Since wanted to be a writer, tried hard to find her own voice. Couldn't. But still loved to write. Loved to play with language. Language was material like clay or paint. Loved to play with verbal material, build up slums and mansions, demolish banks and half-rotten buildings, even buildings which she herself had constructed, into never-before-seen, even unseeable jewels. -Kathy Acker  (via Wood s Lot )

June 1 2002      9:52 AM

June 2 2002     9:14 AM

June 3 2002          8:18 AM

June 4 2002     9:34 AM 

It's ill-becoming for an old broad to sing about how bad she wants it. But occasionally we do. - Lena Horne

June 6 2002   8:36 AM

Here's the thing. June can be weird for me. My birthday is on the twentieth and I get very fussy and stupid about my birthday. Really. It's too stupid.

I just go through lists of everything I haven't done, or things that I don't think worked out, and I indulge in quite a bit of it's-too-late thinking. And I think about all my unrequited loves.

AND I'M JUST NOT GOING TO DO IT THIS YEAR.

Well, I'm going to try.

Jeneane has this great attitude about her birthday. And I just need to get over myself. Then I found this fun birthday reminder site. And had fun sending e-mails to my friends. I'm trying to just be...open. Birthdays are good. Everyone should have a day when they eat cake. Or what ever they want to do.

Once I'd pulled my head out of my ass I started playing with the site. Figured out the YACCS problem and fixed it. The bad news is that I may have to redo all the pages.

Did you know that we are one of the very few countries that haven't signed the The Women's Human Rights Treaty ? Can I be more frustrated with the president select? Well. Yes. As it turns out, I can. But, don't tell him I said that. You can get in trouble if you don't like him.

The Balloon Hat Photo of the Week is very cool. It was taken in the Thar Desert during in 1998. The Thar desert is where India tested and developed its first nuclear weapon. There is a legend.

Shri Ram drew an arrow in his bow, targeting Lanka, the island capital where his wife was held captive by the demon king, Ravana. However, such were its destructive powers that the gods pleaded with the Lord to desist from his intended purpose. But the arrow once drawn could not be pulled back and thus Rama pointed the arrow to a far-flung sea. The heat generated by the arrow dried the sea and in its place arose a dry, arid and hot desert.

Arundahti Roy has written a piece in the Nation.

This is an interesting comment box. Just write in it. Write anything.

Pattie and Carl are on the radio today. And today she's talking about fat! AND...I'll be on the show! Reading Rage. It's on CFUV. You can listen to it on Real Audio. It should be BIG fun.

June 7 2002   9:58 AM

Jennifer was all over the place. First on The View. And it was good. She was great. She's so sweet and centered. And cute! But it was TV. Fast, clip. Then Pattie interviewed her on First Person Plural. A much warmer and more real interaction.

And the whole First Person Plural show was great. Smart and informed.

I got e-mails this morning, from my meat space friends,  with links to other on line journals. Heh. Pretty fun. Marilyn has a friend, who has a friend, who does a journal and wrote a lovely bit about being fat. Kristina (who, it appears, is posting more often in her own journal) turned me on to two new journals and Mary Carmen stopped by my site and left a lovely comment. I love this stuff!!! Ever wider circles.

And some of my cyber space friends are doing new things. Paul started a new blog. bobbi had a slew of new art links on her page. People are branching, seeking, expanding.

I'm not doing a great job at avoiding my pre-birthday blues. Yesterday I got into a bit of a funk. Ah, yes...being a Gemini is so much fun. So, I got some movies in an attempt to distract myself. I watched Ali. It's a beautiful movie. Really. I didn't think I'd watch the boxing scenes, but they were compelling. It's a political movie.

I'd spent the morning listening to the Judicial hearing on the FBI on KPFA. Boxing seemed like ballet.

The Mirror Project is a year old.

June 8 2002    10:15 AM

Last night I saw Last Chance For Eden. Amazing.

I called Kara and Kobi to see if they wanted to go. Kobi was working, so Kara and I went. I was happy to see her, and in a pretty good mood. (I'm really working on it!!!) Kara dropped me off at the door and went to go park. As I got out of the car I saw a five dollar bill on the ground. Woo hoo! Just as I got to the ticket counter a woman turned and offered to sell me one for 10.00. (They were 15.00) Hey, my good mood was getting better and better.

