I locked myself out of my apartment this morning. Almost the instant the door shut behind me, I realized I hadn't brought my keys with me. My apartment door doesn't lock automatically, but its handle doesn't turn from the outside unless you have a key in it, so for all intents and purposes, I was locked out. I swore at myself and then marched myself outside to see if the back door was open, propping the door to my foyer on the way, so that I could get back in if I needed to. The back door wasn't unlocked and my back window, though unlocked, was so covered in years of paint and swollen from rain and other weather, that it would take a three-foot pry bar to open it. I swore again and wandered back over to the front door to see if I could jimmy it with a credit card, only to find that some diligent soul had unpropped it. Thricely, I swore. I was about ready to give up, when I noticed that there was a group of workers across the road from me and that their truck contained none other than a three-foot pry bar (actually, it contained many other things, as well...but the three foot pry bar is what caught my eye).
I walked across the street, explained my situation, and asked them if they would mind lending me their pry bar, to which one man replied, "Nobody's ever come up to us and asked us to use our crow bar before," in a heavy Irish accent. Which made me nervous, because--I suspect like many people--whenever I'm around someone with an accent, I tend to pick the accent up, myself. Rather, I tend to pick up a hideous bastardization of the accent that invariably makes me sound like I'm making fun of the person with the accent. Fortunately, I managed to avoid calling anyone "mate" or slipping accidentally into a jig long enough for them to provide me with the crow bar.
It worked. I managed to pry the window loose from the geological layers of paint that were holding it in place, slip through it, nab my keys, return the pry bar and thank the kind workers, and then head off for work, keys in pocket. Oh, and I closed the window, too. And that was my morning.
Tantalus Benefit
If you've already received this, feel free to ignore it.
But if you're one of the few people in my life who read my blog, but who I don't talk to regularly and who I don't e-mail, read on.
It is Tantalus Theatre Group's distinct pleasure to invite you to our annual Winter Gala. Come support theatre, enjoy live music and cheap wine, and most excitingly, be privy to an exclusive sneak peak of our upcoming world premier production,
RAGNAROK!
Ragnarok is a company-created piece, rooted in the stories of Norse mythology. You are invited to a party thrown by the gods on the cusp of Armageddon. We tell the stories and sing the songs of the world as all that is hurtles towards its
fated destruction. We invite you to join with us as we make merry and laugh in the face of death!
Winter Gala
Saturday, December 4th
From 8 p.m. until we can't move nor party no more (performance is at 9 p.m. when we will still be able to move)
The Munki Haus
1278 N Milwaukee Ave, Loft 4W
Chicago, IL 60622
$25 Regular Admission
$10 Student / Senior / Industry with headshot or resume
Feel free to forward this email and bring friends!
To reserve your ticket, simply call Artistic Director Glen Cullen at 773-960-2066. Walk-ups will be taken as well, but
it is best to reserve your ticket.
I recommend coming. It's going to be a blast. Munki Haus parties always are.
I'm getting sick and should probably go home and drink a cup of tea, take a nice bath, and go to bed early. But I have rehearsal to go to, and lines to memorize, and exhaustion to endure. What a life. How could I have it any other way?
Monday, November 29, 2004
Sunday, November 28, 2004
Late News on Budding Mythologies
When I was in college, my first directing teacher (I should say "our first directing teacher" because he really was the department's first directing teacher--I only personally had one directing teacher--but to avoid people thinking I'm using the royal we, I say "my first directing teacher. But enough digression...) once commented that someone really ought to tell our paper that the operative syllable in "newspaper" is "news". After two or so weeks, which is when the paper generally opted to review our plays, it no longer qualifies as news. It is, in fact, olds.
That said, I probably should have posted this a week ago, when I first found it on Neil Gaiman's blog, but I procrastinated. So it isn't news anymore, and it doesn't qualify as ephemera anymore, either. Still, how cool is this? To summarize: an entire mythology has sprung up among homeless children in Miami, which merges Catholicism, Santeria, and basic childhood boogiemen like Bloody Mary with the ills and dangers of street life. The basis of the mythology is that God has fled Heaven after an attack from demons. In his absence, the angels are fighting a war and it is up to humanity to fight with them by finding the moral path. What amazes me about the article, more than anything else, really, is the weight that it places on the children, and the strength they seem to find despite or because of that weight. Also, the fact that it doesn't promise a good afterlife if you live a good life. The most the children hope for is to get to join the angels in their fight. It's a gorgeous article and a gorgeous mythology, genuinely frightening and real.
Thanksgiving was a blast. I spent it at the shore with my father and that side of the family. And my grandmother, who, though she is getting older and older, looks genuinely pretty good and was fairly engaging once you made eye-contact with her and spoke at the requisite volume for her to hear you. The hardest part about going home is always getting family to understand just how real and good what I've been doing out here is. None of them have ever seen a Tantalus show, and our shows don't really translate well into short descriptions (Well, you see, it's about the final battle in Norse mythology, in which Loki and Odin fight to the death, and Odin knows he's going to die but does nothing to stop it. But it's also a game, and the game is the battle, and the audience is going to be part of the game. But no...seriously...it's going to be really cool), so whenever I go home and start talking about what I'm doing with Tantalus, my parents kind of fade off. It's frustrating.
