Friday, May 30, 2008

simple wishes

my mom's health is improving every minute. yesterday she stood up for the first time in eight days, the antibiotics are beginning, finally, to chase away this major infection, she is in good spirits, and the biggest indication that she's feeling better: she is very, very, VERY chatty. I am usually the last of the family to leave her hospital room at night (mostly because I live ten minutes away and the rest of my family has an hour drive), and I have learned to savor that last hour or so of the evening when it's just the two of us. Even the nurses seem to understand that this is a special time and make every effort to respect our space. We've had incredible conversations, intimate, revealing, close-to-the-heart talks.

last night she wanted to talk about my work, about my activism, and about God. she told me how proud she was of me, and of how she looked up to me. she talked about the potential referendum that's happening here in Maine, and of how it broke her heart that there are people in this world who make it their life's mission to push people like me back into the closet. she said she worries for my safety sometimes, because she knows that some of those people hate me for the work that i do and for the person that i am.

she proclaimed proudly and with great conviction that she was a Christian, that God had been guiding her through these hard times, and that God was watching over our family. And that there was no way this God would look at me and think I was an abomination. That above all else, God smiles down at love of family, at compassion, at gentle care for our fellow human beings. She said this is how God lives within us and that she knows God lives deep within me. That God made me exactly the way I am, and that He looks at me and thinks, "well done." She said "i wish the people who think you don't deserve your own family could see the way you've cared for me, what you've done for me. but they never will, because they just don't want to." it was very, very sweet.

ah. i wish that too, truly. but that wish pales in comparison to other, simpler wishes. i wish that when i walk into her hospital room this morning, she will be smiling and feeling good. i wish for more of these amazing moments with my mom. i wish for more time, i wish for years. i wish for healing. i wish to put my bare feet in the green grass of Shapleigh and i wish for my mom to be sitting right beside me when i do.

As horrible as this experience has been, there have also been profound gifts presented to us. My mother and I have always known we loved one another, there has never, ever been any doubt about that. but in this past month, something has deepened between us in a most beautiful way. i feel...connected to her...close in a way that is simply indescribable. we are fundamentally different now, we have crossed some amazing plane into a place that runs deeper than oceans.

as my mom would say...God is good. amen.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008

in praise of healers

I have literally 10 minutes to write this...and then I am off to the hospital to spend time with my mom. I mentioned before that she went through major back surgery on the 9th...had to have *more* emergency surgery on the 12th...spent 6 more days at the hospital recovering. She was rushed via ambulance and re-admitted this past Friday due to a serious infection. On the ambulance ride to Portland, I believe with my whole heart that the EMT's (who I have a deep and abiding respect and admiration for...they are, quite simply, the unsung heroes of my mother's saga) saved her life at least three times. Yeah. It's been a nightmare.

Early Tuesday morning, around 1 am, my mom hit rock bottom (her words) and was filled with a despair that she was never going to leave the hospital. She is very religious--and she tells me she prayed, hard, for a sign that she would see the green grass and big sky of Shapleigh once more. 10 minutes later, in walked her night nurse, a wonderful woman with a beautiful soul who my family is quickly learning to love. This nurse spent much of this early morning with my mom, first talking and listening, then massaging, then doing Reiki on her for a time. My mom describes the Reiki (which she had never heard of before) as the most amazing, comforting thing she has ever felt.

When I walked into the hospital at 7 that morning, she told me that God answered her prayers last night and sent her this nurse. And that a great deal of her pain was gone...poof. And that she was no longer filled with despair, but had a new hope that she would indeed get better and find her way home again. She said that for the first time in nearly 6 years, she was feeling little if any pain. And it should be noted that she went 13 hours yesterday without pain medication. I am fully aware that I may walk in her room this morning and find that she has had another setback--yet this gift of spending yesterday without pain is extraordinary.

