ishyface: (oh my god!)
I have made a Very Important Decision.

Since I'll likely never be able to support myself by writing fiction- who reads fiction these days anyway? it's not even real- I have decided to write a self-help book instead! Not just any self-help book, though. Oh, no. My self-help book will be all about the dudes and the ladies, and how they are CRAZY DIFFERENT and need to read books (LIKE MINE) in order to live in the same world and breathe up the same oxygen without trying to stab each other. It will feature handy tips to smooth the rocky road of gender relations, such as "REMEMBER, GIRLS, IT IS NEVER TOO EARLY TO REPRODUCE" and "DUDES: BELCH IN PUBLIC, THE LADIES TOTALLY DIG THAT." And I will call it... something snappy, I'm leaning towards Men Are From Mars, Women Suck My Penis but I think there might be copyright issues, and I will go on one thousand talk shows to promote it and tell the world all about the dudes and the ladies, and the crazy differences between them. (For example, the dudes are all about the sex and the cars, while the ladies are all about the shopping and the tiny dogs!) IT WILL BE SO ENLIGHTENING, LJ, LET ME TELL YOU. And I will stir up a MEDIA FRENZY wrt: my amazing (NON-FICTION)(THAT MEANS FULL OF FACTS INSTEAD OF LIES LIKE ALL THE OTHER THINGS I WRITE) dude-and-lady book.

And then it will be published at a whopping 500 pages, and the very first page will read:

What the fuck is wrong with you?

No, seriously. Why are you even holding this book? What sad fucking sequence of events led you to conclude that the opposite sex is a cunningly disguised race of space aliens sent to this planet solely to confuse the shit out of you? Why the fuck do you think you have to read a goddamn book in order to carry on a conversation with someone who may or may not look different in the bathing suit area? Like that is such a goddamn astro-fucking-nomical deal, like the genitals are the seat of the personality. "Men are genetically programmed to fuck everything that moves while solving algebraic equations and eating steak. With their dicks." "Did you know evolution means women are naturally inclined to weep over Lifetime movies and covet expensive shoes?" "Oh, but, you know, chromosomes and-" FUCK. OFF. THAT IS NOT THE WAY HUMANITY WORKS. Women are people! Men are people! (Those of us who are neither men nor women: also people!) We're all just goddamn motherfucking people, and none of us really get each other, and maybe if we all put down the fucking wanky "help me understand the opposite sex without actually having to talk to them because ew cooties" books and tried to relate to each other as INDIVIDUALS instead of Mysterious Ambassadors of Testosteronia and Estrogenia everyone would breathe a little easier. We've got to stop putting so much effort into the battle of the sexes, maintaining these stupid boundaries that define who does what, to who, where, why, and how. It's a sham and it's a drain and it takes away precious time and energy that could be spent laughing or singing or falling in love or making something beautiful or, Christ, taking a nap. Go do one of those. Any of them. All of them. Trust me, you'll feel better about everything.

And for fuck's sake, stop reading self-help books.


The remaining 499 pages will be blank.

I am going to make a frillion bazillion dollars.
ishyface: (Default)
(This entry is public because Little Brother went through all my old posts and told me in no uncertain terms to stop locking things so he can read my wordmeats again. If he is reading this right now, I would like to point out that this would not be a problem if he got his own damn LJ. Plus then the Internets would know he is real and that I did not make him up. GET ON THAT, LITTLE BROTHER.)

I don't much like making small talk. I do like to read. These two facts in combination mean that I bring books to work to read on my lunch break. This would not be a problem were it not for the fact that many of the people I work with are who Bill Hicks was talking about here and therefore totally mystified by the fact that I, like, read books. For fun! Books with long words! Books without pictures! Books that don't even have a shirtless Edward Cullen in there to make up for all that strenuous mental activity! How weird, right?

Often if you tell a meat eater that you are a vegetarian he or she will bounce back with some variation on the theme of "YEAH WELL I LOVE ME SOME DEAD COW MMM STEAK." Similarly, I find that when people find out how much I read- three or so books a week, give or take- someone usually ends up declaring that they don't read. Ever. That is not in and of itself a crime. Some people don't enjoy reading! It happens! I don't understand it,* but I... kind of accept it. What I don't accept is the way these someones say it, which is proudly. "Fuck yeah, man, I haven't read a book since fourth grade! I don't even know if I CAN read anymore! I AM AWESOME, AS IS ILLITERACY."

