August2 2003 Through
an act of will and with
the help of a nice
meal
of oysters and olives and
gin and melon and prosciutto
and ricotta dumplings and
a fig tart ... I pulled
myself back into the land
of the willing to articulate.
I
had this healing meal with Cheryl,
who has done me the favor
of line editing my mess
of a manuscript. She is
the best line editor ever. How is it possible that
I could type the word unwavering
when I meant unwaveringly
and miss that fact in so
many rereads? If you read
me you probably notice that
my spelling and punctuation
leave a lot to be desired.
Sometimes it's coz I don't
know and sometimes it's
coz I'm just a space and
sometimes it's coz I'm fooling
around.
So
today I will go through
it all and put the commas
where they belong and not
where I have them.
While
I was out I bought myself
a
yellow lily and a purple
lily.
I am looking at them now
and willing myself to remember
that life is full of beauty
and friends and lovely meals
and commas to fix and reasons
to take the next breath.
August4 2003 Rocco.
Oh my gawd. I love him.
I hate him. I swear. He's
in the front of the house,
sticking his tongue in the
ear of a female customer
and his staff is freaking
out because there are so
many problems. I keep wondering
if he's going to have a
holy moment soon. And it's
kinda cool that's he's willing
to be seen at his worst.
Or. Maybe he doesn't feel
like he's at his worst.
I just wanna see more of
the kitchen on this
show.
That's where the drama is.
Renee
and I went to Cafe
Jacqueline
for her birthday dinner.
I was there for the first
breath she ever took. And
now I can have a conversation
with her about poetry and
friendship and art. It's
just the most amazing thing.
Souffles are fun.
And
since I'd been swimming
in the morning I was hungry.
August4 2003 Rocco.
Oh my gawd. I love him.
I hate him. I swear. He's
in the front of the house,
sticking his tongue in the
ear of a female customer
and his staff is freaking
out because there are so
many problems. I keep wondering
if he's going to have a
holy moment soon. And it's
kinda cool that's he's willing
to be seen at his worst.
Or. Maybe he doesn't feel
like he's at his worst.
I just wanna see more of
the kitchen on this
show.
That's where the drama is.
Renee
and I went to Cafe
Jacqueline
for her birthday dinner.
I was there for the first
breath she ever took. And
now I can have a conversation
with her about poetry and
friendship and art. It's
just the most amazing thing.
Souffles are fun.
And
since I'd been swimming
in the morning I was hungry.
So
I was reading Dorothea.
And I keep thinking about the locutionary
force of a link. And I had to write about
it. Probably just because I wanted to use
the word locutionary in a sentence.
At
issue is a delinking. It's interesting because
I've done a lot of thinking and feeling
about the whole blog roll thing. There are
people on my blog roll who I haven't taken
off because I was afraid of something like
this. There are people who I felt hurt by
for one reason or another. And I stopped
reading them because I didn't like myself
when I was reading them.
I
mean it's really odd. If I have a problem
with a friend I can call them and we can
talk and work it out. Maybe. Sometimes things
never get worked out. Sometimes they do.
But text based relationships are difficult
sometimes. Or at least they are for me.
I've been really hurt by on line stuff.
And often my solution is to back away from
the screen.
I
was delinked once. I found out I was being
linked because I did a vanity search on
Google. It was kind of exciting to find
someone who was reading me. It wasn't someone
who was an avid blogger and I didn't link
them but I went back from time to time and
one day I wasn't in the list. And, despite
the fact that I had no relationship with
this person, I felt hurt. And I felt weird
about feeling hurt. I really wanted to know
why. Soon after, I noticed that the person
was dieting and I figured that maybe they
didn't like my fat revolution stuff. But
I'll never really know. And, clearly, I
still wonder about it.
I
have taken people off my own blog roll for
a variety of reasons. Once I read something
so politically offensive on a blog that
I didn't even read that often that I delinked
them. But there are people on my blog roll
who write stuff that I find offensive and
I still read them.
Relationships
are so complex.
Lately
I've taken the whole thing less seriously.
I keep adding links to new people. I know
I can't get through the whole thing in one
sitting. There are people I read every day.
I dunno. It's just a kind of book marking.
Except...
You
know ... I'm not linked on Wood_s
Lot.
(Not true anymore. Thank you Mark.) And I check. I really do. I adore Mark and
I set time aside every week to hang out
with his blogging and I always look.
And I'm never linked. And I always feel
sad. And I always think that it's coz I'm
not cool enough. And I always tell myself
that those feelings are an atavism to my
schoolyard days. And I try to snap out of
it. And every time I go back ... I check
again.
So
there is locutionary force. Or perhaps perlocutoinary
force.
I'm
writing this because I just really like
Dorothea. And I think I understand why she
did what she did. But I'm afraid I may be
adding my own feelings to the mix. So I've
decided that I don't need to understand.
