losing a job to a 15 min. break? damn right I did!

I remember one particular cold fall when as a student I got a PT job at the local mall. This particular kid-centered retail outlet...ahem* had a certain professional tendency to hire young female things who would not mind nor balk at there not being a 15 min. built into their 4 hr (and sometimes longer!) shift. Well, along came I, somewhat more jaded as I clambered into my 30's with my 'been-there-and-dun-that-and-I-sure-as-shit-don't-wanna-go-there-again 'tude. Upon my first real shift, I was informed that (insert co. name) does "not really do that" in reference to my query of when my break would occur. I was dumbfounded...but not dumb. So I insisted and claimed some psychosomatically-embellished condition impacting the weariness of my feet and compounding my thirst (I believe...) until the manager finally relented.

I "took" those 15 mins, boy, like it was the first taste of ice cream for a prisoner who had been locked away in a dungeon bereft of the flavours of food and left with scarcely any water for sustenance. I TOOK that fuckin 15! If I could have had sex with it, I would have.

In fact, my irritation and pull for subversiveness propelled me to 'make a point' by not-so-subtely taking, that's right...over 17 minutes (SUCH a radical!).

Then I was met with a lecture, er, I mean a rather involved discussion with the manager whereupon I argued for the virtues and benefits of giving us peons a short break and how it would overall improve productivity (trying the money angle, having assessed they were not the least bit receptive to any human rights angle), whilst she proceeded to explain to me how she blew the female president's cock on an nightly basis, administering to her every whim, including parting her hair to the exact follicle, holding it back upon fluid exhalations into a porcelain bowl or wiping the phlegm from under her (snide) nose, anything in order to 'protect the company assets'. Jaysus H, who are you kidding?! you are protecting your own ASS-ets so that by sucking every 'authoritative' proverbial cock (I said it again, it bears repeating!) you can remain with your foot solidly in managerial peon mode, carefully cemented into the landscape of the company's mosuleum for years to come. Well, do whatchu gotta do, sistah! and to each her own!

I get it, the co. wants to save money! Duh! but this is NORTH AMERICA, where presumably we are among the more fortunate when it comes to worker's rights where the min wage is shit, but it is still better than an assembly line Honduran worker's min wage, and where a 15 min break is a RIGHT not a privilege to be bestowed upon the hearty many who intend to complete their 4 hr. shift. Aint it...??

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...mgr. and I spent over 20 minutes going back and forth (diplomatically, I will attest and give props to) but nevertheless, "wasting" the company's precious time instead of being fruitful and letting little New Peon enjoy her 15, then come back refreshed and pumped up, ready to perform to the public how she cares about kiddy clothes, rarin' to help young parents get the right toddler pants size! That's the way to get geared up right, right? All it would take is a certain amount of dignity, respect afforded to the worker, to acknowledge her as a human with needs like water, food and yes, the ever, grossly under-valued concept in our society: REST!

No, my foot is not broken (nor sprained), no, I am not internally bleeding, not I do not need to "run" to the washroom, no I don't "feel ill". I do not need nor want a legitimizing excuse. I wish we did not have to feel guilty or ashamed without justifying a respite, or rationalizing it in some small, semi-apologetic way. Remnants of shame are so deeply woven into our collective fabric of consciousness, creating concepts like 'being idle'. Well, I do not speak in 'idle' terms nor laziness, nor weakness. I reject these terms and claim my respite because I am a human being and not a robot. PERIOD. full stop. No shame nor stigma need be attached.

Why the big deal? you ask. It's just a 15 min break! Because it's about taking our space, it's about seeing ourselves as worthy of space and having needs and considering the human aspect of the worker, the rights inherent to all workers the world over.

I am taking a break for those who may never get one, for those who deserve one too, for those whose voices are stunted, or forcibly quieted, for those who fear retribution of job loss or those who feel threatened or alienated. It is about claiming our power as people back. You can't rob me of my humanity, Big Fucking Corporation, Big Fuckin Governmental Body, Big Fuckin Institution (applying such discourse to make it 'ok' to devalue the human, and attach shame to rights we ought to claim). I don't give a shit if this year's aim is to 'tighten' things by squeezing everybody else's waist. You don't own me, you rent my time and labour, RENT it, while I hold my end of the contract to uphold your rules, and do my assigned tasks to the best of my abilities. So why aren't you holding your end up of the bargain up to respect me as a human being, as a critical part (not merely a peon) in this money-making, mass-producing system called capitalism. I don't like the deal one bit.

I WANT MY FUCKIN 15 MINUTES.



(NOTE: this author would call in 2 days later and resign from this unfortunate post, feeling that staying there would perpetuate all those things about injustice and mis-use of power that make her feel sick in her heart, and feelings of anger and shame that make her sick in her belly. Above all, she was humbled and thankful she could 'quit' a job, any job.)

It's a small gesture of resistance, but the personal can't help but be political. We need to look beyond the price tag to the lines between the stitching...where there are nameless, faceless workers often bereft of their rights and dignity as human beings.

Please, Mum - let's not shop here.

"Fear Not Want Not, Want/on woman"

I was scared I would be heard
so I began to sing

I was scared to be visible
so I let my little Light shine

I was scared others would hurt me
so I came to love them

I was scared no one would love me
so I learned to love myself

I was scared I would not make friends
so I started liking others

I was scared others would think me sensitive
so I let myself cry

I was scared people would only see a clown
when they saw me...so I played harder

I was scared to Shine
so I learned to breathe, and to Let it be

I was scared I had no direction
so I followed the path in front of me

I was scared to be rejected
so I auditioned/applied for it anyway

I was scared my body was no longer beautiful
so I dared to model...onstage...in lingerie!

I was scared to be found and get hurt again
so I went public on interweb and said, Here I am!

I am not Fearless
such claims I do not make
but I have come to know
that Boldness is the flip side of Fear
the choice is there I have pushed through

as I choose to stand in spite of fear
so I stand in Love for me

eye candy. just because.

"If you like it and you want it...put a ring on it" ?!

hm-humm. Foh real, Beyonce?? Oh, puleeze, this is a old and misguided a concept as the (albeit way cuter and niavely spunkier, 90's version of new 'feminism') Spice Girl's "girl power". This thrusting black and white video shocking my tv airwaves is not empowering in the least, but only riveting for its sexual provocativeness (and yes, catchy up-tempo), guised as female power but aimed clearly at and for the "male gaze". I sigh.

B (can I call you, "B" Beyonce?), are you trying to sell, I mean, tell me that waaay too high-cut leotards, undulating buttock movements, multiple half-naked limbs and girating thighs sausaged into shimmery tight stockings - aggressively thrust in tandem with a "marry me" anthem - is empowering to me somehow? How so? All I see are a lot of legs and asses practically eye fucking with the camera's lens and accompanying words like "if you like it and you want it, put a ring on it". Not helping is the fact that the song drones on and on in that ever-original way of beating one good riff to death via a musical hazing. Oh dear, oh dear.

What exactly is the "it" you are referring to in this ode to the women's movement? the "it" that he wants/likes? is it your talent? your mind? your philanthropic heart? your multiple million dollar homes..? personality? um, what is this "it"?? 'cause I gotta tell ya, all I see (repeated without end in sight- pardon the pun) is ASS. A whole lot of it.
B. girl, you are selling your ass. For a fucking ring.

