Found out yesterday my mother’s boyfriend of ten years – the love of her life – has stage four lung cancer already spread to the bones. My aunt says this brings up all the other deaths for her and I think she’s right: this will be cancer number five in our family. So sick of cancer and it’s seeming lack of rhyme or reason. All the supposed cancer prevention bullshit. Paul never smoked and ate red meat his entire life: he’s got a perfectly healthy heart and the doctor’s say he’s in the 15% of lung cancer patients who get it with no connection to smoking. Lyman ran 5 miles a day up to age 84 and he winds up with bone cancer. My Grandma ran with him and died of pancreatic cancer at age 54. What is cancer? What does cancer even mean, I have often wondered. Let’s look it up:
1. Pathology
a. a malignant and invasive growth or tumor, esp. one originating in epithelium, tending to recur after excision and to metastasize to other sites.
b. any disease characterized by such growths.
2. any evil condition or thing that spreads destructively; blight.
3. (initial capital letter) Astronomy. the Crab, a zodiacal constellation between Gemini and Leo.
4. (initial capital letter) Astrology.
a. the fourth sign of the zodiac: the cardinal water sign.
b. a person born under this sign, usually between June 21 and July 22.
5. (initial capital letter) tropic of. See under tropic (def. 1a).
[Origin: 1350–1400; ME < L: lit., crab; L s. cancr-, dissimilated from *carcr-, with *carc-r- akin to Gk karkínos, Skt karkata crab; see canker]
And that’s what you do. You look it up, all the doctor speak, the treatments. I’ve watched two people fight it and go into remission and back and two people refuse treatment and two go home to die. I don’t know which is better or worse or if there is such a thing as better or worse.
So I’m going with definition (1)b.
20 January 2008
16 January 2008
Probably the only thing that will make sense today
"Dog is God spelled backwards. That means something, I'm just not sure what exactly. But human is namuh spelled backwards." - Marc-Christophe
09 January 2008
Didion on the brain
I find myself thinking about Joan Didion a lot this week; a typical "what would Didion do" time. I tend to look to images of her, like a good pair of Frye harness boots, as some model of strength when things get a bit cloudy.
This one's from 1970 and you get a sense of how she could've worn the t-shirt she slept in to the country club and dared anyone to turn their nose up at her:
but whenever I think of Didion I think of those giant sunglasses...
almost a shield from the world.
What would Didion do? I so often wonder. She fought through it, she wrote. She put on those giant sunglasses and went to interview prisoners. Turned failing relationships and depression into essays on place and time. Played it as it laid, so to speak.
Someone quoted "Slouching towards Bethlehem" this week - I can't remember who, Fred Thompson or a character on the Stand mini-series - and now I seem to hear it everywhere:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity...
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
We seem to be in one of "those" times. Who writes for these times, I wonder? Where is our Didion? What would Didion do?
This one's from 1970 and you get a sense of how she could've worn the t-shirt she slept in to the country club and dared anyone to turn their nose up at her:
but whenever I think of Didion I think of those giant sunglasses...
almost a shield from the world.
What would Didion do? I so often wonder. She fought through it, she wrote. She put on those giant sunglasses and went to interview prisoners. Turned failing relationships and depression into essays on place and time. Played it as it laid, so to speak.
Someone quoted "Slouching towards Bethlehem" this week - I can't remember who, Fred Thompson or a character on the Stand mini-series - and now I seem to hear it everywhere:
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity...
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
We seem to be in one of "those" times. Who writes for these times, I wonder? Where is our Didion? What would Didion do?
04 January 2008
Very Impromptu
It's been so long since I blogged I couldn't even remember the sign in. Oh well. Here goes.
Word I can never figure how to spell: plural of go, gos or goes?
This is what I have figured out about blogging:
I rarely blog when in relationships.
My blogging is mostly a love song to you, and you and you.
Perhaps I have lost my love song.
Everyone has a blog. I suspect the ones without would have the best.
I no longer know if I am cynical, idealist or a cynical idealist.
Coming soon: blonde goes "is that black or brown?"
When good people go blog.
Word I can never figure how to spell: plural of go, gos or goes?
This is what I have figured out about blogging:
I rarely blog when in relationships.
My blogging is mostly a love song to you, and you and you.
Perhaps I have lost my love song.
