On Top of Being Alarmed About the Impending War...
...and the resemblance of the pro-war demonstrators to facist nationalist/ Nazi types marching past me at the bus stop this morning, waving a torch and a flag and chanting "we support our troops" ...
I have just now run across THIS depressing dinosaur bone on the internet. Actually it's more like a broken clay tablet in cuneiform-- with the story of a once-rich queer cafe culture that has all but disappeared in the SF Bay Area.
Seven out of twelve are gone, as far as I know. Here are some of the casualties:
Mad Magda's -- a personal favorite with a nice blend of Russian, Jewish, Pagan and queer culture. I miss most the hammer and sickle inside the Star of David painted on the floor where you ordered, and the little magic garden where they had acoustic music, did aura readings and served tea under the only birch tree I've ever seen in San Francisco. Mismanaged by the diva / performer who owned it, sold, reopened as some other cafe. RIP.
The Patio Cafe -- closed for remodeling for like ten years now. I miss the adorable gay boy waiters in their super tight short shorts, their eggs Florentine (one of my few sins when I was still vegan), and the outdoor heaters with the wonderful cascading ferns and ivy in the back.
Josie's Cabaret and Juice Joint -- the comedy venue where I first saw Marga Gomez, after she left SF and before she moved to NY. She had a lot to say about LA lezzies, convincing me to not rush to go south of Salinas. I still have never been. Josie's was also the headquarters for the Tom Ammiano write-in campaign for mayor, and as a volunteer there I was reminded that Josie's was not only vegetarian in terms of the (delicious) food they served, but volunteers were not allowed to bring in non-vegetarian food to eat on the premises. A place friendly to dogs, and friendly to dykes, and sorely missed. Now it is a Zao noodle house. I loved the bash they threw for the Survivor's Guide to Sex book release party, where Annie Sprinkle (pre-house-boat fire, wearing one of her awesome costumes) led us all in a guided meditation to bring the entire 200 person audience to orgasm, Tina D'Elia wore one of her slit all the way up the thigh tight red dresses and read a dripping, hot, wet poem or two, and in finale the Hail Marys played their sparkling all-dyke pop rock for a small remaining audience consisting mostly of the band's lovers and ex-lovers.
Red Dora's Bearded Lady Cafe -- the Bearded Clam, the women's performance art Ground Zero, the home of the smallest bathroom in North America, the place where the china was chipped, the counter help was surly, and the gossip was torrid. Since it changed hands and then sunk into unprofitability (posting hours of business that seemed to relate not at all to when it was actually open) and closed, I have ended up in close relationship with the people who founded and kept alive that steamy Bearded scene. I actually performed at the last show at the Bearded Lady. But I was too depressed to go help dismantle the decor. I miss the horse model/ cowboy toy collection, strange installation art shows, the climbing, flowering vine-filled back quarter, and the 5 zillion different kinds of fliers on the walls, doors, and piled inside the front window. I remember seeing a flier there for someone trying to start a queer youth pirate radio station-- "help start this station or you'll shrivel up and die listening to KFOG!" (Now, I like KFOG for their morning show, but boy there's only so much Chris Isaak and Bruce Hornsby one person can take.) I missed the golden age of the Bearded Lady when my now-dead girlfriend Kris was paying the cafe's rent, cleaning and cooking, and trying to keep the doors open by hosting Friday night performance art shows. She did something like 20 shows there and managed to bring in talent like Dorothy Allison, Kathy Acker, Jewel Gomez, Michelle Tea (pre-Sister-Spit, pre-book{s}), and I think she even had Michael Franti. Or maybe she just tried to get him. She was impressed by his chainsaw act with The Disposable Heroes of HipHopracy when they played the Women's Building for some white lezbo event. So you get the idea. Crazy shit went down there, like someone opening 52 cans of tunafish, dumping it on the (concrete and spongelike-to-fish-oil) floor and stomping around in it, and another performance artist reading a poem while getting fisted. I saw the mysterious cowgirl duo Downriver there, and as part of the DirtyBird young queer punk festival I saw radical movie shorts there (one short that featured knife and blood play managed to nearly empty the place), and lastly, before the final final show, I saw my lover Kris read her novellas there, being recorded for posterity. Nothing has taken the place of the Bearded Lady, and probably nothing ever will.
Radio Valencia had a lot of bad luck. Right after being remodeled a truck drove right through their plate glass window and put them back at square one. When they finally again reopened, I became a regular for their African peanut soup, and of course their great music selection, which you could follow along with playlists at each table. They had the class, kitchy-chic decor and good food that Hamburger Mary's wanted. They had sonorous acoustic jazz ensembles almost every night, it seemed, and yet they were not too hip to have good service. I miss their good soup the most. Now it's either a Chinese or Thai food place with one of the ugliest signs on all of Valencia.
The Brick Hut and Edible Complex are both gone, also. I heard a lot about the former, and not much in comparison about the latter. I was freshly landed in the area when the Brick Hut started having the telltale symptoms of desperate benefit concerts. I am not sure I had even figured out how to use BART to cross the bay when it finally closed. I still hear women lamenting the loss of the Brick Hut- apparently it had really good concerts. I didn't hear anything about why it really closed, but I remember that landlord greed was blamed. I don't believe anything has taken over that building yet. In fact, looking on line a little, I think that it is scheduled to be destroyed in order to build some kind of housing there.
I found another sad gay list of mostly closed venues here-- it lists my beloved and lamented Alfred Schilling and Valentine's.
Alfred Schilling had the best mochas in all of San Francisco, and possibly the gayest waiter I've ever met. They were a little pricey, and had this weird dour Egyptian decor, but their bouncy gay waiter- who I think was French- gave the best waitservice in that whole neck of town, actually earnestly concerned that you had a really good meal, and a really good day. Besides the mocha and the waiter, I miss their whole-building mural of an African/ Egyptian pharoah topless queen seeming to soar like a torpedo out of the wall aimed at the Castro, her eyes rolling up to look at the rainbow flag on top of the building.
Valentine's was my little special occasion place back when I gave a shit about my diet, with its totally vegan but also gourmet menu. The last time I went there was after the Gay Pride Forced March 2000, with someone whose e-mail user name and hence my mental nickname for her is "Veganliz." We were windblown and sunburned, and after being topless half the day we were a little chilled. But still we sat on the sidewalk in the sun to have our coffee with soymilk (served in a porcelain serving pitcher) and organic green salads. I have no idea why it closed, but I especially miss their warm biscuit side dish.
Other casualties of mismanagement and/or the Dot Com Boom/Bust since I moved here include the amazing Old Wives Tales bookstore, Womencrafts West, the Whiptail Lizard Lounge, The Lab (that one went quietly-- unless it is technically still open but just not hosting shows), the CoCo Club, the Chat House, Castlebar, and - although not explicitly gay, an important punk venue - the rowdy smoky velvet-painting-clad Chameleon. Now the building where The Lab was (is?) and where queer arts venues Theatre Rhino and Luna Sea are still chugging along is in danger of being sold. Queer cafe, art, and performance culture has sure taken a beating since I moved here in 1995, not to mention Pagan culture (I think there's only one or two Pagan supply stores left in the city- when I moved here there were six or more).
You can see my measly attempt at queer culture preservation-- San Francisco in Exile -- a project where I work as one of the producers to stage queer performances and audio record them for posterity, an idea spawned by my dead girlfriend (pre-death) and passed on to me.
Tomorrow-- hopefully a morning free of nationalists with torches and flags!
Friday, March 14, 2003
Wednesday, March 12, 2003
One Month Before My Trip to Yugoslavia the Prime Minister of Serbia Has Been Killed
...high time to return to the land of make-believe!
Last year, soon after I started this blog, I got sucked into rereading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe somehow... I vaguely remember picking it up out of a free box or off of the top of a garbage bin or something. Naturally, it took over my life, and I ended up having a face-off between Aslan and Dumbledore -- check out that entry to see who won. Recently I discovered that I apparently wrote but failed to follow through and post the second half of my insanity, when I threw Voldemort and the White Witch Jadis into the ring. So here we go.
One word aside about these two villains and their creators: I was feeling a little bitter about how The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobewas so brazenly New Testament on my adult re-read, and when I started researching the etymology of the White Witch's name, I was DEEPLY disturbed to find out that Lewis' arch-villain was named after an indigenous Arabian tribe, one of the ancestor tribes of the Hebrews. Rowling's villain's etymology is much less problematic for me... everybody hates the French (her racialization of the house elves and bank goblins are something else, yuk). But anyway. Back to our ringside seats, Aslan and Dumbledore throwing popcorn from up in the cheap seats somewhere...
Voldemort
(French for Flight or Theft of Death)
vs.
Jadis the Jewess I mean White Witch
(name of an indigenous tribe in Arabia)
Supervillain Minimum Requirements Compared:
Mask V. - / J. - neither have a cool mask
Armor V. - / J. - again, both fall short
Cape V. + / J. ++ both have, but J. ensares Edmund with her sexy fur -- rrrrow
Has own country V. - / J. +
Refers to self in third person V. - / J. -
Has a degree V. + / J. -
Subtally: V. 1 / J. 3: Jadis has Voldemort doubled over on the ropes with her magnificent cape around his wimpy throat. Down kitty!