Problem #1 your imagery is fucked up. It is the stuff of the juvenile, breast-fixated, hyper-feminizing, Barbie-humping, panty-hose fetishisin', defensively hetero MALE GAZE. Sure, these women look hot...but they also come across as cheap because they are selling everything- at once, and in a BIG WAY (buy 1, get one free, these goods won't keep forever you know)! Displaying all the goods up front (and in the back), presumably aimed to inspire tenting in boys and men's pants throughout the continent. Problem is there is no subtlety, no nuance, no come-hitherness, no...well, sex appeal! Women are flesh robots shaking body parts and not saying much beyond 'asserting' that they need a ring! I think there is some cloudiness as to what is sexy, what it could be, and WHY people are alluring to begin with. But here, what you see...is pretty much what you will 'get'...tonight...if and when you flash her some bling! ;)

Problem #2- what kind of the message is being sent here (esp to the young 'uns - male or female)? If you are really liked by your guy, the only sure way to tell is if he buys or somehow "acquires" some gargantuan rock for your digits. WHAT?? What if you love yourself and are lucky enough to find a cool guy who also loves you, but no rock? This video and the song's (and I use this term loosely "lyrics") would indicate that strutting in high heels singing about deserving a ring from your man is the way to be on top, an alpha female, a winner, the powerful woman! But let's not kid ourselves- it is still the man in control here, he's the one to buy and bestow said ring onto her...if he 'likes' her enough. What about her 'holding out' until she gets that ring then? Is that her taking her power? Nah, it just boils down to sexual blackmail, which is selling the self short again, thus disempowering to women. Hollah!

What if you like the cock but aint getting- or even wanting- any rock?? Are you some kind of 'failed' femininity? Ya almost delivered but stopped just shy of aquiring real success as a truly desirable and desired woman. hm. As a single woman sans rock, paper or scissors, I resent this. I don't feel the least bit failed, unsexy or incapable of inspiring devoted love from a partner. I don't think one ought to be validated by antiquated norms which prescribe a materialist token of 'commitment' like buying an expensive, processed precious metal. Jewerly is nice and I'm a romantic, but this notion of forced consumerism tied to love and/or commitment is absolutelty UN-romantic to me! Because it is expected, it is therefore feigned.

Problem #3- I hate the aggressiveness of this style of 'sexy' dancing. there is nothing sexy or sensual about it at all! is there..?? (crickets) Show them how it's done Shakira (a la "it's in the curve of my hips, the line of my smile..." Phenomenal woman style)! A little hip, a provocative look here, a little shimmy there goes a long way and feels way less forced and desperate than the Britneys or Beyonces violent jutting of hips and legs with sullen faces. Isn't there another way to sell "sexy" other than using hyper-masculinized movements, alpha dog style?? I'm not saying women can't or should not move aggressively but I think this way of sexying it up this way stifling and culturally 'blueprinted' onto us as a kind of sexual-raging-by-the-numbers. Don't we have our OWN voice, physicalities, can't we package our own femininities to reshape our own language of movement, of sensuality..? With such vast complexities and variations within the term 'woman' so is there plenty of space to be explored yet.

Problem #4- the song is catchy to toddlers on YouTube and people who move on auto pilot to a catchy chorus. It's catchy, but where is the art in this song? Any remnant of a song never stood a chance once it gets lost in over-production consisting of the same masturbatory four chords and setting the 'record needle' on repeat for roughly 4 minutes. Was it ever meant to be, well, good? "Not necessarily" you say? Well, hellz bells then, I should write me something! Let's see: "My humps, my humps...my lovely lady lumps..." oh shit, that's been done. DAMN it! (Dear reader, be glad I know when I ought not to pollute the waters of an already-polluted world of musical mediocrety!)

Ladies, sistahs, if you like 'it', that is if you like yourselves, don't buy a line of bull about how showing your boobs for a "Girls Gone Wild" video or shaking your ass cheeks in CU in some hip hop video is an expression of your power. It is only predicated on one aspect of your full range of power: your sexual power. Yes, it is a big issue, but it is not ALL. The downside is this overfocussing on sexuality and prowess can obscure and make obsolete OTHER aspects of feminine power! the mind, the physicality, the learned, the inspired, the emotional, and on and on. These are other components of our 'power' that the MTV generation is not going to be privy to anytime soon. Seems a pity that a dampening of the full experience of female identity is hugely mainstreamed and reifyed through mediums like this to become not only socially accepted and but also expected. ugh.

One last note on this night's late rant...if he does like "it", don't let a silly little ring do the talking, the loving or the very real work that makes for a relationship. The ring aint the thing! that's fairytale stuff. Give me a man who'll give me a kiss and a coffee, then cheerfully do the dishes in the morning (yes, in that order)! Now that I can take to the bank!

If he really wants to please you, he should put a ring on it alright: a well-fitted cock ring. Long-lasting good times abound, am I right? ;) Why not let HIM do some shaking and shimmying and see if I still like him!
tee hee

sheesh. another sad one...

Patrick Sawyze died today. He succumbed to pancreatic cancer at 57 years young. Sad. He seemed a sweet person and was a beautiful man.

I hope he is in peace.

I will watch Point Break or To Wong Foo so I can remember some of the joy he brought us.

donchu hate it when

aacckk....! I had some thoughts earlier.....

They were. interesting.

I forgot them.

fuck.

I feel a bit sad. again. and again.

I asked a street person if he was hungry. He said he was. I was coming back from Safeway and the booze store carrying several bags and felt my 'abundance' irrespective of him. Two yogurts and a danish later, he made a point to look me in the eye to say an earnest "Thank you." I could not muster "You're welcome" at first. I think I choked something out under muffled breath without meeting his eyes. I tried to gloss it over like it was no big deal, it is just food shared from one to another, no thanks need be given. In his eyes I caught a sadness, sensitivity, a young man, a sweet person. Yet, my Privilege hung like a great mustard bomb in the air, a heaviness that goes unmentioned yet which its perpetual sting is felt ominipresently. The weight of this supposed 'Priviledge' felt like a pit in my belly, a thick queasiness. That word clung in my mind as I walked back to my 'car', and headed to my 'home' housed in warmth and light, reflecting to me the stark inequalities between his world and mine (not 'ours'). And it hurt to see someone be so fuckin thankful for what should be the basest of needs met. Food. Kindness. Respect. For another human being. It should come so easily...

I pushed off repellent thoughts of feeling 'blessed' to have helped someone as some kind of saviour. Those make me embarrassed at my own benevolent narcissism. We are capable of so many things, yet human beings are best at instilling vast differences in access to resources, eroding the measures of quality of a kinder, gentler life, great blatant and nuanced inequality among people. This young guy is not the first person I have ever given food to. What bothers me most is it is not 'my' food by virtue of my having consumed it in a monetary transaction, but our food that if were distributed rightly, would and ought to be his food as well. He got it via another channel, from a caring passerby this time. Why must he ask a stranger in the first place?

I always remember the hungry ones who looked so touched or grateful at my meager offerings, who too looked me in the eye to say a thanks. I saw part of their dignity expressed in that gaze. I wanted to acknowledge the young man by seeing him, the person in his eyes and accepting his thanks. Yet, in that gaze I could hardly utter a "you're welcome" through the heaviness clutching my throat. My silence keeps the swelling pain in the heart obscured. For a moment, at least. Then I move along.

it's not so much the badd gramer...

