| | Current Music: | The Kills-"Getting Down" | | Current Location: | work | | Time: | 12:09 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/amused.gif) amused |
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| | So everytime Ryan goes out of town for a few days I get into the masochistic habit of watching Poltergeist or The Exorcist back to back. I'm a therapist and I can't even explain this ridiculous self-phenomena. Then after watching those golden oldies I'll try to erase them out of my mind by watching Troop Beverly Hills or a good handful of The Simpsons but for some reason it doesn't work too well. Maybe I should just eat double-stuff oreos and gorge myself on Bravo like a regular homo. | comments: Leave a comment   |
| Seventh Tree is the soundtrack to a pagan celebration. Whilst listening to it one can only fantasize about making out in an English rose garden that has been pollinated by some mystical, psychotropic pollen. The songs do not introduce themselves in an obvious way on Seventh Tree but rather draw you in with an aromatic power. The album isn't set for release until February but somehow it managed to leak nearly 3 months prematurely and according to the label, they are not happy campers. The campers that will find themselves not only happy but blissful will surely be Goldfrapp's devoted fan base but also a fresh crop of new listeners. Goldfrapp fans have been positively intense with their arguments about whether or not to indulge in listening to the album without the fanfare of a proper release by Mute, but whichever camp you fall into you will be hardpressed not to be touched by the buzz surrounding this preternaturally beautiful flower of an album.
The one puzzling publicity move is the choice of the song "A & E" as the lead off single for the album. "A & E" is a solid enough song but it does not have the magic slow burn sensuality of the other songs. "A & E" is a huge departure for Goldfrapp mainly because it sounds overtly plucky with its acoustic guitars so upfront and it veers a little too close to sentimentality in tone and lyricism. The breathy, luscious "Cologne Cerrone Houdini" would have fared as a much stronger lead-in to Seventh Tree serving as a bridge between the cosmic, strident splendor of Supernature and the green, dusky spell of Seventh Tree. High-pitched strings and flourishes of ethereal lust make "Cologne Cerrone Houdini" unfold with sexy fantasy. Songs like "Eat Yourself," "Monster Love," and "Some People" keep the surrealistic makeout party going with sunrise/sunset lyrics and insturmental crescendos that make you feel as if you are being lifted out of melancholy by something graceful and forgiving.
Goldfrapp had stated that a "little California sunshine" had been thrown into some of these songs and you can hear it pulsing through the gorgeous "Monster Love" as Allison coos in a layered cacophony of ooohs, ahhhs, and la-la-las. You can hear tinges of the best Dionne Warwick, Carly Simon, and Dusty Springfield moments creep into the heart of some of these songs and I do mean that in the most interesting possible way. I cannot be certain but the famed "loop" that has been playing over the Goldfrapp website for past few months sounds as if it has made it onto "Monster Love." Allison sings everything comes around bringing us back again, here is where we start and where we end like a mantra on "Monster Love" transfixing with Seventh Tree's dusky slow-jam philosophy. Goldfrapp stated Seventh Tree perfectly when they said it was a "sensual counterpoint" to Supernature. This album does not defy Supernature but rather it is truly a compliment. As an experiment I blended the two albums together and listened to it on a single playlist and the effect is rather sensational. Songs like "Little Bird" don't fight to win you over but rather beckon you in as Allison sings July July July except it sounds like Ju-ly-ly-ly, Ju-ly-ly-ly.
One of the album's strangest yet satisfying moments comes with the track "Happiness" which bounces along with the vague ancient carnivale theme complete with subtle synths and upbeat tempo. The lyrics on "Happiness" suggest a darker theme that its bouncy feel and title. "Caravan Girl" is one of the first Goldfrapp tracks that I have instantly been repulsed by. It is even more out of place than "A & E" as the lead off single. It sounds like a bad FM rock moment with its crystal meth chorus. "Caravan Girl" and "A&E" are definitely the odd girls out on this one but still manage to hold up alone, albeit with "A&E" striving to charm you with more than one listen.
Seventh Tree will astound seasoned Goldfrapp devotees and newcomers alike if only you will join the celebration in the grass. With Felt Mountain starting off the Goldfrapp mythos like a sci-fi balladeer, Seventh Tree completes the quadrilogy with a freshly wrought collection of love letters and nature worship. If Black Cherry was the erotic avant garde melody maker and Supernature the full bodied glamour-filled night gallery, then Seventh Tree is surely the green, surrealistic herbal elixir brewed to reintroduce us to the power of going back to the most primitive and baroque sensuality of the naturally divine. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| I consider myself a lucky chap. I was born on the Triple 8s (8/8/80) which is the Asian version of the American lucky number 7. Luck is usually homeade like good lemonade. Though I'm a firm believer in unseen and magical influences I am a firmer believer in making your own luck. Like love or cooking, you must do it a lot to get good at it. But for some people loving, cooking, or luck come a little easier. This week was my proverbial drought of the year when it comes to luck though. Here is a sick, sappy run-down:
1.) My first trip to my future home of Hartford, Connecticut was pretty fucked. Eloquent I know but nothing quite says it like a big "fucked." Ry and me stayed at the crummiest Hotel 6 in Connecticut and then we proceeded to have the worst three apartment hunting experiences of my life. I've lived in Minnesota, West Texas, and the slums of San Diego so this says A LOT. The apartments were great when it came to style and price but they were literally in the middle of what looked like a developing country after a daisy-cutter was dropped. I like a little "texture" in a neighborhood but this was just ridiculous.
