Specific near the Pacific

I'm now in Seattle for a brief northwest tour. This fills me with tremedous guilt, as any time I'm in this time zone I feel as though I must visit ALL of my Bay peeps, but it so wasn't happening this time around. Sheesh! I may get to see pals I haven't seen for three years, and I've never gottent o see much of Seattle nor Portland.

I walk into a coffee-house, and on a lark ask the counter-worker if any of their baked goods are vegan. Kind of off-handedly, she mentions that the doughnuts are. WHAT!? I ask in disbelief. VEGAN DOUGHNUTS? Geezus, where have you been all my life? I've had four since I landed here. I hadn't realized that while the main political thrust in my life doesn't allow me to prioritize such things, gosh I missed vegan doughnuts. I didn't know how good I had it in ol' SF.

The other thing I missed: fellow genderqueers and trannies. I almost wanted to run up and hug all the various non-gender-conforming critters I see wandering around the place where our training was held. At least I stopped myself, since I at least recall that I would've found that weird were I to be lovingly accosted by a stranger in my town.

It's a rough lot for trans-dudes in DC that I've found. If someone can prove me wrong, please do - write me, call me, make a blog disproving these claims. But after a two-month wait for an appointment with an endorinologist who basically told me "I don't know what you are, don't want to learn, and won't do anything for you" it's really nice to be in a town where that's not the apparent norm.

I wrangled with a title for this post. It's not the be-all, but it's nice to be in a place where I feel like I can be all the weirdness and complexity that I am. I assert myself as such in DC, but here there's no asserting that needs doing. More just ascertaining.

Hey, if you're reading this and you're one of my Bay peeps, call me before March 3rd. I'm in your time zone! I'll try to call you, too! Yeah, I think I'm a little homesick. Signing off...

shy-town

Hangin' out with students for fair trade, getting a whirlwind tour of Chicago. I'm getting to spend lots of quality time with my fabulous co-worker, B, and visit veggie sites here (which is a challenge - Chicago is a meat-packing town. 'Nuf said.) I thought it was going to be so cold I would DIE, but not at all! Either I've acclimated or it's particularly mild out these days.

I love this town, but there's not enough down time at the conference...I haven't had a weekend off in a bit, and it's starting to get me cranky. Good conversations with folks though. This is going to be a funny, reporting-back listing post.

"Chicago is a gritty town. New York is dirty, but Chicago is gritty." quoth my host/ess.

USAS Conference Out-takes

conf_usas_05,
originally uploaded by mtoth.

We're all trying to look too cool for USAS school.

the stars shine bright

::::clapclapclapclap:::
Deep in the Heeeeart of Te-Xas!

I'm back from a lovely three days in Austin, having been to Durham once in between posts. Austin lived up to its cool reputation, far as I was concerned. I didn't get to see as much of it as I did the warehouse where we were hosting the USAS national conference, but marching around UT Austin in pleasant weather chanting about Taco Bell and how they should be booted from campus was quite lovely. There are pictures of the conference courtesy of our digitally-camera-d attendees. Great students, good food, much strategy, and making coffee continuously for three days. The People's Institute gave a training, and we had some interesting innovations on the traditional caucus-ally structure. All in all, I say it went pretty well!

There will be more, I have many thoughts in my head, but a whole lot of work to catch up on. So you'll have to wait. But it'll be worth it. :)

nawlins

I went to lovely New Orleans this past weekend to 'replenish democracy' with fellow student organizers, courtesy of the Ford foundation. The conference was a success in that many of us working in different areas (with different students) got to network, strategize, and see ways our work can reinforce rather than compete. Many USAS leaders came out to the conference, and we had more time than usual to hang out and bond, strategize, and figure out collaborations over the next year.

A huge personal highlight is that I got to see none other than Catherine AMAZING Jones, my dear comrade from back in the Bay who left two and a half years ago to become a doctor courtesy of Tulane University. She grew up in New Orleans, so I got a very lovely guided tour the evenings that I had free. Since it was the week before Mardi Gras, I got to catch part of a parade, where I collected beads and tried not to get pummeled by them - bead-receiving can be dangerous business! Catherine and I hadn't seen each other since she left for school, so it was great to catch up.

Another major highlight is that unexpectedly, Bob Moses was in town to speak at a Community Labor United public forum, and brought 45 high school students from Jackson, MS who participate in his algrebra program. While we only saw him speak briefly, it's still incredible for me to be in the presence of organizers who've made such a profound impact on the country.