Then we walked in to the theater. I'm hyper about getting to places early. I joke that it's coz I was born a month early. But the truth is, I never know if I'm going to fit into the seats. We were at the Palace of Fine Arts theater. There are arms on the chairs. They're wide, but the arms are low and so I barely fit. I knew that I'd spend the evening shifting around, trying to be comfortable. It's a fat thing. you spend an evening in a chair. The arms are digging into your skin. You leave with black and blue marks on your hips. But you never complain. Fortified by Kara, I decided to ask for a chair.

There were two chairs off to the side. There was a space at the end of a row  in which I could put the chair. I wouldn't be blocking any aisle. I approached a woman usher and asked if I could borrow one. She'd been watching my struggle to get in, and out of the theater seat. She was tight and clip. The word no was out of her mouth before I got to the end of my question. I said, "Well, ya know, in the city of San Francisco, you are required to provide me with a seat."

She went off to find an answer, came back, still terse, announced they could put me where they put the wheel chairs. She moved one of the chairs to the front. As she put it down, she  noted that it was wobbly and admonished me to be careful.

Uh huh.

So, there I am. Fighting back tears and anger. Gingerly sitting on a wobbly chair. About to watch a movie about diversity.

There was some music from a band, Mahal. Nice music. I could barely listen, because I was busy processing. I don't want to ruin the evening for Kara, but I want to leave. Suddenly, I'm hurt and angry and tired.

The movie is the real real. A group of folks talking about racism and sexism in an encounter group type setting. I was struck by the fact that we saw almost everyone in the group cry, or at least well up. May be this doesn't seem unusual in an encounter, or therapy, group, but these folks were talking about racism and sexism and the pain of living with them, the damage to us, individually and as a group. This stuff hurts.

One thing that stands out for me is the way in which white people don't want to be seen as racist. In other words, just because of the color of my skin, don't pre judge me. And it pisses the people of color off. People of color live every day of their lives in a culture that thinks something about them because of the color of their skin. Can't white folks deal with some pain?

So, when we connect as individuals, there is pain, and fear. We wonder about each other. Are you going to allow me my experience? Are you going to be in solidarity with me? Are you going to understand the ways in which you are complicit with the culture that oppresses me? Do you understand your privilege and how will you use that privilege? Will you be my ally?

I cried at several points. But I had already been crying. I had already been disrespected, discounted, disappeared because of an attribute of physicality. And, honestly, I just don't believe that I'm going to get the support I need to advance an understanding of my experience.

Kara and I left a bit early. We were hungry and hoping to hook up with Kobi. As we walked out, there was a table laden with food, waiting for the film to end and the party to begin. Kara went for it. I went to the bathroom. I was thinking, it must be nice to feel comfortable to walk up to a table of food, in a public place, and not feel as if you are going to be judged if you eat something.

So, the movie is powerful. I can't recommend it highly enough. And it's important work. And we need to talk about racism and sexism. And maybe, someday, fatism.

I think some people think if we address sexism and the media and women's bodies aren't objectified, that fatism will go away. I don't. I think a fat man asking for a chair might have gotten a more respectful response. I read about a famous NYC restaurant and the rapid response system they have when big, powerful, business men arrive. They get the chair to the table before anyone asks. It might be some what true that it's easier for fat men in the world. (Especially rich ones) But easier is not good enough. No one should dissed for an attribute of physicality.  

Kara and I went to Mezes and got some dinner. It was great be with her. I'm lucky to have friends who think and feel and engage in deep ways.

But, shit. It took so much fucking work...just to go out and see a film. A film about diversity.

Nananananananana

You say it's your birthday

Nananananananana

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday Blogsister fellow Gemini Jeneane! I wish you peace.

I was feeling so low yesterday. I watched The Phantom Menace. Big mistake. It just seemed so full of bad racially problematic imagery. I loved Star Wars. Loved it. I loved the idea of something larger (the force) that you are part of and in which you can trust. I read Joseph Campbell. I trusted. I sought out my own path of courage. But in this movie they test blood to determine Jedi ... ancestry ... I guess. So, I guess you have to have ... the right blood. I dunno. Maybe I was just in a mood.

I got on line in the afternoon and read some comments from my lovely friends. Thank you.

