Wednesday, December 27, 2006

Siskel & Ebert, Eat Your Hearts Out!

Dear Readers, I attempted to take a long sojourn from reality this weekend and got sick. Ironic, is it not? Obviously, reality is hard taskmaster, and I’m her faithful bitch. However, in the last few days, mixed in with the nausea and hot flashes I did preview several films. See my rating system below:

****- A damn good film, I didn’t throw up once!

***- Chunky, with a little bit of flavor as it came up.

**- Lacking in substance, watery at best.

*- About as exciting as dry heaving after a night of drinking

1) Wall Street- ***- 3 STARS

Plot Summary: A young Wall Street exec is intoxicated by the high life of money, women and power and screws the rest of the cast over to accomplish his selfish aims. Eventually, he rescues himself from a life of moral depravity and comes clean.

Nugget of Wisdom: When a man faces the abyss he finds his character, which happens to be the only thing stopping him from falling into the abyss.

2) The Notorious Bettie Page- **- 2 STARS

First of all, I love Bettie Page. She totally gave the moral majority in America “THE FINGER” with her pin-up photos in the 1950’s, THEE era of repressed sexuality. But, in the film she was portrayed as a weak victim of the porn industry instead of the kick ass GRRL she is, and that my friends, is intolerable.

Plot Summary: Southern girl rebels against her religious upbringing goes to NYC, conquers the city, takes kinky pictures, and gets investigated by the Senate.

Nugget of Wisdom: We all have to decide what is right or wrong for us based on our own moral truths, even in spite of the warped truths our parents used to control us when we were children.

3) The Producers-*- 1 STAR

Plot summary: I only saw the first 20 minutes of the movie. The sheer dullness of the film put me to sleep immediately, I mean, it was a musical starring Matthew Brodrick for god’s sake!

Nugget of Wisdom: Musicals are not made for the faint-of-heart, or sickly population of the world. Fat jolly people only need apply here.

4) An Inconvenient Truth- ** ½- 2 AND ONE-HALF STARS

Plot Summary: Al Gore infuses us with wisdom in a lecture-style type format. This movie was about global warming, the causes and affects of it. Now, I’m not saying it wasn’t a hard-hitting educational piece on why we’ll all be dead in 50 years, however, the random digressions about how Gore was robbed of the 2004 presidency were off topic and hardly relevant to the subject matter at hand.

Nugget of Wisdom: Mother Earth is in serious trouble, it’s time to start working for change. Or, be obliterated from existence because of our own stupidity.

5) Syriana- ****- 4 STARS!

Plot Summary: The oil business is big money and big corruption. Greed is good for the predators, the prey, however, have a difficult time staying alive. The plot is quite complex as many different stories interweave to form the overall message of the film, which is to stay connected. We are all one, how profound, indeed.

Nugget of Wisdom: Watch this film with a dictionary, Middle Eastern history book, and Internet access available. You will be stopping the film at various intervals to understand what the hell just happened.

6) Enemy of the State- ***- 3 STARS

Plot Summary: A lawyer is framed, as he is found by the government to hold significant evidence of the government’s intention to spy on its citizens. (Hello Patriot Act!) The lawyer is followed, wire-tapped, and hunted down by government-sponsored assassins in order to stop the lawyer from going public with the top-secret information.

Nugget of Wisdom: Big brother is upon us, barring down with his steely eyes. Better hide.

Thursday, December 21, 2006

I Love Myself, I Want You to Know It

Tomorrow millions of people of across the globe will attempt to alter the energy field of our planet. How you may ask? Through lots of love (as in, THAT lovin’ feeling)- Dec. 22nd, Friday, is Global Orgasm Day! Hurrah! I know I’ll be contributing my obligatory orgasm to help with the peace effort. I mean, why not? If millions of people getting themselves off contributes to greater happiness in the world then Cum One, Cum All! I definitely support “sex positive” experiences as we all know, are in short supply these days. Winter Solstice is also on December 22nd, as the sun inches its way into Capricorn. Oh, Oh, oh, oh, ohhhhh.. (sorry, got carried away there). Hopefully, we all feel better after our contribution to peace on Earth. I know I do already and I’ve only written about it.

See below a lovely article from the wonderful folks at Planet Waves.

CAN ORGASM create world peace? Is it worth trying?

In our strange-but-true country known as the Internet, the word is out on the streets that Dec. 22 is Global Orgasm Day. Being someone who thinks "every day is Global Orgasm Day," it took some time (and a few reader emails) for me to figure out this is actually a really good idea, and right up my alley: an experiment in the use of collective orgasm to shift the energy field of the planet in the direction of peace, love and understanding.

The plan is this: sometime Dec. 22, experience an orgasm, alone, with another person, or with others, with the intention of creating world peace and harmony. The creators of the event are calling this an experiment in the effects of synchronized orgasm as a means of healing the planet. I think (from looking at their Website) that the organizers, Donna Sheehan and Paul Reffell, have a clue about astrology. With the Sun aspecting the Aries Point, we have a great day to create a ripple effect in the world, where individual choices reach out into collective consciousness and vice versa.

Not everyone has a lover. Many people are their own lover, some by choice, and others because that's all that's available. I have a feeling that a lot of these global orgasms are going to be solitary orgasms. For a long time I've been tossing pebbles into the pond about the idea of getting together with others and experimenting with witnessed masturbation, and sharing masturbation among both lovers and friends, and in small groups. This is less outrageous than it may sound. I could theorize about why, and will not, at this point, but these experiences have a way of being brilliantly liberating, transcending ordinary partner sex, opening up a new kind of intimacy, and transmuting shame and guilt into pleasure and love.

Here's another facet of the story. A lot of people who are alone don't give it to themselves. Maybe they don't turn themselves on enough, or maybe it's something else; some just don't think about sexual pleasure between relationships. However, in case anyone simply needs permission, I'm here to offer it, and say that the wave of energy we're creating will be coming through the neighborhood soon. Anyone can come surfing.

Now, can this stop a war? That would be cool.

Using pleasure as a means to peace works great with individuals. You can almost see on people's faces who's had a good orgasm that day (generally, in the form of a smile). Orgasm is a physical, mental and emotional experience that lets go of tension and floods the brain with pleasure-inducing chemicals called endorphins that really do make you happier. Happier people generally want the same for others.

This is an experience of pleasurable surrender that helps us in a world where so much surrender (of various other kinds) is necessary. As for the multi-level aspect, consider that there are many times we have a mental experience that gets stuck in the head; an emotional experience that yearns for physical expression; a physical experience that begs for closer emotional contact or expression. Often, we get trapped on one layer or another and slowly start to go nuts in the process.

Orgasm reaches right through the different levels, and has a way of unifying our experience of existence. People who are in harmony with themselves tend to be more peaceful and get on better with others. Though it takes some inner freedom to get there, the last few minutes before orgasm tend to be an exceptionally uninhibited time, where we can experience images, feelings, needs and desires -- and do extremely pleasant things to ourselves and others -- that waking consciousness might otherwise hold down or deny.

Stuffing things into the unconscious is a great way to create chaos, which usually surfaces as shadow material like fear and hostility. These things add up, then we find ourselves living in a world where rage and pain are normal, and where pleasure is bad. However, when you shift in the other direction even a little bit, pain and hostility tend to lose their appeal. There is a spectrum, and it goes not from red to violet, but rather from control to pleasure. People who tend toward one dependably migrate away from the other.

Orgasm also transcends differences of gender, sexual orientation, social identity, language, nationality, house or trance, rock or disco. It can be a profound moment of inner freedom that (if you're paying attention) is really a deep cosmic joining. It seems plausible enough to try focusing this on world peace -- and at the very worst, it's hot that a whole bunch of people around the world are planning to get off at the same time, thinking about one another doing it.

Granted, nothing is 100% true. Sometimes expressing sexual energy makes (or seems to make) people more hostile, for which there are a number of causes. One is repression itself, another is guilt (a specific form of repression, in the form of self-attack that tends to get projected outward). Another is a conditioned mixing of violence and eroticism that is shot at us constantly, and to which some people are extremely sensitive (potentially because of previous traumas). Violent treatment tends to breed violent feelings, and keep the cycle going. There are ways to heal these things, if we really want. It's amazing how freeing opening up to erotic energy can be.

Given the choice, I would rather live and work among sexually expressive people; in a house where people are affectionate with one another; where there is freedom to speak freely about pleasure and desire, and where different strokes are not the subject of judgment, but rather encouraged and explored. I would rather live in a community where people feel safe to feel and express themselves. I would rather live in a country where the culture is tolerant and where people strive for equality, which can only come through communication.

I have noticed lately that sexual rules are starting to relax. Who knows, maybe the whole phenomenon is a creature of my mind, and I'm projecting it onto the world. But the existence of Global Orgasm Day says something. It used to be you would round people up, or network around the world, only to pray. During the Harmonic Convergence era of 1987, something like this would have been an unmentionable act.

This was part of a larger trend. It should come as no wonder that the people who keep dragging us into wars are the same ones who spend billions on "abstinence education" that turns people (starting with young children) against themselves.