I think I feel slightly embarassed because of her naivete (yeah, you grammar gods, but too lazy to look for the character ;) and perhaps because I am not sure if she was intending to write a scathingly ironic piece...er, or if her compelling sense of persuasion ends up making her look a bit...foolish. Either way, girlfriend... eesh! (shaking head. someday she will show this to the grandkids and have a larf. I hope.)
We all f*ck up sometime!

to my Zapatista (brothers, sisters)...a small moment of solidarity at least

FIRST GLOBAL FESTIVAL OF DIGNIFIED RAGE
WITH THE THEME OF: ANOTHER WORLD, ANOTHER PATH: BELOW AND TO THE LEFT
TO BE CELEBRATED ON THE FOLLOWING PLACES AND DATES
THE OTHER MEXICO CITY, FEDERAL DISTRICT, December 26, 27, 28, and 29, 2008. IN LIENZO CHARRO OF THE ASSOCIATION LOS CHARROS REYES DE IZTAPALAPA, Frente Popular Francisco Villa Independiente-UNOPII, Avenue Guelatao # 50, Colonia Álvaro Obregón, Delegación Iztapalapa, close to the metro station Guelatao, where an exposition will be presented. AND IN THE HEADQUARTERS OF UNÍOS, Dr. Carmona y Valle street #32, colonia Doctores, close to the metro station Cuauhtemoc, where other activities will be held.
THE CITY OF SAN CRISTÓBAL DE LAS CASAS, CHIAPAS, IN CIDECI, located on the Camino Real de San Juan Chamula s/n, Colonia Nueva Maravilla.

SOME OF THE SUBTHEMES OF THE FESTIVAL WILL BE:
AN OTHER COUNTRYSIDE
AN OTHER POLITICSAN OTHER CITY
AN OTHER SOCIAL MOVEMENT
AN OTHER COMMUNICATION
AN OTHER HISTORY
AN OTHER ART
AN OTHER CULTURE
AN OTHER SEXUALITY

THE FESTIVAL “ANOTHER WORLD, ANOTHER PATH: BELOW AND TO THE LEFT” WILL HAVE THE FOLLOWING CHARACTERISTICS:
1. In Mexico City, a national and international exposition will be installed where every struggle, every experience, every rage, will have a space where it can set up and show its struggle and its courage. This way we can all see, hear, and know each other.
2. In zapatista territory, dignity and rage will become art and culture, music and song, because rebellion also dances. And with words, pain will become hope.
3. In San Cristóbal de Las Casas, Chiapas, the word will go back and forth in order to give birth to new words and give strength and reason to rage.
4. The national and international groups, collectives, and organizations that participate in the festival will be only those who are invited to do so. To this end, the Sixth Commission of the EZLN has initiated consultations with political and social organizations, as well as with groups and collectives of anarchists, libertarians, alternative communication workers, human rights defenders, sexworkers, intellectuals, social activists, ex political prisoners, all adherents of the Sixth Declaration; and with groups, collectives, and organizations of other countries, all part of the Zezta Internazional. The criteria for invitations and participations will be made after these consultations.
5. For the roundtables, the EZLN will invite social organizers, thinkers, and leaders of anticapitalist projects from Mexico and around the world. The list of invitees will be released later.
6. More details about what we are thinking the festival of dignified rage could be will be made known at earliest convenience (that is, when we have an approximate idea of the problem we have gotten ourselves into).
That’s all for now.

LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ATENCO!
From the mountains of the Mexican Southeast. For the Indigenous Revolutionary Clandestine Committee—General Command, of the Zapatista Army for National Liberation.
Subcomandante Insurgente Marcos.Mexico, September of 2008.

haughtiness

the wheel turns. I know this one.

so, I've been accused of being a...wit. Some have even alluded to me being more a wit to the "t", if you know wot I mean. And so I had me a think today: so what is my response to being accused of such controversies, of being suspected of such tomfoolery and less nobility, less solidity of character? Well, I don't like it when someone *mistakes* my playfulness for 'immaturity' (I have heard such utterances, now haven't I?). Nay, I care not for such misdirected attributes. Any more than one can address the issue of me stating notes in the clipped, yet dulcet tones of an older era, as I do now, can they explain why I joke when I do, and to whom and why! I will nonetheless, try.

Ok, so for the "short bus" (yes, terrible lack of PC'ness there, I know, I am fully acknowling it, but onwards...), since back to the 8th grade I have had my er, sense of humour thrown back proverbially into my face (so to speak), with people misunderstanding my character or dismissing me for a clown. Were they wrong?? (well. no. not exactly...) What they did not realize is that while I was (am) a jokester, I did not do it out of yang to "fit in" or to amuse or muster quick attention, I did it fluidly and naturally more out of the selfish urge to amuse MYSELF really! Things looked funny to me, I had an imagination and perceived odd pictures and quickly accessed the grotesque potential in the amplified levels of the truth...and I could witness, in a moment, such absurdity! and words sounded like others and could be toyed with, for hilarity! it was too easy..! yet, hard to resist. Perhaps I should have tried to..? Perhaps I over-did it.

Perhaps I continue to. Let that be my downfall. Many will not 'get' it, may not like me, (such fools...tsk*), may dismiss me again by not peering beneath my veneer of good humour and lightness. I suppose I am to blame for that, when I do not explain that having a sense of humour about things in general has helped me cling to hope through some dark times, had made my mother laugh until she shakes, has made my brother's cheeks tighen in a loud guffaw, has made a good party kinda better, has brought strangers to me as quick friends, has made me feel the hope a child feels by its purity, its innocense, has amused my friend until tears form. I have willingly stepped into the role of court jester, for her birthday, knowing that laughter makes her happy, pleasing her is an act of love for a friend. I have done so for others. Sometimes a kind word. Sometimes a lil joke.

I like to make people feel happy. But greater to that effect, I think I like to make ME feel happy. There are too many hours to account for laden with much anxiety, panic, fear, sadness, loneliness, self-loathing, insecurity, torment, and on and on... I have seen so many days like those. And once I was very, very sick and very, very sad...and I met myself on the way out, in a moment of mourning. I saw my youth and health vanishing and my face changed, my heart lost its hope, my spirit lost its innocense...a great part of me died then. I thought I must get out of this great pain. and I must use my will and my spirit as a way to get out!

(Well, I will spare you the details, dear reader, but I did get out.) Helped mightily by great Intention set in my mind, along with the ole perseverance that made me flip over the tree branch over and over one summer, until I could do that sommersault (!), plus a healthy dose of skepticism, and fueling this ride, was my Spirit. In it lived playfulness, humour, a childlike *thing* if you will, but whatever it is, it has served me well. And so I grew out of. I grew up into. I continue to.

Now that I am (more) grown up and seen past my serious teens and my politically correct 20's...to see that "growing up" should be about being happy, making yourself as happy as you can. Being true to your spirit, whoever you REALLY are (not who you've been told we are supposed to be, not who you think you might have been). It's about using the tools you've been given. Me...?? well, I like to think about things, and I like to play. The play has been good to me. And forgive me if I am bold, but I daresay I have witnessed a smile, a chuckle, small grins to those around me when I too share with them as they share their gifts with me. (I learned about sharing in kindergarden, got a A, did I ;)

I can say this without thinking of it as boast: Yes, I am a clown, but I am also a dreamer, a child, a wise woman, a teacher, a healer, a poet, a lech, an adventuress, a fighter, a (gentle) rogue, a chameleon...that lets me change my robe.

If you want to get all colloquial on me- "well, I've got one hand in my pocket and another one is showin' you how to perch and rotate!" I may look like an apple, but look a little closer, coz I am a pomegranite.

eind if ye don't like it, mate...(honki-ty, honk, honk)!

I get pretty hot when...

I read...ABOUT THIS!

"Infinite Bubble Wrap: Mugen Puchi Puchi" by Yukio Obata

Bubble wrap is addictive! A distracting amusement for some, a stress reliever for others. Whether it's the texture or maybe the sound that it makes, most people inexplicably enjoy popping plastic bubbles! Mugen Puchi Puchi is a Japanese key chain toy designed to mimic the sound and feeling of popping bubble wrap… Infinite bubble wrap! What bliss!

