QueryLily"...I would never have thought of askingHow you'd got that peculiar name..." |
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QueryLily"...I would never have thought of askingHow you'd got that peculiar name..." |
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First things first:
When almanacs are outlawed, only outlaws will have almanacs.
There. I feel better. Don't you?
On another note:
Writing on monotheism in last Saturday's New York Times, Mary Lefkowitz says that "in their most extreme forms, monotheistic religions are deeply intolerant...the Romans threw Christians to the lions because they mistook the early Christians' intolerance for seditiousness. They did not seek to kill them because they rejected the Christians' God."
As the year two zero zero three is departing, I'm reminded of a comment on the origins of monotheism as arising out of desert peoples and cultures, just one god being, I s'pose, the ultimate symbol of scarcity, as opposed to the multiple choices of gods and goddeses of peoples and cultures living in more fertile environments, such as the Indus Valley. It figures, though. On to other things: Book slut that I am, and self-inspired by my own mixed up musings on the confluence of space and gender, I've started reading Ursula LeGuin's "The Left Hand of Darkness". And did I mention that my two favourite movies at the moment are "Hedwig and the Angry Inch" and "The Right Stuff"? I didn't?
I'm glad two zero zero three is leaving. Goodbye. Nice knowing you. Nothing personal, you understand, but I haven't enjoyed having you around. I think I speak for many when I say that. Each of us have our own reasons, but never mind. We don't want to bore you-or slow you down-as you head for the door. Just to show there's no hard feelings, here's a little peck on the cheek. Ta. [31 December 2003] link?
After finishing the L.A. Times series on the Columbia disaster in yesterdate's edition, I was going to write a little about NASA and my impressions of the affair. I mean, I was going to write a little rant and express my loathing for the whole murderous endeavour. I mean...I mean, express my sense of helplessness as the governing culture of NASA, and its political overseers, seems hellbent to re-enact such dramas, again and again. The Challenger disaster and the one that engulfed Columbia seem to spring from the same loins of organizational hubris. That it is likely to foster more such offspring is inevitable. That depresses and angers me. It makes me wish I were, for a moment at least, Thor, son of Odin and Earth. He had a certain hammer, you know. Obviously, reading this series has not been conducive to my maintaining a quality of compassion and respect for the buddha-nature within all. I know that getting into space is dangerous. Like leaving home. Like riding a bomb. Like pushing gender boundaries. Think: Gwen Araujo. Think: Brandon Teena. Okay. I admit it. This is a little mixed up. But that's me. I am a child of Project Mercury. A bastard child, of dubious gender, but offspring nonetheless. I grew up reading Willy Ley, reading the comic book adaptation of Wernher von Braun's life story, reading about the rocketry of Robert Goddard. I had newspaper clippings of the early Mercury flights taped to my bedroom wall. I waited in anticipation for every launch. I waited in anticipation to be left alone in the house to explore my mother's dresser. Three-two-one-ignition. Just as I longed to escape from the gravity well of boyhood, furtively sampling my mom's clothes and her makeup, so I yearned for a future in which the stars would be our birthright. And if I wore panties underneath my spacesuit, that was okay too.
Call me romantic, but I still yearn for that future. And more and more I see less and less place for NASA in that future. And that makes me sad. [27 December 2003] link?
I spent most of yesterday compulsively checking in with the radio news to hear if there'd been any word from Beagle 2. The answer was no. The answer still seems to be no. Oh well...there's always hope. In between my moments of angst about radio signals from Mars, I managed to watch François Ozon's "Water Drops on Burning Rocks", his film adaptation of a Fassbinder play. I've had the DVD for a while and just hadn't got around to watching it. I was taken by it, especially with the hint at the end, through a revelation by Anna Thomson's character, of a later Fassbinder work, "In A Year of Thirteen Moons". I also managed to finish Rick Veitch's "Bratpack" and get most of the way through his "The One". Rick Veitch is one of my comic art heroes. He along with Alan Moore,
Bryan Talbot and a few others have given me more reading pleasure, shown me more of the mind-expanding possibilities of the form, since my first exposure to comics in the days when they were ten cents apiece.
