I'm in yer Facebooks, meta-ing yer feed.

STRING!

I recently got a hit on my blog for the Googled phrase, "open mouth, o wisp." The hit came from a link to my January 2007 archives where I discuss Trevor's poetry, as well as a 2003 poem containing this phrase by friend and ex-Oaklander Michael Cross (who has just had this poem published in a chapbook, In Felt Treeling: A Libretto, by Chax).

So what if Captain Copyright was actually looking for a download of the album, Open Mouth, o Wisp, by the Oakland band Gorge Trio? More interesting to me is that I discovered this band (noisy fun) and that this album, released in 2004 after a three-year process, begs the question -- chicken or egg?

Also more interesting, yet unsurprising, to me is that the chapbook is fucking brilliant. Can't say it enough. Get it here.

Moving on, this isn't meant to be a post to wonder at the myriad ways someone gets to one's blog. Or to merely pimp Michael's achingly amazing work. It is, ultimately, about me!

I took the opportunity to re-read some of my earlier blog posts from almost exactly one year ago, and further back than that. Holy smokes, did I blog (and rant) a lot more, and IMHO about a lot of interesting stuff!

Since I've been so ho-hum in the blogging department lately, this was a somewhat depressing revelation.

What could it be? I have been pondering this over the last couple of days. Am I not inspired? Drinking too much (or too little)? Devoid of drama?

Aha.

When I started this blog, I had just stepped hesitantly into my thirties. I worked in a soul-numbing job at the wholly irritating and taxpayer-dollar-hemorrhaging State of California, and my place of employment had just moved from an easy bike ride from my apartment to a 45 minute car commute to an industrial wasteland. I was beginning my second Master's degree widowship, with three years to go obstructing my view of any light at the end of the tunnel. My best friend was readying herself to leave for Asia, with no plans to return.

In other words, I had the luxury of a lot of Western annoyances to bitch about.

Now, I am fully immersed in the mid-thirties and I feel I'm at my very best physically and mentally. I have a soul-affirming job that uses its donor-based funding reasonably well, can be only slightly irritating, and is a bike ride away from my place. The hubby has finished his degree (anyone looking for a librarian/archivist/information wrangler?), and my bestie is readying for her USA comeback.

The verdict? I have been at my most prolific, thoughtful, and interesting as a blogger when I have been miserable. I have been lazy and negligent in my blogging when I have been a happy camper. A generalization for sure, but oi, how terrible!

I'm not one for resolutions, but let's just say I'm going to try to be a more thoughtful blogger. Well-composed dissections of art and music don't have to come to life only whilst going through the motions of a boring job, right? Rants don't necessarily have to be born from anger and misery, non? And machinations to rule the world don't need to be wrought from aspirations to kill everyone around you (I hope).

So friends, I do resolve to once again earn your readership, quite possibly without being a hater.

And hopefully that means I will post more than once a month! :)

I'm sure many have noticed (ha, how I flatter myself) how I have been ducking the issue of who to endorse for US President in this blog. That's because I had thought I was having a hard time with this upcoming election.

A little background: I turned 18, registered as a Democrat, and began voting around the Persian Gulf War. I re-registered under the Green Party years ago for many reasons -- mainly because I support their platform around social and environmental justice, but almost equally because I think the Democrats have lost their progressive way.

Don't get me wrong, though. If we begin with the establishment bleh of Al Gore and John Kerry, I can say I am regularly in awe of how far the United States has come Democratic candidate-wise during the cold and dark grip of 8 years of Bush/Cheney. I've been reading voraciously about Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton -- a black man and a woman! Both of whom have credible chances of effectively leading the most powerful country in the world (for now). But funny that therein was part of my so-called difficulty.

As much as I would like a woman or black president for the US, it seems unconscionable to me to vote for a candidate based solely on gender or race. But then, here's this article from the Economist last month about how the rest of the world would see the election of a black man or a woman to the American presidency as an act of atonement.

