Damn YACCS
OK, so Ev went to another version of ProBlogger and it messed up my YACCS comments. So much for improvements. Now remember, I don't know how to do codes so I don't know how to fix mine. Can someone just give me the whole YACCS code that I now should put in to replace what I have now so that my comments will work in the new ProBlogger version? Dammit.
P.S., Addendum, Whatever
It pays to cultivate smart and helpful friends!! Thanks to Gary Turner, who told me what to do, my Comments are back. And my deepest apologies for thinking that Sean Connery was Welsh (where the hell did I get that?). He's Scottish. Of course, No wonder! Thanks, Gary.
Tuesday, May 28, 2002
Hands Across the Ocean...
---or rather voices across the ocean. Gary Turner in the UK is making a hobby of collecting the voices of bloggers leaving actual voice messages on his voice mail. So, not wanting to be left behind, I added my message to his collection, which you can hear, in all my allergic nasality, by linking from his blog. (I don't think I sound as dorky as I thought I would sound -- *sigh of relief*.) You can hear Jeneane, Sharon, Shelley and Marek if you go here. See if you don't just love Gary's Scottish brogue -- sounds a little like Sean Connery, who's Welsh, I know, but still....it's the same rolling rrrrs, resonant tone. mmmm.
---or rather voices across the ocean. Gary Turner in the UK is making a hobby of collecting the voices of bloggers leaving actual voice messages on his voice mail. So, not wanting to be left behind, I added my message to his collection, which you can hear, in all my allergic nasality, by linking from his blog. (I don't think I sound as dorky as I thought I would sound -- *sigh of relief*.) You can hear Jeneane, Sharon, Shelley and Marek if you go here. See if you don't just love Gary's Scottish brogue -- sounds a little like Sean Connery, who's Welsh, I know, but still....it's the same rolling rrrrs, resonant tone. mmmm.
Monday, May 27, 2002
And for my next trick…..
So, now that the RageBoy ritual seems to have accomplished what it was intended to, my celebrity status is catching on. (No, that’s not what was intended.) Andrea is asking for my help winning the Mojo Jojo electric guitar so that she can achieve her rock star status dream.
Now, Andrea, the way Crone magic works is that we have to ask for what is “best” for you. I know that you promised that, if you get it, you
won't participate in or be the origin of any drug-ridden orgies that destroy hotel rooms. I will also give money to charity and be kind to small children. And I will go to church twice on Sunday and not swear when drivers cut me off on the freeway.
Well, we all know where good intentions lead.
However, since you write such great poetry and are such a model Geek Icon as well as a member of GEEK Force, and since you’re a BlogSister who actually posts on that weblog and also leaves nice Comments on mine, I will give it my best shot. Now, you gave me a very tight time frame – May 31. No time to find magical feathers and string beads and dig through my assorted paraphernalia for the other doodads that one needs in such situations. And not even a full moon to count on! This is going to be a tough one, so don’t get your hopes up too high. And, in the meanwhile, you’d better line up as many e-mail addresses as you can and make sure you play WinBall every day from each address. (Hey, I practice very practical magic.) And, while you're at it, make sure that you have your fave Sheryl Crowe (or other female guitar player of your choice) playing loud enough to disturb your neighbors. Oh, and buy a new guitar pick, drill a hole in it, and wear it around your neck for the rest of the week. Even better if you buy two and make them into earrings.
If you win it, of course, that was my doing. If you don’t, then I guess you just didn’t play enough WinBall. :-)
So, now that the RageBoy ritual seems to have accomplished what it was intended to, my celebrity status is catching on. (No, that’s not what was intended.) Andrea is asking for my help winning the Mojo Jojo electric guitar so that she can achieve her rock star status dream.
Now, Andrea, the way Crone magic works is that we have to ask for what is “best” for you. I know that you promised that, if you get it, you
won't participate in or be the origin of any drug-ridden orgies that destroy hotel rooms. I will also give money to charity and be kind to small children. And I will go to church twice on Sunday and not swear when drivers cut me off on the freeway.
Well, we all know where good intentions lead.
However, since you write such great poetry and are such a model Geek Icon as well as a member of GEEK Force, and since you’re a BlogSister who actually posts on that weblog and also leaves nice Comments on mine, I will give it my best shot. Now, you gave me a very tight time frame – May 31. No time to find magical feathers and string beads and dig through my assorted paraphernalia for the other doodads that one needs in such situations. And not even a full moon to count on! This is going to be a tough one, so don’t get your hopes up too high. And, in the meanwhile, you’d better line up as many e-mail addresses as you can and make sure you play WinBall every day from each address. (Hey, I practice very practical magic.) And, while you're at it, make sure that you have your fave Sheryl Crowe (or other female guitar player of your choice) playing loud enough to disturb your neighbors. Oh, and buy a new guitar pick, drill a hole in it, and wear it around your neck for the rest of the week. Even better if you buy two and make them into earrings.