There are small miracles that happen constantly in hospitals, and in my mom's case at least, nurses are usually the ones who hand-deliver these miracles. This experience has been overwhelming, in so many ways. Every night I leave the hospital, I am so deeply thankful for the care and compassion and love that these nurses have shown my mom, and by extension, my family.

And most especially I am thankful for this angel of a woman who gently laid her hands on my mom and gave her hope.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

send a thought her way

in what is becoming a seemingly never-ending saga of how much the human body, mind, and spirit can endure, my mom is back at maine med, fighting a new battle against a still-to-be-determined enemy.

stay tuned.

Friday, May 23, 2008

exactly, lady bug

Published in this week's Portland Phoenix.

Amen, Lady Bug.

May 21, 2008 5:57:37 PM

Youth for

With news of the recent endorsement of Chellie Pingree by the League of Young Voters (see "League of Young Voters Primary Endorsements," by Deirdre Fulton, May 6, at, I am writing to remind people that not all young voters support her. As a young, lesbian, feminist woman voter, I support Ethan Strimling because he is willing to fight for all Maine people, especially those of us who live within the margins. Although I am impressed by his voting record as a state senator, I support Ethan because the personal is political.

Ethan Strimling is a community activist I have collaborated with many times. When providing prevention education at Portland West, I witnessed Ethan’s hands-on style as a director, clearly involved with the people his organization serves, Portland’s at-risk youth. As a domestic violence advocate, I have watched as Ethan supported victims of abuse not only legislatively but locally, by attending vigils and events in his community. During pride events, I am never surprised to see Ethan in attendance, allied with LGBT Mainers. Throughout my involvement with the League of Young Voters, Ethan has backed our efforts enthusiastically, showing up for events and meetings in Portland and speaking on our organization’s behalf in Augusta — long before he decided to run for Congress.

Though it lacks the backing of a major political organization, I am proud to say Ethan Strimling has my personal endorsement as a candidate for Congress.

Jill Barkley


It's no secret...I am a vocal supporter of Ethan. And I was kind of blown away by the League's endorsement, particularly after reading their analysis of him in their voter guide and getting the sense that their biggest knock on Ethan is that he doesn't have the strong relationships in DC that Pingree has. Honestly, I'm far more interested in the relationships that a candidate has with the people he intends to represent. And Ethan's advocacy of Maine people is just superior to that of Pingree's, particularly those Mainers, as Jill eloquently articulated, who live within the margins. Their (our) voices have been silenced by the politics-as-usual denizens of DC, and Ethan would end that silence on Day One.

If you missed the televised live debate on WSCH this past Wednesday, find a spare hour before June 10th and watch it on line here. I'm confident that once you watch it, you'll see what I see...that Ethan is a champion of social and economic justice issues, and that he'll be the vehicle and voice that Maine people need.

And vote dammit. We are the change we've been looking for, so long as we get off our butts and take some action. And the first step is checking those little boxes on the ballot.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

afternoon vids

first, a very funny political satire ad from Saturday Night Live...

and now a very scary piece by Brave New Films about John McCain and corporate media's refusal to cover his real public record. Please. I don't care which bandwagon you are currently a passenger on--Clinton's or Obama's. Vote for the Democratic nominee, whoever it is. McCain is simply terrifying.

i heart the red sox

in honor of jon lester's no-hitter last night at fenway...

i have been a red sox fanatic, a freaky, obsessed, neurotic, superstitious die-hard member of sox nation since...well...since birth. i went to my first game at fenway park when i was in the womb and according to my mom, that night i was kicking like crazy. those cute little infant sox uniforms and ball caps were not part of the marketing strategy back in the dark ages, but if they had been, i'm certain i would have been decked out in full garb for my very first baby photo. i learned the sox players' names around the same time i learned the alphabet, and my dad would ask me to reel off the sox starting line-up in front of family and friends. i would do it flawlessly--at the age of four. If I had sat down at a piano and pounded out Beethoven's Für Elise, he wouldn't have been beamed any prouder.

