Monday, November 29, 2004

on hiatus until further notice

Monday, November 22, 2004

all's well that ends well

So my friends won first prize in the drag show Saturday night! Which, if you ask me, is only logical; of course the official campus feminists would be kick-ass drag kings. And I really wish I could have been there to see it. But, it's just as well I wasn't in the act, 'cause guess who was one of the judges?

That's right. TeacherCrush.

And I had a meeting with her this morning to discuss my term paper, which I survived fairly well, but there is no way in hell I would have come out of it alive if I had spent Saturday night prancing around in front of her with tube socks stuffed in my crotch.

god, I didn't know it was possible to die of theoretical embarrasment, but just the thought of it makes me want to crawl in a hole and end it all.

Anyway, I saw the pictures, and they all looked fantastic. I'll send you some L., as soon as I get copies; just wait till you see J. in her mullet wig. She looked exactly, in her words, "like a Mexican gangster." I mean they were seriously butch. It's awesome.

Speaking of butch, I got my CDs from Amazon this morning (about damn time):

The Butchies, Make Yr Life: 3 (fucking gorgeous) butch dykes, 1 bad-ass punk band. I know crap about pop music so I'll just leave it to them:

The Butchies’ fourth record is like alpenglow (a reddish glow seen near sunset or sunrise of the summits of mountains) absorbing into your pores – it simply commands a high-energy, emotionally-stuffed response. Make Yr Life is a colossal, intimate connection between the unrivalled punk-rock trio and their audience. It’s like waking from a coma, or like having your dog lick away your tears, or like the first kiss with that sexy girl with moonlight splashed on her face. But it’s also true that Kaia, Melissa and Alison’s intent with this record is simple: World Domination. If after listening to this 10-track cream dream you don’t feel like you just had one of the biggest epiphanies of your life, you clearly voted for Bush, and are immune to evolution. Make Yr Life is undoubtedly the record that will facilely evolve the music world as we know it (Mothership not included.)

and, I can't believe it took me this long to get this one, Tete's A la faveur de l'automne. (How the fuck do you do accents on this thing???) (Le site est tout en francais, but if you click on the "M" circle you can figure out how to navigate around) L. turned me on to Tete and I've been profoundly grateful ever since. There's a lot of Quebecois slang and dialect, so I really have no idea what the heck he's saying, but I adore him anyway. Of course it reminds me of my month in France, but wierdly enough it brings up lots of food memories. Freshly baked batardes, and tartes aux fraises (oh sacred heart of jesus those are wonderful. L., do me a favor, run out and eat one of these for me--they have them in Austria I guess--so I can at least enjoy it vicariously), orangina, proper quiches, Swiss chocolate, drinking expressos at Le Cafe d'horloge, mmm...

I can't figure out if all this food nostalgia is in anticipation of Thanksgiving, or a result of the fact that my meal plan ran out and I've been living off pop-tarts and oatmeal for the last week or so.

Anyway, yeah, so I have one more paper to write for tomorrow, and then it's off to Suburban Wasteland for a few days decent food and subconcious family tensions. Hope you have a good Thanksgiving L.! Pig out on some good European food and Austrian beer. I'll probably write you while I'm home.

Saturday, November 20, 2004

please excuse the stress-and-hormone-induced ravings


::jumps up and down screeching like a school-girl::

And she's playing Lydia! Like, omigod!!

And you straight girls go on about your Mr. Darcy and Colin Firth and wet shirts. Pshaw, I say. I've got Lizzy and Keira Knightley* and Jena Malone! In Regency dresses! omigawd!

*yes, I'm still in a torrid love/hate relationship with Keira; right now lust is winning out.

**edited to add: butch Jena!! completely dazed indeed

***oh god, it gets worse. They've got Rosamund Pike as Jane! There's no way I'm going to survive this movie. I'll just dissolve into a jibbering mess half-way through, in a puddle of MovieStarLust.

just because I'm crazy busy..

...doesn't mean I don't have time for a quiz. One always has time for quizzes.


C. is okay. She wasn't feeling well last night but she had some new medication that seemed to work. So, I think everything's okay now.