What the hell is wrong with these people?

You know what? If you don't read books, and you are PROUD of the fact that you don't read books, I am going to think you are stupid. That's it. Moreover, I am going to think you are a fucking ALIEN and probably won't ever be able to understand how you work or think or can stand to get up in the morning. That is not hyperbole. That is how fucking bizarre the concept of not reading (and not WANTING to read) is for me. If you don't read books you're from fucking Mars and I have no fucking clue how to talk to you. That's not me being a neurotic bookworm, either. (Well, it is a little, but not as much as you'd think.) It's because while I have very few definite thoughts on the meaning of life, the universe, and so on, one of my most definite thoughts is that stories are important. Stories are more important than almost anything, because without them life would make no fucking sense. Without stories the world would just be... things. Stuff that happens. They're as much a vital part of life as food and water. We need them to fucking live.

Not reading is not something to be goddamn proud of. Aside from its many benefits- exercises the right side of the brain, helps develop and increase the vocabulary, promotes empathy by encouraging identification outside the self, relieves stress, gives you a better chance of not ending up a junior stockboy at a third-rate grocery store forever, et cetera- what isn't there to fucking love about reading? Reading is good! Reading is fun! Didn't you watch Sesame Street as a kid? They taught this shit there, and they had dancing letters and everything. AND they showed you how to count to ten in Spanish. Now go sit down, try to remember the goddamn alphabet, and stop interrupting me while I'm reading so you can talk about your fucking girlfriend's eczema.**

While we're on the subject of books, here are some I've read lately. )

I made myself a new summer mix the other day, and I feel like uploading it even though it is pretty unfashionable. I call it Love and Television. )

Post ten of any pictures currently on your hard drive that you think are self-expressive. NO CAPTIONS! It must be like we're speaking with images and we have to interpret your visual language just like we have to interpret your words. They must ALREADY be on your hard drive - no googling or flickr! They have to have been saved to your folders sometime in the past. They must be something you've saved there because it resonated with you for some reason. You do NOT have to answer any questions about any of your pictures if you don't want to. You can make them as mysterious as you like. Or you can explain them away as much as you like.

Mysterious is the way to go. )
ishyface: (Default)
Tonight Little Brother, Little Sister, and I went to see Coraline.

Cut for spoilers. )

In conclusion: Coraline (book) is about feminism, and Coraline (movie) is not.
ishyface: (fuck you)
It is not okay to disregard a girl's thoughts, opinions, or art just because...

... she slept with someone.
... she slept with a lot of someones.
... she slept with someone you want to sleep with and IT'S NOT FAIR.
... she wears "slutty" clothes (what does that word even mean)?
... she likes boys.
... she likes girls.
... she likes boys and girls.
... she looks "girlish."
... she looks "boyish."
... she doesn't look the way you want her to look.
... she doesn't say what you want her to say.
... she's cis.
... she's trans.
... she's not the same race as you.
... she has tattoos.
... she has a handbag and a tiny dog.
... she's thin.
... she's fat.
... she knows someone famous.
... she might have fucked someone famous.
... she has a blog in which she occasionally mentions someone famous.
... she has or has had an eating disorder.
... she's an immigrant.
... she works in an industry you personally consider degrading (the fashion industry, the porn industry, the sex industry, whatever).
... she's a virgin.
... she's not a virgin.
... she's religious.
... she's not religious.
... she had an abortion.
... she has kids.
... she's young.
... she's old.
... she did something at some point in her life that you wouldn't have done, or would have done differently, or would have been smarter about, et cetera ad infinitum.

Can we as a species move the fuck on from this bullshit notion that men are people and women are types? That only the "right" kind of girl (and what's "right" for a girl changes all the time anyway) deserves our time and attention and respect, and all other kinds are disposable? That a girl is only as good as her stereotype, or her reputation, or the length of her skirt, or the colour of her skin, or what her job is, or what she looks like, or how much boys like her, or how closed she keeps her mouth, or how closed she keeps her legs?

Can we fucking evolve, please?
ishyface: (Default)
The fun thing about being genderqueer is that you just can't win for losing sometimes.