Global Orgasm Day is an experiment running this so-called logic in reverse. Maybe if we open up (and are open about it), we will find ourselves living in a world where love is seen as natural and where getting along is considered a wholesome purpose of living. Getting good at anything, including being open, takes practice, and this is a fine start: all the people sending out Global Orgasm Day emails are in effect admitting to their friends that they plan to masturbate or have sex that day, as part of a world movement. This alone is not only progress, it's cosmically kinky.

I get that the real idea behind this experiment is metaphysical. It's about minds joining, it's about opening up a dimension, it's about tipping a certain balance -- or at least sliding the weights on the scale.

But we don't really know the effects of a focused experiment like this until we try. And whatever happens as a result of lots of people getting off together and writing to one another about it along the way, I do suggest that we make every day Global Orgasm Day.++

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

Africa: The Long Journey Home

Last summer, I was fortunate enough to befriend a group of young men who were visiting the United States on work visas from South Africa. When I introduced them to other friends who were US citizens, my Caucasian friends were very surprised that my South African friends were white. Evidently, they did not know white people lived in Africa. There were other startling discoveries made as the friendships blossomed between me and as I called them, “my guys”.

Africa, as a continent, is fascinating. My obsession started when I considered joining the Peace Corps. after I finished my undergrad degree. I had just finished my application with every intention of committing to three years in the Peace Corps., when I decided it wasn’t the right time. However, I’ve always felt drawn to the organization in hope of being sent off to West Africa, which has always had a significant hold over me.

Recently, I met a young man from Morocco (a northwest African country) who speaks FOUR languages and is currently studying in the US. My other African friend from Tunisia, who lives and works in France, holds a prestigious job in Paris. These young men are quite ambitious and “Westernized” in their approach. Their personalities reflect “Western” world attitudes, yet influences from their countries of origin remain intact.

Even without the additions of Westernized influence, Africa is a complex continent. In some areas (particularly Eastern Africa) one would be afraid to enter these countries for fear of leaving in a body bag (Somalia, Chad, Ethiopia, Rwanda, Sudan for example) due to the increased influx of terrorist regimes that have seized power because of corruption at the executive level. However, many areas of Africa are beautiful peaceful sanctuaries from the rest of the crazy world. It continues to amaze me that both extremes exist with startling regularity on the continent. For instance, in 1994, the Hutu government of Rwanda orchestrated genocide against a minority group within its own country. The rest of the world watched as millions were brutally murdered with machetes, bullets, fire, or by any method the government found useful to “EXTERMINATE” people. Hell, Hollywood made a whole movie, Hotel Rwanda, to commemorate the event.

Hotel Rwanda was made in 2004, just 10 years after the genocide. The movie denounced the lack of US or UN involvement in helping to restore order in the country. Today, the scars from the mass killing still remain. For example, this priest was just now found guilty for crimes associated with the genocide.

A caption below his picture in an article reads, “ A Catholic priest was convicted Wednesday of participating in Rwanda's 1994 genocide by ordering militiamen to set fire to a church and then bulldoze it while 2,000 people were huddled inside.”

Meanwhile, in Sudan and Somalia similar government-led murder sprees are occurring RIGHT NOW. The spillover affect is also an issue, meaning that neighboring countries will see an influx of displaced persons as these government sponsored terror campaigns against their own people continue. The situation has escalated in the African country, Chad, as refugees from Sudan cross their border. Sudanese militia are now attacking Chadians and Sudanese people alike. Click on this link for a web-based slide show reflecting the conditions in Chad.

Westernized cultures, especially North America, have been very disconnected from the rest of the world. I’m finally just starting to understand the depths of my ignorance beyond my own borders and it’s staggering. As Americans, we need to be more aware of the world and the condition of its inhabitants. After all, we are supposed to be the leaders.

The lyrics below are fitting right now, as we prepare for our big family Holiday-inspired events. Let’s also take time to remember our extended family as in, OUR HUMAN FAMILY. The rest of the world needs us.

The Cranberries- Ode to My Family

Understand the things I say
Don’t turn away from me
Cause I spent half my life out there
You wouldn’t disagree
Do you see me, do you see
Do you like me, do you like me standing there
Do you notice, do you know
Do you see me, do you see me
Does anyone care

Unhappiness when I was young
And we didn’t give a damn
’cause we were raised
To see life as fun and take it if we can
My mother, my mother she held me
Did she hold me, when I was out there
My father, my father, he liked me
Oh he liked me, does anyone care?

Understand what I’ve become
It wasn’t my design
And people everywhere think
Something better than I am
But I miss you
’cause I liked it, I liked it
When I was out there
You did not find me, you did not find
Does anyone care?

Tuesday, December 19, 2006

Oh, Fudge.

Over the next few weeks, while I’m not teaching I have some major projects scheduled. For instance, digging into my 2007 “to do” list. First, read the four new books I just purchased of recently. Next, clean my house, it’s a damn disaster. Make CD’s for random people who have my attention, give my step sis’ a break and baby sit for her lil’ brats, and, oh yeah, make some fudge. The really good kind with the nuts in it that practically melts on your tongue when you eat it- holy mother of Martha!- I’m a regular domestic diva- who knew? Let’s see if I actually DO any of the said activities above, you’ll have to check on me dear readers, I’m not that great with commitment.

Monday, December 18, 2006

The Vampires Are Feeding

Strange dreams inspire me. On Saturday night as I slept, I mingled with vampires who were elevating themselves in an industrial building- warehouse district style. I looked on unconcerned and said I had been elevating myself since I was a kid. The vampires existed within the structure, but definitely were not in control. Frankly, I was not impressed. Although I was not a vampire, I wasn't shocked nor intimidated by their presence either.

Art is also inspiring, especially myth, which feels so natural when taken in context.

title- Proserpine
artist-Dante Gabriel Rossetti
style- Pre-Raphaelite
date -1874

Feeling the pull, I wrote this on Sunday morning after my dream.

Ode to Persephone: Queen of the Underworld

a dirty little bitter face reflects the fruit
red bumps on her lips
the seeds bleeding from her eyes
a rotten apple in the hand of a woman
the last rite of the Aphrodite myth
a descent into the hand of a monster
lucid while she lies beside him and shrinks
stuck to the corner as she looked closer
the mirror glittered and the sparkle deepened
she’s been running round’ with these outlaws
to get a sniff, if only a small desire satisfied
perfection at the point of obliteration
lost in the creative cycle batteries still charging
and she craves this and she craves that
witness as it was, the preacher and the nun
pulling the thing till it bled
we said Jesus was a man and Mary caved in
separate traditions carved from the animal bone
sick from the decay we got our sleepy award
still begging us to stay gone

Friday, December 15, 2006

At the Apex of Holiday Giving

Onward, Christian Soldiers!

Time to bring out those Bibles and start our conversions- I’m feeling charitable! Next time I’m at the mall I think I’ll visit the Angel Tree, as there are plenty of needy poverty-stricken children who would love a shiny new leather Bible. Yippee Mom! Look what I got! Tis’ the season of giving, so surely these sinners will be eternally grateful- especially for the rescuing of their children’s souls from the fires of hell. All praise Billy Graham!

This, fellow bloggers, is not anything new. Christian Missionaries have been playing this game for centuries. These religious zealots trick indigenous people to “convert” under the guise of providing humanitarian aid. Now, I’m not saying humanitarian aid isn’t appreciated and needed, but it comes with a price. It’s the old “nothing is for free in this world” philosophy. The problem occurs when missionaries use “aid” as a way to hook others into their beliefs. The moral issue being, aid should be provided regardless of the religious affiliation. In this situation, the tried n’ true litmus test is, oddly enough, “WWJD?” As in, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, people, do you really think Jesus would leave someone dying on the side of the road just because they wouldn't believe what he was preaching?

If so, our beloved son of the father has some serious explaining to do, and also an entire bracelet/tee-shirt empire to salvage from the claws of hypocrisy.

After the December 26, 2004 tsunami hit eastern Asia (See Wiki entry)killing hundreds of thousands of people and uprooting many more from their homes, various humanitarian agencies from all over the world stepped in to provide aid. These people, by enlarge, were motivated by a sincere need to serve. However, there were also missionaries who, bent on spreading the good word, used every opportunity to shove a Bible down their throats.
See an article below written in January just after the Tsunami hit, which shows the outrage many “potential convertees’” must’ve felt when missionaries approached them.

Conversion Attempts in a Time of Grief
By: Shobha Warrier in Nagapattinam January 24, 2005 15:45 IST

When I entered one of the rows of temporary shelters built for tsunami victims in Pattancherry village in Nagapattinam, I witnessed a minor scuffle in a corner.
Some inmates had surrounded a Christian priest and two nuns, and a war of words was going on.

"We are Hindus and we want to live as Hindus. Why do you want to convert us?" some young men shouted at the missionaries.

The priest said, "We are not here to convert people. We were only offering prayers for your peace of mind."

But flashing some pamphlets distributed among them by the three, the inmates snorted, "What does this mean?"

The priest had no answer.

"Why do you enter our houses and pray?," they asked. "Your nuns do this when our women are alone at home. We know how to pray."

The young men were extremely furious. The priest was unruffled.
The scuffle went on till the three were forced to leave the place.

