On a Lighter Note
Reading Dave Barry's blog has many rewards, including a bad poetry conspiracy he launched before his 2003 summer vacation:
the Freemont poetry scheme begins, and
Poetry.com responds.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Tuesday, December 30, 2003
Bam, Gone
I am grateful to the earthquake that took 20,000 lives and 70,000 homeless only for this: my dear friend M. had already left Bam, two and a half weeks ago. He told me that the place he stayed when he visited Bam was highly recommended on Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree message board, because the proprieter Akbar always took people into his guest house as though they were part of his family.
His guest house was destroyed, he lost his son, and reportedly 18 other members of his family. One British tourist died in the guest house. The Bam citadel, carefully restored over the last thirty years, whose tourists were the basis of the local economy, is gone. This rural city, the first inside the border with Pakistan in a wide expanse of desert, has to rebuild from the dust.
Here is Lonely Planet's "The Thorn Tree" news about Akbar in Bam.
I am grateful to the earthquake that took 20,000 lives and 70,000 homeless only for this: my dear friend M. had already left Bam, two and a half weeks ago. He told me that the place he stayed when he visited Bam was highly recommended on Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree message board, because the proprieter Akbar always took people into his guest house as though they were part of his family.
His guest house was destroyed, he lost his son, and reportedly 18 other members of his family. One British tourist died in the guest house. The Bam citadel, carefully restored over the last thirty years, whose tourists were the basis of the local economy, is gone. This rural city, the first inside the border with Pakistan in a wide expanse of desert, has to rebuild from the dust.
Here is Lonely Planet's "The Thorn Tree" news about Akbar in Bam.
Sunday, December 28, 2003
The Slacker Stalker Review of "Cowboy Bebop" (2003 theater release)
Well, my late night hours watching Adult Swim and the advice of a slacker friend has led to the renting of "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" on DVD. Here are my thoughts:
Subtitles versus Overdub
I was advised-- on good authority-- to watch it with the English subtitles. At one point in the movie two characters tell the same story in two different conversations, alternating. In overdubbing, the one guy telling the story has a Middle Eastern accent. This is completely lost with the two (to me monotone and almost identical) Japanese voices telling the story, and the subtitles do not convey this artistic device at all-- they totally lost me. There are other places where the subtitles are sketchy, and even one place where I'm convinced they made a mistake, mixing up the names of two characters (Vincent for Spike, i.e. the antagonist and protagonist, a little confusing, yes?). So I'm forced to endorse the low-brow alternative to subtitles: the overdubbing not only gives you more plot information, but the jokes are culturally fine-tuned to actually be a little bit funny. And they deleted the villain's hokey Shakespeare misquote ("to die perchance to dream"), thank god.
Now, the usual breakdown:
The Lesbian Movie Standard (LMS)
Well, sadly, Electra and Faye, the sexy babes in the movie, don't have a scene together. They don't actually even MEET. But the wonderful androgyne hacker girl Edward has a few scenes with Faye where they are discussing (well, as much as Edward can "discuss" in her insane chirp-sing-talk) the facts of the case. This movie exceeds the minimum for the LMS: at least one conversation between two female characters about something other than a man-- a minimum that most US blockbuster movies (ahem, Lord of the Rings, ahem) don't even come close to meeting. This movie is definitely lesbian-friendly. And this lesbionic type can't stop wondering what the hell is holding up Faye's short-shorts-- are those suspenders? And if so, what are they attached to on top? Her nipples?
The Jesus Figure
Of course, Spike Spiegel, the protagonist. But interestingly, also our chaotic ex-army girl Electra! Spike has his near-death experience in the river and some confusing non-plot-promoting pseudo-Native-American weirdness is clearly supposed to be a spiritual enlightenment redemption thingy, making him want to live to be a better person or something. He then seems to "owe a favor" to the antagonist (he repays that favor... by trying to kill him later--?). So that's our one Jesus. But at the climax, Electra is prepared to sacrifice her life to save the world from the dastardliness that is the anti-hero Vincent, and he spares her. She is redeemed. He remembers loving her and says that their time together was the only time he was alive. We have our two Jesuses.
The moral of the story is revealed by Vincent: reality is subjective, and only love makes life real, really really real. Wasn't this the moral of The Matrix too? Oh well, at least the characters are original. OK, Edward is original. Ein, the intelligent (but thankfully NON-TALKING) Welsh Corgi is also original. I love Ein.
OK, this leads us to... (drumroll)...
The Gay Figure
The winner is: Jet! The big-burly-partly-synthetic henchman type who lives in the Bebop, makes sure everyone is fed, and tries to impart wifely/motherly wisdom to Spike (whom he clearly loves - um- like Samwise loves Frodo, if you know what I mean). He is so gay. Gay gay gay. His only action scene (after the opening convenience store heist) is when he yells at Ein for moving a chess piece. Ein whines a little and lowers his head: Jet pets him gently, showing deep remorse for scaring his cute little dog. Gay! The scenes with Jet and Ein and Edward are my favorites.
Except for that neat little bondage sequence with Faye... while she rolls around I could almost see whence those suspenders and what they suspend... but the movie has an R rating and not an NC-17 rating-- the tiny yellow shirt miraculously clings like butter where it touches her skin, and not one suspender button is revealed.
Oh, and a special mention for the opening credits sequence of cityscapes: that could be its own movie, it is so exquisitely rendered and set to music.
Read more about "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" at Metacritic.
Well, my late night hours watching Adult Swim and the advice of a slacker friend has led to the renting of "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" on DVD. Here are my thoughts:
Subtitles versus Overdub
I was advised-- on good authority-- to watch it with the English subtitles. At one point in the movie two characters tell the same story in two different conversations, alternating. In overdubbing, the one guy telling the story has a Middle Eastern accent. This is completely lost with the two (to me monotone and almost identical) Japanese voices telling the story, and the subtitles do not convey this artistic device at all-- they totally lost me. There are other places where the subtitles are sketchy, and even one place where I'm convinced they made a mistake, mixing up the names of two characters (Vincent for Spike, i.e. the antagonist and protagonist, a little confusing, yes?). So I'm forced to endorse the low-brow alternative to subtitles: the overdubbing not only gives you more plot information, but the jokes are culturally fine-tuned to actually be a little bit funny. And they deleted the villain's hokey Shakespeare misquote ("to die perchance to dream"), thank god.
Now, the usual breakdown:
The Lesbian Movie Standard (LMS)
Well, sadly, Electra and Faye, the sexy babes in the movie, don't have a scene together. They don't actually even MEET. But the wonderful androgyne hacker girl Edward has a few scenes with Faye where they are discussing (well, as much as Edward can "discuss" in her insane chirp-sing-talk) the facts of the case. This movie exceeds the minimum for the LMS: at least one conversation between two female characters about something other than a man-- a minimum that most US blockbuster movies (ahem, Lord of the Rings, ahem) don't even come close to meeting. This movie is definitely lesbian-friendly. And this lesbionic type can't stop wondering what the hell is holding up Faye's short-shorts-- are those suspenders? And if so, what are they attached to on top? Her nipples?
The Jesus Figure
Of course, Spike Spiegel, the protagonist. But interestingly, also our chaotic ex-army girl Electra! Spike has his near-death experience in the river and some confusing non-plot-promoting pseudo-Native-American weirdness is clearly supposed to be a spiritual enlightenment redemption thingy, making him want to live to be a better person or something. He then seems to "owe a favor" to the antagonist (he repays that favor... by trying to kill him later--?). So that's our one Jesus. But at the climax, Electra is prepared to sacrifice her life to save the world from the dastardliness that is the anti-hero Vincent, and he spares her. She is redeemed. He remembers loving her and says that their time together was the only time he was alive. We have our two Jesuses.
The moral of the story is revealed by Vincent: reality is subjective, and only love makes life real, really really real. Wasn't this the moral of The Matrix too? Oh well, at least the characters are original. OK, Edward is original. Ein, the intelligent (but thankfully NON-TALKING) Welsh Corgi is also original. I love Ein.
OK, this leads us to... (drumroll)...
The Gay Figure
The winner is: Jet! The big-burly-partly-synthetic henchman type who lives in the Bebop, makes sure everyone is fed, and tries to impart wifely/motherly wisdom to Spike (whom he clearly loves - um- like Samwise loves Frodo, if you know what I mean). He is so gay. Gay gay gay. His only action scene (after the opening convenience store heist) is when he yells at Ein for moving a chess piece. Ein whines a little and lowers his head: Jet pets him gently, showing deep remorse for scaring his cute little dog. Gay! The scenes with Jet and Ein and Edward are my favorites.
Except for that neat little bondage sequence with Faye... while she rolls around I could almost see whence those suspenders and what they suspend... but the movie has an R rating and not an NC-17 rating-- the tiny yellow shirt miraculously clings like butter where it touches her skin, and not one suspender button is revealed.
Oh, and a special mention for the opening credits sequence of cityscapes: that could be its own movie, it is so exquisitely rendered and set to music.
Read more about "Cowboy Bebop: The Movie" at Metacritic.
Friday, December 19, 2003
More from Dave Barry's Blog
I can't believe this is real, it is so fabulous.
"Barbie would ... be tired of Microsoft's licensing bullshit."
I can't believe this is real, it is so fabulous.
"Barbie would ... be tired of Microsoft's licensing bullshit."
A Light at the End of the Tunnel: Dave Barry Has a Blog
And you can read it HERE. He is also a Blogspot/ Blogger patron, like me.
I am finding this a comfort after a couple of difficult weeks, being continuously sick with a cold I picked up at the end of November, and now treating myself to a $4 Marie Callender's turkey/ cranberry frozen dinner, only to discover that it really is "cranberry," as in ONE CRANBERRY, sliced into thirds, with a lot of instant potatoes and some turkey.
I look forward to taking out my aggressions on wrapping presents tonight.
And you can read it HERE. He is also a Blogspot/ Blogger patron, like me.
I am finding this a comfort after a couple of difficult weeks, being continuously sick with a cold I picked up at the end of November, and now treating myself to a $4 Marie Callender's turkey/ cranberry frozen dinner, only to discover that it really is "cranberry," as in ONE CRANBERRY, sliced into thirds, with a lot of instant potatoes and some turkey.
I look forward to taking out my aggressions on wrapping presents tonight.
Friday, December 12, 2003
Haven't You Ever Wondered Who Invented Clumping Cat Litter?
I have. I thought to myself: "this invention has improved my and my cat's life immeasurably, and I think it has been invented in my lifetime!" And I was right, since it was invented in 1976.
So who invented it? William Mallow, about whom I found the following tidbit:
2002 Honorary Unsubscribe Recipients: "4 August 2002's honorary unsubscribe went to William A. Mallow. A polymer chemist at the Southwest Research Institute, Mallow enjoyed working on practical problems. He showed M&M-Mars how to keep peanut butter from gunking up the molds at M&M candy factories. He helped Bette Nesmith Graham (mother of 'The Monkees' guitarist Michael Nesmith) perfect the formula for her invention, 'Liquid Paper'. He consulted on projects from Space Shuttle protective tiles to fake dinosaur skin -- and invented clumping cat litter. Mallow retired from SwRI in 1998, but continued to dabble in materials: most recently, he worked on the 'Mobility Denial System' -- a slippery spray that could be used to disable enemy troops without injuries or deaths. He died July 30 in San Antonio from leukemia. He was 72. "
I, for one, would love to see the videotapes of the practice sessions with the "Mobility Denial System."
According to the CBS News obit the "Mobility Denial" gel spray was due for introduction into use by the US military this year. Why don't we see this kind of footage on CNN? Is the enemy laughing too hard in those shots, as US tanks spin out on their own anti-mobility gel?
I have. I thought to myself: "this invention has improved my and my cat's life immeasurably, and I think it has been invented in my lifetime!" And I was right, since it was invented in 1976.
So who invented it? William Mallow, about whom I found the following tidbit:
2002 Honorary Unsubscribe Recipients: "4 August 2002's honorary unsubscribe went to William A. Mallow. A polymer chemist at the Southwest Research Institute, Mallow enjoyed working on practical problems. He showed M&M-Mars how to keep peanut butter from gunking up the molds at M&M candy factories. He helped Bette Nesmith Graham (mother of 'The Monkees' guitarist Michael Nesmith) perfect the formula for her invention, 'Liquid Paper'. He consulted on projects from Space Shuttle protective tiles to fake dinosaur skin -- and invented clumping cat litter. Mallow retired from SwRI in 1998, but continued to dabble in materials: most recently, he worked on the 'Mobility Denial System' -- a slippery spray that could be used to disable enemy troops without injuries or deaths. He died July 30 in San Antonio from leukemia. He was 72. "
I, for one, would love to see the videotapes of the practice sessions with the "Mobility Denial System."
According to the CBS News obit the "Mobility Denial" gel spray was due for introduction into use by the US military this year. Why don't we see this kind of footage on CNN? Is the enemy laughing too hard in those shots, as US tanks spin out on their own anti-mobility gel?
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
All This And Newsom Too
Well, I am almost back to health, and my cat is starting to express her affection in a less clingy way. That's the good news. The bad news is that Gavin Newsom is now mayor of San Francisco, the organization where I work is falling apart (3 people left of the 15 or so we had a year ago), I'm still horribly jetlagged from the two week gallop through the Balkans, I've had about $1500 in unexpected expenses on my car in the last few weeks (a parking ticket, a break-in, a brake & CV joint job), the vacuum cleaner's motor belt broke, and did I mention that Gavin Newsom won the mayorship of the city where I spend most of my time? San Francisco is in for a doozy of a time. That slick, two-faced Republocrat is going to make Willie Brown look like a regular mayor-of-by-for-the-people.
Meanwhile, I have read that the Greeks have the opinion that Macedonians are "violent, boorish, and great drinkers." I had SUCH a bad time with the Greeks, who were at LEAST boorish, while the Macedonians I met were all perfectly reasonable. They have a very, very wrecked economy, and everyone apparently carries guns because the country is so unsafe, but I *STILL* felt Macedonia was more friendly than Greece, to me. Something happened to the Greeks. I think it was the Turks.
Well, I am almost back to health, and my cat is starting to express her affection in a less clingy way. That's the good news. The bad news is that Gavin Newsom is now mayor of San Francisco, the organization where I work is falling apart (3 people left of the 15 or so we had a year ago), I'm still horribly jetlagged from the two week gallop through the Balkans, I've had about $1500 in unexpected expenses on my car in the last few weeks (a parking ticket, a break-in, a brake & CV joint job), the vacuum cleaner's motor belt broke, and did I mention that Gavin Newsom won the mayorship of the city where I spend most of my time? San Francisco is in for a doozy of a time. That slick, two-faced Republocrat is going to make Willie Brown look like a regular mayor-of-by-for-the-people.
Meanwhile, I have read that the Greeks have the opinion that Macedonians are "violent, boorish, and great drinkers." I had SUCH a bad time with the Greeks, who were at LEAST boorish, while the Macedonians I met were all perfectly reasonable. They have a very, very wrecked economy, and everyone apparently carries guns because the country is so unsafe, but I *STILL* felt Macedonia was more friendly than Greece, to me. Something happened to the Greeks. I think it was the Turks.
Tuesday, November 25, 2003
Greetings from Sarajevo
I'm sick and really not wanting to be sick. In Sarajevo. The person sitting next to me on the bus was a survivor of the war and told me in Serbian (of which I understood 50%, thankfully not more, it was gruesome) about what she went through. Pointed out where Srebrenica is, where other towns were destroyed (now being rebuilt). I saw some evidence of the destruction still around... bullet holes in house masonry for example. Other than the artillery marks left in the landscape the shape of plain old poverty and war is pretty much the same.
The bus trip took 9 hours instead of the usual 4 1/2 because we rearended a little car and took out its rear windshield just that side of the Serb/ B&H border. It was a long boring event, really.
The bombing mess left by NATO is still untouched/ unreconstructed in Belgrade. It is unnerving to see buildings looking almost as fucked-up as the WTC but fucked up by our bombs and our allies' bombs. One bomb landed near the house I stayed in last night. However, when it fell my friend wasn't awoken. But the Chinese embassy bombing further away woke him. Apparently the Chinese didn't move anything out of the old building into their new building, rumor has it because of the bad feng shui. Accidental bombing-- that's some bad feng shui! They REALLY shouldn't have gotten that extra carp tank.
I leave on a madcap funpacked road trip in a stick shift sedan with four other people down the Montenegrin coast and over to Macedonia via Kosova in two days. Send your SlackerStalker all the safe travel energy you have, stalksters!
