Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Adam's dad called the other night. "I'm glad you're getting married," he said. Simple and sincere. If I said I cried, would you laugh?
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
What's the deeper layer to why I'm up now and have been for the last two hours, pissed off?
The mature part of me says Bitch please, there are so many other important things to worry about -- and so much to be thankful for. It speaks in a voice that is slow and smooth, reasoned and balanced.
Then there's the pissed-off and true inner voice: Because why should I? Right now, that one sounds like the front story. Maybe after coffee it'll change.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Could be worse. I could've been seeing Brokeback Mountain with Adam. Again. What a disaster that was. He took inspiration from Cartman's assertion that "independent films are always about gay cowboys eating pudding" -- and every time a climactic moment arose, he wanted to know if it was time for dessert. Beautiful.
"She offered no apologies.
“ 'A reason why a lot of us will take pictures is it's part of our collective history now,' the marriage therapist said. “We all had a part in it. I think that's normal.' ”Part of our collective history? Please. You fucking hippie. Have some respect.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
Biff's house burned down..........
Reply to: firstname.lastname@example.org
Date: 2007-10-22, 1:06PM PDT
Larry Himmels house burned down.....If you are old enough to remember the "Biff and Skippy" T.V. show (bad). Then you must be pretty old...like me :)
Sorry Larry, hang in in there dude!
- Location: sd
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Still, I wanted to take some element of Adam's name. Hence the new name when we do the deed: Allison Sandler Landa.
Some brides-to-be think about tablecloths and obsess on floral arrangements. Me, I just write my New Name on my notebooks like a giddy schoolgirl.
Of course, as Adam points out, there is always the option of combining our two names. Allison and Adam Slander?
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
I'm very glad to see that the Bernardo Winery was probably spared, as was the DeFrancesco's house (I think).
I am also thankful to my clients, who have been very understanding in this tough time.
Monday, October 22, 2007
All residents east of Espola Road From Lake Poway Road through
The Old Winery neighborhood was the last place I lived in San Diego.
Talked to my family this morning. They're pretty much all packed up and ready should the evacuations come. They're calm, considering. Jesus.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
ME: Some random shit about how retarded he is. Just fill in the blank.
ADAM: What, you'd never fuck a croissant?
ME: It's nothing I've ever considered.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Friday, October 19, 2007
On a practical level, though I would really rather my tax dollars not go to supporting junkies and their habits, I recognize that my dollars do indeed go to just that -- whether it's providing a safer, sterile center or paying for cleanup and medical expenses.
Having worked in a harm-reduction environment, I can say there's a large gap between theory and reality. Implementation of the harm reduction principles essentially turned the place where I worked into a crack house where residents could shoot up at their leisure, then receive medical services on demand. Where's the incentive to get -- and stay -- healthy?
There's also talk about "removing the stigma" from being an IV drug user. Yes, let's do that. People in Belmont can't light up a cigarette in their own apartments, and there's forces at work in San Francisco that say there should be no stigma surrounding heroin.
Finally, I'm mixed about the concern for living conditions in the Tenderloin going downhill as a result of the center. Folks, let's face it. This neighborhood is like Night of the Living Dead anyway. I'm not saying inviting more addicts in is a good thing, but if you're raising your kids in the TL, you already know you can't let them play outside.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
The joy I feel today makes me wish I could share it with long-lost friends ... people departed through mutual stubbornness and misunderstandings. If only I could reach out. If only they would.
On a more literary note, I'm just finishing up The Pillars of Hercules by Paul Theroux. A few passages I love:
"Cold and unsettled at the edge of this desert, feeling thwarted, this enforced isolation filled my mind with memories of injustice -- put-downs, misunderstandings, unresolved disputes, abusive remarks, rudeness, arguments I had lost, humiliations. Some of these instances went back many years. For a reason I could not explain, I thought of everything that had ever gone wrong in my life. I kept telling myself, 'So what?' and 'Never mind,' but it was no good. I could not stop the flow of unpleasant images, and I was tormented."
