Write, Nate, Write

A very,very, very long entry in which I bare my soul through my favorite music

clax257@aol.com — Sun, 09 Feb 2003 06:19:27 GMT

I worked really hard on this. You should too. And you should read mine, because the man is a certifiable genius.

I pick: Dan Bern

1. Are you male or female?

Like most American men
I think about sports a lot
It's the one time I can get close
To a lot of really good friends of mine
And talk and yell and slap hands
And say stuff like "Sammy, you're the man, I love you"

And we pore over scores and statistics
Like Medieval Biblical scholars
And I can go into a bar
And start watching some kind of game
And I can start talking to a black guy
Or a Mexican or a Japanese
And we're laughing and slamming and crying
All because of Michael Jordan
Cause then I wish I could fly
Like most American men
--Most American Men

2. Describe yourself:

When I vote, I vote democratic
Sometimes further left like peace and freedom,
Or even libertarian
I'm pro-choice, pro-environment
Against large corporations and the neutron bomb
But when I'm stuck on the freeway
And it's hot and someone cuts me off
I think they oughta fry that son of a bitch
It's the fascist in me

I given to seven charities
I've played five different benefits
In the past month
My bumper stickers say:
Save the whales, visualize peace, NPR
But when someone's rude in a restaurant
I'd like to make them look at the barrel of a gun
And then we'll see how smug they are
It's the fascist in me
Wish I had the power to seize your house
It's the fascist in me
Wish I had the authority to take your tongue
It's the fascist in me
I'd run you naked through the middle of the town
It's the fascist in me
--Fascist In Me

3. How do people feel about you?

Confused little girl
Confused little girl

Yeah well, she grew up
Became a confuse young woman
Got a confused little job
In a confused little loft
One day she said, "Man, I'm confused"
So she went to see a therapist
She poured out her heart
She said "Man, I'm confused
Is there anything you can do to help?"

He listened very carefully
Lit a cigarette
Thoughtfully stroked his chin
And then he said, "I don't see what the problem is"

Normal sane little world
Confused little girl
--Confused Little Girl

4. How would you like others to see you?

You can categorize me
Lump me with the others
If that's the way you wanna play
You can say that the way it's been
Is exactly the way that it's gotta be
And I'll make you feel right
If you gotta feel right
Well if you're willing to live truthfully
I think you'll see
That babe I'm not the guy who
Hurt you many years ago
--I'm Not The Guy

and

Someday you'll walk where I am
And then you'll see my footprints left in the sand
I feel you moving in my wake
So please try to learn from my mistakes
Do not judge from where you stand
Someday you will understand
I want what's best for me an you
And I know that you want it too, Suzanne

As you sit there in the shade
And reflect on the choices that I have made
Just remember what I've done
Has been done in the glare of the blinding sun

Someday you will understand
Someday you'll be dealt my hand
Someday I will shout your name
And I know you're deciding the same, Suzanne
--Suzanne

5. How do you feel about yourself?

Oh, them butterflies
Fighting against the wind ;
Not movin' anyplace.

Happiest moment of my life .....

Started whippin' my jacket around,
Hard as I could do;
Yellow and white wings flickering against my feet.

Oh, them butterflies
Fast as I 'd take 'em out, more would fill the air.
Oh, them butterflies
Never felt like that before.
It was the happiest moment of my life

Thought about this the other day
Little boy playin' on a pier
Swingin' his jacket against a column of yellow and white;
I'd always seen it so beautiful.
Now I just see an angry boy
Striking out against the world.
--Butterflies

and

I look in the mirror
And I wait for the damn thing to speak
Who needs whiskers? Who needs answers?
One good question would be a relief

So I'm going to all the movies
And I memorize my lines
And try to stumble through another day
And I'm always looking for the perfect jacket
Or a million dollars or a bullet
Is it only me who goes through life this way

I'm lost, crazy lonesome
I'm a plane with no place to land
I do anything
To make me feel like a man
Make me feel like a man
--Feel Like A Man

6. Describe your girlfriend/boyfriend/interest/whatever:

You have redeemed my faith in the alley way poet
Who drinks away his nights and sleeps away his days
Recounting mad visions of princes and reckless women and desperate men

When I close my eyes
I can picture you in that red dress
Clinging to your frame
Like a cloud that settled there
And there you were
But still it was not until that first kiss
That the earth under my feet made some barely perceptible shift
And I'm coming to this moment
When I say the words that I thought
Would never ever escape my lips

I'm going to love you forever
Forever and ever
I'm going to love you forever
--Forever and Ever

and

C'mon, we'll drive up the coast
Its a Tuesday and Thursday
I can't remember, and I don't care
We'll drive to Seattle
Or else Oklahoma
Or else if we wanna
A boat to Hawaii
Or maybe Japan with the kings of karaoke
Come out!
Come on out now girl, you've gotta come out!

