April 29, 2003
Jordan and the Easter Bunny
On Saturday night, a drunken older woman who would identify herself only as "your favorite Easter bunny" gave Michele and I two all-access backstage passes for Coachella. After checking to make sure they were not laced with a strange zombie drug or other contraband, we strapped them on and headed for the elite zone.
It's amazing how cool you feel being on the other side of the polo field. We wandered around in a daze, chickening out on talking to the Blue Man Group whose set had just finished. Then we went and watched the Beastie Boys for a while, but from the special side of the fence. (You had to have a better Easter bunny than ours to get onstage with the Beastie Boys.)
While we were standing there, Jared Leto walked by. Some of you may remember him as "Angelface" from Fight Club, while the ladies in the house probably know him as the incredibly sexy thug Jordan Catalano from the series "My So-Called Life," the boy that Claire Danes' character stalked in every episode. As he walked by, he glanced up at me just in time to see my eyes widen and my face assume the attractively slack-jawed expression common to celebrity sightings. He was so impressed that he and his (guy) friend walked much faster past me.
I grabbed Michele's arm and dragged her off the ledge where we were standing and began to follow him. "That was Jordan Catalano, and we have to follow him now and speak to him or I will never forgive myself!" I hissed. This came out as "Nguh!"
Having known me long enough to crack my code phrases instantly, Michele allowed herself to be yanked along but said "Dood, I know who you think that is, but it's really not. I saw him, too. It's not him."
"Gruh," I said, and kept walking.
We followed him (and unfamous friend) around to the more populated elite area nearer the stage, and just managed to avoid following him into the Portapotty. (Jordan Catalano pees!) When he came out, Michele said "Oh my God, that is him." We watched as he tried to get up on stage and was politely rebuffed by a security guard. (Let's face it: "My So-Called Life" was a long time ago.) After having witnessed his rejection I felt brave enough to approach him for a picture, but was beaten to the punch by two girls who came up and started glad-handing him. They were both way cuter than me, and had the added attraction of not having been visibly stalking him for the past five minutes, but he was totally uninterested in them and kept trying to break away. I walked over anyway.
This is my big moment, by the way. Read carefully or you will miss it.
Jordan Catalano looked over at me as I was approaching shyly. He wore the face that he used to wear all the time when Angela would approach him shyly in a scene, the face that said "Even though you are Claire Danes, I am completely uninterested in you, and I find your interest in me to be inappropriate and embarrassing."
"Hi," he said, exactly the same way he used to say it to Angela in just such a scene.
"Hi," I squeaked. I then turned around and sped back to Michele and she walked me around in small circles for awhile (in full sight of him, unfortunately) until I could breathe normally. Meanwhile, in Jordan Catalano land, Jordan Catalano was leaning against the fence and smoking, just like he used to do in the popular series "My So-Called Life." (Quote from Angela in same: [thoughtfully] "It's the way he leans.") I almost died of sex appeal.
This is an example of how Jordan Catalano looks when he wants you to go away from him - the way he looked at me:
This is how Jordan Catalano looks at attractive girls who wisely pretend not to know who he is:
Posted by didofoot at 11:00 AM | Comments (12)
April 21, 2003
Fire!
I had to call 911 because a workman busted up his arm when he broke a window. I got to wait outside for the emergency people. Cops AND an ambulance AND a firetruck. It was so exciting because everyone was handsome, even the girls. I made sure to wear my hair down before they got there so that I would be the most attractive, and I frequently corrected my posture. I simpered at all the emergency personnel and they said it was all in a day's work. They had very broad shoulders. The man was bleeding but not very much and I was very brave but anyway I didn't see the blood.
Here is the order: First the police came. There was a large male police and a small female police. The large male police did not hold the door. I said "I didn't know you guys did blood," meaning mopped up blood rather than inflicted blood and the large male police cheerfully replied "We don't!" They didn't. They went backwards to the room and intimidated the bleeding man for several minutes while the ambulance was coming. It was all extremely interesting and useful.
