"What A Fucking Day"

The title of today's blog is a direct quote from my partner David. Thank you David.

The last couple of days have been interesting. I transitioned back into life in Oakland. It was great seeing my roommates again. I really do have an awesome house filled with fierce radical women of color. Not to mention that my physical house is ridiculously beautiful. Last night we had an impromptu potluck. I made homemade chicken soup. Makeeba made baked stuffed eggplant, and Lubia conjured up a fantastic shrimp and rice dish with sweet bell peppers.

Today we had a staff meeting, and basically, by the end, I wanted to log onto Idealist and start looking for a new job. David and I had to deal with some Ex-Factors last night which was, you know, fun. Basically, by the time I got home tonight, I put on my leftover soup, cracked a bottle of Two Buck Chuck, and started writing this blog. Hey Glory.

The universe and life is meant to be easy. That does not mean that there will not be bumps, bruises, and mishaps along the way, but in general, if you are in the place you are supposed to be and doing the things you are supposed to be doing then life tends to work out the way it is supposed to work out. Right now, my life feels very schizophrenic. The good times generally happen when I am far far from home. Which means, perhaps, that home is someplace else. On an upbeat note, I finally mailed my pre-manuscript to my editor in Florida at Summerfolk Press. It took almost a year, but it is in the mail.

Did I mention we had an earthquake yesterday too?

Life will go on. I will go on. And most likely, before not too long, I will move on to the life that I am understanding now that I am supposed to be living.

No More David in the City...

Leaving David is about as pleasurable as having my nuts stepped on by the Wicked Witch in steel toed stiletto heels. I was crying before I left the door, and then, like an idiot buzzed the buzzer and ran up the stairs---pretending to need to pee—so I could see him again for a moment. Of course, by ringing the buzzer at 4am, I sent Tildon (my step-dog) into a tizzy, and forced David to open his eyes for the first time since we were forced from the bed this morning by Super Shuttle—which required a 3:45am pick up time for my 7am flight. Ain’t that a bitch.

Poor David. This morning he was attempting to give me some wise 44 year old inspirational talk about being good to myself mentally and physically, loving myself, etc. etc. blah blah blah. Everything he had to say was lovely. Except, at that particular moment, I wanted to punch him in the teeth just a little bit. At that moment, I just wanted to hear that he was going to be possibly a fraction as miserable as I am projecting to be the first month of the first quarter until I see him again. I am no GoldmanSachs analyst, but the emotional forecast for the next few days, due to a temporary separation of assets, is looking poor. The long-term dividends will pay off warmly, but the short-term losses are tough to bear. And Mr. Berube’s public statement that I should find a hot fuck buddy and get some good boom boom almost caused a hostile take over this morning. I mean. Of course I will find a hot fuck buddy should I desire it. But, my true love needs to work on his timing. No stand up comedian is he.

Now, I am in the Super Shuttle. Some stupid Asian couple behind me apparently doesn’t understand that at 4:26am no one wants to hear them chatter with one another. As a matter of fact, they both may earn a punch to the teeth before we get to La Guardia. I have already radioed ahead to Makeeba, one of my darling roommates, to have the $2 buck chuck ready. After only three hours of sleep, my eyes are on fire. And the Asians just keep flipping their lips. They are about to get a free round trip ticket on Foot-In-The-Ass Airlines.

I love you David. But you know that. I will be fine and dandy tomorrow. But today, I get to be a little bit on the miserable side having to leave my partner 3000 miles behind. You’re teeth are safe for now ;-). See you in Denver. I love you more than egg noodles and roasted duck from Mee Noodle Shop. You are my home.

