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wicked!

mohegan running in my veins, maybe

here i am, torn about staying in this fair-weather godforsaken town or returning back east & trying to work on the rebirth of spoken WAM ("wampanoag": w�pan�ak) when in the mail from my favourite publisher arrives, lincom newsflash 37, containing the announcement of the arrival of julian granberry's two brandy-nu books on the parallel language-revival of MOF ("mohegan-montauk-narragansett": nahihk, mahihk & nahiht").

what does this signal? does this mean "call the gay head wampanoag" again? does this mean "stay put, buy the damn books & build a life - stop running"?

WTF man. stop jerkin' my chain!

adult video awards(worksafe pr0n loveliness)

i got some ginuwine pleasure checking the "red carpet" (no pun intended) & award-acceptance still shots of the adult video awards.

no worries, mate. there's nothing unclad here, but there shall be no doubt in your filthy minds what these are pr0nstars.

some of the mens are really handsome, ranging from boring to tattooed and shaved muscleboys. the girls scare me mostly, but i haven't finished running the series yet. there's a few normal lovelies in there. and yes, ron jeremy is visible.

of course, we don't really care. it's worth seeing for the bizarre outfits. kitch pimp daddies & skanky dress-wear, stilted portraits of the carpetwalk mixed with the natural joy of the winners. the make-up jobs are... indescribable.

i dunno, i get some great kicks looking at these 'bad' girls and boys - their personalities come through and they remind me of nothing so much as fantasy convention attendees. there's something about the people...

handshakes: i shake bOING-bOING's hand, who shakes invisible cowgirl's. oh, susannah breslin, you paragon of pr0n knowledge!

seventhday.improved

blood-sugar, fresh-air, outdoors sunlight, two hours sitting at claire's & a nap with the kitty in two hours of hot sunlight has greatly improved my day.

i'm seriously considering going to meeting tomorrow. gotta look it up eh. where it is.

*****************
I am currently listening to: alternative radio of a sort
I am currently reading: Ward Martha C 1972: Nest in the Wind, the story of a woman and her partner living on fabled pohnpei, lovecraft's favourite choice for the home of creepy polynesian demon-cults. the shadow over innsmouth, perhaps his second-famous work, is about the adoption of the pohnpei demon-cult of "dagon" and the inbreeding of small-town massachusetts inhabitants with humanoid sea-beasts - the creature from the black lagoon borrowed heavily from his story in imagining the sea-beast. the best part is that real-world pohnpei has these huge, creepy, mysterious and gigantic half-submerged coral-castles and artificial islands... mwah ha ha

monkey.bizniss

yesterday i did so many errands: calling doctors, pharmacies, running to the bank for stupid but necessary transactions in person, checking bills, adjusting the cable (HBO season is over, showtime's the l-word starts tomorrow and there's a six-month special, tweak the bill to get rid of any extras that have magically 'appeared' on the bill), a complete phone overhaul (added the message machine and rethreaded the wires), rearranged my room to take advantage of the changed light, more cataloguing of books and planning food supplies.

i am suffering insomnia still... spanky was a bitch last night and kept me up. she wanted attention and makes noise until she gets it, and the roommate is still not talking to me beyond absolutely necessary monosyllables and was asleep. damn cat. she pushes things off my shelves, scratches at doors, races, chews on wires - all the things that get my attention, even though it is only to stop her and yell at her.

i'm wishing something. i dunno what. i want to go out of the house but i have no munny. that means i can only go to a certain green-themed international chain of coffee-bastards - i got a card with munny on it from them for xmas so i have to use it there. i also could go shopping at the gap - i need pants, true, but god i don't want to go shopping today. it's saturday and the breeders are milling, slackjawed with screaming childer and i can't deal with that.

my skin is so thin these days. i'm pissed, nervous, twitchy, tired, angry, bored, unable to focus. i can't read because i can't pay attention and have no interest; besides, my head is pounding since after midnight last night and i think it's a low-grade migraine or so. my belly is revolting some, which matches the story.

i am a whiner. maybe some time in the sunlight will help. i dunno. i can't focus. i hate being like this, it's so debilitating to be mentally spastic and physically ill at the same time. not to mention the insomnia - i can't even "sleep it off" like it was some kind of alcohol-induced hangover, i am wired awake. so annoying.

time to go face some music and maybe some fresh air.

