Monday, December 31, 2007
1. Elaine Equi, Ripple Effect
2. J. Allyn Roser, Misery Prefigured
3. Chase Twichell, Dog Language
4. Charles Wright, Littlefoot
5. Rebecca Loudon, Radish King
6. Jean Valentine, The Door in the Mountain
7. Peter Pereira, What's Written on the Body
8. Virginia Chase Sutton, Embellishments
9. Virginia Chase Sutton, What Brings You to Del Amo?
10. Ted Berrigan, Sonnets
11. C. Dale Young, The Day Underneath the Day
12. C. Dale Young, The Second Person
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Frantic packing tonight, then work, then a morning nap, then off to Baltimore and Brian for a late xmas visit that is going to be too too short. The time crunch is a downer, but it's a chance to see the boy and get a double dip of Christmas; so ultimately it's to the good.
Minimal blogging, if any, until I'm back; unless of course the good folks of Charm City have seasonal Virgin billboards or there's something just too good to pass up.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
Ashley drew my name for our Secret Santa exchange. She made me this gorgeous collage/painting piece based on one of my poems, "In Transit." I can't wait til after the holidays to get it framed and hanged. It was perfect: unexpected and lovely.
A quick moment just for Brian who said: "So you are the Jeffrey, not the Santino of Project: Caption."
The other day my mom wanted to talk about politics--usually not something she does. I'm obviously not always sympathetic to the GOP, and finally neither is my mother. She's a classic old-school conservative: minmal government invasion, low taxes, fiscal responsibility, yadda yadda. She has to vote in the GOP Primary here and is wondering how. But come the general she's definitely voting Democrat. Anyways--we're talking and she says "I'm really drawn to Joe Biden. I don't know why, but I am." Now I don't know if this means she likes his policy positions...or there's some other thing going on. Frankly, I don't want to think of my mom having the hots for him.
When I broke it down I realize that yes, yes indeed I had gone a little nuts, again, for Christmas (with my mother's help, we broke up the duties and each tackled specific things.) A quick breakdown of the final goody production:
19 dozen cookies baked
6 lbs of candy
2 quarts of spiced mixed nuts
And 5 stockings made from scratch. We decided to do a Secret Santa this year, but each gift was supposed to be hand-made. I drew Eric, but since I was overcome with holidizzy, I made one for Tommy and Ashley and a couple of others as well (just in case I needed a last minute pressy for someone.)
Sunday, December 23, 2007
This is Tiny Tim's singular version of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer." Ukulele and all. It's track 2 on A John Waters Christmas. Not as bad as the Chipmunks' "Sleigh Ride" but not as stirring as Roger Christian's "Little Mary Christmas" or Rita Faye Wilson's "Sleigh Bells, Reindeer and Snow."
But it's creepy.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Since the photo retrospective of christmas decorations didn't work out, I decided I'd spend the next week posting the christmas tunes I just can't live without each year.
First up is the classic David Bowie, Bing Crosby duet "Little Drummer Boy/Peace On Earth" from the late 70s. Drunk Crosby and Coked out Bowie...what else could more truly capture the season?
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Here are the rejected captions I generated for the last round of the Caption Contest Throwdown,
From T'was the Night at D. Beckham's
His Y fronts were stuffed with the tenderest care,
In hopes that the nanny soon would be there.
The L.A . Galaxy's equipment manager couldn't understand why they were always ordering new balls.
Rupert Murdoch uncovers the mystery of Posh's missing breast implants.
His nickname in the lockerroom was Taras Bulbous.
Early on Becks had to inform Posh that "poly-orchid" had nothing to do with botany.
Hernia trusses have never looked so sexy.
Bulge it like Beckham.
Whatcha gonna do with all them lumps, all them lumps down in my trunks. My trunks, my trunks, my lovely laddy trunks.
The final votes are in for the Caption Contest Showdown. What a squeaker.
For everyone that voted for me--thanks!
Brief IM Transcript:
Brian[8:35 P.M.]: so are you the santino of project caption?
Me[8:36 P.M.]: I'm the Jeffrey
Brian [8:36 P.M.]: hehe
Brian [8:36 P.M.]: he was the bottom 2 going into bryant
I'm the Jeffrey, the Angry Peanut, of Season 2 of Project: Caption.