Everyone has a blog. I suspect the ones without would have the best.
I no longer know if I am cynical, idealist or a cynical idealist.
Coming soon: blonde goes "is that black or brown?"
When good people go blog.
06 September 2007
Letter to an old friend
Dear,
One thing I appreciate about us:
we understand the importance of validating
not the completion of an aspiration but
the aspiration itself.
Just thinking about doing something
takes so much effort, after all.
I miss that,
Me
p.s. I thought about iambic pentameter and all that real poetry writing stuff even if I didn't employ any of it. And so, that's enough, right?
One thing I appreciate about us:
we understand the importance of validating
not the completion of an aspiration but
the aspiration itself.
Just thinking about doing something
takes so much effort, after all.
I miss that,
Me
p.s. I thought about iambic pentameter and all that real poetry writing stuff even if I didn't employ any of it. And so, that's enough, right?
11 August 2007
Dear Portland,
Mostly what I hate [love] about you lately is the way you preserve people and memories long after they've left you [me]. Fine maybe it's not you, maybe it's my goddamn sappy heart. No, let's blame you. You change so quickly, you're addicted to change: change or construction, which is it?
Anyhow, as I was saying...
Portland you are haunted.
Everything new is old. We drive around and point at what things "used to be." This is how we mark our Portland-ness [authenticity].
Yet, everything old is still there. A man named Maddox who sells hot dogs, I can't believe I have a picture of this man I've never seen before today and he's still there.
And everything has a story. We've all got our shit, right?
Ah, Portland.
Love [hate],
Me
Anyhow, as I was saying...
Portland you are haunted.
Everything new is old. We drive around and point at what things "used to be." This is how we mark our Portland-ness [authenticity].
Yet, everything old is still there. A man named Maddox who sells hot dogs, I can't believe I have a picture of this man I've never seen before today and he's still there.
And everything has a story. We've all got our shit, right?
Ah, Portland.
Love [hate],
Me
24 July 2007
No I.D? No Sale?
Murphy's Law. I never get carded when I buy beer, wine, whathaveyou. The one time I go to the grocery store without my I.D. and try to pick up a bottle of wine? Yep. I'm not pissed. But, c'mon, there's no way in hell anyone thinks I'm under 21: this isn't a question of taking it as a compliment. I looked "older" when I was 21. Pretty sure I'm older than the girl who wouldn't sell me the wine. Now I'm sure the OLC has some sneaky kids with rapid aging diseases working for them. But they'd have to be pretty persistent to imbed me in the neighborhood to do all my shopping at the same store for over a year before I worked up to the sale.
Mrrr. Now I have to go back tomorrow to pick up wine. It's all too much. I have to go get one of the beers I bought without getting carded out of the fridge now and drink it to convince myself of absolutely nothing.
Mrrr. Now I have to go back tomorrow to pick up wine. It's all too much. I have to go get one of the beers I bought without getting carded out of the fridge now and drink it to convince myself of absolutely nothing.
22 July 2007
luck
Walking Dylan home today approaching the corner of Lynn and 15th I looked down and saw it. I wasn't looking, for once, actually I was looking in particular at the trees - the cherry, the ones overtaken by moss, the indeterminate fruit - today. Yet somehow from the mass it's four leaves stopped motion and caught my eye. I crouched down, verified and plucked it in awe. Yes, an actual four leaf clover. Carrying it back home extended a bit from my body sort of delighted at this mythical thing. Thinking how less mythical the mutation but the happening upon it, the way you can comb your fingers through hundreds of clover masses and then one day, "oh look, a four leaf clover!" And also how even something so perfectly imperfect in reality turns out so perfectly imperfect; the four little leaves marred by bugs and asymmetrical of course.
And then the risk of preserving this thing which is a sort of story. I decided to press the clover to dry between the pages of my dictionary. Not because I know how to do this sort of thing but because my mother used to and because I always liked the romance, the surprise of things found in books. And besides, what's the alternative? I didn't know of a better way to save this thing. And so I pressed the clover in tissue knowing one of the four leaves might break off the stem. Which pages did I press it between? Well, there with the entry for "luck," of course.