The flat, square gadget looks like a five-centimetre square of bubble wrap. It features eight bubbles and comes with seven colour variations: white, green, red, blue, pink, orange and black. The toy is produced by the Japanese toymaker Bandai and was first released at the Tokyo Toy Show in June 2007. Although it’s not an exact replica, pressing the surface of the toy will generally produce the sound and tactile feeling of popping bubble wrap. And, of course, it comes with a twist! The Japanese are quite fond of improbable coincidences, such as tea leaves floating vertically in their cup like tiny jellyfish (a sign of good luck). So, when it comes to popping bubble wrap, they are fascinated by the rare possibility of popping a bubble into a heart shape. Manufacturer Kawakami Sangyo claims that this happens once every ten thousand times with real bubble wrap..."

Oh. My. Gawd.

I am complete.

Please buy me this product. (Xmas is coming...and I don't have all day.)

Sense and Sense-of-accountability

Barack Obama (the only sensible candidate to many, including your author) was finally elected president for the US-a great feat for a land run by many greedy fools! so *yay*!!
The next day...California passed a law to ban same-sex "marriage." Though saddened, my jaw does not drop, however...

The pendulum violently swings....from good to bad, from sensible to illogical...from wisdom to utter foolishness...from sharing a collective consciousness (the US) to alienating and ostracizing.
So continues the neverending friction-fraught quest for happiness in a "middle ground" which finds no argument.

We all have to pay rent sometime

early Joan Collins, circa fromage era

Sylph's art

"Politics and Faith"

Sylph's art

Sylph's art

Kitch & Feminism!

(roAk n f3ckin roall)

my second foray into Celebrity-lookalikedness!

say what you will, but this silly shite is kinda good for the ole ego! and an excellent source of time-wastage!

I highly recommend it.

My (supposed) Celebrity Look-Alikes!

ok, Angelina...I aint complaining. haha

"Coming Out"

Today the world was rocked: Clay Aiken announced publically (via "People" magazine) that, yes, indeed he IS gay. Kudos, brother, kudos. In the face of conservative and self-righteous communities who may perceive this kind of pronouncement as a 'special' event around diversity, he has proven himself brave. Mind you, with all the pressure to come out as a public person, and media vultures clipping at one's ears until they are about to bleed, Clay's 'coming out' might arguably have been a strategic act of self-preservation. "I can't says I blame him."

In fact, his announcement has inspired my own exposition: I, (first name, last name), declare that I...am a "Heterosexual". Yep. Those of you who had suspected it, you were right all along. I have always been that way but was too scared to face things for fear of social, institutional oppression, and even public persecution (thank Goddess, I'm not famous! not yet anyway). In retrospect, I knew I was into Boys from an early age, from when my first crush in kindergarten saw me pee my pants. You can't buy this kind of humiliation. I remember standing in my school uniform at the front of the class begging the teacher to let me go to the washroom. She told me, "Not until you are finished reading the piece." But I could no longer read the piece, and she wasn't about to let me go to the washroom...but I um, did anyway. Right there, at the front of the classroom. Warm familiarity streaming down my gray nylons and puddling into my little black Dorothy shoes. I dared not look down, for the mortification of seeing it as being 'real' would prove too much for my little heart. But I saw 'his' eyes. Daniel (?), my crush, stared at me in disbelief and shame for me. He felt my pain. I wanted to cry but instead trudged away, making soft, gushy noises and silently cursing the day that cunt of a teacher had ever been born...

er, where was I? Well, my point was, from way back when, I knew that no matter how hard I tried, and how many times gay or bi-curious girls would sandwich me on the dance floor, or plant peckish, flirtateous kisses, no matter how many really cool, smart, sexy lesbians sort of 'checked me out' or gave me opportunity for 'eye sex'...I just did not have it in me to respond to the fairer sex. It's been men, boys, guys. I guess I must like dick. I am no longer going to be ashamed of that.

So...today, I feel brave enough to announce to friends and loved ones that I am indeed a "Heterosexual" Woman.

If only the world was not so judgemental of people or 'categorized' them as being different or incomplete somehow, if only there was less hate crimes centered around one's sexuality or any diversity, if only the state suported laws and policies that would protect those who only want to live their lives in peace and love another in the way that is real and right for THEM...if only things were more open and fair...I think I would have come out earlier. But the world isn't fair. And the Truth is scary to some people.

(Good on you, Clay.)

"Survivor, Exciting and New! Come Aboard We're Expecting You..."

So "Survivor" was cool and exciting (as one of the first North American mainstream really succesful 'reality shows' at its launch). Ok that's all good. Um.

However.

Survivor is in danger of becoming a joke upon itself, as it pushes its cart into its (17th?) season. By this time almost everyone has BEEN on Survivor as a contestant or as a winner! So where is the 'Surviving'? Isn't it more of a thrill when surviving is actually an anomaly, a happy and RARE occurance, than as an everyday (every season, at least) almost mundane happening? "Ok, so you need me to get bread, and milk and go win on Survivor? Right. Ok then, be back soon." Won't it lose a little something..?

I think by this point almost everyone (save for my mom and myself and a handful of jaded friends..?) have been 'Survivors'! Hot damn! There may just not be any more room for Specialness anymore! How can everybody be Special?? Won't that betray the very essence of being Special and 'standing out of the crowd'? In this case, the loser in the crowd is the stander-outee!! It's not that big a deal that you 'happen to be' the 113th person who has 'won' the Surviving challenge. Hell, everyone has reality-show style "Survived" and made it out alive, made it out a richer person, or even scored some new wheels in the deal too. But you may no longer be that big a shit, ya know what I mean?
Let's get real. What they need to do ('they' as in 'them', the 'powers that be', gurus of money-making, the entertainment-world self-proclaimed demi-gods of programming) is actually make it interesting. How about a reality show that is not about fame-whoring, or being another so-called "winner". How about a show called...(wait for it) "The Land of the Mediocre"!

I like that title. It would be a show about all the schmucks who have not been on Survivor (there are at least 23 of us left...I think) who are happy to be under-achievers in a content world of intensive couching, computer-mousing, remote-control-fondling and the like. Hell, I might even audition! Why not! At least, there is something new in town that is a novelty, a fresh idea!! A reality show for NON-winners, the anti-Survivor. NOBODY gets their fifteen seconds of fame! Screw you, Andy WarHO!!
I would so watch that.

Also, I am unsuccesfully trying to control my impulses toward impure thoughts that conjure up true tales of surviving: a cross between urban tales of the city and the horror genre! ie. "Thanksgiving at my Mother's...with her New, Cheeseball, Opportunistic Boyfriend who Gives Me the Creeps When He Tries to Dance All "cool" With Me"...or "Christmas Spent Consoling my Delusional Aunt as My Crazy, Drunken Uncle Embarrasses Everyone (except himself) By Foraying Into Drunken, Rage-Fueled Exposatory Storytelling..." See the Drama, Feel the Angst!

My favourite true Survivor-themed show would be, "How I Made It Out Without Slugging My Judgemental Father and His Deranged Girlfriend During Two Grueling Hours Enduring Their Insipid yet Dizzying, Frenzied, Deranged (said twice, but still accurately) One-Sided Conver-fuckin-sa-tions. Did They Ask How I the Frig I Was? No! Of Course Not!" (It's a long title, but it could work.)

Now THAT is Surviving!