The same is true of my writing. Whenever I start to tell my mother about anything that has happened with my writing, I get, "You know, your old friend Lee David published an article in Such and Such magazine." And I realize she means well by saying, essentially, "Why don't you write something the complete opposite of your writing style?" but I find myself just wishing for some vindication. Which, I suspect, won't come for a while. Not because I don't think I'll be published. Just because I think I won't be published anywhere she's heard of.
Moral of this story is, I think, no matter how supportive your parents are, they're still people and have failings, just like you do. I think that's the moral, anyway. The other moral could be buck up, write, act, and create theatre for yourself and nobody else; and quit your whining. It could be a lot worse. That's probably closer to the moral.
Anyway, I'm off. Going to drink some water and talk to my friend Bonnie about the cruise she and her girlfriend are going on.
That said, I probably should have posted this a week ago, when I first found it on Neil Gaiman's blog, but I procrastinated. So it isn't news anymore, and it doesn't qualify as ephemera anymore, either. Still, how cool is this? To summarize: an entire mythology has sprung up among homeless children in Miami, which merges Catholicism, Santeria, and basic childhood boogiemen like Bloody Mary with the ills and dangers of street life. The basis of the mythology is that God has fled Heaven after an attack from demons. In his absence, the angels are fighting a war and it is up to humanity to fight with them by finding the moral path. What amazes me about the article, more than anything else, really, is the weight that it places on the children, and the strength they seem to find despite or because of that weight. Also, the fact that it doesn't promise a good afterlife if you live a good life. The most the children hope for is to get to join the angels in their fight. It's a gorgeous article and a gorgeous mythology, genuinely frightening and real.
Thanksgiving was a blast. I spent it at the shore with my father and that side of the family. And my grandmother, who, though she is getting older and older, looks genuinely pretty good and was fairly engaging once you made eye-contact with her and spoke at the requisite volume for her to hear you. The hardest part about going home is always getting family to understand just how real and good what I've been doing out here is. None of them have ever seen a Tantalus show, and our shows don't really translate well into short descriptions (Well, you see, it's about the final battle in Norse mythology, in which Loki and Odin fight to the death, and Odin knows he's going to die but does nothing to stop it. But it's also a game, and the game is the battle, and the audience is going to be part of the game. But no...seriously...it's going to be really cool), so whenever I go home and start talking about what I'm doing with Tantalus, my parents kind of fade off. It's frustrating.
The same is true of my writing. Whenever I start to tell my mother about anything that has happened with my writing, I get, "You know, your old friend Lee David published an article in Such and Such magazine." And I realize she means well by saying, essentially, "Why don't you write something the complete opposite of your writing style?" but I find myself just wishing for some vindication. Which, I suspect, won't come for a while. Not because I don't think I'll be published. Just because I think I won't be published anywhere she's heard of.
Moral of this story is, I think, no matter how supportive your parents are, they're still people and have failings, just like you do. I think that's the moral, anyway. The other moral could be buck up, write, act, and create theatre for yourself and nobody else; and quit your whining. It could be a lot worse. That's probably closer to the moral.
Anyway, I'm off. Going to drink some water and talk to my friend Bonnie about the cruise she and her girlfriend are going on.
Monday, November 22, 2004
Web Slingers
My Web site is finally up, and it looks fantastic. Just sheer gorgeousness on a plate--er--screen. Thanks to Ian Knox for doing all of the programming and to my brother for desiging the site. With this development, I might finally pull ahead of the other Matthew Rossi in Google searches.
Victory is in sight!
Victory is in sight!
Saturday, November 20, 2004
Greetings from Marrakech!
I'm currently sitting in the new Morroccan internet cafe that just recently opened in my neighborhood. So far, I love the place. Their Morroccan coffee is delicious; bitter without being painful. Very smooth on the tongue. And their Internet is really and truly free, which always makes me happy. If they had hookahs to smoke here, I think I would be in heaven.
Ever since I disconnected my apartment from the Web, I've enjoyed the experience of communal Internet. It isn't fundamentally different going to a cafe and checking my e-mail on a computer than it was when I could check it at home, but there are subtle differences. It gets me out of the house more, for starters, which is the largest part of what I like about it.
The other day I met Bonnie for lunch and she handed me a copy of Fuck the South. I have to say, I found it very apt, but as someone who lived in the South for five years, I also feel a need to defend the people there. The South is a strange place; they never entirely have gotten over what happened after the Civil War (as evidenced by the fact that it's called the War of Northern Agression down there), and I can't honestly say I blame them. A thriving economy was destroyed by the war, and the North did near nothing afterward to help repair it and bring them into an economy that worked for them. And the Northern attitude that the South is just populated by a bunch of hicks doesn't really help to make them feel as though what we say is good for them. We are, in a lot of ways, a very divided country. Yeah, the North is arrogant. Yeah, we have a right to be, but that doesn't really mean that our arrogance is going to do anything other than further divide our country.
In the week and a half after the election, I was party to a series of e-mail conversations between a group of my former professors. One of them made the point that the Liberal attitude that everyone who isn't Liberal is an idiot and that we're morally and intellectually superior to them is just going to force the nation further to the right. No matter the fact that this attitude is correct--I will happily and loudly call anyone who believes that they have the right to make laws that will take away the freedom of everyone but themselves my moral inferior, and I will be right to do so--it does nothing to root out the problem of why they have a worldview that focuses on bigotted things. Instead, we condemn them, and in doing so we further divide the country.