2.) My job interview on the same day went swimmingly, but in the last 30 minutes of my 2.5 hour interview the clinic dropped some jaw-dropping info on this young therapist: I would be doing all 40 hours of my clinical work in my clients' homes; I would be available to my clients 24hours a day as part of this trendy new "succeed at any cost" therapy scheme designed to remove the barrier of therapists' offices and classism. Like the girls say on Sex and the City this job was good on paper, bad in bed. Other than that the job includes a 50 mile service radius of Hartford and every other weekend you must be on call for 48 hours straight in addition to your 40 hour work week. I'm an adventurous dude. I'm willing to put in my dues as a young professional entering into my field for the 2nd year but I've paid my dues of 16 hour days in 4 years of grad school and working at the clinic last year until 9pm most nights. I'm ambitious but I'm certainly not a masochist.
3.) Today some low-life stole my checking card information somehow and wiped out all the meager funds in my checking account and then some (I'm thrilled overdraft services could be of use to someone). This lowlife parasite managed to get my check card number and then proceeded to charge $3000 worth of shit on it. When I called my bank in a panic after I was declined on a $13 purchase I was told that charges for QVC, The Apple Store, Best Buy, Office Depot, Starting LIne, and several gas stations totalling in more than $2900 had been charged to my card in a matter of hours today. I mean honestly, if you're going on a shopping spree on someone else's dime at least hit up Neiman Marcus or Nordstrom at least!!! But QVC: The Home Shopping Network!!!! What did they order the Angela Lansbury Douche Collection or perhaps a tasteful pair of acid-washed overalls, or better yet: the Susan Lucci makeup collection complete with AGING agents and 50 shades of bronze eye shadow. Argh. In my sickly logic I would have been less enraged if they had blown the $3000 on one Chanel bag at Neiman's rather than QVC and fucking Office Depot. 9 Days and I'll have my money back, if the bank is fast. And of course it had to be on Ryan's Birthday Weekend. Good thing I secured most of his cool gifts ahead of time.
4.) Now I'm sitting here listening to Marc Almond and Soft Cell sweating. To top off today's weird and shitty events Ryan and I got into one of those rare fights that just leaves you feeling infantile with frustation and ridiculousness. We were playing Game Cube and just as I'm getting good at PK Bomber he got pissed that I was beating him so he reset the level and then killed my little onscreen man with vengeance! I said "you couldn't stand that I won so you had to reset the level to and kill the hell out of me." We sat in silence for 5 minutes and then he said "do you wanna suck the fun out of anything else before we go to bed?" I said "no, fuck you. You're the one who sucks the fun out of fun things so you go to bed alone and I'll bake. Good night."
I feel like a 12 year old girl writing this silly entry but I had to! Blame the delicious fumes of chocolate cake baking and the synth-pop on my headphones. Phew. Let's hope this bad luck streak ends HERE... | | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment |
| So last night I seriously hurt my eyeballs BAD. If they could talk they would have said, "burn in hell you abusive cocksucker." I was making Jamaican Beef turnovers for Ry's family. They have like 3 tablespoons of curry and tons of onion and scallion. After chopping onions, scallion, and scotch bonnet peppers while handling some very potent curry powder I absentmindedly rubbed my eyes and let me tell you that I now know what would be muggers everywhere would feel if they had mace sprayed in their faces! It was like Indian mace, all that curry scotch bonnet pepper, and onion right in the eyeballs baby! I had to muffle my screams and I swear to you I was blind for at least 3 minutes in both eyes.
I truly am on a cooking bender. My stint as a spoiled New Jersey housewife has proven to be so relaxing but I really need to start back at work soon because I'm beginning to feel the satin walls of this soft cell closing in. Maybe if I had a cute little adopted orphan from Ethiopia to bounce on my knee while perusing casserole recipes I would be fulfilled...or not. Meanwhile I'm jamming to Peache's "Two Guys For Every Girl" and let me tell you that I think homegirl's got it right when she says "Come over here hot boys...I got a lusty proposition that I know will suffice...there's just one thing that I can't compromise: I wanna see you work it guy on guy, I want to see you boys get down with eachother. 2 Guys For Every Girl. Just remember an ass is an ass so roll over and have yourselves a blast." I think this Peaches broad has the right idea. On the surface it seems that her usual crass nasty-girl act has just broadened horizons but the song is truly radical and very feminist. In our culture it is TOO usual that we see multiple female sex partners for men glorified via our desperate media that is both puritanical and exploitative at the same time...how is that anyway? In any case I love the song because it explores multiple taboos in a single song. The first taboo of course being male on male action that isn't necessarily "homosexual" in nature. Peaches just wants to see the boys get down and grope eachother for the sheer hell of it just like young co-eds are enticed to on dipshit DVDs like "Girls Gone Wild" and countless amateur porn sites. Multiple, uninhibited sapphic experimentation for heterosexual male pleasure is glorified and rewarded in our culture. But because we have such horribly homophobic standards for male behavior male on male action for the sake of fun and sexuality is not rewarded in any way, in fact it is punished by hate crime and illegalization. So Peaches truly is a revolutionary in this way.
Do you think the Ethiopian Ministry of Adoption would still adopt out a baby girl to a Amer-Asian fag who loves feminism and good recipes?? I think so. | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| I'd like to start by saying I'm soaking wet from the gym. Most people dread that sweat drenched shirt sticking to their torso and can't wait to strip it off and jump in the shower. I love jumping in the shower after a good, hard sweat but I like to leave my wet shirt for a bit before I jump in the shower because it is like a sick souvenir of my masochistic time with the stair-climber. AND speaking of WET, my silly old sex therapy professor struck again!! In my second to last sex therapy class he says this to all the male students in the class:
"So have any of the guys in the class ever been inside someone so lubricated that you had to pull out and just pat yourself dry just so you could get back in there and feel some friction? Remember too much lubrication can be a bad thing ladies."
