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middle aged and macacalicious' LiveJournal:
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| Friday, September 11th, 2009 | | 8:43 am |
8 years
In the depth of your hopes and desires lies your silent knowledge of the beyond; and like seeds dreaming beneath the snow your heart dreams of spring. Trust the dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity. For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance. The Prophet Kahlil Gibran | | Thursday, July 30th, 2009 | | 2:31 pm |
a short play by Hunter of Dkos fame
In my new tradition of summarizing major political stories in the form of short plays, may I present: The Birthers... Conservative: I don't believe you were born in the United States. I demand you show me your birth certificate. Liberal: OK, here it is. Conservative: I'm not going away, damn it. I demand to see your real birth certificate. Liberal: I told you, it's right here. Conservative: I demand you put it on the web, so everyone can see it. Liberal: I already did. You can see it right here. Just look at it. Conservative: Some guy in Mississippi says it looks fake. I demand you show me your secret birth certificate. Liberal: I don't have a secret birth certificate. This is it. I put it on the web. Conservative: Conspiracy! Conspiracy! I can see now you're hiding something! I demand to see your birth certificate! Liberal: It's Right. F---ing. Here. Ten thousand people across the planet have printed it out. Conservative: Those are copies. I want to see the original. Liberal: Lots of reporters have seen the original. I can't bloody send it around to every conservative nutcase in America, one at a time, like a birth certificate chain letter. (long pause) Conservative: I don't believe you have a checking account. I demand to know your account number, routing number, pin number, and that you give me a blank check made out to "cash". Liberal: Go to hell. and, SCENE. Thank you. I am happy to announce that Lou Dobbs has agreed to attend the off-Broadway premiere. | | Thursday, July 16th, 2009 | | 1:45 pm |
Bonne fete ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) djeannot! Happiest of birthdays ma sœur! | | Friday, June 26th, 2009 | | 2:04 pm |
MJ
The only good aspect I see from today's celebrity deaths is that they are pushing the recent Republican sex scandals off the news. Meanwhile, Iran is blowing up. FF dominated the Jr. High coiffure expectations. All of us were expected to have the feathered blowout and it wasn't easy to live with the 1970's rigid standards of beauty. How many teenaged boys jacked off while looking at that erect-nipples-in-the-red-swimsuit poster? That being said, I liked her as an actress and am glad she is out of pain. MJ is more complex. From Motown, to "Off The Wall" to "Thriller" to "Bad", his amazing tenor was quite literally the soundtrack of my youth. Even at the apogee of his fame, before he started the public freakouts, etc., he always seemed like a fractured soul to me. He may very well have been guilty of what he was accused of, but I lay equal blame on parents who were greedy enough to allow their children to befriend and *sleep over* with someone that obviously unhinged from the real world. WHat could they have been thinking? I didn't know him personally, very few people really did. But today I feel like we've lost someone we've known all our life. a deeply problematic friend, a confusing and depressed friend, an insanely talented friend...but a friend. | | Thursday, June 11th, 2009 | | 11:35 am |
RIP Stephen Tyrone Johns
I have written pretty extensively about the right wing violent speech-violent action connection. Yes, there are also liberals who love to argue. But what we are seeing in the last year or so is a clear pattern of wingnuttia fundamentalist homegrown terrorism from the Rabid Right. It is a damn shame that this is not a surprise to me or anyone else who has paid attention. The brilliant Pam Merrit has broken it down better than I can. Read it here: http://angryblackbitch.blogspot.com/2009/06/isolated-incident-my-black-ass.html | | Thursday, May 28th, 2009 | | 7:19 am |
apt selection for this time
Son is being strong and silent and trying to keep going with all the massive amounts of pressure that second term juniors have to deal with -- SATs, SAT IIs, papers, exams, finals, Regents, etc. We are staying near him at all times and talking to him continuously. Hopefully he is listening. I have been in touch with my son's English teacher. This was the second child in two months that died in her class, and I know she is reeling with shock. This isn't a hospice group, it is 11th grade Honors creative writing. There is no precedent to prepare her for this. If you are an effective teacher, as she is and I am, then you are emoting continuously in the classroom, then you are consciously projecting love, then you are always aware that you are standing in loco parentis and you take your responsibilities seriously. Most teachers never lose a student in all their teaching years. It goes against the natural grain of things. I have been where she is, after losing my two students in the 2007 fire. There aren't many of us who know about having to compartmentalize your own feelings while keeping a strong and comforting front for your classes. Having to see the empty seats and then doubting all the work and caring that you expend while in loco parentis. Wondering if it is worth all the effort when Death is so cruel and capricious as to take these young ones. I think few understand how a teacher can grieve, even as they feel as though they are not entitled to do so. I wanted her to know that she wasn't alone, and that we appreciated her work and sympathized with her feelings. She shared this with the class --very appropriate. LUCK (1959) by Langston Hughes Sometimes a crumb falls From the tables of joy, Sometimes a bone Is flung To some people Love is given To others Only heaven. Current Mood:  thoughtfulCurrent Music: Daniel Gawthrop "Sing Me to Heaven" | | Wednesday, May 27th, 2009 | | 1:08 pm |
