Ktrion

Walking on Shoreline

2008-06-18T13:47:00.000-07:00

I just walked two miles on the shore line. It was wonderful!

I carried my stolen stainless steel water bottle for hydration and protection. It felt pretty safe there. Not nearly as many people as the Lake (which feels very very safe) but also not as many dogs or goose shit. I was thrilled to find two water fountains on my walk, where I recharged.

I passed a pile of doggy doo and then thought about the bag in my pocket, thought about having to see it again on my way back, and then doubled back to pick it up and throw it away. I am feeling very virtuous about this--which means I am not truly virtuous, or I wouldn't have to brag about it. But still.

I was originally going to walk at the Lake, but as soon I as got into my car (which is actually a solar oven: I can't believe I've been wanting to BUY a solar oven when I already drive one) I decided it would prob'ly be too hot and maybe funky at the Lake (see goose shit above) and that it's always cooler by the ocean. So I went. I dutifully texted my husband, so that she wouldn't think I had been absconded with.

There was an oil spill recently, so the beach itself was closed but the walking path was open. There were lots of folks in "Public Works" helmets and vests around. And horses. (because horses are not affected by things like oil spills? I think not). And I saw something big in the water, I thought maybe it was seals, but it turned out to be Ginormous Pelicans. Dark ginormous pelicans, so I worry maybe they were oily. they were hanging out together and stretching their ginormous pelican necks.

I have confirmed that The Wiz (original broadway cast) is the best music for walking. "Though you know your walking might be long sometimes/ you just keep on stepping and you'll be just fine".

I've asked Nora and Jolene (not their real names) for advice about our wireless situation. I suppose I should check online to compare the range of an average apple airport with some of the other routers. They are tugging on their network of friends and family to find me some answers.

I was thinking about L*'s mother Vivian (not her real name) today. She also lives near the coast: just about six blocks away. And she enjoys her morning walk when it's not too cold. She has a neighbor, a grouchy old guy, with a new dog, I think I chocolate lab. Full of energy, fun, will come up to you with a ball to throw. (the dog, not the grouchy guy). Anyway, the guy puts his dog in the car to drive the six blocks to the ocean, to walk and play with the dog. Maybe he just doesn't do sidewalk?

I also ate a "sweet lemon" today. A sweet lemon is not actually sweet: it's just not sour. It's like somebody took all the sour away from the lemon but left the lemon there. And the bite is still there. So it's actually a little like eating a lemon peel. But my very old neighbor, don Eladio (not his real name) gave me the lemon, like it was the first time, even though he's done this like four times now, and said "Taste this! It's as sweet as sugar!" The other times I've picked a little at the lemon, but today I decided to actually eat it.

Something I actually did fix

2008-06-15T21:25:00.000-07:00

I'm always writing to Nora and Jolene [not their real names], asking them for directions on a project which I never actually do. Today I actually did something, though, albeit not something for which they had given me directions.

Apparently, I have been simmering in renter's resentment for three years. Three years of things that the landlord never fixes. Three years of things that you tell him about and he promptly forgets. Or responds several months later "Oh, you didn't mention it again so I thought it fixed itself."

I hear tales of people who call the landlord for every little thing, and it is immediately fixed. I growl softly, under my breath. Clearly, I mutter, they are not renting from somebody's younger brother. A mental gesture to all the men in this world who don't see what there is to be done until their older sister tells them. All the men just like me.

So now we are buying this house. We are either going to close this Friday (Please, God, let it be this Friday, as L* says) or on the first of July. One or the other. Almost for sure.

And L* has been working on her garden. Planning her future garden. We bought a book on square foot gardening and I even read it. L* built an amazing shrine today full of color and beauty and life.

And I actually did fix something. I was washing my face in the kitchen sink, because the water pressure in the bathroom is so pathetically weak, it's too frustrating to try to wash your face in there. And as I was face first in the towel, I thought about when the plumber came to fix the washing machine, and when he saw how pathetically weak our water pressure was in the kitchen sink, he borrowed one of my sewing needles and fixed it.

And then I went into the bathroom and eyed the faucet in the sink. I went and got a pair of pliers out of the pantry, and unscrewed the little thingy. I peered into it and saw teeny tiny little rocks blocking the holes. I got out a sewing needle and pried them out. Rinsed it well, and screwed the thingy right back on.

And there was flow! We are still rejoicing in the flow.

L* was very very happy when I showed her. Happier even than rejoicing in the flow. It turns out she was so happy because I saw the problem, and rather than lamenting it or resenting it, I put my noggin together with my initiative and actually fixed it.

Now I am eyeing the bathtub faucet, which does not have an handy little aerator to remove and clean out. And wondering what it would take to fix the flow. And thinking of that book that we used to have (okay, that I stole from my mom), which described 101 things to do around your house. So now I'm thinking of getting another book like that. (sans larceny) and of actually fixing something else.

the children

2008-06-13T15:15:00.000-07:00

I'm a the public library, where the kids are all
competing heavily in the summer read-a-thon.

For perhaps the millionth time,
I get the idea that you, me, and all our smartest friends
should get rich writing children's books.

a little munchkin has sat down at my table.
she is trying to read comic books
that are above her reading level. too cute.
"I'm going to find a magazine to read" she says.
her dad strolls by to make sure she's okay and that I have no designs on her.

this is ever so much more interesting than working on a tenure file.

a six(?) year-old boy says of the (latina) munchkin,
"wow, that's girl's small. and she knows english"

he himself knows chinese and is chinese, he announces.

------------------

a girl ran by who looks just like my friend wendy amai from forty years ago
(even though I only met wendy amai thirty-five years ago.)

the two boys sorting through the comic books announce
"I can't stop itching like a dog"
-----------------------

Here in Oakland, libraries provide the function of free day care.
So now that school is out, the libraries are bursting with kids,
whose parents dropped them off this morning and will be returning
for them after work.

-----------------------

a litter of pre-teens was escorted outside for a 15 minute time out.

the little munchkin has starting squealing
"I'm not screaming! I'm not crying!
I want some pizza!"

her (Anglo) dad calmly leads her out the door,
announcing "a little too late."

"for what," ask the librarians.

"for naptime."

"pizza! pizza! pizza!"

I'm lonely now.
I know I could fit at least a couple of these kids into my backpack.

[Nora writes to me that on no account am I to do this,
unless I plan to barbecue them. Nora takes pride
in her complete lack of maternal impulses. towards humans]

------------------------------------------

the librarian with the frizzly hair
has her own meltdown
and drives the moneylending
preteens from the marketplace.
Or the temple.
something like that.

One of the little charmers
speaks of the librarian in the third person
"she's got issues!"

fortunately, before the librarian with the frizzly hair
resorts to violence, her cheerful butch librarian friend
comes to her rescue.

--------------------------

only the second day of summer vacation
and already banished from the library.
--------------------------
a poemlet:

the children who were driven
from the house of books
mill about the entrance
eyes hungry
faces blank
innocent.
surely, nothing they had done
has called down this banishment.
the powers that be
are obviously
having a bad day.

Hipsters, Samson, and family vacations

2008-04-06T11:01:00.000-07:00

This semester I'm teaching 2 classes of first-year students. (My third class has students from all levels, including a lot who will be graduating this spring). It makes me think about how we re-invent ourselves. A new school, in particular, is always an opportunity to re-invent yourself. You can declare a new diminutive to your name or insist on the name in its longest form. You can be vague about your your background, your history. You can become a cultural nationalist, or queer, when previously you were assimilationist or homophobic. (I say this having gone through all of these transformations, myself.)

I'm starting to notice a pattern in school vacations, though, and their effect on the students' self-invention. And it is manifested in hair. Last semester, for example, this big white dude had this big hair! It was like the redheaded guy from Room 222. I mean it was huge!

After thanksgiving, he came back with a shorn head and baseball cap. Which to me, means he went home for the holiday, and his mama took one look at him and grabbed him by the earlobe and dragged him to the barber.

Or that girl with the weave: it was really well-maintained but also just looked like a cap of braids sitting on her head. She came back from spring break with a new crop that is much more flattering to her face.

But one of the guys, a long-haired Latino, also came back with a shorn head, and it kind of made me sad.

Maybe because I agree with parents whipping their teenagers into shape when it looks like they have "no home training." (Personally, I would like to send them photos of their kids walking around campus in pajamas and yes, girl, a towel!--did someone steal her clothes while she was swimming?) But when the kid's self invention challenges gender norms--even a little bit--then it seems more like a squashing. I don't particularly think that this kid is queer (certainly in Chicano studies long hair on a boy is not a clue to his sexual identity. In fact the gay guys tend to have short haircuts. and good product.) but his long hair was cool and lovely. And now he looks like a baby bird.

Writing in the dark

2008-03-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting all alone in the dark and I'm not even depressed. This is weird. Apparently my illness this week kept us both from finding out about Earth Hour, when everyone is supposed to turn off their lights at 8pm. L* was in Santa Cruz visiting her parents. They told her and she called me. She's still not home by eight, so I dutifully turn off all the lights. Actually she didn't tell me it was earth hour, she said "you're supposed to turn off your lights at eight" and so I didn't really know how long I was supposed to keep them out.

Not very long, it turns out because there my doorbell rang. My neighbor, Sherri, is brining us some home-made minestrone, so I turn on a couple of lights and give Sherri some heartfelt thanks. (I had no plan for dinner, since L* made dinner for her parents). Then I got turned off the the lights again and got online to find out what the deal is. Ah, there's L* driving up now. Now I don't have to be alone in the dark.

Happy sounds

2008-03-26T10:36:00.000-07:00

I'm feeling much better today. the cough is still there but the unrest in the badlands has been resolved. L* and I are planning a de-tox housecleaning. starting with the bedding and working our way out. I wonder, should we wash the curtains too? It is spring, after all.

Asthma and allergies have been really bad all around, and I haven't even been running the air purifier, since it's pre-filter needs to be replaced. arugh.

A quick trip to the Food Mill to stock up on non-toxic cleaners. While I was up yesterday morning, i watched a slew of green shows on the Discovery Home Channel, and with all the info about non-toxic cleaners I just kept thinking about all the respiratory issues L* and I both have, and feeling like we really need to be going that route.

L* is outside helping our elderly neighbor Eleazar plant his beans.

Oh, so, happy sounds! What are your happy sounds? No matter how low I'm feeling there's always one sound that makes me so happy. It's this shuffle-shuffle-run-stamp L* does when she's chasing one of our cats around the house. It's extra noisy so that the kitty knows she's coming and has a chance to race away to safety.

On the flight out to Austin, I finished reading B.D. Wong's Following Foo, about childbirth, parenthood, etc. Really tremendously moving. Prob'ly should be required reading for all prospective parents. But anyway, at the risk of spoiling the book for you, the part that spoke most strongly to me (and note that I wept several times while reading this book) was a the very end, when he says

There isn't just one dramatic thing that happens in your life that makes you "get it" forever.

Which to me mean, that even when you go through these traumatic life-changing experiences, when you make it through them, you're still you. You're not some transcendent know-it-all who suddenly has all her shit together.

Post-conference Doldrums, household hopes

2008-03-25T17:50:00.000-07:00

L* and I are back from the big NACCS conference in Austin, Texas.

We arrived at noon, got all cleaned up, and went out to look at open houses in the realty world.

This one house had come on the market for $300,00 and we just couldn't believe it was real. We had to go see it. And the buyers were out in droves for houses in our price range. For example, the 300k house was not having an open house on Sunday. But as we were peeking through the gate, this nice lesbian mamilia pulled over and told us how to get in through the back yard. And while we were there, another lesbian couple came by and chatted it up with us. It was gorgeous on the outside (though a lot of work!) but the inside had been "flipped" in one of those not so great ways. (wood laminate and marble or faux marble tiles) and the money had clearly run out before the project was done. There were already two offers in on it by the end of the day.

We called Our Realtor Friend (ORF) and asked if she could take us to see the inside of that one and a couple of others this week.

It was easter sunday (funny how that slipped away in it all) and as we went over to the natural grocery store to pick out the greens and yummies for our dinner, we decided instead on an Easter supper: mustard-crusted tofu batons, asparagus, whole wheat crackers with fig tapenade. It was yum and delightful.

and then the awful sickiness grabbed hold of me and gave me the beat down. Maybe it was all the virtual whuppings from all the all those facebook zombies, and slayers, and vampires finally catching up with me. Let's just say that there was terrible turmoil in the digestive badlands, both north and south.

(my hair held up surprisingly well through all of that. Note to self: Must blow-dry with laminates more often)

that was sunday night. monday and tuesday disappeared (for me) in a feverish haze of sleep.

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday meant a load of work for L*, because her grades were due Tuesday, and what with all the traveling, conferencing, and writing two new presentations, she was tired and still had a lot of work to do.

The retching girlfriend installed in the master bedroom didn't make for the best of working conditions. But she stocked me up with seven-up, organic bananas and organic applesauce.

L* went out to work in internet cafes which would feel less like a sick room. She worked like a trooper too: grades for all classes in by Tuesday afternoon. She starts teaching three new classes next week, so the work isn't really done for now.

She did find time to do the house tour with ORF and that just had her mind click-click-clicking too. Thinking about the the 500k house on the same street as the 300k one, except the work was all done really nicely, with mature fruit trees and a fabulous deck, and space for all the raised beds of L's dreams. for prob'ly, what? $1000 to $2000 more per month (than what we're paying now). It's so overwhelming and crazy.

It's easy to fall in love with houses we can't afford.

Turns out one of the other houses we were looking at--the ugliest house on a great block--was actually an indoor pot farm complete with a pit bull. (that explains the odd sheds in the backyard).

L* is working tremendously hard on the house hunt. After finishing grading today, she went out for a healthy dinner and then cruised by nine more properties.

I'm finally feeling a little better. Drinking big mugs of sport tea (black, green, and some máte plus electrolytes) and I actually ate a banana and had some applesauce. My body wants all the drugs that keep me at peace with my environment (antihistamines, decongestants) but I'm too afraid to try them.

I watched a show this afternoon called Greenovate, where this co-housing duplex (gay couple with daughter downstairs, single woman with daughter upstairs) did all the kinds of things we think about. Full house water filter (so you're not bathing in cancerous chlorine). Reverse osmosis water filter in kitchen so you can drink great water all the time, without trucking it in from france in plastic bottles. Recycled glass tiles. Just in terms of healthy living, it was so great. On the other hand, it was a lot of work, the downstairs guys went way over budget, and were only able to do their bathroom, rather than both the bathroom and the kitchen. I think they'd budgeted $40k and 40 days (no, too symmetrical, I must be wrong on one of the numbers) for both units. The upstairs lady ripped out her wall-to-wall carpet and gave it to someone who would re-use it. The show was one of those "isn't this great!" shows, meaning they played down the expenses and what goes wrong. Some of those home-improvement shows are the "what did we get ourselves into" variety, and sometimes it feels like you get a more realistic sense of what's involved.

I think L* should start a new show for HGTV, for the new economy. It's a cross between Doug Wilson's "Moving Up" where he shows the old owners what the new owners have done to their house. and "If Walls Could Talk" (most boring show ever--yes, there are alternatives worse than the test pattern!) in which people renovating old houses find interesting things from the past. ("Interesting" is, of course, in the eye of the beholder). So L*'s show would be called something like "What's the story." it's for the new economy, because everybody is buying these houses that are foreclosures, reposessions, short sales. L* does the Ph.D. research behind each house we look at, so she can see the sketch of the storyline: what was the original plan? What went wrong?

Open House hobbyists

2008-01-22T07:38:00.000-08:00

One of our favorite things to do on a Sunday afternoon is to go visit the real estate open houses in Oakland. We've been going for quite a while: a year and a half, actually, and seen a lot of changes. The realtors all know us by face. That's not really a good thing: we represent the hard-to-convince prospective buyer who's prob'ly just wasting your time.

Also, sometimes we suffer from absent-minded professor x 2. As on this Sunday when we walked into to a house only to realize we'd already been there two weeks earlier. The (same) realtor looked at us skeptically, "Did you come back to buy?"

She knew we hadn't: on our previous visit we'd pointed out oddities like the extension cords running across the baseboards, and the cracked plaster behind the potted plant.

We complain about lots of stairs, because we won't be able to climb them when we're old. We walk into expensively-flipped kitchens and proclaim "hideous!"

L* has an innate sense of direction, so she usually knows which neighborhoods we're in, what we've seen before, and she's been keeping an eye on which houses have sat on the market, which are new listings, and which are bank-owned.

Me, I'm more like those people with short-term memory loss: every day is a surprise.

