So i get this text message from a dear friend:
DF: Husband just got a new job. It’s on Wall Street, but don’t worry.
He’s not a banker.
Me: That’s col. He’s in a prime spot for when the end times come. Tell
him to keep an eye out for the foodiest banksters. They’ll make the
best steaks.

You all may have heard about the horrible beating of a white
transwoman at a McDonalds by 2 African American women. Let me start by
saying it’s an atrocious act to inflict violence on someone because of
their gender, or your percieved notions of their gender.
But I have to wonder if this is getting so much attention because the
attackers are black and the victim is white. Does the racial make up
make it easier for us good white folk to sit back and tssk tssk the
actions of these violent black women? Does it feed into established
stereotypes and make it okay to talk about?
Would it be getting this much attention if it were 2 white women
beating a black trans woman (and I hate having to include the trans
part in that description, the victim is a woman. And if I were writing
about her for any other reason, trans wouldn’t be needed. But she was
attacked because of her trans-ness, so it’s part of the story) or 2
white men doing the beating to a black body, would anyone even care?
Sadly, probably not.

While I was working on my Chiapas painting I was thinking about how
the current carnage in northern Mexico due to narcotrafficing is
because we trained those criminals and murderers in warfare to fight
the zapatistas, a bunch of farmers who were protesting NAFTA and
wanted land reform. And I was thinking about how Aristide really was a
decent guy until Clinton (Bill) got into the act and Aristide was all
love for le Infants Terrible. And so I was thinking about the armies
we’re training in Iraq and the Pols we’re backing in Afghanistan and
the bombing we’re providing in Libya. What kind of horror stories will
we hear in 10 years because once again we’ve backed the wrong person
or corrupted the governmet of some other country or trained an army of
sadists in the fine arts of Torture and oppression.

The first thing I do when I move is hang the art. Since I lost all of
it, including all of my own paintings, I am making do. The apartment
feels more empty to me because of the bare walls than because of the
lack of furniture. When I got Kid’s Bed, I also got 4 awful pictures
that I am cannibalizing for my own paint. One was your standard boring
garden print, over the top of which I am painting a giant Buddha in
the lotus positions with a bright red background. But instead of
having both eyes closed in peaceful meditation he’s got one eyebrow
raised and is giving a hard side eye to something. He’s half finished.
I ran out of paint. The other one I’m doing is the beginning of a
series. I’ve always loved travel posters but am grossed out by the
exoticism. So I’m going to do some paintings of travel-style
revolutions. I’ve started on one of Subcommandante Marcos/Citizen X
that will read ‘chiapas’ and I’d like to do one for Tunisia and Iran.
But again, out of paint. I’ll post pics when they are done, if you
like.

Fucking fucking fuck. This is cause I snubbed the gods of interwebs by
having a back up compy to use while the dead one is getting fixed,
isn’t it?

Has the object of your obsession said flat out ‘if you contact me
again, it’s stalking’? If yes- you’re a delusional asshat and a
stalker.
Has the focus of your obsession had to: change their phone number,
move, etc. in order to avoid contact with you? Ding, you’re a fucking
stalker. Seriously folks, I had almost 6 Weeks of peace and quiet.
Of-fucking-course it was just wishful thinking on my part to think
that jerkface stalker had moved on. Wishful thinking. Well I’ll give
you a little more wishful thinking, when this person finally kicks the
bucket and can no longer hurt me, I’m going to dance a fucking jig.
You got that Stalker? I am waiting for you to die so you’ll stop doing
fucking damage to the people you claim to love. And if you don’t back
the fuck off I am going to start talking about what life with you was
really like. You really don’t want that. But if you go away, then I’ll
stay quiet.

That I will have internet TODAY! Woot, everybody throw ya hands up.
Of course since the universe has conspired for most of the last 2
years to keep me from regular internet access, my laptop has died. But
HA IT’S STILL UNDER WARANTY AND I’VE GOT A BACK UP. So universe be
damned. (So far only a rumor because even though qwest is scheduled to
be here, I won’t believe it till they are actually here.)

A super soft memory foam twin extra long mattress and box spring. I’m
jealous. Also got a super fab modern plywood dining table and two
comfy but ugly waiting room chairs. Hurray! No more sitting on the
floor! Now if you all will excuse me while I go die of exhaustion.

In the course of homelessness, I’ve lost the several hundred gigs of
music I once had, including the digital copies of old fashioned cd’s
that I ripped and then sold to a record store one desperate summer
rather than do porn for groceries (true story). I’m down to 3.5 gigs
that I managed to save off a dying mp3 player. I’m leary of
downloading since all the internet companies have initiated the
smackdown on users who go over the limit. But what if we had a music
swap. It’s so quaint, like mix tapes. We could burn cds or dvds full
of music and pass em around. Anyone interested?

For a long time my ring tone was The Gossip’s ‘Standing in the way of
control’ and now everytine I hear the song I start frantically looking
around for my cell phone. The current ring tone is a remix of Queen’s
Another one bites the dust. I may have ruined that song for myself.