8 Ways to Say "In Sheer Futility" in Russian

Translator Michele A. Berdy helps us to express our feelings.

She writes, of one of the permutations of ways to say "in vain" (Blogger isn't encoded to let me type in Russian, but it's bespolezno- "byez-pa-LYEHZ-na"):

I'm very fond of 'bespolezno,' pronounced with each syllable accented as if you are pounding nails in a coffin.

Of Chanting Muscovites and Theremins

I've now read some more detailed accounts of the demonstration/ action/ violence and arrests in Moscow. The participant account I read noted that of the 50 people participating (pro-gay) *most* of them were Westerners. So great. The Russian conservatives can point to this fact and say this was Western provocation. This is exactly the thing that could make this dreadful event into a setback instead of a Stonewall. Now, on the other hand, the organizer says he's very satisfied with the results and has a court case he can now take to the European Court for Human Rights. That could very well help the movement in Russia. I hope it does. I was sickened by the accounts of the protestors-- in a few cases specific people I know-- getting their faces bloodied by fascists or forced face-down onto pavement by brutal police. I think everyone will continue to wonder if this was absolutely necessary to bring the human rights situation in Russia to the international stage.

The non-worrying-about-Moscow parts of my weekend have been much more fun. So far this weekend...

- I went to the local SF LGBT Center's queer open mic and actually read something;

- I went to a house party featuring the last performance of the original crew of Nappy Grooves, an Oakland original-- an African-American drag king troupe with a political edge;

- I fell asleep stretched out in the grass and sun- to the tune of lapping waves- while drying out the cache log at the geocache site Ashby Spit/ Point Emery- I only got a little sunburned;

- I went to a showing of experimental super-8 / 16 mm black and white short films by Bill Basquin - rural themes in a queer context- very cool;

- At drinks after the Bill Basquin screening, A., one of our party, taught us about something he learned about at a Dorkbot gathering-- the strange new art of molecular gastronomy aka "food hacking." G. told us about his recent meal at one of the Bay Area's private restaurants --run by renegade chefs bucking the tyranny of the restaurant system-- and the "slow food" movement (an outgrowth of the "slow cities" movement, or, as A. said, "a bifurcation of the meme")-- nerds amok in the kitchen, hooray!

- I went riding in Montara- beautiful ocean, beautiful sky, good horses;

- and most recently I went to a house party hosted by a couple of dear friends who are DJ's and breakdancers. One of their friends brought over a theremin and we all got to learn how to play it. This was an old Moog theremin, actually signed by Bob Moog. I really enjoyed how easy this instrument was on my tendonitis. When I remarked on this the owner of the Moog theremin said the thing was first invented to be used by Clara Rockmore, a theremin virtuoso who had MS. Well, that's sort of true. She became a thereminist because of physical difficulties that developed because of early childhood malnutrition. The theremin wasn't invented *for* her. But Mr. Theremin (a Russian, by the by) was in love with her, and did make some modifications on the instrument for her. Ah love. Trying to win a woman by perfecting her theremin...

Another Reason to Hate Moscow

The coverage isn't very detailed-- there will probably be tons more information within the day (I'll have to remember to check the chat on gayrussia.ru or gay.ru in the next day or so), but basically the first Moscow gay pride march (which, by the way, is translated as either "gay procession" or "gay parade") was a bust and there were bloodied noses and arrests and no festive gay parade to speak of. Just about 50 pro-gay folks and over 100 anti-gay folks and lots of police who were not there to protect the former, and maybe weren't there to protect the latter either.

I have been in alternating states of denial and stomach knots over this announced visibility action. I'm glad I wasn't there, to be honest. The Western European gay demagogues who put themselves on the front line of this Russian-led action aren't the people I hold in the highest esteem as tactical activists. But some part of me knows this needed to happen, and while in some sense it may have set the movement back in terms of public acceptance, in another sense I think it will have long-term positive effects, making the het community wake up and smell the hatred.

But don't count on me to be wearing my rainbow beads on the streets of Moscow anytime soon. In fact don't count on me going to Moscow anytime soon, period.

Femme Convergence

The 2006 Femme Conference registration has opened! God I love it when a bunch of powerful organized femmes do a conference. There's nothing more organized than a femme conference.

I Used to Tell the Truth All the Time When I Was Evil

So how is the dating going, you ask? Well last night I amused myself by coloring in my dragon coloring book (of 14th century dragon designs-- a coloring book I got at The Cloisters like 15 years ago). Tip: don't cheap out on the crayons. "RoseArt" off-brand crayons are like coloring with candle stubs. Tonight I did laundry. And now I'm getting a boost from reading my collection of Bad Guy lines. I keep this little notebook handy near my comfy chair - I titled it "Notes From The Dark Side: Studies of Villainry." Many are from Buffy episodes. Some are from Angel, some from SG1, some from Inuyasha, some from Miyazaki movies... and the occasional [making the "guilty pleasure" face] Charmed episode. The title of this entry was something I think Angel said to Buffy. Here some others I enjoy:

I care about deadlines!