If you win it, of course, that was my doing. If you don’t, then I guess you just didn’t play enough WinBall. :-)
It's so good to hear your voice.
One would tend to think that, since it's so easy to communicate online these days, we wouldn't bother using a telephone to talk with other bloggers. But that's not so. Maybe we just get to the point where we want to match a voice to the "voice." Whatever it is, there have been a lot of phone calls going on lately. I even wound up leaving Gary Turner a voice mail message on his work phone. (Well, he DID invite us to do so on his weblog.) And, after all, Jeneane and Sharon and Shelley already got to Gary's voice mail before me, and I can't stand being left behind. Of course, I forgot that Gary makes our voice messages available to the world at large, and I'm sure that I sounded like a real dork. I knew that I should have written out what I wanted to say first!!
I also called Jeneane today because she's even got a worse sinus problem that I have right now (although I'm going to need surgery, so maybe mine really is worse; but she certainly sounds and feels worse). I guess our intra-national ritual took its toll on the poor thing. Not so with RageBoy, who sounded rather chipper on the telephone. (hee hee cackle cackle says the Crone). And then Marek J called me the other day, and we had just the kind of energizing conversation that one might expect to have with Marek.
The next step has to be some sort of face to face. Too bad we can't videoconference. Nah. We need to figure out how to all get together for a real messy group hug. :-)
One would tend to think that, since it's so easy to communicate online these days, we wouldn't bother using a telephone to talk with other bloggers. But that's not so. Maybe we just get to the point where we want to match a voice to the "voice." Whatever it is, there have been a lot of phone calls going on lately. I even wound up leaving Gary Turner a voice mail message on his work phone. (Well, he DID invite us to do so on his weblog.) And, after all, Jeneane and Sharon and Shelley already got to Gary's voice mail before me, and I can't stand being left behind. Of course, I forgot that Gary makes our voice messages available to the world at large, and I'm sure that I sounded like a real dork. I knew that I should have written out what I wanted to say first!!
I also called Jeneane today because she's even got a worse sinus problem that I have right now (although I'm going to need surgery, so maybe mine really is worse; but she certainly sounds and feels worse). I guess our intra-national ritual took its toll on the poor thing. Not so with RageBoy, who sounded rather chipper on the telephone. (hee hee cackle cackle says the Crone). And then Marek J called me the other day, and we had just the kind of energizing conversation that one might expect to have with Marek.
The next step has to be some sort of face to face. Too bad we can't videoconference. Nah. We need to figure out how to all get together for a real messy group hug. :-)
Sunday, May 26, 2002
Let’s hear it for the grrrls.
Jeneane, Halley, and me stirring it up on the East Coast; Denise reflecting it back on the West Coast; RB center stage absorbing it all and finding himself buying a copy of Eve Ensler. Now try to tell me something hasn’t begun shifting in the universe!
The moon hid from my view last night, but she couldn’t hide her secrets. Denise saw a ring-‘round-the-moon. A portent if ever there was one. Jeneane and RB, ever in sync, paused to share the lucid moonlight.
This morning at about 8 a.m., which is when the moon was said to be most full-faced out this way, a brief, thunderous, and lightening-lit rainstorm. A little cosmic applause for the grrrls, Blogaria’s revisionist ladies of the nethernight.
Our part is over. But the rest isn’t.
If you believe in faeries, clap your hands.
Jeneane, Halley, and me stirring it up on the East Coast; Denise reflecting it back on the West Coast; RB center stage absorbing it all and finding himself buying a copy of Eve Ensler. Now try to tell me something hasn’t begun shifting in the universe!
The moon hid from my view last night, but she couldn’t hide her secrets. Denise saw a ring-‘round-the-moon. A portent if ever there was one. Jeneane and RB, ever in sync, paused to share the lucid moonlight.
This morning at about 8 a.m., which is when the moon was said to be most full-faced out this way, a brief, thunderous, and lightening-lit rainstorm. A little cosmic applause for the grrrls, Blogaria’s revisionist ladies of the nethernight.
Our part is over. But the rest isn’t.
If you believe in faeries, clap your hands.
Saturday, May 25, 2002
Entredeux
Being between -- between two places, two worlds, two people, two states of consciousness, two hearts, two minds. Betweentwo. Betweentwo.
As Jeneane says Helene Cixous says:
Human beings are equipped for daily life, with its rites, with its closure, its commodities, its furniture. When an event arrives which evicts us from ourselves, we do not know how to 'live.' But we must. Thus, we are launched into a space-time whose coordinates are all different from those we have always been accustomed to.
