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November 2002 Some of the Greg Palast piece is here. It's a pay to read piece. I don't spend enough time on Salon to pay.
I went back to bed three times yesterday. It was odd because I don't really like sleeping. I'm not that good at it. I have a hard time getting to sleep and once I'm awake, I'm awake. Which sucks if something wakes me up in the middle of the night.
But yesterday I was exhausted. I really don't have a reason to be exhausted. I'm blaming hormones. I woke up and my back was hurting. I thought that if I lay flat on it for a while it would feel better. I did. It did. But I drifted in and out of sleep and had weird dreams about the painters who are working on the apartment next door. They were working on my apartment as if I didn't live there any more. They had moved my stuff and broken things.
I got up and did the blog roll thang. Wrote my own post. Took a shower, got dressed, went back to bed.
Suzanne and Kristina called so I talked to them for a while. I felt like I had a list of things that I should do, but I just wasn't getting any rev.
By one o'clock I started to worry about not having candy. For the record, no one ever trick or treats here. I think once, years ago, three kids came by in a little group. But every year I worry about it. So I buy a bag of candy. No one comes by. The candy sits around for a month or more.
I eat it but I don't totally love candy. I love chocolate. Just chocolate. So I eat M&M's. Sometimes. I like Mounds bars. Coconut. Yep. Every year on Halloween I buy a bag of them. Eat too many the first day. Can't look at them for a while. And then eventually I eat them all. Unless someone stops by and helps.
I'm not a Halloween grrrl. But bobbi did some photos that you gotta see.
And Michael Moore will be on Oprah today. Something about that makes me laugh.
OK. I don't like candy that much. But I do like Mounds. It's about the coconut. And every year it's the same. I just eat em until I am so sick of them I think I'm going to puke. Next year can someone please remind me that I do not need candy for trick or treaters?
Michael on Oprah. The best part was just as the show was beginning Michael leans in to the camera and says, "I'm on Oprah." I laughed out loud. What a cutie he is!
Now with Bill Moyers was great last night. There are many great links on that site about cleaning up elections and making democracy work. Very cool. They talked a lot about the cost of political campaigns. Something I think about every day while I haul another pack of glossy ads for causes to the recycle bin. None of them are very informative and all of them seem costly. Imagine how many meals and rents for homeless people could be bought with what politicians spend on elections. Move on sent an e-mail request for funds for Mondale and a few others. I like the idea of many people giving five dollars to a campaign. I put a dollar in the hat every time Ralph passed it. But I cringe every time I'm on the bus riding through SF these days. The city is littered with posters.
Dru blogged one of those kooky tests. Guess which founding father I am...
I'm so proud. Marilyn took me to a great show last night, Generous Portions. Just fantastic. They were all fat women. They were lesbian and third gender and multi racial. All colors, shapes and sizes. All speaking their truth, in poetry and song and just playing around. It was profound. Radical. Righteous.
Good gawd I love it when fat women speak out.
I did a gogglism for Tish.
tish is west yorkshire?s big fish
And one for fat shadow.
fat shadow is in the corner OK blogger kids.
Mike needs our good vibes.
Here's a place to light a candle. Sigh.
I voted for Nader. If you wanna piss me off tell me people who voted for Nader are the reason we have the president select. Wrong.
I have not joined the Green Party. Yet. I don't know why. Matt Gonzalez wrote about why he joined a few years ago. He says it all. And yet. I still haven't joined.
Well I do know why. It's about fear.
I didn't want to vote for Gore because I was afraid. It felt so good to vote for Ralph. It felt like voting FOR someone. But the same situation is happening in the California governor's race. Peter Camejo is the Green candidate. I do not like Gray Davis. But...I am so afraid of Bill Simon. And if I wanted to send a message with my Nader vote I want to send a bigger message with all my votes in this election.
I swear. This shit makes my head hurt. I still haven't decided.
Happily there are votes I will make with no conflict. I will be voting NO on N. A measure brought to you by a man who puts the Draco in Draconian. YES on D. Yes on J. You may remember that I love my board of supervisors. (And I love my perma links. Thank you Dorothea!)
But what about the governor?
Dru. Talking about class. Breaks it down. Makes her case. So so good. Called out this article. I still don't know what to do. But I have thought a lot about the problematic nature of third party politics. When I read about the things Camejo supports I know that I want to vote for him. But then there's the fear.
I don't know what to do.
I realize I've been putting off the decision about joining the Green party.