I am not, unfortunately, going to be in the annual drag show tonight. Too much shit has hit the fan and I will be spending the evening in the library researching a term paper so I don't make an ass out of myself when I meet with TeacherCrush to discuss it on Monday.

Okay. Back to work.

Thursday, November 18, 2004

A word of advice

To all the straight and bi chicks out there who might be reading this:

1. Use condoms. ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS. I know you've heard it before but I'm going lecture you again. I don't care if it "feels better" without condoms. Too bad. DO NOT USE BIRTH CONTROL IN LIEU OF CONDOMS. That is a really fucking stupid idea. You will still get a sexually transmitted infection.

2. If you're using birth control, get it from your doctor. Get a prescription (of course, you'll have to find a pharmicist willing to fill the damn thing, but that's another rant). DO NOT BORROW BIRTH CONTROL FROM A FRIEND. I know it's hard to get an appointment with Planned Parenthood, I know that maybe your health insurance doesn't cover it, I know you sometimes find yourself in situations where it's difficult to obtain, but please, these are serious drugs you are messing with and it will fuck up your body if you don't use it correctly. READ THE GODDAMN INFO BOOKLET. It's there for a reason. Make sure you understand the consequences of putting strong chemicals into your body.

I'm telling you this because I just spent the entire day at the hospital, watching one of my closest friends (and my roommate), C., puking her guts out till she had no more guts to puke. And it wasn't until an hour ago that I learned she had borrowed a pack of birth control from a friend of ours--she has a hot date this weekend. I read the info packet. You're not supposed to take it if you have a history of migraines. C. has a history of migraines. All the side-effects it listed are exactly the symptoms she has. C. didn't tell the doctor in the ER that she had started on birth control two days ago, probably because she was too busy vomiting and blacking out. I didn't tell him because I didn't know about it. I called up the hospital and informed the nurse, but they've been giving her drugs all day long without realizing she was on medication.

Jesus fucking christ almighty people!

Look. I'm a lesbian. My sex life currently is on par with that of a cloistered nun. My straight friends (read: all my friends) are fucking like goddamned bunnies and I know more about their health and safety risks than they do. This is a really fucked up scenario. I can get away without knowing shit about birth control. You straight girls can't. Please please please please PLEASE EDUCATE YOURSELF. You can read, can't you?

So go read:
Planned Parenthood
Birth Control
Safe Sex and Sexually Transmitted Diseases

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Angels in America

ROY:...I see the universe, Joe, as a kind of sandstorm in outer space with winds of mega-hurricane velocity, but instead of grains of sand it's shards and splinters of glass. You ever feel that way? Ever have one of those days?

--Tony Kushner

Monday, November 15, 2004

Very Like a Whale

One thing that literature would be greatly the better for
Would be a more restricted employment by the authors of simile and metaphor.
Authors of all races, be they Greeks, Romans, Teutons or Celts,
Can't seem just to say that anything is the thing it is but have to go out of their way to say that it is like something else.
What does it mean when we are told
That that Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold?
In the first place, George Gordon Byron had enough experience
To know that it probably wasn't just one Assyrian, it was a lot of Assyrians.
However, as too many arguments are apt to induce apoplexy and thus hinder longevity.
We'll let it pass as one Assyrian for the sake of brevity.
Now then, this particular Assyrian, the one whose cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold,
Just what does the poet mean when he says he came down like a wolf on the fold?
In heaven and earth more than is dreamed of in our philosophy there are great many things.
But I don't imagine that among them there is a wolf with purple and gold cohorts or purple and gold anythings.
No, no, Lord Byron, before I'll believe that this Assyrian was actually like a wolf I must have some kind of proof;
Did he run on all fours and did he have a hairy tail and a big red mouth and big white teeth and did he say Woof Woof?
Frankly I think it is very unlikely, and all you were entitled to say, at the very most,
Was that the Assyrian cohorts came down like a lot of Assyrian cohorts about to destroy the Hebrew host.
But that wasn't fancy enough for Lord Byron, oh dear me no, he had to invent a lot of figures of speech and then interpolate them,
With the result that whenever you mention Old Testament soldiers to people they say Oh yes, they're the ones that a lot of wolves dressed up in gold and purple ate them.
That's the kind of thing that's being done all the time by poets, from Homer to Tennyson;
They're always comparing ladies to lilies and veal to venison,
And they always say things like that the snow is a white blanket after a winter storm.
Oh it is, is it, all right then, you sleep under a six-inch blanket of snow and I'll sleep under a half-inch blanket of unpoetical blanket material and we'll see which one keeps warm,
And after that maybe you'll begin to comprehend dimly
What I mean by too much metaphor and simile.