Oh, and Slovenija is still a place I will stalk. I ran up to it and gave it a kiss on the cheek this time-- going night swimming at the Portoroz Adriatic seawater spa and sleeping in gorgeous little architectural jewel Piran for one night. The Slovenes are the well-adjusted Slavs. Just imagine it. They are happy people and they are Slavs. If Slav nations were dogs, Slovenes would all be Border Collies. The taxi driver (apparently straight, on his way home to his wife and kids) who took me from the airport in Ljubljana volunteered right after I said I love Slovenija and want to move there that "Slovenija isn't nationalistic or homophobic like other nations." That out-tha-blue comment alone was worth the $35 he charged me for the ride.
OK, off to try and steam this cold out of my head where it got firmly and painfully jammed by the steep mountain ascent I endured today.
I'm sick and really not wanting to be sick. In Sarajevo. The person sitting next to me on the bus was a survivor of the war and told me in Serbian (of which I understood 50%, thankfully not more, it was gruesome) about what she went through. Pointed out where Srebrenica is, where other towns were destroyed (now being rebuilt). I saw some evidence of the destruction still around... bullet holes in house masonry for example. Other than the artillery marks left in the landscape the shape of plain old poverty and war is pretty much the same.
The bus trip took 9 hours instead of the usual 4 1/2 because we rearended a little car and took out its rear windshield just that side of the Serb/ B&H border. It was a long boring event, really.
The bombing mess left by NATO is still untouched/ unreconstructed in Belgrade. It is unnerving to see buildings looking almost as fucked-up as the WTC but fucked up by our bombs and our allies' bombs. One bomb landed near the house I stayed in last night. However, when it fell my friend wasn't awoken. But the Chinese embassy bombing further away woke him. Apparently the Chinese didn't move anything out of the old building into their new building, rumor has it because of the bad feng shui. Accidental bombing-- that's some bad feng shui! They REALLY shouldn't have gotten that extra carp tank.
I leave on a madcap funpacked road trip in a stick shift sedan with four other people down the Montenegrin coast and over to Macedonia via Kosova in two days. Send your SlackerStalker all the safe travel energy you have, stalksters!
Oh, and Slovenija is still a place I will stalk. I ran up to it and gave it a kiss on the cheek this time-- going night swimming at the Portoroz Adriatic seawater spa and sleeping in gorgeous little architectural jewel Piran for one night. The Slovenes are the well-adjusted Slavs. Just imagine it. They are happy people and they are Slavs. If Slav nations were dogs, Slovenes would all be Border Collies. The taxi driver (apparently straight, on his way home to his wife and kids) who took me from the airport in Ljubljana volunteered right after I said I love Slovenija and want to move there that "Slovenija isn't nationalistic or homophobic like other nations." That out-tha-blue comment alone was worth the $35 he charged me for the ride.
OK, off to try and steam this cold out of my head where it got firmly and painfully jammed by the steep mountain ascent I endured today.
Wednesday, November 19, 2003
The Anal Sandpaper That is a Dissolving Company
So I have been remiss in posting because I've been cramming for the GRE (710 verbal, 630 math, not bad), trying to get ready to be laid off (job fairs, applying for positions, etc.), preparing for this gonzo work-related two-week tour of the Balkans that I'm leaving for in a few hours (Prague, Portoroz/ Piran, Zagreb, Belgrade, Sarajevo, Skopje, Athens), and watching my co-workers one by one get laid off unceremoniously.
I had a strong intuition slap me over the head that my horrible boss will lay off the rest of our office for Christmas, despite her pledge to keep us on until March, because she doesn't want to pay our (mandatory, by personnel policy) time-off between Christmas and New Year's, pay that doesn't come out of earned vacation or personal time. A former boss realized we tended not to take vacations as a staff, so she forced a short vacation every year at the winter holidays. This boss will lay us off rather than pay for three people to rest for four days. She just laid off a friend and co-worker earlier than she had said because she wanted to avoid him earning an extra vacation day in his last few weeks.
So, amidst this painful situation, I have to now go abroad to tout my organization's virtues. Which are mostly the people on staff who are mostly all gone now.
While I'm on the road to these seven different nations I will be checking my blog a little.
Here are some things I might need while I'm racing through the Balkan peninsula:
The Universal Currency Converter
Today the dollar is worth:
26.7 (CZK) koruny in the Czech Republic
198.75 (SIT) tolars in Slovenija
6.444 (HRK) kuna in Croatia
57.607 (YUM)new dinars in Serbia and Montenegro
1.64 (BAM) in convertible marka Bosnia and Hercegovina
51.20 (MKD) denar in Macedonia
and, speaking of anal sandpaper...
0.839 (EUR) Euros in Greece
The Weather Underground/ Wunderground EU Map
The Meeting Planner at Timeanddate.com
(Pacific Time is 9 hours behind Central European Time, although CET TV stations are only now playing Xena reruns that we saw two years ago on Oxygen)
The CNN regional country summary for Bosnia-Hercegovina (with drop-down menu to other local countries)
You remember that war they had there? You should read this summary and see if YOU can figure out how they make any decisions. Conservatives, some whose campaigns were funded by US Republicans, are making gains all over the former republics of Yugoslavija. Pfeah.
See you in December!
So I have been remiss in posting because I've been cramming for the GRE (710 verbal, 630 math, not bad), trying to get ready to be laid off (job fairs, applying for positions, etc.), preparing for this gonzo work-related two-week tour of the Balkans that I'm leaving for in a few hours (Prague, Portoroz/ Piran, Zagreb, Belgrade, Sarajevo, Skopje, Athens), and watching my co-workers one by one get laid off unceremoniously.
I had a strong intuition slap me over the head that my horrible boss will lay off the rest of our office for Christmas, despite her pledge to keep us on until March, because she doesn't want to pay our (mandatory, by personnel policy) time-off between Christmas and New Year's, pay that doesn't come out of earned vacation or personal time. A former boss realized we tended not to take vacations as a staff, so she forced a short vacation every year at the winter holidays. This boss will lay us off rather than pay for three people to rest for four days. She just laid off a friend and co-worker earlier than she had said because she wanted to avoid him earning an extra vacation day in his last few weeks.
So, amidst this painful situation, I have to now go abroad to tout my organization's virtues. Which are mostly the people on staff who are mostly all gone now.
While I'm on the road to these seven different nations I will be checking my blog a little.
Here are some things I might need while I'm racing through the Balkan peninsula:
The Universal Currency Converter
Today the dollar is worth:
26.7 (CZK) koruny in the Czech Republic
198.75 (SIT) tolars in Slovenija
6.444 (HRK) kuna in Croatia
57.607 (YUM)new dinars in Serbia and Montenegro
1.64 (BAM) in convertible marka Bosnia and Hercegovina
51.20 (MKD) denar in Macedonia
and, speaking of anal sandpaper...
0.839 (EUR) Euros in Greece
The Weather Underground/ Wunderground EU Map
The Meeting Planner at Timeanddate.com
(Pacific Time is 9 hours behind Central European Time, although CET TV stations are only now playing Xena reruns that we saw two years ago on Oxygen)
The CNN regional country summary for Bosnia-Hercegovina (with drop-down menu to other local countries)
You remember that war they had there? You should read this summary and see if YOU can figure out how they make any decisions. Conservatives, some whose campaigns were funded by US Republicans, are making gains all over the former republics of Yugoslavija. Pfeah.
See you in December!
Tuesday, November 11, 2003
Transgender Youths Dress Up Like Prostitutes and Pretend to Be Undercover Vice Cops... Makes Me Almost Love the US Again
(From Rex Wockner's "Quote / Unquote" column)
"You couldn't put this in a book -- nobody would
believe it."
--New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg Nov. 7 after
five transgender students from the Harvey Milk gay
high school were arrested for impersonating undercover
vice cops dressed as female prostitutes and demanding
money, credit cards, ATM cards and PIN codes to let
their victims go free.
(From Rex Wockner's "Quote / Unquote" column)
Wednesday, October 29, 2003
I'm recovering from my fear of a frozen death-by-mini-ice-age and/or the decline of literacy due to global warming. Now I'm back to just fearing the president.
You want to know where you can read this quote in its original context-- online? The goddamn US State Department website's transcript of the speech "Progress in Iraq." Read it now before the infamous Bush transcript doctors get to it.
I found it in the sig file of my friend Mamaliz and she's a reliable source. But the State Department had the balls to post the quote, as spoken, and that's extra special.
The ambassador and the general were briefing me
on the—the vast majority of Iraqis want to live
in a peaceful, free world. And we will find these people
and we will bring them to justice.
George W. Bush Oct. 27, 2003
You want to know where you can read this quote in its original context-- online? The goddamn US State Department website's transcript of the speech "Progress in Iraq." Read it now before the infamous Bush transcript doctors get to it.
I found it in the sig file of my friend Mamaliz and she's a reliable source. But the State Department had the balls to post the quote, as spoken, and that's extra special.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
As Though We Needed Something Else to Worry About
It's been brought to my attention that, although inevitably the earth will be consumed by the sun, and in the meantime lots of crazy space debris is lined up to hit us and cause catastrophic climate change, we have something else to worry about: the sun losing its freckles and giving us an ice age.
Mini though it was, the mini-ice-age from 1645 to 1715 did occur (coinciding with a time when there were hardly any sunspots), and the English Channel did apparently freeze over.
Read more about the Little Ice Age (LIA) known also as (or - for the skeptics- merely coinciding with) the Maunder Minimum, the name given to that period with almost no sunspots. Volcanos also might have been awarded part of the blame, for the ice age, not the missing sun spots. I would prefer to worry about something we have no way of predicting, i.e. the disappearance of sunspots. It's just that much more goth.
I would love to know how the Little Ice Age influenced the emergence of popular English literature in the 18th century. And that, my friends, is why I'm studying for the GRE to go get a practical degree in policy analysis, a degree to keep me off the streets where I would be stalking rare books on the correlation between rare deadly environmental phenomena and social trends, menacing small children with my theories relating the decline of culture and global warming.
It's been brought to my attention that, although inevitably the earth will be consumed by the sun, and in the meantime lots of crazy space debris is lined up to hit us and cause catastrophic climate change, we have something else to worry about: the sun losing its freckles and giving us an ice age.
Mini though it was, the mini-ice-age from 1645 to 1715 did occur (coinciding with a time when there were hardly any sunspots), and the English Channel did apparently freeze over.
Read more about the Little Ice Age (LIA) known also as (or - for the skeptics- merely coinciding with) the Maunder Minimum, the name given to that period with almost no sunspots. Volcanos also might have been awarded part of the blame, for the ice age, not the missing sun spots. I would prefer to worry about something we have no way of predicting, i.e. the disappearance of sunspots. It's just that much more goth.
I would love to know how the Little Ice Age influenced the emergence of popular English literature in the 18th century. And that, my friends, is why I'm studying for the GRE to go get a practical degree in policy analysis, a degree to keep me off the streets where I would be stalking rare books on the correlation between rare deadly environmental phenomena and social trends, menacing small children with my theories relating the decline of culture and global warming.
Friday, October 24, 2003
Bangkok Beauty
I love the Global Development Briefing, if only for its occasionally priceless quotes.
(Bolds and italics mine.)
I love the Global Development Briefing, if only for its occasionally priceless quotes.
- "We recognize that there are some difficult decisions that have to be made in hosting a conference of this type."
— An unidentified U.S. official, speaking to The Washington Post on measures taken by Thai Prime Minister Thaksin Shinawatra to cleanup and secure Bangkok ahead of its hosting of the Asia-Pacific Economic Cooperation (APEC) forum, which started Oct. 21. The government barred thousands of street vendors from the central city, shipped 10,000 homeless people to army camps and banned more than 500 human rights activists from entering the country. About 600 Cambodian beggars, mostly women and children, were rounded up and airlifted back home on C-130 Hercules military aircraft. About 3,000 stray dogs were caught and shipped to the countryside. And a banner four stories high and a quarter-mile long, displaying an image of the Grand Palace royal compound, was erected to conceal a slum.
(Bolds and italics mine.)
Wednesday, October 22, 2003
So You Think You're Articulate
Try saying "I was born on a pirate ship."
Now hold your tounge while saying it.
Ponder with me now how many sheets a sheet slitter could slit if a sheet slitter could slit sheets at the world's largest multilingual collection of tongue-twisters.
Try saying "I was born on a pirate ship."
Now hold your tounge while saying it.
Ponder with me now how many sheets a sheet slitter could slit if a sheet slitter could slit sheets at the world's largest multilingual collection of tongue-twisters.
Tuesday, October 21, 2003
A Break in the Struggle to Understand California
...to marvel at the authors of the City of Oakland website.
"What do I do about rundown and abandoned property?" asks the official City of Oakland website, to which it answers itself with a more specific subcategory of problems:
Code Violations, Lack of Maintenance,
Weeds and Overgrown Vegetarian
...about which I am shocked there is not more concern. I had no idea vegetarians were getting out of control in Oakland. Isn't Berkeley big enough for these people?
...to marvel at the authors of the City of Oakland website.
"What do I do about rundown and abandoned property?" asks the official City of Oakland website, to which it answers itself with a more specific subcategory of problems:
Code Violations, Lack of Maintenance,
Weeds and Overgrown Vegetarian
...about which I am shocked there is not more concern. I had no idea vegetarians were getting out of control in Oakland. Isn't Berkeley big enough for these people?
Wednesday, October 15, 2003
Pitch to Barry
Now that the postseason has rolled on without my local teams, the A's and the Giants both, I thought it was strange that a friend left a "Pitch To Barry" t-shirt on my chair as a gift. I mean, sure, he'll be playing next spring, but until then, what does this shirt mean?
It means give a fair challenge to the overachiever. There is nothing more frustrating for an overachiever to be given a half-assed or mangled and mis-managed challenge.
I know whereof I speak.
And then you ask, why do these mis-managers get appointed/ hired/ elected to frustrate the overachievers who after all only want to do their very best for the team?
Because people love an optimistic bully, and moreover they want THAT guy to lead us, and at BEST they want the fatalistic nerd who believes in the sanctity of fair challenges to be a sidekick or some other humiliating post, like vice-president.
This is coming from the middle of the long (ok, not long, but long for slow readers, i.e. me) Al Gore chapter in Sarah Vowell's Partly Cloudy Patriot, where she muses on the both every day real and mythological/ archetypal nature of the Nerd Versus Jock Struggle.
This is the struggle of my life, and it certainly is not behind me. I think this is one of the reasons the recall election has depressed me so soundly. The biggest, most optimistic, and most Nazi-esque candidate for governor won, in part because of a vote from the person I'm dating, who believed this cartoon-character bully couldn't be worse than what we have already, who is a pessimistic dweeb. This person I'm dating is, like me, a still-recovering-from-high-school nerd. I'm really interested in her use of her vote in that horrible election.
Is there something in us nerds that sometimes longs to, for once, be on the winning team? To just walk away from the "right" and the "wrong" of the #2 pencil blue and white test form, and just go with the "flo"? Even when the "flo" is running us over a waterfall into a morass of poverty, denied rights to minority/ marginalized parts of the community, and infrastructure failure?
I am not speaking ill of our new Gubernator, who hasn't even taken office yet, I'm just trying to get inside the head of a very intelligent person who maybe is prone- as I believe I also am- to seduction by the prospective dark fun of dirty dealing, mangled command, the overachievers being thwarted and bullies running amok.
This is the side of us nerds that watches the Sopranos, the side that dresses up as pirates for Halloween, the side that wants to learn how to properly shoot a gun. It's a fantasy that we will somehow win if we side with the bullies who inevitably seem to prevail.
But will the mis-managers take notice of our loyalty when the time comes? Will we finally be spared our regular humiliations as brainiacs who just want a fair challenge, or will we once again get a painful lesson in democracy, which is that life is not fair and democracy is MUCH more unfair? Won't we, the overachieving nerds, even the nerds who helped elect an anti-nerd to office, despite our better knowledge, keep expecting people to play fair, stepping up the plate and praying for a nice, clean pitch?
After Some Contemplation..."Kicking Our Own Bicycles," An Anology for the Recall Fiasco
Sometimes everything breaks down, and we call it a fiasco. This recall election was a total breakdown of the democratic process, and it was so massive a breakdown that we could even call it an attack on democracy. It was like the electorate was taking out its frustrations on the electoral process.
