all-girl noise outfit/sound + politics unit called "POST POST FUCK FUCK COLLECTIVE" is making its debut performance tomorrow night at Friendship City.
(with Anacortes friends Saint Merman and Motorbikes )
Sat. 30th @ 7pm/FRIENDSHIP CITY
August 2008 Archives
(Originally posted on July 31, 2008)
If you have not already gotten the word:
BEST FRIENDS FOREVER are playing tonight at the Old Foundry.
You will have to sing along because they cry out choruses in wavering yells, with lots of “do-do’s” and “oh-oh’s” rising from behind.
If you were ever once twelve and had a best friend, and you giggled in the backseat while somebody’s mom drove you home from soccer practice … then you should probably come, because THIS IS THE SOUND OF GIRL FRIENDSHIP FOREVER + EVER.
This is my favorite song!
[youtube TNY7-PpcEak]
(Originally posted on July 29, 2008)
I am reading Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising series for the second time. I was nine or ten the first time; I remember being so terrified by the heavy sense of foreboding in the books, as I stayed awake turning pages long past my bedtime, and having to sleep with the light on- not just a nightlight, no, it took the full brightness of the overhead light to push my anxiety back into the shadows of my bedroom.
These books are written with such a deep love for the culture and mythology of England; is it any wonder I grew up to be such a lover of fairy tales and Arthur myth when books like this were my chapter-book diet? She spends pages describing old-fashioned British Christmas rituals that are, by turns, both quaint and baffling. Christmas cakes are made three weeks before the holiday, and Christmas puddings, three months before that. The stump of the Christmas tree is used for the Yule log, but you store the remains of the Yule log from the previous year, to use as kindling for the new log.
Other facts to be gleaned, the basic tenets of magic that hold true across authors: there is safety in running water. Rowan will protect you from harm. Your intuition always warns you of evil characters and bad choices, if you listen.
I learned these lessons very well, and used them to make sense of so many other books- Lloyd Alexander, Mary Stewart, any story about the Sidhe, the tales of Susanna Clarke. And although it has been a very long time since I first read Susan Cooper’s books, they made such an impression on me that I am remembering the faintest bits of plot. Cornwall, mountains, sleeping kings, flutes, seaweed, cliffs, grails.
So how did I utterly forget about her contempt and dismissal of girls? In Over Sea, Under Stone, sister Jane is a constant wet-blanket, nagging her two curious brothers and trying to prevent them from pursuing the Grail. That was bad enough, but it has only gotten worse with the second book. Below is a representative depiction of womenfolk: Will (honest and good, on a quest) is using holly to ward his family’s home against the Dark, and his sister Gwen interferes.
“Oh, Will,” she said. “Not everywhere . Put it all along the mantelpiece or somewhere, so it’s controllable. I mean, otherwise we shall have holly berries underfoot every time anyone draws the curtains.” A typical female attitude, Will thought in disgust..
I absorbed so much of the atmosphere of this book as a child. It haunted me so much that I am re-reading it now, a book for fifth-graders. I am sick with the though that I absorbed such casual devaluing of the feminine at the same time, but it’s true (I know it is, because I still do it, always have done it)- as Ellen Willis writes in the foreword to Daring to Be BAD: Radical Feminism in America, 1967-1975,
I remember, too, feeling pleased to be different from other women- better- because I was ambitious and contemptuous of domesticity and “thought like a man” … I remember the peculiar alienation that comes of having one’s self-respect be contingent on self-hatred.
Remember how Susan was such a killjoy in The Chronicles of Narnia, and got so wrapped up in things like boys and lipstick that she was no longer worthy (unlike her brothers and younger sister) of returning to Narnia? But that was C.S. Lewis, a man, in books written during the feminist dark age of the 1950’s. How to make sense, then, of Susan Cooper’s misogyny, which is so plain and hurtful? According to my copy, the book was published in 1973, winning the Newbery Honor in 1974.