Day two:
As I was visiting the areas close to the sea that were badly affected by the tsunami waves, I saw another angry scene outside another temple in another village.
Police jeeps were seen parked outside the temple in Samandapettai. So was a van.
Villagers were complaining to the police about a missionary group to which the van belonged.

They said the group had taken away to another place their belongings and the relief they had got from nongovernmental organisations and the government, which they had kept inside the temple, because they refused to listen to its missionaries.
"They want to try their luck at some other place. Since we resisted, they took away our things. We won't allow this to happen," they said. "Why don't you arrest all of them?" the villagers asked the police.

The villagers' torrent of angry words continued. "We have lost everything to the sea. They said they would help us if we followed their religion. What logic is this? Are they here to help us or change our religion?" The police couldn't cool their tempers.

The group said it did not take away the belongings of the villagers and insisted that the contents inside the van belonged to it.

That evening, some villagers came with the news that the police had arrested the priest they had confronted the previous day.

"He shouldn't be doing this when we are grieving, when we are suffering. Everything has its time and place," a villager said.

When I wanted to talk to the panchayat president and locals of the Karakkalmedu village at Karaikkal, they called me inside the village temple. That was where they met outsiders. The temple has become the centre of activity in the village.
Before we started talking, one of them opened the door to the sanctum and pointed to a mark left by the strong tsunami waves. They told me that water stopped at the feet of their deity and then receded. "We might have suffered, but our Goddess saved us."
This belief had taken the villagers all the more closer to their deity.

"That is why it hurts us when others come and tell us that it was because of our God and our belief that we suffered. We won't let anyone exploit us when we are down," the panchayat members asserted.

Shobha Warrier in Nagapattinam January 24, 2005 15:45 IST

This is, of course, preposterous. The logic here being, “Hey, everything you love including people, possessions, cities, culture ect… has been destroyed, how about a Bible?” I may have slapped a nun or priest at that point. In the words of Dave Chapelle, “Am I gonna have to punch a bitch?” How offensive. I, myself, knowing too well how insensitive others can be during the grieving process, wouldn’t have been surprised at the missionary’s opportunist actions. Nevertheless, Christian or not, we all should at the very least have a shred of compassion for our fellow human beings. One would expect more from these saintly so called “servants of God.”

My father, a self-proclaimed “servant of God”, often used his beliefs as way to manipulate and control others. Hooking others under the guise of “saving souls” while in same breath announcing the sinners would burn. The sinners, of course, being anyone who didn’t believe what he was preaching. My sisters and I worked hard for his approval, believing our mythical charismatic father had all the answers about the universe in his hands. Children, especially, are vulnerable in the face of these unfounded religious beliefs, their young minds ready to be molded to create the values their adult lives are to be based on. Whether our parents or missionaries infect us with these poisonous beliefs, the result is the same, needless suffering and heartache with even less compassion to go around.

How about putting down the Bibles to actually help someone? How about instead of protesting in front of Planned Parenthood (which does absolutely nothing for living breathing children) we volunteer to be a big brother/big sister to a child, help out at the banquet, or even pay attention to our children when they need us- what a concept! Gees, I didn’t know it could be that easy. Silly me.

The Holiday’s are a perfect time to get off of our lazy butts, put the peanut brittle down, and do something constructive. Let’s use our time, dollars, and energy wisely. Give the gift that keeps on giving- compassion.

These days I’m loving all the feisty redheads out there, you go Bonnie Raitt!- give’em something to talk about.

Bonnie Raitt-Unnecessarily Mercenary

You’re just into looking after #1
Only thing you worry ‘bout is having your fun
First sign of trouble and it’s understood
You’ll get going while the going’s still good
You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary

You’re a secret agent got a hidden agenda
Got me in your sights, think I’m a real big spender
Stick around baby pretty soon you’ll see
I ain’t got no money but my love’s for free
You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary

You’re a gun for hire when a war breaks out
Loving on the front line ‘til the money runs out
Finger on the trigger, baby pull it and see
If your mercenary tactic’s gonna work on me

You’re so very unnecessarily mercenary
So very unnecessarily mercenary

Wednesday, December 13, 2006

Torture and Senseless Killing OK as long as Democracy Reigns

This was taken from the Washington Post editorial section:

"AUGUSTO PINOCHET, who died Sunday at the age of 91, has been vilified for three decades in and outside of Chile, the South American country he ruled for 17 years. For some he was the epitome of an evil dictator. That was partly because he helped to overthrow, with U.S. support, an elected president considered saintly by the international left: socialist Salvador Allende, whose responsibility for creating the conditions for the 1973 coup is usually overlooked. Mr. Pinochet was brutal: More than 3,000 people were killed by his government and tens of thousands tortured, mostly in his first three years. Thousands of others spent years in exile.

It's hard not to notice, however, that the evil dictator leaves behind the most successful country in Latin America. In the past 15 years, Chile's economy has grown at twice the regional average, and its poverty rate has been halved. It's leaving behind the developing world, where all of its neighbors remain mired. It also has a vibrant democracy. Earlier this year it elected another socialist president, Michelle Bachelet, who suffered persecution during the Pinochet years.

Like it or not, Mr. Pinochet had something to do with this success. To the dismay of every economic minister in Latin America, he introduced the free-market policies that produced the Chilean economic miracle -- and that not even Allende's socialist successors have dared reverse. He also accepted a transition to democracy, stepping down peacefully in 1990 after losing a referendum."

Are there people who are actually buying into this shit? Evidently, some Chilean mourners were sickened because Pinochet wasn’t able to have a funeral with full military/state honors. Are these people serious? First of all, responsibility for economic restoration or recession does not begin or end with ONE man. The reason Pinochet was successful is because the US backed him. Obviously, if we gave him the money and resources to stage his 1973 coup, he was at that point, our bitch. Communism was not an option after we bought him.

Secondly, Pinochet was a greedy small-minded little man who got off on abusing others while seizing mass amounts of power. Hell, even his own daughter, Lucía Pinochet Hiriart, said the use of torture during his 1973–90 regime was "barbaric and without justification.” The current President of Chile, Michelle Bachelet Jeria, and her mother were both tortured and abused at Villa Grimaldi, a secret detention center.(her own father died in one of Pinochet’s prison camps too!) Yet, some Chilean Pinochet supporters were actually surprised (WTF!) that President Bachelet didn’t give him full honors. Heh. Yeah.

Equally outrageous, we have these hack writers in the US who are advocating Pinochet should be treated as a national treasure. I mean, isn’t he ALONE responsible for implementing a free market economic structure? And why can’t those damn Chileans just be grateful? The torture and senseless killings couldn’t have been THAT bad. Sometimes you have to destroy a few human beings here and there for the sake of democracy and westernized prosperity. Now, I don’t know about y’all, but I think something stinks in Denmark . Isn’t this the same line of bullshit the Bush Administration has been feeding the American public about Iraq since 2003? Oh yeah, cause the Iraq people will be so much more free and forever grateful if we bomb the shit out of them and destroy their cities. Me thinks so. Somehow this logic isn’t working anymore. But was it ever working? In the past, Americans were too blind and apathetic to see it before. However, Pinochet’s death is big slap across our collective faces. Turn off that 400th episode of Friends, Scrubs, Everybody Loves Raymond, Seinfield, or whatever you use to numb your brain and WAKE UP America.

Quote of the Day: Mussolini may have done many brutal and tyrannical things; he may have destroyed human freedom in Italy; he may have murdered and tortured citizens whose only crime was to oppose Mussolini; but one has to admit: he made the trains run on time.

Answer to quote of the day: I’d rather walk.

Tuesday, December 12, 2006

The Sphinx Could Kill You

The Great Sphinx of Giza, with the Pyramid of Khafre in the background

This article, about the current shit storm in Iraq, appeared in the Boston Globe on Monday. See my comments in parenthesis. ( )

Desperate for answers to all-important Iraq riddle
By James Carroll
December 11, 2006

IN MYTHOLOGY, when the ancients were desperate for an answer, they would present themselves to the Sphinx and ask their question. The Sphinx would reply with a riddle. The riddle would reveal the needed wisdom. But to go to the Sphinx was an act of desperation because, if you failed to answer the riddle correctly, the Sphinx would kill you.

See Wiki entry on the Sphinx here
(Note that Sphinx means “to strangle” and is a half-human, half-animal death dealer. If the US is at this point in the game, we’re in serious trouble. The Sphinx is a highly chthonic creature and stands at the entry way of the underworld. It’s do or die time, literally. Funny that we find ourselves at death’s door in the same year scientists declare: Pluto is not a planet. Pluto, of course, being THE PLANET of death, rebirth, and transformation, it is here that fate reveals its ugly head. Fate is the massive hand wrapped around our necks, choking us sober. We, the people, who stood silently as our leaders pushed us into this mess, need to understand how our reckless compliancy has contributed to the many deaths and broken hearts of Iraqis and Americans-now their blood is on our hands. )

Our nation stands before the Sphinx today. That is how desperate we are about Iraq. What is the good way out of a bad war? (A question I’ve been asking myself for years! Were Americans THAT naïve to think we could actually fix Iraq? This country has been experiencing internal strife and conflict since the BEGINNIG OF TIME, i.e. Mesopotamia) We hired the Baker commission to speak for us, and it was remarkable for its frank assessment of the Bush administration's failure, labeling the American effort as weak, deteriorating -- "not working." (Really, I think most of us knew this a year ago, and the fact it took our leaders this long to figure it out is frightening.) The commission identified the two realms within which the answer to the war can be found. (Well, that’s nice, I doubt Bush will listen to a word of it as his answer is to drive the nail further into the coffin-or in his words “stay the course”.)

