Being just after midnight, this is now ten years to the day from the day I found out how JP felt about me. This is ten years to the day from "coffee", from that whispered conversation about the balcony and how he used to dream of me, wearing that miniskirt I used to wear to those parties; how he used to dream of taking me out there and putting me up against the wall. And I remember looking around that living room, the edgy squalor of Humboldt Park circa 1994, when the only ones who lived there were the real hardcore artists--I remember looking around that room and thinking it's a shame I'll never be able to come back here again... I remember him saying "all right, then...one kiss. One kiss and I won't mention it again..." And even though I knew better--I was married, after all, and he was temperamental, mercurial, out of my reach, the same man I hadn't spoken to for over two years, who pushed away my every attempt to reach him--even though I knew better, I let him kiss me. And then it wasn't "letting" him do anything; then it was ohhhh shit...this might have been a bad idea, you know?
I promised myself when I left that I would never go back.
I promised myself that despite what I'd promised him, I wouldn't call. I promised myself that I would go home and be with David and do what was right; I would look for a job and cook and clean, pay the bills and support David and work to help him set up his business. And if I wanted friends, I'd hang out with Carissa, or Gwen from work, or something.
That lasted a week or ten days; I remember locking myself in the office behind the media center at the school and calling him. I remember him being angry at me for not calling--I didn't know I was the last slim thread holding him away from Susan--and I remember him wanting to see me. I wasn't going to go--I swear I wasn't--I knew it as I left the house that saturday to go to hang out where Carissa was housesitting....conveniently about ten minutes from the Humboldt Park apartment. I wasn't going to go, and then I was suddenly there. And ever since then, for ten years now, he's been the center of everything--the love of my life, the ghost in my closet, the rationale for all my hope--and his absence has been the rationale for all my silence and my cynicism, my nihilistic shrug-and-change-the-channel little cocoon.
I loved him, and he's gone. We had made a million plans, and they died with him. He was the only other human being who has ever seen me as the person I dreamed of being, instead of the flawed little wreck I was. We knew each other, he and I; could finish each other's sentences, could speak for hours with just long looks or fingertips grazing flesh. He made me laugh and he made me think, and he made me want, too. And in the end, he made me stronger...maybe. I am not the person I was, nor have I been since the day he died. I am not the person I dreamed of becoming; though I have a life and it's a good one, it's not the life we should have had.
Wednesday, April 21, 2004
Monday, April 5, 2004
Poem
Magdalene Plus Ten
Magdalene
awakes this morning to a perfect sky
wanders beneath it to the market
does not, does not, does not remember Him today.
The men don’t watch her anymore;
that swaying grace now gone to fat,
the silken hair gone gray,
her shoulders sag.
Her siren eyes are silenced, avert their path
skipping over broad-shouldered barriers before her.
The rest,
of course,
remember:
the snap and sibilance
that hushes when she nears,
the eternal womens’ voice…
not today,
she prays,
please, not today.
Deaf to her, they whisper;
ten intervening years no balm.
She!—they say—why HER?
So many worthier than she,
such virtues, too many righteous to ignore…
…outrage that will not be soothed.
And look at her, they say, his holy one
today—unchurched and pagan, old and solitary,
such a waste of time…if He had taught ME, now…
Just goes to show, they say, whores will be whores…
…whores will be whores.
And Magdalene walks through their chill,
not a whore, not now
nor the saint they would demand.
They think she has forgotten
what she was and what He made her…
herself, she wonders sometimes
for what had she been saved—for this?
For bowed-head walks to work and market,
for coal-dark untouched nights,
for scorn?
They do not know
the ticking of the passing nights and years,
the empty rooms and hours, hunger
fed only on memory and scraps of miracle.
Beside her bed this night she kneels,
like them,
praying for a new messiah.
5 April 2004
(for WTW and KDC, and June)
Magdalene
awakes this morning to a perfect sky
wanders beneath it to the market
does not, does not, does not remember Him today.
The men don’t watch her anymore;
that swaying grace now gone to fat,
the silken hair gone gray,
her shoulders sag.
Her siren eyes are silenced, avert their path
skipping over broad-shouldered barriers before her.
The rest,
of course,
remember:
the snap and sibilance
that hushes when she nears,
the eternal womens’ voice…
not today,
she prays,
please, not today.