"Places had voices that were not their own; they were backdrops to a greater drama, or else to something astonishingly ordinary, like the ragged laundry hung from the nave of a plundered Crusader church in Tartus on the Syrian coast. Most of the time, traveling, I had no idea where I was going. I was not even quite sure why. I was no historian. I was not a geographer. I hated politics. What I liked most was having space and time; getting up in the morning and setting off for a destination which, at any moment -- if something compelled my attention -- I could abandon. I had no theme. I did not want one. I had set out to be on the Mediterranean, without a fixed program. I was not writing a book -- I was living my life, and had found an agreeable way to do it."
I noticed Code Pink demonstrating a few weeks ago outside the military recruitment office. I just felt sorry for the people working in the adjacent buildings -- having to listen to the hoots and squawks and howls and honking horns. Seriously. That can get annoying after a while.
Then today -- this! Code Pink is facing off against the U.S. Marine Corps recruiting station and its supporters. Way to go, girls. Let's hear it for your support of freedom of speech -- and freedom of choice. And by the way, our military presence (at least partly) works to support the Fifth Amendment. People die -- and continue to die -- so you can make a pain in the ass out of yourself at the corner of Shattuck and Addison.
I was impressed with Capt. Richard Lund's letter to the Berkeley Daily Planet. Wonder if Becky O'Malley gave him the rough side of her tongue, too.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
The appeal and the process are different for different groups. For anyone who�s professionally involved with narrative, whether as a writer, filmmaker or performer, I think part of the appeal of doing a 10-minute Moth story is the process of condensing a story to its essence. Writers have often told me that telling their Moth story helped them get to the core of a longer script or book project they were working on and perhaps struggling with. For everyone else, the appeal is to tell a story that wouldn�t otherwise be shared with anyone outside their personal circles.
Generally speaking, writers need to get away from the page (all stories must be told live without notes), actors need to get away from acting, and people who have no previous experience with narrative or performing arts need help structuring and delivering the story in the most compelling way.
"The flowers cost $27,435.14. The lawsuit asks for more than $400,000 in restitution and damages."A New York JAP sues because her wedding flowers weren't picture-perfect. I can just hear the nasal whining. And don't get pissed at me for invoking the term Jewish-American Princess. I'm a Jew. I know a JAP when I see one.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
The New York Times on reporters' pet cats in Baghdad.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Sitting in a broken circle while you rest upon my knee this perfect moment will soon be leaving me
Suzanne calls from Boston the coffee's hot the corn is high
And that same sun that warms your heart will suck the good earth dry
With everything it's opposite enough to keep you crying or keep this old world spinning with a twinkle in its eye
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone I'm gonna clear my head
I'm gonna drink that sun I'm gonna love you good and strong
while our love is good and young Joni left for South Africa a few years ago and then
Beth took a job all the way over on the West Coast
And me I'm still trying to live half a life on the road
I'm heavier by the year and heavier by the load.
Why do we hurtle ourselves through every inch of time and space I must say around some corner
I can sense a resting place
With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face
We'll amuse ourselves one day with these memories we'll trace
Get out the map get out the map and lay your finger anywhere down
We'll leave the figuring to those we pass on our way out of town
Don't drink the water there seems to be something ailing everyone
I'm gonna clear my head I'm gonna drink the sun
I'm gonna love you good and strong while our love is good and young
- Indigo Girls
Five years ago I met the person who made me remember that feeling. I'm marrying him.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
It often happens that in conversation with him, I say things I never knew I knew, thought, or felt. It's one of the charms of being with him.
There are several reasons I keep this blog:
- It's an exercise in off-the-cuff expression, often of strong emotion or reaction. I've written about many personal topics here. That's no accident. It's not only mentally healthy for me, but it's a creative exercise in storytelling, which will help me onstage.
- It's a way to keep in touch with friends, many of whom I don't speak with on a regular basis. These are people who have sought me out and expressed interest in my everyday goings-on, but who have lives and can't email or call every day. That includes my best friend from high school, who has three kids and a husband and a teaching career, but who makes time to get in touch, check up on what's going on in my life, and ask me about it.
- It's an opportunity to broadcast events -- readings and such -- to a greater audience without sending out mass emails.
A year ago I had another blog. I shut it down and made it private after family members expressed objections about its content to Adam. I never invited them to read it. They found it, read it, got angry about it, and let him know.
I quickly realized I missed this open forum and began another one.
Shortly after I graduated from St. Mary's, I got my feathers in a flurry after reading a post on a former professor's blog. She didn't name me by name, but she definitely fired off a few unflattering salvos.