Lately we've been around Maxwell Park, Millsmont, and some other little area with all these "storybook" houses.

L* likes to chat up the realtors. Even the hooty lesbian one who one time told us we needed to look "on the other side of the freeway." She apparently has the same short-term memory problem as I, since the next time she saw us she radar-focused on L* and said "I"d love to meet to talk about your dream home." All my femme hackles came out and I've all but hissed at her every time we've seen her since.

We saw two houses we liked last weekend. Both of which are almost in our price range. Of the blue one, which I liked, L* said "I don't know if we're up to it. It's kind of a 1920's glam. We're more mid-century rasquach." That is, it might be too much effort for us to try to live up to the 1920's glam. Yeah, we could get the blue velvet couch that L* has been wistful about, but what will we do about the cat hair?

Well, we're in no hurry (at least until our landlord decides to put our house on the market).

Demokratz

2008-01-19T11:42:00.000-08:00

Okay, we are now both officially democrats. Or I am, anyway. My card came yesterday. L* will be official on Tuesday (the next business day). We had to re-register in order to vote in the primary.

I had a lot of confidence in the guy at the Lake Merritt farmer's market who took L*'s voter registration. Unlike the folks on the SFSU campus. I think they get paid per card or something, but they don't necessarily every send the forms on. No, really, I had to register like three times when we first moved back to California, because the first two never went through. If there's one thing I hate, it's going to vote and only being allowed to cast a "provisional" ballot.

The Sign

2008-01-19T11:20:00.001-08:00

Phooey

2008-01-17T11:14:00.000-08:00

I got called for Jury Duty. Had to defer again! I know! I must be the only person in the country who really wants to be on a jury. A runaway jury. Why didn't they call me at the beginning of January? I have most of the month off and am just eager to come down to the courthouse. But no, they call me for the second week of classes. I'm deferring again in the hopes that they'll call me early in August when I will again have time to do my civic duty. But even if they wait till late September, I MUST go next time. It's the LAW.

I know. I'm kidding myself. Like they're really going to put a professor of (queer) ethnic studies on a jury. Yeah right. that's really going to happen. But it could! Maybe I could be vague in my job description: education. What do you teach: critical thinking. Or no, better to say science fiction rather than critical thinking. Then they'll think I'm totally out of touch with the real world, and I'll have better chance to get in.

Back to The Borderlands...

Tick...Tick...Tick...

2008-01-17T09:05:00.000-08:00

No, that's not my biological time clock. It's the timer counting down to the start of spring classes.

I know all the rest of you teacher types are already hard at it: L* is in her second week of classes, after all. But my semester doesn't start till next week. I'm re-tooling the science fiction class, "Race, Gender, Science Fiction." Background information: I've been developing this class for years, at three different institutions. Every time I've been able to teach it, the enrollment has been really small. My record high was twelve students. This semester, I'm trying it out as SFSU's first ethnic studies class that is wholly online. The student response thus far has been, overwhelming. There are currently forty-nine students enrolled and ten students on the wait list. And it's one of three classes on science fiction being offered this semester (the other two are in the English department).

The syllabus is very close to finished, although I'm disappointed not to be able to squeeze in more films. That's okay, though, because Cinema Studies offers a Science Fiction class (just last semester, in fact) which includes the Alien films, the Matrix films, and Children of Men. So I'm settling for the original Planet of the Apes and a lot of TV episodes. (Dark Angel, ST: TNG, The X-Files.) The books I'm using are fantastic. Octavia Butler's Dawn, Samuel R. Delany's Stars in My Pocket like Grains of Sand and Sesshu Foster's Atomik Aztex (you should hear me making conversation about the latter at a cocktail party!). The last time I taught this, the students read all three books of the Xenogenesis series, which they finished way ahead of schedule.

I'm still finalizing the course requirements. I'm dropping some of my previous strategies (student journals, creative projects, blogs) in favor of more structured discussion on the class forums. L* has helped me a lot on this class, because she's the master of the online class. I've been reading over her syllabi and just been wowed by how well she constructs her classes.

I'm also teaching two sections of Critical Thinking this semester. I do believe this is the first time I've taught two sections of the same class since I became a professor! I'm using an anthology Re-Reading America which I've used before. I always say I'm not going to use it, I'm going to put together my own reader. And then I start marking the pieces that I want to go in the reader: Malcolm X, Melvin Dixon, Inés Hernandez-Avila, Langston Hughes, and the next thing I know, I've marked fifteen or so pieces from the same book. It annoys me, though, to see what they've taken out in subsequent editions: Leslie Marmon Silko, Jimmy Santiago Baca. And instead we have the same Richard Rodriguez excerpt that appears in almost every freshman composition reader.

I'm starting to sound like my old grad-student self again, when I complained that the first edition of the Norton Anthology of Women's Literature included not one Chicana writer, although they felt the need to include all of "Jane Fucking Eyre."

And the discussion questions really assume a white middle-class readership. That means, though, that we'll get to critique the discussion questions, take them apart, see arguments they're implying or stereotypes that they're buying into. And of course I'll bring in some supplements: the poetry of Mohja Kahf, Pat Mora, and the late Diane Burns, to name a few.

We really do need to publish our own reader though. I'll have to write that in on the ten-year plan. In the meantime, though, there's another timer running down for a book review that's due now, so I'd better get back to work.

Good Eats

2008-01-15T09:12:00.000-08:00

L* wants us to try one totally new recipe (or totally new ingredient) every week. We're thinking of joining our local CSA, as soon as we figure out our closest pickup point. That'll mean we'll be getting produce that's local and in-season, which will call for some creative cooking on our part.

L* has already gotten the jump on that though, with a recipe using dino kale. It's amazing stuff: I see it growing in our neighbor's front yards. (That's one of the things I love about living in Fruitvale: people grow vegetables in their front yards) So L* found a recipe for mustard-crusted-tofu with kale and sweet potatoes. One word: Yum! No, two words: Healthy yum! It was so delicious. The kale was cooked with lime juice and ginger and wasn't at all bitter -- and I had tasted it raw while I was cleaning and chopping and I was very afraid of the bitterness "It sure is kale-y" is what I said, "This must be a cruciferous." But cooked it was tender and tasty and not at all "kale-y."

The reviews of the recipe said a lot of people found that the mustard didn't stick well to the tofu, and L* certainly experienced that, but it was totally delicious. We wondered if it would stick better if the tofu was first dusted with flour (or dipped in egg and then flour). Totally delicious!

Then last night, we had our second totally new recipe in two days! Singapore noodles! L* saw the egg noodles at Berkeley bowl and couldn't resist them. She cooked them up with shiitake mushrooms, green onions, curry powder and I don't know what all. It made a mountain of noodles but we ate every last one. Not as healthy as some of our other meals (noodles ≠ whole grain) but very yum.

We also received a wonderful care package from Julien in Miami: three delicious teas, two green and one black (chai). Mmmmm. We're going to become tea connoisseurs, that's us. (geez, I had to look up how to spell both shiitake and connoisseur. I must be out of practice)

Nina Simone, Feeling Good

2007-12-31T15:26:00.000-08:00

Birds flyin' high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel
It's a new dawn; it's a new day; it's a new life for me;
AND I'M FEELING GOOD

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River runnin' free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel
It's a new dawn; it's a new day; it's a new life for me;
And I'm feeling good

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean
Butterflies all havin' fun, you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done; that's what I mean
And this old world is a new world and a bold world for me

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel
Scent of a pine, you know how I feel
Freedom is mine, and I know how I feel
It's a new dawn; it's a new day; it's a new life for me;
AND I'M FEELING GOOD

Assisted Living

2007-12-30T12:10:00.000-08:00

Sheila Ortiz Taylor's mystery is a delightful novel, a cozy, a comedy-of-manners, and a new take on industry growth in the aging of Baby Boomers.

As a long-time reader of Ortiz-Taylor's fiction, I was thrilled to see in Violet March a reincarnation of the sharp and witty Aunt Vi from Faultline (1982). With her purple state-of-the-art walker, which she can turn on a dime, Violet March is an intrepid sleuth. The ensemble of supporting characters includes Diana Reyes, a Chicana lesbian accountant with a suspicion that someone is cooking the books. (Violet occasional envisions Death himself as an accountant.) I particularly like the sympathetic ways Ortiz Taylor portrays the different aged inhabitants of Casa de Sueños: a musician composes in his mind an Opera on Aging. I'm fascinated by the cosmology of the grounds (modeled on either Dante's Inferno or Paradiso, depending on your perspective). No doubt that is why people are dying to get in. and get out.

You'll enjoy this novel if you're looking for a murder mystery with a quirky heroine. Or, if you've just finished reading Ortiz Taylor's other novels, including Coachella, Faultline, or Outrageous, you'll be happy to reach for Assisted Living.

I really want to recommend this novel to specific people who I think would like it, but I'm afraid they might take it as some comment on their age...

Novel knitting news...

2007-12-04T07:24:00.000-08:00

Okay, we're four days into December, and I need to fess up. I did not finish my novel. I did not write 50,000 words. I did write 25,000 words, (about 95 pages) and generated some cool ideas, interesting situations, and characters I really care about. La BendyPalm is a most fabulous writing partner, and we swapped drafts pretty much daily.

I discovered my own penchant for blowing things up, high drama scenes, crazy xikana nationalism, and adventurous women. And there were these crowds of supporting characters: prostitutes, children, drag queens, nannies...

In the meantime, my house is not that clean. My inner Stepford Wife** has been locked in a closet writing, but yesterday I let her out to clean the front entryway.

L* has been very patient with me through all this.

My progress was solid until around the middle of the month, when I had stacks of grading that my students actually expected would be returned to them, graded. Then I traveled to New Mexico for the guajolote days, and was fully engaged with all my family there. I wrote a story with my niece and youngest nephew about all the rest of the familia. My mom's comadre cooked us up an enormous traditional feast, complete with homemade, yeast biscuits. She made a cherry pie and my sister made a pecan pie, and everyone lavished me with lots of tender-lovin'-care.

And I brought back chile. Lots of chile. Not as much as if we had a decent freezer: five red, three green. And last night my love made us black bean chilequiles filled with chard and bañados in New Mexico red. Oh, what a joy! Oh, what a delight! We licked our bowls clean and then went back in the kitchen to scrape tastes from the baking dish. Let's just say, my L* is one in a million.

Alas, no leftovers for lunch today.

It snowed when I was in Roswell, and they don't ordinarily get much snow, so it just must be me (last year when L* and I tried to go to New Mexico after chirstmas we were completely snowed out. I mean they closed the interstate!)

Now it's back to work full time for the last great push. It's going to be quite a month, as our international familia is coming to town with the newest grandbaby.

I just wanted to let y'all know that the novel didn't kill me.

**don't take that Stepford Wife stuff too seriously. I'm just so spacey and pokey when it comes to housekeeping that I practically need to join a cult just to remember to put away things when I take them out, do my laundry, empty the trash before it spills on the floor, and so forth. and I ask for a lot of praise for these little tasks! everybody tell me how good I'm being!!

NaNoWriMo

2007-11-05T13:30:00.000-08:00

A tip of the nib to all the bloggers out there participating in NaBloPoMo, National blog Posting Month, in which they will post every single day in November. I'm already enjoying all the extra posts out there.

I'm saving up all my pennies for the novel though. You can see my progress in the red bar in the yellow widget to the Right---> (currently 9,325 out of 50,000 words).

So far I've still managed to take care of things like scooping cat litter and getting dressed and putting on makeup. I'm sticking to the minimum of 1667 words per day. Money in the bank.

The current soundtrack is eclectic in the extreme. I call it Kweer Country, actually, and it's already cycled through Willie, Dolly, Johnny, Reba, and Joan, and now it's on Loretta:

It'll be over my dead body,
so get out while you can
'Cause you ain't woman enough to take my man.

You better move your feet
if you don't want to eat
a meal that's called Fist City.

Los Días de los Muertos

2007-11-02T11:28:00.000-07:00

L* and I saw this in Crafty Chica's book and fell in love with it.
Here's to all the wonderful animalitos our friends and family have lost this past year.

Midterm #1

2007-10-24T20:11:00.000-07:00

Whew, L* was a harsh taskmaster with me today, but she got me to finish all of my midterm grading for class A. Class B takes their exams tomorrow, so it was really important I get rid of the old ones.

A bizarre development. Nxi the cat has had several accidents today, both times in my study, and both events in close vicinity to the stack of midterm exams (blue books, actually).

Not all that close, gracias a las diosas. I don't even want to picture having to grade and return fouled exams!)

Well, I'm due for a bubble bath and a masque after all that hard work.

A Matrix of Animalitos

2007-10-22T13:05:00.000-07:00

If you look at the wireless networks in our neighborhood, you'll see ours, plus one called solyluna and one called roosterandpig, and one with the rather uninspired name of Wireless###.

As we drove past a mural in the Mission on Saturday, I looked at the animals painted there and realized that "rooster and pig" must refer to the Chinese zodiac signs of that particular couple. Then we started talking about our signs, Rat and Snake, although I had to confirm the snake on google when I got home. But I was pretty sure.

And when we were at the El Dia de los Muertos celebration at the Oakland museum, they were doing prayers to the four directions. And then I went to Xoloitscuintle's web page and he had the aztec calendar there, so I had to go look up both of our birthdays. And, we both have the Tochtli the rabbit in our birthdays,

which is so cute with its fangs. and i remember how my sister and I used to always express our fears of "killer rabbits" in rural new mexico. (this was before monty python).

So I was thinking of tattoos again and wondering if there were aztecan or mayan rats or mice or snakes that would look cool. Snakes for sure. But so far I'm getting distracted because there are actual species (genus?) of animals, the Aztec Mouse (Peromyscus aztecus) and the Mayan mouse (Peromyscus mayensis).

So if you know of a cool aztec rat or mouse, let us know.
The Snake is waiting!

The War on Los Días de los Muertos

2007-10-20T18:59:00.000-07:00

Okay, ignore that Right-wing drivel about the War on Christmas. We have a serious problema going on at craft stores across the country. At least the mainstream ones: Michael's Crafts, Joann Etc, Beverly Fabric.

(I won't even start with Hobby Lobby. Which I usually refer to as "Hobby Lobby which is closed on Sunday so that their employees may worship with their families" Several people to whom I have said this respond with "Lots of places are closed on Sunday. That doesn't make them überChristian." Ah, but Hobby Lobby has a sign by the front door, specifically saying "We are closed on Sunday so that our Employees may Worship with their Families." I always want to go after that sign with a sharpie and write in "even the Jews." But you know that's a big lie: I'm sure the employee application has a question about worshipping with your family on Sunday.)

Okay, but back to my point: La Guerra contra los Días de los Muertos.

Admittedly, it is already the middle of October, which means fifty percent of the floor space at these craft stores is devoted to...yes, Christmas.

Now, L* and I have been enjoying The Crafty Chica's Collection. Now you know Crafty Chica rocks for los Días de los Muertos. One of the great pieces she has in there is this fabulous little shrine with Calaveras. She says to buy a "dollhouse cabinet" from a craft store. Between us, L* and I have been to all three of the big craft stores in the area, and no luck on the dollhouse cabinets. Nor were there any wooden boxes that would work for shadow boxes or shrines. That's a little suspicious, don't you think?

Here's what's more suspicious: no marigolds. There's a lot of fake flowers to be found and Michaels crafts, and at this time of the year, many yellows, golds, oranges, and reds. Chrysanthemums, sunflowers, black-eyed susans. No marigolds though. That's odd, isn't it? this is really the season for marigolds. But no, none.

Nor are there any skulls or skeletons to be found. Mummies, ghosts, jack-o-lanterns, tombstones, black cats, witches, cobwebs, yes. all of those. but calaveras, no.

I'm beginning to sense a conspiracy! It's like they're going out of their way to make it impossible to build a traditional altar. Okay, so if there's no marigolds, we can always make them out of crepe paper and florist wire and tape. Except, hmmmm, no crepe paper. Yeah, something's rotten in the state of craftilandia!

No molds for sugar skulls (and I totally want to try filling them with plaster of paris and seeing how they come out.). And you can find those everywhere online and at Oakland's El Corazon del Pueblo (support your local arts stores and panaderías!) But not at any of these crafty lady stores. Which have an obscene amount of wedding swag.

In fact, I'm sensing a whole heteronormative narrative here: bridal-to-baby. I would suspect an anti-queer agenda. If it weren't for all the feather boas. And glitter. And rhinestones. And spangles. And Christopher Lowell.