Supervillain Added Bonus Personality & Physical Enhancements Compared:
Adaptability & agility
V. + / J. - he's got that changing bodies and form thing going on
Delusions of grandeur & creates world in own image
V. + / J. ++ both have, but J. makes her world all winter, all the time
Creativity
V. + / J. - I've got to hand it to V., Jadis is just too rigid about laws and rules and tradition
Lack of fallibility
V. + / J. - they are both fallible, but Jadis makes some really bad judgement calls- I would trust Voldemort to do my taxes, but not Jadis
Knowledge of the magical loopholes
V. + / J. - Jadis is just a leeetle more out of the loop, so to say
Woundedness & despair
V. + / J. - J. is just too concerned about day to day details & comes off as a busybody next to Voldemort's tragic glowering raised-in-an-orphanage depression
Genetic giftedness for the part
V. - / J. ++ the daughter of the ancient Hebrew Dark Goddess Lillith! Cha-ching!
Apparent celibacy, probable gayness
V. + / J. + high marks all around here
Panache & overall style
V. - / J. + V. smells bad, J. has cool castle
And staggering to the middle of the ring with a fist raised high...
With a tally of V. 8 / J. 9
... it's Jadis with the cool castle, Goddess lineage and big sexy cape! She's taking a victory lap! The crowd goes wild!
That was a tough match, and I have to say my favorite Jadis sure had a run for her money. She has GOT to go to Hogwarts and learn some of those "Deep Magic" loopholes that Voldepants knows.
Tomorrow... hopefully no assassinations!
...high time to return to the land of make-believe!
Last year, soon after I started this blog, I got sucked into rereading The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe somehow... I vaguely remember picking it up out of a free box or off of the top of a garbage bin or something. Naturally, it took over my life, and I ended up having a face-off between Aslan and Dumbledore -- check out that entry to see who won. Recently I discovered that I apparently wrote but failed to follow through and post the second half of my insanity, when I threw Voldemort and the White Witch Jadis into the ring. So here we go.
One word aside about these two villains and their creators: I was feeling a little bitter about how The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobewas so brazenly New Testament on my adult re-read, and when I started researching the etymology of the White Witch's name, I was DEEPLY disturbed to find out that Lewis' arch-villain was named after an indigenous Arabian tribe, one of the ancestor tribes of the Hebrews. Rowling's villain's etymology is much less problematic for me... everybody hates the French (her racialization of the house elves and bank goblins are something else, yuk). But anyway. Back to our ringside seats, Aslan and Dumbledore throwing popcorn from up in the cheap seats somewhere...
Voldemort
(French for Flight or Theft of Death)
vs.
Jadis the Jewess I mean White Witch
(name of an indigenous tribe in Arabia)
Supervillain Minimum Requirements Compared:
Mask V. - / J. - neither have a cool mask
Armor V. - / J. - again, both fall short
Cape V. + / J. ++ both have, but J. ensares Edmund with her sexy fur -- rrrrow
Has own country V. - / J. +
Refers to self in third person V. - / J. -
Has a degree V. + / J. -
Subtally: V. 1 / J. 3: Jadis has Voldemort doubled over on the ropes with her magnificent cape around his wimpy throat. Down kitty!
Supervillain Added Bonus Personality & Physical Enhancements Compared:
Adaptability & agility
V. + / J. - he's got that changing bodies and form thing going on
Delusions of grandeur & creates world in own image
V. + / J. ++ both have, but J. makes her world all winter, all the time
Creativity
V. + / J. - I've got to hand it to V., Jadis is just too rigid about laws and rules and tradition
Lack of fallibility
V. + / J. - they are both fallible, but Jadis makes some really bad judgement calls- I would trust Voldemort to do my taxes, but not Jadis
Knowledge of the magical loopholes
V. + / J. - Jadis is just a leeetle more out of the loop, so to say
Woundedness & despair
V. + / J. - J. is just too concerned about day to day details & comes off as a busybody next to Voldemort's tragic glowering raised-in-an-orphanage depression
Genetic giftedness for the part
V. - / J. ++ the daughter of the ancient Hebrew Dark Goddess Lillith! Cha-ching!
Apparent celibacy, probable gayness
V. + / J. + high marks all around here
Panache & overall style
V. - / J. + V. smells bad, J. has cool castle
And staggering to the middle of the ring with a fist raised high...
With a tally of V. 8 / J. 9
... it's Jadis with the cool castle, Goddess lineage and big sexy cape! She's taking a victory lap! The crowd goes wild!
That was a tough match, and I have to say my favorite Jadis sure had a run for her money. She has GOT to go to Hogwarts and learn some of those "Deep Magic" loopholes that Voldepants knows.
Tomorrow... hopefully no assassinations!
Tuesday, March 11, 2003
Stalking The Patron Saint of Chaos
Lovecraft-- the name almost seems made up, bringing together a warm cuddly word in cognitive dissonance with a word related to unseemly doings, crafty doings, maybe even piratical and witchy doings. I loved Lovecraft after getting some of his short story books from my scholastic book club when I was in fifth grade. I bought and read the Lovecraft-inspired Necronomicon. I date my real involvement with the world of witchcraft from the time a local witchy person sat me down, pointed to that book, and showed me two points on a piece of paper: "here is how I do it:" drawing a straight line between the points, and "here is how that book does it:" drawing a hugely contorted squiggly wandering line between the two points. In other words, at that point I came to understand Lovecraft as art and not a real prescription for energy work, and thereby came to appreciate it as the wonderful baroque excessiveness that it is. I loved it even more for its persevering chaotic weirdness in the face of the bland, albeit more effective, simplicty of REAL energy work.
So I still get a warm place in the coldness of my Northern New York heart when I discover some new way to revisit my haunted-by-beasts-with-no-name childhood. Voila, the Lovecraft Tarot. I discovered it as a newly available choice at my preferred free online tarot reading site, Facade.Com, where they introduce this deck thusly:
Now tell me, what ISN'T to like about that?
However, if you search for "Lovecraft Tarot" using the amazing Lovecraftian search engine (just introduced to me by my friend who I will pseudonymously call Al-Al) Cthuugle.Com, you will only get an EldritchDark.Com website with a Selection of Poems by Clark Ashton Smith In Castilian. Disappointing, if the only languages you know are English, German, Russian, Latin, Italian, and Croatian. I thought I had learned all the languages with grotesque, darkly fantastic and vaguely unsettling lyric poetry, but here they throw Castilian in my face.
I won't bore you my dear readers with the fantastic tale I was told about Howard Phillips Lovecraft by a childhood friend whose father worked on an expedition in South America to find the freak's body, except to say that Lovecraft may yet be alive. His body was never recovered. (I prefer not to believe the credible and popular tale of him dying in bed as a shut-in.) I will end with one of my favorite ever Lovecraft quotes which I never have enough opportunity to use:
Lovecraft-- the name almost seems made up, bringing together a warm cuddly word in cognitive dissonance with a word related to unseemly doings, crafty doings, maybe even piratical and witchy doings. I loved Lovecraft after getting some of his short story books from my scholastic book club when I was in fifth grade. I bought and read the Lovecraft-inspired Necronomicon. I date my real involvement with the world of witchcraft from the time a local witchy person sat me down, pointed to that book, and showed me two points on a piece of paper: "here is how I do it:" drawing a straight line between the points, and "here is how that book does it:" drawing a hugely contorted squiggly wandering line between the two points. In other words, at that point I came to understand Lovecraft as art and not a real prescription for energy work, and thereby came to appreciate it as the wonderful baroque excessiveness that it is. I loved it even more for its persevering chaotic weirdness in the face of the bland, albeit more effective, simplicty of REAL energy work.
So I still get a warm place in the coldness of my Northern New York heart when I discover some new way to revisit my haunted-by-beasts-with-no-name childhood. Voila, the Lovecraft Tarot. I discovered it as a newly available choice at my preferred free online tarot reading site, Facade.Com, where they introduce this deck thusly:
- It is the deck of choice for explorers of the macabre, and for posing questions that should never be asked.
Now tell me, what ISN'T to like about that?
However, if you search for "Lovecraft Tarot" using the amazing Lovecraftian search engine (just introduced to me by my friend who I will pseudonymously call Al-Al) Cthuugle.Com, you will only get an EldritchDark.Com website with a Selection of Poems by Clark Ashton Smith In Castilian. Disappointing, if the only languages you know are English, German, Russian, Latin, Italian, and Croatian. I thought I had learned all the languages with grotesque, darkly fantastic and vaguely unsettling lyric poetry, but here they throw Castilian in my face.
I won't bore you my dear readers with the fantastic tale I was told about Howard Phillips Lovecraft by a childhood friend whose father worked on an expedition in South America to find the freak's body, except to say that Lovecraft may yet be alive. His body was never recovered. (I prefer not to believe the credible and popular tale of him dying in bed as a shut-in.) I will end with one of my favorite ever Lovecraft quotes which I never have enough opportunity to use:
- That is not dead which may eternal lie, and within strange eaons even Death may die.
Friday, March 07, 2003
"In case of emergency, the parking brake may be used as an adult novelty item."
Let's read the government's lips... and do a little ventriloquism.
Stressed out by government announcements about biological weapons attacks? Read these captions to scare-tactic illustrations from the US government's ready.gov site.
The parking brake one gets the prize for Warning Sign Most Likely To Be Taken Seriously in San Francisco.