Maybe the only thing jumping in the car and driving can get us is
an empty tank of gas

Yeah, but it sure beats sitting around here
Maybe we'll be lucky, find our own private river valley,
or at least an all-night diner where they know how to poach and egg
Maybe we'll meet some nice people along the way,
and anyway, you know
I'll never leave you

You know I'll never leave you
--Lithuania

7. What would you rather be doing?

Let's turn off the commercials
Let's turn off the tv
How well can we get to know
Each other in an hour?
We can fight the daylight
We have that power
I'm looking for one thing real tonight
--One Thing Real

or

I'd love to trade places
with a dog for a day
to know what he thinks and what he feels
does he think about life?
does he think about God?
or just about his next meal, like us?
--Rolling Away

8. Describe your relationship with your family:

Down Midwest backseat bumpy streets
You sang my Beatles songs with me
I sang your Broadway melodies
Bad harmonies
And where would Willie Mays have been
Without Jackie Robinson?
And who can say what I'd been
Without you to lead the way
--Oh, Sister

and

You see, everything I know, I learned from my dad
He learned it all from his
And his dad just happened to be
Wrong about everything
--Hannibal

9. Describe your relationship with your friends:

You know the best friend I ever had was a dog
It sounds like a cliche unless it's happened to you
Some days that dog was the only reason I even got out of bed
--Estelle

and

So baby, when I close my eyes
You know it's you I see
You know I'm pullin' for you
As you go on your way

Don't ever hesitate
To say what's goin' on
Ain't nothing black and white
Always some new place to turn
--Albuquerque Lullaby

10. Describe the worst relationship with an ex:

We walked outside and I said, "It looks like rain"
She said, "I hate the rain"
I said, "Well, we could use some"
She said, "I don't see for what"
I said, "Well, when it rains it feels like back home in the Midwest"
She said, "As far as I'm concerned the Midwest could fall off the earth"

She's gone, she's gone
Never to return you
And some day all the planets
Will be overwhelmed when the sun explodes
And reappear as angels
In some dark corner of the universe
In God's time, not yours
--In God's Time (Not Yours)

11. Do you believe in God?

God came to me in a dream
I knew it was God
Because He had a long white beard
And a pink striped tunic
And the word "God" was spelled out above him
And an arrow pointed at his head

Well, just now it occurs to me
He could be a dog
He could be a dgo
He could be a gdo
As in Waiting for Godot
But no, no, no
It spelled "God"
The Kabbala is for crazy people
Not for me
And not, might I be so bold to say, not for God
--Lightning Jazz

12. Describe where you live:

Well, it's a late night in Chicago
I break into Wrigley Field
It's early spring
The season isn't starting for a week
It's a little after midnight
I've been playing down the street
At an open mic in a little bar
Just under the el tracks
I've noticed for a couple days that
They've been doing some work on the ballpark
They've got scaffolding up
I climb in
--Ballpark

and

Shortly before Pittsburgh the tires came off
But we kept pouring down the interstate
Heading west and slightly north
And by the time we pulled into Cleveland
And skidded to a stop
It was noon and very cold
--Ballerina

13. Describe how you live:

I've been speaking later and later in the day
Most days I don't talk 'till maybe 8 o'clock at night
It keeps me whole, keeps me holy
Keeps me way up in the mountains even when I'm on the road
Keeps me coming up for air
Keeps me airing out some cum
Keeps me cool
--Black Tornado

and

Sometimes I think I'll melt away
And in the sidewalk cracks I'll stay
And who will notice, who will call
Cause life won't change much, if at all

I close my eyes and live
I close my eyes and live another day

Another day so far from farms where I grew up
Another day, another day
Another day so far from single pair of eyes
That speak to me of home, not another night alone

Another day is done
I lay my eyes to rest
There's food, I've got a bed
And a roof above my head

I close my eyes and live
I close my eyes and live another day
--Another Day

14. Describe how you love:

I was starting to think
The world was going to end when the calendar turns
And now you're here I see the future baby
And they can let the calendar burn

New love is beautiful
But new love is sad
New love brings back all the old loves
That you've ever had
I put out a casting call
You cast a spell
And we're practicing for the millennium making love at the Chelsea hotel

So who knows what tomorrow brings
But I know where I'll be waking up
Let's just listen to our breath tonight
And the breeze through the window that you opened up
Can you feel our hearts beating
Which is yours, which is mine, who can tell
Just another day of making love at the Chelsea hotel
--Chelsea Hotel

15. How about some social commentary?

When people heard the news,
They found it hard to understand
"How could such a murderer
Come from our own land?"

But when we build walls and borders
From fear and hate and guns
The hatred turns around and
Strikes at everyone.

Maybe now we'll understand,
Maybe now we'll see;
Super Patriots are seldom friends of you and me.
They're scared and weak and cowards
And they think that with their guns
The ones they're most afraid of
Will turn around and run.

But when we stand strong together
And let love enjoy it's will,
Misfortune can't defeat us
It makes us stronger still.

Like on the nineteenth day of April,
Of Nineteen ninety-five
The day all Oklahomans will
Remember all their lives.
--Oklahoma

and

See, I do not want my politicians in my bed or in my house or house of God
I don't care what they believe or what they look like or who their daddy is
And I do not care who a senator sucks or a president fucks at all

How many ads they got on TV
What they did or did not do in the war
See I'd rather kill the guns
Then have to kill off my emotions

I'm scared to speak my mind
Or disagree
Or even move
I might get noticed

Man, it's just no fun anymore
The golden rule has changed
Fire unto others before they fire unto you

I don't need no more erection pills
I don't need a million baldness cures
Hell, these days to die in a car crash
Is practically dignified

What's the point of going to the health club, building your body, pumping them weights
If a five-year-old can walk up and blow you away

Hey governor,
Whatchya doing about the guns?
Hey candidate,
What you gonna do about the guns?