-- Ogden Nash

Which is pretty much how I'm feeling, in regards to literature, at the moment. Drowning under another deluge of papers this week, so it will be mostly poetry posting, if I post at all.

Also, I seem to have entangled myself in the annual drag show. So if this Saturday night you should see four girls lip-synching to Michael Jackson's "Beat It," I'll be the one with the Flock of Seagulls hair-do. (oh god. what have I got myself into?)

Saturday, November 13, 2004

not an itinerant tourist. unfortunately.

Got L.'s letter yesterday. She's in Salzburg, and at the moment I'm suffering an attack of the green-eyed monster. I keep thinking of my day in Geneva; C. and I huddled under her umbrella as it drizzled and we wandered between gothic cathedrals and down medieval alleys, searching out every chocolaterie we could find and gorging on Swiss pastries, and my fruitless quest to find a bottle of uncarbonated water (why do Europeans drink fizzy water? why?? It's just unnatural). And I read in the paper today that one of my favorite French movies, Les Choristes, has finally made it to Nifty Art House Theatre in Suburban Wasteland, and I'm stuck here in Rural Small Town with "Seed of Chucky" and "SpongeBob SquarePants." I've been trying to console myself with the soundtrack I bought over the summer, but it isn't really working.

All this is just as an excuse to post more Billy Collins.


How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.

There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes of famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.

How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyed camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to climb back into the car

as if it were the great car of English itself
and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off
down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna.

Thursday, November 11, 2004

God Says Yes to Me

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if it was okay to be short
and she said it sure is
I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
she said you can do just exactly
what you want to
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph
my letters
Sweetcakes God said
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

--Kaylin Haught

"You know what the Python boys say..."

" 'Always look on the bright side of life'?"

"No. 'Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!'"*

Stuff that's made me laugh recently:

Someone found my blog while searching for "Vagina Woolf".

Signature seen on the Technodyke message board: Arrrr, I am the Pirate of Love and I've come for your booty. (Well I think it's funny, but then I'm a dyke with a pirate obsession...)

It's like right before democracy went into carbon freezing, I said, "I love you." And democracy looked back and said, "I know."

Turns out my lovely Fiona Shaw (aka the fabulous Mrs. Croft) is a total dyke! I knew it! With Saffron Burrows, no less (the blond bombshell in Enigma). Well done Fiona!

And this didn't make me laugh but it's good to pass on: Top Contributors to the 2004 Bush Campaign. Put your money where your mouth is and boycott these guys.

*Name that movie reference! You won't win anything, but I'll think you're really cool.

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

busy nothings

I think we can safely say that the amount of memes/quizzes/nonsense I post is in direct inverse proportion to my academic productivity.

A meme from The Muttering Muse
Quote: “Take no heed of her,” explained Jones apologetically. “She reads a lot of books.” The Eyre Affair, Jasper Fforde
Book: Mrs. Dalloway
Favorite line from the above book:
For having lived in Westminster—how many years now? over twenty,— one feels even in the midst of the traffic, or waking at night, Clarissa was positive, a particular hush, or solemnity; an indescribable pause; a suspense (but that might be her heart, affected, they said, by influenza) before Big Ben strikes. There! Out it boomed. First a warning, musical; then the hour, irrevocable. The leaden circles dissolved in the air. Such fools we are, she thought, crossing Victoria Street. For Heaven only knows why one loves it so, how one sees it so, making it up, building it round one, tumbling it, creating it every moment afresh; but the veriest frumps, the most dejected of miseries sitting on doorsteps (drink their downfall) do the same; can’t be dealt with, she felt positive, by Acts of Parliament for that very reason: they love life. In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment of June.
Dessert: turtle cheesecake
Place: the state park near my house
Person: probably S. at the moment.
Song: "Red-Haired Mary", Dervish
Smell: Lilacs
Time of day: dusk and dawn. Those in-between times
Word: bildungsroman. Such a quintessentially English word, with its mish-mash of German and French. And it's fun to say. Bildungsroman. Bildungsroman!