Now I'm in Durham for two days, and that's torment because I'd like to be here for a week or two, really. Staying at the House of Mango, no matter how short, is rejuvinating nonetheless.

After tomorrow, I'm back to DC for NCOR, where many of my comrades from Cali will be out to present workshops. I was supposed to, but there were communication difficulties, so I'll be tabling there instead.

better dead than...a red state?

Swarms of Republicans in the metro, our building on virtual lockdown, snow everywhere...this has been my last coupel of days. I got to host my friend Jenna, who put Elly and I up for the RNC. We wandered hither and yon throughout the protests. She's a radical librarian, and as a consequence had a kit with information about the various goings-on of the day.

Being that it was cold and the marches lengthy, our crew stopped off at a Chinese food restaurant for lunch, and watched the ABC news coverage of the inauguration. I could hardly believe some of the things I heard/saw! There were reporters describing the protest as a "healthy size", they didn't say 'anarchist' once. One reporter actually drew the connection between the irony of the scene of the massive protest cages at "freedom plaza" where people were pushing on fencing the riot cops had established far from the actual parade route, and our purported rights of free speech and democracy. How would the international community percieve these images, so soon after Dr. King's birthday, inquired this fellow. His co-host tried to cut him off. It was astounding! There were points when the camera angle stopped panning the sidelines, where myriad "Worst President Ever" signs were littered throughout, and focused for a couple of minutes on the decal at the side of the heavily armored presidential limo, blurring the presence of protest.

It was also noticeable how, while discussing the procession and motorcade, references to various presidential assasinations where frequent. While there may not be much armor on humvees for our beloved troops in Iraq, there sure is plenty for the limo. Gee, here's for making the world a safer place. United we stand...behind lots and lots of secret service.

The most personally hilarious thing for me was that all these republican faithfuls were trooping out there proudly wearing...RED! Yep, the phrase 'red baiting' took on a whole new meaning for me. I don't think a one of them found it ironic. If it wasn't red, it was fur...those pro-'lifers' really like clubbed baby seals to keep themselves toasty.

I have hope for the future, though. While we were eating lunch, there was a group of inauguration-goers sitting at a big round table next to us. We were obviously and loudly a group of godless anarchists (or whatever), and it made the adults squirm. But there were two young girls - couldn't have been more than 11-13 range, and they couldn't stop staring at us. It was very clear that we were cooler than their immediate company. Let's hope some day they're among our ranks.

Staying put

After a week of the atrocious-if-classic flu, I came back swingin' to facilitate a conference of 35-some-odd students who flew/drove/took trains to DC to learn about standing in solidarity with campus service workers. While the wacky world of labor is, well, wacky these days, I'm really appreciating the opportunity to be a part of an internationally-coordinated labor campaign.

I'm in a cafe where the smell of bacon is overwhelming.

Down for the count

Well, my blog has been a little spare lately. I got an awful flu, and I've been out sick from work for the last four days. Kaiser says I'll live, and my fever is gong down, but sheesh!

There will be holiday redux and other postings soon, just as soon as the DayQuil haze wears off. :)

i left my heaaaaaart...

In San Francisco.

Yowtch! But now I have a shot at getting it back, as I sit presently at my folks' house in Sonora, Calif.

Let's hear it for 50° and sunny! I'm here for a week. I almost kissed the ground at Oakland airport, but then it was gross. So I didn't. I had a sort of mission-impossible moment where I picked up my friend's car. There I am, x-mas eve, crawling on the ground searching for a hide-a-key and hoping to get somewhere to crash, because the San Joaquin valley had fog so thick that there was 1/4-mile visability for 60 miles of the trip.

Anyhow, all for now.

thirty-seven degrees.

The good news is that I'm staying put in DC for a bit, until students get back to school and stuff.

The bad news is that the East Coast winter is actally upon us. It was 37° F in DC today, but with wind chill it felt like 27°. This now means something to me before, whereas in my halcyon winters of yore, these were numbers on the Weather Channel screen.

As much as I love it here, I can't wait for my California winter break...and my pals!

very special guest star

D.C. is so weird. I'm really still adjusting to things like this.

This morning I come into work (somewhat sickly, I might add) to find lots of bustling in the entryway.