This makes me deeply bummed out and heartsick. It’s bad enough when this stuff is inflicted by dudes, but when it comes from women? Who are writing for impressionable young-adult audiences? And who are doing this during the peak years of feminist activism and visibility?
Fuck fuck fuck.
Cooper wrote The Boggart in 1993. I remember liking it quite a lot, though it wasn’t as memorable as The Dark Is Rising. Maybe I will re-read it, too, when I finish these ones, and then report back on the status of her female characters, so we can determine if progress has been made or not.
(It feels trivial to be talking about things like sexism in kids’ books when my real-life time is being spent, lately, in doing things that are concrete and real and so vitally important. But things are happening that are too big for this space, and I hope that this, in some way, accounts for my silence in this space over the past month.)
(Originally posted on July 29, 2008)
(a mid-shower epiphany)
Many theorists in the field of critical pedagogy advocate the idea that the best teachers are the ones who are able to share themselves, their humanity, with their students; but how do you do that when the ideas you are most passionate about, and the very words you use to describe yourself, are taboo within the school walls?
(Originally posted on July 13, 2008)
will Bellingham ever be sunny again?
How did I get this far in life without seeing Born in Flames? Everything else, in comparison, is watered-down apologies for militant feminist action- make it ironic or something, heaven forbid that your audience thinks you’re serious about FUCKING SHIT UP. (Itty Bitty Titty Committee borrowed a lot from Lizzie Borden, but would have been improved vastly by adopting Borden’s earnestness/respect for her audience/confidence in its radical feminist content.) First movie I’ve seen that doesn’t get all defensive about the politics- speaking to those of us who already know that language, not worrying about freaking out everybody else.
[Third wave feminism/feminism is for everybody/Feminist Majority whatever- too safe, I want the heavy shit, second wave militant radical feminist direct action NOW]
And all of it- fucking putting her radical monies where her mouth is, Borden made her movie full of real women, black, brilliant, young, dykes, accented, old, white, hairy, working class, beautiful, voicing the concerns that we actually have, about violence, action, passivity, change- she could’ve filmed one of our meetings circa summer 2008 and it would sound just the same.
So it’s 2:30 in the morning, I’m watching this movie by myself on the couch, and my mind’s being totally blown by people in a movie who sound like me & my friends … and of course, this is totally amazing, because I thought I would never see these things represented with such respect honesty authenticity, people who look talk think like me, and 25 years ago, at that!
But that’s not all. Here’s the deal: the movie stars Flo Kennedy. Yeah, that’s right, THE badass black feminist lawyer who was everywhere important. And the soundtrack is all Slits and Essential Logic and fuck, these no-wave girl punk bands that I don’t even know … what is this?
Turns out, it’s the Bloods - the singer for the band also happens to be one of the stars of the movie (Isabel, the incendiary pirate broadcaster at Radio Ragazza). The band appeared on the 1981 Venus Weltklang compilation that Jenny Woolworth just wrote about on her blog in June. IT ALL TIES TOGETHER!
This woman, Adele Bertei, she played with the Contortions, in addition to the Bloods. Reading through the film credits, I see that Pat Place is in the movie, too- guitarist for the Bush Tetras, another former member of the Contortions.
You know what this means? We’ve got second wave radical feminism. We’ve got girl art punk (NY no-wave, nonetheless). PLUS lesbians? Fuck. Fuck. These are like my three favorite things in the world.
Me and this movie, we were meant to be.
(Originally posted on August 9, 2008)
In the late 18th century, Mathieu François Mairobert wrote L’Espion Anglois. It became the blueprint for representations of lesbianism in pornography and popular culture for the next 200 years. The beautiful older woman (sometimes a vampire) seduces her innocent young protégée, ushering her into a dangerous world of lesbian vice and temptation from which she will never fully return.