We all sat there and just stared at him like an elderly, shaved ape had just went AWOL at the San Diego Zoo. What a tool! This guy is retiring afer this year and man was that overdue. His misogynistic overtones and blatant heterosexist bullshit have been unbearable so to speak. The only redeeming quality about the old fuck that makes things tolerable is the fact that he indeed resemebles an escaped Alzheimer's patient gone hay-wire!!! He even comes complete with knee socks and Birkenstocks! Anyhow we have one more class and the only thing that will push me to attend will be the fact that we are having a lecture on sexual deviance on Monday, I just hope he actually talks about necorophilia and such instead of showing us pictures of Madonna and homosexual men. I'm betting it'll be the latter.
My last couple of weeks in San Diego have been going by without a hitch and Ryan and I are just ready to be on the East Coast. No offense to the beautiful cities of the West Coast (San Diego, Seattle, Portland, San Franny, Santa Barbara, Los Angeles) but I'm ready for the four seasons, better shopping-food-art, and most of all the accents! To prep for my move to the East Coast my favorite artist/comic/witch/role-model/priestess Dame Darcy is reading my palm:
I will also get to wear this amazing Praying Mantis Scarf she made because there actually be snow in Hartford:
The Dame is supreme!!! I hope to have a home filled with her paintings and art one day and if I ever hit the lotteria I will have her do a huge mural in my bedroom. | | comments: 9 comments or Leave a comment |
| So today marks the first day of my last week at the clinic! I couldn't be more relieved but that relief doesn't come with a tiny price tag. I feel my eyes get nice and moist just like a Betty Crocker devil's food cake everytime I start thinking about the fact that I will not be going back to Phoenix House Adolescent Outpatient Rehabilitation ever again. Its good that I have this to comfort my baby-blue heart tomorrow night:
For some reason I am totally attracted to Helen Marnie and I feel a bit mean saying that I was THRILLED that she did the majority of the vocals on Witching Hour, which is quickly becoming one of my new favorite albums of all time. Last time I saw Ladytron was on an icy night in Minneapolis three years ago during the Light and Magic Tour and they've come so far from Euro-art synth pop and minimalist posturing. I'm truly in love with this new witchy neo-Goth attitude. For anyone who is also a Goldfrapp fan, Ladytron remixed their latest single "Fly Me Away," of which gets released tomorrow. And to make matters more delicious the show is only 91cents, a curious gimmick from the local "alternative" radio station San Diego 91X. The Editors will be opening which is cool even though they are another Joy Division dress up band.
Ry and I have been looking at some places in Connecticut and I found a house dating back to the 1600s that I would rent in a second if it were not $2000 a month:
The house itself was built in 1694 and it is on "5 acres of land, most of which is wooded." I know in my heart that some cool witches lived there and that they grew belladonna, hyacinth, and betony in their garden. It even has a greenhouse!!! SWOON.
It is dreamy but it won't be mine anytime soon. We'll keep up the hunt and hopefully we'll turn up something just as magical and interesting as this old house in the woods. | | comments: 11 comments or Leave a comment |
| SO, have I ever told any of you that I'm currently taking Sex Therapy as one of my last grad courses at USD? Well I am and last night was one of the BEST classroom experiences of my life.
FIRST, in order for us to "feel comfortable and numb to talking about sex in a candid and often graphic way" our professor Dr. Birchler informed us that we were to recite a list of the following terms out loud:
CUNT
ASS FUCK
CLIT
TUNA TACO
DICK
SCHLONG
BLOW JOB
PUSSY
TWAT
CUM
HOT BUTTON
BROWN EYE
EAT SNATCH
Mind you, this list is in NO way exhaustive. Phew. Did I mention that we have a couple of grad students from the Pastoral Counseling program (one of them an African sister from Kenya and when I say sister I don't mean a kickin' friend of Lil' Kim, I mean a Catholic nun mother fuckers!) Imagine a "sistah" in full habit saying "eat pussy" in a thick Kenyan accent. It was almost exploitative...well not almost, but an actual full blown John Waters exploitation moment. Then Dr. B hit us with some beyond disturbing information about his clinical past: he was one of the "pioneering" psychologists in the late 1960s that developed "electro shock conversion therapy for homosexual men." Needless to say I felt like I was taking a class from one of Hitler's gestappo. Talk about some archaic Nazi bullshit. At least two of my class members looked physically ill, one said "fuck this shit" and walked out, and I had to just laugh out loud hysterically. I asked him "what was it like to do concentration camp experiments on homos?" and he looked at me very plainly and said "Josh, those were the days when therapists were doing electro shock therapy for smoking cessation." He then began to explain how these "clients" were "voluntary." Yeah about as voluntary as Jodie Foster was on that pin-ball machine in The Accused. I threw out ideas like social coercion and heterosexual dominance and he just wouldn't have it. I think the only reason Dr. Birchler is tolerable is because he seems genuinely cool with homosexuals and has never exhibited any form of heterosexism but this kind of hate runs more than skin deep. Tricky fuckers, every last fascist one.
What genuinely confused me was the fact that he even admitted this to our class. It was in the context of the AIDS controversy sex-therapy superstars Masters and Johnson found themselves stuck in the mid 1980s. After all that Dr. Birchler still treated me like his star pupil when I was the only student in the class that knew what the Refractory Period of intercourse was and what "retrograde ejaculation" is. I give you the future sex therapists of America ladies and germs.
p.s. for anyone that doesn't know retrograde ejaculation is when you ejaculate into your bladder instead of through your urethra! | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| (So, this entry is a bit late. I jotted it down in an email to a friend back East but wanted to post it all here for you guys since I know many of you adore Goldfrapp and their North American tour will start soon with some dates already popping up on the West Coast. This is a review from the one-off show in L.A. a month back at the Wiltern Theatre)
So, one word to sum up Goldfrapp: EUPHORIC
Last night's show at the gorgeous Wilshire Litern Theater in downtown LA was nothing short of breathtaking and when I say that it was Euphoric, I don't say that lightly. The setlist covered all the right bases, the night starting with "Utopia" and ending with "Strict Machine." Everything in between dazed the insane fucking audience. Allison herself was even taken aback by the energy of the audience. Goldfrapp definitely acheived the pagan meets sci-fi world that they built for the sublime Supernature. Horse headed goddesses dancing to synthesized ecstasy and were-wolf masked women on the prowl during "Train". The live versions of "U Never Know" and "Fly Me Away" only deepened my love for those tracks.
