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The Joy of Reading
May 31, 2002
I walked out of the bedroom after nursing the baby to sleep into this scene in the living room:
m is reading his book The Case of the Puzzling Possum and the cat is laying at his feet. m looks up and says "I'm reading The Case of the Puzzling Possumto Giusseppe," and then continues to read.
A few minutes later, he gets to a part of the book where one of the characters gets dizzy, and he says "Did that make you DIZZY, Giusseppe?" When Giusseppe does not respond, m says "I guess it was a good bedtime story, because Giusseppe is asleep."
And, sure enough, he is.
Um...ok
May 31, 2002
Well, at least I was able to change things so only the last 21 entries are appearing on the index page. But I'm perplexed as to why the default of one week is being ignored. Oh well...if you want to read more than the last 21 posts, check out the archives...
edited to add: well, apparently I have some work to do on the archives, as well...since clicking on the archive page brings up a list of all of the titles of every post rather than a time limit. Hm. Very very strange.
This is good
May 31, 2002
Found this while bloghopping
I thought this was interesting
May 31, 2002
I have noticed that lately I find myself sitting in silence either reading or using the computer. I "forget" to turn the radio on. This article intrigued me.
New issue of LiP Magazine
May 31, 2002
Why haven't I heard anyone else raving about how awesome they are? This is the liquid issue. I need to take some time to read it this weekend.
Wow. cool
May 31, 2002
KD had a link to this site, which I thought had some extremely cool body painting images - scroll through. Not safe for viewing at work.
Little Bear's Friend by Elsa Holmelund Minarik
May 31, 2002
Little Bear makes a friend.
Little Bear's Visit by Elsa Homelund Minarik
May 31, 2002
Another in the little Bear series. I just love these books.
Duuuuude!
May 31, 2002
I totally thought I was going to be '90's.
The Case of the Puzzling Possum
May 31, 2002
This is the book that m chose as a reward for learning how to read. And he's probably sitting at the house right now reading this over and over again as I type this. He spent about 2 hours this morning reading it. He is fascinated with it! I've read it to him about 4 times in the last 2 days.
It's not a very interesting book, in my opinion. I can't tell if m likes it so much because it's a good book or if it's just because he's learning to read and that's exciting to him. Basically it's the story of a rabbit and racoon detective team who have to solve a mystery about a missing trombone. Nothing heavy duty.
Support Your Local CTC
May 31, 2002
I just found out that our DOE funding was renewed for a full year. This news is especially huge because the funding pot for CTCs (community technology centers) was reduced from 66 million to 15 million dollars, and they still saw fit to fund us with the remaining funds. Hopefully this bodes well for our continued city funding. We can really only wait and see.
One of the things that I love about the program I work for is it fits so well into my personal ideology about what schools are really for. Our program purchases (or acquires through corporate donation), installs, and maintains computer labs in 2 local high schools (we're hoping to expand in the future) so that the students have access to the technology during the day. Then we provide free computer training and access for the community at night. We call it a "double bang for your tax buck" because we're using the facility that would normally lie dormant, in wait for the students. And we're using it around the clock (well, not literally, but moreso than usual) and around the year.
Our program provides the community with access to computers with modern hardware and software, as well as high-speed internet access (which is why I'm here right now), and we have dedicated, professional, PATIENT instructors to help people learn the skills they need to survive in an increasingly technology-driven society. Not only do we provide them with those hard skills, but we also strive to help people learn with dignity and respect for their individual challenges. We provide a service that would cost a lot of money, and would be worth every damn penny of it...and we do it for free. And most of us love what we are doing, so we are able to have fun while we're working.
I really love watching a new computer user come in, worried that he or she will be made to feel stupid or ignorant because of a lack of skills or comprehension. I love watching them flourish and gain confidence. I love seeing them succeed. And I love hearing about what they are able to accomplish as a result of the skills and/or confidence our program helped them to improve upon.
If you have a community technology center in your area, check them out! You might be able to volunteer. I can tell you it is a very rewarding, educational, and spiritually fulfilling experience.
This Week in My Life: 1999
May 31, 2002
Read about it here
This Week in My Life: 1999
May 30, 2002
From a journal with these lyrics scrawled on the front :
"Another bird prepares to fly
Another soldier prepares to die"
-Flux
(um, ok, so I seem to scrawl flux lyrics all over all of my journals...)
I think I should begin with a journal entry that is dated May 20, 1999, as it sort of sets the mood:
"It was not in a greedy moment that you saw the light that belongs to everyone." -Jack Kerouac
Sneezing in eternity dawn finds me fading into catylipses. Growth fromt he night before shines like coal burning severed squalor into shining light. What is this ache, this longing for the ever-longed. The greed without recompense failing to fall in soft emergences. What is the thickness of this yearning for total, unrelaxed and unrelenting bliss. The idea of uncaring is not a cold one. Uncaring about the empty platitude and material beingness of fellow patriotic clouds. Uncaring NOT unfeeling NOT an inhibitive attempt to grasp that swirling shining ocean at the heart of the matter.
You could say joy, but words are too simple an expression. Trite songs issued forth from gilded throats of redundant song birds. You could say alive, but of course. You see the danger in differentiating between love & life. A self imposed schism leaves you empty and wanting for the full-to-bursting perpetual motion machine that is my soul.
m says "It's dangerous It's not a paper clip. It's a paper clip!" "Don't touch it now because it's dangerous. Sometimes lots of dogs and kitty cats. Dogs & kitty cats." Then bursts forth into a rhythmic babble of his own design. As if it is enough to be alive and outside in this grey morning of endless vision. And it is.
Out of nowhere appears a cat. Sitting close enough to announce his presence, but not close enough to make a committment. Birds are singing on telephone wires and snails are hiding in trees.
5/30/99
Drive in this blind time. Fingers penetrate darknesses to find space between and this is no joke no erstwhile happenstance this bursting. I rain fucking utopian busted glass and various Sunday shrapnel upon this world at large in small words large consequence convoluted to proclaim a windowless entry Fly through. Unapated. Unabashed & unrelated. An incidence behold forever a relentless prison of flesh forging forth into ether either here or there forget this troll forget this semblance lest we become another target on their radar. Can't shoot us down if can't find us flying, as we are, between muddled hope and addled acceptance. Praise with a longing. A forever, unsatiated unrelenting unending grin into eternity.
5/31/99
IBC Root Beer and Southern Fried Breast of Tofu Sandwich & somthing of a continuum of tired brain addled with thoughts of glory. What makes me feel so special as to deserve what I have. I'll take waht I can get. Cross between panicked feeling of desire to warm rush of contentment a cross between selfless and selfish. I step carefully, not wanting to upset the balance. Yet inside exclaiming in foolish unending exstasy. As if I can allow myself to be foolish enough to accept eternity! Instead, bliss of the chronic strap-on variety. The sheer appreciation for the namelessnes of the situation firmly divorced from my typical paranoid fantasies of same.
Yes Bliss is the word. Something approaching God but deemed sacrilege. And appetite forever in search of appeasement. And emotion sucked through skin with heay thick gulps, draoughts that are unrelenting in desire to force that sweetness down past lips teeth tongue press back through torat into esophagus gullet then, straining, bursting through all veins all veins and arteries breathing inside of meI drink. Breathing inside of me I consume until there is no reoom remaining for the dull flavor of mortal food. Nectar/ambrosia. I drink I ead I am satisfied
My soul/gropes for you/in darkness. I come/into light/you/shining like a fuckign oncoming train. I guess it's time to test that feeling of invincibility.
"Fucking Wings Burst Out of my Back" -Nick Cave
You were back by 11
Thin streaks of veins
Lining your sharp chin
I picture you tall
blank and handsome
6/2/99
"North, South, Mae West" -Thirwell
I'm gonna carry on, undeterred.
Writhing in oblivion
Springing fromt he depths the depths
coming forward to melt into this
sky-dream capacity
For what does this temptress how
and to whom/what end?
Gasp, clutch, drown
I'm wriggling beneath its weight
Struggling to know the
Difference.
Compassion is a twisted snare
To go about bleeding
A whore to abhor
Flesh, sizzled.
Come to think of it, I am
I am masquerading as this
Entropic entity
Barrelling down, guzzling
Full throttle and velvet throated.
Descending into disproportionate
Irony.
Come to think of it, this is
Just a body, a
Cast-iron cast off
Clad in ice-blue
whence comes the end.
Dying for a material struggle
Shuffling, I retreat.
If it helps to reclaim - it can't hurt forever I saw bleak shadows you there you...come off that razor blade and dance, willya? Just dance. I saw it, ironically. Through a gash in the linoleum. Twe eyes squinting from the floorboards and glinting yellow teeth.
6/2/99
Amazing what smiling/burning from the inside wil do. Cute boys galore today at campust store & I'm all goofy in love with life. Not choosing my victims carefully, I turn on charm for all to see and drop dead. It's fun to smile for effect and know all is OK all is in fun & whatever happnes is meant to be & not to care how kindness is being interpreted because really nothing matters. Ever. Especially not when I am so free.
But still bad moods brewing due to the one entity impinging on my freedom. Poor m does not mean it, but I let him. I do. I let him weigh me down. I allow myself to feel so weighted and, in so doing, cause strife for him, myself & others. Bargin in this afternoon with thoughts of war and hunger, I guess. To e lifted from this place this vulgar place that I am destined to spend the majority of my days remaining until freedom kicks my dope ass down again.
And I am tired. Need a shower to envigorate me/make me feel alive before bedtime.
Running hands
over ribs
Straining
to know the difference
5/3/99
Your ribs & I am stuck-sticking out and wasted. I see sideways - don't know anymore from this to another from one to another. Gleam atrocious forget night everyone knows better everyone blames better everyone deals another hand. Slamming this renegade vision into aspiration inspiration. RAgged joy w/unattested visionsong. Braced for knowledge - knowing I whisper I can't. I can't allude to this amorphic obstinance your betrayal begrudges and somehow I am ended reserving judgment into your bequeathed reamscape silly silly silly sweet.
Ruffle his hair my hand touches grin gleam DESIRE. Mad with a rage against dying this slodeath this descent into the prurient physical form malevolence. I shake shake see again.
Can it be a broken horizon? When this was forgiven I was forsaken I am forever grinning into this blackhole epiphany.
Somehow I wonder what all of these people are up to. The coffee boy has several women come to hit on him. His name is Colin and, apparently, he is a sexpot. The other is tattooed heavily, but cleancut. She works one day a week so she has more time to sew and "you know. Read." Her voice is affected. Ginger root will put hair on your chest to be sure. They all sound like disinterested people trying desparately to seem earnest.
He's going to be handfasted. Tired of his girlfriend. Since he was 15. High school. They are old and decrepit. Tired of her. He is a Star Wars fanatic. Earlier he had a girl earlier who was hanging on his words. He gave her Nyquil. He collects Star Wars stuff. Has been for 15 years. She left to get him a Star Wars pizza box and "every Star Wars cup in town." His hair covers his face. He looks very young. His newly arrived friends are leaving. It is strange to feel so alone in such a large city.
6/4/99
This is a test worthy of attrition. Santify a brutal leverage into gasmanypod resistance. The futility of an angel, struggling in recesses a popped tothe, a cramped dove a holding inward to force outward through crevices and devices.
You are free to run and I pity/envy you your freedom. Your liberty is a twine, unraveling slowly. I bake in hot sun, thirsting for equivalence.
Valence shade drop out. Bring me wrists and ankles. A vital hold to be stolen. Entwined around this nothing waist like a snake coiled coiled coiled strike.
Fumes are a bitter element to lay to waste. And passive is a word that denies acceptance. Folded on
"And it ain't gonna rain anymore"
Across the wires we were holding hands. I saw you I see you I love you I love you.
Beneath me is this stump of a body. It feels malignant and cold compared to the soaring state of souleternal bliss forever and ever rolling over and over.
When is this an end to absolution. I feel a guard. To know I have made all the right decisions makes me feel free to be so ferever tied to a trunk, roots. Let leaves fall where they may.
Got my thoughts, they are all wrapped. They are all wound around your waist like laurel leaves. They follow you in your conquest and prod you forward into an abyss filled with so many unknowing uncaring. I bite my lips to know that I have sent you these, but know it is the only way to be.
6/5/99
Awake into a crusted over, there are attestments that symbolize my worthiness. I shine in armor, shine in rags. Rend forever droning in a time, a tie forgotten. Singe to stuped to supple and all in between to become this pseudo appetite intensive care.
Sop, Slop-flop on the floor, ragdoll-style until there is this bitter weight in between crushed between walls of remorse/no remorse/bitter appathy. I call you zoo. Can't see you anymore.
Hello. I remember
When you used to
have a soul.
I remember you
Your soul was
Huge
It swallowed mine I
kept clinging clinging
to that whale's tial hoping
Eternity
Instead,
days later regurgitated
splat on floor
liquid chunks of
light and embryo
Gouge out your eyes
So I can slip past
the emergency sensors
Take up residence in
That space that was
less heart more
everything
less bloodheatpassion
More lightblindnothing
eternal bliss stuff
Is what I would desire
I dreamed I lived there
again.
For who/what do you
exist now?
Is it gross egotism to wish
I could be in your life again
Not
in this distorted, present
State of affairs
Yet again
more real more
painful more
like before
More.
Validation is good
May 30, 2002
Today, at Megan's, as I was once again trying to redirect c away from one of the few dangerous/forbidden devices in her home, she turned to me and said "Wow...you really do have your work cut out for you, don't you."
Now, to some, this might sound like an insult. To me, it was total validation that, yes, indeed...I have a somewhat challenging toddler. It took a whole entire load off of my shoulders just hearing it.
Thanks, Megan.
For Love or Money
May 30, 2002
A Wednesday in my life...
May 30, 2002
read about it here
A Wednesday in My Life
May 30, 2002
I was going to do this yesterday, but it was way too pitiful...(not that today was anything spectacular, but at least we didn't spend all day arguing)
8:30 AM
Both kids wake up at the same time as me. We loll for a bit in bed, enjoying the breezes. This is really early for m to wake up, and really late for c and me to wake up, so I decide that we should do something fun.
8:45 AM
The kids are dressed, and so am I. m has on his pads and helmet, and we grab his skateboard and head for the tennis courts. Today is the day m is going to learn to use his skateboard!
9:00 AM
It's been difficult going on the way to the tennis courts. m is already ready to give up because the "wheels don't roll good" on his skateboard. He's having a difficult time getting any momentum going. Can I let you in on a little secret? m's not exactly the most athletic kid you will meet. I'm trying to help him do more regular kid stuff like ride his bike and play soccer and tag and stuff, but it takes him awhile to catch on. It's cool with me, though. His extreme cautiousness has made him a really easy kid to take care of, and now that we have mr. evil knieval himself (c) around to stir things up, it's nice to not have to chase after two daredevils. Anyway, I decide that I'm not really qualified to actually TEACH him how to skateboard (since I've actually never skated myself, and I'm not about to try to figure it out while I'm wearing the baby in the backpack) but I figure I can at least help him with his balance. So I encourage him to keep trying to stand on the deck, and I push and/or pull him around the tennis courts. I think the longest he manages to roll without jumping or falling off is about 15 seconds, but he ends up having a great time doing this, and I'm sure we will do it again. I do want to find someone to show him the proper way to skate, though...
10:00 AM
We're home now. c's eating peanuts and raisins. m says he's not hungry. I'm eating some raisin bran. The dog is standing next to c, waiting for him to drop something or hand something to her to eat. I scoot her out of the house and give her some dog food, which she completely spurns.
10:30 AM
I'm in the midst of doing dishes and laundry. c and m are playing happily together. It's nice, but m keeps doing nasty things to c. I'll turn my back, and c will start crying, and m will immediately say "I didn't do it." This happens frequently lately. I've been having to send m to his room a lot lately. He can't even blame it on not getting any attention, because he's been getting a whole ton of attention lately. So, I'm not sure what it's all about. I send him to his room, but I try not to make it a punishment. It's really a place for m to cool down and concentrate on something else. One thing I've realized, especially with the TV being dead, is that m uses us as his playthings. When he's bored, he will start jumping on me or L or c as a means of entertainment. It does no good to try to distract him or get him to stop, because he gets so out of control that he's unable to stop. But if I put him in his room gently, without making it sound like a punishment, he will start to play with his toys in there and he will not be bored anymore, so the bad behavior stops. Usually he won't even come out when I ask him to. I just have to try to help him keep his room picked up...because what happens is he ends up pulling down all of his thousands of toys at once and then he doesn't want to go in his room anymore.
10:45 AM
I start melting some soap to make some laundry detergent.
11:00
We read Hooray For Diffendoofer Day by Dr. Seuss. Play-doh is pulled down. m plays for a little while. c grabs a handful of dough and walks around alternating between huffing it and eating it. He literally had a huge hunk of play-doh held up to his nose, and he was SNORTING it. argh. Meanwhile, m was mixing all of the colors together to create that purplish brown color that is so appealling. I try, I really do, I try to get the kids to play with modeling beeswax instead of play-doh. They will have nothing to do with it.
11:30
The floor has been swept, and m pulls all of the blankets and pillows on to the floor to make a little nest for him and c to pretend to take a nap. I sneak into the kitchen to start to make lunch while they do this.
noon
Lunch is ready. I've made a sort of pasta concoction. I initially had wanted to just have fucilli with pasta sauce, but the sauce was moldy, so I just tossed the pasta in with a can of diced tomatoes, a half can of garbanzos, some basil, garlic, and salt. It's really yummy and the kids eat it up.
12:30
I read a couple more books to m, and then retreat to the bedroom to give c Me-me's and naptime. We read a story from the Golden book of bedtime stories, m leaves the room, and c and I nurse and drift off to sleep.
LADIES AND GENTLEMAN, HERE IS WHERE i TAKE AN UNPRECEDENTED TWO AND A HALF HOUR NAP!!!!!!!!!
3:00 pm
You would think I would wake up refreshed, but no. I wake up to find that I'm on the rag. And I'm fucking grouchy. And crampy. And here's L trying to justify his assholic behavior of last night.
Look. Here's the deal. Without going into the sordid details of my relationship with L...I have to say that it's ultimately one of the most frustrating thing that someone who knows me as well as he does sometimes has absolutely no clue about who I am as a core individual. And it's at the very moment that he knows the least that he insists he knows the most. And every fucking time he gets called on some bullshit or other that he does, he feels like he has to fucking assassinate my character. It sucks. It's infrequent, but it sucks. It sucks mostly because it used to be very very frequent and it's now under control. But to come to me the next day with a false cheery attitude, saying "hey...what's up?" like there couldn't possibly be anything the matter is just fucked up. Especially when I'm on the rag and not wanting to deal with anyone's bullshit.
So, whatever, here is where L and I argue for a bit about last night's argument. Not a fun way to spend the afternoon, but...whatever.
3:30
I check my e-mail and find that the picnic has been relocated to the house of the bossy boss because there's like a .0000004% chance of rain. I'm pretty ticked about this because there is just NO WAY I want to hang out in the house of someone who doesn't have children with mr. thousand hands himself. I consider calling her and whining about it, but I think better of it.
4:00 PM
More stories are read. Snacks are served. I run out to the store to pick up some stuff for the picnic.
4:30 PM
I'm reading a little to myself, c is throwing a ball around. m is alternating between acting like a really sweet kid and doing shit like SITTING ON the baby. What the fuck is up with that?
5:00 PM
I declare to L that I am NOT bringing c with me to the picnic if he's not coming with. It's just too stressful. He agrees to watch him.
5:30 PM
m and I leave for the picnic. We get to bossy boss's house to discover that the picnic has been re-re-located to it's original outdoor location. Grumble grumble bitch moan whine.