Watching the Sox creep ever close to winning a world series and then blowing it in crushing, heartwrenching fashion has been a Huntress family tradition. I remember Carlton Fisk's home run against Cincinatti in '75 with the same kind of joy that most people remember the birth of their grandchildren. (as an aside, when fisk was traded to the chicago white sox in 1980, i was so upset i cried for a week...not the first time, or the last, that my beloved Sox would cause me to shed a few tears). I remember exactly where I was, what i was wearing, what i was EATING, when the ball went through Buckner's legs in '86, in the same way people remember what they were doing when Kennedy was shot...and while it would simply be wrong and awful to compare those two events, let's just say that my gutteral reaction may have been very, very similar too.

When the Sox finally won it in 2004, I called my dad and stayed on the phone with him throughout the ninth inning, because I wanted to hear his voice when the curse was broken. When Foulke tossed that ground ball to first and Joe Castigliani yelled "CAN YOU BELIEVE IT" on the radio, my dad and i just started screaming and laughing and crying over the was a spectacular moment.

Every morning I walked into the hospital room at Maine Med to visit my mom last week, this is exactly how our first conversation would go...

morning are you feeling today?

i'm doing okay darl. did the sox win last night??

the woman has her priorities straight, no doubt about it.

ps: the sox were on a bit of losing streak during my mom's extended stay in the hospital. she's convinced they were just too worried about her and couldn't concentrate on playing well.

it should be noted that they haven't lost since she returned home.


i think not.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

eat pray love

now that my mom is home, and finally beginning the long process of recuperating from her nine days in absolute hell, a good portion of her care involves watching her sleep. this is a welcome relief from watching her try to survive constant, excruciating pain, believe me. and so i've been spending her "down" time reading elizabeth gilbert's "eat, pray, love", a wonderful book recommended to me by the always lovely Monique. the book follows one year of Gilbert's life as she travels to Italy (eat), India (pray) and Indonesia (love) during an especially difficult time in her life.

I've just finished the Italy journey.

My favorite passage:

"It was in a bathtub back in New York, reading Italian words aloud from a dictionary, that I first started mending my soul. My life had gone to bits and I was so unrecognizable to myself that I probably couldn't have picked me out of a police lineup. But I felt a glimmer of happiness when I started studying Italian, and when you sense a faint potentiality for happiness after such dark times you must grab onto the ankles of that happiness and not let go until it drags you face-first out of the dirt--this is not selfishness, but obligation. You were given life; it is your duty (and also your entitlement as a human being) to find something beautiful within life, no matter how slight.

I came to Italy pinched and thin. I did not know yet what I deserved. I still maybe don't fully know what I deserve. But I do know I have collected myself of late--through the enjoyment of harmless pleasures--into somebody much more intact. The easiest, most fundamentally human way to say it is that I have put on weight. I exist more now than I did four months ago. I will leave Italy noticeably bigger than when I arrived here. And I will leave with the hope that the expansion of one person--the magnification of one life--is indeed an act of worth in this world. Even if that life, just this one time, happens to be nobody's but my own."

I also enjoyed this little passage, mostly because i can relate to being The Family Flake. And because my nieces lovingly refer to me as their "Crazy Auntie Darl."

"...I'm wary of the danger that if I drift about this world randomly for too long, I may someday become the Family Flake. Or it may have already happened. Last summer, my five-year-old niece had a little friend over to my sister's house to play. I asked the child when her birthday was. She told me it was January 25.

'Uh-oh!' I said. 'You're an Aquarius! I've dated enough Aquarians to know that they are trouble.'

Both five-year-olds looked at me with bewilderment and a bit of fearful uncertainty. I had a sudden horrifying image of the woman I might become if I'm not careful: Crazy Aunt Liz. The divorcee in the muumuu with the dyed orange hair who doesn't eat dairy but smokes menthols, who's always just coming back from her astrology cruise or breaking up with her aroma-therapist boyfriend, who reads the Tarot cards of kindergarteners and says things like, 'Bring Aunty Liz another wine cooler, baby, and I'll let you wear my mood ring.'