I just need to say that relationships are
complex. And I just need to say that I really
like Dorothea. Out loud. Because she has
such a heart, and sense of ethics, and need
for dignity, and she does not suffer foolishness,
and she feels things.
As
do we all. And the whole
thing is a trinity
of possibility with a force that I have
yet to completely define for myself.
August5 2003 I
am cleaning my kitchen. I mean really, really
cleaning. Taking things off of shelves and
moving tables. Really.
And
I'm listening to JM,
which is still on the disc player from when
Renee
was here.
There are lots of lyrics about -- who you
are.
Racing
cars, whiskey bars. No one knows who you
are.
You
stayed up all the night and watched me,
to see, who in the world I might be.
Remember?
And
so I'm thinking about how that was the question
when I was young. Who am I? Oh baby was
that the question. And I'm not sure I've
ever stopped asking. And I'm not sure I
should. But the feeling of the question
is different. Less frenetic. Less important.
Perhaps.
In
the movie yesterday Tobias
talks about being a cannibal. He was this
young painter guy in NYC and he went to
Peru just because he was drawn to go there.
And he walked through the jungle just because
he felt drawn to do it. And he found a tribe
of people and lived with them for a while.
One night they went on a raid of another
village and killed all the men and ate them.
He hadn't realized that they were cannibals.
They gave him some to eat and he did. And
he was haunted by the act.
But
he didn't have criticism for them. He saw
the raid and the cannibalism as part of
their life. And he did not judge it by western
standards. And yet, he was troubled by having
been there. And in the movie he is seventy
and he has returned to Peru and he is looking
for the tribe. They wear clothes now
and no longer attack or eat other tribes.
In
a final scene he is thinking about whether
he is a cannibal. He ate the flesh of another
human. So for that one minute he was. And
he says the sentence, "I am a cannibal."
It
isn't an expression of guilt. It's an acknowledgement
of where life took him and what he did in
response. It's a digesting of experience,
as it were.
So
the answers to the question now are full
of all the things I've ever said and done
and thought and felt. And. It's none of
those. But the answer is somewhere in a
dance of what is inside and what has happened.
That's
what I'm thinking about while I scrub the
grease off of the stove top.
You
know. The grease from when I cooked the
chicken.
August6 2003 The
kitchen clean-a-thon is
only half way done. Mostly
coz I stopped to watch The
Fast Runner.
Another beautiful movie.
The
Netflicks
thing is cool but I end
up with inadvertent theme
weeks. I tried to arrange
my queue a little bit but
things just get funny. This
week, apparently, is tribal life.
Years
ago, when I had a job in which I was making
some cash, I made an effort to get dental
care. I didn't have benefits or insurance
so it was expensive. And I got a couple
of gold crowns. While the guy was putting
them on he decided I needed a third partial
crown. And that was going to cost MORE money.
he told me this while I was in the chair
all rigged up for the work and not in the
mood to imagine doing it all again. So I
agreed to the MORE money. And on the way
home I went to Macy's and spent MORE money
on some sheets. That's the goofy way I react
to things. Once the money starts to go I
just figure ... what the fuck?
The
sheets were way too expensive. They were
white with roses drawn in grey. They were
so beautiful and soft. Yesterday morning
I woke up and realized that the bottom sheet
was ripped from all my tossing and turning.
So I remade the bed with the much less expensive
sheets I got from CostCo.
Today
is laundry and finishing the kitchen and
ohmygawd do I need a job.
Hiroshima
was fifty eight years ago. You can listen
to the Democracy
Now commemoration
on line. I spent some time trying to find
some of Jon Hersey's book on line but all
I came up with was a page about the publication
in The New Yorker.
How I wish I thought we would never do anything
like that again. And how I know that the
likely
hood is too great.
August7 2003 My
friend Steve Conn has released
his new disc.
I
can't recommend it highly
enough. Steve is the coolest.
If you live near Nashville
you can go hear
him.
I
really do gotta get a job.
All this movie watching
and cleaning is about avoidance.
It's not that I'm avoiding
looking for a job. I look.
And then I have to lay down.
It's not that I don't want
to work. I do. I want to
write. And I did actually work on some writing
yesterday. But. Ya know. Money.
Sigh.
Plus.
Reality shows are invading
my life. I still don't like
the marry somebody ones,
or the live through this
shows. But last night I
watched Roseanne.
Did I mention that I was
in a play with Roseanne?
Yep. Back in the day. She
was being a comedienne in
Denver and I was trying
to be a rock-n-roll star
in Boulder. Some woman had
written a (terrible) one
act play in which we played
two fat sisters. It was
SO dumb. But we had fun.
I really loved her. And
I think we might have been
friends if she hadn't gotten
famous. But. Maybe I'm wrong.
It
was fun to watch her. I'm
not sure how, uh, real it
all is. But it was fun.
