You know, it's really silly and dishonest of me to only document my successes.

I am bipolar. I am a survivor of abuse. I may not or may not be Borderline. I may or may not have PTSD. I haven't done a very good job of handling any of these things because of my tendency to deny, or to outright lie about them.

These labels. What are they for, one wonders. Who gets to group us like this, who gets to explain our lives with checklists? Why is it that some of us are charted and others of us get to do the charting? This means so many things to me.

Today I felt icky. Caffeine-deprived at first. And then, just deprived. I wrote a lot, because I'm in the habit of writing a lot. Writing is a comfort I don't take for granted.

I'm planning on making a squash casserole for dinner. I like being in the kitchen, I must say.

I am feeling much better and much stronger and more capable these days.

I found a cheap place to live close to Tulane! This fills me with joy because I love the area and living in the East has always been a major pain for me.

I have enough money and faith in the people who have invested in financing my education so far (ahem, the deans in the financial aid office of Amherst College) to not worry about the fact that I may not be able to start working until the middle of July. But I'm applying places and I should be able to find something relatively soon.

No pasa nada...right?

I'm not really thinking about my childhood in "deal with it" terms right now. I'm thinking about it in "it's over" terms and "I'm not a little girl anymore" terms. This is more useful for the time being.

I have wonderful people in my life and I feel so grateful for the friendships that have sustained me through a very difficult time. You know who you are. Thank you.

You know, I actually had something to say about this, but then got focused on something else...sorry. So this is a photograph of one of my favorite writers. Colette. She was an amazing writer, and an incredible woman who lived a life of bravery and passion (and scandal!!) This is her, looking deliciously dyke-y. I haven't been in a very good mood lately, so I've been clinging to the things I love, and the things I used to love.

Her (stage) name is Ishtar. She's an Israeli singer, known for her work with a Parisian group in Paris called Alabina, and her work as a solo artist as well. She sings in Arabic, Hebrew, French, Spanish, English...and I really can't handle this much sexy.

To quote the breathy cooing of Marilyn Monroe, what a lovely way to burn.

Enjoy, loves.

Well, firstly, it is spring here. Finally. And it is glorious. Pride Week was glorious because of the weather, and because of the love and support of my friends here. Cheeseball moment: I love the way we love each other, and I've learned everything about taking care of people, and being taken care of, from them.

Those motherfuckers who stole my cash at Drag Ball at UMASS last Wednesday. Not so glorious.

But anyway. What else? Two students in the valley, one from UMASS, the other from Hampshire, are trying to start a Queer Activist Network for five-college students, so that we can coordinate more effective political responses to the violence and intolerance we still face on our campuses every day. Yes, even in the Pioneer valley. Sweet, queer valley it is. Recently, two women at UMASS were walking together, holding hands, in the middle afternoon and some huge guy shoved them to the ground, spitting on them and calling them dykes. And he hasn't been identified. There was nowhere for them to go; there is no system in place because everyone assumes that the days of overt oppression and hatred are over, if only in New England college bubble land. There's a rally this Thursday to speak out against this, and all other kinds of violence.

I've been thinking about a lot of stuff, lately. Pretty intensely, but I can't put it together the way I want to. I'm thinking about nation states, and how they are primarily defined by what group of people holds "legitimate" control of violence in a particular territory. The state speaks violence. The American president doesn't just have the power to approve or veto a bill--he has the power to have you killed. How do you talk back to that? What does it mean to be committed to social change in a world that needs so much changing? How can one be a pacifist revolutionary in this context? How do we survive this, with our minds and our spirits intact? How do we not let them wear us down?

Who are "we"? Who am I calling out to? Who's listening?

I read this essay on the relationship between homonormativity and global lockdown...and it's totally fucking with my head. Must process.

Crazy. She is too damn much. But I can't wait for this CD to come out. It's her first studio album in 17 years.

Here's the track listing for Crayons:

1. Stamp Your Feet
2. Mr. Music
3. Crayons featuring Ziggy Marley
4. The Queen is Back
5. Run With It
6. Sand On My Feet
7. Drivin' Down Brazil
8. I'm A Fire
9. Slide Over Backwards
10. Science of Love
11. Be Myself Again
12. Bring Down The Reign



Welcome back to your throne, honey.

My weekend felt really powerful for the most part. I went to the CLPP conference at Hampshire and it was incredible and inspiring to be surrounded by so many brave, intelligent, committed people. The Suheir Hammad performance at the New World Theater at UMASS was also astounding. "Live life off the wall," were her closing words.