And my boyfriend likes to bust my balls. Oddly, I'm blissful just now.
One of my plans for Yule blogging was to drive around town and get pictures of some of the more notable Christmas displays people do. Usually this town is reliably tacky--there used to be an entire road where everyone threw lights onto any stationary object, it was sort of Christmas cum Outsider Art, but they stopped years ago--but this year, lights-wise it's slim pickings. I don't know if it's because of the cost of electricity or what--but it kills one of my favorite traditions--driving people around and showing friends and newcomers the best of the worst. Even my cousin Pat, whose house is generally done up like Macy's Santaland's bastard cousin, is underdecorated. Best laid plains, yadda yadda.
Monday, December 17, 2007
A lot of this I attribute to the first time I sent out a bunch of poems while in grad school. We had to do it as part of our final portfolios for a creative writing class. The gist was this: choose three magazines you really admired and wanted your work in. Do up a cover letter and submission, making a copy to reserve for the instructor's comments later. This was 1996 or 1997. I can't remember two of the magazines that I chose for submitting, but the third was Colorado Review. I was in my Jori phase then.
About a month later I got my first rejection--a sort of fortune cookie rejection: skinny skinny strip of paper, wide as a letter sized sheet, but maybe 3/4" tall. Seriously. That means they could reject approximately 14.67 poets per page depending on margins. About two weeks after that I got my second. It was about the size of a postcard. No notes, no sign really that the entire thing had been touched by a human hand except to reinsert my stuff back into the SASE.
So the semester goes on, still nothing back from CR . My instructor was really pleased that I hadn't heard anything back by the end of the semester. I was the only person in the class at the point with work still being considered someplace. Blah blah blah...there were moments I was a little proud of that, but at the heart of it, I just wanted to know. The semester ends, I relocate back to WV. Later that summer I sent a query letter , it had been about seven months since I submitted, including a new SASE with my updated address and went back to my life. No response to the query. So I just wrote it off and went on with classes and drinking and dying my hair. My poems changed, my reading changed, I didn't think much about the whole thing, when almost a year later I got my last SASE back. With a hand-written letter. Over a page. Thanking me for my poems, apologizing for the length of time they held them and for ultimately not being able to fit them into the magazine. I had that letter tacked up above my writing area for a couple of years and moves, eventually losing it about 5 years ago. I've been wracking my brain trying to remember who the editor was that was kind enough to do that and I'm coming up blank.
Considering it was my first time at the rodeo, I feel sort of lucky--I got the entire range of editorial response. I've kept that in mind the last couple of years while submitting--not everyone's going to get it, or like it. Time and resources are at a premium. But I do keep track of how they choose to respond (or not.) I have yet to decide if the fortune cookie rejection slip is worse than just getting my poems shoved back in an envelope or not. But ultimately, that doesn't matter. I look at the poems and I send them out again.
Rebecca's Fashion Corner.
Peter Pereira, Pundit.
Anne Haines asks a damned good question.
And by morning I mean 1:00 pm eastern time when I woke up.
Christmas cards are another beast entirely. Which is pitiful, because I only mail out 6 or 7 a year. I usually buy "Season's Greetings" ones or "Happy Holidays"--something generic that if it gets there between Xmas and New Year's it still fits the bill. This year I committed myself to "Merry Christmas." They must be done tonight and go into the mail tomorrow.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
I got caught up this afternoon on the last couple of Project Runway episodes. Every week I find myself wanting to hunt down Tim Gunn and assault him for that line in the first episode about the breadth and depth of talent in this pack of competitors. Horse hocky.