Deaf to her, they whisper;
ten intervening years no balm.
She!—they say—why HER?
So many worthier than she,
such virtues, too many righteous to ignore…
…outrage that will not be soothed.
And look at her, they say, his holy one
today—unchurched and pagan, old and solitary,
such a waste of time…if He had taught ME, now…
Just goes to show, they say, whores will be whores…
…whores will be whores.
And Magdalene walks through their chill,
not a whore, not now
nor the saint they would demand.
They think she has forgotten
what she was and what He made her…
herself, she wonders sometimes
for what had she been saved—for this?
For bowed-head walks to work and market,
for coal-dark untouched nights,
for scorn?
They do not know
the ticking of the passing nights and years,
the empty rooms and hours, hunger
fed only on memory and scraps of miracle.
Beside her bed this night she kneels,
like them,
praying for a new messiah.
5 April 2004
(for WTW and KDC, and June)
Friday, March 12, 2004
Spam Poem, again
This improbable place
airtight.
Re: Summer is coming
Yea!
Trip into fall--somewhere LA, anywhere USA,
a imagisms historiograph divulger worm.
Smile,
and get your ink at unbeatable prices.
Lottery poisson proven choppy; could it hurt to ENLARGE?
Yea!
airtight.
Re: Summer is coming
Yea!
Trip into fall--somewhere LA, anywhere USA,
a imagisms historiograph divulger worm.
Smile,
and get your ink at unbeatable prices.
Lottery poisson proven choppy; could it hurt to ENLARGE?
Yea!
Monday, March 8, 2004
I love meetings.
And I also love ripping out my toenails with pliers...
and extracting my own teeth...
and covering myself with papercuts and diving into a bath of brine, and...
You get the idea.
Explain to me this, someone out there (and yes, I know there's no one out there, but it comforts me substantially to -imagine- that there is):
It is the busy season. The busy season involves many and varied complicated tasks, most of which involve me to a greater or lesser extent. The busy season culminates with the March 15th mailing.
The week of March 15th, I will be in a class. Therefore, all my tasks must be completed before Friday, March 12th.
Now, would a logical mind not conclude that, if I am to get all these complicated tasks completed by that deadline so that the mailing can proceed as planned, it might be a good idea to JUST LET ME DO THE FREAKING THINGS and leave me ALONE?
Well, if that's what you think, then clearly you and I do not work in the same organization. Because, see, where I work, this week has been designated "Schedule a Meeting with Gladys" week. Today: A meeting with Beverly, Amy, and Noreen regarding updating our mailing database. A second meeting with Ruth-Anne, Lina, Marcia, and Joanie regarding the computer needs for the summer season. A staff meeting tomorrow, and another with...oh, crap, I don't even remember. All I know is, the whole damn week is a total loss and I'm not going to get a damn thing done, and then they're going to want to know why. And they won't accept the answer when I tell them!
and extracting my own teeth...
and covering myself with papercuts and diving into a bath of brine, and...
You get the idea.
Explain to me this, someone out there (and yes, I know there's no one out there, but it comforts me substantially to -imagine- that there is):
It is the busy season. The busy season involves many and varied complicated tasks, most of which involve me to a greater or lesser extent. The busy season culminates with the March 15th mailing.
The week of March 15th, I will be in a class. Therefore, all my tasks must be completed before Friday, March 12th.
Now, would a logical mind not conclude that, if I am to get all these complicated tasks completed by that deadline so that the mailing can proceed as planned, it might be a good idea to JUST LET ME DO THE FREAKING THINGS and leave me ALONE?
Well, if that's what you think, then clearly you and I do not work in the same organization. Because, see, where I work, this week has been designated "Schedule a Meeting with Gladys" week. Today: A meeting with Beverly, Amy, and Noreen regarding updating our mailing database. A second meeting with Ruth-Anne, Lina, Marcia, and Joanie regarding the computer needs for the summer season. A staff meeting tomorrow, and another with...oh, crap, I don't even remember. All I know is, the whole damn week is a total loss and I'm not going to get a damn thing done, and then they're going to want to know why. And they won't accept the answer when I tell them!