Aha! Aha! Ahas happen because of entredeux journeys.
Rituals are meant to be catalysts for certain kinds of entredeux – to evict us, launch us – force us to alter our perceptions, perspectives, permissions. To force Ahas.
Soon, soon.
I am surprised that no one has emailed me and said, What are you weird? You don’t really believe that magic ritual stuff do you? Well, almost no one. Frank Paynter asked me. He asked me some other questions, too, and I wound up writing “The Story of My Life in 5 E-mails.” If he shares any of that on his blog, you will know if I believe in magic.
Meanwhile, I will share with you one of my favorite passages from one of my favorite magical novelists, Alice Hoffman. It’s from Turtle Moon.
Every May, when the sea turtles begin their migration across West Main Street, mistaking the glow of streetlights for the moon, people go a little bit crazy. At least one teenage boy comes close to slamming his car right into the gumbo-limbo tree that grows beside the Burger King. Girls run away from home, babies cry all night, ficus hedges explode into flame, and during one particularly awful May, half a dozen rattlesnakes set themselves up in the phone booth outside the 7-Eleven and refused to budge until June.
Magic is a way to view the world.
In another hour, I will leave and go outside, where three fir trees form a perfect triangle, where the roof of a strip of garages blocks the view of those trees from the windows of my elderly frightened neighbors, who, no doubt will call the cops if they see the flicker of candlelight, if they notice the subtle whirl of shadow and sage smoke.
The clouds obscure the gleam of the full moon, but I know where it is. The same moon that nestles above the cloud cover here in upstate NY is the same moon that watches over Boulder. The moon is entredeux.
Being between -- between two places, two worlds, two people, two states of consciousness, two hearts, two minds. Betweentwo. Betweentwo.
As Jeneane says Helene Cixous says:
Human beings are equipped for daily life, with its rites, with its closure, its commodities, its furniture. When an event arrives which evicts us from ourselves, we do not know how to 'live.' But we must. Thus, we are launched into a space-time whose coordinates are all different from those we have always been accustomed to.
Aha! Aha! Ahas happen because of entredeux journeys.
Rituals are meant to be catalysts for certain kinds of entredeux – to evict us, launch us – force us to alter our perceptions, perspectives, permissions. To force Ahas.
Soon, soon.
I am surprised that no one has emailed me and said, What are you weird? You don’t really believe that magic ritual stuff do you? Well, almost no one. Frank Paynter asked me. He asked me some other questions, too, and I wound up writing “The Story of My Life in 5 E-mails.” If he shares any of that on his blog, you will know if I believe in magic.
Meanwhile, I will share with you one of my favorite passages from one of my favorite magical novelists, Alice Hoffman. It’s from Turtle Moon.
Every May, when the sea turtles begin their migration across West Main Street, mistaking the glow of streetlights for the moon, people go a little bit crazy. At least one teenage boy comes close to slamming his car right into the gumbo-limbo tree that grows beside the Burger King. Girls run away from home, babies cry all night, ficus hedges explode into flame, and during one particularly awful May, half a dozen rattlesnakes set themselves up in the phone booth outside the 7-Eleven and refused to budge until June.
Magic is a way to view the world.
In another hour, I will leave and go outside, where three fir trees form a perfect triangle, where the roof of a strip of garages blocks the view of those trees from the windows of my elderly frightened neighbors, who, no doubt will call the cops if they see the flicker of candlelight, if they notice the subtle whirl of shadow and sage smoke.
The clouds obscure the gleam of the full moon, but I know where it is. The same moon that nestles above the cloud cover here in upstate NY is the same moon that watches over Boulder. The moon is entredeux.
It’s the thinking that counts
Periodically, over at AKMA and Himmer and Sanders, and often spilling over to other fiefdoms in Blogaria, are meandering meaningful conversations about religion, afterlife, and all of the associated dogmas, beliefs, wishes, and hopes.
Again, b!X inadvertently reassures me that, somewhere along the line, I miraculously managed not to damage his soul. In his “In Heaven, Everything is Fine” post, he speculates on what if there were a Heaven in which everyone gets to spend eternity. In this thought experiment, he says:
It presents us with a profound choice: To live our lives however selfishly or destructively as we desire, since there will be no repercussions. Or to derive from this complete separation of worlds a deep sense of our own individual and collective power.
We and we alone would be responsible for making the world. We and we alone get to decide just what sort of world we wish to have.
I do believe that if b!X and Marek J. got together to join politically active forces, the universe definitely would bend a little in the right direction.
Now, whether it bends tonight when I conduct my Ritual for RageBoy is yet to be seen.
