'I sleep too much;
I curl in at midday, sheepish,
In strange rooms.'

-Sarah Hannah, Eclipse

at the parade

video of the day, random thoughts on guns, & etc.

It was impossible to avoid discussion this week of the Supreme Court's takedown of the Washington, DC handgun ban, and it will be interesting to see how this actually plays out.

Hardcore gun advocates see this as just the beginning, or, as scary, scary Wayne LaPierre (CEO of the NRA and author of The Global War on Your Guns: inside the UN plan to destroy the Bill of Rights) put it, "I consider this the opening salvo in a step-by-step process of providing relief for law-abiding Americans everywhere that have been deprived of freedom." Poor, put-upon gun-owners, what with their lack of freedoms! But seriously, the NRA has already filed several lawsuits challenging gun restrictions in Chicago and San Francisco, with more probably soon to follow.

Gun-control advocates like the good people at the Brady Campaign to Prevent Gun Violence are up in arms (so to speak) at the Court's decision, arguing that it upends decades of tacit understanding that the Second Amendment protects the right for states to have armed militias to fend off the potentially evil federal government, not the right for every man, woman, and child to carry around lethal weapons.

In purely statistical terms, it will be interesting to see how this decision impacts gun deaths in the United States, if at all. Justice Scalia, in a strongly worded dissent in the court case recently granting habeas corpus to Guantanamo detainees, argued that the majority's decision was bad because it "will almost certainly cause more Americans to be killed." More than 30,000 Americans die annually at the end of a gun. This is already more than 10 times as many deaths every single year than were caused by the terrorist attacks on 9/11. It's hard not to imagine that with yet more guns will come yet more deaths. (But then, I'm a New York liberal democrat, so what do I know?)

One last thought on this gun thing. This article is worth reading in its own right, but more importantly, take a look at the picture. The guy screaming. The guy with the sign. "If guns kill people... do pens misspell words?" Not only is it gratingly unlyrical, but do we really want someone who thinks guns and pens are equivalent to have access to deadly weapons? Pens may misspell words when placed in the wrong hands, true, but we've invented copy editors and spell check for that. What kind of check do we have for guns being in the wrong hands? Emergency rooms, I suppose.

One last, last thought on this gun thing (I promise) also brought on by this picture: do these people honestly believe that the founders thought every household should have a.. a.. I don't even know what exactly it's called, but the big, scary looking thing in the front right corner? I wouldn't have such a huge problem with the Court's newly-enshrined constitutional right of individuals to bear arms if they were bearing, you know, muskets.

And on a different note entirely, this for Marti: "It is downright unsheeplike to leave the flock and stand nose-to-nose with a dog for long periods." -Jon Katz's Stories from the Farm


(My propensity for black clothes is clearly an evolutionary defense mechanism)

chopshop again

I was pleased to learn today that Alan & Rebecca's band, Chopshop, have a couple new songs up. Blacked Out's still by far my favorite but I'm looking forward to hearing the album in its entirety some time in the not too, too distant future...

what not to call a beauty center

in my mailbox tonight, or, i think i might quite like this paterson fellow

June 17, 2008

Dear Ms. McNeil:

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your support concerning same-sex marriage rights. It is affirming to know that you, along with many other New Yorkers, share the same feeling on marriage equality.

Currently, same-sex marriages are legal in Canada, South Africa, various European nations, and American states such as Massachusetts and California. With the recent decision in Martinez v. County of Monroe, these marriages will now have their rights honored in the State of New York. This new decision represents a major point of progress to ensuring marriage equality amongst all people. I firmly believe that this decision will only help the Empire State, as we continue to take significant steps forward in the 21st Century.

Again, thank you for contacting me and for your thoughtful words of support.

Warmest regards.

Sincerely,
David A. Paterson

herbs & kisses & a guilty mind

I've been kissing a girl recently, a blond tomboyish girl, partly or sometimes or one evening at least for real as Steve Earle, R.L. Burnside, & Tom Waits rasped out of tinny computer speakers; other times merely in my head, in those pre-dawn moments when my mind has yet to fully latch onto the wakefulness and the new day.

Eating with this girl is a field strewn with landmines, yet I find myself wanting to eat with her, wanting to cook for her, wanting to feed her in spite of (because of?) this.

