The Poet in the Weather Room



Where can an English Major get work where you don't have to wear a funny hat and a grease-stained uniform? Either in social services, education, or, apparently, writing the San Francisco Chronicle weather report. Sitting at a burger joint-- where I do NOT work, thanks for asking-- reading yesterday's leftover paper I noticed that the forecast summary for yesterday, today, and tomorrow are all the same IDENTICAL forecast. But, written as artfully as a sestina, so that you would not know that the weather will not change a whit for three days. Notice how they change the temperature one degree each time to keep it exciting.



Witness the genius:

Today -- Mostly sunny skies after morning fog. Highs, 59 - 77. Lows, 44 - 53.

Tuesday-- Areas of fog, then mostly sunny skies. Highs, 60 - 78. Lows, 45 - 54.

Wednesday -- Clear to partly cloudy after morning fog. Highs, 59 - 75. Lows, 46 - 52.



This person clearly cares about the reader, wants the reader to have an interesting reading experience even though nothing is happening. This writer inspires me and makes me feel like a careless brute for cutting-and-pasting identical passages, missing opportunities to flex and glory in my English skills.



Grief has turned me into an old lady. At 29, I am checking the weather report every day, spending my evenings (lately) polishing my tarnished silverware, and doing Latin-- for fun.

Useless Knowledge to Live By

Things I have inadvertantly recently learned.



About 16% of women have extra taste buds that are specifically in the bitter range.



Alligators have a weakness for marshmallows.



Jell-o is made from such vile stuff that they won't allow the manufacturing process to be filmed.



Romania has closed its borders for adoptions because of the problem of poor people selling their prettiest children.



Civet juice comes from a dead civet cat and ambergris comes from dead whales. (These are both common perfume ingredients.) Also, civet cat shit is harvested for the coffee beans it selects to eat in the wild. Since it's a picky eater people pay 200 dollars a pound for the beans it has excreted.



Is that enough information for everyone for today?

P.S. to the post below-- Sapphire Doric is not a dyke band, and isn't from Slovenia. They are a UK ambient music and animation collective of unspecified anything. They are listed under "Queer" on a Slovenian music web site. But there are plenty of other reasons why you should love Slovenia.

Stalking Slovenia



This sounds like a lifestyle to strive for (from a Washington Post article at the site I linked above):

A Slovenian aristocrat evaded taxes and an angry emperor's armies by building a four-story castle -- complete with ballroom and chapel -- into the side of a mountain riddled with caves and tunnels. He used secret tunnels in the castle's back to sneak out and gather supplies while under siege. He taunted those below by throwing fresh cherries and roasted duck at them.



And besides being the home of the original Lipizzaner horse breed (famous in Vienna), it is the home of a nice and healthy skeptical political view- since they are the most successful / prosperous/ democratic of the former Yugoslav Republics and essentially are a bridge between Western and Eastern Europe... They are a liberal and tolerant society. Except they don't like the US much. But that's ok, I have lots of problems with the US too. Here's a link to a political cartoonist's page published in the online Slovenian news source Dnevnik. Here's a recent cartoon "Final Resolution," with George W. sending off a US missle aimed at Saddam with Kofi Annan & the UN flag roped onto it.



More reasons to love Slovenia: here's the latest Sestre interview (which I found in the latest edition of this mainstream Slovenian news source). They make a cute, very pink picture. Sestre (Sisters) is the world famous drag trio which was selected as the Slovenian contender in the Eurosong contest this past spring. In this interview, one of the Sestre, Marlenna, said "We’re a revolution in Slovenian thinking about sexuality."

And look! Here's the Sestre home page! Well, for the moment it's not working right, so here is a bunch of Sestre links from a fan site. And if you don't love Slovenia yet, here's a link to a site for a Slovenian dyke punk band Sapphire Doric.

Hot off the AP wire: "Lovers of Latin Rising"



I'm taking Latin. My volunteer at work who is cooler and younger than me just started taking Latin. Now I find out this is a trend all over the US-- We Are Everywhere.