Eventually I may have to become a more solid citizen again, I'm aware of this.

But not yet...please. Not just yet."

Stay tuned...more passages to follow, I'm sure.

listening to

on the way down to shapleigh today, i threw in an old pat benatar cd...precious time, 1984. oh my god how i love that damn cd. i was just rockin' on route 111, singing every song at the top of my damn lungs and feelin'

pat benatar was a goddess to me all through high school and into my college years. my college roommate and i must have played her albums a thousand times. over and over and over again.

i was just coming out at the tail end of the 80's, and for me, pat benatar was THE perfect woman. sexy, femme, and full of attitude. her look (those stiletto heels!) her music, her bravado, her i was utterly smitten.

i found this video today...promises in the dark...the first cut on the album.


god DAMN i love the 80's.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

it *is* possible to post on a blog while fast asleep

i am happy to report that my mom is en route to shapleigh at this very moment.

in a related story, the radical homosexual rights movement, also known as amazonian politico, has collapsed on her bed and may not likely be heard from for the next 24 hours.

eye witnesses say she fell asleep almost immediately after collapsing, and it is reported that she had a smile on her face.

film at 11.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

comic interlude

a bizarre moment of animal and human role-reversal...

i was just sitting on my bed with my laptop, and heard a thump, a splash, and a rather distressed meow. i looked up to see willie run into the bedroom and give me that lassie, lassie, timmy fell in the well!! kinda look and then he turned around and ran into the bathroom.

so i followed him.

and i walked into the bathroom just in time to see oscar struggling his way out of the toilet.

my dad is gonna love this story.

one step forward, two steps back

today was not a good day. it may have been the hardest one of all so far for my mom. i keep hearing that the third day after surgery is notoriously awful...i can't figure out if people are saying this to reassure us and to make us believe that tomorrow will be better, or if it's really true. i am praying for the second scenario.

lily tomlin once said "it's going to get a whole lot worse before it gets worse."

um, yeah.

corey just dropped me off, and all i want to do is walk out the door and go back to my mom, but i also know that i'm no good to her if i can't keep my thoughts clear. so i'm going to meditate, for the first time in six days, and do some really. serious. tonglen.

and i will sleep, holding my mom tight in my heart, and tomorrow will be a new day. and we will find our way through it.

day six

i wrote in an email to a friend last night that i am so tired, my eyelashes ache.

yesterday seemed to be a better day for my mom. she walked a little, which utterly exhausted her, but still...putting one foot in front of the other and moving forward is something new and different for her, so that's progress. most of the day was spent trying to find a combination of meds that did not have her "flying high" as she put it. she's had crazy reactions to the pain medication and we spend a lot of time reassuring her that she is not late for class, or that the tips from her waitressing job when she was 23 years-old have been deposited safely in the bank. there is a possibility of a rehab stint, which doesn't please her. i know she's longing for the trees and the big sky in shapleigh, but she's resilient. thankfully, there is less pain for her to deal with, and that gives her hope, something she's not had in a long time. it's amazing what that tiny dose of hope can do for the heart.

when you are essentially in the vortex of a bedside vigil, it becomes a different world entirely than the one outside of the hospital. i have lost any sense of time and reality. the outside world just does not exist while you are in that hospital, and it's surreal when you walk away. i spent about five hours at the office yesterday and felt completely disoriented and lost. like a visitor in a foreign country. all i could think about was getting back to my mom, and work felt like a heavy pile of boulders that i had to somehow find the resolve to lift and then plow through. let's just say i had to dig DEEP for the will to do it. and i could feel the on/off button switch inside of me. everything felt...hollow. everything echoed. it was so. bizarre.