Upon greeting my co-worker, she informs me that the conservative thinktank a few floors above us is hosting none other than Dick Cheney. We all think of terribly subversive things, like posting flyers in the elevators that say "Dick Cheney is a war criminal" and whatnot (nothing more than that, actually) but decide that none of us were planning on risking tangles with the secret service for something so minor. Ah, well. We were threatened with being frisked upon re-entering our workplace. In practice, it meant that the building and a two-block radius around it were crawling with cops, who promptly motorcaded all around when I left to meet up with Elly. As I exited the elevator, it was clear that the presence of my nose-ring gave pause to many security personnel nearby. I could see them asking themselves, "How did HE get in here?" So I sneered and left, and got a vegan empanada, and watched the cops frustrate pedestrians and commuters alike.

I swear someone was assigned to simply hang out in the men's bathroom for several hours. It's never been so busy in there.

What a strange place indeed.

I heart n.c.

I've split my time between Brooke's place in Chapel Hill and this awesome, awesome place in Durham - House of Mango. It's an activist/organizer collective living place near downtown, and instead of writing blog posts before bedtime, I've been up engaging in all manner of conversation with the folks who live here.

Since it's finals-time, it's been like pulling teeth to get meetings with students. This is a difficulty for a student organizer, but it's enabled me to spend time making connections with various community organizers, which is a good thing. I had lunch today wiht Tema Okun, long-time trainer with changework, now an adjunct professor at Guilford, and a general anti-racist Big Deal. It was really awesome to sit down and have a conversation with her about post-elections analysis and movement building, seeing as I'm a whopping 3-year veteran and she's been doing this her whole life. She also happens to have an amazingly fluffy cat named Pete.

Afterwards, off to Winston-Salem to meet with another organizer-type person, and back again to meet with a student. At least as we near the end of the week, students have turned their papers in and find a hour here or there. I do appreciate it, since it's not like there aren't other things going on for them. But we ate at a lovely Kenyan food restaurant mere blocks from where I began my day.

I'm darn sleepy, so this is not my most engaging post. Perhaps I'll quit while I'm behind. :)

The light of freedom

This morning I woke up on a sofa to the sounds of my grad student friends getting ready for class. I shuffled around in my jammies and Brooke made us some coffee, and the day begun in earnest. She worked on a paper while gleefully ditching a class. She’s struggling to write a peer-review paper to an almost all-white Planning Department that gets at the centrality of power, the racism inherent in white folks designing the neighborhoods, houses and lives of low-income folks of Color in basic terms. I’m writing a bazillion emails to students, hoping to get one or two to write me back so we can meet about the campaign I’m working on. Brooke stops for a second and describes a paragraph about white supremacy culture in planning committees and departments, and I argue that while it’s useful to point out, concrete examples about the power relationship between the department itself and the institution of planning (it’s not the only majority white Planning department, I hazard to guess) - and provide suggestions for how to change that dynamic.

Brooke leaves, conference calls about, and eventually I get dressed and set out for the highlight of my day. Brooke has informed me that two SNCC field organizers, Wazir Peacock and Hollis Watkins, are speaking - first at Duke and later at North Carolina Central University, an Historically Black University. I decide that since no students have yet returned my phone calls/emails, I’m going to both.

It was inspiring and humbling to hear the stories of these two men who faced guns, dogs, beatings, but all the while were supported by amazing networks of local people, to get African American people registered to vote. I’d read the amazing book, I’ve Got the Light of Freedom (the author is Charles Payne), so I had some idea of who these men were and the role they played in the Civil Rights Movement. But never did I think I’d get the chance to hear them, particularly in a college meeting room in North Carolina. They were both from Mississippi, which contrasted with many field organizers who weren’t organizing in the places they grew up.

Here are links to interviews with each of them:
Hollis Watkins: http://www.lib.usm.edu/%7Espcol/crda/oh/watkins.htm
Wille Wazir Peacock: http://www.crmvet.org/vet/wazir.htm

Their message was clear: national organizers need to be respectful and not trample on the slow, patient work of organizing on the ground; white folks still have to organize in white communities against racism; the media didn’t portray an accurate picture of the inside workings of SNCC. There were many more, but they’re far better read in the book, I can’t do justice to a 500-page book in a paragraph.

Hollis Watkins is still organizing in Mississippi - he founded a leadership-development organization called Southern Echo.

