the slant

joy

2008-12-23T09:50:00.001-05:00

requiem for a maverick

2008-12-04T19:01:00.002-05:00

I have some down-time at the office right now until I meet LB later to discuss just how we plan to entertain, amuse, and mystify all who attend the nearly (less than 10 tickets left) sold-out show on Saturday night. And just finished reading a truly brilliant article by Matt Taibbi posted last week on Rolling Stone's blog. There are gems abound in this piece, and Taibbi brings it home beautifully with his final thoughts, which are excerpted below. To read the full article, visit the RS blog by clicking here.

Of all the problems facing this country by the end of the Bush years, the biggest is the absence of a unifying national idea. Since the end of the Cold War, America has been grasping left and right for an identity. We tried being a "world policeman" in Somalia, which didn't work so well. We tried retaining our Cold War outlook by simply replacing communists with terrorists. We created two bubble economies that blew up in our faces, and headed into 2008 a struggling capitalist state with a massive trade deficit and an overtaxed military that suddenly had to ask itself: For the supposed world leader in the community of nations, what exactly is it that we're still good at? Who are we, and what do we represent to the peoples of the Earth here and now — not in 1775 Concord, or 1945 Paris, or 1969, from the surface of the moon?

When Obama took the stage in Grant Park as president-elect, that question was answered. We pulled off an amazing thing here, delivering on our society's most ancient promises, in front of a world that still largely thought of us as the home of Bull Connor's fire hose. This dumbed-down, degraded election process of ours has, in spite of itself and to my own extreme astonishment, brilliantly re-energized the American experiment and restored legitimacy to our status as the world's living symbol of individual freedom. We feel like ourselves again, and the floundering economy and our two stagnating wars now seem like mere logistical problems that will be overcome sooner or later, instead of horrifying symptoms of inevitable empire-decline.

For this to happen, absolutely everything had to break right. And for that we will someday owe sincere thanks to John McCain, and Sarah Palin, and George W. Bush. They not only screwed it up, they screwed it up just right.

there's still time...

2008-12-04T09:05:00.002-05:00

http://www.onelongfellowsquare.com/Details.asp?ProdID=422&category=2

the gays doing what they do best

2008-12-03T14:20:00.003-05:00

See more Jack Black videos at Funny or Die

another light goes out

2008-12-03T08:24:00.003-05:00

Odetta Holmes dies at 77

December 3, 2008

Odetta, the classically trained folk, blues and gospel singer who used her powerfully rich and dusky voice to champion African American music and civil rights issues for more than half a century starting in the folk revival of the 1950s, has died. She was 77.

http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1863667,00.html

Happy Thanksgiving

2008-11-27T08:40:00.003-05:00

So I am sitting at my mom's computer in Shapleigh, listening to her and my dad bustle around. We'll walk across the field to my sister's house in a few hours, spend the day there, watch football, eat like mad, laugh, and above all be thankful that we are all together for one more holiday. When I think about all we've been through, first with my mom's illness, then with Gracie (whose absence is felt by all of us)...well, I am acutely aware of how lucky we are. This Thanksgiving is truly a gift.

Last night we celebrated my dad's 70th birthday and my baby sister's 42nd. As is a ritual with my family, we sat around the kitchen table long after the cake was eaten and the presents opened, and just talked and talked, and laughed and laughed. Sam is home from Farmington, and so we were all there together last night, as we will be today. And again...I am most grateful.

After my sister and her family left, and after my mom and dad retired for the night, I stood outside on my parent's deck and just stared at the big Shapleigh sky, and at the stars I never see in Portland, the same stars I looked at night after night when I was a little kid. It was magical.

It feels so good to be home.

Happy Thanksgiving all.

-----------------

oh...it should be mentioned that my laptop has, at last, found its way to Cyber Afterlife. So posts will be infrequent until I manage to get a new one. Um, yeah.

empty

2008-11-18T06:28:00.020-05:00

in four days, i will be taking a week off--a vacation imposed on me by a compassionate boss who knows i would probably just work right through the holidays because hey, there is that. much. work. to. do. don't even think about showing up here next week darlene or i swear to god i will take away your keys and lock you out of this office. ha. betsy knows me well.

during the months building up to election day, our pace was so frenetic--just constant movement, endless hours, and no time to "shut down". these past two weeks following election day have been a different kind of frenzy. planning every next step with detail. literally mapping out a work plan for the next three months, week by week, day by day, hour by hour. sunday night monique and I sat in my office, both of us physically exhausted, but our minds wide awake with ideas that were pouring out of us so quickly we couldn't write them down fast enough. it was--amazing. a frenzy, indeed.

i so love the work, the energy and inspiration that comes from working with brilliant, dedicated, passionate people who believe in the rightness of the cause with their whole hearts. it is invigorating and challenging and the rewards so beautiful. honest to god, it is an honor and a privilege like none i have ever experienced before. and yet...oh how it drains you. and i am currently running on empty.

so i know this time off is truly necessary. it's just--hard for me to let it all go. i thought about bringing a pile of postcards home next week and just entering data while i watched movies, but that idea was quickly dismissed by betsy, monique and matt. i don't know if they had a secret meeting behind my back, but their "you-need-to-leave-every-bit-of-work-behind-for-a-week" talking points all sounded very, very similar. good for them...and most especially, good for me. it's nice to know someone has your back, holds your best interests in their hearts. those are the moments when you feel cared for, appreciated and loved. mostly you feel grateful. and i am.

if i were a cartoon, my thought bubble would look something like a massive swarm of disturbed bees flying every which way with no distinguishable pattern. just thousands of little dots zigging and zagging all over the place, destination unknown. no shit. i've got to fix that, and quick, because 2009 will require strategic, clear thinking and unrelenting amounts of energy. it will require the very best--of me.

i miss meditating and i have been so undisciplined about it. when i don't do it, i feel...unanchored. adrift. i miss blogging too, i miss those lazy, agenda-free mornings when all there is to do is light a fire, put a billie holiday CD on, and sit with a cup of coffee and my laptop. oscar and willie curled around my feet. i miss my family, my mom and dad, my sister, my sweet nieces.

next week, i will visit all that is missed. medicine for the heart, mind and soul.

and then i'm going back to work, and we're going to kick some serious butt.

for michael

2008-11-16T06:22:00.013-05:00

Got home last night after seeing "the Secret Life of Bees" (the book was terrific, the film not-so-great but tolerable) and sitting in my inbox was an email from a dear friend who is struggling with the end of a six-year relationship. They had a beautiful, lovely relationship, and then about five years into it, his partner became severly depressed. It wreaked havoc on them. My friend was amazing--he tried so hard to be available, to be loving, to do everything right. Truly, they both worked so hard. But in the end, it all fell apart in spite of their heroic attempts to keep it together. And while he is becoming stronger everyday, I know from his voice, from his words, my friend's heart is still so tender, and the healing still so slow.

Yeah. Been there. Done that, many, many years ago. I can think of few things more gut-wrenching than watching someone you love deal with that kind of darkness, and when it comes out of nowhere, it's like a meteorite landing right smack dab in the middle of your life. And it leaves a massive, gaping hole. You feel helpless--watching someone so colorful and vibrant and three-dimensional just mentally and emotionally disappear.

I remember having no earthly notion about how to deal with it, and so many times I would just "check out" myself and ignore it--be so completely blind to the effects that I would just pretend everything was okay. Sometimes I would "take over". Do the groceries, cook, clean, make excuses to friends about why we couldn't join them for dinner, just completely take charge of our lives thinking that if i could make life as easy for her as possible, she would feel happy. There was nothing I couldn't solve, no one I couldn't *be*, and so I took it upon myself to be the anti-depressant. Right. Just completely refusing to accept that this was a deep set, clinical depression.

For a year or so, there was this bouncing back and forth--a "coming out of the fog" as she called it--and I would have her back, at least some version of her. I would celebrate those times, pat myself on the back for being such a patient, loving partner. And ignore all the signs that our relationship was becoming damaged. Badly. There were many, many times when she would allude to the fact that we were in trouble and I would just pass it off as a symptom of her depression. I would slap on a bandaid in a place where a tourniquet was desperately needed. Let's take a weekend trip away--we just need some sunshine and ocean. Let's go out to a fancy dinner. Let's buy new furniture. Let's get a pet. I was flailing my arms around, over my head in water deeper and darker than anything I had ever known.

Eventually, she disappeared completely, into a place so deep in the corridors of her heart that I knew I would never, ever get her back. I mourned the death of that relationship a solid year before it ended. And when it finally and permanently broke apart, i felt in so many ways that i had failed her, and it would be wrong to say that even now, years later, that tiny bit of regret doesn't surface inside me.

Life is so strange. Such a potpourri of sadness and joy and beauty and darkness, all of it flying at us so fast, so unrelentingly. Sometimes we run through it hard and strong as the greatest athletes, sometimes we dance through it graceful as ballerinas. Sometimes we trip and stumble and fall to the ground. I think I am learning that true grace comes from allowing all of it inside, the beautiful and the grotesque, the joy and the sorrow. From letting it touch us in the deepest, most tender places, and then finding the kindness to hold ourselves with that same deepness, that same tenderness.

Compassion grows strongest in dark, quiet places. And when it comes, we must recognize it as a profound gift that we are obligated to pass along to others, that sharing of experience, that ability to say "i understand" and to really, truly mean it. Last night I meditated for my friend, visualizing myself as a ladle dipping into the well of my own experiences, and trying to offer him, with a full heart, a way to quench even a tiny little bit of his thirst.

pema chodron, a buddhist nun whose wisdom and beauty has been a constant guide for me, writes: "When you begin to touch your heart or let your heart be touched, you begin to discover that it's bottomless, that it doesn't have any resolution, that this heart is huge, vast, and limitless. You begin to discover how much warmth and gentleness is there, as well as how much space."

i do not know why i write such things this morning. except to say, maybe, i understand. and i love you michael.

data matrix

2008-11-13T08:26:00.004-05:00

so what happens when you triple your goal and collect 33,000 plus postcards in a day?

you find yourself in a data matrix. oh. my. god. by the time i get home at night, my eyes are bloodshot and i swear to god i see little white dots everywhere. i can't even think about getting on-line and doing something productive like writing on the slant. right.

it's been quite an amazing week. volunteers start showing up at 9 am and we have a steady stream of them coming through the doors until 9 pm, all of them offering up their data entry skills to help us get the work done. love it. my sweet mom showed up on tuesday, a dozen donuts in hand, and spent the next few hours at the computer for us. and then took a pile of postcards home to shapleigh. she is just the. best. mom. ever.

we've also spent a good part of the week on the telephone, debriefing with volunteers about their collective experiences on Election Day, and most importantly, thanking them for their efforts. the stories have been so moving. here's a few that standout:

in bangor, a big, burly tough-looking military guy dressed in fatigues stopped at the table and wanted to sign a postcard. after he finished, he told our volunteer "I was in Iraq last year, and a gay soldier saved my life. I'm signing this postcard for him."

in fairfield, we ran out of postcards early, and so voters were writing their information on little scraps of paper. when we unloaded the postcards back at the office, there were 25 little pieces of paper tucked inside. love. that.

in south berwick, a young mom just couldn't commit to signing but took a postcard. and stood for a long time staring at the postcard but walked away. 20 minutes later, she came running back, signed card in hand. postcards ran out early in south berwick too, and people literally waited in their cars for 30 minutes until a back-up supply came.

in farmington, i talked with a queer student who was so excited, engaged and empowered by this experience, she's getting a tattoo (seriously) that says:

November 4, 2008
33,000

-------------------------------------------

alright--gotta get to work.

and M., if you're reading this from the "other" Portland--congratulations, and welcome to the wonderful world of Aunt-hood. You're gonna love it. And you're gonna be a fabulous auntie M.

postcard heaven

2008-11-10T09:37:00.003-05:00

It's been a long while since I've posted anything more than a quote, a video, or a picture. Let's just say...I've been busy. The past 8 weeks I've been in a vaccuum of work, and it paid off, big time. As most people know by now, we did something amazing in Maine on Election Day. Our goal of collecting 10,000 pro-marriage equality signatures in a single day was obliterated. We more than tripled it: 33,000 and counting. It was simply extraordinary and the efforts of our organizers and 350 statewide volunteers was just beautiful. This makes the LGBT political community in Maine so much stronger, and the impact that single day is going to have on our ability to move forward on LGBT equality cannot be overstated. It's a very. big. deal.

And of course, there is little time to catch my breath. You gotta take advantage of this kind of momentum, and keep the train moving forward. No time to rest on your laurels. I spent the last day and a half trying to let go of the work and just relax. Kevin came down from Bangor on Saturday and Corey cooked us a fabulous dinner Saturday night. Sunday we met up with K & J for breakfast, and it felt good to have the posse in one room again. It's been a long time coming.

I fell asleep early last night, but dreamed all night of postcards and data entry and volunteers, oh my. I think that's the first "work" dream I've had since my restaurant days, when almost nightly I would toss and turn and tend bar and wait tables in my sleep. I know what this means...gotta take some time for me at some point, and soon. Betsy has essentially told me that she doesn't want to see my face the week of Thanksgiving, and that if I try to come to the office, she's going to take away my keys. Ha. She knows me well!

I know there is much to write about, and I still don't have the time do it. For now, I'll just say thanks, to my organizers, to our volunteers, to the 33,000 Mainers from Kittery to Ellsworth and in 85 polling places in between who signed on to support our cause.

And I'll leave you with this photo from early Wednesday morning (keep in mind, we had many, many more postcards yet to be returned.

california

2008-11-06T15:01:00.001-05:00

“Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up.”

Anne Lamott

harvey milk square

2008-11-06T09:58:00.003-05:00

as wonderful as Tuesday night was, for so, so many reasons, i am devastated about california.

the rainbow flag at Harvey Milk Square is at half mast today in san francisco.

2008-11-04T17:35:00.003-05:00

Two and a half hours away from the polls closing. We have made history--and by the end of the day, we will have achieved and surpassed our goal of identifying 10,000 supporters of marriage equality. In a single day. Something that has never been done before, by any independent grassroots organization in the country.

I am so proud of our organizers, of our volunteers, of the organization that I am so lucky to work for. Mostly I am so proud to be a Mainer today. Really, I am simply blown away.

And Obama...fingers crossed. A new day may well be upon us.

I feel hopeful for the first time, in a very, very long time.

we just reached...

2008-11-04T13:08:00.000-05:00

...our goal.

by noon.

10,000 postcards.

for.
serious.

2008-11-04T10:03:00.000-05:00

printing more postcards.

we are running out!

report from the field

2008-11-04T08:32:00.003-05:00

It's been an amazing day, already, and we've only been up for 4 hours! We're in 87 polling places across the state, and we're hearing from our morning volunteers that people are signing postcards to support marriage in DROVES. Orono reports that they've had 200 signatures in 1 hour. South Berwick, 77 signatures. Portland polling places are collecting well over 100 per hour. It's extraordinary. The energy in this office is electric. Volunteers on the phone are excited, engaged...working so very hard.

Stay tuned....

this is what hope looks like

2008-11-02T13:09:00.003-05:00

selling out fast

2008-10-28T10:49:00.004-04:00

The Second Annual Lesbian Radio All-Star Revue is happening Saturday, December 6th, 8:00 pm, at One Longfellow Square in Portland. I'll be co-hosting again with the lovely Jill Barkley, and we've got some amazing talent lined up for what is certain to be a fabulous show. Tickets are already selling fast--we are more than halfway to sold out!! So call One Longfellow Square--RIGHT THIS MINUTE--and order your tickets. 207-761-1757. Or click here for more details about how to purchase tickets on line.

it's gonna be a great night--don't miss it!!

okay, how about mars?

2008-10-27T21:42:00.002-04:00

sunshine diva

2008-10-27T11:15:00.005-04:00

i am, as we used to say in the restaurant biz, in the weeds. up to my eyeballs in organizing. touring the pine tree state for the next 4 days to train over 400 volunteers who will help us identify 10,000 pro-LGBT voters on election day. (have i mentioned before that this has never been done, EVER, by any LGBT statewide organization? and we're gonna do it. for. serious. ) yep, it's full steam ahead for the next 8 days and little if any time at all for chilling. rockin' and rollin'. spreading the gay agenda like wildfire (that's right Mr. Michael.) kicking ass and takin' names. burning multiple candles at all freaking ends. and i won't have time to look up until about 1:35 pm on Wednesday, November 5th, which is exactly five minutes after my debut segment of WMPG's Lesbian Radio's Amazonian Politico ends. it's crunch time ladies and gents, and when it's over, here's hoping we can all say President-Elect Barack Obama, and we can all celebrate a Prop 8 defeat in California, and EqualityMaine can send out an All-Points-Bulletin that we are desperately seeking data entry gurus to enter 10,000 freshly signed postcards of support into our database.

i've made my list and checked it twice, and there you have it. yeah baby yeah.

by the way, the title of this post is a dedication to my beautiful mother, who signed up with EqualityMaine to be a Sunshine Diva on Election Day and deliver treats and encouragement to our volunteers at the Sanford polling places. she has had a ridiculously difficult year and she still manages to amaze me with her strength and support and love. after beating back a life-threatening illness, after enduring the unspeakable sadness of saying goodbye to her very best and dearest friend, she just keeps moving on with a beautiful smile on her face and big heart that just keeps on giving. and she makes me so damn proud.

alrighty kids. i may not be back on the slant until november 5th. or i may just surprise you and show up unannounced.

vote.
vote.
vote.

goodnight, grace

2008-10-22T09:39:00.001-04:00

Grace Phinney
Shapleigh

Grace G. Phinney, 69, of Shapleigh, passed away at home on Sunday, October 19, 2008. She was born in Rochester, New Hampshire on October 10, 1939, a daughter of Guy and Clara (Carll) Berry. She graduated from Limerick High School in 1957.

On July 12, 1959 she married Robert D. Phinney at the Limerick Congregational Church. A lifelong member of the church, she served on the Diaconate Board. A devoted wife, mother and grandmother, she cherished her family. She looked forward to cooking and hosting holiday gatherings. For several summers she baked pastries at the South Arm campground in Andover, Maine. Some of her hobbies included, painting, reading, doing puzzles, dancing and camping.

She is predeceased by her parents; one son, Larry Phinney; two brothers, Charles Berry and Hartley Berry.

She is survived by her husband of 49 years, Robert D. Phinney of Shapleigh, four sons, Ken Phinney of Shapleigh, Brian Phinney of Waterboro, James Phinney of Sanford and Tony Phinney of Summerville, South Carolina. She is also survived by her 12 grandchildren.

Visiting hours will be on Thursday from 6 to 8pm at the Carll-Heald & Black Funeral Home, 580 Main Street, Springvale. A funeral service will be held on Friday at 1pm at the Limerick Congregational Church. Burial will be at the Highland Grove Cemetery in Shapleigh.

In lieu of flowers contributions may be made in her memory to the Limerick Congregational Church, P.O. Box 118, Limerick, Maine 04048.

Condolences may be expressed at www.blackfuneralhomes.com

McCain: like hope, but different

2008-10-20T15:50:00.000-04:00

dear excellent friend

2008-10-15T11:20:00.004-04:00

This was circulated on a list-serve I belong to and it's just goddamn funny. It's a take on all those ridiculous spam emails that ask for money, and when I read it, I laughed out loud...a lot. Enjoy:

------------------------------

Dear Excellent Friend:

I need to ask you to support an urgent secret business relationship with a transfer of funds of great magnitude.

I am Ministry of the Treasury of the Republic of America. My country has had crisis that has caused the need for large transfer of funds of 700 billion USD. If you would assist me in this transfer, it would be most profitable to you.

I am working with Mr. Phil Gramm, lobbyist for UBS, who (God willing) will be my replacement as Ministry of the Treasury in January. As a former U.S. congressional leader and the architect of the PALIN / McCain Financial Doctrine, you may know him as the leader of the American banking deregulation movement in the 1990s. As such, you can be assured that this transaction is 100% safe.

This is a matter of great urgency. We need a blank check. We need the funds as quickly as possible. We cannot directly transfer these funds in the names of our close friends because we are constantly under surveillance. My family lawyer advised me that I should look for a reliable and trustworthy person who will act as a next of kin so the funds can be transferred.