I know she had weight loss
surgery. And that makes
me sad. And mad.
I
dunno. Maybe we wouldn't
be friends. I'm not sure
I would dig the whole Hollywood
thing. Well. Wait. I am
sure. I wouldn't dig the
Hollywood thing. But ya
know she shoulda hired me
to do the cooking show!
I mean come on. That woulda
rocked!
Nah.
We probably wouldn't get along. But I really
did have fun with her, so long ago, and
I watched the show with that feeling.And
now she has all this money and a studio
and she and her crew are sitting around
trying to think of something to do. All
I could think about was all the people I
know with great ideas and no money. She
had to hire a producer and all I could think
was HIRE ADRIENNE!! Maybe she should do
a cooking show with Rocco.
I
can't believe I'm watching reality TV. I
really need a job.
August8 2003
Does anyone have a dream
book? Look up spilt water and
broken glass.
I love Stephen.
And it's good that I do.
Coz he pushes me. And I
don't really like being
pushed.
Heh.
We
had our last meeting about
THE BOOK. He said lots of
nice things. And. He has
things for me to work on.
Nothing big. And lots of
things that I already kinda
knew. Like there are a few
too many pairs of sparkling
eyes. Groan. So it's one last push.
(Is
anyone keeping track of
how many times I say one
last push?)
I
feel all these emotions.
Working with Stephen was
really one of the best experiences.
It's pretty rare to find
someone who gets what you're
up to with writing. I just
don't trust that many people.
I trust him.
And
ya know. It's not like he
wouldn't talk to me about
the writing if I asked.
Or talk to me about anything
just for fun. But. It felt like breaking
up.
It's
like Stephen held a
space in which I could ...
I dunno. Respond. I guess.
And now I'm on my own again.
For a couple of
reasons that seem good and
not at all because I'm avoiding
digging in and doing the
work (cough) I've
made a page for the first
chapter of THE BOOK. And
I'm going to stop calling
it THE BOOK. I'm going to
call it by its title: Avoirdupois.
August9 2003
Politics. I can't stand
it. I really can't. Matt
announced that he's
going to run for mayor.
I knew he was going to do
that. I could feel it. NOW
WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING
TO DO????
I
can't stand feeling hostage
to the fear of the terrible
candidate. I'd like to
vote for the person who
most represents my views.
And that would be Matt.
I
love Tom.
And before Matt and Chris
were around he seemed pretty
radical. And now
...
Right
now the whole thing is giving
me a headache.
I
couldn't have been more
internally petulant while
I worked through Stephen's
notes. And it wasn't because
they were bad. I rewrote three paragraphs
down to one. I know it's better. I haven't
even gotten to the section that he really
wanted me to work on. I was just too much
of crank.
I finally quit and
watched Rushmore.
Which was sweet.
The
comments on the
chapter are
giving me much needed energy. I've been
comparing this to cooking a big meal. Sometimes
after I've cooked a big meal, like Thanksgiving,
I just don't feel like I can eat the food.
And this is the longest piece of writing
I've ever done. I'm so sick of it. And I
just have to dig back in. So THANK YOU!!!
August10 2003
I worked on more Stephen
notes. And it's not so bad. Things are ...
better. I hope.
Kristina and Joe showed
up with a pile of oysters
and two bottles of wine.
Really. ANYBODY can show
up with oysters and wine
and I'm lettin them in.
But I'd let these guys in
empty handed and hungry.
So
we drank a bottle and ate
the oysters and some olives
and some almonds.
And then we walked up to
Da
Flora
and had THE BEST dinner
and lots of good chat. Mary
Beth bought me a lottery ticket and then
put Bergamot
on my palms. For the luck, doncha know.
Deb
and I were in a book
store
and noticed a beautiful
smiling familiar face on
one of those free
papers.
I can't link up the article
because they're not exactly
up to date. But the picture
is here.
A
while ago April
wrote
about getting a Rosie the
Riveter Action figure. I
wanted one pretty bad. And
yesterday I got one. She
is sitting beside my monitor.
SO cute. She has her own
lunch box. The
company also makes a barista
action figure.
Ohhhhhhhh.
My
new
boyfriend
had his come to Jesus moment.
Literally. He had a priest
bless the joint. It was
kinda cute. And he actually
cooked. I kept thinking
he needed to stay in the kitchen for a week
or so. Really connect with the staff. But
he thinks he needs to be upstairs meeting
and greeting. He sat down with
a table full of plus size models.
I
HATED the way their entry
into the restaurant was
shot. It was like the entire
restaurant was making jokes about them.
And then the waiter tells them the size
of his jeans, which is like size 2. But,
in fairness, they were telling him he had
a nice ass. And
later that waiter, who actually
was
kind of cute and fun and hard
working, quit. And Rocco
let him go. But the bartender,
who also quit, got a promotion
and a Vespa. Rocco. Rocco
Rocco. What are you thinking?