I now realize she had every right to do so. She didn't invite me to read her blog. I sought her out and did so willingly. I shouldn't at all have been surprised or pissed off at what she wrote. Ever read someone's diary and feel stung at what you find? It's a little like that.
I've never asked anyone to read this. This is for me first and for everyone else a distant second. Anyone who's found this blog has done exactly as I did with my former professor -- went out on the internet, looked me up, and continued to read it.
An addendum here. I really want to be part of Adam's family. I want to be treated as a family member. It's what I always wanted. I am so thrilled that I'm going to be his wife, I think he's the most amazing person in the world, and I know that we are both so lucky to have found each other.
I really have tried to be a member of the family -- sending emails and photos, showing interest, trying to be a good person. My effort has waned as of late because I grew to believe my interest was not reciprocated. Maybe it is, and maybe I just don't see it. Maybe I'm not looking in the right places. I haven't given up. But I sure am frustrated.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Every time I've seen this douchebag, he kicks against the bench that lines the wall. Keep in mind that pretty much everyone in the cafe is sitting on this bench. We all get to feel the vibrations, and believe me, they're not good vibes.
A few minutes ago he was kicking, kicking, kicking. I said (louder than intended): "Jesus!"
His face turned red.
He packed up his shit.
Did I make him feel badly? Yep. Could I have been nicer? Sure. But I'm tired of clueless people who get the benefit of tolerance. Fuck you. Learn how to act in public or stay home.
Later, I heard Adam rummaging in the bathroom for an extended amount of time. When he came out, he said: "Did Amy beat up her husband?" He'd used my vampire paints to give himself a black eye. We got a few cockeyed looks at Koryo and more than one laugh at The Pub. Pictures to come.
Rev. Dr. Martie Geltz, M.Div.
The Return to Center
office: 503 635 1629
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Is it a surprise that I go out looking for fights?
Is it a mystery why I'm equal parts shock and terror?
There's times I just want to go off on my father, just really let it rip, and then I try to remember I'm a grown-up and there's no need to be scared. Not any more, and maybe not ever.
Since I love a man and not a woman, I'm allowed by society to have a ring on my finger and to make marriage plans. Let's hope this changes soon.
Monday, October 8, 2007
"I could see us buying," I said after we left, "someday."
"When it makes sense," he said.
As we walked, I started babbling about how I'd need to be more stable -- no, not that, just have more savings, no, not exactly --
"I just don't want it to be yours," I said, "and I'd be sponging."
"We'll be married," he said. "It'll be ours."
Saturday, October 6, 2007
Of course, minimizing and mocking the suffering of others is a natural strategy for political figures who advocate lower taxes on the rich and less help for the poor and unlucky.
So liberals never mock anybody who disagrees with them?
Anyone they see as less than them?
I'm more liberal than conservative. But really, that's beside the point here. It's more about hypocrisy -- an affliction that, unfortunately, is not partisan.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
And it is.
But for how long?
Looks like West Village parents are pissed off about the S&M Street Festival slated for this Sunday -- and want community leaders removed for approving it.
In New York?
In the Village?
You can never entirely protect your kids from life, no matter where you live. However, if you're really looking to pull the protective bubble over their heads, move to where I grew up. No S&M fests over there, just a bunch of repressed mommies and some daddies who diddle their secretaries.
But you're looking to change goddamned Greenwich Village to provide a sanitized zone for your kids? Isn't that a little naive and -- dare I say it? -- entitled?
What would these parents do if the scary S&M leather men petitioned their community leaders to make the Village a kid-free zone? They'd freak out, that's what. But it's okay for them to say: Sorry, leather folk, take it to San Francisco ... where we're still allowed by the parental powers that be to have raunchy street fairs. It must really suck for these guys to work hard at coming out -- because you know many of them have had to struggle with their identity -- only for other peoples' parents, not even their own, to tell them they're sick and wrong and not fit for young eyes.
Boy, are those parents going to be pissed when little Jane or Johnny grows up to be a big, whip-wielding, flaming queer.
Maybe I'm biased because of how I grew up: My needs were met, I was fed and clothed and educated, and my parents did more than their fair share of running around to haul me to Girl Scouts and soccer practice. But they did not shield me from reality. I heard cursing, smelled cigarette smoke, and was exposed to different ways of living and varying opinions. I thank them for that. It made me the person I am today.
