Radial Symmetry

As you already know if you're reading this, my blogging output has gone from nutso to regular to sporadic to nearly nil.

I'd rather be writing more, but enh. I'm not, and I kind of miss it, but I don't miss it enough to actually sit down and do it these days.

So I'm going to take August off of writing altogether. No projects, no smut blog, no nothing. I'll reassess in September and we'll see how it goes.

However, so as to not leave you completely bereft, I will leave you with this (only slightly edited) email I sent to d.jack, because writing it entertained me greatly, and it's still making me giggle today:

the dentist went a-ok. the dentist actually wasn't there, so the hygienist looked me over and said i would have had to come back if there were any problems. which there were not, which is good. we talked about expensive toothpaste for my sensitive gums and electric toothbrushes. and she assumed i'd had braces, which, as you know, is something that pleases me very much. and it didn't take long, so i can leave work a half hour earlier than i expected. and i got a "free" toothbrush, and 3 mini toothpastes, and 1 egg-shaped mini floss, and several coupons for the expensive toothpaste that will hopefully prevent me from having gum surgery. so all in all, it was a very nice half hour.

Enjoy August, my dears. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

The first time I remember being attracted to a girl, I must have been 9 or 10. I was taken for a boy quite often in those pre-pubescent years. I couldn't tell you why exactly, except that I often had some kind of terrible bowl cut and blue has always been my favourite colour.

My family was at a mall - Upper Canada, I believe, though it might have been the newly opened Promenade - and I saw this girl across the fountain.

I couldn't stop staring at her.

She preened, tilted her head this way and that. She readjusted her purse strap so that it crossed from shoulder to hip and emphasized her new breasts.

I couldn't stop staring.

And then her friend leaned over. Whispered something in her ear. They both looked at me; hard, near angry. The girl who fascinated me hung her purse from her shoulder again and they both turned their backs on me.

Instinctively I knew what had been whispered was a snarly "That's a girl!" Maybe it wasn't, maybe I was wrong. But the look of shame on that young girl's face made me know I had done - had felt - something even worse.

Identity has been on my mind a lot lately.

A while ago now, maybe almost a year, I went to a workshop at Venus Envy by Charlie Glickman about non-monogamy. As an aside, near the end, he described himself as bisexual.

It was like someone had watered me. Man, I hadn't heard that word in a long, long time. I had and have been referring to myself as queer for a long time. I'm not sure when bi faded out of my personal lexicon, but it had. And fuck, I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

For a long time I've been wanting to write about how sexual orientation, desire, practice and politics all mix for me. Because it's my blog, but because I think we don't often open up the seams of identities that appear to be sewn neatly shut.

There are about a half dozen false starts sitting in my drafts folder. I can't finish them. I'm not even entirely sure why.

I got hooked on writing this blog because writing about the stuff that's happened to me made me feel so much less alone in it. I've felt a bit stalled here lately.

Maybe it's time to shake that up a bit. So I'm going to try to write about this stuff. It may not be eloquent or well structured, but I will try my best to make it honest.

I am reeling from watching G20 news unfurl over twitter on the weekend and listening to friends' stories, during and after. I stayed home, did nothing but click refresh on my various feeds and watch videos and read testimonials and look at photos and feel the frightened band around my chest get tighter and tighter.

There are a million things I'd like to link to here, but really, just google G20 and you'll see. Or start on Mae's blog. I've been in awe of her ability to communicate through this while I have sat dumbstruck and horrified in front of the glowing screen.

Over 900 arrests. Hundreds more forcibly silenced. Thousands more scared into silence and absence by the threat of police violence.

All to capture, ostensibly, fewer than 200 people. Ostensibly. Ostensibly.

It is shameful.

A lot of terrible things have been said about the cops. I don't disagree, but I can't stop thinking about them as people. What do they say to their partners? Their children and neighbours? Their own consciences? I've read testimonials where individual cops acted with contrition; though those reports are few and far between.

I have been thinking a lot about The Stanford Prison Experiment. About how if you dress people up like faceless robotic borg and give them the permission to be violent, then that is often how they'll act.

I have been thinking about how the state - on all levels, municipal to federal - put those individual cops in a position where human nature basically dictated that many of them would act the way that many of them did: with inhumanity.

I have been thinking about how terrifying that is for all of us and then where do you start. Because that's not just fuck the police; that's fuck everything.