[ Go Beagle go. Here's wishin' Beagle 2 a safe, successful, landing! [24 December 2003] link?
I'd have to say that my top contender for the most rewarding article I've read in the New York Times this year has to be the Sunday, December 21 article on Chip Taylor and Carrie Rodriguez. That day, I roamed up to Telegraph Avenue, first to Amoeba, then to Rasputin's, where I found their first album together, "Let's Leave This Town", and its sequel, "The Trouble with Humans". I've been listening to almost nothing else since then...and although she sounds nothin' like her...except for maybe a little bit of that twang in her drawl...I can't help but think of Stacey Jean when Carrie Rodriguez sings. [24 December 2003] link?
And did I mention my wonderful companions for the Hedwig event? [21 December 2003] link?
Except for the rainstorm on the way over to the Castro, I thought our Hedwigged evening at the Castro was as near perfect as one might hope for. We had good seats and wig gods blessed us by seating the girls with the real tall hair behind us. John Cameron Mitchell was charming and delightful. We joined the mingling group upstairs for wine and desserts, then queued up for the line going back downstairs for the "meet and greet". Wish I had thought to bring a camera. Regardless, four of us got our photo taken with the man and he wassss...ever o so very sweet. It was all a bit like goin' to meet Santa Claus, except we didn't get to sit on his lap <sigh>. The evening just got better and better. Hostess Heklina as Hed-Klina, Arturo Galster doing a fabulous turn as Rockin' Granny Hedwig, a Glama-Rama fashion show with luminaries like the retro exotic Steven LeMay and members of PepperSpray. Then, warm and tender moments with John Cameron Mitchell reading Truman Capote's "A Christmas Memory". Super yummy. Good folks from the Stop AIDS Project came out to remind us of the important work they do and what they-we-are up against. Finally..."Hedwig and the Angry Inch" on the big screen. Like I said, near perfect. Lift up your hands. [21 December 2003] link?
Despite all the current pressures at work, deadlines, blah, blah...I still found time to have lunch yesterday with some current and some former co-workers. We had a nice meal over at La Note on Shattuck Avenue. What a hectic scene, but the food and the company were both yummy. And while there, I couldn't help but notice a woman sitting across from us, almost a twin for Miss Stacey, whose presence reminded me of how much I miss the real Stacey Jean. Tomorrow, a bunch of us are traveling over to the Castro for the Hed-Wigged Out Xmas Gala, a benefit for the Stop Aids Project. Yes my dears, all I want for X-mas is an angry inch... On quite another note, I've been reading E.L. Doctorow's "The Book of Daniel" on my way in to work the past few days. Just this morning, I came across this line, "Just a minute, Mr. Ascher," Daniel said. "She's only a little girl, you know." It reminded me of another time, right after President Kennedy had finished his press conference announcing the U.S. blockade of Cuba. I was eleven years old. I had gone to the bathroom and I overheard my parents talking about it. I heard my mother saying to my dad, about me, "Why shouldn't he be afraid. He's just a little boy." In that instance, I knew that I was afraid. The world might blow up at any moment. I might not reach my twelfth year. [18 December 2003] link?
Tomorrow I have to spend the day at work It's a good thing too as I've lots to do. I'll crank up some music and take some tasks off my to finish list. That's the idea, anyhoo. I'll probably play "Double Fantasy" by Lennon and Ono. Enough rock and roll angst to engage me or at least to kick me in the butt. I've really had a fairly decent day, see below for example, but suddenly-confronted with a desire to write-feel a blackish mood coming on. P'haps it's being fifty something, or Mick Jagger getting knighted, or maybe it's just the never-ending contagion of normalcy across the globe-smallish world ain't it? Normalcy or what passes for it in our modern world: War, famine, intolerant religions, greedy bastards, misplaced priorities, racism, sexism, homophobia, and to top it all off, they still burn witches, don't they? Tomorrow, I'll come to work and try to get some work done. Try not to get distracted and while away the hours aimlessly. Try not to think too much about what has currency as normalcy. Try not to crawl under my desk... ...what a bleak sourpuss I'm feelin'. [13 December 2003] link?