Subsequent discussions have further illuminated the situation. Within Iraq, the three main parties to the conflict must be helped to deal with one another. A road to negotiation among Kurds, Shi'ites and Sunnis must be opened, so that they themselves can begin to resolve the question of their governance, whether through the present unitary constitution or through adjustments that would give each party autonomy. (More evidence organized religion is the road to hell paved with good intentions. The Kurds, Shi’ites, and Sunnis religious beliefs are causing the rift. Although, in the recent past before the US invaded, the groups were able to get along with little conflict. However, poverty, war, tension, post-traumatic stress disorder, and grief all contribute to an atmosphere of total despair. Iraqis live this reality, which would cause any normal person to crack under the circumstances.)

The Baker commission explained, though, that such local resolution cannot happen without the positive support of the parties in the region -- the second realm. And here the dominant party is Iran, with which the Bush administration refuses to talk. (I don’t believe the Bush admin. knows how to speak civilly, they just throw random grunts and growls out periodically for good measure.) Military force so dominates Bush thinking that no diplomatic initiative seems possible. Democrats are as paralyzed by the military mindset as Republicans. (Should be read as: The Democrats are just as pathetic as the Republicans.) The impasse between Tehran and Washington thus emerges as the main obstacle to larger peace. The Baker commission, and the discourse it sponsored, laid all this out, even as the White House reiterated its refusal to deal with Iran -- displaying thereby its absolute lack of any idea for Iraq except more of the same. Bush will "prevail." (Superhero comic books anyone? I hear they’ve been selling really well these days.) Only "victory" will do. Not even Bush seems to know what these words mean. (Shocker! Someone give him damn dictionary and soon!) If there is a better idea, no one offers it. (I refuse to believe that in a country built from the ideas of great scholars and political geniuses there are “no better ideas” for Iraq.)

So here we are before the Sphinx, with what seems an unsolvable problem. The war is killing our young. The war is devastating the people of Iraq. The war empowers the nihilistic fringe of Islam, which now threatens to ignite the entire Middle East. Because oil is at issue (Is the mainstream media finally admitting this?!), the global economy is at risk. (This should be read as: America’s obsession with BIG FAT SUVS is threatened) If America stays in Iraq, the violence will worsen. If America leaves Iraq, the violence will worsen. What can we do to stop this? Even after the Baker commission, no one knows.

For a long time, the Sphinx just looks at us, the famous stare. (Yes, one gets the feeling the “majority” has been fast asleep since Clinton got a blow job.) Finally, the Sphinx offers up the riddle: "I took you into this war. Adjust your thinking about me, and I can bring you out. If you refuse to change, I will destroy you. What am I?"

Once the question is put, the answer is obvious. Nuclear weapons. The Bomb is the Sphinx in the living room. Whatever first motivated President Bush to invade Iraq, (a lie, a bold faced freakin’ lie!) Congress and the nation approved only out of dread that Saddam Hussein was obtaining nuclear weapons. (I think we’ve all learned “a feeling of dread” should be dealt with in therapy, not with bombs.) Saddam's nukes turned out to be an illusion, but the fear was real, and led to our mistake. Today's war began with yesterday's nuclear nightmare. (Now, today’s nuclear nightmare began with yesterday’s war. Demonstrating, if you go looking for trouble, it will eventually find you.)

That fear dominates us again, only now in relation to Iran. Washington says it will stop at nothing to prevent Iran's arming itself with nukes -- but in fact nothing in Washington's present strategy can stop Tehran (Current strategy: Buy time while we cross our fingers and pray this will go away), which is the main revelation of failure in Iraq. Military force is the new impotence, but we will flail away, preferring death to diplomacy. (And we call ourselves a “civilized” nation) This course keeps us stuck in Iraq, while guaranteeing Iran's going nuclear.

"Adjust your thinking," the riddle says. Since 1945, the United States refused to submit its nuclear program to authentic international controls, while insisting, since 1968, the year of the Nuclear Nonproliferation Treaty, that other nations must submit in just that way. (Hypocrisy spreads its nasty virus, people- other countries will follow our lead in this arena.) This nuclear double standard is the issue. Iran's nuclear ambition is only to have what America has. Hence the impasse. No riddle here. (And no problem solvers either, just Americans looking dumbly out off our proverbial “it’s all about me” window, without a prayer of saving our selfish asses.)
Washington must renounce the nuclear double standard, recommitting itself to nuclear abolition. The reason Iran should not have nuclear weapons is that no country should. With that one stroke, the entire dynamic would change. Negotiations with Iran would be purposeful. Iran would have reason to defuse the bomb of Iraq. The Sphinx itself would be disarmed. (And that folks is the hand of fate loosening its tight choke hold on our great nation.)
James Carroll's column appears regularly in the Globe.

Here is a another article title taken from Reuters-today in the news:

“Bomber kills 60 in Baghdad, Bush to review policy”

Well, isn’t that special. Bush “reviews policy” (i.e. sits in his palace of privilege and does nothing while the rest of the world burns.) I am SICK N’ TIRED of this administration’s “talks”, “visits”, “policy reviews” and “panel of experts”- get off of your collective asses and DO something. Stop this war.

This song describes the rage and sadness inherent in American society at this point in history. I’m sure it was originally meant to be a song about the loss of love. However, to me, it represents greater loss, the loss of faith in one’s country in the face of death.

Blue on Black- Kenny Wayne Sheppard

night falls and I’m alone
skin chilled me to the bone
you, turned and you ran,
slipped, right from my hand
blue on black
tears on a river
push on a shove
it don’t mean much
joker on jack
match on a fire
cold on ice
a dead mans touch
whisper on a scream
doesn’t change a thing
it don’t bring you back
blue on black
blind and now I see
truth, lies, and in between
wrong can’t be undone
slipped from the tip of your tongue
blue on black
tears on a river
push on a shove
it don’t mean much
joker on jack
match on a fire
cold on ice
a dead mans touch
whisper on a scream
doesn’t change a thing
doesn’t bring you back
blue on black

Monday, December 11, 2006

Your Leggings are Sooo Gangster

Saturday night was debauchery at its finest. I stumbled home at the lovely hour of 4:30 am after some serious Jack Daniels consumption. Still drunk, I forced my happy ass out of bed at 8:30 am and tackled the next day with vigor as self-imposed penance for my naughty behavior the night before. Please allow me to share with you a quick re-cap of the evening:


Fellow sass-pot, Miss M and I began terrorizing the city of Sioux Falls at about 10:30pm. Miss M is new in town and I,of course, her attentive tour guide. Now, don’t get me wrong, Miss M is a helluva good time, as feisty as they come. However, taking random stabs at strangers proved to be not a good idea. Go figure. Miss M is definitely NOT afraid of stating the obvious, plus her stare reduces men to a pile of rubble. Additionally, Miss M wasn’t adverse to the idea of offending random women throughout the evening either. Hell, neither was I for the matter. For once in my life I said whatever I wanted, when I wanted, and it was damn liberating at the time. Although in retrospect, I probably was just behaving like a drunken diva.

For example, at one point during the night, a couple of tall dark n’ handsome boys approached us and said politely:

“Hey ladies how are you tonight?”

To which Miss M. replied sarcastically, “Super!” in a child-like tone.

I nearly fell off my chair. They were dumbfounded.
I almost felt bad for them, almost.

But, then, we were off to other various destinations. At the end of the evening, Miss M. and I went to three differently house parties. At the first party, I asked some girl if she wanted to “take it outside.” (WHAT?) I think I might’ve lost my mind at that point. (It was the JACK, I swear!) At the next party, I stumbled around the house screaming about the Socratic Method and Dr. Evil in one breath. Then, I made out with some guy as I crossed the threshold to the door and said my good-byes.

At the end of this classy evening, we ended up in a kitchen with a grown man wearing an aluminum skirt/thong. (G-string, no less!) This fine young gentleman was also wearing a tie and had vegetable oil smeared all over his ass. Yes, that’s right, at some point during the evening he discovered the leather belt blows didn’t hurt as bad after the oil had been applied. Not to be outdone, I grabbed the belt, bent it in half, and took a mighty crack at his bare ass. Needless to say, that will leave a mark.

In hindsight, comments like “your presence has renewed my faith in the death penalty” and “I’m sorry honey; I don’t speak to people with less than a 8th grade education” might’ve been better left unsaid. However, one can always dare to dream.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Don’t Blush When I Rip This Open

Pandora’s Box Revisited

Lately, I admit, I’ve been in a feisty mood. Maybe it’s the habitual objectification, the unwanted advances, the threesome invitations, or the girl-on-girl male-induced perpetration. What’s up with all this slutin’ around? Now, I fully recognize, I come on STRONG. My sexuality and sexual preferences are often flung out on the table for others to witness, I have no shame. And I’m not afraid to confront it. However, society, in its latent sickness, attempts to stifle POWERFUL female sexuality. Men are rendered impotent and don’t quite know what to do with themselves. But hey freak daddy, put that one-eyed snake back in your jeans. Just because I’m a sexual being does not mean I want to have sex with YOU- I mean, there should an equal exchange happening here.