Meanwhile, I was waiting in my chiropractor's office this morning and heaved her enormous Vanity Fair onto my lap to bide the time. Flipping through the scary skinny people pages (looking for the article on the Miss World Pageant) I found a gritty article detailing how the US government is using time-honored scare tactics (i.e. a la Stalin) to preempt a strong anti-war movement. I was astonished that such a commercial magazine had tackled such a charged subject -- how US Americans are "sleep-walking" into war. It was too bad the chiropractor was running on time-- I didn't get to read very much. But I did catch the bit about how Sean Penn is playing the part of the "useful idiot" (a Leninism) by the Bush regime, since his three day fact-finding trip to Baghdad. All they have to do is make his life miserable, and his cause laughable, and in the future celebrities will leave the anti-war protesting to the relatively invisible college students in order to keep their day jobs. No messy blacklist. The author (whose name I don't remember) also talks about how the government has neatly tied the hands of academics to keep them from speaking out against the war effort.
I thought it was pretty brave to do such an expose in the current climate. Well, looking for Vanity Fair online, I find that they are not based in the US. Thus their bravery in truth-telling.
It brings to mind that adage "The first casualty of war is truth." I guess the first English source of that quote dates back to the brilliant Dr. Samuel Johnson:
Among the calamities of war may be jointly numbered the diminution of the love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates and credulity encourages.
(The Idler, 1758)
What for a truth-lover to do? Read your news about world-wide pro-war media bias at the UK-based Media Workers Against the War website.
Let's read the government's lips... and do a little ventriloquism.
Stressed out by government announcements about biological weapons attacks? Read these captions to scare-tactic illustrations from the US government's ready.gov site.
The parking brake one gets the prize for Warning Sign Most Likely To Be Taken Seriously in San Francisco.
Meanwhile, I was waiting in my chiropractor's office this morning and heaved her enormous Vanity Fair onto my lap to bide the time. Flipping through the scary skinny people pages (looking for the article on the Miss World Pageant) I found a gritty article detailing how the US government is using time-honored scare tactics (i.e. a la Stalin) to preempt a strong anti-war movement. I was astonished that such a commercial magazine had tackled such a charged subject -- how US Americans are "sleep-walking" into war. It was too bad the chiropractor was running on time-- I didn't get to read very much. But I did catch the bit about how Sean Penn is playing the part of the "useful idiot" (a Leninism) by the Bush regime, since his three day fact-finding trip to Baghdad. All they have to do is make his life miserable, and his cause laughable, and in the future celebrities will leave the anti-war protesting to the relatively invisible college students in order to keep their day jobs. No messy blacklist. The author (whose name I don't remember) also talks about how the government has neatly tied the hands of academics to keep them from speaking out against the war effort.
I thought it was pretty brave to do such an expose in the current climate. Well, looking for Vanity Fair online, I find that they are not based in the US. Thus their bravery in truth-telling.
It brings to mind that adage "The first casualty of war is truth." I guess the first English source of that quote dates back to the brilliant Dr. Samuel Johnson:
Among the calamities of war may be jointly numbered the diminution of the love of truth, by the falsehoods which interest dictates and credulity encourages.
(The Idler, 1758)
What for a truth-lover to do? Read your news about world-wide pro-war media bias at the UK-based Media Workers Against the War website.
Thursday, March 06, 2003
...ah Bernadette...
One of my links in today's blog made the portal go wonky and uneditable so here is the end of today's blog at the beginning:
One of my links in today's blog made the portal go wonky and uneditable so here is the end of today's blog at the beginning:
Bernadette Devlin has survived assassination attempts and unspeakable police abuse in the UK and US, and still she travels and rallies attention on human rights abuses. Her January 1992 speech in that cold Vassar chapel, filled with Ulster expats and maybe three other students, was part of the first speaking tour she had been allowed to do in the US in decades, or maybe ever. That day she instilled in me the lesson that armed rebellion is sometimes the only option when your oppressors know no other language.
So, if you all notice a big dearth in Slacker Stalking in the next few weeks, you'll know that there is a cat somewhere that needs feeding and a SlackerStalker somewhere that needs bail bonds.
Or, if I get out safely as I plan, tell my friends to send me a telegram in Slovenia when the police state has fallen.
Time to Renew My Passport, and Good Timing Too...
Because I need a break in this abusive relationship with my country. I just keep trying to love it and it just keeps getting scarier. You've all heard about the guy arrested for wearing a peace t-shirt at Crossgates Mall in Albany by now, right? Well I just read that a man was arrested in New Mexico a month ago for saying that George W. Bush is out of control in a goddamn chatroom. This same article tells me that Bernadette Devlin is no longer welcome here in the US.
I helped with publicity for the group that brought Bernadette Devlin to speak at my college in January 1992. I skipped the annual Pro-Choice Roe V. Wade demonstration in Washington just to stay home and hear her speak. That year it was a pretty historical humungous dykey feminist demo I passed up, too. But I was appalled that more students didn't stay to hear Bernadette. After hearing her speech I was ready to move to North Ireland and join the struggle for independence. To me, she's right up there with Marilyn Waring. They both responded to conservative repression by running for a government seat and winning- Marilyn as a teenager, and Bernadette as a 21 year old. But Bernadette edges out Marilyn in the category of sheer strength by - as a young wife and mother - winning a seat as an MP and then becoming a political prisoner - while still retaining her seat in British Parliament.
Here is a short bio of Bernadette from the History Channel:
Because I need a break in this abusive relationship with my country. I just keep trying to love it and it just keeps getting scarier. You've all heard about the guy arrested for wearing a peace t-shirt at Crossgates Mall in Albany by now, right? Well I just read that a man was arrested in New Mexico a month ago for saying that George W. Bush is out of control in a goddamn chatroom. This same article tells me that Bernadette Devlin is no longer welcome here in the US.
I helped with publicity for the group that brought Bernadette Devlin to speak at my college in January 1992. I skipped the annual Pro-Choice Roe V. Wade demonstration in Washington just to stay home and hear her speak. That year it was a pretty historical humungous dykey feminist demo I passed up, too. But I was appalled that more students didn't stay to hear Bernadette. After hearing her speech I was ready to move to North Ireland and join the struggle for independence. To me, she's right up there with Marilyn Waring. They both responded to conservative repression by running for a government seat and winning- Marilyn as a teenager, and Bernadette as a 21 year old. But Bernadette edges out Marilyn in the category of sheer strength by - as a young wife and mother - winning a seat as an MP and then becoming a political prisoner - while still retaining her seat in British Parliament.
Here is a short bio of Bernadette from the History Channel:
Bernadette Devlin was one of the most electrifying figures in the movement for Irish unification in the late 20th century. Elected to the British Parliament from Northern Ireland in 1969, she was at age 21 the youngest-ever British MP. She was a stirring speaker, winning respect in Westminster despite her age and controversial politics. In August 1969, she was arrested during the ''Battle of the Bogside,'' a riot in Londonderry that marked the beginning of 30 years of armed resistance to the British occupation of Northern Ireland. Convicted of inciting a riot in 1970, she spent four months in prison while still an MP. After "Bloody Sunday" in 1972, in which 13 Catholic demonstrators in Londonderry were killed by British soldiers, she assaulted Reginald Maudling, the Home Secretary, in Parliament, calling him a "murdering hypocrite." In 1973, she took her husband's last name, becoming Bernadette McAliskey. She left Parliament the following year but continued to be politically active in Northern Ireland. In 1981, she and her husband were shot by members of a Protestant paramilitary group at their farmhouse near Belfast. Bernadette was struck by nine bullets but eventually recovered and returned to her activism. An unabashed Irish Republican, she said of the 1994 Irish Republican Army (IRA) cease-fire, "The war is over and the good guys lost."
Wednesday, March 05, 2003
A Slice of My Life
In my work day I deal with queer politics from the sarcastic to the heart-rending.
Part One: the handwritten letter on notebook paper.
A letter from Indiana written out in black pen on one side of narrow-rule notebook paper sent to my organization (an international queer human rights org) seeking lifestyle guidance. Like anyone here has a clue how anyone gets a lifestyle. We're like the squatters outside the ivory tower, intellectuals who spend weekends writing theory papers and action statements to support Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence sex parties which we never attend. Meantime, my handwriting analysis tells me that this kid is maybe 17, and pretty damn gay, and pretty damn alone.
I have found two nearly identical letters from him sent to two different organizations which somehow made their ways to me. In the other letter he adds: "I will die saying I'm happy being gay." In my heart I'm writing back: Dear kid, it's the same everywhere. You're a miracle. Don't die unless you have to. Keep writing.
Part Two: the other end of the spectrum-- a brilliant culture jamming love song highlighting the homoerotic nature of war alliances.
It speaks/ sings for itself. I suppose people might call it homophobic but - people! not all homoeroticism is wholesome! That kid in Indiana, he is wholesome! Pecker centered global politics is not!
The Oily Shrub and the British Lap Dog singing the duet Endless Love.
In my work day I deal with queer politics from the sarcastic to the heart-rending.
Part One: the handwritten letter on notebook paper.
A letter from Indiana written out in black pen on one side of narrow-rule notebook paper sent to my organization (an international queer human rights org) seeking lifestyle guidance. Like anyone here has a clue how anyone gets a lifestyle. We're like the squatters outside the ivory tower, intellectuals who spend weekends writing theory papers and action statements to support Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence sex parties which we never attend. Meantime, my handwriting analysis tells me that this kid is maybe 17, and pretty damn gay, and pretty damn alone.