I don't really want to die 'cuz someone's pissed off at his girlfriend
I don't want my kid to die 'cuz someone didn't make the football team

I don't care what John Rocker says
The first amendment's good by me
But the second one's outdated
It's ashes ought to be burned and scattered

We're talking disarmament
Disarmament
Disarmament
Disarmament
--Disarmament

16. Share a few words of wisdom:

Talk to your kids, play with your kids
Tell 'em your dreams, and your disappointments
Listen with your kids, and listen to your kids
Watch your kids, and let your kids watch you
Tell your kids the truth, as best as you can tell it
No use telling lies, your kids can always smell it
Cook for your kids, have your kids cook for you
Sing with your kids, teach your kids the blues
Learn their games, teach them yours
Touch your kids, find out what they know
Be sad with your kids, be stupid with your kids
Laugh with your kids, cry with your kids
Be yourself with your kids , be real with your kids
Embarrass your kids, let them embarrass you
Be strong with your kids, be tough with your kids
Be firm with your kids, say no to your kids,
Say yes to your kids, take it easy on your kids
You were a kid not so long ago
There's things you know, your kids will never know
There's places they live where you will never go
So dance with your kids, paint with your kids
Walk with your kids, tell stories to your kids
One day your kids, won't be kids
Maybe they'll have kids of their own
Lets hope they talk to their kids
Play with their kids
Tell 'em their dreams
And their disappointments
--Kids Prayer

and

Don't let your heart
Get broken by this world
At the bottom of the ocean
You might find a pearl
Don't let your heart
Get broken by this world
--Albuquerque Lullaby

17. Describe your outlook on life:

You know sometimes it feels
Like there's so much that you need
Sometimes the world is upside down
Sometimes it feels like the only thing you need
Is holdin' someone's hand as you walk through town
--Estelle

and

The best, the best, the best is yet to come
The best, the best, the best is yet to come
The best, the best, the best is yet to come
--Lightning Jazz

Hey y'all

clax257@aol.com — Fri, 07 Feb 2003 18:18:50 GMT

Nezumi commented on a post from yesterday, and she said that it's wrong for me to post here just because I've reached my posting limit in my regular journal...I just wanted to say that I understand her concern, but I've always used this journal (my personal writing journal) for posting lyrics and quotations from other people, as well as my own writing. So my posts yesterday were pretty normal for me. I like the stuff I posted yesterday so much that I thought about posting them in my regular journal, but I didn't want to overdo it, so they were relegated to this space, which I know doesn't have many readers.

I am not against posting limits per-se. I just believe that a 5-10-20 split would be MUCH more reasonable than the proposed (soon-to-be-enacted) 3-10-20 split. Just my 2 cents.

Keep this journal on your friends list to read my writings and my favorite lyrics and quotes...otherwise, catch ya later.

Love,
Nate

clax257@aol.com — Fri, 07 Feb 2003 00:07:06 GMT

From I'm The One That I Want:

"So, I had sex with a woman on the ship and I went through this whole thing, y'know, I was like: 'Am I gay? Am I straight?' And I realized: I'm just slutty. Where's my parade? What about 'slut pride'?" --Margaret Cho

clax257@aol.com — Thu, 06 Feb 2003 23:53:44 GMT

Guys like me, we don't know how it feels
Absentee even closing the deal
For every player there's a payoff in the final reel
But never with guys like me

Cause guys like me we're real good at the gate
You'll agree with the odds on the slate
And put your money on a bona fide heavy weight
And take it off guys like me
Take off guys like me

They'll pull you close but never really
Looking warm but feeling chilly
You'll describe us as impassioned
When it's just a front we fashion

Cause guys like me, we all vow to become
Clear and free of the fife and the drum
And block the circulation till we all completely numb
Let's hear it for guys like me
Let's hear it for guys like me
Let's hear it for guys
Guys like me

Lyricstime!

clax257@aol.com — Thu, 06 Feb 2003 23:53:16 GMT

Because I can't post them in my own journal because of posting limits, but I'm really feeling them, some great lyrics and a fabulous Margaret Cho transcript that confound gender and sexuality:

guess there's something wrong with me
guess I don't fit in
no one wants to touch it
no one knows where to begin
I've got more than one membership
to more than one club
and I owe my life
to the people that I love

he looks me up and down
like he knows what time it is
like he's got my number
like he thinks it's his
he says,
call me, Miss DiFranco,
if there's anything I can do
I say,
It's Mr. DiFranco to you

somedays the line I walk
turns out to be straight
other days the line tends to
deviate
I've got no criteria for sex or race
I just want to hear your voice
I just want to see your face

She looks me up and down
like she thinks that I'll mature
like she's got my number
like it belongs to her
she says,
call me, Ms. DiFranco
if there's anything I can do
I say, I've got spots
I've got
stripes, too

their eyes are all asking
are you in, or are you out
and I think, oh man,
what is this about?
tonight you can't put me
up on any shelf
'cause I came here alone
I'm gonna leave by myself