I went to the movies to take my mind of politics. OK. So they were not the kind of movies to watch if I really wanted to take my mind off politics. They were great. I'm not sure how to spell the kind of scream I feel lingering at the base of my throat.
So.
I still hadn't decided what to do as I walked out the door but I was leaning toward voting for Davis. I stopped to grab the mail and there was The Nation with a picture of Paul Wellstone. And the quote:
"Politics is what we dare to imagine."
Sigh.
I'm not even sure I agree with that. But I wish I did. And, despite the fact that I don't believe that Green party candidates (including Ralph) are going to win, I do believe that with every passing election they are gaining ground. And if the Democratic party wants those votes they ought to start making some changes.
The Green party is more representative of what I want to imagine.
So I voted for Camejo.
It was not the same as voting for Nader. I felt even more terrified. But it felt true. Then I got home from school and the race was neck n neck. What an awful feeling. Was it indulgent to vote my heart? I honestly don't know.
Even when Davis pulled out ahead I felt this tension that I've been feeling all week. As the night went on and the news got worse and worse nationally I really began to sink.
When I was watching the movie about Kissinger I remembered how I felt about politics then. Politics was evil, corrupt and dangerous. Mind you I was one of those kids who thrilled when Kennedy said ask not what your country can do for you. I ran for, and was, president of my class. I wanted to be in it.
But by the time I was getting out of high school everything had changed. I ran off into everything alternative and ignored politics. Voting for Jimmy Carter felt OK. By the time we got to the eighties and Reagan and Bush I was completely gone.
And then there was Clinton. So much hope.
When I was watching the movie I thought about our current situation. And the fear that I have on a daily basis. The media and the White House are going to paint this as a sweeping victory. It was not. It was a bloody battle. All of these races were close. There is still no mandate. But they are going to act as if there is.
When I listen to Ralph and Media politics sounds like righteous activity. What we dare to imagine. We're going to need to be daring. We're going to need to be imaginative. We're going to need to call up all our energy and faith.
Right now. Today. I need to cry. Lets see. What could make me feel worse on a day when I'm already feeling pretty terrible about an election in which a third of the registered voters (to say nothing about people who are eligible but never get it together to register) turn out to vote and the already kidnapped seat of political power gains a posse?
Oh. Lets see...
Oprah does a show on obesity. Why, you might ask, did I watch it? I know the other day people were asking me why I watched a movie about Pinoche followed by a movie about Kissinger. I'm just crazy like that. I feel this need to understand.
So Oprah thinks I live behind a wall because I haven't addressed my pain.
She had women on the show who eat a lot. One woman stopped at a fast food place and ordered three sandwiches and ate them all.
I'd rather eat the phone book.
Clearly the women on the show had problems with eating. Each one of them talked about how much they ate. I understand that some women have that problem. And, for them, Oprah's combination of self help and diet and exercise is a path to something that makes them feel better.
But theirs is not the only experience.
And I just couldn't help but wonder if the one woman had some damage to her satiety signal. She talked about feeling full but eating any way and not stopping until she felt unwell. There may be psychological issues but I think there may well be physical ones as well. So, all the "dealing with her pain" in the world will be done with no insight into how her physical body may be not working to help her understand her own hunger. And while she's "dealing with her pain" she'll feel like no one understands how hard it is. And they won't.
There was a woman who left a comment over at Big Fat Blog the other day. She had a brain tumor removed and with it a small section of her brain. There was damage to the pituitary and hypothalamus and she has gained weight. She is not fat positive. She resents her situation. I understand that.
Because Oprah says that fat people are living a walking death. Yes. That is what she said. And all we gotta do is get with the program. So all the fat people who don't eat four sandwiches at fast food restaurants live in a world where people think they lie about how much they eat. And all the people with endocrine problems have no public voice. And all the thin people who eat piles of crap don't have anyone who worries about their health.
And me. I'm just livin behind a wall with my pain.
Heh.
Actually. I'm not feeling that bad. I mean it's all too crazy. The world I live in. I think I'm going to call up Tom and see if I can work on his campaign. And I'm going to write a letter to Oprah. And I'm going to keep on keeping on.
I was feeling very lucky that I didn't have to go out the door yesterday. It was wicked. At one point in the afternoon a light flickered across my computer screen and a few minutes later I heard the boom of thunder. It startled me. We just don't have thunder around here that often. The electricity blinked off once. The doors and windows were rattling. But basically I was snug.