I had a boyfriend once who was a nerd, and had always been one. Riding his bike home from school he would often be cornered and beaten up, and/ or his bike would be wrecked or stolen. One time, I think after three bikes had been stolen, he was cornered, and he just got off his bike and started beating the crap out of the damn bike. The bullies fled.
This is the electorate, feeling like politicos have stolen our government (whatever that means... it's just a general feeling of not having power or representation in government), and now an election rolls around that gives the electorate a little opening to express itself rather freely. It gets off its bicycle democracy, turns on it in the middle of a circling swarm of perceived politicos, and hauls off and elects a joke for a governor. It's more than self-deprecation, more than self-loathing-- it's a self-preservation urge gone twisted and desperate, lashing out at a PROCESS, a means to an end, as guiltless as a bicycle. It's so lacking in faith that you have any power in a situation that you just turn on an innocent object and tear it apart, alternately cynical and mindless and scared.
Speaking of tearing things apart, my tabby girlcat is raptly watching with me "The Lion Queen" on the National Geographic Channel. The lioness "Scarface" is our favorite character.
Now that the postseason has rolled on without my local teams, the A's and the Giants both, I thought it was strange that a friend left a "Pitch To Barry" t-shirt on my chair as a gift. I mean, sure, he'll be playing next spring, but until then, what does this shirt mean?
It means give a fair challenge to the overachiever. There is nothing more frustrating for an overachiever to be given a half-assed or mangled and mis-managed challenge.
I know whereof I speak.
And then you ask, why do these mis-managers get appointed/ hired/ elected to frustrate the overachievers who after all only want to do their very best for the team?
Because people love an optimistic bully, and moreover they want THAT guy to lead us, and at BEST they want the fatalistic nerd who believes in the sanctity of fair challenges to be a sidekick or some other humiliating post, like vice-president.
This is coming from the middle of the long (ok, not long, but long for slow readers, i.e. me) Al Gore chapter in Sarah Vowell's Partly Cloudy Patriot, where she muses on the both every day real and mythological/ archetypal nature of the Nerd Versus Jock Struggle.
This is the struggle of my life, and it certainly is not behind me. I think this is one of the reasons the recall election has depressed me so soundly. The biggest, most optimistic, and most Nazi-esque candidate for governor won, in part because of a vote from the person I'm dating, who believed this cartoon-character bully couldn't be worse than what we have already, who is a pessimistic dweeb. This person I'm dating is, like me, a still-recovering-from-high-school nerd. I'm really interested in her use of her vote in that horrible election.
Is there something in us nerds that sometimes longs to, for once, be on the winning team? To just walk away from the "right" and the "wrong" of the #2 pencil blue and white test form, and just go with the "flo"? Even when the "flo" is running us over a waterfall into a morass of poverty, denied rights to minority/ marginalized parts of the community, and infrastructure failure?
I am not speaking ill of our new Gubernator, who hasn't even taken office yet, I'm just trying to get inside the head of a very intelligent person who maybe is prone- as I believe I also am- to seduction by the prospective dark fun of dirty dealing, mangled command, the overachievers being thwarted and bullies running amok.
This is the side of us nerds that watches the Sopranos, the side that dresses up as pirates for Halloween, the side that wants to learn how to properly shoot a gun. It's a fantasy that we will somehow win if we side with the bullies who inevitably seem to prevail.
But will the mis-managers take notice of our loyalty when the time comes? Will we finally be spared our regular humiliations as brainiacs who just want a fair challenge, or will we once again get a painful lesson in democracy, which is that life is not fair and democracy is MUCH more unfair? Won't we, the overachieving nerds, even the nerds who helped elect an anti-nerd to office, despite our better knowledge, keep expecting people to play fair, stepping up the plate and praying for a nice, clean pitch?
After Some Contemplation..."Kicking Our Own Bicycles," An Anology for the Recall Fiasco
Sometimes everything breaks down, and we call it a fiasco. This recall election was a total breakdown of the democratic process, and it was so massive a breakdown that we could even call it an attack on democracy. It was like the electorate was taking out its frustrations on the electoral process.
I had a boyfriend once who was a nerd, and had always been one. Riding his bike home from school he would often be cornered and beaten up, and/ or his bike would be wrecked or stolen. One time, I think after three bikes had been stolen, he was cornered, and he just got off his bike and started beating the crap out of the damn bike. The bullies fled.
This is the electorate, feeling like politicos have stolen our government (whatever that means... it's just a general feeling of not having power or representation in government), and now an election rolls around that gives the electorate a little opening to express itself rather freely. It gets off its bicycle democracy, turns on it in the middle of a circling swarm of perceived politicos, and hauls off and elects a joke for a governor. It's more than self-deprecation, more than self-loathing-- it's a self-preservation urge gone twisted and desperate, lashing out at a PROCESS, a means to an end, as guiltless as a bicycle. It's so lacking in faith that you have any power in a situation that you just turn on an innocent object and tear it apart, alternately cynical and mindless and scared.
Speaking of tearing things apart, my tabby girlcat is raptly watching with me "The Lion Queen" on the National Geographic Channel. The lioness "Scarface" is our favorite character.
Tuesday, October 07, 2003
A not-very-bright dyke femme bully (diva?) has a one-woman costume drama in my face, the Giants and the A's play their way into a load of first class tickets to their own private World Series viewing from their COUCHES, my boss Captain Bligh gives me a couple of extra jobs and a six-month termination notice, and now a Nazi-reared brainfart of a man is holding the highest office in California, no doubt preparing to execute a series of gruesome 180's on a lot of great, if only recently passed laws, like the very seriously good domestic partner bill AB 205, so I will now ponder...
The Virtues of Parsley
I have recently changed from loving basil the best to loving parsley. It goes on everything I make that involves cheese or tomatoes. Which is a lot of what I make. Parsley has thiamine.
Googling, you will find parsley has a home in the titles of a number of blogs.
It also has a great and glorious place in antiquity (from Botanical.com):
I love antiquity, too. Now, having blogged, I will go translate some pages of the Aeneid and think about the ablative absolute. Calm, cold, comforting ablative absolutes. Far from the terrible, terrible reality I now live in.
The Virtues of Parsley
I have recently changed from loving basil the best to loving parsley. It goes on everything I make that involves cheese or tomatoes. Which is a lot of what I make. Parsley has thiamine.
Googling, you will find parsley has a home in the titles of a number of blogs.
It also has a great and glorious place in antiquity (from Botanical.com):
The Greeks held Parsley in high esteem, crowning the victors with chaplets of Parsley at the Isthmian games, and making with it wreaths for adorning the tombs of their dead. The herb was never brought to table of old, being held sacred to oblivion and to the dead. It was reputed to have sprung from the blood of a Greek hero, Archemorus, the forerunner of death, and Homer relates that chariot horses were fed by warriors with the leaves.
I love antiquity, too. Now, having blogged, I will go translate some pages of the Aeneid and think about the ablative absolute. Calm, cold, comforting ablative absolutes. Far from the terrible, terrible reality I now live in.
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
Gaak, a Role Model for Those of Us Feeling a Little Set Up for Futility at Work
This is a very old news article from June 2002 that apparently some people didn't see at the time. I've been thinking about this robot's reaction to the "survival of the fittest" tests it was being put through at work every day.
Robot on the Run from Theage.com.au.
Apparently this learning and science center - for kids!- designed robots which could learn from their mistakes, programmed them as "predator" and "prey" and had them fight it out for a paying audience. Didn't anyone read their Isaac Asimov? Well, the Predator and Prey Robot Shows "have now reached the end of their show period." After Gaak ran away I wonder if they had other jailbreaks. I wonder if their nice English neighborhood has a wild "Predator" robot out there competing in the job market.
I'm not saying the nonprofit NGO work world is like a robot gladiator spectacle, really I'm not. I just have my Gaak moments at work these days.
This is a very old news article from June 2002 that apparently some people didn't see at the time. I've been thinking about this robot's reaction to the "survival of the fittest" tests it was being put through at work every day.
Robot on the Run from Theage.com.au.
Apparently this learning and science center - for kids!- designed robots which could learn from their mistakes, programmed them as "predator" and "prey" and had them fight it out for a paying audience. Didn't anyone read their Isaac Asimov? Well, the Predator and Prey Robot Shows "have now reached the end of their show period." After Gaak ran away I wonder if they had other jailbreaks. I wonder if their nice English neighborhood has a wild "Predator" robot out there competing in the job market.
I'm not saying the nonprofit NGO work world is like a robot gladiator spectacle, really I'm not. I just have my Gaak moments at work these days.
Some Things I've Noticed Recently, Apropos of Very Little
I finally have a taste for baseball and get myself a favorite player (and a sugar daddy to get me his baseball card and brilliant behind-home-place seats for one of the season closer games) and he fucking BARELY EVER plays these days. He's a creaky old man.
Please don't retire before I get to see you play, J.T. Snow.
I've also noticed that the Equinox brought about the phenomenon of my cat actually regularly oversleeping. She has a nook in my closet which she has wombified with layers of tabby hair, and I get the "huzzawhazzawho?" look from her when I wake her up to tell her I'm going to work, without my morning lap-sit thank you very much. It has freed up my morning to allow more (any) time for breakfast, but our little lap dance ritual has been a comfort for me in my widowhood. Maybe I'll go to bed with her food bowl empty on purpose so she'll wake me up with the usual bladder-stomp and earnest stare.
Everything has to come in threes, so what else have I noticed... hmmm... Sarah Vowell's 2002 book The Partly Cloudy Patriot is rocking my world. She manages to make me misty-eyed about intellectualist loners and their struggle in a democratic society. I'm almost writing a stalker-esque passion-filled fan letter every day now.
(Yes. I know. It's a short book. I'm a slow reader.)
Oh look I've noticed something else. She's represented by the same agency as my beloved favorite living poet Jane Hirshfield. I wrote a stalker-esque passion-filled fan letter to Jane once via her agency and she wrote right back the same day. Someday I'm sure I will be at the agency winter holiday party rubbing elbows with Sarah and Jane and we'll all bond over having a great company to represent us all. And about my Pulitzer and so on. (Memo to self: remember to submit poetry somewhere... Or maybe I could pay Barclay to pretend I'm on their roster just long enough to have me at one of their winter holiday parties...)
I finally have a taste for baseball and get myself a favorite player (and a sugar daddy to get me his baseball card and brilliant behind-home-place seats for one of the season closer games) and he fucking BARELY EVER plays these days. He's a creaky old man.
Please don't retire before I get to see you play, J.T. Snow.
I've also noticed that the Equinox brought about the phenomenon of my cat actually regularly oversleeping. She has a nook in my closet which she has wombified with layers of tabby hair, and I get the "huzzawhazzawho?" look from her when I wake her up to tell her I'm going to work, without my morning lap-sit thank you very much. It has freed up my morning to allow more (any) time for breakfast, but our little lap dance ritual has been a comfort for me in my widowhood. Maybe I'll go to bed with her food bowl empty on purpose so she'll wake me up with the usual bladder-stomp and earnest stare.
Everything has to come in threes, so what else have I noticed... hmmm... Sarah Vowell's 2002 book The Partly Cloudy Patriot is rocking my world. She manages to make me misty-eyed about intellectualist loners and their struggle in a democratic society. I'm almost writing a stalker-esque passion-filled fan letter every day now.
(Yes. I know. It's a short book. I'm a slow reader.)
Oh look I've noticed something else. She's represented by the same agency as my beloved favorite living poet Jane Hirshfield. I wrote a stalker-esque passion-filled fan letter to Jane once via her agency and she wrote right back the same day. Someday I'm sure I will be at the agency winter holiday party rubbing elbows with Sarah and Jane and we'll all bond over having a great company to represent us all. And about my Pulitzer and so on. (Memo to self: remember to submit poetry somewhere... Or maybe I could pay Barclay to pretend I'm on their roster just long enough to have me at one of their winter holiday parties...)
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
This is For All You Jews Out There
...who are suffering a reduction in entertaining internet forwards from your newly-dumped-by-Jews-and-therefore-newly-anti-Semitic friends. I'm not Jewish but my name is Sara and my father's name is David (in Russian I'm Sara Davidovna, which is like saying "please put me in the concentration camp first," so it's never given to REAL Jews in Slavic nations, only to goyim in the safer/ more ethnically cleansed reaches of the rural USA), so I understand some of what it means to suffer as a Jew.
Now, I know most of you won't know what the hell you're reading in that paragraph up there, but your confusion is worth it for the sly evil chuckle it is sure to elicit from a certain Banjostani person trapped in Boise.
Here are links for my personal reference, pages from which I have become accustomed to receiving the daily highlights. I'll just have to spam myself now.
The Yahoo news photo slideshow.
Metafilter.
Smoking Gun. "Paving the Paper Trail."
And of course blogs...
Sweat Flavored Gummi.
and...
Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me -- the home of the daily news from the office of the Dictator for Life of Greater Banjostan, a place that is temporarily unfriendly to the Jews, or maybe really just one particular Jew, who is not me, being that I am not really a Jew.
...who are suffering a reduction in entertaining internet forwards from your newly-dumped-by-Jews-and-therefore-newly-anti-Semitic friends. I'm not Jewish but my name is Sara and my father's name is David (in Russian I'm Sara Davidovna, which is like saying "please put me in the concentration camp first," so it's never given to REAL Jews in Slavic nations, only to goyim in the safer/ more ethnically cleansed reaches of the rural USA), so I understand some of what it means to suffer as a Jew.
Now, I know most of you won't know what the hell you're reading in that paragraph up there, but your confusion is worth it for the sly evil chuckle it is sure to elicit from a certain Banjostani person trapped in Boise.
Here are links for my personal reference, pages from which I have become accustomed to receiving the daily highlights. I'll just have to spam myself now.
The Yahoo news photo slideshow.
Metafilter.
Smoking Gun. "Paving the Paper Trail."
And of course blogs...
Sweat Flavored Gummi.
and...
Women Want Me, Fish Fear Me -- the home of the daily news from the office of the Dictator for Life of Greater Banjostan, a place that is temporarily unfriendly to the Jews, or maybe really just one particular Jew, who is not me, being that I am not really a Jew.
Monday, September 22, 2003
Arrrrgh
I know Talk Like a Pirate Day is over, but I have to Arrrrgh. My boss Captain Bligh has just accepted her second resignation in a week, when her first mate and my close friend and coworker Mr. Millicent the Innocent jumped ship (ok, he gave a generous TEN weeks' notice). I'm now looking at the craigslist.org nonprofit job listings. Again thus I've opened and had to close the window on applying to a cool job because I have an ex who is in the management of the organization.
Why, oh why, did I have to have bad break ups (or bad after-break-up friendship-break-ups) with people in the management of:
ACORN - empowering communities to create the change the want to see, for and by themselves;
and
Pacific Environment - formerly PERC, Pacific Environment Resource Center, empowering environmental activists of all sorts all around the Pacific Rim, including the Far East and Eastern Siberia.
Thank the gods I'm dating someone who works for the goddamn government, for whom I NEVER intend to work.
I know Talk Like a Pirate Day is over, but I have to Arrrrgh. My boss Captain Bligh has just accepted her second resignation in a week, when her first mate and my close friend and coworker Mr. Millicent the Innocent jumped ship (ok, he gave a generous TEN weeks' notice). I'm now looking at the craigslist.org nonprofit job listings. Again thus I've opened and had to close the window on applying to a cool job because I have an ex who is in the management of the organization.
Why, oh why, did I have to have bad break ups (or bad after-break-up friendship-break-ups) with people in the management of:
ACORN - empowering communities to create the change the want to see, for and by themselves;
and
Pacific Environment - formerly PERC, Pacific Environment Resource Center, empowering environmental activists of all sorts all around the Pacific Rim, including the Far East and Eastern Siberia.
Thank the gods I'm dating someone who works for the goddamn government, for whom I NEVER intend to work.
Friday, September 19, 2003
Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day! Celebrate with mutinous abandon!
Well, my coworker Mr. Woody has taken Captain Bligh's cherry, being the first to resign on her. We will all, slowly, one by one, leave her on this ship to sink alone, burned out and ravaged by responsibilities she is heaping on herself by driving us all away.
Unless, of course, she quits and *I* become captain, a course suggested by my results from the Talk Like A Pirate Day website's Pirate Personality Test.
You are The Cap'n!
What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!
Well, my coworker Mr. Woody has taken Captain Bligh's cherry, being the first to resign on her. We will all, slowly, one by one, leave her on this ship to sink alone, burned out and ravaged by responsibilities she is heaping on herself by driving us all away.