I just want to show you
the way that I feel
and when I get tired
you can take the wheel
to me what's more important
is the person that I bring
not just getting to the same restaraunt
and eating the same thing

guess there's something wrong with me
guess I don't fit in
no one wants to touch it
no one knows where to begin
I've more than one membership
to more than one club
and I owe my life to the people that I love

Written by my wonderful sister, therese19

clax257@aol.com — Thu, 14 Nov 2002 00:16:14 GMT

The smoke curled from my lips.
In breaths.
The music soothed my soul.
Sitting underneath the spotlight I let my reflection lay on the table.
I leaned back and rested my head on the seat behind me.
I was calm.
The music jolted the club.
I was surrounded by the music.
Only music.
Not my problems.
Not my fears.
Not my insecurities.
I was not alone.
Music.
Music was with me.

--Therese Claxton

I hadn't known that she was a poet until this, but she definitely is. I'm so impressed. I love her.

Love,
Anita

clax257@aol.com — Mon, 11 Nov 2002 05:28:35 GMT

I'm listening to a love song.
Why is everything a love song?
I hate love songs.
I've never been in love.
I don't relate. I can't relate.
I'm sure I'm not the only one.
So why do people keep writing them?
And why do I?

I'm looking for one thing real tonight.

clax257@aol.com — Sun, 10 Nov 2002 22:06:42 GMT

Dan Bern, Martyr's, Chicago, November 9, 2002, set list:

1) "Lightning Jazz"
2) "Ballpark"
3) "Black Tornado"
4) "One Thing Real"
5) began "I'm Not The Guy," switched to "Sweetness" after one verse
6) "My Little Swastika"
7) "Cure for AIDS"
8) "God Said No"
9) "Hannibal"
10) "Talkin' Al Kida Blues"
11) "Witness"
12) "Chelsea Hotel"
13) "Friends"
14) "Peach in Paris" (?)
15) "Suzanne"
16) "Jerusalem"
17) "My Little Swastika" (reprise)
Encore:
18) "Missing Link"

The full story:

I lef tthe dorm sometime after 8:00 PM, and realized that I didn't have my CTA farecard or any change, since i had changed my jeans. I decided I might have enough dimes to pay for the bus, and then I would buy another farecard at the Red Line station. As it turns out, the bus fare machine was broken, so someone was looking out for me. :-)

I got lost on the Brown Line. I wasn't sure which stop was the right one, so I went too far. Also, it was as rainy as I had ever seen Chicago. For a moment--just a moment--I considered giving up and going back to the dorm. It was 9:45 by this point, and the concert was set to begin at 10:00. But I knew that if I didn't go, I would hurt myself for the longest time (a phrase from a friend's email a year ago, when he thought he had missed out on seeing Billy Joel live), so I got back on the train and trucked ahead. As it was, I found the club (Martyr's) without too much trouble, once I was at the right stop. I picked up a CTA map, which helped. The directions were the other thing I had left in my other pair of jeans.

I got to the club at exactly 10:00 PM, but there was no music yet, which was good. I got a Diet Coke and a slice of pizza, as I hadn't had dinner, and I didn't want to cloud my judgement or enjoyment of the concert with alcohol...plus drinking makes me sleepy, which would have been bad, since I got back to my dorm at nearly 3:00 AM. There was going to be an opening act, which I hadn't realized. It was Andy Stochansky, who Ian tells me is Ani Difranco's husband and long-time drummer. He was very, very good...He was very alternative poppy (no, not the flower, the sound), and a lot of fun. I got kind of mad because people right up front talked through the whole thing, but I suppose that's what being an opening act is about, sometimes. He had some dedicated fans there, as well, which was good. I also saw some girls from school at this point, which made me happy. I know we will greet each other happily the next time we see each other on the quads.

Andy played for nearly an hour and a half, which was great. When he was done, however, I was SO ready to see Dan. I pushed my way to the front (it helps to be a 5'3" blonde girl who can sneak between people and charm some of them, and if necessary use the "I can't see" excuse. Using all these tactics, I got to the stage, and sat down on the edge of it in between a couple of speakers. Here I met another college-age girl who had been into Dan for a year and a half, and a couple of frat-looking guys who were also big fans.

Dan's band, and finally Dan, wandered around on the stage setting up for awhile. Dan came over and found a copy of Andy's set list on the ground, and handed it to me, and I gave it to the girl behind me (I'm sure I will kick myself for doing so if he ever gets famous...but, whatever). Dan started playing around 11:45. He seemed to be in a great mood, as he started without back-up, performing "Lightning Jazz," which is one of my favorite songs, and one of the ones I use to introduce other people to his music. It was great to finally be able to sing "Hey God, hey God" with the rest of the audience. Next he welcomed himself to Chicago with, "So, the Cubs lost this year. That must be weird for you guys, what's it like?" Heehee. Then he talked about how he used to live in Chicago and loved Wrigley Field, leading into the song "Ballpark," which is about his midnight jaunt in Wrigley Field a few years ago. Then the band came on with a heart-wrenching version of "Black Tornado." Wow. All the time I was sitting on the edge of the stage singing along, and he and his keyboardist Will kept looking at me and smiling. This came to a head in the next song, "One Thing Real," when he was doing a guitar riff and leaned down right into my face. I could see every drop of sweat on his forehead, and I wanted to touch his cheek or kiss him, but I was kind of frozen in shock. I nearly fainted afterwards, and the people around me understood exactly how I felt.