Please reply with all of your bank account, IRA and college fund account numbers and those of your children and grandchildren to wallstreetbailout@treasury.gov so that we may transfer your commission for this transaction. After I receive that information, I will respond with detailed information about safeguards that will be used to protect the funds.

Yours Faithfully,
Henry Paulson
Minister of Treasury
Department of the Treasury
1500 Pennsylvania Avenue, NW
Washington, D.C. 20220

ps: ignore anything you read at afterdowningstreet.org

12 Reasons Why Gay Marriage Will Ruin Society

2008-10-14T10:45:00.003-04:00

from the Gator Gay-Straight Alliance website...

1. Homosexuality is not natural, much like eyeglasses, polyester, and birth control are not natural.

2. Heterosexual marriages are valid because they produce children. Infertile couples and old people cannot get legally married because the world needs more children.

3. Obviously gay parents will raise gay children because straight parents only raise straight children.

4. Straight marriage will be less meaningful, since Britney Spears's 55-hour just-for-fun marriage was meaningful.

5. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and it hasn't changed at all: women are property, Blacks can't marry Whites, and divorce is illegal.

6. Gay marriage should be decided by the people, not the courts, because the majority-elected legislatures, not courts, have historically protected the rights of minorities.

7. Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are always imposed on the entire country. That's why we only have one religion in America.

8. Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people makes you tall.

9. Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage license.

10. Children can never succeed without both male and female role models at home. That's why single parents are forbidden to raise children.

11. Gay marriage will change the foundation of society. Heterosexual marriage has been around for a long time, and we could never adapt to new social norms because we haven't adapted to cars or longer lifespans.

12. Civil unions, providing most of the same benefits as marriage with a different name are better, because a "separate but equal" institution is always constitutional. Separate schools for African-Americans worked just as well as separate marriages will for gays & lesbians.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
According to a report given to the Office of the General Counsel of the U.S. General Accounting Office, here are a few of the 1,138 benefits the United States government provides to legally married couples:

1. Access to Military Stores
2. Assumption of Spouse’s Pension
3. Bereavement Leave
4. Immigration
5. Insurance Breaks
6. Medical Decisions on Behalf of Partner
7. Sick Leave to Care for Partner
8. Social Security Survivor Benefits
9. Sick Leave to Care for Partner
10. Tax Breaks
11. Veteran’s Discounts
12. Visitation of Partner in Hospital or Prison

Here are a few of the state level benefits within the United States:

1. Assumption of Spouse’s Pension
2. Automatic Inheritance
3. Automatic Housing Lease Transfer
4. Bereavement Leave
5. Burial Determination
6. Child Custody
7. Crime Victim’s Recovery Benefits
8. Divorce Protections
9. Domestic Violence Protection
10. Exemption from Property Tax on Partner’s Death
11. Immunity from Testifying Against Spouse
12. Insurance Breaks
13. Joint Adoption and Foster Care
14. Joint Bankruptcy
15. Joint Parenting (Insurance Coverage, School Records)
16. Medical Decisions on Behalf of Partner
17. Certain Property Rights
18. Reduced Rate Memberships
19. Sick Leave to Care for Partner
20. Visitation of Partner’s Children
21. Visitation of Partner in Hospital or Prison
22. Wrongful Death (Loss of Consort) Benefits

rollercoaster

2008-10-11T07:55:00.014-04:00

it is a quiet morning on beacon street, at last. i am cradling the first cup of coffee, willie is curled up next to me, and i'm thinking about lighting a fire to take the edge off the bit of chill we are both clearly feeling. today will be about laundry and cleaning and groceries, and somewhere in between a good long meditation. i have a few days to reflect, relax, regenerate. And I need 'em, badly.

yesterday--wow. such a rollercoaster of a day, and what a way to end a very long stretch of ten work days in a row. connecticut! it feels like that case has been sitting for 3 years (it was actually one year, five months) and when we received the call from Mary B. telling us the judgment would be announced at 11:30 yesterday morning, the office was just...buzzing. electric. we spent the morning vacillating between hope and despair, all of us understanding the enormous implications this decision would have on the work we are doing here in Maine.

and so at 11:15, matt and i sat at our desks, went to the CT Supreme Court website, and hit "refresh", obsessively, for the next 15 minutes. at exactly 11:30, matt screamed "OH MY GOD IT'S UP" and then it was just, well, utter chaos. betsy and matt and half our organizing staff, crowding around my desk as i frantically scrolled down 85 pages of a PDF file trying to translate legalese and find that one line that would tell us whether CT was to become the third state in the country to legalize marriage for same-sex couples. what a scene. it took us about 3 minutes to figure it out, and even then, we didn't celebrate until the call came from our friends at GLAD to tell us we had won. and then...utter joy. laughter. high fives. tears.

we had nothing to do with this victory, of course. but we lived through the last excruciating 17 months with our friends who were directly responsible. and we all knew how profoundly this decision would impact US. and california (hopefully). and new england. everywhere. hurray for the team at GLAD, who are my absolute heroes and heroines, hurray for the courageous couples who were part of the court case, hurray for the wisdom of those judges. and most especially, hurray for the thousands of same-sex couples in connecticut who can now enjoy that most wonderful freedom to marry. it was a joy to be at work yesterday. our organizers called every one of the 90-something poll captains we've recruited for election day to share the good news, and to say "thank you. because of your help, we will celebrate in maine someday too." wow. great freaking day, indeed.

and then...last night. i had dinner with my mom and dad, and then we drove to maine med to visit gracie, who was hospitalized yesterday. she will spend four or five days there, and then she will hopefully go home to spend the rest of her days in shapleigh. i'd not seen her in three weeks, and the difference was stunning. she is so...small. weak, exhausted. you must be within inches of her to hear her voice. it was nearly impossible to take, yet i know in my heart that our visit meant the world to her. when i leaned over to kiss her goodnight, our eyes connected and i understood that, completely.

as i walked out of her room, i turned for one moment to see my mother crawl into the hospital bed and wrap her arms around gracie. i stood there, frozen, unable to take my eyes away from this tiny glimpse of an extraordinary friendship. they simply lay there, quiet, no words, not even tears. my mother whispered something to her, i do not know what, and gracie whispered something back. and then my mother kissed gracie's tiny, bald head, said 'i love you'. stood, wrapped and tucked in the blankets around her dear friend. watched gracie fall asleep within seconds. and then, because i simply could not bear it for another second, i turned, heart heavy, eyes filled, and walked away.

it was one of those moments that sears through your heart--i am always amazed that heartache is just that--a physical, palpable pain in the chest, and in the lungs. and yet it was also beautiful to see, my mother, so strong, so *present*, so completely available for her friend, and gracie, so willing to let her in. this different kind of love between women, a love that has lasted more than 50 years, the most profound and lovely portrait of friendship.

my mother continues to teach me new things, every day. how lucky i am.

Ah, Connecticut!!!

2008-10-10T13:46:00.000-04:00

change

2008-10-09T10:02:00.000-04:00

full of grace

2008-10-07T08:58:00.012-04:00

you are in my head this morning gracie.

i should be running around, scurrying, lately i am like a leaf blowing in the wind, or better yet, a cat chasing my tail, never quite getting it, always a step behind, but stubborn and determined and convinced that if i just move a little faster i will catch it, i will catch up and finally climb to the top of the mountain of work in front of me, and get to the other side of it.

i should be running, but i am frozen, jarred by an early morning phone call, the sound of my mother's voice still echoing in my head as she struggled to find the words to tell me that your light is fading ever-so-quickly. she already feels gone darl, there is no life left in her. and me wanting so desperately to somehow crawl through the phone line and wrap my arms around my mother, hold her, be strong for her so that she can let go of all she holds so tight inside, and let in, finally, her heartache. how strange, my mother, near 70, experiencing the loss of a friend for the first time in her life, how strange, her daughter, well-versed in such losses, consoling and comforting her, i understand this grief mom. i have been inside this dark place before, i remember well the sting, the breaking of your soul in two, the strange feeling of heaviness and emptiness happening at exactly the same painful moment.

your light is fading away, gracie, and i am so sad to let you go, i am so completely and utterly heartbroken. our world will be less bright, less colorful, less beautiful, without your presence in it. it is almost unimaginable, and yet, we must begin to learn to live without you.

and so i will find my own way through today, i will smile and inspire, i will do the work that must be done. and i will hide my own heaviness, i will ignore my own emptiness, i will wear the mask necessary to see this day to its end. but my every thought will be in shapleigh, i will be holding you and my mother close in my heart, i will wish and i will pray that you are sleeping peaceful, that you are dreaming of your sons and your grandchildren and the tall birch trees in shapleigh and the night sky filled with the same stars we looked at together so many times, your hand always clasping mine, when i was a just a little girl.

fuel

2008-10-05T09:16:00.003-04:00

i'm on day 8 of 13 work days in a row, leaving for bangor in a few hours to do a poll captain training. i woke up tired, as if i had only just fallen asleep...and i woke feeling sorry for myself and in a very foul kinda mood.

so i logged onto my work email, and among the many unread messages i saw one from Lady Bug, subject line: "fuel." and when i opened it, there was only this link:

http://groundspark.org/del-and-phyllis

so i went there. wow.

i'm not so tired anymore. and i'm no longer grouchy.

jill reminded me why i do this work, and it was a very kind thing for her to do.

love you, LB. and thanks.

on debates and marriage and gays, oh my

2008-10-04T10:43:00.007-04:00

I don't have much time to respond--we are working seven days a week now at EqualityMaine to get ready for our biggest single day action, EVER, but I wanted to offer my two cents to the marriage question during the vice presidential debate, and to the notion, in general, that we need a presidential candidate who will come out and definitively say that they support marriage for same-sex couples.

Obviously I want that...a candidate who doesn't pussy foot around the topic and then stumble when they have to take a position on civil unions/marriage etc. I am confident that day will come, and my prediction is it will happen, finally, after Obama (fingers crossed) finishes his second term and a whole new slate of candidates start torturing us again in 2016.

On Thursday night, i think both Palin and Biden lied when asked about their views on equality for same-sex couples. I think Biden lied when he said he didn't support gay marriage--I feel that in my bones. There is no way Obama would stand in the way of legalizing gay marriage in the US. Remember, that would take an act of Congress, and if we ever managed to push that kind of a bill through, he would sign it in a minute. Of course, let's be honest, that isn't going to happen for a good long time, and it's likely that same-sex marriage will (and actually is) follow the same course as interracial marriage did. It will start in the states, and eventually these marriages will be recognized by the federal government. It ain't gonna happen tomorrow people...but we are on course, and actually moving much faster than anyone could have predicted. IF CA manages to defeat the amendment in November, the momentum we will see from that will be amazing.

So Obama (and Biden) are not going to say the words out loud "I support same-sex marriage" because they are still queasy about 2004 and still worried that this would cause some voters to turn to McCain. And you know what--it probably would. Which would spell disaster for our country, and let me tell you, would push LGBT issues on a federal level back into the closet for another decade.

What is more interesting to me was Palin's answer. She stumbled and mumbled and made some ridiculous statement about the diversity of her friends, and how she supports equality, yadda yadda yadda. An Outright Lie. Remember, she told Katie Couric that homosexuality is a choice. And HRC just released this video, asking queer Alaskans what *they* think of Sarah Palin. Take 5 minutes and watch it...it's unbelievable:

So why did Palin lie and why did she ease right up to that line of being "pro-equality"? Of course she slammed the door hard on the whole marriage issue, but she tried to build a case that she wasn't anti-LGBT before the slam. She lied, I think, because we as a country are changing enough in our views that a viable candidate can no longer get away with slamming queer people outright. Her answer was pretty damn close to Kerry's answer in 2004. Only in '04 Kerry was likely sincere about supporting queer people in general, and Palin was not.

The point is, (and I think I have one in here somewhere) that those who oppose all things gay are starting to be very, very careful about how they say it (people like Mike Heath excluded, of course) because it is becoming less and less of a polarizing issue for the voters. They can't get away anymore with the overt homophobia they displayed during the '92 national republican convention when they nearly hung us in effigy, and now, in 2008, they are even parsing their words carefully so as to not appear completely anti-LGBT. When you think about the 2004 presidential election, and how gay marriage was used as tactic against us by the GOP, we've come a long, long way baby.

So am I disappointed that Obama/Biden are not coming out and clearly stating they support gay marriage? In the words of Palin, you betcha. But I don't believe that makes them less of an ally to our community. With an Obama administration and the right people in Congress, we will see passage of ENDA. We will see the end of Don't Ask/Don't Tell. We will see a federal Hate Crimes bill passed. Hell, 6 or 7 years from now we may even see the federal DOMA fall. Obama will do nothing to stand in the way of that, and he will sign those bills without hesitation. My god, that is such amazing progress, and we have to recognize and acknowlege that.

It isn't perfect. And yeah, I want a candidate to say out loud that we deserve the freedom to marry legally, just like everyone else. And let's be honest, of the frontrunners during the Democratic Primary, not one of them could say that out loud. Not Obama. Not Clinton. Not Edwards. So, it seems to me we need to stop using that as the moral yardstick that measures where they stand on our issues.

My rambling two cents...

oh. my. god.

2008-09-28T14:14:00.001-04:00

Marry me, Tina Fey.

on making history and debates and auntie brigades, oh my

2008-09-27T09:48:00.008-04:00

the last time i posted was september 14th, and yesterday was the first day i've had off since that time. we are in a huge and potentially historic push to identify 10,000 pro-LGBT voters in a single day...election day. i say historic because if we do it (and every day i am more confident we will), it will make us the first LGBT organization in the country to accomplish such a feat. we've hired six new amazing organizers to help us get there, and while the days have been long and seemingly endless at times, i am charged and excited and feeling that familiar adrenaline rush that comes with the campaign-like pace we are currently keeping.

that said, i am generally falling into bed every night and asleep before my head hits the pillow. when i get this busy, it is difficult to be creative and even more difficult to keep my eyes open long enough to write. the slant will likely have spontaneous posts from now until november 4th.

up next: ramblings

watched the debate last night, and i was happy, for the most part, with obama's performance. he was focused, articulate, thoughtful. he was a little bit too polite for my liking...i wished he would have been less complimentary to mccain and more aggressive. but his answers were intelligent and forceful, and i think he made a strong case that he is ready to lead. i'm glad he brought domestic issues into a debate which focused on foreign policy. and i loved his line about mccain pretending that the war in iraq started in 2007. brilliant. and can i just say that mccain's sneer and nervous laughter was as good an imitation of george bush as tina fey's sarah palin. fucking scary.

------------------------

in the middle of last week's crazy schedule, M & I managed to sneak out of the office for two hours to listen to liz gilbert, who was speaking at the merrill auditorium to support the work of The Telling Room, an amazing non-profit here in portland that is dedicated to young storytellers and writers. check their website out here. as soon as this election cycle is over, i'm going to start volunteering for this organization.

gilbert, who wrote eat, pray, love, a book i've raved about before on the slant, was wonderful. funny, engaging, thoughtful. inspirational. we laughed, we cried, sometimes at the same moment, and it was exactly the perfect break from all-things-work. and i couldn't imagine being there with anyone else besides M., who urged me to read the book in the first place and then indulged me by talking about it with me, over and over (and over and over) again.

there were so many great moments, and one of my favorites was her theory of the auntie brigade. she spoke of how throughout history, in every culture at least 10% of the women never have children. in some time periods and in various cultures this number can be much higher, but historically it is never, ever lower than 10%. this number is so consistent that gilbert believes this is kind of a genetic necessity, to have a "posse" of adult women who are caring and compassionate and who do not have children of their own. that their existence is critical to supporting other mothers (she calls them "sparents") and to caring for others living on the peripheral parts of any society. the auntie brigade. love that.

if you are one of the twelve people on earth who haven't read eat, pray, love, you gotta go out and buy or borrow a copy today. it's brilliant.

------------

quote of the week: "we are one curry dish away from utter doom." johnny mckenna, on the perils of working in an office that's one floor above a restaurant, in a building fitted with fire escapes made of wooden steps. um, yeah.

----------------

enough ramblings. i am off to brunch with the posse women, then i think i'll come home, light my first fire of the season, and curl up with a good book. my week starts off tomorrow, at noon, and so a little bit more self-care time is in order to get me ready.

---------------

tina fey is a goddess

2008-09-14T08:29:00.004-04:00

like most people who are fans of Saturday Night Live, the first time I ever saw (and god help me, HEARD) Sarah Palin I thought "holy shit she looks just like Tina Fey." so much so that i wasn't completely convinced she wasn't Tina Fey. i half-expected Palin, in the middle of her speech at the GOP convention, to stop dead in the middle of a sentence and scream "LIVE FROM NEW YORK, IT'S SATURDAY NIGHT!!"

but we could never get that lucky.

anyway--unfortunately for Palin, she is the spitting image of one of the most brilliant, funny, talented comedians in the universe who happened to cut her teeth on SNL, which can also be brilliant and funny, particularly when they do political satire. fortunately for Fey, her career, which is already skyrocketing, is about to blast into a whole new stratosphere. cha-ching.

check out SNL's season premiere opening moments. it's frigging delicious:

bush doctrine? is that a medical question?

2008-09-12T11:52:00.004-04:00

doc·trine (dok-trin) noun.
1. A principle or body of principles presented for acceptance or belief, as by a religious, political, scientific, or philosophic group; dogma.
2. A rule or principle of law, especially when established by precedent.
3. A statement of official government policy, especially in foreign affairs and military strategy.
4. Archaic Something taught; a teaching.

sarah palin is so f'ing frightening to me. why charles gibson didn't laugh, or didn't call his family on the nearest cell phone and scream "GET YOUR PASSPORTS TOGETHER, WE ARE NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES, WE ARE MOVING TO CANADA TODAY!!!!" is just a huge testament to his poise and professionalism. though one can't help but notice how blown away he is by the fact that palin did not understand this question: "Do you believe in the Bush Doctrine?"

it's not like this is one of those situations where a question can be interpreted in many ways. it's decidedly not an "it depends on what your definition of IS is" kind of moment. and she simply cannot answer it.

see for yourself:

if you can stomach it, here's another 9 minutes of the exclusive ABC interview with the woman who will be one heartbeat away from the presidency if we don't all get our acts together and vote on November 4th. it's completely and utterly terrifying.

i guess i'm IT

2008-09-12T08:11:00.006-04:00

I have been tagged by Dawn at MDI. I am so busy my head is spinning, and I'm so tired my eyelashes ache, but still...posts on the slant have been a rare occurance lately, and Dawn has been very forgiving. I've not received even one slacker email from her.

so with gratitude, i'll play. at the end of this thing I'm supposed to tag five other bloggers. time will not allow that. so if you're reading this and you have a blog, you're IT. if you're reading this and you don't have a blog, well, you are missing out on a whole lotta fun. and i've now provided you a topic for your very first post.

1. Where was I ten years ago?

that's 1998. i had a lovely cottage in scarborough, living out the tail-end of a 12-year relationship. if same-sex couples could legally marry, this surely would have been my one and only marriage. had a fabulous wonderful cat named Idgie. and was running a restaurant in freeport. the only remnants of that life now are books and furniture. and clothing, which i think is still stored away in my closet somewhere in hopes that i'll one day soon be able to button those shorts again.

2. What was on my To Do list today?

i cannot begin to describe how this question utterly freaks me out. let's see...in my professional life, we are in the middle of organizing a potential 600 people for election day. and also organizing indistrict legislative meetings all across the state. *and* preparing to help elect some LGBT friendly state candidates. *and* trying to hire another 6 organizers to help us. *and* working on a rally set for october in response to a recent horrific hate crime in portland. *and* i have close to 20 fundraisers and/or house parties that i need to be at in the next 30 days. *and* i'm trying to prepare for a workshop i'm facilitating this weekend for A Rising Tide, a wonderful organization that Corey heads up.

in my personal life, Bangor Boy is coming down this weekend, which i am completely thrilled about. on the other side of the emotional meter, i am taking a personal day on Monday to visit a friend whose time on this earth is near its end.