And then the risk of preserving this thing which is a sort of story. I decided to press the clover to dry between the pages of my dictionary. Not because I know how to do this sort of thing but because my mother used to and because I always liked the romance, the surprise of things found in books. And besides, what's the alternative? I didn't know of a better way to save this thing. And so I pressed the clover in tissue knowing one of the four leaves might break off the stem. Which pages did I press it between? Well, there with the entry for "luck," of course.
20 June 2007
Things to blog about when I've fallen out of the blogging habit...
Things to blog about when I’ve fallen out of the blogging habit:
(1) Other people’s blogs, e.g. check out Kenji’s new blog.
(2) Who I’m thinking about voting for and whether I might vote for Bloomberg just to show my contempt for the two-party system. Ya know, if I still had the idealism to vote that way.
(3) How much better beer tastes in the summer.
(4) Realizing I tend to blog, mostly, when irritated but don’t feel too bad because I can’t stand people who write b.s. blogs about how great their lives are in an attempt to impress ex-lovers and friends when, really, they’re the most antagonistic depressed saps I know.
(5) Recipes. I’ve been wanting to exchange recipes with people.
(6) Summer things and events.
(7) Forgiveness.
(8) How, maybe, friends just aren’t like family. Maybe you can be closer to your friends than your family. But, maybe friends are friends and family’s family and the two are just two different animals and they should be. I don’t know.
(9) Oh, I’ve been meaning to post Learning to Love Ourselves More forever. They’re this awesome family doing ALL of the Learning to Love You More assignments, tracking their progress on their blog and presenting their work at Bumpershoot! How cool is that? Uh, ice cold?
(10) Other than that, wow. Suddenly my life is pretty f’ing cool. I don’t want to jinx anything so I’m just going to wait until I get annoyed enough to blog and then we’ll have a go at it.
(1) Other people’s blogs, e.g. check out Kenji’s new blog.
(2) Who I’m thinking about voting for and whether I might vote for Bloomberg just to show my contempt for the two-party system. Ya know, if I still had the idealism to vote that way.
(3) How much better beer tastes in the summer.
(4) Realizing I tend to blog, mostly, when irritated but don’t feel too bad because I can’t stand people who write b.s. blogs about how great their lives are in an attempt to impress ex-lovers and friends when, really, they’re the most antagonistic depressed saps I know.
(5) Recipes. I’ve been wanting to exchange recipes with people.
(6) Summer things and events.
(7) Forgiveness.
(8) How, maybe, friends just aren’t like family. Maybe you can be closer to your friends than your family. But, maybe friends are friends and family’s family and the two are just two different animals and they should be. I don’t know.
(9) Oh, I’ve been meaning to post Learning to Love Ourselves More forever. They’re this awesome family doing ALL of the Learning to Love You More assignments, tracking their progress on their blog and presenting their work at Bumpershoot! How cool is that? Uh, ice cold?
(10) Other than that, wow. Suddenly my life is pretty f’ing cool. I don’t want to jinx anything so I’m just going to wait until I get annoyed enough to blog and then we’ll have a go at it.
13 June 2007
Uh??!
A friendster message:
Good morning my angel!
How are you, hope you are feeling ok. My name is martin 44 male single from Paola KS. I over crossed your profile and I like you, so I decided to talk to you because you are so beautiful. So I am searching for my real woman because I am single and looking. I am serious and decent man with good sense of humor, so I want a serious person who I can trust and count on but I don't want a liar or chatter person because I have cheated before so I don't want that to happen to me a again . So I want a truthful and trustworthy and serious person; now because some women are full round telling lies, and I don't want that ok. If you wish you can reply me now I am ok.
Have a nice day
Good morning my angel!
How are you, hope you are feeling ok. My name is martin 44 male single from Paola KS. I over crossed your profile and I like you, so I decided to talk to you because you are so beautiful. So I am searching for my real woman because I am single and looking. I am serious and decent man with good sense of humor, so I want a serious person who I can trust and count on but I don't want a liar or chatter person because I have cheated before so I don't want that to happen to me a again . So I want a truthful and trustworthy and serious person; now because some women are full round telling lies, and I don't want that ok. If you wish you can reply me now I am ok.
Have a nice day
09 June 2007
It's Official
I'm getting nothing done today. This weather has turned me into a pessimistic, self-indulgent, neurotic brat. I mean, more so than usual. Christ, is it just me or does it feel like fall? It's June: where's my sun damnit?!