*****************
I am currently listening to: cesaria evora, caf? atl?ntico - caboverdean blues sung by the most incredible voice... my favourites are 'nh'antone escaderode' ("crooked mr. anthony") and 'vaquinha mansa' ("sweet little cow"). it's a creole language of portuguese origin and it sounds so sweet with the music...
I am currently reading: blah. incipient migraine prohibits reading.

i can't get no satisfaction

my roommate must be off his meds or something. he's fine for months, then suddenly he becomes the bitch queen of the universe, pointing out every imagined offense i have done.

most aggravating to me is that these offenses are 99% of the sort i encountered this morning. i bused my mugs from last evening into the kitchen, but because he's sleeping & not creeping around like a mouse will awaken him in a nasty, nasty mood, i wait to wash them.

he gets up. i take the dog out, come back in, completely empty the strainer of the three thousand dishes in it, make coffee, wipe up after myself, sweep the kitchen floor, return to my room.

stomp stomp he comes out of his room. i hear him curse and the sound of dishes dropped into the sink. returning to the kitchen, he turns and lectures me in a very nasty tone about how i never wash my dishes. i leave them in the sink. he washes them all night and morning.

he dismisses my comments that i didn't wash the three mugs this morning because it would disturb him and he would yell at me. he denies yelling at me. which is patently ridiculous, given that he's bludgeoning me with ill-will and nasty comments in a loud, angry voice. he slams, stomps, crashes, glowers. when awakened because i slid the kitchen door open and shut a few times one night, he barrelled out of his room and smashed the door in and out of the wall like it was my head.

he's never threatened to hurt me or raised a hand or anything of the sort. but when he's in one of these moods, which have to be tied to his medication for obsessive-compulsive, he's unreasonable and unreachable. he's pissed off and will put me in my place.

i fucking hate that. for christ's sake, he spent twelve hours washing every surface of the house. i wash my dishes every day all day. he claims he washes my dishes every damn day. i tell him i never once asked you wash my dishes. don't wash them.

response: he claims he did that last week and they sat for two days.

i remember those dishes. they weren't mine so i didn't wash them. but there is no reasoning. he's got it up his ass that i've done Wrong, i've Offended Sensibility.

fuck, man. it's three fucking mugs from last night and you woke up ten minutes ago. i got up about ten minutes before that.

i want to tell him i would have washed them when i finished breakfast, but he'd just dismiss it, so i do what i usually do. i listen and he stomps out the door.

damnit, this house is farking spotless, what the fuck else does he want? i pick up my dishes. i can't wash them when he's asleep and when he wakes up he freaks out that i haven't washed them - even though i didn't use them until after he was asleep.

it's the lack of drugs, man. take some chill pills, it's not like i'm leaving anything in the living room or disturbing whatever perfect arrangement balance he's made for the furniture. my shoes are in my room. nothing that does not belong in his carefully-arranged living room is there. only three mugs awaiting washing - mugs used right before i went to bed and moved to kitchen for washing with my breakfast dishes (most of which i had already washed and are in the strainer, by the way).

damnit. i hate when he gets like this, and it's always out of the blue and angry at everything and unreasonable.

fucker.lineup.time

oh shit, the poh-lice called. i gotta go do a lineup tomorry. shit! i hope i can recognise the fucker what smacked me around on thursday, i want to see him get what he deserves for assaulting me. god damnit!

i'm really nervous. i was so shell-shocked that he had hit me i - it was all adrenaline. besides, i know how unreliable witnesses are. god i hope i recognise the bastard. i agreed to testify in court if i can recognist him. i'm so damn nervous, i hate pop quizzes!