"Ride A White Horse" nearly stunned me with its 9 live minute rendition that took my brain and body to some paralell universe where magic is an everyday occurence. BITCHIN. Anyhow one of my righthand ladies was with me last night and her blog about the show is not only fucking hilarious but very accuarte, I've reprinted Jane's review of the night here, please don't resist, just read it:
"IM IN SAN DIEGO WITH MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD JOSH. I HAVE BEEN HERE SINCE THURSDAY... LAST NIGHT WE WENT TO THIS AWESOME BRITISH BAND CALLED GOLDFRAPP....
THIS IS KINDA ELECTRONICA / PUNK/ POP BAND. IF YOU LIKED MADONNA'S NEWEST ALBUM, YOU WOULD LIKE THEM... MADONNA WISHES SHE WAS AS COOL AS GOLDFRAPP.
WHILE AT THE CONCERT WE WERE FORCED TO CHANGE AND STAND IN 4 DIFFERENT LINES.. BECUASE JOSHY AND I HAD WILL CALL TICKETS. JOSH'S FREIND MARIA WENT WITH US AND HER PURSE WAS SEARCHED 3 TIMES.
THE FIRST TIME IT WAS SEARCHED THE BITCHES MADE MARIA TAKE THE GUM OUT OF HER PURSE... HOW FUCKING ASSININE..... THEY TRIED TO TELL US THAT IT WAS BECAUSE THE WILLSHIRE WAS SUCH A HISTORIC THEATRE IN LA.
THEN AS WE GOT INSIDE WE REALIZED THAT MARIA HAD TO BE ON THE TOP FLOOR... EVEN THOUGH WHEN WE BOUGHT THE TICKETS WE WERE TOLD THEY WERE ALL GENERAL ADMISSION...
SO NEXT THERE WAS SOME DUMB ASS DJ THAT SAID HE WAS THERE TO "WARM UP THE SIUATION" AND ALL HE DID WAS MAKE ME WANT TO JAB MY OWN EYE OUT WITH THE NEAREST GAY'S HAND.
(P.S. THERE WERE SO MANY GAYS THERE WITH THIER HAGS...)
THEN DURING THE SHITTY OPENING MUSIC SOMEONE DECIDED TO SHIT THIER PANTS. I MEAN THIS WAS NO FART... THIS WAS AN ANAL EXPLOSION. A GOLD FART AT GOLDFRAPP. AND INSTEAD OF THIS ASSHOLE (LITERALLY) GOING AND GETTING RID OF THIS SHIT, HE DID IT 3 GOD DAMN TIMES... I THOUGHT WE WERE BEING GASSED.... LIKE THIS WAS SOMETHING THE GOVERNMENT PLANNED TO KILL ALL THE GAYS IN CALIFORNIA.. IT WAS THAT BAD. SOMONE EVEN COMMENTED TO US "WHO BROUGHT THE STRAIGHT GUY?" I SAID "WHAT KINDA HAG DOES NOT TEACH HER FAG TO CLEAN THIER ASSHOLES"
THEN WHEN THE CONCERT BEGAN ALL THE SHORT ASS FAG HAGS, AND THIER SMALL ASS GAYS WERE TRYING TO PUSH THIER WAY IN FRONT OF JOSH AND I.. SAYING " I CAN'T FUCKING SEE" JOSH AND I WERE LIKE "WE CANT HELP IT THAT YOU ARE FUCKING MIDGETS. THEY WERE PUSHING AND WE WERE STANDING WITH SOME OTHER GIANT PEOPLE IN THE FRONT... SERIOUSLY BLOCKING EVERYONES VIEW. IT WAS LIKE A GODDAMN GREAT WALL OF FAGS AND HAGS.
SO AFTER OPERATION NO ACCESS WE BEGAN TO WATCH A SERIOUSLY ROCKED OUT FUCKING AWESOME CONCERT. WHEN ALISON CAME ON IN HER FIRST SONG THE FUCKED THE DAMN SYNTHESIZER TO MAKE SOME OF THE SONG. SHE WAS RUBBING IT UP AND DOWN HER PUSSY AND IT SOUNDED SO KOOL. I THINK IT GAVE MOST THE GAYS A HARD ON.
SHE HAS AMAZING DANCERS- THEY WERE A JUXTAPOSITION OF MEDICAL MACHINE AND ANIMALS. IT WAS A VISUAL BUFFET.
JUST AS I WAS STARTING TO SEE WHY WE HAD DRIVEN TO FUCKING LA TO SEE THIS SHOW AND STARTING TO REALLY ENJOY MYSELF SOME ASS PLUG LAUNCHED HIS DRINK AT MY BACK. I WAS WEARING A WHITE SHIRT AND AS THE PLASTIC CUP HIT MY BACK IT EXPLODED AND THE ICE WENT FLYING OVER MY HEAD AND HIT JOSH AND THE GAY WALL OF FAGS AND HAGS.
I THINK IT WAS A MIDGET'S PAYBACK FOR THE NO ROOM AT THE INN THING WE HAD GOING ON.
ALISON ROCKED!!! IT WAS SO INTENSE AND THROBBING AND SHE MADE LOVE TO US.SHE BROUGHT OUR SPIRITS UP GIVING US AN MASSIVE HARD ON AND THEN SHE WOULD TAKE US BACK DOWN WITH SLOW DRIVING SONGS THAT MADE ME FEEL LIKE I HAD BLUE BALLS.
