Sam Adams

Uhhhh … OK. Sam Adams.

Why is this news? Seriously, why is this news?

We need to reach a point where questions about who you slept with, and when, are so totally defanged that they simply don’t get to be part of the discussion. Because, it seems to me,this whole mess – and it IS a mess, an ugly one, where it looks like a mayor who I considered a reasonably honorable guy has lied, slandered, damaged reputations, smeared, incited others to lie, paid people off with jobs and paid people off with favors — it looks like all that mess was triggered by his panicking about questions whose answers have zero to do with his ability to do the job he wanted.

I don’t think Sam Adams is a pedophile. I don’t think he broke any laws. I don’t know, not for sure. Do I wish I knew, well, yeah, hell, yeah. Of COURSE I’d like to feel confident that anyone I voted for, ever, could avoid being a goddamned creep. But the sad truth is that we are fallible, weak humans, bags of mostly water that are prone to creep-like moments, even the best of us. Oh, and believe it or not, the gayest of us too,

I can live with Sam Adams’ moment of creepdom, is what I’m saying. Now I just want to see him doing his freakin’ JOB.


Rapunzel, Rapunzel …

Heh, I did an iphone post this morning from the PCC shuttle as the snow swirled around me, people — yes, it’s freakishly snowing again — talking about how my photography output has tripled or something because of the iphone.  And added a number of iphone shots of friends to prove it.  And the post got lost in the ether.  Such is life.

I do have *some* of the iphone pics on this computer, though, so here goes.


Julie was here oh, weeks ago, and we spent a lovely day together – partly here, at the MK Guth exhibition, ” Ties of Protection and Safe Keeping.” I hope to be back this week to see it again.  It’s  “an interactive sculpture composed of more than a quarter mile of synthetic golden hair” and was last seen at the Whitney … some awesome custom-made jackets were on display as well.

guth-apexThis shot’s from the PAM website.

It was all very fitting as Echo’s been very into hearing my telling of the Rapunzel story quite a lot recently.  Anyway, very surreal, lovely and moving experience … though surely in a significantly smaller space than the pic above indicates.


People! Can you BELIEVE it? We’re here, we’ve made it, it’s done! Ding dong, the witch is dead (or flown away anyway), and a new era begins.  Oh, I am jaded, but I’m also full of hope, optimism, and love.

Whatever your political stance, whatever your beliefs, whoever you voted for: you have a new President now. If you come here regularly, I suspect that you, like me, were shedding tears of joy today; but maybe not; maybe not.  And you know, you know I love you anyway, regardless of what you do in a voting booth.  That’s something we are privileged to be able to do: to be able to disagree about the hows and whos of governance, and at the same moment honor and see and love one another.  If you hate the man’s politics, if you hate his middle name: we can handle that, right?  We can join in celebration, in recognition, on that enormous common ground that we share despite those differences.  We can. We do.  We will.

We have a leader who you may not have voted for, but who — I feel certain — will lead your country, our country, forward with intelligence, resolve, wisdom.

We have seen a historic blow against our racist past, our history that we do share in some sense even if our grandparents or parents only recently arrived.

We have a man whose smallest gestures declare him to be a loving and respectful husband, a devoted and committed father, a man of deep decency, living in the White House, living in the eyes of the world.

We’ve witnessed, again, the peaceful and ceremonious transfer of enormous power that, even in days that seem grim, ought make us rejoice in and of itself.

I have cried today, over and over, cried standing in a crowd this morning and rising all together to witness the swearing-in.  I’ve cried during the speech and cried witnessing the emotional tears of an African-American mother and cried standing in front of a class of people from fifteen different countries, trying to share the transformative  potential of a leader committed to changing the ways this country relates to the rest of the world.  I’ve cried to think that torture in the name of the U.S.A. will end.  And when I think about the tax bill I’ll owe after six years of refusing to pay up to Bush, well, I gotta say I choke up all over again.

But, oh … they are tears I rejoice to shed.

How About Some Pretty Pictures?

I really feel like a full-timer this week. I’ve hit the ground running with school — mentoring, handholding, meetings, scheduling … stuff that I didn’t really used to do. I just used to teach. And now, all this other stuff. And, oh, I’m taking a class. Am I mad?