6:00 PM
We're at the park, m's playing on the playscape, I'm eating the Kung Pao tofu that bossy boss bought for me to eat in lieu of the barbecue. There's really nothing for m to eat except for fruit and chips, but that's probably my fault, so I don't bitch about it. m doesn't seem to care, anyway. He's content with his watermelon and with playing with random children who venture on to the playground.
I enjoy some conversations with some of the people who are there. I actually end up having a way better time than I thought I would have.
8:30 PM
We leave for home. Or, rather, we leave for the bookstore. I have promised m that today is the day we buy his books. I asked him which bookstore he wants to go to and he asks me "which one is less expensive?" That's my boy! We go to the used book store. m chooses his two books immediately upon hitting the children's section. Then he chooses a book for c. It takes me an inexorable amount of time to choose some books for L. I'm such a forgiving person. I know this will be the death of me. He really doesn't deserve the books any more than he deserves the 100 pounds or so of barbecue that my boss has sent me home with for him.
9:30 PM
We arrive home. L delights in the meat that I have dragged home for him. m has a snack of peanuts and a tortilla. I eat the rest of my tofu. We read from his new books, and I discover that the dinosaur book that I got him is a work of "creationist science" or whatever. I can't figure out if I should ignore the God references, or if I should just read it, or if I should tell m what I think of the whole thing. I sort of choose a combination.
10:00
m goes to bed without putting up any fight at all. I log on and surf for a long time. I really should be working out, but I'm on the rag, so I don't want to. And that's my perogative. So fuck you.
hahahahhahhahaha
I'll probably make some bread before I go to bed. Or maybe I won't. What's it to you, anyway.
Hooray For Diffendoofer Day by Dr. Seuss (with help from Jack Prelutsky & Lane Smith
May 29, 2002
What a cool book this is. Published posthumously from notes and sketches fleshed out by Prelutsky and Smith. The book reminds us that children learn just fine when they are allowed to learn in freedom and with fun. You can visit a website about the book here.
Jawbreaker: Unfun
May 29, 2002
One of my absolute all-time favorites. "Want" was the first Jawbreaker song I ever heard, on a mix tape that my friend Gar made for me many many years ago:
Want----
Been staring for a hundred hours.
Run down a spiral drain.
Keep mouth clamped tight, and it isn't right.
Three words keep running 'round my mind,
But my tongue is hard to find.
I need to let it go, because I know.
Dark secrets burn their vessel.
Tearing out to grab a mouthful.
Chunk of heart destroyed by quiet.
Yell it out before it kills you now.
Let it all out.
Used to let rumors do my work.
They got around real well.
Now they only hurt.
It's a liar's quirk.
This time I gotta say it straight.
I mean to do some good.
I'm calling out your name
While the chance remains.
I want you.
So now you know where I come from.
My secret's come undone.
My heart revealed my cause.
I'm lying naked at your feet.
Don't crush the heart that bleeds.
Take me at my word.
It may sound absurd,
But I want you.
The rest of the album is equally up to par, with the scratchy vocals that I think I remember hearing almost fucked up the lead singer's voice forever. This is just plain old good emo.
But on a Lighter Note...
May 29, 2002
m has cracked the code! I came home tonight to find out that my little man is reading! READING! I mean, he's been threatening to for months now, but tonight he read a book to L and a book to c and read a few paragraphs to me.
The funny thing is that he's not at all hesitant like most people who are just learning to read. He's sight reading entire words. He's NOT sounding them out. I'm pretty sure he has a lot of words just memorized, and that's how he's doing it. I'm also pretty sure that my suspicion that he has known how to read for some time, but was waiting to have it perfected before he "came out", is completely accurate.
I guess I haven't been concerned about "teaching" him how to read, so I haven't really read any books or articles about how kids learn this stuff, but I'm curious about what it means that he seems to not be reading phonetically. It would be nice to understand how his brain works. I know he has an extraordinary memory, so that's why I'm thinking he has a whole bunch of words memorized. But isn't that how I read? I mean, I don't usually sound a word out phonetically unless it's my first encounter with that word.
Oh, well. I'm just so excited for the little guy. What an amazing journey he has begun! We're going out tomorrow to get him the book of his choice at the book store.
Yay, m!
Here's Me. Feeling Really Fucking Cynical. Listening to Nick Cave. Not a Good Combination.
May 29, 2002
I Let Love In
by Nick Cave
Despair and Deception, Love's ugly little twins
Came a-knocking on my door, I let them in
Darling, you're the punishment for all of my former sins
I let love in
I let love in
The door it opened just a crack, but Love was shrewed and bold
My life flashed before my eyes, it was a horror to behold
A life-sentence sweeping confetti from the floor of a concrete hole
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
Well I've been bound and gagged and I've been terrorized
And I've been castrated and I've been lobotomized
But never has my tormenter come in such a cunning disguise
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
O Lord, tell me what I done
Please don't leave me here alone
Where are my friends?
My friends are gone
O Lord, tell me what I done
Please don't leave me here alone
Where are my friends?
My friends are gone
I let love in
I let love in
So if you're sitting all alone and hear a-knocking at you door
and the air is full of promises, well buddy, you've been warned
Far worse to be Love's lover than the lover that Love has scorned
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
I let love in
Cool new cooperative blog
May 28, 2002
Pea's collecting activist mamas to post to lifeafterbirth.org. So, get on over there!
Women of the Beat Generation by: Brenda Knight
May 28, 2002
Haven't even cracked it yet, but I'm sure it will be a good read.
I can hardly believe it.
May 28, 2002
It's actually RAINING outside. Thunder and lightning, too. I better turn the computer off and go to sleep so I can watch the storm!
Help Me Out, Here...
May 28, 2002
Can someone tell me how this (particularly the bolded session) excerpt from the editorial of this month's Mothering Magazine can be viewed as anything other than completely racist? I've been stewing about it all day:
The woman searching my purse is sweet and demure and notices my conversation with a man being searched at the adjoining counter. "They search me every time I fly," he says, "and I fly once a week for work. No job is worth this." He believes that he fits some profile and is often searched both at the security check-in and at the gate. "The newspapers say that people are afraid to fly. They're not afraid to fly. They hate this," he says, motioning around the security check-in area. He storms away. The searching woman is disturbed by his comments and remarks that she is only doing her job. I am in line to board when a man near me is chosen to be searched. He looks a bit overdressed and flashy but certainly not dangerous. The man beside me in line, whom I have secretly befriended because he looks Middle Eastern, makes a sound of disapproval with his tongue as if to suggest that the man being searched was in some way responsible. I'm surprised at how easily the man beside me participates in this atmosphere of suspicion.
Griffin and Sabine by Nick Bantock
May 27, 2002
OK, so I'm probably the last person on earth to actually read this book. I think L picked up the first two in this series for me many moons ago, and he recently BEGGED me to read them, saying that they were incredible, which is quite a compliment coming from the original cynic himself. But he's right. This is amazing.
While reading this, I'm so drawn to the idea of starting to write pen and ink letters again - with doodles in the margin. I was never a fan of mail art, because it always came across mass produced and impersonal, but this book is the most touching and beautiful form of mail art imaginable. Amazing read. Inspiring read. I Might just have to dig up a pen and some paint and start doodling.
And the Day Just Keeps Getting Better
May 27, 2002
There I was, innocently glancing at the computer screen while at the same time attempting to wash a load of diapers, monitor the children (who were happily and busily engaged in other activities) and clean up the bedroom when in walks L and says those 6 words I love to hear:
"Didn't you have someplace to go?"
I think I was out the door before he finished asking the question. Damnit, I love that man.
Die Cast Garden!
May 27, 2002
Yay! The 1983 issue of Die Cast Garden is out! Make sure you read Allyson's journal piece. It proves that she was even cool in junior high school. And she just gets cooler every year!
I'm afraid to reread my interview...but you can read it and then e-mail to me to tell me what a total nerd I am.
My Son is so Cool
May 27, 2002
Well folks, an important milestone has been reached.
Today, for the first time ever, I went to a coffee shop with my son, and we both lay draped on the retro couches, READING. He brought along Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, I brought along Cool Beans. He had lemonade, I had a huge mug of coffee. He had a sesame seed bagel, I had a poppy seed bagel. And we read for a good hour before he started to get a little impatient. And then we sat on the comfy couch and talked. I had my arm around him for awhile, and then he sat in my lap. And we just had the best time.
c was at home with papa. Mostly sleeping. m was very happy to be out of the house without his annoying baby brother hogging all of the attention.
I just love flightpath. It's my weekly haunt. I'm so glad to see that business is good, because for awhile there, it almost tanked. Good old fashioned coffee houses need to be supported. Flightpath is one of the best in Austin. Spacious and clean with local art on the walls and comfy couches and chairs scattered throughout. Just a great atmosphere.
I'm so glad that I can now share it with my son. We had a fantastic time, just hanging out. I couldn't ask for a better way to spend a holiday.
weird
May 27, 2002
Does anyone feel like explaining to me why the ENTIRE history of my posts is displayed on the main index page? I have it set to display 7 days.
I'm going back to sleep.
Um, you and me are free to be COMPUTER free?
May 27, 2002
It looks like I'm going to have to return the laptop so it can be used for a class. So I either have to fix my freaking desktop, or be computer free for awhile.
I mean, I have access up the wazoo at work, but what the hell am I going to do when I wake up at 4 AM and feel the urge to blog?
I guess I can read books. Books are nice. I can always write in my journal and translate to blog when I get to work...if I can actually remember how to hold a pen.
*sigh* I knew this would have to happen eventually. At least my crampy fingers will be thankful.
Little Bear by Else Holmelund Minarik
May 27, 2002
What can I say about this book? I've been BEGGING m to let me read it to him again for weeks now, and tonight he blessed me by putting it in the huge stack of books he dragged out for me to read.
It's just that Mother Bear is so fucking cool. Nothing fazes her. She is always patient and kind with Little Bear, and she never gripes at Father Bear for never being there to give her some time to herself. Plus she always seems to be able to get other stuff done. Sewing, cooking, cleaning, reading, cake fucking baking(!).
I want to be Mother Bear.
Or, actually...if you think about this a little deeper...maybe I want to be Little Bear.
Teach Me About Relatives and Let's Talk About Being Careless by Joy Berry
May 27, 2002
L found a whole set of these books at a thrift store maybe? Or maybe they were in a dumpster somewhere. I don't know.
The thing is, to read these books, you actually need to do some preparation. They are pretty OK for opening up discussion, but you have to edit out crap like "Your Daddy has a father, Your Daddy's father is your Grandfather" (L never knew his father, and I'm sure there are plenty of other kids out there who don't have one grandparent or another.)
This line from "being careless" really irks me: "No one will get hurt, and nothing will get broken if you play carefully." What the FUCK? Is there no such thing as accidents. This may seem like a tiny issue, but you really don't need to heap this sort of subliminal guilt onto a child.
So, anyway, we use them to spark discussions, and m is old enough to where I can read the right words and then talk to him about why that might not necessarily be true. And we got them for free or cheap, so I can't complain about them not being worth the money...and m actually likes them. Go figure. (He also likes Curious George and Put Me in the Zoo, so...I mean...come ON!)
Put Me in the Zoo by Robert Lopshire
May 27, 2002
Can I just go on record right now and say that I absolutely cannot stand this book. It's right up there with Curious George on my most loathed books list. OK, first of all...why would any creature WANT to be in a zoo? And, um, second...why would any creature want to be in a CIRCUS.
I'm going to go hide this one behind the dresser. It can make love to the curious George book that's back there, and maybe they will spawn a revolutionary child.
Bedtime is a Bitch
May 27, 2002
Lately we've been struggling with bedtime. I say we, when I actually mean c, the 19 month old. m's been doing fine, provided I work hard to get him up at a decent hour in the morning (that boy will sleep until noon if I don't gently rouse him at around 9 or so).
c is driving me insane. Last night he was almost completely asleep on my shoulder. Floppy asleep. And the minute I lay down with him, he started babbling and wiggling. I've spent a frustrated past few evenings laying there with him for hours, trying to coax him into sleep. Tonight I just said "urgh! enough!" and got out of bed. He followed me into the living room, demanded to be held, got all floppy again...repeat previous. I think we did this two or three times before I finally just said "OK, everyone to bed." This has been happening 2-3 times a week for a couple of weeks now.
So that is why I've been making these 4 AM blog entries. Because what happens is *I* fall asleep. The dog has been left outside (and is now gone! I'm hoping she's in the garage.) there is popcorn on the floors, my "after the children go to bed" chores remain undone. I feel somewhat refreshed, but groggy, and I'm eating last night's popcorn which is now stale.
This really really frustrates me, ANGERS me...even though I know it shouldn't. I'm not sure why I rebel so hard against these days when there is so little me time. I'm like a freaking pit bull guarding the perimeter of this invisible force field called "mama time." I'm telling you, I am ruthless.
But, you know...the other day it struck me. Hard. That one day the kids won't be babies anymore. One day, not only will they be old enough to entertain themselves, but they will want nothing at all to do with playing with their stinky old mommy. One day I will have more free time than I will know what to do with. I WILL be able to lounge around at the book store, reading magazines and sipping chai. I WILL be able to go see bands play. I WILL be able to stay up late late late at night because I WON'T have to wake up first thing in the morning to a hungry, wet, excited-about-life baby who just wants to go go go. One day, time will flow from the ass of the universe like the proverbial goose's golden eggs.
I look at those two sleeping forms in the bed. One of which is almost able to stretch completely across width-wise, he's getting so tall, and I wonder what the fuck is it that I'm complaining about.
I have two sweet sweet boys, and tomorrow we are going to play play play!
Ring around the rosey, anyone?
The Best of Rodney on the ROQ
May 26, 2002
From the quintessential summer smoking dope album (spiritualized) to just a general all around rocking summer love fest (ROTR). This CD contains some of my favorite way back golden punk oldies. You can view the song list yourself, if you'd like - 25 classics. Some of my favorites are "The Kids Are Alright" by the Calamaties, "Bloodstains" by Agent Orange, "Amoeba" by Adolescents, "Wild in the Streets" by Circle Jerks, "Clean Cut American Kid" by Ill Repute, and "Pushin' Too Hard" by The Klan.
Oh, those poor, marginalized, cattle"men"
May 26, 2002
Cattlemen crying foul over basketball change
Why do I get the feeling that if the cattle"men" had it their way (pardon the multinational reference) it would be illegal to be vegetarian.
What I like to do with articles like these is replace words to turn the focus around. I mean, really, aren't the cattlemen the real extremists here? Just because you hold the viewpoint of the majority doesn't mean you aren't extremist.
I love how the cattle"men" are so outraged that PETA might have influenced the decision to switch to sythetic materials...and yet they are interested in influencing the decision in the opposite direction. You can't sling those arrows unless you are willing to dodge them when they come right back atchya.
You and Me are Free to be TV Free
May 26, 2002
Well, like I mentioned before, the TV has died. I didn't even have to kill it. So now the kids have gone about a week without any electronic visual media (since the computer is also dead) and, although it would be really nice to have something to distract the children for 30 minutes while I zone, I'm enjoying it. It feels better. The children (well, m really...because c wasn't much into the TV anyway) are playing more imaginative games. They're playing together more. We're reading more. It's not likely that we will be purchasing another TV in the near future. The computer is definitely first priority, and we don't really even have the money to fix that.
It is, all in all, a good thing. I have my tiny laptop set up on top of a shelf and every once in awhile I walk by and surf a random site in the midst of our playing. We're hanging in.
But, damn, it would be nice to watch JUST ONE VIDEO.
hahaha old addictions die hard, I guess.
Tribe 8
May 26, 2002
For anyone who has never listened to Tribe 8...you should. Particularly the song "Wrong Bathroom" from the Album Snarkism, which is about being mistaken for a man in the ladies room and contains the lyric:
"I'm having bladder burst while you ponder gender!"
Too too too rich.
By the way, while surfing for a link to the album cover, I discovered gayMART. Way fucking cool
Cool Beans! #13 The SF Eviction Issue
May 26, 2002
I don't think we got the free cd with this, because i"m pretty sure we got it used. For more information, go to the Cool Beans website.
Warning...the entry is not for the faint of heart...do not read while eating
May 26, 2002
Today on my way to work, I was annoyed by an itchy spot in my boot. I wasn't wearing socks, so I assumed that there was a random tag in my boot, or a misplaced cracker. Or a pebble. Since I was driving, I ignored it the best I could and proceeded on to work. By the time I got to work, I had forgotten about it, but was reminded soon thereafter and set to work taking off my boot. I untied and unravelled the laces and pulled off my boot to find a (barely) living cockroach (one of the big, texas-sized ones) gasping for life, stuck to my foot in a most unappealing way. Of course, I screamed, threw my shoe across the room, and hopped about flicking my foot around and shouting "Ew! Fuck! Ew! Fuck! EW!" Thankfully, I was the only one there...or I would have felt both foolish and disgusted.
While we're on the subject of cockroaches (and since I know you must be at this moment packing your bags to move to Texas, just so you can experience the sheer and utter joy of sharing a household with these fascinating creatures) I had an encounter the other morning with a young upstart roach. We had been roach free (for the most part) all winter and spring and suddenly they were/are freaking EVERYWHERE! Anyway, L and I have been going Rambo with the peppermint Dr. Bronner's spray and the other morning while doing the dishes, I spied a bronner's refugee hiding behind some dishes by the sink. I was filling the sink with soapy water to do the dishes when I started to assault the fucker with the peppermint spray. This guy was small, but hardy...and he managed to survive the initial assault. He kept running towards the sink in which I had started soaking some dishes in soapy water and I kept driving him back. Finally, he ran lamely (and I assumed he died) behind the fountain that now resides in the sink corner. I began to wash the dishes, lulled into complacency by the apparent success of my attack. When, suddenly, like Jason returning yet again from certain death, my nemesis scurried from behind the fountain and committed what could only be called a very effective suicide bombing strike by diving headlong into my soapy dishwater.
Certainly the children thought mama had finally gone completely insane as I muttered a string of explatives, emptied the sink of dishes, fished the fucking pest out...and then emptied and disinfected the sink with tea tree oil before refilling the sink and finishing the dishes.
Man, I hate those fucking roaches!
Diet For A Small Planet
May 25, 2002
I didn't know they had a website.
Cool Mamas
May 25, 2002
I had the opportunity to hang out with some awesome mamas today. I picked up Megan and brought her over to Danielle's house and we hung out in Danielle's living room and plotted the revolution.
It's so nice to be able to talk to other mamas without having to explain myself. These women were right on it. The subjects discussed veered from breastfeeding to race issues to attachment parenting to the medical establishment to size issues and on and on and each of us had something to contribute that was worthwhile. Who the fuck is it that says that all mamas ever talk about is their children? If it's you, perhaps you are simply not interesting enough to have a decent conversation with us.
So, anyway. Anyone who reads this with any regularity probably knows that Megan is like my hero and stuff. Danielle is not far behind. Sometimes I find it difficult to keep from exclaiming "FUCK yeah!" when I'm talking to someone inspiring. I had to fight back this urge several times listening to Danielle talk. And whenever I hang with Megan, I feel like my brain is expanding. She just coaxes these intense conversations, usually about childhood issues and how they relate to our experience as parents, that nurture my growth and well-being. I came home today feeling like I had had a great therapy session AND a couple semesters of college education.