Crafty Chica has good directions for papier-mache skulls, by the way. That's on our list.

Anyway, I think we need to launch a soldadera campaign to reclaim the days of the dead. It's not just about white kids parading through the Mission! It's not just about hipsters and art galleries. It's about serious rasquachi home-made altares.

(You think I'm exaggerating, but some cemeteries are now coming out with reglas for what you can put on a grave--no food, no tin can containers, et cetera. Clearly targeting fabulous people-of-color ceremonies)

Note: This is my 400th posting to this blog!

Happy Birthday!

2007-10-03T04:35:00.000-07:00

Today is my L*'s Birthday!

I'm In

2007-10-02T08:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm gonna do it.

I only wish I had structured an Ethnic Writers class around it this year. Just imagine! We could spend all of September and October reading and outlining, November writing our asses off and December celebrating (and editing--but december is short!)

Oooh, and then I could do a spring class which would have the pre-requisite of the Nanowrimo 50,000 word novel, and we could workshop it all semester long.

A girl can dream, can't she?

Throwing up my Immortal Soul

2007-09-30T12:03:00.000-07:00

Well, that's what if felt like, anyway. Yesterday a stomach virus hit me like a Mack truck, in L*'s words. And she should know, having been awakened by the sounds of my retching. We are praying that--though it is no doubt a highly contagious virus--L* was not infected.

Students turned in projects and quizzes this week, which is no doubt how I got myself infected. (Another reason for online education, right there!) Of course, my brilliant decision to give blood nine days ago probably had a depressing effect on my immune system: in other words, my body was holding out a welcome sign to all viruses passing by.

L* took very good care of me, rushing out to the grocery store, plying me with pedialyte and saltines, and warning me away from other things I considered ingesting. She also had the best medication in her stash, which worked (and knocked me out) so that by last night I was feeling more myself again. I took a bath, put on clean pyjamas, brushed my teeth, washed my hair. you know, the things that make me feel like a person. I listened to tapes by Pema Chodrön and Clarissa Pinkola Estes, to soothe my restless mind.

L*, by the way, spent the day working on her manda. Earlier this year she revised an article she'd previously submitted to the International Journal of Psychoanalysis. She rebuilt the altar, promising a manda to la Virgen when her article was accepted.

For her manda, L is creating a mosaic of La Virgen. It's coming along beautifully and fully absorbs L*'s attention, so she is able to set aside worries like sick girlfriends and work for classes. So much so that she is going to a cafe this afternoon to work on her classes, where she will not be distracted by la Virgen's siren song.

The International Journal of Psychoanalysis

2007-09-30T11:55:00.000-07:00

L*'s article "Primal Scenes of Miscegenation" will soon be appearing in the International Journal of Psychoanalysis.

Go L*!
Go L*!

Yeah, baby!

Second Annual "Suck it up, Princess" posting...

2007-09-23T14:53:00.000-07:00

It's already three o'clock and most of my day has been spent in hole-punching, printing, and putting in a binder.

Yes, it's annual review time again. The university has a new system for putting together the file (aka the box) and this year it's definitely binders. I'll have a lot more printing to do later: Many of the lecture notes that I put in last year were formatted in landscape, rather than portrait, because I was using a file box, rather than a binder.

And absolutely no sheet protectors. Because someone somewhere in the RTP process feels that a sheet protector is an accusation that s/he will be sloshing a latte all over my precious document. In fact, sheet protectors are designed to protect my dossier from me sloshing red wine all over it. Too bad for me. Because you know L* has that system of using a sheet protector as a mini-file, with course syllabus, handouts, etc. But such is not allowed.

I did, however, shamelessly copy L*'s cover-sheets for the binder, inserting the logo for my own university in place of the one for hers, and using Times New Roman in place of her fabulous font. I'm very conservative when it comes to fonts.

At OSU the rating system was 1-5 with 5 being excellent. Here it's 1-5 with 1 being excellent. I hope they read all my copious footnotes explaining this. If not, well, maybe they'll generously read this to indicate that I really sucked at teaching when I started, but have since shown tremendous improvement.

So, hole-punching. Not a big deal, right? Until you're going through the (literally!) hundreds of student evaluations from Women's Studies 101, wherein students complain that the films were boring and made them fall asleep; criticize me for reading from my lecture notes (after they whined and whined till I put said lecture notes online, so that they could then say "she's just reading the lecture notes."; that course material was obscene and/or inappropriate; that as white heterosexual males they felt completely alienated--if not traumatized--by the experience; that some some of the texts "were absolute crap: I couldn't believe they were in a college class"; that I should have included more material on gays and lesbians (big homophobe that I am).

Sigh. The good news, of course is that a) I did my time on Maple Drive and b) I don't ever have to deal with those particular students again. California students are a whole 'nother story. Not to romanticize them, --and btw right now I have a couple of guys who snicker and make me want to throw them out on their ear(s)--but the issues are largely different issues. California students NEVER write "before I took this class I never knew about people of color." They will, of course, take pride in declaring themselves "color-blind" and dismiss the significance of history, especially in relation to race, class, and gender. "Why can't we all just get along?"

So far I've got almost all of TEACHING in the first binder. That just leaves PROFESSIONAL DEVELOPMENT and SERVICE (binders 2 and 3).

It's still not pretty like L*'s is, but it's a start.

I'm a mentor!

2007-09-19T05:44:00.000-07:00

Okay so I just started, but I'm so excited!

It took me forever to get approved, all because I was dragging my feet on the TB test. Though I did have one done over a month ago, only to find that they'd made a mistake scheduling me and I would have to go to urgent care over the weekend to have someone read it. In San Francisco...

Needless to say, the second part never happened. And after weeks of trying to get an appointment, I finally instead broke down and went to the night-time Berkeley free clinic to get one done.

My loquera says it was prob'ly a good experience for me.

I felt like an uptight bourgeoise, and also a little like my grandma lupe who used to clutch her purse all the time.

I also felt like I was stealing from the poor people who don't have private insurance.

And I felt like a mess for not having my act more together.

But fast forward. I have been matched! I am a mentor.

If you know of any novels to catch the attention of girls (age 14) who love science and math but hate English and History, I'd love to hear about them.

(or non fiction)

Letting Go of Resentments, or, When the Past tries to Haunt You

2007-09-17T12:49:00.000-07:00

Note: I've gone back and edited this piece to remove some of the nastier bits...

You know, I'm all about letting go of resentments. I was recently making a list of resentments I have and was surprised to find so many were dropping of the list. That's so far away now, I don't really cherish any ill-feelings towards that person. Maybe I don't cherish any positive feelings for them, or want them in my life in any way shape or form, but I don't put energy into wishing them ill, or for that matter, thinking about them at all.

Until reminders of their presence is forced upon me.

A good friend of mine called to let me know she'd run into my 'ex. Now, of the three (?) people who might have some claim to the title "ex," three of them are white and two of them are male. I know someone once told me they'd met "your ex-boyfriend," and that made me mad too, just that one of those guys might be claiming to be my ex-boyfriend. My preferred term is "transition guy."

You can tell already that I'm a handful, can't you?

So back to this woman. She told my friend that "she and I were married for four years" but that now Ktrion "hates me." My friend, who knows me well and also has no reason to see me angry or hateful was understandably puzzled by this comment.

But all my letting go of resentments aside, I have to admit that I am irked to find that this white woman is claiming her ex-status with me as a way of giving her "i'm a white woman but with good politics" spiel some kind of credibility.

Also, I am irked that this person claims we were "married" for four years. Since she did not act as such at the time. I'm just saying, there's a contradiction there.

Granted, there was a ceremony. One I refer to now as "my delayed Quinceañera." All Chicana dykes need some kind of coming-out, coming-of-age ceremony. And somehow being an adult woman is usually tied to either childbirth or marriage. And, okay, I wanted my family to acknowledge and support me in my queerness.

She also expressed having "worried" about me after hearing that I was in Columbus, Ohio. You know, worried, in that way that white women worry about women of color. Again, this is a person who had shown a distinct lack of interest in my emotional well-being, during the historical period in which she was in a position to affect same. And such a statement certainly did not acknowledge me as a strong, a fierce woman of color,... with, by the way, a partner who loves and supports me and cares about my physical and mental well-being, talks with me after a hard day so that I know I'm not all alone against the craziness

The few years I spent with that person some fifteen years ago or so, by no means hold up to any kind of comparison to my relationship with L*, which has created poetry, survived two dissertations, three cross-country moves, one marathon, several homes, two cats, health, illness, family deaths, the traumas of academe and the joy of true partnership with a mature, loving, giving, smart-as-nails partner. (yes, partnership with a partner. i said that.)

L* taught me that trust can be grown, that love isn't a battlefield, that a relationship can foster creativity and growth, and change. And many many more things. Y'all KNOW I love me some L*.

I don't want my life tainted by resentments. I have so much to be thankful for. So many wonderful people in my life. So lucky to be here. With L*.

T-2-T

2007-09-17T08:48:00.000-07:00

So Tongue-2-Tongue was weekend before last. I had a really good time: The conference was pretty upfront about it's own shortcomings, about how it couldn't do all it wanted to.

What I liked about it: all the tranzboiz; the conversations about gender identity, genderqueer, and tranz identities it provoked, even among folks who've known each other for years and years; the performances; Laura Aguilar's portrait of Retter from the Latina Lesbian series; seeing Alma Lopez's paintings in person; seeing Persephone after 10 (?) years, all fabulous and in charge: Discussion and mobilization around Victoria Arrellano; the OTHER after-party at Casa YoMo, including screening and discussion of Laura Aguilar's video; the vegetarian Chinese restaurant in Monterey Park; L*'s interjection about Queer Nation as part of our genealogy; seeing L* and Alice Hom together; talks with L* in the car afterward, sharing impressions & ideas.

What I didn't like: the smokers; the women who hijacked workshops and strategy sessions to make it "all about ME!" (whether this was sheer diva-locity or just plain crazy ranting); thinking there was going to be a BdP performance and then finding out no; not getting to hear from more activists in the queer African American communities; running out of time and energy at the last session.

In between editing

2007-09-15T15:25:00.000-07:00

We got news this week that an anthology for which we wrote an article now has a publisher interested. That's the good news. The bad news (of course) is that we have to get down to it and do all those edits we've been putting off.

If you've heard us brag about how much fun it is to write together, about how easy it is, about how we feel like our self-worth isn't necessarily determined by these printed words....well, we've had a little backsliding. Ideas that seemed great a month ago now seem like they're on crack. Some of our quotations have become garbled (though copy-editing, et cetera) so that they no longer make any kind of sense and we have to go back to the sources to see what they're actually saying.

We worked on it for three or four hours last night. Were hoping to get it finished. But didn't.

Google docs is no longer working for us: it messes with our formatting in MSWord, doesn't let us insert new footnotes, and doesn't let us use comments. Damn! It worked so well there for a while.

Now we're back to emailing the drafts back and forth. L* is on right now, beefing up the article with some important sources that didn't make it into the last draft. When she's unable to copy and paste from .pdf files, she dictates to me and I type it up and email it back to her.

Should we cite from Borderlands first edition (black)? When we were working on the article, we were using the page numbers for the second edition (yellow), but that meant the in-text citation is: (Anzaldúa 1999). And that doesn't adequately represent the chronology. Plus, now Aunt Lute has come out with a third edition (red)...

Herstorian and Gadfly Yolanda Retter

2007-09-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

We heard last week of the passing of Yolanda Vargas Retter. It was a tremendous shock.

Yolanda Retter, 59; lesbian scholar and author of 'Queers in Space'

Yolanda Retter, an activist, archivist and scholar who devoted the last four decades to raising the visibility of lesbians and minorities and preserving their history, died Aug. 18 at her home in Van Nuys after a brief illness. She was 59.

Widely respected in the Los Angeles lesbian community despite her abrasive style and radical stances, Retter called herself a "gadfly on the body politic" who took on many roles in her drive to achieve social justice for overlooked groups, particularly lesbians of color.

She was a pivotal advocate for lesbians during the early years of the L.A. Gay & Lesbian Center, the country's first social service agency to exclusively serve gays. She helped organize lesbian history repositories at USC, UCLA and in West Hollywood. For the last four years, she was the librarian and archivist for the UCLA Chicano
Studies Resource Center, where she was instrumental in expanding holdings related to Latinas as well as lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people.

Calling herself a "herstorian," she created the Lesbian History Project website, which was once rated by Lycos as one of its most popular sites. It is off-line, but friends of Retter expect to relaunch it within a few weeks.

LA Times Obit, continued.

Oh dear...

2007-08-21T09:49:00.000-07:00

You Are a Boston Creme Donut

You have a tough exterior. No one wants to mess with you. But on the inside, you're a total pushover and completely soft. You're a traditionalist, and you don't change easily. You're likely to eat the same doughnut every morning, and pout if it's sold out.

What Donut Are You?

Quelle Coincidence!

2007-08-10T23:24:00.000-07:00

If you made it through the super-long meme on poetry, than you'll appreciate this. Last night, after she entered the sleep borderlands, L* announced that she wanted to go to the performance at Galeria de La Raza going on Friday, August 10. I checked with her this morning when she was lucid and she said yes, she wanted to go.

I couldn't help but notice that Lorna Dee Cervantes was listed among the artists. Didn't see a sign of her when we got there though. Nor through the first set. During the break, she magically appeared, and was the final artist of the night.

Get this: she led with Bird Ave !! (the link is to her blog which has a youtube video of her reading "Bird Ave")

What a world.

Here's to poetry!

Poetry for Carter

2007-08-09T17:05:00.000-07:00

My friend Carter posted this on his MySpace, and challenged me to give it up, but I'm so long-winded, I thought I should post it here instead, where I can fix all the formatting the way I want.

1.THE FIRST POEM I REMEMBER HEARING AND REACTING TO....

Okay this is tough. I went to a Catholic school in Bell Gardens which was, shall we say, somewhat stifled in the creativity department.

We memorized poetry (see below) but it mostly wasn't very good and left little impression.

However, I most remember my English professor at Eastern New Mexico University (Portales), Dr. Patrice Caldwell (who, by the way had an identical twin, a mirror-twin, who was also an English professor...)

...reciting to us William Carlos Williams, "This is Just to Say..."

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold

----
but before I forget, let me tell you recent story involving this poem:

A couple of weeks ago, while we were in bed I recited the plum poem to L*
Because it is, in my view, the original fridge poem

(actually, i forgot the line "forgive me" when I was saying it to her)

She seemed rather perturbed by the poem and said that "he" must have been very angry at "her" to have eaten her plums that "she" was saving for breakfast.

In particular, I think she was putting herself in the position of someone who is really looking forward to her morning plums and is greeted with this poem instead.

Now, you must know that L* has been eating LOTS AND LOTS of organic fruits over the past year, and especially the last few months (and upon advice from her acupuncturist and her nutritionist) she's trying to have at least 5 servings a day. Also, with the ambien, she likes to get up and eat in the middle of the night. So upon arising, I frequently find evidence in my clean kitchen: strawberry tops, apricot pits, et cetera.

So I had bought some small plums earlier that week, and they were a little soft so I put them in the fridge so they would last.

L* is not a great fan of plums: she prefers nectarines and apricots and maybe even peaches (i don't like the fuzz, myself).

So that night she was making a list of all the organic vegetables she was going to get at the store.

We were pretty much out of everything at that point. Oh, I said, If you're going to buy more fruit, I'd better finish those plums in the morning.

PLUMS!! she declared PLUMS?? YOU HAVE PLUMS?!!

for all the world as if I'd been holding out on her.

And in a voice not unlike a Wild Thing.

I told her where they were in the fridge, so she could find them if she got up in the night.

Of course the next morning, there was an empty bag and two plum pits, and L* had a whole different perspective on the plum poem.

"delicious, so sweet and so cold!"

Oh, but wait, there's one I remember from one of my books when I was little...

It's really long to paste in here,

It's The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes.

I was mesmerized by that poem, but it might also have had something to do with the illustration of the woman all tied up with the rifle at her breast and her dark hair all awry...

(I would never have been allowed to recite "The Highwayman" at Catholic school, even apart from the illustration)

2. I WAS FORCED TO MEMORIZE IN SCHOOL....

did I warn you this was bad? It's not even really a poem, but...

I never saw a purple cow
I never hope to see one
But I can tell you anyhow
I'd rather see than be one.

I love that Carter chose Robert Frost's Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening. I had to be a lot older (and live in some really cold places) before I could fully appreciate that poem. I liked it in college in Indiana (which was cold) but that's because I liked being young and morbid and shocking. I like it for wholly different reasons now.

