Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Think of it This Way

Okay right wing people of New Hampshire and beyond, who want to take away marriage rights from gay people…

You just think it’s wrong, like it’s all new and all wrong and all scary so you preach tradition.

And tradition is against same sexes together.


Think of men together as a conservative old timey thing. Like Rome. And Greece.

I know how you love the past. You just have to go further back.

Corinthian columns. Togas. Young men with muscles. Surely, you can see the appeal?

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

He's Actually for Real

Every time he opens his mouth, my flabber is so gasted, it almost tickles.

I don’t know why I think he’s so funny. Could it be a defense mechanism on my part?
Of course it is.

He is the candidate that so many people deserve. He is not a cynic, this Santorum. He is not actually manipulating. He believes the insanity that is drooling out of his mouth.

Apparently, he hates smart people. Hell, I hate smart people, too…mostly because they are often not so creative. But I would rather have a smart person running the government than a peculiar moron who wants to destroy the government except for the one little piece that would force women to accept all sperm packages delivered into their God given American vaginas.

How this man could be in a primary for anything at all is completely shocking.

But still, I find him entertaining. He’s that completely out of touch guy who believes he understands it all. Running on ego and the fumes of Christ, he gives voice to all the others who are doing the same.

I guess it comes down to superstition and using the wombs of women as the ballast to keep the fairy tales floating that makes me chuckle in wonderment.

I’m not paying attention too closely because I imagine my chuckling would turn to rage.

I must dismiss this man as an ignorant rabble rouser.

But then, I’m a coastal elite. I actually use a fork, believe in education and presume that women are not all Christian baby machines.

Okay, the chuckling is over and I have found my true anger.

Santorum, go the frack back to central Pennsylvania. The shale is calling.

Monday, February 27, 2012

Come On, Boys!

Flowers are blooming…in fact, daffodils have been poking up out of the ground since late January in places.

This is truly confusing.

But it was a very mild winter and that was nice.

What concern me are the pollens of May.

(And that, to me, concerns sounds like the correct verb in that sentence.)

And all they want to do is Frack?

You can’t Frack your way out of this.

But apparently, you can’t renewable your way out of this either.

So then what?

I was looking at a Terra Chips bag tonight—of course, the settling of contents inside (right, settling…the filling) was about one-third the size of the bag. So I’m getting disgusted by this big foil-y, plastic-y bag and all I could think was, “Do we really need to continue to go to war for the petroleum and to pollute like giant mad dogs so this company can make such huge bags?”

Youth—come on. You can at least do this. Insist on smaller packaging.
I ask the youth because, you know, they have more at stake here…and more energy to make it happen.

Boys with big packages, yes. Chips in big packages, no.

Sunday, February 26, 2012

Paris and Alexander Payne

Coincidentally, we watched Paris, Je t’aime, on Friday night, within a two day reach of Alexander Payne winning best adapted screenplay Oscar for The Descendants and the French movie, The Artist, which sort of Oscar sweptish.

Paris, Je t’aime, for those who do not know and for those who need to be reminded, is a collection of short films by various connu (known) film makers, about love in Paris. Falling in or out of love, but mostly in. The last short in the series is by Alexander Payne called 14th Arrondissement.

In this short, Margo Martindale, a working Denver woman goes to Paris on a short trip and practices her French. She falls in love with Paris and it falls in love with her. In the most basic way. It is exceptionally moving. Payne is one of the few writers-filmmakers today who dares to believe that human beings with their truthful emotions are interesting.

You can You Tube/Google 14th Arrondissement and find a bad copy of the six minute short which is certainly one way to defy copyright laws. Better still, you could enjoy it on a Netflix DVD in its intended paid-for glory by putting Paris, Je t’aime in your queue.

I enjoy the Oscars. But I really like simple people for what they do and how they are. Because it’s all so joyful and all so sad all at once. And the team of Payne-Martindale gets this, fully.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

No Surprise

Maryland, thank you.

A fine state you are in.

Santorum…you are the candidate so many people deserve.

Women on the Right:  Thank you for noticing. Ricky is a madman who wants control over your sex organs. Keep waking up.

As Israel keeps building in the West Bank: Who will out-baby the other side? The Orthodox Jews or the Palestinians?  I imagine impregnations within one month of giving birth. A population war. The ultimate cannon, controlled by men: The birth canal.