And I find myself inordinately amused at the things she can and can not (will and will not) eat. Basil and garlic, oregano and hot peppers, good. Cilantro very, very bad. Mint acceptable (but only in moderation). Lemon thyme unknown, but tested and deemed perhaps worthy. Peanuts in shells in. Peanuts not in shells out (unless they are Trader Joe's Thai Lime & Chili peanuts, which might be alright, apparently, in small doses). Chocolate bad. Tamarind (sweet tamarind) palatable in its comforting similarity to the already acceptable prune. (And all of this, I can only imagine, being only the tip of the iceberg.)

And then I talk to Erica, Erica who is dear and young and not afraid of being judgmental, of giving voice to a certain simplistic good/bad understanding of the world that I find both intimidating and admirable but also, yes, sometimes aggravating. Erica who is aghast at my behavior, and who declares that she's keeping her boyfriend well away from me.

I think she is joking, and joke back to her that he is not my type, that she need not worry, but her narrowed eyes tell me she's serious. "What about that old friend of yours? The Republican?" she demands. "He was married -- this is a pattern!"

"That wasn't anything," I protest. "A kiss. We hadn't seen each other in years. We were drunk. It was two o'clock in the morning just standing on the street corner.  We were saying goodnight!"

My protests fall on disapproving ears and I realize that I am rationalizing, that I am justifying myself, however unjustly. And it hits me -- I am parsing degrees of hurt (worse has been done to me), degrees of knowing (the Republican's wife, the tomboy's girlfriend, they are not friends of mine, they are not even acquaintances), degrees of responsibility (I don't owe them anything).

It hits me that I am parsing degrees of consciously inflicted pain and even if the wife, even if the girlfriend, never know it, I know it. I know it, and it makes me unhappy with myself.

But there I go probably over-thinking things again.

tamarind seeds & bust magazine & soft language

I have to confess that I'm not very familiar with George Carlin's work and I'm not all that big on scatological humor, but I remember reading one particular quote of his awhile back that stuck with me for a long time. And thanks to this wonderful creation, this internets, this series of tubes, with a simple search of "soft language," I've rediscovered the quote:

"I don't like words that hide the truth. I don't like words that conceal reality. I don't like euphemisms, or euphemistic language. And American English is loaded with euphemisms. Cause Americans have a lot of trouble dealing with reality. Americans have trouble facing the truth, so they invent the kind of a soft language to protect themselves from it, and it gets worse with every generation."

Entirely unrelated, I bought some tamarind pods yesterday to use in a Thai-ish concoction for dinner and was so taken with the seeds that I decided to plant some and see what happens. I didn't realize that tamarind trees were quite so big, though (eighty feet or more) and am having doubts about the potential for a windowsill-sized bonsai tamarind. But what the hell. If it actually sprouts, I have plenty of friends doing that whole scary crazy adult house-buying thing, some even with yards and perhaps space enough for a tree. A really, really big tree.

Also, Bust magazine discovered the Barnard Library Zine Collection recently.

bridge, 6.23.08

tidbits

Some of the things I might tell you if we still spoke of such things --

I finally got around to watching Big Bad Love. It was kind of wonderful.

"His curse was remembering. It was also a blessing, and that was easy to forget."

Lauren and I saw the most ridiculous, wonderful car ever the other day on our drive up the West Side Highway from Brooklyn.

Apparently my birthday this year was in fact not the longest day of the year.

Being 32 so far is not a disastrous thing.

I've been watching The Wire, and the music at the end makes me cry.

"Did you ask for forgiveness?"
"Of course."
"What'd she say?"
"What she needed to say. Look, forgiveness from other folks is good, but it ain't nothin' but words comin' at you from outside."

My avocado "tree" is growing, growing, and I'm discovering that all of the plants are doing pretty well even without you looking after them.

So am I.

spas & why I hate 'em

Karen asked me the other day if I'd ever been to the Sava Spa, across the street from my apartment. Her inquiry got me to reminiscing (for lack of a better word) about spas and my general aversion to them.

I have been to three spa/salon type places. In reverse order, both chronologically and intensity of horribleness, they are as follows.

3) One of my best friends got married in May of 2006. The day before said wedding, for which I had the honor of being a bridesmaid, all of us bridal party women folk got our nails done. My feet are ticklish, so that was kind of funny. And the woman who did my manicure laughed at the gnawed-on state of my fingernails and kept stopping to answer the phone. (The wedding itself was lovely, though!)