3. What would I do if I were a billionaire?

my mom and dad would live out their lives the way they deserve to. and shitload of money would go to EqualityMaine. a shitload of money would go to other organizations who do work on HIV/AIDS, domestic violence, and LGBT equality. My neices would also be set for life.

and then i would travel--india, new zealand, and a re-tour of europe.

i would become the next rachel maddow, hosting my own talk-radio show called, um, the wet spot (thanks jenny jeez) until eventually msnbc realized i'm brilliant and gave me the spot following maddow's new gig.

i'd buy me a modest home on the ocean, and write, write, write, write.

4. Five places I've lived:

i've been a mainer my whole life, as an adult i haven't lived too far from the portland peninsula, ever, and have still managed to be a ridiculous nomad. i figured out once that i've lived in like 25 different places in less than 20 years--crazy. so....scarborough, cape elizabeth, south portland, brunswick, harpswell, north yarmouth, standish, portland, westbrook...to name a few.

5. Bad habits:

cigarettes--number one. procrastination comes in at a close second. after having read my to-do list for today, you can see how procrastination adversely effects my world. i am certain the two bad habits are inter-connected. and i am certain i have a number of other bad habits that friends and acquaintances would share with the world. some of them might even be considered "good" bad habits. and we'll leave it at that. :>

-----------------------

there. i feel as though i've accomplished something great.

happy friday all.

wedding day

2008-09-11T13:14:00.002-04:00

ellen and portia get married. and ellen shares it with a bazillion mainstream viewers.

love.
that.

love.
her.

swallowed up

2008-09-08T07:25:00.007-04:00

if you hadn't noticed, this time of year tends to swallow me up and away from all things recreational--like, for example, writing on the slant. i am buried at work, more than ever it feels like. and life in general has been so up and down lately, i am dizzy from trying to stay balanced. i feel the tug of the blog, wanting so much to write and yet not having my thoughts in any order that would make for an interesting read. but--i am starting to get emails, notes, and phone calls from friends asking "are you okay? you aren't posting...what's going on..." so here i am, with just a few tiny minutes to type, type, type away a few random thoughts that were rolling around in my head when i woke this morning. i'll try to be better about posting.

but mostly, let's just say that reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. or as the matriarch likes to say, "don't pay the ransom, i've escaped."

__________________________________________

oh canada?

as busy as i've been, i still managed to watch nearly every televised minute (at least in the evenings) of the national democratic convention. and then watched as much of the republican convention as i could stomach, kind of in the same way i watch horror movies--peeking through my hands which were almost always covering my face. in my lifetime, aside from maybe 1992, i have never seen a more stark contrast between the two candidates ( and their running mates) for The Most Important Job on the Planet. and I know we always say this about *every* presidential election, but i just don't think the stakes have ever been higher. seems to me we are on the brink of utter doom, and while neither candidate is flawless, and while neither candidate possesses the Super Powers to magically fix it all, AND while it is common knowlege that i am True Blue Dem, it just seems to me that the choice is obvious. at least with Obama we have a fighting chance. McSame? forget about it. I can't even believe that 25% of the people attempting to survive among the ruins of the Bush Administration are 'undecided' about who to vote for. My. God. i have made jokes in the past about moving to Montreal or Toronto if things don't go my way on November 4th. But McCain-Palin? it's becoming less and less of a joke. 'cause i don't think i have the intestinal fortitude to survive that administration.

and oh gawd i am just so offended by McCain's selection of Palin as veep, especially if she was chosen to try and lure in some undecided women voters who were initially supporting Hillary. give me a frigging break. it demonstrates in living color how disconnected the GOP is with women's issues. wow. it takes your breath away. and if there is a single Hillary voter in this country who is considering supporting this Joke of a Ticket, shame. on. you. Palin is looking more and more like the female version of Dick Cheney, minus years and years of experience. She feels dangerous to me. And the Dems cannot repeat this often enough: a heartbeat away from the presidency. insanity.

________________________

little girl

my baby girl samantha is now officially a college student. i spent a day with her before she drove away to a whole new life, and it was wonderful. we laughed and waxed poetic about all the amazing memories we've made together, and i savored every minute. when i was leaving, she wrapped her arms around me (this from a kid who was never much of hugger) and said "i love you auntie darl. thank you for everything you've done for me. i'm going to miss you the most." it felt a little like dorothy and the scarecrow, and it was a most precious moment.

there are four stand-out events in my life that i hold higher than any others: the sox winning the world series in 2004, maine won't discriminate defeating The Evil Ones in 2005, and the birth of my two nieces. it boggles my mind to think that this little girl whose childhood filled my life with beauty and laughter and magic is now "out there on her own." i sent my sister a card that arrived in her mailbox on the very day Sam drove away, a picture of little girl on a swingset, legs kicking to the sky. all i wrote on the inside: "regarding samantha: well done."

________________________________________________

grace

a wonderful, beautiful friend of our family, a woman who in so many ways is like a second mom to me, has been waging a war with cancer for the past fifteen years. she is a brave, beautiful soul, and it appears that she is losing the fight. she is especially close to my mom--truly, one of my mother's dearest friends. the forty or more years that my mother and Grace have been friends is not nearly long enough, for either of them, and my mom is already beginning to feel the unspeakable void that will be left in Grace's place. there is such sadness in my mom's voice when she talks about Grace (how fitting a name for this jewel of a woman.) we used to wish for her to have the strength to fight, the strength to win the battle. now our wishes our much simpler. we wish for her to have a day without pain. a restful night. my mom said last night on the phone, "i just hope and pray that she goes quietly, in her sleep, and i hope her last dream is of the rolling fields in shapleigh, and of all her children, and that they are happy and peaceful dreams." so call a friend, dammit, and tell them you love them. it sounds ridiculously sappy. i can tell you my mom wouldn't think so, at all. we are often so oblivious of time, and so cavalier with it, as if we have it to waste. if we don't recognize and value and savor those people in our lives who enrich us and bring us joy, we are just damn fools.

i see a safe journey Gracie.

right on jon

2008-09-04T15:50:00.000-04:00

quote of the day

2008-08-29T12:01:00.002-04:00

much to say about obama's amazing night, but will have to save that for a later time.

until then, here's a fun quote from an LGBT political list-serve, regarding McSame's choice of Sarah Palin as veep.

"Keep in mind Sarah Palin is Governor of Alaska.

A state that is 22 years younger than John McCain."

we are so. winning. it. all. in November.

o pioneer

2008-08-27T16:15:00.004-04:00

from the San Francisco Chronicle:

Lesbian rights pioneer Del Martin dies

(08-27) 12:29 PDT SAN FRANCISCO -- Del Martin, a lesbian rights pioneer who took part in one of California's first same-sex weddings, died today in San Francisco after a long period of declining health. She was 87.

Ms. Martin's political activism began in the 1950s when she co-founded a ground-breaking lesbian rights organization. On June 16, she and her partner of 55 years, Phyllis Lyon, were married at San Francisco City Hall by Mayor Gavin Newsom, her last public act of political activism.

Ms. Martin died this morning at UCSF Hospice, nearly two weeks after she was admitted with a broken arm. Lyon was at her side.

"Ever since I met Del 55 years ago, I could never imagine a day would come when she wouldn't be by my side," Lyon said in a statement issued by the National Center for Lesbian Rights. "I am so lucky to have known her, loved her and been her partner in all things."

"I also never imagined there would be a day that we would actually be able to get married," Lyon said. "I am devastated, but I take some solace in knowing we were able to enjoy the ultimate rite of love and commitment before she passed."

brilliant

2008-08-27T10:25:00.003-04:00

no words necessary. except to say...she's my heroine.

it's official: i'm an oldie

2008-08-25T07:01:00.017-04:00

Every now and then i'll be navigating through a routine day and something will happen that makes me blurt out "good gawd, this is blogworthy" and i had one of those very moments on the road with Young Matthew this past weekend.

We were speeding up 95 heading to Bangor for the American Folk Festival (when Young Matthew is driving I am pretty sure that, on occasion, we possibly break the sound barrier. it can be a white-knuckles-on-the-dashboard kind of adventure.) We always forget to bring CDs to listen to, so we play the SCAN game on the radio and hope that the Gods of Music randomly shine their grace upon us. Remarkably, even though I'm old enough to be his really hip mother (and when i say hip, i am being hopeful that i've managed to turn my version of Geek into Hipness. doubtful. but hope springs eternal), we have the same taste in music, and this little radio scan game has become an amusing part of our road trips. We seem to always catch the great songs right around the Big Finish (ie. the so-you-think-you-can-stone-me-and-spit-in-my-eye part of Bohemian Rhapsody) and then we both bitch and moan that we missed yet another rockin' tune in its entirety. Sometimes Matt will get to a Jesus station and make a special point of stopping the scan, just to see how long i can tolerate it before i start screaming "IF YOU DON'T CHANGE THIS STATION I AM JUMPING OUT OF THE FRIGGING CAR." What can i say...the trip to Bangor is not especially picturesque and so we have to entertain ourselves.

So we get to the Newport road sign, and I'm just about to call my Bangor Boy to tell him we are within striking distance of Bangor when I hear a DJ say "it's Kenny on your favorite Oldies Station, and here's a real classic". I'm expecting Buddy Holly or some other tune that my mom and dad would play when i was a kid and say oh dahl, this was an oldie-but-goodie. But no. It's Electric Light Orchestra's 'Evil Woman.' um. yeah. This is a song that was popular when i was in junior high school. And a song now being referred to by a nostalgia radio station DJ as a freaking classic. Let's just say my reaction was...um...passionate and animated. "this is NOT a classic!!!! i am NOT old enough that my 45s collection can be categorized as OLDIES BUT GOODIES." A statement which i can acknowlege was rich with irony and glaring contradictions. 45s. right.

This was one of those defining moments in life...an unenjoyable rite of passage...similar to the first time i spotted a gray hair on my head. i remember it well. i was 27, driving on Highland Avenue in South Portland, and glanced in the rearview mirror to see a conspicuous white hair pointing straight up to the sky like a dying weed reaching for the sun. Freaked me out so bad that i screamed out loud "NO NO NOOOOO!!!". Kept obsessively looking at it in the rearview mirror and almost killed a pedestrian. Like a fool i thought i could just yank the damn thing out and stop the whole process but those little buggers started reproducing like white rabbits (one pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, and the ones that mother gives you, don't do anything at all...and if you do not know the song that said lyrics refer to, don't talk to me right now.) i began referring to them as "the white worms of death" (all credit must go to Tom Robbins for that) and around that time i started going for the Annie Lennox look and dyeing my hair platinum blonde. That'll teach 'em. And didn't wave the white (er...gray) flag until about 7 years ago when i finally stopped paying ridiculous amounts of money to cover them up, said fuck it, you win, and let the whole damn bunch of them take up permanent residence on my head.

Yeah. This was just. like. that. Matt found the whole thing utterly amusing which did not make me happy at all. i *wanted* to say "i hope i am close by when this happens to you". But then it occured to me that he would probably have to be visiting me in a Nursing Home for such a coincidence to transpire. Right.

i immediately called Bangor Boy and related the story to him with as much drama and exasperation as the event deserved. He was very sympathetic and told me that just moments ago he had mentioned "Dark Shadows" to a younger friend and discovered she had never heard of that fabulous television show. We comforted one another and promised to try and get adjoining rooms at the Old Folks Home we were surely headed for.

When i got off the phone, i mentioned 'Dark Shadows' to Matt.

His response?

"Was that a band or a song?"

If he wasn't driving, and if i didn't like the boy so much, i could have freaking reached over and smacked the little smart-ass right upside the head.

i heart searsport

2008-08-21T06:09:00.011-04:00

it's been so long since i've been on The Slant, i had to wipe away the cobwebs on my profile. for. real.

i almost didn't go to searsport last weekend because i thought hmm, i should stay home, do laundry, get caught up on work stuff. but corey's powers of persuasion are almost impossible to resist, *and* i am learning the value of weekends and of quality time away from my professional life--in my business, you don't get a lot of free empty spaces, and in fact, after Labor Day i will have precious few days without work commitments filling them up. so i said what the hell, packed a bag, and hit the road with Wonder Woman Corey (and Daisy, the sweetest dog ever.) i'm. so. glad. i. did. (more on that in a moment). the result of ignoring the mountain of work is that i've had to pour it on since Sunday night. translation: all work and no play and that has meant no Slant posts. but i'm back...though likely it will be a a brief return. i'm heading to Bangor Saturday morning for a work thang, and then spending that night with my Bangor Boy Kevin. which is at least a healthy mix of work *and* play.

so, Searsport. frigging spectacular. a slice of heaven, or paradise, or nirvana...anything that conjures up thoughts of pleasure and relaxation and wide open space to exhale, that's searsport baby. we had amazing hosts...our very wonderful friends bill & colleen, and colleen's mom & uncle. i don't think there are kinder, sweeter, more generous people in the world. they have smiles that warm your soul and they have an uncanny way of making you feel like Queen for the Day. oh. my. god. i just love 'em, so much.

they have a gorgeous cottage, steps away from the water, with hammocks and a big old porch facing the ocean and the kind of lovely quiet that is so peaceful...wow. let's just say i didn't feel the need to meditate, at all, for the entire weekend. the weather was almost perfect, and we ate like royalty and sipped cocktails, laughed and talked, played some fierce games of Mexican Train (a very addictive version of dominoes that i am now utterly obsessed with). on saturday night, the full moon made a lovely guest appearance, and we all sat on the back porch and watched the moonlight dance on the water, told stories, and honestly, the crazy world just disappeared. it was magical.

so yeah...it was an absolutely perfect weekend, and will sit in my heart for a good long time. if i ever win the powerball and can Live the Life of Lesbian Leisure, *that's* exactly how i'm gonna spend the rest of my days.

and now--back to reality, and work, work, work--today, starting right this minute, at 6:30 am. yes indeedy. so it's a brief post, with a promise of more to come soon. stay tuned. in the meantime, here's a shot of The Searsport Women, and the Dazzling Daisy. Happy Thursday y'all.

slacker 2, the sequel

2008-08-15T08:46:00.002-04:00

i mentioned in yesterday's post that i'm heading to searsport later today with corey...(i also mentioned beer, lobsters, and ocean, and i just wanted to say that again, because hey, i'm kind of excited for, um, beer, lobsters, and ocean.) i also mentioned no internet. which means no Slant posts. until at least sunday afternoon.

so have a great weekend y'all. i hear the sun may shine in maine for a change. get outside and soak it in.

i'll leave you with this completely random clip of molly shannon on saturday night live. it has absolutely nothing to do with any recent posts or topics of interest. it's just damn hilarious.

buh-bye for now.

slacker

2008-08-13T22:25:00.016-04:00

every now and then, when posts have been scant on the slant, i'll get a friendly nudge from dawn at mdi, usually an email with the subject line slacker. i've been expecting one since i haven't written anything in the last few days, and sure enough, when i checked my mail tonight, there it was, steady as she goes. and so here i am.

and i got nothing but some random thoughts...

michael phelps. holy shit. i'm not gonna go into some long diatribe about the 800 reasons it completely disgusts me that the Olympics are in China. i'm too tired to do it tonight. i'm just gonna say....Michael Phelps. i want to be him, for like 20 seconds. just to see how it feels to be oh, i dunno, a superhero.

heating oil. causing sleepless nights on Beacon Street. picturing myself this winter wearing every sweater i own. all at once. remember the little brother in "A Christmas Story" who wears the winter jacket that is so puffy he can't move his arms?

that's gonna be me, attempting to maneuver around my apartment in 800 layers of clothing. if i can't figure out a way to stretch 100 gallons of oil over a 6-8 week period this winter, i'm not gonna eat. the good news...Muffin Top Belly Reduction.

susan collins. that whole "Secret Union Vote" thing? those freaking obnoxious commercials? aside from the fact that they are annoying, and false, and that people are stupid enough to think it means Tom Allen believes we should do away with secret ballots, and did i mention that they are annoying? aside from all of THAT...as a Sopranos Freak Fanatic, I am not happy that Johnny Sacks is in one of the commercials. somebody, quick, get Gandolfini on the phone and let's film a response ad where Tony Soprano kicks some serious Johnny Sacks butt.

foot in mouth disease. Johnny Mcsame quote of the week, regarding Russian invading Georgia: "in the 21st century, nations don't invade other nations." oh. my. god.

like matthew yglesias says: "We all recall, of course, John McCain’s outrage when the United States violated this rule back in 2003."

the x files. saw the new x-files movie last week. the company was lovely. the movie though? um. don't bother. unless you're at all interested in maniacal mad scientist russian homosexuals who perform head transplants in unsanitary, scary shacks in the middle of nowhere. bad, bad, bad.

the pretenders. releasing a new album. a new COUNTRY album. this does not make me happy. Chrissie Hynde was such a bitchin' chick rocker. i'll probably buy it anyway, and end up hating it. and then i'll just play Learning To Crawl. over and over and over again. 'cause that album makes. me. happy. side note: am i supposed to say that the pretenders are releasing a new "CD"?? 'cause i am fully aware that, well, albums went the way of slinkies and hula hoops and Fresca and MTV being music television that airs music videos. screw it. i'm still saying album. i miss albums. i miss how excited i used to get to check out the sleeve, and the liner notes.

lindsay lohan. allegedly livin' the lesbian life. converting to Judaism for Samantha. and Samantha (who i have to say...well, makes me want to take a shower whenever i see a photo of her...eww) finally speaks publicly about their little romance. and we discover why she's never spoken publicly before. because she sort of sounds like an idiot. "Lindsay is great. But she's also 22 years old. I think people forget that. With the Internet the way it is, one second we're enemies, one second we're best friends, one second we're lovers, and then we're broken up... Even the airport security guy in Canada asked me, 'So is it true?' It's like, 'Oh, yeah, I'm telling you!' like, oh my god! that's so like, crazy!!! um. who. flipping. cares.

searsport. i'm there. this weekend. road trip with Corey. visiting friends who have a lovely cottage. on the ocean. key words: lobster. beer. no internet. and did i mention cottage on the ocean? this may be the cure for the worst Case Of Crankiness i've had in months.

lamest post ever? quite possibly. blame it on the rain (yeah, yeah...Milli fucking Vanilli, baby!!)

or blame it on the full moon. or lack of sleep due to oil prices, as mentioned earlier. whatever. i tried to make it at least entertaining by inserting Pretty Pictures. Dawn wanted a post. here it is sister friend.

happy hump night y'all.

weeds

2008-08-10T18:48:00.004-04:00

silas: we can't just stand around and do nothing. They'll hit us again.

nancy: let me worry about it.

silas: you weren't the one that got the shit beat out of them.

nancy: you're right. i wasn't. i'm also not going up against an army of drug-dealing bikers with a 17-year-old boy, a flamboyant Hindi queen, and a four-foot-tall Jesus-loving pixie as my posse.

----------------------------------

editor's note: the slant acknowledges that it is no coincidence that Sunday's posts were titled "homegrown" and "weeds."

talk amongst yourselves. 'cause i gotta get back to Mary Louise Parker. she's just...smokin' hot.

weeds, season three.
fan-freaking-tastic

homegrown

2008-08-10T06:51:00.003-04:00

i heart maine, for many, many reasons. you can stay home if you're on vacation because there are eighty bazillion places to visit and explore. we brew excellent beer. ocean, ocean, ocean. we actually buy local and get quality stuff when we do. edna st. vincent millay, longfellow, harriet beecher stowe, stephen king, andrew wyeth. ocean, ocean, ocean. beer, beer, beer.