Lastly, the worst part of this is that I will likely be tuning in the sodding show when it "premieres" (does that have any meaning anymore in this context??) its umpteenth season. Though I will have soaked my dentures in time to stick them back into my smile for the premiere, not to worry. "The show must go on." And on. And on. And...apparently, on...

Doesn't "blog" sound like someone drowning while simlutaneously gagging on runny oysters...(or is that just me?)

from the Dept. of "It Figures"
so I joined the notorious Facebook cult. ah yes, the power of the group persevered and I found myself creating a profile in order to access some documents my class group has posted.


That is how it started.


Well. Fast fwd a few months and I start filling out aptitude tests, and posting funny pictures, amusing myself by downloading applications, and taking quizzes like, "Which 1950's Pin-Up Girl are YOU?" and "Which Harry Potter character are you?" and thinking to myself, 'hey, this is alright. kind of fun, silly. maybe it is just the thing to keep my head out of proximity with my nether back regions for a while at least'.


Soon distant colleages spot me, or people I have only met once, or people from my past who did not actually know me but seemed nice enough who want to "add me" as an "FB-BFF" (my own term for FaceBook-BestestFriendsForever) and creepy, ex-boyfriends once so toxic for me are now also clammoring to 'befriend' me. Who am I to reject a request to be an e-friend for crissakes? That's gotta be horrible rejection! Shit, what harm can it really do? People CHANGE, don't prejudge, out with fear, in with love...and all that other shit.


Then I start getting invested in using FB as a makeshift social network.


I reason, "Maybe I can make more acquaintances through here and manage to go out more and get one of those things...you know, a life." So I start sending little keep-me-in-mind notes. "Hey, how are you? I see you have been busy having fun! Good on you. Drop me a line sometime", "Nice photo. That looks like a lot of fun. Was it?" To such requests, I received the typical urbanite reply. Silence. Crickets. Not a peep or a whimper, or an apologetic after-thought like "Oh, sorry I totally forgot to reply to you last month!" I tried to 'put myself out there' (whatever THAT means) but nothin' came of it.


Then FB starts to get me casting doubts about humanity in general. Dramatic.


I start feeling rejected and kind of pissed. I even close my account for a couple of weeks so I don't have to face pissy thoughts like, 'Why does no one reply to me?' I answer their questions, and respond with a question back to them when appropriate. Do they no longer have any use for my answer to the question THEY asked me? Then why ask in the first place? Now I have my own burning questions, "why bother addding me as a 'Friend' when you never reply to me, invite me anywhere (when you post great 'after-party' photos) or connect with me in any manner after 'adding' me?" This is very puzzling. Only one person actually replied within a decent time with a genuine response to my (genuine) question. How refreshing. (Thank you, Joel.)


I quickly realize that most people that have added me as a "FB-BFF" have no intention of being a friend in *real life*, or even a well-practised acquaintance. Instead, they save face by at least 'playing the part' of being invested. It might come down to collecting people, or "Faces" as the name implies. The more peeps you have as FB-BFF, the more popular you really, really are! Ok, so I'm another coin in the stamp collection. (Sardonic laugh here)


I like technology. Hell, I rely on it, and entertain myself through it and use it almost daily as par of the course of student-ing, and life. It has become a (cliche) 'Friend' of sorts. But substituting genuine intention with technology and letting that do the 'work' for you and instead of you is kind of missing the point. Isnt' it? or am I getting old?


To be fair, there are all types on there. Some sincere people who genuinely like you but would rather not actually get together with you (too busy, etc.), some people you'd rather leave in your past (that 'ex' I mentioned), some guys who want to flirt, and then my favourite: those who want to parade around how great their life is and how good-looking they really are. In the end, adding someone as a 'friend' means nothing, and 'friend' itself is grossly (mis)appropriated.


My problem is I expect too much from others, at least as much as I give to them. Not a wise thing, perhaps. Tonight is one such example of the culture of cyber "friendliness" that perplexes me. I get online, see there is a cute guy that I added as a friend after we both expressed "interest" in each other (through some dating application). I start to chat hoping to keep it light, get a sense of who this person is, how he thinks, if he has a sense of humour ("Please, lawd...let him have a sense of humour!"). Before long he mentions he can 'take care of my tension'. I peruse his profile noting the large number of attractive, single women 'friends' he has. I begin to see a pattern so I say 1/4 jokingly, "Well, let's stick to chatting for now! (smiley face icon) 'playeh'. haha". He does not like this. He replies, "playeh??", then abruptly signs off before I can even put my words into context! I cry onto the keyboard, then into my journal, feeling the great loss, the mourning of a true friend. I cry. Oh, how I cry. When I am done consoling myself, I think, "What an asshole. No sense of humour for one, and he can dish it out but sure can't take it. Good riddance then!"


I see someone else from my past is still online, and continue chatting with him. I even mention my terse moment with 'Playeh' and he laughs. I know he has been in ill health, so before long, I decide to invite myself to visit him. He accepts. This self-invite pushes me to go beyond my fear ("what if he emotionally or energetically leeches off me too much?") and be ok with being an acquaintance myself. Also, he is in a relationship which helps my ease, truth be told.


We're all lonely sometimes. Maybe this time, I can be an acquaintance to this person, regardless of how 'close' we are or are not. Get to know people, my heart tells me. Fuck, Facebook, Faca-de Book, fuck the pretenders (and I don't mean Cryssie Hynde). I will treat FB culture as only fun, frivolous & meaningless and will continue in pursuit of those completely meritless quizzes! As for making ACTUAL acquaintances, I will strive to "set down the mouse and try to step out of the house."


You can quote me on that, but only because it rhymes.

I should have been a Goth musician. sigh

riding the wave of suuper tired during most of the day (with you know, light out), then it gets dark, well, my eyes and my body start responding to life...I feel better. Like a human being. And that's you know, a good thing. I finish another scathing paper on the 'way things are in the world' (my fave. topic in just about every paper!) and here I am thinking why the f*ck do I feel fine now?? it's almost 12 am! I should be yawning and getting ready for bed...and feeling well-spent.
Well, I feel overdrawn, not spent--but definitely not salient (ha. money joke)

oh shit. Ok: my favourite word this whole week/month/year (oh,hell Ill admit it: for EVER) is..........(wait for it)


IGNORANUS


perfection. beauty. it says it all.
the state of the world and all that too.

for shiz and giggles...

Gallery of the Absurd does it again (and again, and again. Bless them).

At Last, Condoms for the WannaBe!

"When a Chinese condom manufacturer made the wise decision to slap David Beckham's smooth golden image onto a box of poorly selling condoms, they immediately watched sales skyrocket to number one in China. Beckham didn't approve the use of his image and he's not endorsing or making any profit from it (Poor Posh, just imagine all the day-glo Hermes bags she's missing out on hoarding).

It's amazing how one can take a bunch of flimsy rubber, cram it in a box, add a picture of a pretty soccer player on the front...and then sit back and watch the profits roll in. I'm in the wrong business, I tell ya. What many of you don't know is that it was I who designed the Beckham condoms box. Yes, it's true...I have lucrative International Chinese connections..."

purdy lights...

(forget the post below...look at the pretty lights!!) yay**

God Bless "Freedom of Speech"...

It's creeps like this that give religion (and freedom of speech!) a bad name!
here's a "Passage" (and not from the Good Book):

"In respect to the issue of homosexuality and choice, given the existence of ex-homosexuals and given the existence of human cultures where homosexuality has apparently not existed, the position that homosexuality is ultimately a choice in individuals or at the very least can be a choice in individuals has strong evidential support. In addition, given that the homosexual population has significantly higher rates of many diseases and...lower rates of mental health it can be strongly argued that engaging in homosexual acts is a bad choice for individuals. Another factor that makes engaging in homosexual acts a bad choice is the significantly higher rates of domestic violence in homosexual couples. In addition, according to experts homosexual murders are relatively or quite common and often homosexual murders are very brutal. Also, the homosexual population has a greater propensity to engage in illegal drug use."