OK, well, it’s 1am and I have a bus to catch tomorrow, so I have to leave it at that. But as my brain processes the insights from tonight, I will post them here, I promise.

felt up by the State - a ranty little post

OK, I know there are a lot of people in this world who have it worse off when it comes to the Transportation Security Authority. But a combination of one-way flights, a job of constant travel, and my propensity to be selected for the ‘special people’ line at the airport in general had me on the brink this morning.

First off, I have to say “limited pat-down” my ASS. Whatever dude is patting me down manages to get what little handful I have left after chest surgery firmly grasped. I try not to be cranky, I know it’s not entirely their fault, but DAMN.

Then, to top it off, I thought this morning that I had made it through when I was abruptly taken from the boarding line back to the blasted security area and put through the ringer again. Bleah.

It probably didn’t help that I realized on my way to the car rental counter that in my haste I forgot that I NO LONGER HAVE A DRIVER’S LICENSE because it’s some where in Columbus Georgia and hence could not retrieve my rental car. Yep, totally stranded at Raleigh-Durham airport, where there is no mass transit on Sundays. I thought I’d wait it out for one of my gracious hosts to pick me up with my friend/her housemate Brooke Dubose, who was supposed to arrive from a New York flight at 1:15. Nope, no such luck. Her flight was delayed several hours, and finally after winding up in a sleep-deprived, low-blood-sugar, tormented daze I staggered out to the taxi stand and coughed up the $40 to go to Chapel Hill. At least the weather was nice, once I actually made it out of the airport.

After half an hour of nausiated weirdness, I got a falafel sandwich and a coffee and all was better with the world. Brooke wouldn’t arrive until 4:30pm, and we’d both had 6:00am flights. At least I now know that it wasn’t just The Universe vs. Max.

connecting in Connecticut

My pal Cathy Rion invited me to her house for Thanksgiving (I prefer 'thanks-taking', since that's a bit more historically accurate). It was lovely, three days of sleeping in, except for that last one where I got three hours of sleep because of the 6am flight and the lots of political conversation that needed to be had. Like, until one am. Yipes.

I felt bad because in the intervening time, Elly's family wound up with an extra space in their minivan, bound for her Grandma's house in South Carolina. But my parents taught me what Ms. Manners has taught so many before me - you go with the first person to whome you made a commitment.

One of my favorite debates was one where Cathy asked her parents if they knew where any gay bars in Hartford were located. Somehow Cathy's mom was convinced that gay folks abound, in virtually every popular Hartford nightspot. Her dad vehemently (but good-naturedly) disagreed - sort of a 'just because gay people go there doesn't make it a gay bar' sort of defense. Upon inspection, neither Cathy nor I found the gay people. OK, a few here and there, but not hanging out at a bar.

Another incongruous West Hartford moment: I have a tendancy to Google (yes, it's a verb now) the name of the town I'm in plus "vegan" and "food". This leads Cathy and I on an adventure one afternoon to a café that radiates tie-dye before we've even made it in the door. Is it because I'm from California that I find these places? Or are there secret networks of New England hippies just waiting to be found?

It was only the second place I've been in my life where I ordered a tofu sandwich and the tofu came RAW. The other place was Boonville, California, and that was at least salted and had avocado as its companion. At I looked at my West Hartford raw-tofu-and-sprouts-on-a-whole-wheat-tortilla, I realized that it was this very kind of item that made all my non-veggie friends whinge at the mere mention of my beloved soy staple. *Sigh*. But everything else we got there was quite tasty. I remarked to Cathy that I was glad it was me who had the sandwich and not someone without the practice of ten years of veganity. She agreed.

adios ratones

I touched down at Dulles airport last night at midnight, 40 minutes after a 2-hour delay at Raleigh-Durham. Short my wallet and several hours of sleep, and facing a complicated question from my immediate pals: "How was the SOA protest?"

Erhem. Uhm, complicated. I walked into a scene that made me understand a couple of things pretty quickly:
* Why I was hearing from a variety of folks of Color who attend the School of the Americas (/WHINESEC) protest that it's very alienating, even by majority-white lefty gathering standards.
* Exactly what kind of an uphill battle my pal in the anti-oppression working group has taken on.

Don't get me wrong, it's really exciting that 5-10,000 people want the School of the Americas shut down. I'm so right there with them. It's just a little tough for me to understand, given the origins and entire philosophy that brought the SOA into existence, that it would be such a fight to get the mostly white audience to understand the connections to racism. Yipes.