*and* we are also home to some incredible musicians. seriously talented. like kate schrock. playing right now at The Slant House. well, she isn't actually *here*. oh how i wish. she's the real deal. um. wow.

found this lovely video of kate. followed by some Slant recommendations for homegrown music. feel free to add yours.

in no particular order:

the coming grass, beauty of a heart

sara cox, arrive

darien brahms, green valentine

vanessa torres and touching ground, witness

kate schrock, invocation

wall of jules, wicked

slaid cleaves, broke down

protecting the sanctity of rants

2008-08-09T08:10:00.057-04:00

so the big news this morning is that john edwards cheated on his wife. eh, here we go again.

let me start by saying i have giant-sized empathy, hell, universe-sized empathy, for elizabeth edwards, and for the hillary clintons and the cindy mccains of the world who get to see their partner's betrayals discussed live, and incessantly, on Color TV. i lived through that kind of betrayal. and oh-my-god, it sucked. the humiliation was horrible enough, and i cannot. begin. to. imagine the scope of it when the entire world learns about and then obsesses over it for days, weeks, months, and in hill's case, years. i could write a whole post on the slow, torturous recovery you have to endure as the partner-who-got-cheated-on. it is deeply painful, grueling, embarrassing, and will take any self-esteem you've managed to amass and obliterate it into millions of tiny, glass-like and dangerously sharp pieces. the re-building of Self takes years, and even when you think you're finally over it, it can rear its ugly head again at any moment and just mess. you. up. for real. my heart just aches for Elizabeth Edwards today. but that is not what i want to write about.

i seem to find myself in a bit of a conundrum. or a paradox. or a catch-22. 'enigma' doesn't seem to fit, but i really like that word so i decided to insert it anyway.

on the one hand, i want to believe that i couldn't give a rat's ass about the gorry details of a candidate or elected official's personal life. i mean damn, if i used that as a threshhold when deciding who to support, well, i might as well stay home and not vote at all. because, come on people, we all have skeletons in our proverbial closets. and when you mix power and prestige with sex, it seems that a whole lot of our "leaders" just cannot. resist. the temptations. call it egoism, call it narcissism, call it whatever you want, but the same great movers and shakers who can manage to deal rather brilliantly with shit like, um, wars or threats of nuclear annihilation or global economies, simply cannot manage their own pitiful libidos. Franklin D. couldn't manage it, JFK couldn't manage it, and the list goes on and on and on.

i mean, lezbe honest, if the current sex-obsessed press had been around in the "olden days", we would likely find out that that since the beginning of our lovely little experiment called The United States, a whole lot of our public servants, from the prez all the way down to the dog-catcher, are, or were, um, knee-deep in extra-marital affairs. this is not a news flash. it's probably a Big-Sized Statement on the whole sanctity-of-marriage BS, which brings me to the um, conundrum part of this post.

that is, on the other hand, the rat's ass that i didn't want to give away earlier quite suddenly appears on my gift list when these same pols are self-righteous and judgemental and all-about-protecting-the-sanctity of something they are secretly (for the time being) smashing to smithereens. this is the stuff that just utterly disgusts me. there are scads of examples, right? toe-tappin' larry craig and diaper-boy david vitter sponsoring the latest federal marriage amendment act. governor charlie crist, who has been dodging gay rumors for-evah and well, if he ain't gay then i ain't, and who wants a shot at the GOP veep spot so badly that he beards himself up good and tight by getting engaged, um, quickly, and announcing his support of florida's marriage amendment. And Johnny My Cheatin' Heart McSame, who said this regarding his support of Arizona's marriage amendment in 2006: "I'm proud to have led an effort in my home state to change our state constitution and to protect the sanctity of marriage as between a man and woman."

and lest i sound too partisan, this kind of a rant would not be complete without citing Bill Clinton and his signing of the Federal DOMA in 1996. the fact that a guy who said "i did. not. have. sexual. relations. with. that. woman" and did (oh how he did), could then put his presidential signature of approval on a law defending marriage from um, people like ME, is just, well, goddamn ridiculous. even this whole john edwards thing has at least some slight undertones of hypocrisy. while i don't think there are any statements by Edward's opposing marriage equality based on a desire to 'protect the sanctity of marriage', he *did* say that his opposition to queers tying the marriage knot was rooted in his religious upbringing. which feels like kinda the same thing. i am just so tired of this "pick-and-choose-which-biblical-reference-suits-your-needs" in the daylight hours and then "let's-toss-that-gideon-bible-out-of-the-hotel-room-window-and-fast" in the nightime.

i don't know what this post is all about it. i'm sure you don't either, and for that, i apologize. these are all barely-caffeinated thoughts. i guess i'm just finding myself in that dreadful place called You Can't Have It Both Ways. even thought i want to say that someone's personal life should be off-limits, i can't, because i think it becomes relevant when that same personal life directly conflicts with their very public statements and actions around their politics. i despise hypocrits, and i especially despise powerful hypocrits who get paid to make decisions about me and for me. in my particular case, their arguments against making me a First Class Citizen almost always have Morality as the showcase talking point. again, it all just reeks with very stinky irony.

maybe the answer is a compromise. if you have a messy, um, bedroom, that's your shit to deal with. but keep the bedroom out of your politics. if you're having affairs on the side, or if you're paying for sex, or if you're finding true lust in airport restrooms, good for you. but maybe you should become a champion for roads and highways and bridges, oh my, or wind-power, or, like, saving your favorite endangered species or something. stay away from stuff like marriage amendments and, for chrissake, don't wax poetic and use phrases like 'i am doing this because i believe in protecting the sanctity of marriage.' it's a bullshit statement that seems to continually come out the mouths of the most self-righteous, morally bankrupt, cheating, lying liars in the world whose own "marriages" are a complete and utter sham. the gay and lesbian couples i know, and there are thousands of 'em, would bring real class, reverence and credibility to this whole marriage thing.

'cause they. get. it. they believe marriage is about stuff like, hmmm, commitment. and monogamy. and family. and love.

what a radical idea.

i'm building a queer ark

2008-08-08T08:36:00.012-04:00

thanks to dawn from mdi for sending me this, well, kind of depressing radar shot of today's weath-uh.

ah, the rain. i would not be a Proper Maine Blogg-uh if I did not dedicate at least one post to the current Real Weather we are experiencing here. "Real Weath-uh"...a favorite phrase of my dad's, and one that Mr. Macrum reminded me of over there at Lost in the Bozone.

the thing is...i don't really know what to say about it. i don't know if it's coincidental or by design, but since my return to work on Wednesday, my creative juices have gone and dried up again. i was damn near posting two a day for awhile. and now...i got nothin' people.

so, yeah, it looks like it's gonna be a wet weekend. fine with me. jenny jeez has inspired me to re-watch The Sopranos from The Beginning, *and* i've got a hot date with Mary Louise Parker and Season 3 of Weeds. (translation: coinciding with my current creative dry spell is an empty social calendar. um. yeah.) it's all about Couch Potato Land this weekend. Netflix will, indeed, be my saving grace from an otherwise washed-out saturday and sunday.

and maybe the rain will eventually whet (pun absolutely intended here) my creative whistle and i'll post some deep, meaningful, life-affirming thoughts on the slant. more bizarre things have happened. stay tuned.

paris for president

2008-08-06T10:17:00.005-04:00

Last week, John McCain launched an ad comparing Democratic rival Barack Obama to Hilton and Britney Spears, suggesting Obama was no more than a celebrity candidate unready to lead the nation:

This week, Paris Hilton responded in this rather hysterically funny ad from Funny or Die, one of my favorite procrastination-inducing websites. My favorite line is her opener: "Hey America, I'm Paris Hilton and I'm a celebrity, too. Only I'm not from the olden days and I'm not promising change like that other guy. I'm just hot."

Funny, funny stuff.

See more Paris Hilton videos at Funny or Die

treadmill kitty

2008-08-05T09:11:00.002-04:00

back to work tomorrow...which is probably gonna make me feel like...hmmm...a kitty on a treadmill (jane! stop this crazy thing). that there was a George Jetson reference by the way.

thanks to johnny for sending me this video.
happy tuesday y'all.

the wind down

2008-08-03T07:08:00.023-04:00

loved the 1:00 am massive thunderstorm that plowed through portland this morning. i may have actually slept through it if oscar hadn't jumped on my chest and burrowed himself under the covers after an especially loud clap of thunder. once i was awake though...wow. threw on a sweatshirt and went outside on the porch and watched the show for at least a half an hour. it was...fantastic. and then crawled back into bed and was lulled back to sleep by the amazing sound of the rain. (and as i sit here type, type, typing away, another one is rolling in. it's just *pouring* rain outside and i love. it. oscar has again managed to dig himself under the covers and is curled around my feet at this moment. i can feel his tail thumping around like mad, his very-good-imitation of The Cowardly Lion on full display. he's *such* a Scaredy Cat. i am utterly amazed he mustered the courage to catch Poor 'Ole Fritz.)

this afternoon i'm heading to Shapleigh...and I'm going to try and soak in the next two days at home for all their worth. my mom is feeling good and this will be the first real quality time we've spent together since she's been out of the hospital. my oldest niece (see: Heirs), who's working at a summer camp, is home for the weekend, and this is our last chance to hang out together before she's off to college in September. (the fact that my baby girl is a soon-to-be freshman in college is worthy of a post in and of itself. it's been rolling around in my head for awhile now. stay tuned.) we won't have our entire family under the same roof again until Thanksgiving, and after everything we've been through with my mom, i am acutely aware of how precious that is. im going to savor every minute of it.

and so i am on the tail end, the wind down, the back side of my time away from All Things Work. i've been trying desperately not to count backwards (you know, in 72 hours i'll be an Official Professional Queer again), but it's kind of impossible. i'm glad i added an extra two days to the time off, but M. was right...two weeks would have been ideal. still...i slid right into vacation mode from the beginning, and it's been, for the most part, medicine for my soul. hopefully i'm regenerated enough to jump back into the fire and get the work. done.

mchottie remarked the other night "you know if i won the lottery i would leave medicine in a minute and still find plenty of things to do." i get that. boy, do i ever. in My Perfect World, with a winning lottery ticket in my pocket, i'd cut a big check to EQME, i'd set my mom and dad up BIG TIME, and then i'd...hmmm...find myself a radical radio station and become The Next Rachel Maddow. and write The Novel. yes indeedy.

but hey, you gotta *play* the lottery to *win* the lottery, right? and no one is given the keys to The Perfect World, clearly. i cannot complain. i've spent some time over this last week or so really looking at the world around me, and while i still have some holes to fill, i've got a pretty rich life. i just need to learn how to balance (and/or separate) work from Everything Else. i discovered this vacation that i'm pretty fond of the Darlene who isn't carrying her Professional Queer Card in her pocket all the time. who isn't constantly making lists and then working like a dog to cross items off them. who can close her eyes at night and not have those same lists running through her head. i've had a very deep sense of...hmmm...inner peace...since about Day Two of this vacation, and i don't want that to disappear completely come Wednesday.

anyway...those are my early morning thoughts. a fresh cup of coffee and the New York Times crossword puzzle are callin' my name now.

here's a sampling of what's playing at The Slant House this morning. john mayer's cover of 'free falling', a song that always reminds me of long ago and far away, and driving my old toyota corolla, with DB next to me and her beautiful little boy singing his heart out in the back seat. mayer's version is just lovely.

happy sunday y'all.

all i really want

2008-08-01T17:11:00.005-04:00

i'm crushing on alanis and jagged little pill all over again. it's playing constantly at home and in lady bug's car. since Vacation Day One.

i almost forgot how. much. i. love. this. cd.

and all i need now is intellectual intercourse
a soul to dig the hole much deeper
and i have no concept of time other than it is flying
if only i could kill the killer...

may he, or um, she, rest in peace

2008-08-01T07:30:00.010-04:00

fritz/fritzess is no more.

Oscar presented him/her to me this morning. while i was drinking coffee. just plopped the little thing down at my feet and then let out an Oscar Meow i have never heard before. look mom, i brought you breakfast! he seemed very, very pleased (oscar, that is. fritz/fritzess was just very, very dead.) and then he rolled around on the floor next to the little mouse carcass, basking in his glorious conquest. what i *wanted* to say was 'i cannot believe it took you this long.' i mean good freaking gawd, this little rodent has managed to squat here for what, a month or more?

but you never look a gift horse, er, gift cat, in the mouth. (what the fuck does that actually mean??) remembering that my dad used to praise our cats every time they brought similar gifts to the doorstep in shapleigh ("you have to darl, this is a present from them to you, and you need to let them know you appreciate it"), i thanked him profusely in my Oscar voice, which sounds similar to the voice adults use to talk to babies...you know...so that the adults sound like blubbering idiots? yeah. that's the stuff.

it should be noted that Willie looked, hmmm, dejected and rejected. like it was his mouse to own and his big brother beat him to it.

i properly disposed of fritz/fritzess.

may he/she have a fortunate rebirth.

editor's note:

Stories behind Famous Sayings

The Saying: DON'T LOOK A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH.

Who Said It: St. Jerome

When: 400 A.D.

The Story behind It: This proverb is based on the fact that a horse's value is determined by his age, which, in turn, can be roughly determined by an examination of his teeth. The message conveyed is that a gift should be appreciated for the thought and spirit behind it, not according to its value. St. Jerome, who never accepted payment for his writings, first used the phrase in reply to his literary critics. His exact words: "Never inspect the teeth of a gift horse."

here comes the rain again

2008-07-31T08:08:00.017-04:00

today's weathuh:

Mostly cloudy. A 60 percent chance of showers and thunderstorms this morning...then showers and thunderstorms likely this afternoon. Highs in the upper 70s. Light and variable winds...becoming southeast around 10 mph this afternoon. Chance of rain 70 percent.

unbelievably, this the first overcast day since Darlene's Big Vacation began. and i love it. i can smell the rain...and it makes me happy.

cozying up at home. wine chillin'. nag champa burnin'. candles lit.

today's book:

tonight's flick:

the in-between spaces

2008-07-30T22:59:00.000-04:00

i went to the water empty-handed today, but not with an empty head. i felt a tugging, a pull, something heavy inside of me when i woke this morning. and a down-to-the-bone yearning for a wide open space without distraction. i did not bring a book. no pen or paper, no journal to write in furiously. left the cell phone in the car and walked the path to the backside of fort williams. stood at the top of the cliff and looked down, scanned the rocks for the biggest sprays of water, finally seeing exactly the spot, and slowly navigated the rocks down to it. sat as close as i could to the waters edge, near enough that i felt the occasional cold splash on my feet, but high enough so that i wouldn't be drenched completely by the spray. the sea was rougher today than yesterday, and the breeze coming off the water was strong and ocean-air cool...when the sun went behind the clouds, i would find myself shivering and wishing that i had brought a sweatshirt with me. and then the sun would peek out again and i would cloak its warmth around me like a blanket.

i watched the waves roll in, the smaller ones splashing gently against the rocks, the bigger ones that always followed pounding so hard the spray would shoot 20 feet in the air, pushing the water all around me, white surf turning luminescent green. i got lost in it all, felt hypnotized, gave my mind permission to become empty of any thought and held myself completely still. i must have sat like that for an hour, not moving, lulled to almost-sleep by the water i sometimes desperately crave and so much of the time have to be near.

after a time, my mind began to stir, to wake from meditation. and i thought about the lovely bones and ann sebold's version of heaven. if heaven exists, i want it to be exactly as she described it, how we are given, in our heavens, our simplest dreams, how they are created by what comforts us and by what we desire. if that's heaven, then mine will look something like shapleigh sitting on top of the backside of monhegan island, and it will be filled with everyone i've loved and lost and who made the journey before me, and it will be recognizable to the people i leave behind so that when they make their own journey they will find me easily. i will see them coming and i will wait for them, holding chocolate and flowers and then i will cover them with kisses and we will release the longing and the heartache that only comes from what you believed in your head was a separation that would last an eternity.

and i want so much to believe that we can stand in some beautiful spot there, and with no effort we can follow the lives of those we left behind. that we can sit next to them. visit them in their dreams. and that if we are gentle enough so that we do not frighten them, there might just be a moment or two when they understand we are there. and that in those fleeting seconds the longing and the missing will disappear for them. replaced by comfort. and grace. and a sense of being held closely. how beautiful that would be, what a gift.

i thought of these things as i sat and stared at the water, and then my mind, suddenly and with no warning, was filled and then overflowing with Betty. if i am honest i can say that she has been on the very edge of my thoughts lately, maybe because this book reminded me so much of her. the heaviness revealing itself. maybe i want so much to believe in sebold's heaven because then i will know that Betty is with me, watching, following me, just out of my reach but still there, just in a different way.

during the first year following her death, i was certain she visited me. i would have long, colorful dreams at night and we would walk together in fields of lavender and sometimes we would talk, and sometimes we wouldn't. and in those dreams i could feel her arms wrapped around me. i could lay my head on her shoulder and rest there awhile. there would be days when i would sit outside at my old house in scarborough, and the wind would kick up a certain way, and the chimes would ring and i would know, know deep down in my bones, that she was sitting right next to me. those were the days when grief sat in my belly like a brick. i don't remember if the grief made my heart hard like a stone, or if it made it fragile, too soft, like powder, or dust in my hands. i only remember that the ache was constant, that it seared through me like a knife, and that it made breathing difficult. i remember so often feeling as though i just. could. not. breathe.

i don't feel her like that anymore. she does not visit me in my dreams. sometimes i forget what she looks like, and when that happens i have to run into the livingroom and pull her picture off the shelf. and i make myself stare at it, long and hard, so that i can memorize her face all over again. i wonder if this is what happens when the grief subsides, when we begin to let go of the dead and go back to those who are still alive. do the dead understand this? do they feel our letting go and then also feel their pull on us fading away?

yet even as she seemingly fades away, there are still moments when i miss her so much that it burns my skin like fire, moments when i just want, for one tiny moment, to feel her hands clasped around my mine, to see her smile, hear her laughter. and somehow, this feeling of missing her is comforting to me because it means she has not left me altogether. i do not want her to disappear completely, i do not think i could bear it.

these were the thoughts that consumed me out on those rocks today. i kept willing Betty to show her face, in a wave, in the wind, in the reflection of the sun on the wet rocks, in anything, anything at all. i waited and waited. i was surprised to feel the water running down my cheeks, surprised to taste the salt, and i was not oblivious to the irony of water and salt, ocean and tears. we crave the ocean because we have bodies that are exactly like the ocean.

i waited and waited, and she did not come.

and so i stood. wiped my face. whispered i miss you to the wind. and then, i'm going to go home and write about you. turned my back to the water and climbed my way to the top again and did not look back. walked into the open field and looked up at the blue sky and saw the kites, again, kites everywhere, floating through the air like giant pieces of confetti.

you are nowhere and i need you to be everywhere.

with much effort, i moved away from the in-between spaces in my mind where ghosts keep company with the living, and into the place where Betty does not live anymore. but where i still do. walked to lady bug's car, opened the door, rolled down the windows. sat there, hands on the steering wheel, doing what i could to push the sadness away. was finally able, after a time, to take in a long breath that did not feel like a hot poker pressing against my lungs. started the car, and drove her home.

susie salmon

2008-07-29T21:50:00.002-04:00

as mentioned earlier, i am on vacation and trying to keep the blood pressure down and the headaches to a minimum, and therefore am avoiding rants of any kind. the good news: i am in such a wonderful current state-of-mind that i simply cannot think of one thing to rant about. true story. this has been the best. vacation. ever. and i still have seven full days to soak it all in. i have not logged on to my work email, which is a small miracle in and of itself since i usually check it compulsively, even on weekends. i'm beautifully out-of-the-loop. i'm pretty sure that the 1913 law was officially overturned today in MA, which is of course great news, but i only know this because of the Pam's House Blend headline on my blog feed. for real, i haven't even clicked onto the story to read about it. if i do, i will inevitably find something on there that pisses me off and i will feel the urge to write a Slant Rant. this morning's post was a close call after reading just one article from NYT headlines, and i felt myself shifting dangerously near Work Mode. so i am staying away from that edge, which now includes reading anything beyond headlines, until i'm sitting at my desk next Wednesday. ignorance is my current bliss, people.

i had a great day at Two Lights...got lucky and found the perfect rock-chair close to the water, and perched myself there for about 4 hours. got even luckier and watched two seals spend a solid 30 minutes fishing and swimming and acting all, well, seal-like. i have often thought that in my next life, i want to come back as a well-loved cat, but being a seal might not be such a bad gig either. they certainly appeared to be having incredible amounts of fun. i ate lunch, wrote in my journal, and occasionally checked the trajectories of the rogue waves crashing on the rocks, their spray moving ever closer to my spot. around 3:00 the wind shifted and i could literally feel the tide turning. the rogue waves got bigger, the sprays higher, and i was gently persuaded by the tide to move further and further up the rocks. when i finally left around 4:00, my original seat was completely submerged. and all night, i have had that wonderful, faint taste of salt on my lips. i have seen the ocean every single day of my vacation so far. for this aquarian, that is simply as good as it gets.

and i finished Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones , and now have a new literary heroine to add to my short list (currently Scout Finch and Ellen Foster sit at the top): Susie, "last name Salmon, like the fish." my god, what an amazing and beautiful book--and a stunning meditation on life and death.

i don't know how Sebold did it...her first novel and she decides to write a story narrated by a dead girl who's hanging out in heaven and watching the events on earth unfold after her death. it sounds almost ridiculous and at the very least utterly depressing. but this ain't no mitch albom "the five people you meet in heaven" (bleh). and while the first chapter is nearly impossible to get through, if you hang in there, you will be richly rewarded. somehow Sebold manages to tell an incredible coming-of-age story about a funny, sweet girl who we know from the very first sentence will never grow up. it's just truly an astonishing book and i savored every single word.