I can understand the production company wanting to steer away from persona heavy drama this season--rather like Top Chef did this past season. Give us strong creative people with points-of-view and let their work speak for itself. Fine--it's a good idea. In Top Chef's case it worked this season. So far, for me anyway, Project Runway is falling flat . Except for Christian and crazy Elise, these people seem to need drugs or serious personality implants. Ok--Victorya is a passive aggressive bitch but that's not personality and it's not why I hate her (her first two outfits are all the reason I need. Metallics and coordinating flower/bow/knot things...gag. If you can get to a Steve & Barry's and see her winning design for the Sarah Jessica Parker challenge do it. It looks like a burlap sack raped a painter's smock. Hidjeous. The racer back vest is almost cute. Almost. But there's maybe 5 people in the western hemisphere it would look good on.) Ultimately though it's the sheer boring clothes that makes me stop part-way through and think "Why am I watching this again?" I can't remember from week to week who did what. There's no fear of Nina or Kors going off on clothes being too editorial. It's all safe middle-of-the-road bleh.
Karaoke filtering downstairs into my right ear (the worst karaoke you can imagine... I've committed my fair share of karaoke karnage and have heard a good bit too. But what I heard last night coming from the upstairs party--wowza.) Live music from back in the bar filtering up into my left ear (his set included a Roy Orbison medley, that didn't suit his range; a Johnny Cash medley, that didn't suit his range...etc etc. Plus Neil Young, the Beatles and Van Morrison. It's hard to be a man and not sing tenor nor bass). It was stereo hell.
The upstairs party had a great time. Hokey pokey and everything (structural integrity of the floor be damned). Stunningly, it was a dry event.
On the upside, I had poetry in the mail when I finally woke this afternoon.
Friday, December 14, 2007
Tonight you'll take the lead in a bingo tournament, and come home with a pocket full of one dollar bills, and a crocheted toilet paper cover with a doll's body on top. Things just don't get better than this.
From their mouths to god's ears. I've been wanting a toilet paper cozy. All the relatives that used to make that stuff have passed on.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Now that the latest round of voting for C Dale's Caption Contest Throwdown is done, here are some of the also rans I came up with.
Four heads no waiting
Free Valtrex with every 8 pack.
My secret? I puke.
Wait 'til you see how I open the second one.
Not to be outdone by Screech, Mario finished his sex tape with the "Dirty Lopez."
Corona: Strong enough for a man. Made for a wanker.
From Mario Lopez and the makers of Has-Been comes the new fragrance for men: Chunder.
Always ready to please his Dancing with the Stars fans, Mario reenacts his Paso Douchebag triumph.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Monday, December 10, 2007
There are few things worse than the execrable "Christmas Shoes;" oh, I know there are novelty songs and overwrought renditions of classics foisted on us every yule. But really, this five minute nugget of maudlin crap makes me want to slit my wrists. It's like someone took the plot of a Lifetime movie and set it to music. You can find it here if you're reeeeallly curious. I'm not going to inflict it on anyone.
What's your worst?
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Hopefully, not all of them will turn out as evil looking as Snarky did. I kept him for myself.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Doctors at Royal Wigan Infirmary in Greater Manchester put out the alert after fearing the man faced amputation as the ring cut off his blood supply.
Two firefighters used a mini hand grinder to cut through the ring during a 20-minute procedure.
It is understood the man, aged in his 40s, was given an anaesthetic.
The firefighters placed a thin sheet of metal around his penis to protect the skin while removing the ring, which appeared to have been cut off from the end of a pipe.
Greater Manchester Fire and Rescue Service confirmed fire crews were called to the hospital at around 12.10 GMT on Thursday to "deal with a situation".
A spokeswoman for Royal Wigan Infirmary said they were unable to comment about the incident.
Restaurant ice cubes dirtier than toilet water
A recent study in Chicago found that an alarming number of restaurants, more than 1 out of every 5, has more bacteria and fecal matter in their ice cubes than in a random testing of toilet water.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Why even when I was porking up on prozac and gorging on butter and cream I didn't care, because I felt even. Because the jackhammer heart slowed; the vomitting stopped; the urticaria stopped.
Tonight, driving to work, for the first time in years, I felt that out-of-control, beyond-my-control, instability. The roads were wretched, a good 1/2 inch of ice, frosted with snow. No sign of center line. Uneven and rutty. Truly, truly, wretched. I never went above 30 mph and tried to touch my brake as little as possible. By the time I got to work and turned off the ignition, my hands shook in that old panic attack way. Almost like palsy. The body resisting its own stability. All I could do was sit until it passed. I made a quick call to let folks know I made it safely. I let the cold seep in.