OVER ALL THE CONCERT WAS GREAT BUT I THOUGHT I WOULD SHARE SOME GOOD DETAILS WITH YOU ALL.
LOVE JANE" | | comments: 8 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Mates of the State-"So Many Ways" | | Subject: | Facing the Day | | Time: | 12:06 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/determined.gif) determined |
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| Man why is that the lady's issues really hit me between the aorta and my heart? I know that I was a feminist freedom fighter in a past life or maybe a witch burned at the stake. The issue I'm writing about isn't just a woman's issue, women's issues never are...
I just had a good cry. I was reading about how much further the Right Wing hatemachine can go just when you think they've gone far enough. On top of Roe V. Wade being nearly neutralized and women's reproductive rights in general eroding like desert mud there is a new twist on the whole inane campaign to set this country back centuries in the gender/sexuality department:
Lawmakers in several states have begun to contemplate the idea of restricting access to fertility clinics and technologies to heterosexual married couples only. That's right. Lawmakers in Virginia and California are contemplating limitations being set on who can access reproductive technologies, mainly queers and single women. When I read this I had to read it twice and it made the fading red in my eyes rebound. When I read that a woman in Southern California was denied fertilization assistance at a clinic because she was a lesbian I though I was reading some dystopian Orson Welles or Kurt Vonnegut short story. I felt all the tension and fear that I felt in 7th grade when I had dirt clogs and "FAG!" slammed in my face sneak into my skeleton, then I was crying. PLEASE, leave us alone. You have made it very hard for us to be married and/or adopt children if we choose to. You've done enough.
Then I smiled.
I smiled because everything I have struggled and strained for minute by minute is already in my blood and in my cells, it is permanent. Even if there are queer concentration camps in the year 2020 I could never feel beat. To all the senators and congress people that have used irrational hate and intolerance as a political tool to lock in votes that had to be virtually extorted, I feel only sympathy for. No rage or empty hate. Just sadness. Who ever made you think that filling someone else's life with shame could fill yours with heroism?
Just when I feel like the struggle is waning, that the freedom fighters aren't getting back up I smile because I know that I have loved hard and true. I love someone and it can't be undone or commodified by you. YOU could trample us or smash us with bats but you could never undo any of the hurt and pain we have undone in each other. We have undone the hurt you've thrown at us. There is no gravity behind your bullets anymore. I've loved and I can face the day because of that. Even if the day belongs to you. (For now...) | | comments: 6 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Yeah Yeah Yeahs-"Gold Lion" | | Time: | 05:02 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/chipper.gif) chipper |
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| The Goddess was generous today.
I scored two tickets for Golfrapp's first Los Angeles show on March 11.
I'll be riding the white horse with this fancy lady come March, if any of you will be at the show let me know and we'll drink something British beforehand...
Today one of my favorite colleagues and me had a conjoint therapy session and it felt very nice, like a warm bath or a bottle of icy champagne on an air condition-less Texas night. Nice and unexpected. We talked about boyfriends, the non-life that grad school can be sometimes, and the urge to just go out and frolic instead of being cooped up in the clinic after our clients
no-showed up.
P.S. The new Yeah Yeah Yeah's single is rocking me, "Gold Lion" is worth the 99cent download if you don't want to be a cheater | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Sia-"Sunday" | | Subject: | Intensity | | Time: | 10:49 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/ecstatic.gif) ecstatic |
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| | Today I presented a video in my Practicum class. What this means is that as a therapist in training we have to videotape our sessions (no stress added, right?) and then present them to our classmates and professors (whom are seasoned therapists themselves) as part of our curriculum every semester we’re training as therapists in our internship. Today I presented one of my difficult families and I truly feel like I did some killer work with this family in my tape using Narrative Therapy techniques. The viewing started off great with Dr. Patterson ooohing and ahhing for me and I secretly melted with pride that one of the toughest profs in the program was gushing at my tape. THEN suddenly she was like “you’ve done a superb job here Mr. Cruz, you have so much natural talent and command of the session but you’re really very intense in some spots and need to pace yourself without always setting your gun on stun.” All my classmates including my good friend Lindsey just stared at me like “oh my God," and I was like "what?!" I don’t know what it is but I have never had a problem taking constructive criticism, especially as a therapist in training! I felt like Dr. Patterson gave me some wonderful feedback and she’s absolutely right, I’m an intense guy. Many of the other grad students in my program seriously cannot take any constructive feedback, at all. I think this is a sign of immaturity and gracelessness. It is natural to feel stung by criticism when it is unwarranted or hostile but we are paying USD $1000 a credit hour to help us succeed as some of the best young therapists in the Nation. I don’t think “intense” is a negative thing, I actually took it as a great compliment. To be intense is one thing, overly dramatic another. My boyfriend Ryan agreed that I am a very intense dude. I live life fully and take no fucking prisoners. When I see something I like or am drawn to I go for it. When I’m attracted to a person or an idea or to a painting or to a song or a smell or taste I become very focused and intent on understanding and loving it. I fall in love with things and people for life. I think I have the opposite of attention-deficit disorder. I experience feelings and sensory things to the maximum. Right now as I write this a Henri Bendel pomegranate candle is burning in my bedroom and it is so lovely and sexy it is intoxicating me. Even though I had class for 7 straight hours today and work before that I still took the time to enjoy a nice meal with my boyfriend, kiss and hug, enjoy some lasagna, write a paper for class, and watch a lovely little French film called Love Me If You Dare. Intensity, no. Focus, yes. You’ve got to make time for everything that constitutes your obsessions. You’ve got to take the time to eat like a king, love like a mother fucker, work your ass off—only exponentially to as hard as you play of course, and be as intense as you want to be. Sometimes being intense means being intensely quiet or intensely relaxed too. Just like Iggy Pop said I got a lust for life. So for anyone reading this, if I've ever set my stun gun on you I apologize, but if you're part of my loved things in this world you will know it. I am loyal to the things that bring me joy, and part of that joy lies in the inexplicable connection I have with some people and ideas. Sometimes you cannot explain why two people or things or colors are attracted to eachother, but they just are. There can be obvious reasons like physical beauty or chemistry, but deep attraction goes far beyond the physical and chemical, it plumbs deep into the starry places that are obscured by reality. There are certain people, colors, scents, and songs I keep tucked in my heart secretly, and many times during a single day I will pull them out and kiss them without them even knowing it. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Utah Saints-"Something Good" | | Subject: | bringing it | | Time: | 09:53 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/relieved.gif) relieved |
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| So that's it folks. Comprehensive exams for my M.A. in Child, Family, and Adolescent Therapy are OVER. Over and Out, do you read me? OVER. I thought I would be ecstatic and doing fucked up jumping jacks but one of my best friends and me just hugged eachother and nearly cried and collapsed-not necessarily out of relief or anything like that but just more out of the realization that this whole experience is starting to wrap up for us.