Friday, Saturday, Cryday

So, I have been doing my damndest to not thing about Sunday morning. RIght now I am feeling a little bit overwhelmed trying to articulate how I feel when I am physically with David. David is a constant presence in my life whether or not we are manifestly with one another. But, when we are together something begins sounding inside me. Have you ever had the joy of being in a small town, early in the morning, when an old church bell rings. The sound is so beautiful. You know it is metal being hammered, but it sounds like a crystal humming. something pure, clean, and joyous. David and I have our problems. We fight now and again as do any couple....many of our interactions are multiplied and intensified because we don't live in close proximity so we end up processing at a hyper speed when we are. But the essentialness of our relationship remains undiminished and, indeed, strengthens and reinforces the basic goodness in each of us, so that, when we are not together, I do not feel less or incomplete but I feel a reduced potential. Together, our potential to be better, live better, love better, move through the world better is exponentially increased. When David is nearby, I am fearless about things that have long scared the hell out of me.

I have made a commitment to being as present in the moment as possible. Sunday is not right now. Sunday may never actually come. I was reading something on Science.com that said if a Planet-ending meteor were to hit the earth we wouldn't know about its presence, unless we were very lucky, until moments before it hit and ended life on Earth. My luck would be that the meteor would hit while I was 30,000 feet above the Earth. While everyone else would die without pain instantly, my ass would have the torture of flying too and fro until the plane ran out of gas and then we would crash and die cussing out God. I digress. I still have roughly 48 hours with David. I am going to see tons of great friends tonight. I am going to get to see David in his extra cute short shorts that he wears to the gym. I will most likely have some great sex between now and Sunday (maybe even with David...I joke...I joke...teeeheee), but the fact remains that leaving him is becoming something akin to proving the existence of God. I believe it can be done, but one day, I will acknowledge, that it can't...and on that day...my home will be wherever life carries both of us.

Thank You!

Thank you to the almost 3,000 people that visited my blog from March 2008-December 2008. Keep reading and Happy New Year to you!

Good Bye Florida....Goodbye 2008

I have made a commitment to letting go of the past, so I am not going to take up a bunch of space re-capping 2008. But, lets say that 2008 brought great change, great challenges, and great opportunities. It brought a physical move from MN to CA. It brought emotional moves of many types including the ending of one relationship and the beginning of another powerful and amazing one. It brought lots of travel to some old and familiar places and to some new and exciting places. It has brought opportunities to learn and grow, and it has brought the commission of mistakes--a very few repeated ones and some new ones and lots of ones from which I hope I have learned,. I wrote more in the second half of the year than I did in the previous year. I look forward to seeing what comes next.

I am currently saying goodbye to the ocean and to Ft. Lauderdale. It has been, even with the drama, an amazing vacation. Plus, I had lots of great sex with that man of mine....next time...my man and perhaps a few others ;-). Actually, sitting next to David on NYE watching the last bits of sunlight fading away from 2008 is a fulfilled feeling that I am pleased to have. Thanks for reading. Happy New Year to you.

BlackPower.com

Hey folks:

I am now a regular contributor at www.BlackPower.com. Please show your support and love by tuning into the website. If you read something you like, please leave comments.

Here is the link to my latest article: http://www.blackpower.com/business/shocking-numbers-show-african-american-community-thriving-during-recession/

Thanks to your support three of my last four articles have been the most read in their categories for multiple days in a row! Your support translates into more exposure for my writing. Thank you so much.

One love,
Brandon

Vision Statement

I commit myself to living differently. I will forgive myself, ask for forgiveness of those I have wronged, and forgive others. I will see myself, not as the world would have me been seen or how others have told me that I am, but as I was meant to be seen with loving kindness. I will do no harm to others with intention, and those I harm unintentionally, I will seek to make well. I will speak as truthfully and honestly as I can. I will trust openly. I will only make commitments that I can keep. I will keep the commitments I make. I will be imperfect, and I will love myself through my imperfections. I will be successful, and I will use success to fulfill my vision. I will give to those that ask, and I will save enough to sustain myself. I will honor my debts both human and material. I will be a good lover, a strong partner, and a devoted friend. I will love myself. I will love truly. I commit myself to love.

