Is anyone else terrified of the BIRD FLU?

I am.
I feel like there's a real-life, big budget sci-fi movie headed our way.

ABouT to Bid

on EBAY... finally, the completely spastic, such as myself, have a sport of champions.... I feel like a gladiator when I enter the Ebay arena. I have a special way of timing my bid, which I will not reveal, because you'd then have to be disposed of. And once I do bid, I type in the numbers with swiftness, with clarity, hitting the enter key like I am drawing a cello's bow... for there is something wonderfully lyrical about it... and the high that mounts and mounts as you up the stakes to stay in the game.

Ann CURRY is giVIng Up HEr HaIr

and thus making me love her even more... she's been growing her hair long all this while (and looking like a stone FOX, I might add) to cut it all off so that it can be made into wigs for sick children. Well. Don't think there's anything more she has to do to convince me of her absolute character.

And by the way, mofos, have y'all noticed how diligently I've been blogging? Even if it's a short one. 'Cause ya gotta be in it to win it.

GOD, I wish

I was in Trinidad!! Quite the last thing I thought I'd hear from me.... but I've been obsessively listening to radio coverage of all the Carnival events, on the 'phone for hours with my mom getting the lowdown from her and just wishing myself there... feeling like I need the incredible release of sun and sky and music and hands raised high... I'm terrified that I won't make it to next year, that my chance was this one... but then again, as my mother says, "You were always a morbid child."

tONighT ToNiGhT...

Tonight, this Saturday night of nights into Sunday morning.. this night of every year, I recall, deep at the heart of me, that I love my country. This Carnival Saturday, the night of the big Panorama competition, I listen to the live radio broadcast from Trinidad and I forget all my bitterness, hatred and resentment, and become that child, that sunchild of the 70s with the smart father and the beautiful mother, leading a dappled life...

How to describe to an American the phenomena of the steelpan, the only musical instrument to be created in the 20th century? Born of strife, created essentially from discarded materials (abandoned oil drums) it has evolved into an amazing manifestation of a people's will. The steelpan can play the classics or hip-hop: played by one musician, it is sweet, melodic. But on this night, this Saturday night, played by armies of 100, 200 musicians, untrained amateurs who have been taught to play by ear (no one reads music but the arranger!) it is like the blast from an angel's horn. The bands assemble for battle at a centuries old raceground, the Queens Park Savannah. The night is cool, the air electric with anticipation. For me, there is a comfort to this yearly ritual. The pilgrimage to the stands, the cameraderie within them (friendships forged of one night's duration), the serious, avid discussion/disagreement on the merits of one band over another. The bond with my mother- this Saturday was always our day to spend together: first the morning at Kiddies' Carnival, then a quick change and a walk, arm in arm in the twilight, to the Savannah...Then there is the ovation as the most popular bands and their exultant supporters take the stage, the particular respect shown to certain bands of long vintage- the Desperadoes, the Renegades, the Starlift, the Phase 2 Pan Groove, The AllStars, with all of the audience standing in greeting as they push their instruments on stage. The AllStars have just performed, and I am weak in admiration for their prowess, in tears that I wasn't there, screaming with the rest at every note, every trill, every "bom bom bom" of the bass section, jumping and dancing in pace with the enthusiastic players. I think, when I hear a performance like that, that this Trinidad must be the most wonderful place in the world. That a band, which only truly comes together once a year, composed of doctors, laborers, executives, farmers, devout Christians, practicing Muslims, and even foreigners, all people, any people could execute with such precision. It is a triumph of egalitarian will. I look at what is achieved at this time of year, and think, wow, we Trinis can do anything. Then Ash Wesnesday hits, the Carnival is over, and the magic subsides into a quagmire of corruption, inertia, crime, deceit... and I start raining mental blows down on "them" again.

Until next year, on this Saturday night.

NBC'S ANN CURRY IS BEING MARGINALIZED!!

And I'm mad as hell about it.
And yes, bitch, it does require an all-caps title...
Why is it that every big trip taken by the highly overpriced, mostly underwhelming Katie Couric results in Ann being left twiddling her thumbs in New York? One would think that with the reams of cash that NBC spends to promote the success of its 4-man team, the least that could be done would be to keep it together on important occasions. What's the excuse for Katie, Matt and Al being in Torino for the Winter Olympics (this sad, sad version of the Olympics- what's with the Swiffer wet mop-as-sport? and the skiing and shooting, then skiing some more and shooting some more? People are just making shit up to fuck with us.)? Is there some dark horrible thing that happens to Ann when she goes overseas? I wonder that I'm the only one questioning this- Ann is clearly the smartest and most beautiful thing to happen to the Today show set. See my old posts for my report on the Doctors without Borders discussion on Darfur, which Ann moderated. That woman is crying out for a Sunday morning talk show, and I'm gonna whine until she gets one.

BUsh AgAIN!!