I have no idea what the answer to this problem is. More listening on both sides would be my suggestion. More willingness to accept that bigots aren't created in a vacuum and that it is just as ignorant when one of us refuses to listen to them as it is when one of them refuses to listen to us. More humanism, less other isms. Man, I'm a hippy.
My continually failed efforts with the laptop hunt have finally come to a close with the purchase of a new IBM T20. It's a very nice computer, faster and smarter than my desktop, with a DVD drive that I can watch movies on. Well...I will be able to, anyway. I'm currently downloading a DVD codec for this very purpose. Hopefully, if all goes well, I'll be able to watch Eternal Sunshine... by the end of the night.
That's it. And happy Thanksgiving, one and all. In a few days, I'll fly home and celebrate the yearly ritual slaying of man's only natural predator: the turkey.
Ever since I disconnected my apartment from the Web, I've enjoyed the experience of communal Internet. It isn't fundamentally different going to a cafe and checking my e-mail on a computer than it was when I could check it at home, but there are subtle differences. It gets me out of the house more, for starters, which is the largest part of what I like about it.
The other day I met Bonnie for lunch and she handed me a copy of Fuck the South. I have to say, I found it very apt, but as someone who lived in the South for five years, I also feel a need to defend the people there. The South is a strange place; they never entirely have gotten over what happened after the Civil War (as evidenced by the fact that it's called the War of Northern Agression down there), and I can't honestly say I blame them. A thriving economy was destroyed by the war, and the North did near nothing afterward to help repair it and bring them into an economy that worked for them. And the Northern attitude that the South is just populated by a bunch of hicks doesn't really help to make them feel as though what we say is good for them. We are, in a lot of ways, a very divided country. Yeah, the North is arrogant. Yeah, we have a right to be, but that doesn't really mean that our arrogance is going to do anything other than further divide our country.
In the week and a half after the election, I was party to a series of e-mail conversations between a group of my former professors. One of them made the point that the Liberal attitude that everyone who isn't Liberal is an idiot and that we're morally and intellectually superior to them is just going to force the nation further to the right. No matter the fact that this attitude is correct--I will happily and loudly call anyone who believes that they have the right to make laws that will take away the freedom of everyone but themselves my moral inferior, and I will be right to do so--it does nothing to root out the problem of why they have a worldview that focuses on bigotted things. Instead, we condemn them, and in doing so we further divide the country.
I have no idea what the answer to this problem is. More listening on both sides would be my suggestion. More willingness to accept that bigots aren't created in a vacuum and that it is just as ignorant when one of us refuses to listen to them as it is when one of them refuses to listen to us. More humanism, less other isms. Man, I'm a hippy.
My continually failed efforts with the laptop hunt have finally come to a close with the purchase of a new IBM T20. It's a very nice computer, faster and smarter than my desktop, with a DVD drive that I can watch movies on. Well...I will be able to, anyway. I'm currently downloading a DVD codec for this very purpose. Hopefully, if all goes well, I'll be able to watch Eternal Sunshine... by the end of the night.
That's it. And happy Thanksgiving, one and all. In a few days, I'll fly home and celebrate the yearly ritual slaying of man's only natural predator: the turkey.
Friday, November 12, 2004
Pranking Steve
I received this in my mailbox today:
Hey, I'd like to enlist your help for a project I'm working on. Okay, it's more of a prank than a project, but with the best of intentions. Here goes: I am currently working at a company called Wextrust. Everyday, for the past two months, Steve has called and asked for Patty to sign his 401K form. And everyday, Patty blew him off. Till today, when his persistence paid off. He showed up here at office, she signed it, he did a little dance. So here is my plan: I'd like to get as many people as possible to send him a congratulatory email. The more people the better. Just let him know that he's a good man and your thoughts and prayers have been with him. And if you want to pass this on to anyone, feel free. But, I'm guessing it's only going to be funny for the next day or two.
CONTACT STEPHEN AT saffarewich@yahoo.com
I'm generally a fan of a good joke, and I'm always a fan of anything that makes someone's life just a little strange for a few days, so I sent Steve a letter as Rev. Matthew Rossi, explaining that my church's congregation has been praying for him and that he's inspired my next sermon.
I recommend you send him e-mails, too. It's great fun and will make his life delightfully weird. Also, he's an improver, so he's trained to handle these situations.
Hey, I'd like to enlist your help for a project I'm working on. Okay, it's more of a prank than a project, but with the best of intentions. Here goes: I am currently working at a company called Wextrust. Everyday, for the past two months, Steve has called and asked for Patty to sign his 401K form. And everyday, Patty blew him off. Till today, when his persistence paid off. He showed up here at office, she signed it, he did a little dance. So here is my plan: I'd like to get as many people as possible to send him a congratulatory email. The more people the better. Just let him know that he's a good man and your thoughts and prayers have been with him. And if you want to pass this on to anyone, feel free. But, I'm guessing it's only going to be funny for the next day or two.
CONTACT STEPHEN AT saffarewich@yahoo.com
I'm generally a fan of a good joke, and I'm always a fan of anything that makes someone's life just a little strange for a few days, so I sent Steve a letter as Rev. Matthew Rossi, explaining that my church's congregation has been praying for him and that he's inspired my next sermon.