To Whom It May Concern
To start with would like to thank you for putting your company and address in the books that myself and others may read would love it if you would be kind to look and see if you could see if you would have any more info on the gay life style fore in my town their are very few gay people here that would be glad to say that their gay but for me it does not matter what they say about me because they need to look at their life before they look at mine like i said in the first part of this letter would you pleace look and see if you have any info that i could read and help to understand why that as a gay man they look at me like a dead flower or something so if you have anything if would make me very happy so until i here from you thank you once again.
Will wate until i here from you until then have a good week or weekend which ever it is when you get this letter thank you.
I have found two nearly identical letters from him sent to two different organizations which somehow made their ways to me. In the other letter he adds: "I will die saying I'm happy being gay." In my heart I'm writing back: Dear kid, it's the same everywhere. You're a miracle. Don't die unless you have to. Keep writing.
Part Two: the other end of the spectrum-- a brilliant culture jamming love song highlighting the homoerotic nature of war alliances.
It speaks/ sings for itself. I suppose people might call it homophobic but - people! not all homoeroticism is wholesome! That kid in Indiana, he is wholesome! Pecker centered global politics is not!
The Oily Shrub and the British Lap Dog singing the duet Endless Love.
Sunday, March 02, 2003
For Those Who Have Been Waiting for Me To Return to My Bisexual Roots
I've just given my heart to a boy... named Winter.
Obviously, there will be some problems in the relationship, given that he is some sort of cat. Besides the language barrier, he lives in Boston and I live in Oakland, and he is kind of a technophobe about e-mail. PLUS the usual male intimacy issues-- he doesn't come toward you if you are someone other than his mommy if you are doing anything except running away from him. I was charmed by his good looks and his bold smiley-eyed kitty kisses (slow-blinking at me) from across the room while I was visiting his mommy a few days ago. I've been thinking about him ever since. His mommy wrote me to tell me that he said hi, but I'm guessing she's putting words in his mouth. He's probably already moved on to the next house guest. This is destined to be just a summer (or, winter) camp crush never to be realized after the initial flirting. But isn't he a handsome, handsome whatever he is?
The story that really won me over after the initial swoon over his sweetness and good looks is that when my friend got him a kitten after his first indoor kitty friend (a few weeks after he was rescued) died suddenly, she says he adopted that kitten and even nursed it on his man-nipples. Swoonable, yes?
The photo doesn't really show his size-- he could stand on his hind legs and look up on the kitchen counter if he wanted to. He has big wide feet and humongous ears like a Savannah cat, and he can leap any piece of furniture he sets his mind to. He easily jumped on and off the fridge from the ground. But shy and gentle, ladies, shy and gentle.
I guess he's some kind of Savannah Serval. Check out the Exotic Feline Rescue Center if you are a-hankering for a nice big gorgeous man-cat to adopt. Check out the Savannah Cat Club for more pictures of eye-candy cats like Winter.
I've just given my heart to a boy... named Winter.
Obviously, there will be some problems in the relationship, given that he is some sort of cat. Besides the language barrier, he lives in Boston and I live in Oakland, and he is kind of a technophobe about e-mail. PLUS the usual male intimacy issues-- he doesn't come toward you if you are someone other than his mommy if you are doing anything except running away from him. I was charmed by his good looks and his bold smiley-eyed kitty kisses (slow-blinking at me) from across the room while I was visiting his mommy a few days ago. I've been thinking about him ever since. His mommy wrote me to tell me that he said hi, but I'm guessing she's putting words in his mouth. He's probably already moved on to the next house guest. This is destined to be just a summer (or, winter) camp crush never to be realized after the initial flirting. But isn't he a handsome, handsome whatever he is?
The story that really won me over after the initial swoon over his sweetness and good looks is that when my friend got him a kitten after his first indoor kitty friend (a few weeks after he was rescued) died suddenly, she says he adopted that kitten and even nursed it on his man-nipples. Swoonable, yes?
The photo doesn't really show his size-- he could stand on his hind legs and look up on the kitchen counter if he wanted to. He has big wide feet and humongous ears like a Savannah cat, and he can leap any piece of furniture he sets his mind to. He easily jumped on and off the fridge from the ground. But shy and gentle, ladies, shy and gentle.
I guess he's some kind of Savannah Serval. Check out the Exotic Feline Rescue Center if you are a-hankering for a nice big gorgeous man-cat to adopt. Check out the Savannah Cat Club for more pictures of eye-candy cats like Winter.
Friday, February 28, 2003
The Answer to the Irresistable Language Builder Moment ... from my bloggito on Wednesday...
The answers, in order, are in this sentence:
The angry, hungry silver-eyed monster grabbed its jerky and smothered it in ketchup.
The word ketchup has its roots originally in Malay, but it came to American English via the Chinese. It used to mean any of a variety of fish sauces, and I guess the Indonesian red fish sauce is still called something like ket-jap.
Here is what EtymOnline.com has to say:
The answers, in order, are in this sentence:
The angry, hungry silver-eyed monster grabbed its jerky and smothered it in ketchup.
The word ketchup has its roots originally in Malay, but it came to American English via the Chinese. It used to mean any of a variety of fish sauces, and I guess the Indonesian red fish sauce is still called something like ket-jap.
Here is what EtymOnline.com has to say:
ketchup
1711, from Malay kichap, from Chinese (Amoy dial.) koechiap "brine of fish." Catsup (earlier catchup) is a failed attempt at Anglicization, still in use in U.S. Originally a fish sauce, early English recipes included among their ingredients mushrooms, walnuts, cucumbers, and oysters. Modern form of the sauce began to emerge when U.S. seamen added tomatoes.
Wednesday, February 26, 2003
Finally, Reportage on the April 15 Peace Marches:
There were millions and millions of people on the street two weekends ago, and they weren't kicking Firefighters in the kidneys because the Raiders sucked at the Superbowl-- they actually had a purpose. The Bush administration was given notice that it shouldn't even think of starting a preemptive war on Iraq.
My boss was in Rome that weekend. I work at an international gay organization. The last time I was in Rome with my boss we were organizing a conference on fundamentalism and homophobia in concordance with the World Pride 2000 festivities, for which Rome saw the most rainbow flags in its streets ever... thanks to the rainbow flag inventor Gilbert bringing about a ton of flags for people to carry... My boss and I marched with Gilbert and watched how moved he was to see how Rome had adopted his symbol. If only he had been there on April 15. 1.5 million (by police) to 3 mil (by organizers) were counted in the streets of Rome, most of them with their happy little rainbow flag in hand.
Here is my transcription of comments by my boss when I asked him about his experience in Rome that day:
Yay gay nuns and priests for peace! Now, a little reportage from a SlackerStalker reporter who was in the field in NYC April 15:
Look at (and read about) the Glamericans on their website --unfortunately the photos seem to be only from the DC protest, which was more frozen and therefore more bundled in wool, therefore less glamorous.
And... a Little Bonus Bloggito...
A Nonpolitical but yet Irresistable Language Builder Moment with the SlackerStalker
A tip of the hat to my women witches' mailing list, which is full of linguists who have been plagueing us with these sorts of questions lately.
1. What are the two words (in mainstream usage) in English which end in "-gry"?
2. Everyone knows there is no English rhyme for the English word "orange." What is the other word which is both a noun and an adjective (describing a color) for which there is no rhyme?
3. What is the one very-American-English-sounding word American English has borrowed from Quechua, the language of the Incas, and is still spoken today in Peru? (Hint One: "ts?arky" is how it's pronounced, with "?" being a glottal stop; Hint Two: it passed into English via cowboys who had contact with the indigenous people.)
4. What is a word borrowed from Chinese-- specifically Guangdonghua/ Cantonese-- for a common food item, that is not generally recognized as a loan word? (Hint: for the Prarie Home Companion listeners-- it has "natural mellowing agents." But now you all know the answer.)
There were millions and millions of people on the street two weekends ago, and they weren't kicking Firefighters in the kidneys because the Raiders sucked at the Superbowl-- they actually had a purpose. The Bush administration was given notice that it shouldn't even think of starting a preemptive war on Iraq.
My boss was in Rome that weekend. I work at an international gay organization. The last time I was in Rome with my boss we were organizing a conference on fundamentalism and homophobia in concordance with the World Pride 2000 festivities, for which Rome saw the most rainbow flags in its streets ever... thanks to the rainbow flag inventor Gilbert bringing about a ton of flags for people to carry... My boss and I marched with Gilbert and watched how moved he was to see how Rome had adopted his symbol. If only he had been there on April 15. 1.5 million (by police) to 3 mil (by organizers) were counted in the streets of Rome, most of them with their happy little rainbow flag in hand.
Here is my transcription of comments by my boss when I asked him about his experience in Rome that day:
Almost everyone in Rome had rainbow flags with the word "pace" in white on it. The whole city was there. Even people who came from outside Rome had the flag with "pace" on it. It was really organized. I went to buy bread and the lady in the shop asked if I was there for the march. There were people from all over the country who had come. There were no problems with the police. Rome almost always has protests of about 1 million people, every week, for organic farming and stuff. But this was the largest ever protest in Rome. It was a very festive atmosphere. People were singing, everyone said they had a good time. It was about three miles, but they kept changing the route on the way because it was too many people to keep on the route they originally planned, which was too short. They kept going around different blocks to get people to be able to walk instead of just standing- the people who came later had to walk a long way. It was pretty cold, about 45 F -- a lot of people had the rainbow flags wrapped around them. I don't know how they had decided on the rainbow flag. The Catholic Church was one of the main catalysts for getting people to march. Maybe it was a gay person on the organizing committee and the church didn't realize. Everyone seemed really happy. They all had their rainbow flags with them, even the people coming in from the country on the train. There aren't usually very many rainbow flags in Rome, even in June (Gay Pride Month). Everyone put their rainbow flag outside their window in their apartments later. Well, 90% of the people in the Catholic Church in Rome are gay, anyway. It's either lesbian nuns or gay priests who probably decided- hey let's have a rainbow flag!