this is gonna be torture all night. shit.

alien.sex.fiends

oh man, it really sucks. everyone, even the chinese, are having sex with aliens.

what is wrong with these people? jesus.

world.sux.pats.won

the world sucks & i'm not going to elaborate.

on a more positive note, my childhood best friend's team, the patriots, won a game. shows you how rare that is in my lifetime that i have to observe this on my blog. hint: to me the word "football" signifies wuss-rugby played by oversized & overweight giants in ballet pants while drunk frat boys squeal in ecstacy before going home to drunkenly beat off while thinking the phrase "eight, fifteen, twenty-four, HIKE!" & then collectively finding some poor girl to sodomise or fag to bash the crap out of to prove to quell that uneasy sensation in their belly that visualising the quarterback's ass while slamming their girlfriend probably signifies something yicky.

i lied. "the world fucking sucks."

there. i'm reasonably sure it's out of my system now.

*****************
i am currently listening to: p. j. harvey
I am currently reading: doctorow cory 2003: a place so foreign & eight more

usquepaugh.kenyonsGristMill.feature

while websurfing i encountered the [2003.11.16] issue of [americanProfile] - specifically, the article [asStoneTurns], which is a feature on the ancient mill that is the centrepiece of my home village of [usquepaugh]. [kenyonsGristMill] is a historic & still-functioning maize-grinding mill that provides the meal used to make the "indian bread" known variously as [johnnycakes], [cornpone] or [pone] & [indianCakes].

these tastycakes are a treat served with maple syrup. you basically mix boiling water with stoneground cornmeal and fry, sometimes adding bacon grease. historically this was the replacement for bear fat, a much tastier choice but hard to obtain. you can consider these to be the atlantic coast's equivalent of the tortilla, served with every meal from south carolina to southern maine and inland everywhere that the 'archaic coastal algonkin' language spread.

the word [pone] is borrowed from the powhatan language (as with so many early native terms like opossum, skunk, raccoon, moose, etc.). when the english settled at roanoke, they learnt to call this heavy, tasty "bread" after the powhatan word [apo:n], plural [apo:nas]. adapted into english this became [pone] & even [cornpone]. the algonkian root appears also in similar form in powhatan's cousin languages up the coast.

[johnnycake], on the other hand, is a rationalisation of [shawneeCake] - the shaawano, or 'southerners', are algonkian speakers who taught southern whites to cook local foods. i'm not sure why rhode islanders prefer this to the adopted abo term, but it's all variant recipes of the same foodstuff.

as i may be one of the only diegue�as who cooks [johnnycakes] regularly (i had some this morning, made with hand-delivered [kenyonsGristMill] meal, mind you), i am thrilled to see this feature. not to mention that i grew up a ten-minute hike down lonely, isolated [pineHill] (near the old smallpox isolation camp) from the mill: i would walk the steep grade, which was impassable to most regular vehicles during the winter, to wait for the bus in the exact spot where the pictured owners are standing.

world.fuckingCrazy.fuckingFuckheads

today, in what is a totally unsurprising turn of events, i was assaulted. an old man parked his vehicle and, completely a fucking crazy bitch, slugged me and then shoved me hard in the stomach twice.

not that there is any reason to explain why anyone is assaulted, i'm sure you must be nonetheless wondering what i did to warrant this.

nothing. i had just parked in a parking spot. as i was preparing to get out of my car, this crazy old fuck was trying to park behind me in a space roughly 30' long. he couldn't do it. he was beeping at me to move, but i was very clearly within my own parking space and was also pinned by the vehicle in front of me, so there was nothing i could do.

i said nothing. i did nothing. i got out of my car and he assaulted me right there.

i locked the keys in the car with the engine running. that's how upsetting this was. i didn't even know the car was running with the keys in it for fifteen minutes or so - i ran into the jewish deli (this being mid-afternoon in downtown) and called the police.

the stupid fucking asshole parked with rear wheel on the curb - a very high curb.