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Thoughts on watching "Bowling for Columbine"
Thought #1: Does it make me a radical that when I watch this movie my main response is "Yeah, and...?" All this is the same stuff I believe anyway...it's like, the sky is blue, and this is a fucked-up gun-worshipping illogical culture that has very poor judgement as a whole. The two statements are about equivalent in their shock value to me.
Thought #2: I'm not sure that's James Nichols being interviewed by Moore. It LOOKS like they couldn't GET James Nichols, and instead they hired Mike McDonald from MAD TV to PLAY Nichols. The man is literally a caricature of himself; as Stella would say, "a wackadoodle". I half-expected him to burst out into the Stuart character: "Look what I can do!"
Thought #3: I'm wasting my life doing nothing. I could be Michael Moore (though I think I take myself a little too seriously to do THAT). I could be writing and raging and speaking my mind--and I'm not. In fact, most of the things I say are focussed on the fact that I'm not saying anything. Which is, should you wonder, a ghastly reductionist paradox, and no fun at all to live in.
Thought #4: I have a new respect for Marilyn Manson after watching this movie. Not that I will EVER listen to his crap-ass nu-metal pseudo-Goth music; in fact, the obvious compassion and intellect he displays during his interview with Moore makes his music and his posturing all the more pathetic. He obviously has a grasp of the difficulties of being a kid, of the influence of the media--"...and it's a campaign of fear and consumption...keep everyone afraid, and they'll consume." And I liked what he said about the people of Littleton when Moore asked what he would say if he could talk to the people who were affected by the shooting: "I wouldn't say a word--I'd just listen to what they had to say."
Thought #5 (in which I expose my real naivete): Truthfully, I didn't entirely realize up til now the following: in terms of atrocities, the Democrats are no better than the Republicans. The Republicans seem to INITIATE more atrocities; the Democrats, though, when they have the opportunity, generally fail to STOP them. They don't start TOO many new ones--Kosovo and Waco standing out as recent Very Big Exceptions--but they don't STOP them either.
Thought #6: Charlton Heston is, without exception, the biggest asshole in human history. No, that honor does not fall to George W, Hitler, or any of the other likely candidates--because THOSE guys were evil. Heston is clearly evil in his own way, but Heston is deliberately, provokingly, schoolyard-bully cruel. To stand in a community which has just suffered a loss of that magnitude, hold aloft an example of the weapon that brought that loss about, and state "I have just five words to say to you tonight: FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!"...That takes a level of jackassery not previously seen in humankind.
I don't know if there's a place on earth that doesn't contain fucksticks like these. I just know that America has more than its fair A.P.S.M ratio: Assholes Per Square Mile.
(Funniest quote, from a news voiceover: "This t-shirt landed a student in court; she wanted to start an Anarchy Club." Um, an Anarchy Club? Isn't that an oxymoron?)
There's so much more I want to say on this, but as always, I don't have enough time.
Thought #2: I'm not sure that's James Nichols being interviewed by Moore. It LOOKS like they couldn't GET James Nichols, and instead they hired Mike McDonald from MAD TV to PLAY Nichols. The man is literally a caricature of himself; as Stella would say, "a wackadoodle". I half-expected him to burst out into the Stuart character: "Look what I can do!"
Thought #3: I'm wasting my life doing nothing. I could be Michael Moore (though I think I take myself a little too seriously to do THAT). I could be writing and raging and speaking my mind--and I'm not. In fact, most of the things I say are focussed on the fact that I'm not saying anything. Which is, should you wonder, a ghastly reductionist paradox, and no fun at all to live in.
Thought #4: I have a new respect for Marilyn Manson after watching this movie. Not that I will EVER listen to his crap-ass nu-metal pseudo-Goth music; in fact, the obvious compassion and intellect he displays during his interview with Moore makes his music and his posturing all the more pathetic. He obviously has a grasp of the difficulties of being a kid, of the influence of the media--"...and it's a campaign of fear and consumption...keep everyone afraid, and they'll consume." And I liked what he said about the people of Littleton when Moore asked what he would say if he could talk to the people who were affected by the shooting: "I wouldn't say a word--I'd just listen to what they had to say."
Thought #5 (in which I expose my real naivete): Truthfully, I didn't entirely realize up til now the following: in terms of atrocities, the Democrats are no better than the Republicans. The Republicans seem to INITIATE more atrocities; the Democrats, though, when they have the opportunity, generally fail to STOP them. They don't start TOO many new ones--Kosovo and Waco standing out as recent Very Big Exceptions--but they don't STOP them either.