Rocco
has what looks like a
faux blog.
I tried to leave a comment. You have to
fill something out that tells them whether
or not you're a small business owner and
whether or not you have an American Express.
I tried to leave a comment. It isn't showing
up. I wonder...could it be because I neither
own a small business nor have an American
Express card?
August12 2003
The big project for the
day was to print
three copies of Avoirdupois.
Two for school and one to
send to like ... an agent.
Ohmygawd
I can't believe I said that
out loud. It's so scary.
Deep
breath.
So
I was on page 210 of the
first print out and the
printer pitched a fit. It
decided it had a paper jam.
Which it did not. So I spent
THREE hours trying to get
some help from HP. When
I finally did it took three
MINUTES to fix things.
But
by then I was hella cranky.
Every time I print I go through mood swings.
I could work on this book for ever. And
I would never think it was good enough.
Sooner or later you hafta click on print.
I'd
been watching the
debate
while I was babysitting the printer.
Cyndy
has been faithful from the
beginning. I've been waiting
and watching. But why? I
know who I'm going to vote
for.
Also
watched a pretty great
forum
with Aaron
McRuder
and Cornell
West.
I'd vote for them. Cornell
said this great thing about if you haven't
felt despair, you haven't lived.
And
I watched a
movie
that I wasn't sure if I
liked. I kept thinking I
was bored and then it would
surprise me.
It's
Laurie's
one year blogoversery. And
Monica
made her a sweet surprise.
August13 2003
Karen and Sonya are here!
They drove in from Colorado.
We walked down to the
Pier
and had some
dinner.
I
managed to get the big print done just before
they arrived. I had to fight the printer
the whole day. But. It's done.
My
apartment is small and So is still asleep
on the floor behind me. Kar is in the shower.
I'm trying not to make too much noise but
the desk kinda rattles when I hit the keys.
I better be quiet now.
Sonya and Karen
shopped
and I sat in the cafe and read. (Too much
retail and I get very cranky.) They did
get some cool clothes for So. Then we went
to Green's, for lunch and to meet Deb and
see where Dean had worked.
Dean
is Karen's son who visited me to do an internship
with Deb who is the pastry chef at Green's.
He was here on September 11th. It was the
first time Karen's kids had both been away
from home. Sonya was at camp and Dean was
here. I didn't have perma links then but
I
was writing.
Then
we went to the
Haight
for more shopping and Timo's
for dinner.
I
sorta thought Mark
might be reading for news of our day but
it turns out he's in Aspen for a gig.
August15 2003
The vacation continues.
I do realize Karen and Sonya are the ones
on vacation but I decided that means
I am too. Heh.
First
we went to The
Cliff House
for breakfast with an ocean view. Ari met
us there, which made it all the more fun.
AND
THEN ... we went to Body
Manipulations
because Sonya had a couple of piercings
she wanted to get. And WHILE WE WERE THERE
.... I GOT MY NOSE PIERCED!! I've
been wanting to do this since I was in India,
which was twenty five years ago. And I also
wanted to do something when I turned fifty
(remember?)
but I never had a good idea. Then Renee
got her nose pierced on her birthday and
I started to think about it. And yesterday,
standing in the shop, I just decided to
go for it. I
wish I had a digital camera. But let me
just say that I am CUTE !!! Shannon (scroll
down)
was our piercer and she was very sweet.
Then
we went back to the Haight so that they
could shop more and I waited for them in
a cafe. Well. I did join them for the trip
to Amoeba.
Some
of you will notice my new tag line: This blog
makes my ass look fair and balanced. I'm
following Susan's
lead.
(I couldn't make the perma link work on
that post) I have always adored Susan's
tag line: Does this blog make my ass look
big? She changed her's to Does this
blog make my ass look fair and balanced?
She was following Lisa's
lead.
Lisa's blog now has the words fair and balanced
in the title.
I
saw the panel
discussion
in which Bill O' Reilly saw the
Al Franken book and
proceeded to act like a child. And I saw
Molly and Al being interviewed afterward,
but Bill wouldn't be interviewed with them.
And now there is the ridiculous
law suit.
Sheesh.
I
haven't had much time for blogging. I was
able to skim Lola's
blog.
Amazing.
I
haven't had much news time. People are always
telling me to take a break from the news.
Now I do and the lights go out all over
the east coast. Jeez. Can't everyone keep
it together till I'm done with my vacation?
August16 2003
My fun week has kept me
from doing the blog roll stroll. I feel
so out of touch. But I was happy to learn
(From Dru) that I inadvertantly particpated
in Fair
and Balanced Friday
Yesterday
we hooked up with Renee and had Dim
Sum
and then up to Twin Peaks for
the view
and the Haight ... AGAIN. We're such hippies!
Last
night we were all kinda crashed and woozy.