Autonervous are these fears incarnate, lesbian corruption filtered through the lens of a Weimer cabaret. It is an imperfect analogy, but follow me with it: if Jessie Evans is the young protégée (although a history in the Subtonix disputes charges of innocence), then Bettina Koster- voice deepened to thrilling/chilling levels in the intervening twenty years since Malaria!- is certainly the older corrupter.
And I am pinned to my chair with the deep erotic menace of Berlin beats.
(Originally posted on August 8, 2008)
“Have you ever read Huck Finn?” I asked him.
Michel nodded, smiling.
“Well, when we were young, we read all those books, looking for girls in their pages,” I told him. “But we couldn’t find anything. We don’t want to be the boring girls that the boys in adventure stories get crushes on. We wanted to have our own adventure stories.
“So we’re gonna make some new pages.”
(Originally posted on August 4, 2008)
Last night, I was enjoying a pleasant evening in with my roommates. We’ve put Jessica’s chaise longue at the top of our staircase, and Jessica, Sam, and I were sitting around, talking about music criticism and synesthesia and other engaging topics.
Here’s where the weird stuff kicks in:
My phone started ringing in my pocket. I pulled it out to see who was calling me- the incoming call was from Jessica, who was sitting right across from me on the floor. Simultaneously, in her room, Jessica’s phone started to ring.
“Uh, Jessica …” I said, seriously weirded-out and holding up my phone. She didn’t realize what was going on, and went to her room to grab her phone. And who was calling Jessica?
ME!
AKA: Our phones started ringing at the same time, calling each other.
YIKES!
So, naturally, we get a little freaked out. We’ve been telling a lot of ghost stories in general lately- the ghost of Zeda at Montague Manor, the bearded ghost at the Franklin St. church; Jessica’s paranormal awareness as a child, the footsteps of Sam’s murdered neighbor in his hallway back home, the Hawaiian ghosts Chris always wanted to see.
Our phones called each other at 11:52 p.m. About 45 minutes later, Jessica’s phone rang again- and my name showed up as the incoming call, although my phone was on the floor next to me, untouched. Jessica answered the phone, and there was only silence. And my phone showed no indication of having made a call- nothing in the call log or anything.
OKAY, FREAKED OUT! I put on my First Communion gold cross necklace and my rosary; I put my baptismal silver crucifix in my pocket; and I clutched my statue of the Virgin Mary that was blessed by the former bishop of Seattle.
I yelled at Jessica- “I thought you said you could sense when houses have bad vibes!” She said that she could- this wasn’t a creepy vibe. “Uh … our phones just called each other. That totally counts as a creepy vibe.”
Kellen came over, and said that sometimes, ghosts will go away if you yell at them- his friend had ghosts following her for years, and she finally got sick of it and told them to stop messing with her, and it worked. Jessica agreed- sometimes ghosts just want attention, and all it takes is an acknowledgment of their presence.
I addressed the ceiling: “Hey, dude, we know you’re hanging out. Uh … could you please leave us alone? Thanks.”
Kellen and Jessica affirmed that was the right way to handle things.
I voted for sleeping outside, as a group, but Jessica’s back problems kept her in her bed; Chris just laughed at me. Sam was very nice and camped out in the living room with me- him on the futon, me on the couch, surrounded by religious icons and illuminated by Chris’ under-the-sea nightlight. It took me a long, long time to fall asleep last night.
Things to reflect upon:
-Jessica and I do not have the same cell phone provider. However, we were each other’s most recent calls (she called me right before I got off work yesterday night).
-Are ghosts like God, and can see everything? If so, how do they feel about sex? This is an old house; our ghost(s) might be hellza Victorian- am I traumatizing them by getting it on with girls? Can ghosts be homophobic? Or have I scared it/them out of my room with all the lezzie action?
-How does one effectively deal with ghosts? I eat lots of garlic, but while that made me feel better about the vampires in my closet as a kid, I don’t think it has the same impact on ghosts. Cory says you have to find the bones of the violent ghost, and burn them with salt, according to some supernatural t.v. show she watches; I’m skeptical. Also, we’ve been in the house for over a month with no weirdness- and this doesn’t seem very violent.