Comedy of Errors

Last week was a pure comedy of errors moment. On Wednesday, I left work to have lunch with my friend Mike. Now, I had been feeling slightly unwell earlier in the day, but it was nothing to blog about. During lunch my slightly unwell feeling exploded into a Linda Blair moment. After the second time my head spun around and I lobbed pho into the porcelain jaws, I decided that I should probably head home for the day.

I had, previous to making the decision to head home, sent a message to my co-worker Chris saying that I was not feeling well but would be back in the office. I followed that up with a text saying that I was going to head home. She never got the text. And thus it began.

On the way home, I lost my cellphone and my ID due to an unzipped side pocket on my travel bag. So was the stage set for an unsuspecting Brandon to find himself at the core of a coast-to-coast electronic manhunt.

Last Thursday morning, I sent an email to the office saying that I was still ill and would not be in. My roommates were gone for work for the day, and so I had only email to use to communicate to the office. Unfortunately, I had left the power cord for my Mac at the office and later that morning when I returned to consciousness to email my boyfriend, I discovered that my Mac was dead. I then tried to plug my old laptop into the DSL line, but it refused to access the Internet (Josh’s friend came to our house and “changed the settings” on the internet and now none of us can get on the internet with our computers via the wireless router and only my Mac is able to access the internet when plugged directly into the modem). I knew that David would probably be losing his mind wondering what was going on with me, but since I had emailed work that morning, I figured that work was peachy keen. Or, to be more precise, I didn’t think about work at all.

I was at home, with the flu, with no phone, and no internet access. For all intents and purposes I was living in the mid-21st century in rural Alabama.

Later that day, around 3:00pm, I heard a pounding on the front door. Since I was snug in my bedroom and half awake, I rolled over, grabbed a pillow, covered my head, and mentally commanded the Jehovah’s Witnesses to go away. If only I had answered the door, I would have found two distraught co-workers. Instead, I slipped into fretful dreams of Kingdom Hall.

I rose occasionally for the rest of the day to vomit, eat something, and pee. I also checked to see if Josh or Tony had come home. Finally, around 9pm, I turned off my light and went to sleep only to be awakened within an hour by the sound of CeCe, my neighbor from across the street, knocking on my door.

“Brandon!”

“What girl, I am asleep.”

“Your co-worker is out here and everyone is looking for you!”

“What are you talking about?”

“No one has heard from you for a day.”

“That is crazy. I will be right out.”

I got out of my bed to find Mervyn, my beloved girl pal from work, and my roommate Tony looking distraught. It turns out that the office never received my text nor my email, and David had called looking for me. Basically, CMJ turned into the Bloodhound Gang detective agency, and I was the mark. Turns out that my loving co-workers, had basically started a chain reaction that reached out and touched most of my friends across the country. People from the Bay to NYC to Atlanta were calling and emailing trying to find out where I had gone.

I have never felt so loved in my life. Today, I received an email from MAC--an amazingly brilliant human being that I can joyously add to my list of powerful female-bodied persons from whom I have learned and will continue to learn much. MAC was not pleased. She was not pleased with my lack of communication, and she was absolutely right. I will most likely, as a result of this situation, lose some of the amazing flexibility that we have at CMJ in terms of working from home or from alternative locations. I think that is fair. What else is fair is the way that MAC goes about discipline. I am not happy to have to have created a situation where discipline is necessary. But I have also never been given a voice in coming up with a solution to a situation that values who I am in toto.

And to all of you that were concerned, that reached out to make sure I was ok, I say to you thank you and I love you.

The FCC Is Coming

So, two weeks ago tomorrow I started working for the Center for Media Justice. It is a kick ass organization that connects media reform and media justice to racial and economic justice. My position is the National Media Justice Organizer. Basically, I am run the national coalition, MAG-Net, which is coordinated by CMJ and ultimately, my role is to be the go to person for media justice policy. And, my colleague and boss is consciously trying to step back some within the organization and part of my job is to fill some of those national spokesperson spaces that she has previously occupied.