Nona and me woke up together at the crack of dawn and did this 6 hour exam the right way, we had a hearty breakfast of Mexican omlettes stuffed with chorizo sausage and jalepenos. We laughed for the first hour of breakfast and then the second hour we had an amazing conversation about ghosts, death, cancer, family, and the terribly beautiful and disorienting thing we all call love. Nona recently lost her Mom to breast cancer and my Uncle just died in September after battling colon cancer for 5 years. 2005 wasn't very kind to my family. My beloved Grandpa died 8 months before my Uncle Joe and this has left my vivacious 79 year old Grandma wounded to the point of paralysis. Before my Uncle Joe and Grandpa she never had a single medical problem, didn't look a day over 60, played on a nationally ranked senior women's tennis team, and could move faster and more graceful than any woman I've ever known. Now she is so full of fear and looks startled all the time. It breaks my heart. My cousin, whom we raised for the first year of her life lost her father and my Mom lost another brother. It has been a trial of spirit by fire. I feel like that trial has continued. Nona and me have so much in common, not only incidentals but we just have that rare and priceless familiarity with one and other, a closeness that is supernatural and not exponential to the time we've known one and other. When she lost her Mom certain people in her family could not let go of her because of various left over feelings and unresolved conflicts. They were keeping her Mom's spirit bound to this plane by way of their own worldly attachment. I feel the same has happened with my Uncle Joe. His spirit cannot move on because my Aunt needs him too much and can't accept his death. He is earthbound if that makes sense to anyone reading this. Whether you conceptualize that as a "ghost," "energy," a "memory," they're all one in the same...my Aunt can't leg go.
I've seen a lot of death and destruction this year. My father who is one of the most honorable and hard working men I know, the man I learned my work ethic from was "let go" by a "reputable" corporation after nearly 32 years of blood, sweat, and tears for this company. Betrayal. My Grandpa, my Uncle Joe, and in a way I have had to reinvent myself. I was diagnosed with Diabetes a week after Thanksgiving and it is still a shocker (not really since both my parents have genetic Diabetes). I've had to revamp my body and care about it for more reasons than just glib vanity. I've examined my relationship, myself, my goals, and I truly feel like a grown man for the first time in my life. Its good to say "I'm a man" and not have it reek of male supremacy or arrogance. It feels good to say I'm doing all I can to work my way through this.
I'm ready Goddess, bring it on. | | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Natalie Merchant-"After the Goldrush" | | Subject: | Comps | | Time: | 12:17 am | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/sore.gif) sore |
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| Phew. I'm covered in sweat. Good thing too because I really needed a good workout to dispel all the tension in my lower back and neck. This week has been a SLAMMER. I've grown quite accustomed to the hustle-bustle life of a grad student, but my current program has taught me true stamina. This week we have our Comprehensive Exams, the Mother Superior of all grad school "tests." Its like an SAT of everything we've learned in our program packed into 6 hours of essay writing. In true Lisa Simpson fashion I dig essays, studying, the whole sadistic process you know, but what becomes difficult to tolerate is the wave of panic and anxiety that begins to mount and cover every grad student in my program. Therapists are generally a pretty silly bunch of neurotic control freaks (moi not included...heh), so just imagine when a gaggle of them congregate and begin ruminating over something like comprehensive exams...its enough to make you want to jump through the emergency exit at 30,000 feet in the air. On top of the group-psychosis generated by all my colleagues, we get to all continue working at our internships, seeing clients and doing therapy while starting classes in our last semester. I remind myself and everyone else in my program how truly priveleged we are to be grad students slaving away in San Diego, CA.
There is merit to the stress though...doing therapy is not for the faint or those with no backbone, to do this work well you must do a lot of work on yourself CONSTANTLY, it is impossible not to since we work with imbalances all day in others, and it would be irresponsible not to examine one's self and face what our supervisors refer to as "the self of the therapist". For instance on top of comps, classes, and our internship business (and for those of us that aren't Southern Calif Trust-Funded--work) we must still see clients this week. My good friend and colleague at the clinic wanted to be out of there by 7pm tonight to go home and study but one of her clients became seriously suicidal and had attempted suicide the day before so she had to stay and ensure that this client was not only safe, but also had to entertain the possibility that this client could be in the hospital or dead tomorrow. This program is like gladiator school, seriously, all dramatic metaphors aside. A Harvard study demonstrated that grad students score higher on emotional/mental aggression than combat Marines or NFL football players. I've seen friends stab eachother in the back and front for the smallest of differences or gains. NASTY BITCHES!! And these are the future therapists of America folks. Haha, all kidding aside it gives us all a chance to work out ridiculous juvenile problems before we go out there and market ourselves as "real" therapists. Sheesh.