That 200 Things meme that's been going around is mostly a list of what I haven't done, but here's the stuff I have managed to do:

3. Climbed a mountain
9. Hugged a tree
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea
16. Gone to a huge sports game
18. Grown and eaten my own vegetables
21. Changed a baby's diaper
26. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
27. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
32. Had a snowball fight
34. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
40. Seen a total eclipse
41. Rode on a roller coaster
44. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
47. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
53. Had amazing friends
61. Midnight walk on the beach
64. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
69. Alphabetized your records
77. Played in the mud
78. Played in the rain
79. Gone to a drive-in theater
82. Discovered that someone who's not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog
93. Loved someone you shouldn't have
98. Made cookies from scratch
131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did
132. Called or written your Congress person
136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
157. Rode a horse
163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
173. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
196. Dyed your hair

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

Dear Southerners*

Take your liberal-bashing, federal-tax-leaching, confederate-flag-waving, holier-than-thou, hypocritical bullshit and shove it up your ass.

Fuck y'all.

A Blue Midwesterner in a Red State.

*Yes, I know this is monumentally unfair to all the cool Southerners I really do know and love. But jesus that made my *day*

Current state of things

Wearing: pseudo Oxford Women's Cricket shirt, plaid skirt, purple-and-blue-and-brown striped knee socks, the Big Ass Dyke Boots.
Drinking: Numi Moonlight Orange Spice White Tea.
Upset that: I procrastinated so much on my Evelina paper, because I eventually found some great essays by Margaret Anne Doody and Susan Fraiman that show just how complex and fascinating the novel really is, and I've fallen in love with it all over again, and I want to run out and get copies of Cecilia and Camilla and The Wanderer.
Luxuriating in: the fact that I bought two buttons and a poster from Dyketees. Fight the power! with, uh, consumerism...
Reading: See list on the right. And by "reading" I mean "haven't picked it up in several weeks and am distraught."
Learning: I need to trust my own smarts and my own emotions. I need to organize my time better. And I need to take better care of my body.
Downloading: screen captures of Rachael Stirling.
Wanting: L. to write me back! My Dervish CD, which I seem to have lost. And a rest. Emotional, intellectual, physical rest and recuperation. It's been a hell of a year (or two, or four, or ten, depending how you look at it...)
Listening to: "Maids at 18"--The Witches of Elswick.

Sunday, November 07, 2004


I should start on my Evelina paper, but I'm taking the Juliette Lewis Questionaire instead (I have no idea why it's called that).

Did you ever stab someone or cut them intentionally with a sharp object?
No. I'm more the passive-aggressive type. I'm more likely to slash your tires at night than stab you directly.

Do you like asparagus?

Do you have a middle name?
Yes. It's French.

Do cats frustrate you as pets, or do you admire their independence?
They make me sneeze, so I'm glad they don't try to drool all over you like dogs do.

Did you ever break someone’s nose?
Nope. Why break someone's nose when I can just make fun of it mercilessly?

Would you say you have won more fights than you've lost?
Well obviously don't get into a lot of fights. Whenever I'm faced with a physical altercation I generally scamper away, taunting my enemy with "Oh yeah? Well you'll have to *catch* me first!"

Was there a time when you were mystified by the workings of the penis?
Excuse me while my inner third-grader goes "EWWWW! ICKY ICKY ICKY!!" I'm pretty much indifferent to it. I always think of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine says "I don't know how you guys walk around with those things! Must be like having a slinky in your pants!"

Do you look more like your mother or father?
Apparently with my hair short I look just like my mom. But I have my father's nose.

Did you ever date an older man or woman and what did they teach you?
Well I'm not really *dating* her per se, but she is teaching me lots. Mostly stuff about 9th century Northumbrian politics and cultural syncreticism in early medieval literature...

What's the first memory you have of the naked body?
Probably all the communal baths I had with my cousins when I was little.