The crows already gathered in force at exactly 3 p.m. to begin cawing down the moon. Their insistent chant filled the circle of trees at the far end of the new park behind my building. It has begun, I thought, as I sat beside my re-planted garden, worshiping the drifting sun, offering the threads of my mind to Apollo, begging the beneficence of Pan with the new proliferation of basil bowing to his wanton will.
I hope it doesn’t rain before midnight.
I am thinking that, perhaps, for the Summer Solstice, when I will be on the coast of Maine, I will create a ritual for b!X – another Scorpio struggling to find a loving place in this world. Sounds about right to me.
Periodically, over at AKMA and Himmer and Sanders, and often spilling over to other fiefdoms in Blogaria, are meandering meaningful conversations about religion, afterlife, and all of the associated dogmas, beliefs, wishes, and hopes.
Again, b!X inadvertently reassures me that, somewhere along the line, I miraculously managed not to damage his soul. In his “In Heaven, Everything is Fine” post, he speculates on what if there were a Heaven in which everyone gets to spend eternity. In this thought experiment, he says:
It presents us with a profound choice: To live our lives however selfishly or destructively as we desire, since there will be no repercussions. Or to derive from this complete separation of worlds a deep sense of our own individual and collective power.
We and we alone would be responsible for making the world. We and we alone get to decide just what sort of world we wish to have.
I do believe that if b!X and Marek J. got together to join politically active forces, the universe definitely would bend a little in the right direction.
Now, whether it bends tonight when I conduct my Ritual for RageBoy is yet to be seen.
The crows already gathered in force at exactly 3 p.m. to begin cawing down the moon. Their insistent chant filled the circle of trees at the far end of the new park behind my building. It has begun, I thought, as I sat beside my re-planted garden, worshiping the drifting sun, offering the threads of my mind to Apollo, begging the beneficence of Pan with the new proliferation of basil bowing to his wanton will.
I hope it doesn’t rain before midnight.
I am thinking that, perhaps, for the Summer Solstice, when I will be on the coast of Maine, I will create a ritual for b!X – another Scorpio struggling to find a loving place in this world. Sounds about right to me.
Friday, May 24, 2002
I’m not kidding, really.
I’m ready for the full moon – ritual objects representative of roots and wings: a feather that appeared before me on a path in the woods, to which I attached a tail made of fabric strips imprinted with RB’s words; a stick of wood inscribed with ancient symbols, wrapped in a double helix of golden glass, three rose quartz circles and various “milogras.” Abalone inserted into the tip. Don’t believe me? Here they are:
Selene, Diana, Hecate. Pan, Cernnunos.
Eagle, Bear, Raven, Buffalo.
Lilith, Lamia, Innana.
We are ready to rock and roll.
I’m ready for the full moon – ritual objects representative of roots and wings: a feather that appeared before me on a path in the woods, to which I attached a tail made of fabric strips imprinted with RB’s words; a stick of wood inscribed with ancient symbols, wrapped in a double helix of golden glass, three rose quartz circles and various “milogras.” Abalone inserted into the tip. Don’t believe me? Here they are:
Selene, Diana, Hecate. Pan, Cernnunos.
Eagle, Bear, Raven, Buffalo.
Lilith, Lamia, Innana.
We are ready to rock and roll.
Countdown to the Full Moon
On Sunday, May 26 at about 8 a.m. on the East Coast, the moon will be at it’s fullest. This is the time of the Full Flower Moon, the Full Milk Moon. Somewhere between midnight and midnight, RageBoy will know.
The words are ready. RageBoy gave us the words. The objects are almost ready. Feather, stick, beads, crystals, sacred images. We are waiting for the moon. Full, it magnifies any energies generated. A full moon on Sun-day. The yin with the yang. Opposites superimposed. The ultimate connectedness.
If you’re so inclined, when the moon hangs full in your night sky on Sunday, say the words, feel the universe bend just enough.
On Sunday, May 26 at about 8 a.m. on the East Coast, the moon will be at it’s fullest. This is the time of the Full Flower Moon, the Full Milk Moon. Somewhere between midnight and midnight, RageBoy will know.
The words are ready. RageBoy gave us the words. The objects are almost ready. Feather, stick, beads, crystals, sacred images. We are waiting for the moon. Full, it magnifies any energies generated. A full moon on Sun-day. The yin with the yang. Opposites superimposed. The ultimate connectedness.
If you’re so inclined, when the moon hangs full in your night sky on Sunday, say the words, feel the universe bend just enough.
Truth Telling
I'm stealing this directly from Tom Tomorrow's site, This Modern World, which is quoting the following from from Media Whores Online (but Tom's link doesn't get you to the Whore's post). Thanks to b!X who pointed me to it in an email. (Why the hell isn't he posting this himself????)
