my new Bruno book arrived on Saturday, with a little sketch of Bruno and cat, and I had to do a little Bruno dance. I've been reading and loving it.
go buy Bruno books and support the amazing Mr. Baldwin.
at the very least, bookmark the strip! and tell yer friends.

Cathy, my fabulous and talented sister-in-law, got a mention in the Philadelphia Inquirer yesterday.
she made the dress in this photo in addition to the one mentioned in the article; my brother, the fashion spy, reports that the top is a leather corset with pink stitching.

Poetry slams blow up!
my friend Daphne wrote the most excellent cover story for the lit supplement in the current SF Bay Guardian.
and she's on the cover.
hee- and so'm I...

Celebrate Your Freedom to Read September 20–27, 2003

A Quick and Easy Guide to Banned Books Week for Librarians (and the rest of us!)

The 100 Most Frequently Challenged Books of 1990–2000

the top ten:
1. Scary Stories (Series) by Alvin Schwartz
2. Daddy’s Roommate by Michael Willhoite
3. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou
4. The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier
5. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
6. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
7. Harry Potter (Series) by J.K. Rowling
8. Forever by Judy Blume
9. Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson
10. Alice (Series) by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

unbelievable.

neighbor's parrot. sing-song voice.

HI!

HELLOOO!

ARE YOU A GOOD BIRD?

ARE YOU A GOOD BIRD?

ARE YOU A GOOD BIRD?

*WHISTLE*

*GIGGLE-SOUND*

BYE- BYE!

BYE-BYE!

etc.

I can hear this parrot from my bedroom and the back yard. Yesterday I was trying to nap, and the bird kept doing its thing- it was very funny, but I think eventually I might go insane and start shouting ARE YOU A GOOD BIRD? as I walk down the street. Fortunately, I'm pretty sure I can only hear it this much because it's hot out, and everyone's windows are open.

It sure beats listening to the crackheads yell at each other near my old place.

are you as tired as I am right now?
then go look at these nice illusions until your eyes hurt.
whee!

have I mentioned lately how much I enjoy reading Bruno?
last week was particularly enjoyable and beautiful.
go read it!
or buy some books!
read the archives!

One of the biggest shockers for Erika since she's been in Kyrgyzstan was the discovery that the custom of wife-kidnapping is alive and well. Though of course it's officially illegal, it's still an accepted part of culture there, and she's met a number of women who were stolen to be someone's bride.
Here's a lovely example of what she's talking about:

"The UNDP consultant maintained that lack of sex education and low awareness of STDs, as statistics showed, was exacerbating the situation. In about 80 percent of cases of female HIV/AIDS in Kyrgyzstan husbands had infected their own wives. She also expressed concern over the revival of old traditions, like kidnapping future wives, in some cases even 13-year-olds, unofficial polygamy, as well as increased extra-marital sex, often with prostitutes.
'The worst thing is that all these are accepted by [Kyrgyz] society as normal,' Jamankulova highlighted. 'A group of young men rushed to bring a kidnapped spouse-to-be and she was badly injured on the way - her hair plaits got caught in a bicycle wheel and she was brought to her future husband's home half scalped,' Jamankulova said. 'She was crying out, they said, but her kidnappers didn't pay attention, saying that a 'fiancée' was supposed to cry.'"

(from this article: KYRGYZSTAN: UNIFEM tackling higher HIV/AIDS rates among women - OCHA IRIN)

full page ad for Misleader.org (link to pdf) in the NYT.
from MoveOn.org.
Nice!

going, going-
here.

I'm sitting in a very hot and sunny living room. the only chair in here is an old, crappy butterfly chair- which, for the record, is the most uncomfortable chair in the world to use a laptop in- but there are plenty of boxes of books, and a very sad-looking plant.

when we moved HoHo to LA years ago, we drove a U-Haul southward with all his stuff- stopping, of course, at Anderson's for split pea soup- and we arrived late at night at Spyder's place, with its palm tree and all of its Los Angelesosity... HoHo walked around with very wide, tired eyes, saying, "all different now!" which is what I've been saying to myself all day.

yesterday I finally moved, and now all is chaos and higgledy-piggledy!
everything in boxes! and not enough furniture to unpack it all, ha ha!
-anyone have bookshelves they're getting rid of?

yesterday one of the movers put a box down in the living room, looked up at me and said, "cds- oh my!" with a funny perplexed smile and wide eyes, which I thought was a little weird, until Eli and I leaned over the box and read, in Daphne's handwriting, "cds and videos and tapes- OH MY!" and we giggled for five minutes.

(Eli and Daphne get a standing ovation and my eternal- yes, Eli, eternal- gratitude for all the help with packing. rock stars. my friends are rock stars.)

The phone was out for two days, the dsl isn't working yet, so now I have an inbox full of spam to delete, like one more goddamn box to unpack.