Another thing that makes Megan way rad in my book is that she has such strong opinions about things, but she doesn't get all defensive about being disagreed with. She has a thick skin. We went round and round today on the subject of sexism and how it compares or dovetails with the oppression of children. I think Danielle and I were sort of in agreement that sexism plays a big role in how women treat (or mistreat) their children. This is important, because a lot of what we want to do is challenge people's opinions about how children are treated, and educate people on alternative parenting choices. Megan thinks that we shouldn't pair children and mothers under the same umbrella of oppression. That sexism is way less toxic than the nameless -ism that children encounter (and it's telling that there isn't even a word for it - or is there?). That children are nearly completely helpless to counteract the oppression that is foisted upon them. I agree with her, but I also feel that upgrading the status of women, or leveling the playing field, will contribute a great deal to the status of children. In the end, we agreed that any direct action we take should take into account that for many issues, we are addressing the mother, since the child is not the one who is making the choices about things like breastfeeding.
I mean, it makes sense that someone who feels powerless in the world is going to seek someone or something to have power over, right? And who better to wield power over than someone who is completely helpless to defend themself from you. I know that I struggle with this as a parent on a regular basis. There is definitely an imbalance of power in my relationship with my kids, and I have to consciously think about if and how I'm abusing that imbalance...and frequently correct myself for doing so.
However, it's also important to target direct action towards children. One of the most powerful things that Megan always brings up is the importance of validating an abused child's feelings. The simple act of scrawling graffiti that states "it is NEVER ok to hit a child." can have a profound effect on the soul of a child who is being abused. A child who might think that it is ok. Normal. To be hit. If only there was a simple statement that could counteract subtle, chronic emotional abuse. We're working on it.
The biggest challenge is educating without alienating. That's something we need to keep in mind. Because many, many women feel alienated by the system that provides them with choices, and then constantly questions their decisions. Issues like working vs. staying at home, breast vs. bottle, cloth vs. plastic are so totally volatile. I think the best tactic is to come at it from the angle of protecting the child and/but you can't rally for children by treading on their mamas. Gently, surely, resolutely. Education is the answer.
I'm really looking forward to stirring shit up with these fine ladies.
Have I Already Raved About this Blog?
May 24, 2002
I think she's the shit. She doesn't seem to have permalinks, but today's entry is absolutely beautiful.
Lavender Bath
May 24, 2002
I am reinstating bath night. For a long time, my weekly Thursday ritual was to come home from work, clean the bathroom thoroughly, then soak by candlelight in a lavender bath. I'm off work on Friday, so Thursday is sort of like my Friday, if that makes sense. This week, especially, I need to cleanse away all of the bad feelings and helplessness of the week.
I hope I'm not breaking any code of ethics by blogging about this, but I'm really worried about one of my clients. She has been breaking down in tears in the middle of the class every day for 2 or 3 weeks now. On Monday, she mentioned suicide to me. She said "I'm feeling like I'm going to kill myself."
Luckily, I work with an ex-social worker, and he's been helping me help her and myself. It's stressful for me. I worry about her, and I have so many little triggers that go off when someone starts talking about suicide. I know I am completely not in control of what another person decides to do, but I still worry. I'm mostly worried about this person because we are closed for a week as of today, and she does not have any friends and I know our class was getting her out and into social situations and perhaps helping to distract her from her problems.
But I gave her the number to "first call for help" and the number to a suicide helpline that the ex-social worker gave me. She already had this information. She assured me on Wednesday that she wasn't going to do anything stupid.
Today I walked in and she was in tears and having trouble breathing. I sat next to her and took deep breaths with her and put my hand on her shoulder. (It's amazing, but in all of my years of corporate training I was brainwashed into thinking that touching people was totally taboo, but my clients seem to love being touched. I had to get over a lot of fear before I started doing it, and I still feel a little apprehensive about it, but no one has ever asked me to not touch them...perhaps I just have an intuition about who I should and should not touch) She had a setback in some legal trouble she's been having and she feels helpless. What more could I do for her? What more could she do?
At the end of the class period, I was going around the room talking to people about what they wanted to do next. Did they want to re-take the beginner level class, move up to intermediate, or just use us for drop in self-paced learning. When I got to her, I was certain she had said previously (quite emphatically) that she wants to take the intermediate class. Today, she simply said "If I'm still around." or something vaguely ominous.
What can I do. I told her that I think she will do well in the intermediate class. Then I talked to the ex-social worker to see if there was more I could do. He said that I could call the police if she said anything concrete about killing herself, but I thought that was extreme. I have done all that I can. I'm dreading opening our doors on June 3 to find that she is not there. That she will never be back.
May 22-May 28, 1993
May 24, 2002
From a journal with the cover torn off...Remembering my brother's wedding in Butte, Montana.
5/22/1993 7:00 PM
Got to see D- on Thurs. after all. Got home early from San Antonio. His life's not going so well for him. A- shit and whatnot. We agreed to go work out together. He showed up at my house all slumped over and I made him smile and laugh. We hugged and hugged and it was beautiful. And we went and worked out and then cruised to Kerbey Lane for a tasty meal. Laughing over tortilla chips shaped like Montana and goofing.
5/27/1993 8:23 PM (Mountain time)
In Montana hotel room rain on window that view mountains picturesque. Geared up - leaving Sunday instead of Monday so a full day's rest between home and work and time to play. Made a date with A- for Monday night. Movies. He will pick me up at the airport. Need to refocus.
Went out for dinner with J- last night. J- and L-. And J- says he would move into a 3-bedroom with us. That should help.
Anyway - recap time. Catching up.
Lately
All life seen as a crawling
back into that eternal womb
a womb that constricts
rather than comforts
the trauma of birth
and pain
relived
again and again
Traumamania
There is a word for you
but it does you little
justice
Words are empty promises
and a touch can be a threat
and all action seems redundant
So I will sit and wait
for forever to roll over
turn itself in
and regale in yr
presence
The things I utter
seem
empty and crass;
a futile attempt at
giving someone somethng
that they need
But don't want.
Vulnerability saddens me
Because I could never
take advantage
as they do.
I want to cure
but
there's not enough love
to stitch the wounds.
5/28/93
Matthew -
Climbing mountains in Montana - out of breath I reach a clearnig, sit down and write and breathe and breathe to write to you. The air smells like berries and the wind in the trees sounds like water - the ocean - the waves. They sway. I am sitting on the ground near a road. Alone. My mom waits for me in the car. Too old to climb and play. Departing words "You go by yourself for as long as you want." Me:"But what if there's a wild mountain man up here?" She:"'ll point him in your direction." The sun comes out and it feels good to be alone, but I wish someone was here to share with me. I get up to walk some more.
To shade and where it smells like pine. Afraid to go too far as I'm not navigationally inclined. And so I sta close. John's buff friends are supposed to take me hiking tomorrow. I overestimated my aerobic condition. The air is thin and I gasp for breath. Probably at least somewhat due to my mom's chain smoking. But I'll risk it. I've been working out every other day at the gym - It'll be nice to get an outdoor workout. I lean back against a tree. Heavenly. I need this. This "away." Austin is heavy. My life, although good, is becoming fairly complex. This away is good. Would be better without the family - but the family was my excuse. I'm saving my money for a REAL away. Me and my dog in a solitudinous cabin somewhere in Texas. The hill country? Somewhere. I have a long way to go before I have enough $$ saved, so I haven't started planning yet.
The complexities. A- and I have decided to be autonomous. Which actually means that we are no longer romantically involved at all. I met someone who filled some needs that I didn't even realize were so important. Things like going to the park and playing on swings, holding my hand and nuzzling my neck in public. A- is a wonderful person, but not my soulmate. D- is beautiful - but so young. He's 19. I was his first kiss. I try to keep it in perspective. I am kind to him. It is what he deserves. I am setting myself up to be hurt. It changes by the second. One second it saddens me, the next I am overwhelmed with joy. Have you ever felt this way, my Matthias? I don't know that I have, but it feels so familiar.
I am getting a headache - time to head back down.
In the hotel room. I successfully avoided the rehearsal dinner and lay in here answering mail and watching cheesy anti-drug propaganda on cable. Fun, but much more fun in solitude at last. Me here alone. It's been awhile since I've had time to myself and I've been able to put some things in perspective from a distance. It is good.
Well, Matt. I'm still waiting for the letter you owe me. And when are you going to make it down to Austin so I can smoosh you and give you a big old kiss? I miss you. I love you dearly. You mean more to me than family or Friend or lover.
livelifelove
Drucilla
5/28/93 9:45 PM
Things for a distance - gaining perspectives not possible to obtain up close. Today climbed the mountain and wrote that letter to Matt. Wrote answered lots of mail. The solitude is nice. Avoiding my family. For which I feel somewhat guilty, but lately too much time spent on other people and now a need to retreat back into myself. Would be nice. On Sunday I do not know what I will be doing.
I bite my nails down. This is not good. Need to stop. I've been feeling a little sick all day - in the stomach. Mom says it's altitude sickness. I think it's a case of the "Leave me THE FUCK alone's" But she claims John is picking me up at 7 AM to go 4-wheeling...and the wedding starts at 4, but we have to be there by 2 for pictures and the wedding will last for two hours. ACK. I wonder how rude it would be to write in my journal during the ceremony. What a pain in the ass. Nyeesh. I know for sure now that I'm getting hitched in the church of Elvis. At least that would be entertaining.
Making good headway in this journal so far. Lots to write this month and I'm not being that much of a detail freak.
I could probably very easily get a huge crush on J- if I didn't know he is a heartbreaker and completely immature. Oh well. Maybe I should try this dating more than one person thing.
Conflict Girl Speaks
May 23, 2002
She is so insightful. Thank you, Holly.
I'm Johnny and I Don't Give a Fuck Zine #3
May 23, 2002
image stolen from more goat than goose
I've read this a few times before and I'll probably read it a few more times, until it falls apart. The issue that follows this is a big perfect-bound affair. This issue is at least 60 1/4 size pages detailing the life and times of a punk rocker in Canada. So so so so cool. Not sure if you can find this anymore, but if you can, you ought to snatch it right up.
The Computer is also dead.
May 23, 2002
I'm still typing away on the crampy little VAIO keyboard. Which might explain why I don't feel like typing my usual long-winded entries and have instead resorted to cutting and pasting stuff into the blog.
It sucks, too, because L has this posh setup waiting for me. Scanner, turntable, stereo, the works. I'll be burning CDs like a mofo once we fix the problem. It's either a bad power supply or a bad mother board. The cable shorts out if it's not in this weird special position that changes whenever you turn on the computer.
Oh, well...at least I am not completely computerless. Thank maude they aren't asking for this laptop back at work...although I still haven't gotten the digital camera back from my boss...and I miss it tremendously.
Ladies and Gentlemen
May 22, 2002
The television is broken. May it forever rest in peace.
I will miss the words "Graffiti is cool" that L scrawled on the top of it. That is all.
Racism, Eco-Justice, and You
May 22, 2002
I'm having a discussion with the Richard Kahn from Veganblog about a comment he made in reference to Charles Barkley's one man stand against PETA and animal rights activists..
I particularly took issue with this quote from Richard:
"...if Barkley can explain why animals and leftists should be run over why couldn't the Greek talk about the black body? Or how about John Rocker, the pitcher whom a few years back blasted every possible minority group imaginable with venemous hate-speech..."
My opinion is that race should not even be mentioned in this context, and bringing it into the argument implies an element of scapegoating. I feel that his references to Jimmy the Greek and John Rocker brought Barkley's race starkly into the spotlight, and it was offensive to me.
In subsequent e-mails, and in subsequent posts, I'm sort of feeling like Richard's heart is in the right place, but I still feel that the comparison between Barkley's anti-vegetarianism (which actually appears to be more of an anti-PETAism, which I can certainly relate to) and Greek's and Rocker's racism is offensive and detrimental to the movement.
What do you think?
I'm curious...
May 22, 2002
Is anyone reading the categories along the left column? If so, which ones? I mean, I'm going to update them regardless, but I'm interested in knowing what interests other people, you know?
oh, my holy freaking maude!
May 22, 2002
I made the granola recipe from the Farm Vegetarian Cookbook today again. This time I didn't burn it. It is so so so tasty. There's good eating at the Blood house today. I'm telling you.
I Could Possibly Have Earned the Title of Pasta Salad Queen
May 22, 2002
So, m asked to eat pasta salad again today. Since I had just made some on Monday, and was not in the mood for the same thing 2 days later, I decided to add a new twist. I'm starting to really get good at working without a cookbook, which is something I've been working on for the past 10 years or so. Yay, me!
Ingredients:
about 3 cups dry pasta
about a cup of broccoli and cauliflour (or one or the other)
about 1/2 cup each of peas, corn, and tofu cubes (or whatever other veggies you have lying around)
about a tablespoon of cilantro (or more or less, depending on how much you like cilantro)
2 green onions
about a teaspoon of grated ginger root
a couple tablespoons of toasted sesame oil (you can use the yummy spicy stuff if you don't live with small people who can't stand spicy food. If that is the case, you have my undying envy and you need to invite me over to try it sometime)
a dash or two or three of rice vinegar
tamari to taste.
Directions:
Throw some water on to boil. I usually will steam the veggies as the water boils, so put the broc/caul/peas/corn...and whatever else over the pasta water. Make sure you clean your veggies well, because you'll be boiling pasta in that water.
While the water is boiling, quickly saute the cubed tofu in some sesame oil if you have a recipe for tofu marinade that you like, you can use your marinated tofu here. Or you can bread the tofu in nutritional yeast or crushed peanuts. Yum! I actually didn't use tofu in the pasta salad I made today, I used garbanzo beans instead, but I'll bet peanut-breaded tofu would be just divine! You can also bake the tofu if you prefer to veer away from fried foods. Add the ginger here if you are sauteeing and you want to make the ginger flavor a little more mild. Otherwise, add the ginger to the other herbs and oils - making sure to mince it very very fine. Do drizzle on some toasted sesame oil for flavor, though. That shit is yummy-licious.
Once your veggies have cooked, remove them from the heat and set them aside. Throw your pasta in to cook.
When the pasta is done, toss everything in a big bowl, add sesame oil, cilantro, soy sauce to taste, ginger if you did not add it to the tofu already, and green onions. Maybe throw on some peanuts and some raw red pepper as a garnish.
Chow down, d00d. This stuff is tasty tasty tasty!
mAmazon...
May 22, 2002
Is anyone else wondering how mAmazon went? Where is cen?
m and c Update
May 22, 2002
c is COUNTING(!) It's unbelievable, but it's definitely true. He can count to two all by himself (and I frequently find him walking around the house saying "un, TOOOOOOOOOO" but he can also count at least up to thirteen with assistance. Here's how I found this out today...
Me and L and m and c were out and about today, and c was in L's arms saying "un, tooooooo" so I said "three" then "four" and c said "fi!" and I said "six, seven, eight" and c said "NI!!!" and I said "ten" and he said "lev!!" then I said "twelve" and he said "fir!!!"
OK, it probably sounds like I am totally making this up. What 19 month old child can count? But I'm telling you, he's counting. It's bizarre. No one asked this child to learn his numbers. I swear to you he doesn't spend any portion of the day hooked up to machines, and he really doesn't watch all that much sesame street or any other television. So...it's a mystery. Maybe it's hardwired in there somewhere, because I know m learned his numbers and letters really young, too.
The thing is, I'm not altogether interested in him picking this stuff up so quickly. I mean, all of the stuff I read about the waldorf philosophy discourages academic learning prior to the age of 7, or the change of teeth. Now, I'm not a total Waldorf fanatic, but I still see the sense in staying away from pounding this stuff into kids' brains so early. I want c to be out there. Outside of his brain. For as long as possible. So, I feel a great deal of responsibility towards leading him out there while allowing him to explore "in there." No coaxing. Nothing more than what is requested.
***
m is doing interesting things with words. Now, when I read to him (and he is once again going through a phase where he wants to hear the same 2 or 3 stories over and over again - this week it's Dragon Feathers and Cat In Search of a Friend. Only now, when I read to him, he will interrupt me and say "Where's such-and-such word?" and I have to stop what I am doing and point out that word. A lot of times, he's asking about punctuation. Like there will be a sentence that I will read loudly, and he'll ask me to point it out to him, and he will say "There's no exclamation point there!" So I'll reply that there isn't, but that the story seems to suggest that part is yelled. It's very, very cool.
***
So, wow...it's been a hell of a learning week here. The result of which seems to be that c just does not want to go to sleep at night no matter how tired he appears to be and m goes right to bed when he is asked. I'm sure that has to do with the cognitive development. c wants to be up up up and absorbing and m wants to take a freaking break already!
OK, it's LiP Magazine Overkill, I know...
May 22, 2002
but...wow! Great article:
"The ultimate invalidation is to look at some kid who is refusing to pay attention or behave well, and not respect that there's something by way of rebellion and resistance going on there, and then to medicalize it and then to drug it.
[It's] no accident that the greatest growth in diagnoses and in our population of people on drugs [have to do with] kids and teenagers. One of the reasons is that there's more and more pressure on kids to conform and comply."
****
"What I've found from my patients over the last 16 years is that the people who I see who are depressed and anxious are a lot of the most likable people I know. To me, it usually indicates that their soul is still intact. They're capable of feeling hurt, loss, pain—they haven't utterly anesthetized themselves like a lot of society. Take a look: one out of four people are on psychiatric drugs.
So, the first thing is, feel good about yourself that you're human enough to still feel hurt, anxiety and pain.
The second thing is, forgive yourself for probably doing a hell of a lot of stupid things with that—self-destructive things, unkind, selfish things to yourself and others.
The third thing is that once you understand that there are good reasons for why you're feeling the way you are, you want to move into finding a way to transform your life. That can be a real, satisfying, lifelong project.
Partially, what you start to understand is that you [need to] develop, in your life, a community of people who are like you, a community of people who really dig you. People who, when you see them and they see you, are really excited.
[If] they're interested in who you are, and you're interested in who they are, then at that point in time, you're starting to create a more human life for yourself."
Cat in Search of a Friend By: Meshack Asare
May 22, 2002
Dragon Feathers - Retold by Arnica Esterl - Illustrated by Andrej and Olga Dugina
May 22, 2002
Spiritualized - Pure Phase
May 22, 2002
Ain't it the freaking truth. I'm blasting this puppy out of my windows like no one's business. What an awesome disc. I love it more each and every time I listen to it. Sheer, unadulterated genius.
The Dog And Pony Show
May 21, 2002
I thought this blog was a good read.
Got Mama's Milk?
May 21, 2002
I'm so excited to report that I'm joining a small group of lactivists here in Austin. Our first project will be creating t-shirts with an image of a breastfeeding toddler on the front, and information about breastfeeding on the back.
What an amazing (and sad) commentary that displaying an image of a child breastfeeding is in itself a revolutionary act. I am so psyched to be included in this group.
Ban On Farm Photos
May 21, 2002
My friend Christopher sent me this article, which I thought was quite interesting:
Missouri ban on farm photos
Mo. House OKs Ban on Barn Photos
May 16, 2002 By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS Filed at 6:11 a.m. ET
JEFFERSON CITY, Mo. (AP) -- Taking aim at animal rights activists and
undercover reporters, the Missouri House has passed a measure that would
make it a crime to take pictures of animals in barns without an owner's
permission.
The ban would apply to still or motion pictures of farm animals in barns
or other areas where they are housed. Photographers could be sentenced to up
to one year in prison and a $1,000 fine.
The animal photography measure was added to a larger agriculture bill. It
now goes back to the Senate, which on Monday night had added a similar
provision to a House-passed bill.
Rep. Ken Legan, who sponsored the House amendment, said he doesn't approve
of photographers on a mission to expose the supposed evils of farming. His
amendment also would apply to animal-breeding facilities or any place that
houses animals for agricultural, business or research purposes.
``They'd like to come in and take pictures and say how bad it is when in
actuality (the animals) have never had it so good,'' Legan said.