As the article points out, you really can enjoy the Harry Potter books more if you know a little Latin. Now I must run off and finish off the Potter book number three so that I can get on with my life. Until someone loans me the 740 page book number four.



I'm a big geek you say. Well I'll just get back to you when I'm a supervillain whose secret superpower is to be able to curse you in three different dead languages. Non ambigitur. [No doubt.]

All That I've Learned Working for Three and a Half Years at an International Gay Organization




1. Gay don't mean nice. You answer the phone and try to help someone who just wants someone to talk to, and they will act like you are responsible for their death if you tell them to call another agency that can actually help them. The people who are actually in the most danger aren't usually threatening suicide and threatening to expose your organization as incompetent, they're fighting to live and be left alone.



2. If you are gay and you have political promise, you are sent far away. The Foreign Service is therefore full of gay people. Your visa is not delayed because of homophobia, it is delayed because of the satellite TV marathon of Queer as Folk. Or because you didn't pick up on the visa officer's hints that you should meet him later for cocktails.


3. You wouldn't believe how many people think they have chips in their heads. And think the CIA and KGB really are controlling their thoughts via TV commercials during Ally McBeal reruns. Being able to write a letter using both upper and lower case letters appropriately doesn't mean you're sane. Gay don't mean sane, and sure as hell don't mean smart! Whoever thinks LGBT people are better than other people-- just do an 8-hour shift answering our phones. We've got our share of red-zone whacko scary wingnuts. And if you are one of these: THE CIA DOESN'T CARE ABOUT YOU. They're too busy with "regime changes" to tap your phone just because you are a lesbian.



4. This is the most important one. Never chalk up to homophobia what can be accounted for by sheer incompetence. The post office doesn't hate you because you are receiving a lot of mail from organizations with the dreaded "GL " consonant cluster in their acronyms. They hate everyone the same.



Those four points really just about do it. I have a lot of advice to give to those new to working for/with the queer / LGBT community, but these four are the most enduring tidbits.

Blessings on Your Journey Aileen (Lee) Wournos

b. Feb. 29, 1956- d. six hours ago, executed as a serial killer

Dear Lee,

Your struggle is our struggle. Rest in peace. May my girlfriend Kris receive you and help you find your way to the other side.



Hardly a week has gone by that I didn't think about you since I joined the effort to publicize your case in 1996. Kris admired your use of force against your rapists. She froze when she was attacked. You acted.



Activists made stickers in San Francisco-- "Wournos Self-Defense Tip #1, carry mace"; "Wournos Self-Defense Tip #2, own a dog"; Wournos Self-Defense Tip #3, scream."

The Radical Cheerleaders wrote a cheer for you: aileen wournos is her name and she don't take no shit 
when some men tried to rape her well she shot them in the dick 
now she's on death row they wanna give her the chair 
what do we say? we say GET HER OUTTA THERE!! 
FREE (clapclap-clapclap) 
AILEEN (clapclap-clapclap) 
FREE (clapclap-clapclap) 
AILEEN (clapclap-clapclap) 
what did she do? 
SHE DEFENDED HERSELF AND WE WOULD TOO! 
what do we need? 
WE NEED TO LIBERATE OUR SISTA FROM LEGAL MISOGYNY! 


Some San Francisco artists even made an opera about your case. It didn't make much difference. The prison set cost a lot of money, and the singing was too good, too professional, to convey the gritty truths of your case. The good intentions of the artists melted into the ineffectual pool of well-wishing that trickled your way all these ten years you waited to die.



Your history of sexual abuse, mental disability, poverty, and betrayal by trusted loved ones was disregarded. Jeb Bush, one of the killing governors, today agreed to grant your suicidal wish to be executed by the State of Florida. I can't judge your wish to die. I can judge the government for being the next weapon you used to kill again.



I wish we activists and artists had been able to make you want to fight and live. Maybe I still can make a difference by talking about what happened to you. May you find the God of your heart and be loved now as you never were.


The Story of Aileen Wournos breaks it down with a perspective on how Lee was denied fair consideration and mislabeled a serial killer.



The CNN article on the execution, which I stumbled on while trying to figure out if the US had gone to war yet.