Yay gay nuns and priests for peace! Now, a little reportage from a SlackerStalker reporter who was in the field in NYC April 15:
One of the cheeriest sights was the Glamericans, with their eye-searing wigs and Fifties movie-star sunglasses, chanting "Money for shopping, not bomb-dropping!" and carrying signs like "PEACE - It's the New Black!" and "War is tacky, darling!" One arresting individual in rhinestone shoulder pads and a Godawful yellow feather headdress had a sequined sign that said, "Honey, I *am* the bomb!"
Look at (and read about) the Glamericans on their website --unfortunately the photos seem to be only from the DC protest, which was more frozen and therefore more bundled in wool, therefore less glamorous.
And... a Little Bonus Bloggito...
A Nonpolitical but yet Irresistable Language Builder Moment with the SlackerStalker
A tip of the hat to my women witches' mailing list, which is full of linguists who have been plagueing us with these sorts of questions lately.
1. What are the two words (in mainstream usage) in English which end in "-gry"?
2. Everyone knows there is no English rhyme for the English word "orange." What is the other word which is both a noun and an adjective (describing a color) for which there is no rhyme?
3. What is the one very-American-English-sounding word American English has borrowed from Quechua, the language of the Incas, and is still spoken today in Peru? (Hint One: "ts?arky" is how it's pronounced, with "?" being a glottal stop; Hint Two: it passed into English via cowboys who had contact with the indigenous people.)
4. What is a word borrowed from Chinese-- specifically Guangdonghua/ Cantonese-- for a common food item, that is not generally recognized as a loan word? (Hint: for the Prarie Home Companion listeners-- it has "natural mellowing agents." But now you all know the answer.)
Saturday, February 22, 2003
The Women's History Guerrilla History Project Is Coming To Town...
And it knows if you've been bad or good...
I don't have time to go find and post my collected accounts from last weekend's marches yet, so to tide you over some more, here is something from the wonderful last holdover of the direct action feminist public education projects of the 1990's (anyone remember "WAC is Watching"?). Quoting from an announcement I just got:
And it knows if you've been bad or good...
I don't have time to go find and post my collected accounts from last weekend's marches yet, so to tide you over some more, here is something from the wonderful last holdover of the direct action feminist public education projects of the 1990's (anyone remember "WAC is Watching"?). Quoting from an announcement I just got:
The Women's Guerrilla History Project (we say the WGHP acronym "whoop!") is a group of women, girls and transgendered women who wish to see a more visible & public presence of women's history and accomplishments. To celebrate Women's History Month (March) and International Women's Day (March 8), we create posters of inspirational women and plaster them all over San Francisco Bay area. Our goal is that everyday people will see our posters, learn more about women's history, and question why women's diverse achievements are often unknown. Some subject matter by participants has included: religious leaders, martial artists, political prisoners, artists, mathemeticians and family members.
See our website for more info on making posters, our history, and wheat-pasting.
We will be meeting Friday, March 7th at Cafe La Boheme (3318 24th Street, across from 24th St. BART), at 8 PM. We generally hang out and talk to each other for about an hour and admire the posters, then swap posters and split up into groups to fan across the city. rain does NOT cancel! see you then.....
contact email: sfwomen2003@yahoo.com
Thursday, February 20, 2003
180 Pictures of Over 125 Protests
I have a longer blog in the drafting, with eyewitness accounts from friends who were in Rome and New York, but meanwhile satiate yourself with this page that has collected a bazillion photos of this past weekend's protests.
I have a longer blog in the drafting, with eyewitness accounts from friends who were in Rome and New York, but meanwhile satiate yourself with this page that has collected a bazillion photos of this past weekend's protests.
Sunday, February 16, 2003
Signs of the Other 44%
The news tonight says that 66% of US Americans approve of a war on Iraq-- only with our allies' support, but still. Well, the other 44% represented by about 250,000 people marched in San Francisco today, and I was drawn into the vortex with my little notepad and pen.
Here are some of the signs I saw (or heard of):
My friend Anna's intellectual Jewish father's sign:
Unilateral preemption -- a fatal precedent.
My other friend Anna's intellectual Jewish father's sign:
(A figure of Bush posed like "Uncle Sam" pointing his finger at you, wearing a Bin Laden beard and headgarment) I Want YOU for Al Queda... Bush says to Iraqis
On the back: War Will Recruit Terrorists
Another similar sign I saw:
Orphans Make Good Terrorists
Here's another intellectual sign:
Returned Peace Corps Volunteers for a Responsible Foreign Policy
I looked for the sexy/ perverted signs and the march was found lacking. This is the best I could do:
Brazilian Bikini Waxers Against Bush
...and this one which on second thought wasn't meant in the spirit me and my friends first took it...
Stop The War-- I Want To Get Off
Along with the
Food Not Bombs, and
Books Not Bombs, there were
Boobs not Bombs t-shirts-- on some chesty women, too.
There were quite a variety of identity-based slogans:
Midwives Say Push Hard for Peace
and...
11-year-olds...
Mullets...
Mohawks...
Straight White Men...
and
Cleavage For Peace.
As far as LGBTQ identity placards, I only saw Dykes For Peace, and Voting Queer Rancher for Peace. The latter wasn't the voting queer rancher trannydyke friend who I was hoping to run into at the march... she was able to find one of the queer contingents to sherpa her through the mob.
Along with the old standbys Regime Change Begins At Home and Have Another Pretzel, some of my other sign favorites were:
Don't Be Fuelish
Use Duct Tape for Homeland Security (with Bush's mouth taped)
Little lapel ribbons someone was making out of duct tape
War Hurts Kittens-- Won't Someone Please Think of the Kittens!
Afros Against the War (and the sign-carrier had a massive Afro, for emphasis)
Giants Fans For Peace-- Throw Bush Out At Home
(Two signs together) Nice People Against Icky Stuff -- with a plastic sunflower dotting the "i" in "nice" -- and
Smart Asses for Peace. ...The "nice person" had added in tiny print at the bottom: ...and I'm single!
It's a Fine Line Between Colin Powell and Colonial Power
Empty Warheads Found in Washington (with pictures of Bush, Powell, and Rumsfield)
A Do Not Enter sign with IRAQ taped into the middle
Cockroaches For Armageddon
Mong Fish Not War (i.e. -- fishmongering / warmongering)
War is Sweet To Those Who Haven't Tasted It -- Erasmus
Whoa Cowboy!
(in large print) Only One Country Has Used Nuclear Weapons (and much smaller) It Was Not Iraq
Lots of depictions of gas pumps as guns, including one person in a gas mask holding an actual gas pump nozzle to her temple,
and
VETO si'l vous plait!
There were a lot of signs made in French and other languages thanking the nations which are fighting the US war effort. I think this was the first US march I've been in where people carried UN flags and French flags... usually there is no faith put in any governing power by demonstrators.
There were a lot of good efforts put into magnificent-but-invisible signs made of clear plastic and duct tape. The US flag made of tiny duct tape stars and stripes on cellophane was wonderful, but a waste of effort for how it disappeared among flashy color signs.
There was a contingent of sweet, quiet geeks in front of the (comparatively loud and charismatic) Quaker Friends where I was marching. The geeks had signs written in black ballpoint on the kind of cardboard that you find in the package of manila envelopes you buy at Walgreens. One of their catchy slogans was Algebra Not War. Someone needs to introduce them to the Graphic Designers Against War.
My placard was from the American Friends Service Committee/ Quaker contingent. It was something like Interfaith Communities for Peace and Justice. Which brings me to my...
Slacker Stalker's Rules for Marching in a Mob Against Something
(for me as much as you.)
1. READ YOUR OWN SIGN. I am not sure what mine said, except that it didn't offend me. I went up to people with Draft SUV Drivers signs to give them some fake "tickets" for SUV gas-guzzlers (see my blog from a few days ago)-- about half of them seemed foggy on why I was picking them out to give them anti-SUV protest materials.
2. Writing a sign with each letter in a different rainbow color LEAVES YOU WITH AN INVISIBLE YELLOW LETTER. Just don't do it. Black, or dark green or dark red (which are black to the average eye in dim light) on white or a yellow/ tawny color is the very most visible combination.
3. The People, United, Will Run Eachother Over. Respect wheels (on chairs, baby carriages, whateveh), and respect the laws of physics regarding disparate matter not being able to occupy the same space. Your unwieldy backback gives you a backward wingspan (spinespan?) of about four extra feet, which you can use as a weapon to knock over a whole herd of skinny suburban ladies with one quick pivot. Do not use your body, bag, sign, baby carriage, or wheel chair as battering rams. Say excuse me, pardon me, scuzi, sneeze, blow a whistle, ANYTHING-- just don't push and bolt through a crowd. And think about bringing a smaller knapsack than the one you used to hike all of Bohemia last summer.
