I wrote a book review of the new Barbara Stanwyck bio:

We can’t help wondering who the true Barbara Stanwyck was, but of course that’s impossible to know. You can’t fault Callahan for trying to find out, but it is a futile effort. This is always true about biography but biographies about actors are particularly slippery. I certainly understand the effort. I love old Hollywood films and I have an abiding interest in Veronica Lake, who is known more for her hair than her acting. With Lake, I watch as many of her films as I can and read as much about her as I can find and yet I keep coming back to the truth that I just really like Sullivan’s Travels.

 

The Butterfly Bridge

I rode by this crazy art/plant project and thought I was dreaming.  Sorry to say, I live in a pretty boring part of town and I’m not usually enchanted.  I took pictures but haven’t developed the film yet.  Here’s a set.

I had the same questions as TackyJulie.  How will they maintain the plants?  I wish I seen the installation of this!  I love the concept of getting us to think about species and their place, where humans, plants, and animals belong.  Any public art project that disrupts your normal thought process can’t be too bad (like my favorite:  the ghost bikes in Dupont a few years ago) but I would hate for the plants to be wasted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m going to dye eggs for Easter, using subtle colors found in nature, not food coloring and vinegar or whatever we used.  We dyed them at the kitchen table as a family and Dad was the only one to eat the hard boiled eggs, nestled in fake grass in the refrigerator.  I saw already-dyed eggs at Giant last week!  Oh, it made me sad.

I always loved dying eggs and loved Easter or maybe I just love Spring.  The cultural stuff is so old-fashioned and weird.  I, at least, looked like a Victorian girl with a drop-waist dress and hat.  Mom made us matching outfits when we were little, sprigged with flowers and apples.  I remember squinting in the sun when we took our many photos in the front yard.

Easter was always low-key, whereas Christmas made me crazy, made us all crazy.  My history is Catholic, mostly Italian, but culturally quite German-American.  Holidays are important and people (read: my Mom) work their asses off to make the Day special and everyone happy.

I am ambivalent about this.  I thought I didn’t care but I am bereft when nothing happens, when those annoying traditions aren’t there and you’re not connected to who you were.

 

Geez!

I have two articles in the Spring 2012 issue of Geez Magazine.  One is “A Different Drummer,” the other is “Dystopia for Teens,” which I hope to have in its expanded form elsewhere.  Sorry kids, they’re only in the magazine, not online.

This is a lovely magazine, the Utopia Issue.

Our dreams are too dreamy. Our common script of the good life needs revision as we enter this phase of late capitalism, crumbling empire, depleted seas and fossil-fuel decline. We need a new utopia.

Oh look, it’s the Boss.

Notes

All I want to do this week is take pictures of magnolias but I don’t have a working camera.  It’s a gorgeous time in the garden and a wild, abundant, messy one.  Bittercress and Grandma’s nightgown are everywhere.  So are the dead voles–poor little guy.  People haven’t really started working yet, so the weeds and bulbs are all in bloom and the petals have started falling.

It’s hot since the leaves aren’t on the trees yet.  The sun bears down without shade.  I’ve been cutting back liriope with a sickle.  It’s that time.  Cut it back before it burns up.

Last night I ate a box of marzipan fruits.  They tasted like Play-Doh but some were cinnamon.

Yesterday I helped a group of 4- and 5-year-olds make sausages using a meat grinder.  Really, it proceeded exactly as you would expect.

I wish I had taken pictures of them.  It was so funny.  They were going on and on about how disgusting it was, but they loved it.

“Focus on the kids,” she said before we started.

I came home and felt tired, so tired after first one job and then another and biking biking biking before, after, and in between.  You won’t believe how happy I was to see six BSC paperbacks rescued from the Wheaton Library Book Store.

 

Why Are Faggots So Afraid Of Faggots?

Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? Flaming Challenges to Masculinity, Objectification, and Desire to Conform
Edited by Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore

Gay Pride in my city—at least the sanctioned public expression I experience on the street and inside establishments at Dupont Circle—consists of corporate sponsorship, rainbow beer ads, and scantily dressed,  soused, screaming young people.  It looks like normative American revelry, like the middle class enthusiasm of St. Patrick’s Day and July 4th.  Politics and anger seem to be absent this joyful celebration.  It’s not terrible, it can be kinda sweet just to see so many queer and happy kids.  But what, besides visibility and fun, is the point?  Are the parades fighting against the dominant culture or are they saying, “We’re just like you.  We like to spend money and get fucked up.”

Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? is alienated by the assimilationist agenda and is fighting back, providing a corrective to the monolithic LGBT bloc represented by organizations like Human Rights Campaign and the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force.  This anthology of short essays addresses the raging disappointment with the gay liberation movement that has been co-opted by the corporate concerns of Diesel, Pottery Barn, and Absolut.  As with the recommended middle class heteronormative trajectory, gays and lesbians are expected to drink and fuck and buy buy buy and then retreat to the suburbs or a nice safe condo with a doorman in the leafier part of the city and partner up, now with marriage and kids allowed!

The conflict between liberal and revolutionary groups is whether assimilation and compromise are the only routes to social acceptance and social change and if social acceptance guarantees authentic happiness.  In “Slow Boil:  AIDS and the Remnants of Time,” Eric A. Stanley uses the phrase, “the homophobic gaze of normative culture,” which says clearly that the system is the problem, that’s what needs to be changed, and LGBT people will never by free when trying to conform to the system’s inherently flawed rules, which are set up to punish them.  Feminists and all other radical groups deal with these concerns as well.  We need to be careful about not being absorbed by the normal.

If you look at polls, legal victories, and anti-bullying rhetoric, it might seem that gay liberation has succeeded or is at least on the right path.  While marriage equality makes me happy, I understand frustration with its centrality in the battle for LGBT rights.  LGBT people are still discriminated against, raped and murdered, harassed, and rejected by their families.  There are lots of struggles left.  Marriage equality seems to be important to privileged, wealthy people.  If you’re fighting for your survival, then marriage is probably not the most important issue for you.  A disproportionate amount of resources and press are poured into marriage equality, ignoring other issues.  As Ali Abbas says in “Death by Masculinity,” “Rather than fight to uphold human rights and dignity, LGBTQ politics remain narrowly focused on civil rights and privileges linked to citizenship (e.g. gay marriage.)  Liberal masculine gay men assume that gay marriage is a sign of equality because it allows for (limited) mobility in a system that distributes health and tax benefits based on that state-recognized relationship between two people.”

However, it is still amazing to me that single sex marriage is a possibility in the U.S.  I could not imagine that ten and fifteen years ago when I was called a dyke in my high school, when my friends, who were not LGT, but maybe B & Q were harassed for the non-gender normative ways they looked and acted.  We didn’t have a GSA in our school back then.  There was no effort to include or create safe spaces.

Many of these essays have a nostalgic bent, looking back to the ‘70s and ‘80s as days of freedom and experimentation before AIDS took its toll, before the consumerist ‘90s and ‘00s.  While LGBT people are from all backgrounds, in our so-called liberated times, the L & G are primary and the image today is usually affluent, urban, straight-acting, and concerned with appearance, products, and shopping.  Some writers see that there is power in being marginalized, in not caring about rejection, in already being so rejected in so many ways by parents and society.  There is more power in rebellion than in acquiescence.

Subcultures show us the true multitude of expression, identities, and alliances that are so hidden if we don’t look closer, don’t express honestly, and expose our shadows.  One of the themes that comes up in these essays is that focusing on the preferences of the Othered sexual body rather than sex acts encourages racism, sterotype, body hatred, and objectification rather than active participation. The essays in Why are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots? are depressing, erotic, angry, brave, and funny.  They are about imagining possibilities beyond the binary and as Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore writes, “existing simultaneously outside queer and straight norms.”

Beauty Imagined

A new Bookslut review from me.

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