Unless, of course, she quits and *I* become captain, a course suggested by my results from the Talk Like A Pirate Day website's Pirate Personality Test.
You are The Cap'n!
Some men are born great, some achieve greatness and some slit the throats of any man that stands between them and the mantle of power. You never met a man you couldn't eviscerate. Not that mindless violence is the only avenue open to you - but why take an avenue when you have complete freeway access? You are the definitive Man of Action. You are James Bond in a blousy shirt and drawstring-fly pants. Your swash was buckled long ago and you have never been so sure of anything in your life as in your ability to bend everyone to your will. You will call anyone out and cut off their head if they show any sign of taking you on or backing down. You cannot be saddled with tedious underlings, but if one of your lieutenants shows an overly developed sense of ambition he may find more suitable accommodations in Davy Jones' locker. That is, of course, IF you notice him. You tend to be self absorbed - a weakness that may keep you from seeing enemies where they are and imagining them where they are not.
What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Now that we're all Friendsters...
...I feel the need for other ways of making community.
Nemester
Do you have fantasies of stabbing someone regularly, but you suspect they may have the illusion that all is well between you? You can make sure your enemies know you hate them. I think it's good to have a list of enemies, and it would be even better to have a public place to show it. I would put Captain Bligh (my boss) and the President of Uzbekistan on that list. Among many others. Props to Mr. Woody who had the idea for Hatester, which I stole.
Annoyister
You know, brainless and overpaid celebrities with huge empty homes? Independently wealthy people who dress out of the Community Thrift reject pile for their street cred? Annoying. And the neighbors who have screaming fights in the morning, or *vacuum* every night at midnight? And then there are the journalists and politicians who grind their axes on the community's hardest-working (or broken) backs, demonizing immigrants and sick people and the homeless. Let people know that they are not hate-worthy, just extremely annoying.
Slutster
A grand way to let people know you wouldn't kick them out of your bed, should they happen to end up there. I think the Friendster community really needs this way to break through the pretension of being friends(ters) when you're really just all about connecting-the-dots with their freckles and your tongue.
Drinkster
Let people know you don't really want to be their friend, you don't really want to sleep with them, but you really, really enjoy getting drunk with them. Maybe you'd go to a ballgame with them, hell maybe you'd even sleep with them, but mainly you'd like them to know that you'd trust them to hold your hair/ jacket/ gun while you barf.
Spouster
Obviously, a great way to let someone know that you would marry them. I would Spouster Angelina Jolie first. If she wasn't ready to make that bold move at this point in her career, or turned out to be a femme bottom like me, then we could laugh it off and stay Friends(ters), and I would Spouster Jon Stewart (from the Daily Show). Then, since he is a straight man with a wife who is probably smart enough to ignore a marriage proposal from a lesbian, I would Spouster Lucy Lawless, who said on a late night talk show (to a question about whether she'd swing with the ladeez) that she's up for anything after drinking 12 white russians. I bet Spouster would have the best "testimonials" of them all.
Stalkster
The politest way to tell someone you are stalking them. Then again, I'm not sure Friendster isn't just a cover for some malicious hoarde of stalkers...
Exster
Now, as those dozen or so people who follow my blog know, I recently had a person I considered an ex call me at work to tell me s/he is not my ex and to please stop spreading around that information. So, I think it would be useful to have a service like Exster, where you can let people know that they are in fact an "ex" (exfuckbuddy, exgirlfriend, whatever), just so that there are no nasty surprises on either end, like someone thinking you never dated, for example. Or that you are still dating, heaven forbid.
...I feel the need for other ways of making community.
Nemester
Do you have fantasies of stabbing someone regularly, but you suspect they may have the illusion that all is well between you? You can make sure your enemies know you hate them. I think it's good to have a list of enemies, and it would be even better to have a public place to show it. I would put Captain Bligh (my boss) and the President of Uzbekistan on that list. Among many others. Props to Mr. Woody who had the idea for Hatester, which I stole.
Annoyister
You know, brainless and overpaid celebrities with huge empty homes? Independently wealthy people who dress out of the Community Thrift reject pile for their street cred? Annoying. And the neighbors who have screaming fights in the morning, or *vacuum* every night at midnight? And then there are the journalists and politicians who grind their axes on the community's hardest-working (or broken) backs, demonizing immigrants and sick people and the homeless. Let people know that they are not hate-worthy, just extremely annoying.
Slutster
A grand way to let people know you wouldn't kick them out of your bed, should they happen to end up there. I think the Friendster community really needs this way to break through the pretension of being friends(ters) when you're really just all about connecting-the-dots with their freckles and your tongue.
Drinkster
Let people know you don't really want to be their friend, you don't really want to sleep with them, but you really, really enjoy getting drunk with them. Maybe you'd go to a ballgame with them, hell maybe you'd even sleep with them, but mainly you'd like them to know that you'd trust them to hold your hair/ jacket/ gun while you barf.
Spouster
Obviously, a great way to let someone know that you would marry them. I would Spouster Angelina Jolie first. If she wasn't ready to make that bold move at this point in her career, or turned out to be a femme bottom like me, then we could laugh it off and stay Friends(ters), and I would Spouster Jon Stewart (from the Daily Show). Then, since he is a straight man with a wife who is probably smart enough to ignore a marriage proposal from a lesbian, I would Spouster Lucy Lawless, who said on a late night talk show (to a question about whether she'd swing with the ladeez) that she's up for anything after drinking 12 white russians. I bet Spouster would have the best "testimonials" of them all.
Stalkster
The politest way to tell someone you are stalking them. Then again, I'm not sure Friendster isn't just a cover for some malicious hoarde of stalkers...
Exster
Now, as those dozen or so people who follow my blog know, I recently had a person I considered an ex call me at work to tell me s/he is not my ex and to please stop spreading around that information. So, I think it would be useful to have a service like Exster, where you can let people know that they are in fact an "ex" (exfuckbuddy, exgirlfriend, whatever), just so that there are no nasty surprises on either end, like someone thinking you never dated, for example. Or that you are still dating, heaven forbid.
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
My Boss Is a Fiasco
I just listened to the Fiasco show from the "favorites" collection in the archives of This American Life, and I have finally reached the point of Zen acceptance that my boss is a fiasco.
I will call her Captain Bligh. Captain Bligh's incompetence is so extreme that it has become funny, all office protocol has been scratched, and we are all {} THIS CLOSE to starting a real office betting pool as to what date she's going to lay us all off.
Today's additions to the fiasco unfolding are her apparent accidental deletion of the record in our database of our organization's most important contact at the United Nations (we're a gay human rights agency, which needs all the friends in high places we can get). I can't prove that she deleted it, but who else, I tell you, when she's been working closely with the dude, and hasn't let anyone train her on ANY of our systems. Then she put a letter in the box of letters to be mailed... sans postage... and the letter looks like it's the contract for our newest and most important (next to Captian Bligh) employee. I saved it, but I have had to put a pointed sign on the mail out box that letters that are intended to be mailed should have postage on them.
In the mean time, another This American Life show from the archives, Music Lessons, features David Sedaris singing the Oscar Mayer Wiener song in the style (done with chilling accuracy) of none other than Billie Holiday. I ask you.
So I naturally was drawn to doing some research on the famous song... from which you will now all benefit.
Here's a page from Kissthisguy.com, with an instance of the wiener song's lyrics misheard.
Ya know, I think sometimes we all wish we were an octopuss' wiener.
I just listened to the Fiasco show from the "favorites" collection in the archives of This American Life, and I have finally reached the point of Zen acceptance that my boss is a fiasco.
I will call her Captain Bligh. Captain Bligh's incompetence is so extreme that it has become funny, all office protocol has been scratched, and we are all {} THIS CLOSE to starting a real office betting pool as to what date she's going to lay us all off.
Today's additions to the fiasco unfolding are her apparent accidental deletion of the record in our database of our organization's most important contact at the United Nations (we're a gay human rights agency, which needs all the friends in high places we can get). I can't prove that she deleted it, but who else, I tell you, when she's been working closely with the dude, and hasn't let anyone train her on ANY of our systems. Then she put a letter in the box of letters to be mailed... sans postage... and the letter looks like it's the contract for our newest and most important (next to Captian Bligh) employee. I saved it, but I have had to put a pointed sign on the mail out box that letters that are intended to be mailed should have postage on them.
In the mean time, another This American Life show from the archives, Music Lessons, features David Sedaris singing the Oscar Mayer Wiener song in the style (done with chilling accuracy) of none other than Billie Holiday. I ask you.
So I naturally was drawn to doing some research on the famous song... from which you will now all benefit.
Here's a page from Kissthisguy.com, with an instance of the wiener song's lyrics misheard.
Ya know, I think sometimes we all wish we were an octopuss' wiener.
Sunday, September 14, 2003
Top Signs Your New Lezzie Romance May Be PoMo
I define PoMo here as post-modern/ post-industrial, showing characteristics of a micospecialized lifestyle or society, celebrating performativity and self-consciousness in the fragmented public narrative. I don't know what motivated me to make this list, I just haven't dated in a long time and it's like an anthropological experiment for me. Join me on this jungle ride... watch the strange new lezzie dating practices, but keep your fingers inside the car...
Your new lezzie romance may be PoMo if:
1. You met on Craigslist, or another anonymous mochepit of sex-starved people with 56k dial-up service.
2. You Google to confirm points of fact... while on dates.
3. You shop for your novelties and lingerie on eBay... while on dates.
4. You have a porn star encounter clause in your fidelity agreement. (There are so many of them now. Porn stars, I mean. But there are lots of different fidelity agreements out there too, aren't there?)
5. You have a list of urban straight hotspots where you intend to have sex using remote-controlled vibrators.
6. You share feedback about your preferred sexual practices on your blog.
7. Each date's preparation involves doing your nails, packing a toothbrush and change of underwear, selecting a costume and buying a soundtrack CD.
8. The date's degree of distance from internet connection is directly proportional to the numbers of cameras involved in documenting the date.
9. Friends e-mail you to see if you're having sex at that moment... and you e-mail back that you are.
10. You mark your one month anniversary with an appointment at a tattoo parlor.
I define PoMo here as post-modern/ post-industrial, showing characteristics of a micospecialized lifestyle or society, celebrating performativity and self-consciousness in the fragmented public narrative. I don't know what motivated me to make this list, I just haven't dated in a long time and it's like an anthropological experiment for me. Join me on this jungle ride... watch the strange new lezzie dating practices, but keep your fingers inside the car...
Your new lezzie romance may be PoMo if:
1. You met on Craigslist, or another anonymous mochepit of sex-starved people with 56k dial-up service.
2. You Google to confirm points of fact... while on dates.
3. You shop for your novelties and lingerie on eBay... while on dates.
4. You have a porn star encounter clause in your fidelity agreement. (There are so many of them now. Porn stars, I mean. But there are lots of different fidelity agreements out there too, aren't there?)
5. You have a list of urban straight hotspots where you intend to have sex using remote-controlled vibrators.
6. You share feedback about your preferred sexual practices on your blog.
7. Each date's preparation involves doing your nails, packing a toothbrush and change of underwear, selecting a costume and buying a soundtrack CD.
8. The date's degree of distance from internet connection is directly proportional to the numbers of cameras involved in documenting the date.
9. Friends e-mail you to see if you're having sex at that moment... and you e-mail back that you are.
10. You mark your one month anniversary with an appointment at a tattoo parlor.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Presenting People For the Unethical Treatment of Fireflies
The Pagan comic for Pagans and the people who love them, or used to love them.
PETA in this strip refers to "People for the Eternal Torment of Animals."
Where I grew up the only "out" Pagans were pretty scary folks, and they liked it that way-- their reputation kept the Xtians out of their hair. They had a sign on their porch "We shoot every third Christian who knocks on this door." I even heard that they used some rest stop on Route 177 (a major trucking road) to do a pig sacrifice. Now, that skeezed me out. But lately I've been getting into eating pork again and, in reflection, I'm betting they put on a nice barbeque for those truckers, and some State Trooper had to go blow the whistle... turning it into just another "animal sacrifice."
The Pagan comic for Pagans and the people who love them, or used to love them.
PETA in this strip refers to "People for the Eternal Torment of Animals."
Where I grew up the only "out" Pagans were pretty scary folks, and they liked it that way-- their reputation kept the Xtians out of their hair. They had a sign on their porch "We shoot every third Christian who knocks on this door." I even heard that they used some rest stop on Route 177 (a major trucking road) to do a pig sacrifice. Now, that skeezed me out. But lately I've been getting into eating pork again and, in reflection, I'm betting they put on a nice barbeque for those truckers, and some State Trooper had to go blow the whistle... turning it into just another "animal sacrifice."
Monday, September 08, 2003
Ah, The Secret Spells Triad is Complete. Soon I Will Conquer the World.
Meet Secret Spells Kayla's best friend Secret Spells Barbie.
School girls by day, "by night they turn into magical enchantresses." No wonder it is out of stock. That dirty old man market is a surefire sell. Do they really send "edible poisons," do you think? Do you think they meant poissons? That they will send you some dried salmon jerky with every order?
And oh my god you can order their best friend Secret Spells Christie "in African American." This ad's blurb explains that they are sending sugar-based mixtures that you can drink, i.e. mystical Kool-Aid. Getting the little African American girls ready for Jonestown, are we? I know, I know, that was inappropriate. Shame on me.
Meet Secret Spells Kayla's best friend Secret Spells Barbie.
School girls by day, "by night they turn into magical enchantresses." No wonder it is out of stock. That dirty old man market is a surefire sell. Do they really send "edible poisons," do you think? Do you think they meant poissons? That they will send you some dried salmon jerky with every order?
And oh my god you can order their best friend Secret Spells Christie "in African American." This ad's blurb explains that they are sending sugar-based mixtures that you can drink, i.e. mystical Kool-Aid. Getting the little African American girls ready for Jonestown, are we? I know, I know, that was inappropriate. Shame on me.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Lookit What I Found: The Geekcorps
VERY COOL as benificient Developed World send-us-your-tired-masses-and-we'll-send-you-our-grad-students patron projects go, but they have GOT to get a better logo. Or the Happy Computer should be using both hands to hold the world. He looks rather cavalier, like he's playing volleyball. And is that his keyboard or is he just happy to see me?
VERY COOL as benificient Developed World send-us-your-tired-masses-and-we'll-send-you-our-grad-students patron projects go, but they have GOT to get a better logo. Or the Happy Computer should be using both hands to hold the world. He looks rather cavalier, like he's playing volleyball. And is that his keyboard or is he just happy to see me?
Thursday, August 28, 2003
Well, There Goes My Solution to All My Problems
I should've been tipped off by the web site describing it as a "fictional reality show."
Thanks for everyone who wrote lovely recommendations on my behalf. Just so you know, the application did not in fact ask for your gender identity. I bet a lot of other girls applied. But they only apologize to the men. Like my feelings wouldn't be hurt.
I should've been tipped off by the web site describing it as a "fictional reality show."
Thanks for everyone who wrote lovely recommendations on my behalf. Just so you know, the application did not in fact ask for your gender identity. I bet a lot of other girls applied. But they only apologize to the men. Like my feelings wouldn't be hurt.
Dear Lapdance Island applicant
I would like to apologise unreservedly to the tens of thousands of men who
recently applied online to take part in E4's new reality show Lapdance Island
at http://www.channel4.com/lapdanceisland
The show promised to take ten hot blooded male contestants to a deserted
tropical island and have forty lapdancers gyrate around them 24 hours a day.
The truth is there are no lapdancers. There is no island. There is no show.
We made it up to promote The Pilot Show, a genuine series starting on September 8 at 10.30pm on E4. The Pilot Show hilariously dupes unsuspecting celebrities and members of the public into appearing in bogus TV shows.
Sorry about the lapdancers but, as compensation, you can laugh as other people get taken for a ride on The Pilot Show by watching the special preview clips at http://www.channel4.com/pilotshow.
Yours faithfully,
K Andrews
Managing Director, E4
Tuesday, August 26, 2003
Wiccans Finally Break the Mattel-Plastic Ceiling
I actually have a witch friend by this name-- she's a little older, has a career in linguistics and is a bit more professorial than this babe-alicious witchipoo...
Secret Spells Kayla at KBtoys.com
I suppose if they're going to have action figure Jesuses and Moseses on the market, it's time to have a mainstream witch action figure, I mean doll.
I actually have a witch friend by this name-- she's a little older, has a career in linguistics and is a bit more professorial than this babe-alicious witchipoo...
