The Blue Lemur - Progressive Politics and Media News � Outing site implies Rep. Dreier is gay
this latest leads to a question about 'outing', which has become an interesting political tool.
using my yay/boo thing: yay, there's the unveiling of hypocrisy within the republican party. yay, there's the universe balancing itself out when a republican goes down in the muck of scandal.
then there's the boo: boo, it still implies that homosexuality is something outrageous to be pointed at, that it IS scandal. boo, it's icky. boo, it means that a politician's private life will forever be more important than real issues.
however, when one has voted for certain policies that will have a detrimental affect on a sizeable portion of the population, then one's private life (that contradicts one's public life) becomes material, right?
AND, when we add up all the lies bruited about by the republicans in the past 12 years, i think a little karmic payback is due.
but still, it's complicated.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
for today
The anniversary for 9-11 came and went in my corner of the world with little fanfare or notice. Standing in the cool grey stoned foyer of 4th Presbyterian Saturday morning, preparing to smile at visitors and offer them cookies and coffee and invite them to tour the sanctuary (we have a beautiful church on Michigan Avenue), I was briefly reminded of the day when Calum said that some people might want to meditate. I asked why and he said, “It’s the anniversary.”
Later that afternoon, I rode the bus to Wicker Park and Bucktown to see the art fair, Around the Coyote, and A— and I rode trolleys, collected postcards, ate lunch, signed guestbooks, stood in hot tiny studios and sat by Wicker Park fountain, watching a beautiful afternoon fade into dusk.
The towers were the farthest thing from my mind.
Instead, other thoughts occupied me. I still thought about last weekend with DD – and the uncomfortable possibility that he could read this. My father had returned from his cruise and I wanted to catch up with him. My checking account had only $20 in it. My dental bill still had to be paid. I needed shoes. The invitation list for the Election Party had to be written.
Besides, there are other anniversaries that year other than 9/11. 10/25 – the day I was laid off from Deloitte (or fired, whatever.) 7/8 - the day my mother died, a loss that hangs on me. Her death is my ground zero; hers is the great black gaping hole that can never be filled. Of the thousands who died that year, I really only mourn one.
I’ve seen my mother’s grave only once on the day we buried her. I don’t visit it when I’m in LA. My sister doesn’t take her kids to touch the cold marble and fill the vase. The absence is enough for me. I don’t care if that seems uncaring or unfeeling; my family has never been sentimental. (This is what happens when your father grows up in the projects and your mother came from a poor Philippine village. Sentimentality is a middle class luxury you can't afford to cultivate.)
And so I carry the same unsentimentality to our national period of mourning. Not that I’m unaffected by that day. In the opening minutes of Michael Moore’s film, over a black screen, I heard the sounds of that day – the sirens, the rumbling, the disbelief, the cries. I shook. My skin prickled and my throat closed. I cried again. But despite my obvious physical reaction to that day I will not visit ground zero. I will not touch the wall and cry. I will not attend another prayer service. I will not listen to another speech that invokes it.
Perhaps my clear contempt and anger toward the Bush administration bolsters my refusal to memorialize this date. Perhaps I’m just too tired of the manipulative nature of these anniversaries. Perhaps I just don’t care anymore. Or maybe I can’t deal anymore. I’m overloaded. I’m saturated in mourning: Mom, 9/11, Afghanistan, Iraq, Abu-Ghraib, Darfur, Madrid, Beslan.
I could wallow in the Sunday afternoon my mother died. I could indulge in the sweet comfort of breaking down, the numbness, the hysteria. Writing this now, some of that has creeped back. But I choose not to – it's the most important event in my life and I push it away. The absence is enough. The lack is enough.
Because to take it all in again – to revel and wallow in the sounds, the tastes, the insane everythingness of it all –would be too much.
Later that afternoon, I rode the bus to Wicker Park and Bucktown to see the art fair, Around the Coyote, and A— and I rode trolleys, collected postcards, ate lunch, signed guestbooks, stood in hot tiny studios and sat by Wicker Park fountain, watching a beautiful afternoon fade into dusk.
The towers were the farthest thing from my mind.
Instead, other thoughts occupied me. I still thought about last weekend with DD – and the uncomfortable possibility that he could read this. My father had returned from his cruise and I wanted to catch up with him. My checking account had only $20 in it. My dental bill still had to be paid. I needed shoes. The invitation list for the Election Party had to be written.
Besides, there are other anniversaries that year other than 9/11. 10/25 – the day I was laid off from Deloitte (or fired, whatever.) 7/8 - the day my mother died, a loss that hangs on me. Her death is my ground zero; hers is the great black gaping hole that can never be filled. Of the thousands who died that year, I really only mourn one.
I’ve seen my mother’s grave only once on the day we buried her. I don’t visit it when I’m in LA. My sister doesn’t take her kids to touch the cold marble and fill the vase. The absence is enough for me. I don’t care if that seems uncaring or unfeeling; my family has never been sentimental. (This is what happens when your father grows up in the projects and your mother came from a poor Philippine village. Sentimentality is a middle class luxury you can't afford to cultivate.)
And so I carry the same unsentimentality to our national period of mourning. Not that I’m unaffected by that day. In the opening minutes of Michael Moore’s film, over a black screen, I heard the sounds of that day – the sirens, the rumbling, the disbelief, the cries. I shook. My skin prickled and my throat closed. I cried again. But despite my obvious physical reaction to that day I will not visit ground zero. I will not touch the wall and cry. I will not attend another prayer service. I will not listen to another speech that invokes it.
Perhaps my clear contempt and anger toward the Bush administration bolsters my refusal to memorialize this date. Perhaps I’m just too tired of the manipulative nature of these anniversaries. Perhaps I just don’t care anymore. Or maybe I can’t deal anymore. I’m overloaded. I’m saturated in mourning: Mom, 9/11, Afghanistan, Iraq, Abu-Ghraib, Darfur, Madrid, Beslan.
I could wallow in the Sunday afternoon my mother died. I could indulge in the sweet comfort of breaking down, the numbness, the hysteria. Writing this now, some of that has creeped back. But I choose not to – it's the most important event in my life and I push it away. The absence is enough. The lack is enough.
Because to take it all in again – to revel and wallow in the sounds, the tastes, the insane everythingness of it all –would be too much.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Body and Soul
Body and Soul
she's smart, sharp and fills me with blogging envy.
(and my boss is out of town, so i'm taking advantage. i'm so glad blogging didn't exist when i was in grad school. i never would have passed my prelims!!)
there's a post about lefty-guy bloggers calling political opponents 'bitches and pussies'. the discussion gets a little wonky (everyone seems to be very well-versed in gender studies) but it's good. (not as good as the online feminist essays about 'yentl' - but that's another entry.)
my take: go ahead, use the words 'pussies' and 'bitches' in political discourse. it merely highlights intellectual laziness.
(and i'm very conscious of my own profane tongue.
well - i am NOW.)
she's smart, sharp and fills me with blogging envy.
(and my boss is out of town, so i'm taking advantage. i'm so glad blogging didn't exist when i was in grad school. i never would have passed my prelims!!)
there's a post about lefty-guy bloggers calling political opponents 'bitches and pussies'. the discussion gets a little wonky (everyone seems to be very well-versed in gender studies) but it's good. (not as good as the online feminist essays about 'yentl' - but that's another entry.)
my take: go ahead, use the words 'pussies' and 'bitches' in political discourse. it merely highlights intellectual laziness.
(and i'm very conscious of my own profane tongue.
well - i am NOW.)
Moulton woman says she lost job for sporting Kerry sticker on car
Moulton woman says she lost job for sporting Kerry sticker on car
two things:
1. alabama needs to fall into the sea.
2. UNION
daily kos has a link to the article and helpful advice (even the email address of the asshole boss who fired her) but this poor lady needs a lawyer. and another job.
great compassion there.
Update: Kerry hired her!
two things:
1. alabama needs to fall into the sea.
2. UNION
daily kos has a link to the article and helpful advice (even the email address of the asshole boss who fired her) but this poor lady needs a lawyer. and another job.
great compassion there.
Update: Kerry hired her!
jp's blog
jp is a complicated guy. he travels to latin america and europe a lot, so he's not your average american 30-something guy (who, being average, would rather drink beer, wear a baseball cap and talk about his golf score). he looks aslant at american policy but he's not gonna let some euro get away with being...euro. once he was on a french radio show that tried to get him to say on air that america was racist - they had a certain difficulty with that and cut him off when jp started mentioning little things like imperialism and algeria. when his chinese landlady puzzled over his spanish last name, he snapped "Thanks to 300 years of Spanish colonization!"
anyway, the story of the bullfight made me laugh.
jp is a complicated guy. he travels to latin america and europe a lot, so he's not your average american 30-something guy (who, being average, would rather drink beer, wear a baseball cap and talk about his golf score). he looks aslant at american policy but he's not gonna let some euro get away with being...euro. once he was on a french radio show that tried to get him to say on air that america was racist - they had a certain difficulty with that and cut him off when jp started mentioning little things like imperialism and algeria. when his chinese landlady puzzled over his spanish last name, he snapped "Thanks to 300 years of Spanish colonization!"
anyway, the story of the bullfight made me laugh.
Friday, September 10, 2004
The Weekend, Or Why I’m a Bad Girlfriend:
* I’m totally uncomfortable being a couple in public (and I’m a little icky about it in private, too).
That’s about it; that’s the source of everything. I don’t like being identified as part of a couple. It's like living in a glass bowl. I thought everyone was looking at us. I was looking at us. I kept mentally checking in with where we were on the Couple Scale: are we touching each other enough? Can people tell we're together? Is it bad that we're just reading - shouldn't we be in the throes of how much we like each other? Why aren't we talking? Are we walking too far apart? Should I wait to see where he wants to sit on the bus? I became a mental case.
I couldn’t even relax enough in front of my own roommate to hang out with Dewey unless alcohol was involved. After the afterfest set at the Jazz Showcase, I was tanked – I chatted a storm. But after poker I was sober and was as silent as a monk.
It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with him. There wasn’t. He was totally great – dry, funny, polite, used all the towels which was weird but whatever; all my friends liked him – they thought he was the right height, the right humor, the right intelligence; they thought he had beautiful eyes (which he has). He was attentive, frolicsome, passionate, generous, patient, and everything a guy on a long weekend should be – he helped me cook!