Did you go to sleep-away summer camp?
I was always too shy to go to summer camp. Plus I was never much for group activities; I didn't even last very long in the Girl Scouts.

Do you like roller coasters?
I'm a roller-coaster fiend! When I was kid I used to cry because I was too short to ride on them.

What do you imagine happens to someone after the body dies?
I don't know; now that I've abandoned the Catholic concepts of Heaven/Purgatory/Hell I'm kind of at a loss. I'm working with a sort of Taoist principle at the moment; when we die our energy/life-force/soul/what have you becomes part of the greater energy of all nature. Something like that.

How do you explain Mozart writing symphonies at seven?
I can't; I just marvel at the infinite complexity and capacity of the human brain.

Did the female anatomy ever mystify and scare you?
Scare, no; mystify, yes, absolutely. This is a crazy beautiful contraption I'm walking around in.

Have you ever been caught in a natural disaster?
Well I very narrowly escaped Hurricane Charley, but no, not really.

Did you ever own Birkenstocks?
Birkenstocks are fucking expensive! Besides, I like my boots better.

What was your favourite expression growing up?
"I know you are but what am I?" "Oh yeah? You and what army?" "I'm rubber, you're glue..." I also threw around "Your mama wears combat boots!" a few times.

Did you ever fall in love with an animal in a way where you wished you could talk to each other like human friends?
We had a dog when I was a kid, I used to talk to her like she was people all the time.

Do you have hope for humanity? And if not, how can you honestly keep on going in the face of that hopelessness?
Yes and no. Ordinary people are capable of great things but they're more easily capable of myopic selfishness. I'm really believing Foucault's idea that there is no liberation, only resistance. You can never liberate yourself from power dynamics and structures, but you can fight them, you can change them. You can attempt to make a new world, and whether you're successful is almost beside the point; it's the attempt itself that matters. I always feel it's better to try and fail miserably than to do nothing and fail anyway. I'd rather go down fighting than go quietly. If I was living in 30's-era Germany, I'd rather hide Jews in my attic than look the other way. Join the Resistance and bomb railways. I'd probably get caught, I wouldn't be able to stop the war or the Holocaust, but it's better than apathetic sin by omission. At least, I like to think that about myself.
(Hm. So much for fluff.)

Saturday, November 06, 2004


See? Fluffy nonsense. According to google I am a Canadian orphan, the spinster daughter of minor English nobility, and hiding from the Nazis. And possibly a Brazilian p0rn star.