The end of February often feels like spring. February has a horrible reputation. But really, it is January--the cruelest month.

Bullets Over Broadway is the perfect source material for a Broadway musical.

I never have rice pudding in the house.

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Love Her or Hate Her

She’s brave.
We saw Biophilia tonight. I was happy Bjork included songs from Vespertine, which are more approachable.

But, truly, this was something else. I love the Icelandic girl choir. The chords are tight and discordant and ethereal.

Bjork sings like no one else.

And the graphics and the strange instruments added to the other worldly fun.

Plus, the harp.

It is inspiring to see and hear something this unique. Some of the songs are transcendent. A few are annoying.

But hell---nothing’s ever perfect.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

More Proof

Another reason to hate that miserable California. Who would ever want to live there?

The clip please:

Monday, February 13, 2012

Happy VD

We celebrated Valentine’s Day early this year, two days early, on a Sunday, doing what we often do. The small things.

We slept late, ate goat cheese-parsley-olive omelets, called our parents, took a five mile walk in very cold Central Park, sat on a park bench during a hard ten minute snowfall, came home, old movie clip of a train going through a tunnel, ate roast pork, watched Downton Abbey and called it one of the best days of our lives.

We’re married and middle aged. And all the ambition, singularity of purpose and hubris of youth, though propelling, is nothing compared with spending a perfectly simple day with the one you solidly love.

Happy Valentine’s Day to my husband, Adam. I’m glad you're mine.

Sunday, February 12, 2012


Do you perhaps think that all this autism is the beginning of the extinction of mankind?

Or, do you believe it’s been around in about these proportions for a long time and for the people at the low end of the spectrum, it’s not even autism, but really just another way of being?

Lastly, did you dislike Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, the movie, as much as I did?

Thursday, February 09, 2012

The Love and Humility of Two Women

Representative Maureen Walsh speaks about love. In the face of love, she understands we are all equal. She is humbled by it. She wants to share it. She does not make a show of it. She is not angry. She is accepting. Acceptance wins the game. Always.

Madonna in the superbowl. Now, one could get snarky and talk about her shiny mask of a face. Or her minor hunchbackish aura. Her jaw line troubles. Her stilted moves. But one won’t. I do mention them in passing because no matter how much money she spends, we can all tell that her skeleton and muscle underneath are not what they used to be. She knows it, too. You can feel her humility. It hurts. And it hurts. She also seems resigned, somewhat, to Madonna-formerly-known-as-Madonna. But her need for love, to be part of it all, in lyrics and in action, is still there.

When I was a young Communist in the 80s, I found her very upsetting. All things material, girl or otherwise, decay. I looked forward to her decline. I preferred Cyndi Lauper. But Madonna was a material lesson for me. We certainly did not know each other and let’s face it---she had big plans. And I had a calendar full of summer stock auditions…

I think Madonna is on the brink of making fun of the old Madonna. She’s smart so she sort of has to. She’s a solid comedian. She was great when she guested on Will & Grace. My vote? Give Madonna a sitcom. It’s the gracious thing to do. I bet she would humbly accept it. I’m happy to write it. Any takers?

Wednesday, February 08, 2012

The Numbers are Sort of In

Reports say that adults under thirty-five years of age favor gay marriage by a whopping 70%.

I do not know how large a sample they used or where this sample was taken. Perhaps 70 youthful people at Bennington and then 30 working stiffs nearby in Troy?

It doesn’t matter the exact number. All polls are biased, if not directly, than by unknown variables.

But it is safe to say this. Young people are mostly completely fine with gay marriage. Thank the mainstream media (note: mainstream) and Hollywood. I wink. ;)

But if your media is mainstream and everyone is watching what Hollywood makes (and let’s face it, more of it is made in Burbank and Studio City) then honeys, that IS the culture you are living in. The people make the culture? The culture makes the people? I choose the first.

These yelpings from the religious right are the sounds of dying dogs. They know a hard gay is gonna fall, is actually falling, in the best way. They cannot stop the youthful idea of equality from taking over. Besides, young people have such a huge job ahead of them---to save the country and the world---the last thing they have the energy for is to be hateful toward their friends, relatives and roommates.

So thank you young people, for being young and seeing clearly.

To the old and the silly, it’s a new world order:

It’s here. It’s queer. Get used to it.