Copyright 2002 The New York Times Company
Hahahahaha
May 21, 2002
This is for any Santa Cruz-ians in the audience (cough cough BLUEROSES cough)
I was referred there from this site, which was referred there from boing boing
Ummmm...ok. Giant blue balls at the playground...neighbors complaining of phallic trees...I'm starting to get a very strange picture of life in Santa Cruz.
A Monday in my life
May 20, 2002
Put Down that Plunger. It's another day in my life...
(OK, that was a total tease. There are exactly zero overflowing toilets in this entry. Of course, the day is still young as I start this. Who knows what could happen)
2:30 AM
Yes, c is once again waking up at 2:30 in the morning because his diaper is soaked and he can't deal with it. Groggily, I feel around in the dark for a dry diaper, realize that all of the "good" diapers are in the dryer, and I put a diaper with questionable velcro status on him, without a wrap...because those are also in the middle of being washed/dryed, etc.)
2:45 AM
Of course, c has fallen asleep, but my sinuses have erupted like a faucet. I drag myself out of bed, grab a handful of Puffs Plus (with aloe) and plop my ass down in front of the computer hoping to at least entertain myself while I'm miserable and sneezing. In between surfs, I'm cleaning up the kitchen, doing some laundry, and doing some writing.
4:00 AM
Oh, shit. Now I'm wide awake, and I'm still sneezing. I decide it's best that I at least try to go back to sleep.
7:30 AM
Both boys are awake. I am trying to stay asleep, but they're not falling for it this morning. I lay there for as long as I can while they bounce around and on top of me. c psyches me out a few times by pretending to snuggle up to me and get all sleepy-eyed, only to bounce back up and start acting all silly. m's telling me about his dream that he had that we were in a twister and we were all in a treehouse and it was really scary but I saved them. I think it had something to do with the "tomato tornado" in Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.
8:15 AM
Fuck it. We're getting out of bed. m is LOUD. L is still trying to sleep. c starts the day on an auspicious note by refusing to drop the plunger that he starts playing with while I'm on the toilet. There's something about starting the day by trying to convince an 18 month old that a plunger is not a toy that is just. so. wrong.
8:30 AM
I'm cleaning up the kitchen and chopping up veggies for our breakfast. This morning we're eating homefry tacos, basically it's a potato diced up with onion and "Gimme Lean" and pan fried until brown on most sides. Today I added some corn to the mix, and when it's just about done, I throw some tortillas on top and cover it up to soften. Yummy. I use this stuff called Herbamare instead of salt. It still has salt in it, but the other seasonings make things really tasty.
9:00
The kids are chowing down on breakfast, and I'm trying to straigthen up a bit. I do the dishes, and then I move into the back room to fold some clothes. Unfortunately, c has other plans for me, and as I place folded clothes on the pile, he busies himself with grabbing clothes off of another pile and strewing them about the room. I'm feeling kind of grouchy and short temper (gee...I wonder why) and I'm also sneezing every 5 and a half seconds. Not just one sneeze, either...but like 20 in a row. I always get really irritable when my allergies kick in & the kids seem to pick up on that and act even more irritating, you know? So I'm trying really hard to not lose my shit with c...not doing a very good job of it...and finally I just say "fuck it!", throw the laundry back in the baskets, and open up morning circle.
10:00
Lighting the vanilla scented candle with the lavender incense, I'm asking m what story he wants to read. Of course it's Dragon Feathers, because he loves that story...but I convince him to let me to read the story of Icarus to him as well. And a poem about geese. So I guess the theme for the day is feathers. He doesn't let me teach him "the song that never ends" which is probably a good thing.
10:30
I'm cleaning up the living room. I give up in total exasperation when c stands in the middle of the pile of crap I've swept up and starts dancing around. I throw the ingredients for a loaf of bread into the bread machine (I so love the modern world I live in) c's grouchy, crying...and I'm ready to just get the hell out of the house. SO...
10:45
We head over to the playground. The 5th graders are having some sort of picnic day, so the playground is overrun with semi-unruly children (hey, they can't help it, it's the last week of school) m doesn't feel like meeting new friends, so he's clinging to me. c's clinging to me, too. I'm feeling very hemmed in and annoyed, but I'm sure it's just me and not the poor children who are having to deal with grouchy mama. The kids run around a bit, and then m spies K- - or K- spies m (for those of you who are new to my little miniseries here, K- is this awesome kid in the neighborhood who just loves m and always goes out of his way to be extra nice to m even though m is much much younger.) and m has someone to play with for a little while. One of the teacher's aides is playing ball with c, so I talk to K- a little bit. He's all excited that it's the last week of school. He asks when m gets out of school and I tell him m doesn't go to school. He sort of laughs and says "Yeah, but when does he get out of homeschool." I laugh back and say "Oh, we don't really ever get "in" - we just play all day." hahaha.
I see John (I think that's his name - he was Rachel's neighbor, and he has a daughter who is, I think, 2 or maybe almost 3) and we chat for awhile, but some kid starts bullying Maia, so he has to go to her rescue. He seems like a nice guy...I've been meeting him up at the playground a lot lately. It's nice to talk to a fellow freak every once in awhile. c thinks he's the shit because c has a thing for men. If there is a man at the playground, you can bet c will be glomming on him within minutes. It's almost embarrassing sometimes.
12:30
We head home. c is sleepy, I'm hungry, and m does not want to go.
12:45
At home, I start putting things together for a pasta salad. I turn on some tunes. I think maybe c needs to sleep, but he's not interested in sleep. At some point he starts crying, L wakes up and takes him into the other room so I can have a moment of silence while I'm throwing lunch together. I'm making pasta salad, using rotini. I put some water on to boil and steam some broccoli and cauliflour and frozen peas over the water. When the water boils, I take the veggies off and set aside while the pasta cooks. then I throw everything together with some leftover corn from this morning and some basil, oregano, vegesal, olive oil and red wine vinegar. It's tasty.
1:00
At some point, L took c's diaper off without telling me. all of a sudden the dog seems very interested in c. I realize he has, um, defecated on the floor. As I run to get a rag to clean up, the dog takes the initiative and provides clean up services for me. How...appetizing. I know. Welcome to my fucking life.
1:15
m's done with his 3rd bowl of pasta salad. The bread is about 15 minutes from being fully baked. I bring c into the lavender-y bedroom for his nap. We look at an illustrated collection of James Herriot stories. c points to the cats and says "MAO! MAO!" Then he nurses for a brief time and drifts off to sleep.
1:30
I sit down to blog a bit and rest a bit and m is still eating that pasta salad. He really likes it. I slice up some bread for us, too. mmmMMmmMM warm bread straight from the bread machine!
1:45
I have a meeting today at work, so instead of playing with m like I usually do, I'm getting ready for work. I step into the shower, and step out to discover that there are no towels in the bathroom. I dry myself off with the one dry washrag that is available to me. hahahahahah.
2:00
Cleaning up, hanging out, farting around on the internet....L checks the mail and hands me a letter from John P, who says it sounds like Clothespins for the Revolution is right up his alley and he'd love to contribute. This makes me very happy. John P is actually the first zine person I ever met in my entire life. I wrote him a letter after picking up his zine, CEHSOIKOE, in a record store in HOffman Estates, IL (where he used to live) and we've been friends ever since. I remember running off copies of some of his first King Kats for him when I worked at Kinko's in chicago. He was all enthralled with the saddle stitcher, as he had spent YEARS perfecting a method of saddle stitching his little zines by stapling through them into a piece of styrofoam and then painstakingly bending the staples inward by hand. Hahahahaha. I totally remember him freaking out at how much easier his life had become just because of a silly machine that existed for the sole purpose of performing that tedious task. That's such a John P moment, too. What a great human being. He and Kera used to come around and make me laugh and act silly while I was working away. I love John P. So much. I hope he knows that.
Anyway, where was I...
2:30
Time to go to work. I can't find my freaking glasses (again!) I decide to just go without them. L says "OK, if you see a blob in the rearview mirror with a light on top...that would be the cop pulling you over to give you a ticket for not wearing your glasses." I'm so glad I live with the only person in the world who is more of an unbearable smartass than I am.
3:00
I'm at the meeting. Tech talk ensues. blah blah blah. touchy feely. blah blah blah. You get the picture. This meeting is at least marginally informative. Last week we met for all of 5 minutes. There was nothing to talk about. I felt bad for my cohort at the other site b/c she had to drive all the way up from south austin to get there. for me, it's right on my way to work, so it's no big deal.
4:30
Here's where my cohort at the other site is telling my boss that we can just "pick up some vegetarian items at the bar-b-q joint for Lainie" for our picnic/party/celebration next week. I look at her like she has horns sprouting from her nose and say "You know, there's a difference between vegetarian food and a barbecue joint's version of vegetarian food." I feel bad being rude, but this is like the 15th time she's tried to tell someone what is OK for me to eat. I don't even mind if I buy my own freaking food, but I do have a real problem eating food from a place whose sole purpose is cooking up dead animals for the masses. People can eat whatever the fuck they want to eat, but come on! If you're going to go out of your way to feed me, at least allow me to choose where you're spending your money on me.
OK. I'm a bitch. I know it. Sue me. My boss seems to understand where I'm coming from (after all, it was all of a WEEK ago that I bluntly told them that if we were to ever have a luncheon at a barbecue place, I simply wouldn't go. Again, not because I want to control what other people eat, but I just don't want to support that kind of establishment with my presence). She says she can pick me up some stuff from Whole Foods for the picnic. I tell her baked tofu would work. Corn on the cob, even. I can make do with a pasta salad. Whatever. And if it's a problem, I'd be happy to get the food myself. I don't mind.
5:00 PM
Time to go. whoopie! I get a bag of peanuts at the grocery store to tide me over until I can eat some food at home.
5:30 PM
Here I am at work, typing this up. I should probably go and look like I'm doing something constructive, though.
6:00 PM
Clients roll in, we do some creative projector bulb shuffling to get by with 1 bulb each in 2 projectors that normally require 2 bulbs. blah blah, talky talky. It's the last week of class, so everyone's finishing up their final projects. I am making calls for the classes that are coming up next semester. We're offering an html class that my favorite cutey-pie volunteer is teaching. I'm psyched. This guy is so so sweet...it's always nice to have him teaching here. And he does it on a volunteer basis which is way cool. Yay!
I'm happy with this class, even though it's smaller than usual, because I'm able to give some advice on their resumes instead of terminally trying to brush them off like I have to do in most classes. I think I've read over everyone's resume individually, and I feel like I've really really helped a lot of the clients achieve a polished, professional looking document. I'm really impressed by the diversity in the class...and the vast amount of experience. It's so great to work here. I7: can't even describe how much I love my job.
7:00 PM
I check my e-mai to discover that Jim Munroe is giving me permission to use one of his articles for Clothespins. He doesn't have time to write anything original, but it's still cool that he is interested in taking part. I'm starting to get really psyched about Clothespins. Moreso than before. Things are starting to come together nicely. I think it's going to kick ass.
9:00 PM
It's time to go. I have to tell J- that I can't drive him home b/c I'm not wearing my glasses and I feel really nervous about driving 10 or so miles out of my way when I can't see really well. I feel bad because he has to take the bus, but I know he is safer there than in a car with blind blind me.
9:15 PM
HO-LEE fucking SHIT! L has rearranged the living room again. He's set up the computer and the stereo so I can start ripping vinyl to CD, and he's made a cute little living area out of our scrounged furniture and our nasty old rug (the first item of domesticity that we purchased together...and possibly the last). All I have to do is actually hook everything up and I'll be able to type copious amounts of verbiage without experiencing major finger crampage again. It is absolutely beautiful in here. It's obvious he spent a great deal of time and energy working on it.
9:30 PM
I try to put c to sleep (let's call this "attempt #1") He acts like he's tired, so I start singing him all sorts of lullabyes. His eyes start to narrow. m starts talking really REALLY loudly in the other room and c begins to toss and turn and BANG HIS HEAD AGAINST THE WALL in an effort to stay awake. I'm nursing him. I'm counting silently to 50 over and over again (which is my method of relaxing myself enough to calm him down) I'm switching sides. I'm stroking his temples. I'm rubbing his back. He's flipping over. He's whacking me full force with his entire arm. He's pinching my arms, my stomach, my chest. He's rolling around.
10:00
fUCK IT f.u.c.k. i.t. This child has been working my nerves from the moment he woke up this morning. I get out of bed and stalk into the living room. m immediately sits on my lap. I take a few deep breaths, ask m to find a story for me to read. c jogs in and starts playing with some toys. m hands me Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs (again!) and I try to lose myself in the reading of it.
10:15 PM
I lie and say it's time for bedtime when it's actually 15 minutes before m's bedtime (and about an hour and 15 minutes PAST c's. We all pile into bed...I accidentally flop onto L, who I didn't realize was laying in the bed already. We all rearrange ourselves to fit, and I start trying to nurse c down. He's back to his old tricks. Flipping. flopping. doing anything he can to avoid falling asleep. At one point, to avoid his peenchy fingers (you know how kittens knead the mama cat when they're nursing? This is kind of what c does...only he pinches. Hard. And it fucking hurts) I roll over on my stomach. c takes this as a cue and climbs onto my back, cowboy style. And stays there. I'm trying to be angry, but I'm laughing. I'm shaking with laughter. This makes m laugh. L laughs, too. We're all laughing, frustrated and laughing. And then we're all shooshing each other and trying again.
10:30 PM
Now c has arranged himself so he's lying perpindicular to me. And he's entertaining himself by shoving his foot in my face. I make the mistake of announcing "c's sticking his feet in my face." and m starts laughing hysterically. L tries to shoosh him, but then he starts laughing. Then, of course, I start laughing. I think we laughed about this for a full 5 minutes before L finally took m out of the room to try to get him to sleep in his room.
10:45
Here's how it goes. Nurse nurse nurse. Flip flop flip. nurse nurse nurse. scoot scoot scoot. pad pad pad. bang bang bang bang bang (this is c banging on the door). pad pad pad (back to the bed). Nurse nurse nurse. Pinch pinch pinch. Whack whack whack. roll roll roll. thud thud thud (this is him banging his head against the windowframe again). I think this is where I start to frantically count to 50 over and over to keep from committing an act of violence. It is the most frustrating thing in the world to watch an obviously tired child fight sleep so bad he has to inflict pain upon himself to try to stay awake. I'm trying to count to 50 but I keep drifting off and losing my place. 1...2...3...4...5...hmmm, I wonder what we should have for breakfast...where was I? 1..2..3..Shit. I need to make a grocery list and a menu plan because we're almost out of food...5...5..6...
11:00PM
I wake up. c's asleep. I sneak out of the room. I search frantically for the plug and phone connection for the laptop. m's still awake and playing in his room. I send him to bed, telling him that he should get some sleep because he'll be seeing his unpreschool friends tomorrow. He gladly obliges (!). Finally. Me. The computer...some writing.
11:15
L walks in: "Hey! What ya doing?" "writing" "huh?" "writing" "what?" (yes, he does this on purpose to make me insane. I think he needs the company). He sits down in the rocking chair and stares at the screen of the comptuer. "Um...can you leave me alone here...I'm TRYING to write."
etc. etc. etc...
and so, thus endeth my day...for the most part.
King Cat
May 20, 2002
I'm so psyched to report that my friend John P is going to be contributing to Clothespins for the Revolution! Yay!
The deadline is July 15th for the Small Things theme. Check us out! (there's not much at the site right now, but that will change in a month or so.)
Judy's back
May 20, 2002
Edrants
May 20, 2002
This was a nice thought to start my morning.
Recipe for sundried tomato pasta salad and pico de gallo
May 20, 2002
Find it here
(edited to fix link! ooops!)
Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs by: Judi Barrett
May 20, 2002
A google search on this book brought up a whole slew of lesson plans. We just like to read it because it's silly.
It's the story of a grandpa who tells a tall tale to his grandchildren about the town of chewandswallow, where food falls from the sky morning, noon and night.
Madeline by Ludwig Bemelmans
May 20, 2002
Here's a Madeline website with games and stuff. Woo hoo!
Sundried Tomato Pasta Salad and Pico de Gallo
May 20, 2002
While grocery shopping the other day, we were treated to free samples of pico de gallo and salad and I had mad cravings for a good pasta salad with sundried tomatoes and some oniony/garlicky pico. Since I had the night off from work, I knew I would be able to cook & I would want to snack, so I gathere the ingredents and was thankful to be craving something that wasn't going to completely heat up my kitchen.
Here's what I did - since many of the ingredients were shared between the two dishers, I just took out two bowls. How's this for multitasking, I made both dishes AT THE SAME TIME.
I started heating up the water for the pasta and put the sun dried tomatoes (about 1/4 cup, sliced up into thin strips) in a small dish and covered them with olive oil. Then I minced 4 cloves of garlic, but 1/3 of that in with the sundried tomatoes and 2/3 in the pico bowl. I drained and emptied a can of organic diced tomatoes into the pico bowl and stirred things up a bit.
Then, I diced up 3 or 4 green onions and split them about evenly between the pasta salad dish and the pico dish (leaving the sundried tomatoes and garlic alone to marinate in the olive oil) I cut a green pepper in half, diced 3/4 of it for the pasta salad, and minced the rest of it for the pico. I choped up a bunch of cilantro and divided it between the two dishes (do this to your taste - I put about 3/4 of it in the pico and 1/4 of it in the salad dish).
About now was when the pasta was done cooking. I drained it and doused it with cold water. I didn't completely chill it, though, because it helps to put the marinated sundried tomatoes and garlic in with warm pasta as opposed to cold. So I mixed the pasta in with the sundried tomatoes and garlic and put it in the fridge to cool down.
While that was chilling, I put about 1/2 oz of mild chilis into the pico. I used canned chilis because they're mild enough for the kids to eat, but you can mince up fresh jalapenow (or other chili of your choice) and it would probably taste much better. I put the pico in the fridge.
When the pasta was chilled adequately, I put a can of Westbrae organic salad beans in (a mixture of garbanzos, kidney beans...and something else...I can't remember), added the veggies, and threw in some salt & tossed things around a bit. I contemplated putting in carrots, celery and corn, but decided against it. You can add those things if you want. I like the flavor of the sundried tomatoes and cilantro and didn't want to distract from that.
To the pico, I added some salt and a couple of dashes of cumin. I thought it tasted great, but L insists it's not pico unless you add lime juice - so don't be a poser like me - get thee the juice of one lime and add it to the mix.
When I was done, I had a light, nutritions salad for dinner and tons of ood snacking. The leftover pico was used in a breakfast of black beans and home fries with onions and green peppers on whole wheat tortillas. YUM!
So, there you go - two meals and a good deal of snacking with minimal fuss. Enjoy!
Lavender Bedroom
May 20, 2002
I haven't been doing my share of cleaning up around here. Thankfully, L's been pulling up the (considerable) slack.
It's just not the same, though. He does a great job of cleaning up, but he's not ritualistic about it.
So, tonight I cleaned my bedroom, the drublood way. I picked up all of the laundry off of the floor, swept, put away toys, rearranged books on the shelf, and, most important, I made the bed.
The way I make the bed is extremely special. I strip the sheets, and put a nice, clean mattress pad on...and douse it with lavender oil. Then I put a nice, clean fitted sheet on...and douse it with lavender oil. Then I douse the pillows with lavender and throw on a few blankets and sheets and douse those with lavender, too...for good measure.
When the windows are open, you can smell the lavender all the way outside. It's pretty ovewhelming in the bedroom, as well, and it attracts the children like a well-used diaper attracts flies. Only...um...it smells nicer than that.