I'm pretty sure that I memorized parts of The Song of Hiawatha, too, but I'm also pretty sure that Lucille Ball performed some part of it in I Love Lucy, and so that always affected my experience of the poem. As an English major, I developed a bad habit of reading Emily Dickinson's poems to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas." It's amazing I ever became a poet.

3. I READ/don't read POETRY BECAUSE...

Poetry is a short cut: It tells truth to power. It touches your heart. It cuts to the chase. In my classes, I like to read poetry aloud, especially the pissed-off kinds of poems. (see below)

4. A POEM I'M LIKELY TO THINK ABOUT WHEN ASKED ABOUT A FAVORITE IS...
Poem for a Young White Man... by Lorna Dee Cervantes or Diane Burns's Sure, You Can Ask Me a Personal Question.

I first heard both of these poems in graduate school in Colorado.

Lorna Dee gave a reading at a symposium on gender & poetry, and "Poem for a Young White Man…" and "Bird Ave" and "Beneath the Shadow of the Freeway" changed my life forever. Literally rocked my world. Several years later, there was a conference on "the Novel in the Americas." One afternoon panel was on women, and none of men came to the panel: not the colleagues in the department, not one the big-name stars that had been brought in. This was not a separatist panel, the men just weren't interested in hearing about women's writing. They took a long lunch instead. Linda Hogan opened the session with Diane Burns's poem, and read in her clear quiet voice. I still get chills.

Melvin Dixon's "Aunt Ida Pieces a Quilt"
(I will put the whole poem here, 'cause it's hard to link to. And because everyone should read this poem.)

They brought me some of his clothes. The hospital gown.
Those too-tight dungarees, his blue choir robe
with the gold sash. How that boy could sing!
His favorite color in a necktie. A Sunday shirt.
What I'm gonna do with all this stuff?
I can remember Junie without this business.
My niece Francine say they quilting all over the country.
So many good boys like her boy, gone.

At my age I ain't studying no needle and thread.
My eyes ain't so good now and my fingers lock in a fist,
they so eaten up with arthritis. This old back
don't take kindly to bending over a frame no more.
Francine say ain't I a mess carrying on like this.
I could make two quilts the time I spend running my mouth.

Just cut his name out the cloths, stitch something nice
about him. Something to bring him back. You can do it,
Francine say. Best sewing our family ever had.
Quilting ain't that easy, I say. Never was easy.
Y'all got to help me remember him good.

Most of my quilts was made down South. My Mama
and my Mama's Mama taught me. Popped me on the tail
if I missed a stitch or threw the pattern out of line.
I did "Bright Star" and "Lonesome Square" and "Rally Round,"
what many folks don't bother with nowadays. Then Elmo and me
married and came North where the cold in Connecticut
cuts you like a knife. We was warm, though.
We had sackcloth and calico and cotton. 100% pure.
What they got now but polyester-rayon. Factory made.

Let me tell you something. In all my quilts there's a secret
nobody knows. Every last one of them got my name Ida
stitched on the backside in red thread.

That's where Junie got his flair. Don't let anybody fool you.
When he got the Youth Choir standing up and singing
the whole church would rock. He'd throw up his hands
from them wide blue sleeves and the church would hush
right down to the funeral parlor fans whisking the air.
He'd toss his head back and holler and we'd all cry holy.

And never mind his too-tight dungarees.
I caught him switching down the street one Saturday night,
and I seen him more than once. I said, Junie,
You ain't got to let the whole world know your business.
Who cared where he went when he wanted to have fun.
He'd be singing his heart out come Sunday morning.

When Francine say she gonna hang this quilt in the church
I like to fall out. A quilt ain't no show piece,
it's to keep you warm. Francine say it can do both.
Now I ain't so old fashioned I can't change,
but I made Francine come over and bring her daughter
Belinda. We cut and tacked his name, JUNIE.
Just plain and simple. "JUNIE, our boy."
Cut the J in blue, the U in gold. N in dungarees
just as tight as you please. The I from the hospital gown
and the white shirt he wore First Sunday. Belinda
put the necktie E in the cross stitch I showed her.

Wouldn't you know we got to talking about Junie.
We could smell him in the cloth.
Underarm. Afro-Sheen pomade. Gravy stains.
I forgot all about my arthritis.
When Francine left me to finish up, I swear
I heard Junie giggling right along with me
as I stitched Ida on the backside in red thread.

Francine say she gonna send this quilt to Washington
like folks doing from all across the country,
so many good people gone. Babies, mothers, fathers,
and boys like our Junie. Francine say
they gonna piece this quilt to another one,
another name and another patch
all in a larger quilt getting larger and larger.

Maybe we all like that, patches waiting to be pieced.
Well, I don't know about Washington.
We need Junie here with us. And Maxine,
she cousin May's husband's sister's people,
she having a baby and here comes winter already.
The cold cutting like knives. Now where did I put that needle?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

One I go back to again and again is Gloria Anzaldúa's "To Live in the Borderlands Means You"

To live in the borderlands means you
are neither hispana india negra española
ni gabacha, eres mestiza, mulata, half-breed
caught in the crossfire between camps while carrying all five races
on your back
not knowing which side to turn to, run from;

To live in the Borderlands means knowing
that the indian in you, betrayed for 500 years,
is no longer speaking to you,
that mexicanas call you rajetas,
that denying the Anglo inside you
is as bad as having denied the Indian or Black;

Cuando vives en la frontera
people walk through you, wind steals your voice,
you're a burra, buey, scapegoat
forerunner of a new race,
half and half - both woman and man, neither-
a new gender;

To live in the Borderlands means to
put chile in the borscht
eat whole wheat tortillas
speak Tex-Mex with a Brooklyn accent;
be stopped by la migra at the border check points;

Living in the Borderlands mens you fight hard to
resist the gold elixir beckoning from the bottle,
the pull of the gun barrel,
the rope crushing the hollow of your throat;

In the Borderlands
you are the battleground
where enemies are kin to each other;
you are at home, a stranger,
the border disputes have been settled
the volley of shots have shattered the truce
you are wounded, lost in action
dead, fighting back;

To live in the Borderlands means
the mill with the razor white teeth wants to shred off
your olive-red skin, crush out the kernel, your heart
pound you pinch you roll you out
smelling like white bread but dead;
To survive in the Borderlands
you must live sin fronteras
be a crossroads

5. I WRITE POETRY, BUT..

I don't talk about it that much. It's still scary to say "I'm a poet." But I am.

6.MY EXPERIENCE READING POETRY DIFFERS FROM MY EXPERIENCE WITH READING OTHER TYPES OF LITERATURE

I get a headache if I read too much poetry in one sitting. I get drunk and stupid. I'm not fit company and am very moody. Novels, on the other hand, I can read 24-7.

7. I FIND POETRY TO BE..

The most fun to teach. My students always think that they don't like poetry, and I like to get 'em to change their minds.

8.THE LAST TIME I HEARD POETRY...

We saw some great poetry and performance in "Mi Cuerpo, Mi Revolución," Friday, June 15, 2007 @ Galeria de la Raza from 7:30-9:30PM part of QUELACO, the Queer Latino Arts Festival. Natro and Yosimar Reyes rocked the house, as did Meliza Bañales.

9. I THINK POETRY IS...

Painful. In a good way.

Surf camp

2007-08-09T09:56:00.000-07:00

We were so sun-protected that we got no tan at all! okay my hands are slightly darker, with a sharp line at the wrist.

They warned us ahead of time to use 40 sunblock and of course we considered the fact that they were presuming a gringo audience, but we also know that that kind of thinking is a quick way to getting fried to a crisp!

When i was twelve, my sister and I went to hawaii for about a month. my gringo uncle (the child molester) was in the military and had just finished med school, and they were assigned to hawaii. He and my aunt and her three kids and their one were all covered by military, as were his two (chicana) daughters from a previous marriage. the other two daughters weren't coming, so my sister and i masqueraded as them, including being issued military i.d. cards.

we assumed their names (with many mistakes) and ages (ditto): My sixteen year-old sister Christine was trying to pass as a twelve year-old Sabrina,and at twelve I was supposed to be a nine year-old Rochelle.

This was in 1978, and our first week there, everyone laid on the beach in baby oil and fried like they'd never fried before. (not me, I was nerdy and was using a "shade" sunscreen, with a big SPF of 6 (!!), but it did the job)

I'm assuming I'm not opening myself or my sister to any legal action here, since we were both minors.

I want to make it clear that my gringo uncle called all the shots,and thus assumed all responsibility. My parents had no idea it was anything so fraudulent.

Oh, but the purpose of telling this story, is that after a month in Hawaii, we had gotten so much sun, that when we flew home to New Mexico, our parents didn't recognize us. They literally walked past us.

In Costa Rica, I did, in fact, get a burn on the part in my hair, on days 2, and 3. (day one I put sunscreen there. On day four i wore my hat into the water, since I wasn't getting my butt kicked by the waves anymore) but nothing serious. though I'll get a nasty case of dandruff in about a week.

Here's a picture of the zip line (but not the bruises).

It reminded me again of northern New Mexico. Like if Abey Maes and his cousin Charlie strung up wire cables so you could zip across the Mora Valley. Like, "isn't this a little dangerous?" I tried not to think about that girl who's feet were cut off by a loose cable at an amusement park.

Back from vacation

2007-08-06T17:56:00.000-07:00

L* and I went to surf camp for vacation. L* was the only boi amongst a whole posse of grrls: needless to say, L* became the camp hero.

We are exhausted and blissed out and happy to be home again.

My mom got an interview!

2007-07-11T18:26:00.000-07:00

On Monday, my mom got called
to interview for the Art teacher position.

She had the interview yesterday.

She would be totally awesome at this job
and it would be good for her too.

Please say a little prayer for her to San Pancracio,
or to whomever you generally pray.

If your creative urges are of a speculative nature

2007-07-11T18:19:00.000-07:00

Brown Rab Fish Girl posted this announcement of a travel grant for writing speculative fiction.

Brown Rab Fish Girl rocks. Me, I woulda kept the information to myself.

Make mine blue and bronze...

2007-07-09T18:28:00.001-07:00

The sorting hat says that I belong in Ravenclaw!

Said Ravenclaw, We'll teach those whose intelligence is surest

Ravenclaw students tend to be clever, witty, intelligent, and knowledgeable.
Notable residents include Cho Chang and Padma Patil (objects of Harry and Ron's affections), and Luna Lovegood (daughter of The Quibbler magazine's editor).

Take the most scientific Harry Potter
Quiz ever created.

Get Sorted Now!

Ravenclaw: 94
Hufflepuff: 86
Gryffindor: 72
Slytherin: 55

Being Queer and talking about Breasts will move you out of a G Rating

2007-07-08T09:45:00.000-07:00

My Mom is an Artist

2007-07-06T14:52:00.000-07:00

(as is my girlfriend)

I've been e-mailing with my mom yesterday and today. She's applying for a position as an art teacher in a small town near where she lives.

And I've also been reading--I think I've mentioned this--The Artist's Way, by Julia Cameron, and it's all about how to get your creativity unblocked: to see what's standing between you and your potential and how to get around it.

Two things she mentions in this are Poisonous Playmates and CrazyMakers.

And I've just been thinking that it's amazing that my Mom ever became an artist living with my dad. Because he's---well---how can I say this? He obsessively finds fault. He sees himself as this great proofreader, and he's going to circle everything in red so that you can see your faults and become a perfectionist like him.

And for an artist, it's all about turning down the Critic and turning up the Creator, otherwise you'll never have the courage to paint, draw, sing, because it won't be perfect. You need to be able to say, "I don't know where this going" without someone standing over your shoulder.

L* has this portrait she did of me that we call "Caesar." She painted it when we were visiting my parents, and after she had the color she wanted for the skin tone, she outlined the picture. While the eyes were still blank, my dad walked by and said "you're painting a picture of Caesar!" Fortunately, My L* did not let this deter her, and painted on.

Good Stretching by Good Friends

2007-07-06T11:41:00.000-07:00

L* and I have been real homebodies this past year. I think we always have that tendency, and partly it's just because L* always makes our home so warm and loving and nurturing, and also she's such a good cook!

But with everything that happened in the past year, it became so central to have a retreat.

Now, though, we need to stretch and grow, to move out of the comfortable routine. Our friend Yoli is visiting this week, and we've also recently got together with Josie & Trish, and they've all really rocked our world.

L* and I always says that we go out to maybe one movie a year. (Last year it was AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH and CHILDREN OF MEN--a busy year for us!). In the last two weeks we've gone out to THREE films: one with J&T, one with Yoli, and one with all together. And it's been so much fun! We've also watched more movies on video than we have in months and months. In fact, we've had 3 netflix sitting unopened on our sideboard for at least four months, before I sent some of them back.

In the theatres: Shelter Me (Italian, part of the LGBTQ film festival), Waitress, Sicko
In the home: Mi Madre Les Gustan las Mujeres (at T&J's house), Reinas, and Laura Aguilar' video on her art.

Both Mi Madre and Reinas made me want to write musicals. When my mom was visiting, we went to see Legally Blonde: The Musical in San Francisco, and it was a lot of fun like these Spanish movies. (Great song: "Gay? or European?") In fact, both of these films fall in the category of Queer Films fun for the Whole Family.

I think I've mentioned that I've been feeling more ambivalent about the blog lately. Partly that's just because now that this past year is behind us, everything else seems so mundane. How can I talk about knitting and movies, after writing about chemotherapy and homophobia in the medical establishment?

But that's really the nature of blogs. It's not keen investigative reporting. It's what's going on in life. And we're adjusting to "the new normal" and figuring out what that's going to look like.

Good neighbors

2007-07-03T11:23:00.000-07:00

Good neighbors--

when they see you picking plums from the one branch of their tree that hangs over into your yard--

--bring you plums!

Okay, I lied: I'm not giving these up

2007-07-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

50%

Digital Diva had this one her website, and then I saw it and had to try it. I betcha those girls in Miami will score pretty high on this, whereas the team in Denver...well, the have lots of loved ones around them... Although I can definitely see El Paso gunning down zombies with determination.

Now, L* I bet s/he would score way higher than me. S/he certainly can run faster and longer and had the forethought to lay in the foodstuffs.

And if you can't be a Lady...

2007-06-25T09:42:00.000-07:00

Okay, I promise I'm going to give these up soon...

You Are 64% Gentleman

You are definitely a gentleman. You're very considerate and you have excellent manners.
Occasionally, you slip and do something foolish... but usually no one notices!

Are You A Gentleman?

The funny thing is I came across this quiz when looking at someone's boyfriend's page on myspace. and I got the exact same rating he did!

Afterwards, I realized if there was a quiz for a gentleman, there had to be a quiz for lady, and so I googled it.

You Are 72% Lady

Overall, you are a refined lady with excellent manners.

But you also know when to relax and not get too serious about etiquette

Are You A Lady?

Cha-Cha-Changes

2007-06-24T17:05:00.000-07:00

I haven't blogged in a long time. Partly, that's because L* got started on MySpace, and once s/he started being really active there, the blog started feeling superfluous. But I know all our friends in blogland aren't all on MySpace.

So I'm going to get back into it. I've been doing a lot more writing in general. L* and I wrote two articles in the past couple of months.

L* has been going to yoga, lifting weights, getting brown, working in the garden.

Here's a post direct from L*:

Friday, June 1

Today I met Rita Moreno!

Rita Moreno was given an honorary PhD at our U President's "inauguration."

After the ceremony, I ditched the free food. I had to meet her.

Eventually, using my best super-sleuth abilities, I found where her limo was waiting.

Before long, I spotted her! I placed myself between her and the limo and with all my courage, I said, "Hi, my name is L*. I'm a big fan of yours and I just had to meet you." My little butch heart was beating a mile a minute. I told her that I taught her films in my classes.

I was wearing my PhD robes so SHE STOPPED to chat! She asked me what I teach. And, like a nerd, instead of saying "Latino film" (which I am currently teaching!), I said, "Ethnic Studies," which wasn't really the best conversation starter in that circumstance.

Just then, another Latina came up to meet her, too. And, I blurted out (I swear to god...these exact words): "you were so cute up there on stage." I TOLD RITA MORENO SHE WAS "CUTE."

I really am a nerd.

BTW, this nerd was looking particularly dyke/boi today (my fantasy anyway). My hair was spiked up in a little faux mohawk. I was wearing my vans. Rita Moreno must be way cool because she was just all smiles even through all my bumbling.

