Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: dad, family, fun, italian, mom, new jersey
my mother’s family is embroiled in an ugly inheritance-related battle right now. my poor grandmother is alive to have to witness the insane greed of one of her sons and the ways in which it will change her family’s relationships forever. after a really explosive family meeting at my grandmother’s on sunday where my father and my mom’s brother nearly came to physical blows (which, what?!), my parents came home and told me all the gritty details. we sat around the kitchen table quietly for a few seconds and then it started…and by “it”, i mean endless references to the godfather. because in times of crisis, really, what else is an italian-american family supposed to do?
mom: well, i guess we all know what this means…it’s time to go to the mattresses!
dad: yeah, too bad he doesn’t have a horse we could behead and stick in his bed!
me: we could always just send him a wrapped up fish?
me: you know! “it’s a sicilian message. it means luca brazzi sleeps with the fishes!”
dad: cue godfather voice, “my boy! look what they did to my boy!”
mom: “leave the gun! take the cannolis!”
me: whistling the godfather theme song.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: blah, butches, exes, femmes, love, memory, nolose, the ex: cohen
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: family, home, minneapolis, new jersey
i have two homes. i have my minneapolis apt. and then i have my parent’s house in new jersey. i’m 27 and have been living outside of their house since i’m 18, but i still call my parent’s house “home” more than i do anywhere else i live. in a bunch of ways it is, of course, because they’re here, but in more ways jersey is just home.
i’ve spoken about my love for minneapolis on here before and none of that has changed. it’s my favorite city i’ve lived in since leaving for college in 1999; it’s pretty queer friendly, there’s always lots going on, and it’s city-ish, but not metropolis like nyc (which can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the day and what i’m on a hunt for around town). and i feel comfortable in minneapolis, like i’ve grown to know my way around and feel sentimental about certain aspects of it’s architecture or it’s lakes or it’s just general midwestern charm. i swear that when i imitate the accent i do it lovingly.
but even with my love for minneapolis, it will always come second to the whole northern half of the state of new jersey. from new brunswick to the very tip top town of sussex, everything in between is familiar, but in the weirdest of ways. new jersey has a reputation for being crude and trashy and having really obnoxious drivers. it’s the worst parts of us, but it’s also pretty true. from the second i stepped foot into newark airport yesterday, i felt this total shift in myself. within seconds, i was in line to go to the restroom and it was pure chaos, but in the nicest ways that made me smile from ear-to-ear. some lady behind me was singing old school lauryn hill at the top of her lungs, the mom in front of me was spit-washing the face of her daughter and scolding her saying, “whaddya want your grandmother to think we don’t raise you right?!” and some old woman was cursing out the paper towel dispenser for being empty. swoon.
when i was done primping and fixing my (big, hairsprayed) coif, i went to exit past another group of folks waiting in line. some woman with a 3ft. tall doll was blocking the exit, talking to someone several ppl up on the line about how great her doll was (it was frightening, really) and despite my attempts at “excuse me,” just continued to ignore me and talk about how full the doll’s skirt was and how her eyelashes felt like real hair. the last part did me in. i gave the woman the hardest of looks i could muster and blurted out, “really lady?! are you going to stand here all day and block the door because of your doll?! jesus christ!” needless to say she moved.
readers, i know this makes me sound like a total asshole and maybe i am, but jersey rubs off on me in these ways that makes me remember i don’t have to keep everything nicey nice all the time like we do in the land of hot dishes and 10,000 lakes. for some reason, the romance i have with home allows me to see public swearing as delightful and spitting on the sidewalk as almost awww-inducing. seriously, i’m in love with this place and my heart swells when i’m here. oh, minneapolis, i might not come back this time.
this isn’t going to become one of *those* kind of blogs – a lady-obssessed-with-her-cat blog. but seriously, guys, how cute is lula when i put her in a homemade dress made by one of my best friends in the whole wide world, emily, and i?! needless to say the dresses we attempted to make for ourselves aren’t nearly as post-worthy. hussy red is a lot of things, but one of those things is definitely not a seamstress. huzzah! onto the kitteh pic!
em, we misssssssss you.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: arg, bestie, blog family love, drama, family, fight, friends, honesty, ouch, over it, random ramblings, reciprocity
it’s been a rough week and so i haven’t written much. things have been crazy busy, as i’m preparing to go back east for a week and some to attend nolose and then to visit my family in nj and nyc. my best friend, kelley, is coming to visit my family and i in jersey for a few days, which will no doubt be good for the soul.