"Don't miss this story in this morning's Times. I'm going to steal a summary from Media Whores Online, because they understand what the Times seems to be overlooking:
In a stunning revelation, the New York Times has reported that among the two FBI office counterterrorism chiefs who received the now famously neglected Phoenix memorandum last July was none other than John O'Neill -- then the top counterterrorist officer in the FBI's New York City's office, and the FBI's leading expert on Osama bin Laden.
O'Neill knew perfectly well what Al Qaeda was up to, and had been knocking on doors (and, at times, heads) for years to get his colleagues and superiors to understand what he did.
The last straw came in July 2001, when (as he told the French authors Guillaume Dasquié and Jean-Charles Brisard in an interview), O'Neill became fully aware that the Bush administration, anxious over negotiations for a Caspian Sea oil pipe line, had decided to back off of tracking bin Laden and opposing the Taliban, lest it risk alienating powerful Saudi families. Instead of going after the Taliban and bin Laden, the Bush Administration decided to negotiate and try to buy off the Taliban and bin Laden.
Unfortunately for the Administration, the pipe-line negotiations broke down in August.
And on September 11, bin Laden struck.
What no one has known until now is that at the very moment that O'Neill was finally giving up, in July, he was being apprised of the Phoenix memorandum -- a memo, it seems, that practically nobody inside the Bush Administration was willing to treat seriously other than himself.
At the end of August, in disgust, O'Neill left the FBI to take what he somewhat ruefully regarded as his "retirement" job --as head of security at the World Trade Center. There, on September 11, John O'Neill died at the hands of his arch-enemy bin Laden's fiendish followers.
Connect the dots? Well, duh! O'Neill got the Phoenix message. No one would listen. No one. The Bushies had backed off bin Laden. So O'Neill changed jobs -- and went on to die a martyr's death. While all the people who ignored him, on up the chain to the Oval Office, live on -- ghoulishly making political hay out of his sacrifice and their own incompetence -- and, in a sense, their own perfidy.
But here's the really amazing thing -- having unearthed this blockbuster, the New York Times reporters David Johnston and Don Van Natta, Jr., simply bury it in their story.
They report, incredibly, that O'Neill simply "retired" back in August -- ignoring the well-known background, leaving the dots unconnected!!
What did O'Neill know back in July? Whom did he try to warn? What happened when he did so? What did his "retirement" -- and its tragic consequences -- have to do with his frustrated efforts to get Bush's people to listen to him about the Phoenix memo, and/or about everything else he knew about Osama bin Laden's clear and present danger to American lives?
Here are some questions that the Bush people don't want asked, by the New York Times, by a National Board of Investigation, or by anyone else."
I'm stealing this directly from Tom Tomorrow's site, This Modern World, which is quoting the following from from Media Whores Online (but Tom's link doesn't get you to the Whore's post). Thanks to b!X who pointed me to it in an email. (Why the hell isn't he posting this himself????)
"Don't miss this story in this morning's Times. I'm going to steal a summary from Media Whores Online, because they understand what the Times seems to be overlooking:
In a stunning revelation, the New York Times has reported that among the two FBI office counterterrorism chiefs who received the now famously neglected Phoenix memorandum last July was none other than John O'Neill -- then the top counterterrorist officer in the FBI's New York City's office, and the FBI's leading expert on Osama bin Laden.
O'Neill knew perfectly well what Al Qaeda was up to, and had been knocking on doors (and, at times, heads) for years to get his colleagues and superiors to understand what he did.
The last straw came in July 2001, when (as he told the French authors Guillaume Dasquié and Jean-Charles Brisard in an interview), O'Neill became fully aware that the Bush administration, anxious over negotiations for a Caspian Sea oil pipe line, had decided to back off of tracking bin Laden and opposing the Taliban, lest it risk alienating powerful Saudi families. Instead of going after the Taliban and bin Laden, the Bush Administration decided to negotiate and try to buy off the Taliban and bin Laden.
Unfortunately for the Administration, the pipe-line negotiations broke down in August.
And on September 11, bin Laden struck.
What no one has known until now is that at the very moment that O'Neill was finally giving up, in July, he was being apprised of the Phoenix memorandum -- a memo, it seems, that practically nobody inside the Bush Administration was willing to treat seriously other than himself.
At the end of August, in disgust, O'Neill left the FBI to take what he somewhat ruefully regarded as his "retirement" job --as head of security at the World Trade Center. There, on September 11, John O'Neill died at the hands of his arch-enemy bin Laden's fiendish followers.
Connect the dots? Well, duh! O'Neill got the Phoenix message. No one would listen. No one. The Bushies had backed off bin Laden. So O'Neill changed jobs -- and went on to die a martyr's death. While all the people who ignored him, on up the chain to the Oval Office, live on -- ghoulishly making political hay out of his sacrifice and their own incompetence -- and, in a sense, their own perfidy.