I bet Rickie wouldn't cry that episode--unless he was really into rats.
Click here for the madness.
I ran around yesterday morning doing errands, buy catfood, run to the bank, blah-dee-blah-dee-blah. No biggie. Trying to go through the bank drive through, I noticed one side was closed. So I decide I'll just do a u turn an it should be fine, I can get back into the open side, deposit the money, get on my way. As I'm about to enter the street, I apply my brakes. I don't stop, I just slide. A Head Start school bus is passing directly in front of me, I'm still sliding. It feels like I'm going to push through the floorboard trying to get the brakes to engage enough to stop me. Finally, once the burning brake smell wafted up, the car stopped. About 4 inches from the street. The tail end of the bus had just gone past.
Saturday, December 1, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
It was like every one of my drunk uncles got a suit and podium. Guns good! Brown people bad! Taxes bad! Hulk smash! O wait...the Hulk is a being of color, bad analogy. Surge surge surge! Send Hillary to Mars! (Sadly, I agree with that one.) Gays aren't even 3/5ths of a person! But Mike Hukabee wants their votes because they probably hate brown people too. I'm guessing that's what he means when he talks about shared values and principles that make us republican.
It's frightening to watch these hateful old white men trying to outdo one another to be the scariest and craziest. They have all the appeal of televangelists and chancre-ridden whores. Whores, however, have enough integrity not to behave as though they're fucking you because they like you. As long as they don't ooze on me, I can deal with whores.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
I'm tossing this out to the greater blogosphere.
For those of you who go through the slush pile rigamarole as a route to publication, how do you pick and chose lit mags? It's tough to keep up with what's out there. I try to surf websites and snoop around before sending out packets--but I'm wondering if there's a better, centralized source?
1. Read. Everything.
Not just poets you love, but those that leave you cold. Especially those that leave you cold. Figure out what it is you don't respond to in their work. Sometimes the easiest way to establish who you are is in relation to who you aren't. Aside from poetry--read everything. Learn about art, music, history, politics, the world, fiction, science. Regarding art--study other art forms, become conversant in their histories, trends and technical languages; learn how they intersect with literature, exploit those similarities. Read trash. Read literature. Just read.
Find writers you respond to and set aside time just to take apart their poems and imitate them. Look at how they open their poems and end them. Middles generally take care of themselves. Don't worry about not being innovative. You're learning here. No one started out a genius.
3. Work Every Day.
Devote part of every day to your poems. This doesn't mean, necessarily, generating new poems. But spend time with them. Jot down notes, lines, questions; think about what does and doesn't work. Tend to your work like any other daily task.
Keep at it. Don't stop. Find supportive people you admire and trust, share your work with them and take their comments and criticisms graciously. Become part of a writer's group or a local workshop if you can. If there isn't one, start one.
1. Fixate on what others are doing.
Do your own thing. Don't get sucked into who gets published where, who wins what, who gets praise, etc etc etc. That way lies discouragement and madness.
2. Take Rejection Personally.
Sure, your work is an extension of you...you thought it up, you labored, you slaved, you want it out in the world. That doesn't mean that everyone is going to respond to your sonnet sequence the way you'd like. That's just the way of the world. Taste is subjective and a given reader on a given day might not respond strongly. That doesn't mean you're not talented; that your work's not good. It just means you haven't found the right place for it yet.
3. Be An Asshole.
Faith in your abilities is crucial...but don't become an overweening egomaniac. There are always better (and worse) writers out there. When faced with a misreading or a comment that you feel is off the mark, don't be defensive, don't be dismissive. Be gracious.
4. Expect Less of Yourself.
Push yourself to try new things: new subjects, new forms, new voices. Try to top yourself every time you write.
See, part of my job involves handling money. I account for it, I fill out forms, I do it up for deposit. Not being the most mathy boy in the free world, I tend to be meticulous about this, counting it three or four times before settling in to finish the forms. Anyway, I get home today and find a message that I need to call work. Seems that one of my deposits came up short, $250.00 short, in fact. So it's been stressfull today--how does one (dis)prove a negative? Even after getting the verdict from one of the owners that I'm still employed, I feel like I'm scooped out; I'm headachey, I'm still nauseous. I'm determined to not get down...but right now...well...it's hard....And this is not what I wanted to put out here....