Anyway, Gothamist says it better than I could:
What exactly are ma and pa shielding their kids eyes from? Women will be going topless, and the men are only required to wear a two-inch strip of leather to cover their backsides...but to see the flogging and rope-bondage demonstrations, you're gonna have to pay up. Seriously, it's $5 -- but don't fret parents, they're carding for that one.
While the families question the fest, this is New York, and it's just a celebration of the diversity of the neighborhood -- maybe they could take their kids to a movie while it's going on.
Wednesday, October 3, 2007
The rules of this tag:
1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. List eight (8) random facts about yourself.
3. Tag eight people at the end of your post and list their names (linking to them).
4. Let them know they’ve been tagged by leaving them a comment on their blogs.
* I don't even think I know eight bloggers ... I'll just tag as many as I can! I'm sorry for bending the rules, Kathy! *
8 random facts about me:
1) I was born in New York City, spent the first four years of my life in East Lyme, Connecticut, and grew up in San Diego.
2) I have had two pets: a mutt named Sandy and an orange tabby named Oliver, both of whom I'm going to talk about tonight.
3) I got engaged to Adam Sandler onstage in New York City.
4) For nearly half a year, I lived in a town that specializes in Semtex and horse-racing.
5) I consider my younger brother one of my best friends. You'd almost never know that I was furious when my mother became pregnant with him. When he was born, I nicknamed him the Accident of Birth Control. He loves that nickname.
6) While traveling in Amsterdam at 26 years old, I smoked the requisite weed at a place called Cheech 'n Chong's. I orbited the ceiling for about three hours and then staggered out to get the best hamburger of my life. I seriously think that shit was soaked in something.
7) I'm not fluent in any foreign language, but I can curse in Spanish, French, Czech, and Yiddish.
8) I am not for everyone. I am not for most people. If I knew someone like myself, I may or may not even like that person. I am loudmouthed, bullheaded, and tragically opinionated. Fortunately, I'm funny, loyal, and sincere, which can sometimes make up for my flaws.
I now tag Adam and Tracy for this one.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Hello, My Name Is
We’ve met before.
Does God recycle souls?
We go back
beyond Jesus’ boyhood,
back in the day
when He hung out
instead of on
You, sulking in the corner
Can you spare a dime?
Can you spare some time?
Can you pay
I’m be-badged and it tells a story,
maybe even mine.
But still I’m wondering
if we’ve met before
when Elizabeth Taylor was young
when only the rich could fly
when the Savior was in boot camp.
We watched each other then,
nodding warily over crossed swords.
I know you.
Basically, this book says: It's the shelters, stupid. That's why animals are dying. I'm interested to read his perspective. I'm also going to go back next week and volunteer at the Humane Society because no matter whose fault it is, these animals need some love.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Here is the original text of the email I'd written to her -- keep in mind, by the way, that I wrote this as a letter to the editor, a place where readers are supposedly free to criticize as they see fit:
Here is (hopefully) the last exchange. This is a liberal hippie grandmother? Someone who absolutely cannot tolerate dissent -- to the point where she has to go on the attack when she gets critiqued? No wonder I fucking hate Berkeley sometimes.
----- Original Message -----To: Allison LandaSent: Monday, October 01, 2007 1:12 PMSubject: Re: Letter to the editorGoogled you up, saw the MFA in Creative Writing from St. Mary's--that explains it all. Not your fault. The poor old Christian Brothers never could teach writing, though they did used to be able to teach manners. Are there any of them left there any more? You should have gone to USF-- whatever the Jesuits did in the bedroom, they turned out decent writers.
Hm. Sensitive much, Beck? Your anti-semitic leanings got you a bit crabby? Or maybe you're still smarting from the complete dumb-assery of the Daily Planet era preceding yours. Have a Tofurkey and relax, sweetheart.
On the breastfeeding med student who needed more time to take her test.
Liked John Linnell's old NYT op-ed after being named a People Magazine "beautiful person":
I'm a middle-aged accordion player, and inspecting myself just now I see that I look tired and badly need a haircut. So you can imagine my confusion when I got a call last week from the manager of my band telling me that my name had turned up in People magazine's on-line poll of the most beautiful people of 1998.