Well, for starters, "homosexuality" was legally deemed a mental illess (in Canada) until 1973. Might help explain some of these supposed 'metal health' stats these idiots are claiming. But, people can build any argument and 'locate' statistics for any damn thing if they look for it (and frame facts in a specific way & obscure others, etc). These hating types tend to have "friends in high places", enough money and access to the powerful institutions, which scares me. "Hi, Church + Bedroom, meet 'State'."

(I've provided the link, but I honestly don't want to give these peeps any more 'air' time) goodbye!

Heath Ledger is dead...

terrible, shocking sad news...among other issues, he had been having sleep problems and I feel badly for him as I have been in that sort of hell, where one feels he is the only one with those types of problems and is completely alone. It hurts. I don't know how he got to where he got to...I only wish him well. May he find peace.

Sad ending. Too soon. He will be missed by many, including me.

Here are some thoughts from people who worked with him (I highlighted the pts. I would like to remember).

"The remarkable characters he has left us in his extraordinarily wide-ranging body of work will remain as a testament to his talent. Heath was an artist, a kind and sensitive man, who simply wanted to do good work of which he could be proud."

"He was uncomfortable with celebrity, which made him a target for fools, preferring to focus on being the best actor he could be. For that, he will always have the respect and admiration of those who knew, understood and admired him.

"His early death is a terrible loss for all of us, but most particularly for his family, and his adored daughter, Matilda.”

Shocked and saddened - John Polson

Filmmaker and Tropfest founder John Polson has joined the outpouring of grief at the news.

"I am incredibly shocked and saddened by the news. Nothing can soften the blow from this kind of tragedy, especially with someone so young.

"I have met Heath many times over the past decade and was always struck by how warm, gentle and decent hearted he was. I know people will remember him with great respect and my thoughts are with his family."

Gallery of the Absurd

I'm sorry...this site just makes me laugh! His works are always ingenious and inspired by pop culture! This one dares ask: "WHAT IF THE DALAI LAMA AND THE DONALD SWITCHED PLACES?"



Here is Trump being a total cheeseball

Preggers, Schmeggers

hmm..it seems as though Ms. Universe has been sending me a message, albeit a 'mixed' one. It seems 'she' has come by, not found me at home and so placed a big ole neon colored paper ticket on my door to let me know that, "There is a message here for you. Come pick it up, dork!" Er, or so it feels...

Interestingly, have been drawn to and rented movies to do with single women getting pregnant ("Waitress", "Knocked Up"), then invited out to see a movie similarly-themed ("Juno" re: a pregnant teen), then reading books featuring out-of-wedlock and hush-hush births ("Fall on Your Knees", great book). Lately, I even received a lovely feminist mag from a friend and the first article I cracked it open to was (surprise!) to do with single women and pregnancy. The zine's theme itself is "Singularity and Plurality," interesting and quite apropos to a time of baby obsession (or perhaps distraction, post "9/11" and during an ongoing 'war' on terror among other ugly things...). There is an almost imperceptible 'vibe' out there somehow rooting us on to repopulate and rebuild the nation, and it has baby-bib pink all over it! Or is it just me? Again. sigh.

I suppose too that is could all merely be a grand Coincidence. I also feel (my intuitive part argues) that is could also be a case of significators being laid out for me like a nice little map of ideas. I guess I can see it both ways (I'm lucky that way :) Maybe I'm paying attention but not for the obvious reasons implied...

Sometimes, I feel inundated with romanticized images of babies and baby-making (regardless of, and separate from the notion of 'family' I note) where everyone is smiling giddily at babies and baby, baby, baby things, and pink and tiny cool clothes and Hollywood stars with 'bellies' and trainwreck pop-stars and their many mishaps and oops! baby on the way - all is forgiven, instant public redemption (!), and the media's almost obnoxious obsession and vigilant focus on its 'baby watch'! WHAT UP?? Also, does anybody consider the post-romance buzz-kill that is when the lidl babybaby grows UP? Yes, from that to toddler, then kid, then sullen teenager! Hello?? Babies don't stay cute forever (whatever yer mom tells ya)! Babies don't stay *babies* forever. Don't see too many cute headlines about pesky ten-year-olds driving their mom 'round the bend, do we? Just saying...

Should I see so much of babies and feel that I am really, really missing the boat here? Are feelings of 'maybe I should think about this' a result of over-exposure to the baby farm (read: media hype) or is that my own tic tic (tic tac anyone?) biological clock starting to crack? sheesh. Can't a girl just kind of get there by herself without being constantly bonked on the head being blatantly reminded: "HEY,TOOTS, YA AINT GETTIN ANY YOUNGER! HOW'S ABOUT GIVING SOME THOUGHT AND EFFORT TO SQUEEZING OUT PUPPIES SOON, EH? HELLOOO??"

I like babies, don't get me wrong. I would like to think (er...hope) that I still have a shot at my own trial in this field should it come to fruition (pun intended), not counting pesky details like a suitable 'donor' appearing, my own life situation and $ stability being non-existent at this juncture. hee. But all this fuss over babies is starting to make me paranoid and kinda grumpy...like I'm channeling some weird "pregnancy-sympathy" symptoms?? I jest. Yes, I am at that 'ripe' age, been off the vine for bit now and just before souring, which, it could be argued makes me biologically a candidate to feel these 'funny feelings' (but not that everyone does). Yet, rather than joy and anticipation, I feel enormous pressure to catch up to (what appears to be, and what is being 'sold' as) the 'majority' of my peers fertile, straight women in their 20's, 30's and even early 40's. It makes me wonder, 'Are my eggs going to go bad by the time I get there? Should I be tryin' harder?? Will I feel totally shitty if I miss my 'window' (with pink lace curtain finishings)?

All I see is skinny, yet big-bellied women and their trials and tribulations and excitations at the bundle of joy to soon grace their lives. But my eyes are starting to roll back in my head...ok, ok enough already! What's with the 'sudden' baby boom and the onslaught attack of the baby-themed films (esp. comedies) tv shows (ie. "Notes from the Underbelly" - are you serious??) and headlines that are prioritizing the building of a nation, the continuation of our species? Did we get paranoid about there not being enough of us already?? I'm no numerologist but I know there is enough peeps in the world (and most of them struggling).

Is there some covert "Western" underlying cultural message to all 'breeder' women who have not spawned yet to "get (their eggs) crackin'?" I sympathize and support the voice of breeder, but non-spawning women when they assert, "Heck, maybe I don't want to breed, maybe I feel fulfilled and happy as my life befits me, maybe I don't want to be a mother." Maybe not. The world is over-populated as it is. I say, You go, Sister! And to non-breeders (read: not straight) who DO want kids I say too, You go, Sister!

Yet for me, it has come to be that lately (as in, the last few years) I have had moments of tiny aches, I might even say 'yearnings' and the thought of being sidled (for life, literally) with an infant, then a teen does not completely repel me. Hmm...I even picture favourable things sometimes! Imagine that. So it falls for me to state resignedly (sp?) that I might be a breeder yet.

