June 2004 Archives

Like Upstairs Downstairs, except not a British television show.

Eating Dinner Out of a Measuring Cup (4C, Pyrex)
Upside: Know exactly how much macaroni and cheese was consumed (2C).
Downside: Makes it difficult to maintain pretense that hiding dirty dishes in non-functional dishwasher is elegant solution, no matter what B. said on the phone last night.

Using Ice Cream Scoop to Remove Macaroni and Cheese From Cooking Pot
Upside: Fun.
Downside: See Above.

Dating Humans of Either Gender
Upside: Fun, mostly. Kissing and stuff.
Downside: They suck, and I whine about it constantly to my friends, thus alienating them. Plus, expensive to eat out this much.

I-Tunes
Upside: IT TOTALLY ROCKS!!!!!
Downside: None. Nada. Unless there is a product identical to ITunes that reports out statistics like "Artist With Most Songs Marked With Five Stars." 'Cause I thought it would be Soul Coughing, but now I'm not sure, and I don't want to count by hand. I want ITunes crossbred with SAS.

Until today, the bravest thing I had ever done was a tie between getting divorced and moving into an apartment by myself a year ago.

Today I received a copy of "Vote For A Man, Not A Puppet" by Charley Reese and forwarded it to my parents and grandparents. I actually added a preface begging them to think very, very hard about the kind of world our current president is creating and whether my children should have to bear the brunt of it.

I have avoided talking electoral politics with my conservative family as much as possible because it causes me near-physical pain.

It's a similar pain that I feel when I come into contact with right-wing media, and I know I impoverish my view of the world by avoiding it. So I'm trying to steel myself and venture out to some of the "readable right" blogs identified by lefty bloggers I trust.

But the pain of interacting with my family around politics is all wrapped up in the pain of knowing that we are often working as cross-purposes in the world, though their values often feed my conclusions.

I don't know what their reaction will be.

The letter is below - not particularly well written, and I think I should have left out the part where I said I wouldn't tell them what to do with their vote. Of course I would!!! :)

Dear The Dog,

No, you do not need any desiccated pigeon feet.

Also, I know it is confusing that I have slept on different sides of the bed in the seven and a half years we've been together. I was rather startled when I realized that was the case, because as we know I hate change, so why am I side-swapping? But for the last year it's been stable, so you cannot simply decide that my side of the bed is your bed. You just can't. Especially when I'm already sleeping there. Got it?

Thanks Ever So,
The Princess

Also from the family reunion, nothing to do with God:

Aunt: I remember visiting San Antonio many years ago, we tried to go to one place and they wouldn't let us in because the lady I was traveling with was wearing shorts.
Mom: Was it a chapel or something?
Aunt: No...
Mom: A mission?
Aunt: A mission...or a mausoleum?
Mom: Or a coliseum?
Aunt: One of the above.

I am going to share with you the most interesting part of my family reunion in an RV park in Amarillo.

It's not the effect created by adding liquid soap to an outdoor fountain (in the middle of the night when no one is looking). It's not even the hotel room above the RV park clubhouse that was decorated by the park's owners to look like a bordello bedroom (called the Mae West room).

The most interesting part was definitely the God rocks.

About 50 stones, smooth, about the size of a baseball, except flatter, laid out in a 3/4 size replica of a covered wagon. All the stones were painted blue on one side, with messages in black paint on the blue side, signed by "God."

I couldn't get them all written down because I thought my mother would get suspicious if I spent that much time standing by the covered wagon, but here are selections:

• Big Bang Theory? You must be kidding! -God
• Loved the wedding, now invite me to the marriage. -God
• Enjoy nature, I made it just for you. -God
• You think it's hot here? - God
• Be fishers of men. You catch 'em, I'll clean 'em. -God
• Have you read my #1 best seller? There will be a test. -God
• I grade on the cross, not the curve. -God
• Call anytime 1-800-PRAYERS. -God

I think God has a little bit of an attitude problem.

Austin-American Statesman: House passes sales tax write-off
Bill also includes tax cuts for businesses, $9.6 billion in tobacco subsidies:

Four dozen House Democrats, including six from Texas, provided the winning margin Thursday for a Republican bill that would cut corporate taxes, offer $9.6 billion to tobacco farmers and let Texans deduct sales taxes on their IRS forms. [...] The sales tax write-off, suspended since 1986, could save the average Texas household almost $300 a year. [...] "This is a huge economic boost for Texas, where taxpayers will save approximately $1 billion a year, and it's also an issue of fairness for states like ours," said U.S. Rep. Kevin Brady, R-The Woodlands, who led efforts to reinstate the sales tax deduction.