I got some great comments yesterday. April talked about why she didn't vote. I understand. Despite the fact that I feel strongly about people voting I don't think anyone should vote when they feel that there is no one to vote for.
The Democratic party needs to wake up. I am almost encouraged by the idea of Nancy Pelosi. I still have the dilemma of whether that will make the Democratic party radical enough for me. And I still worry that the Green party will not be strong enough politically even if a Green candidate wins.
For people who are trying to live with some kind of integrity these decisions are never as easy as "you're either with us or against us." I've read a lot of people who did vote ragging on people who didn't. And I am frustrated by how many people don't vote. But I also read people say that they voted and then felt icky. I voted and felt like, despite the fact that I voted my heart, I might have fucked up. It's very fucking hard.
Yesterday Caroline said something about seeing something on Oprah and then rushed to say that she doesn't actually watch Oprah. It made me laugh. Oprah comes on at a time of day when I have had it with CNN and MSNBC. Sometimes I turn on the radio or play music but, very often, Oprah has things on that are compelling.
And look, she got a lot of people reading books.
She is hopeless in terms of the fat stuff. She believes her own experience to be the truth for all fat bodies. But I've said before that I see what she's done as a project. And I give her her propers for coming up with a project and working on it.
I
actually do think that people eat for comfort sometimes.
I just don't think that's a pathology. I also think
people eat in frantic compulsive gulps in the same manner
I've watched people suck cocaine into their already
way too wound up bodies, or drink
Let
me clear. I have eaten in frantic compulsive gulps,
sucked cocaine into my already way too wound up body, drank
See there are thin people who are going to eat four sandwiches at a fast food restaurant today and they won't end up on Oprah.
And, although I do not like fast food, I understand that people do and I understand that there are class issues around who can afford what, and pleasure in all its many forms is a good thing.
That last line sounded a bit too Martha Stewart. I just don't think we need to hang out in shame and blame. Christine (Not to be confused with Kristina) sent me this link. I swear I laughed out loud.
I keep thinking about Kell's positing about Oprah and what she gets out of the fat = a living death thang. Does race factor into it?
Weeellllll....
It's the kind of thing I worry about being too quick to agree with, despite the fact that I suspect it's true. Hence my continued thinking. But I will say that, on the a fore mentioned Caroline show the people who were embarrassed to admit that they watched Oprah (ever) mentioned something about her gaining too much credibility with the left and then the powers that be might be upset with her. (I'm paraphrasing wildly.) And another of them said something like, oh it would be easy to discredit her, they'd just say she was fat.
Ahh huhh.
So I guess if you're a woman and Black AND fat ... I mean it's three strikes. Still, for some reason, I wanna give her the credit that I believe she is due.
There's an interesting post on Alas in which he talks about his economic theory. I hope he won't mind that I'm going to use it to say something about fat hatred. What other people think does matter. In his example of Debbie Allen not being seen as someone who can afford to shop in certain shops, race is the thing that causes the reaction. Well. Racism.
And I'm here to tell you fat girls in department stores...may not get respect.
I do think that people who lose weight get into this morally superior thing. It makes it hard to want to give them the credit that they deserve for taking on a project and completing it. Because that project gives them a body that grants them a new level of access.
Still. I don't want to take their feeling of struggle and success away from them. I just want them to imagine that my relationship with my body is different from their relationship with their body and not in good/bad way.
Sigh.
So. Watching Oprah is problematic. Watching television is problematic. And yet...last night, on Now, Lewis Lapham said he is optimistic.
And I needed to hear that. now, tonight, I feel a part of many people. the moon and I are being towed by the meticulous windows and plugs and streetlamps all around the world, towed in from the sea, to sleep in warm and nod off in gold light. towed by these large wheeled come and getcha where ever ya are fans, by these all-wheel offroad golden hearts that bring ya in from where ever you are and put a blanket over ya and give ya a warm drink - Rickie Lee Jones I have to read In Cold Blood for school. Which kinda bugs me since I have a stack of other books I'd rather be reading. I read it back in the day and again a few years ago in a class I took on literary journalism. It is a great piece of writing.
Susan has these funny little smiley faces in her comments. Every time I leave her a comment I spend soooo much time trying to pick the right one. Really. I am such a goof. I was reminded about Rickie Lee Jones on line journal in her comments. Hence my new epigraph. I love me some Rickie Lee.