But I wish media (the mainstream type that unfortunately comes fast and cheap and that I feel inundated and invaded by) would ease up on the belly watch thing and find other hobbies! Find other ways to celebrate and revere women. Surely, there is more that we contribute than spawning good looking little tykes sporting cool mowhawk mini-me hair cuts! Let's find other reasons to celebrate what women do, what makes them compelling and interesting and stop making us fair maidens (like this single and somewhat harried author) paranoid that we will somehow falter or fall short of fulfilling our 'whole' potential as women if we don't personally donate to the baby farm.

Let's talk about something other than growing belly bumps, let's find a new fascination! Or better yet, let's get honest about what the real issues are (the not-so-cute-ones) and who we are or want to be. Why the hell not?? Let's try being original. And, while I'm at it: a shout out to the cool aunties (author included) who volunteer to show your kids a good time and take 'em off your hands for a while. (I see no articles on cute, single, incredibly hot, babyless aunties as of yet but I'm hopeful...)

I'll end with echoing the words of Sojourner Truth who, for her own reasons valiantly once asked, "Aint I A Woman?"

The "Cleanse"

Ok, so I don't 'believe' in making Resolutions first of all, so this is not related to any such motivation. Ick. Now (a pause here for effect), to the goods: I did the "Master cleanse" for 1/2 a day (which is better than 0%) and in such a wee span of time, I saw ripe new worlds palpitating afresh as though released from their pomegranite sky to become sweetly earth-bound...er, but I digress.

I felt no headache (I swear, not even a little sneaky one), my eyes were clear (I guess they ARE green), my hair was curlier (well, ok I DID wash it today...special day 'n all), and dare I say, my skin looked (permit crudeness here, but) fuckin great! All in all, I would say I stopped clenching onto life (and uh, in other ways...), managed to rest my overworked, oft-neglected, heavily taxed internal organs (sorry, body) and felt...yes, I think it is safe to say: great, unequivocally and without exception.

No fan fare. Nobody was looking, out to impress no one, I merely 'tried'! Who'd have thunk a rather jaded, cynical gurrl like me would smile without any sarcastic smirk about a such thing??

Oh, and after sipping my tart yet healthful concoction, I waxed poetic and looked out the window (sighing here) where I think the tree trunks did indeed appear a dark lavender hue, and the shiny, slick concrete of the sidewalks adorned with strewn about fallen leaves themselves looked rose-colored. ah.

Oh, just shuddup and try it. You jaded bastards! ;)

Charlie's life

The title links to a lovely site for animal lovers...the life of Charlie the Coyote! (I am choosing to ignore any coincidences with respect to my dear deceased kitty below and coyotes...) Nevertheless, enjoy these bee--yuu-ti-ful pictures!

Note to Si

Baby, I hope hope you are doing well. I miss you around here. Your little sis has been more vigilant than normal and she seems lonely too. She is even letting me pet her. I think of how you appropriated my bed during the days and kept vigil over me as I worked endlessly. We watched teli together, me rubbing your soft white fur, your tummy exposed, in a twisted pirouette you shamelessly welcomed my caresses.

You too, touched me in ways you may never know. You were my little nursemaid, my friend, nurturer, torturer, adventurer, rogue, a playful loving spirit. Your rough pink kisses secured me through the tough times or told me that you appreciated my comfort and my tenderness. It was a mutual admiration we held. You were a puss-ionate one!

Today it is raining. I think of how you would be sleeping on my 'cat blanket' and I look to smile upon you...but see you no longer there. I think of how I would like to hold you once more in my arms. My sweetness, my soft little baby. I would like to think I will see you somewhere else and maybe always...in some form. Perhaps you will come to adorn our Christmas as a little angel. You always looked like one, even if you were a tad naughty. But you were always love incarnate.

I miss you my little man. It was the longest moment when I looked into your eyes as death came seeping in. I sent you white light and love so you would not be afraid. Most of all, I wanted you to not be afraid. So I held myself in 'love' so as to be there for you until the very end. You are one of my dearest most cherished friends. For you, I will retain the memory of an endless, impossibly soft coat, white like eternity, a warm belly, an inquisitive bright mind, and a most sensitive, gentle being. I hope the ride was good for you. You loved so well, and so you were well loved.

Goodnight, little prince. May twighlight and moonbeams guide you along your path... May I see you in a beautiful sunlight garden, for I know that is where you would be.

Steven Wright jokes ('deadpan' delivery essential here)

"Winny would spend all of his time practicing limbo... He got pretty good... He could go under a rug..."

Today I met with a subliminal advertising executive for just a second.

Last night I fell asleep in a satellite dish. My dreams were broadcast all over the world.

I was born by Caesarean section, but you really can't tell...except that when I leave my house, I always go out the window...

Right now I'm having vu ja de--deja vu and amnesia at the same time.

Sometimes I...No, I don't.

There's a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot.

Randomness

The Man with Two Heads-1973, Ray Milland (post Oscar-nominee era!)

Worth looking at, if nothing else for the train-wreck quality it has in spades. DO I even need to explain the plot here?? The title says it all! and who cares, anyway? it is flawless in its lack of coherent plot, very, very mediocre "special effects" and wonderful over-the-top acting...sigh. It's a beautiful thing. The chase scenes will make you laugh out friggin' loud. (Probably better-viewed while stoned but I wouldn't know).
For you anal types, here is a quip of the uh...
Plot Synopsis: A rich but racist man is dying and hatches an elaborate scheme for transplanting his head onto another man's body. His health deteriorates rapidly, and doctors are forced to transplant his head onto the only available candidate: a black man from death row.

On a 'whole n'other level' is a movie that is rather under-rated and deserves some decent Cult status (which I have read it has):

Velvet Goldmine-1998, Ewan McGregor, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Christian Bale, Toni Colette

Reasons to watch: great soundtrack, GLAM frigggin' ROCK style and madness, heavy David Bowie-esque biographic nudging, Oscar Wilde references artfully disbursed throughout, Ewan McG. acts like a softer Iggy Pop, gets buck nekkid, and kisses another beautiful boy J. Rhys Meyers (here very purdy, androgynous and sexy),cool directing, editing, nice visuals, Eddie Izzard great as a sleazy manager!

Only "drawback": you'll watch it twice to 'get' the mystery, within a love story, within a rock-opera-esque drama...and you kinda don't mind. Hee!

"Oh, SNAP!"

Marilyn, we miss thee
XXX

Cinematic 'surprises'

Apocalypto
I had no idea I would grow to almost love this movie (in retrospect) and watch it twice in a row! Perhaps it was the intense and thrilling visual action sequences that riveted me without guns or car explosions, or the lush cinematography...perhaps it was the authenticity that captivated me...all these elements became fascinating. Equally fascinating was learning (somewhat) of the culture and ritual of the ancient Mayan civilization.

At one point during a particularly violent sequence, I was moved to tears as the scene unfolding seemed to be one 'out of my past'. Somehow I connected on a deeper level, one of blood kinship. It felt so real and though it was 'only a movie', it felt so close to home, and touched upon some primordeal memory from my spirit past perhaps in South America. This movie went to my gut, it felt so visceral and bloody and real, yet I didn't mind because it felt screamingly authentic. Conquest of a tribe IS violent and ugly!.

Personal politics: I get a little miffed at the holier than tho types who scorn Mel Gibson (the man) for having fucked up and spoken out of turn (foolishly, and I'm sure regretably) who now judge and negate his work as Mel the artist. I separate the man from the art. He made a fine piece of work with a lot of passion!

Oh please, let's not judge another as though he made a wrong that we could 'never' do. The man likely has a serious drinking problem. Quite honestly, THAT concerns me more than spewing foolish rhetoric. If we were all contested on what we have said, then none of us would be respected and we would all have received at least twenty lashings and a few sharp stones pelted at our bodies. I have certainly said some regretable things, but as a human being and also an artist, I would hope that civilians (note the root: civil) would judge my art based on the merit of the work, aside from my personal politics. THAT is fair and less hypocritical.