Karen
does have a digital camera but I don't have
the thing to get a picture into my computer.
So we'll have to wait for her to send
it to me for a picture of my nose. But I'm
just sayin...it's HELLA cute.
For the last six years I've
been going to college. Last
week I turned in Avoirdupois
with my petition to graduate
for my MFA. I should know
If I graduate in a few months.
I'm not worried.
But
now what?
Hanging
out with Karen and Sonya
was rejuvenating. It's great
to see SF through the eyes
of people who don't live
here. It was great to be
able to spend time with
Karen and meet Sonya. The
last time I saw Sonya she
was eight years old. She's
a whole different person.
Some things are the same.
She's always been beautiful,
smart, funny and sweet.
She still is.
I
feel good.
But
now what?
Maybe
I should call my new
boyfriend
and ask for a job. I was
happy that they finally filmed in the kitchen.
The battering that kid in the kitchen got
was SO typical. All that shit and he can't
even pay his rent. My affection for Rocco
comes and goes. But I don't think any one
looks too good in this show except for Mama.
And that's why these "reality"
shows are loopy. The cameras and the editors
shape the way we see the people. But the
part of me that will always be a restaurant
worker just wants to jump in and fix everything.
Someone
remind me that the reason I went to school
was to get out of the kitchen.
So,
again. Now what?
It's
the first day of the week. And it feels
like the first day of everything.
August19 2003
I was worried that yesterday
might turn out the way it
did. It started off OK,
but then I lost focus.
I
took the laundry down the
stairs and someone was using
the machines. So I came
back up and never went back.
I read a lot and watched
A.I.,
which I found somewhat disturbing.
The images of women were
just so typical. Longed for
mother who doesn't really
love you, blue fairy who
can make you what you need
to be to get your mother's
love, sex starved and murdered,
"real" little
girl. One icon after the
other. Maybe if the "real"
little girl had saved him,
or something. I dunno.
And then there was the Black
man who is telling jokes while they put
him in a canon and shoot him through a ring
of fire and his happy smiling face hits
the bars of the cage. Disturbing.
I didn't
eat well and I woke up in the middle of
the night and was, let's just say, unwell.
I still feel kinda bad.
And
so ... pulling it back together
now. Trying not to panic.
Need to focus.
On
the other hand, considering how I feel,
I may go back to bed.
August20 2003
It's always so interesting
when you have one idea about what's going
to happen with your day and your body has
another. I don't know what was wrong with
me yesterday but it wiped me out. I think
I'm better today but I'm trying to wait
and see if I can digest.
August21 2003
I seem to have figured out
how to digest food again.
But I gotta say, when they
start using a jack hammer
on concrete outside your
bedroom window and you just
roll over and go back to
sleep, you know you're sick.
I'm
really irritated by the
way politics becomes so
cheesy. Instead of talking
about issues we talk about
Matt's
sex appeal,
the sound
of Tom's voice,
somewhere I read someone
say that Kucinich wouldn't
get elected because of his
hair. I hate this kind of shit.
And now. Having said that.
I have to say. I hate the
way Arnold says the word
California. I'm not really
worried that he'll win but
I just hate listening to
him. It seems like a bad
Saturday night parody of
a political campaign.
I've
noticed that my blog takes a long time to
load some days. I've been thinking it's
the number of remotes I have on the page.
And YACCS seems to pop on and off. But I
have the experience with other pages. Some
days I can't get them. Some days they're
slow. Some days I have to reload a few times
to get them. The Internet seems a bit buggy
these days.
You
never know how often you touch your nose
until you put a piece of jewelry in it.
There's
something about all this that bugs me. It's
not as simple as "The
Personal is Political."
Although, the
personal is political.
It's this way in which thinking and feeling
are described as different, in terms of
merit, and then gendered.
There
are, obviously, many women writing out there
who never mention what they have for dinner,
or what they do to their noses. Women who
write about what's goin on, with seriousness
and verve and deep wisdom. And I read them.
I don't have a preference for a type of
blogger. I like it all. Pretty much. And
it is true that I don't write like that.
I
dunno. I guess sometimes I do. I can get
up a good rant now and again. I've been
thinking about why I don't write more rants.
If you hung out with me (as Karen and Sonya
can attest to) I often rant about things
political.
Hmmmm.
Is
it political to get your nose pierced at
50? Maybe. I know that when I look
in the mirror these days I feel happy. The
first time I wanted to pierce my nose was
when I saw Melba
Moore
with a diamond in her nose on some talk
show thirty years ago. The second time I
was in India and I told a women in
the
ashram
that I wanted to have my nose pierced. She
pulled the jewel out of her own nose and
walked toward me. Considering what kind
of hippie I was, it's surprising that I
didn't go for it then.
Doing
it now is definitely about wanting to push
against the notion of who I'm allowed to
be in the world. According to my aunt, women
over forty shouldn't have long hair. I'm
pretty sure that means a pierced nose is
REALLY wrong.
