she moves she

Poof!  It’s winter!  Thank you Chicago.  Oddly enough I’m enjoying the frigid weather so far.  After a trip down south for Thanksgiving I returned to the city revitalized from an Autumn of dreariness and gloom.  Alabama is always good for putting things in perspective.  Maybe it’s my Mama or the stars I can’t see in the city or the peace of not being in an overcrowded metropolis, but there is something undeniably calming about my small, southern town.

I had a lot of time to think.  Twenty plus hours alone in a car is like a meditation marathon.  Even with a slew of music, it’s nothing but you and the road.  I did this on purpose.  I needed a marathon of inescapable solitude.  I’m mystified by the idea of meditation retreats.  If you meditate, truly sit and focus on clearing your mind, incredible things are bound to happen.  I had an experience once where I was on the verge of abandoning a meditation session because I couldn’t clear my mind but I forced myself–with as much brain power I could muster–to really focus.  Not more than thirty seconds later, my entire “inner vision” (you know the blackness you see when you close your eyes) became a vibrant, vibrating blue and I was immediately filled with this…how to explain…lightness and slowly began to hear a staticky white noise similar to what you hear when you put your ear to a seashell (no it’s not the ocean, it’s the sound of your own blood flow echoing back in your ear).  I felt like wind.  I’ve yet to reach an experience like that again and cannot even fathom what might be beyond it.

All the stress of Autumn resulted in neglect to pretty much every part of my life including my body.  So.  For the time being I’ve adopted a vegan diet in hopes to get back to my sexy self.  It’s been four days and I’ve eaten only fruits, vegetables and nuts.  I’m also taking these wicked vitamins and liquid flax seed oil.  All of which puts me in the category HEALTH FANATIC.  I’m fine with that.  I’m letting my health fanatic take over but I’ll be damned if I give up Wine and Coffee.  Those are staples.   What’s bizarre is that I can already feel a significant change in energy levels.  I  rule the world.

On the way to Bama I was listening to an episode of this American life about a woman who, through hormones injections, transformed herself into a man.  She referred to herself Pre-T (before Testosterone) as a “dike” who was happy about who she was but once she graduated from college she realized that she wanted to become a man.  She started taking enormous amounts of Testosterone.  She had as much T in her body as two 250 lbs. quarterbacks.  This gave her the most unique perspective on the differences between men and women that I have ever heard.

For starters, her/his libido EXPLODED!  She was on the train and she noticed an attractive woman.  In the past if she saw a woman she was attracted to, the first thing she thought of was “Oh she’s so pretty.  She looks so interesting.  I wonder what book she’s reading.  Maybe I’ll go talk to her.”  But with insane amounts of Testosterone pumping through her veins all it took was one small glimpse of something she was attracted to (an angle, curve of a neck, a hint of cleavage) to fill her mind with pornographic images.  “It was like a constant porno in my mind.”  All she could think about was sex.  She was a former feminist who was constantly checking out women’s breasts, asses, legs, etc.  and thinking of sex non stop.

Then!  She noticed that it became difficult for her to express emotion.  As a woman she used to become emotional very easily and could have a good cry when she felt overwhelmed and it would relieve a lot of pressure.  As a man she still felt the same emotions but had a harder time crying and even a harder time understanding how she felt.

Lastly, she started to understand math and physics like never before.

The most interesting part is the fact that the way she thought about women completely changed with an increase in Testosterone.  Is that really how men operate?  I asked one male friend who proclaimed something along the lines of “FINALLY a woman understands!”   This baffles me!  How do you deal with that?  It must be overwhelming!  I feel so sorry for teenage boys and…thinking back to all the teenage boys I knew and to think of…well.  I’m baffled.  And at the same time…it explains…so much.

It has come to my attention. That I have no discipline. Actually I don’t even have a concept of what discipline is. The closest understanding I have of it is dictionary.com’s version:

(1) training to act in accordance with rules; drill: military discipline

(2) punishment inflicted by way of correction and training

(3) a set or system of rules and regulations.

I don’t know about all you crazy folks but…what I glean from that set of words is this: “make life harder, don’t have any fun, trap yourself, stop being spontaneous and don’t be happy.” Unfortunately…to be an adult or something…you have to have DISCIPLINE (read in a gruff voice while punching one hand into your palm like you’re gonna kick some assss). People keep saying this word at me. Discipline! Mainly I have to pay off some debt and I can’t seem to make it happen. I hear words like “budget” and “modestly” and I think… “That’s great can we talk about this over a nice bottle of Pinot? Don’t worry I’ll buy.” But yeah I get it I need DISCIPLINE. But how do you get it? Can I buy it? Can I charge it?

Dear Discipline Fairy,

What are you? Do you even exist? And do I really need you? There’s got to be some loop hole. Are you friends with Lottery Man or Investment Fraud Girl? Today I got “that look” from a friend because I was whining to him about having no discipline. He says I just need to kick myself in the ass and deal with it. What a loser!  Can you help?

Sincerely,

Curious in Chicago

Sony is streaming three new songs from the soundtrack of the new movie about Bob Dylan, I’m Not There.

I highly recommend clicking this and listening to those three songs.  Especially Cat Power’s cover of “Stuck in Mobile with Memphis Blues Again.”

How nice would it be to go to rehab? Go to Utah, live in a “facility” where people bring you pills and juice and food. I’m sure there’s yoga, therapy, deep tissue massage, field trips, movie nights, horseback riding, arts and crafts, talent shows, meditation…. A dream come true. Then when you got back people would be extra nice to you because “She just got back from rehab.”

Yesterday I sat next to a Gorilla on the RedLine. He was wearing a suit and tie, carrying a bag. One woman laughed at him and said “That’s the funniest thing I’ve seen all day.” To which he replied, “What’s so funny? I’m just a monkey trying to make a living.”

Speaking of monkeys–and before I even go here I will admit that this topic is below me–Britney Spears’ new album is out and people are raving about it. It’s actually Number 1 or some such nonsense. However, Salon.com got it right and I couldn’t be happier that a reputable source has called it out for the SHAM THAT IT IS!!! (read the best snippet below or read it all at here)

“Her record company would no doubt like us to consider this album a bold assertion of Spears’ identity and, by extension, relative sanity. “Crazy” is acceptable in pop, clinically insane is not. But the self-consciously stylish tin-can beats on “Blackout,” referencing every ’80s synth phenom from Trio to Berlin and smothered with vocal tics cribbed from Beyoncé and Christina Aguilera, actually testify to Spears’ absence, and point to the irrelevance of her modest contribution to the process of building her brand. With so many hot producers competing with one another, what you hear on “Blackout” are not songs so much as commercials for songs — a team of professional songwriters frantically overselling and spinning the image of a celebrity who has essentially left the building. Spears could recoup a lot of the impression of vacancy if she could write a hit herself or, more important, pull off a dance sequence or public appearance without seeming utterly out of it.”

On another, more sophisticated note here is a lovely triolet from an equally lovely poet, A. E. Stallings.

Triolet on a Line Apocryphally Attributed to Martin Luther

Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,

The booze and the neon and Saturday night,

The swaying in darkness, the lovers like spoons?

Why should the Devil get all the good tunes?

Does he hum them to while away sad afternoons

And the long, lonesome Sundays? Or sing them for spite?

Why should the Devil get all the good tunes,

The booze and the neon and the Saturday night?