Lately I've been trying out a different aesthetic. Girl-cut shirts, eyeliner, skinny jeans, femmey stuff like that. And while I like it, and while I think it looks fucking nifty, I don't like the baggage that goes along with it.

Part of the reason why I've always gone for baggier clothes is because it hides my shape. I'm a pretty curvy person and a lot of times that bothers me- it's harder to pass when you've got child-bearing hips, and even though a lot of the time I don't pass anyway it's still nice to have that extra bit of security. For the past few years I've mostly bought things a couple of sizes too big for me because of that. Now that I'm getting into more form-fitting stuff that's not really an option. People can tell what my assigned sex is, and they treat me differently because of it.

It's the little things you notice. When you pass for a guy- or even just for a very butch girl- people do not maintain eye contact as long. They do not hold doors open or try to strike up conversations on the bus as often. They don't call you by pet names, and they don't ask if you need to be walked to your car. Masculinity gives you a kind of impenetrability, and I mean that in as many senses of the word as you like. Masculinity means that people assume you can take care of yourself, that no one will fuck (with) you. It means that you can move freely and that people won't ask as many questions. This, I suppose, is part of what they call male privilege.

The first time I noticed a difference was in the summer. I'd been playing around with eye makeup that morning and was wearing a pink shirt, and I went downtown for some reason or other. After an hour or two I went into a pizza place to get some lunch, and the guy at the counter smiled at me and called me "sweetie."

I'd been going to that pizza place for about four years, and that guy had been working there the whole time. He'd never "sweetie'd" me before. Never smiled. It was weird.

It's the little things you notice. People rushing to hold a door for you. A casual "honey" from someone who's known you five minutes. Profs passing you over in class. Questions about boys- which ones are cute, which ones are nice, which ones you're dating (and if not, why not?). People telling you that you "look nice"- not because you actually do, but because you look more like what they think you should look like. People assuming that you want to talk to them, or sit with them, or fuck them, because it's not like you're doing anything better with your time, right? People explaining things to you. Femininity opens you up in that way- or, rather, it lets people assume that you are opened up. Emotionally, physically, sexually, whatever, you're available and convenient and you'd damn well better be grateful, too.

It's all because of a few pieces of clothing and a stick of fucking kohl, and it pisses me off.

My biology is incidental to my personhood. I'm not a different person because I've got two X chromosomes instead of a Y; wearing eyeliner and skinny jeans doesn't make me a girl, any more than it makes fucking Pete Wentz a girl. It shouldn't carry so many gendered connotations. There's nothing female about makeup (the Celts agree) or tight pants (hey there, Shakespeare) or the colour pink (the "proper" colour for boy's clothing until very recently). There's nothing male about them, either. They're just things. That's all.

But people pounce on them and make judgments and decide based on their own preconceptions and insecurities whether you're a boy or a girl (and God help you if they can't decide). And THEN they decide how they should react to you, not in spite of gender but because of it. It's stupid, and it's fucked up, and I don't like it.

My identity's complicated. I'm not a boy (except for when I am), I'm not a girl (except for when I am), I'm not really both or a mixture or something in between (except for when I am). I'm Gerald.

I wish there was some way I could get that across without having to conform to a fucking dress code.
ishyface: (fuck you)
Fuck you, Dan Savage.

Oh, no, those scary black people are threatening the nice white gays! (Because there's never any crossover between those two groups, nuh uh.) Let's blame THEM for Prop 8 passing. Not conservative scare tactics. Not the far right. Not fundamentalist Christians. Not the SCARY OLD WHITE DUDES WHO DRAFTED THE GODDAMN THING. Nope, it was all up to black folks and THEY BLEW IT GOSH DARN THEM.

FUCK. YOU.
ishyface: (Default)
Hey, guys! Wanna see the transphobic shit that was printed in the Chronicle Herald?

Heck yes you do! )

He was specifically asked by one of the panelists not to write about the speakers, and, if he did so, to change the names. And then to not only ignore their express wishes, but to spew bigoted garbage like that? I call bullshit.

So I wrote him a letter. )

You can yell at email Duffy at pduffy@herald.ca, and the Chronicle Herald at letters@herald.ca.

Dude lives in Halifax, for fuck's sake. The whole queer community there is gonna be on him like a ton of (immaculately groomed) bricks.

ETA: Duffy just emailed me back.

His reply, under the cut. )

Oh, not Herald Policy? That makes it okay, then!