But here's the really amazing thing -- having unearthed this blockbuster, the New York Times reporters David Johnston and Don Van Natta, Jr., simply bury it in their story.
They report, incredibly, that O'Neill simply "retired" back in August -- ignoring the well-known background, leaving the dots unconnected!!
What did O'Neill know back in July? Whom did he try to warn? What happened when he did so? What did his "retirement" -- and its tragic consequences -- have to do with his frustrated efforts to get Bush's people to listen to him about the Phoenix memo, and/or about everything else he knew about Osama bin Laden's clear and present danger to American lives?
Here are some questions that the Bush people don't want asked, by the New York Times, by a National Board of Investigation, or by anyone else."
Thursday, May 23, 2002
Frank Paynter resurrects my AHA!
Back in the early feminist seventies, we were all having AHAs! -- that was how one woman writer back then (who, of course, I can't remember where or when) described the moment when we realized what had been holding us back, what had been making us angry. In the course of his e-mail interviews with me, Frank Paynter unearths the Ms. Magazine article that changed my life. My AHA! Read it here.
I had a chance to actually meet Lilly Rivlin, who wrote the article, several years ago when some of us who had contributed to Which Lilith: Feminists Writers Re-Create the First Woman -- including the editors -- gathered in a theater in Kinderhook, NY to read our pieces. What a phenomenal woman! We hugged a lot, cried a little, she gave me her card and then we each went off in our own direction to follow our chosen paths. But I've never forgotten her or how her words changed my life.
Back in the early feminist seventies, we were all having AHAs! -- that was how one woman writer back then (who, of course, I can't remember where or when) described the moment when we realized what had been holding us back, what had been making us angry. In the course of his e-mail interviews with me, Frank Paynter unearths the Ms. Magazine article that changed my life. My AHA! Read it here.
I had a chance to actually meet Lilly Rivlin, who wrote the article, several years ago when some of us who had contributed to Which Lilith: Feminists Writers Re-Create the First Woman -- including the editors -- gathered in a theater in Kinderhook, NY to read our pieces. What a phenomenal woman! We hugged a lot, cried a little, she gave me her card and then we each went off in our own direction to follow our chosen paths. But I've never forgotten her or how her words changed my life.
I have always had a thing for Spike
If you’re not a Buffy fan, then you probably don’t know who Spike is. If you read my poem about Tin Men and Fallen Angels, then you now why I’ve always had a thing for Spike. Either way or no way, you should still read this, (found via this emailed to me by b!X, who is finally back doing some good political postings). I’m not even going to try to add anything. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek gets it good.
If you’re not a Buffy fan, then you probably don’t know who Spike is. If you read my poem about Tin Men and Fallen Angels, then you now why I’ve always had a thing for Spike. Either way or no way, you should still read this, (found via this emailed to me by b!X, who is finally back doing some good political postings). I’m not even going to try to add anything. Salon's Stephanie Zacharek gets it good.
RageBoy knows the words.
Powerful words. Words of power. Uncontained power that need to be embraced. RageBoy gave me the words to draw down the moon. Wait. Wait. It’s almost time. Unplug yourself, Halley. It’s almost time.
Powerful words. Words of power. Uncontained power that need to be embraced. RageBoy gave me the words to draw down the moon. Wait. Wait. It’s almost time. Unplug yourself, Halley. It’s almost time.
Wednesday, May 22, 2002
Does Rob Breszny know about my planned virtual ritual?
This is my Free-Will Astrology reading for this week:
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): The fork did not quickly gain acceptance as an everyday eating utensil. Though introduced to Europe in the eleventh century, it was regarded as an upper class affectation for hundreds of years. "Instead of eating with her fingers like other people," a medieval clergyman wrote of a Venetian noblewoman, "the princess cuts up her food into small pieces and eats them by means of little golden forks with two prongs." I invoke this historical fact, Pisces, to draw a comparison to your life. The innovation you're now in the midst of making may be ignored and even ridiculed at first, but ultimately it will become indispensable.
This is my Free-Will Astrology reading for this week:
PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): The fork did not quickly gain acceptance as an everyday eating utensil. Though introduced to Europe in the eleventh century, it was regarded as an upper class affectation for hundreds of years. "Instead of eating with her fingers like other people," a medieval clergyman wrote of a Venetian noblewoman, "the princess cuts up her food into small pieces and eats them by means of little golden forks with two prongs." I invoke this historical fact, Pisces, to draw a comparison to your life. The innovation you're now in the midst of making may be ignored and even ridiculed at first, but ultimately it will become indispensable.