4. WRITE ON BOTH SIDES OF YOUR SIGN. We are all behind you. We will not run to find out what you are projecting forward to the two people who are turning around to see how far behind their friends are. We will more likely stop and wait for you to pass so we can read the back. I saw one hard-working pair carrying a whole huge canvas on a wooden frame with a nice black-on-yellow Bush Knew About 9-11... with an afterthought-- No War-- scribbled on the back.
5. TISSUES and PLASTIC BAGS are wasteful consumer products which you MUST BRING on every march. You WILL generate stains and garbage, unless you are Martha Stewart, in which case you like the status quo and won't be marching against anything.
6. RESPECT THE MIC at the rally before or after the march. The one time you are shouting over the speeches to your friends on the other side of the field is going to be the one time that celebrity guest speaker will be sitting on the public transit vehicle as you part from your friends and make your way back to the suburbs. Listen to what the rally speakers are saying so that you can have a palsywalsy bantering moment with Bonnie Raitt, Joan Baez, or Dolores Huerta later on. You think I'm kidding? I rode home tonight next to one of the speakers, still wearing her credentials badge. She looked like Dolores Huerta, but since I didn't get close enough to see the rally stage, and didn't really listen very well to the speakers, I couldn't tell if it was really her, or say anything pithy in response to her speech.
I will try-- if you will- to have better marching habits. As the Rosies the Riveters contingent said today-- We Can Do It!
The news tonight says that 66% of US Americans approve of a war on Iraq-- only with our allies' support, but still. Well, the other 44% represented by about 250,000 people marched in San Francisco today, and I was drawn into the vortex with my little notepad and pen.
Here are some of the signs I saw (or heard of):
My friend Anna's intellectual Jewish father's sign:
Unilateral preemption -- a fatal precedent.
My other friend Anna's intellectual Jewish father's sign:
(A figure of Bush posed like "Uncle Sam" pointing his finger at you, wearing a Bin Laden beard and headgarment) I Want YOU for Al Queda... Bush says to Iraqis
On the back: War Will Recruit Terrorists
Another similar sign I saw:
Orphans Make Good Terrorists
Here's another intellectual sign:
Returned Peace Corps Volunteers for a Responsible Foreign Policy
I looked for the sexy/ perverted signs and the march was found lacking. This is the best I could do:
Brazilian Bikini Waxers Against Bush
...and this one which on second thought wasn't meant in the spirit me and my friends first took it...
Stop The War-- I Want To Get Off
Along with the
Food Not Bombs, and
Books Not Bombs, there were
Boobs not Bombs t-shirts-- on some chesty women, too.
There were quite a variety of identity-based slogans:
Midwives Say Push Hard for Peace
and...
11-year-olds...
Mullets...
Mohawks...
Straight White Men...
and
Cleavage For Peace.
As far as LGBTQ identity placards, I only saw Dykes For Peace, and Voting Queer Rancher for Peace. The latter wasn't the voting queer rancher trannydyke friend who I was hoping to run into at the march... she was able to find one of the queer contingents to sherpa her through the mob.
Along with the old standbys Regime Change Begins At Home and Have Another Pretzel, some of my other sign favorites were:
Don't Be Fuelish
Use Duct Tape for Homeland Security (with Bush's mouth taped)
Little lapel ribbons someone was making out of duct tape
War Hurts Kittens-- Won't Someone Please Think of the Kittens!
Afros Against the War (and the sign-carrier had a massive Afro, for emphasis)
Giants Fans For Peace-- Throw Bush Out At Home
(Two signs together) Nice People Against Icky Stuff -- with a plastic sunflower dotting the "i" in "nice" -- and
Smart Asses for Peace. ...The "nice person" had added in tiny print at the bottom: ...and I'm single!
It's a Fine Line Between Colin Powell and Colonial Power
Empty Warheads Found in Washington (with pictures of Bush, Powell, and Rumsfield)
A Do Not Enter sign with IRAQ taped into the middle
Cockroaches For Armageddon
Mong Fish Not War (i.e. -- fishmongering / warmongering)
War is Sweet To Those Who Haven't Tasted It -- Erasmus
Whoa Cowboy!
(in large print) Only One Country Has Used Nuclear Weapons (and much smaller) It Was Not Iraq
Lots of depictions of gas pumps as guns, including one person in a gas mask holding an actual gas pump nozzle to her temple,
and
VETO si'l vous plait!
There were a lot of signs made in French and other languages thanking the nations which are fighting the US war effort. I think this was the first US march I've been in where people carried UN flags and French flags... usually there is no faith put in any governing power by demonstrators.
There were a lot of good efforts put into magnificent-but-invisible signs made of clear plastic and duct tape. The US flag made of tiny duct tape stars and stripes on cellophane was wonderful, but a waste of effort for how it disappeared among flashy color signs.
There was a contingent of sweet, quiet geeks in front of the (comparatively loud and charismatic) Quaker Friends where I was marching. The geeks had signs written in black ballpoint on the kind of cardboard that you find in the package of manila envelopes you buy at Walgreens. One of their catchy slogans was Algebra Not War. Someone needs to introduce them to the Graphic Designers Against War.
My placard was from the American Friends Service Committee/ Quaker contingent. It was something like Interfaith Communities for Peace and Justice. Which brings me to my...
Slacker Stalker's Rules for Marching in a Mob Against Something
(for me as much as you.)
1. READ YOUR OWN SIGN. I am not sure what mine said, except that it didn't offend me. I went up to people with Draft SUV Drivers signs to give them some fake "tickets" for SUV gas-guzzlers (see my blog from a few days ago)-- about half of them seemed foggy on why I was picking them out to give them anti-SUV protest materials.
2. Writing a sign with each letter in a different rainbow color LEAVES YOU WITH AN INVISIBLE YELLOW LETTER. Just don't do it. Black, or dark green or dark red (which are black to the average eye in dim light) on white or a yellow/ tawny color is the very most visible combination.
3. The People, United, Will Run Eachother Over. Respect wheels (on chairs, baby carriages, whateveh), and respect the laws of physics regarding disparate matter not being able to occupy the same space. Your unwieldy backback gives you a backward wingspan (spinespan?) of about four extra feet, which you can use as a weapon to knock over a whole herd of skinny suburban ladies with one quick pivot. Do not use your body, bag, sign, baby carriage, or wheel chair as battering rams. Say excuse me, pardon me, scuzi, sneeze, blow a whistle, ANYTHING-- just don't push and bolt through a crowd. And think about bringing a smaller knapsack than the one you used to hike all of Bohemia last summer.
4. WRITE ON BOTH SIDES OF YOUR SIGN. We are all behind you. We will not run to find out what you are projecting forward to the two people who are turning around to see how far behind their friends are. We will more likely stop and wait for you to pass so we can read the back. I saw one hard-working pair carrying a whole huge canvas on a wooden frame with a nice black-on-yellow Bush Knew About 9-11... with an afterthought-- No War-- scribbled on the back.
5. TISSUES and PLASTIC BAGS are wasteful consumer products which you MUST BRING on every march. You WILL generate stains and garbage, unless you are Martha Stewart, in which case you like the status quo and won't be marching against anything.
6. RESPECT THE MIC at the rally before or after the march. The one time you are shouting over the speeches to your friends on the other side of the field is going to be the one time that celebrity guest speaker will be sitting on the public transit vehicle as you part from your friends and make your way back to the suburbs. Listen to what the rally speakers are saying so that you can have a palsywalsy bantering moment with Bonnie Raitt, Joan Baez, or Dolores Huerta later on. You think I'm kidding? I rode home tonight next to one of the speakers, still wearing her credentials badge. She looked like Dolores Huerta, but since I didn't get close enough to see the rally stage, and didn't really listen very well to the speakers, I couldn't tell if it was really her, or say anything pithy in response to her speech.
I will try-- if you will- to have better marching habits. As the Rosies the Riveters contingent said today-- We Can Do It!
Thursday, February 13, 2003
From the same people who brought you the wonderful "Regime Change Begins At Home" poster that I put up this last election season:
"Inspections Work. War Won't." Keep your eyes open for this MoveOn.org slogan on billboards around the US.
The brilliant and radical artist Art Spiegelman suddenly left The New Yorker this month because of how conservative they've gotten, but I think it's mainly the covers that have been getting the war-spirit. The cover of the latest edition (Feb. 10) has a forlorn male soldier under war planes and surrounded with guns reading a bright little Valentine's card-- it looks like 1940's WWII pro-war propoganda; however, the first article in "Talk of the Town" by Hendrik Hertzberg ends with this:
Earlier in the article he puts a quote from our Oily Shrub's State of the Union - a glib characterization of extrajudicial executions of the enemy - "Let's put it this way: they are no longer a problem to the United States and our friends and allies" - in juxtaposition with a favorite maxim of Saddam Hussein--- "If there is a person, then there is a problem. If there is no person, then there is no problem."
Creepy much?
"Inspections Work. War Won't." Keep your eyes open for this MoveOn.org slogan on billboards around the US.
The brilliant and radical artist Art Spiegelman suddenly left The New Yorker this month because of how conservative they've gotten, but I think it's mainly the covers that have been getting the war-spirit. The cover of the latest edition (Feb. 10) has a forlorn male soldier under war planes and surrounded with guns reading a bright little Valentine's card-- it looks like 1940's WWII pro-war propoganda; however, the first article in "Talk of the Town" by Hendrik Hertzberg ends with this:
The other day, Secretary of State Colin Powell was reminded that his boss {G.W.B., he means} is in bed by ten and sleeps like a baby. Powell reportedly replied, "I sleep like a baby, too-- every two hours I wake up screaming."