++

Rallies in solidarity with those who were arrested are being held across the country.

Maybe I'll see you in Montreal.

I'll be on a train, otherwise I would be.

++A Vigil and Press Conference In Memory of Murdered Women++

MEDIA ADVISORY
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE, Monday June 28, 2010

A Vigil and Press Conference In Memory of Murdered Women

Ottawa, Ontario: On Wednesday, June 30th at 4pm, we are coming
together to grieve and speak out about the murder and disappearance of
three women: Paula Leclair, Jean Rock, and Lise Roy. An Ottawa man has
been charged with first degree murder in these cases. We will hold a
vigil and press conference in memory of missing and murdered women at
the Human Rights Monument.

We see these murders as part of the broader issue of men?s violence
against women and the inequities between genders. We need a societal
response to the plight of women and children. Violence against women
threatens all women?s sense of safety and women deserve to live their
lives without fear. All women are welcome to attend the vigil and
speak out in solidarity. Members of the media are welcome to ask
questions after the vigil is complete at 4:30 pm.

? When: Wednesday, June 30th, 2010
? Time: Vigil begins at 4:00pm - Press Conference begins at 4:30pm
? Where: Human Rights Monument, at Elgin and Lisgar

For more information please contact:
Erin Williams, Ottawa Coalition To End Violence Against Women
(OCTEVAW), 613-725-3601 ext. 105
Concillia Muonde, Sexual Assault Support Centre of Ottawa (SASC),
613-725-2160 ext. 233
____________________________________________________________________________
______________

AVIS AUX MÉDIAS
COMMUNIQUÉ URGENT

Une manifestation silencieuse et une conférence de presse en mémoire
des femmes tuées

Ottawa (Ontario) - Le mercredi 30 juin à 16:00h, nous nous
rassemblerons afin de porter le deuil et de dénoncer le meurtre et la
disparition de trois femmes: Paula Leclair, Jean Rock, Lise Roy.
L?accusé est un homme de la région d?Ottawa, chargé de meurtre au
premier degré. Nous organisons une manifestation silencieuse suivie
par une conférence de presse en leurs mémoires au Monument canadien
pour les droits de la personne.

Nous considérons que ces meurtres surviennent du problème de la
violence faite aux femmes par les hommes et des inégalités entre les
sexes. Notre société se doit d'adresser la détresse des femmes et des
enfants. La violence faite aux femmes déstabilise leur sentiment de
sûreté, tandis qu?elles ont le droit de mener leurs vies sans crainte.
Toutes les femmes sont convoquées à faire preuve de leur solidarité.
Les membres des médias sont invités à poser leurs questions dès la fin
du vigil à 16h30.

? La date : Le mercredi 30 juin 2010
? L'heure : manifestation silencieuse à 16:00h - conférence de presse à 16h30
? Le lieu : Le Monument canadien pour les droits de la personne, au coin de la rue Elgin et Lisgar

Pour de plus amples renseignements, veuillez contacter :
Erin Williams, La Coalition d?Ottawa contre la violence faite aux
femmes (COCVFF)
613-725-3601 ext. 105
Concillia Muonde, Sexual Assault Support Centre of Ottawa (SASC),
613-725-2160 ext. 233

I've been spending more time out in the suburbs lately. D.Jack lives out there; not far out, really, but far enough that I always say things like "When do you want to head back into Ottawa?" and not to make him laugh.

When I'm out there, I'm kind of fascinated. We walk through the huge park, we walk by the river, we walk on the train tracks. It's all so quiet and dark. The houses aren't big, not necessarily, but they're far apart. I've been in urban areas long enough that going to the strip mall near his house feels like ethnography.

Last night we went to the strip mall to play pool. I'm just learning how. I'm terrible at it, but I don't mind being terrible in front of D.Jack. I like the mix of talking and doing. I'm getting better, make a good shot now and again. A satisfying smack of the balls, the cue ball whirling in place after.

We finished our last game before D.Jack finished his last beer. We moved to the bar, I got some water, we chatted, watched the TVs flicker, soccer mostly. We nodded hello to the guy kitty corner to us. Handsome black guy with a nearly shaved head, slim. He nodded back. He left, came back with some Subway.

One guy joined him. Couldn't really tell you what he looked like, particularly. Had a bad angle on him. White guy, dark hair, worn maybe kinda longish. Hunched low to the bar.