GEEK Force needs you before July 4
You can go to the site and read this, or read it here:
Global Effort to Eradicate Know-nothings
We have gone through many incarnations over the years. What are we now? Your guess is as good as ours. Perhaps we've (d)evolved into pure brand. You'll notice that the only link currently offered here is our logo to the left -- which links to our CafePress store. Is this all that has become of us? Does the path end here? Your guess is as good as ours. We've been resurrected in the past, and maybe we will be again. Well, we do have something of an idea brewing for the Fourth of July, but that's strictly hush-hush right now. All we're free to say right now is that we need pro-corporate quotes, preferably from people inside corporate America. Specifically, we need quotes that illustrate anti-labor, anti-environment, anti-public interest viewpoints etc. Quotes which illustrate corporate disdain for greater social justice. Quotes which demonstrate their desire for control over the rest of us. If you've got any, email them to us, preferably with specific attribution and source citation so we can confirm them. And let us be perfectly clear: We are looking for statements defending corporatism, but that clearly imply the threats of corporatism. They could be quotes against attempts at organizing a union. They could be quotes about how environmental laws interfere with the free market. They could be quotes which illustrate a regard only for stockholders, and to Hell with anyone else. We are not looking for anti-corporate quotes. The reasons for this will become clear once this project goes public.
Do it or the Crone with zap you with zits.
You can go to the site and read this, or read it here:
Global Effort to Eradicate Know-nothings
We have gone through many incarnations over the years. What are we now? Your guess is as good as ours. Perhaps we've (d)evolved into pure brand. You'll notice that the only link currently offered here is our logo to the left -- which links to our CafePress store. Is this all that has become of us? Does the path end here? Your guess is as good as ours. We've been resurrected in the past, and maybe we will be again. Well, we do have something of an idea brewing for the Fourth of July, but that's strictly hush-hush right now. All we're free to say right now is that we need pro-corporate quotes, preferably from people inside corporate America. Specifically, we need quotes that illustrate anti-labor, anti-environment, anti-public interest viewpoints etc. Quotes which illustrate corporate disdain for greater social justice. Quotes which demonstrate their desire for control over the rest of us. If you've got any, email them to us, preferably with specific attribution and source citation so we can confirm them. And let us be perfectly clear: We are looking for statements defending corporatism, but that clearly imply the threats of corporatism. They could be quotes against attempts at organizing a union. They could be quotes about how environmental laws interfere with the free market. They could be quotes which illustrate a regard only for stockholders, and to Hell with anyone else. We are not looking for anti-corporate quotes. The reasons for this will become clear once this project goes public.
Do it or the Crone with zap you with zits.
Do you believe in magic?
i'll tell you about the magic
it can free your soul
but it's like trying to
tell a stranger bout
rock and roll
--- the Lovin' Spoonfulls
I'm sure a believer in the magic of the web. My young Polish friend Marek J. is going to telephone me; I've already spoken by phone several times with Jeneane; Frank Paynter is interviewing me for his blog; I get personal emails from the legendary RageBoy.... what more could a cybercrone want?
For now, maybe to make her debut doing a long-distance virtual ritual. So I've decided that on the full moon, this Sunday, I'm going to perform a ritual on behalf of RageBoy. I'm not going to tell you what it is intended to do, but if you feel the earth move and the universe shift a little, you know that it's working. Do I believe in magic? I believe that there is a significant overlap between the processes of magic and the unconscious workings of the mind. And so, I am in the process of creating a ritual object and ritual words, which, combined with the "right" intention, might just work.
Those of you Buffy fans who saw the very last scene of the series finale last night might have a vague idea of the direction I'm going. So, on Sunday, May 26, when the moon rises full over your heart, think of RageBoy. I will be.
i'll tell you about the magic
it can free your soul
but it's like trying to
tell a stranger bout
rock and roll
--- the Lovin' Spoonfulls
I'm sure a believer in the magic of the web. My young Polish friend Marek J. is going to telephone me; I've already spoken by phone several times with Jeneane; Frank Paynter is interviewing me for his blog; I get personal emails from the legendary RageBoy.... what more could a cybercrone want?
For now, maybe to make her debut doing a long-distance virtual ritual. So I've decided that on the full moon, this Sunday, I'm going to perform a ritual on behalf of RageBoy. I'm not going to tell you what it is intended to do, but if you feel the earth move and the universe shift a little, you know that it's working. Do I believe in magic? I believe that there is a significant overlap between the processes of magic and the unconscious workings of the mind. And so, I am in the process of creating a ritual object and ritual words, which, combined with the "right" intention, might just work.
Those of you Buffy fans who saw the very last scene of the series finale last night might have a vague idea of the direction I'm going. So, on Sunday, May 26, when the moon rises full over your heart, think of RageBoy. I will be.