And, actually, she is beautiful. But watching her do a little dance to the exit processional (she was up there with all the stuffy suits) WAS really really cute.

Tee-hee.

Is this Girly or What?

2007-06-14T09:23:00.000-07:00

You scored as Jean Grey, Jean Grey is likely the most powerful X-Man. She loves Cyclops very much but she has a soft spot for Wolverine. She's psychic so she can sense how others are feeling and tries to help them. She also has to control her amazing powers or the malevolent Phoenix entity could take control of her and wreak havok. Powers: Telekinetic, Telepathic

Jean Grey

100%

Cyclops

85%

Nightcrawler

80%

Colossus

80%

Storm

80%

Gambit

75%

Wolverine

75%

Rogue

70%

Emma Frost

70%

Beast

65%

Iceman

55%

Most Comprehensive X-Men Personality Quiz 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

I thought I'd be more girly...

2007-06-13T09:42:00.000-07:00

You Are 32% Girly

You are a pretty hardcore tomboy, and a very free spirit.
Gender roles be dammed, you like to do things your way.

How Girly Are You?

Obviously, I thought I'd register more girly than this, but I have issues with the survey.

Grading is done!

2007-06-01T22:46:00.000-07:00

Thanks to a lot of email chat from NSM in Miami, I was able to finish my grading on schedule. She has reminded me that I long ago promised her some Harry Potter knits in Slytherin colors, and she expects to be bumped to the top of my to-do list. As soon as I can make a trip to the yarn store, I will be happy to comply!

This week, in an effort to avoid grading, I turned out a rather good looking novelty hat for our nephew in Shanghai, Tang Tang.

The colors remind me of hortensia. I hope that in China they're as into silly hats for babies as we are here! I used a yarn that was a big hit with Denver crowd and which (they claim) always prompts cries of "where did you get that hat?" I know they're soothing my crafty ego, and I love them for it!

There are several other babies to whom I've promised hats. Of course, only in the Bay Area is this still a reasonable baby gift in June!

L* has been cooking up a storm on her myspace page (into which realm, indeed, I have been lured). You have to go there for the details on the Rita Moreno story. And here I thought I should be worried about younger femmes!

I'm almost done reading Atomik Aztex. So far I want to share it with my colleague Jason, 'cause I think he would get the biggest kick out of it. I think it's targeted to people who like that Burciaga poem in three languages & caló, but maybe I'm just fooling myself and it's really for the comix crowd.

I've been getting interlibrary loan books in preparation for my Queer Women of Color lit class in the fall. So I've also been having a lot of fun reading Chea Villanueva. In the 1980's and 90's, Villanueva was a Filipina dyke living in the Bay Area and publishing pretty regularly in lesbian anthologies, women of color, butch and fem venues. And then blip, not a word after 1997. Now I'm trying to get my hands on a film called "The Trappings of Transhood," whose subjects include Chea Vincent Villanueva. Now I really can't wait!

I also have to make a trip to the San Francisco Public Library, which is the only place that has all of Villanueva's books. A couple were self-published collector's editions at Modern Times, Old Wive's Tales and A Different Light, back in the day. I still kick myself for not having bought The Chinagirls when I saw it in 1990. Big mistake!

L* hooked up with one of her old QueerNation/LA friends, and guess what! He crochets! He inspired me to finish a shawl I've been planning of la Yoli. L* had picked out the soft yarn in a bright bougainvillea. So last week I finished it and sent it off on Tuesday when the post office reopened after a long weekend.

Santora: Beg, Borrow, or Steal

2007-05-28T11:29:00.000-07:00

To read Santora, I had to request a copy through Interlibrary Loan. This 2001 novel by "Resurreción Cruz" (a pseudonym) is right up my alley. Think Laura Esquivel's Like Water for Chocolate meets Ana Castillo'sSo Far from God in the Mission District ("Dolores Heights") with more than a dash of Judy Grahn's The Queen of Swords thrown in for good measure.

This novel is a lot of fun with a lot of cool saints showing up. (Of course, I disagree with her about several, but that's half the fun.)The apparition in the Mission is the bomb, and el Diablo...he's a keeper.

I wish there were more about Diva, la FTM and a bit less on Shandra la gabacha culture-vulture. Again, that's me trying to impose my desires on somebody else's novel.

The cover art (both front and back) is true to life. The names are great fun. The curanderismo is pretty sensitive.

So buy it, order it through interlibrary loan, get it before it's gone!

Our Lady: Virgin of Flames?

2007-05-19T20:03:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I have free time between classes, I roam around our campus bookstore. It's a pretty good one, an independent. Even if they don't stock my book, they have a nice mix of old and new, borrowed and blue.

So one day I saw la famosa Our Lady by Alma Lopez. On a bookcover! Of a novel!

(it previously appeared--in censored form--on Puro Teatro, an anthology of Latino plays)

I was thrilled and excited. I promised myself to remember the book title and find out more about it.

I forgot the title and author (you knew this was coming) and the next time I was in the bookstore, it was nowhere to be found! I mean, I cruised that place like a seriously focused geek, looked at every single book in every single display. I'm sure I suffered brain damage from the "college humor" section.

But no luck.

Well, today I was on amazon and got one of those, "you might also be interested in" and there it was!

The Virgin of Flames by Chris Abani. (the link is to Powells, because Amazon uses those images that are no good for swiping)

Nigerian author. Salvadoran protagonist. Chicana Art. Welcome to Los Angeles.

Designing classes for my students, and a treat awaits

2007-05-19T09:33:00.000-07:00

I was telling L* that I was approved to teach the seminar on Queer Women of Color writing. L* wanted to know what books I was planning, and I rattled off a list. This was followed by a stern shaking of L*'s head.

"Think about your students. What do they want to read? Make it fun!" i.e., they don't want to read the tortured, tragic, and highly problematic texts that so interest me right now.

You know, I have kind of been sensing that the students are troubled by my obsession with torture, truth, repressed memories, trauma, war crimes, genocide, etc. The students in my ethnic lit class are really good sports about it all, but clearly a little positive representation would be greatly appreciated.

And in the Queer of Color class, it came to a head when I showed The Wedding Banquet and it was just met with this overwhelming enthusiasm. I was like "huh?" and the students explained "nobody died!"

Students like texts where nobody dies.

So I'm revamping my courses for next year, with the students in mind. The queer of color class, for example is going to include Carla Trujillo's What Night Brings, and an E.Lynn Harris novel, and Bino Realuyo and Craig Womack. (okay, so the last two are still haunting and yearning)

And the QWOC lit class: well, once I started making a list of books that would appeal to my students' generation, it's a pretty long list! I'm going to have to narrow it down. Felicia Luna Lemus' Trace Elements of Random Tea Parties is definitely on the list. and Jewelle Gomez's The Gilda Stories.

I'm still really upset about all the books that are out of print: Emma Pérez's Gulf Dreams, All of Chrsytos's work (I really wanted to teach In Her I Am this year and was wrecked when it wasn't available), Willyce Kim's novels. Chea Villanueva's work. (I can't find my copy of Jessie's Song anywhere, and it's driving me a little bit crazy.)

This is precisely why I need to be teaching this stuff: If the books aren't available, how will the next generation know they even existed?

I got L* a copy of Like Son for an end of the school year treat.

virtual retail therapy

2007-05-12T19:27:00.000-07:00

so, today I'm craving a handbag.

a really nice handbag.

If you know me, you'll know that my preferred handbag is either a rasquache bag,

a canvas tote filled with yarn, or the ones given to me by my employer at a workshop or retreat, with the university's name and logo.

But in my mind, I'm thinking of that Ugly Betty episode (swag) where Christina gave Betty the gucci bag, and it made Betty so happy. It made her feel like when she was a little girl and her mother had this fabulous handbag and she gave it to Betty, and Betty strutted around all proud with her mother's handbag. That's what I'm wanting: that feeling.

This week (a tree grows in guadaljara) Betty was carrying a Lucky handbag.

Also very cute. Prob'ly more realistically priced. If you're used to paying money for handbags. Which I'm not. And would it give me the feeling I'm looking for?

I'm posting the pictures here, and so then it will be like i bought them.

Chilequiles

2007-05-10T19:32:00.000-07:00

tofu burrito

2007-05-10T18:25:00.000-07:00

You should have seen my students
when I said "tofu burritos."
Cristina la Gallina
imagined a burrito
carved out of tofu
like a turkey of tofu
or spam

Craig Womack, Drowning in Fire

2007-05-03T11:55:00.000-07:00

Womack's novel is brilliant. Breath-taking. Wrenching. Haunting. Rich.

Like eggs scrambled with wild onions and commodity cheese.

Not everyone will see the genius of this novel. Some people will always insist that if a book isn't EASY, it's not good.

First, though, Womack's novel is easy: easy like Sunday morning. Like the sexual fantasies of a queer teenage boy and what would actually happen if they come true.

It's also hard. Like the truly dark secrets of children who experience betrayal before they can develop trust. Like US History and that country's shameless betrayal of its on ideals on its way to capitalize off the Indians.

Like the storytelling of the elders that we all think are totally crazy until we later realize they're speaking absolute truth.

Beautiful. Inspiring. May it draw a little more from you than you were planning to give.

If you're the kind of reader who asks questions like "What does Puerto Rican nationalism have to do with lesbian identity" then you may end up scratching your head at the end of this book, because it's not the way you'll expect it to be.

For me, though, this is not only the novel I've been waiting my whole life to read, it's one that shows me how the thing is done.

A brief interlude in the writing marathon

2007-04-28T16:30:00.000-07:00

You know how sometimes editor's deadlines come and you still haven't gotten to writing the article? And how sometimes people are asking you to write something and you say yes even though you have a bunch of stuff you're supposed to do first?

Well, enough is enough. L* put her foot down with me, and this weekend I'm working hard to finish an article that was due in February.

So I've been at the computer working since yesterday morning, more or less singlemindedly.

L* went off to her Sunday morning yoga and asked if I'd seen the news?

No, what's wrong?

Apparently a gas tanker exploded early this morning. No one was killed (unbelievable) but driving from Oakland to San Francisco (or perhaps driving back) is going to be no-go for the forseeable future. I think the regular I-80 traffic might go through, but everything coming up from 880 south and 580 (the 580 is our freeway) is not happening.

"They are urging people to telecommute if possible"

Ummm...anyway, now I have to pull my mind back from this and my work week ahead, and buckle down and finish this article.

Haircuts: Men $35, Women $45, Transgenders $40

2007-04-26T15:41:00.000-07:00

L* got the transgender rate on her haircut on Tuesday. She went back to the place she first got it cut before chemo. She's such a cute little guy now, especially when she's wearing her green polo shirt.

L* has been very patient with the strange emotional baggage that we've all been attaching to her hair. By "we all" I mean both her parents and I. Example 1: L*'s dad tells her she looks like her Nana with her curls. Example 2: ktrion tells L* she looks like Nikki Giovanni. These are all (unintentional) attempts to keep L* from cutting her hair.

But she cut it: and she didn't loose any of her strength. And she is looking muy guapo!

In Alma Lopez's film Boi Hair, Lisette, Claudia, and Alice are discussing the difficulty of getting a boi cut, and how the hairdressers always want to give you some Lady-cut: even gay guys--who you'd think would know better! L* has been much afflicted by this of late.

NACCS Community Award

2007-04-06T20:34:00.000-07:00

Every year, the National Association of Chicana and Chicano Studies honors local community activists at each annual convention, to acknowledge the importance of social change to our academic endeavors, and to recommit ourselves to our communities.

This year, NACCS gave an award to Sylvia Guerrero and (in memoriam) to her transgender daughter, the late Gwen Araujo.

Since the murder of Gwen Araujo in 2002, Sylvia Guerrero has done tremendous outreach, especially to bay area high schools, about the challenges faced and the rights owing to transgendered teens. Guerrero is being honored for her advocacy and for her work to pass AB 1160, which eliminated the "gay panic" defense
for assault and murder.

During the awards ceremony, Sylvia Guerrero noted that, although she has received many awards, this was
the first time she has been acknowledged by a Latina/o organization. She spoke movingly of the need for Latinos, who value tradition and familia, to truly love, accept, and honor all of our children.

Guerrero's brother mentioned that his father had marched with César Chávez and instilled in his children a sense of pride in being Latino. He spoke about the long struggle of Latinos in the US, and the eagerness to work hard if it could make life better for our children. "We struggled for our lives then," he said, "We didn't think she would have to struggle for her life now." He told the audience that his niece Gwen was a proud Latina. And old-school Latinos need to learn to deal with it.

Sylvia Guerrero and her family received two standing ovations.

NACCS Lesbian BiMujeres and Trans Caucus Resolution

2007-04-06T08:06:00.000-07:00

This photo was taken by L* at the memorial service for Ruby Ordeñana in the Mission on March 23. We are now at the National Association for Chicana and Chicano Studies conference, in San Jose.

NACCS Conference
Spring 2007--San Jose, California
Lesbian, Bisexual Mujeres, Trans Caucus Resolution

Title: Resolution to Support The Gwen Araujo Community Award and to draw attention to the recent brutal murder of Ruby Ordeñana, March 2007.

WHEREAS the NACCS Northern California Foco is presenting a Community Award to Gwen Araujo and her mother Sylvia Guerrero, who worked hard to support AB 1160, the “Gwen Araujo Justice for Victims Act” which amends jury instructions to state that the use of the so-called "panic defense'' is inconsistent with California's comprehensive hate crimes law.

We the Lesbian, Bisexual Mujeres, Trans Caucus wish to recognize and
acknowledge the importance and timeliness of this award considering two recent murders of TransMujeres, most notably the brutal murder of Ruby Ordeñana in San Francisco on March 16, 2007.

WHEREAS the murder of transpeople is part of the violent systemic policing of non-conforming gender expression in families, schools, work places, and communities.

We the Lesbian, Bisexual Mujeres, Trans Caucus acknowledge the necessity for a letter to be drafted by the NACCS Board which will strongly state the necessity for education, resource materials, and demand respect for Trans self-determination in life and in death.

WHEREAS this resolution will not have by-law implications, it will incur a small monetary burden: cost of mailings.

THEREFORE, BE IT RESOLVED that The Lesbian, Bisexual Mujeres, Trans Caucus shall work with the Board to write this letter and have it published in Noticias de NACCS as well as have it sent to the City of San Francisco, the San Francisco Police Department, the District Attorney’s Office, the Nicaraguan consulate, and local media.

Submitted by the Lesbian, Bisexual Mujeres, Trans Caucus

--March 22 Community Flyer about the death of Ruby Ordeñana

Community Mourns Murder of Latina Transgender Woman
Requests Attendance at Vigil to Demand Change

San Francisco, California (March 22, 2007) - A Nicaraguan transgender woman, Ruby Ordeñana (aka Ruby Rodriguez) 24 years old, was murdered on Friday, March 16, 2007. Her body was found on the corner of Cesar Chavez and Indiana Streets in the Mission District of San Francisco. The murder is currently under investigation by the San Francisco Police Department. Community United Against Violence (CUAV), EL-LA, San Francisco LGBT Community Center, TRANS Project, allies, and community members will hold a community vigil in her honor on Friday, March 23, 2007 at 6:00PM, on the corner of 24th Street and Mission Street in the Mission District.

Organizers request that the community bring a white candle to the vigil. There will also be an additional altar set up on Cesar Chavez and Indiana Street, and community members are encouraged to bring flowers, photographs, cards and good wishes to this site. Let us not forget Ruby. She was an exceptional woman who was intent on improving her life. Ruby participated in various support groups and language classes, and idolized Chicana singer Selena.

This murder comes at the heels of at least two other violent deaths of transgender women of color in the San Francisco Bay Area over the past six months. Transgender people, particularly low-income transgender women of color, are disproportionately poor, homeless, criminalized and imprisoned as a result of systemic discrimination in
our daily attempts to access safe housing, healthcare, employment, and education.

Unfortunately, Ruby's murder is not an exception, but an everyday fear for many transgender people who are targeted and brutalized by institutions and society at large. Our communities mourn Ruby's death and ask for a renewed commitment to real safety for transgender communities. It is vital that the Mayor's Office, the San Francisco Police Department, and the District Attorney's Office work to end the cycles of criminalization, poverty, and violence in transgender communities and communities of color.

Sighting

2007-04-05T13:12:00.000-07:00

There was a Querido sighting on Wednesday.

L* is quite sure she saw Querido. But she was in her car, so didn't introduce herself.

"You should blog more about our food"

2007-03-21T19:03:00.000-07:00

L* and I are secretly at work on the Postcolonial Cookbook: a guide for queer people of color reclaiming our foods and our health.