So the kids and I then usually spend a good deal of time in the bed, rolling around, smelling of lavender ourselves, reading books and, eventually, falling asleep. It's actually quite nice. Very calming. Very soothing...
Band Mother
May 19, 2002
L had band practice here for the first time in a long time. I had never met the guys in this band before. I'm not sure if it's because they are older than the other bandmates L has had or what, but they all seemed so...nice. Of course, m and c wanted to hang with them whenever they took a break, and the bandmates seemed as in awe of the children as the children were of them.
Throughout the evening, each and every one of the band members approached me to thank me for letting them practice in the house. "Hey, thanks for letting us practice here..." "I'm sorry if we're annoying you, I hope we're not too loud!" "It's so cool of you to let us practice here!" "Hey dru...thanks so so much for letting us hang out here" (that was L's brother) "It's so cool for you to let us play our bad music here." "I LOVE you the BEST! YES I do! yes I DO!" that was to the dog, as she was being vigorously patted and paid attention to...to me, he said "The boys are amazing! So's the dog. Wow...I really, really, REALLY appreciate your letting us practice here!" (It almost sounded like he was going to cry...and I think he had already thanked me! Is practice space at that high a premium these days?) They even laughed at my jokes. It was unbelievable.
I'm really not trying to make fun of these guys. They are incredibly nice boys. But, that's just it. I started to feel like I was L's mother or something. Shit. I've gone from being "band bitch" to "band mother". Maybe next time I should bake cookies and make lemonade for the band. hahaha...
Mixing
May 18, 2002
In the CD Jukebox, on terminal "shuffle all"
2 kidmixes of library cd's
My Wonderful World - Growing With Kindermusik
Dream Pillow - Kindermusik Village
Mix CD from Aaron, an old workmate
Mr. Bungle - California
Vince Guaraldi - Oh, Good Grief!"
Veruca Salt - Resolver
v/a - Eerie Bazaar: a taste of Eerie past, present, and future
Mix CD from Edward Champion
Nirvana - MTV Unplugged in New York
Buffalo Daughter - New Rock
Oblivion - Stop Thief
Sidekick Kato - 1st Class Chump
v/a - Swing This, Baby III
Cletus - Horseplay Leads to Tragedy
Tribe8 - Snarkism
Jeff Buckley - Grace
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Murder Ballads
v/a - Oldies But Goodies
The Gun Club - Live
Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds - Let Love Inv/a - Sounds of the Eighties: The Early 80's Take Two
Mix CD from dj
Charlie Parker - Bird Lives!
v/a - Classic Rave
Girl Trouble - New American Shame
Thelonious m with John Coltrane
REM - Document
Mix CD from a Friend Who Shall Remain Nameless
The Honeymoon Killers - Sing Sing (1984-1994)
I admit Nothing - If my ears could bleed...
Less Than Jake - Losing Streak
The Cramps - Lucky 13
John Coltrane - Trane's Blues
Nirvana - In Utero
Frankie Stein & His Ghouls
v/a - God's Favorite Dog
The Clash - Give 'em Enough Rope
The Judys - Washarama
The Clash - Combat Rock
White Dependence
May 18, 2002
I knew I liked LiP Magazine...Today I found this article, excerpted below...
when someone subconsciously realizes that a particular trait applies to them, and then attempts to locate that trait in others, so as to alleviate the stigma or self-doubt created by the trait in question.
It's a well-understood concept of modern psychology, and explains a great deal, including why men who are struggling with their own sexuality are often the most outwardly homophobic. Or the way whites during slavery typified black men as rapists, even though the primary rapists were white slaveowners themselves, taking liberties with their female property, or white men generally, raping their wives with impunity.
Sleeping in the Library
May 18, 2002
At the library today, I sat down in the magazine section to read a little write a little...and I was doing just that when I notice a strange sound emanating to the man behind me. It took me a minute to realize that he was sleeping. Snoring. And the snoring got louder and louder and louder. So loud that it echoed throughout the entire library. So loud that it woke him up momentarily. And stopped. And then it started again.
I was impressed with the librarian who, rather than kicking the man out, gently tapped him on the shoulder until he woke up. "You were snoring" she said. The man nodded, propped his head up with his hands, and went back to sleep.
Friday's Menu
May 18, 2002
Breakfast:
c woke up at freaking 6:30 AM today. Am I really supposed to remember what the hell I ate at that hour of the morning? I think I ate some oat-e-o's or something. yeah...I remember now. c poured water into his oat-e-o's and then started eating them and I was far too tired to argue with him about the grossness factor of that. m, of course, arose leisuraly at the hour of 10 or so and requested garbanzo beans for breakfast. Who was I to argue?
Lunch:
Um...does coffee count? I spend much of the afternoon at Flightpath, reading, writing, and temporarily disconnecting from my world. It was nice.
Dinner:
Family night! We went out for pizza at conan's. It was fun. Sometimes, when I'm with L, it almost feels like we are in an Mystery Science Theater version of our life. I don't know what it is, but lately we both just crack each other up. Our whole life is sort of cracking us up. I love that. We'll just be sitting down to eat, and m will say something and we'll all just laugh and laugh. c actually told some knock knock jokes today at the dinner table. m would tell one, and you know how there's a certain rhythm to a knock knock joke? well, c picked up on that and was saying
"na na"
"who's there, c"
"gadoobadaba"
"gadoobadaba who?"
"jlerlse reslj rejle"
And then he'd go "heheheh"
It was cute.
I think I'll probably have a nice little bowl of popcorn before the night is up. I haven't been cooking lately...but it's supposed to cool down for the weekend, so maybe I'll do some cooking tomorrow or sunday. I still need to post my recipes for pico de gallo and sundried tomato pasta salad...I have it all written out, I just need to wittify it and type it in. Later, later...
Adbusters Issue 32
May 17, 2002
This is an awesome cover
OK, here's a secret...I never ever read magazines when they are current. I buy them, put them somewhere, finish reading the 156 other books I'm reading, and two years later I pick up the outdated magazine and read it cover to cover. Even the stories I'm not really interested in.
So I'm always thankful for timeless magazines like Adbusters.
Here's a link to some of the creative resistance pieces in this issue
Holy Shit
May 17, 2002
Thanks to Pink Prickly Pear for this work of absolute genius.
Mariarosa Sclauzero
May 17, 2002
"It is difficult, but not impossible...because if it was impossible I would throw myself out the window."
Sue Coe did the illustrations for the book. It is superb.
Hurling Diapers at Phalanxes of Cops
May 17, 2002
if fertile_jim keeps this up, I'm going to have to induct him into the honorary mama hall of fame.
Sue Coe
May 17, 2002
Thinking about Cecily's entry on gentrification, I suddenly am overcome with the NEED to find a poster I have of this sue coe print, the landlord.
somewhere among my archives, I have a flyer with this image and an awesome poem superimposed over it that I can only vaguely recall. I will find it. It will take awhile, but I will find it.
more sue coe info here and here.
I definitely need to come
May 17, 2002
I definitely need to come back to this one when I have more time.
Thursday's Menu
May 17, 2002
Breakfast:
I think I ate a banana and half of c's apple. The kids chowed down on Oat-e-O's or whatever they're called. I'm pretty sure they each had an apple, as well.
Lunch:
I got about halfway through my soy bologna sandwich before I realized that it tasted fucking awful. I made a valiant effort to eat it anyway so as not to waste it, but I started gagging horribly while chewing. So, I spit out what was in my mouth and didn't have any appetite to eat anything else.
Snacks:
Pretzels at work again. Popcorn while blogging.
Dinner:
L made this killer dish of rice with garbanzos and raisins, seasoned with cinnamon and turmeric. The man knows his shit. He rocks my freaking world.
This week in my life - 1992
May 17, 2002
Read about it here
The Week of May 15-21, 1992
May 17, 2002
More about Lorri...from a different time. From a journal with "USE HUMANS INSTEAD" scrawled on the cover.
5/15/1992 3:27 AM
"Allegiances are fickle thin
and in essence purvey
little but our futility."
-Flux
a growing sense of satisfaction in everything in my life...leaving me - what - certainly not vacant, but so full as to be empty.
Silver
Wings lined in crimson
There was a squirrel in the parking lot of LBJ library/museum and an injured dog with a cast limping around the parking lot of HEB. Seem to come across a lot of dead birds around here. Why? Are there more birds, or are the birds here just stupid? No idea.
She moved with a certain fluidity. FIX on an object, no matter how sedentary, and it will surely begin to move, swimming eyes welling over without wetness - welling without thoughts/memories and all of my soul wells along as if in some sudden reaction to the memories - an inward sigh into infinity. An inward sigh of relief. She was a stranger, but she seemed to well like this, brimming with grief - toeing that (invisible) line between calm and catastrophe, not really understanding the difference and any minute she would stretch beyond her skin and explode outward in one burst, showering shimmering life in every direction. "I don't know if it's bad or good." It is so evasive - the wisdom that only comes from a million too many kicks in the teeth while attempting to grin widely in the face of tragedy/disaster, because everyone is telling you that really you don't need to breathe, really your heart needn't beat for the blood will run on angel feet - circulate itself from/to heart/beyond so that you might not die from lack of oxygen so that you might bleed when someone lacerates.
Lacerate - she held the blade between her teeth - grinning because, when kicked in the teeth this time, it would fuck her whole face then maybe the damage would be less psychosomatic then they would see it was real.
5/15/92 12:13 PM
Into this web of life
We weave worlds
Words of spun silver
dripped delicate
as lace
from iced tongues
humbled by
luxury
The price of ignorance
The award for remaining such
For beyond is freedome
and with it
Chaos looms as an ominous
indictment of the truth -
A black widow
fangs welled with venom
poised to strike at
the first sign
of honesty
(after kiss of the spider woman)
I remember nighttime in the city - feeling so alive, so much a part of life for once not apart from it. It is springtime. I am gazing from windows. The children are playing stickball in the courtyard. I am standing in the window when the ball smashes into the glass before me. I look down and they have already gone - scattered in fear of retribution. After all, who would want to stick around for that.
There are 3 silver-tongued sparrows in my breast - set my heart aflutter when they chirp in morning lull me to feather ruffling sleep as they snooze I sleep and dream of flying. I wake between a cat's paws, dying.
5/16/92 2:15 PM
He tells me that you spoke highly of me. That you thought well of me, but he hears anger and cynicism in your voice which spoke only heart-broken hope to me. Perhaps there is a connection. I was so disconnected, wandering then. A fistfull of flowers dead and dry as cemetary bones, my only companions. Your voice beyond the grave - ethereal - disembodied in such a very real way speaks of penetration and escaping but never really numbing yourself to the pain in the world around you. Is this what you wanted to leave? An empty hush that screams so loudly that no one can hear the sobbing even after it is long dead long gone long withered.
But I know you were/are my sister - I know your voice was not cynical - I know where your anger was heading.
And I know your self destruction was caused by your lack of power to make them see the scars.
For Lorri.
Cult of Experts
May 17, 2002
Megan and I were talking today about the Cult of Experts which has been created to fill the gaping hole left by our moving away from being a community based society. What sychronicity that she brought this up, as I have been poring over an article in a back issue of Adbusters about a gentleman named John Mcknight, who is an...well...he's an expert on experts!
Megan and I were discussing the insidiousness of experts in our everyday life. Medical "Experts" telling women how and where they should give birth, medicalizing our children through creating an imagined reliance on vaccinations and "well baby" checks, pathologizing us as adults with statistical propensities to illnesses, teaching us to not trust our bodies. Education "Experts" telling us that we have to hold certain credentials to teach our own children. Mental Health "Experts" defining our grief, our joy, and our general experience of life.
Granted, there are situations in which the help of these experts is necessary. Neither of us were talking about abolishing these positions outright. However, what kind of world would we live in if these "experts" were utilized more judiciously? Where need was defined based on reality, rather than profit margin? Where the TRULY NEEDY were allowed access to all of the information available and given a choice as to their method of dealing with issues of health, heart, and mind?
Here are some articles related to this topic, in case you are interested in reading more:
THE TYRANNY OF EXPERTS by Morris E Chafetz,M.D.
Education Can Lead the Way to a Sustainable Society
Cloth Diapering and Wastewater Treatment
SHAMANIC MIDWIFERY ~ HANDS THAT HEAL BIRTH
Futures Papers : The Human Family?
Biotechnology, Biopiracy, and the Mentality of Science
Define My Fat Ass
May 17, 2002
Still doing research for my article on obesity and anti-consumerism...here's something I wrote today:
Obesity is not an illness, it is a vague statistical category which may or may not indicate a propensity towards certain illnesses. According to BMI charts, I am obese. I am not unhealthy. To use the term obesity to lump a group of people together and prove a point about how unhealthy we (as a society) are is manipulative and it potentially gives people who are of "normal" weight and below a false sense of security about their own health.
Sizism, like every other ism, is damaging to everyone.
Is there any doubt that the medical industry will make money wherever they can find it? Causing (or perpetuating) negative self-images of fat people, and then releasing statistics about how much "obesity" costs the general public in medical bills (neglecting, of course, to mention that the so-called cures for fatness are usually more damaging than the fatness itself) so the general population has an excuse to demonize fat people is another way to generate income for the medical establishment. The best part (for them) is that it's so easy to convince women to hate their bodies (no matter what their size)...our sizist society has already been doing a good job of setting us up for ages now.
Yes. there are obese people who have very real illnesses. This does not justify the ghettoization of a segment of the population based on weight/height charts created by insurance companies, yet another institution that serves to profit a great deal by pathologizing body size.
It is critical for movements who deign to disconnect themselves from the establishment to disconnect themselves from the measurement tools that the establishment uses to keep us separated. Points about the malaise of fast food culture are easily made without the use of stereotypes and prejudicial statistical "evidence" which serves only to scapegoat the "overweight" at everyone's expense.
I love my body. And in loving my body, I say fuck you to the medical industry, the advertising industry, and all of the other societal factions that stand to benefit from me feeling insecure, unhealthy, and in need of treatment for an ailment that does not exist.
(more to come...)
Language and Me
May 16, 2002
So, the high school intern at my work has decided that he's going to teach me Spanish. Is this just an excuse for him to stare blankly at me when I ask him to do something...and demand I say it en espanol?
No...he's a great kid. And I'm totally psyched that he has offered to be my tutor. The clients seemed excited about it, too...just about everyone in my current class speaks some degree of Spanish, and I feel like such a jerk when I can't say or understand the most rudimentary thing.
I'm also participating in a weekly Spanish playgroup that my friend Megan hosts. Maybe I'll pick something up there. Her friends seemed eager to teach me. Mostly I think it's a good opportunity for me to sit and practice listening without talking.
Of course, J (the intern) taught me several words and phrases today, and I can't remember a single one. But I guess it takes awhile and I need to be patient. He'll be working with us for at least another year, so I have time to learn.
Contemplating Your Bellybutton By: Jun Nanao
May 16, 2002
One of our very very favorites. This is an awesome early childhood birth explanation book, with an awesome illustration of a mother giving birth and catching her own baby, as well as several illustrations of breastfeeding. The book explains what a belly button's function was when you were a baby in your mother's "belly" (ok, so it's not perfect). Definitely on the top 10 list...c LOVES the photographs of bellybuttons at the end of the book.
Pierre: A Cautionary Tale in 5 Chapters and a Prologue by: Maurice Sendak
May 16, 2002
Amazon.com
Oh, that naughty boy! No matter what his parents say, Pierre just doesn't care.
"What would you like to eat?"
"I don't care!"
"Some lovely cream of wheat?"
"I don't care!"
Don't sit backwards on your chair."
"I don't care!"
"Or pour syrup on your hair."
"I don't care!"
Even when a hungry lion comes to pay a call, Pierre won't snap out of his ennui. Every child has one of these days sometimes. Mix in a stubborn nature, a touch of apathy, and a haughty pout, and it can turn noxious. Parents may cajole, scold, bribe, threaten--all to no avail. When this mood strikes, the Pierres of the world will not budge, even for the carnivorous king of beasts. Created by one of the best-loved author-illustrators of children's books, Maurice Sendak, this 1962 cautionary tale is hardly a pedantic diatribe against children who misbehave. Still, by the end of the lilting, witty story, most children will take the moral (Care!) to heart. Pierre's downward-turned eyebrows, his parents' pleading faces, and the lion's almost sympathetic demeanor as he explains that he will soon eat Pierre, make the package perfect. (Ages 4 to 8) --Emilie Coulter
Book Description
Pierre's "I don't care!" intrigues a hungry lion. "A story with a moral air about Pierre, who learned to care."
The Very Bumpy Bus Ride
May 16, 2002
A very silly, very rhythmic book about a the Rumbletown bus and it's journey to the county fair.
Where have you been all of my life...
May 16, 2002
LiP magazine seems cool.
links to check out.
May 16, 2002
http://www.tao.ca/~colours/
http://www.tao.ca/~colours/tenways.html
http://www.illegalvoices.org/apoc/
http://ceclibrary.org/racism.html
http://nativeamculture.about.com/cs/raceandjustice/
Caterpillar to Butterfly
May 16, 2002
My friend Fertile_Jim inadvertantly made me think about this quote:
"...the butterfly doesn't take it as a personal achievement, he just disappears through the trees." --Jack Kerouac
And I thank him for that. Thanks f_j. You rock.
Aaaargh!!
May 16, 2002
As a testament to the quote "no good deed goes unpunished" I have to say that a freaking huge caterpillar. One caterpillar. Can really do a lot of damage to a tomato crop. haha. I thought I'd leave it alone out there rather than put it in the "bug observation tank" --I went out this morning and it's like a plague of freaking locusts descended upon the cherry tomato plants.
I suppose this is a good learning experience for m. Now, if I could only find the guilty party and a hungry bird and demonstrate the food chain...
Note to Self
May 16, 2002
Maybe this Kenneth Patchen picture poem will set my mind on the right freaking track...
(with thanks to Paige for spurring a little self-reflection and kd for directing me there.)
Living In The Wild
May 16, 2002
Garden update:
Several small tomatoes are popping out of the tomato plants. Green and perfectly formed, only tiny tiny.
The basil is still flowering and growing. The sage is getting bigger...the cilantro bit it. Hard.
Zucchini is HUGE
Today I planted some sweet banana peppers (yum!) and watermelon.
While pinching suckers on the tomatoes, I noticed something that looked like a giant green bean growing on the cherry tomato plant. I did a double take, knowing full well that green beans don't generally grow on tomato plants, and realized it was a juicy green caterpillar (who no doubt had made a lovely meal of my plants). I'm telling you, this sucker was HUGE. About 4 inches long and half an inch in diameter and attached firmly to one of the leaves of a tomato plant. It was about the same color green as the tomato leaves, with a few little fleshy spikes that had round red bulbs on the ends. Unfortunately, I'm not in possession of the digital camera, so you'll have to use your imagination...
I was in awe, and I called m over to show him, saying "Wow! I've never seen a caterpillar like this in the wild before."
m, equally awed, turned to me and said "WE live in the WILD?!!"
Random Racism online...
May 15, 2002
http://www.randthought.com/
Why Mosquitoes Buzz in People's Ears by: Verna Aardema
May 15, 2002
This West African Tale is a must read! The story is rhythmic and lively and the illustrations are beautiful. It's one of our all-time favorites. m and I especially like the sound effects as they are written ("badamin badamin" is the sound the grumpy iguana makes as it lumbers along). There is a lesson plan to go along with the story here, if you are into lesson plans. It looks kind of interesting, but I don't think m would go for it. Today, though, after reading the story, m decided that he wanted to crawl around on the ground and pretend he was all different kinds of animals. He made noises and movements like the animals would make. It was great!
Tuesday's Menu...