I went wandering in Blogland, stopped by AKMA and ... what a relief. He got me. Thank you. Balm to my depleted spirit. Thank you.

My commenting friends are two women I know in meat space and Pattie, who I met in cyber space, but I feel as if I've know her for years. This is the first time I've written to AKMA, although I read him daily. I guess I expect support from people I know. And I expect support from women. It was nice to have a man, who I don't know, hear me.

One of the issues for people who aren't living in a privileged body is visibility. And it is hard to hope for support. I often feel as if I'm begging people to take the fat stuff seriously.

AKMA is pondering identity from different views. The identity I put forth on line is pretty much who I am. But, not all of me. It's unlikely that anyone ever gets all of me, or that I get all of any one. But, on line it is possible to create a completely false identity. And even if you give much of yourself on line there are reasons to hold some things back.

I'm given to withdrawing into miserable little spaces in which I mistrust everyone. Old habits of hurt. Friday I was reaching out. Saturday I was wounded and withdrawn. But, I peeked out. When I stay open there is much for which to be thankful. People reach out to each other,across distances. Elaine and Andrea are weaving a shield for Mike.

And all over the web people are wishing Jeneane a Happy Birthday!

June 10 2002    9:32 AM

Sunday's now have a pattern. I do the blog crawl, write the page, go swimming, eat lunch, take a nap, read and watch TV. I try to work on writing but, generally, on Sunday's, I can't seem to concentrate. And now TV is repeats of the already dubious shows I watch.

But I still had one rented movie. Bread and Tulips. I made popcorn and watched it. Very sweet.

I start therapy tonight. Oh yeah. It's a Radical Psychiatry group. I've been wanting to be in a group with Beth for a few years. I'm pretty happy about it. And I'm a little scared.

I'm such a depressive. I mean really, if you aren't a little depressed, you aren't paying attention. And I have my tweaky personal history. I don't think it's entirely odd that I might be depressed now and again.

Sometimes it's pure grief, or rage. Seems right.

But I spiral. And I contract.

I'm really trying to break down the habits. My reflexive fear and loathing. I need to be able to do the writing that I'm trying to do. And I get stuck in the emotions. I get wiped out. Paralyzed.

It's unlikely that I'm going to ever be a bliss girl. I'm hoping being in a group will help me to understand how to be with others when I'm working through my shit. Rather than isolate.

So, tonight I try therapy. I've done therapy. It was good. And I love the political perspective of Beth's work. So....

It seems auspicious given the weird sunset we're going to have tonight.

 June 11 2002  9:17 AM

Therapy is gonna be interesting. Obviously I can't write about it here. It would be bad faith to talk about the group. Except, I think I can say that I was in a room with some amazing, brave, thinking, feeling people committed to telling the truth.

And Beth is great.

But don't worry Mike. I'm not even trying to get happy. I think it was Freud who said, "happiness is for pigs." I'm trying to keep myself honest and engaged. But it was a good thing to come home and have a comment from you, (an amazing, brave, thinking, feeling person.) I was trying to add my own gris gris energy to the handy work of the crone and her apprentice. And reading you to make sure it was going well. Good to hear you were up to some mojo of your own.

It's interesting to try and explain blogging to a new person. It sounds a bit like a cult. It's difficult to convey the passion, the affection between bloggers, the appeal of this public/privacy.

Jeneane writes about this beautifully. And although I was in a group of people in meat space - for the purpose of telling the truth, and it felt real and great, It felt real and great, when I came home and saw Mike's comment. I mean, some part of doing the page every day is about telling personal truth in a public space. It is another way I keep myself honest.

I also got a comment from Suzanne, (an amazing, brave, thinking, feeling person.) Someone who I know in meat space, but who reads me in cyber space. I have a few friends who I know read me regularly and I am soooo grateful to them.  And I do feel a bit hurt when I ask a friend ( in meat space) if they read me and they don't. I mean, according to my stats it takes about a minute and a half to read me. This page is really important to me. It's my baby writer steps. It does seem like the blogger crowd gets the importance of this for me. But, I'm never sure they read me!!! And I know my friends do!!!

Oh yeah. I need therapy.

Other wise, it was a fun day. I hung out with Marilyn. We did errands and then ate pasta. At 6 we sat on her neighbor's steps holding a piece of card board with little round holes in it, watching the fat shadow of the moon move across the sun.

Next.