Why was I such a dud? I could blame it on PMS mood swings, bloating and such but that’s a bit lame. I just shut off. Huh. Strange.
Debriefing it later, A— said that I wasn’t like that when I brought previous flames over – even the ones who were plainly short termers. I was bright, funny, flirty – ON. But this time, I was OFF.
This does not bode well for this or other relationships.
That’s about it; that’s the source of everything. I don’t like being identified as part of a couple. It's like living in a glass bowl. I thought everyone was looking at us. I was looking at us. I kept mentally checking in with where we were on the Couple Scale: are we touching each other enough? Can people tell we're together? Is it bad that we're just reading - shouldn't we be in the throes of how much we like each other? Why aren't we talking? Are we walking too far apart? Should I wait to see where he wants to sit on the bus? I became a mental case.
I couldn’t even relax enough in front of my own roommate to hang out with Dewey unless alcohol was involved. After the afterfest set at the Jazz Showcase, I was tanked – I chatted a storm. But after poker I was sober and was as silent as a monk.
It wasn’t as if there was anything wrong with him. There wasn’t. He was totally great – dry, funny, polite, used all the towels which was weird but whatever; all my friends liked him – they thought he was the right height, the right humor, the right intelligence; they thought he had beautiful eyes (which he has). He was attentive, frolicsome, passionate, generous, patient, and everything a guy on a long weekend should be – he helped me cook!
Why was I such a dud? I could blame it on PMS mood swings, bloating and such but that’s a bit lame. I just shut off. Huh. Strange.
Debriefing it later, A— said that I wasn’t like that when I brought previous flames over – even the ones who were plainly short termers. I was bright, funny, flirty – ON. But this time, I was OFF.
This does not bode well for this or other relationships.
dirty pool
Daily Kos :: Political Analysis and other daily rants on the state of the nation.
so we thought the new documents coming out about shrub's dereliction of duty would finally put an end to all this crap.
but no - now the right is saying the documents are forgeries and dan rather is on cnn defending himself.
what bullshit that we have to spend time deflecting the desperate acts of a lying party.
the link is to a fascinating discussion of fonts and ibm selectric typewriters (my mom used those at work). if you wanted to know the history of Times New Roman, well this is the perfect place.
so we thought the new documents coming out about shrub's dereliction of duty would finally put an end to all this crap.
but no - now the right is saying the documents are forgeries and dan rather is on cnn defending himself.
what bullshit that we have to spend time deflecting the desperate acts of a lying party.
the link is to a fascinating discussion of fonts and ibm selectric typewriters (my mom used those at work). if you wanted to know the history of Times New Roman, well this is the perfect place.
cowards
i used to like the nytimes a lot more than i do now, considering how completely weak they are.
jeebus.
jeebus.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
and i'm not the only one who loves the apl song on the new black eyed peas!
tagalog! hip hop!
(i'm stupidly still at work...decompressing. surfing. on the company dime.)
tagalog! hip hop!
(i'm stupidly still at work...decompressing. surfing. on the company dime.)
the Onion was right!!
The Onion / CHAK | Bush: 'Our Long National Nightmare Of Peace And Prosperity Is Finally Over'
there's something wrong when the line between satire and reality utterly dissipates.
there's something wrong when the line between satire and reality utterly dissipates.
so last night i was so exhausted by work, i had the mother of all dreams:
i had just graduated from some university in new york. i was young, eager and apparently couldn't wait to work in a big soulless corporation. and that's how i land a job with dick cheney in a more evil halliburton.
it's so bad, there i am in an orientation meeting, looking at a film of how much ore, coal, oil, and stuff they've ripped out the earth and the other new people are salivating at the opportunity to join in this ripping. i just think all the mugs and pens and patagonia-wear are tacky and bulky.
so i'm working directly for cheney and he takes his whole staff to a corporate junket at one of the big mining facilities. it's a hellish building built over a great big hole in the ground and there are gears and cranes and smoke and flames - you know that scene in Two Towers and the bad wizard tears down the trees to make the Orcs and the weapons? that's that this looks like; there are all these men and women in suits drinking wine while the screaming and the smoke billows out the hole and cheney is giving a speech while demonstrating how to disembowel the earth. i'm sickened.
and then barack obama, dressed in a demure pink tweed chanel suit, gets up and shares how he hates being a republican and just wants to do good things for people.
outraged, my dream self quits her job instantly.
i had just graduated from some university in new york. i was young, eager and apparently couldn't wait to work in a big soulless corporation. and that's how i land a job with dick cheney in a more evil halliburton.
it's so bad, there i am in an orientation meeting, looking at a film of how much ore, coal, oil, and stuff they've ripped out the earth and the other new people are salivating at the opportunity to join in this ripping. i just think all the mugs and pens and patagonia-wear are tacky and bulky.
so i'm working directly for cheney and he takes his whole staff to a corporate junket at one of the big mining facilities. it's a hellish building built over a great big hole in the ground and there are gears and cranes and smoke and flames - you know that scene in Two Towers and the bad wizard tears down the trees to make the Orcs and the weapons? that's that this looks like; there are all these men and women in suits drinking wine while the screaming and the smoke billows out the hole and cheney is giving a speech while demonstrating how to disembowel the earth. i'm sickened.
and then barack obama, dressed in a demure pink tweed chanel suit, gets up and shares how he hates being a republican and just wants to do good things for people.
outraged, my dream self quits her job instantly.
gen x = destruction of all mankind
MSN Money - Why we're not having enough babies
as our eggs and sperm wither, choking in wrinkled, used condoms everywhere, the future of our society dies with them.
heh.
as our eggs and sperm wither, choking in wrinkled, used condoms everywhere, the future of our society dies with them.
heh.
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
she's 33!!!
aagh! aagh!
the woman my dad met on the cruise is 33 years old and her name is molly!
thank god he has a vasectomy.
the woman my dad met on the cruise is 33 years old and her name is molly!
thank god he has a vasectomy.
it explains so much
Political Victory: From Here to Maternity (washingtonpost.com)
ever wonder why there's so much stupid in the world? well, now we know.
we practice safe sex and they don't.
seriously, though, while the idea of the world becoming retro makes me rethink (for a teeny millisecond) my adamantine resolve to remain child-free - after all, no one wants the world to be populated by culturally conservative republicans - i can't get behind this behest to breed.
breeding to maintain a political advantage is just as creepy as breeding to fulfill a vague culturally relative biological imperative. and it smacks of that weirdo imperialist domestic crap from the early 20th century - home and hearth all for the good of the nation!
no thanks. my eggs die with me.
ever wonder why there's so much stupid in the world? well, now we know.
we practice safe sex and they don't.
seriously, though, while the idea of the world becoming retro makes me rethink (for a teeny millisecond) my adamantine resolve to remain child-free - after all, no one wants the world to be populated by culturally conservative republicans - i can't get behind this behest to breed.
breeding to maintain a political advantage is just as creepy as breeding to fulfill a vague culturally relative biological imperative. and it smacks of that weirdo imperialist domestic crap from the early 20th century - home and hearth all for the good of the nation!
no thanks. my eggs die with me.
Tuesday, September 07, 2004
some lessons:
1. never buy condoms made in india.
2. never send your tuxedo'd widower father on a cruise to alaska or he'll totally have a Lost in Translation experience with a bartendress who is YOUR AGE!!
3. never read Cargo magazine in a cafe while your lover slumps across the table from you smoking marlboro reds and there's lint in his beard: he'll never survive the comparison
4. never assume lesbian girlfriends share information
5. never make your friends pick out your boyfriend from a crowd of gay men
7. never buy condoms made in india. (Inspiral, you can kiss my ass!)
8. never eat indian food then go to punk rock night at delilah's (belch)
9. never forget (and reconcile somehow) that your girlfriends are ALWAYS going to be cooler and funnier than your lovers
10. however, never underestimate the improved quality of sleep when there's another warm butt in bed with yours.
1. never buy condoms made in india.
2. never send your tuxedo'd widower father on a cruise to alaska or he'll totally have a Lost in Translation experience with a bartendress who is YOUR AGE!!
3. never read Cargo magazine in a cafe while your lover slumps across the table from you smoking marlboro reds and there's lint in his beard: he'll never survive the comparison
4. never assume lesbian girlfriends share information
5. never make your friends pick out your boyfriend from a crowd of gay men
7. never buy condoms made in india. (Inspiral, you can kiss my ass!)
8. never eat indian food then go to punk rock night at delilah's (belch)
9. never forget (and reconcile somehow) that your girlfriends are ALWAYS going to be cooler and funnier than your lovers
10. however, never underestimate the improved quality of sleep when there's another warm butt in bed with yours.
later
it was a long weekend and i think i was slightly traumatized by it all.
however, A-- gets a prize for being a cool roommate.
(and for manfully spearheading a conversation with Dewey Darko while i took a nap from sheer exhaustion.)
however, A-- gets a prize for being a cool roommate.
(and for manfully spearheading a conversation with Dewey Darko while i took a nap from sheer exhaustion.)
Friday, September 03, 2004
uh...the nerve
i don't know if this is a record, but for the 4th time, i am Nerve Ad of the Day.
holy crap.
(action taken: immediately hid my profile.)
holy crap.
(action taken: immediately hid my profile.)
Thursday, September 02, 2004
resources
for those whose heads are about to explode, some resources to get the FAST word out against bush and the republican agenda:
The Center for American Progress has a Talking Points page (updated daily) and an archive. Use it!
The Gadflyer has Ammo Dump (they haven't updated since May but I think they've been busy...)
You want facts? You want figures? Then you want Donkey Rising - a copious breakdown of numbers from a guy who knows - Ruy Tuxeira.
[think you'll be challenged on the numbers? ask if they know anything about statistical methodology. when they say no, turn on your heel and mutter "cretin." if they say yes, which is unlikely, force 'em to prove it. everyone will be so bored they'll tune out immediately.]
when i find more, i'll post them.
grr! grr!!
The Center for American Progress has a Talking Points page (updated daily) and an archive. Use it!
The Gadflyer has Ammo Dump (they haven't updated since May but I think they've been busy...)
You want facts? You want figures? Then you want Donkey Rising - a copious breakdown of numbers from a guy who knows - Ruy Tuxeira.