Saturday, November 24, 2007
Leaving Work at 7:15 am, I Pass the Hotel Playground
Eight men stand there, proud.
They point to their bucks: hanging
from the swingset; dead.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Courtesy of Slate.
Things NOT to do with Thanksgiving leftovers
Turkey fried rice. Turkey-mushroom casserole. Turkey dinner muffins. Turkey samosas. Turkey hash. Strawberry-turkey spinach salad. Turkey and veggie lasagna. Turkey chowder with wild rice, crimini, and pancetta. Turkey quesadilla suiza,. Additionally, curried turkey salad on greens, turkey and leek risotto, turkey bundles,turkey tetrazzini, turkey pho,
moo shu turkey
Actually, I'm sort of fond of turkey hash. Especially if you use non-candied roast sweet taters instead of regular russets. The turkey abuses I remember from childhood include: turkey salad sandwiches, creamed turkey (both alone and with egg noodles,) turkey casserole (mix the turkey with cream of mushroom soup and top with old stuffing), turkey noodle soup, turkey a la king. And let me just say...my dear sweet mama did not do ALL these...but these are ones I remember.
What did/do you do with your thanksgiving leftovers?
WOW. Just....WOW. Gay Bowel Syndrome? Is there even such a thing? Paging the doctors. Is this like irritable bowel syndrome but with shopping? What would Freud say about this list? A sociologist? An anthropologist? These people (if the site stats are true) are obsessed with what homosexshuls do. More so than I am.
Most viewed pages
- Main Page [1,929,132]
- Homosexuality [1,622,733]
- Homosexuality and Hepatitis [517,944]
- Homosexuality and Promiscuity [421,993]
- Homosexuality and Parasites [414,651]
- Gay Bowel Syndrome [400,250]
- Homosexual Couples and Domestic Violence [373,837]
- Homosexuality and Gonorrhea [332,044]
- Homosexuality and Anal Cancer [294,230]
- Homosexuality and Mental Health [293,375]
So. If Conservapedia was created as the conservative palliative to Wikipedia, what would the godless liberal users of that site look at? Here's the 10 most viewed pages for 11/07 so far.
1. Main Page 27 543 000
2. Wiki 825 818
3. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 376 636
4. Naruto 367 636
5. Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock 362 455
6. United States 301 909
7. Wikipedia 300 545
8. Deaths in 2007 292 909
9. Heroes (TV series) 280 636
10. Transformers (film) 277 091
The first mention of sex doesn’t even enter Wikipedia’s most viewed pages until number 17—list of sexual positions. And in the entire top 100 most viewed pages, there are only 8 pages that are even remotely related to sex, sexual intercourse, anatomy, etc. Most shockingly—there are no links directly to homosexuality (well…unless you count anal sex, but I’m not willing to budge on that one…it’s not strictly our domain. Even straight people have anuses.)
You see Ryan, I used to teach freshman composition. And I have a few pointers I want to share. From one pants-wearing male to another.
In your opening paragraph you say:
Dresses are the indelible image of womanhood because of the symbolic nature of pants and dresses. If all fashions are symbolic, dresses in particular symbolize womanhood by more fully embodying the ideal of a true lady, the objective understanding of what men find attractive in the fairer sex: passivity, domesticity, childrearing, coital love, piety and fertility. These defining aspects of womanhood are immutable. We all tacitly reaffirm these attributes in our attempts to find a partner. Flirtation and courtship are reaffirmations of what it means to be masculine and feminine because it is only by fulfilling the obligation of our form that we can attract the opposite sex.Now I'm curious about a few things here...how does a dress (more than pants) signify passivity? Domesticity? Coital love? Fertility? Does the dress in and of itself signify these things? Or are you accepting as a given that one vision of femininity embraces and enacts these things and is more traditionally aligned with wearing dresses that that is the symbol. Also, you say "these defining aspects of womanhood are immutable." Are they? They never change? At all? Are we speaking about just "western" womanhood? Because there are cultural differences at work here Ryan. F'r instance, the Chinese once bound women's feet because they believed small feet were desirable and a sign of femininity. You speak of "true" as though cultural norms are universal. They, obviously are not.