another strange phenomenon happens when people from that outside world come inside this "other" life. it's not so much family and close friends of my parents...somehow they fit into the context of the hospital room, because you've seen them before in similar situations and so it sort of makes sense. but when one of my friends shows up, it's almost shocking to see them walk through the door. everything seems gray in the hospital, and when i see a friend, it's like they add color and depth to the environment. (ever see the movie Pleasantville? it's exactly like that.) really, the color almost blinds you. and they look...clean. well-groomed. and awake. which is all such a startling contrast to the disheveled zombies that the rest of us have seemingly become. they are a literal breath of fresh air. and i am always flooded with emotion. i can be perfectly fine and stoic, and when i see them, i just start crying like a baby. it pours out of me. and i can't stop it, no matter how hard i try. this is not something i'm normally good at--this whole crying thing--but i seem to have become an expert in these last six days.

i spent a few hours alone with my mom yesterday--my sister came in and kidnapped my dad to get him outside and away--you know, to remind him what the Real World looks like. mostly i just held her hand, stroked her hair, and guided her through her medication-induced dreams. in one very lucid moment, she looked at me and said "Darl, I'm so glad you have such wonderful friends. You've never had friends like this, your whole life. They really love you." Five minutes later, in walks the Matriarch, almost as if to sort of reinforce her point.

I think my mom finds comfort in that.

I know I do.

Monday, May 12, 2008

the quickest of updates

the last four days, i am certain, have been some of the most difficult of my mom's life. the first surgery was disastrous...and after a ridiculously long weekend of just horrific pain, my mom endured a second surgery today with much more promising results.

i am falling into bed now...and will write more when i can. i have received so. many. fabulous well-wishes from y'all, and just wanted to say thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

and especially to the matriarch, mchottie, corey, jill and auds. it's amazing how a friendly face or the sound of a friend's voice on the telephone can give such a tremendous lift to a tired heart. i have never felt so loved, or taken care of, and because of that i've been better able to love and take care of my mom. such a gift these women are. such a gift.

stay tuned...

Friday, May 09, 2008


it will likely be quiet for a few days on the slant. today my mom will undergo major surgery...a five hour ordeal. On the other side of this, hopefully, will be an exceedingly improved quality of life that she so very much deserves.

keep her safe in your thoughts today.

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

we're very economical

A recent study found the average American walks about 900 miles per year.

Another study found Americans drink, on average, 22 gallons of beer a year.

That means, on average, Americans get about 41 miles to the gallon.

This is excellent news, considering the current price of a gallon o' fuel.

Tuesday, May 06, 2008

me and my guy

i'll be on lesbian radio tomorrow with senator ethan strimling, who, aside from my dad, is my number one guy, and who is also running for congress in the first district. i wrote about ethan, and why i'm supporting him, back in january (see: strimling for congress)

i love that ethan is taking time out of his crazy schedule to spend a half hour on a show called lesbian radio. it's gonna be great fun.

tune in to listen ethan. he's the real deal, people.

1:00 tomorrow. be there.

you can find WMPG on the dial at 90.9 and 104.1 FM, or stream it live online at and you can give us a shout live by calling in at 780-4909.

ain't life a brook

it was mentioned this morning on one of the list serves i belong to that ferron will be playing at the college of the atlantic in bar harbor in a few weeks. i heart ferron. and i realize that probably answers any questions about my age...put me in the 40'ish category...though i know her music is kind of timeless and reaches across the age divide (and please matriarch, no comments about my dating habits here.)

annnnyway...i posted on the list-serve that ferron's music was therapy for me, seeing me through two relationships-gone-bad. and the two times i have ever truly, undoubtedly, been deep-down-to-the-bone in love. the first was my first real love. i was 22 and clueless and the cluelessness was a great contributor to that breakup. the second was really a 11-year odyssey that was filled with both remarkable beauty and profound sadness.