[think you'll be challenged on the numbers? ask if they know anything about statistical methodology. when they say no, turn on your heel and mutter "cretin." if they say yes, which is unlikely, force 'em to prove it. everyone will be so bored they'll tune out immediately.]
when i find more, i'll post them.
grr! grr!!
loving jon stewart (again)
i don't have the link to the video but if anyone caught the 'film' last night on the daily show about george bush's 'powerful words' and their battle against fact, tell me it wasn't genius and more effective than the dnc's 'rapid response' team's not so rapid responses.
and apparently stewart smacked down a smug ted koppel, too.
and apparently stewart smacked down a smug ted koppel, too.
Wednesday, September 01, 2004
i'm not the only one!!
matthew: So True
remember that dream i had about the Republican Blessing? some clean cut republican chased me in my backyard, tackled me and kissed me?
clearly, i'm not the only dem dreaming of sleeping with the enemy.
totally disturbing.
and now i have my hair appointment.
remember that dream i had about the Republican Blessing? some clean cut republican chased me in my backyard, tackled me and kissed me?
clearly, i'm not the only dem dreaming of sleeping with the enemy.
totally disturbing.
and now i have my hair appointment.
and while i'm on the topic...
where the fuck is our party's Rapid Response Team??
no one calling them on their shit about compassion, the economy, 9/11, the war on terror, the 'reform' of medicare that screws everyone. come on people, take the gloves off!
if our response gets any more rapid, we might as well just give 'em the damn white house!
no one calling them on their shit about compassion, the economy, 9/11, the war on terror, the 'reform' of medicare that screws everyone. come on people, take the gloves off!
if our response gets any more rapid, we might as well just give 'em the damn white house!
jp's pain
you don't have to read
oh jp, now you know why i wasn't at home when you called. i was in a bar getting pissed while the bush twins made millions everywhere cringe.
i look at the republican party and can't help but think that it's full of women who'd lick a blood splatter off a boxing mat and men who can't wait to force someone to pull a train.
oh jp, now you know why i wasn't at home when you called. i was in a bar getting pissed while the bush twins made millions everywhere cringe.
i look at the republican party and can't help but think that it's full of women who'd lick a blood splatter off a boxing mat and men who can't wait to force someone to pull a train.
blogging the convention
blogging the convention
have you vomited enough? be thankful - at least you're not there.
the entry about gender is especially sharp. and apparently the bush twins reeked. classless, tacky AND unfunny. a chip off the old block.
have you vomited enough? be thankful - at least you're not there.
the entry about gender is especially sharp. and apparently the bush twins reeked. classless, tacky AND unfunny. a chip off the old block.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
wow
Blog threat as Schrock quits seat=The Hill.com=
unfounded? cruel? gossip?
who knows?
(yeah, it's a slow morning at the office...Madame is on a conference call and i look really busy typing furiously...)
unfounded? cruel? gossip?
who knows?
(yeah, it's a slow morning at the office...Madame is on a conference call and i look really busy typing furiously...)
the Literary Saloon at the complete review - 21 - 31 August 2004 Archive
i shall declare september and october to be Books I Never Would Have Read Otherwise months. let's hope i can learn something from it.
(this led me to the thought: i miss reading lists - those groan-inducing lists professors hand out before the quarter starts. you skim it, find the books you've heard of, squint at the books haven't, and calculate which ones you'll use for your end of seminar paper. i miss that. reading for a goal.)
i shall declare september and october to be Books I Never Would Have Read Otherwise months. let's hope i can learn something from it.
(this led me to the thought: i miss reading lists - those groan-inducing lists professors hand out before the quarter starts. you skim it, find the books you've heard of, squint at the books haven't, and calculate which ones you'll use for your end of seminar paper. i miss that. reading for a goal.)
dewey darko
this is the Librarian's new name. it combines his love of information sciences with his distinctly different side.
he arrives thursday night. A-- has made plans to spend one of these nights at a friend's house. i feel badly. dewey is going to inflict catastrophic carnality on my person and it's going to force A-- to flee our newly painted home.
he knows the book TRILBY.
how can i not like him?
he arrives thursday night. A-- has made plans to spend one of these nights at a friend's house. i feel badly. dewey is going to inflict catastrophic carnality on my person and it's going to force A-- to flee our newly painted home.
he knows the book TRILBY.
how can i not like him?
Monday, August 30, 2004
belly/beast
truthout, Republican Convention Coverage
inside the convention, Truthout.com style.
(it won't make your head pop off the way Faux News will...)
inside the convention, Truthout.com style.
(it won't make your head pop off the way Faux News will...)
when men flip out
and who says that women are irrational and hysterical?
(the video takes a little time to load but the visual of keyes going over the deep end with walter jacobsen is priceless. heh heh heh)
(the video takes a little time to load but the visual of keyes going over the deep end with walter jacobsen is priceless. heh heh heh)
Let the heartburn begin.
The Republican convention kicks off tonight and already the pre-coverage has burned a hole in my chest.
Taking a break from painting yesterday, I caught some GOP congresswomen from the south (including a rep from Kentucky) talking about why the GOP is so bad with single women. The Kentucky rep’s comments came down to this:
Single women don’t have a man to discuss these matters with, so they’re vulnerable to the Democrats’ fear tactics. Married women, on the other hand (their numbers are much better with this demographic), care a lot about safety and discuss these things with their husbands and look to the party that will keep them safer.
I almost had a stroke. Those statements, paraphrased as they are, exemplify all that is wrong with the Republican party. They don’t get it. They don’t get me, they don’t get my friends, they don’t get any of us.
AND they couldn't respond to the questions from Chris Matthews or the cute black chick on CNN about what the GOP had to offer women like me. They just said safety. That's what their policy is about. Safety.
Like we care.
Taking a break from painting yesterday, I caught some GOP congresswomen from the south (including a rep from Kentucky) talking about why the GOP is so bad with single women. The Kentucky rep’s comments came down to this:
Single women don’t have a man to discuss these matters with, so they’re vulnerable to the Democrats’ fear tactics. Married women, on the other hand (their numbers are much better with this demographic), care a lot about safety and discuss these things with their husbands and look to the party that will keep them safer.
I almost had a stroke. Those statements, paraphrased as they are, exemplify all that is wrong with the Republican party. They don’t get it. They don’t get me, they don’t get my friends, they don’t get any of us.
AND they couldn't respond to the questions from Chris Matthews or the cute black chick on CNN about what the GOP had to offer women like me. They just said safety. That's what their policy is about. Safety.
Like we care.
Friday, August 27, 2004
not so swift
so how much did the swift boat whatever really mess up our candidate?
is it true that our Fearless Leader (cough) pulled ahead in the polls??!
the gadflyer breaks it down here.
is it true that our Fearless Leader (cough) pulled ahead in the polls??!
the gadflyer breaks it down here.
Thursday, August 26, 2004
so jp really liked the 'fro-lette thing. he passed it on to his friends. i joked that he and i could put together a rambling little collection of our ramblings and it would be a small, break out, weird hit.
he responded (and this is why he's my friend - he's nuts):
it's like a vincent gallo movie (without the oral sex).
he responded (and this is why he's my friend - he's nuts):
Our book will be the sleeper hit of the summer; international travelers will cherish it as THE it-book for homesickness. Stateside, it will create a renaissance of micro-stories. Copycats will be hot on our heels. You and me will have a very public falling out over the promotion obligations. After a few years, we'll become rivals; we'll begrudgingly attend each other's dinner parties at our exaggeratedly luxurious beach homes. I will not like your spouse. In the end, you'll get a movie deal and become reclusive and anorexic in your asmatic middle-age; I will invest poorly and end up hosting Evening Magazine in Portland, Oregon. Before I die, our fans will organize a reunion concert gala for the two of us, no one will attend, but the dvd will continue to sell modestly due to infomercials. I will die quietly in a non-airconditioned room flanked by an ex-wife and a male nurse from El Salvador who was just trying to take my blood pressure. Workers cleaning out my high-rise condo will find my secret suitcase full of unpublished symphonies, masses, and musical scores. You will write a book about my life, which will be your biggest success; my sons will publicly denounce you, but you will find passion in non-fiction. You'll marry your publisher in a small ceremony at the Getty Museum; it will be your fifth marriage, but you'll wear white.
it's like a vincent gallo movie (without the oral sex).
conservative academics & gas
combined with time's article on the upswing of campus conservatives (a story they retell every year) this is going to give me heartburn.
conservative academics puzzle me: what's so interesting about rehashing the same questions and arguments about literature, history and science? isn't knowledge supposed to be progressive (as in, forward moving)? i guess a conservative reading of jane eyre would celebrate jane's domestication; it's a valid reading but an incredibly shallow one, considering the book's social context.
but i suppose that's the difference between conservative academics and those who aren't: context and the willingness to see it.
conservative academics puzzle me: what's so interesting about rehashing the same questions and arguments about literature, history and science? isn't knowledge supposed to be progressive (as in, forward moving)? i guess a conservative reading of jane eyre would celebrate jane's domestication; it's a valid reading but an incredibly shallow one, considering the book's social context.
but i suppose that's the difference between conservative academics and those who aren't: context and the willingness to see it.