The next "section" of songs started with a discussion of a conversation he had had in the restroom with some guy before the show. The guy and his friend had a bet going as to what the first song was going to be. It turned out they were both wrong, but the guy's friend bet on "I'm Not The Guy," while the guy bet on "Sweetness." Dan wondered if the bet still stood based on which song he played first, but he was upset because there was no money riding on the bet, so he started "I'm Not The Guy." After half a verse, though, one of his strings broke! So he stopped playing, and while he was adjusting another guitar, the guy yelled out "$10 bucks!" So "I'm Not The Guy" was forgotten and he played "Sweetness" instead. Dan apparently got $5 from the guy for helping him out. After "Sweetness" he segued into "My Little Swastika," an amazing new song, by saying that he and Will had a bet as to whether they could sell all the copies of the new Swastika EP that night. I hope he won, since he said they would. He also said that he would do anything (within limits) "for or with" anybody after the show to get them to buy a copy. This is the new theme song for his band, the International Jewish Banking Conspiracy. Heehee.

The band then broke into a great, thumping, fun version of "Cure for AIDS." This was followed up by a tear-jerking, very quiet version of "God Said No." After the show, my friend Ian, who saw him at Borders earlier that day, told me that when he played the song there he had introduced it by saying it was about "a chance encounter I had one day." Hee. I really noticed tonight (again) how much he sings about God and such. And how well he does it. Yay. The band took a break, except for the drummer, after that. The drummer pulled out a bongo drum, and Dan and he did a very beat-based version of "Hannibal." There was lots of screaming when everyone heard the first line and realized what it was. SO powerful. It is so good to hear him play the old stuff.

Next was Dan all by himself, beginning the song with "this wouldn't be a rock show without a talking blues song." Damn straight, I love how he thinks. He launched in the "Talkin' Al Kida Blues," from the new EP. It is a very funny and poignant and well-rhymed song about America since September 11th, and he had a lot of fun with it, as did the audience. He does a great Dubya impression, by the way. Next, the band all came back on, ready to jam. They played "Witness," with a very long bridge in the middle, which included a vote by the audience as to whether the Sox rule or suck. According to the audience (but not me) they suck...I guess that's proof that we were on the North Side.

After each of the last few songs, the girl behind me and the guys next to me had been yelling "Chelsea Hotel." I was yelling "Estelle," which I realize rhymes, so he may have thought I was saying the same thing. In any case, the band did "Chelsea Hotel" at this point, and I couldn't complain..it was amazing. It's definitely one of his best songs. I especially liked it when he sang "practicing for the NEXT millenium." Hee. Next, by himself, stomping along (if you've seen him in concert, you know that he stomps the beat A LOT), he sang "Friends" from the new EP. A cute, short, funny song involving the question "Where did my friends go?" and all the possible answers. The next song was very talking blues, and I'm not sure of the name. I think it is the French-named song from his new book/CD, but I can't be sure. There is French in it, but part of the refrain is "the peach that I bought in Paris." If you know what it is, more power to you. Anyway, it was a lot of fun, especially with all the alliteration. Next he and the band launched into "Suzanne," which is one of my favorite songs of his. It almost made up for not hearing "Estelle."

Next, in possibly the highlight of the entire show, was an awesome sing-along version of "Jerusalem." The band apparently has sign language for the words to this song, which was hilarious. And when Dan reached "I am the Messiah," everyone in the audience was screaming and shaking their fists in the air. At this point he body-surfed into the crowd. Really. It was so cool. He's a pretty big guy, but we handled it well. And yes, I got to hold his ass. When he got back onto the stage he said "You guys have been working out!" It was so cool. I think that's the theme of this essay.

To wind up the concert, he and the band sang "My Little Swastika" again, and of course the entire audience sang along. It's a great theme song.

Of course there was an encore, which was "Missing Link," a fabulous older tune. The refrain, "Aliens came and they fucked the monkey, they funked the monkey, they fucked the monkey" was sung about 20 times. It was great. The version went on for at least 8 minutes.

When the concert was over, Dan put on a winter cap and hung out at the merchandise booth, as promised. Before going over to him, I crawled onto the stage and grabbed his beer bottle, a Heineken (Ian says this is what he always drinks). I dumped out the last of it (I know I should have drunk it, but I hate beer), put my lips around the edge, and then stuck it in my pocket to take home. I'm going to keep flowers in it, I think. Then I went over to Dan, and worked on opening the CDs I had bought so that he could sign them while he took a picture with the girl who had been next to me. He recognized me from the front row and was incredibly friendly. I told him that I love his music, and that the concert had made my month. he signed a CD for me and one for Ian, and then he gave me a big hug. He was still all sweaty from the show. He kissed me on the right cheek. Yay! I would say I'm never going to wash it again, but...ew. And anyway, I already have. I had to get that makeup off, after all.