he left his car there and went to do errands, then came back while i was still on the phone with the police. i stayed far out of reach while he drove back and forth like a nutjob in the parking space, almost clipped my bumper & then zoomed out into traffic.

i have witnesses, his license plate and car model. i have a case number. i'm going to sue his ass until they can't bury him for the price - they'll have to put his rich white attitude in the trash.

my instinct was to get away. the self-righteous, angry, rich entitled fuck - i should have beat him to death with a tire iron. but i didn't & it wasn't even a thought. that's good - i don't believe in violence. i could have murdered him, but i'm not the kind of motherfucker he is so i didn't raise a finger. i got out of his way.

tomorrow i'm going to file a complaint with the d.m.v. because road rage - which is what he apparently had - will get his license yanked. immediately.

he was greek or armenian, i think. hard to tell from his appearance. he clearly wanted to kill me because i was a woman, the fucking coward. i saw it in his eyes - the rage, the disgust. that look of hate. i had my hands by my sides; i hadn't had any words with him nor had i been difficult. and he fucking hit me. HE FUCKING PUNCHED ME IN THE FACE!

and then he went about his business. i guess he just likes to put women in their place - not that i have any fucking idea what his problem was in the first place, mind you.

i am so fucking sick of men. i am so fucking sick of this ghetto-ass city of pigs, rapists & child molesters. i am so fucking sick of machismo. i want to cut his balls off.

god help the next person who tries to lay a finger on me. i'll pepper-spray their ass back to the fifteenth century and they won't get away before the police arrive if i have to duct tape them to their fucking lexus with leather interior.

i am so angry i could

FUCK i can't even think of anything GODDAMNIT

detachable.vulva

nicaahkos is arriving at the airport so in about an hour i'm going to have to go fetch her in her forest-green vulva, which i've been babysitting since thanksgiving.

if nicaahkos knew she even existed i'd show off emily. however, nicaahkos has no expectation that my divine chariot exists, which is unsurprising given that i don't actually talk to her all that much. besides, i don't want to lose my parking spot in front of my housing complex & also it will be annoying to load emily with luggage then later transfer it to her forest-green vulva. i will also mention the added irritatant of missing enterprise; thankfully, it repeats on firstday so it's not a total loss. i really don't want to miss angel, though: no repeats & it's the first new eppy in, like, months. i need some fredness in my life right now.

off we go! vroom vroom!

**************
je lise: same thing as yesterday, fool.
J'�coute �: radiohead, roll the bones

kif.sexy.cowboy.breeder

if i was a filthy breeder like the rest of y'all i'd fall in love with kif kroaker. he's green & amphibious & the only str8 man with a diary. also, he can inflate his head with air to intimidate attackers. not only that, he's a brave cowboy with a mean pair of purple spurs. i like the nervous shy kind anyway. hence the real-life librarian fetish.

there's also the fact that he can reproduce by touch. i'm not talking snusnu, i mean actual reproduction: his body swells with eggs made from deoxyribonucleic acids his body stole from yours, as in your normal body-cells, & then he gives birth to thousands of tadpole young that crawl & flop into the birthing pool, where they will mature for eighteen years & then emerge, fully grown.

don't knock it. i want squishy children that don't require raising, only protection. i got guns and pH-balancing chemicals ga le�r & i could use a thousand young. i can't go donating sperm my whole life like a man can in order to conquer the world biologically.

i now quote ensign kroaker his/itself:

dear diary, i just made love for the second time.

*****************
I am currently listening to: Futurama theme song
I am currently reading: Parks Douglas R: Shawnee Noun Inflection in Crawford James M, ed. 1975: Studies in Southeastern Indian Languages, Athens GA: University of Georgia Press

dayLaundry.tough.happy

yargh, it's the dread day. desperate times. laundry times. it is a time of sorrow & hard labour, but so sweetly satisfying when, sweat-drenched, filthy, hungry, under-caffeinated & irritated, i arrive home with completely clean & dry laundry. i shower, put the clothes away, clean the now-empty room, sweep the wood floors & wipe up any spots. everything is clean. everything is happy & sunshine.

i haven't done this yet, though. so now i gotta start the process. damnit!