State income taxes may be deducted on federal tax forms -- but that doesn't help residents of Texas and six other states that finance government largely with sales taxes. Texas doesn't have a state income tax.

First, who says the average Texas household will save this much? I have become a bit suspicious of these unattributed estimates, since even the attributed ones on a few other issues have been...well, let's say, a pack of lies.

Oh look, this new statement is a pack of lies too! This strategy doesn't benefit anyone who doesn't itemize (read: low-income).

Second, since when is it the federal government's job to make it "fair" for states who are using unstable and regressive strategies to find state government, especially by making their tax systems more regressive?

consists of attending family reunion in an RV park in Amarillo while recovering from a cold.

Oh yes.

AP: Truck Carrying 9M Bees Spills in Mont.

A tractor-trailer overturned on a curve on a highway, spilling its load of hundreds of bee hives and unleashing some nine million angry honey bees. ... The state road was closed for 14 hours as crews and beekeepers cleaned up the 512 hives Miller was hauling from Idaho to North Dakota. In spite of bee suits and extra clothing, beekeeper Gary Clark said he counted about 60 stings of his own.

"Everybody had literally thousands of bees on them, in their hats and on their suits," Clark said. "When we pulled the boxes out, big globs of them would fall on us."

Firefighters directing traffic also suffered stings. "The bees were so agitated you could barely see the beekeepers or the wreckage itself, just because of the cloud of bees that were swarming," said fire chief Shawn Christiansen.

Am I the only one who didn't know that bees are shipped cross-country in trucks?

CNN: Sci-fi museum going for more than geek appeal

One of the coolest sections is the interactive, computer-animated display that mimics a space station. Ships float past, from the Enterprise of "Star Trek" and the Millennium Falcon of "Star Wars" to the goofy Planet Express of the TV cartoon series "Futurama." Visitors can see images of the ships from any angle, and learn about their dimensions and features.

Another highlight is a globe-shaped projection screen developed by the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. Using four projectors, it can accurately display the surface of planets -- from Jupiter to the ice world Hoth from "The Empire Strikes Back."

Just one question: what type of ritual is appropriate before embarking on a journey of this significance?

So Mattel is making a Barbie line of clothes for adult women. As G. observed when I traumatized her with this news, they couldn't possibly make them in Barbie-scale measurements, or no one could wear them.

Catherine Orenstein pointed out a couple of weeks ago that women are often involved in:

...imposing a conformist definition of beauty and femininity. Girls' and women's magazines incessantly promote perfect thighs, abs and hair, and achieving the perfect look has moved beyond diet and exercise. More and more, we place ourselves willingly under the knife, happily embracing the plastic... Along with collagen implants and Botox, summer beauty treatments now include toe-shortening and even pinky-toe removal - the better to fit into pointy shoes... On Fox's series "The Swan," surgically altered women competed against one another for a chance to be part of the beauty pageant in the final episode.

I would wonder who owns the women's magazines and Fox, but I take her point. Hell, even Keira Knightley tortured herself with a corset in Pirates of the Caribbean:

"It was really that bad," she said. "You just can't breathe in them at all, but it was my own fault as I have this thing about Gone With The Wind and Vivien Leigh, when she got her waist down to about 18 inches to play Scarlett O'Hara. I thought, 'Ooh, let's see if I can do that'. "I got mine down to about 20 inches and couldn't breathe. It's fine in the fitting as they're only five minutes long, but as soon as I was in it for 12 hours my eyes started rolling and I began to faint."

I also remember reading that some of the dancers in Moulin Rouge ended up bruised from the corsets, but as I cannot find any evidence of this it may just be a recycle of the Nicole Kidman injury story where her rib broke when they put her in a corset "too soon" after she cracked the rib in a dance number.

Interestingly, in a brief history of the corset:

...a "straight-front" corset, a new style that pushed the shoulders and breasts forward and the abdomen back, contorting the spine into an S. It caused lower-back pain, pelvic strain, hyperextension of the knees, and gait abnormalities. If it seems incredible that women put up with the straight-front corset, it should be noted that another item of female attire produces precisely the same ill effects: S-bend, back pain, and all. It's called the high-heeled shoe.

I think I'll kiss my Doc Martens tonight when I get home.