Tuesday, May 21, 2002
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBB
Today I’m going to blog about a bunch of “Bs” that I know. No, they’re not Bastards, although there are some who might hold that opinion of them.
I’ll start with rageBoy, whose life (you know if you track him on EGR) reads like one long acidy, usually libidinous, trip. Even though my GEEKforce son (another B I’ll get to later) tried to get me to subscribe to EGR’s Topica list for years, an early skim of rBoy’s assumedly skewed-brain ramblings gave me pause. A long pause. A few years pause. But somehow, here I am, not only subscribed to EGR but linked there as well. Go figure. Bs in my bonnet.
Recently rBoy discovered rob Breszny, who’s the strange brain behind Free Will Astrology. Until recently , I subscribed to a weekly astrological newsletter from Breszny, who also writes from a lopsided right brain. His bizarre readings were often strangely relevant, and I used to post them on my blog. I discovered Breszny through my B-son, as I also discovered rBoy. From what I can assume, Breszny and rBoy tripped through their coming of age in at about the same time. As did my Brother, whose brain, however, took a sharp turn to the left instead of the right. Except when he writes his music. Oddly enough, I unsubscribed to Breszny just before I decided to subscribe to rBoy. That was lucky, since I'm sure that my brain certainly would have had a major misfire trying to absorb all of that eclectic bombast. Bs in my brain.
Which leads me to b!X, my Scorpio son, of another generation than the other Bs, and, as far as I can tell since I live across the country from him, pretty much drug-free (except for nicotine and alcohol and caffeine; but I think those count too). I just discovered that both rBoy and b!X are Scorpios. (Well, I always knew b!X was; did I ever tell you that he was yelling at the world before he was all the way out of my beautiful vagina?) My Brother is also a Scorpio. Not that that’s important, but it is coincidentally interesting. There’s something fundamentally similar about b!X and rBoy. Something about having a distinct voice and the urge to use it. Only b!X has been too silent lately. That worries me. Blog b!X! Blog!! Bs in my family.
Believing in the importance of coming full circle, I’m back to rBoy and his continuing saga of self-instruction. Yes, I said Instruction not Destruction. Like the magician, the jester, the fool, -- Loki, Coyote -- with misdirection and sad reflection, his virtual antics hold a mirror to both his own complex truths and even some of our own. Blog, rBoy. Blog. Be. Be. Be.
Today I’m going to blog about a bunch of “Bs” that I know. No, they’re not Bastards, although there are some who might hold that opinion of them.
I’ll start with rageBoy, whose life (you know if you track him on EGR) reads like one long acidy, usually libidinous, trip. Even though my GEEKforce son (another B I’ll get to later) tried to get me to subscribe to EGR’s Topica list for years, an early skim of rBoy’s assumedly skewed-brain ramblings gave me pause. A long pause. A few years pause. But somehow, here I am, not only subscribed to EGR but linked there as well. Go figure. Bs in my bonnet.
Recently rBoy discovered rob Breszny, who’s the strange brain behind Free Will Astrology. Until recently , I subscribed to a weekly astrological newsletter from Breszny, who also writes from a lopsided right brain. His bizarre readings were often strangely relevant, and I used to post them on my blog. I discovered Breszny through my B-son, as I also discovered rBoy. From what I can assume, Breszny and rBoy tripped through their coming of age in at about the same time. As did my Brother, whose brain, however, took a sharp turn to the left instead of the right. Except when he writes his music. Oddly enough, I unsubscribed to Breszny just before I decided to subscribe to rBoy. That was lucky, since I'm sure that my brain certainly would have had a major misfire trying to absorb all of that eclectic bombast. Bs in my brain.
Which leads me to b!X, my Scorpio son, of another generation than the other Bs, and, as far as I can tell since I live across the country from him, pretty much drug-free (except for nicotine and alcohol and caffeine; but I think those count too). I just discovered that both rBoy and b!X are Scorpios. (Well, I always knew b!X was; did I ever tell you that he was yelling at the world before he was all the way out of my beautiful vagina?) My Brother is also a Scorpio. Not that that’s important, but it is coincidentally interesting. There’s something fundamentally similar about b!X and rBoy. Something about having a distinct voice and the urge to use it. Only b!X has been too silent lately. That worries me. Blog b!X! Blog!! Bs in my family.
Believing in the importance of coming full circle, I’m back to rBoy and his continuing saga of self-instruction. Yes, I said Instruction not Destruction. Like the magician, the jester, the fool, -- Loki, Coyote -- with misdirection and sad reflection, his virtual antics hold a mirror to both his own complex truths and even some of our own. Blog, rBoy. Blog. Be. Be. Be.
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