I shame the matriarchy

what is a "sexbot"?
is it the same as a "fuckbot"?
the same as a "fembot"?

what does a "sexbot" look like? has anyone ever actually seen one?

is a "sexbot" "sex-positive"? is someone who identifies as "sex-positive" by definition a "sexbot"?

UPDATE - well, everyone survived the first outing of The Realm (Acoustic Version) in several years. They saw some old musical acquaintances (who seem to be springing up everywhere these days) and played a few of their songs. our good friend AdequateDer showed up and had a drink and watched them play. This made us SO happy.

They were rusty, for sure, and did suffer for lack of opportunities to rehearse together. However, the material is still as strong and compelling as it ever was, maybe more so now that the lyrics have acquired a sort of wistful maturity over the years and the musicians have more than gained in heart and feeling what they might have lost in technical precision and lightning speed.

all in all, a worthwhile experience. at least from my point of view. I'm such a big-haired tight-jeaned starstruck groupie for my husband though, so maybe I lack objectivity. I can't help it. I just love to watch him play. he's so entertaining.

Don't forget - tonight around 10:00, The Realm at C.J. Sparrow in Cheshire. Come see my husband's chubby little fingers dance nimbly like spiders and perform miracles of fretboard finesse at Acoustic Open Mic Night (or as we like to call it, An Evening of Musical Schadenfreude).

seriously - he and his friend are both decent players, and they wrote decent songs, and it's fun to see them play. frankly, I just just just LOVE seeing my husband on stage. It makes me all stupid inside.

Meanwhile, all kinds of stuff is going on in the world - wars a-raging, orphans a-starving, bootheels a-crushing, patriarchy a-oppressing,...

and my main question, as the maelstrom of human suffering swirls around me? the biggest quandary weighing heavy on my mind? the thing that kept me up last night and distracts me from my job today?

OMG what to wear tonight...black sweater or green blouse? gold sparkly scarf or purple scarf, or no scarf at all...blue earrings or multicolored? which bracelet? which necklace?

thank god I have only one shoe choice or I might just have a seizure.

Tonight I want to be, um, pretty. and I find that nearly impossible to admit, let alone to accomplish.

the funny thing is, of all the things I've ever blogged about, of all the confessions I've made and personal information I've shared and desires I've confided (if "confided" is the word to use; I mean, this is a blog post, not a whisper in someone's ear) - this is the one that makes me most uneasy.

I guess I'm not secure enough in my masculinity to be able to admit I want to look like a regular woman this evening, and not like myself.

I'm not even particularly butch, really, in real life.

But I know we're all supposed to be over "pretty". All that extraneous "girly" stuff is distracting and poisonous and possibly even oppressive - and in my daily life, I walk that walk. my shoes are sensible, my face is makeup-free, my clothes are without exception secondhand and fashion-backward. About 99% of the time I consciously reject the tyrrany of pretty. and, you know, life goes on. I don't die over it. I'm not fired from my job on a daily basis. My husband doesn't refuse to get with me. I don't, as far as I'm aware, get any kind of shit for it from anyone. It's just not my bag, baby.

but tonight I don't want people to know that. Tonight I just want to look normal.

wannawannawanna! as Kim's kittens would say.

And I feel guilty as shit about it. of all the horrible rotten evil corrupt terrible things I've done that I ought to feel guilty for, I'm having opera-diva angst about wanting to look nice for my husband's little mini-gig.

Ha!

so which is it, blogosphere? black sweater or green blouse? put me out of my misery already so I can get back to worrying about important things...

from the Things I Wish I'd Said files:

Little Light sheds a little light -

I prefer a religious life that insists that multiple contradictory truths can coexist, and that the facts are another matter for other purposes, that lets the sacred stay weird.

I prefer to remember that love, like faith, is not tidy, is not a well-scrubbed construct of quartz and white light. It's a mess, a seething, toothy mess; it's worthy of awe, and terror, and wonder. It's worth bleeding for. It's something bigger than anything that can be cleaned up or discussed comfortably.
It's spooky. Certainly it's dangerous. It changes what you are by its simple presence, and by the risks and vulnerabilities it demands. It changes everything, but not how anyone expected. It connects things. And if Love conquers all, it frequently does so armed.