Suheir, I'm trying.

The reality of not having any money and not feeling like I'm on top of my shit academically and worrying about the future, among other things...is sort of dragging me down. So my moods are just bouncing up and down, as are my energy levels. I have a lot of work to do, but I feel so tired, mentally and physically. I'm in a funk. I know it'll pass and that I just have to take a deep breath and push through, but I'm venting.

Expect more info about the conference. And more positive thoughts when I get the chance.

Donna Summer's new album Crayons is due to be released from Burgundy Records in May 2008 .

According to the website, the album will be released in approximately 46 days, 12 hours and 38 minutes.

Don't act like you don't know what I want for my birthday. But don't all rush to it. Coordinate.

;)

I am inconceivably excited. Oh, yes.

For immediate release
Contact: PAMELA RICE, 212-242-0011

FIRST VEGGIE PRIDE PARADE IN AMERICA
May 18, 2008
Greenwich Village, NYC

CLICK FOR HOME PAGE:
http://www.veggieprideparade.org

The First Veggie Pride Parade in America will take place in Greenwich
Village, New York City, on May 18, 2008.

The procession will begin at 12 Noon in the Old Meat District (where
9th Ave., Gansevoort St., Greenwich St., and Little West 12th St.
intersect).

The parade will culminate in Washington Square Park (Eastern end),
where a festival of rock music, speakers, and exhibitors will take
place.

Parade participants are encouraged to dress up in costumes and to
wear sign boards announcing their pride in their vegetarian lifestyle.

Local restaurants will represent themselves with banners. And
otherwise, contin gents from all walks of life are encouraged to get
involved.

Participants may be animal-rights activists, environmentalists, or
people simply concerned with their health. They may be bricklayers
who just so happen to also be vegetarians (just one example). But on
May 18, 2008 all will come together with one voice, one expression,
of veggie pride.

At 2 p.m. on stage at the post-parade rally in Washington Square
Park, the winners of a costume and poster-slogan contest in various
categories will be announced.

At 4 p.m., also on stage, a 7-foot-tall human pea pod, Penelo Pea Pod
(long-time mascot of parade sponsor VivaVegie Society) will be
married in an open wedding ceremony. The lucky guy (ur, animal?
vegetable?) has yet to be identified. Stay tuned. The secret will
soon be out.

The parade is fashioned after, and will take place the same weekend
as, the Veggie Pride Parade in Paris. The Parisian parade was th e
first of its kind ever to take place in the world and has been going
on annually since 2001.

Visit http://www.veggieprideparade.org for more information about the
Parisian roots of the parade as well as the genesis for the New York
spin-off.

Also at http://www.veggieprideparade.org , find buttons to click to
get involved through volunteering and sponsorship. Find maps with
start location and parade route as well.

Click at http://www.veggieprideparade.org for the official Veggie
Pride Parade (USA) blog, calendar, volunteers' listserve, and costume
page. And so much more...

Visit http://www.veggieprideparade.org to find it all.

Please cross post widely

La plus belle chanson d'amour que j'avais entendu. Aujourd'hui, anyway.

(Please excuse my rusty French grammar).

Les paroles:

La chanson des vieux amants par Jacques Brel

Bien sûr, nous eûmes des orages
Vingt ans d'amour, c'est l'amour fol
Mille fois tu pris ton bagage
Mille fois je pris mon envol
Et chaque meuble se souvient
Dans cette chambre sans berceau
Des éclats des vieilles tempêtes
Plus rien ne ressemblait à rien
Tu avais perdu le goût de l'eau
Et moi celui de la conquête

Mais mon amour
Mon doux mon tendre mon merveilleux amour
De l'aube claire jusqu'à la fin du jour
Je t'aime encore tu sais je t'aime

Moi, je sais tous tes sortilèges
Tu sais tous mes envoûtements
Tu m'as gardé de pièges en pièges
Je t'ai perdue de temps en temps
Bien sûr tu pris quelques amants
Il fallait bien passer le temps
Il faut bien que le corps exulte
Finalement finalement
Il nous fallut bien du talent
Pour être vieux sans être adultes

Oh, mon amour
Mon doux mon tendre mon merveilleux amour
De l'aube claire jusqu'à la fin du jour
Je t'aime encore, tu sais, je t'aime

Et plus le temps nous fait cortège
Et plus le temps nous fait tourment
Mais n'est-ce pas le pire piège
Que vivre en paix pour des amants
Bien sûr tu pleures un peu moins tôt
Je me déchire un peu plus tard
Nous protégeons moins nos mystères
On laisse moins faire le hasard
On se méfie du fil de l'eau
Mais c'est toujours la tendre guerre

Oh, mon amour...
Mon doux mon tendre mon merveilleux amour
De l'aube claire jusqu'à la fin du jour
Je t'aime encore tu sais je t'aime.