There's very little longer-term interaction with the location of Columbus, Georgia, who has played host to the SOA protest for fourteen years. There are vegetarian menus at some of the local restaurants, and people vending food all along the protest courseway - the entrance to Fort Benning. The town is friendly, but small and it's economy is very clearly tied to the Fort. All the local billboards proclaim that it's OK if you have bad credit, they want to talk to you nonetheless. If you want military surplus, financing, used cars, bail bonds, and welcoming restaurant staff, you've come to the right place. Given this scenario, perhaps it's understandable that there's a cultural canyon from the mostly white, Jesuit university students, faculty, and community and the folks who live year-round in Columbus.

Given the number of bail bonds proprieters in town, I was struck by how watching relatively priviledged mostly white kids 'cross the line' to be dragged off to minimum-security prison for up to 6 months and five thousand dollars worth of fines, a tactic that has done little to actually stop the training of torturers in the course of 14 years, might seem absurd to local people. But I'm not all that sure - I should've spoken with people more directly myself. For the most part, and one of the few people with a rental car I was volunteering to schlep people all over town. I appreciate that people are living out their principles. I always appreciate that. But the apparatus and performance that creates it, that was harder for me to deal with. The invisibility of privilege, the lack of connection between, perhaps, the School of the Americas and torturous practices within U.S. prisons. Heck, people are being carted off to jail, it's not that hard to make the logical leap, that might make this all a little more relevant.

On the good side, it was the biggest gathering of its kind. The procession and liturgical reading of the names of victims from various SOA graduates is undeniably powerful and respectful memorial to those who have died at the hands of this institution. I just also want to know what it will take to get it to stop, for real.

My dear pal is working her hiney off to highlight these issues, as she's been a part of the SOA Watch community for a long time. I honor her fortitude and will try to support her as best I can; I just hope there are folks within her community who will do the same.

There was a 'gun and knife' show happening in the main convention center, just feet from the protest center. Cover was $7, which dissuaded us from checking it out on principle.

-------

By 3:00pm we were on the road, I drove us from Columbus, Georgia to just outside of Greenville, South Carolina. I have to stop and comment briefly on the ubiquity of waffles in the South...it is truly impressive! I've never seen so many various houses of Waffle, local and chain, in my life. By the time I hand over the driving, I've realized that my wallet is back in Georgia.

A brief dinner and we're on the road - being falsely led to believe we're near Raleigh/Durham. Tamara and I are dropped at the car rental counter by 10:30pm, off to get hopelessly lost in Chapel Hill, eventually finding our host, who has graciously prepared an air mattress, chips, salsa, tea, and her company. My old pal Brooke Dubose, whom I met in the Bay Area when she was working for Global Exchange - it was great to see her. We're up and out by 9:30 for a meeting with a student leader at Duke by 10, and at a protest by 11:30. North Carolina is beautiful, and one of these days I'll plonk down for a digital camera and blog some of these places so you'll see what I mean. Trees that change color are not overrated. Things I didn't understand until recently.

The protest was sparsely attended, but students had spent all night making brilliant T-shirts highlighting both the abuse of worker's rights and health conditions at their privatized dining facility. On one side was a rat (who became a mascot for obviously stomach-turning reasons) with fur in the shape of a corporate logo - on the back it proclaimed, "¡Adios, ratones!" I love it.

This is as much as I have time/brain cells to report, and I'm off for Connecticut on Thursday. How many states is that? How long have I been here? I'll draw a map and scan it at some point.

Signing off from D.C.

Georgia on my mind

Tonight I get on a bus at Georgetown and drive all night with
students to Georgia, arriving in Columbus at some ungodly hour for
the commencement of the three day School of the
Americas protest.

I'm pretty excited, as I've never gotten to go to this protest,
usually due to lack of money/time/accomodations. The only irritating
thing is that the Youth/Student caucus is at the same time at the
keynote, given by one of my favorite people in this world - Elizabeth
"Betita" Martinez. She's an amazing Xicana activist who was involved
with SNCC, started the Institute for Multi-Racial Justice, and is a
prolific author - my words don't do her justice. Why am I stuck in a
different hotel, giving a workshop on media basics, instead of with
all my fellow youth/students listening to her speech? The only answer
I received to this question involved logistics and not wanting to
conflict with the benefit concert. No diss to the musicians, but
they're playing all weekend. This was the overriding decision of the
conference call of Youth/Student planners, and I must say that
indicates that we all have a lot of work to do here in
student-organization-land.