Now, I was very clear when I started my job that I had a strong policy background but that I did not have a strong background in media policy. I even asked for a packet of materials on media policy to be sent to me in advance of starting the job, so I could start doing some solo learning. Unfortunately, because of the transitions that were taking place before I came on board that did not happen. So, in the last two weeks, I have read hundreds of papers, notes, minutes, and articles on the policy issues with which we work. I have had, already, half a dozen meetings and as many again this week. I am just starting to get a handle on some of the most pressing media justice issues on the table right now...the primary issue of concern being the switch to Digital Television and the lack of outreach and support to low-income, fixed income, and disabled folks in the U.S. that rely on over-the-air signals for their information and news. While I have had a very solid crash course regarding the issues around DTV Transition, and I am just beginning to learn about "white spaces" and how that ties into the launch of DTV, I was neither wishing nor hoping, two weeks and a couple of days into the gig, to have to deal with a visit to the bay of the FCC!

Now in terms of the policy around which I work, it would be as if I worked around defense policy and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff showed up on your third day of work. This week, I will spend time at several FCC hearings in various communities on the transition. Thank GOD for Eloise Chen of Media Alliance. She has been the primary organizer of the various events and has deepened my understanding of the issues we are talking about. The last thing I want to do, as the national organizer for what is really the go to organization for outside the DC Beltway media justice and reform work, stand up in front of Commission Edelstein and have him realize that I don't know what the hell I am talking about.

I am loving my new job. My co-workers are a riot. My boss is no joke (she has jokes but homey DEFINITELY don't play that), and I have mad respect for her. This is an awesome place for me to grow and expand, and I look forward to it...I am even looking forward to the FCC visit...though I would have preferred if they could have come....say...next September.

A Camera Phone Eye's View Part II

Yesterday, the gays took the afternoon off from remodeling the house to tour Sharon, Roger, and myself around San Francisco. Here are a couple of my favorite shots from yesterday.

The first is a photo of the Palace of the Arts. The Palace was built in 1915 for the San Francisco World's Fair. Josh was telling me, and I confirmed, that originally the Palace of the Fine Arts was surrounded by acres of other palaces, which, unfortunately, were torn down. When we first arrived at the Palace, I swore that I saw an Elf Maiden emerge from the bushes across the lagoon from where we were standing. Thankfully, other members of our party also saw said Elf Maiden, so I did not have to rush myself to the nearest hospital.

As we continued to walk the Palace grounds, I snapped a picture of the columns holding up the palace. Josh insisted that the entire palace was crafted from plaster of Paris. Upon closer investigation, the columns, at least, were constructed of good old fashioned cement. Just after taking the photo of the columns, I noticed that the pond arched under the eaves of the Palace and formed a sylvan lagoon. The perfect hiding place for Elf Maidens.

I was fascinated by the framing of the lagoon through a beautiful flowering tree, which is where I took this next photo.
As I stood up from snapping this picture with my trusty LG Musiq, I realized that my co-explorers had moved on without me. I continued to follow the edge of the lagoon, and there, just in front of me were the Elf Maidens and their human photographers.

Unfortunately, I did not take any pictures of the Elven ladies, as one of them was so pale that I was afraid that the glare from the flash would blind me permanently. Which would have been my just desserts for trying to capture an image of one of the Fairy Folk.

On a related note, yesterday I mentioned that I believed the World's Fairs take place every ten years. Josh, however, thought they no longer took place. In fact, the World's Fairs also called Expos continue, and they are the third largest event in the world after the Olympic Games and the World Cup. The next World Fair will be Expo Shanghai in 2010.

Being Fearless When You Are Afraid

It would be an understatement to say that my world has radically changed. I am living in a new city (realistically at the moment I am living between two cities: Oakland and San Francisco). I am starting a new job on Monday. And I met a human being that challenges me and creates in me such a wonderous combination of fear and joy that sometimes I wonder if I am on an episode of Punk'ed or Hell Date...and at any moment...a midget in a devil suit is going to jump out of the bushes.

