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Dear Friends-Readers,

I am trying to raise $750 in order to attend the Lambda Literary Writers’ Retreat in LA in August.  That way I can workshop and “network” with Dorothy Allison and some other “emergent queer writers.” I am hoping to make a lot of progress on things like  a collection of essays and publication.
Lambda has a This is a pretty big deal because it was sort of hard to get into. It
is also a big deal because Lamdba has a history and reputation of
catering to rich, white, gay dudes. Whether they’re looking to change
their history or their reputation, they’ve let me in.

However they did NOT give me enough money to attend. They gave me a
half scholarship which means I still have to come up with $750 and

Since they’re already reaping the reputation-enhancing benefits of
claiming me as a conference attendee (I’m one of those colorful
biography bytes they’ve included on the diversity-proof website) I am
hoping to reap some of the history-enhancing ones myself. So I’m
asking for your help.

In order for it to be possible for me to go I have to raise that
money. I was hoping that some/any of you might be able to contribute
some small amount toward my bigger goal. It is fairly easy to
contribute online. Just go to:

and you can enter an amount to donate. You will also have to send an
email to in order to earmark the money for
me. It’s all explained on the website. I am trying to get the funds
together as soon as possible. I have to pay in full by August 1st.

I have already hit up my friends, enemies, and former professors for money and I thought I might try you: somewhat-public, as well. You can email or comment for more details if you want- I’ll be glad to provide a summary of my intentions and a glowing recommendation of my own work.
I suppose if you’re reading this then you already know about my work. GoodBadUglyEtAl.

Anyway, I would be exceptionally appreciative.

I also have a PayPal account if you have problems with that or would rather subsidize my travel. You just have to use my email address in order to contribute.

And don’t worry… I’ll take this post down if I reach my goal.




I wouldn’t have been back from Europe yet but it’s time you all know I never went. I’m in Austin, Texas. It’s one of those organic-clothing, designer-food, people’s republic, college towns like Cambridge, like Boulder, like Santa Cruz, like, I’m told, Eugene, Oregon.

Except that the live music scene is apparently much better: something
I, live-music-hater-extraordinaire, can neither confirm nor deny. The city is: eminently bike-able, very much worth the (But It’s A Dry) heat, and cheaper to be in than the rest of those towns.
Last night I actually went dancing and spent a total of $2.50 for the entire event. One potent gin/tonic and no cover charges.

The only drawback seems to be a kitten that likes to preen and stomp across my body in the morning, claws out and meowing loudly.

I do miss home.  I am avoiding certain a host of pains and familiarities.

I’ve realized that if I have any hope of going to LA in August, I don’t have the money to fly home between now and then.

Please take care of my tree house. And my own home town. Whichever and wherever that might be.

Signing off.

This isn’t what I expected.

Rousseau explained:

One day at table, just as she had put a piece of food into her mouth, I exclaimed that I saw a hair on it. She put the morsel back on her plate; I eagerly seized and swallowed it.

And in a moment of lesbian character (why so many lesbian characters) Charles Baxter in his latest:

“Right And I want another girl,” she says, “to fly away with me. Not you. I can’t fly anywhere with you. With you, I’m grounded. Men are beasts of the ground.”

“Uh… you sure about that?”

“Absolutely. You’re all creatures of the mud. You can’t help it. I know this feels weird. That desire I’m supposed to have for you? I don’t have it. I sometimes wish it were there, but it isn’t.” She waits. “I sort of love you anyway, but a girl can’t go on doing charity work for a mud-beast forever.”

If only my problems were so simple. Instead the most evocative expression comes from the other room behind a slammed door where a five-year-old yells at the top of his lungs:

“Don’t pay attention to me!!!”

Godbless the little leo. Godbless the fire-words.

The OED tells me that the word of the day is “joined-up.” And I thought I knew what it meant but it turns out I didn’t. Brit. I’m told, referring to cursive lettering. With this to clarify.

Queer as Folk: Scripts Episode 7. 189 Stuart: (Grins) Lesbian letters. Can I read them? Lisa: I doubt it, it’s joined-up handwriting

Well that explains it.

Another lift from lolaj. This time with a new remark?

Urban Dictionary:

Ancient Greeks were mostly G0ys…

Really? No. I think NOT really.  I am pretty sure G0ys can only exist after inception of G0y taxonomy and certainly not into the antiquity. I am pretty sure saying ancient greeks were mostly g0ys (in addition to maybe being totally a load of hooey) is like saying that sappho was bipolar. Except worse. And except also not about a lesbian.*

*A geographical lesbian.

has incurred case of virulent indigestion spanning two weeks. There are worse days. This is a better day.

has ruled out ulcers and parasites.

has discovered when the suggestion of ulcers or parasites made the ache worse that the pain might be anxiety-related.

has been blag-lax but intends to improve and NEVER talk about blaglaxity again. Score.

has great appreciation for her friends and new clique.

has plans to incur allergy shots with new fancy Harvard HealthCare.

has nearly finished The Soul Thief, Charles Baxter’s newest: with mixed results. Has barely started The Female Complaint, Lauren Berlant’s latest: with great anticipation.

has embarked upon several essays: shipwrecks, lithops, continental tectonics, Desperate Housewives?

has realized there is a better chance she can go to Hogwarts than enlist in coveted writers workshop in LA but did enjoy livin’ the dream.

has no cord to charge ipod through usb or other means but plenty of chocolate.

has discovered the heat is just fine after all and that there’s no reason to bike faster than you can walk (low).

has aspirations about even liking grad school.

has mixed feelings and some remixed portuguese lessons on mp3.

has thought of divine yarn solution for apartment that will allow increased use of the word “cubby.”

has surprisingly less to say about “oil and/or vinegar” the longer she thinks.

has tattoo plans and piercing dreams andno need for a videographer for the job.

has a ride home from logan.

has some careworn heart, fragile parts, havoc.

has a countdown. Already.