(Should the "queer" really go in there?)

Tonight for dinner, we're having chile beans: organic red, black, and pinto beans, simmered in a crock pot all day with garlic, onions, comino, coriander, paprika (lots), cayenne, oregano, white pepper, salt and a can of organic roasted crushed tomatoes. Serve topped with cilantro, green onions, organic low-fat monterey jack cheese and sliced avocado.

Yum!The food of the ancestors!

L* came up with this recipe when she read that the food HIGHEST in antioxidents was the "small red bean." Since we are partial to pinto and black beans, we had to stretch to incorporate the small red.

From WebMD:

"June 17, 2004 -- Blueberries may be the poster children for antioxidant abundance, but a new study suggests the humble bean may be a more deserving candidate.

The largest and most advanced analysis of the antioxidant content of common foods to date shows that disease-fighting antioxidants may be found in unexpected fruits and vegetables, such as beans, artichokes, and even the much-maligned Russet potato.

Researchers found that small red beans contain more disease-fighting antioxidants than both wild and cultivated blueberries, which have been heralded in recent years for their high antioxidant content. In fact, three of the top five antioxidant-rich foods studied were beans.

The study also shows that nuts and spices, such as ground cloves, cinnamon, and oregano, are rich in antioxidants, although they are generally consumed in much smaller amounts than fruits and vegetables."

Find the entire list of top antioxidant foods here: http://www.webmd.com/diet/guide/20061101/antioxidants-found-unexpected-foods

If your budget can't stretch to cover blueberries at five dollars a half-pint, consider the red bean.

Reclaim your food, people.

Garden day

2007-03-17T15:00:00.000-07:00

L* has been in scavenging mood lately: she wants to drive around until she finds a piece of furniture on the side of the road and then bring it home and paint it.

So far, the pickings have been slim. She's acquired a couple of frames, and something that will make a good plant stand or garden altar.

Today she brought home a tire. so we can make a planter for the garden. I'm sure you've seen them!

So, of course, we're googling directions on how to cut these puppies and turn them inside out. And while looking, I found the most beautiful tropical bird planters, also made from tires.

Those girls in Miami have got to see this! It's right up their alley!

The tropical birds are for sale only, no directions. I've also heard rumors of a tire planter that looks like a swan.

Speaking of Those Girls in Miami, L* just got back from Home Depot, where she went to get mounting brackets to put up the most fabulous TRES REYES present from TGiM. It's painted full of love and beauty, and all the joy that L*'s garden represents.

I'll post pictures when it's up.

L*'s other project is to move the geraniums over to the other side of the garden so that she'll have a whole strip where she can plant corn. I can't wait! Our own milpa!

DNA

2007-03-16T17:55:00.000-07:00

"We share 25% of our DNA with bananas. Get over yourself." --T-shirt slogan

The local Sangha just sent me a message that started with this slogan.
It made me want a banana.

Alma Lopez is back online

2007-03-16T07:13:00.000-07:00

Hey, you know you stop checking somebody's blog for a whole year and you miss out on the resurrection. Alma Lopez is back bloggin for real. I just stumbled (almost literally) across her site: it was originally more of a place holder, with announcements of upcoming shows, but now she's showing you how it's done. Me, I still haven't figured out labels yet.

Alma's entries are really compelling, and really map out more of queer Latin@ health.

Buscando Querido

2007-03-11T18:15:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry: writing under the title "Looking for Querido" makes me feel like a big ol' slut. Like Jill Clayburg in Looking for Mr. Goodbar.

But we were out at La Peña last night and ran into Marcia who said--as she does everytime we see her--you know my friend Querido lives in your neighborhood. Have you met Querido yet?" Marcia tells us her friend Querido is about our age, FTM.

We have not met Querido. That there should be a (nother?) Latino FTM on our block, and us not to have met would be just too crazy. If he had any other name, we could perhaps do the Marlon Brando and stand out on the street (in our torn t-shirt and jeans) and bellow out his name: "STELLA!"

But standing out on the street yelling "QUERIDO!" well! it will definitely have the neighborhood talking.

Not to mention starting rumors that one or the other of us is looking for a new Querido.

(Note: We're NOT!)

Side note:

In Bino Realuyo's novel the Umbrella Country the family is always renting out the second bedroom to boarders. The boarders are always women, and they then share in all the family meals, spaces, conversations, etc. At one point, the main character's mother and tía say that the new boarders are queridas. And this is said in the whisper of escándolo. So the first time I read this, I'm thinking....lovers? lesbians? But then it becomes clear: they're not queridas to each other. Each one is the querida of some married man. They're mistresses!

So maybe a neighborhood flyer is the answer. Again, we don't want to put Looking for Querido, because it makes us sound like loose wo/men.

My solution is to make a flyer with a picture of a kitten on it.

HAVE YOU SEEN QUERIDO?

510-555-1212

Then, "Have you seen Querido" will be innocuous to all the other neighbors, and only Querido will know it's directed at him. And he might actually call us. My only fear is that our next door neighbors will recognize L*'s phone number from the flier and worry that we've lost one of our cats.

Getting Strong Now (theme from Rocky)

2007-03-08T22:10:00.000-08:00

You know how I say L* is getting a little stronger every day? Today she did a handstand. She's been working with a personal trainer on upper body strength. She wants to build up muscle in her chest before she makes any other decisions about surgery.

I feel like she's just going to fly any day now. Like I'm gonna have to tie a string around her ankle when we go out walking so she doesn't just float off and away.

And it's funny that this all happened this week, which is the same week that she felt within arm's reach of a nervous breakdown.

She went to the INCITE book launch tonight at Mills College and was thrilled by the tranzboi presence

SDSU: Tales from a Chicana Lesbian Detective

2007-03-04T08:53:00.000-08:00

The Department of Women’s Studies at San Diego State University Presents

Feminist Research Colloquium
Lesbian Studies
Spring, 2007

Ktrion, Ph.D.

Tales from a Chicana lesbian detective

Monday, March 5, 2007
1-2:30pm, Storm Hall 247

Luis Alfaro

2007-03-02T16:36:00.000-08:00

I played several of the pieces from Luis Alfaro's cd DOWNTOWN today, for my Coloring queer class. It's been a long time since I listened to him and it really made my day.

I'd forgotten there were references to tías with cancer, "La bruja maldita" as they call it. The narrator links this with "la bruja maldita" of love and of sorrow that grip him with his first gay relationship and its ending (respectively)

What L* is Giving Up for Lent:

2007-03-01T18:16:00.000-08:00

Steak, Chicharrones, Carnitas, and Chicken Nuggets

Okay, obviously she can't afford to give up any foods! In fact, we were strongly considering having her start eating something for Lent. (Fudge Fridays! Red wine Wednesdays)

She's been going to her personal trainer and gym, and is getting stronger. The other day she was bored and waiting for either a television thing or a computer thing, and the next thing I knew she would "drop and give me ten!" Twice! I keep telling her that soon she will be doing pushups with me sitting on her back.

Lent 2007

2007-02-27T09:45:00.000-08:00

You know, it's Lent now.

One year, on Ash Wednesday, I asked L* to smudge ashes on my forehead.

I didn't do that this year--the ashes always make my forehead break out--but I did give up sugar and white flour. Mostly because my body has been in mad sugar spiral all semester. I'm currently pumping it full of yerbas and amino acids and live cultures. We'll see how it all turns out.

I am still sweetening my coffee, with a little stevia (sweet leaf). It's got a kind of cloying aftertaste, like real licorice, but I kind of like that. (I can sit there and suck on a licorice twig, so I admit to being a bit of an oddball).

L* and I are putting together our ideas for our presentation on Saturday (see below).

My mom was just in town last weekend for a visit. It was wonderful! L* and I are both wiped out from the museo, dining, cooking, driving, lakewalk, and just the 24-hour presence of a house guest, but it was a great visit. My Mom is just fabulous, and she was really easy to be with. I got her hooked on Octavia Butler's DAWN while she was here, and she left with the trilogy in her luggage.

Driving through Oakland recently, I caught a glimpse of God's Gym out of the corner of my eye. Clearly G@d thinks I should go for a lakewalk today.

In my lit class, we're reading Sherman Alexie. Y'all just know how I love Sherman Alexie! Two of my favorite stories in the whole world are "A Drug Called Tradition" and "Distances." I ended up reading aloud most of "A Drug Called Tradition" to my students in class yesterday. I seem to find something more each time I read it.

This is what struck me yesterday:

The boys sit by the fire and breathe, their visions arrive. They are all carried away to the past, to the moment before any of them took their first drink of alcohol.

Onco-Trans-Género: Breast Cancer, Non-conforming Gender, and the Medical/Industrial Complex

2007-02-27T08:41:00.000-08:00

22nd Annual Empowering Women of Color Conference

Our Bodies, Our Souls: Sistahood, Health, and Healing
Saturday, March 3, 2007
MLK Building, UC Berkeley

Workshop Session 3: 2:00-3:00 pm

Presenters: L* and Ktrion

Location: Stephens Lounge

This workshop will use poetry, journal entries, and personal storytelling to discuss the basics of breast cancer and a critique of the gender norms embedded in breast cancer treatment. The workshop will be presented from the point of view of a gender-queer Latina cancer patient and her partner as they navigate the medical/ industrial complex.

How Evil Are You?

2007-02-24T17:40:00.000-08:00

How evil are you?

quilt day

2007-02-20T20:03:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is the day that my students turn in quilt blocks.

They have the option of writing a paper, of course, since that's what you're supposed to do in college classes. But I also give them the option of making a quilt block (or other fabric art) inspired by the readings, authors, topics, characters, and themes of the class.

I went digging through my digital files, 'cause I have some photographs from years back.

and I found my first quilt block (four blocks, actually).

I called it "Maria's got a chainsaw"

(L* was in DC that quarter, and so, as you see, I didn't have the benefit of her eye for color)

Gender Trouble

2007-02-17T13:34:00.000-08:00

I got in gender trouble today
(can I get an "Amen" from all the Femme Girlfriends out there)

See, I was registering L* and I for a conference,
and I got to the part of the form to indicate gender.

(This itself is the result of a long struggle, so that when new folks join organization, they aren't confronted with the immediate male/female binary)

And the choices are
o-Male
o-Female
o-Other ____________

So after finding out what L* wanted put in her slot, I filled out my own and checked Other, and wrote in "Femme"

Some time later, L* contests, "I don't think you should get to put 'Other'"

It takes me some moments to actually understand what she's saying. Does "you" mean "one"? "people"? "I don't think people should get to put Other"? Or does "you" mean "you, Ktrion"? Indeed, it's the latter:

"I don't think you, Ktrion, femme, should be claiming transgendered space."

I hate being in gender trouble.

"I wasn't intending to appropriate transgendered space," I explain. "I was striving for a multiplicity of genders. In the vein of Anita Tijerina Revilla's research ¹ on the Raza Womyn de UCLA" "In spirit of Solidarity" I add.

L* allows that this might be OK.

¹See "Raza Womyn Re-Constructing Revolution," Ph.D. Dissertation, UCLA: 2004.

Hot flash

2007-02-17T09:27:00.000-08:00

L* has been having hot flashes.
She's in chemo-pause, since
the chemo drugs brought her ovarian cycles to a screeching halt.
But sometimes she gets these hot flashes.

Time to bust out the chillow--
this chilly pillow with water in it to help her cool down
Right after we bought it, the weather turned cold
and the hot flashes went away
and the chillow spent the next three months under the bed.

The hot flashes are interrupting her sleep,
she wakes up and throws off all the covers
fanning herself.
(Much to the dismay of the the cold little ktrion, who wraps herself in blankets like an enchilada)

The other morning we were drinking our coffee in bed
and L* was hot flashing. She starts nudging the cats away from her
and flings back the blankets.

Ktrion says, "not for real, but in a story?
It would be funny if you--the character--
thought she was having hot flashes
and it really turned out that it was just the heat
of all the cats
snuggling up against her while she slept."

L* said:
"funny if you've never had a hot flash, maybe."

Meanwhile, back at the ranch....

2007-02-15T22:00:00.000-08:00

Since last we posted, many, many things have happened. We're not necessarily ready to go into all the details here and now, but we do want to assure our friends and fellows that we're still kicking.

L* is now teaching a unit on hate speech in her class.

I'm trying to write a poem a week. In two of my classes, I'm currently teaching Beloved and Dawn, and its all starting to blur together in my head. With science fiction, i try to push my students in the "what would you do in her situation" direction.

Oh, Monday, you know, is the day of Remembrance for the internment of Japanese Americans. I use a unit from an old multicultural lit anthology which tells the students to imagine that they're government has just ordered them and their families to report for immediate relocation. (That is--the book I use has some really good material--poetry, photographs, fiction, memoir, government documents--but also includes really stupid "discussion questions.")

I actually tried to use this as a writing prompt back in the day when I was teaching al lit course. Many of my students were young Anglo men. The asserted that they would resist, even unto death. That is, that they would go down fighting. (and take as many as they could with them)

A similar thing happened recently in class discussion of Dawn, where several female students said that if they found themselves in Lilith's situation (captured by aliens who have "saved" humanity only to hybridize it through gene mixing) "I guess I would kill myself" one student after another said. (Actually that happened a little bit last semester, too, when I was teaching Parable of the Sower. Students said that, when confronted with a "hopeless" situation, they would kill themselves. (rather than trying to make a way out of no way). I'm both disheartened and amused. Disheartened that the young people--our hope--are so afraid and hopeless they would rather die than change. Amused because it seems to show how young they are still.

Two people have made the following mistake: they thought Ktrion was the one in the skinny jeans.

2007-01-28T21:55:00.000-08:00

Against the cult of thinness

(with apologies to the two friends)

L* is the one in the skinny jeans.

And we rejoice, not because she's skinny--

chemo made her skinny--
chemo is why Ktrion screams at the television
when those diet commercials come on and say
"the pounds will just melt away"
I'll tell you what makes the pounds melt away
cancer and chemotherapy,
yes, the chemotherapy diet can work for you
take that appetite right away
you'll no longer be tempted by chocolate,
by carbs, by forbidden foods
by any foods at all
Ktrion is sweating now and turning red

We rejoice because the skinny jeans fit L*'s new form,
hug her new body, and say here we are in the here and now,
not in the suit, jeans, jacket, shirt that doesn't fit anymore.

We do not follow the cult of thinness
Whatever size L* is wearing (x)
Ktrion is wearing 10+x

We will love whatever size jeans
hug L's body
and give her back her mojo
and put her in the driver's seat

a fridge poem from oakland

2007-01-22T21:34:00.000-08:00

a fridge poem, for andie, amy, and L*

2007-01-19T12:46:00.000-08:00

La Suegra

2007-01-19T10:04:00.000-08:00

L* got home around twelve last night.

As usual, la Suegra surprised us all with her strength and her good sense. She did need to be with her husband last night after the surgery. He was disoriented coming out of the anesthesia, and she was able to comfort him and ground him, and let him know that even in all that confusion, she was there for him and wasn't going anywhere.

I'm constantly amazed by her at times like this. Just in the last six (oh, my god, 6 ?) months I've seen her come through like this, where she goes from being the really nice, well-mannered, friendly nana we all know and love, and it's like she moves aside this curtain and you see the mastermind has really been running the show all along. You might think she's just puttering around in her garden, dispensing amiable advice to a generation who only rarely attends, and then you see that she really is rock solid, and braver and more together than you could possibly feel.

At times like that it seems as if the rest of us go from the sensible practical people we believe ourselves to be, to a slightly hysterical swarm of bees, alighting on one branch and then another, frenzied and confused, and she just shakes her head from behind her beekeeper's veil and goes on with what she has to do.

What the surgeon said

2007-01-18T20:49:00.000-08:00

the
cancer
itself
produces bone

I
just took
my
time

Family thoughts

2007-01-18T09:23:00.000-08:00

L* and her two brothers are waiting at the hospital with her mom today. It'll be an all-day wait. Her dad is having surgery, and it's expected to be an eight-hour affair. He looked real good this morning, and mi suegra was real confident after meeting with the whole team (surgeon, anesthesiologists, neurologist, fellows, nurses).

I'm carrying a little pocket rosary and praying in Spanish every few minutes. Not 'cause I'm scared, but just 'cause I want to send el suegro good thoughts.

I came into the office to work on my course readers. I'm brewing up some green tea, so I won't be too sleepy. I am, though. We got up at four this morning.

