Archive for November, 2007

Annie Lennox Rocks Out On Worlds Aids Day

Posted in Music on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

A DIVA for GOOD. Annie’s My Space/Sing page.

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I Am Leaving My Father’s House.

Posted in Eve Ensler, On Poetry on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

Eve Ensler performing her poem “Leaving My Father’s House” from her book Insecure At Last – a fantastic read and very thought provoking, empowering. D honey send the book back please. There are so many difficult things about relationships like getting one’s books back.

LEAVING MY FATHER’S HOUSE

I am leaving my father’s house
Stepping out
Stepping off
Free falling outside the confines
Of what is acceptable or known.
I am leaving this cage
Which suppressed
Depressed
Made less of me
So thoroughly
I came to call it my legacy
My country
My home.
I am leaving those angry men
Whose broken hearts and wounds
Became more painful and urgent
Than my own.
I am not going to be sorry anymore
Or responsible or wrong.
I am not going to give everything
That is mine
And call it yours.
I am going to stop believing
I can wake you up
Or break open your shell
Or get you to feel
Your sorrow your grief
Your tenderness
I am going to stop mainlining my life force
Into your self-esteem:
Air pump girl blowing up boy rubber ball
You can stay flat and go nowhere by yourself.
I am leaving my father’s house
I am not going to whisper anymore or tiptoe
Or lie flat on my back,
I am not ducking, flinching, waiting till you finish
Or whimpering in the dark.
I am moving out.
I am not going back.
I am leaving my father’s house
‘Cause
I no longer believe your lies
About freedom and democracy
That it hurts you more
Than your whips or words or policies hurt me.
I am going to believe what I see:
Bruises on my neck
Floating corpses in the streets
Iraqi women with their voting fingers
Chopped off
Emaciated polar bears
Melting from corporate greed.
I am leaving your guilt-tripping fear-inducing
Evil-projecting idea of me.
I am fleeing your disguised terror of my bigness,
My hunger, my vagina, my compassion,
My tongue.
I am leaving my father’s house
I see how it is punishing spinning
Out insanely in paranoid desperation
Dividing the world into
Evildoers and saints.
I am leaving my father’s house
I do not want a position there
I will not imitate your cold tactics
To get a seat on the floor
I will not leash your prisoners
Or jerk them off
I will not starve your workers
Organize lynch mobs
Or camouflage your crimes
I will not be tits and ass on your arm
Or smile till my face breaks off.
I am leaving my father’s house
Corporate towers
Cathedrals, mosques, and synagogues
Picket-fenced houses and Pentagons.
I am going out
Past
The neighborhoods
Nations
Fundamental doctrines
And misinterpreted laws.
Past the reach of your fist
Past the fire breath of your rage
Past the tentacles of your seductive melancholy
Or your unspoken promises to change.
I am willing to be alone, disliked, slandered
And misconstrued
Because my freedom is more important
Than your so-called love.
Because my leaping
Will be the ultimate jumping off
Will be the new beginning
Without a daddy in charge,
On top
In control
Of all the goods, ideas,
Interpretations, and cash.
I am going out there by myself
But I know I will find the rest of you there
Waiting
Ready
Knee-deep in the garden
Hands raised in the water
Way way out past my father’s house.

More on 12,000 Flags for 12,000 Patriots

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

First video from today’s press conference to open the “12,000 Flags for 12,000 Patriots” tribute featuring HRC President Joe Solmonese.

Lesbian Phone Sex.

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

I always thought lesbian phone sex would go something like this…

“Hey”
“Hey”
“What are you wearing?”
“A hooded sweatshirt.”
“mmmm baby, what else?”
“my waffle weave thermal undershirt – the navy one”
“Oh stop it – what else. Please talk to me”.
“a wife beater”
“God stop it, I’m getting hot just thinking about it”

BUT IT TURNS OUT – that in fact lesbian phone sex goes something like this. Watch out you’ll wet your pants…

Goodnight On Thursday.

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2007 by boychick1


And visions of sugar plums danced through our heads (or something vaguely similar)

Don’t Ask Don’t Tell & Republican Debate.

Posted in Uncategorized on November 30, 2007 by boychick1

What year is it again? It’s so hard to listen to…you can die for our country as long as you don’t tell us you are gay.
(There is an ad before the video starts, hang in there)

The Blue Star

Posted in Uncategorized on November 29, 2007 by boychick1

The Blue Star

“Show me the place,” he said.
I removed my shirt and pointed
to a tiny star above my heart.
He leaned and listened. I could feel
his breath falling lightly, flattening
the hairs on my chest. He turned
me around, and his hands gently
plied my shoulder blades and then rose
to knead the twin columns forming
my neck, “You are an athelete?”
“No,” I said, “I’m a working man.”
“And you make?” he said. “I make
the glare for light bulbs.” “Yes,
where would we be without them?”
“In the dark.” I hear the starched
dress of the nurse behind me,
and then together they helped me
lie face up on his table, where blind
and helpless I thought of all
the men and women who had surrendered
and how little good it had done them.
The nurse took my right wrist
in her strong hands, and I
saw the doctor lean toward me,
a tiny chrome knife glinting in
one hand and tweezers in the other.
I could feel nothing, and then he said
proudly, “I have it!” and held up
the perfect little blue star, no
longer me and now bloodless. “And do
you know what we have under it?”
“No,” I said. “Another perfect star.”
I closed my eyes, but the lights
still swam before me in a sea
of golden fire. “What does it mean?”
“Mean?” he said, dabbing the place
with something cool and liquid,
and all the lights were blinking on
and off, or perhaps my eyes were
opening and closing. “Mean?” He said,
“It could mean this is who you are.”
-Philip Levine

Modern lives need more poetry. MLC