I love you.
I love you but I am turning to my verses
and my heart is closing like a fist.
That is a fragment of one of my favorite Frank O’Hara poems and also what I long to say to the world today.
I left a Creative Suite II training on Wednesday and a feminist publishing symposium on Thursday with so many ideas percolating in my head and really need to hide out in my studio and create something, but all this administrative deadlines are hanging over me and shrinking my soul.
Had a long conversation with Ellie Smeal, former director of NOW, founding director of Feminist Majority, and current publisher of Ms. magazine. She said that the Feminist Majority did not want to take over publishing Ms. magazine and knew that it was probably a bad business decision, but that the previous publisher had “raped the magazine and very nearly put it under,”and was only interested in using their lists to market Working Mother and some other magazine instead of marketing Ms.
We talked about inclusive language and I told her about my experience creating inclusive lectionaries, responsorial psalms, and an Inclusive New Testament. And we talked about how one might create an electronic publishing business model for feminist writing.
We talked about blogs replacing zines as the feminist community-making tool of choice and she encouraged me to start a feminist press. I reminded her of how much that costs—not news to her, of course—but also confided that one of my favorite aspects of working in academic publishing is that I have access to equipment and expertise that allows me to pursue my personal creative pursuits affordably.
And she asked me to write for Ms. magazine
(in all my spare time).
So. Yeah. My life is pulling me in some new directions, some of which started with my need to keep this blog.
Basically, my soul just rebelled against administrative work and insisted on a place for me to cogitate creatively, a place where I can be me and not just this professional person who tries desperately to meet way too many administrative demands while my writing sits..
My need to create has been jumping up and down a lot more ever since, demanding attention, ad I m tryng o rearrange my life accordingly.
Meanwhile, I’d like to point out that The Gay and Lesbian Review’s summer sex issue includes the article “Strap-On Party for the People.”
The Christianists I mentioned in my last entry would use this title to justify their bias against queers, but show me a het couple that sticks to the missionary position and I’ll show you somw vanilla boredom in the bedroom.
LISTENING TO: Lou Reed/John Cale’s I Believe. It’s about Valerie Solanas shooting Andy Warhol: Valerie Solanis [sic] took the elevator, got off at the 4th floor. She pointed the gun at Andy saying you cannot control me anymore...Valerie Solanis [sic] took thee steps pointing at the floor from inside her idiot madness spoke and bang Andy fell onto the floor...)
READING: a Spanish version of a legal guide for girls.
SANG IN SHOWER: My power went off some time in the night and I drank wine last night, so I woke up at 8:28 AM only because the neighbor’s dog was barking. This means I took a one minute shower, during which time I sang “shit, shit, shit!” as I frantically lathered and rinsed. It also means that I am now at work with a way silly cowlick on the side of my head.
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