"When I opened my eyes, the window across from us was dark red and I could feel that there was not much time left. Outside, the world I had watched for so long was living and breathing on the same earth I now was. But I knew I could not go out. I had taken this time to fall in love instead--in love with the sort of helplessness I had not felt in death--the helplessness of being alive, the dark bright pity of being human--feeling as you went, groping in corners and opening your arms to light--all of it part of navigating the unknown."

the lovely bones is, in a word, lovely. and highly recommended by The Slant.

this feels a little like work to me

2008-07-29T08:35:00.008-04:00

i am on a self-imposed break from all things work-like, and for me, that includes making any sweeping commentary (aka rants) about anything other than Lindsay Lohan's ditching of her Lesbian Luh-vah Samantha or Brangelina's twins (was it in vitro, or wasn't it?). you'll notice that the scant slant posts of late have been decidedly non-political and/or not of rabble-rousing nature. this is by design, people. this dyke also known as The Homosexual Rights Movement (a title bestowed upon me by One of the Michaels) needs a break. badly.

because of this, i have resisted posting anything about the shooting in Knoxville, Tennessee. i know that if i start, i won't be able to stop, and then my head will start aching and i'll feel that tension in my muscles and the rising of blood pressure and then i might as well just drive the femmemobile to the office and put in a hard day's work.

instead, i'm going to pack a lunch, the lovely bones (which i've nearly finished, and which is...well... astounding), and some sunscreen (i seem to be molting uncontrollably and have shed 5 layers of skin from a sunburned nose...bleh) and head to the beach. i am not going to think about knoxville, or the fact that the New York Times confirmed today what most people have already suspected was the motive for this whack job (read below). i am going to resist the temptation to write about how the hateful rhetoric of some will inevitably incite acts of violence in others because i've done that already (read: words, February 13, 2008).

i'm. not. going. to. do. it.

i'll just post the NYT story, and be done with it. and you can talk amongst yourselves.

----------------------------------------------------------------------
New York Times
July 29, 2008

Hate for Liberals and Gay People Drove Gunman, Police Say

By SHAILA DEWAN

A man who the police say entered a Unitarian Universalist church in Knoxville, Tenn., on Sunday and shot eight people, killing two, was motivated by a hatred for liberals and gay people, Chief Sterling P. Owen IV of the Knoxville Police Department said Monday.

“It appears that what brought him to this horrible event was his lack of being able to obtain a job, his frustration over that, and his stated hatred for the liberal movement,” Chief Owen said of the suspect, Jim D. Adkisson, 58. “We have recovered a four-page letter in which he describes his feelings and the reason that he claims he committed these offenses.”

According to a search warrant for Mr. Adkisson’s house filed by the police, during interrogation Mr. Adkisson admitted to the shooting and said “he had targeted the church because of its liberal leanings and his belief that all liberals should be killed because they were ruining the country.”

rest of the story HERE.

in the cd player...

2008-07-27T14:02:00.002-04:00

jagged little pill, alanis morissette.

and this one pretty much sums up my current state of mind as i enter day 3 of vacation. it's good. it's all good.

for you, a thousand times over

2008-07-27T06:56:00.004-04:00

i can cross one item off my vacation to-do list. i finished reading The Kite Runner last night. it would be inaccurate to say i 'enjoyed' it...it was far too violent and sad and heartbreaking for that. i can say that it was disturbingly beautiful. unforgettable. i imagine it's going to sit inside me for a good long time.

my favorite passage:

"I slipped the picture back where I had found it. Then I realized something: That last thought had brought no sting to it. Closing Sohrab's door, I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night."

lovely.

the kite runner

2008-07-26T09:01:00.027-04:00

my first vacation-celebration purchase was a copy of Khaled Hosseini's "The Kite Runner". i've wanted to read it for a good long time, and yet, i was a little afraid of it, knowing that it would likely break my heart in two. M. convinced me it was a story worthy of a little heartache, and besides, every book she's ever recommended to me ends up on my 'favorite' shelf so it was likely that i would enjoy it. and here i am again, the nerdy little bookworm, wanting to do nothing but find a comfortable place to sit and read, utterly in love with a book that pulled me deep inside its world the very minute i read the first paragraph:

"I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the precise moment, crouching behind a crumbling mud wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past claws its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years."

this is most beautifully written book i have read in years, right up there with 'fall on your knees'. it is wrapped in horrific and almost unspeakable violence, and yet told with love and extraordinary tenderness. it is really, i think, a love story about afghanistan, a love story of two little boys and their haunting friendship, a love story of fathers and sons. and while i can't be certain because i've not turned the last page yet, i suspect it will also be about redemption. at least i hope so because at this point, i'm not sure i could bear any other ending.

this book is...difficult to read sometimes. it will light fire to every emotion imagineable inside of you. it is so unbelievably heartwrenching at times that i have to simply put the book aside to catch my breath. i have cried more than once and have been amazed at the way Hosseini is able to reach deep inside his readers and pull so hard at the heart. his prose is simple--no flourishing words or sweeping metaphors or grandiose, complicated imagery. and yet...the sentences have a rhythm, a voice, that reads like poetry. like music. sad, haunting, lovely music.

i was tucked in bed late last night...burning incense...and completely lost in this story. two times i finished a chapter, put the book on the nightstand, and thought, 'okay, time to sleep.' turned out the light, and lay in the darkness, my mind unable to shut off these complicated, beautiful characters. and then turned the light back on, and read more. finally, at 2 am, my eyes got the best of me and i had to tuck away hassan and amir and baba and ali for the night.

i'll be heading to Fort Williams soon...book in hand, of this you can be sure.

i am a sappy one

2008-07-24T08:52:00.004-04:00

i mentioned in today's earlier post that sometimes i am a total sap. this is a true story.

ray & connie just sent me this youtube video, and yep, i got all mushed out. turn off the volume (unless you can deal with whitney houston singing "i will always love you", something that i simply cannot. do. bleh.) and the little 'heartwarming' message at the end is just too cheeseball for me. but still--the footage of this lion and his reunion with a couple of friends is just so sweet to watch.

and don't make fun. sappiness can be very adorable at the right moments.

12 days

2008-07-24T05:36:00.023-04:00

in a little less than nine hours, i will officially Be On Vacation. twelve days. good freaking gawd. i've not had this kind of time off since, hmmmm...well, since my restaurant days before i became a Professional Queer. for twelve days in a row, my Google Calendar will send me a message that says: you have no events today. i am ridiculously excited. and thinking i need a list of Things I Want To Do.

this is *not* a run-schedule, Monique-ee.

but still. a random list is better than nothing, right? in a perfect world, and in no particular order, i would love to....

read The Kite Runner and The Lovely Bones

organize the 500 pages of Slant Posts i printed off because it will make me feel as though i've actually written a book. i understand this likely makes me sound sorta....well....geeky. but still. i've never written 500 pages of anything before. and maybe there are the beginnings of a novel in there somewhere. you just. never. know.

see the ocean at least five times

Sleep. In.

remove "professional" from my Queer Status for the entire vacation.
hang in shapleigh for two days

spend time with the posse. i am so Posse Deprived.

tool around in lady bug's car just to get reactions from people
go to cele and ann's annual birthday party. and drink frozen margaritas.

write. write. write. write.
go camping for three days (and not in central park. ahem.) hermit island. yeah baby.

meditate twice a day, every day

visit friends

catch J up on a few episodes of The Wire, Season 4. it's sooooo good.

give willie a haircut (don't ask. it's complicated. and admittedly, a little bit like work. but still. he's got...some issues.)

domestic goddessificate my apartment

overdose on nag champa

go on a hike with corey
send a musical care package to the Big Apple.

listen to some live music, preferrably outdoors

rent The Other Boleyn Girl because I. Heart. Natalie. Portman. OH and double-feature it with Notting Hill because sometimes i'm a total sap and that is one of the sweetest. movies. ever.

go to boston with my baby sister and see a play. nice.

hope for at least one rainy day so that i can just. be. lazy. and spend that entire day in my pj's. the ones with the mice on them.

watch a sunrise.

watch a sunset.

see the ABBA movie and fall in love with meryl streep all over again

cook something. that's not in a box. or frozen. expand those culinary horizons.

i will not paint. my. bathroom. too much like work.

i will not obsessively check my eqme email. exactly like work.

8 1/2 hours and counting....

island out to sea

2008-07-23T06:59:00.002-04:00

"The sea does not reward those who are too anxious, too greedy, or too impatient. One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach--waiting for a gift from the sea." Anne Morrow Lindberg

"Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off--then, I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can." Herman Melville

"The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace. " Kate Chopin

"Look at that sea, girls--all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn't enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds." Lucy Maud Montgomery

cookin' on the slant

2008-07-21T06:51:00.011-04:00

some of my fellow bloggers, on occasion, will share their favorite recipes, providing step-by-step instructions with often colorful and dee-lish-ous lookin' photos to illustrate their points. this morning, littlestpea did it, and dawn from mdi does it All. The. Time. she's a Recipe Show-Off. of course, she's also an incredible cook, and her blog *is* called Weldable Cookies.

so i've decided that this monday morning, i am going to share with y'all how to prepare *my* specialty dish, and yep, i'm even going to include photos. hang onto your hats slant readers, and take notes. this will change your culinary life forever.

ahem.

How To Cook Pop Tarts

Step One: you need to go to your local supermarket and buy a box of Pop Tarts. i prefer the six-pack as opposed to the eight-pack, for reasons which will be discussed later in this post. warning: this can be very, very overwhelming as there are seemingly millions of choices.

make your decision wisely, because once you get them groceries bagged, there is just no. turning. back.

okay. step two. when you get home, and after you've put any perishables into their proper compartments (ie. milk and beer should go in the refrigerator section, Celeste Pizzas in the freezer), place the box of Pop Tarts on your kitchen counter. And then locate your toaster.

step three, and people, this is important, so pay close attention: Plug. The. Toaster. Into. An. Outlet. Trust me, you'll only forget to do this once and then never again. It makes for a very. long. afternoon. if you forget.

step four.

open the box, and remove Pop Tarts from the wrapping (again, you only forget to do this once.)

step five. place poptarts in toaster. and do not leave the room. this is a very critical time in your poptart preparation. you simply cannot trust that the toaster instinctively knows what it's doing (last time i checked, toasters do not have brains). if you aren't carefully watching, smelling, and overall obsessing over the cooking of the tart, if you turn your back for even a minute, the results can be...well...horrifying. Pop Tart Freaking Hell.

for real, the above photo just makes. me. weep. Pop Tart Abuse. damn.

annnnyway, step six. after carefully monitoring the toasting process, Pop The Tarts when the outer layer is a lovely light brown. and please people, be careful when pulling said tarts out of the toaster. they are very, very hot. ouch. i found a photo of burnt fingers, but honestly, it was just too gross to share. let your imagination be your guide.

finally, step seven. place the tarts on a lovely plate, smear with butter or your favorite substitute. you can even cut them in lovely triangle shapes for presentation purposes:

now, some of you may be asking "but how many pop tarts should i cook?" this is completely subjective of course, and highly dependent upon the level of your appetite. i prefer the Paula Poundstone Theory of Poptarts, based on the six-poptarts-per-box count. The Cliff Note version goes something like this:

poptarts generally come two per package, so clearly you need to eat at least two because if you don't, the other pop tart will become stale very quickly, and frankly, that's a waste.

consuming two poptarts is simply Not. A. Meal. so you've gotta do two more to meet Basic Daily Requirements.

after you've been through Round Two, you have a poptart box with just one package of poptarts in it, which seems like just a colossal waste of space, and well, cardboard. so you eat the third package just to basically Tidy Up.

and There You Have It. the first installment of Cookin' On The Slant.

next week: Mrs. Budd's Frozen Chicken Pot Pie.

fierce femme

2008-07-20T07:11:00.010-04:00

to illustrate how seriously i am taking dawn from mdi's challenge to push boundaries, bust stereotypes and, um, expand paradigms, i am pleased to announce that for the next several weeks, i will be driving around town in Lady Bug's sassy car.

how could that possibly bust stereotypes you ask?

well.

it's a purple car, for starters.

vanity plate? "FRCE FEM."

and while Lady Bug & i both agree that it *could* mean "fierce femINIST", there just isn't any other way to interpret the bumper sticker, which looks something like this:

i'm going to make a point of looking especially butch while driving the Femmemobile. it could turn out to be a fascinating sociological study.

plus there is the slight possibility that it will ignite some terrific rumors. which amuses me in ways i cannot describe.

talk amongst yourselves.

"how's your mom?"

2008-07-18T06:41:00.017-04:00

last night monique, matt & i drove to bangor for the first of two community meetings we have planned (monday night we'll be in portland and if you haven't RSVP'd yet, there is still time and still room at the "inn"...) we had a terrific turnout, and jean vermette brought icecream, so really, what more can be said?

as always happens when i go up to bangor, i left feeling inspired and excited about the energy and commitment of our peeps up there. and i got to see my bangor boy kevin who was his Usual Hysterical Self. if laughter really is the best medicine, this man could perform medical miracles.

AND in a take-my-breath-away moment halfway through the meeting, the doors to the bangor uu church opened and in walked my long-lost-and-now-happily-found friend cindi which thrilled me beyond words...really, when she walked in, the whole world stopped moving for about 5 seconds and i just wanted to sprint across the room and give her a galaxy-sized hug. i could barely look at her because i knew if i did, i would lose complete and utter train-of-thought and never make it through the rest of the meeting. the moment it was over, i searched for the most direct path and gave her that hug. she smelled like rain. the past converged with the present and my friend was beside me. amazing. i just love. her. so much.

after the meeting a few of us went to a local restaurant for a late dinner, and having cindi and kevin sitting at the same table was magical. i think they've completely fallen in love with each other. this is no surprise to me and i expect that the next time i go north, the three of us are gonna paint that little town red. i cannot. wait.

so many people asked me about my mom, it was stunning. this is not an unusual thing...wherever i go lately, "how's your mom" is generally one of the first questions i'm asked. it's very, very sweet, and my mom seems to have become somewhat of a celebrity (she would love this.) someone mentioned to me last night that i should really do an update on The Slant because after following her story for the last ten weeks, people might want to know what the latest news is. again, very, very sweet.

so here it is:

she is doing just. fabulous. in fact, i don't think i've seen her looking and feeling this good in years. all of her doctors (and since her surgery on may 9th, she has a slew of them) have been amazed at her progress, particularly after the seriousness of her problems, many of which were truly life-threatening. infection--gone. IV antibiotics--done. back--healing beautifully.

she is relatively pain-free and even at this early stage of her rehabilitation, she is more mobil than she's been in 5 years. her physical therapist believes that by the end of the summer she'll be walking with just a cane as opposed to the awkward walker she pushes around now. in fact, if she continues to recover at this pace, she may be able to walk without any aid at all. um, wow. honest to gawd, it feels like a miracle. there were some horribly close calls in the last 10 weeks. we were terrified of losing her, and every day she is with us now is a gift.

so we have graduated from Cautiously Optimistic. i can talk about her health now without desperately searching for Wood To Knock On. sometimes when i call her, we can actually get through an entire conversation without talking about medication or visiting nurses or levels of pain. my dad, for the most part, has stopped following her around the house and watching Her Every Move, though she claims "he's starting to drive me a little bit crazy because he's so overprotective." i've tried to explain to her that he's probably traumatized from this whole thing. and then she'll say that as hard as it has been for her, she can't even fathom the toll it's taken on all of us, and especially him. true enough.

i've got some vacation time coming up in 7 days, 18 hours, 26 minutes (not that i'm counting) and i plan on spending at least a few days sitting on the deck in shapleigh with my mom. we're going to drink iced tea, play some cribbage, gossip about our crazy relatives, watch the grass grow. honestly, i will be completely content if all i do is just sit beside her. it's going to be most precious.

my mother. is. healthy.

i cannot begin to describe how it just felt to type that sentence.

life is good.

skimping on the posts

2008-07-17T06:11:00.005-04:00

my professional life is about to sweep me away from cyberspace, potentially for six days (and on the seventh, Darlene Will Rest.) Rest...hmmm...that's one of those words that if you stare at it long enough it stops looking like a word. yeah. whatever.

getting to the point: posts on the slant may be infrequent until next wednesday. i know this is devastating news for y'all, and i may surprise you with a late-night and/or early-morning ramble or two. you just. never. know.

in the meantime, what the hell are you doing inside, anyway? it's july. summer time, baby. Most of You Live In Vacationland. get off that swivel chair and catch yourself some rays.

note: this post has been edited, thanks to the keen eyes of Dawn from MDI. Maine is *not* Vactionland. I have no flipping idea what a *vaction* actually is, but honestly, it does not sound pleasure-inducing. at all.

tagged

2008-07-16T07:46:00.003-04:00

i never, ever do MEMEs, but i am making an exception for mr. macrum over at lost in the bozone. like dawn on mdi, i have very few "blogging" friends, and the few i have, like jenny jeez, and well, dawn and mr. macrum, have been cancelled out for obvious reasons. so if you're a blogger reading this blog, um, tag, you're it.

i have about five minutes to answer these questions. it's gonna be short and sweet.

1) What is your favorite quotable line from a Movie?

being the movie freak that i am, there are many. but like i said, five minutes. so i'll pick my favorite exchange from The Princess Bride:

Miracle Max: Whoo-hoo-hoo, look who knows so much. It just so happens that your friend here is only MOSTLY dead. There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive. With all dead, well, with all dead there's usually only one thing you can do.

Inigo Montoya: What's that?

Miracle Max: Go through his clothes and look for loose change.

ask me this question in three hours, i'll probably have a new answer.

2) Who is the most famous person you have spoken to?

i am a political junkie, so who i consider famous most people have never heard of. i remember the first time i met mary bonauto. she introduced herself to me and she said "it's so nice to finally meet you, and i'm so grateful for all your hard work." i almost peed my pants. even though i now consider her a friend, i still have to pinch myself sometimes when i'm around her. my job allows me to meet all kinds of a sort-of famous political folk...you know, the usual suspects, Maine's washington delegation, the governor, etc. etc.

i had a beer with stephen king back in my u-maine days. i made a smart cocktail for glenn close once. i've met bonnie raitt. the indigo girls. donna rose.

mary's still my highlight though. bar none.

3) How many bags/boxes of Potato Chips are consumed at your place in a month?

i'm one of those people that requires something crunchy with a sandwich. or pizza. i also need a handful of salty chips after consuming something sweet, especially if it's icecream. or a brownie. so my estimate is two bags per month. sun chips are my favorite. the french onion kind. mmm-mmm-good. i also love cheetos but get irritated by the orange fingers i sport after eating them.

4) Who is your all time favorite Cartoon Character?

betty freakin' boop. or josie and all her pussy cats.

5) What foreign food Dish do you prepare from scratch and Serve?

that's just not funny. it's a well-known fact that i don't cook. i heat-up a mean Amy's Cheese Enchilada.

6) What is your favorite section of the Supermarket?

due to reasons discussed in answer #5, i am partial to the frozen foods section. i also love the fruit and vegetable section. i think it's the colorful array that attracts me. or something.

7) What was your high school teams mascot and what were the school's colors?

we were the Massabesic Mustangs and our colors were kelly green and white.

