fromthemouthofmoi

My next blog entry is explicit. If you are not interested in sex, vaginas, or pictures of naked bodies you should not read it or read it with a blindfold handy. I'm just warning you. It is written in the style in which I counseled clients in sex education. The blog entry is titled: These Misunderstandings Between Us. If you are sure you want to read it but wish to censor it in some way I am sure you can find an app on the internet that will plaster black blotches over things you find objectionable.  Sticky Notes on your monitor work well too.

I was wee when The Hudson still froze. We, my siblings and I, were bundled brown skin trudging across to The Bronx. Here, in Inwood, my family is not noticed; we are just a few amongst many. Anyone attempting difference is quickly reminded of the commonality of poverty; odds are we are wearing a neighbour's hand-me-downs. I've known Anne forever; I have no sense that there might have been a time when we have not been confidantes.  Green Gables was a dilapidated run down farm house in the middle of the woods when I was wee. Freda and I held hands and fancied ourselves kindred spirits as we traipsed through those woods wondering aloud if indeed we were walking the same steps as Anne and Diana once had. Freda made me kindred when she saw that I too had curly hair; she became kindred when I learned that she was a she in the midst of all boys; a configuration of family not unlike my own. Forty years later we still hold hands when we meet at airports or during a stroll ...

Today, just this morning, I received an email that said nothing. It didn't contain words of thanks, nor a good riddance. It offered no clarity or clarification. It wasn't warm but like something 'on the rocks' I heard the tinkle of ice. It wanted itself to be had, whenever it wanted to be had, and left alone when it didn't want a bother. It left a feeling woman perplexed and hurt. I can't remember if I loved the sender 30 years ago as I do today. I can't even remember if we made love. All I can remember is that with my teenage vocabulary and my awkward ways I loved him then. All this long ago teenager woman knows now, is that she sometimes pushes things away she hates or loves the most. She is thankful, O so grateful that she notices this propensity fast. Fast enough to hold onto what she doesn't want lost; learning fast and never looking back when things need to go. Here is what I do remember about myself way back then. I brought my girlfriend o...

Anytime someone says something along the lines of: You are too sensitive (after they've said something you didn't like) what they are really trying to say to you is: I can't apologize so I'm going to make my idiocy your fault. If you receive a gift from another person and the person presents it to you stating: I really loved this, the odds are you won't. Most people buy gifts with themselves in mind and they buy what they like but can't rationalize buying for themselves. They never thought of you at all. You got a gift they like. People you can usually, without exception trust, do what they say they will do and do it over long periods of time (think years). People who are full of shit can't act nice over 90 days without busting at the seams with ugly. If you don't know if he/she or it, is good, watch for 90 days. Hint: most of them bust in 30 days or less. People who never reciprocate, even if they are nice, nice, nice, are users. They...

Twerking, if you think about what is being wagged in your face, can hardly be construed sexy. Half naked is passe. Legs spread wide is kind of vulgar. Bananas, whips, and microphones that suggest the sucking of male anatomy seems infantile to me at this point. And as a woman I am kind of infuriated that the woman's movement has seen twerking as a new kind of feminism. I don't want to train men not to rape me by wagging my genitals in their face and chanting "don't touch". I also don't think mimicking porn culture advances women. Finally, feminism is not, and should not, be something capable of being embraced only by a particular age group. True feminism values the input of women from all generations, not just the nubile. Clarity, directness, negotiation and honouring the self advances women, not the emulation of the worse qualities found in men. While I understand the theory behind exposing genitals and demanding no one touch, I think in the long run it really...

It was Carlos Castaneda who first introduced me to the term 'shapeshifting'. At fourteen I was given the first book in the series, The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge. Books, which today are hotly debated as to whether they are fiction or not, but books which nonetheless had a huge impact on my concept of the world. I remember distinctly feeling that there had to be truth in the concept of alternate realities. While I can not claim to have ever seen anyone shapeshift, I certainly have had my own personal share of unexplainable occurrences that transpire when I am sleeping and which come to fruition upon waking. They are always centered around death. I dream about someone specific, wake, and find they have recently died. I believe when people die, the spirit as we understand it, visits the people that have meant something to the departing life. Of course they are people close to me in some manner or having had some great impact upon me. They are never people I se...

Unlike my previous blog entry, The Revolution Is Being Televised , experiencing and understanding Björk's music takes some effort to fully appreciate what it is that you are witnessing and hearing. I will venture to say that even if you are one that claims to be baffled by her or her music you will still be unable to look away from her videos for they are unlike any music videos made. They are experimental conceptual art films often directed by cutting edge directors. One of the aspects of poplar music that makes it memorable or catchy, moving it into the 'standard' arena, is how often it is covered and/or interpreted by other musicians. We may not like a given piece performed by artist A, but we are able to rehear it, and love the interpretation of artist F. Maybe we eventually fall in love with a piece of music when it is finally presented as an instrumental piece and we are left to explore it without lingual interference. More often, many of us use music to highli...