Also, are you speaking for womankind in toto here? Because I hate to tell you, at least on individual bases, these things change. Woman enter menopause. Their attitudes and drives toward "coital love" change due to falling hormone levels and all that go along with it. Some even don't want to have "coital love" at all. Plus, they become infertile. What about women who are of childbearing age but infertile? Are they promoting false-advertising by wearing a dress? Celibate women? Lesbians? And what exactly does that last sentence even mean, in English? I'm sure it sounded brilliant and unassailable in your head. But seriously, it's unclear. I'm betting it has something to do with heteronormative sex, but you're just too much of a gentleman to say no chick in slacks is gonna have the privilege of being the recipient of your missionary position love.
I'm going to skip your second paragraph entirely, because even though you are a history student, you are obviously no student of history. Definitions of femininity and what is sexually attractive in both the feminine and the masculine are mutable. (Refer back to the last paragraph about the notion of cultural differences in what constitutes the feminine.) Also, go back and look at the Raphealite painters, look at Reuben, look at the Flemish painters. Then look at nineteenth and twentieth century photographs or just turn on some Entertainment Tonight; I think outside the broad specifics of female physiognomy, you'll see a large difference in what we find and found attractive.
Are you a fan of Rush Limbaugh, Ryan? Because your third paragraph sounds like his old "feminazi" shtick all dressed up with a pseudo-intellectual bent.
What's not sexy is feminism (not to be confused with femininity), which is directly responsible for the disappearance of our beloved dresses and the adoption of pants by the "new woman."
Feminism isn't sexy? Really. You don't think women should be treated as equals? Equal status or the gall to ask for equal status diminishes attractiveness? You want an inferior, subordinate female partner? Do you have a problem with the idea of an equal female partner itself? Or are women to be mere mute vessels of desire and childbirth? Or objects? Because it seems to me that you are advocating a sort of object status for women as despicable as any centerfold. Are you bothered by feminism in and of itself or more unnerved and disturbed by the cultural and political demands made by women and individuals associated with the Feminist Movement? Also, what about men who are feminists? Are they gender traitors? Are you aware of Third Wave Feminism Ryan? Perhaps you should check that out. I'm also curious how feminism is "responsible" for the replacement of "our beloved dresses" with pants.
Kudos for favoring the elegance of a longer skirtline above the mini. Do you watch Project Runway? You seem to have a good understanding of the dynamics of skirt length and line. By the way...whorification is not a word recognized in SWE (standard written english) nor is androgynization. And I'm not sure how one blurs the sexes of a dress, I think I'll just point those two neologisms out to you and move along.
Let's look at the opening of your fourth and (thankfully) final paragraph:
The androgynous masculinization of the modern woman, through the donning of pants, suits, uncovered shoulders and unveiled hair, has in a sense led to the slow whorification of ladyhood.
I'm curious about the phrase "androgynous masculinization." That sure is a mouthful. And delightfully contradictory. Androgynous indicates that there is a blurring of the sexes, if not an outright presence of aspects of both sexes. Masculinization indicates that one is bringing out aspects of masculinity. So which is it? One, the other, or both? Sad to say though, it's awfully hard to be androgynously masculine. Anyway...who cares about nit-picky things like linguistic accuracy when one is a bold culture warrior like yourself. Let's look at your concluding sentences, shall we?
In discarding feminine dress, women seem to have symbolically discarded femininity and modesty (the virtues of women) in favor of sexual virility, promiscuity and immodesty (the vices of men). The ideal form of a true lady is a constant, immutable aspect of humanity, and this strange new development can only represent a bizarre aberration of a perverse and ignoble culture. Dresses are an essential part of any true lady's attire, and they should be worn.Firstly, I would argue that virility, promiscuity and immodesty are not always regarded as "the vices of men." In fact men are often praised and admired for these character traits. One could also argue Ryan, that we as a culture have discarded modesty, not just women.