Second, the ambulance and fire truck came at exactly the same time from different directions. The bus pulled over reluctantly but no one else did. The paramedics had a female and male, but in this case it was the female who talked and what she said was thank you! She had a blond ponytail and talked like someone who goes hiking without baths. She and the fireman had polite chatter while I walked down the hall in front of my emergency parade.
Later, Elita came rumbling down the hall when all the fun was gone. She was angry with me because I did not read my emergency manual beforehand, which clearly explains that in case of emergency it is required that I call Elita and she gets to call 911. I could not have blamed her for feeling cheated, because I had a real good time calling 911 and the dispatcher was very pleasant to me. I said I would call Elita first next time and what should I do if she was not at her desk? She grudgingly allowed as how I might be allowed to call 911 first in case of life or death, but implied that a man who had not even bled through two towels could probably have waited.
In conclusion, I had such a good time with my emergency, and I hope someday I can handle an emergency again.
Posted by didofoot at 03:16 PM | Comments (7)
April 19, 2003
The Castro was just below my elbow
Last night I dreamt I had a map of the city tattooed on my right arm, with all the neighborhoods filled in with different colors. It was so beautiful. All day I have been eyeing my bare and boring right arm with speculation.
But this tattoo was the city, and when KTV and her bike magically shrunk down to the size of a flea, I put her on my arm so she could still bike through the streets.
In this dream I missed New York, which seemed endless the one time I visited, and I thought nostagically of the time KTV and I levitated across the park. Two feet off the ground - in both senses - we flew all the way home.
Posted by didofoot at 10:00 PM | Comments (2)
April 16, 2003
My First Transgender Dog
Last night I went to my volunteer orientation for PAWS, where I was recruited to help build their float for the Pride Parade (I am going to try SO hard to be on the float) and help out at the doggie prom. A float and a prom. It's my senior year of high school all over again. Maybe I didn't actually peak at 17! I'm so hopeful.
Our orientation included a really detailed introduction to transgendered people. (Apparently most of PAWS's clients are something other than straight.) We got a list of definitions, which I might post later, and some gentle tips on how to deal with various types of transgenderism. ("A good question to ask is, 'Is there a pronoun that you would prefer me to use?'") It was all totally fascinating to me, since I, as you know, am Dorothy Gale, and not in the gay icon way.
I'm so happy to be doing something small and manageable and good. This morning was the first morning in two months that I haven't felt sad and empty when I woke up.
I really look forward to walking my first transgender dog.
Posted by didofoot at 01:17 PM | Comments (5)
April 09, 2003
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO KIMMIE
Kim, I love you and I am constantly impressed by your bravery and your uncompromising need to make the world a better place. I'm pretty inarticulate when it comes to saying how I feel about people, so I will just quote from a journal entry I wrote when we lived together in San Diego:
"I'm so domestic here. I hide in the house drinking tea and mentally knit sweaters. (I can't actually knit because I'm not allowed to have sharp objects after I kept accidentally stabbing myself with the kitchen knives.) I sit and read for five hours straight in silence, and then Kim J comes blowing through the house like a tornado, saying "Get up! Let's go out!" and rattles my dead leaf bones."
And wordless and stupid, all I can do is quote someone else. From the immortal Ani Difranco: "When I look around, I think this, this isn't good enough, and I try to to laugh at whatever life brings." Makes me think of you, shaking your fist at tyranny and keeping your sense of humor.
You are going to make me pay for that "fist at tyranny" thing with years of mockery. Sigh.
Photos courtesy of Michele
Posted by didofoot at 04:48 PM | Comments (5)
Guest Blog
I recently got cc'd on an email from Sean in response to this article wherein he explains why comparing Bush to Hitler is absurd, and I'd like to share it with you folks. (Sean, if you want to use this yourself or something, let me know and I'll take it down.) I really enjoyed hearing such a rational argument in these days of fury and spittle, and hopefully the rest of you will enjoy it as well.