-Probably (hopefully?) there is some completely legitimate scientific explanation for the cell phone phenomena. Before we went to bed last night, I emailed “Dear Science” at the Stranger. Sam suggested sunspots (always a good scapegoat in the radio world). Cory said electromagnetic stuff. I will call my parents and my super-rational brother for their insights, as well.
(Originally posted on August 6, 2008)
We (FRIENDSHIP CITY) have carefully assembled a Summer Jamz ‘08 mix, which we have been grooving to all summer. All songs are of great personal & political import, FYI (esp/obviously “this is how we do it”). friendship city summer jamz ‘08
(Originally posted on August 4, 2008)
Okay, so you know how I’m going through my whole non-ironic late-blooming classic rock phase? I am also going through a non-ironic (okay, maybe just a teeny bit ironic, but not very much) embracing of second-wave feminism, the stuff we’re supposed to distance ourselves from- womyn’s music, lesbian separatism, getting in touch with the moon, militant action, etc.
The Lezzies on X album We Know You Know is a pretty good example of this- fucking awesome 2nd-wave imagery, invoked with love and sincerity and featuring songs like “Sisters in the Struggle.”
From the We Know You Know liner notes:
“Most of the songs on this album have been inspired by the vast catalogue of womyn’s music from the 70s. Much of it was released on Olivia Records and other small, independent, woman-run labels. These ladies took matters into their own hands and recorded and released the music they loved. We think that’s cool. Do you know the way to freedom?”
[youtube _FN-4j7hfA0]
Therefore, my second wave phrase that closely mirrors my classic rock phase. I have yet to dive into Indigo Girls appreciation, but I’ve been having some serious & whole-hearted hang-out time with Joan Armatrading lately, ’80s saxophone solos mandatory. LESBIAN ANTHEM.
Please dig as I have been digging (it’s so good, how can you not?):
[youtube 7T4lg8VAjMI]
(Originally posted on August 1, 2008)
via Dan Savage:
[youtube 9ayyPzuHGNU]
Who’s in the background? Oh, it’s Team Gina, Nicky Click, and a girl from that one Scream Club video…
NEXT!
With Leslie Hall, we celebrate the journey of Willow, a small farmer/apprentice magician and together they journey through a war-torn land of magic and monsters, to save a baby princess from death at the hands of an evil queen.
[youtube uK9GPTY3dM8]
QUEERION!
(Originally posted on July 24, 2008)
Five days in Anacortes:
cherries and harbor seals in the marina
bodies-as-drums, floor-as-drums, drums-as-drums, because Lucky Dragons = wizard and What the Heck Fest = ripe for cultish mass-scale drum circles in nighttime auditoriums
Shipwreck Day finds include LINDSEY BUCKINGHAM, the new portable facilitator of house jamz. Also, sidelong glances at the hot girls from Durham.
Stage Diving Workshop led by Khaela Maricich in Causland Park. Ingredients: Sabbath on the boombox, assemblage of eager faces, Karl Blau’s daughter jumping from the picnic table onto our waiting hands.
(This is Khaela. Phil took the picture. I mooched it.)
- Standing behind & above them on the stage, a guy from Heck Fest takes photos of Mika Miko. How can he possess such distance, I wonder, to be able to hold the camera still and document and not thrash with the rest of us? Because I can’t afford that kind of detachment- these women on stage, these women in the crowd, I need this to breathe.
Post Post Fuck Fuck Collective has our first show on Saturday the 30th at Friendship City. Show starts at 7pm.
[youtube rsWcqRUsg04]
GIRL WAVE OF THE FUTURE
When I get a chance, I’ll re-post the stuff from August that I managed to retrieve from Google cache. Until then: new Mika Miko video!
[youtube OGJ-M2U9VxQ]