As we drove across the Bay Bridge at five-thirty, I thought of my mom in New Mexico, and how she might herself have been on the road, driving to work. It would be six-thirty in mountain time, and she does like to go into the office early. I thought of telephoning her just to say "I'm thinking of you" and afraid that an early morning call would worry her, and how maybe if I call her more often, she won't have to "worry" just because she hears from me.

La suegra wants to sleep at the hospital tonight with her viejo, and we're all wondering things like "should we allow this?" and "who-the-hell are we to 'allow' a grown woman to do anything?"

If you have a minute today, send a little prayer or good thought on behalf of my suegro, father-in-law, or, as my loquera says "since the law's not on your side, call him your father-of-the-heart."

Update
Surgery went great. El suegro is in recovery. oraciones de gracias

Choosing poems

2007-01-17T22:44:00.000-08:00

I'm choosing poems for my lit course. Every Friday is going to be "Poetry Friday" when we take a break from the work of the novel and dip into some great poems.

Choosing poems is a tough proposition, because I sit down with a book of poetry and start reading---Today I was reading Lucille Clifton's Blessing the Boats and Chrystos' Not Vanishing. Two such amazingly different writers, who make you feel so much with words.

I realized today that Lucille Clifton writes a lot of poems about her dreams. I want to start doing that!

Skinny jeans

2007-01-17T12:10:00.000-08:00

Write Stuff

2007-01-07T12:15:00.001-08:00

Big Brown Girl wrote how her new years resolution to "honestly work on my writing." That's what I like to hear!

I've been trying to work more on my writing and work more on getting it out there. So if any of you out there have connections with a theatre company, Have I got a Play for you! This year, I'm really going to see if I can get my play, Familia is a Story We Make Up produced.

It's also got a lot of cool monologues in it, so you Latina y Latino actors looking for something new to do for an audition, drop me a line.

I was also really inspired to find out that this film about transgender Latinas, Some Reasons for Living, was actually produced in a Visual Anthropology class at SFSU: film students and anthropology students collaborated to produce these films. That's so rockin. Maybe I can start something like that with performance.

A whole lot of silliness from us

2007-01-06T20:28:00.000-08:00

I was going through a "quiz" spell a while back--you might've noticed. What's your gang name, what's your accent. I finally stopped posting them after a while. It seems like cheating to post something that doesn't actually involve writing.

But this one has been spinning on and on in email, so I'm going to move it to here.

I took the quiz, What tarot card are you? on November 29.

You are The High Priestess

Science, Wisdom, Knowledge, Education.

The High Priestess is the card of knowledge, instinctual, supernatural, secret knowledge. She holds scrolls of arcane information that she might, or might not reveal to you. The moon crown on her head as well as the crescent by her foot indicates her willingness to illuminate what you otherwise might not see, reveal the secrets you need to know. The High Priestess is also associated with the moon however and can also indicate change or fluxuation, particularily when it comes to your moods.

Team Julien did it and Bendypalm was the Moon (and quite sure she should have been the High Priestess), and the Psychonueropharmacologist took it and she was the High Priestess. And so, I finally talked L* in to doing it, and so you see...

**L* is The Moon**

Hope, expectation, Bright promises.

The Moon is a card of magic and mystery - when prominent you know that nothing is as it seems, particularly when it concerns relationships. All logic is thrown out the window.

The Moon is all about visions and illusions, madness, genius and poetry. This is a card that has to do with sleep, and so with both dreams and nightmares. It is a scary card in that it warns that there might be hidden enemies, tricks and falsehoods. But it should also be remembered that this is a card of great creativity, of powerful magic, primal feelings and intuition. You may be going through a time of emotional and mental trial; if you have any past mental problems, you must be vigilant in taking your medication but avoid drugs or alcohol, as abuse of either will cause them irreparable damage. This time however, can also result in great creativity, psychic powers, visions and insight. You can and should trust your intuition.

Now I'm starting to wonder. Four women. two cards. How many cards are there in this quiz, anyway? Are there enough variables? Or are is there more going on here. Does this actually have some deeper significance?

I'll go ponder in the bubble bath.

The Road of Good Intentions, Part II

2007-01-01T19:09:00.000-08:00

When last you left us, we were in Vegas, planning a flight to Albuquerque Saturday a.m.

6 a.m. found us with a room service breakfast.

By seven, we're at the airport for our 8:30 flight. Which has been cancelled. As have the earlier flights to ABQ. They're doing them one by one, though. We stand in line for an hour and a half. During which time, we call Southwest airlines and book a flight home to Oakland.

Ktrion has been talking a lot on the phone with her mom, Doña Leora since yesterday. Doña Leora is very disappointed but keeps advising us not to come. She doesn't want us to go through all these obstacles only to be stranded at the albuquerque airport or somewhere on I-40.

Much subdued, we book a 1 pm flight back to Oakland.

By the way, did I mention we're getting by with only one cell phone?

L*'s cell phone came to grief on Thursday, when, in a suicide mission, it hid in the pocket of a hoodie destined for the washing machine. When it surfaced Thursday evening, there was water behind the windows, and no sign of life.

Ktrion had meant to change the outgoing message on L*'s voice mail, but never actually got around to it.

So late Saturday morning, as we're kicking our heels in the airport, we call in to check L*'s voicemail to hear that her father's in the hospital. Many phone calls later we find out that he's actually ok. It was a scare, and a side effect of one of the medications he's on, and they kept him overnight.

With that extra bit of excitement, we do finally get on our plane and fly back to California. Ktrion resists the temptation to kiss the ground.

A really nice woman from Southwest airlines has us fill out a form regarding to our mislaid luggage (which she confirms is prob'ly in Vegas and awaiting a trip to Albuquerque.

We cook one of our favorite comfort dinners, green tea soup with tofu. L* gets an email from her folks that they to have arrived home at last.

We watch The Girl in the Cafe and Ktrion weeps profusely.
We go to bed early.

Sunday morning, L* goes to Bikram yoga, and Ktrion goes to monkey yoga.

Ktrion calls Doña Leora, and once she's off the phone, begins weeping again, just because mom is so loviing and accepting.

After las dos get cleaned up--with Ktrion living up to her nickname of La Pokey, and L* providing the necessary prodding--we head out to Berkeley with a short list: cell phones, elephant pharmacy, andronicos.

The young woman of color who helps us at the cell phone place is pretty nice and doesn't even laugh at how hip we aren't. She tries to talk us into ringbacktones. We're too embarrassed to tell her that one of our goals is to downloand "Survivor" by Destiny's Child for L*'s cell phone.

It's after four when we get to elephant pharmacy. Ktrion has been feeling ache-y all day, but attributes it to tiredness and yoga. Elephant Pharmacy is a really fun place to check things out: alternative medicine, organic cotton baby things, cruelty-free cosmetics, you name it. Ktrion keeps feeling dizzy, but finds the water cooler which dispenses free hot and cold bottled water, and sets about rehydrating herself.

Ktrion's makeup is all safely god-knows-where in her luggage. So L* suggest that Ktrion get new makeup at Elephant pharmacy. Alas, the makeup artist has just gone on break, and the woman at the makeup counter admits that it would be better to wait till the makeup artist gets back.

L* and Ktrion stroll across the street to Andronico's where they purchase shrimp. L* has in mind a new year's eve dinner of stuffed organic anaheim chile's. The stuffing will involved shrimp and perhaps quinoa. Some details are yet to be worked out. In the produce section, Ktrion's dizziness manifests as being on the verge of throwing up. Yikes!

Back to elephant pharmacy, which really, our two are now too tired to deal with, but the makeup artist is a young woman of color not unlike our hip students, and so we decide to tough it out. Ktrion sits in the tall director's chair provided and all of her symptoms immediately disappear. No nausea, no body aches, no sensitivity to light, no dizziness.

L* takes the opportunity to slip out to the cart to try out her new cell phone by calling her folks. "Buy whatever you want," she admonishes Ktrion.

L*'s folks are home and tired and a little blue.

After these adventures, we are feeling really exhausted. Perhaps too exhausted to cook this sumptuous meal. And so: Thai food to the rescue. And we are, of course, appropriately humbled when we order our food "medium" spicy and it kicks our (collective) ass. It's so hot, Ktrion feels her ears itching. "Holy Mother of God!"

A cute toddler is fascinated by L*, and then by the open flame on the table keeping our soup hot.

We get home and play with our cell phones for about an hour, then tidy up and prepare for our evening ritual. L* lights the new, clean-burning candle at the altar. We take turn reading the novena's worth of poems sent to us by Dr. CPE last week. Then we talk about 2006 which has been a harder year than we ever could have imagined.

L*'s brother died this past June. This has been the first Christmas without him, and the whole family is struggling to find its footing and to reconfigure. His birthday will be January 2nd.

L*'s cancer--you know about. The detection, surgery, chemotherapy, aftermath. In the movies, they would always talk about "her cancer is in remission" or "he's cancer-free," but it's not like that in real life. There are no tests done that will then find "no evidence of disease."

L*'s dad has been living with cancer for ten years now. I'm willing to bet there's not a man with prostate cancer in all of Santa Cruz or Monterey counties who doesn't know L*'s father. He's done patient outreach, especially with the Latino community, and really taught patients to be their own advocates. Indeed, he and L*'s mom are our inspiration as patient-activists.

With these somber thoughts, and wondering what the new year will bring, we turn in early. Ktrion is now having chills and body aches, and continues taking the Chinese remedy "cold-stop" pills.

At midnight, we awaken briefly to the sound of firecrackers and gunshots, and neighbors hooting and hollering "Happy New Year."

At 2 a.m. L* has now manifested her own symptoms to whatever the two of us have caught: she's throwing up. And continues to do so throughout the night.

Sunday morning finds us sick as dogs. L* is sipping ginger ale and coke. Ktrion is drinking tea. Perhaps our bodies are trying to purge themselves of 2006.

We both bathe and put on loungewear, and Ktrion does a masque and then puts on her makeup, having realized how central it is to her feeling of well-being.

Ktrion spends some time programming numbers into our new cellphones from both our address books. She is struck by how rarely she calls anyone.

We hope this is merely a 24-hour bug, and that we'll be back to our normal selves tomorrow.

We are thankful that we are not now in eastern New Mexico, throwing up and anticipating a day of air travel on the morrow.

The Road of Good Intentions...

2007-01-01T16:41:00.000-08:00

Despite our best efforts to be in New Mexico with Ktrion's familia for the new year, L* and Ktrion are at home in the 'hood.

We left OAK bound for ABQ on Friday morning, checked our luggage with all our clothes. We had one carryon bag, a tote bag full of knitting, grant proposals that L* is reviewing, all of L*'s medications (since she, unlike Ktrion, knows better than to put her meds in the checked luggage), a ziplock baggie full of carrot muffins, and some snacks bestowed upon us by our super-special neighbors (chex mix and honey roasted almonds).

About the time we were expecting to land in Albuquerque, our pilot announced we were turning around because the Albuquerque airport was snowed in, and they couldn't keep one runway plowed wide enough for planes to land. But we weren't turning around and going back to Oakland. No, we were landing in Las Vegas.

By the way, if you're from northern New Mexico, like Ktrion is, you already know that it rarely snows and NEVER accumulates in Albuquerque. It's a standing joke in the state that if there's an inch of snow on the ground, they have to close the freeways, because the Abq drivers are fishtailing their camaros all over the place. Not today. No, today is the all-time record for snow in Albuquerque. 11 inches in one day.

Now, we had some rather complex plans in place already, as Ktrion's Tía -- flying in from ShakyTown earlier in the day--was to meet us at the ABQ airport , and then we would rent a car and drive the 3-4 hours to UFOtown, New Mexico.

L* was dozing when the pilot made the announcement. When she woke up, I told her the news. There was a long pause and then she said, "If we're stuck in Las Vegas, I want a great hotel room, I want to shop, I want to gamble, and I want to drink hard liquor."

(That kind of attitude, I can deal with.)

She tells me to ask the Texas lady sitting on the other side of me, which casino in Vegas is smoke-free.

(I was too chicken to do it)

The first thing they did when we landed in Vegas, was take the unaccompanied minor out of the plane. I mean the absolute first thing.

The customer service representative (who so didn't want to walk into our plane and talk to us!) announced that our flight was officially cancelled, and we should go to the nearest gate to book a flight to whereverland, but that no planes were going to Albuquerque for the rest of the day.

Furthermore, the customer service guy announces, there are no hotel rooms to be had in Las Vegas. All the hotels are fully booked for New Years celebrations.

Despair lurks.

When my cellphone starts working, i see that Don Fon (my dad) has called and left only a PLEASE CALL message.

We disembark (or deplane, as they like to say now). L* and I are phenomenally fast, as it happens that we have the aisle and middle seat in the very first row. We slip out while other people are still asking "WTF?"

Ktrion calls Don Fon, who announces that Interstate 40, the main route from ABQ to all of eastern New Mexico has been closed because of snow. He mentions that Tia's flight was delayed out of Shakytown but there's been no news.

L* gets us on Standby for the 4pm flight to El Paso, Texas, in the hopes that we can rent a car there and then drive up to UFOtown (about 4 hours). And maybe we can stay with Ktrion's sister in Las Cruces, and eat a good dinner at La Posta. (Don Fon endorses this plan as there won't be snow on that part of the state.)

Tia calls in from Midland, Texas, where she has been re-routed. She wants us not to worry our little heads about her, as she has a friend nearby she's gonna call.

We subsequently learn that no matter where we decide to fly to, our luggage is going to Albquerque. Next the car rental company informs us that they will not allow us to rent a car in El Paso and then return it to Albuquerque.

The airline then announces that we can go down to the ticket counter and wait in line for an hour and a half and if the need is urgent, the agents will get us our luggage.

We're starting to wonder if we should phone Ktrion's cuñado, who frequently acts as travel agent for the extended family. (When the comadres go on their cruises, el cuñado books the ship, the flights, and any hotel rooms. And if any little thing goes wrong, he bears the brunt) However, L* and Ktrion haven't really spoken to el cuñado since an ill-fated visit to the midWest in 2004, and are hesitant. We spy one of those little internet terminals, and L* is off and running.

She finds plenty of hotel rooms to be had for the money, and after shopping around, books us at the Bellagio.

We book a Saturday a.m. flight to Albquerque.

We go downstairs to look at the hour-and-half line of people begging for their luggage and decide to skip it. We get a shuttle and head to our hotel.

The Bellagio is swank. Our room on the ninth floor has a king bed and a truly fabulous bathtub.

We head out to shop. First stop: urban outfitters, where L* tries on several pairs of skinny jeans. So cute! So hot! She looks like a rock star. Ktrion talks her into buying 2 pair as well as several cute little t-shirts.

We browse a lot because we're looking for a 2 oz container of bubble bath, pajamas para las dos, chones tambien, calcetines for Ktrion, toothbrushes, and bottled water. In addition to these we find a pair of fabulous maryjanes for Ktrion.

We get caught up in our quest for a black skirt for Ktrion to wear with her new shoes, but are unsuccessful. (not a flared skirt, not even a pencil skirt, really. a straight skirt. above the knee.) The gap provides the right gender of chones para los dos.

We're pretty walked out by this time, and are ready for dinner. Yeah, two vegetarians in Vegas. We finally decide to take it easy, and stop at a cheeseburger place to see if they have gardenburgers. Indeed they do, along with a tofuburger, and many other things we can eat. Ktrion starts consuming large amounts of diet coke to carry her through.

Then back to our hotel room to unload all our purchases. Then down to the casinos. Then...What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas...

Let's just say there were Blackjack tables and a High Rollers' Lounge.

Why didn't anyone tell me?

2006-12-26T13:59:00.000-08:00

In the latest entry on Alicia's Story, she talks about the way the Cancer Center works, and the way that individual patients can slip through the cracks.

A few weeks ago, as I was sitting in the lobby of the ...infusion center, a woman stepped up to the check-in desk, in tears. From what I could hear, she was from out of town, and it was her first chemo treatment.

The receptionist was telling her she couldn't have the chemo -- her infusion -- without first seeing her oncologist, and he was booked the rest of the day.

The woman had made the infusion appointment before an appointment with her oncologist. That's not how it works. Doctor appointments are much harder to make, so patients make those first, then infusion appointments. Anyone who is a regular at the Comprehensive Cancer Center knows this. This woman wasn't, and didn't.

She stood at the desk, wringing her hands, saying over and over, "I didn't know. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't anyone tell me?"

The receptionist said, "Honey, I'm sorry no one told you this before, but this is how it works," and then told the woman the exact order in which she should plan her appointments.