I'm spending the summer researching the right of family members in criminal homicide cases to wear buttons to trial with images of the deceased. Nifty, eh? Only there's this thing called the "internet" I use for my research and I have a tendency to get a tad bit distracted by the powers of this "internet."
On the plus side, it rained on the parade! And, I'd like to kiss everyone who went out last night and tore up the tape all the nerd-tards laid down weeks ago so their fat asses could set out lawn-chairs to watch a parade instead of standing shoulder to shoulder with everyone else who wakes up early and walks to see the damn thing.
I'm spending the summer researching the right of family members in criminal homicide cases to wear buttons to trial with images of the deceased. Nifty, eh? Only there's this thing called the "internet" I use for my research and I have a tendency to get a tad bit distracted by the powers of this "internet."
On the plus side, it rained on the parade! And, I'd like to kiss everyone who went out last night and tore up the tape all the nerd-tards laid down weeks ago so their fat asses could set out lawn-chairs to watch a parade instead of standing shoulder to shoulder with everyone else who wakes up early and walks to see the damn thing.
30 May 2007
Word
Every once in awhile I learn how to use the goddamn computer in a way that actually helps me. For example, I just figured out that, yes, I can make Word alphabetize shit for me. And this makes me obscenely happy.
Next, I really want software which will do all my legal citations for me. If you find this software for me I'll, I don't know, write an ode-a-licious blog about you. MLA made sense to me. Legal writing and citation confounds me.
Oh, and I'd really like Gore to run.
Alright, back to my sort function glee.
Next, I really want software which will do all my legal citations for me. If you find this software for me I'll, I don't know, write an ode-a-licious blog about you. MLA made sense to me. Legal writing and citation confounds me.
Oh, and I'd really like Gore to run.
Alright, back to my sort function glee.
25 May 2007
Amor and Armor
Driving home today I began to wonder whether amor and armor have a common root. Amor, easy enough: latin, love.
Armor? From the Middle English 'arumure,' from the Old French 'armeure,' from the Latin 'armatura' from 'armatus' past participle of 'armare': "to arm.”
Ah, 'armare', but one letter away from 'amare': “to love.”
Not good enough.
Amor? What is Amor? I am looking too hard. Amor is a Greek God. Amor is the Latin name for Eros. Amor: God of Love, armed with his bow and arrow, proto-IE 'ares': "to be angry."
OK, I get it. It's just like Pat Benatar said, "Love is a Battlefield." Love is war.
It's much clearer now. No, not really at all.
Armor? From the Middle English 'arumure,' from the Old French 'armeure,' from the Latin 'armatura' from 'armatus' past participle of 'armare': "to arm.”
Ah, 'armare', but one letter away from 'amare': “to love.”
Not good enough.
Amor? What is Amor? I am looking too hard. Amor is a Greek God. Amor is the Latin name for Eros. Amor: God of Love, armed with his bow and arrow, proto-IE 'ares': "to be angry."
OK, I get it. It's just like Pat Benatar said, "Love is a Battlefield." Love is war.
It's much clearer now. No, not really at all.
The Unthinkable has Happened
I have gotten into a summer law class I am actually excited about. Yes, I admit it: I am actually fucking giddy about a law class. So giddy in fact I wrote two ridiculously excited emails, one to my mother, one to my grandfather, saying "guess what! i'm so excited! i got into a class i really wanted! it's so neat! isn't that cool!"
Welcome to the Dark Side.
Welcome to the Dark Side.
22 May 2007
Where's Home?
Watching the advice of the dearly departed on “Things To Do In Denver When You’re Dead” Andy the Saint says “make a list.” A list, he says, of ten things you want to do in your life and if you cross off five or six you’re doing good.
Someone I know posted a picture of a house in the middle of the woods and ferns. A red house like the red house we lived in the first house they bought. Small but enough. This is the house you want to live in. This is the house you want to die in. This is the house that feels like a life-long afternoon nap.
I am thinking number one and number ten on the list are “find home.” Home, I think, is not a locus. Maybe for some people home is a locus.
“Where are you from?”
If you have a ready answer to this question perhaps your home has a locus.