Do you watch Fox News? Have you ever noticed the sheer amount of cheesecake and girls gone wild they show during alleged news reporting? You should look into that. Or is it okay to show half-drunk hoochies in the name of social outrage? And frankly I think you need a couple of courses in semiotics or at least read some Barthes. The thing and the symbol of the thing are not such a simple system.
Also, I'm curious what all this talk of "true ladyhood" really means. You're very careful to just slip this in now and again. Oh, you touch on aspects of it in that dense and yet abstract opening paragraph, but you never really touch on anything material. You talk about aspects, but never specifics. This is called abstraction. It is something generally to be avoided in strong writing.
For instance--what is an affront to "true ladyhood?" Beyond being a slutty feminist? Drinking alcohol in public? Belching? Farting? Excusing oneself to go poo? Once you start assailing behaviors that are human as not living up to an idealized vision, you're letting yourself in for trouble. To paraphrase Shakespeare (who I'm sure you'll agree understood "true ladyhood") "there are more things in blue jeans and skirts Haecker than are dreamt of in your misogyny."
By the way--all women fart. And they poop, too. Not just feminists.
From WAVE-3 in Louisville.
Woman says restaurant kicked her out because of crying child
It seems to happen all the time: an unhappy child causing a scene in a public place. But one Louisville mom says a Springhurst restaurant went too far, throwing her and her family out of the restaurant. WAVE 3 Investigator Lindsay English spoke with the mom and the restaurant's representatives to sort out what happened.
Amanda Williams says her lunch at O'Charley's in Springhurst ended before it began, with her and her family being shown the door.
"I was so upset," Williams said. "I cried. I was devastated. I was embarrassed. Everybody was looking at me."
Williams says her tears came, after the restaurant's general manager asked her, her three sons and her sister to get out.
"He told me that if I could not hush my son, that he was going to have to ask us to leave," Williams recalled. She says her 20-month old son continued to cry, despite efforts to calm him. She claims that's why General Manager Joe Houle gave them the boot.
"He stood there with a very serious look on his face, and he says 'if you can't control your child, then we'll have to ask you to dine at another establishment," Williams said.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 19, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Elissabeth Hasselbach baby
What do poppers mean on Craigslist.
Ash and misty gaying.
Fluffy maribou feathers bulk.
How can increase pamela's boobs size video.
Mens room art book.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
The winsome (wince-some?) Camille P. is back in the virtual pages of Salon, bringing her own interesting mix of wit and wisdom...does she want to be the lesbian Harold Bloom? (Or is Harold Bloom already the lesbian Harold Bloom.) Seriously...if she wishes to be such an emasculating scold she should be wearing stilettos and brandishing a riding crop.
I'm not even going to TRY and take her down or call bullshit. TRex at Firedoglake has already done it. Just go here.
This has been a frightfully productive week. It's unnerving.
I got my aquarium broken down, re-substrated, replanted and functioning pretty well. At least none of the fish are dead. Got my car serviced (well...they're still waiting on a part for the radiator.) Got some poems done and am just about ready to send out more packets. I'm spent.
I'm working a graveyard shift. 11pm to 7 am. I sleep while it's still light out. Better than at night. It's bizarre. Most nights I wake up 3 or 4 times. Twice if I'm very lucky. Lately I only wake up once (unless I forget to turn off the phone which happened today "Hello?" (background noise static static) "HELLO." "Hi, this is LaShawn from Verizon, could I speak to Rob." "There's no Rob here." Click. I hate when people ask for Rob, or Bob, thinking that those are the default settings for the name Robert. All you're doing is pissing my happy ass off, insuring that I won't listen to your spiel or even consider buying what you're selling. Seriously--who tells these poor people that sort of plastic familiarity is charming? I feel the same way about overly-attentive, perky, chatty wait staff. I don't want you crouched down at my level. I don't care what you think about an entree unless I ask. It's not going to help your tip. Actually, I'll be more likely to tip better if you come and go as unobtrusively as possible. Check on our drinks, see if we want coffee or dessert then get the hell outta there. I know I'm not like most people--but seriously, this aggressively friendly, overly familiar stuff has got to go.