My openness and willingness to discuss these types of topics is not an invitation for random advances. It’s it possible that men are confused by the gender role issue and aren’t sure how to react in the face of feminine power? Sure, I’ll buy that; however, it’s time to get back in the game guys. Women aren’t going to wait around forever for your collective asses to get movin’- along the evolutionary track that is.

One woman who is quite terrifying in her expression of devouring/sexual side of the feminine is the lovely Courtney Love. Now, don’t get me wrong, Courtney Love minus the drugs would be the best possible combination here. However, we have to take what we can get with her (as she often reminds us) and just watch in awe as she kicks the collective vision of what a woman should be in the crotch.

She’s everything in one. Bitch, slut, whore, mother, wife, widow, poetess, child-bearin’, high heel wearin’, guitar-playin’, goddess-in-training, this woman is a FORCE.

You get the feeling with Courtney, that once you cross her path, you’ll never be the same again. As one can imagine, this is hard to swallow for a society that wishes to compartmentalize women and put us in neat little boxes. Women, however, are more than this; we are the embodiment of divine goddess, here to teach others about love. Now, this can be painful or life-enhancing, it depends on how we use it. In what ever way it manifests, as women, we need to realize we are the powerful, strong shapers of our destinies we always suspected we were. We need to believe what our mothers, in some cases, couldn’t teach us and pass it on. We should pass this message on to other women who, for whatever reason, may be feeling weak.

Girls, goddesses, princesses, queens, lovers, mothers, teachers, healers… that’s what I love about women, we are so beautiful and gentle, yet we can easily morph into warriors and find our own strength.

My fiery Sagittarius girl friends, who are enjoying their birthdays right now, show us there are many new paths in life just waiting to be discovered. So, as my sis’ would smartly instruct, “Get that ass up in air and get it movin’!”

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Rapper's Delight

I’ve presented the lyrical stylings of Too Short, mac-daddy rapper, and self-proclaimed player for life for your examination. Please read below:

Too Short- I’m a Player

You see I made up my mind when I was seventeen,
I ain't with no marriage and a weddin' ring,
I be a player for life so where's my wife,
probably at the rehab stuck on the pipe,
'cause she must be smokin' and I'm not jokin'
Too Short baby comin' straight from Oakland,
Got way more bitches than I ever need,
I put that on a big fat bag of weed,
'cause I can give you a bitch who wouldn't give you joint,
Bitches ain't shit and now I made my point,
so you can light that weed,
while I spit this rap,
and tell you 'bout a player from way back

I was only fourteen when I first got my dick sucked,
now I'm grown up and I really like to bust nuts,
Gettin' freaky in the right situations,
You wanna rap well that's a nice occupation,
To get pussy when you want 'n how you want it fool
'cause I was fuckin' ugly hoes back in high school
I used to fuck young-ass hoes,
Used to be broke and didn't have no clothes,
Now I fuck top notch bitches,
Tellin' stories 'bout rags to riches,
'bout a pimp named Shorty from the Oakland set,
Been mackin' for years 'n ain't fell of yet,

So if you ever see me rollin' in my drop top caddy,
throw a peace sign and say hey pimp daddy!
'cause I never would front on my folks,
I slow down and let the gold diggers count my spokes,
Bitches come a dime a dozen,
So don't get mad when I fuck your cousin,
your two sisters, I even fuck your ex-bitch,
Short Dog in the house with some player shit

Comin' up we learn how to freak these hoes,
and when your through getting yours then you shake these hoes,
and when your older, it's nothin' but a routine,
Makin' G's everyday workin' blue jeans,
I know I seen it before,
I see it again,
Young tender saying Short would you be my man

I was born to mack,
I'm hookin' hoes like crack, I be a monkey on your back bitch,
Until you kick that Short Dog habit got you on my dick,
and even though I can't fuck you every day,
that's 'cause I got another bitch around the way,
We can all get together on a late night,
cut to the house hook somethin' up real tight,
I really don't care,
cause I'm a player

Now, this is interesting. Feminists have been wrapped up in this debate for awhile. Do the lyrics above contribute toward the subjugation of women in our society? Rappers talk about “big-booty hoes” and “pimpin’ bitches”, but what is this really about? Is it art? Is it just a little harmless fun for the masses, or another method some men use to assert their dominance over women? If “bitches come a dime-a-dozen” then why don’t men go find a hole in the wall to fuck rather than expose us (i.e. women) to another boring lay. I’ll try to suppress my YAWN next time, boys. I mean, seriously, as women we have to deal with this shit everyday. Yesterday, a girlfriend of mine called at work to tell me some asshole tried to rape her last weekend. As women, how are supposed to respond to this? With a casual, “oh I’m sorry honey, how was the rest of your weekend?” Topics like rape, sexual abuse ect.. are the dark side of sexuality and typically make people uncomfortable. However, we must face these issues and FIGHT BACK! I don’t know about the rest of y’all, but I’m in the mood to kick some boy ass!

I wonder how Mr. Short’s lyrics would sound coming from a woman’s mouth. I think it’s worth examining. See Too Short’s lyrics below, but this time, they're comin’ from me, sons-of-bitches.

You see I made up my mind when I was seventeen,
I ain't with no marriage and a wedding ring,
I be a player for life so where's my guy
probably at the rehab stuck on the pipe,
'cause he must be smokin' and I'm not jokin'
Sally S comin' straight from Oakland,
Got way more men than I’ll ever need,
I put that on a big fat bag of weed,
'cause I can give you a man who wouldn't give you joint,
Men ain't shit and now I made my point,
so you can light that weed,
while I spit this rap,
and tell you 'bout a player from way back

I was only fourteen when I first got my CLIT sucked,
now I'm grown up and I really like to bust nuts,
Gettin' freaky in the right situations,
You wanna rap well that's a nice occupation,
To get dick when you want 'n how you want it fool
'cause I was fuckin' ugly boys back in high school
I used to fuck young-ass boys,
Used to be broke and didn't have no clothes,
Now I fuck top notch men,
Tellin' stories 'bout rags to riches,
'bout a pimp named Sally from the Oakland set,
Been mackin' for years 'n ain't fell of yet,

So if you ever see me rollin' in my drop top caddy,
throw a peace sign and say hey pimp Sally!
'cause I never would front on my folks,
I slow down and let the gigolos count my spokes,
Men come a dime a dozen,
So don't get mad when I fuck your cousin,
Sally S in the house with some player shit

Comin' up we learn how to freak these boys,
and when your through getting yours then you shake these boys,
and when your older, it's nothin' but a routine,
Makin' G's everyday workin' blue jeans,
I know I seen it before,
I see it again,
Boys saying, Sally, would you be my girl

I was born to mack,
I'm hookin' boys like crack, I be a monkey on your back,
Until you kick that Sally S habit got you on my CLIT,
and even though I can't fuck you every day,
that's 'cause I got another man around the way,
We can all get together on a late night,
cut to the house hook somethin' up real tight,
I really don't care,
cause I'm a player

And if that, girls, doesn’t put you in mood, then, here is some art work by the lovely Natalia Fabia. Now, let’s kick some ass.

Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Male-strippers, candy-boys, gigolos:

Wanna come over and get spanked?
With our Pretty Woman stories
They know Girls are better when we're dirty
so if you’ve been drug through the mud
And you’re feeling a little primitive
You won’t have to look hard to find

endless intrigue
mad-circus freaks
the shark's mouth bringing you closer
the carnage never ends
we just collect the dust and run

Jefferson Airplane- Don’t You Want Somebody to Love?

When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies

Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love

When the garden flowers baby are dead
And your mind is full of red

Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love
Wouldn't you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love

Your eyes, I say your eyes may look like his
But in your head baby I'm afraid you don't know where it is

Don't you want somebody to love
Don't you need somebody to love
Wouldn't you love somebody to love
You better find somebody to love

Tuesday, December 05, 2006

The God Question- Pluto in Sagittarius Spreads Havoc

Dearly Departed (fellow Scorpios), we are gathered here today to witness the joining of a host of planets colliding in Sagittarius, still hot from a massive conjunction in Scorpio weeks ago. Bring on the end of the world prophecies, the religious-rapture fantasies, and the naysayer’s favorite skewed reality. It’s world annihilation time! Calling all irrational Islamic fundamentalists, callous Christian conservatives, blood thirsty Iranians, nuclear-charged Koreans, and sadistic South Americans- it’s time to polish your swords! After centuries of destruction and torment in the name of religion, let’s brace ourselves for another long silence. For your obedience, you get conformity at its finest and blind belief fit for the masses. Which fairly tale do you believe? And how many infidels are you ready to kill for a ticket to paradise? Let's relish in our adherence, turn off our brains, and let our flesh waste away. Because each day on this Earth someone will die for their faith, when faith cannot be seen, I am talking about invisible deities lingering somewhere in the sky people. This ain’t rocket science, folks, so if we still need airy fairy tales to get us through the day, and only a single book is used to support our claims, we might as well go join our ancestors in their graves.