I have a collage. Floating as a child on an inflated mattress in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Maui. Riding horses in the 4-H parade and sleeping outside in the summer on the farm playing cowgirl for a day. Rowing the dinghy wherever we anchored the boat and checking crab pots. Sleeping on the couch in Oakland and waking to the sound of my cousins as toddlers. Sun Valley in the Spring. The Puget Sound after midnight.
I am thinking lately, the answer to numbers one and ten is a live-on boat.
Where is home? Is it a feeling? Is it the place you want to be buried? Is it a person or a group of people? Is it the place you came into the world? The place you’ve remained the longest? How is anyone from one place? How? Is it simply the place you want to return to when you’re somewhere else? Is it the place you think of for comfort falling asleep?
This is turning into that Abbott and Costello skit, “Who’s on first?” only who’s home, what’s home, why’s it home, today’s home, tomorrow’s home and oh, I don’t know.
Someone I know posted a picture of a house in the middle of the woods and ferns. A red house like the red house we lived in the first house they bought. Small but enough. This is the house you want to live in. This is the house you want to die in. This is the house that feels like a life-long afternoon nap.
I am thinking number one and number ten on the list are “find home.” Home, I think, is not a locus. Maybe for some people home is a locus.
“Where are you from?”
If you have a ready answer to this question perhaps your home has a locus.
I have a collage. Floating as a child on an inflated mattress in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Maui. Riding horses in the 4-H parade and sleeping outside in the summer on the farm playing cowgirl for a day. Rowing the dinghy wherever we anchored the boat and checking crab pots. Sleeping on the couch in Oakland and waking to the sound of my cousins as toddlers. Sun Valley in the Spring. The Puget Sound after midnight.
I am thinking lately, the answer to numbers one and ten is a live-on boat.
Where is home? Is it a feeling? Is it the place you want to be buried? Is it a person or a group of people? Is it the place you came into the world? The place you’ve remained the longest? How is anyone from one place? How? Is it simply the place you want to return to when you’re somewhere else? Is it the place you think of for comfort falling asleep?
This is turning into that Abbott and Costello skit, “Who’s on first?” only who’s home, what’s home, why’s it home, today’s home, tomorrow’s home and oh, I don’t know.
18 May 2007
Throwing Money Away
I just went through my trash for the second time in 2 weeks to find cash I'd literally thrown away. I got lucky this time and found the two twenties in my kitchen can. Last time around I had to root through a week's worth of trash out back before I came up with the missing twenty.
How does a person manage to throw out money, you ask? Easy, at least for someone who knows to look for her glasses in the freezer.
When I run errands I don't take a purse, just shove my card and I.D. in my pocket and go. If I get cash back, that goes in the other pocket with the receipt. And when I get home, cards go back into the purse, receipt goes in the trash.
Whoops.
I feel so bad for the guy who just got paid for a movie rental with a moist twenty I found under rotting spinach and last night's curry.
How does a person manage to throw out money, you ask? Easy, at least for someone who knows to look for her glasses in the freezer.
When I run errands I don't take a purse, just shove my card and I.D. in my pocket and go. If I get cash back, that goes in the other pocket with the receipt. And when I get home, cards go back into the purse, receipt goes in the trash.
Whoops.
I feel so bad for the guy who just got paid for a movie rental with a moist twenty I found under rotting spinach and last night's curry.
16 May 2007
Getting back a graded law exam
is one of the least satisfying experiences. You spend 13 weeks trying to generate the energy to drive to campus just so you can hike through the woods in the rain to get to a class (because you go to an ever-loving environmental law school and evidently a parking structure would be unsightly or kill two trees) when attendance doesn't even matter because your entire grade is the fucking exam. Then the only feedback you get on said exam is a couple of red marks on some misplaced apostrophes? Fuck you very much! Nice working for you!
Another thing, is any one else really sick and tired of pretending to give honest exam answers to "how we failed to prevent 9/11 and how we can detect and prevent the next attack?" Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to parrot the journal article you authored and assigned us just to get brownie points. I had a hard enough time not writing "war is an inevitable facet of human existence, go read WAR IS A FORCE THAT GIVES US MEANING by Chris Hedges."
In another news, I got exactly the grade I thought I would and I deserved. So, I will now quit my bitchin'.
Another thing, is any one else really sick and tired of pretending to give honest exam answers to "how we failed to prevent 9/11 and how we can detect and prevent the next attack?" Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to parrot the journal article you authored and assigned us just to get brownie points. I had a hard enough time not writing "war is an inevitable facet of human existence, go read WAR IS A FORCE THAT GIVES US MEANING by Chris Hedges."