I recommend you send him e-mails, too. It's great fun and will make his life delightfully weird. Also, he's an improver, so he's trained to handle these situations.
Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Thing One and Thing Two...Or...My Poor Ignored Produce
Not two days after I blogged about the joys of organic farming and how wonderful it is that I can now get huge amounts of produce, I opened my fridge to make some yummy stir-fry to the sight of such wilt, such squishiness and rot as would make even the sternest heart weep. Poor green beans. Poor red peppers. Poor lettuce. I really did mean to eat you, back a month ago when I saw you in the produce section, so multicolored and inviting. I had such plans to roast those peppers. Such great plans for steamed broccoli with rice and chicken. I'm sorry produce. I failed you. If it's any consolation, the tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwich that I cooked, after I threw away the completely inedible stir-fry I made with you, made me feel like a horribly cliched bachelor and a waste of culinary talent.
It's a problem I think I'm going to have with these coop people--a half bushel of produce is a lot of produce, especially for someone who is almost never home and rarely has time to cook. I'm anticipating making lots of soups and fruit juice punches in the coming weeks. If anyone knows what to do with a pepper squash, please let me know. Seriously. I've got one on my shelf and it keeps staring at me, challenging me to make some new and wonderful recipe with him, and I keep having to back away from him, afraid. Snide little punk-ass squash.
I've been trying to buy a laptop again, having realized that my current laptop can't display this blog screen correctly, and it's not going well. I've e-mailed two people on Craig's List, practically begging them to let me buy their computers from them. "Please," I say, "I'll pay double--triple for it. Just let me buy a computer!" And they haven't e-mailed me back, except to taunt me with the knowledge that the computer is still for sale, without telling me how I might buy it. It seems fate has willed that I not have another laptop. At all. Ever.
Life has been fairly well absorbed in workshop lately. We're writing a lot, which is fun, but a very different process than I usually work in. I usually work alone, and working by committee can be tiring and frustrating. And the play has diverted my from a story I really need to finish about asexual reproduction and memetics. I'm rereading the stories about mitosis and meiosis in Calvino's T Zero, in the hopes that they'll inspire me and get me back on track.
Thing One and Thing Two
Ian (my former roommate for those of you not in the know) walked up to me a moment ago and said, "Two things."
"Thing one?" I asked, looking up from my desk with my usual nonplussed expression.
Thing one was that he thought I might like to make a graphic for my Web site. An icon to appear in the address bar when you sign into me. Um...my site, that is. Nevermind the fact that I have the artistic talent of a clam wearing shoes. I can make a sixteen by sixteen pixel graphic.
Thing two was that I haven't posted his blog anywhere on my blog. And this is true. The reason for this is that I'm desperately insecure and worried that if anyone saw there was another blog they might read, that would divert their attentions away from my blog and I would lose all my friends and wind up alone in the gutter somewhere with nothing but a bottle of Jack Daniels and my old teddy bear from childhood to keep me company.
Yes, my mind really can come up with these scenarios. No, I honestly don't see any need to seek help. Honestly. Yes. Honestly.
Consider yourself posted, Ian.
Also, a thing two of my own. Theresa Nielsen Hayden has some very good suggestions for a way to buy traditional Indian garments directly from thier makers in India, without having to go through a wholesaler or any other middleman. Alas, if only I was a woman or lived in a climate where I could get away with wearing such lightweight fabrics. I may have to buy something, anyway.
It's a problem I think I'm going to have with these coop people--a half bushel of produce is a lot of produce, especially for someone who is almost never home and rarely has time to cook. I'm anticipating making lots of soups and fruit juice punches in the coming weeks. If anyone knows what to do with a pepper squash, please let me know. Seriously. I've got one on my shelf and it keeps staring at me, challenging me to make some new and wonderful recipe with him, and I keep having to back away from him, afraid. Snide little punk-ass squash.
I've been trying to buy a laptop again, having realized that my current laptop can't display this blog screen correctly, and it's not going well. I've e-mailed two people on Craig's List, practically begging them to let me buy their computers from them. "Please," I say, "I'll pay double--triple for it. Just let me buy a computer!" And they haven't e-mailed me back, except to taunt me with the knowledge that the computer is still for sale, without telling me how I might buy it. It seems fate has willed that I not have another laptop. At all. Ever.
Life has been fairly well absorbed in workshop lately. We're writing a lot, which is fun, but a very different process than I usually work in. I usually work alone, and working by committee can be tiring and frustrating. And the play has diverted my from a story I really need to finish about asexual reproduction and memetics. I'm rereading the stories about mitosis and meiosis in Calvino's T Zero, in the hopes that they'll inspire me and get me back on track.
Thing One and Thing Two
Ian (my former roommate for those of you not in the know) walked up to me a moment ago and said, "Two things."
"Thing one?" I asked, looking up from my desk with my usual nonplussed expression.
Thing one was that he thought I might like to make a graphic for my Web site. An icon to appear in the address bar when you sign into me. Um...my site, that is. Nevermind the fact that I have the artistic talent of a clam wearing shoes. I can make a sixteen by sixteen pixel graphic.
Thing two was that I haven't posted his blog anywhere on my blog. And this is true. The reason for this is that I'm desperately insecure and worried that if anyone saw there was another blog they might read, that would divert their attentions away from my blog and I would lose all my friends and wind up alone in the gutter somewhere with nothing but a bottle of Jack Daniels and my old teddy bear from childhood to keep me company.