Wednesday I meet with my big summer writing project mentor.

Here's a shout out to my friends in Colorado.

June 12 2002    9:09 AM

 I'm doing my happy dance.

I had a talk with Suzanne yesterday about my use of the term meat space. Then in the afternoon I had another talk with Kristina about it. It really demonstrates one of the many splits in my thinking.

I didn't come up with it. When I first read it (and I don't remember where that was ) I laughed. Part of me thinks of the body as something temporary. A container. Meat. I kinda think if you have no problem with the idea of chicken bodies as meat, you should have no problem with the idea of human bodies as meat. I like to think that the spirit is ... more than ... the body.

Because bodies are so fetishized in the culture, I sometimes feel dismissive of them.

And. Much of how I experience a person is about how they are in their body and how I feel in my body when they're near me. So, are they tense? Where do they hold that tension? Do they look me in the eyes? It isn't a good bad thing. It's more of me noticing if someone seems comfortable in their body.

I trust my body. If I feel tense, I pay attention.

In cyberspace it's about the words on the page, the topics and themes. And the images. And the links. So, I form affections based on language and color and expression with little knowledge of the body. I've been disoriented when I'm clicking around and I see a blogger, or radio template, that I usually see on folks I read regularly ... but it's not them. It's almost like the template becomes their body for me and someone else's words are on that body. Er, somethin.

But you can read tension and discomfort. Yesterday, as I was reading around, I watched one blogger, get their feelings hurt and react, and another respond. All this in the course of an hour or so, while I was eating my Cheerios. And I worried the whole event. My heart stretched toward these two ... strangers. They seem to have worked it out.

Meat space is probably a bit too rude. I am given to being sardonic. Sometimes.

And. I live in a culture where my body has no meaning, or negative meaning. I work for acceptance of and love of my body. When I meet new people I assume they'll think I have a "weight problem" and I make assumptions about that based on how they look at me, and, honestly, how they look. Some people are going to quickly assume that I'm not that cool.

But I am very cool.

And I know they'll know that, once they get to know me and once I've charmed them and wooed them and been so smart and funny and engaged. So, I rely on my brain and know  that my body won't be a factor in the relationship.

The obvious exception to this is if it's a man, and I'm attracted to him. That's when I go crazy.

The people I read in Blogaria may have opinions about my body, but I don't see it when they click away.

I write about fat politics and I have links to pages about health at any size and fat revolution, here. But I don't know how many people spend the time to educate themselves about fatness. Most folk believe what the media sells them.

I never have to look a fellow  blogger in the eye and see their rejection of my body. I never have to see- Tish is really cool but I wish she'd loose weight- in their eyes.

There is one person, who used to link to me and doesn't any more. And now they write what they eat on their web page. I'll never know, since they never wrote to me directly, but I wonder if they decided that I was this delusional fat chick who just needs to stop eating donuts and go jogging. So, they took off the link, stopped reading me and started dieting. I don't know that. But I do think that it might be true.

There have been a few folks, mostly at school, who have said things to me about reading the page, or knowing me and how that has changed the way they think about fatness.

My spirit, mind and body are one thing. I've spent too much of my life trying to be cool because my body wasn't. It may, in the end, be meat. But it's not the end.

June 13 2002   8:57 AM

Pattie and Carl show  today! Also, Pattie is in the Mirror Project! Carl tip-toed into Blogaria a while ago. I've been checking now and then to see if he posts. Well... he has posted!! Check him out.

I made the best soup! I had some carrots that were getting soft. I boiled them in chicken broth, added some tofu and a bit of miso, blended the whole mess. It was so good!

Marilyn was on Crossfire. (Scroll down to the bottom to read it.) Houston has hired a diet tzar. She went on to debate him. He couldn't pronounce obesity. And one point he just went off about weight not being genetic.

OHMYGAWD.

Marilyn did a great job. Watching CNN gives me a headache. Most ironic was that the CNN guy who was on the side of not putting a city on a diet was the guy from the right. I'm so frustrated about this!!! Of course his big concern is that he won't be able to buy a Snickers bar.

You can close every fast food restaurant in the world. In fact PLEASE do. I'll still be fat.

But the guy on the left (and this is CNN - so right and left are barely represented) kept attacking Marilyn with quotes about the negative impact of fat on health.