-----------------------------

i feel like i've gained immeasurable positive karmic points for doing this.

happy wednesday y'all.

how to definitely win a beer bet

2008-07-15T11:43:00.005-04:00

thanks to nanci over at gaynet for providing me with an opportunity to enhance my already superb procrastination skills by sending out a link to Video Jug: Life Explained. On Film.

warning: this website is, well, kind of addicting. just sayin'.

i've spent the last 20 minutes there. ssssh. don't tell The Executive Director of the radical homosexual rights lobbying group.

my three favorites (so far):

how to definitely win a beer bet

how to stop laughing at an inappropriate time

how to get off the phone with someone who won't shut up

have. fun.

happy birthday z, wherever you may be

2008-07-14T05:45:00.001-04:00

Morning Song

Love set you going like a fat gold watch.
The midwife slapped your footsoles, and your bald cry
Took its place among the elements.

Our voices echo, magnifying your arrival. New statue.
In a drafty museum, your nakedness
Shadows our safety. We stand round blankly as walls.

I'm no more your mother
Than the cloud that distills a mirror to reflect its own slow
Effacement at the wind's hand.

All night your moth-breath
Flickers among the flat pink roses. I wake to listen:
A far sea moves in my ear.

One cry, and I stumble from bed, cow-heavy and floral
In my Victorian nightgown.
Your mouth opens clean as a cat's. The window square

Whitens and swallows its dull stars. And now you try
Your handful of notes;
The clear vowels rise like balloons.

Sylvia Plath

most ridiculous week ever

2008-07-13T11:56:00.031-04:00

okay, okay, the post title is a blatant rip-off of after.ellen.com's Best. Lesbian. Week. Ever. which i am pretty sure was a blatant rip-off of VH 1's Best Week Ever which was probably a blatant rip-off of something else. come on people, there are only so many letters in the alphabet and only so many notes on the scale and only so many colors on the palette. let's all hold hands and pretend we're having a good time (blatant ani difranco rip-off, right. there.). it is sunday, the official day of, um, rest, so cut me a little slack and let's get on with it already.

if i sound grumpy, well, dammit i am. in a previous post, i mentioned spending some of my 'stimulus' check on must-have medicine for my mom. the other half of it was supposed to help me purchase 100 gallons of heating oil. in what i can only describe as a protest against buying heating oil during a heatwave, i spent the money on things like a bad ass new pair of chuck taylors and new books and a t-shirt from life is good. fast forward to this past friday, when i jumped in the shower and midway through it the water turned ice. cold. my screams of agony could be heard on both Munjoy Hill and the West End and very possibly the Falmouth Peninsula. outta oil. and i could really use another stimulus check, george w. just sayin'. so my grumpiness stems from three days of taking cold showers. yeah.

annnnyway. back to the most. ridiculous. week. ever. i have hand-picked four nominations. i am by no means endorsing the notion that other ridiculousness did not occur this week and/or in previous weeks. or that better ridiculousness is not soon to follow. and what i consider ridiculous may be common sensical to the rest of y'all. whatever. it's my blog so deal with it. or get your own blog and make your own damn list (eh. there's the grumpiness rearing its ugly head. sorry about that. oil is being delivered on tuesday and i'm gonna wash that grumpiness right outta my hair.)

ahem. focus huntress.

without further ado, and in absolutely no particular order, my Top Four Nominations.

drum roll, pah-leeeeze.

-----------------------------------

i ran out of oil this week. okay, so i already mentioned that. i'm just. very. unhappy about it.

-----------------------------------

in what is becoming just a mind-boggling phenomenon, another anti-gay rightwing nutcase has been caught having a gay affair. this time, beautifully, it's the Attorney General of Alabama, Troy King. something about his photo makes my gaydar go ding ding ding, or beep beep beep, or whatever sound gaydars make when they spot family. maybe it's the hair, which coincidentally reminds me of the quaff sported by a certain Maine christian conservative anti-gay pesky leader whose name shall not be mentioned but whose photo, um, shall be. and don't get your panties twisted MH, this is all done in good ole private-citizen-not-wearing-my-work-hat lesbian fun.

now of course these are all rumors and innuendos, but still, somebody in John McSame's camp is taking them seriously enough to remove all references to Mr. Queen, oops, I mean Mr. King from the JohnMcCain.com website. check out a diary post over at Pam's House Blend for the fully delicious details.

------------------------------

and speaking of John McSame, it's hard to pick out The Most Ridiculous McCain Story of the week because as usual, there are many. runners up included his new version of the old POW story in which he made some minor adjustments to satisfy the taste of local sports fans; AND the secret services' removal, at a Johnny Fundraising Event in Denver, of a very, very dangerous, um, librarian because she was holding a sign that said "McCain = Bush." but for me, the winner is a story out of the LA Times this week about one of McCain's surrogate speakers, Carly Fiorina, giving some nice political spin around insurance companies that cover Viagra and not birth-control. Fiorina said: "Let me give you a real, live example, which I've been hearing a lot about from women. There are many health insurance plans that will cover Viagra but won't cover birth control medication. Those women would like a choice."

first of all, i fucking love the ridiculousness of a McSame surrogate talking about Viagra since he's like, um, 103 years old. that said, one could imply from Fiorina's statement that Johnny supports insurance companies covering birth control, right? except that, as NARAL pointed out, Johnny twice voted AGAINST such legislation in 2002 and 2005.

but what makes this UTTERLY ridiculous (as if all of the above didn't automatically qualify) was McSame's response to Cathleen Decker, a writer for the LA Times, when she asked him about this rather glaring contradiction. check it out and Watch. Johnny. Squirm. honest to gawd, it's almost painful:

i simply cannot. wait. for the obama/mccain debates. obama is gonna whip mccain's sorry butt. for real. pop me some corn and pour me a cold one 'cause this is going to be better than color TV.
---------------

and finally...

i wrote something earlier in the week about about the American News Project, and specifically, about a report they posted called The Price Of Hunger. in related news, there was a G8 summit in Japan this week, focusing on world hunger. so, after presumably spending countless hours and immeasurable brainpower and exercising all their collective problem-solving skills discussing how to feed, say, starving Ethiopians:

they were rewarded for their efforts by being treated to...wait for it...an eighteen course meal:

it's kind of not so much ridiculous as it is, well, disgusting, and you can read the rest of the story by checking out the Daily News report HERE. if you can, for lack of a better phrase, stomach it.

so, there you have it. my version of The. Most. Ridiculous. Week. Ever.

happy sunday.

simple minds

2008-07-12T13:33:00.035-04:00

as you may have noticed from my sidebar gay agenda update, i've devoted a significant part of my morning and early afternoon to domestic goddessificating. i really like this new word i've invented, and i'm going to try and use some derivation of it three times in today's post, much like i did as a very nerdy bookworm kid who used to read...um...the dictionary...daily...and pick out a new "word of the day" to try and use in conversations, which, incidentally, drove my parents batshit crazy. don't make fun. reading is the gift that keeps on giving and learning is the treasure that will follow its owner everywhere. or something like that. anyway, #1 word usage has been taken care of, poof, just. like. that. (see first sentence.)

i've dusted and scrubbed and swept and mopped and hung out a fresh load of laundry on the line outside and now i'm nearing the end of my domestic goddessification (there's #2.) this means lighting nag champa in every room and generally walking around and admiring my work. i love it when the place is domestically goddessified (nice, #3). oh i do, i do, i do. it just makes me feel very grown-up and less like the slightly chaotic livin'-like-a-bachelor-type dyke that i sometimes am. there is a most delightful breeze circulating through the apartment, everything smells dee-lishhh-ous, and i still have most of the day in front of me. good times people. good times.

i was just about to turn off the radio and head out for an afternoon walk when lo and behold, one of my favorite 80's songs from one of my favorite 80's band came on. alive and kicking. simple minds. yes indeedy. this is a summer of 1984 tune. i know this because i went to a simple minds concert with my very first girlfriend on our very first date at the cumberland county civic cen-tah when they opened for the pretenders. august 1984. it was a fantastic concert and i remember thinking that my new little girlfriend must have found me completely irresistable because i was just oh so radically cool and sporting my seriously fresh 80's haircut (kinda like this)...

...and my oversized-shoulder-padded-david-byrne-from-the-talking-heads-style blazer...

good. gawd. i was a bitchin'. hot. mess.

so, back to the here-and-now.

let's just say the afternoon walk was postponed, and darlene tore it up with a five-minute-wickedly-wicked-bustin'-my-best-80's-dance-moves-while-air-drumming-and-lip-syncing-psyche-out-a-thon in the dining room. really, it was as if the band was right. there. in. my. very. apartment. there are no witnesses, thank god, but it would not be an exaggeration to say i had very. happy. feet. and THAT, my friends, is a true story.

y'all enjoy your saturday, ya hear?

zen guitarist

2008-07-12T07:54:00.002-04:00

Without music life would be a mistake. ~Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

listening to michael hedges this morning...and missing him.

to be laced, or not to be

2008-07-11T07:56:00.003-04:00

my new Mouse Garment gift from Dawn at MDI (read her very funny version of the creation of said garment by clicking HERE) has sparked a mostly off-line discussion between me and Slant Readers about stereotypes, expanding paradigms, and pushing boundaries (among other things.) Dawn had an especially interesting take on this, though I'll let *her* share it if she so desires. Some people say the lace has to go Huntress, others say, fuck it, leave it on there.

i don't have time today to dig deep into why i think this whole lace-or-no-lace thing represents a much bigger (and maybe more complicated) concept of gender expression, and butch, and femme, and everywhere in between. i wish i did, because it could be so very, very interesting.

so i'm gonna be lazy and ask you. should i remove the lacey hem, or keep it right where it is, and why? i don't think there is any right or wrong answer. it's all about perspective. and i'm just curious what yours might be.

it will kill me if i check back on The Slant tonight and have no comments, so come on, take 5 minutes and tell me what you think. Dawn says to tread carefully because when you ask people their opinions, they might just go on ahead and give 'em to you. it's sage advice that i'm going to completely ignore, a sometimes bad habit of mine.

fire away?

we had a gay old time

2008-07-10T06:08:00.020-04:00

last night, Young Matthew and i took a road trip to eddington to attend a volunteer appreciation dinner hosted by the fabulous owners of Clewley Farm. random thoughts from the gay old time we had:

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in what is becoming a scary bad habit and/or a recurring nightmare, we had transportation complications. let's just say matt & i are more than a little cursed. we are like the Queer Version of planes, trains, and automobiles. last night's road trip was no exception and we had to make an emergency stop at the Waterville Enterprise to trade in the little Kia (bleh) we rented in portland. ironically, a mega-church, one of the heebie-jeebie inducing kinds if you're a queer or someone who loves one, glared at us from across the parking lot of this particular Enterprise. matt kept repeating, as if traumatized, wow that's a big church. that's just a really. big. church. it gave us both the gay shivers and we could not get out of there fast enough.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

on our way to eddington, we picked up My Bangor Gay Boyfriend For Life, Kevin. i heart him so much. he is, simply, the Funniest Human Being Alive and every time i see him i laugh so hard i'm pretty i am moments away from a brain aneurysm. i so love you baby. you are the sunshine of my life.

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there was a wonderful turnout at Clewley Farm. EqualityMaine Primary Day volunteers from Hancock and Penobscot county were treated to a yummy buffet, courtesy of the appreciative owners. it was a celebration of their truly amazing-kick-ass effort on june 10th and the staff was incredibly accomodating and so very kind to do it. i was able to visit with some of my favorite people from that neck of the woods. and had the honor of meeting many more who gave their time and effort to The Cause. Volunteers Rock My World. and a special shout out must go to Suz and Captain Kay, who organized those two regions like nobody's business.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dawn from MDI presented me with my girly-girl mouse garment, which turned out to be pants instead of the skirt she was threatening me with. much to my relief. they are actually kind of adorable. there is considerable wiggle room, which i and my Muffin Top Belly truly appreciate. and she has given me permission to remove the lace hem, knowing i might even wear them if i do. she advises me to use a stitch remover, something i wouldn't know how to identify much less own, so i am now putting out an all-points-bulletin to anyone who might be willing to lend me one. either that or i will just very, very carefully remove said stitches and lacey hem. being the good sport that i hope i am, i gave in to dawn's, um, gentle persuasion techniques (right) and pulled them on over my shorts to model them for the crowd. much laughter, at my expense i think, ensued. and damn, that butch can sew.

to give evidence of my good-sportiness, here's a photo dawn just sent me of the much-talked-about Mouse Garment:

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

while there were many highlights to the evening, my absolute favorite moment came at the end, as we were about to leave. bob, one of the owners, one helluva hugger, and just an amazingly kind and sweet human being, walked over to me and without fanfare handed me a sizeable wad of one-dollar bills and some loose change. this is from our waitresses, their tips for the night. they want to donate it to equalitymaine because they really appreciate the work you do. it was the sweetest. thing. ever. as someone who spent almost twenty years waiting tables and tending bars, i know how freaking hard you work for a dollar bill. the gesture was overwhelming. and that is just one example of what i love about Small Towns. there ain't no better people in the world. true story.

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one final note: The Slant is sending some serious healing thoughts to Bill in Bangor. Get well soon my friend.

cha-cha-changes

2008-07-09T05:32:00.033-04:00

note: by the time i hit "publish", it will be much later than when i began writing. it is officially 5:05 am. this information is critical for the reader. just sayin'.

in my professional life as The Homosexual Rights Movement, i work most closely with a fabulous field organizer that i often refer to as Young Matthew. because he's, um, young. like early 20's young. he'll sometimes send me late night (or early morning) emails that are either work-related or hysterically funny or deeply disturbing, depending on what he's doing at that very moment. i'll read them in the morning (sometimes a few hours after he sends them) and then promptly reply. yesterday afternoon he sent me an email which said, and i quote, "while i realize it must disturb you sometimes to get emails from me at 1am, it often bothers me to get emails from you at 5:30am."

yeah.

i have tried to explain to the boy that this is All About Aging. yes, indeed. as you get, er, older, your sleep patterns take strange twists and turns. you find yourself getting sleepy after the final answer is revealed on jeopardy. if you weren't fortunate enough to squeeze in a nap earlier in the day, you're doomed to fall asleep on the couch by the time The Next Show airs its "previously on...." message. you often wake up two or three times in the night, i won't say why because that's just too personal although i can tell you it has something to do with aging bladders. if you're lucky you'll fall back asleep. then you have this ridiculous internal alarm clock that goes off around, hmmm, 5:00 am, and one of the first groggy thoughts that slips into your semi-consciousness is "sweet. i didn't die in my sleep last night. time to wakey wakey." ok. it's maybe not quite that morbid. i have been known to exaggerate for entertainment purposes.

my point, and i am pretty sure i have one, is that unless you've got something stimulating and/or important to do after 8:00 pm, the older you get, the sooner you want to find your way to bed. i can stay up late with the best of 'em and sometimes do and i always feel like "woo hoo, huntress you're a freaking party animal!!" but if i've got nothing on the calendar, chances are i'm going to be tucked into bed with a good book by 8:45. true story people. i can't figure out if the early-to-bed urge is in direct response to the early-to-rise urge, or visa versa. kinda like the chicken and the egg conundrum, i do not know which came first. i'm just trying to find a way for them to peacefully co-exist.

it's just bizarre, this Aging thing. while i am fully aware that i have years to go before i am officially put out to pasture, the sometimes subtle and other times horribly obvious changes can be, hmmm, unnerving. there's all that internal stuff, like the whole Sleeping Pattern Gone Mad. with these things, you adjust and move on and hope that no one notices. but the external stuff? oh how i struggle with that. eh. it's like all the warnings i received as a young, good-lookin' and physically fit 20-something dyke are coming to fruition.

back in those Good Old Days, i had a friend, a big. ole. bull. dyke., that i simultaneously worshipped and was terrified of. i think she decided to be my Butch Mentor and we had some ridiculous times, goddamn we had fun. and she was always tossing out her Words of Wisdom to me. among other things, she'd wax poetic about tops and bottoms and neckties, oh my. i graduated to butch high school the day i realized that not all those references were fashion-related. someday if you're lucky i'll write about the night i got my Butch Diploma. it's a story for the ages.

almost every saturday night we would go drinkin' at entre nous, a lesbian bar that become a gay bar which became another gay bar which became another gay bar which, sweet jesus, became another gay bar and which is now a straight bar that is owned by, i think, two lesbians. phew. annnyway, we would drink stoli, we would smoke some weed on the roof of the bar, we would just get out and out and wickedly wasted (ah...youth) and then we'd hit Denny's at 1:30 in the morning to deal with the inevitable munchies thang. and i would just shovel. the. food. in. she would sit back, rub her big buddha-like belly, nod her head and say, "huntress, i have never seen anyone eat like you do and not gain a fucking pound. you just wait. you hit 40, and that shit is gonna come back and haunt your ass."

uncanny. it's more haunting my stomach than my ass. but still. she was right.

i used to have that athletic kinda belly, didn't have to do one damn sit-up to keep it that way, and could eat half a pan of brownies at midnight and not gain an ounce. now i see a picture of a pan of brownies and i gain five pounds. for real. i affectionately describe my abdomen area as My Muffin Top Belly (my nieces get a serious laugh outta that and now refer to me as Auntie Muffin Top. nice.) i noticed said belly the very day i turned forty. at first i thought i was either pregnant through immaculate conception or had a Belly Tumor, until it occured to me that this was the Bull Dyke's words comin' back to haunt me. damn.

so your body changes. indeed. i've never been one to exercise for the sake of exercising...blah...and i wouldn't know a sit-up if it walked into my apartment and poured me a cup of coffee. i try to do what i can...being car-less surely helps, and i walk all over this damn city, hills and all. i love to hike, and bike, which, by the way, i do not consider exercise because they both have a destination point that has nothing to do with a stair-master timer, making them more, uh, recreational than torture-inducing. i've lately started trying to "Eat Right", though that's challenging for two reasons. number one, i don't cook and number two, when you're on a tight budget, you tend to buy things like Celeste Frozen Pizzas at a buck twenty five a piece. but i'm working on it. i figure it's a losing battle, but i'm just not quite ready to surrender. i mean, i gave in to the grey hair awhile ago because i think it makes me look, um, distinguished. but i'll wage the battle of the bulge for a bit longer before i just give up completely and start buying bigger shorts.

my pal dawn from mdi has been threatening to sew me a skirt in response to my Mouse Adventure (see comments from of mice and dykes and update) and she's been HARASSING me, in an entertaining way, about what "size" i am. last night she sent me a quick little email that simply said: 28" ? i assumed she meant waist size, and my very terse response was: um, i'll be a 28" again after i've been dead for about 2 weeks.

of course, she meant inseam, and she spent the better part of the next ten minutes scratching her head and trying to figure out if your legs actually shrink, or grow, when you've been dead for two weeks. funny stuff.

anyway. this was an utter ramble. but hopefully fun and entertaining, if you find self-deprecation adorable.

stay out of the heat today. and stay away from me, unless i'm in an air-conditioned room. this humidity makes me really, really cranky. like old-lady cranky.

just sayin'.

the price of hunger

2008-07-08T11:30:00.019-04:00

i'm a big fan of the American News Project, a new, on-line video journalist site that claims its inspiration comes from something that Joseph Pullitzer wrote 130 years ago:

"Always fight for progress and reform, never tolerate injustice or corruption, always fight demagogues of all parties, never belong to any party, always oppose privileged classes and public plunderers, never lack sympathy with the poor, always remain devoted to the public welfare... always be drastically independent, never be afraid to attack wrong, whether by predatory plutocracy or predatory poverty."

from what i can tell so far, Joseph would be very, very pleased.

if you've not been to their website, you are missing out on some truly remarkable stuff. a story submitted by Garland McLaurin on June 25th about hunger really got to me, particularly since my mom and dad are dealing with this very thing right now. once my parents find their way through the monthly bills, they have $45 a week left over for groceries. this does not figure in heating oil or taxes. or the hospital bills that will most certainly be arriving soon. my mom and dad are very, very good at being poor, and as i've mentioned before, they sure taught me well too. but they've never had to face what's coming down the road, at full speed. i worry about them so much that i lose sleep over it.

i wish i had money to burn. i wish i was one of those kids that could just write a check every month and send it their way. but i got worries too...like how *i'm* going to pay for *my* heating oil in six months. i'm doing whatever i possibly can think of to help. i'm hoping to talk my mom into at least letting me pick up their grocery bill once a month, though i have a feeling i know how that's going to shake out. i'm going down to shapleigh in a few weeks, and we're going to make a visit to the York County Community Action Center, among other places. my parents paid into this system their entire lives, and i'm just hoping the system appreciates that and reciprocates. but anything i can think of still feels like i'm using a band-aid where a tourniquet is required. and my mom and dad are but two people out of the millions who are a penny or two away from catastrophe. this is the stuff that makes me wring my hands. this is the stuff that my nightmares are made of.

anyway, here's the piece on hunger. oh, and my apologies for a bit of the screen missing. that's just me, showing off my tech-savviness. (not.) helpful hints from 'puter geeks are always welcomed. until then, i suggest hitting the full screen option.

stirring the pot, also known as coffee clutch

2008-07-08T07:43:00.011-04:00

a few queer-flavored stories: two current newsie and controversial (ahem) ones; one which should simply be categorized under W.T.F.; and then two entertainment-ish oh-i-hope-she'll-do-an-L-Word-Worthy-sex-scene film updates.

what can i say. there's nothing particularly inspiring chugging around in my head this morning.

go ahead and talk amongst yourselves.