Yes, my mind really can come up with these scenarios. No, I honestly don't see any need to seek help. Honestly. Yes. Honestly.
Consider yourself posted, Ian.
Also, a thing two of my own. Theresa Nielsen Hayden has some very good suggestions for a way to buy traditional Indian garments directly from thier makers in India, without having to go through a wholesaler or any other middleman. Alas, if only I was a woman or lived in a climate where I could get away with wearing such lightweight fabrics. I may have to buy something, anyway.
Monday, November 08, 2004
Mud's Queens and King's Hill
A week after the election, and I have to admit I do feel better. Mostly because, as it turns out, the whole thing was just a horrible mistake and Bush isn't really our President. Thank God for small miracles and Howard Dean!
The other day my friend, Jessa, suggested the thought that the Democrats really need to start bowing more on the moral issues. At first my mouth gaped and I stared at her like she had gone completely mad with postelection grief. But she made a pretty good point. Her logic goes as follows:
The Democrats can't be left enough to support a truly progressive agenda, but because they won't bow on the moral issues--issues that they don't really support wholeheartedly anyway--they keep losing the votes of mid-liners who are opposed to Bush on social issues but with him on moral issues. If the Democrats would let go of the moral issues that keep holding them back, they would gain immeasurable support from groups like the Black and Latino communities, which they often lose in moral issues because those communities are largely Christian. The end result of this, continues the logic, is that the truly leftist Democrats would have to stand against their party because of the moral issues, eventually creating a third party that would have some strength; the Republicans would have to start shaping up their stance on social policies to avoid losing power altogether; and the Democrats would be able to maintain better control over the government, but with the pull both left and right from the other two parties, would have to keep a stance that was both morally moderate and socially responsible. To me, this seems like a reasonable prediction.
But then, it was about two in the morning when I was listening to all of this, after a good night of partying. So my perceptions might have been skewed.
Life has gone on, though, and that's at least half of what's important. Friday night, I went and saw a friend play at Cosmicafe, which was fantastic. The space was wonderfully warm and cozy, and the music was just right; it reminded me of evenings in high school and college spent in the company of good friends, feeling safe in the world and valued among people, evenings when everything is just right and nothing upset at all.
After the show, a few of us went off to catch a mud-wrestling match by the Mud Queens of Chicago. The Mud Queens of Chicago get together every couple of months as a fund raiser for the Young Women's Empowerment Movement, which is a brilliant marketing strategy. I watched scantily clad women writhe around in mud, and was actually helping to empower women by doing so. It's fantastic. The match was held in a warehouse out in the western parts of the city, and was great fun to watch.
Unfortunately, I ended up missing most of the matches to help a friend get a cab. We walked to the closest main street we could find and called a cab. Then she insisted I leave her, which I did, stupidly. So I'm worried now, because the last time I saw my friend, she was sitting on a bench in a not-great area of town, late at night, waiting for a cab, and she hasn't returned my phone calls since. Which means that, if anything happened to her, it would at least be half my fault. Luckily, my friend is a big girl--in the empowered emotional sense, not the size sense--and she can probably take care of herself. Yeah. I think I'll keep telling myself that.
In lighter news, my friend Bonnie turned me on to King's Hill Farm, which is an organic produce cooperative out in Illinois. They have a delivery program for people in the city. Last week, Bonnie ordered thirty dollars worth of produce and had pounds and pounds of good apples, squash, potatoes, and--most surprisingly--pomegranates. Where the hell do pomegranates grow in Illinois? I have no idea how they did it. I signed on today and can't wait to see what I get in my first shipment.
This eliminates about half my grocery problems, too, since really produce is mostly what I like to get (because it's cheaper than meat and goes a longer way). I'm very excited.
That's that. If you happen to be an attractive young Jewish girl who I stupidly and drunkenly left sitting alone, please contact me, if for no other reason than to let me know you're okay.
The other day my friend, Jessa, suggested the thought that the Democrats really need to start bowing more on the moral issues. At first my mouth gaped and I stared at her like she had gone completely mad with postelection grief. But she made a pretty good point. Her logic goes as follows:
The Democrats can't be left enough to support a truly progressive agenda, but because they won't bow on the moral issues--issues that they don't really support wholeheartedly anyway--they keep losing the votes of mid-liners who are opposed to Bush on social issues but with him on moral issues. If the Democrats would let go of the moral issues that keep holding them back, they would gain immeasurable support from groups like the Black and Latino communities, which they often lose in moral issues because those communities are largely Christian. The end result of this, continues the logic, is that the truly leftist Democrats would have to stand against their party because of the moral issues, eventually creating a third party that would have some strength; the Republicans would have to start shaping up their stance on social policies to avoid losing power altogether; and the Democrats would be able to maintain better control over the government, but with the pull both left and right from the other two parties, would have to keep a stance that was both morally moderate and socially responsible. To me, this seems like a reasonable prediction.
But then, it was about two in the morning when I was listening to all of this, after a good night of partying. So my perceptions might have been skewed.
Life has gone on, though, and that's at least half of what's important. Friday night, I went and saw a friend play at Cosmicafe, which was fantastic. The space was wonderfully warm and cozy, and the music was just right; it reminded me of evenings in high school and college spent in the company of good friends, feeling safe in the world and valued among people, evenings when everything is just right and nothing upset at all.