Time to shower, dance in my underwear to Nine Inch, Nails, study, and possibly sleep. Poor Ryan, all the BFs in this program deserve a graduate degree just for putting up with all this hogwash. | | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Frou Frou-"Hear Me Out" | | Subject: | The Difference | | Time: | 02:43 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/grateful.gif) grateful |
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| For the past few weeks I have been worried sick about my relationship, mainly due to the fact that a challenging revelation about me and Ry's future surfaced. I won't go into details but basically it was a clash of values pertaining to a very important issue. It made me feel like "the perfect gay couple" ideal that we are expected to live up to was just silly. It forced both of us into a lot of contemplation and discussion about where this relationship is going and where it is right now.
I finally found the relief I was seeking when Ry and me decided that life is too fucking short not to enjoy eachother to the maximum in the here and now. We have always been so relaxed and fluid in our relationship, finding peaceful bliss and passion where a lot of couples get hung up on unimportant details. I feel like that energy re-introduced itself last night for some reason. We worked out together, had some mind blowing "beddy time," went grocery shopping for a wonderful Asian meal, bought some luxurious Henri Bendel candles (in Pomegranate and Grapefruit), and ate carne asada fries while watching a classic horror movie from the 1970s (Dario Argento's Suspiria). Now that is classic Ry and Josh. Instead of the sludgy feelings of the past weeks we've re-accessed what has always made us so fun and so loving. We needed the sensual comforts of touch, smell, taste, and vision to jumpstart us back on track.
Even if this value clash eventually forces us both to move into two different directions, we will do so with both great heaviness and good will in our hearts--wishing eachother both the best of luck and happiness on this planet. Like I said, we don't have much time on this planet so when we are blessed to have found someone who truly "gets" us we must seize that connection and do our best to kiss, eat, clean, fuck, love, sweat, cry, work, think, and be with that person the best way we know how. We must learn to seriously stay in the moment and live in the present rather than worry about "what if we break up because I want a kid someday and you don't." We must live with our eyes on the prize, looking forward into the future, but not so much that it cost us the sensuality and pleasure of moments that are standing before us.
So if a night of watching screeching ballet students fall into pits of razor wire, $26 candles from Manhattan, french fries smothered in sour cream and garlic steak, sweating at 24Hour Fitness, bed-breaking, and waking up the next morning to wrestiling matches in bed and Project Runway on Bravo are not in your future, please let them be because they could be the difference between a good relationship and a great one. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Grand Funk Railroad-"Gimme Shelter" | | Subject: | Survival Or Bliss | | Time: | 06:15 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/exausted.gif) exhausted |
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| Parting with our illusions is truly like "parting with invisible
best friends."
I want bliss. Choosing bliss does not mean being in a
pleasure-driven daze, on the contrary it means doing the
difficult, blood-drawing work that will balance you. When you
are out of whack, going crazy because of some imbalance you will
always seek energies that will help to balance you. I'm still
seeking to know what is so imbalanced in myself right now, because
I've found the energy force that is to help me seek understanding
of this imbalance but I have not identified the imbalance yet, or
is it just because I am denying that reality? We'll see... | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | Chic-"Le Freak" | | Subject: | FREAK OUT | | Time: | 05:37 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/crazy.gif) crazy |
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| Okay.
Does everyone know the song "Le Freak" by the 1970s discoband Chic?
First:
1.) Why is it so wonderfully ridiculous?
Second:
2.) Why does the part when they sing "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Freak Out!" in the chorus sound like a gospel choir going down a really big fucking dip on a rollercoaster
Third:
3.) My wonderful partner Ryan just informed me that this song has an equally ridiculous backstory: originally Chic was not allowed entry into the ever so "classy" Studio 54 and in the chorus they originally sang "Ahhhhhhhhhh FUCK OFF" in reference to the incident. hahaha. Can you believe that? He supposedly saw this on VH-1 but who knows if it is true or just more Hollywood Urban Legends. | | comments: 11 comments or Leave a comment |
| I'm very pleased that my thesis entitled "Homophobia as a Weapon of Sexism : Reality, Misogyny, and Heterosexism in Contemporary Gay Male Porn" is finally available in the general collection of the Minnesota State University Memorial Library! Anyone interested in checking it out can go here:
http://mnpals.mnsu.edu.ezproxy.mnsu.edu:2048/F/8IUAGT77LUR958C8YUIUC4239PUH9DKHYHAKG8YR83MDB5L8K5-07221?func=find-b&find_code=WRD&request=Joshua+Cruz&adjacent=N
I believe its available for inter-library loan and its not a long read so any bored soul that is interested in masculinity, pop-culture, pornography, and/or modern misogyny please check it out and give me feedback, I'm hoping to expand this thesis into a longer format sometime in the future.
I've worked hard in my capacity as a pro-feminist activist to help as many men as I can to understand that many of the ideas about what constitutes a "real man" and homophobia work in tandem with sexism and woman-hating. Without the rigid masculine code ALL men experience there could be no oppression of women, and vice-versa. As men advocating for our own freedom from rigid masculine stereotypes we also must remember that men are not systematically raped, trafficked, and domestically assaulted in the numbers that women are, we still have an imbalanced proportion of social and political power. In joining the fight to help challenge sexism, we also help ourselves, because all this gender conformity serves the same master. | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | The Sundays-"What Do You Think?" | | Subject: | On One Hand... | | Time: | 08:39 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/excited.gif) excited |
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| Being a native Texan has its perks:
I know what great iced tea, chili, and chicken fried steak is supposed to taste like.
I've experienced the Gulf of Mexico with it's languorous heat and divine seafood; the splendor of huge, culturally rich big cities like Austin and Dallas; the desolate loveliness of the panhandle prairie lands; and the insular, strange beauty of the West Texas desert (my original home) all without ever leaving Texas.