The bright blessed day and the dark sacred night
for those few of you who catch up with me here rather than RL or facebook, you may have noticed that I have hardly been posting in the last few months. Or rather, I have but it is all private venting that I delete a few days later. I find that is a better way for me to deal with daily stress lately. And when I do post, it seems to be because of some tragedy that is beyond the scope of my self-reflection. It would be nice to reflect upon my daily minutia again. I've missed it and it is an important part of my own self-awareness... of what it is that makes me realize the richness of the days as the days are happening. Life is all minutia, just a series of moments that I can either drink in and experience fully or semi-ignore in a numbed haze. I have been trying for years to do the former and avoid the latter. Doesn't always work, because drinking deep is not always pleasant. Lately, especially since the beginning of the year, the draft has been slightly bitter. Facebook interactions with folks who were casual friends at old job/high school/college/etc are lighter and less thoughtful. I can maintain my familiar role as the bon vivant. When I write here, I generally feel like I want to work through my tangles of thoughts and emotions. I don't want to play the bon vivant all the time. Right now I'm untangling my feelings concerning my son. The last I wrote of him here, he had just lost a friend from his English class -- another HS junior-- to a freak heart attack. Less than two months later, in an unimaginably cruel twist of fate, he has just lost ANOTHER friend, and this one much closer than the first. He is reeling and hurting and I am hurting with him. Because we've just gone through this, we know what to do and what to expect. The whole school is reeling -- this is the third student death this year. I've never heard of such a thing unles it is wartime or an epidemic. I am needing to hug him more often, and he is allowing it in his numbed haze. the DH is ok -- he had a few bad spells earlier this year; no worse than usual for him, and no more difficult for the rest of us to deal with. WHat was different was my acceptance of what was. I think I finally acknowledged that this is our new normal; that he was not going to get any better, that this is as good as it gets. I needed to mourn that, and I think I am nearly finished with that process. We are on the same page as far as trying to greet each day with love and tackle it with as much gusto as we can summon. This is actually an improvement for us. Our new project is visiting colleges for firstborn and applying for various scholarships and hoping for the best. I am... I don't know. Tired, slightly melancholy, not as fit or healthy or well-rested as I could be. Trying hard to bear in mind that this can be a wonderful world, but not always remembering it. Current Mood: contemplative | | Thursday, April 16th, 2009 | | 10:00 pm |
| | Wednesday, April 15th, 2009 | | 10:21 am |
| | Saturday, February 14th, 2009 | | 12:53 pm |
| | Wednesday, February 11th, 2009 | | 6:58 pm |
endless week
alone this week with dh away and children very needy, rehearsals to run, funerals to go to etc etc. The woods are lovely, dark, and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep. | | Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 | | 8:44 am |
| | Sunday, January 4th, 2009 | | 2:38 pm |
Grey Lady shows her ass
My first LTE of the new year: To whom it may concern, In response to Adam Ellick's January 2nd article "In Queens, A Melting Pot and a Closed Book" ( http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/04/nyregion/thecity/04elli.html?_r=2&pagewanted=1&em), I have to say I never thought the New York Times would publish an article designed to make we residents of Queens feel like fetishized curiosities. There is so much inherently wrong with his whole attitude, beginning with "I moved to Jackson Heights in late 2006 precisely to discover these discreet ethnic underworlds". Underworlds? The entire immigrant population is a giant crime syndicate? He goes on to describe jogging amongst Mexicans to a child's video game, and is unashamed of his droll amusement at the people who dodged his attempts to take their pictures. At least he was honest about the fact that he basically forced his way into that Korean bar, and he's too arrogant to recognize it for the bullying move it was. Well, we inscrutable, colorful and "exotic" natives of Queens don't need his condescending curiosity. He can take his sorry self back to Manhattan and good riddance. | | Thursday, December 18th, 2008 | | 8:31 am |
the other pastor at the inaugural
good article at dkos about the amazing Rev. Joseph Lowery, who is doing the closing prayer. Now I don't think much of Rick Warren, but he does represent a huge swath of one toofed righties who are a large portion of RedMurka, so perhaps it is fitting to include him in some way. Rev. Lowery's is the prayer that I will be shouting Amen for. http://www.dailykos.com/storyonly/2008/12/18/05320/039/950/674340and even better is this one: http://www.interstateq.com/archives/1809/ If you have time, listen to the whole thing. I had never heard him speak at such length (though I loved the spankings he doled out at Coretta Scott King's funeral) -- I am deeply impressed. What a humanitarian! | | Sunday, December 14th, 2008 | | 8:58 pm |
laughing hysterically!