It is striking that many Europeans skate over the political views of Mrs Clinton and Mr Obama and instead treat their fight as a simple Rorschach test of the health of the American dream.

So, yes, unconscionable or not, it's the truth of our human struggle and the reality of global relations. I suppose it's a good thing it's these two running and not catch-all Condi!

But who are they beyond color, gender, liberal soundbites? Obama is young, and -- relative to Clinton -- politically green, but also educated and motivated, and a long-time progressive activist. He's also a born-again who seems to take Thomas Jefferson's separation of church and state to heart. Clinton is more establishment, but she's also a social liberal, and has got the political know-how and experience in Washington as well as internationally.

As someone with a distrust of the old boy network, and with a perpetual optimism that grassroots can always kiss it and make it better, I definitely leaned toward Obama from the beginning. But nagging me was the stark reality that no matter how much political idealism one has, one must remember that cronyism is the way the political game works. Detested as she is by the far right, Hillary has connections in spades, and she's a hell of a lot better than the Republican alternatives. But something still just wasn't right for me with Hillary.

Yesterday, I read a simple and short article by Christopher Hayes in the current issue of The Nation about the fundamental difference between Obama and Clinton. My answer was there all along, but I needed a look at it laid out plain for me to realize it: it really comes down to Clinton's foolish, rash, and cowardly initial 2002 vote authorizing the use of preemptive force against Iraq vs. the unpopular vocalization against it by Obama (joining the brave and consistent anti-war stance of my own US Representative, the admirable Barbara Lee). Another truth: After the catastrophe of the last 8 years, America -- and the rest of the world, for that matter -- needs an American president who will lead us with a voting history of consistent integrity around the health and well-being of our global community. Therein lies the promise of real progressive change that can conceivably translate into reality. So the answer is Barack Obama. And it seems I'm not the only one who thinks so.

It is true that I will support Hillary if she is the candidate who is chosen to lead the Democratic charge -- it is imperative to oust the greater of the two evils if we're to salvage any shred of dignity we have as a nation and contribute to global affairs in any constructive way. But a Democratic ticket with Barack Obama as president, now that would make me proud to vote Democrat again.

Q: What can turn an office full of strong, focused, professional, feminist women into a bunch of giggling schoolgirls?

A: A surprise facilities inspection by the Oakland Fire Department's Station 8 in Temescal.

Hot. Damn.

So here I am at blogger, getting ready to hate on the fact that when I went newborn girl clothes shopping yesterday for a baby shower I'm attending, I found the vast majority of "girl" clothing emblazoned with passive niceties ("smile!" -- gag me) or equally uninspired things like "pretty" or "born to shop," while the "boy" clothing was mostly dynamic -- imprinted with statements touting their ability.

Creepy and not-so-subtle programming, right? Right.

And then I remembered, as if in a pleasant dream you wish not to wake from: six handsome, friendly guys with the kind of muscled arms and backs used to carrying heavy equipment -- most with those sexy firepant suspenders on, pulled down to hang loose around tight thermal tops that stretched across lightly rippled abs (oh, you better believe I looked!). Authoratative, but respectful, friendly, and chatty, they opened our office door and were confronted with an office made up entirely of women.

We were at their mercy. The office went from, "oh shit, pull the boxes out of the furnace room and find the fire extinguishers" to "why yes, big boy, I'll come by your open house this weekend and you can show me your fire hose."

I am slightly ashamed. I have nothing to say for myself. But I suppose the moral is that I guess I'm okay with a little selective programming!

So really, has Heart ever done a bad song? I think I could have listened to them all night tonight at The Hut.

And I truly believe, with all my Heart, that Grant and Lucas should dress as Nancy and Ann Wilson, respectively, as often as is humanly possible. It has been blogged, and so it must be.



















It is Pride weekend, after all.

This is not the alcohol talking.

But you would think so, now wouldn't you, barracuda?