Wednesday, August 25, 2004
'fro-lette
i can't fight it anymore.
my hair has officially evolved into a big, untameable 'fro-like entity. it lacks the symmetry and firmness of a traditional 'fro, true. instead, it's just a big curly mess. emphasis on big.
because my mother was deeply afraid of 'bad' hair (she was asian - what did she know of nappy hair!) she was obsessed with conquering my hair's curl. her battle had the fierceness of a colonizing force bent on crushing indigenous insurgents and converting them all to christianity.
my hair was heathen and she was its savior. she relaxed it, cut it, set it, wrestled with it, braided it, cried over it, wrenched it, curled it, blow dried it and cursed over it until she finally had to give up in defeat. algerian freedom fighters had nothing on my unruly hair.
for a while, even i wanted to conquer my hair. it was too big. it had too much wildness to it. it cast its own shadow. it didn't lay down, it was frizzy, it misbehaved. it got in the way during sex. in fact, my hair was downright unromantic. instead of artful tousledness after a bout of amour, my hair was electrified, bushy, splayed, aggressively present. it didn't glide silkily over my lovers; it attacked and interfered with them. they had to push it out the way. it annoyed the hell out of me.
but after the expense of blow drying my hair straight became too much, i just let it go. i got tired of the disapproving stares the other stylists would give as my faithful hair wench sweated and toiled with a round brush and red-hot blowdryer in hand over my head. besides, curiosity was high. what was my mom afraid of? was my hair really unmanagable? was it really so out of control?
yes.
it is utterly unmanagable. it defies taming. i cannot make it behave and it will not fit under a hat.
my niece has hair like this. when i visit, i can't help but giggle at her curly black/filipino/mexican head of hair. it's a wild fuzzy little black dandelion. i know that hair, i know that halo of frizz; i know the hair band's stinging snap when it can't go around a ponytail. i know what it's like to want to look cool and demure instead of like you've been pulled through the underbrush backward. i want to tell her that there's no such thing as 'good' hair, that it'll never be straight, that it makes her interesting to have hair that invites comment.
i want to tell her there's something imminently freeing about standing on a street corner in chicago, the wind whipping at your body, and your hair undulating around your head, waving to passersby, announcing itself while everything else stands still.
my hair has officially evolved into a big, untameable 'fro-like entity. it lacks the symmetry and firmness of a traditional 'fro, true. instead, it's just a big curly mess. emphasis on big.
because my mother was deeply afraid of 'bad' hair (she was asian - what did she know of nappy hair!) she was obsessed with conquering my hair's curl. her battle had the fierceness of a colonizing force bent on crushing indigenous insurgents and converting them all to christianity.
my hair was heathen and she was its savior. she relaxed it, cut it, set it, wrestled with it, braided it, cried over it, wrenched it, curled it, blow dried it and cursed over it until she finally had to give up in defeat. algerian freedom fighters had nothing on my unruly hair.
for a while, even i wanted to conquer my hair. it was too big. it had too much wildness to it. it cast its own shadow. it didn't lay down, it was frizzy, it misbehaved. it got in the way during sex. in fact, my hair was downright unromantic. instead of artful tousledness after a bout of amour, my hair was electrified, bushy, splayed, aggressively present. it didn't glide silkily over my lovers; it attacked and interfered with them. they had to push it out the way. it annoyed the hell out of me.
but after the expense of blow drying my hair straight became too much, i just let it go. i got tired of the disapproving stares the other stylists would give as my faithful hair wench sweated and toiled with a round brush and red-hot blowdryer in hand over my head. besides, curiosity was high. what was my mom afraid of? was my hair really unmanagable? was it really so out of control?
yes.
it is utterly unmanagable. it defies taming. i cannot make it behave and it will not fit under a hat.
my niece has hair like this. when i visit, i can't help but giggle at her curly black/filipino/mexican head of hair. it's a wild fuzzy little black dandelion. i know that hair, i know that halo of frizz; i know the hair band's stinging snap when it can't go around a ponytail. i know what it's like to want to look cool and demure instead of like you've been pulled through the underbrush backward. i want to tell her that there's no such thing as 'good' hair, that it'll never be straight, that it makes her interesting to have hair that invites comment.
i want to tell her there's something imminently freeing about standing on a street corner in chicago, the wind whipping at your body, and your hair undulating around your head, waving to passersby, announcing itself while everything else stands still.
Tuesday, August 24, 2004
a decision
i've just come out the shower and i've decided to enter a contest.
a national chapbook competition.
the deadline is between oct 1 and dec 22.
20 poems. it could happen.
a national chapbook competition.
the deadline is between oct 1 and dec 22.
20 poems. it could happen.
Monday, August 23, 2004
Yesterday J—and I went to Schuba’s and listened to the lamest debate on foreign policy ever, sponsored by Chicago Council of Foreign Relations/GOAT (Globally Occupy the Attention of young Chicagoans). It wasn’t as tedious as listening to a bunch of undergrads debate free speech, but it was close. It’s gag-worthy when the first question (albeit from a very pretty African American fiddler girl) is “What is democracy?”
And it gets even worse when the exchange is so polite we may as well be watching a tranquilized version of Meet the Press.
It’s all well and good to educate us masses about foreign policy in a neighborhood bar while drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. I think we all should get politicized in bars. But come one, lobbing softballs to an ex-ambassador and a journalist from The Economist is lame. I didn’t learn a single thing.
In another, less critical vein, I was struck by how well-dressed the crowd was, considering it was Sunday afternoon in a bar – bright red lipstick, pointy flats, pencil skirts, clutch bags and artfully tousled pony-tails on the women and carefully worn jeans, flowy B&R cabana shirts and sandals on the men. (Not for my friend J—, who dug out his hiking athletic shoes, sweater and shorts combo.)
And it gets even worse when the exchange is so polite we may as well be watching a tranquilized version of Meet the Press.
It’s all well and good to educate us masses about foreign policy in a neighborhood bar while drinking beer and smoking cigarettes. I think we all should get politicized in bars. But come one, lobbing softballs to an ex-ambassador and a journalist from The Economist is lame. I didn’t learn a single thing.
In another, less critical vein, I was struck by how well-dressed the crowd was, considering it was Sunday afternoon in a bar – bright red lipstick, pointy flats, pencil skirts, clutch bags and artfully tousled pony-tails on the women and carefully worn jeans, flowy B&R cabana shirts and sandals on the men. (Not for my friend J—, who dug out his hiking athletic shoes, sweater and shorts combo.)
Sunday, August 22, 2004
today was gorgeous - a balmy, powder blue sky and military planes and choppers roaring off the lake. H-- came over for lunch after i taped a baseboard and light plates and we sat on the patio under a tree eating mexican food, sharing boy stories. we coined the phrase 'wet nacho.' we ate guava soda and i had flan.
she wanted to look for apartments so we strolled down streets i'd only seen through the passenger window of A--'s car.
our neighborhood likes its privacy; our houses tuck themselves away from the streets. i discovered three gardens, a hidden sherlock holmes alley and several cozy condos covered with violets and ivy. the sun was lowering and the air hardly moved. a few fat bees it was perfect to walk slowly around hubbard and may, noticing the gargoyles leaning off the garages, the queer entrance off the hidden alley covered with tin cans and license plates. and we even have a cobbled street!
i need to get out more.
she wanted to look for apartments so we strolled down streets i'd only seen through the passenger window of A--'s car.
our neighborhood likes its privacy; our houses tuck themselves away from the streets. i discovered three gardens, a hidden sherlock holmes alley and several cozy condos covered with violets and ivy. the sun was lowering and the air hardly moved. a few fat bees it was perfect to walk slowly around hubbard and may, noticing the gargoyles leaning off the garages, the queer entrance off the hidden alley covered with tin cans and license plates. and we even have a cobbled street!
i need to get out more.
Saturday, August 21, 2004
guilty late night pleasure
orca, killer whale. the richard harris/charlotte rampling movie about an ahab-y fisherman who kills a whale accidentally, her mate goes bezerk and terrorizes the town then kills harris on an ice cap as revenge.
i saw this movie when i was a kid and i love it.
i saw this movie when i was a kid and i love it.
Friday, August 20, 2004
Thursday, August 19, 2004
Wednesday, August 18, 2004
knightley
In a department as small as the English dept at UM, any rumor of a good looking guy with a soft accent spreads quickly. And so for weeks I hunted for a glimpse of this person who could reduce hard-bitten feminist theorizing women to gushy swooning. For weeks I was denied – until the morning, running late to teach on the first day of class, I helped a guy figure out the copier in our grad student mailroom.
I stood behind him, looking at the clock on the wall, watching him purse his lips as he turned his book this way and that, watching as he pushed button after button and nothing happened. One after another, blank pages slid out the paper tray. This went on for nearly five minutes until, bursting with contempt and impatience, I stepped around him, punched the correct combination of buttons and glared at him in his tweed jacket and khakis. He smiled blandly, held out his hand and said, “I’m Kelvin. It’s my first day.”
Yes, he was cute (floppy brown hair, milk-like skin, big brown eyes) but I also thought he was a total incompetent for not knowing how to use a copy machine.
Then - one brisk gray November afternoon he wore a kilt, walked into Caribou Café during my office hours and time stopped. I was in the middle of a sentence and I swear I went deaf. Then I went clinically insane. I switched my office hours to Espresso Royale instead of Caribou; I discovered he had an office around the corner from mine; I figured out his teaching schedule; friends spotted him around campus, reported back to me and I slowly began to fill in the little black diary in my head. C—, a fabulously gay friend of mine, lived in his same apartment building and we both swooned over my abject of affection’s shabby preppiness.
(ha ha, I mean to write ‘object’ and wrote ‘abject’ instead. I think I’ll let it stick.)
We adored his kilt. We giggled at his floppy hair, his fisherman’s coat (blue wool with a hood, plaid lining and wooden frogs), his accent (that turned out not to be an accent). I filled two journals filled with KS miscellany – the quality of his voice, his clothes, his care of his students (he was a rather innovative teacher), his favorite beer, his favorite pen, his violin case, his hair. He had divine hair.
I was totally gone. Crushed out. Enamored. Irrational. Crazy. I could be surrounded by friends in the café and he’d come in and I’d feel it. My neck would tingle and it was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. I felt demolished by him. After a year, a girl friend Jessica arranged my first conversation with him. He told a story about his family’s croft and I … can’t remember anything else except how the light of the café bounced off his glasses and hid his eyes. A runaway train could have crashed through the café and I would have died happily underneath the wreckage.
(have I mentioned I was a virgin at the time?)
My friends were willing to be my eyes, but they wondered why I was so dazzled. L—was exasperated with my willingness to be a passive rag; J—was puzzled because he was so bland. J—once described him as a cardigan wearing bird with a broken wing. Eventually, 2 years later actually, my crush turned into disdain, I got rid of my nagging virginity, and I moved to Chicago.
…
Today, after my companionably silent lunch, immediately after my last post, I googled him. For some reason his name was in my head after being absent for years and I googled him.
And there he was. It was like a kick in the head.
I stood behind him, looking at the clock on the wall, watching him purse his lips as he turned his book this way and that, watching as he pushed button after button and nothing happened. One after another, blank pages slid out the paper tray. This went on for nearly five minutes until, bursting with contempt and impatience, I stepped around him, punched the correct combination of buttons and glared at him in his tweed jacket and khakis. He smiled blandly, held out his hand and said, “I’m Kelvin. It’s my first day.”
Yes, he was cute (floppy brown hair, milk-like skin, big brown eyes) but I also thought he was a total incompetent for not knowing how to use a copy machine.
Then - one brisk gray November afternoon he wore a kilt, walked into Caribou Café during my office hours and time stopped. I was in the middle of a sentence and I swear I went deaf. Then I went clinically insane. I switched my office hours to Espresso Royale instead of Caribou; I discovered he had an office around the corner from mine; I figured out his teaching schedule; friends spotted him around campus, reported back to me and I slowly began to fill in the little black diary in my head. C—, a fabulously gay friend of mine, lived in his same apartment building and we both swooned over my abject of affection’s shabby preppiness.