The Public Policy Director of a major state-level nonprofit association just came into my office and started dancing to the BT Extended Trance Vocal Remix of "It's No Good" by Depeche Mode that was playing on my computer.

Five women in my social circle having babies this year wasn't enough.

Now there are six.

(whimper)

Do I need another dog?

[Update, 12:18 pm: The more I think about how tired I am today and how much I would like to get done between now and Friday, the less this is bothering me. And I so do not need another dog, unless I build an addition onto my apartment.]

[Update, 2:35 pm: Or I could get a trained monkey to walk the dogs while I'm gone. Or a trained miniature pony. That would be awesome. I'd probably still need the addition, though.]

I did not expect much from The Chronicles of Riddick. Pretty spaceships, evil alien cult armies, Vin Diesel's glowing eyes.

But now that I've seen Tomb Raider and Underworld, I'm much less forgiving of weak female characters. Especially when the female characters actually kick tremendous amounts of ass and should be treated with more respect by the story's architects.

In Riddick, he's violent because he's an invincible alien with special powers. Kyra's violent because she's broken. He's capable of taking care of himself. She always needs his help at a critical moment. She can only win by sacrificing herself. When he wins, he gets the extra prize of a devoted army of followers. She is strong but also looks like a sex bomb, and is not taken seriously as a threat by men because she's a woman. He is amazingly competent, no questions asked. Her violence is lamentable, a waste of her life that the other characters mourn. His violence is because he's allegedly evil, but we only know that because other characters say so - we only see him making the right choices - and it's necessary to save the world.

Give me Lara in Tomb Raider, owning her own destiny and making her own choices. Give me Selene in Underworld, in love but still dedicated, strong, determined. Don't give me Kyra in Riddick, or Anna Valerious in Van Helsing who is only good for a chick fight, or Trinity the ever-martyred.

I just can't deal with it anymore.

(Now if I could just stop giving them my money...)

Went to the Flicker Austin Screening at the Alamo Drafthouse Downtown last night. It was all about humans making quirky and sometimes lovely things, then sharing them with others. The films were from 3 to 15 minutes long and almost all were worth watching. (But confidential to the zombie auteur: ick!) The next Flicker screening is September 9th, and you should go. Yes, you.

It reminded me of The Best Salvage Vanguard Holiday Ever, an annual event by Salvage Vanguard Theater where short holiday-themed plays by different authors are staged at Little City downtown. I went for the first time in December 2003. I recommend this event as well, and I can even tell you which are the best seats. I'll try to remind you later in the year so you don't forget.

Some of the pieces in each of these cultural collages were funny, some touching, some just strange. A few I didn't even understand, but they were heartwrenchingly beautiful nonetheless. The sum gave me that "humans are the coolest things going" glow. I love that feeling. It helps to counteract my despair that amoral ruthless corporations are ravaging our planet, our economy, and our souls.

On Saturday the Austin-American Statesman ran a story called "Downtown living isn't a new trend", with the subtitle "Despite appearances, people have been living in downtown Austin for decades."

Yes, they're called the homeless.

Oh wait, the story is actually about rich people. Rich people who want a Target downtown.

Although downtown has much to offer, living there isn't cheap, especially in the newer high-rises. The least expensive unit in the Austin City Lofts goes for about $330,000.

East of Congress Avenue, construction will start soon on the 250-unit Rainey Street Apartments. Rents for the penthouse units in the 13-story complex are expected to top $3,500 a month.

Later this month, the Five Fifty Five project -- 99 upscale condos in the 5-month-old Hilton Hotel downtown -- will go on the market. The smallest units, 800 square feet, will start in the mid-$200,000s, while the 4,000-square-foot penthouses will be $2 million and up.

Although downtown offers attractions such as galleries, shops, outdoor festivals and a farmer's market, residents say some gaps remain.

Speyer, who likes to walk to nearby galleries, the Capitol grounds and other downtown attractions, wants a discount movie theater. Others covet a first-run theater, a convenience store or neighborhood grocery, a hardware store and a big-box retailer such as Target.

In the late 1990s a group of Austin affordable housing folks were in the process of developing a project to convert the empty Reddy Ice factory on Red River into affordable housing with federal tax credits. Eligibility of a project for the best kind of tax credits is based on the socioeconomic characteristics of the census tract in which it is to be located.

