Your smile was the first death in the family.

December 22, 2008 at 8:20 pm | Posted in writing | 1 Comment
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**I’m cleaning out my computer’s hard drive and I found a bunch of creative writing blergs from high school. They are mostly from sophomore and junior year.

Your smile was the first death in the family.

The last time I saw you smile, it was a Thursday night. I remember because you laughed at a dumb joke I told about Dick Cheney. I was particularly happy with myself because I made the joke up on my own. We were washing dishes and you were listening to me complain about corporate monopolies and the outrageous rise in Girl Scout cookies. Used to my pessimistic rants, you indulged me with a neutral shake of your head and passed me Mom’s X-Files mug to dry. There was still a smudge of cocoa on the bottom, but I put it back on the shelf anyway. Continue Reading Your smile was the first death in the family….


Obscenity is an Art: defending profanity in poetry.

December 17, 2008 at 3:46 pm | Posted in poetry, school, writing | 4 Comments
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There’s an art to sh*t, f*ck, p*ss, c*nt, c*cksucker, motherf*cker, t*ts.

Since its conception art has battled society over what the artists saw as freedom of expression and what concerned leaders labeled as obscenity. Painters, playwrights, filmmakers, authors, and poets. All have suffered from a sensitive few that mount their soapboxes and claim to be society’s protectors.

These few have no sense of subtext; their creativity is oppressed by a narrow-mindedness designed to cull impurity before it might offend. They immediately declared photographer Bill Henson’s 2008 exhibit featuring photographs of naked children as pornographic. In 1957, these purity watchers slapped Allen Ginsberg with an obscenity trial for his poem “Howl”.

Continue Reading Obscenity is an Art: defending profanity in poetry….

The penguin to do list.

December 7, 2008 at 1:44 am | Posted in Cool Things | Leave a comment
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If you would like to see a hilarious “March of the Penguins in 30 seconds” click here.

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I was 24 when my mom was born.

December 6, 2008 at 2:58 pm | Posted in writing | Leave a comment
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The first thing – past the uterine walls – they see is the bright clashing wallpaper. Ducks and llamas sashaying across a green background. The screaming follows.

The slightly dimmer scrubs and white gloves distract few from the repeated duck and llama poses. The artist undoubtedly thought This, this will properally usher the babe into humandome. Don’t tell me llamas and ducks aren’t stimulating. Oversized bills, exagerated cuddleability. The babe is lucky.

Countless mothers disagree. Continue Reading I was 24 when my mom was born….

The Daily Urinal and school plagues.

December 4, 2008 at 11:39 am | Posted in writing | Leave a comment
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My high school, a small private affair, was a typical prep-school. It was even once an all girls boarding school. We wore uniforms (saddle shoes every day for six years. No wonder I have no sense of fashion in college). We had a milk break.

In 2004 a student started the daily one-sheet, two-column newspaper “The Daily Urinal”. It was originally politically (and conservatively) slanted but has morphed since then into a hotbed forum for students to talk (rant) about pretty much anything. The DU published silly debates (which sport is better) or serious ones (political, school policy) between students or students and teachers. One boy’s article attacking the lack of diversity at school caused a large schism among students and staff alike. The administration got involved. This was, I think, the point at which the DU surpassed the school paper as “the” paper to read. The DU began a small circulation to only boys bathrooms. The staff was completely male, though they accepted guest articles from either gender. I wrote several guest articles. My junior year they began staffing one female who wrote under a pseudonym and revealed her identity at the end of the year. I was the female staff writer in 2008 writing under the name James Tiptree.

Here is one article I wrote:

San Francisco Zookeepers Mystified on Escape Again Attention urinators: It’s time to dust off your gas masks, fight like rabid soccer moms for the Costco sized hand sanitizers (or just steal Hartman’s), and haul out your ever-handy full body bubble. Two kids were not-so-mysteriously missing from my math class today. I saw the nurse make the somber call to a seventh grader’s parents on Friday. Honey, it’s baaack. The ’06 winter plague escaped from its inadequate cardboard box enclosure at the San Francisco Zoo and it smells juicy Bishop’s immune systems.

The plague did a number on us last winter, depleting class sizes to the actual student teacher ratio Bishop’s advertises on its pamphlets. It ruined my perfect attendance record – not that I didn’t try my best to knock my mother out so that I could go to school. But it seems for the millionth time that my mother had a point – and this time it was a good one (I love you mom). The plague is a sadistic machine that feeds on our fear of missing school, ending up at Parker, and consequently failing at life. Thus, we stumble to class to share fevers and phlegm and other bodily fluids that should be spread to siblings at home rather than to our schoolmates. It’s fun to brag that you suffered swallowing your stomach contents so that you wouldn’t miss APUSH. It isn’t as much fun for the three kids in APUSH and your Spanish teacher that you infected. So rather than making it easier for the aliens to beam us away for their many experiments do us all a favor and stay home.


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