2) One of ex-boyfriend Chris's cousin's got married back in November of 2005. It was a black tie affair. Pedicures were strongly suggested. I'd never had one before and didn't particularly want one. Have I mentioned I have ticklish feet? And the gentleman doing mine was shocked at my hairy legs. It was rather embarrassing and merely reinforced the notion that I am just not cut out for these girlish things.

1) Over spring break one year, back in those distant college days, I went to visit a friend who'd had to leave school the year before due to some mental health issues. Turns out the girl was still a little crazy, manifested in her unshakable belief that yours truly was none other than the Messiah. Really. Over the course of the visit she gave me a black leather jacket (literally the clothes off her back), kept insisting on buying me things ('offerings'), took me to her favorite spa for a facial (all the while explaining to the staff my exalted status), hit a bicycle delivery man with her car (my status further cemented by the fact that the poor man got up, shook himself off, and rode off into the night), and got into a heated argument with another friend's mother (the wife of a rabbi, as it happened) about the second coming of our lord & savior while I hid in the bathroom. Needless to say, the weekend was cut short when I fled back to my blessedly solitary Barnard dorm room. Last I heard, she was getting married and training to be a dental hygienist.

So no, I have not been to nor do I have any intention, ever, of going to this new-fangled spa in my ever-gentrifying neighborhood. I can only begin to imagine how much it is just not for me.

thwarted, or, when the coffee stand man is just too nice

I had only a $20 bill in my pocket yesterday morning, nothing smaller, no change other than a handful of pennies. And I needed my morning coffee, my morning ritual on the corner of 116th & Broadway, where I haven't actually had to order in months and months. They see me coming, prepare my coffee, accept my $1.25, and I'm on my way. Sometimes we mention the weather, or wish each other a pleasant weekend. Sometimes it's just a nod and a smile.

So I found myself apologizing yesterday morning as I handed over my $20 bill, but was glad to be getting change so that I could at least buy my after-lunch coffee, from the coffee stand on 116th & Amsterdam, with something smaller. To my surprise, the coffee stand man waved me off, saying, "Don't worry, honey, just bring it tomorrow."

Which, of course, was very sweet of him. But then I had to psych myself up for going through the same thing all over again on my lunch break. Which I did. And when the other coffee stand man, the one on 116th & Amsterdam, saw me waving a $20 bill around, he, too, waved me off and said, "No, no, it's okay, just bring it tomorrow!"

So this morning I made sure to have exact change for not two, but four cups of coffee safely in pocket before traipsing on out to the bus stop.

One down, one more to go.

hallelujah

the myth of the post-Clinton female voter

Rumor has it that thousands, perhaps hundreds of thousands, of female Clinton supporters, so pissed off that Hillary's been forced out of the race, are on the verge of abandoning their Democratic roots and jumping on the McCain bandwagon.

Really? I mean, McCain? The man who said to his wife (in public), "At least I don't plaster on the makeup like a trollop, you cunt"? The man who thinks women just need to get themselves better educated and stop whining about unfair pay? The man who is anti gun control, anti birth control (not to even mention abortion), and has absolutely no time table for withdrawing from Iraq? The man who continues to oppose universal health care? The man who thinks that a "gas tax holiday" will save us from the oil crisis (even though this federal tax is the main source of revenue for little things like, you know, maintaining our roads and bridges)? The man who didn't bat an eyelash when a supporter, referring to Hillary, demanded to know, "How do we beat the bitch?"

Of course there will inevitably be some women who's presidential preferences will be Clinton, then McCain, then (or not at all) Obama. But to imply that this is a huge problem for the Democrats, to anecdotally create a mass exodus of Democratic women to Camp McCain, is both offensive and ridiculous. We women are not so hysterical or so illogical that we would vote en masse against our own interests and against decades of being democrats just because our girl lost.

And as for these post-Hillary-concession polls indicating that upwards of 30% of Clinton supporters are going to go out and vote Republican all of a sudden -- as one person pointed out, this is akin to asking a married couple in the middle of a big marital spat in September what their plans are for Valentine's Day. Even the most bitter, disappointed Clinton women will come around by November.

Already in a recent Gallup poll, Obama leads McCain amongst women voters by 13%. That's a pretty big lead by any standards.

Worth reading:

Frank Rich's piece in the Times yesterday
Huffington Post's Unmasking McCain