The Reuters article on the execution, that tells a little longer version of Lee's story.



A pretty straightforward version of Lee's tragic life story that includes the fact that journalists (not the police, who didn't bother) easily found out that one of her victims had served 10 years in prison for a violent rape in another state.

Now Presenting Aslan versus Dumbledore in the Center Ring

Or, How Rowling Divorced Authority from Power, Castrated Aslan, and Put the Kids in Charge



I'm just fascinated by power. Power is knowledge is magic-- the ability to transform, pliability in the face of stress, adapting and accepting and creating the world in your own image. I'm also reading the first book in the Harry Potter series after having just finished a re-read of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Neither Rowling nor Lewis treated race or gender with much imagination in their books (or, from what I've read/ reread so far...), but they did vastly different things with the idea of divinity/authority and power.


C.S. Lewis -as a man- had a lot to gain from authority, believed in authority, and- as an author- invested most of the power in his magical world in an authority figure, Aslan. J.K. Rowling, a divorced mother looking for a way out of poverty, doesn't seem to care for authority. Her Dumbledore, the Aslan of her series, is like Jesus as much as Santa Claus is like Jesus. Magical/ mythologized and human with a side of slightly-superhuman. Magic/divinity is imminent in all people, anyone can be good or evil, without some plan of redemption-- everyone's actions cause reactions and that is all. The law of the playground-- inventiveness and agility of mind as well as physical wholeness/aliveness-- reigns supreme in all worlds, which are really all one world. If resurrection of the dead happens, it is not necessarily a good thing (and it's not reserved for the cleansed-of-sin!).



I pretty much like everything the evangelists consider Pagan, and-- as this Focus on the Family article warns-- causes people to "become confused about supernatural matters." This article especially dislikes how power is divorced from authority:



Despite superficial similarities, Rowling’s and Lewis’ worlds are as far apart as east is from west. Rowling’s work invites children to a world where witchcraft is "neutral" and where authority is determined solely by one’s cleverness. Lewis invites readers to a world where God’s authority is not only recognized, but celebrated — a world that resounds with His goodness and care. It’s a difference no Christian should ignore.



...nor a Pagan fail to celebrate...



Aslan seems to have poor Dumbledore by the throat, but I can't tell who is winning from the swarm of kids on brooms trying to have a Quidditch game around them...


And on the topic of Quidditch...Here is a page of comments by kids giving their thumbs ups and downs to the "Harry Potter Nimbus 2000 Broom" -- a vibrating toy that you stick between your legs. 10 year old Alessandra says "I think the Geek gadgeta are fabulicious." Here is a page of comments by parents, including a few who would take the batteries out of their children's little power toy. Except for one (probably fictitious) parent who wrote "I was surprised at how long they can just sit in her room and play with this magic broomstick!"



Power=knowledge=magic=pleasure. As the kids say, ain't no power like the power of the yout' cuz the power of the yout' don't stop.

OK, Now Some Pleasant Things About Orthodoxy



After bashing Orthodox religion yesterday a little part of me was whimpering that the real scandal of how religion was used in My Big Fat Greek Wedding was that it was used thoughtlessly. The character was baptised as though it was a contractual fulfillment in a business deal, without consideration of what it really meant for his soul, or relation to the divine (at least as far as the movie was concerned). It reduces the role of religion to a cultural idiosyncracy. I don't think Orthodox faithful would like it any more than I, a jaded Pagan, like it.



So, for a counterpoint to my outcry yesterday about the bloody, racist and misogynist history of Orthodoxy, I'd like to list my top ten favorite things about Orthodox - Russian, Greek, Serbian- Christianity:


10. The all-male priesthood still wears the dressy robes, all the time. And, nice beards!


9. There is not a strong present-day tradition of Orthodox evangelism. Racism, misogyny, homophobia, nationalism, violence, yes, but evangelism, no. The Mormon and Protestant Christian evangelists treat the Orthodox (who have been faithful since the 800's) as though they were filthy unbaptized Unitarians or something, and I like any religion that evangelists think is Pagan.