In another news, I got exactly the grade I thought I would and I deserved. So, I will now quit my bitchin'.
13 May 2007
One of the most manipulative uses of the First Amendment I've ever seen.
Get this: God Hates Fags, a.k.a. The Westbro Baptist Church, now lists funerals for soldiers taking place at my family's cemetery as a location for their twisted excuses for publicity, or what they like to call Love Crusades.
You just can't make this shit up.
Let me say without a shiver of doubt I fucking hate war protests at funerals.
Don't like the war, fine by me. I don't care for war, or death, myself. Been around death my whole fucking life. Walked my grandpa's dog around the sections for soldiers since I was about 7. Trimmed their graves by age 15.
And I really, really don't like funerals. Kind of funny, huh? I've seen soldiers' funerals too. They freeze your heart full of anger then the sadness bursts the ice quicker than your breath can catch up.
I've fantasized about ways to accommodate war protesters for funerals. I have.
But bullshit Baptist publicity seeking "protesters"? Would someone tell me why the "stay the fuck off our cemetery" fantasy accompanied by dobermans and shotguns isn't legal? I'd like to show these people a Love Crusade.
You just can't make this shit up.
Let me say without a shiver of doubt I fucking hate war protests at funerals.
Don't like the war, fine by me. I don't care for war, or death, myself. Been around death my whole fucking life. Walked my grandpa's dog around the sections for soldiers since I was about 7. Trimmed their graves by age 15.
And I really, really don't like funerals. Kind of funny, huh? I've seen soldiers' funerals too. They freeze your heart full of anger then the sadness bursts the ice quicker than your breath can catch up.
I've fantasized about ways to accommodate war protesters for funerals. I have.
But bullshit Baptist publicity seeking "protesters"? Would someone tell me why the "stay the fuck off our cemetery" fantasy accompanied by dobermans and shotguns isn't legal? I'd like to show these people a Love Crusade.
10 May 2007
Deauthorization of the War in Iraq
Hillary Clinton has introduced a resolution with Senator Robert Byrd that calls for a deauthorization of the war in Iraq. Join me in signing on as a cosponsor of the resolution.
09 May 2007
Craigslist Missed Connections
Solve everything. Next time you get a tinge of loneliness go to Craigslist Missed Connections. Not because anyone may have seen you; they probably haven't and even if they had they'd likely write something so ambiguous you'd never have a clue...
"I saw you today: two eyes, arms, feet: me, male: you female"...
But because of all the aching bleeding beautiful hearts...
"I just want someone to write me a missed connection" or "All I want is to sit on my porch and remember what it's like to enjoy the smell of spring and the simple things. simple. simple."
The secret hopes...
"Last night while you were sleeping I said I love you" or "We are not together yet but I know we will be."
The things that remind you being single ain't so bad...
"You're a cheating merciless whore. I hope maggots eat your heart and you die." "All of your friends see you for the shallow, duplicitous, manipulative bitch you are. You convinced me I was the problem but now I'm with someone else and I realize you were the problem and there was nothing wrong with me at all."
Viva la Craigslist. Viva los lonely hearts.
"I saw you today: two eyes, arms, feet: me, male: you female"...
But because of all the aching bleeding beautiful hearts...
"I just want someone to write me a missed connection" or "All I want is to sit on my porch and remember what it's like to enjoy the smell of spring and the simple things. simple. simple."
The secret hopes...
"Last night while you were sleeping I said I love you" or "We are not together yet but I know we will be."
The things that remind you being single ain't so bad...
"You're a cheating merciless whore. I hope maggots eat your heart and you die." "All of your friends see you for the shallow, duplicitous, manipulative bitch you are. You convinced me I was the problem but now I'm with someone else and I realize you were the problem and there was nothing wrong with me at all."
Viva la Craigslist. Viva los lonely hearts.
06 May 2007
"Times" Article on Gun Rights
The "Times" has a really interesting article on the liberal case for gun rights today including how Laurence H. Tribe came to embrace the right from a "rights" perspective.
Good stuff.
Good stuff.
05 May 2007
This pretty much sums it up
What does Amazon recommend to me?