I'm
not in the mood to settle down. I'm not
in the mood to succumb. I'm not in the mood
to fold myself into the box of knowing what
isn't ... proper. I don't know what having
a pierced nose means. I know it makes me
happy to look at my face right now. It makes
me smile and remember that I'm not even
trying to be ... proper.
Is
this a political rant?
Avoirdupois
is a very personal book. But I hope it's
political.
The
one I like is:the relationships within a group or organization
which allow particular people to have power over others. Because, really, that
is what it's all about.
Hmmm.
I
wanna be an American Intellectual Leftist.
Sometimes.
Well.
I don't really like the word American.
Because, ya know, that nationalism thing
always bugs me. And. Well. I might not be
smart enough to be called an intellectual.
And. Oh. Well. Left of left. I wanna be
left of left.
August22 2003
Yippie! The new Big
Fat Blog
is up! It's so beautiful. I think Paul might
have to call it Big Fat Beautiful Blog.
I
have a column.
I love having a column. Jennifer
has a column,
in which she tells her story. Great read!
Paul
has a column. There's a discussion.
I just love it!
Kristina
and I had a plan to go to Dim
Sum
after she handed in her stuff at school.
I was feeling better, and I wanted to see
her, so I went and tried not to eat too
much. It wasn't that hard because I'm still
feeling punky. And then we went to Green
Apple.
Kristina has been lavishing me with books,
for which I am beyond grateful. When I came
home I was shifting things around to find
space for them. I kept thinking it was a
great problem to have. And I had to go through
the magazines that have been piling up.
There's
nothing quite like an hour of reading Mother
Jones
to get a person worked up. This
article
on the women of Rwanda is horrifying and
inspiring in equal measure. Now I'm working
on the Harper's.
I do let these things pile up.
August23 2003
Did you know that in 1815
a volcano in Indonesian
volcano, Tambora,
went off and the atmosphere
was so filled with ash and
sulfur that 1816 became
known as the year with out
summer? The heaths in England
were frosted through July.
And it was in that cold,
dark world that Mary
Shelly
wrote Frankenstein. I learned
all this reading an article
by Tom
Bissel
in the February issue of
Harper's. I wish it was
on line. The article is
titled: A Comet's Tale
and is actually more
about comets than volcanos.
Comets that might crash
into earth.
I
wonder if Mary Shelly knew
about the volcano?
I
read a post somewhere in
which the blogger was having
knee problems and her massage
person told her it was a
fear of going forward. I
have knee problems and a
fear of going forward. And
years of standing on my
feet slinging chow in restaurants.
And there was the big mixing
bowl that hit me in the
back of the knee when I
was twenty-one. But, ya
know, I do have a fear of
going forward.
And
now I have some thing going
on between my toes. A rash
that may be a bit infected.
I'm soaking it in salt water,
which seems to make it happy.
Renee brought me flowers
and made me fruit salad
because I've had such a
bad body week.
I
must be really scared to
move forward.
Or
else I need a massage.
Or
a health care professional
of my own.
One
thing I do know. If you
don't move forward, forward
moves toward you. So. Ya
know. Fear forward. The
worst thing may have already happened.
August24 2003
The SF Mayoral race is
gonna hurt. I watched the
debate.
The difference between Tom
and Matt,
in terms of issues, is nil. The differences
seem to be about style. And the differences
are also about things that I find troubling.
Matt
is young, better looking than Newsom, straight,
Latino, full of great ideas. Tom is older
and weary. Sometimes I think he might not
care if he lost. He might be content to
retire. Maybe write a book. He's Gay and
full of affect. I've always thought he was
a nice looking man but he's ruddy and ...
older. There is this really troubling way
of seeing Matt as more virile. People use
the word energized when they talk about
this campaign. Energized?
San
Francisco is not free of homophobia. I've
talked to Gay men who said they wouldn't
vote for Tom because of his voice. Matt
seems to be about youth and beauty and wet
dreams.
But
Matt is the real real. He's generous, forthright,
fair, smarter than smart. He says we need
a new kind of politician. We do. And he
is the kind of politician I want. I want
him to be the president.
Tom
has been being a new kind of politician
for
a while now.
And I want him to have his turn. I want
him to be the mayor. And there's the fact
that Tom is the guy who helped get
weight and height
added to the diversity list. Do I owe him
my vote? Would Matt have taken up that cause?
I'm not sure he would have. I think Matt
would distance himself from fat politics.
When I've been in the rules committee talking
about the task force I watch him. He listens.
But he doesn't engage. He asked one person
a question. She was tall and average sized
and had long black hair. Was that unconscious?
I don't know. I do know that I don't feel
like he gets it. And Tom does.
So
it would seem like it might be easy for
me to work for Tom and forget about Matt.