8. They retain the use of Old Church Slavonic and other obscure ancient languages, and still believe in Satan as a individuated real-live being. Where would us occultists be without someone carrying the heavy torches of both obscurantism and the Fear of Evil?


7. The icons. There is nothing quite like the gold auras, ornate gilt iconostases, bejewelled frames, and the dark, dark, up-all-night-decaf-drinking faces of those faithful old saints and saintesses. They drank bad coffee to save your soul.


6. The standing. Originally Orthodox churches didn't have seating because, if I recall correctly, they could pack in more people and the closeness of the bodies would keep everyone warmer in the winter. These churches are about three degrees colder than the outside (if they are traditionally built) because there are almost no windows, because they didn't have glass at their disposal in the old days. I find the moving, pushing, living crowd of believers a more powerful experience than sitting in some chair or pew half asleep while someone reads a half-baked sermon. Here, mostly people don't understand a damn thing being sung or said (since it is in ancient tongues), and they are just trancing out, swaying to the music, eyes glittering with gold candlelight.


5. The bells. When I lived in Russia my violin lesson happened in a new building- the conservatory- built butt-up against a "kolokolitsa," a structure that holds bells up above the kremlin walls so that the whole countryside can hear the call to worship, which happened about ten minutes into my lesson. I watched the bell ringer climb this SEVERELY leaning old structure and dangle from a rope to make the most ethereal resounding music, amplified only by the cold in winter. The bells silenced all work in the conservatory for several minutes of sheer, cleansing, ringing joy.


4. The singing. I sang some liturgical music in the female choir of the convervatory, and later (here in San Francisco) joined an Orthodox choir for the Easter service as a favor to my friend the choir director. There is an Orthodox belief that anything that is sung reaches the ears of God, so *all* prayer and liturgy is sung, usually in many part polyphony, with haunting minor chords. Most of it is memorized by the faithful, which makes for an impressive force of voices responding to the bass drone of the priest.


3. The frankincense. The smell of heaven, according to the Orthodox. There is nothing more transporting than full-body entering a cloud of sweet incense while the bells are ringing to start the service.


2. The word "bogoroditsa." The god-birther. It underscores the female power of the Mother of God. She didn't just raise him, she BIRTHED him. I also like the liturgy of the Theotokos, another female divinity within Orthodoxy, but that's another story. Basically, there is a recognition of the absolute power of the feminine within, around, and above the figure of Jesus in many places in the Orthodox traditions, and we Pagans like that. Actually, I have known many Pagan Orthodox, who follow...


1. The Slavic tradition of "dvoeveriye." The double-faith. Since Orthodoxy was a hard sell to the staunchly Pagan peasants living in Slavic territory, the church openly campaigned to enfold Pagan beliefs and divine personalities into the Orthodox practices. So, people kept up with the worship of their ancestors and household deities and came to church to serve the Orthodox Jesus and the church accepted them as followers of the "dvoeveriye." They were respected, left alone, and because of the Orthodox church's relatively tolerant attitude, to this day many ancient Pagan beliefs are accepted and sustained among the Slavs. I personally saw a Summer Solstice (Ivan Kupalo) ritual at a Rainbow Gathering in Karelia that was 100% Pagan, complete with naked jumping over bonfires and casting floral wreaths onto the water, which was concluded with prayers by the local Orthodox Priest. He came out in the morning wearing his long robes to bless the groggy people poking about the bushes for their underwear, many of whom were not only baptised, but passionately Orthodox.

And on a lighter note: Save the Cones!... another neglected species in desperate need of your help. Please think about putting your support behindThe Traffic Cone Preservation Society. A rare Dwarf Speckled Cone adoption costs $4.50 (plus $2.25 shipping). They take Pay-pal. If you are short of cash, you can print out a Membership Card from their website for free. I'm disappointed at the list of names of Charter Members. You'd think some celebrities would have (been) signed up.