(1) Flannery O'Connor
(2) Laura Mercier
(3) AC/DC
(1) Flannery O'Connor
(2) Laura Mercier
(3) AC/DC
04 May 2007
Um, where do I sign up for the job
where I sit and watch cable news all day? You know, one of those people who keeps a tally of how many times they say words like "terror" or "liberal" in one show?
I could totally do that. Give me the fucking standardized test for that. I would rock that exam.
Jesus Christ fucking Mary and Joseph. How did I get into law school?
I could totally do that. Give me the fucking standardized test for that. I would rock that exam.
Jesus Christ fucking Mary and Joseph. How did I get into law school?
02 May 2007
Sometimes I think,
nothing is lonelier than someone looking right at you and not really seeing you at all.
01 May 2007
blah. blah. la-blah.
I just finished re-writing the outline my computer ate at about 1:30 this afternoon. Evidently my computer got rather hungry. Too hungry to back up the goddamn outline before swallowing it. Instead of crying I played a fun game where I pretended having to re-write an outline I spent however many days on was a jolly good idea and would help my studying. I will now pretend this sense of tiredness signifies not a total depletion of brain cells but the emptying of unnecessary brain cells such that I will vomit pertinent and pithy answers on demand tomorrow when I take my exam. Let's hope I mange to pull as many bullshit theories over my professor as I pull over myself.
30 April 2007
Tibet Protest
In case you haven't seen it a billion times on the news. Subsequently arrested by the Chinese Gov and interrogated w/o food or water for 24 hours, still got the vid out. Very cool.
29 April 2007
28 April 2007
Virginia Tech: This is Not Mental Illness
Since the Virginia Tech shooting the media and numerous politicians have speculated that we should ban mentally ill persons from purchasing guns or require States to engage in a higher level of reporting of the medical records of mentally ill persons.
I find this hypothesis incredibly ignorant and offensive. Further, before you vote on legislation imposing a per se restriction on the rights of the mentally ill, even the 2d amendment right to bare arms, I suggest you take a good hard look at the legislation and ask yourself whether the legislation is based in science or pure political opportunism.
The reality is that mentally ill persons are no more violent towards others than the general population: violence towards others occurs at approximately equal rates among the mentally ill and non-mentally ill population. In fact, persons with schizophrenia, perhaps the most feared and misunderstood serious mental illness, are about 2,000 times more likely to harm themselves than others. Yet, a year-long study of media portrayals of persons with mental illness found that persons with mental illness were depicted as violent -usually homicidal - 90% of the time. No wonder the general population has such a grossly inaccurate perception of persons with mental illness: stories about a schizophrenic mother killing all her children sell, stories about life time survivors of bipolar or schizophrenia attending college and graduate school, working and leading perfectly ordinary, if not unusually challenging and expensive, lives do not.
We do need more Mental Health legislation. But if the concern is Mental Illness, let’s look at the statistics. The truth is, a person with severe mental illness is ridiculously more likely to blow their own head off than anyone else’s. Why not legislation protecting the real victims of Mental Illness, persons with mental illness and their families? Health Care Parity. Legislation requiring colleges who accept federal funding to provide adequate mental health care to students during the age when the first episodes of serious mental illness are most likely to occur? Legislation making it easier for families and law enforcement to commit persons with mental illness who are unable to care for themselves, often homeless or self-medicating with alcohol and drugs, but don’t legally pose a danger to themselves or others? You know, legislation that might have kept Cho in a hospital or working towards a diagnosis and medication rather than just barred from buying a gun rather than making a bomb?
Legislation restricting the rights of all mentally ill persons is terribly overbroad. There is a critical distinction between a person – with or without mental illness - who has been determined to be a threat to others and a person who simply has a mental illness or has been hospitalized because they pose a danger to themselves. I have no problem with governmental regulation in the name of safety in the former category: when people threaten public safety, public safety outweighs certain individual rights (especially rights that might abet threatening behavior). But without any legitimate threat the government has no business eroding the rights of an entire class of Americans who are no more violent than the general population.
I find this hypothesis incredibly ignorant and offensive. Further, before you vote on legislation imposing a per se restriction on the rights of the mentally ill, even the 2d amendment right to bare arms, I suggest you take a good hard look at the legislation and ask yourself whether the legislation is based in science or pure political opportunism.