Thought #6: Charlton Heston is, without exception, the biggest asshole in human history. No, that honor does not fall to George W, Hitler, or any of the other likely candidates--because THOSE guys were evil. Heston is clearly evil in his own way, but Heston is deliberately, provokingly, schoolyard-bully cruel. To stand in a community which has just suffered a loss of that magnitude, hold aloft an example of the weapon that brought that loss about, and state "I have just five words to say to you tonight: FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS!"...That takes a level of jackassery not previously seen in humankind.
I don't know if there's a place on earth that doesn't contain fucksticks like these. I just know that America has more than its fair A.P.S.M ratio: Assholes Per Square Mile.
(Funniest quote, from a news voiceover: "This t-shirt landed a student in court; she wanted to start an Anarchy Club." Um, an Anarchy Club? Isn't that an oxymoron?)
There's so much more I want to say on this, but as always, I don't have enough time.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
Decision Made Today
By one year from today, one of the following three things will have happened:
1. I will have a new job outside of the organization in which I currently work;
2. I will have a different job in a different department at the same organization;
or 3. I will have my own business and be working for myself.
Today was the last straw. There's just no way I'm going to continue working there. Though I love what I do, I absolutely cannot continue to work for those people.
What happened? This morning, I walked in the door and Beverly immediately started in on me about her fucking laptop. Now, I have personally researched the problem. I have called Apple twice. I have spoken to the head of Tech Support, and every time I have asked an expert I have gotten the same answer: An Airport card on a Mac with OS 9 will connect to a wireless network set up on an Airport Extreme base station. I have passed this along to Beverly. Every time, she takes the laptop home and tells me "It doesn't work." I personally cannot test it in the environment she's using; I don't have Comcast at the office, for one, and I can't set up my own wireless network on the network because if I do, I.T. will shut me down. So all I can do is work from Apple's docs and from what I've been instructed to do; and then at her end, there's some setup she has to do. (She refuses to invest any time in it, which is in my opinion the second-most-likely source of the problem, running second only to "the card is broken.") She has already made up her mind that it's not going to work, and any information I give her is automatically wrong. The latest "expert" is some dweeb from Best Buy who says it won't work. Now, leaving ME totally out of the picture, tell me this--given the following information sources, which would you believe? On one side, two Apple Computer service techs and the head of a major tech support help desk; on the other side, a guy in a blue shirt at Best Buy who's never seen the computer or heard the configuration from any but the least informed source??
This is not the first time this has happened. I understand that she's frustrated and wants her computer to work. Really I do. But when she starts implying that I don't know what I'm doing--or WORSE, the thing that makes me REALLY angry, that I haven't put any time or thought into the information that I give her--or even worse than THAT, that I'm LYING!!--that is not professional in the least. If I did anything even one-tenth as unprofessional as that, I would be hauled into the office and told about my behavior and my attitude and everything else that's apparently wrong with me. In fact, I have been called on the carpet for MUCH less. And what's more, she KNOWS this is unprofessional, because Amy has attempted to convey my anger to her on more than one occasion, and on more than one occasion she has APOLOGIZED for doing exactly this. Obviously this is one of those cases where "I'm sorry" means "...until the next time I do it."
So they can go fuck themselves. If they can't treat me with a modicum of professionalism and respect for my abilities and contributions, they can deal with finding someone to replace me--someone willing to accept that sort of treatment, willing to deal with Noreen's constant criticism and the ghastly low morale engendered by bad management and favoritism. (Their last three techs lasted an average of eight months each; I've hung on for nearly 4 years.) I am going to ask the head of Tech tomorrow if he'll keep me in mind if one of his guys quits; I'm going to polish my resume', and I'm going to start watching outside ads; I'm going to contact the ad agency where I used to work and see if THEY need anyone. 365 days from now, I will NOT be in this job anymore.
1. I will have a new job outside of the organization in which I currently work;
2. I will have a different job in a different department at the same organization;
or 3. I will have my own business and be working for myself.
Today was the last straw. There's just no way I'm going to continue working there. Though I love what I do, I absolutely cannot continue to work for those people.