You've been spending too much time with humans.

It'll all be over too fast and you'll be dead and I'll be bored.

You are not here to provide information. You are here for my amusement.

You will bow to my awesome power.

I appreciate loyalty.

You lied to me. You made a mistake. You are sorry.

It's the end of humanity, not the end of courtesy.

How dare you summon me?!

You can't take me. No one can take me.

Can't a woman wreak a little havoc without there being a man involved?

I don't miss my heartbeat.

Come with me. It is the only way.

I wish you could feel what I'm feeling right now.

Ah yes, the whole god issue. Maybe we did take it a little too far... Can you blame us?

I shall savor your defiance.

Ah, I miss Buffy. My favorite Big Bad was Glorificus. That actress will never have such an interesting ass-kicking role ever again.

I watched Miyazaki's "Castle in the Sky" yesterday and really enjoyed Dola, the Pirate Captainess- that was another great anti-hero. The voicing by Cloris Leachman was just wonderful.

Some more lines I enjoy:

We can bring order to the galaxy.

I'm here to kill you, not to judge you.

Oh my God! Well, not my God, because I defy Him and all of His works...

And, last, a special thought for the evening... in the cold foggy grey area of silence following a second date...

Everybody feels alone. Everybody is, until you die.

Northwest Pacific Still a Little Quakey

Strong quake hits north-eastern Russia
Hong Kong, China
22 May 2006 06:42



A severe earthquake estimated to measure 6,7 on the Richter scale on Monday
struck in the north-eastern Pacific coastal area of Russia, the Hong Kong
observatory said.

The quake struck at 7.21pm Hong Kong time and its epicentre was located some
870km east of the Siberian city of Magadan, the observatory said.

This would put it somewhere in the Bering Sea off Russia's far eastern
Kamchatka peninsula.

There were no immediate reports of casualties or damage.

A series of violent earthquakes measuring up to 7,9 on the Richter scale
shook the Kamchatka penisula's Koryakiya region earlier this month,
affecting 12 villages with a total population of 12 000 people.

Dozens of people received minor injuries, and hundreds were evacuated from
the quake zone.

The Kamchatka peninsula, which is about the size of Japan, has a population
density of less than one person per square kilometre.

In 1952, the region was rocked by an earthquake measuring 9 on the Richter
scale, the fourth-biggest since 1900, according to data from the United
States Geological Survey.

-- AFP

Post-First-Date Ideation: The Enemy Within

All it takes is one positive dating experience for all my world to come crashing in, it seems. Or at least, from one second to another it seems as though it's safe to plan for the little cottage we'll have together in our retirement (with BLUE shutters-- a nice perwinkle or China blue would be nice) and then it seems as though it's safe to plan to never go on another date again in my life, let alone with this person. I sure do like my cat-- nice and predictable.

So, my one-month experimentation with the world of Salon.com personals has yielded, in the 11th hour, one positive first-date experience. And suddenly I understand why the more jaded gay boys refer to such an event as "meeting my future ex-husband."

How fast and how far the imagination goes with so very little information to fuel it! The less the information the more far-fetched the ideation.

In my head I go from nun to sexpot to lonesome cowgirl to stalker... No third middle-way seems available when all you have is a first and last name, a phone number and an e-mail. It's all or nothing, and it all rides on Date Number Two, when I'm sure we find out we are not only completely incompatible, but that we loathe eachother.

Or we pick up the real estate section and start shopping.

Sigh. Thirty-something and single and dating again after a long dry spell. The stuff country music songs are made of.

WAIT! This is a CRUSH! I almost forgot what those were. Hence that "world comes crashing in" sensation.

No wonder Meryn Cadell's famous Sweater Song from Angel Food for Thought has been playing in my head all day.

It's a girl not a boy who has got me crushy, and I haven't acquired any souvenirs to fetishize yet, but otherwise it's JUST LIKE THIS:

The Sweater Song (...in streaming audio).

If you want to download it, I can't link to Angelfire, but you can paste this into your browser to get the mp3 (3.1 MB):

http://www.angelfire.com/un/queereasteurope/MerynCadell_TheSweaterSong.mp3

Read along with the lyrics if you like:

Girls,
I know you will understand this
and feel the intrinsic incredible emotion.

You have just pulled over your head the worn,
warm sweater belonging to a boy.

Now, you haven't had a passionate kissing session or anything,
but you got to go on a camping trip with him
and eight other people from school.

And you practically slept together,
your sleeping bag right next to his
And you woke in the night to watch him as he slept
but you couldn't see anything 'cause it was dark
so you just laid there and listened to his breathing
and wondered if your heart might burst.

The sweater has that faintly goat-like smell
which all teenage boys possess,
and that smell will lovingly transfer
to all your other clothes.

If you get to keep it for a few days you can sleep with it
but don't let your mom see, 'cause she'll say,
"what is that filthy thing, and who does it belong to
besides the trash man?"
So you have to keep it under the covers with you.