Sonic Youth- Do You Believe in Rapture?

Stand behind his drunken amp
Stand behind his light of love
Hear him yowl his bloody tongue
Hear him yell for blood and war
Do you believe in his sweet sensation
Do you believe in second chance
Do you believe in rapture babe
A terrible hit strikes today
A terrible hit for the parade
Burning' eyes seek Jesus coming
Jesus comes to pave the way
Do you believe in his sweet sensation
Do you believe in second chance
Do you believe in rapture babe
Can you tell me what to feel
Open up your tender soul
Can I drink your drunken mercy
Wine burns the devils hole

“We are in a period of intense debate about religion. It seems there are believers, secularists and atheists - in their manifold varieties - arguing over their various concerns. Veils. Intelligent design v evolution. Ordaining gays and women. Contraception and Aids.” – From an article posted on Political Waves today

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Put the life force back into your veins

Just the other day I was made of aware of how much I need God, and not just in a mythical way, but in a real practical way.
When the inner emptiness threatens to conceal, and the darkness comes and comes, shoving under even further the most essential life force we need to feel. But some men stand under waterfalls with their arms wide open announcing the world is their own. And the rest of us will just bow down.

The cruelty of fate is pulling on our heart-strings, and it’s not always apparent how much it’s going to sting. Moreover, we are in THE DARK about how and why and we desperately need to understand at a level our minds will never be able to access, not in an Earthly incarnation anyway. But there is forgiveness and comfort, and the solace we seek.

Are we ready for the lesson? I can’t say that I ever was, but Hades doesn’t ask for permission. And here’s how it happened:

A Sudden Request for Solace

I roam through halls where grand murals pose
the neon toaster glow teases me
I want more
the portraits and landscapes threaten
I could never go home
beyond the ominous castle walls
life will uncork you and unarm you
so don’t go searching for answers
don’t go any further if it cause a question
yesterday was spent in mourning
but today I am your equal
I’ve sent my ghosts to your heaven
and back and forth I send more
I bargain for the preacher’s soul
and here is my God
and here is my death
and the foul mess it’s fermenting in
I lick the dirt from the mirror
and filter the sand from each baptism
water drips to counterbalance his absence
the forest still grows its weedy trees
and the sky still barks for the sunlight
so I move forward on the rings of Saturn
at the center of confusion comes the lesson
are you ready for the lesson?

Saturday, December 02, 2006

What d'ya got up in that house?

I am the official babysitter of drunk women. Last night there were girls girls girls everywhere, and evidently, I am their keeper. Making sure they get home ok, and doubling as bodyguard and bouncer in the meantime. Someone actually asked me if I was "the man" in the relationship. To what relationship he was referring to, I don't know. Or to what extent I am "The Man", I'm not sure. But, I'll take it as a compliment. Obviously he thought I had bigger balls than him.

On the topic of balls, I have no doubt, if I was a man, I'd be nailing chicks left and right. Is that ok for a feminist to say? I'm guessing not, I’ll probably get kicked out of the top secret sisterhood club for that one. Lately, I have become pretty blasé toward men though. What exactly is their purpose again? It seems like anything they can do, I can do twice as well. Am I conceited? Probably. But hey guys, I’m still waiting to be knocked off of my chair. So far, it’s been less than impressive. Is it because South Dakota men are completely standard? Maybe I’m a snob, but I’m not finding any other reason to believe differently.

It could be I am in need of a total re-evaluation of why I am here. It could be time to leave SD. Although, the main purpose of my life should not be meeting someone spectacular, every now and then it would be refreshing to feel there is someone who at least RESONATES with me. Until then, fellow bloggers, you can find me on the dance floor, in full tough-girl gear, fielding questions like “What’d ya got up in that house?”

Woman Like A Man--Damien Rice

I need a piss,
I wanna hate,
Fuck it up, come.
My love,
Eat your meat,
Keep your teeth, run.
You lost me,
You cost me,
You taught me of me in the end.
We're bad,
What we do.
Stupid fools.

You wanna get boned,
You wanna get stoned,
You wanna get a room like no-one else.
You wanna be rich,
You wanna be kitsch,
You wanna be the bastard of yourself.
You wanna get burned,
You wanna get turned,
You wanna get fucked inside out.
You wanna be ruled,
You wanna be fooled,
You wanna be a woman like a man,
Like a woman like a man.

Need a hit?
Wanna wait,
Suck it up, cum.
My love,
Eat your meat,
Itchy feet, run.
You reach me,
You bleach me,
You teach me of things so familiar.
We're bad,
What we do.
Stupid fools.

You wanna get boned,
You wanna get stoned,
You wanna get a room like no-one else.
You wanna be rich,
You wanna be kitsch,
You wanna be the bastard of yourself.
You wanna get burned,
You wanna get turned,
You wanna get fucked inside out.
You wanna be ruled,
You wanna be fooled,
You wanna be a woman like a man, like a woman like a man.

Thursday, November 30, 2006

This makes me feel like ass-

Ok, so, the flesh for sale post should be disregarded in light of what's happening in the world. How can our lives be so disconnected from the rest of the world?

Check it out. ~NH

Flesh for Sale

Should it come as a surprise that we are selling ourselves to others cheaply? There are many ways we sell ourselves daily with our time, commitments, and unwavering support. It’s natural, and most days it doesn’t bother me. When faced with the demands of the day, I simply check each task off of the massive “to do” list that has become my life. But, every now and then, I feel like a cheap whore who’s been working way too much. I’m tired, but aren’t we all? If I promise to sit still like a good girl and perform each task given to me like a machine, at least everyone around me will approve. Approval is for sale too, as long as we give a damn about what everyone else thinks about us. The need for approval will make people do crazy things, things outside of the person they are. Eventually, as we continue to please others, we become less and less aware of who we are and what we want. We hope we can keep everyone happy by totally relinquishing our time, flesh, independence, and self-will. There! Is that good enough? I’ve wondered several times in my life when I’ve caught myself bending to the will of others without any regard for what I’ve wanted. However, during the last year, I’ve become more aware of my need to say “NO”- and I don’t feel badly about it anymore. Being with that “special someone” can help to ease the pain of the daily grind. On the other hand, it becomes a chore, another item we must complete on our never ending list. People expect a certain level of commitment, and to that I would respond, “Heaven whore’s itself out often.” Just don’t get used to it.

Although what I have to give might not be enough for some, it’s all I have. Below are lyrics by the lovely, talented Sarah Mclachlan-

Sarah McLachlan- Good Enough

Hey your glass is empty
It’s a hell of a long way home
Why don’t you let me take you
It’s no good to go alone
I never would have opened up
But you seemed so real to me
After all the bullshit I’ve heard
It’s refreshing not to see
I don’t have to pretend
She doesn’t expect it from me

Don’t tell me I haven’t been good to you
Don’t tell me I have never been there for you
Don’t tell me why
Nothing is good enough

Hey little girl would you like some candy
Your momma said that it’s ok
The door is open come on outside
No I can’t come out today
It’s not the wind that cracked your shoulder
And threw you to the ground
Who’s there that makes you so afraid
You’re shaken to the bone
And I don’t understand
You deserve so much more than this

So don’t tell me why
He’s never been good to you
Don’t tell me why
He’s never been there for you
Don’t you know that why
Is simply not good enough
So just let me try
And I will be good to you
Just let me try
And I will be there for you
I’ll show you why
You’re so much more than good enough

Monday, November 27, 2006

12:00 AM (it’s purely fictional)

As I lay in bed last night, my thoughts drifted to an ex-girlfriend of mine, as they often do around Thanksgiving time. She and I met about three years ago at the end of November. She was a dynamic woman, head-strong, forthcoming and political. She had a warm smile and a laugh that just INFECTED the room. She was fearless in her pursuit of me, never giving up until she won the prize- in a typical Aries-like fashion. She was a force, a woman with a clear agenda and the determination to make it happen, to put thoughts into action. Now, I’m not saying I was in love, I would never admit to such a travesty. Then, the dream would cease to be, and dreams are not made to hold up against the stark light of reality.

My phone rang last night at midnight. And here’s how it went down.

Bruce Springsteen- I’m on Fire

Hey little girl is your daddy home
Did he go and leave you all alone
I got a bad desire
Oh I'm on fire

Tell me now baby is he good to you
Can he do to you the things that I do
I can take you higher
I'm on fire

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby
edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley
through the middle of my soul

At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet
and a freight train running through the
middle of my head
And you, you cool my desire
Oh I’m on fire

Monday, November 20, 2006

The Pressure to Endure

"The divine is perhaps that quality in man which permits him to endure the lack of God."

-Jean Rostand

Enough said.

The Irony of Incarnating

This weekend I got the flu, and it got me thinking and dreaming about sickness and bugs and the way these illnesses affect us. What exactly are our bodies saying? And where does the anger stop and healing start? I mean, human beings are in unique position. We move through each day with strength, yet we are fragile and our bodies tell that story.

Our bodies tell the stories of abuse, sickness, tension, anger, stress, fatigue; even so we still can SURVIVE. Survival is the work of the world, thrust upon us when we least expect it. We are expected to survive this.