May 15, 2002
Breakfast:
Today was shopping day, so c ate some dry raisin bran before we left, and I got bagels for everyone. I ate an apple and a bagel. c, I think, sucked down two bananas, a rice cake, half of an apple, and his bowl of cereal. m ate cereal, a bagel, and an apple.
Lunch:
Veggie spring rolls, leftover tahini garlic pasta salad from last night. Damn, my husband is a genius cook
Dinner:
I snacked on pretzels again at work. When I got home, L whipped up some sort of tomato soup with pasta concoction that we ate, seasoned with pepper and vegan parm. I had a little crust of bread with that.
I was supposed to make granola today, but we had so much fun at the playground that I totally ran out of time before work. Perhaps I'll do it tomorrow...
Bad Frat Boy...No Boobie for You!
May 14, 2002
OK, this is why I don't listen to the radio anymore. For some reason the car was tuned to the AM talk station KLBJ when I started it up...and I got another earful of yet another one of Jeff Ward's diatribes against nursing in public.
This time it was a Hooters waitress who was asked to not pump on the clock. Of course, I can't find the article to which he was referring, but Ward claims that the story was that a customer could see the waitress pumping, and asked the manager to ask her to stop. According to Ward, she responded to this request with a lawsuit.
Jeff, who is no stranger to riling up the lactivists with his active anti-breastfeeding in public stance, stated very pointedly "She's a HOOTERS waitress" as if to imply that her boobs were the property of her employer and the customers she serves? What? Is that it?
It must really suck to be a man who is so hard up that he has to go to a restaurant to look at boobies. It must suck extra super hard when a man is faced with the reality of what those boobies are actually for. It's enough to make someone cry in their hot wings, I tellya.
Anyone up for a little nurse-in at the lobby of KLBJ? How about a little lactivism at Hooters? Or you can feel free to e-mail Jeff and use VERY SIMPLE LANGUAGE to explain the primary function of the breast. Apparently he just doesn't get it.
Speaking Up
May 14, 2002
The thing is that we shouldn't expect people to have to speak up on their own behalf, particularly if they are in a position where they would have to do it frequently. Even more particularly if they are in a position where they are incapable of speaking up for themselves.
Megan (who is totally my hero) was talking to me today at the playground. We were discussing parents and parenting style and teachers and scary things we see people doing to their kids. She was telling me that it's wonderful that I am perceptive and sensitive to the injustice around me. But. That's. Not. Enough.
OK, I'm a fairly defensive person. The first thing I thought to do was defend myself. I think I chose the "well, I'm not a perfect parent" line of defense this time.
The important point she had to make is that it's crucial for the children. A parent who is abusing or mistreating their child is not going to change based on my assessment of the situation, but the child will be validated. Belen had the great suggestion that, when faced with a situation where a child is being mistreated, talking directly to the child might be a neutral thing to do. This might be the perfect non-judgmental solution.
For instance...the other day I was hanging out near a woman who was pushing her older child in a swing while her baby who was strapped in one of those carseat bucket things was crying and fussing. I was so distraught and uncomfortable, I had to move away. A better solution might have been to talk to the baby. Tell the baby I heard her crying. Belen suggested to maybe say "I know you want to be held." but that seemed even a bit too judgmental for me. I think instead just saying "I hear you are crying...you are upset." and paying attention to the child might work - because perhaps the mama doesn't even hear or notice the child crying. It's a solution that makes me feel less helpless, and it bears witness to the pain of the child as well as setting an example for the older child.
It was an interesting thought. I'm still thinking about it. I'm sure I will be thinking about it all night.
My Shit...
May 14, 2002
Someone called bullshit on me the other night in my class. I had yanked some samples of cover letters off the internet so I could hand them out to my beginner's class as a guide for them to follow. R was distraught. She raised a big big fuss with my management assistant and, since I was busy, I was unable to figure out what the deal was or address her concern.
As soon as I had a moment, I approached her. I asked her what was going on...why was she so upset. She started telling me that she was stupid and she didn't have ANY job experience and there was no way she could create a resume or get a job.
Now, my clients are usually lacking in confidence because of the crappy job market, but this was pretty extreme. I've never had a client basically tell me they perceived themselves to be worthless. I felt an instant rush of empathy for her, but couldn't figure out where she could get this feeling of being defeated.
Then she told me...
The cover letter samples I had handed out, (thoughtlessly, due to my privilege) were all reflective of individuals who had degrees and professional jobs. They were not at all reflective of my students' reality. Her husband had been telling her she was making a big deal out of nothing, but it was obvious to me that she was truly truly upset about it. Angry. Angry with me.
My first reaction was defensiveness. And I did say "Well, gosh, R...I was just giving these out as an example...I didn't mean to make you feel bad."
But, after I realized the depth of her hurt and anger, I managed to swallow my defensiveness and reach a place of empathy for her. I apologized, sincerely. I thanked her for telling me how the handouts made her feel. I told her "who knows how many others have felt this way and not said anything...thank you for speaking up."
I had to do some rebuilding of her confidence, too. We talked about her work experience that she claimed was not good enough to get her work. I helped her to realize that working in a production plant involves more than mindless repetitive tasks. We talked about how smart she is, how she is capable of multitasking and prioritizing...I told her that I don't have a college degree either, and that's OK. It won't get you every job you want in life, but it got me the best job I could ever hope for.
And then I went online and found some cover letters that were more in line with the reality of the students in my class.
I learn way more from my clients than they will ever learn from me. It just sucks when THEY have to hurt for MY education. I can only hope that I can give something valuable back to R to make up for my mistake.
Crusading
May 14, 2002
I'm discovering that it's much easier to advocate for an oppressed group of which am not a member than to attempt to advocate for myself. Advocating for another is seen as selfless and noble. Advocating for self feels painfully isolating.
I'm totally understanding now why it is the responsibility of the priviliged to take direct action against oppression. I'm totally understanding why people in oppressed groups are frequently silent when bad shit goes down. I get it now. Totally.
I NEVER forget you.
May 14, 2002
Trauma in the blood house...I'm changing c's poopy diaper as m helicopters around the room. The poopy diaper is lying on the floor and m is stumbling toward it so I inadvertently let out a loud YELP, which scares poor m and makes him cry.
I feel horrible. I try to calm him down. I let him know it's OK to cry and that I'm sorry for scaring him. When none of this seems to be working, I say "Well, we're going to see all of your friends at the playground and you can hang out with them and forget about your stinky old mommy for a little while."
m replies: "I NEVER forget about you mommy. I always think about you even when you aren't here. And it always makes me happy. Even when I'm sad."
*sob*
Monday's Menu
May 14, 2002
Breakfast
I chowed some of the peanut butter puffins I got on sale at sun harvest while c and m had raisin bran, soy milk, apples, sunflower seeds, and whatever else I could scrape together from our dwindling food supply.
Lunch
c and I had some leftover soup. I notice that c is getting better and better at feeding himself with a spoon. He hardly drops any on the floor. I have no idea what m ended up eating, as he refused the soup. I think I caught him munching on a rice cake at one point...L fed him something, I'm sure.
Dinner
See, dinner during the week is tricky for me. I work from 4:30 to 9 or so...and on Mondays I actually start work at 3:30 b/c I have this totally unnecessary weekly meeting I'm expected to attend. Today I just bought a bag of pretzels from the grocery store to snack on...and then when I got home, I had a bowl of L's concoction that seemed to be a mixture of corn, pasta, cauliflower, broccoli, tahini and tons and tons of garlic. It was so tasty...
Blood Family Fortunes
May 14, 2002
I thought these painted a nice picture for us...
Cool Surfs...
May 14, 2002
Living Nappy gets my vote for having received the sweetest mother's day card.
Kreeli is a vegan goddess. I mean, recipes for vegan sweetened condensed milk?! Holy shit!
Friends by Helme Heine
May 13, 2002
I love the simplicity of this story. The way every page is about what it means to be a friend. It's fun and rhythmic and it teaches a lessong without moralizing.
Splish Splash Splosh
May 13, 2002
(we were sort of hoping it would rain today.)
I got this book for m during his "I hate water" phase a few summers ago. It's well rendered, but some of the facts are wrong (ummm...I'm sorry, but baby frogs are NOT sucked up into the sky to fall with the rain). It does provide a reasonably good diagram of the water cycle. m likes it, so that counts for something.
c and m Updates
May 13, 2002
mey man is learning to read and spell. Every time L and I have one of our "spelling" conversations, m says "well, F-U-N spells FUN." So the other night we were playing with the magna-doodle and I just started spelling -un words like sun and gun and bun and he was reading them...so I moved on to shun and then shin and then fin and on and on...and he was sounding them out and reading. It's amazing to witness this process. For the most part up until now, his learning has been a very covert process. It's interesting that he is choosing to involve me now.
m's so funny, though. This morning he woke up and his first words were "Mom...what does it feel like to be mixed." Ugh, I thought, it's too early in the morning for this. I was thinking this was a continuation of last night's conversation in which m declared that he wished everyone had the same skin color (I had hoped he would say the preferred skin color would be green or blue or something outrageous, but no...he apparently wants everyone to have his color skin.) A tricky declaration to discuss and process with a 5 year old, but I thought I did a good job by telling him that each person's skin color is a reflection of their heritage (only in 5 year old speak) and it's very important that people retain a connection to their ancestors...christ...I don't remember what all I said. Something along those lines, though. Anyway, when I asked m what he meant by "what does it feel like to be blended" he responded with "You know...mixed. In a bowl." "Umm...I don't know, m...what do you think it would feel like." "I guess it would feel doughy."
Sometimes I wonder where he comes up with this stuff.
c is EXPLODING developmentally. Yesterday, I was playing with the magna-doodle with him. I made a letter "y" and he said "Y!" I couldn't believe it...I thought it was a fluke, so I tried a letter "a"...sure enough - "A!" says c. The other day, L was walking out to the shed, and c ran after him, shouting "SEEVEN...SEEVEN!" It was so so cute. And when L handed him to me so he could leave, c said "bye bye papa...i yu oo" (I love you!) and then, louder, as L exited the gate "i yu ooooooooooo!"
This morning, when I was telling L about c's little alphabetic achievement, L said "oh, yeah...I know. He knows his letters. Listen to this -" and L said "A....B...." and c interjected "C! C! C!"
Amazing. I mean, m knew his letters at a young age, too...but somehow I thought it was a fluke. Actually, since I wasn't home for m, I assumed that it was because m spent all day in front of the TV watching Sesame Street. I mentioned this to L, and after he spent a little bit of time being pissed at me for assuming he was lazy, he told me that he just gets really bored hanging out with the children and so he says the alphabet to them over and over again in silly voices for fun. Ha!
It's so enjoyable being around these kids. Walking with c in the morning. Bringing them to the playground each afternoon. Closing the evening with games and stories with m and waking up again in the morning with Birdy c and starting it all up again. I couldn't ask for a more wonderful Mother's Day present than the simple reality of actually being their mother.
typos
May 13, 2002
I feel the need to explain the massive amounts of typos you are finding here lately. My REAL computer is in pieces all over the place (L's GOING TO set me up with a little vinyl-to-CD burning factory) and I'm "stuck" using this laptop I have on loan from work. I need to find a serial keyboard so I can stop giving myself major finger cramps...
But I refuse to go back and fix the typos. You are just going to have to suffer as I am suffering.
Oyster Zine & Chap Covers
May 13, 2002
There's a directory here for anyone who is interested in viewing the zine and chapbook covers I gushed over in my "day in life" entry. It's nothing fancy and they're full sized covers...but they're there if you are interested. I'm sure I'll scan more in the future.
Today in My Life
May 13, 2002
Read all about it here
Mother's Day in My Life
May 12, 2002
8:00
c's feet are in my face, m's legs are draped over my stomach, I disentangle myself, roll over, and go back to sleep
8:30
c awakens and starts pulling my hair. We lay in bed for a few minutes, and then I get up and head for the kitchen
8:45
c is dressed and in the backpack and we're on our way out the door for our morning walk. Twyla, I notice, is pulling on the leash less insistently these days. Normally, I unleash her in the park across the street, but lately when I do this she barks and barks and runs in circles around me and barks. I love watching her move. She is so incredibly graceful and stealthy. But her BARK. She is so so loud. So whenever I let her loose, I have to contend with these intense feelings of guilt about potentially waking people up. I keep her on the leash today, in case there are any mamas who are trying to get some extra sleep in time this morning.
9:45 AM
Home from our walk, I lift c out of the backpack, read More More More, Said the Baby a few times, feed him a banana, turn on some music.
10:00 AM
I turn off the music to change out the cds in the "jukebox" L wanders into the living room, says "Happy Mother's day, Motherfucker" to which I reply "um, actually...YOU are the motherfucker." He turns around, hits the bedroom and goes back to sleep.
10:30 AM
m wakes up, wanders into the kitchen and says "I love you mom." The kid doesn't even know it's Mother's Day. He's so sweet!
10:45 AM
I start making pancakes for breakfast and L's brother drops by. I'm relieved because the kids just love Uncle Robert, and I'm thinking his presence will enable me to make the pancakes without tripping over random small people running through the kitchen.
10:50 AM
c gets an eyefull of Robert's coffee and starts screaming because he can't have any. SCREAMING. I run in to pick him up. A very apologetic Robert tries to hold and calm him for me, but c arches away from him shouting "MaAAAAAAAAAAAADDD!" Robert hands him to me.
11:00 AM
c is still screaming. L wakes up and I attempt to hand him off, but L's not ready to take over, so I sit down on the couch and nurse c.
11:15
Finally somewhat calm, c crawls down and starts playing. I hit the shower.
11:30
I'm out of the shower. c is screaming again. L's already feeling the burn. I hand over pancake-making duties to him so I can leave.
11:45
I'm out the door to get L a can of cigarettes (haha...American spirits has this promotion where they're selling cigarettes in a tin can. I have no idea why. But I do like telling Steve "here's your can of cigarettes" for some reason)
noon
At my work site, scanning some old zine covers for Allyson, I thumb through the masters lovingly, reminiscing - missing the days of paper publishing. It would be nice to start doing it again, but it's just so expensive. The zines are beautiful, though. A total expression of love for my world and my freedom. I wonder if the blog is as powerful? I wonder if the blog will be something I can look back on in 10 year and be in awe of. 15 years? Some of the covers are absolutely amazing. Proof. Proof that people understood what I was trying to say? Proof that people felt the same way. A city building woodcut. a large corkscrew - stark against white background. A headless cupid. Amazing. Amazing artistry. Incredible.
While I'm scanning, I'm also thinking about the possibility of doing the zine archive. Inspired by the zinemobile project & realizing how very simple it is to scan things and put them online...it seems feasible. I'd like a partner to do it with, though, because the specifics are fuzzy and it would be nice to have someone to collaborate with - to share ideas. But it doesn't seem like such an impossible task anymore.
1:15 PM
Done scanning, I start reworking my travel history for cen's zine. Adding things - subtracting things - changing things - sending.
1:30 PM
realizing I haven't eaten, I pack up, lock up, and leave
1:45 PM
Ahh, the post office. The final CD from the burn baby burn swap has arrived. I really should check out everyone else's blog! This one was from PJ at Chromewaves.
2:00
Mmmm...a slacker sub sounds good, so I head over to central marken, igoring that small voice inside of me that is trying to remind me that I always always have a bad experience there, usually having to do with the throngs and hordes of people who gravitate there, particularly on Sunday. I park my car about a mile or so away from the store and walk to the entrance, dizzy from hunger, only to discover that the cafe is closed for Mother's day. Urgh. I trudge back to the car.
2:15
I consider going to EZ's for a veggie burger and fries, notice their parking lot is completely full, and drive down to Whole Foods.
2:30
Ahhhhh...veggie potstickers, macaroni salad and Limeade...and LIKE HELL. Sitting outside Whole Foods reading and eating and enjoying
3:00
At Bookpeople, I'm told to hand over my backpack at the door. I was assuming I could sit down and read and write. Instead, I'm given a claim check that I promptly lose while walking the 20 yards or so to the magazine rack. I purchase the latest BITCH and Z...they don't have the latest Punk Planet. Flipping through Bitch, I find an article that crystallizes what I've been thinking and bumming on for 2 days on the subject of sizism in the anti-consumer movement. There's an indictment of the sexist/sizist PETA ads in there that almost causes an involuntary "FUCK YEAH!" to erupt from my inner being. I wasn't going to get this issue because I still have a back issue I haven't read, but this brief article convinces me. There was also a short piece in the back issue of Adbusters (my current bathroom reading) about the importance of rejecting the culture of professionals trying to define our illnesses. I will probably refer to that as well when I write my article on sizism for Clothespins
3:30 PM
(of course you realize that all of these times are approximate and I don't actually live life as though I'm residing inside of a clock radio, right?)
At Flightpath with a cup of coffee and my various books and journals. I'm feeling good, especially now that the loud talkers have left (I think it was an interview of someone marginally famous, but I didn't recognize her when she walked away...she had the "look" of a famous person, though...and they were filming her being interviewed. Who the fuck knows.) and I can actually hear the Bob Marley. I'm sitting at the table next to where I scrawled CHRONIC STRAP-ON BLISS on the wall in another lifetime. I wonder who I was here with that day. There's a conversation at the table behind me where a guy and a girl are talking about another girl who won't talk to the guy. It's very convoluted and I can't help eavesdropping. I'm a shameless eavesdropper. I probably should be embarrassed to admit that, but I'm not.
While I'm sipping coffee, I write this:
"The thing I'm wondering is this. It's not that I don't want to call because I don't love her or I don't want to talk to her anymore. It's just that I'm all clenched up inside about it. I'm tense when I think about it, and I don't feel like expending the energy to try to explain or defend myself anymore, risking the very real possibility that I'll only be dismissed or invalidated. I don't WANT to. Because every word spoken since the first has widened the fissure and I don't have a fucking band-aid big enough, assuming I'm the one responsible for the mending."
5:00 PM
Home. L leaves for band practice. c wakes from his nap. I'm exhausted. I want to take a nap. I've had 5 full hours to myself and I already need another vacation. But I get up, start chopping some veggies for the soup I'm making in the crockpot, do the dishes, a load of laundry, read to the kids, goof around, listen to music...nurse c...repeat. The house is a mess, but I'd rather fuck around on the internet while the kids are occupied than clean. So I do the bare minimum and hope that L won't self-destruct about being the "only one who ever cleans up around here" (does everyone have that argument? I think it's universal)
7:00 PM
It's finally cooled down enough for us to play outside. I play tag with m while c plays some nakey baseball (I've removed his diaper to let his rash-y butt air out.) I also manage to yank up some more of that damn bermuda grass that's trying to strangle my little garden. The tomatoes are doing great...the zucchini is huge. the cilantro BIT IT...and the oregano is close behind. But the basil looks beautiful. Whenever I smell it, I think about making tofu with hot pepper and basil, Thai style. Yum.
8:00 PM
We all eat some tasty bean soup...it's sort of minestrone, but sort of not. I don't know what to call it. It was good, though.
9:00
Here's where I start trying to get c to bed. It takes awhile, but I am finally successful.
10:00
Chutes and Ladders gets played here. Mass amounts of fun. With popcorn, too.
10:45
I send m to bed...there is some hesitation, but he's tired and he doesn't argue much. And here I am and here I have been...reading, surfing, nursing my hands that have been typing this on a fucking teeny little sony vaio keyboard b/c L took my computer apart and hasn't put it back together yet. Before I go to bed, I should PROBABLY do some cleaning...but I probably won't. I might curl up with my book, instead...or with L, if he comes home soon.
Not a very exciting day...but fun and exhausting nonetheless.