This is a farewell kiss, you dog!" shouted the protester in Arabic, later identified as Muntadar al-Zeidi, a correspondent for Al-Baghdadia television, an Iraqi-owned station based in Cairo, Egypt. Bush ducked both shoes as they whizzed past his head and landed with a thud against the wall behind him http://thinkprogress.org/2008/12/14/bush-iraq-shoe/ | | Saturday, December 13th, 2008 | | 11:48 pm |
movie review
I loved and hated Slumdog Millionaire. It is rated R for a reason, lots of implied and actual brutality along with its beauty. All necessary for the story though. This is the same director who did "Trainspotting", so there's light woven with the dark throughout, as well as one obligatory gross-out moment. I was reminded of Pan's Labyrinth, in a strange way, which is another excellent film that I hope never to see again. Current Mood: artisticCurrent Music: AR Rahman "Bombay Dreams" | | Tuesday, December 9th, 2008 | | 9:22 pm |
My in-laws, who've known for 22 years about my dietary preferences just sent us our holiday gift. It is a seven pound ham. Yeah well, I wish them Eid Mubarak too, stupid fuckers. Current Mood:  irritatedCurrent Music: Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan "Piyar Re" | | 12:36 am |
| | Wednesday, December 3rd, 2008 | | 8:03 am |
RIP Odetta
In the fall of 1986, my college sponsored a big anti-nuke/Great Peace March concert, to be held in the big stone chapel with the amazing acoustics. My group and I (being big campus names but unknown in the roster of big-name folkies) performed our couple of songs at 7 pm or so , while the big names like Odetta, Ronnie Gilbert, Peter Yarrow, etc. went much later at 9 ish. After our brief turn on stage was over, we went backstage and were welcomed warmly by Odetta herself who had been listening to us sing. I don't remember much of what she said, but she sang something softly with us while a speaker was out front onstage. Not a song for performance, just because she wanted to share music with 8 starstruck college girls, and encourage us to remain with music. I certainly have. Rest in peace, ma'am. | | Tuesday, December 2nd, 2008 | | 9:36 am |
advent-ageous
I'm still recovering from a (thankfully non-violent) culture clash that happened on Saturday afternoon. My BIL and kids had Thanksgiving with us, and as per usual, left our niece to spend the weekend. He asked us to return her by Saturday afternoon so that she could share in their household's traditional post-turkey holiday decorations. He was a bit tense about it, but I didn't probe further. Spent a hysterically fun Friday with my dearest K, 7 kids, two dogs, the Colbert Christmas Special and naughty-word teenaged "scattergories", and then arrived back at casa chaos on Saturday at the pre-apponted time. I supposed we expected a bit more of the same friendly holiday socializing but instead....BIL greeted us looking harried and pretty much tried to shoo us out the door right after we arrived. Him: Vague noises about "so sorry, we have too much to do and no time for visit". Me: "Dude, do you want a hand? I thought this was supposed to be a fun time for y'all" Him: shooting pleading looks at DH, and then peeking at his father (nasty, bitter wingnut closet-queen FIL) who pivoted away and was stalking to his room and slamming the door at my arrival. "Um, Um" Me: listening with shadenfreudic glee to FIL mutter imprecations about Obama's birth certificate from behind the closed door "Anyone else want a cup of tea? I'm dying of thirst and can't possibly leave right away." Clearly, he wanted to avoid a scene by having me leave, since he knows his father can only control his anti-me and anti-everything-that-I-represent bile for but so long. But that was only half the problem, since the driving force behind Decoration Weekend is MIL who is completely OCD about it. She's not inherently mean, she's just nuts and very stressful to be aorund because of the high drama. She recreates an entire Christmas town, like from Macy's all through the house, but it takes two to three days of hard labor to do it each year. Any suggestion that she cut back is met with wails of "How can you deny tradition??!?!? Are you declaring "War On Christmas?!?!?" which apparently no-one can argue with. Since BIL is the primary laborer for this endeavor, since it is (supposedly) HIS house, even if his parents live there too, since we weren't going to see them for the rest of the month, since my son offered to help out, and since I just drove nearly 90 minutes to deliver his daughter, I was starting to get royally pissed off. At this point, BIL's gf, who had been hiding in his room, came out when she heard our voices. He's been pushing her to spend more time with him and his family, so that when she had a weekend free from her own kids, she came down to join in the "decorating fun". Apparently there had been raised voices and sniping for most of the day, since the decorating of a huge exurban McMansion is a lengthy slog at the best of times. This