anne is special (I edited the list for repeats and wierdness, but this seriously was the first result)
anne is bored with her current homepage
anne is new mayor
anne is an author
anne is kindly fetched by the trumpet
anne is a book
anne is a naughty average girl
anne is awesome
anne is a bitch
anne is the greatest
anne is starvin' marvin
anne is stuck with him
anne is a infant
anne is pleased to accept your special order requests
anne acting special anne didn't know my camera could do movies
anne is invited out to tea
anne is such an unromantic name (beg to differ!)
anne is fashion's weakest link (Am not! I look killer in the Big-Ass Dyke Boots!)
anne is eight years old
anne is 10
anne is loved by millions the world over (See, that cheers me right up!)
anne is a kindred spirit
anne is the one who speaks and introduces herself
anne is thrilled to meet the dashing american writer jack garrison
anne is an expert in the field of people (Oh ha. This would be funny if it weren't so depressing)
anne is committed to tax relief
anne is including a free lds youth short story on this website
anne is dead (Well, that explains why I've had such a bad week...)
anne is an attractive 18
anne is a paradise for snowboarders
anne is a member of actra and the canadian actors' equity association
anne is located north of downtown
anne is a literacy champion
anne is shocked at the differences between her own family and that of the van daans
anne is frightened because she is not used to such darkness and silence at night
anne is rather modern in her dress and speech
anne is currently parliamentary private secretary to rt hon patricia hewitt mp
anne is a real estate agent that is known in the community of new bedford for her dedicated client service
anne is drawn to help her
anne is distraught and begs him to reconsider
anne is instrumental in the arrangement and production of her cover and it shows especially in the remixes where she injects pace and personality into a
anne is issued her private pilot's license
anne is very beautiful
anne is (That's right folks. I AM Who AM!)
anne is a professional speaker (no, I'm really not)
anne is open to change and willing to accept direction
anne is put on trial for witchcraft (YIKES)
anne is not subsidized
anne is a member of the official phenomenal women of the web seal
anne is standing in front of a traditional picket fence with wild roses blooming on either side
anne is very dynamic and motivating
anne is well known for her versatility
anne is the patroness of brittany
anne is a lecturer in modern british history with interests which run from the eighteenth to the twentieth centuries
anne is an inspirational and dynamic keynoter and trainer who is consistently ranked highest on participant evaluations
anne is a featured author in this book of heartwarming
anne is sitting in front of bright river station waiting to be picked up and taken to her new foster home
anne is dressed in a green and white polka dot pinafore (Well no wonder I'm fashion's weakest link)
anne is a natural healer who gives workshops
anne is off to uppercross
anne is the patron saint of equestrians (Am I the patron saint of Breton equestrians?)
anne is newly built with every modern amenity
anne is fortunate to have two campuses of the university of maryland nearby
anne is located across from the millennium bank at the plaza entrance
anne is clearly above such matters
anne is granted permission to go to the ball and before matthew goes to the lawson's mercantile to buy anne a dress
anne is now 27 and is starting to feel herself prematurely middle
anne is an international caliber resort with the following facilities
anne is interested in the teaching of all skills within eap courses
anne is not a real girl (I'm a superhero)
anne is incredible (See?)
anne is a life member of the ninety
anne is redefining the level of women's riding with insane amplitude and smooth technical tricks
anne is displayed for public in the regina caeli chapel of st
anne is currently preparing to go into the studio with legendary american producer and guitarist john beland
anne is responsible for looking after the express horses lodged at the station
anne is never portrayed the same
anne is forced to listen to the constant
anne is asked to provide the keynote address for photokina 1998
anne is a great getaway
anne is an initiated priestess of the reclaiming and feri traditions of witchcraft (I guess that's why I'm on trial. Get out before I start naming names!)
anne is rescued by peg and returns to avonlea with a new found respect for this mysterious woman of the woods
anne is a star
anne is debugging
anne is escorted
anne is cips usa fuck
anne is my little little world
anne is infectous (Wow. I really do have cooties!)
anne is koerper teen mpegs
anne is elegant
anne is gefesselte amatur orgy
anne is home to a wide variety of colourful fish and is a tempting invitation to swimming
anne is presented flowers after the trade and tourism luncheon april 25
anne is a true story about an abandoned dog that touched the hearts of all she met
anne is finally here
anne is located in the central catskills la duchesse
anne is a first class hotel
anne is devastated but
anne is well respected internationally as a dj and producer
anne is a generic reader (I think not)
anne is visiting the usa and europe in november and december to promote and discuss her new book pure
anne is a member of romance writers of america
anne is soooo cute and unique
anne is very outspoken
anne is contemporary
anne is one of memphis finest assets
anne is the best of times and the worst of times
anne is open as part of the art tour 2003 at
anne is nudesmale p0rnografia portuguesa
anne is here
anne is evicted
anne is brasilenas xx story
anne is leathermen pakistan (That's just scary)
anne is livecam prostitution dallas
anne is fetishfemdom springbreak
anne is stadium desnudos gratis
anne is ok
anne is in a snow storm
anne is "virtually" separated from her husband
anne is an island (Shows what you know, Mr. Donne!)
anne is the outcast
anne is a superior tourist
anne is very happy at sam’s house
anne is not the sort of person to sit at home and do nothing and decided to look into volunteering
anne is south brent's unsung hero
anne is still among us at the amazing age of 112
anne is a seasoned word surgeon (This one's my favorite)

Friday, November 05, 2004


Spent the entire day--hell, week--wanting to curl up in a fetal position and die. The Guerrilla Girls are trying to cheer me up.