All of our bodies’ work is symbolic, so it has a girl like me thinking…

What promises have the gods above made to us? I wonder what happens when we break ours. Is that why we’re sick? Vengeance, the definition of tough love, disguised as hatred, it is the name of the game, people. Although I’ve refused to believe, I’m still waiting for destiny to come and tap me on my sleeve. These are the consequences we face.

Spiders Crawling Up My Back

Because they told me I could be a star
Because they told me no one else could do it
Because they told me everyone would love me
Because they told me it wouldn’t hurt too much anyway

If the swelling doesn’t go down
If the red marks aren’t fading
If the sweat makes you sick
If the pavement is too cold

Lay next to me baby
and wait for love to wash it away

Friday, November 17, 2006

Ms. International- Playa with a Passport

So here’s a thought:

Does the “zip code rule”- (see a full explanation of the zip code rule below) apply if you are physically located in another zip code than your home address, but your sweetie is with you? Or do both people have to be located in separate zip codes altogether so paths won’t ever cross? Let it be known, I met some full-on hotties in Paris, seriously. While my own relationship definitely was not setting off sparks in the city of romance, I was feeling it, not with my partner, but with almost every single Frenchman that crossed my path.

My significant other was along on the trip, however, he was quiet, reserved, and quite unappreciative of my natural lusty ways. Of course, this aspect of his personality, which previously went unobserved before, was glaringly obvious in the THE city of romance. Where were my passionate deep kisses by the Seine River? Where were my long-anticipated midnight encounters? Or hand-holding walking through the gardens of Paris? Damn, I can be down-right romantic at times- it’s a curse. Although, the focus of the trip was not to reinforce our status in the eyes of others as a couple, a decent kiss by the damn river would’ve been nice.

Our relationship is best non-relationship I’ve ever had- I can do what I want, we only see each other sporadically, and oh yeah… I can do whatever I want. However, encounters with him have made me stop in my tracks and think, “hmm, yes, I’ve definitely had better.” Ouch. For him, I mean. Well, maybe it’s my loss too as I haven’t had a decent lay in ages. What’s the problem with all the men out there? Why does everyone else besides me leave the party satisfied? Maybe I’m hard to please, but seriously, let’s get our freak flags waving. I think those Frenchmen understand what I’m sayin.

ZIP CODE RULE: You can do anything you like outside your zip code. The more the digits differ, the farther you can go. Something similar to “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!”

Monday, November 13, 2006

A Girl, a City, a Revelation

Recently, I visited Paris for one week with several friends. The experience was conscious-raising, awe-inspiring, and life-changing. Something about the city and what we saw was very liberating, and the more I try to define it the less sense I can make out of it. Yet, a cryptic type of language/description is often what I’m drawn to. “Drawn to” is perfect summarization of the city of Paris. Paris is a very beautiful romantic feminine city, and it set something off inside of me.

Constantly, the words “I can feel the times, they are a-changing” reverberated in brain during my stay. I approached each experience in Paris open to the possibility of a transformative moment. As a result, during the trip, I felt I had tapped into the energy or “spirit of place” as many like to call it as we visited different historical landmarks. My most intense moment was during our tour of Notre Dame.

First of all, I nearly skipped going to the churches all together, as we all know, I’m not that impressed with organized religion. However, as I walked toward the church through the streets of Paris I felt a rush run through me. Ah, a connection. I didn’t understand it, but I could feel it. When we entered the church, I was immediately drawn to Exhibit 1 on the right side of the church by the entry way. I stood in front of the exhibit depicting Christ on the cross, in all of his agony. Candles were burning in front of it as tears slid down my cheeks. The powerful energy and imagery encountered in that one moment sent chills up and down my back and arms.

Human suffering abounds all around us, and finally I’m beginning to understand what my role is in helping to alleviate it. The moment was powerful because brought forth an important revelation- to be human is to suffer, yet the purpose for all of humanity is to provide for the healing of others and ourselves. We provide the “balm”, the saving grace, we pick one another up and we move on. Balm means “a healing, soothing, comforting agent or quality”, and in this world, we definitely need more of it.

The time is November, the sun is in Scorpio, along with a host of other planets and humanity is riding the deep wave into our subconscious mind.
It is a time of reflection, and as I always say, the pain passes but the beauty does remain. It’s good to honor the dead, it’s good to talk about death, and it’s good to mourn too. We ride, and we ride. The wave comes and goes, and I move with it too.

Below is a little piece I wrote after visiting Notre Dame. Symbolism abounds. ~ NLH

Magdalena’s Prayer

I stand in the stairway
I leave the lantern behind
I walk down the dark hall
I ask questions no one will ever know

what about all the years sacrificed on this cross?
did his death mean anything at all?
a light flicks knowingly
and I am filled with certainty

it was good to lose you
even though the Earth consumed you
it was still good to touch you

the pieces of your cross turn to dust
and the winter turns careless
digging its cold into my bones
but now I’ve earned the right to lay with you
in your tomb

Thursday, November 02, 2006

The Real versus an Ideal

Recently, I met a man who blew my socks off. Although we’ve only had two conversations and met once, history is in the making. Not to say this person is necessarily my “ideal”, as I sense he’s holding back the dark, which we discussed last night in detail. As we all know, people tend to “send their representative”, so I am approaching the situation with apprehension and curiosity. Our ideas are very similar, along with the way we approach life, yet, I’m skeptical.

Is anyone THAT perfect? Does this fit into my reality? Or, is this just someone else’s beautiful dream thread I’ve been woven into again? It’s hard to tell. I’ve had problems with being a reflection for men in the past. They see me in an idealized way (a vision of what I was never meant to be!) and then project away. It’s quite strange, having been THE girl for quite a few men. I hate to disappoint, but inevitably, I do. Call it my Venus Opposition Neptune, or my Libra Ascendant (maintaining harmony), whatever it is… it plagues me. Men like to run around capturing butterflies, mounting their dead bodies for everyone to see. One can compare this to the concept of a trophy wife, a “smile and look pretty dear” attitude. It’s quite difficult to move past superficialities in this kind of situation. But, it’s what I crave.

Often I have been manipulative, drawing others into my web, only to flick them back on to the ground. Obviously, this is the nasty side of the feminine I’m not particularly proud of. Incidentally, men tend to meet the dark side of the feminine through me, when what they were really seeking was some sort of reprieve. Initially, they believe their meeting the total package, their equal. I might join in on the hoax and let my imagination run free for awhile in this fantasy, but it’s often discarded blithely in the light of day. The problem being, these projections don’t work as well when applied to reality. It’s a problem.

See below a piece written by me called “Playing Strangers.” Now, this can be a fun game, but eventually every night will meet its light.


strangers in different places

illicit provocative glances in the wrong direction
a pulse through the vein

screams for release

strangers fuck freely

or not at all

rules bend and form

to accompany the mood

a submission to the forbidden

but anonymous passion strains
to hold up against the light of day

Monday, October 30, 2006

Gender Bender

Did anyone else notice how bi-sexuality is often equated with promiscuity? Now, this girl isn’t saying she doesn’t enjoy a good ol’ fashion romp without strings attached, but in this day and age, it’s not the safest of alternatives.
Even so, bisexuals have an interesting relationship to society, especially when our sexual selves are constantly on display.

The ambiguousness of our choices baffle others, yet they have no problem including us as a welcome distraction to their boring stale relationships. All bisexuals have heard it… “how about a threesome? come home with me and my girlfriend.” Or as my ex-boyfriend so obnoxiously said, “you owe it to me”, when discussing the possibility of including a third person. Now call me naïve, but I don’t believe bisexuality is the same as polygyny. With each new relationship, I have to explain myself over and over again. While there may be some bisexuals who play on both teams simultaneously, I, personally, do not. If I’m with a woman, I’m with her, and if I’m with a man, I’m with him. It’s that simple.

However, bisexuals often have a hard time getting others to take their sexuality seriously. I have to admit; knowing a girl is bisexual and not gay would cause me to approach the relationship with a little more trepidation than I might otherwise. As there are different factions of bisexuals with different beliefs and one can never be too sure of what they’ve signed up for. The idea of loving a man or a woman equally has been a serious roadblock in several of my relationships as many people equate this philosophy with infidelity. But, in order to find our true identity we must struggle with the ignorance and judgments of others, over and over again. Desire is a nebulous concept and attraction often a chemical reaction that sparks a fire inside of us, yet it is not gender which draws another to us. Gender isn’t even half of the story.

Most people are blind to their desires, letting each passing tingle fade away, even if it challenges them to redefine their own sexuality. Still, the seeds of desire grow in each of us, threatening to disturb our carefully laid plans and partnerships. It must be dealt with. Bisexuals are closer to this energy and embody the image of duality, as the seeds of desire spin inside of us eternally. However, it would serve hetero and homosexuals to remember their more base natures; they aren’t as far from the seed as they think.

Thursday, October 19, 2006

In A Nuclear Haze

Our president can’t pronounce the world “nuclear”, yet with the advent of North Korea’s underground nuclear test, we find ourselves living with the threat of nuclear warfare.When Bush included North Korea in the “axis of evil” during a speech, he did more harm than good as relations between the US and North Korea has since deteriorated. North Korea wants to be taken seriously as a “force to reckoned with” in the international community. However, North Korea is like the delinquent child who misbehaves and causes havoc, just to get attention from the principal. The country now faces sanctions imposed by the United Nations as a result of their nuclear test. North Korea seems poised to undergo second nuclear test in the near future as well. Many argue that China is really the only country in a position to engage in meaningful dialogue with Kim Jong, the country’s “great leader” who is worshiped in almost god-like fashion.