Way to not address... well, fucking ANYTHING, ya douchetool.

On Lolita.

Jul. 7th, 2007 11:11 pm
ishyface: (Default)
"I felt really sorry for Humbert. Lolita seduced him!"

Before I ever read Lolita I used to hear people say this a lot. Since I hadn't read the book, it kind of went in one ear and out the other. I knew what the book was about, of course- I don't think there're many people who don't know what Lolita is about- but I thought that maybe I'd gotten it wrong. Maybe there was some sort of dynamic I didn't understand. Or maybe Dolores was secretly a forty-year-old Russian prison guard posing as a little girl and the book was really a jab by Nabokov at international communism.

Or maybe I was just more immune to bullshit back then.

Having read the book this year- yeah, it took me this long- and wow, those people sure were full of it, eh?

Humbert Humbert- quite aside from being an unreliable narrator- is not a nice guy. Not even a little. It's weird that I feel like I need to say that about a guy who marries one woman because she looks and acts like a prepubescent girl, marries another woman to gain access to her prepubescent daughter (all the while ripping this woman to pieces in his own mind out of some misplaced superiority complex), kidnaps and rapes said daughter, and drags her around the country after telling her that her mother is in the hospital, but apparently this all adds up to "poor innocent adult man seduced by dastardly twelve-year-old."

Buying sleeping pills so you can drug your stepdaughter and rape her for six hours does not qualify as "seduced." Neither does justifying your attraction to underage girls by telling yourself they're not really children at all, but demonic temptresses in the form of twelve-year-olds.

The weird thing is, even Humbert doesn't try to argue that Lo seduced him. In fact, he usually sets himself up as the active party, and even (sort of) acknowledges that he's hurting her- although, being Humbert, he goes about it in a particularly florid, patronizing way:

"There was the day, during our first trip- our first circle of paradise- when in order to enjoy my phantasms in peace I firmly decided to ignore what I could not help perceiving, the fact that I was to her not a boy friend, not a glamour man, not a pal, not even a person at all, but just two eyes and a foot of engorged brawn- to mention only mentionable matters. There was the day when having withdrawn the functional promise I had made her on the eve (whatever she had set her funny little heart on- a roller rink with some special plastic floor or a movie matinee to which she wanted to go alone), I happened to glimpse from the bathroom, through a chance combination of mirror aslant and door ajar, a look on her face... that look I cannot exactly describe... an expression of helplessness so perfect that it seemed to grade into one of rather comfortable inanity just because this was the very limit of injustice and frustration- and every limit presupposes something beyond it- hence the neutral illumination." (283)

He mentions it again a few pages later:

"But the awful point of the whole argument was this. It had become gradually clear to my conventional Lolita during our singular and bestial cohabitation that even the most miserable of family lives was better than the parody of incest, which, in the long run, was the best I could offer the waif." (287)

Yeah, Lo had a crush on Humbert. Yeah, she'd experimented with other kids her own age. Yeah, she seems to be in control the first time they had sex- that is, after Humbert fed her what he thought were sleeping pills and tried to rape her in her sleep. She even uses her influence over him to get things she wants, because she is helpless and wants to gain some sort of control over her life, and to do that she needs to use the means at hand.

This does not mean she seduced him. You know, due to that whole "asswipe child molester" thing.
ishyface: (one red post-it)
In the last year or so I've revised my position on several bands I thought I'd hate forever.

See, I tend to hold a certain... distaste for The Greatest Bands In The World. This is 35% due to how much it pisses me off when people say that music since [insert decade, usually the seventies, here] has universally blown. I figure that if people are too lazy to look for decent modern music and choose to hide in their basements masturbating to Neil Young instead, well, that's their problem.

65% of it, of course, is just me being a contrary douchewad.

However, I've begun to relent. I actually enjoy the Beatles now, for example. A whole lot. And when people mention Pink Floyd my mouth no longer automatically curls in a dramatic sneer. ("Wish You Were Here" is actually quite a lovely song. I'm not sure if I really like any of their other stuff, but I no longer actively hate it.) And, although I still think that Led Zeppelin is the most massively overrated band in the history of massively overrated bands (seriously, guys, guitar solos should be UNDER THREE MINUTES, ditto drum solos), I can freely admit that "Whole Lotta Love" is a very sexy song. Even if it does have vaguely misogynistic undertones.