You can kind of lie it beside you,
or wrap it around your waist,
or touch it on your legs, or whatever--
That's your business.
Now if the sweater has, like, reindeer on it
or is a funny color like yellow... I'm sorry,
you can't get away with a sweater like that.

Look for brown, or grey, or blue
Anything other than that, and you know you're dealing with
someone who's different,
And different is not what you're looking for.

You're looking for those teenage alpine ski chiselled features,
and that sort of blank look which passes for deep thought--
or at least the notion that someone's home.
You're looking for the boy of your dreams
who is the same boy in the dreams
of all of your friends.

Now the sweater isn't going fit you of course,
so you have to kind roll up the sleeves in a jaunty way that says,
'This is the sweater belonging to a boy,
and the boy is a genuine hunka hunka burning love',
and this is not just some hand-me-down
from your brother or your father.

Monday, wear the sweater
to school.

Be calm, look cute.
Don't tell him about the dream you had
about the place the two of you would share
when you get older.

Just be yourself.
The best, cutest, quietest version of yourself.
Definitely wear lip gloss.

He looks at you, and then he looks away,
And then he walks away,
and the smell of the sweater hits you again suddenly
like ape-scent gloriola,
and you get a note passed to you
by a girl in History that says
"He needs that sweater back.
He forgot you put it on in the tent on Saturday
and he's been looking for it."

And you don't have to die of humiliation, you know,
You are a strong person
and this is a learning experience.
You can still hold your head up high as you run from the classroom
tearing the stinking sweater from your body.

You look at that sweater, carefully,
and realize that love made you temporarily blind.
You've got a secret now, honey,
and though you would never sink as low as him,
you could blab it all over the school if you wanted:


The label in that sweater
says:
"100%
Acrylic."

---

Down With Tectonic Imperialism!

Up with the Okhotsk Block!

May 2, 2006, Seattle: Scientists officially declare: Kamchatka is not part of the US mainland.

merecemos paz

We deserve peace.

It was a sign - the first word in black sequins and the second on the back of the sign in green sequins - carried by a member of the Transunidos contingent at the May First march for immigrants this morning here in SF. I was so happy to see this contingent-- in my last job I worked hard on documentation and did other support for dozens of travesti asylum cases, and it is these immigrants who often come to mind for me when people discuss the pros and cons of immigrants in the US. The Transunidos contingent was only about six women, but they had a great big gorgeous banner along with a US flag and the "merecemos paz" sequin-bedecked sign. They were a beautiful sight. And while other contingents were angry or somber or intesely earnest, they were dancing and cracking jokes and laughing. In our quarter they were the ones piping up most often with chants, keeping rhythm with their safety whistles. I think they were more energetic and bouyant than others at the march partly because being out and present and labeled as transwomen was adding a dimension of joy and revelation and maybe even danger to their participation in the march. They were challenging the same powers that be that the other marchers were challenging, but also they were challenging the other marchers. This was not an explicitly safe place for transwomen, but they were taking the space and making it safe. A wave of pride and joy did hit me, watching this contingent of women flying the US flag and chanting in Spanish, and saying in sequins "we deserve peace." We all deserve it, but in particular these women deserve peace.


Quickly, other highlights:

- in the march, a middle aged white guy in glasses and a dress shirt and bow tie banging on a pot lid with a spoon, banging in time to "si se puede."

- girls with drums, it seemed like about one per city block of march, leading the chanting

- dykes heavily sprinkled about, kids of all ages sprinkled about

- the reclamation of the US flag as a symbol of resistance-- resistance to the government defining what makes someone belong here, contribute here, work here, deserve to be here

- "America Goes From Alaska to Argentina" and "Whose the Illegal, Pilgrim" and signs in various languages, mostly Spanish but also Chinese and Russian

- The chant (from the World Can't Wait contingent woman with a backpack and microphone): "who is the criminal - George Bush; are immigrants the criminals - hell no"

- running into an old pal from Challenging White Supremacy who said this looked to her like the biggest march she'd seen in SF. To go four blocks took the throng about an hour. It seemed like from start to finish the densely packed crowd took at least 3 1/2 hours to get entirely past the starting point. It reminded me - in size and density - of the anti-war march in March 2003, but this was a work day, so it seemed to me that it was more impressive, more powerful-- it will have an economic impact and therefore it might change things.

- noticing that while I'm happiest on a horse, I'm pretty darn happy marching in a mobilized throng of people down Market Street yelling and dancing.

- seeing someone I hadn't seen in many years, an Armenian refugee who I met as a 16 year old living at home and living in the closet, then just coming out as bisexual, now looking mature, strong and beautiful, wearing a suit and a smart bob-cut hair-do-- I didn't recognize her at first and had already gone past when I placed her. But the look on her face, watching this march from the sidewalk, probably taking a break from her office, seemed to be a mix of emotions -- something like joy and a kind of deep wonder.


Yes, Christina, this march was for you, too.