Secret Spells Kayla at KBtoys.com
I suppose if they're going to have action figure Jesuses and Moseses on the market, it's time to have a mainstream witch action figure, I mean doll.
Monday, August 25, 2003
Has Anyone Else Noticed...
That the temperature in the mouth is lower after an orgasm?
Really! Feel your tongue afterwards. It is almost cold.
That pretty much sums up the sum total of my revelations from this weekend, except that I don't look as bad as I though I would in pink. Yes, I've reached that stage of femmehood. I have reclaimed pink.
That the temperature in the mouth is lower after an orgasm?
Really! Feel your tongue afterwards. It is almost cold.
That pretty much sums up the sum total of my revelations from this weekend, except that I don't look as bad as I though I would in pink. Yes, I've reached that stage of femmehood. I have reclaimed pink.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003
The Stalker Reveals Herself a Little Tonight- Woohoo!
Here's a crumb for my own slacker stalkers:
Here is my fifteen-day-old tattoo! Doesn't it look innocent when it's sleeping? Yes, it matches my Wedgwood china.
And yes, that graphic is posted on Friendster, and yes, this Slacker Stalker has no friendster friends at this time. Will you be my friendster?
In further revelations, I have to post a poem. I'm committed to NOT putting my original poetry up on this blog. But this is a pertinent follow-up to the ex=ex blog entry, so please forgive this indiscretion. I wrote it almost three years ago in the wake of a break-up with someone who was termino-phobic about the word girlfriend.
Thank you for your indulgence. You will now be returned to your regular poetry-free stalkage.
Here's a crumb for my own slacker stalkers:
Here is my fifteen-day-old tattoo! Doesn't it look innocent when it's sleeping? Yes, it matches my Wedgwood china.
And yes, that graphic is posted on Friendster, and yes, this Slacker Stalker has no friendster friends at this time. Will you be my friendster?
In further revelations, I have to post a poem. I'm committed to NOT putting my original poetry up on this blog. But this is a pertinent follow-up to the ex=ex blog entry, so please forgive this indiscretion. I wrote it almost three years ago in the wake of a break-up with someone who was termino-phobic about the word girlfriend.
- San Francisco Replacement Terminology for the word ‘Girlfriend’
A thing
A fling
A fuckable friend
A crush
A flirt
A bendable bend
A Frisco disco
Swingable girl
A bubble bath elbow kiss
Titclamp tilt-a-whirl
A pounding mound
A rebound to a rebound
A tie me up / tie me down
An easy-bake cake
An mm-hm! earthquake morning roll, a low-fat schmear
A "you know I hate
to drive home this late / you can stay here"
A futon footsie tongue twister date
A polypolyamorous play-mate
A mental whack-a-mole
A sleepless queer
Give her a name and
She'll disappear
Thank you for your indulgence. You will now be returned to your regular poetry-free stalkage.
Monday, August 18, 2003
Ya Know, Sometimes the Russians Scare Me a Little
I spent yesterday evening schmoozing with some wonderful civil society organizers working on cultural tolerance trainings in St. Petersburg and Kazan, Russia. One of the organizers is this salt-o-the-earth veteran, who is also Jewish, and who is a grandfather who brings up his grandkids within minutes of starting any conversation about whatever. We bonded and had a great time. There was this other person there, though, who specifically had wanted to meet some LGBT community organizers, and to whom I was specifically introduced as such. He's a polkovnik (a colonel, a high position) in the MVD (Ministry of Internal Affairs), and apparently not clear on the concept of lesbian. It never fails. I get asked if I'm married, I say no, and then clueless straight man who knows I'm lesbionic for some reason gets very happy. Now since my partner Kris went and got cancer and killed herself I get to use the beautiful Russian word vdova (widow), and change the subject to that of the prevalence of cancer in the US. But really, this guy is a leader in the cultural tolerance movement? Scary!
Meanwhile, I got a posting on my Slavic Pagans mailing list that led me to the Propoganda section of the site of The Union of Slavic Tribes: The Slavic Native Faith -- this makes me a little scared of the new Slavic Pagan movement. It looks like a Soviet Russian cultural imperialist war-god-driven "let's trample the natives" (or trample the Catholics, Jews and Muslims) kind of project.
Check out this item from the Propoganda section:
Caption: We Are Russians! What an Ecstasy! The glyph associated with the Slavic god of skies and thunder, Perun, is photoshopped onto the side of the plane.
Bosnian Muslims and Croat Catholics, run for the hills! The Pagan Russians are in ecstasy! And they've got fighter planes to give you the money shot!
Shudder. It just hasn't been long enough since the latest Yugoslav war for that kind of propoganda. It will never be long enough...
I spent yesterday evening schmoozing with some wonderful civil society organizers working on cultural tolerance trainings in St. Petersburg and Kazan, Russia. One of the organizers is this salt-o-the-earth veteran, who is also Jewish, and who is a grandfather who brings up his grandkids within minutes of starting any conversation about whatever. We bonded and had a great time. There was this other person there, though, who specifically had wanted to meet some LGBT community organizers, and to whom I was specifically introduced as such. He's a polkovnik (a colonel, a high position) in the MVD (Ministry of Internal Affairs), and apparently not clear on the concept of lesbian. It never fails. I get asked if I'm married, I say no, and then clueless straight man who knows I'm lesbionic for some reason gets very happy. Now since my partner Kris went and got cancer and killed herself I get to use the beautiful Russian word vdova (widow), and change the subject to that of the prevalence of cancer in the US. But really, this guy is a leader in the cultural tolerance movement? Scary!
Meanwhile, I got a posting on my Slavic Pagans mailing list that led me to the Propoganda section of the site of The Union of Slavic Tribes: The Slavic Native Faith -- this makes me a little scared of the new Slavic Pagan movement. It looks like a Soviet Russian cultural imperialist war-god-driven "let's trample the natives" (or trample the Catholics, Jews and Muslims) kind of project.
Check out this item from the Propoganda section:
Caption: We Are Russians! What an Ecstasy! The glyph associated with the Slavic god of skies and thunder, Perun, is photoshopped onto the side of the plane.
Bosnian Muslims and Croat Catholics, run for the hills! The Pagan Russians are in ecstasy! And they've got fighter planes to give you the money shot!
Shudder. It just hasn't been long enough since the latest Yugoslav war for that kind of propoganda. It will never be long enough...
Sunday, August 17, 2003
When X = X, or,
When Is An Ex An Ex?
Some people have lately been admiring my system of defining stages of relationships, so I thought I would share it. It is especially pertinent at this point because I had the unique experience on Friday of being called urgently by someone I've referred to as an "ex" telling me that it was an inappropriate term to use. Not that we're dating again-- in fact I think our friendship (which was always the main relationship) just ended. But that is neither here nor there. I would like to make an open book of when and how I am going to claim someone as an "ex."
By the way, I think the reason "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" are so loaded in queer minds is that - without the white wedding option- those terms are the gateway to the courtship's end. Me, I'm part heterosexual (being historically more bi than lezzie, although currently a lesbian bisexual [I like femmes and butches]), and I am an activist who happens to know that you can currently get homosexually married in three different countries (and soon to be more, more, more!) so I know that girlfriend/ boyfriend is not the end of the line, and so I'm not as gf/bf termino-phobic. But most queers are, and that's why at the latter end of my queer relationship trajectory "THING" is used a lot. "EX" is loaded for people for the same reason gf/bf are- it implies to queers a history of having a committed relationship, whereas among the hets it generally just means you have a history, maybe you shared fluids or something. Quibble with me if you will, but that's how I see it.
I have two relationship plans for fuckable people, i.e. non-blood-relatives who are minimally attractive to me. If you are not currently in an open/ known (uh, by both parties) sexual relationship with me, and I'm attracted to you, you are potentially eligible to advance on the Friend/ Fuckwatch or the Fuckbuddy Program.
This is how it has historically worked for me.
WE MEET
A. WE BECOME FRIENDS, or,
B. WE FUCK
WE MEET:
A. WE BECOME FRIENDS
A1. WE'RE FRIENDS, WE STAY JUST FRIENDS
A2. WE'RE FRIENDS, BUT I LIKE YOU IN THAT WAY. I PUT YOU ON
FUCKWATCH. You are now on the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program (365 days' observation after meeting, to determine that kind of compatibility).
|
A2a. WE NEVER FUCK. Nothing changes. We stay friends. Yes that means you, I know you know who you are. We will never fuck, and yes you are still my friend.
A2b. WE FUCK.
|
A2b/1. It's not all that. Return to A.
A2b/2. It's all that. Skip to The All Important 3rd Date.
WE MEET:
B. WE FUCK
B1. WE HAVE AN ANONYMOUS FLING AND NEVER SPEAK AGAIN.
B2. WE MAKE A DATE. You are now on the Fuckbuddy Program (i.e. we will not be mistaken for "just friends" by anyone, including your exes). (See below for the definition of an ex).
|
The 1st Date (see my old definitions for sensual living to know if it was a date)
- this can be anonymous, or sharing first names and either e-mail or one working phone number.
B2a. There is only one date. No harm done, maybe we'll be taken for "just friends" after this. Maybe we'll even really be friends.
B2b. You make a second date.
The 2nd Date
- here you can find out the person's employment status, and/or other nonintrusive bits of information.
- reveal your terminal illness here, if you have one.
B2b/1. There are only two dates. No big deal. You can still sometimes skip to the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program here, after a brief cooling-off period.
B2b/2. You make a THIRD DATE. This is the big one.
\
\
The All Important 3rd Date
- After advancing to the third date of the Fuckbuddy Program, you can only go back to the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program after a significant period of virtual or total noncontact after the last fuck, say, two calendar years. Don't waste your time trying to "be friends" because it was "not you, it was me" or something like that. Codependents (most of us are these at some point) do not do well with these "still friends" arrangements, with all the emotional responsibility of an intimate friend but none of the physical privileges of being sexual partners. So be on your most honest behavior on the third date (if you haven't been so far).
- on the third date you can reveal your relationship status(es), your safer sex and time/ space requirements, and how you feel about dating other people. My new standby rule is the "three freebies" rule, where you each can see one person three times without disclosure, but if you make a fourth date, you share the details from there on out.
- if you are a superhero, now is the time you should reveal at least one secret super power. No, it's not too soon.
/
/
/
/
After you make a fourth date, you become a
THING.
{
}
- The Post-Fuckbuddy Thing
Somewhere between the fourth and tenth dates is the zone where you can share a second working phone number (making you more than fuckbuddies), and if you break up you become EXES. Yes, it's a wide zone, but just so you know, if you are reading this, Mr. I'm Not Your Ex, we had more than a few dates. It was a Thing. Not a Thing Thing, but a Thing.
{
}
- The Thing Thing
Somewhere between one and twelve months the terminology question will arise, because you are calling it a "thing thing" to friends, and they want to know what that means. Although you can acknowledge that you are more than fuckbuddies, it is still appropriate at this time to skirt the topic and just use the words "girlthing" or "boything" or "boygirlthing."
{
}
- You are in an Entanglement sort of Thing Thing after two months.
Long-term emotional entanglements are my most special specialty. The Entanglement Zone is where people (ok, I) will sneak in the words "girlfriend" or "boyfriend." Secretly, to other people, but still. It is no longer funny to use the appellation "my special friend" even though your parents always use it. Processing ensues.
{
}
- After six months you have a Post-Thing Thing: theTerminologically Challenged Zone.
You will not be able to avoid making SOME decision about the words "girlfriend" or "boyfriend." This is where you find yourself making derisive (but subconsciously longing) "husband" and "wife" jokes about eachother. If you have jointly purchased a piece of furniture without ever finishing the "girlfriend" or "boyfriend" discussion, my hat's off to you. You're beating amazing odds and should celebrate it with some kind of anniversary celebration. Like the anniversary of the first time you took off the latex. I think that's more important than the terminology landmarks. My best friend in high school and I had our favorite pick up line all figured out: "I want to catch all your diseases." When you really get there, that's something.
Note: Although "ex" isn't appropriate until after AT LEAST the fourth date, some kind of mediated divorce proceedings are a possibility at any time at all, if it is a lesbionic type involvement. Even that dried flower from the first bouquet you picked her on your first date can be negotiated in a notarized document. Not that I've ever gone that far, I'm just speaking from the point of dispassionate observation. (That's the lonely place I always try to pitch my tent on this blog.)
When Is An Ex An Ex?
Some people have lately been admiring my system of defining stages of relationships, so I thought I would share it. It is especially pertinent at this point because I had the unique experience on Friday of being called urgently by someone I've referred to as an "ex" telling me that it was an inappropriate term to use. Not that we're dating again-- in fact I think our friendship (which was always the main relationship) just ended. But that is neither here nor there. I would like to make an open book of when and how I am going to claim someone as an "ex."
By the way, I think the reason "girlfriend" and "boyfriend" are so loaded in queer minds is that - without the white wedding option- those terms are the gateway to the courtship's end. Me, I'm part heterosexual (being historically more bi than lezzie, although currently a lesbian bisexual [I like femmes and butches]), and I am an activist who happens to know that you can currently get homosexually married in three different countries (and soon to be more, more, more!) so I know that girlfriend/ boyfriend is not the end of the line, and so I'm not as gf/bf termino-phobic. But most queers are, and that's why at the latter end of my queer relationship trajectory "THING" is used a lot. "EX" is loaded for people for the same reason gf/bf are- it implies to queers a history of having a committed relationship, whereas among the hets it generally just means you have a history, maybe you shared fluids or something. Quibble with me if you will, but that's how I see it.
I have two relationship plans for fuckable people, i.e. non-blood-relatives who are minimally attractive to me. If you are not currently in an open/ known (uh, by both parties) sexual relationship with me, and I'm attracted to you, you are potentially eligible to advance on the Friend/ Fuckwatch or the Fuckbuddy Program.
This is how it has historically worked for me.
WE MEET
A. WE BECOME FRIENDS, or,
B. WE FUCK
WE MEET:
A. WE BECOME FRIENDS
A1. WE'RE FRIENDS, WE STAY JUST FRIENDS
A2. WE'RE FRIENDS, BUT I LIKE YOU IN THAT WAY. I PUT YOU ON
FUCKWATCH. You are now on the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program (365 days' observation after meeting, to determine that kind of compatibility).
|
A2a. WE NEVER FUCK. Nothing changes. We stay friends. Yes that means you, I know you know who you are. We will never fuck, and yes you are still my friend.
A2b. WE FUCK.
|
A2b/1. It's not all that. Return to A.
A2b/2. It's all that. Skip to The All Important 3rd Date.
WE MEET:
B. WE FUCK
B1. WE HAVE AN ANONYMOUS FLING AND NEVER SPEAK AGAIN.
B2. WE MAKE A DATE. You are now on the Fuckbuddy Program (i.e. we will not be mistaken for "just friends" by anyone, including your exes). (See below for the definition of an ex).
|
The 1st Date (see my old definitions for sensual living to know if it was a date)
- this can be anonymous, or sharing first names and either e-mail or one working phone number.
B2a. There is only one date. No harm done, maybe we'll be taken for "just friends" after this. Maybe we'll even really be friends.
B2b. You make a second date.
The 2nd Date
- here you can find out the person's employment status, and/or other nonintrusive bits of information.
- reveal your terminal illness here, if you have one.
B2b/1. There are only two dates. No big deal. You can still sometimes skip to the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program here, after a brief cooling-off period.
B2b/2. You make a THIRD DATE. This is the big one.
\
\
The All Important 3rd Date
- After advancing to the third date of the Fuckbuddy Program, you can only go back to the Friend/ Fuckwatch Program after a significant period of virtual or total noncontact after the last fuck, say, two calendar years. Don't waste your time trying to "be friends" because it was "not you, it was me" or something like that. Codependents (most of us are these at some point) do not do well with these "still friends" arrangements, with all the emotional responsibility of an intimate friend but none of the physical privileges of being sexual partners. So be on your most honest behavior on the third date (if you haven't been so far).
- on the third date you can reveal your relationship status(es), your safer sex and time/ space requirements, and how you feel about dating other people. My new standby rule is the "three freebies" rule, where you each can see one person three times without disclosure, but if you make a fourth date, you share the details from there on out.
- if you are a superhero, now is the time you should reveal at least one secret super power. No, it's not too soon.
/
/
/
/
After you make a fourth date, you become a
THING.
{
}
- The Post-Fuckbuddy Thing
Somewhere between the fourth and tenth dates is the zone where you can share a second working phone number (making you more than fuckbuddies), and if you break up you become EXES. Yes, it's a wide zone, but just so you know, if you are reading this, Mr. I'm Not Your Ex, we had more than a few dates. It was a Thing. Not a Thing Thing, but a Thing.