San Francisco is experiencing some lovely September summer weather. it's too. darn. hot- sing it like Ann Miller, darling, oh, now I want to watch "Kiss Me Kate" again.

the new flat is in a house that was built in 1896 (why yes, it will be cold in winter), which makes me very happy. there is a cubby in the hall that used to be a dumbwaiter. we're not sure what we want to hide in there yet.
the back yard makes you think of "Rear Window," of course, but thank goodness you can't actually see into anyone else's houses, it's all decks and stairs and trees and bushes with big purple flowers. the dog next door has finally stopped barking at me every time I step out, but I hear him standing there on the other side of the fence, snuffing away like crazy, trying to figure out who I am. Whenever there are sirens in the neighboorhood, he and his brother howl most mournfully, which I find very reassuring for some reason.
On another deck somewhere, hidden from view, there is a parrot, which was chortling and singing and chatting away this morning while I had my coffee outside.


I'm listening to Bidu Sayao- everything echoes here, the ceilings are twelve feet high- I hope the upstairs neighbors like opera.

from certain maxims of archy:

"if monkey glands
did restore your youth
what would you do
with it
question mark
just what you did before
interrogation point

yes i thought so
exclamation point"

and

"i once heard the survivors
of a colony of ants
that had been partially
obliterated by a cow s foot
seriously debating
the intention of the gods
towards their civilization"

game of canasta, anyone?

Gemini 'scope for week of September 11th:
"Trains in China are divided into two different sections: soft seats and hard seats. 'The soft seats are usually where you find the richer, stiffer, better-educated people,' reports Charlotte Temple in DoubleTake magazine. 'In the hard-seat section, it's like a little village. Everyone is eating watermelon seeds, playing games, leaning out windows to buy from the dumpling sellers.' I bring this up, Gemini, because it's an apt metaphor for the choice you now face. As you travel on to the next phase of your life, the soft seats would provide the greatest comfort, but the most interesting and educational events would unfold in the hard seats."

street art from Prague

It was an excellent little 3.9 jolt we got here in the Bay Area the other night- unfortunately, I was in a friend's basement apartment, and it's the first time I've actually hastened to a doorway during or after an earthquake. (Afterwards, of course, I remembered that someone changed that rule, and now you're supposed to stand by a strong supporting wall.)

a few tips for today:
-try getting more than 4 hours of sleep before you attempt to pack all of your worldly possessions.
-don't touch each and every white surface in your kitchen after spending two hours packing dishes with newspaper. or at least wash your hands first.
-always remember that tequila is a dark and dangerous force.

and, as my mother says:
die faulen rennen sich zu tode, und die fleissigen schleppen sich zu tode.
apply that bit of wisdom wherever you like, though it's really only useful when you're moving.
(UPDATE: I'm rolling on the floor laughing. a reader has pointed out that the Babelfish Translator has translated the German word faul into the English putrid, when of course we all know it means lazy....)

"The devil a puritan that he is, or anything, constantly, but a time-pleaser, an affectioned ass that cons state without book and utters it by great swathes; the best persuaded of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, with excellencies, that it is his grounds of faith that all that look on him love him..."

-Twelfth Night

now accepting applications for moving fairies

I'm looking around my apartment, at all the books, the dishes, the crap I've collected and stuffed into this tiny space.
I love to unpack, to be in new places. but I wish I could gather everything in a table cloth and carry it over my shoulder to my new home- shake out the cloth, and presto! be done with it. I've been sick with a stupid cold for the last five days, and it's making me do crazy things like go to bed early instead of starting to pack. maybe all the sleep I've been avoiding in the last few months is catching up with me at last.

I'm listening to an out of print Al Green recording someone taped for me years ago, and it's making me think of other lifetimes, other apartments, mysteries, infatuations, stories, dreams. I can't make sense of any of it.
Perfect time to reread some Samuel Beckett, maybe.

(Speaking of SB, I recently heard that he used to give Andre the Giant rides to school, because Andre was too big for the school bus, or something like that. the thought makes me teary-eyed, it's so perfect, beautiful, surreal.)

"And this evening again it seems to be working, I'm in my arms, I'm holding myself in my arms, without much tenderness, but faithfully, faithfully. Sleep now, as under that ancient lamp, all twined together, tired out with so much talking, so much listening, so much toil and play."
-Beckett, Texts for Nothing

moving

my dear friend and soon-to-be roommate Eli just summed up the whole moving thing very nicely, so go read this, because I'm far too exhausted to tell you about it myself today.
The only thing I will mention for now is the built-in grill that's in the little back yard, which Eli probably forgot about, since he's a vegetarian, and while the thought of roasted veggies might be nice, it's not really as exciting as, say, meat. mmm. not that I know how to barbeque or anything. (though I'm sure we'll find willing volunteers somewhere...)
apparently I'm the bee's knees, which I must say is making me blush a whole lot, but just wait until after we've been roommates a while. He may change his mind, even if we have known each other since we were fifteen. also, he thinks I can cook. sure, those two dishes? I'm great with those. I can also order Thai food like a master.
this moving thing is the best thing to happen for a long time, and it's making me very happy. to those folks who've seen my current place (and the place before that, come to think of it), you'll easily understand one of the reasons why. another reason has to do with my long standing theory that home and family can be what you make them, and need not be limited to what you started out with. and I'm really finding out what that means. it's about time.

two things

just saw a banner ad for a stupid diet thing:
BECOME ONE OF THE WOMEN YOU HATE

um... no, thank you!!


and-
also saw an unbelievably striking tattoo on the forearm of a young Latino man who was leaving a BART train last week:
IF ONLY YOU COULD SEE YOURSELF
THE WAY I SEE YOU

...