Earlier in the article he puts a quote from our Oily Shrub's State of the Union - a glib characterization of extrajudicial executions of the enemy - "Let's put it this way: they are no longer a problem to the United States and our friends and allies" - in juxtaposition with a favorite maxim of Saddam Hussein--- "If there is a person, then there is a problem. If there is no person, then there is no problem."
Creepy much?
Tuesday, February 11, 2003
How to Stalk - and Ticket - Gas Guzzler SUVs for Sport and Edification
I was in a semi-serious car accident recently, and today I found out it was a "light van" who attacked the parked-in-traffic line of four cars, causing us all to rear-end eachother. So, for the record, this isn't a grudge match. If it was an SUV who attacked us, the insurance investigator would have just said so.
On the other hand, I was in a minor confrontation with an SUV owner earlier today, when I offered the rest of my bellydancing class "tickets" to go around with which to tag their neighborhood gas hogs -- fake parking tickets that suggest that the owner should contact the manufacturer and ask them to make more fuel-efficient cars. Apparently, her SUV had been ticketed more than once with these things. It was also apparent that she hadn't read the ticket to see that it wasn't calling her a terrorist-- it's just asking her to use her ownership to advocate for better construction in future vehicles, and reconsider owning the one she has. Boy, it is hard to be too aggrivated having to defend my activism to an SUV owner. Especially one who dances like she has a 3-foot pole up her butt. And the rest of the class took handfuls of "tickets" on the sly before they left. I understand that some people actually need and use off-road vehicles and work hard to not take up more than their fair share of room on the road, carpooling and biking and so forth, but does ANYONE need a car that only gets 10 miles to the gallon? Is that defensible in ANY moral terms, when we are about to resume bombing a country only to get control of their oil reserves?
Anyway, these tickets are WAY fun. I don't ticket any one car twice, and I don't ticket the cars with which I actually don't mind sharing the road- the ones I can see around. I don't ticket in daylight, and I especially look for SUVs with US flags on them.
HERE is the Project Underground web page with PDFs of the wonderful tickets that read (in part):
Project Underground & Global Exchange would be MOST grateful if you asked them to mail you some of their gazillion "tickets" - for free! Just call them at 1-800-497-1994 x 230. And remember...
--- if broccoli was the number one export from the Middle East, we wouldn't be invading Iraq!
I was in a semi-serious car accident recently, and today I found out it was a "light van" who attacked the parked-in-traffic line of four cars, causing us all to rear-end eachother. So, for the record, this isn't a grudge match. If it was an SUV who attacked us, the insurance investigator would have just said so.
On the other hand, I was in a minor confrontation with an SUV owner earlier today, when I offered the rest of my bellydancing class "tickets" to go around with which to tag their neighborhood gas hogs -- fake parking tickets that suggest that the owner should contact the manufacturer and ask them to make more fuel-efficient cars. Apparently, her SUV had been ticketed more than once with these things. It was also apparent that she hadn't read the ticket to see that it wasn't calling her a terrorist-- it's just asking her to use her ownership to advocate for better construction in future vehicles, and reconsider owning the one she has. Boy, it is hard to be too aggrivated having to defend my activism to an SUV owner. Especially one who dances like she has a 3-foot pole up her butt. And the rest of the class took handfuls of "tickets" on the sly before they left. I understand that some people actually need and use off-road vehicles and work hard to not take up more than their fair share of room on the road, carpooling and biking and so forth, but does ANYONE need a car that only gets 10 miles to the gallon? Is that defensible in ANY moral terms, when we are about to resume bombing a country only to get control of their oil reserves?
Anyway, these tickets are WAY fun. I don't ticket any one car twice, and I don't ticket the cars with which I actually don't mind sharing the road- the ones I can see around. I don't ticket in daylight, and I especially look for SUVs with US flags on them.
HERE is the Project Underground web page with PDFs of the wonderful tickets that read (in part):
VIOLATION: Gas Guzzling Fuels Terrorism and War; Drunk driving puts lives at risk-- and so does driving an SUV. Oil dependence drives conflicts that kill innocent people. Please take a moment to consider the true costs of driving and SUV, and reconsider owning one. [...] Please contact the manufacturer of your SUV today and ask them to build more fuel-efficient vehicles. Contact your elected officials and tell them we should not fight a war for oil.
Project Underground & Global Exchange would be MOST grateful if you asked them to mail you some of their gazillion "tickets" - for free! Just call them at 1-800-497-1994 x 230. And remember...
--- if broccoli was the number one export from the Middle East, we wouldn't be invading Iraq!
Thursday, February 06, 2003
Today on Slackervision:
TWO GUN MOVIES SHOOT IT OUT - Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976) Vs. Rob Marshall's Chicago (2002)
THE LESBIAN MOVIE STANDARD (which requires two female actors to have at least one conversation about something other than a man):
Taxi Driver - surprisingly, no. (That's sarcasm.)
Chicago - surprisingly (to me, unfamiliar with the musical), yes. Solid.
THE JESUS FIGURE (which almost always exists in every mainstream movie, bringing at least one character to death or the brink of death and bringing her/him back to a greater glory):
Taxi Driver - Travis (de Niro)
Chicago - both Roxie and Velma, on death row in the movie (Zellweger and Zeta-Jones)
THE GAY CHARACTER (usually the only character that registers on gaydar, a standby in movies since the 90's):
Taxi Driver - Albert Brook's character. But that was a hard one to pick. I spotted him because he's the goofy sidekick, always a good candidate for the Gay Character.
Chicago - Mama! Queen Latifah! Those breasts should've gotten nominated for SOME kind of best supporting role.
P.S. Who the hell is Rob Marshall? - why, he did Annie for the Disney Channel in 1999, surely you couldn't forget THAT! Well, Chicago has put him on the map, so to say.
TWO GUN MOVIES SHOOT IT OUT - Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver (1976) Vs. Rob Marshall's Chicago (2002)
THE LESBIAN MOVIE STANDARD (which requires two female actors to have at least one conversation about something other than a man):
Taxi Driver - surprisingly, no. (That's sarcasm.)
Chicago - surprisingly (to me, unfamiliar with the musical), yes. Solid.
THE JESUS FIGURE (which almost always exists in every mainstream movie, bringing at least one character to death or the brink of death and bringing her/him back to a greater glory):
Taxi Driver - Travis (de Niro)
Chicago - both Roxie and Velma, on death row in the movie (Zellweger and Zeta-Jones)
THE GAY CHARACTER (usually the only character that registers on gaydar, a standby in movies since the 90's):
Taxi Driver - Albert Brook's character. But that was a hard one to pick. I spotted him because he's the goofy sidekick, always a good candidate for the Gay Character.
Chicago - Mama! Queen Latifah! Those breasts should've gotten nominated for SOME kind of best supporting role.
P.S. Who the hell is Rob Marshall? - why, he did Annie for the Disney Channel in 1999, surely you couldn't forget THAT! Well, Chicago has put him on the map, so to say.
Wednesday, February 05, 2003
The Slacker Stalker Hall of Fame of Whacky Performance Art Spaces that Survived the San Francisco Dot Bomb Today Honors...
(drumroll)
A deep curtsy to the geniuses of...
CELLspace! ...for its transwoman-organized women's skills-building "do it herself" workshops, having creatively decorated iMacs for anyone to freely access the internet (regardless of how you look or if you have a home), for being a great place to have a rollerskating party or political puppetry workshop, and a reliable source of alternative circus entertainment. Their next endeavor, tonight, is an evening infoshare discussion on squatter's rights. Motto for the event: "don't let houses rot." I know they had a fundraiser in the Dot Bomb times to keep the space open, and since that usually spells DOOM for every other space, I bet they worked their asses off to stay. Plus they save money by never heating the place.
(drumroll)
A deep curtsy to the geniuses of...
CELLspace! ...for its transwoman-organized women's skills-building "do it herself" workshops, having creatively decorated iMacs for anyone to freely access the internet (regardless of how you look or if you have a home), for being a great place to have a rollerskating party or political puppetry workshop, and a reliable source of alternative circus entertainment. Their next endeavor, tonight, is an evening infoshare discussion on squatter's rights. Motto for the event: "don't let houses rot." I know they had a fundraiser in the Dot Bomb times to keep the space open, and since that usually spells DOOM for every other space, I bet they worked their asses off to stay. Plus they save money by never heating the place.
Monday, February 03, 2003
Gross Vocab Builder Moment; or,
The Saponification of Mrs. Ellenbogen
Some people become worm food when they die, some people fish food. Some people, or at least one lady in the 19th century from Philly- SOAP.
The phenomenon is called adipocere: it turns some corpses into a waxy, soap-like substance, depending on factors such as humidity, temperature, the presence of clothing and bacterial activity. The fatter the person, the greater the chance saponification will occur.
Here's another article, but with gruesome photographs for your Monday morning viewing pleasure.
The Saponification of Mrs. Ellenbogen
Some people become worm food when they die, some people fish food. Some people, or at least one lady in the 19th century from Philly- SOAP.
The phenomenon is called adipocere: it turns some corpses into a waxy, soap-like substance, depending on factors such as humidity, temperature, the presence of clothing and bacterial activity. The fatter the person, the greater the chance saponification will occur.