A new city is a challenge that I am well equipped to meet. I have spent the last few days walking, getting lost, turning down side streets, snapping photos of flora that I haven't seen before, and meeting new neighbors, and letting my mind adjust to a city that is stunningly beautiful but looks nothing like home. My roommates are both great. Josh is an old friend that I dearly love. His partner has awesome energy, and I have thoroughly enjoyed being with Josh's family this week.

My new job is going to be a great adventure. I am really looking forward to getting started on Monday. I am looking forward to getting back into a healthy work environment. My boss is someone that I can already tell that I am going to deeply respect. And I get to work with some of my favorite people across the country.

And then there is David. David is great. He is brilliant. His art moves me. We communicate open and honestly...and do not tell each other things that we think the other person wants to hear (even when we are playing!). And I am terrified of fucking it up! My favorite therapist taught me to go with my feelings...and I am going with this one. But I need to figure out how to go with my feelings and know that letting your feelings run means letting go of control. That is some scary shit.

Ahh well... here's the living and life changes!

The VFW in Crystal, MN

Last night, Shannon, Melissa, Jael, Samantha, and I piled into Shannon's chic Acura and headed out to a fundraiser at the VFW in Crystal, MN. Crystal is an old school first ring suburb just outside of North Minneapolis. Walking into that VFW was like walking into the heart of rural middle America. I was the only visible person of color in the joint. The hairdoes and knit sweaters were soemthing straight out of the late 80s. It was a working class joint, with working class folks, coming together for a good steak for a good cause.

I was seated at a table with some of the kids from the Femme Mafia. Our server was the Mother of a young woman that passed away from cancer. The server also happened to be the mayor of Crystal. We loved her. If you are reading this, and you happen to live in Crystal, MN, please vote for Mayor RaNae.

Last night, after return home, full of sadness at the fact that I will not be able to join the other Femmes and Femme allies at the national Femme conference in Chicago this weekend. I wrote my first ever set of lyrics (to be set to music at a later date) about our trip to the Cyrstal VFW.


Cyrstal VFW

I went to the VFW
and met a girl name Cristal
in the city of Crystal
Cristal I found
 
I bought me a ticket
to a steak fry
She brought me her heart
I thought I had died
 
I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
in a VFW just up the way
I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
such a sweet name
for a girl or a town
 
There was cole slaw and A1
Butches and femmes were
sitting together
enjoying a meal
 
The mayor was the server
a right nice old lady
but my eyes were on Cristal
my soul she did steal
 
I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
in a VFW just up the way
I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
such a sweet name
for a girl or a town

At the end of the steak fry
I rushed outside
to try and catch Cristal
just to say hi

But just as I got there
I saw her disappear
on the back of a Harley
she rode away

I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
in a VFW just up the way
I went to heaven
the day I met Cristal
such a sweet name for a girl or a town.

Never Can Say Goodbye

So, I am sitting here and the Michael Jackson song, "Never Can Say Goodbye," is running through my head. I totally blame Rodrigo for that, as we were listening to Jackson 5's greatest hits on the way home from his house to my place on Saturday night. Rodrigo may be Peruvian...but he gots him a 1970s boy band black soul. Or offwhite, or whatever color Wacko Jacko is today. I don't care how wacko he is...that boy is a musical genius.

Anyway. So it's official. I actually have a plane ticket. I am leaving Minnesota in a week. Too look at my apartment, you would never know it. But, the fact remains that I am looking forward to moving to California. I have my transition plan in place. I've got my recovery plan all set and ready to go (it helps there is a CMA meeting right down the street from my office). Josh has already been scoping out churches in Oakland, and I will be hitting up Glide Memorial. I love Minneapolis, and all the festivities of the last couple of weeks have reinforced my love for my peeps here, but not only am I ready to go, I need to go. I am looking forward to the opportunity to take all the life lessons I have learned here, apply them, and leave the baggage, temptations, traps and pitfalls behind.