Another guy joined them - on the other side of Mr. Subway. White silky shirt, probably a soccer shirt. Skin more pink than the hunched guy, he had short dark curly hair. Broad and meaty through the shoulders. A cleft chin and wide set dark eyes. Thick eyebrows.

D.Jack was almost finished his drink. My water was nearly gone.

They got talking about Al Gore, and the recent sexual harassment allegations against him. Being where we where, those guys looking like they looked, I purposefully tuned them out. Or rather, tried to tune them out.

It was hard; I was unsuccessful. I tried to keep my attention on my own conversation but it was spotty. I finally lost it altogether when White Shirt's voice went up a half decibel.

"When a girl says 'We shouldn't do this,' that's not no." He curled his lip and shrugged his shoulders to emphasize the point. "'We shouldn't do this.' That's not no! Am I right?"

I turned to D.Jack and said, "Well then. That's my cue. I'm gonna go piss." I turned on my stool and slid off.

The guy's voice faded as I walked away. "I mean, what's she doing in the men's washroom anyway?"

I sat on the toilet and fumed. Thought about all the things I could say to him. Thought about whether I would say them. Took some deep breaths to stop the heartbeat in my ears.

When I got back out, D.Jack has his hoodie on, was getting off the stool as I walked towards him. The bartender teased D.Jack a bit, said "Lovely to meet you again, Megan." I was surprised, but thought it a nice gesture.

We passed behind White Shirt. I thought about catching his arm and asking him how many girls he thought he'd probably raped, with an attitude like that. He'd say none, of course, but I thought it maybe might shake him up just enough. My courage failed and the moment passed.

I waited till we were about 2 steps out the door to explode into a rant. D.Jack let me go, let me blow off the steam.

"It was interesting after you left," he said as I was winding down.

I snorted. "I bet it was."

"No," he said. "Not like that."

I raised my eyebrows, doubtful.

"No, really. The guy closest to us, he turned to the guy who was talking and said 'You know, I bet a lot of women wouldn't agree.' and then he kind of gestured at you and said 'Like that.'"

"He did?"

"Yeah. Maybe because it was because I'd just opened my mouth to say something. But your exit was noted."

"And?"

"The guy just shut up."

"Huh. I had no idea they'd noticed me in the first place."

"They had for sure. And Patty making a point of saying goodbye to you when we left. That was a message too, I think."

I was shocked, frankly. I was not expecting to find an ally in a suburban pool hall.

Let's face it, I'd pegged them all as Not My People as soon as they sat down. When that guy started on, it was an easy flip to my knee-jerk hatred of sports-loving suburban yobbos who say stupid sexist shit because they can and no one calls them on it.

It made me happy, too.

Sure I could have said something myself, maybe should have. But to that guy, I'm pretty sure I'd be easily dismissed. Getting cut down by his buddy two stools down? Not so much. He may think twice about saying shit like that again, even. Not because of me, not because I obviously didn't agree with him, but because one of His People might call him on it.

And it gave me hope.

When I poke my head out of my bubble, I often despair for the world. I feel unwelcome and out of place; I read and hear shit on a regular basis that I think is frankly appalling. I thought that guy was just more of the same. I thought all his friends were too, by virtue of looking how they looked and sitting beside him.

But maybe the friend's response wasn't an isolated incident. Maybe that friend is just willing to take that kind of a risk in his group - because standing up against the status quo is a risk in any group. Maybe White Shirt will think twice about saying something fucking stupid like that. Hell, maybe he'll even question the belief behind it.

Maybe he won't. I don't know.

What I do know is that if there's one ally out there, there's more. Maybe the borders I've drawn around My People could be more permeable than they have been till now.

Warning: Extreme sappiness ahead.

Here in Ottawa we're rolling into the third annual Gaga Weekend. Last year's was an excellent time. So excellent, in fact, that I eschewed all the Westfest stuff - I was either at Gaga events or too tired out by them to head west at all.

There was rocking, there was rolling. It was the birthplace of Fashion Crimes Bingo. It also gave me a two day hangover I nursed with more beer.

It was crazy fun. I loved how DIY it was, I liked how well organized it was. I marvelled that they were able to merge those two things so successfully: that is one fine line to walk. I loved how many women were both on the stage and in the audience.*

Jennifer was my consistent companion, though Steve and I believe perhaps Mitch joined us Saturday for the big show, and d.jack was my date that night. Or, at any rate, I wrangled him home with me,** which is close enough to a date in my books.