Took the grand-d tonight to see "Bad Santa". Had already received a positive review from a friend and, today, another positive from a friendly bookstore clerk. How was it? Not up to "Miracle on 34th Street", but then it wasn't trying to be-unless its makers were...ahem...smokin' something. T'was better than most of the treacly sh∗t that gets passed off on unwitting movie-goers, etc. And...it was funny. [13 December 2003] link?
goldstein on straight men and same-sex marriage
The Village Voice has a section on same-sex marriage in its current issue. Here is Richard Goldstein writing: This is the uphill battle for gay-marriage activists—and for advocates of homosexuals serving in the military, another important signifier of civic status. We need to convince straight men that their prestige isn't on the line if these things come to pass. It would be even better if we could persuade them that male supremacy isn't necessary for a man to succeed. But these symbolic concepts have a special urgency in a society where no social position is permanent. In America, every group measures its status by stigmatizing others, and if you aren't vigilant you may be the next one smacked down. Religion can offer an alternative to this nasty social roil. Within its confines, the dignity of every person is a central dogma. How ironic that religion is so often used as a battering ram against human rights. But the dream of equality persists precisely because it's built on a theological foundation. It's sacred as well as secular. And in the end, hopefully, this root value will be our salvation. [12 December 2003] link?
After a pleasant late afternoon get together yesterday with one of my sangha brothers, I was making my way home when I received an unexpected, but welcome, phone call from Miss Stacey Jean. She sounded in good spirits and it is always delightful to hear from her. She may be coming for a visit in February. It'll be very nice to see her. Okay...not just nice. It will be wonderful, delightful, fantastic, to see her again and have an opportunity to hang out a little and have a chat or two. I miss her. <sigh> [11 December 2003] link?
midst
Laura Trippi over at net.narrative environments describes herself as having been a "binge Buddhist..." I can relate to that turn of phrase. The last few months have been a precarious balancing act between intense work obligations and preserving connection with family and friends, something akin to taking a midnight stroll on a moonless night along a narrow path...ah..you get the picture. Anyway, with all that precariousness in my life, I haven't made So when I finally find my way back to a regular practice, I'll keep my insight close at hand, won't I?
[10 December 2003] link?
25 26 December 2003] link?
much any time for getting off my butt to sit on my butt, technically speaking, that is. What all of this not doing is teaching me, is a little about humility in "my" Buddhist practice. I believe that I am more in touch now-though p'haps that is a bit of a delusion-with my tendency for the grandiose effect: Don't focus on the moment. Count ahead. Thinking about sitting all day. Sit for two days, three or seven. I've been like a squirrel storing up on acorns for the winter...instead of being present in the moment.
To be brutually honest, recently I've been patting myself on the back-metaphorically, as I wouldn't want to pull a muscle at my age-about being open to listening to some striking new music, such as Martina Topley-Bird, The Coral, etc. Not just listening, but digging it. In the midst of yet another hipper than thou moment, I have found myself going through a major Kinks episode, all the fault of a listen to "The Kinks Are The Village Green Preservation Society","Big Sky" being one of my favourites.
Welll...the Kinks are pretty hip, right? Right.
[09 December 2003] link?
...it was twenty-three years ago, tonight...when the world turned a little less right...more wrong, actually...with you gone...but can't forget ya...where-ever you wound up...in some after-life, or just bits of atoms floating around...rave on, John, rave on.