What happened? This morning, I walked in the door and Beverly immediately started in on me about her fucking laptop. Now, I have personally researched the problem. I have called Apple twice. I have spoken to the head of Tech Support, and every time I have asked an expert I have gotten the same answer: An Airport card on a Mac with OS 9 will connect to a wireless network set up on an Airport Extreme base station. I have passed this along to Beverly. Every time, she takes the laptop home and tells me "It doesn't work." I personally cannot test it in the environment she's using; I don't have Comcast at the office, for one, and I can't set up my own wireless network on the network because if I do, I.T. will shut me down. So all I can do is work from Apple's docs and from what I've been instructed to do; and then at her end, there's some setup she has to do. (She refuses to invest any time in it, which is in my opinion the second-most-likely source of the problem, running second only to "the card is broken.") She has already made up her mind that it's not going to work, and any information I give her is automatically wrong. The latest "expert" is some dweeb from Best Buy who says it won't work. Now, leaving ME totally out of the picture, tell me this--given the following information sources, which would you believe? On one side, two Apple Computer service techs and the head of a major tech support help desk; on the other side, a guy in a blue shirt at Best Buy who's never seen the computer or heard the configuration from any but the least informed source??
This is not the first time this has happened. I understand that she's frustrated and wants her computer to work. Really I do. But when she starts implying that I don't know what I'm doing--or WORSE, the thing that makes me REALLY angry, that I haven't put any time or thought into the information that I give her--or even worse than THAT, that I'm LYING!!--that is not professional in the least. If I did anything even one-tenth as unprofessional as that, I would be hauled into the office and told about my behavior and my attitude and everything else that's apparently wrong with me. In fact, I have been called on the carpet for MUCH less. And what's more, she KNOWS this is unprofessional, because Amy has attempted to convey my anger to her on more than one occasion, and on more than one occasion she has APOLOGIZED for doing exactly this. Obviously this is one of those cases where "I'm sorry" means "...until the next time I do it."
So they can go fuck themselves. If they can't treat me with a modicum of professionalism and respect for my abilities and contributions, they can deal with finding someone to replace me--someone willing to accept that sort of treatment, willing to deal with Noreen's constant criticism and the ghastly low morale engendered by bad management and favoritism. (Their last three techs lasted an average of eight months each; I've hung on for nearly 4 years.) I am going to ask the head of Tech tomorrow if he'll keep me in mind if one of his guys quits; I'm going to polish my resume', and I'm going to start watching outside ads; I'm going to contact the ad agency where I used to work and see if THEY need anyone. 365 days from now, I will NOT be in this job anymore.
Friday, February 13, 2004
Empowerment Makes Me Giggle
This was in my e-mail box today, forwarded from a Northwestern-dwelling acquaintance who knows my love of things absurd...
NU Vagina Monologues 2004
Evanston Campus
Friday, February 13 @ 8pm
Saturday, February 14 @ 2pm & 8pm
...
Proceeds benefit the Young Women's Empowerment Project
An hour and a half before each performance, there will be a Vagina Carnival in the Purdue Room, where there will be games, activities, and all kinds of useful info. T-shirts that read "I (heart) NU VAGINAS" will be on sale for just $10. There will also be a tampon drive for the Young Women's Empowerment Project. People are asked to bring boxes of tampons that can then be donated to the girls there.
Oh, my...where to begin? For such a short e-mail, this truly provides an embarrassment of riches.
(Oops...wait. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "embarrassment" in this context--people might think I'm a prude who's afraid to talk about her cooter in public, as opposed to someone who's just not entirely convinced that public cooter-talk constitutes "empowerment".)
Well, let's start there, shall we?
Question One: How does public discourse regarding one's genitalia equate with "empowerment" ?
Answer: Um, it doesn't?
A group of important-yet-ungrasped concepts:
--Just because you choose NOT to talk about something does not mean you are INCAPABLE of talking about it.
--Just because you CAN talk about something publicly, that does not mean you necessarily SHOULD.
--The choice of whether to discuss a topic, by its very nature, includes the option NOT to discuss the topic.
--The act of choosing not to discuss something should not come with any prejudged conclusions re: the reasons why.