We don’t bite. Unless you want us to.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

Monday, February 06, 2012

The Gay Men and Lesbian Divide

As gay men grow up and get over their trauma of being gay and as the society becomes more tolerant, accepting, and even celebratory of gay men (especially in the better cities), it becomes clear to gay men that, “Hell, it’s good to be a man, in a world of liberal men, where it is still a man’s world and you can be friends with women but sort of know that yes, it’s all about the men and so the world gets heady and powerful, strong and sexy—a parade of testosterone and sinew.”

But what if you are a lesbian? You get over your trauma. Or let’s say you don’t have trauma but “made a choice” or however you have become a lesbian, and you integrate into the adult world, even in one of our better cities, and you see, clearly, that it is still a man’s world. What would you want to do in order to feel like it was all about being a woman and all about being powerful, too? Because that looks pretty damn good to you. You’d want to separate.

So though there is often this joke about lesbian separatists, it sort of makes sense. As a gay man, if you are in the mood on any given day, you can fully ignore women and just march along and feel like your tribe (men, in general) is running everything. You can’t do that as a woman. And if you do, it will take a huge amount of aggression and denial and strange internal rule changing to get that done. Or a move to the woods.

I do not know if this post is at all compassionate. I mean it to be. But I also know that I am being condemning of lesbians in our culture who try to separate while remaining upright, walking among men.

I do not know what the answer is. I want lesbians to be powerful. I want women, in general, to be powerful. I want it all to be equal (as long as it really is equal). But it never gets there. And I just wonder if this is always going to be this way as long as we are physical beings and men remain physically stronger than women, with their muscles and their height, with their external genitalia hanging out, claiming space, as if it is their birthright. No matter how you slice it.

Sunday, February 05, 2012

Superbowl and Beyond

In an alternate universe, there was a Superbowl played today. I hear my hometown won. I heard screaming outside. While at a restaurant, I saw some halftime Madonna up on the screen. She never tires of playing dress-up. Does she really feel it?

We watched SMASH tonight, the new show about getting a musical up and running. It’s bold strokes. But that seems to work. It is well shot and well acted. The neighborhood is right here. I switched to the satire of 30 Rock. I like to laugh.

This winter has been extremely mild. I do not mind. But I have to say, I hope we get some really cold days and I hope we get a decent snow storm. I remember winters like this as a kid. They sort of slid by without much action. I remember most of the late 1970’s as barely wintry winters. Not that I do not believe in global warming or anything.

I have committed to writing more frequently. It is necessary.

I have committed to exercising more regularly. It makes me feel more plausible.

Even though blogging for the blog of it is so very 2006, I seem to continue. Is it because I cannot let go of something once my paws are all over it? I don’t know. But micro-thoughts on Facebook and Twitter are best served up pithy, and I am often without pith.


Thursday, February 02, 2012

With Gratitude

Thank you Washington.
Wake up California.

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

All Mitt and a Bag of Chips

Now that Mittens has beaten up the Newt, you have to wonder, why does Newt want to continue? Is he a masochist? Or just running on ego?

It must be brain chemistry in some way. Some hit of something that is wanted. It certainly cannot be from anything rational.

But then, who am I to prognosticate? Or even attempt to spell that word?

Something could happen for Newt.

I have not been watching the debates, getting my couch cushion ready for the real one between Obama and who I assume will be that Dog-in-a-luggage-caddy-on-the-roof man.

I still find Obama to be very attractive, a rock star if you will. Mitt is all dry cleaners and hair spray and being-separate-from-the-self, except when it comes to greed.

I don’t hate greed, exactly. It’s pretty much the only reasonable response in a capitalist society where you must choose between being the hammer or the anvil.

Oh that.

I have tried to stay away from hammers and anvils…to gather enough wealth to get out of the fight. To take some higher road. I think I have failed in gathering enough wealth, but have succeeded in staying out of the meanest fights. But the reverse of that, as usual, might be true, too.

We often say what we wish we were and try to pass it off as the truth. I’m often putting a -1 in front of my thoughts and then ask myself, “Try that one on.”

So, trying on Mitt because I would never think to. He does not feel like a leader. He does not inspire anything in me. He reminds me of that guy walking through the airport in a mountain state who you have absolutely nothing in common with, whose pants are too tight in the thighs and too billowy in the calves, who is kind of physically overbearing and bullying, who would mow you down with his wheely bag if you got between him and a bag of jalapeno chips he had his eye on.

Of course, I could be projecting.