But it isn't. I think Matt is the coolest.
The
whole thing makes me sad. I can imagine
both Matt and Tom telling me to lighten
up. They seem to be dealing with it all.
I watched the body language. They seem to
be affectionate with one another. But how
must it feel? If I were Tom I would be very
hurt. I would wish that if Matt didn't feel
like my campaign was energized that he might
jump in and help. When I think about not
voting for Tom I feel sad.
I
am not energized by Matt's campaign. I feel
deflated by it. I feel paralyzed. I don't
know what I'm going to do right now. I only
know that Newsom must not win.
August25 2003
AND, when you're washing
the dishes and you jam your
forearm into your nose to
rub it because it itches
and your hands are wet,
BUT now you have a little
metal stud in your nose
... NOT a good thing.
When
Karen was here she bought
a fan. She likes the sound
of it when she sleeps. SF
is never that hot, or cold
so I would never think to buy one.
But it has been a little
bit hot lately. Last night
I was sitting here, feeling
sweaty and it occurred to
me that I had the fan. Fans,
as it turns out, are very
cool.
Heh.
Elayne
linked up this guy's letter
to a new blogger.
I loved it. But I took it
as a bit of a lampoon. Which
it might not be.
Does
it strike anyone as odd
that I like a show so riddled
with product placement?
Last night's
show left me with a grimace.
It all seemed so phony.
It's a crazy business. Rocco
is cute. The food looks
like it's good. What ever.
Many of my best friends
are people I worked with
in a bar or restaurant.
But these people were under
a perverse looking glass.
They slapped together a
restaurant in too short a time with cameras
following them around. No one came off looking
too cool, least of all Rocco. The last episode
was like the whole show. Lot's of stuff
crammed together so fast that it loses meaning.
So my foray into reality
TV is over. Rocco isn't
my boy friend any more. I know. I'm a fickle
girl.
Big
Fat Blog
was mentioned in the Times.
And I do mean mentioned. The article is
about diet blogs. And BFB is a one liner
about an alternative view. The actual alternative
view is not expressed. There's just one
line. Saying that BFB is an alternative
view. Huh? It's almost like the writer
didn't know what to do with the information,
couldn't leave it out and couldn't quite
put it in.
August25 2003
When I was eleven, or twelve,
I went to summer camp. And one day I sent
a post card home to Mom. It read: I'm having
a lot of fun. There are lots of cute boys
here. I got a bite on the lip.
Yeah.
The
bite on the lip was from a mosquito. When
my mother came to pick me up she asked me
which boy had bitten me on the lip. You
can understand how she got that idea.
Syntax
has never been my best thing.
But
that's not why I'm posting a second post.
I'm
posting a second post because I just can't
help but wonder what would happen if a man
posted about not liking the behavior of
a child at a party. If there was a man who
made it clear that he did not enjoy the
company of children would he be labeled
a child hater? Maybe. And there would be
people who thought he was an ass. But when
a woman posts about not enjoying the company
of kids it's like she's betrayed some code
of humanity.
I
love children. Let me say that a different
way. I LOVE children. But there are people
who don't like kids and there is a huge
difference between not liking kids and hating
them. HUGE difference.
Some
of you are wondering what the fuck I'm talking
about. I'm just doing a public eye roll
at some stuff I read. Because I just can't
help but think that there's somethin a little
bit suspect.
August27 2003
Susan was right. Being
creative makes me feel better.
And Renee gave me a reason.
She came over for dinner.
She's leaving for school
on Sunday and I wanted to
see her before she left.
I made whole wheat pasta
with peanut sauce, red cabbage,
green beans, scallops and
mango
chicken sausage.
And green onion. Very good.
And we had ice
cream.
Then
we went to Rainbow
because they have Honest
tea
on sale if you bought it
by the case. I wanted to stock up. Renee likes oldies
radio stations. We were
driving through the city,
singing Van
Morrison
at the top of our lungs.
I love her so much.
The
fog in SF makes it hard to see Mars.
But I woke up in the middle of the night
and almost went up on the roof to try. I
thought I might try to focus
my will.
August29 2003
I owe Sarah big. She kinda
gave me the nudge to read
at my graduate class reading
last night. And then Kristina
gave me the final push.
But I already owe Kristina
a house.
You
know. I'm all cranky and
fussy and yucky and didn't
want to go. But I'm so glad
I did. I got major strokes
about the writing. Which
I am chagrined to say I
REALLY NEED. I was about
to go all Sally Fields on
them.
And
right before the reading
Deb and I were in Hell
Whole Foods and we saw my
neighbor's daughter. She
told me she saw the
piece
in the Guardian and was
very complimentary. And
before that, someone wrote me e-mail and
asked me if she could quote me in a paper
she is writing. So it
was a writer's ego fest
yesterday and it was a balm to my frantic
soul.