This really hit home for us. Different people will give you incomplete information or tell you contradictory things. Like during the first chemo treatment, our nurse told us we didn't need to make an appointment or check in to come in for L*'s neulasta shot the next day. Then, we came in the next day, she said hi. We sat waiting for her to come give the shot for about twenty minutes before asking one of the other nurses where she was. "Oh, she went to lunch." This person then set us up with another nurse to give the shot and clarified that advance arrangements and check-in are necessary, and you should set that up during the chemo visit. That sounds pretty calm as I write it down right now, but really, cancer patients and their families are often at the end of their emotional rope, and it's just so wrecking when you're trying to do everything right, but you keep coming into these situations where it feels like you don't know what's going on and nobody tells you.

And it is really heart-breaking when you here the people around you stuck in these impossible situations. (I mean, unless you get all on your high horse about it and say to yourself "I knew to make the appointment! I did it the right way!")

What's more you also hear the people around you who are going through similar treatments but have to go to work tomorrow, or have to drive themselves home from chemo, or who are all alone in this. It makes you cling tighter to each other, but later (like now!) it makes you think about what you can do to help some of those people who need help.

One thing Alicia mentioned in her post is the Cancer Resource Center, and the services they offer. It is really important to know what's available, but--we learned--it's also important to know what's not available. There are flyers for all kinds of support that just don't exist. Example: Support group for LGBTQ with cancer. Sounds right up our alley, right? We call the number. The group is currently defunct for lack of interest. The person coordinating is currently on vacation. OK, fine. L* really didn't want to make another trip into the city and meet strangers anyway. Support group for lesbian partners. L* hands this flyer to Ktrion with a wink and a nudge, taking care of her caretaker. Ktrion calls. The group is currently defunct for lack of interest. The person coordinating is currently on vacation. Okay, assuming this person ever comes back from vacation, how will they ever know whether or not there's enough interest to restart the group? (mumble, mumble, grumble)

One day while we were waiting around in the infusion center for the chemo nurse to come get L* all set up, I was looking around some of the other flyers. I got real upset when I found a flyer for a support group for husbands of women with breast cancer. I was full of self-righteous homosexual rage: "why do they get this resource and we don't". L* pointed out, with great practicality, that for all we knew, the husband group was no more "real" than the lesbian ones.

Knitting Desastre

2006-12-22T19:07:00.000-08:00

Okay, so all this week I was working on a knit cap for my nephew who is stationed in ALASKA. (Brrrr! even colder than Hell). I was making this cool pattern known as Mark's Butch, Macho, Roll-Brim Seaman's cap.

To make it, I took apart one of L*s winter scarves from when we were in Hell. It's alpaca, which is warmer than wool. A real nice manly grey and black merle.

I knit on the BART on my way to my department meeting. I was an hour early, so after doing some window shopping in the 'hood (they had the same things there that they have in my 'hood) I went to the meeting space and asked permission to knit for a half hour. This originally caused much excitement, because some unknown knitting implement (I'm guessing it was a needle gauge) had been previously found in the meeting room, so the program director was hoping it was mine and that it could be returned to me. Alas no. It was lost again. Perhaps it was filed away.

Anyway, I knit on BART again on the way home. I knit while waiting to meet with the loquera on Tuesday, I knit at odd moments on Wednesday, like when L* and I were waiting for our haircuts. Finally, while giving a 3-hour final exam on Thursday morning, I finished the durn thing. It was pretty cold in the classroom, so I idly put it on my head. It seemed a little big, but I was definitely warmer. I noticed a couple of students staring at me as they handed in their exams, but I was assuming they were taken aback by my haircut (since I went shaggy through the whole semester. and the summer. and maybe the spring as well).

So before heading back to my office, I stopped at the ladies room to peek in the mirror. Oh, my, my. It looked like I was wearing a a giant black shako.

Rolling up the brim didn't help. The darn thing is big enough around to cover a basketball up to the eyebrows. Too big around and not long (deep?) enough. (Sigh) Back to the drawing board.

What's your American Accent?

2006-12-22T18:22:00.000-08:00

I shoulda posted the first quiz, from a couple of weeks ago. It was How California Are You? and I found it on Xoloitzquintle's site. The quiz was pretty biased in favor of the southland but it was still a lot of fun. It kept me and L* and even YoMo pretty busy. This one, I'm pleased to say, came out exactly as I expected. (Although it's scary how close I came to the MidWest)

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The West Your accent is the lowest common denominator of American speech. Unless you're a SoCal surfer, no one thinks you have an accent. And really, you may not even be from the West at all, you could easily be from Florida or one of those big Southern cities like Dallas or Atlanta.
The Midland
Boston
North Central
The Inland North
Philadelphia
The South
The Northeast
What American accent do you have? Quiz Created on GoToQuiz

My Gangsta Name

2006-12-22T18:20:00.000-08:00

I guess if I'd chosen having my hair done over my makeup, I woulda been Esa Loca HomeGirl.

What's Your Gangsta Name? Your Result: La Llorona No llores tanto...sonrie...always remember...smile now, cry later!! Hit up the homegirls and have a girl's night out. Forget bout them problms, just leave it all behind!!
Esa Loca Homegirl
Latina Homegirl
La Baby Face
La Sexy Dreamer
La Baby Girl
La Gata Gansta
La Borracha
What's Your Gangsta Name? Create Your Own Quiz

Day of Internet Solidarity with the People of Oaxaca

2006-12-22T09:00:00.001-08:00

Sleepy-time Thoughts

2006-12-22T08:47:00.001-08:00

For a long time now, we've had a ritual where when we got to bed, we try to combat the millions of things swirling in our heads with "sleepy-time thoughts."

Sometimes the conversation is a bit contentious, as when L* says to Ktrion, "what are you teaching in class tomorrow?" and Ktrion protests "That's not sleepy-time thoughts!"

My version of sleepy-time thoughts often involves kittens being groomed by their mother. I used to be able to semi-hypnotize L* into going to sleep, with a ritual of "leaving off the cares of the day." That was quite a while back though, prob'ly six years or so.

Since the cancer diagnosis, L*'s sleep schedule has really gone to the dogs. You can imagine all the scary thoughts that swirl in her head while she's lying in the dark awaiting that elusive sleep.

Or if you can't we can supply a few:

Does that cough mean that I have cancer in my lungs? What if my body can't metabolize Tamoxifen? Someone on my board just went from stage zero cancer [DCIS] to full-blown mets [metastasized cancer]! Should I get ovarian suppression or surgery?)

So first, Ambien was the sleep drug of choice. It worked really well way back in the dissertation writing stage, when L*s head was full of Freud and the Wolf Man, and she wanted to just write straight up till bedtime and then go right to sleep.

But no go on the Ambien this time around. And many of the cancer ladies are also having a lot of trouble sleeping--not only from worry, but because either the lingering effects of chemo or the tamoxifen itself--is interfering with their sleep cycle.

While L* and her doctors attempt to find the right pharmacological solution, we've been trying alternative approaches. We got the ipod plugged into little speakers and we've tried a variety of relaxation tapes, chakra balancing, yoga, buddhism, sleep technology...let's just say it's been a variety.

Our current favorite is Clarissa Pinkola Estés. She of Women Who Run With the Wolves fame. Now I gotta confess to never actually reading WWRWtW. Although we used to have a copy. I think every lesbian in the country had that book fifteen years ago. The fact that a lot of dykes I knew in Colorado were changing their names to Wolf, or WolfSong or Wolfsdottir--something just turned me off to the whole idea. L* was in LA at that time, with the Chicana crowd, so she knew a woman named Loba.

I was sure this book was about getting in touch with your inner wolf. So again, I never read it.

But the sleep situation was getting desperate. And one of the things L* found when looking for sleep resources was a cd called Bedtime Stories: A Unique Guided Relaxation Program for Falling Asleep and Entering the World of Dreams, by Clarissa Pinkola Estés.

This thing is the bomb!

It's set up just like a real bedtime story, with a gentle adult tucking you in, and helping you get comfortable. She speaks in a really soft voice, with a little Spanish thrown in, so you know she's Latina, but a couple of things wrong, so you know she's just a pocha like the rest of us, which is pretty endearing.

She starts with talking about entering into the dreamtime, and how we all fall asleep as children and wake up as children, and she has a nice segment from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe when the four children first cross over together.

She tells stories like Sleeping Beauty. Sometimes there's a hint of the Disney animation in her descriptions, but the structure of the story is not about heterosexual romance, but about the spell and it lasting a hundred years.

The whole audio is really well produced, with strains of music occasionally coming in and out (a cello here, a violin there). It contrasts pretty sharply with some of our more low-budget audios (I'm thinking of the talk by Thich Nhat Hanh where you can hear audience members coughing).

There are mouse tales, the Sandman, and Sleeping Hero stories, and it ends with Winken, Blinken, and Nod. We've been listening to it about a month now, mixing it up with different yoga meditations. We wish she'd come out with a sequel.

Reading Alicia's Story

2006-12-21T07:48:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago, L* and I discovered Alicia's Story, which is a column in the SF Chronicle about staff member Alicia Parlette discovering she has a rare (and incurable) cancer. Now this column started running over a year ago, but it was new to us, and we were both sitting on the sofa with our laptops, occasionally saying "what chapter are you on"?

Alicia goes to a lot of the same places we've been to--quite literally.
The elevator at the MMU:

The infusion center. (Note that she was not getting a chemotherapy infusion, and thus she and her friend look better and happier than anyone we have ever seen there).

She even worked with one of the same chemotherapy nurses:

We were glued to our laptops as if we were watching "Los Ricos Tambien Lloran."

When Alicia got a dog, that got us going all over again in our desire for a doggie. Which we're not getting at this time in our lives.

She also shared one experience with a researcher at MD Anderson, which again, reminds you of the distance between the doctors' and the the patients' perspectives

She spent the rest of the time talking about how more research could be done, but sarcoma centers didn't have the money. "Sarcoma isn't popular like breast cancer," she said. "Every time corporations want to give back, they raise money for breast cancer."

I understood why that was frustrating, and part of me was frustrated. But I was also struck by how angry she was because she didn't have money for research, while I was angry because I might die.

Another view from the parallel universe

2006-12-20T15:06:00.000-08:00

One thing I've learned from reading Marion Engelberg's Cancer made me a shallower person is that our experience with oncologists is by no means unique. Nobody likes her oncologist! And here's why:

Oncologists are cold fish who speak in statistics. Very little recognition of you as a person (with fear of death, among other things) versus you as a statistic that could go either way.

A Peek into an Alternate Universe

2006-12-04T09:21:00.000-08:00

L* spends a fair amount of time outside our own world and in the parallel universe of cancer survivors. They have a whole lingo of their own, intense discussions on treatments and medications, and hair growth. They talk about gene testing, and read medical journals, and compare experiences with oncologists ("oncs") and drug side effects.

This is an important time in the think-before-you-pink world: In San Antonio, the major cancer conference is going on. This is where the cutting edge research is revealed. The big news last year was that chemotherapy with TC (taxotere+cytoxin) was shown to be more effective than AC, and the whole standard of care changed.

So, when we were at the breast cancer center on Monday, we saw women giving presents to their doctors. What do you give your onc? Well, L* is currently fantasizing about giving her onc--dr. M--season 3 of the L-word, so she can relive every painful moment of dana's diagnosis, treatment, and demise. It's over the secret-santa price limit, however, so maybe it'll be a fruitcake after all.

Okay, so what's an example of this parallel universe? Let's see: there's the Neulasta controversy. Neulasta is this shot you can get during chemo to make your white blood cell count better. You might have seen the commercial: "I'm ready. I'm ready. I'm ready." HELLO??? As if anyone can be READY to receive the toxic cocktail they call chemo. (Yes, this really pisses off the cancer survivors...)

So, anyway, someone posted to the think-before-you-pink board, a casting call for "survivors" to be on a neulasta commercial.

NATIONAL TELEVISION COMMERCIAL CASTING
FOR CANCER MEDICATION - NEULASTA

We're looking for women, 40-60yrs, Caucasian, who have used “Neulasta” during their cancer treatment. We want to hear your “Survivor” story.

SEARCHING FOR: Female, 40-60yrs (closer to 50 is preferred; under 40 is too young), Caucasian. If you are a cancer survivor, past the worst stages of cancer treatment and moving on with your life please call us. YOU MUST HAVE USED NEULASTA IN YOUR TREATMENT OF CANCER. THIS IS MANDATORY AND WILL HAVE TO SIGN AN AFFIDAVIT AS SUCH.

If you fit this description or know someone who does, please contact us ASAP to schedule an interview.

COMPENSATION: Professional (SAG) Screen Actor Guild rates paid

Contact O’Connor Casting Company at 312-226-9112 or email: neulasta@oconnorcasting.tv

INTERVIEW DATE: Week of 12/4
SHOOT DATE: JAN. 30TH – FEB. 2ND 2007
AUDITION LOCATION: 1017 West Washington, Suite 2a, Chicago, IL 60607
THANK-YOU!!!

Now let me first start by saying, that for all we know this could be a hoax.

But, girrrrrll! Let me tell you, those cancer ladies were PISSED! To be called out in this way--

This is what a cancer survivor looks like.

Must have both breasts

Fatties, sicko's and women of color need not apply

Please come testify to how we saved your life...

it was not a pretty sight. Add to that the fact that, if you're lucky, you or your insurance shells out $4000(or more!) for one injection, and that L* and Ktrion credit Neulasta with L*'s Wednesday night high fevers and emergency room visits, and you can imagine how the emails were zipping across the internet.

Okay, another example from the land of think-before-you-pink: cancer cartoons. Miriam Engelberg did this great "memoir in comics" called Cancer Made me a Shallower Person It's a tremendous book for a lot of different reasons. She identifies the ways that the world is suddenly divided into people who have cancer and everyone else. She points out how the "everyone else" constantly tries to distance themselves from the possibility of cancer with pointed questions about the survivor's family history. You can see a couple online, like people's stupid reactions to the news you have breast cancer"and "playing the cancer card"

L*'s personal favorite is Cancer as Hobby

TO BE CONTINUED...

To contemplate while awaiting a post on L*'s hair

2006-11-29T17:38:00.000-08:00

Karin Stack's Hair Stories chronicling the regrowth of her hair after chemotherapy. Photographs are one-week intervals.

Tofurkey Day

2006-11-27T14:28:00.000-08:00

We spent it with L*'s familia--or rather--with my in-laws' in-laws' in-laws

(in-law to the the third power)

Although this is complicated because I don't think any of the relationships are "legal"; thus we are all really outlaws.

We and L*'s parents drove to L*'s brother's and his (female) partner's house (about 100 miles north of the Hood), and were joined there by her father and his new wife/girlfriend and her father.

Not even Spanish has a word for that (though we do have a word for (in-law+): my sister-in-law's sister to me is my cuncuña.)

I feel like I'm writing mathematical formulae.

I missed my own family, but didn't miss the down-side

Like the time my dad Don Fon brought home my uncle freddy [a schizophrenic with a glass eye who is institutionalized at the state hospital] on a three-day pass, and then just as dinner was ready, we discovered uncle freddy wandered off to get a mcdonalds hamburger and we all had to split up and go searching for him.

Though, as L* reminds me, that was the high point of that weekend.

An odd part of thanksgiving this year was that there was no thanks given. No blessing or prayer. We (L* and I) weren't really sure if this was a matter of inter-faith decision, unclear precedence, or a conscious choice.

Part of the family is muslim, part of the family is Catholic, some of us are unOrthodox (at best) and other are unknown (the in-laws to the third).

The precedence part was that there were three fathers in the room, and it was unclear who was the paterfamilias and thus empowered to give the blessing. (Although it was clear who was supposed to carve the bird).

Anyway, if anyone had the power, it was clearly the hosting couple, but they didn't give a blessing. They did, however, give a prodigious amount of work, gave a great spread, feasted us with crabcakes before dinner, and live live music.

One fun part was the drive to the north, where we all listened to scary radio programs from the 1940s (The Mysterious Traveler). And of course, I got to crochet little bags (for keeping pokemon cards) for the little girls, and that was very gratifying to me.

Also, dinner was accompanied by some deluxe non-alcoholic sparkling cider: blood orange, pear, and a couple of others. yummm!

I talked briefly with my mom on the phone. All the women were in the kitchen drinking, and all the men had wondered off god-knows-where for god-knows-what reason. My cell phone reception was lousy. I always wonder if I'd have better cell phone experience if I didn't have the bottom-of-the-line cell phone.

How was your Tofurkey day?

PS. L* and I exchanged thanksgivings at bedtime