(ha ha, I mean to write ‘object’ and wrote ‘abject’ instead. I think I’ll let it stick.)
We adored his kilt. We giggled at his floppy hair, his fisherman’s coat (blue wool with a hood, plaid lining and wooden frogs), his accent (that turned out not to be an accent). I filled two journals filled with KS miscellany – the quality of his voice, his clothes, his care of his students (he was a rather innovative teacher), his favorite beer, his favorite pen, his violin case, his hair. He had divine hair.
I was totally gone. Crushed out. Enamored. Irrational. Crazy. I could be surrounded by friends in the café and he’d come in and I’d feel it. My neck would tingle and it was as if all the air in the room had been sucked out. I felt demolished by him. After a year, a girl friend Jessica arranged my first conversation with him. He told a story about his family’s croft and I … can’t remember anything else except how the light of the café bounced off his glasses and hid his eyes. A runaway train could have crashed through the café and I would have died happily underneath the wreckage.
(have I mentioned I was a virgin at the time?)
My friends were willing to be my eyes, but they wondered why I was so dazzled. L—was exasperated with my willingness to be a passive rag; J—was puzzled because he was so bland. J—once described him as a cardigan wearing bird with a broken wing. Eventually, 2 years later actually, my crush turned into disdain, I got rid of my nagging virginity, and I moved to Chicago.
…
Today, after my companionably silent lunch, immediately after my last post, I googled him. For some reason his name was in my head after being absent for years and I googled him.
And there he was. It was like a kick in the head.
companionable silence
i found myself eating lunch at brehon's today with our receptionist and general office boy, R--. we sat at the bar, shared cigarettes and ate lunch while he did the crossword puzzle in the sun-times and i greedily wolfed down the last chapters of REVENGE by stephen fry.
(modern revenge tales are wonderful; this one is so well-done and delicious and wicked and cruel. i love it and wonder if there are some people upon whom i would like to inflict a swift and harsh punishment.
oh, carry lalabro...if only i knew where you lived, i'd make your life a bizarre hell.)
it's nice to sit at a bar with a person you know and not feel the need to chat. it's just me, the book, the extra bacon in my salad, and the scratchy curls of cigarette smoke.
(modern revenge tales are wonderful; this one is so well-done and delicious and wicked and cruel. i love it and wonder if there are some people upon whom i would like to inflict a swift and harsh punishment.
oh, carry lalabro...if only i knew where you lived, i'd make your life a bizarre hell.)
it's nice to sit at a bar with a person you know and not feel the need to chat. it's just me, the book, the extra bacon in my salad, and the scratchy curls of cigarette smoke.
jp tells a story
this is my friend jp's blog. the jade story is cool.
jp and i met in michigan. we were taking a german class together for the summer. both of us were going to be first years in our grad programs that september. and both of us were horrified by ann arbor (he's from seattle and i'm from los angeles) - no spanish, no good music, no brown people, these huge pats of butter, these accents that just grated on the ear, and no good ethnic food anywhere. horrified, i tell you. it was like living in a big bland vanilla bubble.
so we were joined by our mutual horror but stuck together because he was the funniest fucking guy in the summer program and was so laid back, it made our german teacher hubert (who i thought was totally cute, with his little bavarian afro) shake his head and laugh. jp would saunter in to class 45 minutes late wearing soccer shorts and a t-shirt and carrying only his german book. for an excuse, he'd say something like "i have to walk uphill to get here!"
we also stuck together because jp could cook like an old filipino woman. you don't get rid of friends who cook like old filipino women.
you also don't get rid of friends who go rollerblading with you at 2 am, who will go with you to find the coolest pieces of metal to sit on because it's so fucking hot outside and you just wanna cool your butt, who will make fun of latin declensions, can sing the woman's part from 'les miserables' or break spontaneously into dance on a street corner because he can.
so go read his story about jade in guatemala.
jp and i met in michigan. we were taking a german class together for the summer. both of us were going to be first years in our grad programs that september. and both of us were horrified by ann arbor (he's from seattle and i'm from los angeles) - no spanish, no good music, no brown people, these huge pats of butter, these accents that just grated on the ear, and no good ethnic food anywhere. horrified, i tell you. it was like living in a big bland vanilla bubble.
so we were joined by our mutual horror but stuck together because he was the funniest fucking guy in the summer program and was so laid back, it made our german teacher hubert (who i thought was totally cute, with his little bavarian afro) shake his head and laugh. jp would saunter in to class 45 minutes late wearing soccer shorts and a t-shirt and carrying only his german book. for an excuse, he'd say something like "i have to walk uphill to get here!"
we also stuck together because jp could cook like an old filipino woman. you don't get rid of friends who cook like old filipino women.
you also don't get rid of friends who go rollerblading with you at 2 am, who will go with you to find the coolest pieces of metal to sit on because it's so fucking hot outside and you just wanna cool your butt, who will make fun of latin declensions, can sing the woman's part from 'les miserables' or break spontaneously into dance on a street corner because he can.
so go read his story about jade in guatemala.
Tuesday, August 17, 2004
bff
a little sad that interracial friendships are such a low percentage.
but how cool that A-- and i are on the cutting edge of race relations?
but how cool that A-- and i are on the cutting edge of race relations?
so the worst romance novel ever is going along very slowly. i suspect i have the wrong girl and so far the guy doesn't have a face. she drinks too much and i think she may end up marrying the gay guy.
which would be typical.
...
olympic musing: last night, i noticed that behind the silky mysteries of their shorts, gymnastics guys have very teeny tiny penises. and i missed the synchronized diving. dammit.
...
more olympic musing: remember how the olympic coverage would do little featurettes of the town they were in? what happened to that? the only thing of athens i've seen is the stupid stadium! what's the city like? where are the people? what about the shots of the crowds? hey, where are the crowds? and who's covering the games? i remember when they'd actually show the talking heads before the events. that's how we got to know those guys - we could see them.
like, what do greeks drive? how's the train? where's the map of the city? you're in the cradle of civilization - show me a temple or ruin or two! what about little interviews with greeks on the street, what about food, how many condoms have been sent to the olympic village? where's the fun stuff?
the only good thing about this olympics is the website for nbcolympics.com. it's a trivia buff's wet dream. (for instance, did you know the philippines has NEVER won an olympic medal? ever??)
which would be typical.
...
olympic musing: last night, i noticed that behind the silky mysteries of their shorts, gymnastics guys have very teeny tiny penises. and i missed the synchronized diving. dammit.
...
more olympic musing: remember how the olympic coverage would do little featurettes of the town they were in? what happened to that? the only thing of athens i've seen is the stupid stadium! what's the city like? where are the people? what about the shots of the crowds? hey, where are the crowds? and who's covering the games? i remember when they'd actually show the talking heads before the events. that's how we got to know those guys - we could see them.
like, what do greeks drive? how's the train? where's the map of the city? you're in the cradle of civilization - show me a temple or ruin or two! what about little interviews with greeks on the street, what about food, how many condoms have been sent to the olympic village? where's the fun stuff?
the only good thing about this olympics is the website for nbcolympics.com. it's a trivia buff's wet dream. (for instance, did you know the philippines has NEVER won an olympic medal? ever??)
Monday, August 16, 2004
a note to future criminals: avoid my roommate A--. she has a temper. and if you try to steal her wallet again, she'll kick your ass.
yes. A-- was a semi-victim of petty crime yesterday. she's fine, they gave her the wallet back and she reported it but it made her feel icky and i felt guilty because i didn't have my phone when she called after it happened.
(not to mention the fact the guys who did it were black and it just made me get all 'no! come on! can we NOT be stereotypes, please!!')
so, in a paltry move to make up for it, i treated us to a bbq dinner (which hit the spot, but the collard greens were all wrong). yes, we will drown our trauma in food.
yes. A-- was a semi-victim of petty crime yesterday. she's fine, they gave her the wallet back and she reported it but it made her feel icky and i felt guilty because i didn't have my phone when she called after it happened.
(not to mention the fact the guys who did it were black and it just made me get all 'no! come on! can we NOT be stereotypes, please!!')
so, in a paltry move to make up for it, i treated us to a bbq dinner (which hit the spot, but the collard greens were all wrong). yes, we will drown our trauma in food.
Saturday, August 14, 2004
8/10
that's the score i give the opening ceremonies...call me nuts but i thought the cirque du soleil diorama-ness of it all was pretty cool. and no one booed us. (i was really worried about this.)
the glowing belly was creepy, thank god for the internet because i didn't recognize 1/3 of those tiny countries, there was way too much beige, and erki (the decathlete from estonia) was totally hot; yay, the filipinos, i like the messed up greek alphabet order, our hats were cute, the poor children singing in drab gray sacks made me think 'star trek' but at least it wasn't as weird as that philip glass-like ceremony in albertville, and yes, there was a lump in my throat when the big olympic cigar slanted down, caught fire and the games officially began.
the befuddled surprise of the IOC president at the crowd's roar of approval every time he said something in greek was good, too.
the glowing belly was creepy, thank god for the internet because i didn't recognize 1/3 of those tiny countries, there was way too much beige, and erki (the decathlete from estonia) was totally hot; yay, the filipinos, i like the messed up greek alphabet order, our hats were cute, the poor children singing in drab gray sacks made me think 'star trek' but at least it wasn't as weird as that philip glass-like ceremony in albertville, and yes, there was a lump in my throat when the big olympic cigar slanted down, caught fire and the games officially began.
the befuddled surprise of the IOC president at the crowd's roar of approval every time he said something in greek was good, too.
Friday, August 13, 2004
ignoring the work on my desk i wonder: what makes an olympic sport?
i've come up with rough categories:
Can YOU Do That? (aka, The Wheatties Box Sports): Track & Field, Gymnastics, Weightlifting
Tough n Grunty (it's like extreme PE): Tennis, Wrestling, Boxing, Swimming/Diving, Soccer, Rowing, that biking thing, speedwalking, Canoe/Kayak, Beach/Volleyball, Field Hockey, Tae Kwan Do, Judo (basically anything involving kicking and punching), Basketball, Softball
AristoLame (things you can do at a tea party - or people did at estates in the 19th century): Fencing, Badminton, Synchronized Swimming, Equestrian, Ping Pong (that's what it's called, people!), Shooting & Archery (it's target practice) ...