St. Valentine's Day's origins acknowledge this. Its Christian origin-legend is about bucking government control for romance, about risking lives to marry people forbidden their unions, about martyrdom for the sake of connections that exist and throb and grow in spite of the laws and bonds and weapons in their way. The scaffold of Lupercalia it's built on was a Roman fertility-festival involving wolf-howling priests anointing naked young men in sacrificial blood and sending them out to run the city, whipping the women they wanted to be fertile with, restoring the life of the city's foundations with death and bloodstains and outdoor, frantic, ecstatic sex. It wasn't always greeting cards and pink ribbon.

Right on, sister. 'Scuse me while I pick skull fragments and bits of brain out of my keyboard.

I just don't know what to say. here I thought the blogosphere was getting all boring and stuff. then I get that crazy comment that goes on and on about how The Gods are telling the computer to control you.

Is Jesus evil? You can't trust a clone, and I suspect the New Testiment was written by clones.
You be the judge.)

Men ARE the inferior (disfavored) half and when women wear promiscuous dress the gods will push men into impure (promiscuous) thoughts. The "stereotype" society ridiculed is true::women CAN corrupt men by how they dress. Because men are easily corrupted. This is a technique the gods used to eliminate many of the institutions they originally blessed us with, matchmaking being one of them, midwivery being another:::They beemed the baby out and preserved the integrity of the vagina.

I mean, is there any proof the New Testament was not written by clones?

I could learn a lot from this commenter, clearly. like how to beem out babies. that's probably a really useful skill.

Happy or Crappy Valentine's Day, as appropriate.

as I am aware that I'm currently just choking on Heterosexual Happy Couple Privilege, I won't demand that you have a happy valentine's day.

But I will certainly invite you, whoever you are, to fuck the Hallmark-Industrial Complex, if you choose, and have a happy day despite or because of your own personal circumstances. Keep all your money, boycott the cashsucking fakery of "Valentine" branding and commercialized romance, ignore all the pressure, and just go tell your favorite fellow creatures "I love you SO MUCH, and thanks for being in my life". They'll listen. They'll dig it. I promise.

in fact - hey, blogosphere:

I love you SO MUCH. Thanks for being in my life.

the usual suspects, obviously - but even those of you I have struggled with so bitterly. Even those of you whose points of view challenge and frustrate me. Even those who think this post is just one more stupid waste of bandwidth from the queen of bandwidth-wasting stupidity. Even you and even you. and even YOU. Have I argued with you about whether water is wet? then ESPECIALLY you.

Thanks for reminding me that I am part of the Human Family, in all its perverse and fuckedup and dysfunctional glory. Thanks for helping me keep the alienation and loneliness at bay, just by sparing me a few words here and there (even if those words weren't always kind). Thanks for helping me grow. Thanks.

Have the kind of day you want, whoever you are. You've earned it.

I'm still working on broadening and deepening my blogging activity, while at the same time trying to avoid indulging in every little ego skirmish round the 'sphere. I don't know if I've been successful or not, but I've been trying hard to do better with that. Unfortunately, I feel like instead of being enlightened or progressive, I've just been boring. (more obviously boring, that is.)

On the other hand, interesting things are happening in the meat-o-sphere, which I am proud to share.

For example, if you find that you're not digging your way out of a snowbank and you're in the vicinity of the town of Cheshire, CT tomorrow night around 9:30? 10:00? you can see my dear husband and his pal Charles, jointly known as The Realm, in an acoustic set at CJ Sparrow.

Mind you, this is not the same band as the wildly popular overnight sensation Thaddeus Black, whom I mentioned in my most recent post - but The Realm are most hip in their own right. They've been doing this a really long time (almost twenty years!) and definitely make a unique musical statement. you can hear some of their songs here, if that's your bag, baby.

They're progressive and challenging without being pretentious and inaccessible. oh, and they have catchy choruses. and a dreamy guitarist (swoon)...

Also, I'm coming closer to making a pretty big decision. I'm thinking about applying to Trinity College here in Hartford, as an IDP (Individualized Degree Program) student (I suppose that's their nom d'ecole for "student who is too old for kegstands"). Deadline is April 15th - feel free to nag me!

Is your iPod bored? listless? lacking in pep? looking for some new, hip tunes?

well, look no further! Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to present:

(drumroll please)

Thaddeus Black!

comprising a handsome and enthusiastic drummer, a swoony soulful lead singer, a bass player unknown to me but bearing the marquee-ready first name "Breck", and our resident guitar hero and occasional commenter AdequateDer.

I think they're pretty cool. and very non-commercial. you should listen to them right away.

why am I making such a fuss?