Project Runway Season 4 started tonight. All I can say is "Meh." I've got no real dog in this fight...which is strange, because I usually latch onto people the first episode. Way way way too much metallic fabrics. Very 80s cuts and proportions on a lot of the outfits. If this is where fashion is heading, then I'll just check out til next season. I lived through the 80s once. I don't want to go back. It's fun to have this back though. Brian and I always post mortem the episodes on the phone before he goes to bed. We don't agree on things...and we rarely like the same people, but it's fun. Just being able to be snarky and funny together is a great gift. Best line of the night: Heidi Klum saying "She looked like she was pooing fabric down the runway."
Sunday, November 11, 2007
|The Language of the Brag|| |
I have wanted excellence in the knife-throw,
I have wanted some epic use for my excellent body,
I have wanted courage, I have thought about fire
my belly big with cowardice and safely,
I have lain down and sweated and shaken
I have done what you wanted to do, Walt Whitman,
I and the other women this exceptional
These bits are from a week-old interview in the Minneapolis Star Tribune.
Q It's been your job for about the past 40 years to think up shocking ideas, and --
A No, no, no, I'll stop you on that one. I don't agree with shocking. If I was just trying to be shocking, my career would have stopped in 1972. I never tried to top it. I tried to surprise you and make you laugh at things that aren't safe to laugh at. It's easy to shock. It's harder to surprise people and make 'em laugh.
Q Anyway, surprising ideas. The question then is, does it get harder --
A No, every day I'm inspired by things. I live in Baltimore, that always inspires me. Things happen to me in my daily life that are funny every day. I was in a bar in Baltimore and I asked a guy what he did for a living. He said, "Can I be frank? I trade deer meat for crack." I can't think that up. I could think of three movies about him. I mean, does he wait at a deer crossing sign and gun it when he needed a fix? It takes a while to get deer meat so you have to plan ahead, which isn't what most junkies do. Little things like that, anything can inspire me.Q A couple weeks ago we had a case of somebody seeming normal but behaving oddly --
A Oh, at the airport! I hear that airport is becoming a big tourist attraction. I want to make a movie about it. "The Last Stall on the Left." Sex in a public bathroom? How could you? In every airport bathroom it's very crowded. It's in the main airport, eh? I have to go there. Which stall was it, do you know?
Q But what about "Hair --
A That's the most devious thing I ever did. Middle American families are going to "Hairspray" and seeing two men singing a love song. They're clapping and encouraging their 15-year-olds to date black guys. If I ever did anything perverse, that's it.
Q But it's been very well- receiv --
A Of course it has, that's what's subversive about it! They don't see. I'm an insider now. I'm the establishment. Isn't that hilarious? I've always wanted to sell out. Nobody would buy me.
Q You're at work on a children's film?
A I'm hoping to make it. We'll see if anybody gives me the green light. I'm in the middle of it. It's a terribly wonderful children's Christmas adventure called "Fruitcake." That's about all I say about it because after you do something, you have to talk about it the rest of your life.
Q What was your favorite movie as a kid?
A Always "The Wizard of Oz," because I wanted to be the witch. In "Cinderella" I rooted for the stepmother. ... I rooted for the queen in "Snow White," I rooted for Captain Hook. Always I was on the wrong side. Which continues.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Friday, November 2, 2007
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Since there's little more boring than waiting for glue to dry, I took the Tickle, Are You Masculine or Feminine test to while away time.
You're 42% feminine
This is based on how you scored on a variety of traits that, founded on classic research and our own studies, are typically associated with women.
You're also 58% masculine, which is based on how you scored on traits that are typically associated with men. When we compare your results with other men it shows that you are somewhat more feminine than other men.
From the "report" itself...
It is not uncommon for men to have higher masculine scores than feminine and for women to have higher feminine scores than masculine, but there are also many people whose masculine and feminine qualities are roughly equal to one another. When a person's masculine and feminine qualities are balanced they either have high levels or low levels of both. Each configuration has its own strengths and weaknesses.
Your test results indicate that you're Androgynous.
There're also some bullshit charts and stereotypical crap (being a sports fan is apparently very critical to being a man...likewise being cheerful is crucial to being a woman. I fail miserably at both.)