Officer Buckle and Gloria by Peggy Rathmann
May 12, 2002
Slugs by David Greenberg
May 12, 2002
Milk And Cookies by: Frank Asch
May 12, 2002
Thee Headcoats - Heavens to Murgatroyd, Even! It's Thee Headcoats, Already!
May 12, 2002
Cool punky bluesy garagey tunes. On a tape with Sam the Sham and the Pharoah's classic Little Red Riding Hood. Very very cool listening.
Upcoming...
May 12, 2002
Some things I'm currently working on:
Independent Publishers Rock
May 12, 2002
For you bibliophiles out there...if you MUST buy books, here are a few good independent publishers and distributors:
Today's menu...
May 12, 2002
Today was a weird day because I had a meeting at work and had to be there earlier than usual. L took care of lunch and dinner for the kids...Not a very healthy meal day...but I have some yummy bean soup in the crockpot for tomorrow.
Breakfast: Bagel, breakfast bar, banana
Lunch: Pizza (on my job's dime)
Dinner: some leftover pizza from work
Snack: Popcorn
Like Hell by Ben Foster
May 12, 2002
I can't believe it's taken me so long to get around to reading this book, but I finally am. I'll probably review it when I'm done.
Until then, you can let this review jade your opinion...
More More More Said the Baby
May 11, 2002
I just found this really cute review. More More More Said The Baby is another one of our near daily reads. Today I think I read it 3 times before I finally said "Hey, look! Over there!" and quickly hid the book under the couch while c looked over there. hahaha. Actually, because this book has such a natural conversational rhythm to it, it's fun to read over and over again. Vera Williams kicks ass.
Thomas And The Naughty Diesel
May 11, 2002
This is an old standby...one of the most frequently requested in the house. Tonight it was requested (demanded, rather) by c.
Sun Snow Stars Sky
May 11, 2002
A Nest Full Of Eggs
May 11, 2002
OK, here's the thing.
May 11, 2002
i REALLY need to get some sleep, but I can't stop being all bedazzled by movable type and what a foine foine job PEA did. I keep staring lovingly at all of my little categories. It's the next best thing to being a librarian, I suppose. I don't get to organize books all day, but at least I can organize my damn thoughts.
And that's something. Right?
I am now going to bed
May 11, 2002
But before I go, I want to list 5 things I'm thankful for
me today
May 11, 2002
feeling...tired
thinking...about sleep
pondering...my ass fusing with this fucking chair
must must must go to sleep. right. fucking. now.
Today's menu...
May 11, 2002
Breakfast: strong coffee with some yummy chocolate chips thrown in. A couple of apple slices, maybe? I can't remember. I was in a daze. The kids had a plate with apple slices, banana slices, raisins and sunflower seeds, and some soylami.
Lunch: Macaroni and "cheese", peas, fruit
Dinner: It was m's turn to choose a destination for family night out, and he chose Buffet Palace, which I HATE. I hate it there. We argued about it at length because I honestly was not going to eat there. They have like 4 vegetarian dishes there and all of them are super greasy and whenever we go there I feel like I paid a lot of money for gross food. But m kept insisting that he "hadn't tasted Buffet Palace in sooooo long" and that he loved the food there even though the last time we went there he SCREAMED through the whole entire meal (and this was the first time he had ever had that awful of a temper tantrum in a public place). So, we decided to let him just have his way...drove up there...and I suggested L bring m in to SHOW him there is no tofu there and nothing yummy. It worked. m came back to the car saying "all they have is MEAT, mom."
So we ended up going to China Buffet, which, while still exceedingly greasy and mediocre, is at least edible. I had some tasty tasty spring rolls there. yum. The tofu was ok. The dinner conversation was pleasant. Family night was a big success. Yay!
The Powerpuff Girls Look and Find
May 11, 2002
Kinda like the I Spy books, only MUCH much easier...and more power-puffy.
I'm also reading the same two Powerpuff girl comic books to m over and over and over again.
The Living Kuan-yin
May 11, 2002
The Living Kuan-Yin, in Sweet and Sour: Tales from China by Carol Kendall and Yao-wen Li. Houghton, c.1979.
Punk Planet #46
May 10, 2002
Punk Planet #46
($3.95)
PO Box 464
Chicago, IL 60690
punkplanet@punkplanet.com
www.punkplanet.com
Woo Hoo! It's the "Art and Design" issue! A mammoth 168 page DIY/indie smorgasbord of punk delight! In-between the sheets you'll find interviews with Jaime Hernandez, Elliott Earls, and Nikki McClure just to name a few. Also served up are articles on DIY health and sex, and my personal favorite, a look at DIY comics! That one is a few pages long but I still wish it were more. Then of course there are the reviews. Music reviews, book reviews, and zine reviews. There're more Do-It-Yourselfers packed into Punk Planet than you could count on all of your appendages if you stood naked in the shower!
The down side: while Punk Planet manages to deliver a lot of useful and really interesting information, at times I feel overwhelmed by all of the ads! I didn't count `em all like I did with the genitalia in the comic reviews this month, but I'm sure the ads make up a big part of the total page count. I understand the ad count helps to keep the price lower which is a good thing for all us readers, but I swear if I see one more ad for Electric Frankenstein I'm going to buy the damn thing! (hmm?)
Okay, enough of that. Just wanted to vent a little. I'd still buy this rag even if the number of ads went up! Punk Planet goes all out to bring its readers the most comprehensive look at the DIY scene available. And it does an extraordinary job of it!
PS - At some point, I'll start writing my own reviews...until then, enjoy the linkage.
Chumbawamba - Never Mind The Ballots
May 10, 2002
We are not saying "Don't vote". We are asking you to question whether the election process is anything more than a substitute for real change. A substitute for real choice. We are asking you to look closely at "democracy": a self-perpetuating system of party tricks designed to keep us in our place. -chumbawamba (from the liner notes)
The Week of May 9-15, 1999
May 10, 2002
100% scavenged e-mails from the vault
(some names have been changed to protect the innocent)
Subject: lannalanna
Date: Sunday, 09 May, 1999 12:48:17 -0700
From: Drublood
To: psalad@lexlabs.org
Hello girl...
Not much time to write but appalled at how long I have taken to respond to your lengthy xmas letter to me (all this time thinking "I wonder why lanna hasn't written" as your letter sat, unresponded to, in my letter file. duh!) and so taking some time to get e-mail up and going and attempting, at the same time, to entertain m who wants to watch a daffy duck video, but that is one that requires adult supervision as at some point a gun is pulled and people start getting slapped and whatnot.
So, just a brief note to say hi and I'm thinking of you an I love you and stuff, and if you want to send me e-mail here I am. And, oh yeah...the oren boys. I can't remember which was which, but I think it was Max that ended up annoying me utterly. I can't even remember why, so it might have just been petty drucilla stuff. Hope that helps in your dilemma, if you still have a dilemma.
And I hope you are doing well. Our cat colony has grown. We have been adopted by a cross-eyed, ratty-haired, declawed cat that L called snowball for a long time, but I think I'm changing his name to gizmo. That makes 4 cats and cashy is doing ok, although her excema has been really bad. I spent all my money yesterday buying her treatment for fleas and fancy shampoo and etc.
m is destroying things, so I gotta go. Take care!
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: my email (that I rarely check)
Date: Sun, 09 May 1999 12:08:35 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Dave Smyth
Thanks, David.
I will be kind to you when I am famous.
or something
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re [fwd: pomes & stuff]
Date: Sun, 09 May 1999
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Echoes
Re: guns in the house - the idea of m accidentally getting ahold of one squelches it pretty quickly. It is, as you say, unrealistic to think that we could do away with them altogether. An old boyfriend once had a gun. I remember I grabbed it one night when I thought someone was breaking into the house. The only thing I could think of doing with it was maybe hitting someone over the head with it. I just could not imagine pulling the trigger. There was an even there last week where some guy killed another man who was breaking into his car. The talk show hosts were arguing that the would-be car thief knew he was putting himself in danger when he tried to break into the car, but I'm thinking "since when is the death penalty viable for car theft?" Texas is really bad. Sometimes I wonder what the hell I'm doing here.
There was a line from the book I published by Yuri Paradox "looking fine on the outside, but crumbling inside." I think of that a lot when I am people watching. I wonder how many people are walking wounded...just eroding inside without letting on to anyone. People put forth so much effort to convince everyone else that they are "fine" that they actually convince themselves. As a result, their standard for contentment goes down and down until the most mundane thing like "America's Funniest" is actually something that can make them feel content. Or shopping.
I don't think Michael was pretending to be happy, though. What I think (and, of course, will never know for sure) is that his suicide was his effort at controlling his destiny. It was his way of saying, my life has been crap, and I"m going to end it on a high note. Maybe that's just wishful thinking.
RE: your book that I'm about to publish
I think you should change the names. As it is, the story is pretty risque. I'm not sure what the legalities are, but it's probably best to change all of the names to avoid any problems, you know? I mean, I wouldn't want either of us to get in trouble over it & it is sort of incriminating. Oh, I don't want you to think that I think the story is prurient, but I know there are probably people who would think that, and I wouldn't want you to incriminate yourself.
Hope all is well...
take care
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: we're not doing it for the money...
Date: Wed, 12 May 1999 15:34:53 -0700
From: drucilla blood
To: Michelle
Hey Michelle!
I am so blowing off work right now, and feeling somewhat bored...But I might have to close out really quick if my boss walks by...hang on...oh yeah! The cool thing about my laptop is you can't see the screen from the doorway of my office, so I'm in the clear. Heh. Oh, the lengths I will go to to have some private time to myself...and to blow off work. I feel like such a rebel. *sigh*
RE: your amazing recollection of what I looked like the day you saw me at a show 9 years ago
hahahah...YOU are a FREAK! *I* didn't even remember my hairstyle at that time, but now I can clearly remember the hack job that critter did on my right before we left. He took off the guard on the clippers, and I had the WORST rash on my head! But I do remember that show was a riot. Yeah. That would have been me. I still have that damn Big Black shirt, too. hehe....
Re: my idea to write a book about my punkrock life
Ugh...I can't even begin to think about finding a publisher yet. What I'm doing is transcribing all of my journals and unsent letters and zine intros and some letters that some pen pals had actually saved all of these years and were kind enough to send to me. Even though the story is going to be fictionalized, I am, for some reason, adament about the details. Anyway, I'm not even halfway done with that part...getting everything into some semblance of a chronological order, etc. It could very well be that this anal retentiveness is just procrastination in disguise. Who knows. All I know is I have a primitive urge to do it JUST THIS WAY.
I have a great story about slacking in Austin...I'm not sure how it will translate to print here, but I'm going to give it a try since, you know, I'm being non-productive here. Anyway, when I first moved to Austin, some band from Chicago came through and stayed with me. I wanna say it was Screeching Weasel, but I don't think it was...who was it? Ah, I don't remember...8Bark? Anyway, we went walking all over the place. I had to be at work by 4 PM, but I decided that I would just walk all over the place with these guys and just try to make it to work on time somehow. Well, we ended up at this pizza place on campus. I think it was summer, so it was really dead there. There were cold pizzas sitting in the buffet, but I didn't eat cheese, so I was just kind of waiting for everyone to eat so we could go someplace fun. I was getting sort of freaked about the whole time issue (I'm really weird about being places on time...in fact, I just re-read my journal account about that Chia Pet/Doubt show, and I had been getting all pissed off at Kera, I think, because she was so late getting to my house. It wasn't even my show, for crissakes!)...anyway, so I walked up to a guy who was sweeping the floor there at Double Dave's (that's the name of the pizza place) and I said "Excuse me, sir...do you have the time?" He looked up from his broom with a perplexed look on his face and responded "Why? Are you on medication or something?"
HahahaHAHAHAHAHhhahhahah!
That was when I truly realized that I was living in Austin.
The end.
*sigh*
Well, it looks like I have been successful enough at wasting time, and now I think I will just go home from work early.yahoo!
Talk to you later, Michelle...
Take care
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: [fwd: pomes&stuff]
Date: Thu, 13 May 1999 08:44:57 -0700
From: drucilla blood
To: echoes
That's the funny thing about people who argue against gun control. They say they need it for protection, but they also say that they never keep the gun loaded, or the ammo within reach of the gun. Now how much protection does that actually offer? What, are you going to say "Excuse me Mr or Ms. robber/rapist/terrorist, but I have to go load my shotgun now so I can blow you away"? It doesn't make any sense to me. It makes even less sense to have a loaded gun around where there are, or is the potential to be, children playing.
It's strange how difficult it is for people to reach out to each other. You go through life repressing how you really feel about people, and then are burdened with regret when the possibility of losing that person becomes apparent. I know I was a lot warmer before...reading old letters has shown me that. Somewhere along the line, I lost the ability to tell random people who moved me that I love them, or that I think they are beautiful. I want to regain that, but I don't want to just start saying it unless I really feel it. Although, probably, if I do start just telling people those things, eventually I will begin to feel it, and I remember I always felt good when I was able to sincerely reach out to someone like that, you know, and just let them know that someone appreciated them...Why is that so difficult to do? Why is there so much stigma attached to feeling sheer joy and sharing it with someone. Why is it suspicious to tell someone you love them? Ah, well...
I wondered how many of my former classmates thought of me when the Littleton thing went down...
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: meowmeow
Date: Thu, 13 May 1999 09:05:29 -0700
From: drucilla blood
To: psalad@lexlabs.org
Hey psaladeliciousomucho
How's up? I'm waiting for my expert color class to get here so that I may begin, but I have a few minutes and maybe a few minutes more as it seems they might be late in arriving especially since I know for a fact that one of them neglected to do his pre-work, but enough about boring work stuff...
are you trying to get me to have another child? Actually, it has been discussed and not ruled out. Just one more, though. We have added to the overpopulation of the planet enough. I felt really guilty when I read the Church of Euthanasia newsletter. Yes I was wiswer when I insisted that I would never have children ever...but now I feel like I need to do it right one time so I can get over this lingering feeling of victimhood about the whole birth of m. So...one more.
I would love to visit you, but probably not for awhile. I will be traversing to Chicago next month...and L and I are hoping to take a trip to alaska next summer, which will no doubt drain our vacation fund entirely (both dollar-wise and time-wise)...But I would like to take a trip up the east coast at some point, especially Boston, where many friends are currently residing...and you, dear Lanna, would be a lovely stop, if not a partial travel companion if you so desire. We will have to pan, and it might be two years...and I'm not sure, juding from your wimpiness expressed in your last letter, if you can survive through that many more New York winters.
You mentioned Jeff, and, yes...I have seen him. I have talked to him. I told him I thought he treated you like slime, and I was angry with him for a long time. (rhyme rhymerhyme)...but I have seen him on occasion here and there and I guess I have forgiven him, although I really don't feel very close to him, as he is always interminably terminally busy. I hope this does not upset you. I think when you were in town last, I had just started speaking to him again, and I felt like I was cheating on you or something, but did not want to discuss it with you for fear the wounds were still too fresh. Are the wounds still now too fresh? You will have to tell me. I do think he felt betrayed by me because you and I ended up being better friends than he and I were. But that's pretty much his own fault. I consider you seperate people now, where before I considered you a single person with two souls. (that sounds negative, but I mean it to be positive) and, frankly, as a friend, I feel closer to you...And that's enough of that for now.
Well, it is now officially 5 minutes past the point at which I was supposed to start the class, and there is no one in my classroom. In five minutes, I will pull the plug on the whole operation, and tuck my tail between my legs and travel back to Austin.
Did I tell yout hat we are saving up and paying off bills so that I can quit my job to homeschool m? This makes me very happy. One of our unit studies at some point will involve hiking the Appalachian Trail. Probably, hopefully, my quitting this job will coincide with the birth of our second child & I will take some time to travel while that child is young and before I get a part time job. Or maybe by then I will already be a famous novelist. hahahaa
I better go...people are starting to show up and ask stupid questions.
I love you, beautiful...
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: Hello
Date: Thu, 13 May 1999 12:53:02 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Alicia Shoemaker
Hi, Alicia!
Alicia, they don't have anything you don't have BUT money. Trust me. I've been a "businessperson" for the past few years, and I have nothing but pity for many of the peope I work with whose entire lives literally revolve around their job. Even people who might have a creative streak that would potentially enhance their lives are drawn tight from this priority. Blah. Trust me, you are a lot better off without money than with, and you can make it happen for yourself just as easily either way. The only reason I am still working now is we have accumulated so much debt from being broke and assuming that to have a family we needed to have certain things. I realized too late that it would have been a lot easier to live poor and stay out of debt. Blah.
Anyway, if I was a child, I would imagine it would be much nicer to live in an environment where my parents were involved, creative, and interesting rather than rich.
We are all doing well. I am happy that we are in touch. The biggest complaint I have about my life these days is that I feel so damned isolated. Part of it is self-imposed, but also part of it is being a mom. I swear it's like the plague or something. It seems like people just avoid me for fear that they will "catch it" or something. I used to be able to convince people to just come over and hang out, and I just can't find people who will do that anymore, now that that's really my only option for socializing. It's kind of crushed my self-esteem a bit. I feel like I have no friends except for those I have accumulated along the way and my old friends from Chicago. I feel lame that I can't seem to just meet people and pull them into my life the way I used to. So I'm going to try to start a babysitting co-op or something where 2 times a month or so, peole can just gather at someone's house and some people can go out while others stay in and watch the kids. We'll see if that works out.
I really hope that things start looking up for you. I hate to see you not being able to write. You know you have always been one of my favorite writers.
Take care, Alicia.
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: Yes, I have a crush on Jessica
DAte: Thu, 13 May 1999 16:37:16 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Anthony
Why, hello, Anthony...
So, are you a virgin because you are a nerd, or are you a nerd because you are a virgin? Or neither? Are you a virgin by choice or by bad luck? I would like to be a virgin again. Much to the dismay of my husband, I am going through a phase in my life where I really do not like sex. I'm simply not interested. He thinks it has something to do with him...but it doesn't. It might, however, have something to do with the rape that masqueraded as my hospital childbirth experience. I can't be sure of that, either, though...When I was a teenager, up until the time I turned like 21 or so, I never wanted to have sex. So I didn't. Everyone thought I was gay...or repressing my urges. Neither of those assumptions were true. I love men. I think they are great. I wasn't not attracted to them, I just didn't/don't want to have sex with them.
I have no idea why I just told you all of this, other than you are a captive audience, and you were talking about being a virgin.
Have a nice day!
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: goofy's revenge
Date: Thu, 13 May 1999 22:42:13 -0700
From: drucilla blood
To: Michelle
Hi Michelle of the prompt answering and silly subject-lining...
Hey, I have found a new and improved way of goofing off on the clock. I've set my students to work color correcting a scan and, voila, free time for me!! Woohoo! I wish I could get paid for this kind of ingenuity...HEY! I *AM* getting paid. Rock and roll, d00d.
I just checked lorri's web site (leann started it up 6 months ago...) and saw that there are a couple of poems from my mouth is a hole in my face on there and no credit is given, although elsewhere on the site she does mention the two books. See, she got in touch with me about 6 months ago and started asking all of these questions about distribution and whatnot. At first, I thought...great! Someone is finally going to get more stuff out there. I didn't even care that her family didn't seem to care about her when she died. Then, her sister mentioned they were starting an estate in Lorri's name, and started to ask questions about why it took me so long to put out Scat, etc. Yuck. I didn't want to return with my first (internal) response of "why did it take 9 years for her own family to give a shit"...butanyway...I still figured that I didn't want to raise a stink. THere was so much shit that people tried to involve me in when Lorri died that I managed to avoid, and I don't want to start getting involved in it now. So I figured that if I helped Leann get the information she was asking for, she would understand that I am trying to maintain Lorri's best interests. I last talked to Lorri about a week before she died. She was excited about Scat. She also talked about another book she was working on that she wanted to shop to "major publishers." There was no insult intended there. Our relationship was one of support for each other. Publishing with oyster guaranteed that she had control and she helped me out.