On Sunday night, we leave Fort Benning for DC, but my co-organizer
Tamara and I get dropped off in Durham, NC at some ungodly hour. That
seems to be a new theme in my life, ungodly hours. We then
participate in a rally at UNC-Chapel Hill, meet with some awesome NC
organizers, and head home from Raleigh-Durham airport.

On a side note, if you haven't heard from me in a while, it's because
MY LAPTOP DIED. Oh, yes. It's now in Memphis getting its logic board
replaced. I've managed not to freak out too much, but all my email
was downloaded onto it, so no replies from me. And I have a mild flu.
But other than that, I'm truckin'.

At some point, I'll have the brain space to write actual articles,
which was the purpose of this darn blog, but it's de/evolved into
more of a travelogue. There are worse things, right?

old virginny

Back from Boston, and off to the University of Virginia where the USAS (United Students Against Sweatshops) mid-Atlantic regional conference gathered for a weekend of being SASsy. Heh.

One final note about Boston: If you don't know what intersection you're at, Bostonian city planners have decided that you don't deserve to be there. Yep, even my hosts were quick to comment that practically every major thoroughfare is totally unmarked. I also found that true for Woostah - I mean, Worcester. What's up, Massachussets? This made for plenty of hi-larious driving misadventures.

After a little R&R, in which my laptop unceremoniously died (apparently a recall-worthy issue with the particular variety of iBook G4 I have), I set out on another road trip with my USAS comrade Allie and our pal Becky from American Rights at Work.

Armed with nothing but what I'd succeeded in printing out before the laptop death, I made the best of it. What Virginia had to offer was:
* Massive stop-and-go traffic until Charlotsville
* Many orange-clad football enthusiasts
* Awesome student organizers
* A freshly-refurbished anarchist art space in which to crash, replete with vegan baked goods
* An ROTC building for our retreat. No, really! Like, leave the room, see a ceremonial cannon pointed at you! Pictures of camoflagued gun-toting students not smiling for the camera at 4am or in some other ungodly circumstance.
* Very nice LGBT Unitarians having a movie night

That's really all I can tell you. The rest has been sealed. Well, and the part where it's bedtime.

sports, angst and snow

Day one of my self-organized two-day campus tour. I meet with a group and a recent grad student, all of whom are really nice folks and interested in what we’re working on. I met with the local JWJ/SLAP coordinator here, and we have the collective rant about the elections that’s really becoming more of a greeting than a rant. “Hi, can you believe over half the people in this country hate gay people more than they want health care?” Is basically how we’re all starting conversations these days. The very awesome grad student - who, coincidentally, had worked with USAS as an undergrad - was telling me about the moment of group angst after Kerry’s concession at Fanual Hall. “I was there,” she recounted, and I thought of how I started the conversation at the Brewster spiritual espresso parlor. “Nobody wanted to move. We just stayed there in the area, under 4:30 am, until they turned the lights out on us and the security guards had to tell us to leave. It was like, ‘if I don’t leave, then I don’t have to believe what just happened.’”

I said what I usually say, which is that I would’ve liked a riot - well, not the part where people hurt each other or the cops shoot someone, but you know. But only the Red Sox can get a riot in this town.

Speaking of which, my Number One Question for my hosts is whether now that the Sox have won there will be a collective identity crisis among Bostonians. Everyone replies in a sort of hushed tone that, yes, they suspect people won’t be sure of what to do with themselves next year. People aren’t quick with this analysis until I relay that I’m a second-generation Cubs fan, and they recognize the solidarity immediately. That’s as manly as I get, by the way. I suggested to my fellow organizer that Sox fans take on a love for the radical Left in the US, but I suppose that’s a far too cynical thing for me to say. Even I have snarky moments.

So back to my day. I dropped the nice grad student off at her friend’s, and immediately upon getting somewhat hopelessly lost on my way back to Jamaica Plain, I saw snowflakes hit my windshield. Snowflakes!! It was 65º (F) yesterday, and I’m suddenly beginning to realize that those numbers mean something to people, because in the rest of the world, they fluctuate wildly from day to day! And my long underwear is a plane trip away.