Texans have huge hearts but we're so damned rowdy that we get mistaken for rednecks.
We have more state pride than anywhere else in this country, Texans think we're our own country.
On the other hand...
We are home to the pickle-eating fiend Anna Nicole Smith and the equally uncouth George W. Bush.
We have horrifying, high-profile hate crimes.
And did I already mention Anna Nicole Smith used to strip in Texas?
Anyhow...I'm at odds with myself because on one hand I am a thinking American that enjoys good food, good art, and equality. I can get most of those things in Texas but the state as a whole (remember Austin is like the San Francisco of Texas, its diverse, gorgeous, funky, and liberal) does not seem to embrace equality for my people! Who are my people you ask? Anyone who is a little left of center (or A LOT left of center) that is patriotic, yet demanding of civil rights and equity under the law that everyone else is protected under.
I embrace my roots. I love being a special brand of Southern man. I love that my parents are so cool and brilliant and still choose to live in West Texas and make it better for that. I love that we say "y'all" and consider manners very important. I like that my Grandpa still says "those damn Yankees" to his bi-racial, gay grandson and I don't feel bad about it. Its so complicated. Everyone in Southern California just assumes I'm a native, but I love to claim my Texas heritage. A favorite professor/mentor of mine once told me, "Josh, the ability to hold two distinctly difficult realities is the sign of hyper-intelligence." I can be both White and Polynesian, I can be both a liberal and a Texan, I can have pristine manners and still act raunchy, I can be a homo and still love my homophobic Grandfather, I can have a Yankee boyfriend and still introduce him to my Grandma and all her bridge friends, I can be built like a quarter back and still have a Master's in Women's Studies...you get the point. | | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment |
| Okay. I'm a bizarreness-magnet. It's true. I have a journal filled up with the bizarre moments in my life that are fodder for laughter in hindsight, but at the time seem cruel and ridiculous.
So I had another one of those moments just moments ago.
I woke up, drank some soy milk for breakfast, jammed out to New Order for a bit, took a nice shower and then got dressed for the day in a baby blue shirt and my Ben Sherman Chelsea boots. After grabbing my bag and some Trident extra white chewing gum I looked for my keys and *PAUSE*...they were nowhere to be found. I'm not accustomed to losing things like keys, I'm very habitual about where I place my wallet, keys, etc., etc. It was only 2 hours later that true panic mode began to gnarl my mind. I turned the apartment upside down. Why so frantic you want to know? First: my life is my keyring-keys to my internship, job, home, car, EVERYTHING; Second: our apartment is located in a very "urban" neighborhood so we have two key locks on the one door to our apt. instead of a twist and turn lock. SOOOOOOOOOOOOO to make a long story short I'm locked in my apartment. The kitchen window has bars on it. My ass would not fit through the microscopic bathroom window, and the other windows are just non-negotiable. The keys to open the front door are nowhere, I repeat NOWHERE.
Ryan is at work and when I called him for help or info on the possible whereabouts of these keys, he told his boss the whole story and his boss replied "Is this some sort of Polish joke?" What is so Polish about being locked in your own apartment? Every one of my friends just replied in their Southern Cali valley girl accents: "Josh, just OPEN the door from the INSIDE." These are graduate students at a selective private university mind you. I'm like "no shit guys, the door has key locks only, and I don't have the keys." And they're like, "well shit Josh just OPEN the damn door, you're on the inside."
My landlord is not home and my apartment contract states that tenants may not alter the locks without express permission from said landlord. I could jump out the bedroom window into a treacherous alley filled with vagrants and used drug paraphernalia and still have to hitchhike the 25 miles to my internship because I still don't have any car keys. Or I could wait for Ryan to call back and have him leave work to give me all his keys.
What did I do to deserve this and what did the Polish do to deserve being implicated in this ridiculous scenario. More updates later as I brainstorm ways out of here. | | comments: Leave a comment |
| | Current Music: | "Wunderkind" by Alanis Morrissette | | Subject: | Wunderkind | | Time: | 04:04 pm | | Current Mood: | ![[mood icon]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/neko/kaokitty/content.gif) content |
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| I adore these lyrics:
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"Oh perilous place
Walk backwards toward you
Blink disbelieving eyes chilled to the bone
Most visibly brave
No apprehended bloom
First to take this foot to virgin snow . . .
Oh ominous place
Spellbound and un-childproofed
My least favorite chill to bear alone. . .
I am a magnet for all kinds of deeper wonderment
I am a wunderkind oh
I am a groundbreaker, naïve enough to believe this"
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Sometimes the best places we can ever hope to see or experience are the spaces that are between the places that are plain to see, that are open to the naked eye. The experiences that are in between the natural and the preternatural are the best. I'm reading Madeline L'Engle's A Wrinkle In Time right now, a book that somehow escaped my clutches as a young reader. Its truly a great book and the language has this soothing quality, like the way snow smells when you know you're coming into a warm house. This book has that quality of breaching the spaces in between realities that I adore so much.
Therapy is like that. It is like magic or witchcraft. You've got to go into the places that scare people the most, but you cannot simply go there. You cannot be invasive or forceful. You have to rely on subtle clues and trails that sometimes lead nowhere but a deeper sandpit. You must hedge your bets and look past the smoke and mirrors for a larger "truth." You have to look at what is between people rather than what is in them. You must look in those places that are on the other shore, the places off the beaten path. In this way, good therapists are like good mediums, serving to channel the hidden things rather than to produce them.
"Oh perilous place
Walk backwards toward you
Blink disbelieving eyes chilled to the bone
Most visibly brave
No apprehended bloom
First to take this foot to virgin snow . . .
Oh ominous place
Spellbound and un-childproofed
My least favorite chill to bear alone. . . | | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment |
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