I'm forgetting others but I think that category 1, half of category 2 and only 1 of category 3 should be in the Games.
i've come up with rough categories:
Can YOU Do That? (aka, The Wheatties Box Sports): Track & Field, Gymnastics, Weightlifting
Tough n Grunty (it's like extreme PE): Tennis, Wrestling, Boxing, Swimming/Diving, Soccer, Rowing, that biking thing, speedwalking, Canoe/Kayak, Beach/Volleyball, Field Hockey, Tae Kwan Do, Judo (basically anything involving kicking and punching), Basketball, Softball
AristoLame (things you can do at a tea party - or people did at estates in the 19th century): Fencing, Badminton, Synchronized Swimming, Equestrian, Ping Pong (that's what it's called, people!), Shooting & Archery (it's target practice) ...
I'm forgetting others but I think that category 1, half of category 2 and only 1 of category 3 should be in the Games.
Flak Magazine: The Decade in Books, piece by piece: Blurbs, 1-11-01
and i think i'll get this one, too. just for the blurbs.
(i'm so easily led, i could be in a cult.)
and i think i'll get this one, too. just for the blurbs.
(i'm so easily led, i could be in a cult.)
synapse finally fires
Bad sex makes me angry. For days after having bad sex I will feel like I can't fit into my skin and I will lay awake nights wondering what went wrong. Then, because of the insomnia, I will be short-tempered at work - or worse, I will be lethargic at work and I will stare at my boss like she's a cow chewing her cud in a wet field and I will wonder, again, why I went to grad school in the first place if I will end up dying as someone's executive assistant. Bad sex will prolong the hormonal itch I need to scratch but will make me wary of the attempt- and this cowardice will make me even more angry. To be a scared woman is to be a weak woman and for sex to make me weak is to make me angry.
My anger will build when I begin to plot the next time I can have sex and plan the ways I can avoid the badness of it. I will read manuals, advice columns; I will squint at diagrams and will increase my Kegels. It is a sex workout and this will make me even angrier since I haven't been to the real gym in weeks and the pudgy softness around my middle will be another cause of worry - worry that will make my anger grow.
And then I will think about who made me angry, who inflicted the bad sex on me and I will be even angrier. That lax, lazy, flaccid, derelict, casual, indifferent, neglectful, slack and vague lover.
'No more!' I determine and quietly acknowledge that I wouldn't have to be this angry if only I was patient about being with the person I like being with. Even though he lives almost 800 miles away. Which just makes me angry all over again.
My anger will build when I begin to plot the next time I can have sex and plan the ways I can avoid the badness of it. I will read manuals, advice columns; I will squint at diagrams and will increase my Kegels. It is a sex workout and this will make me even angrier since I haven't been to the real gym in weeks and the pudgy softness around my middle will be another cause of worry - worry that will make my anger grow.
And then I will think about who made me angry, who inflicted the bad sex on me and I will be even angrier. That lax, lazy, flaccid, derelict, casual, indifferent, neglectful, slack and vague lover.
'No more!' I determine and quietly acknowledge that I wouldn't have to be this angry if only I was patient about being with the person I like being with. Even though he lives almost 800 miles away. Which just makes me angry all over again.
Flak Magazine: The Decade in Books, piece by piece: Typography, 1-11-01
this is a beautiful cover. i should read this book.
(and where would i be without bookslut to point these things out to me?)
this is a beautiful cover. i should read this book.
(and where would i be without bookslut to point these things out to me?)
Thursday, August 12, 2004
hold me
CNN.com - Cuddling new craze for New York's singles - Aug 9, 2004
am i premenstrual if this appeals to me?
or really desperate?
am i premenstrual if this appeals to me?
or really desperate?
you know you wanna
NCW--Ted Kooser
say hello to your new poet laureate.
say hello to your new poet laureate.
After Years
Today, from a distance, I saw you
walking away, and without a sound
the glittering face of a glacier
slid into the sea. An ancient oak
fell in the Cumberlands, holding only
a handful of leaves, and an old woman
scattering corn to her chickens looked up
for an instant. At the other side
of the galaxy, a star thirty-five times
the size of our own sun exploded
and vanished, leaving a small green spot
on the astronomer's retina
as he stood on the great open dome
of my heart with no one to tell.
Ted Kooser
dirty-something
once upon a time i was young and fresh. then i moved to chicago. still young - sort of fresh-like. then i partied my ass off. less fresh. then i discovered online dating. bloom totally gone and now wilting around the edges.
i will be 35 next month. dang.
it's a yay/boo situation.
yay - i have reached the biological point of no return: i can officially reject the idea of having kids, i'm 35! too old!
yay - i am officially WOMAN - mere girls can go fuck off.
yay - i can shop at Saks and not feel matronly! i have entered the maturity age. yay - i have officially reached my sexual peak.
but then there's the boo.
boo - my back hurts when i bend over.
boo - is that a hair on my chin?? is that TWO?
boo - wow, i have momma hips.
boo - my circuit days are over.
boo - i'll be 40 soon.
i will be 35 next month. dang.
it's a yay/boo situation.
yay - i have reached the biological point of no return: i can officially reject the idea of having kids, i'm 35! too old!
yay - i am officially WOMAN - mere girls can go fuck off.
yay - i can shop at Saks and not feel matronly! i have entered the maturity age. yay - i have officially reached my sexual peak.
but then there's the boo.
boo - my back hurts when i bend over.
boo - is that a hair on my chin?? is that TWO?
boo - wow, i have momma hips.
boo - my circuit days are over.
boo - i'll be 40 soon.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
erg.
so for the past two weeks work has been...ass clenchingly exhausting. one partner in the firm bought out the other and now the media blitz has begun. we're a small firm and the professional community we're in is large but chatty (i.e, word travels fast) and now that our news release hit the papers, things have been blasting forward.
since i work with the ceo, i've been blasting forward, too.
in fact, i'm blasting so fast i think i popped a blood vessel in my brain.
and i think i only had one pee today.
since i work with the ceo, i've been blasting forward, too.
in fact, i'm blasting so fast i think i popped a blood vessel in my brain.
and i think i only had one pee today.
Tuesday, August 10, 2004
BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Haul of rare Larkin poems found
my scottish pastor spits in rage when he hears larkin's name, but i don't care: what an incredible find.
my scottish pastor spits in rage when he hears larkin's name, but i don't care: what an incredible find.
Monday, August 09, 2004
rabbit monday
huddled, quivering, twitching in my hole, i'm waiting for this day to end. the pink slides on my feet cannot compensate for the way today has ravished the utter calm of my weekend.
and i'm no closer to finding fabulous books today than i was last week.
i'm going to have to start choosing books the way i choose wines - the label. for a while i did this when i was in college (and how awful that midnight special closed! i only mention that because it was my favorite bookstore when i was at ucla.)
anyway, picking books based on cover art wasn't so bad. yes, there were disappointments (How Proust Can Save Your Life) but then there were the good ones: The Virgin Suicides (in hardcover, long before Sofia Coppola got her hands on it), Pagan Babies, The Lost Art of the Love Affair, The Pillow Book of Lady Onogoro. it meant i paid more for hardcover but book buying should be an investment; it should make you hurt, somehow.
perhaps i'm taking such a long time because i haven't found a book to bruise me.
and i'm no closer to finding fabulous books today than i was last week.
i'm going to have to start choosing books the way i choose wines - the label. for a while i did this when i was in college (and how awful that midnight special closed! i only mention that because it was my favorite bookstore when i was at ucla.)
anyway, picking books based on cover art wasn't so bad. yes, there were disappointments (How Proust Can Save Your Life) but then there were the good ones: The Virgin Suicides (in hardcover, long before Sofia Coppola got her hands on it), Pagan Babies, The Lost Art of the Love Affair, The Pillow Book of Lady Onogoro. it meant i paid more for hardcover but book buying should be an investment; it should make you hurt, somehow.
perhaps i'm taking such a long time because i haven't found a book to bruise me.
Saturday, August 07, 2004
Friday, August 06, 2004
the moratorium i've declared on anything political over the next few weeks is harder than i expected. it's everywhere. all the sites on my favorites list are political: newspapers, public policy sites, political blogs...
i'm going through withdrawal and at each tiny glimpse i have of speeches, appearances, news, commercials, or rumors of the campaign my heart leaps and a little tingle hits my knees. (that's where my political jones is, apparently. my knees.)
i've also made the rude discovery that the GOP mail i've been studiously and stealthily destroying doesn't belong to my boss but to her husband.
i'm going through withdrawal and at each tiny glimpse i have of speeches, appearances, news, commercials, or rumors of the campaign my heart leaps and a little tingle hits my knees. (that's where my political jones is, apparently. my knees.)
i've also made the rude discovery that the GOP mail i've been studiously and stealthily destroying doesn't belong to my boss but to her husband.
Thursday, August 05, 2004
august minutiae
in the words of my friend K-- this should be the most ghetto, dangerous and chaotic olympics ever.
let us thank the technology god (teknos) for tivo.
oh, and ralph fiennes is voldemort. we are pleased.
and look, a new bushism:
i'm so glad he's my president.
let us thank the technology god (teknos) for tivo.
oh, and ralph fiennes is voldemort. we are pleased.
and look, a new bushism:
WASHINGTON Aug. 5, 2004 - President Bush offered up a new entry for his catalog of "Bushisms" on Thursday, declaring that his administration will "never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people."