In other words: All of you, if you feel you must, are more than welcome to discuss the workings and experiences of your own sex organs. As for me, however, I'd rather not indulge--not because I'm a prude, not because I'm embarrassed or ashamed or oppressed by the patriarchy; just because they're MINE and (like my religious beliefs and my musical tastes) I'd rather keep them to myself. I do not judge you for your choice; I would prefer not to be judged for mine.
...oh, who am I kidding?
Fine! I admit it-- I DO judge people who gather in groups to talk about their hoo-hoo's! My god, who the HELL had THAT bright-ass idea? Do women not have ENOUGH of a reputation for talking about irrelevant shit? I'm not saying that we should be PROHIBITED from talking about them; I'm not saying we should self-censor when the topic comes up! I'm only saying this: There is no point whatsoever to gathering in a group for the sole purpose of discussing our genitalia. There's nothing 'empowering" about it--it's an exercise in group-sanctioned voyeurism, a great big grown-woman slumber party, an excuse for "mature" women to get together to talk about things that aren't considered fit for "polite" society. Well, never having (during the part of my adult life that I view as "productive", anyway) been drawn into that concern about "polite society", I don't feel the NEED for such an environment, nor do I feel a need to talk about the inner workings of my privates. (A small but glaring exception, of course, is my willingness to cite my period as the source of crankiness/exhaustion/etc when such is the case; however, that's meant as an explanation for my external condition, not an excuse to talk about my body functions.)
(More to come later. I'm not done with THIS by far.)
NU Vagina Monologues 2004
Evanston Campus
Friday, February 13 @ 8pm
Saturday, February 14 @ 2pm & 8pm
...
Proceeds benefit the Young Women's Empowerment Project
An hour and a half before each performance, there will be a Vagina Carnival in the Purdue Room, where there will be games, activities, and all kinds of useful info. T-shirts that read "I (heart) NU VAGINAS" will be on sale for just $10. There will also be a tampon drive for the Young Women's Empowerment Project. People are asked to bring boxes of tampons that can then be donated to the girls there.
Oh, my...where to begin? For such a short e-mail, this truly provides an embarrassment of riches.
(Oops...wait. Maybe I shouldn't use the word "embarrassment" in this context--people might think I'm a prude who's afraid to talk about her cooter in public, as opposed to someone who's just not entirely convinced that public cooter-talk constitutes "empowerment".)
Well, let's start there, shall we?
Question One: How does public discourse regarding one's genitalia equate with "empowerment" ?
Answer: Um, it doesn't?
A group of important-yet-ungrasped concepts:
--Just because you choose NOT to talk about something does not mean you are INCAPABLE of talking about it.
--Just because you CAN talk about something publicly, that does not mean you necessarily SHOULD.
--The choice of whether to discuss a topic, by its very nature, includes the option NOT to discuss the topic.
--The act of choosing not to discuss something should not come with any prejudged conclusions re: the reasons why.
In other words: All of you, if you feel you must, are more than welcome to discuss the workings and experiences of your own sex organs. As for me, however, I'd rather not indulge--not because I'm a prude, not because I'm embarrassed or ashamed or oppressed by the patriarchy; just because they're MINE and (like my religious beliefs and my musical tastes) I'd rather keep them to myself. I do not judge you for your choice; I would prefer not to be judged for mine.
...oh, who am I kidding?
Fine! I admit it-- I DO judge people who gather in groups to talk about their hoo-hoo's! My god, who the HELL had THAT bright-ass idea? Do women not have ENOUGH of a reputation for talking about irrelevant shit? I'm not saying that we should be PROHIBITED from talking about them; I'm not saying we should self-censor when the topic comes up! I'm only saying this: There is no point whatsoever to gathering in a group for the sole purpose of discussing our genitalia. There's nothing 'empowering" about it--it's an exercise in group-sanctioned voyeurism, a great big grown-woman slumber party, an excuse for "mature" women to get together to talk about things that aren't considered fit for "polite" society. Well, never having (during the part of my adult life that I view as "productive", anyway) been drawn into that concern about "polite society", I don't feel the NEED for such an environment, nor do I feel a need to talk about the inner workings of my privates. (A small but glaring exception, of course, is my willingness to cite my period as the source of crankiness/exhaustion/etc when such is the case; however, that's meant as an explanation for my external condition, not an excuse to talk about my body functions.)
(More to come later. I'm not done with THIS by far.)
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