I am such a cheeseball, je sais.

Oh well.

Spring is abuzz with great events. This has been the best week of watching documentaries: Filming Desire, and Ebony Chunky Love: Bitch Can't Get A Date. By far the most fun and engaging and important things I've seen all semester. So I'm very happy. Also, went to a great reading tonight and had a great dinner before hand. One glass of wine, and a half, and I was on my way to being drunk. I was entering that tunnel of stumbling my ass down those steep stairs. Not cute. But fun.

Things are good in poetry land, too. Karen Volkman will be here Sunday, and Alice Notley will be here Tuesday, and I absolutely can't wait. Especially to see Volkman. I may or may not get to see Notley, which is sad, but there's so much shit on April 3rd...I can't decide what to do. What a great problem to have.

Also, just to brag, I have been called both gorgeous and glamorous within about a three-hour period. And that's quite lovely.


But I'm still broke. Although, off the pole, which should comfort some of you, perhaps.

C'est tout, my loves!

So, I got accepted into this workshop in upstate New York for the summer. Yay. But I have no money. Right now, my life is scrambling for funding, and trying to stay off the pole.

That's right. Trying to stay off the pole.

What else? Have I mentioned that I'm in love? It helps ease the anxiety and depression provoked by poverty. It really does.

Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.
Remembering when this was true for the first time, and then when it stopped being true.
And how it's true again. And how, of course, it won't be.

Looking at all the rough parts, and not being afraid, and not forgetting.

Kimya Dawson in Audobon Park, for a few moments, by the pavilion.
Rumors of a gator in the lagoon. A family tossing whole crackers to the ducks.

Finally, congratulations and prayers for a friend who will bring life into the world.

Since at least one of you has expressed concern...I am well, and generally much better than well. A couple of more midterms before I escape to my little subtropical vacation where I hope to see many good friends. Especially the recently or soon-to-be 21-yr. old ones.

I'm wishing on a star to go to a writers' program in Saratoga Springs this summer. Say a prayer and stay tuned.

I don't know what to do about this room draw situation. I almost don't care. My living situation can't really get suckier than the hill (which is in fact not sucky at all). I think. Qui sait?

Yes. This is all.

Yes, finals are kicking me in the ass.
Yes, I should be working.

But right now, I'm loving this. Keep this one in mind for Mother's Day, folks.




Maurane is beyond cool. Think Sade meets Patti Labelle...but Flemish.

Writing this paper is forcing me to examine how deeply racist and sexist iconography is embedded in my imagination, and how much it shapes how I understand myself and relate to the world on the most intimate of levels.

And it's kind of devastating.

I can't wait to finish this, and start spring break.

I can attribute my sudden, slightly odd and obsessive interest in Celine Dion to a quiet, unconscious remaking of my inner self. I used to iconize someone else this way, during that other growth spurt of mine, circa age 12...before I realized she was a homophobic sellout. I think.

I also have something to say about the Germans, and the gays, particularly the gays in late 19th century/early 20th century Germany. But later. I have to be a student now, and stop procrastinating.

Enjoy the music, babycakes.

Can words describe how much I love this song, and this performance?

Nope.

So, I'm working on a history paper, that's not really a history paper but more of a cultural studies/literary theory paper, on Donna Summer's "Love to Love You Baby" and looking at all these old performances. I'm not writing about "Last Dance" but watching this performance and hearing this song again seriously made me tear up a little. I'm thinking about the end of an era, the devastation of the AIDS virus, and the following conservative backlash. Sad shit.

Anyways, enjoy, mis amores.

Yeah, so if you blinked, you would have missed it. But I know you guys remember. I love, love bad pop music. And this is the worst, which makes it the best in my eyes.




This is B*Witched. Awesome one-hit wonders from Ireland. And how stereotypically Irish is this video? Oh marketing people. But love it.



I actually love Samantha Mumba. I'm sad she's not still around. Also, the mark of a true 90s kid is the ability to tell Samantha Mumba's "Baby Come on Over" from Christina Aguilera's "Come on Over Baby". Or maybe it's just the mark of a pop culture dork.

So how sick of this song did you get? But I'm totally nostalgic for it right now. I just downloaded it, along with the dance remix. Hot.