family just has a special talent for turning any event into a grim and joyless affair. BIL's gf described some of the drama to me, and I couldn't help but guffaw helplessly. The tree, the creche and the lights were expected. Clearing out the kitchen cabinets to replace the regular teacups with reindeer mugs was a chore, but not as much as stripping out the bathrooms to replace all the bath fabrics with *snowman toilet seat covers and bath mats with coordinating Santa-claus towels*. I wish I was making this up, but the second tree, windowclings on all windows, the 25 silk poinsettias, the continuous loop of Perry Como Christmas CDs, 100 feet of faux-greenery bannister garlands, mini-trainset through the fake snow and mini-village on the windowseats, numerous audio-animatronic Santas...etc. is why it takes two full days of hard labor to set up. Mind you, BIL's gf is Jewish, or, more importantly from their perspective, she is equal to me in being a prime suspect in the "War On Christmas" (tm). Perhaps we shouldn't have stayed, or worse, laughed at the proceedings. But, gf hadn't seen us in months, was hoping for a visit, and was feeling isolated and horrified at the insane hysteria of the proceedings. If either of us had seen a shred of evidence that the results of these activities was making anyone happy, we wouldn't have said a word. Anyway, after the third repeat of "rocking around the christmas tree" she suggested a dave matthews CD...and that's when FIL had the shit fit he had been holding back. Aapparently not listening to the prescribed '50's shlock was grinchy behavior by us non-believers, and he came to tell us so. That's when I poured a great big slug of brandy into my tea and opined that this was just what the baby jesus wanted so we should sit our heathen/pagan (respectively) asses down. DH didn't know whether to giggle or kick me. The children and I were holding our ribs and trying hard to remain polite enuf not to laugh when listening to them yell at each other about needing a winter wonderland theme for bowel movements. When we finally left, I had a lot to think about. I neither intended to mock, nor to be anti-Christmas, but that is what wound up happening, and I was slightly ashamed. Really, I think Jesus was a great guy. He is revered in Islam, and I have no desire to trample on other people's traditions. I think what I was partly reacting to was the assumption that if you didn't do it this way, then you were being anti-christmas. and, a lot of *that* has to do with the martyred, victim mentality of those on the right (like my in-laws)who are forever seeing their "way of life" as under attack. I have conflicted feelings about December, and this really forced me to examine them. It has taken me years to learn to enjoy this time of year. To do so, I had to make it my own, with strict limitations on what I would permit from other people's expectations. The beginning of December always is a culture clash of sorts, as I find my equilibrium between American tradition and my own austere sensibilities. In my observation, much of the emotional baggage surrounding Christmas has to do with nostalgia (for good childhood memories) and I'm sure that is true for most people who celebrate it. For the rest, there is faux-nostalgia, materialistic glee and xenophobia. I am not carrying that nostalgic baggage. I did not celebrate while growing up, aside from having dinner with my parents' Christian friends. I watched Rudolph and Charlie Brown like any other American kid, but I suppose I maintained an emotional distance from it, even as I regarded the Burl Ives snowman quite kindly. I liked the spectacle of New York all decked out for the season, but more because I appreciate the New York tradition rather than the Christian one. I married a (formerly traumatized) Catholic who did want to enjoy the season and I wanted to enjoy with him, or at least not get in his way. When I became a hired soprano for various Christian churches, my emotional distance grew even bigger. The season connotes x, y, and z pieces for the sundays of Advent, with everything but everything gearing up towards that final high B flat at the end of "Oh Holy Night" on xmas eve. I've mostly kept my cynicism to myself. I wanted my children to enjoy the time as much as my husband. They've adjusted for me too. We don't have blond angels or pink Santas festooning our house, but a chantara, menora, ganesha, kinara, laughing buddha and several pentacles on the tree, along with a "coexist" sign. But we do decorate. We do exchange gifts. Perhaps the difference is mainly one of scale, because we're a household of minimalists. I want to enjoy the season more, but it seems that I'll have to do it as a refugee from mainstream consumer culture. The ubiquitous santa decor and the trampling death at walmart and the gunfight at the toysRus is just not my idea of a good holiday time. Current Mood: thoughtfulCurrent Music: Praetorius "Psallite" |
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