as i mentioned in my post a week or so ago, i’ve been having a lot of heaviness on my mind in regards to identity issues, not so much personally as much as how we’re all capable of getting caught up in labeling people based on what we want them to be in this queer community of ours. the range in severity of this can span from a minor offense to something tragic and hurtful, but either way i’m finding it so tiresome lately. more on this later as i develop it. i think i feel, in ways, responsible for some of the above mentioned stuff that i’m seeing in my own life and the lives of those around me and i want to figure out my own place in it before i spew on and on about it.
i’m working on these new methods of really trying to be self-reflexive about the things that bother me, partially spawned by my friendship with e, who maybe will always feel like more than a friend. we both have tempers that are quick to burn, so in the interest of trying to keep our shit on lock this year, we’re being more and more patient with one another and more cognizant about taking time and space when we need it to think our shit through. it’s been working well so far and i feel closer to her than i have in a while which is nice.
i’m finding out more and more lately that one of the most loving things we can do for each other is to know when to take space and sit with what we’re feeling. maybe at the end of a lot of sitting, we’re able to talk things through, process, get things back on track. maybe, we can spend months thinking and come to nothing but what we can say to one another only inside of our own heads. regardless of the outcomes, i can think of far too many times when i should have, or you should have, or we should have, stepped back and thought a little bit deeper about the shit between us, but instead we blurted out a lot of filler without giving things much thought and glossed over the important bits. i’m tired of doing this, so i’m taking space from a few things right now to think more about them. no doubt you faithful readers will get an earful…eyeful?
aside from this heavy stuff, good things: i’ve got a pitter-patter crush sorta thang going on with some handsome butch who lives way too far away but who i appreciate continuing to blow up my phone. i’ve got an achey, but full, heart from spending 2 weeks with my friend emily who has now returned home to san fran. i’m one prelim paper down and the second well on it’s way (i have 3 to complete by november). i just received the most beautiful dress, handmade for me by jane bonbon, which i am far too excited to wear – photos to come, i promise! my students are giving me enough humor/horror to keep me going, i.e. “i thought this was feminist film theory, not race film theory?” “errr…really?” mostly, though, i realized that after quite a few days of not posting, i missed talkin’ to y’all out there. what’s a girl to do without her extended blog family?
As many of you have by now heard, the righteous publication that is Bitch magazine is in a financial crunch that will undoubtedly jeopardize its future as the only magazine out there dedicated to giving us a smart, thorough, feminist response to pop culture. The plain truth? If they can’t raise $40,000 by 10/15, Bitch may have to close it’s doors. To hear the scary details of the situation, listen to the message below from Debbie Rasmussen, Director and Andi Zeisler, Co-Founder and Editorial Director and then DONATE if you can manage it! This is truly one of those situations where every bit helps.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: fucking, love, lust, memory, sex, writing
you are quiet like cedar forests when you fuck me. the noises that permeate my bedroom walls and travel down hallways are only my own. low moans and gasps when you press into me with all your weight behind you. the creaking and snapping of my bones like branches when you turn me onto my hands and knees and pull me onto you.
i was thinking of the last time you had me. your mouth covered my body in ripples and skipped like stones over the slight raise of my ribs. you were hasty with kisses, blatant in your want to have your hands and mouth at the core of me, but i resisted. redirected your mouth to my own. slowed it down. made you feel me feel you and the width of your shoulders, the strength that radiates from your muscles there, the heat. and the only sound was of me whispering aloud, “baby, baby, baby…”
i remember when i released your body, hard and fervent, to find its way into mine, you broke the silence then. a grunt of satisfaction. arrogance somewhat. of delighted disbelief at the honeyed smoothness with which four of your fingers could slide up into me with such ease. i turned my face from you to hide my smile and breathed in the scent of us from my pillowcase – woodsmoke and clovers.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: butch, dynamic, femininity, femme, silly, swooning, writing
you were laying back on my couch, that carefree way you do when you’re relaxed, at home, contentedly in the presence of so much girl. your arms were behind your head, ankles crossed, your bare feet on top of my lap. i was polishing my nails a second coat of “big apple red” between loving threats – you, to smudge the color on my wobbly left hand and me, warning that i would not hesitate to paint your toes in retaliation.
we’ve sat like this fifty times now you and i, but tonight you finally asked: “why that color always?” it wasn’t criticism, but genuine inquiry. i know i smiled and you detected it, but all i could do was shrug and murmur something about matching lipstick before trailing off.
do you want to know the truth? those prior forty-nine times i’d waited for you to ask. i had it planned in my head, the blush of your cheeks, when i’d tell you oh-so-sweetly and truthfully that it was nothing more than my love of contrasting colors: the bold, bossy red of my fingernails zigzagging through the black-as-night hairs that cover your scalp when you’re hovering above me, my hands – at least for that moment – free.