I made it home safely, floating on my own little cloud (unfortunately, I also had to take the CTA). It was the best night of my life, by far. Wow.

Love,
Anita

clax257@aol.com — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 19:22:54 GMT

Ok, so since this is my journal and I'm allowed to post whatever I want, I think I will extend its uses to postings of other peoples' writings as well...because some stuff is so good I wish I had written it in the first place, and it gives me something to which to aspire.

"A Perfect Sonnet"
by Bright Eyes

Lately I've been wishing I had one desire
Something that would make me never want another
Something that would make it so that nothing matters
All would be clear then
But I guess I'll have to settle for a for a few brief moments
And watch it all dissolve into a single second
And try to write it down into a perfect sonnet
Or one foolish line
Cause that's all that you'll get
So you'll have to accept
You are here and then you're gone
But I believe that lovers should be tied together
Thrown into the ocean in the worst of weather
Left there to drown
Left there to drown in their innocence
But as for me I'm coming to the final chapter
I read all of the pages and there's still no answer
Only all that was before I know must soon come after
That's the only way it can be
So I stand in the sun
And I breathe with my lungs
Trying to spare me the weight of the truth
Saying everything you've ever seen was just a mirror
You've spent your whole life sweating in an endless fever
And laying in a bathtub full of freezing water
Wishing you were a ghost
But once you knew a girl and you named her "Lover"
Danced with her in kitchens through the greenest summer
But autumn came, she disappeared, you can't remember
Where she said she was going to
But you know that she's gone
Cause she left you a song
That you don't want to sing
Singing, I believe that lovers should be chained together
Thrown into a fire with their songs and letters
Left there to burn
Left there to burn in their arrogance
But as for me I'm coming to my final failure
I've killed myself with changes trying to make things better
And ended up becoming something other
than what I had planned to be
All right
I believe that lovers should be draped in flowers
And laid entwined together on a bed of clover
Left there to sleep
Left there to dream of their happiness

Love,
Anita

So, I wrote my very own manifesto...

clax257@aol.com — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 07:32:14 GMT

In our Gender Studies class, we've read manifestos by various feminist groups. Our midterm assignment was to write our own, incorporating what we liked from the others and rejecting what we didn't like, and adding our own ideas. I thought I would share mine. Any comments would be welcome--especially before Monday at 2 PM!

Each wave of feminism had presented a new face to the world, centering on a fresh definition of womanhood and a list of grievances that women face in society. These statements have come from a wide variety of sources: Marxist feminist, black feminists, lesbian feminists, and even transgender feminist. The communities agree on the inequality found in our world, and the necessity for the advancement of women, but directly after making this assertion they differ on what must be done, how it is to be realized, and even who must act. While Shulamith Firestone calls for a change to be made in the "capitalist" family system using Marxist theories of communism and modern theories of reproduction, the Combahee River Collective sees the problems of women ignored in their community in favor of the issue of racism, Radicalesbians pushes for absolute separatism of women from "our oppressors" (Radicalesbians, "The Woman Identified Woman," The Second Wave, p.156), and the transfeminists concern themselves with the definition of "woman" and the problems in society centering around that definition. It is disheartening to find, however, that, except to some extent in the "Transfeminist Manifesto," there is no understanding in these pieces of the fluidity of sex and gender-from homosexual to heterosexual and from male to female, from which must follow the cry for not simply feminism, but equalism.

In her piece, "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence," Adrienne Rich theorizes the existence of "a lesbian continuum to include a range-through each woman's life and throughout history-of woman-identified experience" (Rich, "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Experience," Powers of Desire, p.192). This makes more sense than the current sex-gender system, which relies on categorizing male and female, homosexual and heterosexual in a binary fashion and divides everything, including rights and respect, down these lines. Rich creates her continuum within the boundaries of lesbianism, however. It is her claim that heterosexuality is often forced on a woman by the male-dominated society, but that in actuality women have lesbian tendencies from birth, the strength of which depends upon the individual woman, and which can be observed in her friendships with other women. In Rich's article this theory is useful both to debunk the myth that "most women are homosexual" (Chodorow qtd. in Rich, "Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Experience," Powers of Desire, p.192) and to challenge the sex-gender system, but as a gynocentrist she does not stretch this theory to its logical end.

Starting with Rich's theory, which states that women are not innately heterosexual, but most are lesbians to different degrees, one wonders if it may be applied in other situations. Rich herself deals with the issue from a Freudian perspective, claiming that the Oedipus complex creates a world in which both women and men are attracted to their primary providers, their mothers. She explains that women become involved in heterosexual relationships because of society's pressure, which originally stems from domination by men who are afraid they will lack any power among the naturally homosexual female community. This can be taken as fact or as psychological tripe, as one wishes, but it fails to explain why there are so many other variants of sexuality besides lesbianism and heterosexuality. If all people are attracted to women, why are there homosexual men? Doesn't this break the mold of society, as well as fail to give men the power they "desire" from women? Why do some men and women identify themselves as bisexual, pansexual, or even asexual? What about those who go further than to deviate from sexual norms, and cross the gender barrier? The Radicalesbians remind us that lesbianism is used against women in power, as a slur. It is blatantly evident in today's world that not only feminists and lesbian are put down for their sexual and political orientations, but instead that a much larger population is discriminated against for deviating from the assigned gender and sexual categories. At one point, lesbianism and feminism were just hitting the societal radar screen, but in this new millennium new categories have been discovered and people are struggling to accept them, and many dismiss them just as feminism was once dismissed.