{
}
- The Thing Thing
Somewhere between one and twelve months the terminology question will arise, because you are calling it a "thing thing" to friends, and they want to know what that means. Although you can acknowledge that you are more than fuckbuddies, it is still appropriate at this time to skirt the topic and just use the words "girlthing" or "boything" or "boygirlthing."
{
}
- You are in an Entanglement sort of Thing Thing after two months.
Long-term emotional entanglements are my most special specialty. The Entanglement Zone is where people (ok, I) will sneak in the words "girlfriend" or "boyfriend." Secretly, to other people, but still. It is no longer funny to use the appellation "my special friend" even though your parents always use it. Processing ensues.
{
}
- After six months you have a Post-Thing Thing: theTerminologically Challenged Zone.
You will not be able to avoid making SOME decision about the words "girlfriend" or "boyfriend." This is where you find yourself making derisive (but subconsciously longing) "husband" and "wife" jokes about eachother. If you have jointly purchased a piece of furniture without ever finishing the "girlfriend" or "boyfriend" discussion, my hat's off to you. You're beating amazing odds and should celebrate it with some kind of anniversary celebration. Like the anniversary of the first time you took off the latex. I think that's more important than the terminology landmarks. My best friend in high school and I had our favorite pick up line all figured out: "I want to catch all your diseases." When you really get there, that's something.
Note: Although "ex" isn't appropriate until after AT LEAST the fourth date, some kind of mediated divorce proceedings are a possibility at any time at all, if it is a lesbionic type involvement. Even that dried flower from the first bouquet you picked her on your first date can be negotiated in a notarized document. Not that I've ever gone that far, I'm just speaking from the point of dispassionate observation. (That's the lonely place I always try to pitch my tent on this blog.)
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
I'm Just Sayin'
It is telling something about me that my book hunting today involved my continued stalking of a discount price on Bondage Fairies Extreme and buying the new Barbara Weiden Boyd edition of Selections from Vergil's Aeneid. And Amazon.com's suggested reading for me was Pookie Believes in Santa Claus, which I'm not buying because I'm not yet done digesting Pookie Puts the World Right, which is currently thumbtacked to the wall above my desk at work (where the world has most definitely NOT been right).
It is telling something about me that my book hunting today involved my continued stalking of a discount price on Bondage Fairies Extreme and buying the new Barbara Weiden Boyd edition of Selections from Vergil's Aeneid. And Amazon.com's suggested reading for me was Pookie Believes in Santa Claus, which I'm not buying because I'm not yet done digesting Pookie Puts the World Right, which is currently thumbtacked to the wall above my desk at work (where the world has most definitely NOT been right).
Tuesday, August 12, 2003
Vote Precious Party!
The Council of Elrond Presents: GOLLUM FOR GOVERNOR. Finally a candidate with transparent motives.
Honestly, I even considered running for governor, just because of the mass peer pressure.
The Council of Elrond Presents: GOLLUM FOR GOVERNOR. Finally a candidate with transparent motives.
Honestly, I even considered running for governor, just because of the mass peer pressure.
Monday, August 11, 2003
My New Favorite Place to Stalk Stockings
This vendor doesn't have the seamed garter stockings I need, but s/he does seem to be enjoying selling unflattering old nylons more than anyone should.
Deedeebon's Vintage Pantyhose Web Store's Gallery of Goddesses aka their "Ho Museum" (maybe the URL was supposed to be HoseMuseum.html and it's just a lucky abbreviation).
And check out this shop's "Sultry Canadian" hose, with a cover picture the vendor describes as "crime-scene-ish" -- on the $5 hose page.
This vendor doesn't have the seamed garter stockings I need, but s/he does seem to be enjoying selling unflattering old nylons more than anyone should.
Deedeebon's Vintage Pantyhose Web Store's Gallery of Goddesses aka their "Ho Museum" (maybe the URL was supposed to be HoseMuseum.html and it's just a lucky abbreviation).
And check out this shop's "Sultry Canadian" hose, with a cover picture the vendor describes as "crime-scene-ish" -- on the $5 hose page.
Sunday, August 10, 2003
Greetings from Hell
I work at a queer human rights agency, and we get our fair share of hate mail. I especially liked the ones written by kids using their parents e-mail (Subject: Burn in Hell; From: thebrownfamily). We used to keep copies and pass them around for fun. Then it got old. Well, sometimes something still comes in that is just irresistable. When this relatively articulate piece of vitriol (above) came in, my coworker M. responded:
To: Collin Korf - co2link@msn.com
Subject: Greetings from Hell
Date: Fri, 8 Aug 2003
Life sure is great here. We met this guy named Jesus that just
happened to be a fire fighter. He extinguished the flames in the
blink of an eye, and the whole place was rebuilt . He even managed
to add a swimming pool with all the excess water and he walks across
it for fun sometimes as we all clap. The trick gets a little old
after a while, so hopefully he will learn something new next week.
Hope to see you here soon.
Have a nice weekend,
M.
From: Collin Korf - co2link@msn.com
Date: Fri, 8 Aug 2003
All homosexuals (that's what you are) will burn in hell unless you
immediately give up your perverse lifestyle *choice* and repent and
be saved by Jesus Christ. Trust Him now and avoid everlasting
torment.
Collin K.
I work at a queer human rights agency, and we get our fair share of hate mail. I especially liked the ones written by kids using their parents e-mail (Subject: Burn in Hell; From: thebrownfamily). We used to keep copies and pass them around for fun. Then it got old. Well, sometimes something still comes in that is just irresistable. When this relatively articulate piece of vitriol (above) came in, my coworker M. responded:
To: Collin Korf - co2link@msn.com
Subject: Greetings from Hell
Date: Fri, 8 Aug 2003
Life sure is great here. We met this guy named Jesus that just
happened to be a fire fighter. He extinguished the flames in the
blink of an eye, and the whole place was rebuilt . He even managed
to add a swimming pool with all the excess water and he walks across
it for fun sometimes as we all clap. The trick gets a little old
after a while, so hopefully he will learn something new next week.
Hope to see you here soon.
Have a nice weekend,
M.
Saturday, August 09, 2003
Catnip makes everything better.
The girlcat and I have rekindled our romance with a big bag of catnip. I had forgotten what a difference catnip makes in our relationship.
The girlcat is one of those MyCatHatesYou.com centerfold candidate cats. She is a very intelligent tabby with piercing green eyes that are often narrowed in your general direction. She has drifted away from me, sleeping separately now for months, and lately sleeping on my suitcase in the closet. It has something to do with me getting a social life, and thereby sometimes staying out all day, all evening, and sometimes even overnight. So the distance has grown, gradually, imperceptably.
I finally realized it had been a long time since our last catnip overdose. So I bought a huge bag of it and poured it out into her toybox/ rolling box. We have had morning visits on the bed, complete with adoring lap cuddling, and gentle hand-cleaning. Kisses galore, every time we run into eachother around the house. I tell you, so many sleights are forgiven, so much affection is suddenly available with kitty drugs.
Check out the Catnip Pizza. I'm still not clear if tomato sauce is involved, and if that would then end up on everything the way catnip is now gently sifted over all my worldly possessions.
The girlcat and I have rekindled our romance with a big bag of catnip. I had forgotten what a difference catnip makes in our relationship.
The girlcat is one of those MyCatHatesYou.com centerfold candidate cats. She is a very intelligent tabby with piercing green eyes that are often narrowed in your general direction. She has drifted away from me, sleeping separately now for months, and lately sleeping on my suitcase in the closet. It has something to do with me getting a social life, and thereby sometimes staying out all day, all evening, and sometimes even overnight. So the distance has grown, gradually, imperceptably.
I finally realized it had been a long time since our last catnip overdose. So I bought a huge bag of it and poured it out into her toybox/ rolling box. We have had morning visits on the bed, complete with adoring lap cuddling, and gentle hand-cleaning. Kisses galore, every time we run into eachother around the house. I tell you, so many sleights are forgiven, so much affection is suddenly available with kitty drugs.
Check out the Catnip Pizza. I'm still not clear if tomato sauce is involved, and if that would then end up on everything the way catnip is now gently sifted over all my worldly possessions.
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Some people apparently haven't yet heard of Aphra Behn.
My friend Melisa is inviting us all to get together to go watch Women's Will - an all-girl Shakespeare company- do The Rover by Aphra Behn, and so it bears reminding that Aphra Behn was a kick-ass proto-lesbian.
A 17th century professional playwright, poet, novelist, spy for the king, crossdresser, etc., also she wrote love poetry to women (from To the Fair Clarinda):
She was also opposed to the practice of slavery-- her play "Oroonoko : Or, the Royal Slave" served the abolitionist cause for centuries. Check her out, people.
Isle of Lesbos: Poetry of Aphra Behn
Queer Theory: Aphra Behn
My friend Melisa is inviting us all to get together to go watch Women's Will - an all-girl Shakespeare company- do The Rover by Aphra Behn, and so it bears reminding that Aphra Behn was a kick-ass proto-lesbian.
A 17th century professional playwright, poet, novelist, spy for the king, crossdresser, etc., also she wrote love poetry to women (from To the Fair Clarinda):
- In pity to our Sex sure thou wer't sent,
That we might Love, and yet be Innocent:
For sure no Crime with thee we can commit;
Or if we shou'd - thy Form excuses it.
For who, that gathers fairest Flowers believes
A Snake lies hid beneath the Fragrant Leaves.
She was also opposed to the practice of slavery-- her play "Oroonoko : Or, the Royal Slave" served the abolitionist cause for centuries. Check her out, people.
Isle of Lesbos: Poetry of Aphra Behn
Queer Theory: Aphra Behn
Monday, August 04, 2003
A New Reason to Love Oakland: The People's Grocery
A coworker just sent this to me:
And doing a tiny wee bit of research I've found out that the other founder is younger than me-- she's only 28! How hard does this rock?
A coworker just sent this to me:
One of the founders [of the People's Grocery] used to be a gang member and decided to drop out of the gang and start up his own non-profit. The group now has its own grocery store and truck to distribute organic produce and products through West Oakland, one of the poorest sections of the Bay Area. They also employ 9 high school students from the local high school, which has a drop out rate of 70%.
And doing a tiny wee bit of research I've found out that the other founder is younger than me-- she's only 28! How hard does this rock?
Friday, August 01, 2003
Hallelujah, One Less Criminal Mastermind on the Payroll in the Pentagon
And the ever eloquent Rumsfeld offered CNN this on the cancellation on the futures market that the now-(again)-resigning Poindexter had proposed:
He's not sure, in other words, it might have been a brilliant idea.
And yet,
But then again, he implies, maybe not. Maybe he should have stayed and proposed some even more maybe brilliant ideas.
There is a special place in hell for these people, I have to hope.
In Other News: There's Also One Less Transvestite Criminal Mastermind Loose on the Streets of Oslo
And the ever eloquent Rumsfeld offered CNN this on the cancellation on the futures market that the now-(again)-resigning Poindexter had proposed:
"It was pretty clear to me it ought to have been canceled, so I did so," Rumsfeld told reporters on Wednesday. "Even if it had been a brilliant idea, which I doubt, it would not have been able to function in the environment that it was created."
He's not sure, in other words, it might have been a brilliant idea.
And yet,
Senate Intelligence Committee Chairman Pat Roberts, R-Kansas, said Thursday Poindexter's decision to resign "was probably a wise one."
But then again, he implies, maybe not. Maybe he should have stayed and proposed some even more maybe brilliant ideas.
There is a special place in hell for these people, I have to hope.
In Other News: There's Also One Less Transvestite Criminal Mastermind Loose on the Streets of Oslo
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Tipping my invisible Fedora in the direction of the New Yorker tower...
From the Department of Junior High Chemistry
Printed in last Thursday's SF Chronicle's CORRECTIONS column –which I read religiously, which is to say occasionally:
–and refreshing!
I imagine all the disappointed young mad scientists' faces, peering squinty-eyed through the sites of their emptied super soakers, baking soda boxes and piles of lemon rinds at their feet, waiting for the varsity football team's equipment storage shed to erupt.
I know, I know, exploding school buildings aren't as funny as they used to be. But in my day they were pretty funny, and that's speaking as someone whose own elementary school exploded to bits one day over winter break because of a gas leak. That was a LONG winter break.
From the Department of Junior High Chemistry
Printed in last Thursday's SF Chronicle's CORRECTIONS column –which I read religiously, which is to say occasionally:
Clarification:
A story Tuesday about a congressional hearing inaccurately stated that adding sodium bicarbonate and citric acid to water causes an explosion. Sodium dropped into water is extremely explosive, whereas sodium bicarbonate and citric acid in water is merely effervescent.
–and refreshing!
I imagine all the disappointed young mad scientists' faces, peering squinty-eyed through the sites of their emptied super soakers, baking soda boxes and piles of lemon rinds at their feet, waiting for the varsity football team's equipment storage shed to erupt.
I know, I know, exploding school buildings aren't as funny as they used to be. But in my day they were pretty funny, and that's speaking as someone whose own elementary school exploded to bits one day over winter break because of a gas leak. That was a LONG winter break.
Monday, July 28, 2003
"Bring Me That Horizon, Really Bad Eggs, and Johnny Depp in a Corset"* -- or --
The Slacker Stalker Review of Pirates of the Caribbean
First of all, apologies to the stalkers of this site for my blogless week. I am experiencing a certain amount of brain damage from lack of sleep caused by the evils of Cyberskin. Now for your review.
Somebody once told me that Johnny Depp is the rare male actor who is a lesbian icon: his role in Pirates seals this fact for me. His strong androgyny, his heavily mannered/ put-on swish/swashbuckling, the eye makeup and hippy hair with a twisty moustache (that I know is the envy of so many butches)... Basically, even for the most man-hating of dykes, Johnny Depp is a good argument for not doing away with the Y chromosome.
But most of all I liked Pirates because it has pirates. I liked pirates before I started volunteering at the amazing pirate-tastic 826 Valencia / pirate store/ tutoring and learning lab in San Francisco, which inspired a pirate-themed bellydance performance I did last Halloween, and where I encountered the book about girl pirates, Booty, which inspired the pirate-themed spoken-word queer cabaret-style show of the same name that I produced earlier this year. Pirates have a lurking, growing presence in my inner and outer worlds. I'm always happy to hear lines like the one in this movie:
Piracy itself can be the right course.
...on a big screen aimed at small impressionable young US Americans. I think my inner pirate used to be nurtured by things like the now-defunct Lesbian Avengers, whose icon/logo is a bomb, and the original open mic. incarnation of Sister Spit, whose icon/ logo was a pirate. But I digress.
The LMS Rating: This movie meets the lesbian movie standard. There are three female characters (our lovely heroine, her maid, and the woman pirate) with speaking parts beyond the strumpet-slap "take that"-s. Our heroine has two different tactical non-boy-related exchanges, one each with the other women. Mind you, there's not much to the conversations, but for an action movie for children, it's a stunning contribution to the world of female-to-female dialogue on mainstream screens.
The Gay Character: This movie has a pair of gay characters (the pirates who are clearly life-partners, with parasol fetishes), and several explicit homoerotic moments (an old drunk sees Johnny Depp's character and says "ah, my first love!" -- my friend I was seeing this with both thought we could've done without knowing that detail, ew-- and some flirty threatening between male kidnappers and male captives), and substantial amounts of crossdressing, with at least two each of very emphasized instances of male-to-female and female-to-male. All the research I've done on pirates supports the idea that pirates attracted genderqueers to their ranks, and reputedly enjoyed breaking all kinds of gender and sex taboos. I'm so, SO glad this movie didn't make pirates just big mean drunk rapacious criminals. They were that too I am sure, but also lusty rebels relishing life amidst danger, and playing hooky around the edges of all kinds of laws, not just criminal laws.
The Jesus Figure: of course, Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp's character. Did ANYONE think he was going to really hang, though? At least they didn't have his rescuer cut the damn hanging rope so he could scamper away and sword fight his way through the throng. They did something more creative, bless their hearts. The makers of Xena would be proud.
Other notable moments: the cgi moonlight-illuminated-skeletons intermixing with the shaded live actors-- amazing. Really, I thought it would be hokey, and it was beautiful, creepy, and used without a lot of underlining, which made it all the more stupendous. Lastly, whether you are into S&M or not, EVERYONE can enjoy the heroine's line:
If you like pain, try wearing a corset.
