’t allow it—for myself. Because it makes you think you’re right.
This week, when we returned to rehearsal, our teacher invited us to do an “emotional weather report” about how we felt after the incident. Most people just waved it off—“Let’s move on, let’s have fun”—but I couldn’t. So I said how I felt.
Calmly, I explained that the power snatch of anger, the way it flared and dominated the room, really rattled me. That I already felt like an outsider, and this made me take ten giant steps back from any sense of belonging. That I find anger—especially when it becomes a bullying strategy—hard to be around. And I said I loved this project so much, I hoped we could focus more on the work. Because for me, the fun is in the work.
I wouldn’t normally say all that. That’s new for me. And it’s not that I was “right” to speak up—I don’t want to be the anger police—but I didn’t want to bottle it up either. I was still feeling salty about the rage bomb. And you know what happened?
Something shifted.
The wall between me and the group dissolved. The others included me more—but in a natural way, not forced. I even did a rather beautiful spontaneous improv dance with the rager.
I think, because I hadn’t held back, they actually saw me. And I was able to stop holding back. It created connection.
So yeah, I think I might be learning something out here. My more major interpersonal tangles are still hanging in limbo. I’m still waiting to see if a certain someone can hear me—really hear me—after I took a big risk in showing myself. But maybe it’s worth it. If someone can hear you, then they’re worth speaking your truth to. And if they can’t… maybe it’s time to let them go, or at least let them go their own way for a while. No use screaming in their ear.
But no more blowing it off, no more betraying myself.
Try first. Sometimes people surprise you.
Okay! Personal story complete. Now a tiny pivot:
I’m doing the same thing in another way—speaking up. I’ve decided to offer a series of discounts on paid subscriptions. Why? Because I’m ambitious about this space. I want my Substack to launch like a rocket. There, I said it.
I work so hard on this damn stack, I don’t even know if you’d believe it. I edit my fiction to the bone—each story gets at least 60 edits. And I believe in it. I believe my fiction has a real future. So here are the discounts (scroll down!), but please know: you are entirely welcome here for free. Still—how would you know how badly I want to live off this writing if I don’t tell you?
I am celebrating a milestone of having earned $1,000 here on Substack. So, I am offering the following discounts if you’d like to add some turbo fuel. (See info about victory song below.)
THE PAY-WHAT-YOU-CAN-I-WILL-TAKE-IT PROJECT: (click pink links to get these discounts)
Also: I’m posting my art and “lives” on this Substack:
(click here): Sandolore at Signal/Noise
(because I don’t want to flood your inbox with stuff you didn’t sign up for—see? That same “not screaming into the void” I mentioned earlier). If you're curious about my visual work or performance happenings, feel very welcome to check out Signal/Noise.
Lastly: fiction!
My recent stories Playback and Tomorrow will be Jealous have been getting a lot of attention, but the piece I’m proudest of is: Halving.
And here’s one that hasn’t gotten much attention.
recently sent me back to it—it’s something I wrote during a flash fiction battle with him. Technically, it’s “autofiction.” Meaning: yes, most of it happened to me… but it’s all artistically rearranged. Click here: A Clock PurseHave you read it? Doesn’t it have a kind of closeness, a sincerity, a strange sort of verisimilitude that stands out from the rest of my work? Should I write more autofiction?
Let me know. And as always—thank you for being here.
xo,
Sandolore
P.s. Here’s a little snippet of this animation I am doing of my student’s drawings. You can see more of this collaboration with my student Camille and the artist
’s drawings below:
If you want to hear it, you’ll have to subscribe to him (truly one of the best writers on this stack).
Then send me a message once the deed is done, and I will release the song to you.
i love this
I appreciate the Tom Waits reference! 👏