Plus,
it was great to hear my
classmates. So many of my
favorite kids read from
their projects. I got sentimental.
We
all read for five minutes. I picked a piece
from the end of Avoirdupois.
I actually had to pick at it a little bit
before I read it. Will the rewrite never
be done? I swear. And after I read I had
to come home and reread it. Because I was
wondering about why they laughed, when they
laughed. So much hand wringing and teeth
gnashing. Right now I want to rewrite the
whole book. And this is after a night when
people were giving me praise.
Maybe
if they hated it I'd have the opposite reaction.
Heh.
I
put up an interview
with Marilyn
at Big Fat Blog. Hope you
like it. (She said in a
not at all veiled attempt
for more praise.) Marilyn
talks about the hostility being directed
at fat kids.
When
I was publishing it I imagined all the people
who want to tell me that size acceptance
is all well and good but the kids needs
to be healthy and they aren't. I think my
personal response is fairly consistent.
I think kids should eat good, healthy, delicious
food and have lots of opportunity to jump
around. But lets please not make them afraid
to be fat. This morning Paul
blogged
about a kid
who is dead
because of the climate of fat hatred in
which we live. I'm was feeling pretty happy
when I first woke up. In part I want people
to like my book because I have an ego and
I want people to like my book. But my hope
is that people read it and begin to think
differently about life in a fat body and
the ways in which they contribute to fat
hatred. My concerns aren't about wanting
people to have a world where we are all
nice to each other. Although, that might
not be a bad thing. My concerns are more
immediate.
And
you can say this is a rare case. And extreme.
But I've heard the story too many times.
I've heard the story about the girl whose
father would lock her in the bathroom for
the weekend if she gained a pound. I've
heard the stories about other kids beaten
because they were fat. I've been the kid
being chased down the hill threatened with
sticks by boys shouting, "Fatty Patti."
August30 2003
Perhaps it's my fault
that YACCS is down. I was the one who batted
my eyelashes in a bid for more praise yesterday.
The gods may have decided to teach me a
lesson by making it impossible to leave
me a comment. I notice Susan
has switched to Enentation. If I decide
to do that I won't do it till the first.
You can't really complain about a free service.
But ... what a drag.
I've
been surprised by some of the reaction
to the article on
the child who was beaten and starved because
she was "chubby" on BFB. I completely
agree that these people seem like an extreme
and might have found another reason to abuse
the child. But this child was beaten and
starved because of fat phobia. Or with fat
hatred as the reason. And BFB is about fat
liberation. There's a way in which it feels
like people don't want to grasp what's possible.
And
it has happened before.
Really
nice people will say that they don't hate
fat people. They just don't want to be fat
or be married to a fat person.
Uh
huh.
And
I don't mean that people should want to
be fat or aren't entitled to preference.
But think about it. I know that my thin
and average sized friends do not get how
much hatred I deal with. When I tell them
stories they are shocked. And they don't
see the connection between their own attitudes
about weight and the hatred.
I
dreamed about Mark
Woods.
I've dreamed about other bloggers but I
have seen pictures of many of them. I haven't
seen a picture of Mark. So in the dream
when I was talking to him he appeared as
a
block of text. And I guess that could be
taken as a bad thing except in the dream
the blocks of text were always contained
and artful and beautiful and it felt good
to talk to them. That must be a blogger
thing. What would Freud say? I think I dreamed
about Golby
once. But I think I pictured him as a sun
bleached blond surfer dude.
August31 2003
Thirty one years ago I
read a book about pottery:Finding
One's Way With Clay
by Paulus
Berensohn.
It is as much about philosophy as it Is
about pottery. I always wanted to make pottery.
I tried once and I have two rough thick
bottomed pots show for it. Maybe some day
I'll try again.
Paul
lived on a farm in Pennsylvania with M.C.
Richards
and other friends.
I
once had a terrific argument
with M.C. Richards over the
placement of the compost heap
at the farm. She was for placing
it conveniently between the
house and the garden I
was for concealing it unseeable
at some distance, for I wanted
to keep the front yard beautiful.
Well, the argument was important
and we went on with it for some
time. I remember feeling, when
it was over, that we had somehow
come closer together. Sometime
later she wrote me a letter
when I was off teaching somewhere
in which she spoke of her annoyance
with my view of beauty."
You describe something as beautify
only when you find it to be
attractive," she wrote.
"For me beauty is that
which is revealed."
I
read this when I was nineteen. It shaped
the way I saw things. It shaped my ideas
about beauty. When I hear people talk about
how there are some people who are just more
beautiful I remember M.C. Richards.
Ansuz - Communications, wisdom and clarity, to attract others to your
cause, increase magickal energy.
Daeg - Increase and expansion, prosperity, growth, major turning points
in life, turning in new directions. 
Othel - Material possessions and protection of those possessions,
inheritance (can be genetic traits inherited from elders). 