During the planning process, the 2000 Census revealed that the mean income in the downtown census tract had risen sharply - due to the influx of people who can afford condos like the ones described above. Despite the fact that absolute need hadn't changed, the census tract was no longer eligible for the tax credits and the project couldn't go forward. The building was slated to be redeveloped into upscale apartments in 2002, but as of 2004 it's still empty.

No point, really. I'm just not all that moved by the plight of poor neglected downtown Austinites in $300,000 condos who covet a movie theater. ;)

Do they know I've started playing Scrabble or something?

cell bridge combatant subterranean shakespearean chen fullback
hall main sachs chilblain orwellian densitometer hadrian caricature

umbra lank cinnamon quo slither insuperable wilderness woodcock

chateaux assure miocene roadster annulled potentate embouchure bishop acoustic republic
antiquary eccentric bulky moonlit pulmonary add copenhagen margaret hastings smithsonian lamarck exempt
wed alpert aviatrix efficient decommission coffeepot apices
diverge cent regulate ervin bullish northeastern mulct dissipate wilkins trillionth dolores vladivostok affix cramp sunrise barton

Pandagon had some good observations on Ashcroft's response to this torture thing:

[Update: I'm glad I copied those observations, since the link I previously used above no longer works. Downside of their website reorganization...]

Ashcroft, even though he's the Attorney General, is a person who believes that things are wrong even if they're not against the law. Similarly, his party is, in large part, driven by similar ethics. Why would a man coming from his very strict moral and ethical background parse words like this? What he says is technically true - they sought to torture legally, and I'm pretty sure they now reject torture like it was a rat poison margarita.

But isn't it something how a man who finds himself and his ideological movement inordinately capable of condemning any number of legal things is so readily capable of parsing this out of existence?

I've always wondered this about the gag rule on international family planning groups - that we were able to implement because people outside of America aren't legally covered by our First Amendment. Despite taking an aggressive and even hostile stance as righteous purveyors of democracy throughout the world, we decided that freedom of speech is optional for non-Americans, rather than treating it as a fundamental human right that exists regardless of how any particular government chooses to treat it at a particular time.

Why do we get to choose when to implement what's right? Why do we get to detain people at Guantanamo Bay by declaring them outside of the jurisdiction of the courts?

The answer "because we can" is not enough. The answer "because it's more convenient" is not enough.

Says Mimi:

Popular culture is very fond of describing marriage with the metaphor of "work"---it's something you work at every day, you have to put in the effort to make it work, so on and so forth. Maybe I am just terminally slack or secretly anti-capitalist, but I hate that idea. It sounds like no fun at all. It sounds like marriage is one long tally sheet, where you put in the work and you expect to get paid.

I am much more drawn to slightly fanciful, magical metaphors to describe marriage. Nine years ago, LT and I (metaphorically) drew a circle in the sand, stood inside it, and agreed that it existed and would always exist, agreed to move it out of the reach of the tide if necessary, and agreed to throw really kick-ass bonfires inside of it. Now our circle is overlapped, Venn-diagram-style, by another one, and Nora is in there wearing a cute sun hat and pointing out the blah (dead crabs, seaweed, medical waste) on the beach, and the party continues.

But what about the baloney?

Click on the link above to read the rest.

Must. Go. To. Bed. At. Reasonable. Hour.

Gaaaack.

From 1160 miles away yesterday, a friend told me that he was lonely.

I could feel that.

I feel it most around this time of night, when I'm fighting my bedtime like a toddler and finding creative ways to justify avoiding the bedroom. Tonight, my idea is that I'll go when I finish importing this stack of CDs into the blessed ITunes... Of course, I've just gone to get another stack.

"I'm lonely" sounds odd to me, stilted. Same with "I'm sad." My ears hear "I'm pissed off" or "I'm happy" just fine. Do we not express the first two?

In the past six months and change, I have made email contact with 20 men who met the basic criteria of literate and vegetarian (or workably close). I have met 13 of them in person, gone on 38 dates, seen movies and plays, attended concerts, eaten sushi and tex-mex and thai and creme brulee, dressed up, undressed a few times, cried on several occasions, given one poor soul an undeserved smackdown, been stood up twice, had my breath taken away exactly once, and laughed and talked and held hands and kissed.

To my surprise, this has made me less lonely.

I had thought enduring connections with some quality of emotional intimacy were necessary for solace. Turns out, not so. Traffic can do it, especially if it involves lots of good conversation and appreciative comments about my legs.