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Heir's adoption of lesbian lover annulled in Maine

By THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published: July 7, 2008

PORTLAND, Maine (AP) -- An adult adoption involving lesbian partners and a claim to a share of a family fortune built on IBM has been annulled, bouncing the case to Maine's highest court.

At issue is whether it was legal for a judge to allow Olive Watson to adopt Patricia Spado in 1991 in Knox County, where the longtime partners spent several weeks each summer on an island in Penobscot Bay.

Watson was a daughter of Thomas Watson Jr., who took International Business Machines Corp. from punch cards into electronic computing.

The relationship between Spado and Watson ended a year after the adoption was approved, and in 2005 -- after Thomas Watson and his wife had both died -- the adoption was challenged in court by other heirs to the Watson fortune.

After Thomas Watson and his wife died, their grandchildren became eligible for cash payouts and Spado claimed the adoption made her a beneficiary.

[click here for the rest of the may-i-never-be-this-desperate-story.]

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'Pregnant Man' Gives Birth to Girl

By RUSSELL GOLDMAN and KATIE THOMSON
July 3, 2008

Thomas Beatie, the transgender man who made headlines as the so-called "pregnant man," gave birth Sunday to a healthy baby girl, ABC News has learned.

The birth, at St. Charles Medical Center in Bend, Oregon, was natural, according to a source, who added that reports that Beatie had had a Caesarean section are false.

"She's really cute, really pretty,'' the source told ABC News Thursday afternoon.

[but wait, there's more and i am just not gonna comment on any of it, no way, uh-huh, NOT gonna do it]

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Want a pink slip with that shake?

Gay police in Philippines told not to sway hips — or risk being fired
The Associated Press
updated 9:28 p.m. ET, Thurs., March. 22, 2007

MANILA, Philippines - Philippine police issued a warning to gay officers not sway their hips or display other suggestive behavior while on duty — or they could risk losing their jobs.

"If they sway their hips while marching, or if they engage in lustful conduct, I think that will be a ground for separation," Philippine National Police or PNP spokesman Chief Superintendent Samuel Pagdilao said Thursday.

Pagdilao said the police department does not discriminate against homosexuals, but will not hesitate to fire those who misbehave.

[click here to read more about lustful conduct, Phillipine-style]

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Nicole Kidman to play Dusty Springfield
by Music-News.com - May 2 2008photo by Ros O'Gorman

Nicole Kidman will play Dusty Springfield in a forthcoming biopic.

The Oscar-winning Australian actress will play the 60s pop icon in the movie which will document Dusty's troubled life, which included problems with drugs and alcohol, and mental health issues.

The 'Son of a Preacher Man' singer was also secretly bisexual in a time when it was taboo.
Michael Cunningham, writer of 'The Hours', for which Kidman won her Oscar, is working on the screenplay for the film, and has vowed not to shy away from the controversial aspects of Dusty's life.

Cunningham said: 'Dusty was a great artist who no one knew what to do with. But she is clearly going into history with the Beatles and the Rolling Stones.'

[more about my girlfriend's new project HERE]

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Lesbian Smooch For Joss Stone

SINGER JOSS STONE has landed her first major film role — as a lesbian.
March 27, 2008

The 20-year-old star has promised fans a “long, lingering French kiss” with a woman.

It also stars CAROLINE QUENTIN, 47.

Joss said yesterday: “There are things that are going to really push the boundaries — and that excites me.”

[oh, good GAWD, it excites me too Joss. In ways i cannot describe, or at least shouldn't. click here for more info. ]

it's getting complicated

2008-07-07T05:45:00.029-04:00

[i don't want the slant to turn into some strange episodic adventure called, hmmm, "as the mouse turns" or "all my mice" or "beacon street 04103", but...]

i learned five disturbing facts last night from Jen, The Mouse Expert:

1.) i am making an assumption that this is Mr. Mouse. It could well be Ms. Mouse. shit, how would I know? i did not. get. that. close. would i even know what to look for? did i pay any attention, at all, in high school biology? (um, no, i did not. i generally traded in english essays for john campbell's biology test answers. for real. hated. biology. i mean obviously i'm clear about what to look for (and not) in human beings. but mice? not so much.)

2.) if the little squatter is indeed Ms. Mouse, there is a possibility she's also Mamma Mouse. or Mamma-To-Be Mouse. (hmmm. the rodent did seem a little heavy in the belly area.)

3.) on average, Mamma Mouses, errrr, Mamma Mice, can give birth to um, like, ten little rascals at a time. (actually, Jen originally said FIFTY, but when i began hyperventilating, she compassionately adjusted the number.)

4.) they could all be having their own post-4th of july picnic, in my walls, right this minute. (wonderful. my own fucked-up version of A Tell-Tale Heart.)

5.) if i decide to try and trap Fritz, or Fritzess, i need to transport him or her (or, sweet jesus, THEM) to a far away place. like thirty miles away in windham or something. because if i don't, they. come. back. (i'm accepting rides. right. freaking. now.)

nice. oh, and i also learned that mouse poops are small, very small, like ants or something. and yes, before you ask, i did spend the better part of 20 minutes on my hands and knees last night along the Mouse Evacuation Route looking for these ant-sized droppings.

i should also add that the adorable Ms. Mouse Expert seemed to find some enjoyment in freaking me out by sharing said information with me. her laughter was particularly loud when, each time i learned a Special New Fact, i shouted things like "shut the fuck UP, or oh-my-god that's just disgusting, or screw my Buddhist beliefs, i need to squash the little rodent like a bug." um, yeah. the humiliation never ceases.

aw, fuck it. send me that skirt dawn. i. am. coming. undone. ew. ew. ew.

it's not pretty, people. not pretty at all.

...later that day...

2008-07-06T15:58:00.005-04:00

i *did* find my way to the ocean today. packed a light lunch, grabbed the moon is always female, put my sunglasses on and took route 77 out to two lights. i even managed to find a quiet spot on the rocks, a fair enough distance away from other human beings that i could imagine i had the entire view of the atlantic all to myself. nibbled at my lunch and let marge piercy's words drench me. eventually closed the book and then my eyes and just...took it all in. i'm an aquarian, through and through, and nothing soothes me like the water that i was born bearing.

now i'm back home, car returned, thinking about maybe tossing a veggie burger on the grill, cracking the last boathouse brown ale in the fridge, and calling it a day. the three days off were not nearly enough to get me to that place in my head that i long to be, but they'll have to do, for the moment anyway.

i'll leave you with this fairly lengthy but unbelievably beautiful piercy poem, which captures better than i ever could the way i was feeling out on those rocks today. tumbling and tangled, indeed.

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Tumbling and with tangled mane

1.

I wade in milk.
Only beige sand exists as the floor
of a slender nave before me.
Mewing fishhook cries of gulls
pierce the white from what must be up.
The fog slides over me like a trained
snake leaving salt on my lips. Somewhere
I can hear the ocean breathing.
The world is a benign jellyfish.
I float inhaling water that tastes
of iodine and thin bright blood.

2.

We squat on a sandbar digging as the tide
turns and runs to bury the crosshatched scales,
the ribs of the bottom as if the ebbing
of waters exposed that the world is really
a giant flounder. As we wade landward
the inrushing tide is so cold
my ankles ring like glass bells.
We lie belly up baking as the ocean
ambles towards us nibbling the sand.
Out to sea a fog bank stands like world's
end, the sharp place where the boats fall off.

3.

When a storm halts, people get into their
cars. They don't start picking up yet, the bough
that crashed on the terrace, the window
shattered. No, they rush with foot hard down
on the accelerator over the wet winding black
topped roads where pine and oak start out
normal size and get smaller till they are
forests for mice. Cars line up on the bluff
facing waves standing tall as King Kong,
skyscrapers smashed before a giant wrecking ball.
Mad water avalanches. You can't hear.
Your hair fills with wet sand. Your windshield
is being sandblasted and will blind you as the sun
burns a hold in the mist like a cigarette
through a tablecloth and sets fire to air.

4.

A dream, two hundred times the same. The shore
can be red rocks, black or grey, sand dunes
or barrier reef. The sun blazes. The sky
roars a hard blue, blue as policemen.
The water is kicking. The waves leap
at the shore like flames out of control.
The sea gnashes snow capped mountains
that hurl themselves end over end, blocking
the sky. A tidal wave eats the land. Rearing
and galloping, tumbling and with tangled
mane the horses of the surf with mad eyes,
with snorting nostrils and rattling hooves
stampede the land. I am in danger
yet I do not run. I am rooted watching
knowing that what I watch
is also me.

Making makes guilt. Cold fierce mother
who gouges deep into this pamet, who
rests her dragon's belly on the first rocks,
older than land, older than memory,
older than life, my power is so little
it makes me laugh how in my dreaming
lemur's mind making poems or tales or
revolution is this storm on a clear day.

Of course danger and power mingle in all
birthing. We die by what we live by.
Again and again that dream comes when I set
off journeying to the back of my mind,
the bottom of the library, a joust with
what is: the sun a fiery spider high
overhead, the colors bright and clear as glass,
the sea raging at the coast, always about
to overrun it, as in the eye of a hurricane
when the waves roll cascading in, undiminished
but for a moment, and in that place the air
is still, the moment of clarity out
of time at the center of an act.

celie's liberation

2008-07-06T07:18:00.011-04:00

forecast today: partly sunny, more humid, highs 80-82.

there is something about the sunday side of a long weekend that makes me want to curl up on my couch and just do...nothing all day. with this kind of weather forecast, i'm fully aware that for at least part of the day i need to get outside and soak in some sun. i've got the smith-hoopes outback until later this afternoon, and i'm thinking about driving over to two-lights for a bit, book in hand, and have myself a little solo picnic. or maybe take a longer drive, to popham beach or something, though it is now officially july and there are likely to be tourists anywhere i decide to venture out to. (that, and the price of a precious gallon of gas combined with the overall lightness of my very butch brown leather wallet.) eh. there are so few spaces left on our lovely coast where you can really, truly be alone and most of them are too far away for me to reach today. but i should attempt to do something outdoorsy, as the next two weeks are going to be work, work, work and more work. this could be my last hurrah until the end of the month, and that is a sad but true story.

(sidenote: the aforementioned reference to my brown leather wallet was my perhaps futile attempt to regain some of the butch status i have wrecklessly lost during the whole Mr. Mouse Affair. i understand it is but a small drop of butchness to compensate for the ocean-sized bucket which appears to have sprung a serious leak. what can i say...desperate situations call for desperate measures.)

tonight i think i'm gonna give in to whole the curl-up-on-the-couch urge, and maybe watch 'the color purple'. (yep. me, willie, and oscar on the couch. and maybe fritz.) i heart this movie. and yes, like all dykes i wish that the relationship between miss celie and shug was as intimate and lesbian-oriented as it was in the book. but still, it's just a visually beautiful, brilliantly acted (go oprah!) film, and i never tire of watching it.

there are so many scenes to love, but celie's liberation has got to be my favorite. every time i watch it, i cheer out loud.

happy sunday y'all.

update

2008-07-05T15:17:00.004-04:00

according to the matriarch, said mouse now has a name.

fritz william huntress.

funny k. really, really funny.

and by the way, it is very, very challenging to type on my laptop while standing on my couch. likely due to lack of a lap, i suppose.

of mice and dykes

2008-07-05T08:10:00.052-04:00

so i live on the first floor of a lovely old house in the deering area of portlandtown...lovely because it's all hardwood floors, tall ceilings, lotsa windows, working fireplace. old because it's, well, old. i don't know when the house was built, but surely it's been around for close to a century. i instinctively know that such places may indeed house a mouse on occasion, and i learned this morning that there's a little fella co-habitating with me. good freaking gawd.

like all good card-carrying dykes, i have two cats, willie and oscar, whom i've written about before on The Slant (see label: Dykes Love Their Pets.) i discovered our new roommate this morning as i was sitting on my couch sipping my first cup of coffee and watching an especially rambunctious and acrobatic willie chasing around what i sleepily thought was one of his cat toys. only this cat toy was, um...animated (when did i buy a wind-up toy, and who the hell wound it up??), and willie seemed unusually engaged with it (he normally has a very short attention span, and cat toys are interesting to him for about 2 minutes).

when the coffee finally kicked in and it dawned on me that this was not a cat toy but a real. live. mouse, i suddenly became Darlene the Wimp Dyke and went from sitting on my couch to standing on it and sort of jumping up and down (wtf?). and making noises that were likely interpreted by neighbors as Darlene-has-a-talented-overnight-guest OR Darlene-is-being-murdered. um yeah. (amazing how those two very different situations can elicit similar gutteral screams. and THAT, queers and gents, is just a whole different post altogether.) annnnnyway, i quickly shifted from screech mode to catatonic state (nice, CAT-atonic) for the next five minutes, just standing on the couch, speechless and unable to move. brilliant. once i worked myself through this short but powerful episode of post-traumatic stress syndrome, i stepped off the couch, very, very carefully, to plot My. Next. Bold. Move.

i vacillated between rooting for willie (please euthanize this little rodent) and being a good Buddhist who should save the little fella's life. only there was no way in hell i was even going to attempt to grab the damn thing myself. not gonna happen. there was a little glass bowl sitting on my dining room table, so i thought, hmmm, maybe i can trap him underneath the bowl and figure out how to slide him along the floor to the door. yeah. right.

the ensuing scene was just. utterly. ridiculous. willie and i both were clearly outmatched by the mouse. i was better equipped to follow his trail (willie is cute, but not savvy) but the mouse was very good at finding little things to hide behind. in one frantic moment, i was almost certain i had him cornered, and had my bowl in hand, ready to pounce, cover, and slide. then willie jumped in front of me, swatted a paw at the mouse and missed him by a good three feet...at which point i gave him the "what the fuck willie?" look and he gave me the "oh and you're faring so much better than me right now, asshole" look in return. and the little guy, recognizing the overall lack of a concrete plan and current infighting of his enemies, seized the moment, ran at about a buck-forty into the kitchen, and found the narrow, conveniently-mouse-sized-and-otherwise-unreachable space between my sink and counter, where i assume he is now hiding. and let me say, he seemed to know exactly where he was heading, enough so that i'm certain this was his predetermined evacuation route. i admire the smart little shit, no doubt about it. willie seems to be keeping vigil in that general area, looking defeated yet determined, but it's been 30 minutes, and no sign of Mr. Mouse.

which means there is now a mouse inside my house. in most scenarios, it would bode well for my team...two cats and a dyke, right? but i'm not sure we three are well-schooled enough to outsmart this guy. and i am more than a little disturbed by the notion that he could emerge at any time, particularly while i'm standing at the sink doing dishes or something pseudo-domestic. i cannot believe i am this intimidated by a creature no bigger than, well, a really small mouse. but i am.

what to do, what to do. co-habitation is not an option i want to consider because it's just, um, freaky to me. and it can't be sanitary. eh. i suppose i should just leave it up to the cats. but there is still that Buddhist-love-all-creatures-and-do-no-harm thang nagging at me. i wish i could figure out a way to trap him and release him to the great outdoors and wish him a happy independence day. literally.

suggestions from Slant readers are whole-heartedly welcomed. (for some reason i feel like Dawn from MDI is gonna have one hell of an entertaining comment.) in the meantime, i'll just be here, on beacon street, standing on my couch. really, i'll be fine.

happy 4th y'all

2008-07-04T14:46:00.006-04:00

a case of you

2008-07-03T19:46:00.002-04:00

one of the sweetest, saddest, most beautiful songs, ever.

and the only other person alive who should be allowed to sing it, besides Her Holiness Joni Mitchell, is Diana Krall.

her version is, simply, breathtaking:

The 10 Most Awesomely Bad Moments of the Bush Presidency

2008-07-02T09:26:00.023-04:00

you gotta love an article that starts out like this:

"In a lot of ways, choosing the Bush administration's 10 greatest moments -- disastrous failures, all -- is about as pointless as picking out your 10 least favorite hemorrhoids: There are entirely too many of them, and taken together they all add up to a throbbing mass of pain."

um. yeah.

alternet, one of my favorite sites on the web, does a terrifically terrifying analysis of the top ten biggest Bush debacles, which is a little like searching for a needle in a haystack. not nearly as vivid as the whole hemorrhoid comparison, but still...i wouldn't have the energy, or the intestinal fortitude, to look over the last eight years of truly fascist governing and come up with a top 100, much less a top 10.

if you've got some time, this is an excellent read. here's the list, but you gotta check out alternet HERE to get the gorry details.

10: Bush Gets Re-elected

9: Alberto Gonzales' Congressional Testimony

8: North Korea Conducts a Nuclear Test

7: Colin Powell's Bogus WMD Presentation at the U.N.

6: The Terri Schiavo Affair

5: Bush and Condi's Excellent Gaza Adventure

4: "Brownie, You're Doing a Heckuva Job"

3: Abu Ghraib

2: 9/11

1: "Mission Accomplished"

The Slant wishes to inform you that as of the publishing of this post, there are 201 days, 13 hours, and 30 minutes left of the Bush Regime.

oh this is rich

2008-07-02T06:04:00.016-04:00

In what Citizen Link (Focus on the Family's little 'take action' web report) is calling 'good news', the Federal Marriage Act has been re-introduced in Congress. It ain't no big surprise, and they don't have a snowball's chance in hell of passing it...the House probably won't even let the damn thing out of committee. Still, I am amazed at the way right-wingers use and abuse our precious (ahem) constitution. These little buggers just never give up, do they. They must be really. freaking. out. about Obama, and polling, and the fact that fundraising for the GOP is currently hitting the skids. Maybe they figure this ridiculously futile attempt will put the conservative movement into a frenzy and invigorate the bejeezus out of them, one and all. I dunno.

It becomes fascinating when you dig a little deeper into this amendment and look at some of the legislators who are so determined to protect the...um...sanctity of marriage...can i get an amen brothahs and sistahs...that they are putting themselves up front as primary sponsors. It wouldn't be a stretch (would it?) to assume that these esteemed Ambassadors of Family Values must each hold marriage in awe and reverence. They must really look at marriage as a bold statement of commitment, and monogamy, and respect. 'Cause they are going to great freaking lengths to...um...save it from the utter doom that we homo's would surely instill upon it. You know, dangerous lesbians like Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin who, on their 55-year odyssey together, clearly have no clue what long-term commitment means.

Right.

There are ten original sponsors, and some of them are the Usual Suspects...like our buddy Senator Sammy Brownback from we-are-so-not-in-Kansas anymore. (check out this Anti-Sam Brownback blog to get a taste for his politics.) This is right up Sammy Boy's alley, no question. And then there's Senator James Inhofe, the Pride and Joy of Oklahoma whom Bruce Jackson of Counterpunch has dubbed "maybe the dumbest US Senator of all." Yeah. It isn't any shocker that these two Good Ole Boys are on the list.

But guess who else has anointed themselves as Members of The Matrimonial Mob Squad?

Toe-tappin' Larry Craig.

and Let-Me-Leave-That-Hundred-Dollar-Bill-On-The-Nightstand-For-Ya-Baby-Right-Next-To-The-Huggies David Vitter.