Trading the tedium of college for the adventure of the battlefield.
Enjoying global warming through the sunroof of your SUV.
Being assured adoption will be easier with contraception unavailable and abortion illegal.
Having more public housing options—behind bars.
Learning to "do-it-yourself" as our alien workforce is deported.
Being titillated by government agents penetrating your intimate data.
Basking in the glow of US world dominance in WMDs.
Not being confused by opposing views in the media.
Leaving something of significance to your children—the deficit.
Knowing your passionate gay sex life will not be dulled by the sanctity of marriage.
Getting a rush as yet another developing country is selected for liberation.
Not having to suffer through Evolutionary Biology—now we know God the Father created the Universe.
Feeling confident that your hard work as a Guerrilla Girl will be needed more than ever.

Print out your own copy; I've got one on my door. After all, it's just me and C. against the wanna-be nun across the way and the three Dubya bumper stickers down the hall. And I really really want this Dyketees shirt but I can only afford the button.

Nope, still feel shitty.

The situation with TeacherCrush is probably making everything just that much worse. It's exhausting. Three days a week I sit there in this amazing class, learning so much and loving every minute, but secretly eating my heart out the whole time. It's quite an exquisite torment. I do not want to feel this way about her. I want it to stop. And I find myself increasingly attracted to a straight friend of mine who sits next to me; just to rub salt in the wound.

All this really fucking sucks when you live smack in the middle of Red State Jesusland, and not even Evelina makes me feel any better.

(I promise to post light and fluffy memes and quizzes in the future; but fuck, right now it's my blog and I'll cry if I want to).

Thursday, November 04, 2004

not really a rant

I haven't the energy, or the time. This is more a collection of disjointed thoughts.

Tuesday morning I voted, for all the good it did me. Wednesday afternoon I marched in an anarchist protest (that's right I said ANARCHIST you Big Brother government narcs). We walked through the cold and rain beating drums and waving signs and generally pissing off the locals, and now my lovely new hat smells like wet Alpaca. I think there I accomplished more than my mere vote ever could. I know I make cracks about moving to Canada, and sometimes they're more sincere than sarcastic, but really this election has only radicalized me further. I don't want to run away; I'm spoiling for a fight. There's really nowhere I could run to anyway; like Woolf says, as a woman I have no country; as a queer there's nowhere I am safe. More and more I feel like Thomas Paine, "My country is the world and my religion is to do good." The only things I believe in, any more, are nature and poetry. Forgive me if I trot out that oft-quoted bit of William Carlos Williams

You will not find it there but in
despised poems.
It is difficult
to get the news from poems
yet men die miserably every day
for lack
of what is found there.
Hear me out
for I too am concerned
and every man
who wants to die at peace in his bed

but it's the only truth I've got at the moment. I'm more composed today, but all that rage you find in the Queer Nation tract is still there, just below the surface. I'll be putting it to good use in the next four years.

In addition to Choriamb, I've finally found a decent "poem-a-day" site.

Wednesday, November 03, 2004


Well. The presidential pissing contest is over, and it's official. Bush's cock really is bigger than Kerry's! (There's a Bush/Dick joke in there somewhere but I haven't the heart to find it).

I was expecting this. I knew it was coming. And I'm still so furious I can barely see straight (pun intended). All the lefty political bloggers have been saying "Calm down, it's not the end of the world, don't despair, there's still reason to hope!" And I agree with them. They've got very valid points. But right now I'm one fucking rage-filled dyke. I have half a mind to write a Queer Nation I Hate Straights diatribe. I think I could dissolve into sputtering foaming at the mouth incoherency at any moment. Cover your ears for the next day or so, I feel a profanity-laden dish-smashing rant coming on.

On the bright side, when I asked Canada to marry me the other day, she said yes.

Tuesday, November 02, 2004

kiss me, I voted!

That's the kind of sticker they should hand out at the polls. More cheery. I voted a straight Democratic ticket, so while I didn't have the satisfaction of puncturing that chad for Kerry while whispering "Take that motherfucker!", it still got the job done.

god I want this to be over. We've been working so hard and I'm so fucking tired. * Edited to add: but at least I got another excuse to wear my Peace Love and Lesbians t-shirt!

Monday, November 01, 2004

reason # 38975092374 why I should move to Canada

Apparently Canada has a "Random Acts of Poetry Week", where "during this week Canadian poets stopped random people all over the country and read poetry to them."


Canada, will you marry me?

Via Choriamb (fifth entry). Can't link to the news article even with a "bug me not" account, so that's the best I can do.