(*the Slackerstalker paraphrase of the movie's ultimate line, which you can imagine being delivered by the captain's first mate [the one with the "you were my first love" line], sneaking up on the slurring, swaying Johnny Depp.)
The Slacker Stalker Review of Pirates of the Caribbean
First of all, apologies to the stalkers of this site for my blogless week. I am experiencing a certain amount of brain damage from lack of sleep caused by the evils of Cyberskin. Now for your review.
Somebody once told me that Johnny Depp is the rare male actor who is a lesbian icon: his role in Pirates seals this fact for me. His strong androgyny, his heavily mannered/ put-on swish/swashbuckling, the eye makeup and hippy hair with a twisty moustache (that I know is the envy of so many butches)... Basically, even for the most man-hating of dykes, Johnny Depp is a good argument for not doing away with the Y chromosome.
But most of all I liked Pirates because it has pirates. I liked pirates before I started volunteering at the amazing pirate-tastic 826 Valencia / pirate store/ tutoring and learning lab in San Francisco, which inspired a pirate-themed bellydance performance I did last Halloween, and where I encountered the book about girl pirates, Booty, which inspired the pirate-themed spoken-word queer cabaret-style show of the same name that I produced earlier this year. Pirates have a lurking, growing presence in my inner and outer worlds. I'm always happy to hear lines like the one in this movie:
Piracy itself can be the right course.
...on a big screen aimed at small impressionable young US Americans. I think my inner pirate used to be nurtured by things like the now-defunct Lesbian Avengers, whose icon/logo is a bomb, and the original open mic. incarnation of Sister Spit, whose icon/ logo was a pirate. But I digress.
The LMS Rating: This movie meets the lesbian movie standard. There are three female characters (our lovely heroine, her maid, and the woman pirate) with speaking parts beyond the strumpet-slap "take that"-s. Our heroine has two different tactical non-boy-related exchanges, one each with the other women. Mind you, there's not much to the conversations, but for an action movie for children, it's a stunning contribution to the world of female-to-female dialogue on mainstream screens.
The Gay Character: This movie has a pair of gay characters (the pirates who are clearly life-partners, with parasol fetishes), and several explicit homoerotic moments (an old drunk sees Johnny Depp's character and says "ah, my first love!" -- my friend I was seeing this with both thought we could've done without knowing that detail, ew-- and some flirty threatening between male kidnappers and male captives), and substantial amounts of crossdressing, with at least two each of very emphasized instances of male-to-female and female-to-male. All the research I've done on pirates supports the idea that pirates attracted genderqueers to their ranks, and reputedly enjoyed breaking all kinds of gender and sex taboos. I'm so, SO glad this movie didn't make pirates just big mean drunk rapacious criminals. They were that too I am sure, but also lusty rebels relishing life amidst danger, and playing hooky around the edges of all kinds of laws, not just criminal laws.
The Jesus Figure: of course, Jack Sparrow, Johnny Depp's character. Did ANYONE think he was going to really hang, though? At least they didn't have his rescuer cut the damn hanging rope so he could scamper away and sword fight his way through the throng. They did something more creative, bless their hearts. The makers of Xena would be proud.
Other notable moments: the cgi moonlight-illuminated-skeletons intermixing with the shaded live actors-- amazing. Really, I thought it would be hokey, and it was beautiful, creepy, and used without a lot of underlining, which made it all the more stupendous. Lastly, whether you are into S&M or not, EVERYONE can enjoy the heroine's line:
If you like pain, try wearing a corset.
(*the Slackerstalker paraphrase of the movie's ultimate line, which you can imagine being delivered by the captain's first mate [the one with the "you were my first love" line], sneaking up on the slurring, swaying Johnny Depp.)
Monday, July 21, 2003
Please Join Me in Mourning
King Karl the Pufferfish of the Pirate Store at 826 Valencia (a writing lab for kids where I volunteer). Karl was cantankerous, jumpy, and defensive, but a very, very good listener. As long as you brought food.
Read here the Pirate Store blog where Karl's death announcement is currently posted.
King Karl the Pufferfish of the Pirate Store at 826 Valencia (a writing lab for kids where I volunteer). Karl was cantankerous, jumpy, and defensive, but a very, very good listener. As long as you brought food.
Read here the Pirate Store blog where Karl's death announcement is currently posted.
Gollum as Advice Columnist
"I have had a crush on one of my friends for a very long time. I really want to date her."
For all you other bi-curious women out there, Gollum has some advice for you:
Ask Gollum!
"I have had a crush on one of my friends for a very long time. I really want to date her."
For all you other bi-curious women out there, Gollum has some advice for you:
Ask Gollum!
Friday, July 18, 2003
NASA Conspires to Halt Gay Rights Movement with Weapons of Cyberskin:
Or, They Know an Army of Lovers Will Never Get Out of the Barracks
The defense department has to be involved. There is no way this product has innocently found its way into the bedrooms of activist queers all over the world, stopping their militant advance toward freedom as they become stupid and subservient to the pleasures of Cyberskin. It is the footsoldier of an eldritch evil, not unlike the Ring that nearly seduced poor Frodo. I had my first experience with it last night, and it has completely wrecked my focus for work, all day. I’m an activist queer rendered passive and content by its high-tech magicks.
What is this new, real (or realistic) evil? Cyberskin ([tm] or Futurotic [tm], AKA Ultraskin, EroSkin, truskin, soft touch, softskin, thermal plastic, or just the palsy-sounding cyber) is a silicone-and-PVC-mix NASA-made insulator that has a distressingly flesh-like texture. Cyberskin’s main diabolical properties are that its atom bonds are hyper-resilient: it warms with body heat, stretching and then “remembering” its original shape; and it has both the softness of skin and the rigidity of erectile tissue. You see, Cyberskin is made using “the Aerospace 601,” a computerized injection molding machine, which makes varying densities of CyberSkin, creating anatomically perfect replicants of various body parts (you can feel the “bone” within the boner).
According to my research, Cyberskin products are nefariously expensive. They are moody, and high-maintenance. They can become moldy if not kept in an airtight, antiseptic, dry container. They can become very sticky-- sticks-to-walls-sticky-- if you handle them for a long time without washing them. They cause erratic, possessive behavior. OK, in me at least. Putting me in touch with my inner Gollum.
I know Cyberskin must be destroyed, but yet I have an unfathomable, ferocious protective urge towards it… Soon NASA will be producing counterrevolutionary hypnotic robotic pleasure-queers out of the stuff. I am distressingly intrigued by the vision of a post-cyberskindroidal world.
Good Vibes’ evil selection of Cyberskin products must be destroyed. Do it now, before another activist becomes compromised.
Or, They Know an Army of Lovers Will Never Get Out of the Barracks
The defense department has to be involved. There is no way this product has innocently found its way into the bedrooms of activist queers all over the world, stopping their militant advance toward freedom as they become stupid and subservient to the pleasures of Cyberskin. It is the footsoldier of an eldritch evil, not unlike the Ring that nearly seduced poor Frodo. I had my first experience with it last night, and it has completely wrecked my focus for work, all day. I’m an activist queer rendered passive and content by its high-tech magicks.
What is this new, real (or realistic) evil? Cyberskin ([tm] or Futurotic [tm], AKA Ultraskin, EroSkin, truskin, soft touch, softskin, thermal plastic, or just the palsy-sounding cyber) is a silicone-and-PVC-mix NASA-made insulator that has a distressingly flesh-like texture. Cyberskin’s main diabolical properties are that its atom bonds are hyper-resilient: it warms with body heat, stretching and then “remembering” its original shape; and it has both the softness of skin and the rigidity of erectile tissue. You see, Cyberskin is made using “the Aerospace 601,” a computerized injection molding machine, which makes varying densities of CyberSkin, creating anatomically perfect replicants of various body parts (you can feel the “bone” within the boner).
According to my research, Cyberskin products are nefariously expensive. They are moody, and high-maintenance. They can become moldy if not kept in an airtight, antiseptic, dry container. They can become very sticky-- sticks-to-walls-sticky-- if you handle them for a long time without washing them. They cause erratic, possessive behavior. OK, in me at least. Putting me in touch with my inner Gollum.
I know Cyberskin must be destroyed, but yet I have an unfathomable, ferocious protective urge towards it… Soon NASA will be producing counterrevolutionary hypnotic robotic pleasure-queers out of the stuff. I am distressingly intrigued by the vision of a post-cyberskindroidal world.
Good Vibes’ evil selection of Cyberskin products must be destroyed. Do it now, before another activist becomes compromised.
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
For My Thirtieth Birthday I Will Treat You To
Pretty Pictures of Hedgehogs, Wedgwood, and the wily Vrsic Pass.
Because I have so many substantial things I want to write about I just can't choose.
Hedgehog to cure depression.
Immodest hedgehog.
Modest hedgehog.
I love this Wedgwood pattern enough to tattoo it on my behind. Which in fact might be happening soon. Ok, not my behind, but somewhere.
Ooooh. Lookit the salad bowl. I'll never be able to afford it, but it makes me happy to dream.
Yes I drove the Vrsic pass this May, and yes it makes 51 curves like these on a sharp elevation. In the alps. Built by WWI Russian POWs, who left many of their own buried in the snow up there.
Here's a cool aerial view of the tiptoppimost summit point.
Here's some views of the mountain peaks neighboring the pass.
And here's the view of the mountains the pass traverses from a distant point due south.
In case you were planning to attempt to pronounce the name of the pass, it's one of those special Slovenian words with the accent on the consonant cluster. "VRR-sheech."
You can't escape it by going south, they keep accenting the consonant clusters all the way down the Balkans to Greece, near as I can figure. The only way out of the clusters is over the Vrsic and into boring, plainmouthed Austria.
Pretty Pictures of Hedgehogs, Wedgwood, and the wily Vrsic Pass.
Because I have so many substantial things I want to write about I just can't choose.
Hedgehog to cure depression.
Immodest hedgehog.
Modest hedgehog.
I love this Wedgwood pattern enough to tattoo it on my behind. Which in fact might be happening soon. Ok, not my behind, but somewhere.
Ooooh. Lookit the salad bowl. I'll never be able to afford it, but it makes me happy to dream.
Yes I drove the Vrsic pass this May, and yes it makes 51 curves like these on a sharp elevation. In the alps. Built by WWI Russian POWs, who left many of their own buried in the snow up there.
Here's a cool aerial view of the tiptoppimost summit point.
Here's some views of the mountain peaks neighboring the pass.
And here's the view of the mountains the pass traverses from a distant point due south.
In case you were planning to attempt to pronounce the name of the pass, it's one of those special Slovenian words with the accent on the consonant cluster. "VRR-sheech."
You can't escape it by going south, they keep accenting the consonant clusters all the way down the Balkans to Greece, near as I can figure. The only way out of the clusters is over the Vrsic and into boring, plainmouthed Austria.
Monday, July 14, 2003
Again With the Punk Credibility Problems
So it's been repeatedly pointed out to me that I have lost all punk cred for my fancypants misspelling of moshpit (though I swear I picked up "mochepit" being pen pals with Francophone punks at a formative age). Then in the ensuing debate about the difference between moshing (a group dance) and slamming (more of a solo thing) I had to start talking about the slamdance move "doing the pogo stick." Well, my research shows that people DO talk about "doing the pogo stick" but it truly is more punkily-correct to say "pogoing."
From the History of Punk Rock in the UK at www.punk77.co.uk:
So it's been repeatedly pointed out to me that I have lost all punk cred for my fancypants misspelling of moshpit (though I swear I picked up "mochepit" being pen pals with Francophone punks at a formative age). Then in the ensuing debate about the difference between moshing (a group dance) and slamming (more of a solo thing) I had to start talking about the slamdance move "doing the pogo stick." Well, my research shows that people DO talk about "doing the pogo stick" but it truly is more punkily-correct to say "pogoing."
From the History of Punk Rock in the UK at www.punk77.co.uk:
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Another Dispatch From Femme-bottomville
On Bad Top and Happy Bottom Barometers
You know when you're with a good top (because you are trying to pant out your phone number between squeals of delight), you know when you've got an unhappy bottom (she's packing her toys and going home), but how do you discern when a top becomes abusive or inept, or a bottom becomes a total lump of orgasmic joy? We gals aren't taught a lot about spotting hot girl-on-girl live abuse coming at us, or expressing satisfaction from within a rollicking sex scene. I came up with some barometers based on my own experience, and discussions with friends.
On Bad Top and Happy Bottom Barometers
You know when you're with a good top (because you are trying to pant out your phone number between squeals of delight), you know when you've got an unhappy bottom (she's packing her toys and going home), but how do you discern when a top becomes abusive or inept, or a bottom becomes a total lump of orgasmic joy? We gals aren't taught a lot about spotting hot girl-on-girl live abuse coming at us, or expressing satisfaction from within a rollicking sex scene. I came up with some barometers based on my own experience, and discussions with friends.
- Effective and Ineffective Bad Top Barometers
1. Effective barometer: Hostile personal criticism about your or her other lovers' physical attributes (especially if you later see her preening and pointing out her own physical gifts). A good top ultimately is compassionate about a body's frailties.
Ineffective barometer: Dirty talk or use of cuss words / degrading talk in general. Listen for tone: if it's coy, playful, affectionate, targeting your behavior, and suggestive without being really threatening, it's one thing. If it's *hostile,* targeting things you have no control over, and threatening, be sure to check yourself for safety boundaries.
2. Effective barometer: Expressing doubts about whether you are worth her time. This isn't topping, it's adolescent manipulation. She should keep that question in her Inside Head Voice.
Ineffective barometer: Giving you a run-down of her schedule of planned social and sexual activity. Some tops are just really overscheduled and use the iteration of their time management choices to create personal space. It might be a little self-aggrandizing, but it's not a manipulation or a rejection.
3. Effective barometer: Feigned dramatic revulsion when you reveal a wound or vulnerability.
Ineffective barometer: Actual reactions of distaste, usually followed by clarifying questions about what you've just revealed. Hey, everyone has their squick zones.
4. Effective barometer: Real expressions of hostility about something remote to the occasion at hand but directed toward the bottom (like, spanking harder and harder while getting verbally angrier and angier about last month's PG&E bill-- or last month's girlfriend).
Ineffective barometer: Real expressions of sadness about personal loss or misfortune. Don't be a dick to your dick-- tops need to cry too.
5. Effective barometer: Childish ploys for attention about the top's areas of insecurity. I include financial insecurity here. Tops can be so fragile-- especially butch tops who are given the responsibilities of masculinity with only a fraction of the privileges. There are those who are completely broken by their circumstances, and they shouldn't be working on their wounds by creating them on you. They should just get professional help-- from a therapist, a paid domme, whatever. You don't need to try to heal them.
Ineffective barometer: Urgency about knowing your health and/ or relationship status. Don't be suspicious if your top needs to know these safety parameters in order to play. If you don't feel like talking about it, just say so, but try to respect her safety concerns if you want her to respect yours.
6. Effective barometer: Excessive control issues-- good tops actually *have* most of the control they want. They are *in* their power and confident, know their boundaries, and are *not* seeking to prove something, to you or themselves or anyone else, by establishing control over you.
Ineffective barometer: Checking in with you incessantly. She might be recovering from a bad experience with an incommunicative bottom. Tell her if it's turning you off.
7. Effective barometer: Not owning anything resembling a date planner.
Ineffective barometer: Not having e-mail. Also, not sharing all her contact digits and coordinates. Bottoms can be stalkers too. Or so I've heard.
8. Effective barometer: Consciously or unconsciously violating an express boundary established with or by the bottom. Safer sex, disclosure or privacy, pain or intensity preferences, safeword use-- anything.
Ineffective barometer: Expressing concern about a boundary that has been set. Concern doesn't mean the top intends to violate it, so don't take a question about boundaries as a violation of boundaries. Unless you've set boundaries about asking questions about sets of boundaries (ya freak!).
- Effective and Ineffective Happy Bottom Barometers
1. Effective barometer: Reduction to lizard brain activities (grabbing random things to chew on, ripping fabric, falling onto the floor -and maybe not noticing she's fallen, biting, scratching, etc.).
Ineffective barometer: Departures from bed to see if there's anything to eat in the kitchen. She might just be hypoglycemic, you never know.
2. Effective barometer: Very inarticulate loudness.
Ineffective barometer: Very articulate loudness ("holy cow does that vibrator remind me of the last time I was in Prague!"). She might not have good bringins-up about what is good pillow talk. She might just be nervous.