Oh this is just. so. rich.

Honest to gawd, I am speechless. Except to say this is just another DC Orgy of Utter Hypocrisy. We gotta send these GOP Right Wing Freak Shows back underneath the rocks from which they crawled out. For real.

Vote dammit. Vote. Vote. Vote. Vote.

homosexuals are fast, too!

2008-07-01T11:02:00.009-04:00

a few months ago, i posted about the CCL's obsessive use of the word 'homosexual.' (see way more fun than counting sheep). of course, all of our Friends From The Religious Right have a certain fondness for that word. i especially enjoy it (though i don't quite understand it) when they use the term "homosexuals and lesbians." huh? clearly, our Right Wing friends have an issue with the word "gay". maybe they are trying to reclaim it. i dunno. but they will go to great lengths NOT to USE it.

take, for example, this insanely fabulous post from The Carpetbagger Report, sent to me this morning by my favorite Big Apple Resident, Ms. Monique. Apparently the American Family Association is so buggered out by the word "gay" that they auto-replace it with "homosexual" whenever it appears in an article. which can make for interesting reports, particularly if your last name is Gay. Um,yeah.

Check it out:

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Auto-correct can be a very helpful feature of any word-processing program. But when conservatives use it, they run the risk of embarrassing themselves.

Some far-right sites that subscribe to the Associated Press feed, for example, will use auto-correct to change “Democratic Party” to “Democrat Party.” This, of course, is because they have the temperament of children.

But the American Family Association’s OneNewsNow website takes the phenomenon one step further with its AP articles. The far-right fundamentalist group replaces the word “gay” in the articles with the word “homosexual.” I’m not entirely sure why, but it seems to make the AFA happy. The group is, after all, pretty far out there.

The problem, of course, is that “gay” does not always mean what the AFA wants it to mean. My friend Kyle reported this morning that sprinter Tyson Gay won the 100 meters at the U.S. Olympic track and field trials over the weekend. The AFA ran the story, but only after the auto-correct had “fixed” the article.

That means — you guessed it — the track star was renamed “Tyson Homosexual.” The headline on the piece read, “Homosexual eases into 100 final at Olympic trials.” Readers learned:

Tyson Homosexual easily won his semifinal for the 100 meters at the U.S. Olympic track and field trials and seemed to save something for the final later Sunday.

His wind-aided 9.85 seconds was a fairly cut-and-dry performance compared to what happened a day earlier. On Saturday, Homosexual misjudged the finish in his opening heat and had to scramble to finish fourth, then in his quarterfinal a couple of hours later, ran 9.77 to break the American record that had stood since 1999. […]

Homosexual didn’t get off to a particularly strong start in the first semifinal, but by the halfway mark he had established a comfortable lead. He slowed somewhat over the final 10 meters-nothing like the way-too-soon complete shutdown that almost cost him Saturday. Asked how he felt, Homosexual said: “A little fatigued.”
Click here for the rest of the post, complete with lovely links directly to the AFA website.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
oh. my. gay. god.
isn't that fantastic?!

i heart ABBA

2008-07-01T05:57:00.011-04:00

early morning confession: i. heart. ABBA.

that's right people. dancing queen and take a chance on me and waterloo and all of it. now many people would be hesitant to share this kind of information to the world for fear of losing any 'cool' status they may have accumulated through the years. not me. i've got very little, if any, cool status to start with. those who know me well will tell you i'm a Big Geek, and i'm just hoping it's in a cute and charming kinda way. i mean, lezbe honest. i'm never gonna be cool. as Monique would say, "you need to set reasonable and achievable goals." The Adorable Geek. this is what i'm striving for.

so, back to ABBA. love them. had all their albums when i was a kid. super trouper was played consistently in my dorm room. i am not ashamed of this. they were fabulous fun. i've seen Muriel's Wedding about ten times...it's a brilliant movie and the soundtrack is all ABBA, baby. (HMMM...i think this is an obvious choice for one of The Posse's outdoor movie nights, yes?) And hey, it was my first introduction to Rachel Griffiths, who I will forever have a gargantuan crush on:

so now, for the best movie news ever, mamma mia, a fabulous broadway musical that features, that's right, every ABBA hit you ever heard on the radio (and, depending on your taste, you either cranked it up or threw a shoe at it) has been adapted to film starring the in-fucking-credible meryl streep, and is coming soon to a theater near me. and the hysterical christine baranski is playing one of meryl's best chick friends. how much fun is THAT?

good gawd. meryl singing ABBA!

i'm so excited, i can barely stand it.

and i know, i know. don't say it out loud. but damn, we can't ALL be cool.

now i just have to find someone to watch it with me who isn't ashamed of their Inner Geek.

as the cursor blinks

2008-06-30T06:38:00.019-04:00

this whole blog thing can drive you batshit crazy. especially when you are staring at the empty white box and the cursor, which just blinks, and blinks, and blinks, like it's taunting you. write something you idiot. i don't have all day. and i feel a certain obligation to post at least a few times a week because hey, i don't wanna get an email from my pal Dawn at MDI that simply says: "slacker." and i like how it feels when i've scrapped around my brain and tapped away long enough to get something worth clicking "publish post" for.

i've been coming up empty lately. maybe my brain is fried. maybe those creative juices (love that phrase) are dryin' up. i thought of writing about music, and how my tastes are all over the place depending on my mood, or my destination point, or the weather, or who i'm keeping company with. ya know, when i'm driving to shapleigh, The Place Where I Did Crazy Things As An Out-of-Control Teenager, i just have to listen to classic rock. it's the blimp, frank, it's the blimp. led zeppelin and the police and pink floyd and rush. or if i'm home and it's raining and gloomy outside, it's gotta be something that's snazzy jazzy, like billie holiday. or if it's a road trip with the posse, well we must listen to chick bands, chick bands, chick bands (the Matriarch will only allow one male singer per hour, unless he's gay, at which point he has a free pass.) or on the rare occasion that i am not sleeping alone, and hence, not sleeping, (oh how rare, how very, very rare....) mazzy star or maybe joan armatrading. or darien brahm's 'wicked.' over and over. and over again. and then...oops. sorry. mind was wandering. another symptom of writer's block. failure to focus on subject matter at hand.

i was gonna write about that, but eh. you can see where it was going.

then i thought about filling everyone in on my saturday visit to shapleigh, and how amazingly well my mom is doing, (please pause now and knock on the nearest piece of wood) and of the truly fun day i had with the family. and about how we decided that this christmas we aren't buying each other gifts, but instead we're going to make homemade care packages for the patients on the sixth floor at maine med, and how that will require darlene to be a bit of a domestic goddess and do things like sew, and bake cookies. and about how that elicited a hearty laugh from corey, mchottie and the matriarch at breakfast yesterday. i mean really, they all damn near spit out their coffee at the thought of me with an apron on, or a needle and thread in my hand. ouch. i mean butches can bake, right dawn?

but no. i came up short on that one too.

mr. macrum explored the sometimes obsessive behavior of bloggers on the fantastic Lost in the Bozone...about how he spends a lot of time away from his blog thinking about what he wants to put in his blog. in essence, he wrote a brilliant post about what happens when you've got nothing to write about. yeah. sure. go ahead and show off, big guy. i see how you are.

you're not gonna get that kinda brilliance from me. at least not today. the most profound thing i can think of to say is that writer's block sucks man. that's all i've got.

ladies and gentleman, the well is dry.

stay. tuned.

here's hoping that i am one of little dust

2008-06-28T08:43:00.007-04:00

from eat pray love, by liz gilbert
-----------------------------------

...Most of humanity, he [Buddha] said, have eyes that are so caked shut with the dust of deception that they will never see the truth, no matter who tries to help them. A few others are so naturally clear-eyed and calm already that they need no instruction or assistance whatsoever. But then there are those whose eyes are just slightly caked with dust, and who might, with the help of the right master, be taught to see more clearly someday. The Buddha decided that he would become a teacher for the benefit of that minority--"for those of little dust."

I clearly hope that I am one of these mid-level dust-caked people, but I don't know. I only know that I have been driven to find inner peace with methods that might seem a bit drastic for the general populace...I don't know that I have much of a choice, though. I have searched frantically for contentment for so many years in so many ways, and all these acquisitions and accomplishments--they run you down in the end. Life, if you keep chasing it so hard, will drive you to death. Time--when pursued like a bandit--will behave like one; always remaining one county or one room ahead of you, changing its name and hair color to elude you, slipping out the back door of the motel just as you're banging through the lobby with your newest search warrant, leaving only a burning cigarette in the ashtray to taunt you. At some point you have to stop because it won't. You have to admit you can't catch it. That you're not supposed to catch it. At some point...you gotta let go and sit still and allow contentment to come to you.

Letting go, of course, is a scary enterprise for those of us who believe that the world revolves only because it has a handle on the top of it which we personally turn, and that if we drop this handle for even a moment, well--that would be the end of the universe. But try dropping it. This is the message that I'm getting. Sit quietly for now and cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens. The birds do not crash dead out of the sky in mid-flight, after all. The trees do not wither and die, the rivers do not run red with blood. Life continues to go on...

...I hear this argument and it appeals to me. I believe in it, intellectually. I really do. But then I wonder--with all my restless yearning, with all my hyped-up fervor and with this stupidly hungry nature of mine--what should I do with my energy, instead?

That answer arrives, too:

Look for God, suggests my Guru. Look for God like a man with his head on fire looks for water.

---------------------------------------

speaking of billie...

2008-06-27T20:19:00.002-04:00

carmen mcrae was a jazz goddess too.
and her version of good morning heartache was utterly delicious.

sigh.

you love the thunder

2008-06-27T17:35:00.007-04:00

there are few things that make me happier than watching, listening to, touching, smelling and breathing a thunderstorm. we just had a damn good one in portland-town, and i sat out on the porch and let it all soak into me...bright splashes of lightning, loud claps of thunder, pounding rain, and a lovely cool breeze brushing my skin, brushing right through me. and while the fireworks and sound effects are fading away, there is still a nice steady rain falling outside (i know, i know...we've had more than our fair share of rain lately, but what can i say? i. heart. weather.)

i've had a crazy month...and tonight is the first night in a good long time when i have absolutely nothing at all to do. i tore through my apartment earlier (it had been horrifically neglected over the past six weeks but it's starting to look and feel like home again). now i've lit some candles, i've got billie holiday crooning in the background, and i am content. it feels good to breathe...to be in my own quiet space. i've been craving it, needing it desperately.

and yet, i will feel a tinge of loneliness later...right after the dinner is cooked and eaten, dishes washed and put away. right before night falls. so it goes, the constant pushing and pulling of heart vs. head, of savoring my solitude even as those little pangs of emptiness pierce through me.

all in all though, for tonight, life is just simply sweet.

crushing

2008-06-27T09:37:00.002-04:00

another reason to love san francisco

2008-06-26T15:24:00.004-04:00

an apt dedication i think.

read on:

Reagan has his highways. Lincoln has his memorial. Washington has the capital, and a state, too. But President George W. Bush may soon be the sole president to have a memorial named after him that you can contribute to from the bathroom.

From the Department of Damned-With-Faint-Praise, a group going by the regal-sounding name of the Presidential Memorial Commission of San Francisco is planning to ask voters here to change the name of a prize-winning water-treatment plant on the shoreline to the George W. Bush Sewage Plant.

The plan - hatched, naturally, in a bar - would place a vote on the November ballot to provide "an appropriate honor for a truly unique president."

click here for more, from the International Herald Tribune.

today's rant, aka my kingdom for a dose of medicine

2008-06-26T06:38:00.008-04:00

so my little "stimulus" check arrived a few days ago in the mail...um, gee, thanks george. my contribution to boosting the economy? using a healthy portion of the check to help pay for my mom's release from maine med. yeah.

she needs to receive IV antibiotics every six hours for at least the next twelve days. to keep her alive. to get her healthy. ironically, medicare would cover another twelve day stay in the hospital at $1000 a day (and where she could potentially pick up another infection), but would only cover a portion of the cost for home health care. my mom and dad would have to come up with $65, a DAY, in order to get this handy dandy little IV pump that would allow us to administer the drug from home. Right. for my mom and dad, $65 might as well be $6500. either way, they are going to come up short.

my dad was a blue collar worker his whole life. translation: no pension after retirement. my mom fared a little better and earned a tiny pension when she retired. they blew through that in four years on luxuries like food, heating oil, and medicine. so now they live on their little social security checks, and their combined income for the month is less than $2000. you don't have to be a mathematical genius to figure out that sure, they could cover the eight hundred bucks for my mom's treatment, as long as they don't mind fasting for two weeks. um, yeah.

add that to the fact that the company which provides the IV pump and all its fixin's requires full payment on the day of delivery, and you can see the quandry. so my sister and i are covering the cost, although we had to fight my parents tooth-and-nail to do it. let's just say my parents are very, very reluctant to ask for and accept help of any kind. i get that. i grew up poor, and have spent most of my adult life living paycheck to paycheck, and when you have very little, you develop a strange sense of pride about making it on your own and not asking for help. it's kind of an unspoken code, and my parents taught it to me well. yes indeed. getting them to accept our help was an exercise in patience, to say the least. my mom cried a lot, my dad sighed a lot...but getting her home and swallowing their pride won out, eventually.

so anyway...yesterday we spent most of the day working this out with my parents, getting handy lessons about how to run her IV at home, and then waiting around the hospital for the green light to wheel my mom outta there. last night, for the first time in fourteen days, everyone in the Huntress family Slept In Their Own Beds. and so it goes...we are hoping and praying that THIS time is the LAST time we have to rush my mom to the emergency room. we figured out that since her surgery on May 9th, she has spent 33 days in the hospital, and we're ready to put this chapter behind us, once and for all.

i cannot begin to imagine what the hospital bills for 33 days are going to look like. i'm sure my parents will be responsible for some of it, and i honest-to-god don't know how they will ever pay the piper. this health care crisis thang makes me bat-shit crazy. and now that i've experienced it first-hand, i may never shut up about it. when my parents were working, (and relatively healthy), they paid for their health insurance through their employer. now they are retired, and aging, and needing health coverage in an almost desperate way. they picked up medicare, and those tiny little social security checks are $200 lighter every month so that they can pay for it. and it still isn't enough, so they pay another $100 a month for supplemental insurance. and guess what...that isn't enough either.

it's insanity. all of it. what would they do if they didn't have family to help them through this?

which brings up my latest cause of insomnia. i am worried about the bazillion people who don't have family to help them. i've seen enough of those people over the last two months...i've walked past plenty of hospital rooms that are always dark and quiet, a patient alone, the space empty of visitors. how do people get the care they deserve if they are completely on their own? i can only come up with two answers, and i hate them both. they don't get the care, and they suffer and eventually die. or they get the care, can't pay the bills, the insurance companies come after them, and they lose everything. it's disgusting. it's criminal.

i don't know how to fix this. i suspect single-payer health care might be the way, but until we have something other than overpaid idiots in Washington, it ain't gonna happen. and yeah, the baby boomers are starting to flood the doors of hospitals, people like my parents are having to make decisions between heating oil and prescription drugs, and if we don't do something quickly, we are going to see a collapse, a disaster, of biblical proportions.

i should probably rent SICKO and get really wound up, but i don't think i have the heart to watch it. i don't even need to, really, because i've seen it unfold, in living color, to a sweet little couple from shapleigh who just want to spend the rest of their lives watching the grass grow in their back yard. they've earned it. they deserve it.

so anyway. thanks for stimulus check george.

what a crock.

two by anne sexton

2008-06-24T13:51:00.003-04:00

Young

A thousand doors ago
when I was a lonely kid
in a big house with four
garages and it was summer
as long as I could remember,
I lay on the lawn at night,
clover wrinkling over me,
the wise stars bedding over me,
my mother's window a funnel
of yellow heat running out,
my father's window, half shut,
an eye where sleepers pass,
and the boards of the house
were smooth and white as wax
and probably a million leaves
sailed on their strange stalks
as the crickets ticked together
and I, in my brand new body,
which was not a woman's yet,
told the stars my questions
and thought God could really see
the heat and the painted light,
elbows, knees, dreams, goodnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Welcome Morning

There is joy in all:
in the hair I brush each morning,
in the Cannon towel, newly washed,
that I rub my body with each morning,
in the chapel of eggs I cook each morning,
in the outcry from the kettle that
heats my coffee each morning,
in the spoon and the chair that cry
"hello there, Anne" each morning,
in the godhead of the table that
I set my silver, plate, cup upon each morning.

All this is God, right here in my pea-green house
each morning and I mean, though often forget,
to give thanks, to faint down by the kitchen table
in a prayer of rejoicing as the holy birds
at the kitchen window peck into their marriage of seeds.

So while I think of it,
let me paint a thank-you on my palm
for this God, this laughter of the morning,
lest it go unspoken.

The Joy that isn't shared, I've heard, dies young.

she had a good day

2008-06-23T20:16:00.006-04:00

and so my mother finds her way through another extended stay in the hospital...we are now on day ten of her third stint at maine medical, waiting for answers that seem to take their sweet time coming. in some ways, she seems better than at any other time since her surgery almost two months ago, and so we hang onto that as an anchor, as a beacon of hope. the last three days have been relatively good ones. she has smiled. she has laughed out loud. her appetite seems to have returned, at least a little bit. she is doing everything imagineable to improve her strength, which means lap after lap (after lap, after lap), of pushing her walker around the sixth floor, with her IV tree (and my dad) following faithfully behind her.

last night i sent my sister a text message shortly after my dad and i arrived home from visiting my mom (he is staying with me in portland, which is a blog entry or two in and of itself). my text message: we watched an old lucille ball movie with mom, laughed our butts off and tucked her in at 8. I think she was asleep the minute we kissed her goodnight. She had a good day.

my sister replied: thank god, finally a happy day. funny how a happy day has a whole new meaning now.

"funny how a happy day has a whole new meaning now." that tiny little sentence has been stuck inside my head ever since i read it last night. the bare-bone truth of it is just...remarkable. for my family, happy days are now defined by very. simple. things. the sound of my mother's laughter. the warmth i feel, all the way down to my toes, when she smiles. or when i watch her eat a bird-sized meal and actually enjoy it. a game of cribbage from her bedside. a walk around the hospital wing.

two months ago, i never would have imagined that these tiny little moments would feel like extraordinary gifts. it's amazing how our perspectives have changed in that short period of time. we have watched my mother walk through fire, literally, with fevers that burned through the night. we have watched her navigate the fragile lines between life and death, and do it with a sense of grace and courage that is breathtaking. she has become our heroine, our angel, a living example of the power of the human spirit, and of love, and of dignity.

so yeah. her laughter, her smile, her ability to put one foot in front of the other...such simple things amid the world's complexities. yet for us...they are miracles more profound than the mind can comprehend, and that only the heart may know.

p-r-i-d-e

2008-06-21T07:10:00.004-04:00

i took a break from all-things medical last night and did the dyke march thang in portland. in spite of some seriously threatening rain clouds i was amazed to see so. many. people hanging at congress square for the pre-march rally. and loved that we stretched halfway down congress street for the march to monument square.

after last year's rally, dyke march committee members and others (including me) received a series of borderline-threatening emails from CCL members that this march "would not be tolerated." lady bug's as-usual brilliant response: the CCL was absolutely right. it is not "tolerated" in Portland. At all.

yeah. you tolerate a cold, or the flu, or bad weather, or a snarky cousin.

the city of portland embraces, accepts, and celebrates with us, and last night they did it in spades. as hundreds of dykes marched down congress street, crowds gathering on the sidewalks cheered and yelled out support. restaurants emptied and customers waved and clapped. passing cars, once they figured out what all the ruckus was about, beeped and honked in celebration.

it's pride weekend baby and i'm gonna wear out a path between deering oaks and maine medical. (i even told my mom i may organize a mini-pride parade down the halls of the sixth floor, which elicited a rare but beautiful smile from her.) we have so much to celebrate and it goes far, far beyond our relief that the latest attempt to push us back into the closet has failed in such a poetically collosal way. we would have had a fabulous time either way, guaranteed.

that said, lezbe honest. it's sure gonna make this weekend taste even sweeter for us.