It is a tragedy in this world that we consider ourselves so advanced and yet so many people don't "fit in" our sex and gender system. The questions about why these differences exist may prove rhetorical, or they may someday be discovered by scientists, but the fact remains that our sex and gender categories are inadequate and exclusive, and that those who do not "fit in" end up standing out as much as a powerful woman in an office full of men did 30 years ago, and are subject to as much ridicule and discrimination as this so-called "lesbian" would have been and in too many cases still is. I propose that a new sex/gender system must be created, based on Rich's continuum, but broadened to cover each of the sex/gender systems. Certainly there are biological females in the world who are uniquely attracted to biological males, but there are also transmen who are attracted to people whose gender is in flux, undetermined, or dual (genderqueer, intersexed), and everything in between. Labels do not help us in these cases because every person is at a different point along each of these spectrums. In our obsession for categorizing, would we attempt to distinguish between a biological male who feels female 10% of the time, and one who feels female 15% of the time? This is counterproductive, as it only acts to divide us. Instead we must understand gender and sexuality to be as different in each person as each personality, and as unique each person's fingerprint. The new sex/gender system would allow for this individuality which is so regularly and inexpertly smoothed over.

The goal of the sex/gender spectrums would be to go beyond feminism to equalism. Too often, feminism rejects even supportive men, and it has unfortunately become a faction which desires power beyond equality for women, moving into supremacy and separatism. It is counter-productive for any members of our society to remove themselves from the whole, and deprive others of their talents and abilities. We must return to the root cause of feminism, which was equality: equal rights, independent of gender. To this we must add "independent of sexuality." Once freed from categories into which many people do not evenly fall, we would be free from any discrimination inherent in the system, not simply heterosexual men against hetero and homosexual women. Society would become truly free and merit-based, with no impediments created for us simply because of who we are or how we see ourselves within the two spectrums.

Feminists of the first wave suffered to create a world where women were equal to men, and those in the second wave continued this struggle and still do today, often growing frustrated with, asserting superiority over, or attempting to secede from the society of men along the way. Wrapped in this struggle, however, they did not notice the similar struggles of homosexual men, intersexed children, bisexual and pansexual people, and the transgender and genderqueer communities. Rather than continue to separate these communities, it would be most effective to combine and assert each person's individuality within the entire spectrum of society. Only then will we reach the original goal of feminism: the equality of all people, independent of sex or gender, so that no one need be in the "state of continual war with everything" (Radicalesbians, "The Woman Identified Woman," The Second Wave, p.153) that the current binary sex/gender system has forced upon us.

Hands Down

clax257@aol.com — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 00:53:34 GMT

"Hands Down"

I knew it had been too long before I stepped off the Red Line train at the Belmont stop. I remembered that feeling in my stomach, the first time I had walked across this same platform, coming to see him, and I was amazed at how similarly my stomach felt today. After all, this time it wasn't anything new. We were lovers. We had been lovers, off and on, for two years. We were as close as friends could be. We talked every week, and each time I was newly amazed by his deep voice, and we still commented in each other's journal like it was our job. We shared our stories and pictures. We even cybered, when we were both hard-up. We were still lovers. We knew each other, inside and out, so intimately. So why were the butterflies back?
The stairs looked the same as they had that Wednesday afternoon. I knew it had been a Wednesday, because I had had that long Art History class that day, which had nearly given me a coronary to sit through, and because it was the middle of the week and no one ever dates in the middle of the week, unless, like us, they needed to see each other so badly that they couldn't make it until the weekend. Today was not a Wednesday; it was a Sunday, my third day back in Chicago after too long.

As I looked at the familiar graffiti picture in the CTA station, of the man with the spiked hair, rainbow t-shirt, and giant ear piercings, I felt the butterflies double. Butterflies, I thought. Those notes I had written him were on paper from my butterfly notepad, a pad I still had somewhere, in some unused purse. I realized that I should have gotten it out and written something for him for the occasion, but then I scoffed inwardly. That was definitely overdoing it, just too damn sentimental. Then again, we knew each other. He knew that I was too damn sentimental. And I wouldn't be surprised if he had notes to give me, which would cause us both to tear up a little. That was when I decided I would have to write about this experience, at least, for him.

My stomach jumped again as I went through the door onto Belmont. I thought about him. He had been my first, in so many ways, and I his. I had met him right after coming out, just as I was coming to terms with everything and needed a supportive friend as well as a compassionate lover. He had met me when he most needed to meet a woman who would accept himself as himself. He had been my first pansexual relationship, and the first one to make me come in bed. He had been the first one I had not feared in bed. I had been his first woman, as a man. His girl. His femme. But finally, he had been more than someone's butch-he had been my guy. He had learned to love me, as a guy, just as I had learned to love without inhibitions. He had taught me to like kissing. I had not just given him oral, but sucked his dick. I had come to him as an innocent questioning girl, just coming to terms with being pansexual and genderqueer. He had come to me when he was learning to show the world that he was the man he always had been inside. We had explored together, taught each other, learned from each other, were amazed by each other, and sometimes just held hands. He had been the first guy with whom I'd ever walked around with for hours on end, holding hands, and felt totally comfortable and at home in myself and with him.