I could go on and on...I waver back and forth between thinking maybe it would be a good thing if someone else was responsible for her ghost and truly believing that I am the best curator.
re: that show 11 years ago again:
Yeah, it was someone fairly popular...because I remember we were bummed about the drain on the potential pet-heads. *sigh* how wonderful it would be to talk to someone like kera face to face again. I feel so isolated here in Texas, especially since I became a mommy. I'm too much of a freak for the normal peole, and too normal for the freaks. Blah blah blah.
Obviously, I'm not very up on mid-press publishers, as none of those presses rings a bell with me. I never was very good at networking...or, I was for awhile...I dread promoting, though. I'm never sure if anyone cares about what I care about...
Hahahahahha...I have the hardest time with poetry in general because, truthfully, I have really come to hate most poetry. But it's always funny when people act like I am a professional publisher. What I really like is when people write me a nice, personal letter and send some poems. I like younger poets who haven't built up an ego from hell. I like...
well, I trailed off there and then had to get back to teaching and now I'm home and have no idea where I was going with that sentiment. I'm actually afraid to look back on what I've written in this e-mai lat all, as I think I wrote a series of e-mails prior where I bore my soul about various subjects. That's what I get for being stoned on the job. Not really, but...well, it is a long drive from Austin to San Antonio...
I like Dazed and Confused so much better than Slacker. Slacker is like Austin circa 1986 or something...Dazed is about an era longer ago, but I think it more closely resembles life in Austin. Or the people of Austin. Or soemething...speaking of movies, damn, I just watched the most fucked up film I have seen in a long time. Have you seen HAPPINESS? jesus. What a...a FUCKED UP film. Wow. I don't think I could even begint to tell you what it's about. Just a bunch of fucked up stuf. I don't ever think I have found a movie that is more aptly described by just the words "fucked up."
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: Re: hairway to L
Date: Fri, 14 May 1999 21:05:49 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Michelle
Ah...the weekend. A time when the work rebellion ends and the mom rebellion begins. Shove the kid in front of the television with a soy-cheese pizza and let him guzzle a bottle of Nyquil or something. Meanwhile, I'm looking up dirty pictures of punk boys wearing service station shirts and nothing else
But I DID look busy...I was busily typing out a letter to my sillyfriend Michelle. They were none the wiser. Besides, they just come to training because they are forced to. No one REALLY cares...so why should they care if I'm fucking around. I must have the lamest, easiest, slackingest job in the world...why the fuck am I complaining so hard about it?
Re: comment about lorri's sister desiring to make a quick buck.
You see, that crossed my mind...well, ok, that has taken up permanent residence in my mind. But I'm trying to be the nice, optimistic drucilla now. Quite luring me away from that with your cynicality, you ogre!
It was tragic how little consideration the vultures had after her death. They had no consideration for the fact that this was someone I loved. Blah. I got in a big fight with Oberc, actually, when he was writing a piece about her. He had never even met her, for crissakes, and he was trying to tell me what to do with her work (not to mention that Oberc tried to start a bunch of shit to make me, Kera, and Gar hate each other. Luckily, even though we lived in three different states at the time, we managed to piece together what he was doing...and all three of us pretty much severed all ties with him, whihc is really too bad because I really admire his work. But, christ, KeraGARLainie are like the rocking chair club - we've made a pact that when we grow old and decrepit, we are all going to live together and sit on the front porch all day in our rocking chairs. Gar will be crabby and crotchety and mean...and loud. I will be silly and clumsy and loud and kera will just smile sweetly and giggle.) Then people like Paul Hoover started talking about how wonderful she (lorri) was, and all she ever told me aoub some of these people was how much she hated them. It was too much for a normal person to bear, much less someone who had just suffered through the worst year of her life AND had to detox someone from heroin AND had her life savings ripped off from OUT OF HER ATM by a junkie roommate AND lost someone to suicide.
I dunno. I sort of knew it before, but the situation surrounding Lorri's death just proved to me completely that people are shit.
God...I haven't seen Shockbox in a very long time. I still do, however, have all of the old...ok, scratch that...MOST of the old isues of the zines that have ever been sent to me. I am a library. I am afraid to throw them away, but I can't think of a clever way of letting the world in on my little treasure. Maybe when I quit my job and become a housewife I can hang out all day in my fuzzy slippers and housecoat and cajole nubile young boys to come over. "Hey little boy...you want to see my zine collection..." Hmmmmm (insert evil cackling laughter)
Oh, shit...I think I just snapped m out of his codeine haze...
RE: being an outcast at work:
You know, I probably don't help myself when I subtly badmouth christians while I"m on break with a bunch of people at work. I have to learn to remember that not everyone in the world is an evil heathen like me. So, I should take at least partial responsibility for the fact that I'm a pariah. I mean, for crying out loud, who eats pizza WITHOUT CHEESE?!
Re: more zines
Oh, goody...I'm going to put together a package for you this weekend. Some people I have stayed in touch with ni Europe...Andy C (Dark Diamonds), oh, this one review zine...what's it called? it's from finland I think...hang on...oh shit, I can't find it. They love banal probe, which makes me happy. I haven't heard from Jakob, the Danish hunk boy (initially I typed "hung boy" not that I would know...but he came to visit me in Chicago and, poor guy, his girlfriend packed a GROSS of condoms for him, then dumped him when he returned home) I really want to get back in touch with Jouni Waarakangas. I notice he is still around. the European zines still seem to be more personal. I dunno. But I have recently received a few really cool punkrock zines that high school kids are doing. I review a couple of them in the next Pearl...if you want me to dig up addresses for these things, let me know.
Oh shit, m's watching MONSTER HITS again. I better go do something motherly like hold the back of my hand up to his forehead, wipe the drool from his chin, or read him a book or something.
Take care, Michelle
livelifelove
drucilla
****
Subject: I get it, he has no neck!
Date: Sat, 15 May 1999 00:49:16 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Michelle
Michelley Chelle...
You know, the x-files movei is like an even longer and more annoying version of the x-files. I am not a fan. I am not a mused. I could watch polyester, but your e-mail made me laugh so I'll do this instead. John Waters can wait. (I'll bet I'm making parenthood seem incredibly glamorous to you about now -- picture me...in my 2 sizes too large sweatpants and black t-shirt, a little tweaked, shoving popcorn down my throat, alternating between reading and reading, reading out loud to the child (pretending that I REALLY ENJOY _Oscar's Grouchy Birthday_ even after the 20th reading) then desparateloy checking my e-mail for some...ANY distractoin. Note to self: in next life, make a million dollars BEFORE having baby so husband doesn't have to work graveyard son weekends in order to avoid using daycare. What I really need are some fuzzy slippers, bonbons and valium. m didn't want to dance tonight because he has a cough. Instead he played with his crane and got the farm animal toy stuck in an endless loop of synthesized old mcdonald.
Hey, you know...it's life on the dege. Andit's ok. Really. I pretended like the farm animal toy was a bomb I was diffusing. m seemed perplexed when I started yelling "Clear the buiding! CLEAR THE BUILDING!!!"
Better to be a tool for the man than a man's tool...er...or something.
Right? Right?!
RIGHT????!!!
Oh, shit...have you been hanging out with the SCA again?
Speaking of which (WARNING WARNING ANOTHER TANGENT...MUCH MEANDERING THOUGHT AHEAD! WARNING WARNING)
A couple of months ago, L, my neighbor Shake, and I took m to a little "rennaissance festival" at the elementary school across the street. It was a typical grade school fun fair with games and face painting and etc. Well, we were exiting the building and waiting in line for the fortune teller when some SCA d00d walks up to me, points to my shirt and snorts "Screeching Weasel?! Is that th name of a BAND?!" and I had to look at my shirt to get the gist of what he was talking about because I didn't remember what shirt I was wearing and then I said "uh, yeah." Mind you, this guy was in full SCA regalia...skirt and all...and he says to me "What a dorky thing to wear."
Being that my 2 year old child was there, I leterally had to bit my tongue OFF to refrain from opening a proverbial can of verbal whoop ass on this guy.
I thought it was funny.
You know...I find that I become re-heartened when someone else loathes someone I loathe, or disrespects. Or something. It sounds really mean, but I suppose we all like to be validated. And I find myself disrespecting more people than I care to admit to disrespecting. Especially when I'm trying to be nice, happy, optimistic drucilla.
Funny, I'm wearing a shirt that has an oberc drawing on it. It says dOUBT, then it has one of his geometric drawings, then it says "box of headaches."
I have had this shirt for a very long time.
I'm overly selective. I pretty much don't like anyone. L hounds me aobut it all the time. I think I just figure that if I'm going to go through the hell of loving people anymore, they better damn well be PERFECT. That way, when they go off and do something stupid like DIE or something, I won't feel badly about resurrecting them as heroes in my mind and in my words. And stuf. Not that I think I'm perfect or anything. And not even that I hate everybody...I just don't INVEST in hardly anybody. You know? Wow, this shit is better than therapy. That just answered a lot of questions I have had about my habits and behaviors over the past few years. You can bill me.
I don't think No Empathy aare together anymore. Marc came through Austin last year with his new band...what the fuck are they called? I don't remember. I got pissed at them because, ever since I had the kid, they don't stay at my house when they come to town. Well, actually, I didn't have the right to be pissed at them because I got sick the night of the show and I didn't go. L went, and was supposed to bring Gar back, but apparently one of the little punkrock boys found a party and they all went there instead.
One of my first experiences of being in Austin and putting out zines...I went to a show...I think it was Tribe8...and I brought a little backpack full of zines to hand out. Normally, I just leave them lying in a corner or sucker someone else into handing things out for me because, well, I'm shy. But since I was new in town and pretty desperate for friends, I tried handing them out to people. As a freebie. 9 out of 10 people I approached refused to even look at it. It was like I was looking FOR a handout rather than HANDING OUT. You know that uncomfortable body shift people do when a homeless person approaches them...and they try to fake a conversation with someone without looking at the homeless person and sorta sidle away inconspicuously. This is the reaction I was getting. I should have turned tail then...but...well...
See above about my aversion from people in general. I don't like poetry groups because poets annoy me. I tried to volunteer at the cooperative radio station, but everyone there were just washed up ex-college radio djs and they annoyed me. I would be afraid if there was a small press scene here that I would be annoyed. Maybe it's a regional thing, but Chicago people didn't really annoy me. Everyone sort of did their own thing, but they werwe all able to hang out together peripherally. The big thing around here is poetry slams. And those always seem more like comedy hour than poetry readings. Plust you have to be, like, really mean to win those things. I brought m to see the reunion of this poetry group that used to read around a lot and then disbanded, but m apparently thought it was a call and response religious ceremoney and, although *I* thought it added a great deal to the ambience, the non-parents in the audience were not amused. It was too smoky in there anyway, so we left.
We have begun m's indoctrination at a young age. It's Monster Hits at night, monster trucks by day. We're sending out applications to try to find him a job at a carnival...got any connections?
llld
****
Subject: All the Charm of a Shooting Spree
Date: Sat, 15 May 1999 09:25:46 -0700
From: Drucilla Blood
To: Michelle
You know...you would think...having done this mommy thing for well over 2 years now, that I would understand the trouble I am setting myself up for when I satay up late tinking m will sleep late in the morning. But what do I do? I spend several hours fucking around and watching movies and reading stuff and go to bed after 3 AM thinking "Oh, m is coughing, so he's not going to want to get up early." And what does m do? He keeps me awake with his coughing after I try to get to sleep...then dad gets home at 5 AM and tries to...well...and then m wakes up at 6:30, won't take his cough syrup, won't go back to sleep, wants to lay on the couch and breathe through his mouth for a few hours, but on't let me lay down next to him because he is possessive about teh pillows. OH, and he won't blow his nose, either, which, I keep trying to tell him, is why he got the damn cough in the first place (only I don't say damn, as, in spite of my posturing to the contrary, I'm actually a pretty good and patient mom. And I would never drug my child and make him watch tv for hours).
And today is the day I promised him I'd take him to the zoo...which is more of a sanctuary than a zoo...although I'm still trying to figure out if I agree with the philosophy behind it. Like, ok, so..these animals are un-rehabilitatable, or something...so let's put them on display so that screaming children can slowly drive them insane. This maybe goes along with my intolerance of or dislike for people...but it seems like a simple thing to teach. or at least attempt to teach, your children to not SCREAM around caged animals. Especially the ones who are scrunched up in the corner of the cage with a pained expression on their faces and their paws over their ears.
OK...the day's first tirade! Woo hoo! I can tell it's going to be a good morning...
Good morning, Michelle...
You see, if I actually watched the x-files on a regular basis (I especially don't now that they took That 70's show off the air. Like I really want to watch that insipid version of the Simpson's, The Family Guy) (don't you love parenthetical thoughts that drag you so far from the ORIGINAL thought that you have to go back and re-read the sentence again WITHOUT reading the parenthetical statement) (Or two or three parenthetical statements IN A ROW) (The scary thing is, left up to my own devices, all of my conversations would meander in much the same manner, which is probably why people always seem confused when I talk to them as, I suppose, you can't really re-read a conversation without the parenthetical statement) (Now, what was I saying...)(Oh, yeah...the x-files) I would have even more appreciation for the preceding rant by you. But thanks for that anyway. You should keep writing because, well, it takes awhile to start up again once you've stopped. But, yeah, I understand the "I'm sick of poetry" thing...and then I start to wonder if I'm being subtly influenced by the stuff I read. But most of my poetry doesn't really have any intent, so I feel safe. Quit rationalizing why you are not writing and just write. Write every night. You will write reams and reams of what looks like crap but you will look back on it a month or so later and go "Hey, that's pretty cool."
I stole that explosion scene from the x-files, and you picked up on my cue. Very good, my friend. I liked that driving an extra foot thing...I liked the way Moulder spent like half of the time remaining arguing with the pyrotechnician dood about whether or not he should evacuate, I ESPECIALLY like the fact that, although they were within 50 yards of a building that was utterly engulfed in flames after EXPLODING, none of our fearless heroes had any injuries. Maybe that's why they are fearless. Maybe this is why I don't like action movies.
To reply to myself...I also managed to persuade my co-workers to choose "The Republic of Texas" as the nickname for our training team. I cut out a picture of corporate headquarters and pasted it on a piece of paper. Beneath it, in bold block letters, was the word "Secede."
Gardner Richardson Brandt (the third, although not really, it just sounds like he should hav a number in his name) is named after the last names of three people. Gardner was the last name of the doctor who delivered him...Richardson, I'm not sure, some family member's last name...and brandt...well...his dad's last name. It's a good thing he wasn't born a girl. His parents would have named him after a racehorse they won money off of. The name of that racehorse was Hedovar. I don't even want to BEGIN to imagine what high school would have been like with a name that is so easily truncated inot, well, "head."
I will say no more.
On this topic, anyway..
For this e-mail, anyway, as I'm sure Gar will be mentioned again at some point.
Just not Hedovar, unless I repeat myself. Which I am prone to doing. So stop me if I do that, OK?
I like things that are fun to read. I tend to gravitate towards things that are embarrassingly personal, though. I'm nosy about people, more than anything else. OK, I'm actually interested in people. I'm sure I'm not the only one who sits on the bus and wonders what it is that all of these people are living for.
Um, hello? I'm living in TEXAS here. You cant' get more regional pride and self-referentialism than this big old state. I'm locked in on all 4 sides by miles and miles of Texas, in EVERY store you could possible imagine entering, there is ALWAYS some trinket reminder that, yes, you are INDEED in Texas. I don't remember this in Chicago. In fact, in all of the travelling I've done, I know I have been in many places where I have had to search high and low for some souvenir that said "Yes, I was temporarily passing through [name of town], so here is a cheap piece of plastic with [name of town] inscribed on it."
Aren't you from Chicago, though? What were you doing in DeKalb? I have to admit that I puff my wings up a bit when I talk about Chicago. I love it there, although I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go back. For one thing, L claims he won't move north of the mason dixon line, not to mention that I would have to kill him when mid-winter came about and his depression set in hard. He can't handle cold and he is even more depressive than I am. I'm a lot hardier out here where I don't have to go for months without seeing the sun, but I always forget to put sunscreen on, so I'll probably die from cancer anyway.
But how did you end up in el-lay? We have a friend who moved there from Austin and instantly turned into MR. Hollywood. Like he comes home all decked in flowing roes and strawberry-colored sunglasses with blonde hightlights in his hair...
I've never been a fan of l.a. or, for that matter, texas. I want to eventually buy some land in New Mexico or somewhere, build an adobe hut, and spend my life puttering around the house. Wouldn't that be nice? I like puttering.
I could write a tell-all about the washed up members of the Chicago scene, circa 1988-1990.
I'll see if Gar is up for an interview. I'm supposed to call him today to see if he will pick me up from the train station when I get to Chicago because my mom is afraid to enter the big city. She wants me to haul my child, my car seat, and all of my luggage from one train station to another all by myself...or take a cab. Ummmmm.yeah. right.
OK...oe thing that's really important to know about me...I ALWAYS take things personally. And I usually take things seriously. But I do know this of myself, so I try not to let it cloud my judgment.
Of course, in spite of the fact that you have contact with more assholes, you probably have contact with more "genuinely good souls" than the average person. When I was in high school and writing letters to people and doing zines...well, it helped me to realize that there was more to life than that microcosm. For awhile, I thought I didn't have to continue outside of high school because I was in the "real world" but the "real world" is still a microcosm, only it doesn't smell like sweat and pencils. I forgot about that after m was born...up until just recently, I'm afraid...and I think that made me feel isolated and paranoid. Then I realized that I had another world that I could access just by, you know, writing to people and stuff. I'm sorr...I have lost my train of thought m came in and demanded a tortilla. Hang on..
Do I talk in the first person too much? Sometimes I wonder if people think I am the most self-centered person in the world. I could be, but I sort of believe that I am no different from you, essentially speaking. I mean, I say I...I mean we. Or you...or them. Just to clarify. Maybe? Does that cut it, or do I still sound self-centered?
Oh, in addition to actually BEING paranoid and insecure...I alos like to FAKE that I'm even more paranoid and insecure than I actually am.
I started reading something last night, but I glanced at the clock on my computer and thought "you know...I'm going to be hurting in the morning if I do't go to bed now."
And, here it is morning...and I'm, actually, not hurting.
But I'm sure I'll be hurting tonight...or grumpy.
Hey, wish me luck at the zoo. Maybe I can liberate all of the animals. Or something. Last time we were there, m spent the majority of the time looking at the pebbles on the paths. And a goat tried to eat his hair.
Maybe some fresh air will help his cough, though...
Anyway, take care, Michelley.
It's really nice writing to you.
livelifelove
drublood
Addendum: picture of lorri courtesy of Remembering Lorri Jackson website. Lorri's books My Mouth Is a Hole In My Face and Scat are both still available from oyster publications. E-mail me for more information.
Henry the Horse Goes on Vacation
May 10, 2002
There's no picture for this...
Um, this is one of those really bad books of unknown origin. c makes us read it too him several times a day. I think he likes the squeaky horse. But, come on, people...a horse lifting weights? A horse packing a suitcase? And, like, nice vacation...he walks up a freaking hill, then turns around and goes back. What's the point in bringing the damn caravan, then?
hello
May 8, 2002
this is a test post.
I *lime green puffy heart* kd.
and this is what c has to say:
ccvxccccccccccc vvvvvvvvccxccxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx bb bbbbbbbbn nbbbbbbbcv vv