Here's another article, but with gruesome photographs for your Monday morning viewing pleasure.
Sunday, February 02, 2003
John Lennon - a much publified Beatle
Out of Liddypol came this wonderfoul poem (from John Lennon In His Own Write, c. 1964) that I've been wanting to share with you, my responsible citizen readers, because of the clever and frisky use of the Latin verb "to love."
(Please do not truffle yourself to look for hidden meanings.)
Out of Liddypol came this wonderfoul poem (from John Lennon In His Own Write, c. 1964) that I've been wanting to share with you, my responsible citizen readers, because of the clever and frisky use of the Latin verb "to love."
Alec Speaking
He is putting it lithely when he says
Quobble in the Grass,
Strab he down the soddieflays
Amo amat amass;
Amonk amink a minibus,
Amarmylaidie Moon,
Amikky mendip multiplus
Amighty midgey spoon.
And so I traddled onward
Careing not a care
Onward, Onward, Onward.
Onward, my friends to victory and glory for the thirtyninth.
(Please do not truffle yourself to look for hidden meanings.)
Saturday, February 01, 2003
"Something Broke" - Reentry at Mach 18 - and a Love Spell
I was getting myself together to do a little blogging about love spells when I turned on NPR quietly and gradually these words pierced my sense of morning torpor like a fresh volley of the Chinese New Year firecrackers that woke me up at 7:30 am...
Now they are talking about the forensic investigation, and the potential danger to civilians who might try to handle debris that landed on their property.
The first article I came across declares the seven astronauts dead.
Watching the Blue Angels in their vertical aerobatics while sitting in a tarot workshop on interpreting The Lovers card, I suddenly grasped how much love is about the lurching, the sharp ascents and descents. You don't notice love until something forces it into a mercurial climb or fall. And then you understand that the tarot card The Lovers is not all about baked peaches with brown sugar delivered to your bedside with a tea rose in a vase. It's loss, and grief, and dramatic gestures, overacting. It is not a controlled, humble, balanced card. In fact, I've come to believe it represents nothing but the roller coaster of trust gained and lost, and that it has more to do with trust between two people than real understanding. You can trust a person, but do you ever really understand them?
Well seven families, a thousand close friends, and ten thousand people waking up in each succeeding time zone turning on their radios and TVs are feeling that lurch of a formation nose-dive. There is no understanding. And what trust we had in space flight has burned up in reentry. But then, as with Challenger, we will pick up our half-staff flags, hoist them high, and march on unquestioning. What, after all, does anyone know about space flight. As T.S. Eliot said, there is nothing but the trying.
And as in high flying space crafts, so in love. With that, I bring you lovelorn bloggers the formula I use for my very reliable love spells. (I don't do prosperity spells or finding-lost-object spells very well, but I am pretty much a sure thing for love spells and home-finding spells-- I fear loneliness and homelessness more than poverty and losing dear objects.) Remember that these seven astronauts did not fail in their mission: they dreamed, they did, they TRIED. In their heroic passing they give us an object lesson for daring to seek your heart's desire regardless of the consequences.
The basic set of rituals you need to do are 1. the clearing out, 2. the defining of non-negotiables, 3. the inviting in, and 4. the giving thanks.
1. The clearing out: EVERYONE has a love-relationship-conflict that needs to heal. Heal a little so that you have room to give a little. You know you have something to heal.
In meditative space, envision this: you go to the foot of a golden tree with honey for sap. Find a box and open it: find a protective robe from your spirit guide. Put it on and then find yourself in a crystal palace. This is a safe place. Call the spirits of the primary person who has hurt you in a conflict in a love-relationship (not necessarily a romance). Tell her/him everything in your heart that you want her/him to hear. Then thank her/him for bringing you this lesson. Then tell her/him that s/he can talk if s/he wants to. S/he may have things to say, s/he may not. Say
goodbye. Then either call in another spirit, or leave the crystal palace.
2. The Defining of Non-Negotiables: you know you have them.
Make a list of the things you absolutely can't live without in a love-partner. I recommend you make this as detailed as you want. The longest list I made still was answered, except for one or two key things, which I (at the time and later) realized were fair life-lessons for me. I DO RECOMMEND YOU SPECIFY GENDER if you care about that sort of thing. Some people have not defined gender and have quickly found their formerly-straight asses decked out in feathers and being marched down main street in a Gay Pride parade. This is something that you may or may not feel is a fortunate turn of events.
3. The Inviting In-- making these qualities YOU.
Now memorize your list. Chant it. Read it forwards and backwards outloud start-to-finish. Then take a spoonful of honey that you have on hand and eat it all up. You are in-toning, bringing IN TO YOURSELF the qualities you are seeking in another, and making yourself sticky and sweet like honey to that partner who is buzzing around looking for YOU. You want an honest partner? Time to make yourself as honest as you can be. Like attracts like. You may not dye your hair red if you are seeking a red-head, but you will get in touch with your inner-red-head, and that's never a bad thing to do.
4. The Giving Thanks--- don't forget your p's and q's!
The Goddess Oshun, the love goddess whose honey you ate, does appreciate your appreciation. When you get that partner that you called to you, please burn or bury your list of non-negotiables and say thank you to the forces that brought good love into your life.
I was getting myself together to do a little blogging about love spells when I turned on NPR quietly and gradually these words pierced my sense of morning torpor like a fresh volley of the Chinese New Year firecrackers that woke me up at 7:30 am...
Blackout
Mach 18
Reentry
Columbia
Debris
NASA
No information
No explosion
Only break-apart
Seven astronauts
I worked with them for a year and a half; there is no information as to whether they are alive.
Now they are talking about the forensic investigation, and the potential danger to civilians who might try to handle debris that landed on their property.
The first article I came across declares the seven astronauts dead.
Watching the Blue Angels in their vertical aerobatics while sitting in a tarot workshop on interpreting The Lovers card, I suddenly grasped how much love is about the lurching, the sharp ascents and descents. You don't notice love until something forces it into a mercurial climb or fall. And then you understand that the tarot card The Lovers is not all about baked peaches with brown sugar delivered to your bedside with a tea rose in a vase. It's loss, and grief, and dramatic gestures, overacting. It is not a controlled, humble, balanced card. In fact, I've come to believe it represents nothing but the roller coaster of trust gained and lost, and that it has more to do with trust between two people than real understanding. You can trust a person, but do you ever really understand them?
Well seven families, a thousand close friends, and ten thousand people waking up in each succeeding time zone turning on their radios and TVs are feeling that lurch of a formation nose-dive. There is no understanding. And what trust we had in space flight has burned up in reentry. But then, as with Challenger, we will pick up our half-staff flags, hoist them high, and march on unquestioning. What, after all, does anyone know about space flight. As T.S. Eliot said, there is nothing but the trying.
And as in high flying space crafts, so in love. With that, I bring you lovelorn bloggers the formula I use for my very reliable love spells. (I don't do prosperity spells or finding-lost-object spells very well, but I am pretty much a sure thing for love spells and home-finding spells-- I fear loneliness and homelessness more than poverty and losing dear objects.) Remember that these seven astronauts did not fail in their mission: they dreamed, they did, they TRIED. In their heroic passing they give us an object lesson for daring to seek your heart's desire regardless of the consequences.
The basic set of rituals you need to do are 1. the clearing out, 2. the defining of non-negotiables, 3. the inviting in, and 4. the giving thanks.
1. The clearing out: EVERYONE has a love-relationship-conflict that needs to heal. Heal a little so that you have room to give a little. You know you have something to heal.
In meditative space, envision this: you go to the foot of a golden tree with honey for sap. Find a box and open it: find a protective robe from your spirit guide. Put it on and then find yourself in a crystal palace. This is a safe place. Call the spirits of the primary person who has hurt you in a conflict in a love-relationship (not necessarily a romance). Tell her/him everything in your heart that you want her/him to hear. Then thank her/him for bringing you this lesson. Then tell her/him that s/he can talk if s/he wants to. S/he may have things to say, s/he may not. Say
goodbye. Then either call in another spirit, or leave the crystal palace.
2. The Defining of Non-Negotiables: you know you have them.
Make a list of the things you absolutely can't live without in a love-partner. I recommend you make this as detailed as you want. The longest list I made still was answered, except for one or two key things, which I (at the time and later) realized were fair life-lessons for me. I DO RECOMMEND YOU SPECIFY GENDER if you care about that sort of thing. Some people have not defined gender and have quickly found their formerly-straight asses decked out in feathers and being marched down main street in a Gay Pride parade. This is something that you may or may not feel is a fortunate turn of events.
3. The Inviting In-- making these qualities YOU.
Now memorize your list. Chant it. Read it forwards and backwards outloud start-to-finish. Then take a spoonful of honey that you have on hand and eat it all up. You are in-toning, bringing IN TO YOURSELF the qualities you are seeking in another, and making yourself sticky and sweet like honey to that partner who is buzzing around looking for YOU. You want an honest partner? Time to make yourself as honest as you can be. Like attracts like. You may not dye your hair red if you are seeking a red-head, but you will get in touch with your inner-red-head, and that's never a bad thing to do.
4. The Giving Thanks--- don't forget your p's and q's!
The Goddess Oshun, the love goddess whose honey you ate, does appreciate your appreciation. When you get that partner that you called to you, please burn or bury your list of non-negotiables and say thank you to the forces that brought good love into your life.