To end how this entry began, I quote Michael Jackson, "I'm talking to the man in the mirror. I am asking him to change his ways. And no message could have been any clearer, if you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and make that change."

Retaliation: A New Fragrance Line by Brandon

So, I am thinking of starting a new body mist line called Retaliation. The brand will have numerous fragrances from you which can you choose to meet your particular needs. So far I have six items in the line, all in small convenient binaca style bottles with a nozzle that can be adjusted for mist or straight line concentrated shots. It fits conveniently in your manbag or in that cute little pocket inside the front pocket of those new diesel jeans in which your butt looks like Brad Pitt's.

The four fragrances are:

Bitch-Be-Gone: A little concentrated hydrochloric acid for those "Bitch, I know you just didn't" moments where a misting to the diva's face is better than Christmas.

Troll-Be-Gone: Just a dash of concentrated skunk musk in the eye of that big bad troll will help him learn that trolls belong under bridges.

Manstealer: A unique blend of compressed cyanide and nightshade vapors for the man-stealing-power-bottom sleeping on your side of the bed, a light sprtizing of this as you walk past him will leave him ass up forever.

Drop Dead Gorgeous: The biochemists at Vengeful Diva have come up with this delightful blend of completely organic, biodegradable fast acting anthrax that has been crossed with the Ebola virus. For those moments when you walk into a party and someone is wearing the same shirt you have on. He may look better in the shirt than you do, but now he's dead.

The Boy Is Mine: This complex construction of pheremones, exstasy, and GHB when applied correctly, will turn all his No's into Yes's.

Scene Stealer: This innocent looking body spray, in our convenient evening gown clutch size, is actually a grenade. That evil Hot Tranny Mess may have won the pageant title, but you are going to close the show out with a bang.

Look for these soon at a Target or Al-Qaeda sleeper cell near you!

Brought to you by Vengeful Diva, Inc. and it's CEO, Brandon "Precious" Lacy Campos.

I am a Surthrivor

On Friday night, I got a tremendous phone call. I was called and offered the position of Grassroots Media Policy Advocate at the Center for Media Justice in Oakland, CA. By the end of next month, I will be a resident of the Bay area. This is the change I didn't know I was waiting for.

Several months ago I wrote a piece, for myself, about home. In it I acknowledged that the place where you grew, unless you can keep your life dynamic, fresh, and full of new learning opportunities, can become a place of stasis. It becomes a place where your default mode is coast. It is place where people love you and want to take care of you because it's home, and they are family, and family takes care of family. At a certain stage in a person's life, when an individual has centered himself, has learned life's major lessons, and has learned how to truly live, that is ok. As a matter of fact, that is welcome. When a person still has growing too do. When a person needs to learn how to not only stand up but also to stand tall, then home is a only a refuge for the afraid and will, in time, become a jail cell with velvet bars. Minneapolis has become that place for me.

There are some realities that I have to own. Because of the life I was dealt as a child and because of choices I made as an adult, I only know how to survive. I only know how to live from paycheck to paycheck. I thrive in crisis and create crisis when I should enjoy peace. My work life, which has had rough spots overall is the only place where I am able to not only survive but to thrive. But that ends now. With this move to Oakland, I am done with survival. I have a plan for surthrival. These are things I plan on accomplishing in my first 60 days in the Bay.

Brandon's Surthrival Plan

1. Find a CMA Meeting in the East Bay. Attend Weekly.
2. Take a budgeting and financial planning course.
3. Attend weekly services at Glide Memorial Methodist Church
4. Audition for the Glide choir
5. Take a yoga class at least once a week and work out at least four days a week.
6. Take a meditation class to learn how to self-center.
7. Make an appointment with a Bay area ASO and join a Poz social/support group.
8. Finish at least two more chapters in my book.
9. Meet at least ten people that are not related to my job.
10. Make three friends that are not folks from work.
11. Do something at least once a day to actively love myself.
12. Find a therapist that is going to kick my mental ass.