300
Another bloodbath(house) gem of a film! I'm not sure if I'm on some roll here with respect to catching very good, yet violent film or simply being more open-minded to the various forms of art. In any case, 300 was friggin gorgeous to look at, not to mention having incredible editing and camera techniques. Really groundbreaking stuff. I really liked that it was told like a myth or a fable with the surreal, larger than-life off-colored and sepia toned visuals. Wow. Very creative use of imagery and quite apropos. I was enthralled watching it.

At first, I saw much blood and thought, 'Oh, no, here we go, another he-man movie to inspire all the young boys to go out and fight, build muscle, be patriotic glory-men...blah, blah.' But I sat there anyway. Well, ultra machismo messages aside (and there are many), I really enjoyed the movie as a whole body of art. The imagery, the almost balletic fighting choreography, the music!, story and the supernatural elements woven in which made the story vacillate between the real and the ultra-real. Cool stuff! Another charmer that I did not see coming. After watching, it felt as though I had surprised myself by managing to consume a very rich-looking decadent, luscious strawberry tart...AND still wanting a little more.

Jarhead
A little older (2 yrs?) but very worthy of mention. Who would have thunk that an irreverent, almost satirical look at war and its idiosyncracies, confusion, chaos and the air of lunacy the elements lend themselves to - would come out to be such an entertaining product? I was impressed that the film did not stoop to make 'political commentary' or show itself to be pro or anti-war, but rather set up the pieces of a manic puzzle within a fantastical and semi-farcical storytelling. The surrealness of the elements around the story lets the viewer alone judge for him/herself what to make of this machine called war, and it is clear to see (to anyone who still has a pulse...) that some thing is definitely skewed. What I really admire is that the film mocks war and wartime ritualization WITHOUT looking or sounding like it is doing so (does that make sense?? I thought not).

Anyway, I loved the script (far removed from memory at this time...) but it had some choice lines and dark, ironic humor throughout it. Jarhead kind of reminded me of a Felliniesque farce: things are so intense, so hyper-real that the viewer empathizes with the main character's confusion and also feels that 'this cannot be real, for it is simply too absurd.' The blurring of lines between the absurdity of reality and the drama of the absurdity are what kept me glued to the seat. I managed to laugh the kind of laugh the mind likes. It is not a loud or obvious chortle, but more like the inner smile of havin' slipped one over the boss at the office, and you best office buddy is the only one in on the joke while all others remain oblivious. It's that delicious.

Great performances from Jake Gyll., Peter Sarsgaard (who was even better in "Shattered Glass") and others. Cool, brusque and absurdist in its perspective. Like one of the characters asks, "What the hell were we figting FOR again..?? I forgot!" 'Oooh, because they TOLD us to. That's IT??',he asks. Authority-schmority! Definitely one of my pics for one of the most original telling of war-time madness. Anyone thinking of enlisting should see this first, mull the muck over...then decide to talk to Uncle Sam (or even Harper these days...) later. Much, much fucking later.

Lakehouse

"And Now for Something Completely Different..."
A soft, sweet love-story. Small, quiet and beautiful it contains one of my newly favourite romantic scenes in a very looong time. I won't give it away, but watching it completely melted me back to the gentle stirrings of budding romance, that tingly soft feeling in your belly you get as you begin to drift into someone's eyes, connecting on such a level that words seem trivial. Truly romantic and emotionally satisfying. Keanu looks very nice and acts understatedly without too much sentimantality as the romantic lead. Sigh. A treat for weary eyes and for wearier hearts. Nice soundtrack too.

Why...Why...Why??

"A 22-year-old man from California has broken the world hot dog eating record by getting through 59 hot dogs in the allotted 12 minutes. Short video news story."

uh. I feel slightly repulsed when I think of how much food has been prepared, set out and mass-produced just so that us (North Americans- lovers of buffet style restaurants and other Roman indulgences...)can gorge on it, overfeed ourselves with unnatural amounts under the guise of social "recreation". Much of the food left on plates or in the long buffet metal trays is discarded. It becomes waste. It pains me to think that (here where I will attempt to NOT hit an old cliche over the head--but who knows!) while others in the world are barely affording and having access to sustenance, day-to-day stuff, we have enough wealth and greed to lick our greasy fingers,overstuff our gullet and throw out too many crumpled bleached white paper napkins (sorry, tree) into the waste-basket and not give it a second thought.

I don't want to be a hypocrite. I have eaten at buffets. Yet, since my first visit it became an increasingly repellent thing, when I realized how centered our lives (and our unhealthy guts) are upon large mass consumption. The ritual that we partook in for my granny on the odd Sunday became a burden to bear until I stopped meeting my family there altogether. In fact, the last time I went (sans granny), I felt a new sense of shame.

Having come off fresh from my Peace and Conflict and Political Science and even Anthropological classes...I had grown a new layer of conscientiousness in that I realized that everything I did (ate, consumed, purchased, and so on...) had political and social consequence.

Maybe it seems small peanuts to worry about how 'wrong' a buffet in some Seattle mall is, but it becomes harder to enjoy putting food in your (ok--my) mouth when those tragic amounts are multiple times more than what I really need or even want to enjoy. Do I think the owner gives a healthy crap about his customers. Hell,no. He wants you to pack on a big plate, so he can sharge you for your larger portion and super-size his wallet (and of course, the higher-ups who run the system). I'm not feeding myself, I'm feeding The Man's pockets and making myself ill in the meantime. We (consumers) seem so devoid of substance, of connection to one another, hell-even to ourselves- that we susbtitute feeling with over-sustenance. Feeling full as to not feel. (I feel flatulent...fatigued at this notion. We are all F'd.

We have everything, but we want more. We have goods, but we need to upgrade. To live life like 'everybody else' does, we need to 'keep up with the J's'...or do we?
How did we all get so brainwashed to rationalize feeling good about gorging (and hell, some even purging to watch their girlish figures, I'm sure!)? It's not the fabulous fifties anymore, we don't have security and don't get a gold-plated watch for our efforts. These are uncertain, unstable times. We do not have the liberties that our early capitalists embodied, the idea that we do have an indefinitie 'sea of fish' is a misconception. It is a lie sold to us in plain sight right there next to the cheese-topped broccoli.

Not that you should not enjoy yourself as long as there are people hungry. I don't believe in martyrdom, that just stirs the Christian-satied pot- not to my taste really. But we should make ourselves aware: who is serving us this stuff? what is it this stuff? did anyone lose their wages, or have injustice imposed on them in order to deliver us this 'stuff'. While we are stuffing our face, we are blissfully, bloatedly unaware of other shite we are buying and injesting, and digesting. If not on our plate, then out above our heads, in our spirits. We are full and yet empty of reason, and of accountability. We do not seem to be adapting to seeing the overview of a hurting world, how we sitting here are actually playing a part in keeping that grand, manipulative machine (oh, Greed) going and churning.

Bottom line for me: it's not right to consume and to waste in such vast, unnecessary amounts. Be happy. Enjoy your food, rejoice in the pleasures of culinary discovery, throw dinner parties, but brother, if you can spare it, please don't fuel a machine that works by serving the needs of some (those who create and sustain the notion of 'need' and consumption) by hurting the chances of others (those who have very litle choice except to eat the GM foods while they sell their crops and their labour to mass-producers, economy controllers from the 'West'). Don't let greed drive a stake through the heart of the world.