Lack of resources and shortages exist under Kim Jong’s leadership, as many Koreans have died of famine and starvation due to economic hardship. In communist North Korea, radios must be set to pre-approved stations and most TV stations are state-sponsored. Koreans are routinely bombarded with messages about the greatness of their leader and West’s desire to destroy their way of life. When North Korean’s attempt to cross the border into China defectors are tortured and imprisoned when they are caught. Most Korean’s, upon entering China, find the Chinese have more wealth and freedom than they do. The problem with power-hungry elitists like Kim Jong is that he will sacrifice the livelihood, and in some cases the actual lives of his people to feed his monstrous ego. He will tell lies, manipulate, and coerce innocents so he can remain in power.

The article below is written by a German doctor who was allowed access to the very private inner-workings of the average North Korean’s world.

A Prison Country
A report from inside North Korea.

Tuesday, April 17, 2001 12:01 a.m. EDT

I know North Korea. I have lived there, and have witnessed its hell and madness.
I was a doctor with a German medical group, "Cap Anamur," and entered North Korea in July 1999. I remained until my expulsion on Dec. 30, 2000, after I denounced the regime for its abuse of human rights, and its failure to distribute food aid to the people who needed it most. North Korea's starvation is not the result of natural disasters. The calamity is man-made. Only the regime's overthrow will end it.
Human rights are nonexistent. Peasants, slaves to the regime, lead lives of utter destitution. It is as if a basic right to exist--to be--is denied. Ordinary people starve and die. They are detained at the caprice of the regime. Forced labor is the basic way in which "order" is maintained.
I will recount some of my experiences. Early in my spell in North Korea I was summoned to treat a workman who had been badly burned by molten iron.
I volunteered my own skin to be grafted onto him. With a penknife, my skin was pulled from my left thigh and applied to the patient. For this, I was acclaimed by the state media--the only media--and awarded the Friendship Medal, one of only two foreigners ever to receive this honor.
I was also issued a "VIP passport" and a driver's license, which allowed me to travel to areas inaccessible to foreigners and ordinary citizens. I secretly photographed patients and their decrepit surroundings. Though I was assigned to a children's hospital in Pyongsong, 10 miles north of Pyongyang, I visited many hospitals in other provinces. In each one, I found unbelievable deprivation. Crude rubber drips were hooked to patients from old beer bottles. There were no bandages, scalpels, antibiotics or operation facilities, only broken beds on which children lay waiting to die. The children were emaciated, stunted, mute, emotionally depleted.
In the hospitals one sees kids too small for their age, with hollow eyes and skin stretched tight across their faces. They wear blue-and-white striped pajamas, like the children in Hitler's Auschwitz. They are so malnourished, so drained of resistance, that a flu can kill them. Why are there so many orphans? Where are all the parents? What passes here for family life?
In North Korea, a repressive apparatus uncoils whenever there is criticism. The suffocation, by surveillance, shadowing, wiretapping and mail interception, is total. Most patients in hospitals suffer from psychosomatic illnesses, worn out by compulsory drills, innumerable parades, "patriotic" assemblies at six in the morning and droning propaganda. They are toilworn, prostrate, at the end of their tether. Clinical depression is rampant. Alcoholism is common because of mindnumbing rigidities, regimentation and hopelessness. In patients' eyes I saw no life, only lassitude and a constant fear.
Once, I had an opportunity to visit my driver, a member of the military, who was in the hospital because of injury. The authorities were vexed that I wanted to see him, but I was able to overcome objections. As was my custom on hospital visits, I took bandages and antibiotics--basics. On this occasion, I was embarrassed to see that, unlike any other hospital I visited, this one looked as modern as any in Germany. It was equipped with the latest medical apparatus, such as magnetic resonance imaging, ultrasound, electrocardiograms and X-ray machines. There are two worlds in North Korea, one for the senior military and the elite; and a living hell for the rest.
I didn't see any improvement in the availability of food and medicine in any of the hospitals I worked in during my entire stay. One can only imagine what conditions are like in the "reform institutions," where whole families are imprisoned when any one member does or says something that offends the regime. These camps are closed to foreigners.
My initial naiveté that the starvation was the result of weather conditions disappeared when I saw that much of the food aid was being denied those who needed it most. Before Cap Anamur came to North Korea, other agencies such as Oxfam and CARE pulled out because they weren't allowed to distribute aid directly to the people. They had to turn it over to the authorities, who took complete charge of distribution. Monitoring is impossible. Nobody really knows where the aid is going, except that it is not going to the starving citizens.
If a doctor's diagnosis is that North Korea suffers from society-wide fear and depression because of the cruel system, he has to think about the right therapy and to speak out against repression. The international community, especially humanitarian groups, must demand access to the shadowy world of labor camps. They have to look for the violence that is hidden from us by the system.
The system's beneficiaries are members of the Communist Party and high-ranking military personnel. In Pyongyang, these people enjoy a comfortable lifestyle--obscene in the context--with fancy restaurants and nightclubs. In diplomatic shops, they can buy such delicacies as Argentine steak, with which they supplement their supplies of food diverted from humanitarian aid. In the countryside, starving people, bypassed by the aid intended for them, forage for food. Pyongyang is fooling the world.
As a German, I know too well the guilt of my grandparents' generation for its silence under the Nazis. I feel it is my duty to expose this satanic regime, which has deified "Dear Leader" Kim Jong Il, just as it did his late father.
Even though virtually the entire North Korean economy is geared to the military, we should help ordinary citizens. But this must be on condition that aid goes to the deserving. Foreign NGOs, journalists and diplomats must be free to travel unannounced to the provinces to ensure that aid isn't misdirected. Only pressure on North Korea can save lives. The people can't help themselves. They are brainwashed, and too afraid to be able to overthrow their rulers. That's the medical diagnosis. Only the outside world can administer the right therapy, and bring about a reformation of this depraved nation.

Dr. Vollertsen, a physician from Germany, worked in hospitals in North Korea from July 1999 to December 2000.

Kim Jong uses this “closed system” to brainwash and terrify the citizens of North Korea. I was astounded to find the references and stories of human right violations in this country. Most people don’t hear about it, as very few foreigners are allowed access to North Korea, and it’s inhabitants aren’t exactly encouraged to leave (torture and prison awaits for those who try.) Kim Jong will continue to use his “subjects” to support his militaristic state until he drives these people into total and complete desperation, if they aren’t there already.
Although the threat of nuclear warfare hangs in the air, we must also remember that this is Kim Jong’s military regime, and not the actions of the average North Korean, who is far too oppressed and brainwashed to be blamed for the actions of a very evil leader.

Kim Jong creates an atmosphere of complete deprivation to keep the people spiritually, emotionally, and physically weak. One can only hope someday his “subjects” will escape from his hellish grip. Below are the song lyrics I imagine a North Korean might use to address their corrupt government and the sorrow within.

Nuclear Daydream- Joseph Arthur

You can hold your needle
You can point your gun
You can shoot and kill me
Or you could let me run

But I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

If there's a plan then tell me
If you know who you are
A princess or a mummy
A flower or a scar

So I don't have to cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone
Are now gone

What's it like to lose control
Are you even here at all

This is a nuclear daydream
It's my atomic bomb
I already lost my passage
I already lost our home

So I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

There's only dreams and numbers
And wishes left unsaid
In all the burning letters
Underneath our bed

I won't ever cry for you anymore
The days when I would die for you are now gone

Tuesday, October 17, 2006

Baby, you can leave your hat on. (Remembering why)

Sometimes I wonder why I still live in this city.

A long time ago we stayed up until the snow plows barreled through this city while we touched each other tenderly. You see, I created a secret life where I could hide. And in the privacy of our room, it seemed like a great idea. We would throw secret parties, proclaiming our love, letting the rest of world guess what it was like to be us. Then, there were the late nights, the endless smoke fests and alcohol lips pressed against each other. Candles burned well into the next day and dates lasted days long. The phones were left off their hooks, the blinds closed, exploring one another’s bodies in the last flickers of the day light. We spoke in soft tones, not to upset the delicate balance of you and me, wrapped up in the sheets. And when you held me, our legs touched easily, we fit perfectly. You always held me so tightly, when we were alone in that fantasy.

And sometimes I wonder what’s left for me.

And I will not, I will not, I will not…
I am
in this

You Can Leave Your Hat On- Tom Jones

Baby, take off your coat, real slow.
Baby, take off your shoes. I'll help you take off your shoes.
Baby, take off your dress.

You can leave your hat on.
You can leave your hat on.
You can leave your hat on.

Go over there, turn on the light. No, all the lights.
Come back here, stand on the chair.
Raise your arms in the air

You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live.
You can leave your hat on

Suspicious minds are talking. That's right, they'll tear us apart.
They don't believe in this love of ours.
They don't know what love is.
They don't know what love is.
I know what love is.
You can leave your hat on.