*****************
I am currently listening to: beastie boys, no sleep till brooklyn
I am currently reading: [utilikiltsCatalog]

tribeNet.tribeTG.discussion.iPost

having just joined a new [tribeNet.tribe], i found myself immediately posting a long response to an inquiry about persons identifying as third-gendered. those of you who are members can just read it, but you other losers (hello, how about joining? it's free & doesn't suck like some other networks who shall remain nameless in the interests of "friend"-ship - "stir" the soup) can read my response here.

those who know me usually see me as a woman, a transwoman or a transdyke.

personally, while these are useful handles for the general public, i loathe the terminology because i think it implies something about my sex and my gender that replicates western ideas of how gender is determined by one's sex in a deterministic fashion. it gives me the heebies to self-describe as transgendered but there isn't much in the way of good alternative terminology.

i am a woman: i wish that was just accepted as is, that there are different kinds of women. i do identify as a kind of third party to the sex system; after all, as a "clinical TG", i was born male & have undergone hormone and other treatments to change my apparent sex to match that of factory-direct chicas. that means i am also "clinically intersexed", even though technically i was not born so by the dictates of the psycho-medical communities.

i see that the term two-spirit, which is popular in the modern american indian movement here in the u.s. and the first nations of canada, describes my situation well. drawing from a history of alternative gender roles, it encompasses all kind of queers depending on who is speaking. however, the alternative gender system was based not simply on "being transgendered": in some tribes, this was another division of society with its own expectations of behaviour and work patterns separate from those of men and women.

there is little room for a true third gender such as this in the modern west. i find that i am recognised as a lesbian (true if you consider that i solely date women) because of the communities in which i transitioned, the women with whom i associate and my presentation and appearance. i do identify as a lesbian, but i also see alternate opportunities...

anyway, my grandpa was off-rez eastern cherokee and i don't feel uncomfortable as a two-spirit. there needs to be some space for those of us who are not abo; the experience of western persons in another gender space is much different than that of the two-spirit in the modern american indian movement and the term is inappropriate for use outside native communities.

incidentally, because of the extreme heterogeneity of abo nations in north america alone, the 'two-spirit' movement is a modern one: it is an attempt to build pantribal culture does draw from western patterns like the modern LGBT movement. monolingual or extremely traditional third-gender persons do not get recognised as part of an inter-nation-al pattern or movement and do not identify themselves as "queer" or the like. some important modern native scholars are third gendered and this status is simply unrecognised outside of their own tribe, where they just present as either a "woman" or "man".

nuff mental masturbation, i think.

wimWenders.movie.millionDollarHotel

i turned on a random show at 2300h. it was just the opening credits to a movie.

why have i never heard of this movie? it is unbearably good. unbearably.

i'm watching magic: a group of crazies in an old hotel. the cast so far includes, of those i know on sight, [jeremyDavies], [millaJovovich], [melGibson], [jimmySmits], [amandaPlummer] & [peter stormare].

when i looked it up, i learned it was directed by [wimWenders] and cowritten by [bono]. as usual for [wimWender]'s movies, [u2] scored the film. and it just came out in [y2k]. it's ugly & strange & creepy... & so romantic.

here's the info: [millionDollarHotel].

thirtyEight.misnumbered.questions

I got this from [blogThis.woman]. there is some amusement - dare i say irony? nay, i dare not. - that i am using [blogThis.applet] to comment on it. i was actually searching for the [bloglet.applet] homepage to give to a friend when i ran into her. i preface my responses by quoting her:

I don?t know who made up this questionnaire or why they ended at such an odd number 39 or why question #21 was skipped[.]

01. What did you do in 2003 that you'd never done before?
Wore a dress.

02. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't have any; i won't make any. Silly custom.