I don't like it when people use certain kinds of arguments to support their cause, regardless of my feelings about the cause itself. Doing things "for the sake of the children," for instance. Comparing a world leader to Hitler almost always falls into that category. I didn't think the Saddam-Hitler comparisons were fair, and I certainly don't think Bush-Hitler comparisons are either.
This piece is dishonest. Not because the analogies it makes and the parallels it draws are wrong, per se, but they're dishonest all the same. The reason the name of Hitler is synonymous with "evil" or "worst person ever" isn't because he lost the popular vote in Germany, or because he exploited a national tragedy to consolidate power, or even because he attacked other countries with only flimsy pretexts. Hitler is a symbol of evil because of his racial programs, because of concentration camps, because of the Holocaust. Unless someone is alleging that what George Bush is doing is even remotely similar to that part of the Hitler story, the comparison is unfair. To paraphrase Samuel L. Jackson, "What Bush and Hitler did ain't in the same ballpark. Ain't even the same fucking sport!"
Bush stole an election using his brother and a questionably ethical Supreme Court; Hitler stole an election using street gangs and assassinations, including that of the Austrian prime minister. (to be fair, Bush would probably try to have Saddam assassinated if it were feasible) Also, Hitler murdered 6 million people and Bush... didn't.
This article is not even especially accurate. For one, the phrase "people of Middle Eastern descent" is used a lot, often without a lot of factual justification. (Yes, it's clever how he uses the phrase to refer to Jews, not Muslims like we readers expect) I'm not a WW2 expert, but I don't think that the firebombing of Reichstag, or issues about terrorists were used as excuses for the Anschluss. The immediate pretext for the takeover came from the banning of the country's Nazi Party. It certainly was motivated by Austria's resources, in the same way the invasion of Czechoslovakia was - Hitler made analogies to the "German automobile" working with the "Austrian chassis" in letters - but I don't agree that anti-terrorism measures were the reasons presented for the action.
Neville Chamberlain's "Peace in our time" quote refers to Hitler's invasion of Czechoslovakia, not Austria. I've heard this very same quote used to justify why the US needs to stop appeasing Saddam and invade Iraq.
The Bush-Hitler comparison is unduly prejudicial. Regardless, it's never really going to be useful to compare someone to Hitler, or Stalin, just because they're such extreme cases. If you aren't already anti-war/anti-Bush, this article isn't going to change anyone's mind. Even if you are, this kind of rhetoric can provoke a rabid anti-war type like myself to actually defend Bush.
Posted by didofoot at 08:25 AM | Comments (20)
April 03, 2003
When I look down I just miss all the good stuff, when I look up I just trip over things
Sara rescues sea turtle eggs for a living. She doesn't feed the hungry or give aid to adolescent prostitutes in Thailand. She just watches turtles lay eggs in places where the eggs will be harmed, then she digs the eggs up and moves them somewhere safer.
Dig. Gather. Dig. Deposit. It's no less good for being small.
It made me remember some things. Like the reason that I originally started taking massage classes. My uncle had a nasty form of cancer, and he started hugging people a lot more. All these hugs made me realize that most people with terrible or terminal illnesses need a lot of physical contact. Your supply of that tends to dry up when you're sick, even with something non-contagious. People are reluctant to touch or be near the sick. I wanted to become a massage therapist because touching sick people seemed like a need even I, with my basic skill-less-ness, could manage to fill.
No matter where I put my body, the wheels of this war are going to keep turning. The government will continue to do bad things. People will steal from each other. Women will be raped. No matter how much of the night you take back, there will always be more night you can't reach.
I am suspicious of movements and causes. All I can do is something small.
I emailed SFPAWS (San Francisco's Pets Are Wonderful Support) to find out when their next volunteer orientation is. They need volunteers to walk dogs for people with AIDS. Kim J told me about it a long time ago and I didn't really internalize it until now.
Leash, walk, scoop. It's small, but it's something.
Posted by didofoot at 12:00 PM | Comments (22)