When my goddaughter was a little girl, oh so many years ago, I bought her a doll. It was way too expensive and I worried that I was gifting her a love for dubious commercial values with the doll. But good gawd the doll and her stuff was so cool. I was obsessed about making sure she had ALL the stuff. I think I was into it long after she was. There was a point where it was more like I was buying presents for Samantha than her. Even now I see a new thing for the doll and I get all mooky and want to buy it. My god daughter, by the way, is in college.
My rational about the doll was (oh. actually I had many rationals about the doll.) that it was a way for her to learn about history. And yet I wondered how the company would ever make dolls of color and describe their American Girl experience. But they have tried. Every year, about this time, I get a catalog from them and the lust to buy gets kicked up.
I still think the doll was a good idea. But it is a thing to worry about. I mean I spent the money on the doll but her parents spent the money on food and rent. Consumerism puts such a burden on parents.
But we know I like to play with dolls.
OK. Let's see. I've written about murder, smiley faces and dolls. It's Sunday morning. I'm rambling.
Oh yeah. Big Fat Blog has a Cafe Press store now. When I got home from the Sunday swim I felt the need to nap. Not a big deal. I slept a while and then got up and played on the computer. At 6:30 I was so tired I thought I might go to bed. I really couldn't keep my eyes open. So...another nap. Then at 11:00, when I went to bed, there was no way I was going to sleep. Even when I went to sleep I didn't stay asleep for long. I woke up about five times.
And one of those times I sat on the edge of the bed and all I could think was that it was crazy that I couldn't sleep. Crazy isn't the word. It felt like I couldn't do it right. I sat there trying to understand why I was so tired in the day and now I couldn't sleep. I kept thinking I don't know. I don't know.
Part of what was keeping me awake was all the stuff I had to think about.
Money. War. Sex. Writing. Earthquakes. Death.
So there I was sitting on the side of the bed thinking about it all and saying I don't know. I don't know. And suddenly I just started to laugh.
I mean it would be great if I'd had some kind of vision or epiphany. But no. Just an acute awareness of powerlessness and uncertainty. And it felt bad...but it also made me laugh.
So. I'm a little groggy today. I should probably not try to make sense of anything. It seems to me that the word partisan gets used a bit too much lately. It's become an expletive. It's used to describe a politic that isn't in lock step with the current (cough) administration. And every time I hear it used that way I feel like it's just one more way to silence dissent.
The theory is that having two parties represented puts in checks and balances. Despite the fact that I haven't seen much difference in the two parties I am aware that now those checks and balances (no matter how limited) are all but gone. And even people who are radically right should be worried about this.
But the sound bite methodology of political rhetoric morphs language. Is it partisan to be committed to the ideals of the party to which you belong? Yep. And is that unfair?
Um.
Maybe.
So?
It just seems to me that when a member of the congress, or the senate doesn't agree with the (cough) administration they are accused of being partisan.
I, often, can not tolerate opinions that are not the same as mine. Sometimes I really need agreement. Especially when I'm very scared or angry. But I know I need to listen to the other opinion. And in a political system that purports to be democratic opposing opinions are argued as a way to keep everybody thinking. And actions are taken after a vote. A vote that reflects the thinking and a sense of majority. Do I really now live in a country where majority means Republican? Or do I live in one where democracy has been stolen?
I have no partisan loyalty. I wish I did. For me, the Green party feels like the boy you really want but know things won't work with. And the Democrats...well. We'll see. I spaced out a friends birthday the other day. I knew it was coming up but on the day I just spaced out. Got lost in my inner blah blah blah. When I realized that I had forgotten I begged forgiveness and she understood.
The thing that sucks is that it was one of my very best friends. One of the people who makes me feel better about the world. I so admire the way she lives her life. I admire her relationships, the way she operates in her work, her curiosity and grace and dignity. The ways in which she struggles with adversity. The way she creates beauty.
She's always in my heart and I wish I woulda snapped out of my self and remembered to call her and tell her how grateful I am to have her in my life. Which is really what I mean when I say Happy Birthday. I mean thank you for being. And thank you for being my friend.
Today is Kristina's birthday. I feel all of the above about her as well. I feel so lucky to have the friends that I have.
I whine about feeling alone. A lot. And I do feel alone. A lot. But I do snap out of it every once in a while and remember that I am so rich in friends. It doesn't always help to know this. But even when I am suffering in the deepest, darkest part of aloneness, I try to remember them.