[08 December 2003] link?
Y'know how it is, or p'haps you don't, out here in the backwaters of the world wide web, where we hand cobble together our html, er, xhtml pages and where the robots out hit everything else in our server stats <sigh>...yes, even us, the poor cousins of the hyper-linked, hyper-active web universe retain our small pleasures. Mostly, for me, it's finding new sites to read. It's always a joy, when the site draws me back, to peruse again and again. Such a site has been troubled diva.
Start with the name....troubled diva. Why, that is me from head to toe...I've felt like a troubled diva everyday of my adult life. That's another story tho...
Then, there is the content. I wish I had read the dope on the Secret Gay Signal when I first came out...of course, that's almost before troubled diva was born <sigh, again>. Now have a go at reading the essays from the 40 in 40 series. Positively f∗cking inspirational, especially for us artless cobblers of words.
But, now's here's the hard part, Mike at troubled diva is hanging up his tiara. So...it's g'bye then? It's been swell.
P.S. Thanks for all the good times.
[08 December 2003] link?
From worldchanging, by way of rebecca's pocket a project to network the reindeer people and a little creative expression involving the weather.
[07 December 2003] link?
No, not that matrix. The one that Andy Clark writes about in his newish book, "Natural-Born Cyborgs":
My goal is...to show how a complex matrix of brain, body, and technology can actually constitute the problem-solving machine that we should properly identify as ourselves.
And this:
I hope to convince you at least of this: that the old puzzle, the mind-body problem, really involves a hidden third party. It is the mind-body-scaffolding problem. It is the problem of understanding how human thought and reason is born out of looping interactions between material brains, material bodies, and complex cultural and technological environments. We create these supportive environments, but they create us too. We exist, as the thinking things we are, only thanks to a baffling dance of brains, bodies, and cultural and technological scaffolding. Understanding this evolutionarily novel arrangement is crucial for our science, our morals, and our self-image both as persons and as a species.
[07 December 2003] link?
Later this morn, I have to go back to high school <tremble, tremble> on a liitle grand-parental mission with the grand-daughter. Tomorrow, another grand-parental mission, taking her shopping in the City.
And on Sunday? No rest for the wicked weary, I'm afraid. I have to put in a full day at work. And...at some point in this busy weekend I need to finish my revamp of my links page.
[05 December 2003] link?
From the Guardian UK, an archive of literary life by one of my favourites, Posy Simmonds.
[05 December 2003] link?
Holy moss gatherin' Batman!, Keith Richards of the Stones is turning 60.
[05 December 2003] link?
Today's second question is how did Cory Doctorow get so good? I have been reading his collection of short stories, "A Place So Foreign". The title story itself is a small masterpiece, capturing a sense of wonder, that is all too rare in any sort of fiction. It's a time travel tale that actually reads as if written in a different time and place than the present and does so without seeming contrived. Instead, it reads fresh and innocent, which gives the whole premise a raw vitality and power. I find myself reading his stories compulsively. More, more, please.
[04 December 2003] link?
Wahhhh....I want my therapist.
Of course, the down side is that I recently put my therapy sessions on indefinite hold. T was a good sport about it, at least publicly. Whatever therapists really think, they rarely tell their patients. Professional code and all. I'd been seeing her for over two years, a good run for someone who came late to the couch. One of the effects of our relationship was the establishment of an internal therapeutic dialogue, an inner conversation with T that evolved out of my experience of our many sessions. It wasn't a loud, obtrusive sort of internal conversation. It mostly ran in the background, like an autonomic process. It was useful in the same way that an imaginary friend can be, helping me sort out stuff that came up in the sessions and in-between sessions, kind of a third eye looking over my shoulder. Lately, I have found that internal "conversation" slipping away...fading into all the other noises that pass for thought. This week I find myself grieving a bit for its loss. Where do those therapeutic conversations go? That's today's first question.
[04 December 2003] link?