when those relationships ended, i listened to ferron almost non-stop, and in particular, i must have played 'ain't life a brook' on my headphones 800 times. it's a little cheesy i know...and very melodramatic...but that song got me through some serious heartache. and when i hear it now, it just takes. me. back. it's not so much painful anymore, though it always puts a lump in my throat. it's really kind of lovely and bittersweet. those two women taught me so much, about me, about life, about love...and about letting go. and i loved them with my whole heart.

and yeah, ferron was one helluva a therapist.

i searched on line for the song, and could only find this youtube version. it's a live recording of ferron singing ain't life a brook, with footage of someone bumping around in a kayak. my advice...close your eyes and just listen. the video isn't great, at all.

but the song is just music for your soul.

Monday, May 05, 2008

i'm just a big nerdy bookworm

"This what I remember: Viola is holding my hand. We're at the edge of the field, far from the other people. We stand looking out into the middle of that ocean of alfalfa. I can see my mother there, a small white bundle with nothing left, and I can see that it isn't a tragedy we're watching, really. Just a finished life. The helicopter is already in the air and it stays where it is, a clear round bubble with no destination, sending out circular waves that beat down the alfalfa. People duck down, afraid, as if they're being visited by a plague or a god. Their hair is blowing. Then the helicopter tilts a little and the glass body catches the sun. For an instant it hangs above us, empty and bright, and then it rises like a soul." Animal Dreams, final page

just finished animal dreams, for the second time in 15 years. i don't remember being so emotionally affected by it the first time around. i don't remember falling so deeply in love with the words, the stories, the beautiful and haunting characters. i read that last page without breathing i think, the words blurring a little through the curtain of water in my eyes.

it's an amazing experience, when you reach the final page of a brilliant book you've learned to love, almost as a child. you've held it in your hands, turned each page carefully and with anticipation, not knowing what's ahead, but having faith that the journey alone will fulfill you, will nourish you...will change you. it's such a grand moment...this is the last page...and you can hardly wait to read what you are certain will be an ending that will satisfy. and also know there is a letting go, a sadness that these characters who have somehow, through the magic of someone's imagination and talent, become your family, and now they are leaving you, their visit far too short but so lovely just the same.

whenever i visit my parents for a few days, i always bring a book to read, and my mom will see me hauling it to the couch, and laugh a little and say "darl, you were such a bookworm when you were a girl, sometimes i wouldn't see you for hours, and i would start to wonder where is she, and i would search around the house and eventually find you curled up in some comfortable corner, lost in a book, completely and totally lost. you were the only eight year-old kid in the neighborhood who was just as happy to sit and read than to go outside and play."

some things never change i guess.

animal dreams

oh, barbara kingsolver.

"What keeps you going isn't some fine destination but just the road you're on, and the fact that you know how to drive. You keep your eyes open, you see yourself in this damned-to-hell world you got born into, and you ask yourself, 'What life can I live that will let me breathe in & out and love somebody or something and not run off screaming into the woods?'"

"...the very least you can do in your life is to figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance but live right in it, under its roof. What I want is so simple I almost can't say it: elementary kindness. Enough to eat, enough to go around. The possibility that kids might one day grow up to be neither the destroyers nor the destroyed. That's about it. Right now I'm living in that hope, running down its hallways and touching the walls on both sides."


Sunday, May 04, 2008

why i love writers

"If the communication is perfect, the words have life and that is all there is to good writing, putting down on paper words which dance and weep and make love and fight and kiss and perform miracles." Gertrude Stein

the F word

it's clearly my favorite four letter word, and i have used it occasionally on the slant. i love it because it can mean 9 million different things, depending on tone, setting, mood, and who you're keeping company with at the moment it flies out of your mouth. find me another four letter word that has that kinda flexibility. ain't. gonna. happen.

that said, i can comprehend the fact that some in this world do not share my fondness and deep appreciation for the F word. some find it offensive, in whatever context it's used. true enough. different strokes for different folks. ahem and amen.