After the show, a few of us went off to catch a mud-wrestling match by the Mud Queens of Chicago. The Mud Queens of Chicago get together every couple of months as a fund raiser for the Young Women's Empowerment Movement, which is a brilliant marketing strategy. I watched scantily clad women writhe around in mud, and was actually helping to empower women by doing so. It's fantastic. The match was held in a warehouse out in the western parts of the city, and was great fun to watch.
Unfortunately, I ended up missing most of the matches to help a friend get a cab. We walked to the closest main street we could find and called a cab. Then she insisted I leave her, which I did, stupidly. So I'm worried now, because the last time I saw my friend, she was sitting on a bench in a not-great area of town, late at night, waiting for a cab, and she hasn't returned my phone calls since. Which means that, if anything happened to her, it would at least be half my fault. Luckily, my friend is a big girl--in the empowered emotional sense, not the size sense--and she can probably take care of herself. Yeah. I think I'll keep telling myself that.
In lighter news, my friend Bonnie turned me on to King's Hill Farm, which is an organic produce cooperative out in Illinois. They have a delivery program for people in the city. Last week, Bonnie ordered thirty dollars worth of produce and had pounds and pounds of good apples, squash, potatoes, and--most surprisingly--pomegranates. Where the hell do pomegranates grow in Illinois? I have no idea how they did it. I signed on today and can't wait to see what I get in my first shipment.
This eliminates about half my grocery problems, too, since really produce is mostly what I like to get (because it's cheaper than meat and goes a longer way). I'm very excited.
That's that. If you happen to be an attractive young Jewish girl who I stupidly and drunkenly left sitting alone, please contact me, if for no other reason than to let me know you're okay.
Friday, November 05, 2004
How Quickly My Links Lose Their Poignancy
I just updated the opening link to my last post, so that it leads to somewhere real, only to find that the somewhere real that it leads to has changed into something completely new. Um. Which just goes to show that life is ephemeral by nature, as are most of the things worth having in it.
Actually, it probably doesn't go to show that, at all. It probably doesn't go to show anything but that I need to learn to use blogger a little better. But I can pretend.
Since Wednesday, I've been seriously looking into viable ways for me to skip town...and country...and find myself a nice little job as an expatriate somewhere. Unfortunately nobody is hiring expatriates anymore, even slightly curmudgeony ones with keen senses of humor. So barring that, I've been looking into teaching English abroad. Which led me to, So You Wanna Teach English Abroad? which has some seemingly good advice for people looking into teaching English abroad.
Sadly, I think that I'm going to be here for a little while. I've been trying to convince the others in my theatre company that we should get up and move to Prague--if the price of beer is any indication, we could probably buy a whole theatre for a thousand dollars. Maybe ten. So far, they haven't bought it.
My friend Bonnie, having more or less (and more more than less) made up her mind to get out of this country, sent me this article. It contains lots of advice on how to expatriate, my favorite of which (and the sole reason Bonnie sent me the article) is this:
Imaginary nations
Perhaps the most elegant solution is to join a country that exists only in one's own-or someone else's-imagination. Many such virtual nations can be found on the Internet, and citizenships in them are easy to acquire. This, in fact, was the route most recently attempted by Kenneth Nichols O'Keefe, the unfortunate ex-Marine.
In 2002, my roommate and I, having realized that the U.S. government didn't really stand for anything we stood for, declared our apartment a new nation, called Xsnania (don't try to pronounce it...you will only fail). The basic idea with Xsnania was that all nations are imaginary--they only occupy the territory that groups of people have agreed upon, and their government only exists inasamuchas people agree their government exists. The only difference with Xsnania was that we readily accepted and embraced our imaginary existence.
Becoming a citizen is easy, by the way. It only requires drinking from a cup and repeating an oath after us. And it comes with the title of your choosing. Which is more than you can say for most citizenships of the world.
Actually, it probably doesn't go to show that, at all. It probably doesn't go to show anything but that I need to learn to use blogger a little better. But I can pretend.
Since Wednesday, I've been seriously looking into viable ways for me to skip town...and country...and find myself a nice little job as an expatriate somewhere. Unfortunately nobody is hiring expatriates anymore, even slightly curmudgeony ones with keen senses of humor. So barring that, I've been looking into teaching English abroad. Which led me to, So You Wanna Teach English Abroad? which has some seemingly good advice for people looking into teaching English abroad.
Sadly, I think that I'm going to be here for a little while. I've been trying to convince the others in my theatre company that we should get up and move to Prague--if the price of beer is any indication, we could probably buy a whole theatre for a thousand dollars. Maybe ten. So far, they haven't bought it.
My friend Bonnie, having more or less (and more more than less) made up her mind to get out of this country, sent me this article. It contains lots of advice on how to expatriate, my favorite of which (and the sole reason Bonnie sent me the article) is this:
Imaginary nations
Perhaps the most elegant solution is to join a country that exists only in one's own-or someone else's-imagination. Many such virtual nations can be found on the Internet, and citizenships in them are easy to acquire. This, in fact, was the route most recently attempted by Kenneth Nichols O'Keefe, the unfortunate ex-Marine.