Let me give you the rest of the list, Marilyn. In fact, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, diabetes, heart disease, stroke, gallstones, gout, arthritis, sleep disorders, and bladder control problems. You think people would want to lose weight just for the last one. But come on, you cannot pretend that obesity does not lead to morbidity and ultimately mortality, right?

I read an interesting post on the show me the data list by Leah Strok, a nurse practitioner in NYC. She did a thesis on the experience of fat folks in health care and the benefit of a size positive health care environment. She writes:

I went to a conference on hypertension the other day and there was this "good old boy" doctor who went on and on how people should lose weight.  At the end of the program I went up to him and asked him out of how many patients did he tell to lose weight actually come back, lose weight and keep it off. He responded "about 1%"

1%. 1%. Think about that. It works one percent of the time but he keeps giving the same advice. She went on.

I asked him if he thought he was doing something wrong.  I told him that my patients always come back (my fat patients anyway) and I have got their blood sugar and blood pressure under control. He asked me what my secret was.  I told him that "I NEVER tell them to lose weight" 

Hmmmmm.

But my true anger happened when I was at an "Obesity through the lifespan" conference. This pediatrician (who specializes in children who are obese) was discussing how they are starting to experiment with putting children on diet pills. I was so furious that at the end of the program I asked her if they ever thought about just teaching kids the value of nutrition and exercise.  She told me that nobody would fund that...

Shoop! There it is!

It's not that the medical industry (yes I did say industry) doesn't know that health at any size might be possible. But there's no funding for those kinds of studies. Who funds the research that doctors and CNN guys quote when they want to kick up a fear of fat ... the diet industry!

It's enough to make you crazy. Crazy, furious, miserable.

Big summer writing project meeting got put off till today. Which was fine. I've been getting up early and taking walks down to the wharf. This morning was foggy and cold.

June 14 2002   8:45 AM 

The meeting with my advisor for the big summer writing project was GREAT. She said the nicest thing. She said ... tell me.

GOODGAWD.

I felt like every muscle in my body relaxed. I've been hearing show-don't-tell for two semesters and a summer workshop. I'm sick of it. I do think it's a good standard. There's nothing wrong with it. But sometimes you just gotta TELL IT. And if you don't it's like you're playing a game. Or lying. She also liked my epigraphs and understood why they were important.  

We got off to an rocky start because she had read some of the memoir and gotten the impression that I was more interested in the fictionalish (heh - I made that word up - just now - heh) writing that I've been doing in the program so far. So she was making fictionalish suggestions and I thought my head was going to pop. But it turned around quickly and we really started to talk.

I'm deeply relieved and charged up about writing. She wants me to read some craft books. Which is fine. When I first started the program I bought a pile of them, read two or three and got bored. In a writing program you spend so much time talking about writing. It's like talking about sex. Too much talking and not enough doing starts to feel ... bad.

I still need a job. I've been frustrated and not dealing with that fact. But I'm feeling ... I dunno ... lighter. Er something.

Although, I am achey. I did my morning walk and my knee and hip were bugging. Maybe it's going to rain.

Nananananananana

You say it's your birthday

Nananananananana

Happy Birthday to you!

Happy Birthday Adrienne!

June 15 2002   12:35 AM 

I went to the YA YA movie. My mom went because it looks like a mom/daughter movie. And it was. I guess. She'll want to talk about it tonight. I went by myself. It didn't suck. The music was great. There were some great performances.

Then Rick and Renee picked me up and we went out for pasta.

It's already late on Saturday.  I woke up early and  went for a walk, came home and started working on the page. Then Jean called me!! So, I've been happily chatting with her for hours and don't feel much like doing the page any more.

I must work on the big summer writing project. Now.

June 16 2002    8:52 AM

My father. One sperm with a sense of direction.

It's another one of those quips. Kinda like meat space. I didn't come up with it but it appeals to my sardonic nature. It helps me when I'm feeling hurt and mean.

When I was three months old my mother and I got on a train and headed to her mother's house. Mom had found lipstick on Dad's collar. It sounds like a bad fifties rock ballad. It was 1953.

I didn't meet my Dad until I was 12. My maternal grandmother told me he was dead. My Mom would tell me that he wasn't dead; Grandma just didn't believe in divorce.

An early lesson in denial.

When I met him I was a ball of desire a