From now on I pledge to do the things that I have been afraid to do. I will live with fear but I will live fearlessly.
From now until I die, I will live with addiction but I will not be an addict.
I will accept that the man I see in the mirror is me and that I am not the man I see in my head.
I will accept love where it is given, honor that gift, and give it in return, starting with myself.
I will be accountable to my friends, my family, and my community, and I will require accountability in return.
I will survive only when survival is necessary. At all other times I will live and celebrate living.

Cousin Jimmy II

I decided today that I am just going to stop answering the phone when my Mother calls. In general, when I call her everything is fine. But when she calls, she never has a damn good thing to report.

Today she called to tell me that the round of chemo that Jimmy just went through didn't work.
I was sitting in the office fighting like hell not to cry. And since, when I try to avoid my emotions they instantly morph into a hideous rage, I found myself wanting to smash my cell phone into the desk top until LG was permanently imprinted into the fromica. Fuck cell phones, fuck bad news, and fuck leukemia. I left the office a little while ago, because I knew I had to get somewhere where I could reset.

On the bus ride to Juscha's pad, the only outlet I had to engage emotionally was through music, ironically the same LG phone that I had wanted to utterly destroy earlier in the day. As I sat listening to I Drove All Night (both the Celine and Cyndi Lauper versions), I again found myself about to cry. I live with a disease that could eventually kill me. I also know that if I had to I could run a marathon and that I have had no discernable change in physical health even with a compromised immune system thanks to HIV. My cousin, who until several months ago was fit as a horse, finds it hard to get up the energy to get the fuck out of bed. What. The. Fuck.

In my world things don't happen this way. Bad things that happen to good people blow my fucking mind. I made stupid ass choices and because of my stupid ass choices, I ended up with a disease. Yes indeed, I had the shit beaten out of me growing up and because of my childhood I ended up with a whole mess of mental health issues that helped me fast and quick down the road to those bad choices---but in the end I still made them.

Jimmy is suffering from some shit that he in no way earned or played a part in getting. Again. What. The. Fuck.

I am going to have a God damn anuerism right here on this futon...and I hope I do. Cuz I am hitting the other side kicking ass and calling names. St. Peter...fuck you bitch...KAPOW! Archangel Michael...suck my dick...BAM! St. Francis...you bitch ass pansy....CRACK! I am taking out every saint, cherub, seraphim, and archangel I can find. And then I'm heading up to the Big House to have some words with JC and his pops.

Basically. I'm pissed. And I am going to take nap. Pray for Jimmy ya'll. He needs it. And my prayers are to full of other words right now for God to hear me.

Thanks To You Blog Readers and Femme Mafia Shout Out!

I thought that I would write an appreciation to my blog readers. I am always surprised at the number of people that actual wade their way through the largerly unrelated exhortations that I spew out onto the web. I am always tickled when folks leave comments on things that I have written, but I have come to realize, from passing comments from folks I see in the real world, that many of my friends are out there reading away. Thank you to you all! And thank you to my mystery readers in Israel. Shalom y'all. Shalom.

Just as a side note, I hung out with folks from the Minneapolis chapter of Femme Mafia last night. We had an absolute blast. After a meeting in the park where we shared some stir fried bok choy and a couple of salads passed around, we all piled in at Jack and Nicole's pad and watched Dirty Dancing outside in the backyard on a projector screen (thanks Jayel!). We were all starving, and the little bags of baby carrots were not quite cutting it. At one point, several of us were praying for Jesus to send down sausage pizza from Heave to sate our hunger. Jesus wasn't taking calls at that time, unfortunately.

Over the course of the evening we made many a lusty comment about Patrick Swayze's tight little bum, there was group consensus that the dirty dancing lesbian and gay twink couple were our favorite, and, of course, there was general agreement that Patrick put the Sway in Swayze...aka...he's a big old mo. Cuz...nobody puts baby in a corner.