In 2002, my roommate and I, having realized that the U.S. government didn't really stand for anything we stood for, declared our apartment a new nation, called Xsnania (don't try to pronounce it...you will only fail). The basic idea with Xsnania was that all nations are imaginary--they only occupy the territory that groups of people have agreed upon, and their government only exists inasamuchas people agree their government exists. The only difference with Xsnania was that we readily accepted and embraced our imaginary existence.
Becoming a citizen is easy, by the way. It only requires drinking from a cup and repeating an oath after us. And it comes with the title of your choosing. Which is more than you can say for most citizenships of the world.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
My Nation's Legacy
This is who we've voted for. This is what we decided was best for our country. Anyone who sees this, this is your children, your brothers, your husbands and wives, daughters, grandchildren. This is nobody who he knows. This is nobody who he has ever cared about. We were supposed to care about these people and we didn't. We failed.
All eloquence has fairly well fled my mind. So I'm reduced to just a flight of rage.
Fuck you, John Kerry, and the sincere thanks you sent me this morning. You conceded before you even counted all the votes. And fuck you, George Bush for fucking up my country. You've given me four more years of ulcers. And fuck you everyone who voted for that rat bastard, who voted your wallets instead of humanity. Fuck you people who voted FOR the gay marriage ban last night. Did you realize that there were actual live people whose lives and dreams and loves you were ruining? Damn near desstroying? Did you think you were just playing rhetorical games with levers? And fuck you, everyone who could have voted and didn't.
And thank you to the people who voted and who helped and who cared and who continue to care and who will continue to fight, just fight, just don't give up. This is our country, not theirs and they don't get to have it.
Okay, now that I got that out of my system, my day thus far:
I woke up at seven feeling perky enough from my two hours of sleep to go to work for an hour and crash, so I opted to stay home instead. Work up again at one and went toward the Grind for a cup of coffee, some food, and to see if I could connect to the Internet and find out who my President is. When I was across the street from Bonnie's house, she called me and told me Kerry was conceding, so I crossed the street and caught Kerry's last few minutes of speech and a room full of my friends in tears and the beginning of what can only be a bad day for my country.
Sigh. I have nothing left to say just now. I'm scared. Genuinely scared. And I'm considering moving to France or Spain or Germany or some place where I can teach English and flip my finger at Chuckles the Monkeyboy President.
And I'm sad, now, and worried for my friends.
All eloquence has fairly well fled my mind. So I'm reduced to just a flight of rage.
Fuck you, John Kerry, and the sincere thanks you sent me this morning. You conceded before you even counted all the votes. And fuck you, George Bush for fucking up my country. You've given me four more years of ulcers. And fuck you everyone who voted for that rat bastard, who voted your wallets instead of humanity. Fuck you people who voted FOR the gay marriage ban last night. Did you realize that there were actual live people whose lives and dreams and loves you were ruining? Damn near desstroying? Did you think you were just playing rhetorical games with levers? And fuck you, everyone who could have voted and didn't.
And thank you to the people who voted and who helped and who cared and who continue to care and who will continue to fight, just fight, just don't give up. This is our country, not theirs and they don't get to have it.
Okay, now that I got that out of my system, my day thus far:
I woke up at seven feeling perky enough from my two hours of sleep to go to work for an hour and crash, so I opted to stay home instead. Work up again at one and went toward the Grind for a cup of coffee, some food, and to see if I could connect to the Internet and find out who my President is. When I was across the street from Bonnie's house, she called me and told me Kerry was conceding, so I crossed the street and caught Kerry's last few minutes of speech and a room full of my friends in tears and the beginning of what can only be a bad day for my country.
Sigh. I have nothing left to say just now. I'm scared. Genuinely scared. And I'm considering moving to France or Spain or Germany or some place where I can teach English and flip my finger at Chuckles the Monkeyboy President.
And I'm sad, now, and worried for my friends.
It's two thirty in the morning, and the map is bright red and my hopes for an American election going smoothly are slowly whittling away. What the fuck is up with you, Ohio? The economy is shit. Your people are in jeopardy and it was largely the fault of the smirking monkey. Why haven't you comprehensively get rid of the bastard?
It's been 249-225 for at least an hour. Don't know if I'll be in work tomorrow. I suppose I have to, but it's really dragging on. Longer than I thought, but I don't know why I'm surprised. I can't sleep until it's over. Bonnie and Darcy are hosting and I think they're worried, and rightly so, and so am I.
Fox declared Ohio hours ago, but it isn't decided. It's 2:30 and it isn't decided. Fox is fucking shit.
I'm glad I don't have a television so I couldn't be watching this alone at home. And I'm glad that I'm here with friends who I want to be here with, otherwise I don't know if I would have the means and will to stay up watching this. But I want to watch. I have to watch. This is a moment in the history of my nation. If they take this one, what then? Anyone can do it, if they can do it twice.
Off to make tea and then spend some time with my friends.
It's been 249-225 for at least an hour. Don't know if I'll be in work tomorrow. I suppose I have to, but it's really dragging on. Longer than I thought, but I don't know why I'm surprised. I can't sleep until it's over. Bonnie and Darcy are hosting and I think they're worried, and rightly so, and so am I.
Fox declared Ohio hours ago, but it isn't decided. It's 2:30 and it isn't decided. Fox is fucking shit.