3. Effective barometer: Preternatural silence and stillness while sweating with a racing pulse, especially if uncontrollable twitching is involved (and the person doesn't have a history of epilepsy or high blood pressure, and isn't experimenting with dangerous mind-altering substances).
Ineffective barometer: Actual brain death.
4. Effective barometer: Marriage proposals, or, stalking proposals. (Just don't take her up on anything. ANYTHING. said in flagrante.)
Ineffective barometer: Prior marriage (or commitment) confessions. Really, don't take this as a complement or an insult. She's just got too much on her plate already and this is how she's telling you.
5. Effective barometer: Offers of specific sexual services.
Ineffective barometer: Offers of specific housekeeping services. Even if she is a service bottom, it's not a good sign if she's thinking about *your* hygiene at this point. Then again, with some clarification, it might be some kind of personal kink for her.
6. Effective barometer: Nonsensical profanity (unless of course your safeword is a piece of profanity, which means you have a stupid safeword).
Ineffective barometer: Profane personal criticisms. (See note on number 2. Bad bringins-up is sometimes just all there is to explain it.)
7. Effective barometer: Stopping you to tell you explicit instructions or ask questions about what you like: yes this is a good thing. This means she's enthusiastic and comfortable with you and doesn't fear top-down reprisals for helping you help her get off (or helping you help her get you off)-- if you want, you can quickly reassert yourself by making a thrilling counter-proposal/ counter-inquiry (the Socratic method can be a turn on for those brainy types)-- but absolutely do take competence-promoting feedback as a good happy bottom barometer. Only bad bottoms fail to give any guidelines for their own pleasure (giving or receiving) preferences.
Ineffective barometer: Stopping you to tell you about her abuse history. Abuse survivors getting triggered in sex play is par for the course in this community where one in five is supposed to have survived rape. Stopping doesn't mean she's happy or unhappy with you as a person or as a sex partner, but it does mean you should (without you grumbling- AT ALL) take time to talk. Negotiations about boundaries can start there, from scratch: that's when you'll find out if she's happy or not.
8. Effective barometer: Wetness in combination with any one or more of the above.
Ineffective barometer: Wetness or dryness alone. Sometimes a gal is just plain dehydrated-- from sun, or alcohol consumption, preferring 24 ounces of espresso to water as her daily liquid intake, etc.-- or she's just not genetically descended from the fountain-people as some are. Think of it in terms of normative male anatomy where a guy can ejaculate but not orgasm: while always (always) honoring requests for "more lube!", and monitoring the slickness of the roads, don't *just* go for the juice-- go for the radiant smile and twitchy fingers.
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
So You Think You Can Outsmart Tokelau
Tokelau is one of the few (83) countries of the world with a federal law against same-sex consensual private sex between adults. They also have a free web domain referral service. So you might think of taking advantage of their islander good naturedness and get www.slackerstalker.tk for your blog, ha ha, associating their little suffix with practices they officially punish with ten years in jail. But you would not have outsmarted little Tokelau, no ma'am! Because when someone enters a ".tk" address, a phone rings. A modem picks up somewhere in a dusty store room on one of the 127 islands that compose Tokelau, and prints out an order for a certain computer to be connected to another site. The next morning a nice lady collates the orders and photocopies it twice, filing one copy, faxing another to her boss, and mailing the original to the office of web page referrals on one of the other atolls. All of the letters are date stamped and one by one child laborers trained in Javascript enter the order for the user contacting the website at ".tk" to finally be granted access to its assigned site. Then I'm sure they beat the children for taking too long to enter the code. Well, you want to go to Tokelau to prove me wrong?
Lonely Planet on Tokelau:
Tokelau is one of the few (83) countries of the world with a federal law against same-sex consensual private sex between adults. They also have a free web domain referral service. So you might think of taking advantage of their islander good naturedness and get www.slackerstalker.tk for your blog, ha ha, associating their little suffix with practices they officially punish with ten years in jail. But you would not have outsmarted little Tokelau, no ma'am! Because when someone enters a ".tk" address, a phone rings. A modem picks up somewhere in a dusty store room on one of the 127 islands that compose Tokelau, and prints out an order for a certain computer to be connected to another site. The next morning a nice lady collates the orders and photocopies it twice, filing one copy, faxing another to her boss, and mailing the original to the office of web page referrals on one of the other atolls. All of the letters are date stamped and one by one child laborers trained in Javascript enter the order for the user contacting the website at ".tk" to finally be granted access to its assigned site. Then I'm sure they beat the children for taking too long to enter the code. Well, you want to go to Tokelau to prove me wrong?
Lonely Planet on Tokelau:
- Want to get away from it all? Head off to Tokelau, where there's no capital city, no airport, no harbour, no cars, no banks, no guns and no tourism.
Monday, July 07, 2003
Ah, 1987
So, Merriam-Webster's dates "mosh" back to 1987, and says it is a variant of "mash." I find this unsatisfying, but look at the definitions for yourself-- they don't vary much. The only question is if moshing is a synonym for slamdancing, or if slamdancing is more violent than moshing. I think in 1987 I would have cared.
So, Merriam-Webster's dates "mosh" back to 1987, and says it is a variant of "mash." I find this unsatisfying, but look at the definitions for yourself-- they don't vary much. The only question is if moshing is a synonym for slamdancing, or if slamdancing is more violent than moshing. I think in 1987 I would have cared.
It Has Been Called to My Attention
By a concerned reader that I have egregiously misspelled "mosh pit," less commonly spelled "moshpit," but never by anyone but me spelled "mochepit." I have now been given my new obsession for the week, stalking the origin of the word "mosh," in the hopes of finding out why I internalized a French spelling of it. I vaguely remember hanging out with some French Canadian punks at orchestra camp in 1990. I think I thought I was a real punk for a while around that same year. The origin of my misspelling may prove more interesting than the origin of the word.
What moshpit move are you?
By a concerned reader that I have egregiously misspelled "mosh pit," less commonly spelled "moshpit," but never by anyone but me spelled "mochepit." I have now been given my new obsession for the week, stalking the origin of the word "mosh," in the hopes of finding out why I internalized a French spelling of it. I vaguely remember hanging out with some French Canadian punks at orchestra camp in 1990. I think I thought I was a real punk for a while around that same year. The origin of my misspelling may prove more interesting than the origin of the word.
What moshpit move are you?
Saturday, July 05, 2003
Aunt Stalker's Advice to Adventurous Butch Tops
Yes it is appropriate to give your date remote-controlled vibrating panties for your second date. Just remember, having the control device, it's your responsibility to not turn it on when your date is walking down stairs or steep hills.
Yes it is appropriate to give your date remote-controlled vibrating panties for your second date. Just remember, having the control device, it's your responsibility to not turn it on when your date is walking down stairs or steep hills.
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
Report Back from San Francisco's Sodomy - I mean - Pride Week
Dear readers: this has been a week of being in full body contact with the queer community of San Francisco during our sodomite celebrations. If you are my mom, dad, or grandma, please stop reading here.
Also, I'm sorry I'm having to post everything in tiny chunks, since I last blogged Blogger has started to super-suck for its unpaid members. You can't post more than a few paragraphs at a time.
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Thursday, June 26th, 2003:
The Day the US Supreme Court Fell On Its Knees Before the Country's Sodomites
I spent part of that celebrated day at my (FTM top) lover's pot dealer's house, where she (a butch top) asked me:
Q. “What’s so great about being a femme bottom?”
I couldn't answer very well at that moment, for marijuana-related reasons, but I thought and wrote about it in the ensuing days of encounters with other femme bottoms whose opinions I respect.
A. Becoming transcendental shimmering egoless light under the touch of a good, understanding top, who takes pleasure in your pleasure.
A. Getting to choose to be vulnerable on your own safe/ sane/ consensual terms, a relief when every day on the streets you are forced to act strong on the terms of a misogynist, hostile, aggressive bio-male-centered world.
A. Being admired for qualities like tolerance and femininity that make you a second-class citizen in the patriarchy.
A. If/ when you are a service bottom: the challenge/ delight of succeeding in pleasing someone, maybe healing the absent/ disapproving/ detached father (and mother!) wounds so many of us carry.
A. If/ when you are a stone bottom: the challenge/ delight of taking whatever is dished out to you: releasing a negotiated amount of control of your circumstances that you are forced to try to completely control all day, maybe healing the exhaustion and burnout that comes with being perceived as a public target all the time.
A. Submitting to someone else’s will under controlled circumstances exposes you to certain health risks, but it is mentally therapeutic. Even tops seem to have to bottom to something for mental health—usually god, liquor, or some other controlled substance. Oh, and for all you tops reading this: that “we do all the work” crap doesn’t sound so valiant when you look at our parallel complaint-- “we get all the infections.”
So why play with power and boundaries in sex at all? Because it leads to good processing (and transcendance?) of the world's underlying invisible structures that disempower dykes. Plus, it's just fun.
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Saturday late, after the dyke march, notes from a great conversation with M. about transsensuality versus transfetishism:
On transsensuality:
We bonded over being bi-femme-bottoms who like living around/ discussing trans identity, grey-area complexities of masculine and feminine mixtures, women’s issues and lives and histories in male-shaped life/bodies. We are both afraid of being seen as FTM-fetishizers, but are constantly getting involved with FTMs, and so we are starting to come out as transsensual. This is a quality/quantifier of our attractions, not a requirement for admittance to our bedrooms. We decided we'd probably be in straight relationships if we hadn;t come to the SF Bay Area. But in the SF Bay Area, when not with FTMs, we tend to get involved with other dykes, femme and butch, not bio-men. We are distrustful of the het privilege temporarily conferred on the streets to a femme dyke with an FTM partner, because we know it can backfire violently in a heartbeat. We seek friendships in and act in solidarity with the FTM transgender community. But in the privacy of our own company we examine our own motives.
On the problem with the FTM fetish:
There is an FTM fetish that is the attraction to (or shallow obsession with) the ideal of the formerly-female having a physical male shape and attitude. That fetishism can be alienating and unsupportive to the realities of FTMs (who don’t attain or retain the ideal body/ attitude 24-7), and frightening to butches (who see femmes with FTM fetishes and have body issues triggered by it).
On femmes who leave their butch lovers for not being butch enough, or for having aromatherapy candles instead of beer bottles on their coffee table:
Femmes with the FTM fetish aren’t usually prepared to stick around for the hard real issues of having a woman-shaped history (or current woman-shaped life) with a male-shaped body. They can be drawn to the joys of girlsex in private with the benefit of straight privilege on the streets, and then flee when all
the complicated mixtures and imperfections within the glamour come to the surface. These femmes mostly haven’t yet had intimate, nonsexual, supportive, friendship-based relationships with people who have transitioned FTM. But they probably will, and then the fetish will turn into understanding and a more
finely-honed taste in partnership material (i.e. not just based on appearance, or interior decorating choices).
On FTM sexuality surprises:
Confession: I once was involved with an older FTM who had a heinously old-school lesbian separatist music collection. It was almost enough to end the fling when he put some boring 70’s sisterhood-is-powerful folk on the tape deck. Not to impress me. These were his people. He was singing along. And let me tell you, those 70’s sexphobic lesbian separatist types can unearth some pretty weird sexual pleasure paths when they start dropping T (testosterone). You femmie FTM-fetishizers better put on your seatbelts before you get on that wagon. Hello, strangulation fantasies! And another thing: T can give (very) high blood pressure, which makes sex impossible. It’s like watching a dog chase its tail: they take the
T, get horny, and then feel like a balloon about to pop and are too nauseated to stand up, let alone mouth-kiss. All these issues and more can be yours along with your FTM fetish! In my opinion it’s worth it if you can love the person beyond their physical appearance and health negotiations.
On hot FTM-on-FTM action / FTMs rejecting femmes because “Girls are too complicated”:
It’s true, someone experiencing a testosterone high isn’t really good at verbal processing. Sometimes girls (or girl-like-creatures) are too complicated for people buzzing around on a testosterone cloud, feeling like fucking or fighting all the time. This state of affairs can look like a good time to some butches, like being FTM-identified gives you a license to act like a 14-year-old boy, a most prized license to people who often spent their 14th year terrified someone would beat them up for acting like a boy. Like their 14-year-old boy counterparts, having a “girls not allowed space” is powerful good fun. For some it’s even a long-term preference-- the faggy-boy FTM identity we’re seeing so often now. Sexual pleasure paths are a personal matter: I can’t say I want to waste my time trying to turn out someone who prefers boys (or boy-energy). I try to filter my jealousy over certain hot FTMs who only like other boys into a healthy admiration for their stigmatized and hence brave choices. Anyway, lust is ultimately an urge that is only concerned with itself, so jealous arguing over someone else's body as though it were property to be negotiated is a selfish act independent of the urge to make an individual (you or anyone else) truly happy.
On transsensuality:
We bonded over being bi-femme-bottoms who like living around/ discussing trans identity, grey-area complexities of masculine and feminine mixtures, women’s issues and lives and histories in male-shaped life/bodies. We are both afraid of being seen as FTM-fetishizers, but are constantly getting involved with FTMs, and so we are starting to come out as transsensual. This is a quality/quantifier of our attractions, not a requirement for admittance to our bedrooms. We decided we'd probably be in straight relationships if we hadn;t come to the SF Bay Area. But in the SF Bay Area, when not with FTMs, we tend to get involved with other dykes, femme and butch, not bio-men. We are distrustful of the het privilege temporarily conferred on the streets to a femme dyke with an FTM partner, because we know it can backfire violently in a heartbeat. We seek friendships in and act in solidarity with the FTM transgender community. But in the privacy of our own company we examine our own motives.
On the problem with the FTM fetish:
There is an FTM fetish that is the attraction to (or shallow obsession with) the ideal of the formerly-female having a physical male shape and attitude. That fetishism can be alienating and unsupportive to the realities of FTMs (who don’t attain or retain the ideal body/ attitude 24-7), and frightening to butches (who see femmes with FTM fetishes and have body issues triggered by it).
On femmes who leave their butch lovers for not being butch enough, or for having aromatherapy candles instead of beer bottles on their coffee table:
Femmes with the FTM fetish aren’t usually prepared to stick around for the hard real issues of having a woman-shaped history (or current woman-shaped life) with a male-shaped body. They can be drawn to the joys of girlsex in private with the benefit of straight privilege on the streets, and then flee when all
the complicated mixtures and imperfections within the glamour come to the surface. These femmes mostly haven’t yet had intimate, nonsexual, supportive, friendship-based relationships with people who have transitioned FTM. But they probably will, and then the fetish will turn into understanding and a more
finely-honed taste in partnership material (i.e. not just based on appearance, or interior decorating choices).
On FTM sexuality surprises:
Confession: I once was involved with an older FTM who had a heinously old-school lesbian separatist music collection. It was almost enough to end the fling when he put some boring 70’s sisterhood-is-powerful folk on the tape deck. Not to impress me. These were his people. He was singing along. And let me tell you, those 70’s sexphobic lesbian separatist types can unearth some pretty weird sexual pleasure paths when they start dropping T (testosterone). You femmie FTM-fetishizers better put on your seatbelts before you get on that wagon. Hello, strangulation fantasies! And another thing: T can give (very) high blood pressure, which makes sex impossible. It’s like watching a dog chase its tail: they take the
T, get horny, and then feel like a balloon about to pop and are too nauseated to stand up, let alone mouth-kiss. All these issues and more can be yours along with your FTM fetish! In my opinion it’s worth it if you can love the person beyond their physical appearance and health negotiations.
On hot FTM-on-FTM action / FTMs rejecting femmes because “Girls are too complicated”:
It’s true, someone experiencing a testosterone high isn’t really good at verbal processing. Sometimes girls (or girl-like-creatures) are too complicated for people buzzing around on a testosterone cloud, feeling like fucking or fighting all the time. This state of affairs can look like a good time to some butches, like being FTM-identified gives you a license to act like a 14-year-old boy, a most prized license to people who often spent their 14th year terrified someone would beat them up for acting like a boy. Like their 14-year-old boy counterparts, having a “girls not allowed space” is powerful good fun. For some it’s even a long-term preference-- the faggy-boy FTM identity we’re seeing so often now. Sexual pleasure paths are a personal matter: I can’t say I want to waste my time trying to turn out someone who prefers boys (or boy-energy). I try to filter my jealousy over certain hot FTMs who only like other boys into a healthy admiration for their stigmatized and hence brave choices. Anyway, lust is ultimately an urge that is only concerned with itself, so jealous arguing over someone else's body as though it were property to be negotiated is a selfish act independent of the urge to make an individual (you or anyone else) truly happy.