So let's tally it up:
He's admitted to spying on us all and isn't the least bit ashamed or concerned by it.
Countless American & Iraqi lives have been sacrificed to this pointless war, with no end in sight, to say nothing of the financial cost: Bush has just asked for more billions to fund it.
His lieutenant, Dick Cheney, just demonstrated that he is the ultimate redneck, shooting a friend in the course of a bloodthirsty hunt for poor defenseless wild animals:- surely a metaphor for the goals of this misguided administration.
Bin Laden, the head "evildoer", has managed to successfully evade one of the largest and deadliest arsenals of men and machines ever launched.
Acknowledged, longstanding civil liberties (abortion, birth control) are being eroded, while fundamentalist Christian ideology spreads like a wave across the land.
I wonder how long red-state America is going to keep making excuses for this man? I feel the times have taken on a Brigadoon-like cast: the arms of the country, buffeted by the fresk salt air, are alert and alive, the inner core lulled to inertia.I refuse to believe that people can be that herd-like... or perhaps the evil Karl Rove has really hit upon what men of power have searched for for centuries: the ability to truly control minds.
I have to say it: you must realize, redstaters, that criticizing America doesn't make her weak or you disloyal. It's our freedon to question without fear that makes this country wonderful, that forces the type of change that will make for an even better America.

That's certainly the America I came here for, and a vision I will fight to keep.

LOOKinG oUT

at a cold cold Brooklyn.

It's after midnight on Friday last, when New York was gripped by the most intensely frigid temps we'd felt in a while. There were barely any cars, and the people I saw through the huge glass window were practically skipping to stay warm. Pan back inside. There's the DJ, cute, intense, afro'd black chick. She is playing 70s soul, which is why I'm standing here. On the floor: THE celebrity go-go girl of the lesbian community, her tight, tight body clad in gold hot pants, gold bikini and tall gold boots. She is dancing with a female to male transexual with an Elvis vibe. There is one other couple, Hispanic girls, on the floor of the rectangular space. There are other people in the room, but they're hanging back. We're all just watching the go-go tear it up. Then the DJ throws on a classic Stevie cut: All I do. And all of a sudden I am struck to the heart at the loneliness of it all- this late, late nite scene, the bleak industrial surroundings, the furtive prowling of the lesbians in this exposed brick cage, the sad monotony of every Friday, same characters. Cut to the DJ again. Her hands are moving... it's like she's using this sign language, a deft manual interpretation of the song, of the pathos and glory of love. Stevie, handicapped by sight, but still reaching. Us, handicapped by this most inconvenient, yet inescapable yearning, and reaching too.

i KnoW I maY nOt HAve ThAt ManY ReadERS..

in fact there's only one, but i resent some chick-in-a-suit posting that i should link to her STOCK MARKET TIP site, and then not giving me the opportunity to cuss her out for having the temerity to try to make money off my reader. If people want stock advice they'll go to someone reputable, not some dumb fuck they found randomly on the internet.

and get a makeover.

please.

What's UP wiTH thaT?

I've been thinking... after witnessing Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal joking and guffawing over their roles in the critically acclaimed "Brokeback Mountain", that now that the storm is almost over they're doing a quick soft shoe to make sure that we all know they really ain't gay. The awards and acclaim have been duly received, and now the queer badge of courage must be shucked off without delay. I saw the cast on Oprah, and Jake was like, "making out with Anne Hathaway was a breath of fresh air after having to buss Heath", and there was Heath and little Michelle nauseatingly goo-goo-eyed (Quick Aside: Ok, I AM hating. They looked pretty sincere, but Tuesday was like my umpteenth Valentine's Day alone. I'm entitled). I also get the kinda sorta feeling that subconsciously the kid borne of the co-stars may have been a statement: I CAN'T BE GAY!! LOOK, I HAVE PLANTED MY SEED, AND IT HAS GLORIOUSLY SPRUNG FORTH!!
I just wonder when life will be status quo for us queers. That sweet day when the revelation that you dig people of your own sex won't be a revelation at all. And the idea that you love, is.

Shout oUt

To my one & only reader: great seeing you & the honey at the Barney's Warehouse Sale today. If I'm to have a sole reader, I'm glad it's someone of your wit and intelligence. There's hope for politics yet!!

YO.. WHat UP?????

psst... hey!!! y'all missed me??

i just noticed it's been a year since my last post (aside: gee, how CONFESSIONAL of me) and i feel like i need to get back on the wagon, 'cause i can't afford a shrink. shit has been mad crazy, yo, emphasized by my new penchant for ebonics.... i just feel particularly put upon- i mean, why do i have to sweat like this for a dollar when skanky-ass, dumb-as-fuck Paris Hilton just stands there & it rains money? YES, I'M HATING.
and while i'm on my pedestal, why don't i have a date for valentine's? riddle me that, peep. what's wrong with my black ass? i know it's a made up holiday, but all of us singletons are gonna feel like a penny in the hot sun come tomorrow. i know there are people out there who'll be fronting as if they have plans but i prefer to err on the side of purity. No, bitch, i don't have a date, unless you count brian williams on channel 4 at 6.30.

to add to all this, i'm in the throes of trying to put together a major project which is much headache & worries... but more on that as time progresses.
promise i won't forget to write this time....
euphie