The rest of my review of My Big Fat Greek Wedding that I started below, cut off by my incompetence with HTML:

The Last Time I Circle Danced...

was at a Kitka concert at a Methodist Church one block from my house. Yes, I'm an (ex-)Unitarian middle class ethnically ambiguous (Swedish/Welsh/English) white person, and yes, circle dancing, besides being good exercize, tapped into my need for a sense of ethnic rootedness. But I wouldn't marry a circle dancer—they’re not my type. I'd rather marry a polka dancer. Wait, I can't marry a circle dancer or a polka dancer, it's not legal for me to marry anyone yet. The movie never addresses the problems of marriage as a construct, it only addresses the compulsive nature of marriage. Thank the gods they didn't follow the lead of Monsoon Wedding and couple off every last single character right down to the second cousin twice removed from Toledo.



There, now I've talked about every movie I've seen in a theater all year, except Spiderman. Spiderman definitely swam against the tide of compulsory couplehood. Was Peter Parker that movie's gay character? Hm... another time I'll revisit that question.


And still another time I'll tackle why everyone thinks gayness is an ethnicity. We have a flag, don't we? We must have a homeland and an aboriginal language if we have a flag... Maybe we could declare war on someone, say they stole our homeland. I think Tuvalu sounds good this time of year.



Suffice it to say, just because a white/light-skinned Greek-American, English-American, or Queer-American does the hora, it doesn't make her an anti-racist, or a white-supremicist, or Just Like You and Me. Well, Just Like You, anyway. Ethnic dancers are just dancers, and the Serb nationalists are still hostile to non-Serbs, and the Greek nationalists are hostile to Turks and Islamic Cypriots, and Russian nationalists are hostile to (the dark-skinned) Caucasians -- all under the flag of Orthodoxy.



In summary, go see My Big Fat Greek Wedding, but don't waste your time as I did looking for brown people in the movie to problematize its racial agenda, or guessing who they are going to kill off to give the movie more depth and remind us of the history of real sorrow that trails behind those quaint Orthodox rituals.

The SlackerStalker Review of My Big Fat Greek Wedding

Racializing white people - the ibuprofen for that nagging race anxiety headache.



I give it one thumbs up.



It met the minimum lesbian film requirement: at least one conversation between two female characters about something other than a man.



But, one thumb down because it informed my life very little. It was a pro-nerd movie, and in that I related to it, but it had a super duper bright shiny happy pretty (nail)polished sheen that leaves out the good girtty underpinnings of the totally problematic religious aspects. They had the groom baptized just to use the church! Without him learning a damn thing about the misogynist and racist history of Orthodoxy! As though Orthodoxy isn't still killing people-- as though it was just a quaint hold-over from a forgotten time. I really wanted someone to die. Would it have killed 'em? Just one little death, that's all I asked.



It also had no animals in it.



The breakdown:


FOUR conversations between women not about a man: one about college, one about business, one about ethnic heritage, and one about a zit.


JESUS FIGURE: the grandmother. I coulda sworn they were going to kill her. I wish they had, not just to give the movie more depth, and the neglected role of women in Orthodox cultures a little more space, but to give more face time to an interesting "nonpretty" (almost third-gendered) character. Death would've helped develop her character beyond the "redemption" scene of her sharing her wedding crown with our heroine. Come to think of it, they had to gender her in that scene, showing her as a young woman, to resolve her place in the movie. Did we ever see her again after that? I didn't.


GAY FIGURE: the brother. Weirdly single, comes and goes mysteriously, likes the company of other young men, "comes out" as an artist. I hope there's a sequel where he marries the groom's best friend, who looked a little lonely and gay.


QUESTIONS: compulsive sexuality, fertility, consumption, but also celebrates those things in the end.


ANXIETIES RELIEVED: professional class/ working class anxiety-- resolved through mysterious vodka-like substance out of tiny fluted glasses; race anxiety among light/white skinned people-- resolved through (surprise!) circle-dancing! The timeless and functional ethnic tension panacea where we can imagine Mr. and Mrs. Middle Class Generic Unitarian White People (yes, a little redundant, that) linking arms and heaving into the grape-vine with the Sopranos, Woody Allen, Crocodile Dundee, Juliette Binoche and other valorized and racialized white people in the popular mind.


THE LAST TIME I CIRCLE DANCED: was at a