Here's why - my own dear husband is producing their record. Which is awesome - except he's never home anymore. It's quite an undertaking, apparently. he's off in the studio, messing around with buttons and knobs and dials and little fiddly things and bossing all the sounds around. He's pretty good at it.

he's getting all "fifth beatle" on me and is never home for dinner.

But though I am just a teensy bit lonely, I am very proud of him and his work on this project. The project is moving forward nicely and it's time to start to introduce Thaddeus Black to the world.

So, world, please feel free to comment on the songs as the spirit moves you. Good feedback is essential at this stage in the game - and by "good" I do not necessarily mean "approving". I really mean "thorough" and "constructive" and "specific".

If the lyrics happen to speak to you on a deeply emotional level, please - say so.

if they leave you going "was that supposed to be funny?" or "was that supposed to be funny?" you can say that too.

If you find some instrumental piece to be just breathtakingly transcendent, be sure to mention it.

if you find that certain moments just ain't your bag, baby, be sure to mention that too.

Who knows - they could be the next big thing! And you could say you dug them back before it was cool!

so get out there and indie up your iPod! stick it to da man!

hey, Bimbo, remember that day at the boston museum?

just for you, honey, courtesy of Yahoo News:

ROME (Reuters) - Call it the eternal embrace.

Archaeologists in Italy have discovered a couple buried 5,000 to 6,000 years ago, hugging each other.

"It's an extraordinary case," said Elena Menotti, who led the team on their dig near the northern city of Mantova.

"There has not been a double burial found in the Neolithic period, much less two people hugging -- and they really are hugging."

Menotti said she believed the two, almost certainly a man and a woman although that needs to be confirmed, died young because their teeth were mostly intact and not worn down.

"I must say that when we discovered it, we all became very excited. I've been doing this job for 25 years. I've done digs at Pompeii, all the famous sites," she told Reuters.

"But I've never been so moved because this is the discovery of something special."

A laboratory will now try to determine the couple's age at the time of death and how long they had been buried.

I wonder why the archaeologist is so "certain" that the pair are a man and a woman. bone length? pelvic width? What do y'all think?

siblings? lovers? Romeo-n-Juliet? Best Friends Forever? any thoughts?

Pursuant to the Aqua Teen Hunger Hoax, some insightful commentary by Lauren Sabina, as posted to this thread at Daily Kos:

(or, should I say, I read somewhere on some message board that someone said:)

If anything, it looks like adult swim's efforts at advertising what amounts to incredibly inexpensive, if by now well loved characters had them teaming up with in Boston at least a local artist.

While some may feel that's some kind of prostituting, or contamination of the 'purity' of ("high") art, this kind of advertising/art gig actually has a long proud tradition. And art, for many of us at least, is something that moves beyond the walls of galleries and museums, out beyond the rich into an altogether different class segment- into the everyday, genuinely interacting with people- who in tern respond or react to it (though few artists have the distinction of having their work blown up by the bomb squad), art in the street, installation pieces, and yes characters. If Mickey Mouse passes someone's test for art, then the Aqua Teen Hungerforce characters are also, to some, like it or not, art.

The fact that the "Boston Panic of '07" does not relate to these items as either advertising or art says more about the people who made those decisions (to essentially shut down thoroughfares and fuck with the lives of so many), and the times we live in than it says about the cartton figures and advertising instalation pieces themselves.

We live in an era of street cameras and amber alert communications systems and infrastructure- real hardware across roads throughout the country, and when those boards have no (usually domestic /divorce related) cases to hyperpublicize they are still sitting there, but not sitting idle, instead as a routine matter, they are being used to create the culture of hypervigilance and paranoia- screaming at commuting drivers daily "Report suspicious activity!" or "be alert for unattended packages!"

No, I'm not 'tone def' to genuine threat; I was in Jersey City on 9/11/01, only to come home to the DC area the day after travel restrictions were lifted. And yes, I've seen both the smoldering remains of the WTC in New York with my own eyes, and the aftermath at the Pentagon, for that matter, I've spent most of my adult life working against domestic terrorism- particularly against abortion providers, but damn it, jumping at every unexpected anything, from now until the "end" of the unendable war on 'terra', isn't the answer. It only provides further excuses by the real criminals in Washington to gut whatever shreds of civil liberties might still be left.

Think. Don't react. Don't overreact blindly. Don't panic, and (speaking as one living outside DC who sees every abandoned coffee cup being turned into a matter of "national security") don't paralyze a city, expending shitloads of money, time and 'man'power on crap like this.