So this week I've been making arrangements. Who's going to be at what show, when should we meet, should I bring my bingo card, etc. etc.

And then I thought, that's right, when I got there last year, to Yogi's, to the afternoon show, the matinee, if you will, d.jack was all happy to see me. And I thought, huh, that's right, this time last year, we had just started dating. And then I thought, jesus, this time last year. how did that happen so fast? when the winter seemed so long? And then I thought, how did that happen at all, that i'm dating someone for more than one year and am *happy*? And then I thought and *content*! And then I thought, holy shit. this really could not have turned out any better.

And then I stopped thinking because I didn't want to jinx it.

But then my heart got all swelled up anyhow and I wished he was there so I could wrap my arms all the way around him and squeeze him with the biggest squeeze ever and put my lips on his lips and breathe.

*Other weekend festivals will go nearly unmentioned. Though, to be fair, this year's line up was the most lady-tastic ever.
**And then wrangled him some more, lar lar.

Followed a link from David Scrimshaw's blog and listened to this song.

Don't just listen to the song at the top of the page, though, read down through the story first. Then listen to it. And see if your heart hasn't just grown three sizes.

Tonight is a night for floppy grumping. All I feel like doing is heaving myself around from flat surface to flat surface, while I sigh and try to get comfortable.

No I don't want to write the book review that is due today. No I don't want to go for a walk. No I don't feel like watching anything on internet TV. No I don't feel like weeding the front garden. No no no no no.

Maybe I feel a little like clicking from random thing to random thing on the internet, but only just a little.

Seeing as how I recommended a dish-smashing pit to two of my friends today, seems it may just be going around.

It seems I've lost my blog-head. I miss it.

For years that's how I walked around, my brain full of intros and outros; thinking of a phrase that really needed to be written down; the words I might use in a vain attempt to make you see what I was seeing.

That doesn't happen any more, for whatever reason. I think it started with wanting to keep my love life more private than I had. I think the novel last November finished it. I've been pulled more to fiction and longer pieces, and lord knows I've got a limited amount of time and/or energy for writing.

At any rate, that in part explains why I went to Winnipeg and came back without posting even once. I thought about it, but in that way where you think you should want to do something, not because you're bursting to do it.

But Winnipeg, yes.

I went out there for a long overdue visit to Chris, who I befriended a few weeks into library school and was the only thing that made my life in Halifax bearable - until we added Grace and Greg and Daniel to our twosome and we all got each other through the special kind of hell that is an MLIS.

Right, Winnipeg.

If you stand in one spot in Chris' hall you can see both the Assiniboine and Red Rivers. The Assiniboine is wide and leads you straight east into the sunrise. The Red is a snake's curve through the elms way off in the distance.

They've got a swank pad, her and her man, with two balconies and lots of natural light. I had my own room and woke up to that sunrise every morning, though only enough to think "I should get up and watch that from the balcon-"

We took the bus; we walked. I saw several local characters - Fast Freddy, former shoplifter and pool shark, who takes good care of his shoes - Someone Low, a strange writer-type man with a knack for saying just the wrong thing - Eric Pyle, about whom Chris' man said "Some indie rockers develop job skills when they realize they're not going to make it. And then there's Eric Pile." - and then an Ex who shall not be named, but about whom I'd heard a lot and was more famous to me than all those other people combined.

There was art, a movie, diners, bridges. The Nonsuch at the Manitoba Museum brought on the vertigo I hadn't felt in months. Chris swears up and down it was moored solid, but my inner ear saw fit to inform me otherwise.

There was sitting and reading and talking and talking. We fell easily back into step - we always do, after the first hour or so of disorientation.

Standing at the bus stop early Sunday morning, waiting for the 20 Academy to take me to the airport, we talked some more. Chris told me about flying business class - for cheap - from DC to Chicago.

"It was so nice," she said. "All this room, and food. The man beside me was pretty grumpy. But I didn't care, because I had a beautiful fruit plate."

I started laughing, hard. And crying a little too, a little wet around the lashes.

"I don't know why, but that sentence encapsulates everything I love about you."

She hooted and threw her arms around me. We hugged tight and kept laughing.