The reality is that mentally ill persons are no more violent towards others than the general population: violence towards others occurs at approximately equal rates among the mentally ill and non-mentally ill population. In fact, persons with schizophrenia, perhaps the most feared and misunderstood serious mental illness, are about 2,000 times more likely to harm themselves than others. Yet, a year-long study of media portrayals of persons with mental illness found that persons with mental illness were depicted as violent -usually homicidal - 90% of the time. No wonder the general population has such a grossly inaccurate perception of persons with mental illness: stories about a schizophrenic mother killing all her children sell, stories about life time survivors of bipolar or schizophrenia attending college and graduate school, working and leading perfectly ordinary, if not unusually challenging and expensive, lives do not.
We do need more Mental Health legislation. But if the concern is Mental Illness, let’s look at the statistics. The truth is, a person with severe mental illness is ridiculously more likely to blow their own head off than anyone else’s. Why not legislation protecting the real victims of Mental Illness, persons with mental illness and their families? Health Care Parity. Legislation requiring colleges who accept federal funding to provide adequate mental health care to students during the age when the first episodes of serious mental illness are most likely to occur? Legislation making it easier for families and law enforcement to commit persons with mental illness who are unable to care for themselves, often homeless or self-medicating with alcohol and drugs, but don’t legally pose a danger to themselves or others? You know, legislation that might have kept Cho in a hospital or working towards a diagnosis and medication rather than just barred from buying a gun rather than making a bomb?
Legislation restricting the rights of all mentally ill persons is terribly overbroad. There is a critical distinction between a person – with or without mental illness - who has been determined to be a threat to others and a person who simply has a mental illness or has been hospitalized because they pose a danger to themselves. I have no problem with governmental regulation in the name of safety in the former category: when people threaten public safety, public safety outweighs certain individual rights (especially rights that might abet threatening behavior). But without any legitimate threat the government has no business eroding the rights of an entire class of Americans who are no more violent than the general population.
27 April 2007
Congrats!
To everyone attending their last day of law school (or enjoying the first day of many days they'll never step foot in a law school class again).
I started with most of you but will finish next fall, so, if you need a sucker to try to unload all your BarBri materials on after July get in touch!
As for finals, remember, sixth time's the charm, right?
I started with most of you but will finish next fall, so, if you need a sucker to try to unload all your BarBri materials on after July get in touch!
As for finals, remember, sixth time's the charm, right?
26 April 2007
Sun?
Yes? Please! I can't wait for...
Rose Parade, Rides on the Waterfront, Saturday Market, the Rose Garden, Baseball, Outdoor movies, Street Fairs, Drinking al fresco, Fourth of July, Soap Box Derby,
sun. Sun. SUN.
Rose Parade, Rides on the Waterfront, Saturday Market, the Rose Garden, Baseball, Outdoor movies, Street Fairs, Drinking al fresco, Fourth of July, Soap Box Derby,
sun. Sun. SUN.
25 April 2007
to the hospital
Up to the hospital on the hill today to meet doctor number three who referred me to doctors numbered four and five. The second the needle pierces the vein I feel the burn and know the bitch will leave me with a little trace, the junkie mark, on my forearm. I used to watch to prove my toughness. Now I don’t care how tough I look. I just wonder, how much tissue do we all leave in hospital labs in the course of our lives? How many ounces of blood, piss, shit, tissue does the average human sacrifice in the name of health? I think of my old dog, Stella, what they called a fatal white. Some breeders, they kill albino puppies: too many health problems. Not any single, costly blow. Just a series of chronic annoyances. I think of "Gattica". I think of the number of pills I take a day, how long I’ll have to take them, the number of procedures I’ve had this year, the probable course of treatment and how much money I can save the collective insurance pool and family if I kill myself with cigarettes sooner than later. But, knowing me, I’ll wind up with chronic emphysema. Which I will fight like a pit-bull until age 80. I pretend that the day they tell me I am actually dying I will laugh and say, “no shit.” We are all dying. Every fucking day. That’s the trick. I pretend I know this trick. Not scared. No, not me. This is part of the cost-benefit analysis. Back to Jimmy Carter’s deceased child-prophet-poet co-author on peace: those who self-actualize die. If that’s the trick I don’t want to figure it out for a long time.
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