It had been too long. We had both done so much since then. After that amazing year, I had been accepted at that school on the East Coast, and off I had gone, ready to explore even more. He wasn't ready to leave Chicago, and that made sense. It was perfect for him. We had had other lovers, in the past two years. I had been with a woman, finally. More than one, to tell the truth. I had been in love again. So had he. I had been with another transguy, and so had he. Mine made me miss him, my first, and his helped him explore his pansexuality the same way he had for me. We had had our hearts broken, and cried our eyes out to each other. I had given up on love last January, and he in June. Now I was back to being a romantic and trying to encourage him to try it again, as well. I knew that we still had the same personalities that we had, that chilly October Wednesday when we met, but that they were more fleshed out and more understood, and that we had new problems to work through and new questions to answer. There were always new questions.

It was lighter tonight than it had been when we met, even though it was 7:00 PM, because now it was July as opposed to October. We had met right after Daylight Savings Time, I remembered. That time of year when it got dark too early. I had cursed the darkness then, because it prevented me from checking him out from very far away. I could only see a shadow, that time, of a young man in a leather biker jacket and baggy jeans. I looked up to check him out again, now. He was standing in the doorway of the Army Surplus Store, the same as he had that night, staring out across the street, not looking towards me. No jacket this time, because it was hot Chicago summer. Just a blue t-shirt, which I knew would match his eyes , and which looked great on his muscular frame. His muscular frame. It was the first sign that this was not the same body I had left him in. Sure, when I had left he had had his first few shots and we had counted the hairs in his sideburns, just as I had promised to that second night, but now it was a whole different story, as his sideburns came all the way past his ears, and looked sexy rather than pubescent. He looked so comfortable in himself, with his flat chest, which I knew didn't come from a compression shirt this time, and a bulge below his waist line that was no longer artificial. I felt a stirring below my own waistline when I saw that bulge. I hadn't been with a guy in a long time, and I hoped he would be able to satisfy that. No, I knew he would. His hands were in his pockets and he slouched a bit, but it looked good on him. I could tell from his posture that he knew it did, and that excited me even more. His hair was a little shorter than it had been that late fall evening, but it was the same shiny brown that made me want to run my hands through it. I instinctually put my hands up to my own head, checking my short blonde cut, even though I knew he would like it no matter what. It was windblown, but what could I do, it was Chicago. I had missed Chicago, even the winds. I was glad to be back.

I crossed the alley, and he looked over to me, his light eyes lit up, and he grinned. My heart leapt, because I knew that grin was rare-at times I had been privileged enough to know that it was reserved only for me. That same mouth that had once looked so boyish against his smooth, hairless skin was now manly. He had dark stubble above his upper lip, and on his chin grew a short goatee. I smiled, knowing that he hadn't shaven on purpose, just to show me. I felt honored. I absentmindedly turned my eyebrow ring, which the school I was going to teach for here was allowing me to keep, and remembered talking to him at the IHOP that night about my nervous habits. I realized I was walking slowly, reminiscing rather than living, and I took the last few steps at a gallop, greeting him the way I wish I had the first night. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling his soft skin through his shirt, rather than a layer of binding. I buried my head on his shoulder, breathing him in. He held me just as tightly, and I felt the muscles in his arms flex, as well as…could it be? I blushed a little to feel the pressure on my leg. I realized that it had been silly to ever wonder if he would be able to satisfy me now, since even back then he had done more to satisfy me than any man before him. I looked up and his eyes immediately met mine, piercing my soul. He moved towards me, not nervous now. He knew what to do. Our lips touched as softly as they had on the train when we parted that night two years before, but then came on with more pressure, which was what I needed. I remembered the lyrics from "our" song…He kissed me like he meant it, now just as he had then. I returned his embrace with abandon. We kissed forever, but it wasn't long enough when he pulled away a few seconds later.

"Welcome home," he said in a hushed voice, so as not to share his sentiment with all the people walking by on the busy sidewalk. In his voice I heard all the emotions of our friendship. I heard the scared trannyboy, the lover, the friend, the cracking voice of early T, and the man standing before me now. I knew they were all one and the same. I searched his face and saw the boy I had seen that night, and the boy I had seen in my dreams since then. I couldn't resist kissing him on the nose and twirled his goatee around the pointer finger of my left hand as he gazed at me, amused and not at all surprised at my impishness. He reached down to grasp my right hand for the walk to the restaurant, which I knew would seem as short on this hot summer evening as it had that cold night so many seasons before. I hoped we would wander the Boystown streets tonight the way we had back then, forgetting the way back to the train station in our eagerness to be together. Tonight, however, we had no timetable and we were not afraid to get busted.
Squeezing his hand, I whispered back, "It's been too long."

Welcome!

clax257@aol.com — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 00:17:03 GMT

Welcome to my writing journal! Let the inspiration begin...

Love,
Anita