Another thing I learned about this “weather” business - metal nose-rings conduct the cold right into yer schnoz. Perhaps this is why San Francisco is the capitol of obscure body piercings and not, say, Wisconsin.

OK, that was the last of my brain cell allotment for today - stay tuned!

max in beantown

Hey folks,

When last we spoke, I was in Ohio, having a great community-youth-organizing adventure that ended in crushing defeat. Since then, I went back to DC for two days, go on a plane, and arrived in Boston - about two hours after I’d planned, but ya know.

I drove down that night to Cape Cod, Brewster, to be specific, where I plonked down at a motel at 2am. The next day was my friends Derek and Patrick’s wedding, one of the best weddings I’ve been to. Not that I’m a big wedding-goer, and my pal Mary & Catherine’s wedding in Louisville a month ago was also lovely.

Here I was on the Cape, at a Big Gay Wedding. Everything was really sweet - Derek and Patrick and their Best People in tuxes, I felt quite underdressed. But before the wedding I got a chance to check out the town of Brewster, which was really charming, and not in a “I’m supposed to be charming to you, I’m a tourist town” sort of way. Having grown up in tourist towns, I’m quite sensitive to the dynamics of being obliged to cater to people with more money than, say, everyone in your town.

As I was driving to find the one advertised “vegetarian-friendly” dining establishment in Brewster, I passed a sign - actually, several signs linked to each other, which said:
“Herbs
Crystals - stones
Espresso
internet”

It was all I could do not to screech the car to a halt. Instead I made my way to the sandwich shop, ate a lovely Portobello mushroom on ciabatta, drank a Nantucket juice, and wondered whether there really was a company in Nantucket or whether it’s all a marketing campaign, and contemplated asking a local and set off to explore Herbs - Crystals - Espresso - Internet.

The gravel driveway made it look like it was two buildings, but sure enough, it was your one-stop-recentering & connecting shop. I wandered in and was greeted by a nice young woman who looked like a variety of nice young women I’ve met in such establishments in California, but here we were in Cape Cod. She directed me to an ethernet cable and there I was, checking my email in a sort of undeveloped area of the shop with a dusty copy machine and a coffeetable.

A friendly older woman with short hair was chatting with the store worker about politics, and I couldn’t help but join in. “I was in Ohio on Tuesday” I said emphatically, after hearing them bemoan the outcome. Not to be a human cliché, but being in an herb-crystal-espresso bar made me relaxed in the first place, but being in an explicitly Lefty one was a tiny and weird piece of heaven. My homesickness waned. We talked a while, while I racked up .15-a-minute charges for my web-browsing. But my favorite part was that totally unremarkable-looking middle-class older white Cape Cod folks kept wandering into the store, purchasing this or that herbal concoction, which the young woman promptly whipped up from the many shelves of herb-jars, all while we were talking politics. I had to make a bee-line fore the wedding across the street, so I went to settle up and noticed that nestled among the crystallized ginger, stone-bead-bracelets and whatnot, were copies of “A People’s History of the United States." How about that? Can’t beat it.

After the wedding, we late-night revelers made the intrepid journey to Provincetown. It was my first time in P-Town, I’d only heard references and seen panels about it from Dykes to Watch Out For. I wasn’t really sure I’d ever go there, I have such little occassion to be in Boston and have access to a car and three hours both ways to kill. We went to a dance club and I hung around with the fellas for a while, and called it a night within two hours. There were definitely some cute guys, but for the most part people either danced or stood around and watched people dancing. It was a little reminiscent of junior high school. I’ll definitely give P-Town another shot, during the summer, though.

This morning, however, I woke up with exactly enough time to make the 11:00 check-out, swing by my new favorite Brewster, MA internet spot, go to the whole foods store that I’d been tipped off to by the boys, and make my way to a State Park for a few hours of not working. Since I took this job, there have not been so many of the not-working hours. While I was enjoying a moment of nature-filled solitude by a lake, I got a cell phone call - ironically, my reception was better by a secluded lake than in my hotel room - that I would have a place to stay for the next few days. Thank you, Jackie Downing! So I made my way two hours north to a raucus queer kick-ball game already in progress, and the rest is history.

I soon discovered that one of the folks I was supposed to be meeting with while I was here is the room-mate of my Boston host. Small world, indeed!

OK, to bed with me.