After such a great evening, there is only one thing to say....TATTERS!

Thanks To You Blog Readers and Femme Mafia Shout Out!

I thought that I would write an appreciation to my blog readers. I am always surprised at the number of people that actual wade their way through the largerly unrelated exhortations that I spew out onto the web. I am always tickled when folks leave comments on things that I have written, but I have come to realize, from passing comments from folks I see in the real world, that many of my friends are out there reading away. Thank you to you all! And thank you to my mystery readers in Israel. Shalom y'all. Shalom.

Just as a side note, I hung out with folks from the Minneapolis chapter of Femme Mafia last night. We had an absolute blast. After a meeting in the park where we shared some stir fried bok choy and a couple of salads passed around, we all piled in at Jack and Nicole's pad and watched Dirty Dancing outside in the backyard on a projector screen (thanks Jayel!). We were all starving, and the little bags of baby carrots were not quite cutting it. At one point, several of us were praying for Jesus to send down sausage pizza from Heave to sate our hunger. Jesus wasn't taking calls at that time, unfortunately.

Over the course of the evening we made many a lusty comment about Patrick Swayze's tight little bum, there was group consensus that the dirty dancing lesbian and gay twink couple were our favorite, and, of course, there was general agreement that Patrick put the Sway in Swayze...aka...he's a big old mo. Cuz...nobody puts baby in a corner.

After such a great evening, there is only one thing to say....TATTERS!

Pay My Telephone Bills

I am tired. The sun is shining outside, I am nursing a cup of java, and I am so tired that if my state representative wasn't sitting at a table across from me in this coffee shop, I would shamelessly let my head drop to my chest and start drooling.

Someone somewhere forgot to tell “the movement” about the 40 hour work week, mandatory lunch breaks, and vacation. I have been going strong now since weekend before weekend before last. Don't get me wrong, I love my job. Which is why I am so damn upset that, like so many non-profits, we are facing shutting our doors.

In a world that values conformity, corporate principles, and shady values...working for a self-identified revolutionary organization whose aim is to rip apart the oppressive power systems of this country and re-build using democratic practices rooted in liberation is pretty much a recipe for reducing your potential funding streams to your crazy eccentric uncle Fred who wears a bra on his head and the millions of poor folks that want to see real change in the world.

Unfortunately, Fred is too worried about the aliens scanning his brain waves to write a check, and we don't have the advertising budget to reach the millions of natural allies that would be happy to send us $5 to support our work (100,000 people x $5=a budget for revolutionary change). See Mom, I paid attention in math class.

I have faith that my little organization that this weekend blew the tops off roughly a thousand folks that attended our workshops and plenaries during Democracy Day and the National Conference on Media Reform will still be around three months from now. But, we could use your help.

If you believe that this country has some seriously deep flaws and needs some serious help. Then take a serious moment to go to www.libertytreefdr.org, and consider making a serious donation.

Humility Is Not My Favorite Virtue

I have had a bad habit lately (basically for a week) of lashing out at folks when the true target of my ire is someone else. I did it to Tay last week. I did it to Ross today. I am batting 0-2 right now. Sometimes I hate being a Minnesotan.

Passive aggressiveness is fed to us her from the tit. Before we can walk we can snub, cold shoulder, patronize, and plot the destruction of our assassins in such a way that the Medicis themselves would stand up and cheer.

I pride myself on trying to be as direct as possible with folks. I have come a long way from the time when I practice passive aggressive behavior so well I could convince the target of my ire to be angry at themselves for something I did. That was a truly evil super power. But, I gave up my wicked ways and instead sought to use my powers for good.

For the last week I've felt like Superman when he touches green Kryptonite...my evil super twin comes out and hurls all my anger and frustration at the innocent bystander standing right next to my true target.

Today I publicly apologized for lashing out at Ross. Humble pie tastes like rotted ass dipped in vomit swirled in baby shit and covered in mutant pissed off maggots. But swallow it I did.