Bush misspoke as he delivered a speech at the signing ceremony for a
$417 billion defense spending bill.
i'm so glad he's my president.
confirmed
it's official:
the Librarian will arrive the first weekend in sept and will stay for a long time - 5 days.
is 5 days long? that seems long to me. very long. but since he's driving, i guess, that's two days on the road and 3 days with me. A-- asked if he was cheap. he's not cheap - he's a librarian. (he purchased a car for the whopping price tag of $150, however. so he's thrifty. extremely thrifty.)
also official:
i'm not calling the Ex this weekend. i think i need some Me-time. some time where i don't have to suffer the deleterious effects of pot-phallus.
the Librarian will arrive the first weekend in sept and will stay for a long time - 5 days.
is 5 days long? that seems long to me. very long. but since he's driving, i guess, that's two days on the road and 3 days with me. A-- asked if he was cheap. he's not cheap - he's a librarian. (he purchased a car for the whopping price tag of $150, however. so he's thrifty. extremely thrifty.)
also official:
i'm not calling the Ex this weekend. i think i need some Me-time. some time where i don't have to suffer the deleterious effects of pot-phallus.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
my friend H-- went to a screening of brown bunny and vincent gallo made a point of making googly eyes at her.
he's sort of creepy.
he's sort of creepy.
snort
CNN.com - Girl testifies Disney's Tigger molested her - Aug 3, 2004
key quote: "This defendant knew where his paws were..."
key quote: "This defendant knew where his paws were..."
give me books or give me death
so since i'm taking a break from politics (and boys can only take up so much time) i need books. books that have nothing to do with politics. books that can make me feel like i'm on vacation (even a very bad vacation.)
when i go to bookstores i just shuffle like a lady of bag. so i need book ideas. any. email me titles.
anything - poetry, history, literary theory (god that would be great), cookbooks, travel, fiction. i need to read or my head will melt.
...
current titles:
the polished hoe (colonialism and a murder in the caribbean)
the fencing master (intrigue and more fencing terms you could shake a foil at)
when i go to bookstores i just shuffle like a lady of bag. so i need book ideas. any. email me titles.
anything - poetry, history, literary theory (god that would be great), cookbooks, travel, fiction. i need to read or my head will melt.
...
current titles:
the polished hoe (colonialism and a murder in the caribbean)
the fencing master (intrigue and more fencing terms you could shake a foil at)
comic obssession
THE HIGH HAT | MARGINALIA: Powers
a wordy piece on bendis' powers series. (thanks, bookslut.)
but the last book of volume 1 is coming out soon and i can't wait (totally tired of trying to track down vol 1: 27, 30).
a wordy piece on bendis' powers series. (thanks, bookslut.)
but the last book of volume 1 is coming out soon and i can't wait (totally tired of trying to track down vol 1: 27, 30).
the convention has exhausted me so i'm taking a couple weeks off from even paying attention to political news. my outrage-meter stays in the red so, for the health of everyone involved, i'm ignoring the president, the candidates and the awful news from iraq.
instead, i'm concentrating on boys. politics/boys: i think it's a fair trade.
...
saw the village over the weekend and i think i'm the only person who liked it. everyone's caught up in the 'i figured it out' contest that i think they miss the point. a movie isn't a puzzle. it's not a game of clue. a good movie is supposed to be about narrative - about story, not tricks.
it's a good story. is it the most complex story? no. is it a timeless story? no - it's a fable, people. it's robinson crusoe or any dystopic tale. the marketing of the movie harmed it, i think. it set up expectations of a horror fest that's not there. the structure could have been better. it peaked too soon and so the rest of the film you sort of feel cheated. as for the trick, or the twist - i think it's a victim of the structure of the movie. the reveal could have been more powerful if it had been staved off.
but i liked the story. the story's moral center is a little wobbly but the whole thing was rather clever and sweet. it's a familiar story, but it's a hell of a lot more intelligent than Bourne Supremacy (which doesn't even resemble the book in the slightest.)
instead, i'm concentrating on boys. politics/boys: i think it's a fair trade.
...
saw the village over the weekend and i think i'm the only person who liked it. everyone's caught up in the 'i figured it out' contest that i think they miss the point. a movie isn't a puzzle. it's not a game of clue. a good movie is supposed to be about narrative - about story, not tricks.
it's a good story. is it the most complex story? no. is it a timeless story? no - it's a fable, people. it's robinson crusoe or any dystopic tale. the marketing of the movie harmed it, i think. it set up expectations of a horror fest that's not there. the structure could have been better. it peaked too soon and so the rest of the film you sort of feel cheated. as for the trick, or the twist - i think it's a victim of the structure of the movie. the reveal could have been more powerful if it had been staved off.
but i liked the story. the story's moral center is a little wobbly but the whole thing was rather clever and sweet. it's a familiar story, but it's a hell of a lot more intelligent than Bourne Supremacy (which doesn't even resemble the book in the slightest.)
Monday, August 02, 2004
Thursday, July 29, 2004
slooooow at the office.
the summer is almost over - just one more real month left and i didn't have as much fun this summer as past summers. the lack of fun in my life is starting to worry me. it's like i've turned into the most boring woman on earth.
this is my typical day:
6 am - alarm goes off
6.30 am - alarm goes off again; get up and dress for the gym
7-8 am - dress for work; watch the news, listen to npr; take a vitamin
8.45 am - at office...drink fruit smoothie, drink coffee, check email, read papers
9-5.30 pm - work (yawn)
6-10ish - meet A-- at local bar, toss back a few; catch cable; read; smoke; wonder why i'm not partying my ass off
(on weekends, i skip right to local bar, tossing the few and then add a few movies and shopping)
i'm turning into a girly hermit and i don't like it.
the summer is almost over - just one more real month left and i didn't have as much fun this summer as past summers. the lack of fun in my life is starting to worry me. it's like i've turned into the most boring woman on earth.
this is my typical day:
6 am - alarm goes off
6.30 am - alarm goes off again; get up and dress for the gym
7-8 am - dress for work; watch the news, listen to npr; take a vitamin
8.45 am - at office...drink fruit smoothie, drink coffee, check email, read papers
9-5.30 pm - work (yawn)
6-10ish - meet A-- at local bar, toss back a few; catch cable; read; smoke; wonder why i'm not partying my ass off
(on weekends, i skip right to local bar, tossing the few and then add a few movies and shopping)
i'm turning into a girly hermit and i don't like it.
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
and another thing...
the desire to acquire barak obama as their ideological son also shows how incredibly ignorant conservatives are of african american intellectual history.
there isn't one thing obama said last night that wasn't said first by W.E.B. DuBois (or Ida B. Wells, Langston Hughes, or even Henry Louis Gates, Jr.).
there isn't one thing obama said last night that wasn't said first by W.E.B. DuBois (or Ida B. Wells, Langston Hughes, or even Henry Louis Gates, Jr.).
obama
last night barak obama (illinois st. senator running for senate) gave the keynote at the dnc convention. i watched it at home with A-- on msnbc (my roommate loves chris matthews; i don't know why).
it was wonderful - that is, until the pundits got to it. their main complaint: that he gave a speech full of conservative ideas. that self-reliance, responsibility, a good work ethic, faith and hope are all conservative ideals.
i think republicans are out of step with democrats. the old picture they've painted of democrats is far more suitable for the 60s or 70s than now. in particular, i look at my peers and we've never quite fit with this old picture of 60s liberalism. we appreciate the theater of it (as theater), but the real power is in policy and who it affects. while we may be supportive of those conservative targets (affirmative action, welfare, multi-culturalism) we recognize the nuances and limitations of these ideas and practices.
for instance, wouldn't affirmative action achieve its goals better if it focused on class, rather than ethnicity? isn't educational access really about who can afford it? and if my african american community is afraid to release our grip on affirmative action because we're afraid of losing that privilege, i think we need to look beyond our skin color and realize that so many of our issues are at the intersection of race and class. we need to realize that our interests lie in the empowerment of our urban poor, our rural poor, our working brothers and sisters whatever their color.
the conservative insistence that only conservatives can talk about faith, equality, responsibility and hope exposes the conservative's inability to take on complexity, which is itself an inherent conservative characteristic. they are talented at narrowing a discourse to a few signifiers, but complicate them, add color to those floating signs, and they get lost in the tall grass. suddenly, their discourse becomes petulant - 'we said that first!'
actually, they haven't. progressives have always expressed deep faith - but they've also realized that government is not in the business of imposing it on the majority. progressives have always espoused self-reliance - but they've also realized that government is also responsible for the basic needs of its citizenry. progressives have always believed in responsibility - but they've also thought that responsibility belongs to everyone, especially those in power. progressives have always fought for equality - but equality in the interest of those on the margin, not those already enjoying the fruits of privilege.
obama's performance was thrilling, moving and strategic in laying out how this party is the embodiment of traditional american values. best of all it put conservatives on the defensive, forcing an attempt to co-opt our language (and even our candidate)in order to blur the real differences between democrats and republicans.
it was wonderful - that is, until the pundits got to it. their main complaint: that he gave a speech full of conservative ideas. that self-reliance, responsibility, a good work ethic, faith and hope are all conservative ideals.
i think republicans are out of step with democrats. the old picture they've painted of democrats is far more suitable for the 60s or 70s than now. in particular, i look at my peers and we've never quite fit with this old picture of 60s liberalism. we appreciate the theater of it (as theater), but the real power is in policy and who it affects. while we may be supportive of those conservative targets (affirmative action, welfare, multi-culturalism) we recognize the nuances and limitations of these ideas and practices.
for instance, wouldn't affirmative action achieve its goals better if it focused on class, rather than ethnicity? isn't educational access really about who can afford it? and if my african american community is afraid to release our grip on affirmative action because we're afraid of losing that privilege, i think we need to look beyond our skin color and realize that so many of our issues are at the intersection of race and class. we need to realize that our interests lie in the empowerment of our urban poor, our rural poor, our working brothers and sisters whatever their color.
the conservative insistence that only conservatives can talk about faith, equality, responsibility and hope exposes the conservative's inability to take on complexity, which is itself an inherent conservative characteristic. they are talented at narrowing a discourse to a few signifiers, but complicate them, add color to those floating signs, and they get lost in the tall grass. suddenly, their discourse becomes petulant - 'we said that first!'
actually, they haven't. progressives have always expressed deep faith - but they've also realized that government is not in the business of imposing it on the majority. progressives have always espoused self-reliance - but they've also realized that government is also responsible for the basic needs of its citizenry. progressives have always believed in responsibility - but they've also thought that responsibility belongs to everyone, especially those in power. progressives have always fought for equality - but equality in the interest of those on the margin, not those already enjoying the fruits of privilege.
obama's performance was thrilling, moving and strategic in laying out how this party is the embodiment of traditional american values. best of all it put conservatives on the defensive, forcing an attempt to co-opt our language (and even our candidate)in order to blur the real differences between democrats and republicans.