There's a thread on line right now. It began with a woman talking about the games men play. And Dorothea picked it up.
I thought about picking it up. But I have the same problem I had the last time there was a discussion about sexism on the blogs. It talks about a blogger who I don't read. I've been to his site a few times. I didn't feel the connection. I have been offended by his site a few times. But, ya know, I just don't read him. No big deal. I usually end up reading him because another blogger, who I do read, links to him.
So I didn't feel like I could jump in.
But reading Dorothea I did feel like I needed to jump in long enough to say one thing.
Yes.
You know.
Just yes.
The other day I was listening to a man talk about a visit to New York. He was saying that everyone was telling him that since Giuliani is gone crime is up. He said something about gangs of young black men running around in Times Square. All I could think of was the Central Park Jogger case.
Why do I bring it up now?
Racism. Sexism. The whole list of isms.
There's a young man in my class. He's a good writer. But he writes about women in that "playful" way. He's gotten feedback from women in class about the negative effect some of his languages has had on us. I know he hears it. And I know he's thought about it. But he still has the reflex. The easy joke about a woman as an object of desire.
In part, I think he thinks he makes himself the fool in some of these jokes. Like his longing for a certain type of woman makes him the fool and he just can't help it. But the things he writes hit the bodies of the women in the room. I feel it. Some of them laugh. I always wonder how I can say something about how the writing makes me feel with out sounding puritanical, or humourless.
I don't know how the a fore mentioned thread is going to play out. But I wanted to come out strong and clear about the big yes I felt when I was reading Dorothea. I want to thank her for mentioning fat jokes in her rant. And I want to say yes to Elaine as well.
But mostly, I really hope that the men who blog take a minute to think/feel before they react. I want men to feel safe to say whatever they want to say, even if some of those things are hurtful. But I also hope that men who really care about thinking will ask them selves why they laugh at some of the stuff they laugh at. Not in "oh I've been a bad boy way". In a deep, open hearted way.
Please.
And thank you. One of my teachers said something interesting about the relationship between readers and writers. He talked about the reader bringing things to the writing from where they are at and how that can be problematic. It made me think about how I was sure that Joni Mitchell wrote all her lyrics about my life. Still do sometimes.
It is true. The writer and the reader meet at an intersection of meaning and exchange notes.
And in the blog world that is, theoretically, the place where conversation begins. So if women talk about the jokes that men make on their blogs, the embedded sexism, or lookism, and the way it feels to see it, read it...a conversation, theoretically, might begin.
But it's not going to happen if men don't think about the ways in which they are privileged by the institution of sexism.
I'm deeply committed to thinking about the ways in which I'm privileged by my skin color. I'm committed to watching for the ways in which I contribute to racism. I feel uncomfortable in conversations about racism and I think I should feel that way. Racism should make us all feel very uncomfortable.
And talking about sexism should make men feel uncomfortable. So why would a man willingly enter into a conversation that might make him uncomfortable?
Can you imagine the curve of my eyebrow right now?
Yes. We bring stuff into our reading of other people. And people who write books or in magazines may not ever know what the reader brings. But in the blog world we are, some of us, theoretically, jumping into the fray.
In The Book that I am not working right now ( but I will over the holidays. really. I will. ) I am reaching toward readers. I am asking them to think with me. And sometimes it seems like too much to ask.
Ah well. We'll see.
Pattie and Carl are talking about sex toys today. Yes. Sex. Toys. And that may be a whole other conversation. If you haven't heard the Pattie and Carl show you don't know the format. They usually open with an interview, or reading to set up their theme and then in the latter part of the show they chat about the theme. Yesterday's interview was with a young woman who sells sex toys. In the second part of the show Pattie talked about how she was surprised how she felt during the interview. She had to fight the taboo against talking about sex.
While I was listening I was thinking about the my last two posts. I was thinking about the intersection where sexuality and desire and longing become shadowed by the politics of male power. I was trying to figure out how to parse the topic without sounding like a women's studies 101 prof. I wanted to try and keep writing about what I was thinking and feeling but I worried about it getting too theoretical and losing heart. I was reaching out for some kind of ... something. I dunno. Something like recognition. Reconciliation.
Something.
And there were people who reached back. George reached back with a comment and a post. A very clear direct affirmation for which I was grateful. Dru reached back in her open hearted active brain way. Wrote an amazing, detailed, thoughtful, heart felt response. And wrote it with a baby at her breast. April wrote a response to |