here's the thing. it's my blog. y'all are visitors, and i'm happy to have you stop by. if you've been here more than once, you know i'm opinionated, passionate about my beliefs, and not afraid to write any of it down and post it. if you read something you don't like, you have a couple of choices. you can tell me about it by posting a comment or sending me an email. i might even agree with your never know...i've been known to look at the other side of the coin and recognize its value. or you can decide that the slant just isn't your cup o' tea and erase the URL from your memory. up to you.

the F word makes guest appearances on the slant. it's likely to fly without warning. so if it makes you uncomfortable, well, thanks for the visit, and hey, don't worry, it won't hurt my feelings if you don't come back.

fuck it, ya know?

rainy day music

Up early this morning...and loved waking up to the sound of the rain. I meditated for about an hour, and did a special safe journey blessing for Lady Bug's dad, who is now in Afghanistan, and then to Iraq, trying to make the world a better place for the people who live there. May he come home safely, and soon. I have already built a lovely fire (in the fireplace, not in the kitchen or backyard), and I've got the New York Times (and Oscar and Willie) spread out on the bed. I'm looking forward to another few chapters of Barbara Kingsolver's Animal Dreams, a book I read 15 years ago and decided to revisit this weekend. Maybe I'll even squeeze in an episode of The Wire. And then later this afternoon I will throw together a big pot of my mom's famous chop suey for Corey, The Matriarch & McHottie. I heart rainy days.

My musical preference on these sorts of mornings:

tori amos, to venus and back
george winston, autumn
aimee mann, lost in space
joan armatrading, the shouting stage
the sundays, blind
mazzy star, so tonight that i might see.

here's my favorite tori song from the above mentioned CD. 1000 oceans.


Saturday, May 03, 2008

woke up with a poem in my head

tears when you weep them
in soft sadness
are star sapphires.
i shall gather them
in my hands
to spill in pale confusion
upon your hair
when you are old.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

accomplishments, part 2

mission accomplished. right.

random thoughts while i wipe the sleepies outta my eyes

in bizarro world, AP has reported a story about 3 residents of the Isle of Lesbos who are taking a local queer group to court over the use of the word lesbian. um, yeah. my favorite quote from the story:

"My sister can't say she is a Lesbian," said Dimitris Lambrou. "Our geographical designation has been usurped by certain ladies who have no connection whatsoever with Lesbos," he said.

Oh Dimitris, lesbehonest, I ain't no lady. Pah-leeze.

I also enjoyed the exercise in aliteration by, who picked up the story from AP: Lesbos Ladies Launch Lesbian Lawsuit. I say we lesbians get on the next boat to Lesbos and protest. Or at least show solidarity by smearing each other with tanning lotion while enjoying the sights. Oh! Perhaps my employer will allow me to set up an office in Lesbos to fight for the right to be Lesbians. Clearly they need me. I'm submitting a request. Today.


I am now addicted to The Wire, a brilliant HBO series about the drug scene in Baltimore as told through the dealers, the cops and the politicians. It has a documentary feel to it, and it's fabulous. [warning: the following youtube link contains adult content. not for the squeamish, for the prudish, or for The Michaels to view. Just sayin'. ha. fifty bucks says The Michaels are now you-tubing as we speak. i can see the headlines... "Radical Homosexual Activist Posts X-Rated Videos on Blog, Direct Impact on Soaring Gas Prices and Home Foreclosures Expected"] The crime scene investigation in episode 3 elevates the use of my favorite four letter word to a whole new level. Serious. Fuckity, Fuck, Fuck, Fuck. Can I get an amen, Wire Addicts?


I heart Steve Wessler, for a million reasons, and here's one of them.


And on a related topic, I will end these random musings with this editorial cartoon from today's Portland Press Herald.

Hope y'all have a Lesbianating Kinda Day.