Tuesday, July 27, 2004
these are the new comics in my life:
The Losers
The Establishment
i've become disillusioned with my x-men, who all need to take a welbutrin and a vacation - or get laid. and while the green arrow makes me laugh, he only comes out every couple of months...it's too slow for my greedy little hands!! as for bendis' powers...well, i can't find #30 (the one where deena quits) and the new #1 (where powers are outlawed). i am despondent and tired of calling all the comic book shops in town like a junky, and all the comic book guys think i'm someone's mother.
grr.
the other day, A-- was looking for a place for us to put all our comic books; we decided to just keep them on the bookshelf, hidden away, for to display them in our princess turret would be to expose our total dorkiness.
it would be one short step to sealing them in plastic covers and developing an opaque filing system for their order.
The Losers
The Establishment
i've become disillusioned with my x-men, who all need to take a welbutrin and a vacation - or get laid. and while the green arrow makes me laugh, he only comes out every couple of months...it's too slow for my greedy little hands!! as for bendis' powers...well, i can't find #30 (the one where deena quits) and the new #1 (where powers are outlawed). i am despondent and tired of calling all the comic book shops in town like a junky, and all the comic book guys think i'm someone's mother.
grr.
the other day, A-- was looking for a place for us to put all our comic books; we decided to just keep them on the bookshelf, hidden away, for to display them in our princess turret would be to expose our total dorkiness.
it would be one short step to sealing them in plastic covers and developing an opaque filing system for their order.
shooting the b-b gun
after four years arguing with my dad about politics, it seems i can claim victory.
or, rather, bill clinton can. his speech, his tan and his suit absolutely wowed and seduced my dad.
hee. i win.
...
to M--. i'm sorry i've been so boring lately. i'll try and write more about exciting things happening to me...but it seems nothing exciting happens to me anymore.
i have to live vicariously through others now.
or, rather, bill clinton can. his speech, his tan and his suit absolutely wowed and seduced my dad.
hee. i win.
...
to M--. i'm sorry i've been so boring lately. i'll try and write more about exciting things happening to me...but it seems nothing exciting happens to me anymore.
i have to live vicariously through others now.
Monday, July 26, 2004
Claims vs. Facts Database - Center for American Progress
stumped for facts when debating a conservative?
here's where you can go.
stumped for facts when debating a conservative?
here's where you can go.
poker, redux
some things we learned:
next time we're only inviting one guy. too many guys and suddenly they force you to use REAL money! um, $5 is too much for a card game with a bunch of women. we have other uses for our money: cigs, a cup of coffee, a candy bar, anything other than watching someone take it because of a flip of a card.
all we wanted was a nice girly game of poker learning. instead we got a baptism by fire lesson in How to Lose Your Hard-Earned New Economy Cash in 10 Minutes. bummer. what's the fun in that??
the fun appeared at the last round of Texas Hold 'Em. after a whole night of conservative play, H-- (a supermodel-tall redhead) pronounced 'Red nines are wild, 4's are 8's (if you so choose) and straights can pass the ace and go to 2.' the men tried to mount a complaint but if you say that dealer picks the game, then dealer picks the game.
every guy lost their pants that round (they forgot that 4s were 8s) and G-- cleaned up nicely for the evening, stuffing $26 in her pocket. heh.
next time we're only inviting one guy. too many guys and suddenly they force you to use REAL money! um, $5 is too much for a card game with a bunch of women. we have other uses for our money: cigs, a cup of coffee, a candy bar, anything other than watching someone take it because of a flip of a card.
all we wanted was a nice girly game of poker learning. instead we got a baptism by fire lesson in How to Lose Your Hard-Earned New Economy Cash in 10 Minutes. bummer. what's the fun in that??
the fun appeared at the last round of Texas Hold 'Em. after a whole night of conservative play, H-- (a supermodel-tall redhead) pronounced 'Red nines are wild, 4's are 8's (if you so choose) and straights can pass the ace and go to 2.' the men tried to mount a complaint but if you say that dealer picks the game, then dealer picks the game.
every guy lost their pants that round (they forgot that 4s were 8s) and G-- cleaned up nicely for the evening, stuffing $26 in her pocket. heh.
poo and spelling
The New York Times > International > Sri Lanka Pushing Stationary Made of Dung
a few things:
1. spelling is important (stationary vs. stationery); the lede paragraph got it right, why couldn't the headline?
2. who knew? pres bush uses poo paper.
3. who knew, #2? you can make paper out of poo.
a few things:
1. spelling is important (stationary vs. stationery); the lede paragraph got it right, why couldn't the headline?
2. who knew? pres bush uses poo paper.
3. who knew, #2? you can make paper out of poo.
Thursday, July 22, 2004
it's not the heat...
my sister and her husband are in escrow on a house on the westside of l.a. i'm so excited for them; they will live a teeny walk away from the only dive bar in l.a. where you can smoke illegally. i know where i'm staying for thanksgiving.
we talked on the phone a couple of nights ago and she gushed about a vintage wedgewood stove that's included (for $1) in the asking price. my sister is the only woman i know who can ramble breathlessly about a cooking appliance.
(it is cute, however - very lucy ricardo.)
...
it's the heat AND humidity. ugh. humidity at 90% and it's 80 deg. yuck yuck yuck.
madame is back in the office having beat back the tears of grief and i have temporarily shelved the Worst Romance Novel (at least until she's caught up and i can sneak back to it again). besides, i seem to be stuck at why my heroine is being such a bitch. i think my inner life is seeping through. not that i'm feeling partici--whoops. hafta run.
we talked on the phone a couple of nights ago and she gushed about a vintage wedgewood stove that's included (for $1) in the asking price. my sister is the only woman i know who can ramble breathlessly about a cooking appliance.
(it is cute, however - very lucy ricardo.)
...
it's the heat AND humidity. ugh. humidity at 90% and it's 80 deg. yuck yuck yuck.
madame is back in the office having beat back the tears of grief and i have temporarily shelved the Worst Romance Novel (at least until she's caught up and i can sneak back to it again). besides, i seem to be stuck at why my heroine is being such a bitch. i think my inner life is seeping through. not that i'm feeling partici--whoops. hafta run.
pinoy correction:
uh, thanks JP.
The Spanish actually learned how to wave fans from pinoys, who learned it from the Chinese of course. We also gave them the parasol and the cockfight, among other things. I learned this in the museum at the Cortez Palace in Cuernavaca. The Mexicans have no reason to lie.
uh, thanks JP.
Wednesday, July 21, 2004
flashback
The Believer - In the Penthouse of the Ivory Tower
this is dedicated to those who fled the paranoid, clammy and infantilizing air of graduate lit programs everywhere.
an ode to the MLA.
this is dedicated to those who fled the paranoid, clammy and infantilizing air of graduate lit programs everywhere.
an ode to the MLA.
homeless? go online.
U.S. Department of Labor -- Find It! By Audience -- Homeless & Homeless Providers
so...if you're homeless and need help, you can find help online.
i see.
so...if you're homeless and need help, you can find help online.
i see.
Tuesday, July 20, 2004
leave the pinoys alone!
Saying 'Yes' To Terror
considering my ancestral brethren have been the colonial punching bag for the americans in the pacific for a hundred years (and let's not forget the previous 300 learning how to be spanish and wave a fan), i think my fellow filipinos have earned the right to do what they want with their teeny tiny military force...
(and don't you just love it when the west uses the word 'emasculated' to describe asian foreign policy?)
considering my ancestral brethren have been the colonial punching bag for the americans in the pacific for a hundred years (and let's not forget the previous 300 learning how to be spanish and wave a fan), i think my fellow filipinos have earned the right to do what they want with their teeny tiny military force...
(and don't you just love it when the west uses the word 'emasculated' to describe asian foreign policy?)
i have no life
sunday night i baked a cake. my roommate A-- was out of town and i was so bored i had to bake something. so i baked and frosted a cake. but that's not the point of this story.
later that night i watched the sci-fi channel documentary about m. night shamalama...you know. and it totally scared the crap out of me. i had to turn on every light in the apartment.
they rebroadcast it last night and i taped it. so very lame.
...
yesterday i put in a solid 7 hours of writing (another slow week at work, it seems) and the Worst Romance Novel Ever is rolling along steadily.
later that night i watched the sci-fi channel documentary about m. night shamalama...you know. and it totally scared the crap out of me. i had to turn on every light in the apartment.
they rebroadcast it last night and i taped it. so very lame.
...
yesterday i put in a solid 7 hours of writing (another slow week at work, it seems) and the Worst Romance Novel Ever is rolling along steadily.
Friday, July 16, 2004
yay!
just had word that a poem of mine has been accepted into an anthology! some pretty good university presses and independent presses are interested!
yay!
yay!
hair of the dog
it seemed tame enough: treat a coworker to cocktails and celebrate her new career and acceptance into a fantastic grad program. civilized, orderly, work-oriented.
then, 5 hours later and god knows how many glasses of jameson's, it turns into a karaoke free-for-all up north. i'm singing bette midler's 'the rose' at the front of a dive bar and military guys on leave with their girlfriends and our guy receptionist is vowing to give his right nut to save country music.
1 a.m. - passed out on the couch.
then, 5 hours later and god knows how many glasses of jameson's, it turns into a karaoke free-for-all up north. i'm singing bette midler's 'the rose' at the front of a dive bar and military guys on leave with their girlfriends and our guy receptionist is vowing to give his right nut to save country music.
1 a.m. - passed out on the couch.
Thursday, July 15, 2004
i have another blog called churchgal; it's where i put all the strange churchy stuff rolling around in my head. lately, it houses my anti-christian right rants. growing up in a fundamentalist house gives me a special weirded out insight into the mind of a fundie.
good people, most of them, just not the most complex.
i've been maintaining it for a little while, about 6 months, and just received my first comment. it was typical: a guy who threw loads of scripture at me as if that proved his point.
on the other hand, it was sort of exciting.
good people, most of them, just not the most complex.
i've been maintaining it for a little while, about 6 months, and just received my first comment. it was typical: a guy who threw loads of scripture at me as if that proved his point.
on the other hand, it was sort of exciting.
euww and outrage
there have been blogland rumors of this for a while; it's been reported in the european press (der spiegel) and the irc and unicef have released reports about children imprisoned in iraq without contact with family.
there was even a hint of this when the photos at abu ghraib first emerged and senators spoke of unmentionable crimes. well, now we know what these unmentionable crimes were.
there's nothing in our corporate press (other than hersh's reporting) to follow up on this story.
our silence is our shame.
there was even a hint of this when the photos at abu ghraib first emerged and senators spoke of unmentionable crimes. well, now we know what these unmentionable crimes were.
there's nothing in our corporate press (other than hersh's reporting) to follow up on this story.
our silence is our shame.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)