Somewhere out there, in the real America, a ton of 18-24 year old males (sitting right in the middle of a demographic) are looking at this country and trying to figure out whether to laugh their heads off, or cry at how insane this place is really getting. Yup- you know something's not right when they're down to exploding Aqua Teen Hunger Force ads. It would be laughable, were it not so pathetic.

Then again, maybe someone just got all upset over a raised middle finger- and found 'TERRORISM!!!' a convenient excuse to deal with content they disliked- sort of like how during the Salem Witch trials, the cry of "WITCH" became a convenient way to deal with neighbors one didn't like.

as the author of the thread, Mike Doughney, said, "One of the hallmarks of a totalitarian state is the laying of bogus charges against artists."

creepy, just creepy.

Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to talk about this.

My exhusband had what I guess you could call a "porn addiction".

He'd come home after work and immediately hop online and start clicking through his vast collection of saved pictures. It was the routine. After supper he'd get back online again until about midnight, most nights.

I was in charge of curating his collection, sorting it by theme and date and any number of other criteria, and finding new and interesting additions to the collection. that was a daily job for me.

Over the seven years I was in charge of the porn collection, I saw a lot of porn. 7 years x 365 days x however-many-websites it took to find something new each day...I can't even do the math accurately.

but I observed some things, maybe some of them relevant.

I observed that for all the actual porn out there in the internet, there's at least half again as many sites that will happily take your money and give you no porn at all in return.

I observed that there's at least as much retouching, modifying, "enhancing", and straight-up fake-ass photoshop shenanigans going on as there is actual photographic documentation of various types of people engaged in various types of sexual activity.

I observed that it's easy to make a consensual scene look horrific, and just as easy to make documentary evidence of felony sex offenses look totally innocent.

I observed that while some of this sexual material really spoke to me, and some of it left me just sort of neutral, some of it made me feel dead inside, and I grieved passionately for the souls of the mothers, sisters and daughters so obviously deeply damaged and irreparably harmed.

So I had to make this weird judgment call as to whether I considered the picture to be "okay". and it was a judgment call based on... on what? on nothing. on how it made me feel. based solely on an arbitrary non-scientific little fee-fee.

dead inside? not "okay". neutral or intrigued? "okay".

Not all of the deadening, damaging stuff was naked fucking, or hardcore BDSM-style "scenes". That was the weird thing. And not all the naked fucking and hardcore BDSM fell into the "deadening, damaging" category. Some of the fully-clothed, non-tied-up, non-violently-penetrated, sometimes not-even-penetrated-at-all pictures left me a weeping, trembling wreck, wracked with guilt and sympathy and anguish for the poor woman in the picture. Conversely, some of the "gonzo-esque" stuff seemed "okay", even, dare I say it, kind of intriguing.

Some of it, although apparently a far far far cry from safe or sane or normal, looked like a legitimate documentation of consensual and non-dangerously-deviant human sexuality.

and some of it looked just-plain-WRONG.

When I told him that some of it made me feel dead inside, to his credit he said "I don't care. you're too sensitive."

When I said to him "hey, that's someone's daughter or mom or sister!" he said "I don't care. they should have been more careful, the sluts."

When I said to him "that does not look consensual," he said "I don't care."

and he'd continue on. he'd masturbate some more, on and on into the night. After a while it became more boring that traumatic.

Nonetheless, I remain somewhat ambivalent on the subject.

I hate him, but I don't hate porn.

The fact that he looked at porn didn't so much bother me. The fact that he completely did not care whether the people in the pictures were consenting - that did bother me. The fact that he made it a way of life, all day every day - that did bother me. The fact that his porn problem was MY porn problem - that bothered me too.

Even so, I am still laboring under the delusion that there's an effective way to stop trafficking and exploitation and coercion which does not limit the full range of healthy (or at least non-harmful) human sexual expression.

I don't know. any thoughts?

hey, what would you do with a whompingbig length of sari silk? I mean, if some beautiful soul whom you adore halftodeath* gave you an entire sari, gloriously purple and gold and orange, and said "go nuts", what would you do?

those things are huge, man. they're - what - six meters? eight meters? that's what-the-hell in yards?

I could learn to wrap it, I guess. but then I'd be a white girl in a sari. cool and all, but I don't think I could leave my living room for fear of being crushed under the weight of my own cultural thievery. I think not.

But I'm afraid to cut it. I'm afraid the magic will run out.

*to be completely accurate, she didn't give it to me. she said "here, this is for your sewing machine."

my sewing machine gets better presents than I do. is there no justice? I ask you...