03. Did someone close to you give birth?
No.

04. Did anyone close to you die?
No.

05. What countries did you visit?
Only the USA.

06. What would you like to have in 2004 that you lacked in 2003?
Independence. Self-reliance.

07. What date from 2003 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
The Cedar Fire, begun 25 October 2003. Nearly destroyed the city.

08. What was your biggest achievement(s) of the year?
Achieving some balance and stability. Sort of nebulous, I know.

09. What was your biggest failure(s)?
Hoo boy, got a lot of those. Um... not applying to graduate school.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Yes.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Books. There are a few contenders for the "best of" category, though.

12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
My mother's.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Let's see... George Dubya Bush.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Shit, I'd sure like to know. Bills.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Girls. But that goes without saying. So I'll say the Anatolian language family, the Algonkian language family & computing.

16. What song will always remind you of 2003?
Jet, Are You Gonna Be My Girl

17. Compared to this time last year, are you
i. happier or sadder? Happier
ii. thinner or fatter? Same
iii. richer or poorer? Same

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
I wish I had written and submitted fiction.

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Napping. I'm tired of being ill.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
I ignored it like a muted commercial.

22. Did you fall in love in 2003?
No.

23. How many one-night stands?
None.

24. What was your favorite TV program?
For stability, I vote Cartoon Network's Sunday through Thursday AdultSwim programs. For brief but intense wonder, I choose Carnev�le.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
Yes. My fucking neighbour.

26. What was the best book you read?
Ooh, tough one. China Mi�ville, The Scar.

27. What was your greatest musical discovery?
The Pillows. Damn, they rock

28. What did you want and get?
Increased sanity and health.

29. What did you want and not get?
Surgical intervention...

30. Favorite film of this year?
Not applicable: I didn't go to see one.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
Nothing. I am 28.

32.What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Surgery.

33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2003?
Fabrics covering my body was the theme for the year. Refugee-wear was the mode.

34. What kept you sane?
My kitty, my imagination & AdultSwim. Thank you!

35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Clea du Vall and Liv Tyler.

36. What political issue stirred you the most?
The war in Iraq.

37. Who do you miss?
My family and friends are all far away, so all of them.

38. Who was the best new person you met?
Eek, that's tricky. No comment.

39. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2003:
Whores knife-fighting over a crack pipe is nothing like they show you in 70s movies. And carry a gun.

vehicular.emily

i boughted a car. ra ra.

tempest.in.coffeepress

remember to write four.

i'm glad to be in 2004, it's an auspicious number. No, not lucky, it's just more pleasing to write than '2003'. that freshness also inspires movement & change.

an intimate notes that i reveal little of emotional import in this blog. i talk only of facts & links, not of my life. i don't reveal my inner self despite the fact that this blog is sort of all about doing that...

it's an excellent point. i'm afraid, i think, that opening the ark will bring forth the pure spirit whose reality is too much for the onlooker to bear. your faces will dissolve, your eyeballs will boil in their sockets, in the face of the whirlwind of rage and misery bottled inside.

i am the ark that - barely - contains it; unlike the ark of the covenant, i am flesh and cannot bear it. drugs strengthen my flesh; minimising exposure, i willingly place myself in my own sacred court. only the chosen few can pass the many gates to enter my presence.

this is a self-aggrandising metaphor. obviously, the shkina does not dwell inside me en senso biblico. i am not kidding about melting your faces, though. this blog isn't entitled homicidal lesbian terrorist for nothing: my skull and my rib cage are the double-boiler and i am a danger to self and others when i move from simmer to boil.

i wish to speak more plainly. i will try. i don't want to reduce to mindless rants. sometimes it feels like am a mountain-bike with the middle 12 gears broken, leaving me with only speed 1 and then 14-18: snail it or kill people.

*****************
I am currently listening to: everything i have on .mp3, randomised & cluttered
I am currently reading: Russell Howard S 1980: Indian New England Before the Mayflower; Hanover: University Press of New England