I'm glad I don't have a television so I couldn't be watching this alone at home. And I'm glad that I'm here with friends who I want to be here with, otherwise I don't know if I would have the means and will to stay up watching this. But I want to watch. I have to watch. This is a moment in the history of my nation. If they take this one, what then? Anyone can do it, if they can do it twice.
Off to make tea and then spend some time with my friends.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Low Tech Election Night
I just spent a half hour or so trying to get to this page so I could update my blog, and it seems my browser suffers from the same problem as my dad's browser: no toolbar. Some updates to my software may be in order. And me no longer living with a technical wizard.
But it's election night, which makes me very unconcerned with posting links at the moment. I'm stressed. After I voted this morning, but before work, I was in Kopi cafe getting a scone and a latte for breakfast when I overheard a guy say, "I just hope the election is decided tonight. Even if Bush is elected. I just can't handle the trauma of another fiasco like we had last time." I thought about it a minute and turned to him and suggested that, perhaps the trauma of another election fiasco would be significantly better than the trauma of four more years with that chuckling frat boy in the Oval Office. But there were intelligent conversations today. A few months ago, one of the guys who panhandle on my way home from work called out, "Support a Democrat. Give some change." I gave him some change, because I appreciate a clever panhandler (perhaps too much) and didn't give it any thought. But I passed him today on my way home and stopped to ask him if he had voted today. He had. In fact, he told me that he was among the only ones voting in his precinct who got his ballot right on the first try. Anyway, we chatted for a bit. He told me he almost voted for Bush--which made me bite my lip bloody--but that he went with Kerry in the end. It was a good conversation, devoid of the usual panhandler/giver dynamic. A conversation between two Americans about their experience on Election Day.
I'm off to Bonnie and Darcy's house, to gather with some comfort food, some good wine, and some good friends to pray to whatever gods we can muster and sway this election to our favor. Tomorrow a new day dawns, no matter what happens tonight. I have to remember that.
But it's election night, which makes me very unconcerned with posting links at the moment. I'm stressed. After I voted this morning, but before work, I was in Kopi cafe getting a scone and a latte for breakfast when I overheard a guy say, "I just hope the election is decided tonight. Even if Bush is elected. I just can't handle the trauma of another fiasco like we had last time." I thought about it a minute and turned to him and suggested that, perhaps the trauma of another election fiasco would be significantly better than the trauma of four more years with that chuckling frat boy in the Oval Office. But there were intelligent conversations today. A few months ago, one of the guys who panhandle on my way home from work called out, "Support a Democrat. Give some change." I gave him some change, because I appreciate a clever panhandler (perhaps too much) and didn't give it any thought. But I passed him today on my way home and stopped to ask him if he had voted today. He had. In fact, he told me that he was among the only ones voting in his precinct who got his ballot right on the first try. Anyway, we chatted for a bit. He told me he almost voted for Bush--which made me bite my lip bloody--but that he went with Kerry in the end. It was a good conversation, devoid of the usual panhandler/giver dynamic. A conversation between two Americans about their experience on Election Day.
I'm off to Bonnie and Darcy's house, to gather with some comfort food, some good wine, and some good friends to pray to whatever gods we can muster and sway this election to our favor. Tomorrow a new day dawns, no matter what happens tonight. I have to remember that.
Monday, November 01, 2004
A link or two...
Goths for Bush make possibly the only good case for voting for Bush that I have ever seen.
We are forming this Goth Republican Band to help elect George Bush to continue the sadness. His actions facilitate our morbid fascination and the beauty of enduring pain. Many people lead unhappy lives and that is sad. Bush will continue the sadness.
Still not a great reason, but it's the best one I've heard. Certainly the most true to life.
And for continued Bushisms, there's the Drop a Brain in George Bush's Head game. It's giddy good fun.
And finally, because I can't have everything be about Bush, I've recently made random friends with an L.A. Based photographer named Alex Gibson. Here's a link to her Web site. I really love her pictures of Paris. Makes me want to be back there. But alas, I am stuck in rainy Chicago, where it's cold and sad...I think I'll go dress in black and vote Republican...
Goths for Bush make possibly the only good case for voting for Bush that I have ever seen.
We are forming this Goth Republican Band to help elect George Bush to continue the sadness. His actions facilitate our morbid fascination and the beauty of enduring pain. Many people lead unhappy lives and that is sad. Bush will continue the sadness.
Still not a great reason, but it's the best one I've heard. Certainly the most true to life.
And for continued Bushisms, there's the Drop a Brain in George Bush's Head game. It's giddy good fun.
And finally, because I can't have everything be about Bush, I've recently made random friends with an L.A. Based photographer named Alex Gibson. Here's a link to her Web site. I really love her pictures of Paris. Makes me want to be back there. But alas, I am stuck in rainy Chicago, where it's cold and sad...I think I'll go dress in black and vote Republican...
VOTE! TOMORROW! OR ELSE!
Because, if you don't, you don't get to participate in the best part of American politics: griping about what a bad job your president is doing. Imagine four years not being able to comment on how stupid President Kerry's stance on homosexual marriage is...or, you know, whoever wins tomorrow.
Because, if you don't, you don't get to participate in the best part of American politics: griping about what a bad job your president is doing. Imagine four years not being able to comment on how stupid President Kerry's stance on homosexual marriage is...or, you know, whoever wins tomorrow.
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