But I'm waning in my enthusiasm for connect-lose, connect-lose, connect-lose - and in my tolerance for finding interesting people, starting to learn their lives, and having that disappear again a few weeks later. Even when I'm the one who pushes my chair back from the table. Granted, the positive stuff is a value add, whatever the outcome, and I have been having a hell of a lot of fun. But the departures do take something out of me. And I'm tired. Tired of the girl instincts that kick in when behavior changes trip the switch that says he's backing away, the dread and simultaneous attempt to disengage so it won't sting so much when it's done.

Then again, I'm just as tired of sleeping alone - or more correctly, tired of waking up alone.

If I just wanted to fill that side of the bed, though, I could have done it by now.

But like Dar, I want somebody who sees me, and who wants to see the world with me. Not with someone/anyone. With me. Someone who can accept that I'm human, and easily hurt, and full of fear and doubt, and also love it that I'm full of joy and wonder and amazement at the world and a burning drive to make it better.

There is no way to what I want but through this: meeting new people, no matter how I find them. Telling almost-strangers increasingly important things about myself, so they can start to know me and I can find out who they are. Feeling excitement and wondering if this time the emails and ticket stubs and inside jokes will mean as much in a year, then cleaning out my inbox a few weeks later and letting it fade.

Maybe I'll take a break soon.

Probably not.

I want a new nickname too much. And someone to know my days and which are my favorite pajamas. In return, I'll pick out their exact favorite snack at the grocery store, and remember they have a stressful meeting on Tuesday. And sew buttons back on.

And I guess I don't mind having quite a bit more fun while I'm waiting, since time will pass whether I do or not. I'll just continue to develop my skills in rolling with the disappointments without discounting the good.

(Every time I write something like this here, I feel the need to undercut myself at the beginning or the end with a self-deprecating comment or two. Perhaps this time I'll just let it sit.)

See, I do exist. Here's proof.

From a product description for wasabi at Penzey's Spices:

When you've been going to the candy store all your life eating turtles, luscious chocolate covered caramel and pecan creations, and then you get told no, real turtles are at the pet store - so you go there and find out they are crunchy amphibians, even though they truly are the "real" turtle, you'll probably, in the long run, end up back at the candy store.

Seriously. I didn't make it up. It's Jped's fault, he sent it to me.

Seen on a comment board over at Radio Paradise:

Person 1: Woman knows how to use her voice.
Person 2: I think you misspelled "she is a sex goddess of unspeakable powers."

This is such a useful rhetorical device.

George W. Bush: I am the president of the United States.
Princess: I think you misspelled "Please impeach me immediately, I never wanted this job anyway and I am an idiot."

Boy: Being in a serious relationship has never been one of my priorities, especially since this thing that happened to me right before I met you.
The Princess: I think you misspelled "I was a complete asshole to respond to your ad and flirt with you constantly for three weeks and then disappear, please send me to North Dakota for several years so I can think about what I've done."

I had many other ideas, but they have fled. Feel free to create your own.

Mayor Michael Bloomberg, according to Dog-walking New Yorkers fear electrocution, Wednesday, April 28, 2004:

It's just unacceptable that somebody can walk down the street and get electrocuted ... We've got to make sure that doesn't happen again.

It was a graphic advertising home mortgage refinancing or something, but at the end it had the following text:

rainstorm sourberry burley riggs
brushwork raffish bookish hornbeam fillip swigging amity mendacity
mushy chromatography grizzle schoolteacher defer davit
eggshell krakatoa colette
diacritical casework clothesbrush dilatation pauline trumpet algenib indecisive

Rolling aardvark heresy, indeed!

Also Operation Culturally Imperialist Middle Class, Operation Unleashed Butterfly, Operation Combusting Liberty, Operation Crazed Investment Bankers, Operation You May Want to Stand Back From Our Infidel, Operation Enraged Hatchet, Operation Platinum Defense Industry, Operation Touchy Vengeance, and Operation Unpleasant Ocelot.

At American Military Operation Name Generating Device.

If you get bored with that, play with this instead: Acme License Maker. It's like a little meditation on Texas having the most prisoners of any state...but our Legislature cut juvenile crime prevention programs last session. Hurray!

[Update, 9:37 a.m. Operation Burning Jack Russell Terrier. Operation Don't Mess With Our Hellhound. Operation Endless Crocodile. Operation Incensed Judgement. Operation Unexpected Gecko. Operation You May Want to Stand Back From Our Jesus. Operation Mountain Hummus. Whoever sent me this link is responsible for a 100% loss of my productivity to the American workforce this morning.]