So, some pretty pictures.

img_0226A root system.

img_0232warmerThe last tree to give it up, gave it up.  In one glorious windfall. Dec. 12.

img_0234pink. pink. pink.

img_0307Weird, glorious tree.

The New,Improved Me

A year older, a dollar shorter, wiser and better. Yes, it was my birthday – a real Tuesday kind of BD, nothing special except for some calls, some emails, that indescribable subtle but deeply pleasing feeling, hey, my dear friend, you remembered me! And o’ course, the birthday dinner out, at a restaurant much uglier than I’d remembered but quite delicious. AND generous. We should be set up with naan for the next three days, *sigh*. (That in case you didn’t catch it is a sigh of satisfaction.)
As a sign of my newness and improved-ness, I’m writing this– laboriously, one-fingeredly- on my phone. Gotta say, it is far from ideal, kinda slow and crampy, but at least I’m WRITING and do you know what a PITA all-caps are? And bus ride over now; must go now. Love to all.

Happy New …

Happy New Year.

Happy resolutions and good intentions. Happy do-overs, happy clean slate, and happy, happy to us all. Oh, and happy hangover, if you rang in the new in that particular style.

Was 2008 good for you? I know for some it was, for some decidedly not. For me … eh, I’m still not quite sure. I loved my summer, but the year overall was somewhat – – dark, you could say. Issues. Stuff. You know.

Luckily, I also know there’s an important astrological reason for that. Now, I’m going to get quite semi-plausible and half-assed here, so work with me, but the idea is when you’ve reached my age (fortyish, let’s call it, and spare me your oh-but-you-don’t-look-a-day-over-thirtynine-and-a-half flattery) you get to experience Uranus opposition, Uranus half-return. That is, Uranus (and don’t giggle, now) is halfway back to where it had been in the heavens at the moment of your birth. That’s important, because the movements of these slow-moving outer planets sketch cycles of your life, cycles that begin at birth and complete when a circuit of the sun has been completed in full. Uranus circles the sun in 84 years, I understand; thus our Uranus cycle is an 84-year one, starting, peaking, declining and finishing up (or “returning”) in that time.

Well, you know what being in exactly the middle of a cycle portends, yes? That … it’s half-used-up. Half-way over, and where has it gone? How have you used it? What direction has it pointed in? Have you squandered it or ridden it up sufficiently? Because from now on, it’s all downhill, honey.

Or, yeah, not downhill really, but it feels that way, right? Hmmm. Or does it? Ahhhh – that’s what I need to sort out for myself. Personally, I love the tool of astrology. I won’t call myself a believer, a disciple, but even if all astrology offers is a metaphor, what a rich metaphor it is! This one feels particularly apt. The exact half-way point of a journey, the point of no return and the point where the overall direction has been definitively set. From now on, you can never do more than to equal the first half. And for the second half, you’ll be older, tireder! Greyer and more jaded!  Depleted!  Blah!

That’s one emotional reading, anyway. Oh but you know me: equally and overpoweringly optimistic AND logical. You’ve also got to factor in: for the first decade of that cycle, you – that is, I – that is, we – we aren’t in control of ourselves, our circumstances. For the second decade, we’re trying to grasp control, but mostly (speaking for myself anyway) failing. Enter the third decade, the twenties, and we’re getting control and the skill to use it, but still fumbling. So, the second half of the cycle – stay healthy, friends, and maybe we can really suck it dry.

I do feel optimistic that way, at least sort of, sometimes. But I’m still in the middle of this period, these months of struggling with an internal voice judging my accomplishments to date, my family life, my career, my artistic output and judging harshly. Judging my career a fizzle, my writing putrid, my painting hackish, my ceramics cloddish, my desires to mother thwarted. Judging my lifelong friendships stunted, because of my failure to really nourish them. Judging my romantic life catastrophic. And my sewing obsession unmentionable.

So that’s been my 2008. Part of it. And you? Has it been sweeter? Has it been a mix? Has it been tough?

Whatever it’s been, I hope you can kiss it goodbye with at least some tenderness.