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Wednesday, December 31, 2003
So...hmm...it feels like I should say something, doesn't it?
Um, happy new year...and stuff.
Don't take any wooden nickels...
Don't let the bedbugs bite....
Jeez. I'm just so damn exhausted from the visits from bio-mom and bio-sis and the in-laws and the trekking to Mississippi to visit my own family and the gift-giving and the get-togethers--including the party we're having here tonight--and the show that wouldn't freaking end (which unfortunately featured two performances of yours truly in mufti), I can hardly speak, much less type.
I'm going back to bed.
Sunday, December 21, 2003
Random links provided and/or inspired by the Lady Esther:
Friday, December 19, 2003
Here's the problem: values don't matter. Yes, we say they do, we say they're guiding principles and whatnot. And I guess they are for some people--people who work for nonprofits, for example, or religious zealouts.
But when it comes to big issues--war, foreign policy, law, even personal issues like divorce and pet ownership--it all comes down to economics. Or, at the most basic level, power.
We go to war, not because we feel a moral obligation to do so, but because our financial interests are at stake--otherwise, why haven't we gone to war with North Korea, Iran, or even China for that matter? Our international aid policy is based less on a moral obligation to help developing nations than on preemptive economic and military strategies--note, for example, our sudden interest in AIDS in Africa, which promises to cause serious civil strife in the coming decades if not aggressively addressed now. And how many men and women stay in relationships they don't enjoy simply because they lack the financial wherewithal to strike out on their own?
I know this is all old hat, but maybe you've had a similar experience in which the truth of a cliche has suddenly, startlingly struck home. That's what happened to me about five minutes ago, watching a clip of Bush talking about our "duty" to the Iraqi people and our responsibility to the less fortunate people of the world, when we all know good and damn well that this war was about (a) oil, (b) vendetta, (c) military defense, and perhaps (d) Islamophobia. Otherwise, we'd be out waging wars in Myanmar and helping the zillions of homeless in places like Calcutta and Rio de Janiero. And all of a sudden, it became so clear to me: ethical standards are the shiny veneer we put on base, calculating, money-driven decisions to make them more palatable (and comprehensible) to others.
So from now on, I'm making an effort to cut emotion and ethics out of my decision-making process. As Lisa Simpson so aptly put it, "No one ever went hungry taking the low moral ground."
On another note: I can't believe they're calling it the goddamned Freedom Tower. I mean, I'm all for corn and kitch and all, but that's just plain awful.
Monday, December 15, 2003
Could y'all please take a just minute out of your busy, busy day to skew a "scientific survey" being conducted by the American Family Association? Think of it as a little holiday present for me. One that you don't have to pay for. And that I'll never see... Wait a minute. Where's the upside of that?
Thursday, December 11, 2003
I hatehatehate cold weather, but I lovelovelove this time of year. Let me tell you, sugarpie, there ain't nothin' better than getting home as the sun's going down, taking a long, hot bath, donning your best peek-a-boo peignoir, slipping into some big Zsa Zsa-style fuzzy princess slippers, sauntering to the kitchen like a stone cold fox, and standing in the open door of the icebox, devouring meat from a perfectly seasoned chicken carcass with your bare hands (well, bare except for a tasteful assortment of cocktail rings). Then, you can slink to the sofa for a nice, full-bellied nap 'till it's time for bed.
Or you can get up off your lazy ass and do something about Bill Frist and his army of flying monkeys.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Leftie Art Fag Speaks Out
To Whom It May Concern:
It's impossible for me to believe that the editors of Budget Travel magazine
would label Bob Richer's recent Letter to the Editor as bona fide travel
advice for New York City! Elsewhere, we're encouraged to spend big bucks for Broadway/Disney schlock, but then
Mr. Richer (and presumably the editors who allowed his letter to be posted
to the Budget Travel website) asks us to short-change what is arguably the
most important museum in America--if not the world--by a measly $7?!? What
kind of crap is that?
At $12, the Met is the best value in town, hands down. I mean, would you
rather spend $12 for a day's worth of art and architecture amid the
beauty of Central Park or $60 for two hours trapped in Miss
Saigon's musty ol' theatre waiting for a helicopter to crash through the freaking roof?
My boyfriend spends most of his day looking at run-of-the-mill pornography for fun and profit, but he finds lots of weird stuff along the way.
Tuesday, December 09, 2003
LINKS
- Um, hello? Miss Thing? Are you listening to me, honey? You can keep your hot apple pies and your supersize fries. All I want me is a milkshake.
- Oh, dear goddess, I've had a vision! My boyfriend has shown me the error of my ways! I must fall to my knees and beg forgiveness, 'cause the end is near and it ain't gonna be pretty! [more Chick parodies here]
Sunday, December 07, 2003
No one who's met me could possibly think I'm a cat person. I've so clearly
got the dog personality: frisky, punchy, amped (at least while the sun's
out). Except on rare occasions, I don't enjoy lounging about doing nothing
or causing trouble just for the hell of it.
Furthermore, despite what some folks may say
about their wily ways and our foolish, misguided attempts to anthropomorphize
them, dogs seem pretty transparent to me: what you see is what you get. As
we all know, however, cats are just plain sneaky and aren't to be
trusted--except, of course, for the one cat we all love,
href="http://www.amy.hi-ho.ne.jp/~mono93/cat/english/index_e.html"
target="m" title="dude, what the hell is up with the 'dance' page?">Maneki
Neko.
Friday, December 05, 2003
I fully expect those of you living in New Orleans--and those passing through during the holidays--to drop in and set a spell with all your favorite trailer park friends. And as an added bonus, if you come tonight or Friday the 19th, you'll catch lil' ol moi making a surprise appearance. Onstage, even. Guess who I'll be playing....
* * *
On another note, has anyone else been wondering what Tama Janowitz was doing these days?
Wednesday, December 03, 2003
Some of these paintings use combinations of images from my dreams. But for the most part, I don�t know where they come from. I see a photograph of Barbie Benton, and I think to myself, "Well, she should have a rodent head."
-- Marion Peck
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
It's a pretty simple fact: we tend to click with folks who complement our likes and dislikes.
I'm not normally prone to sit around and spout platitudes like that; it's just something that struck me this afternoon as I was rummaging through the refrigerator and noticed the pattern with which J-no and I are polishing off the Thanksgiving leftovers:
- He tosses back the wine. I take on the beer.
- He tackles the cranberries and the mashed potatoes. I scarf down the pate and the glazed ham.
- He reheats a bowl of gumbo and a heap of cornbread stuffing. I construct a sandwich he'd never dream of touching: dark meat turkey with horseradish and turkey schmaltz on toasted rye bread.
...And between the both of them, they licked the platter clean.
Monday, December 01, 2003
It's World AIDS Day, and like thousands, if not millions of my fellow webloggers, I should be writing about the ways in which the disease--or, more properly, the syndrome--has touched my life, the sorrow it's brought, the special memories it's fostered. I should tell stories about the first person I knew to be HIV-positive (the brother of the man who directed me in my first-ever play), the humbling and/or awkward encounters I've had with AIDS activists, patients, and caregivers (at a dance concert, being thanked profusely by a group of Belle Reve patients to whom I'd given a handful of tickets that I couldn't have sold anyway), or the many people I know who are persevering and have been for a decade or more (including a New Orleans doctor who ranks as one of my favorite people in the world).
I should be doing all that, but I'm not. For seven years, December 1st has meant something quite different to me. I know it's selfish and more than a little hokey, but there's nothing I can do about it.
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