But there is one band on which my opinion has not changed, and- touch wood- never will.

That band, my amphibious friends, is Guns'N'Roses.

My unbridled hatred of Guns'N'Roses is due, largely, to Axl Rose. Without him, the band just annoys me a little- in fact, rearranged and with a different singer, a la Velvet Revolver, I can even enjoy them. The problem, of course, is that you can't have Guns'N'Roses without Axl Rose, and Axl Rose is... well, Axl Rose.

Can anyone, anywhere, say anything good about Axl Rose? Seriously: not only is the man, by all accounts, a racist, homophobic wife-beater with an ego struggling to compensate for his tiny, tiny penis, but he sounds like a pig being sloooooowly strangled to death.

Usually, when I hate a band, there'll still be one or two songs by them which I really, really like. Metallica, for example. Hate the band so much it makes me throw up in my mouth a little, but I've burned "Whiskey In The Jar" onto at least three mix tapes and will sing along to it when and if it comes on the radio. Loudly. This is not the case with Guns'N'Roses. I can just about tolerate "Paradise City", when I'm in a really good mood, but that's about it. "Welcome To The Jungle"? "Rocket Queen"? Please. If I wanted to hear the sweet strains of the mating wild boar I'd watch the Discovery Channel. And then sign myself up for lots of therapy because if I ever get to the point where I want to listen to mating pigs I will probably need lots of it.

And if I hear one more person talk about how "Sweet Child O' Mine" is such a beautiful love song I may hurl. He refers to her as his CHILD. What is so damn sexy or romantic about that?

It kind of reminds me of when I was younger and used to listen to that Gilbert O'Sullivan song, "Clair,"and thought that it was really sweet, and then I found out that the singer is in love with his underage niece. (Then again, this is the same guy who sang about how a woman's place is in the home, so I really shouldn't have been surprised, I guess.)

...

I kind of lost track of where I was going with this. Suffice to say, I really, really hate Guns'N'Roses.

I'm gonna go drink some chocolate milk.
ishyface: (Default)
"Hey. Could we do that again? I know we haven't met, but I don't want to be an ant. You know? I mean, it's like we go through life with our antennas bouncing off one another, continuously on ant autopilot, with nothing really human required of us. Stop. Go. Walk here. Drive there. All action basically for survival. All communication simply to keep this ant colony buzzing along in an efficient, polite manner. 'Here's your change.' 'Paper or plastic?' 'Credit or debit?' 'You want ketchup with that?' I don't want a straw, I want real moments! I want to see you. I want you to see me. I don't want to give that up. I don't want to be ant, you know?"

- Waking Life

I didn't post anything yesterday because it's been a year since this and I didn't wanna think about it. But I miss him.

That picture my sister took on the last day. )

Courtesy of [livejournal.com profile] kirieflowergirl: A fat rant! (As in, a rant by a fat person, not a rant about fat people.)

A fun song by the Gossip.

And JD takes a bubble bath. Only posted because Ten and I have a gigantic bottle of bubblegum-scented bubble bath by our tub, and guess who's used most of it?

My brain is telling me that the time has come to write a story about the Greek gods, alcoholism, and the rising dead. I think it may have something there, but first I need visual representations of the Twelve Olympians. (I've already decided that Hades looks like John C. McGinley.)
ishyface: (Default)
I'm not sure why I'm writing this. It's possibly because I watched Velvet Goldmine and found myself longing for an era, however brief, when sexual ambiguity and gender bending were actually cool. Or it could be because I watched Velvet Goldmine and rediscovered my little boy crush on Ewan McGregor. Either way, I feel the need to get this off my spindly little shoulders.

This is long. Very long, in fact. )

And a complimentary comic about David Bowie. For giggles. )

* Unless you are a member of [livejournal.com profile] boy_touching or go to the same parties I do.

** Or the people who say that the existence of the aforementioned knuckle-draggers means that queer women are accepted by the mainstream. That is not acceptance, people, that is objectifying ickiness. Kind of like how a bird is not a cat.

*** Seriously, what high school did these people go to? More importantly, why couldn't I have gone too?

**** Or Tim Curry in fishnets, because the man's got a killer pair of legs.
ishyface: (feeling wintry)
Okay, putting Ann Coulter, Phyllis Schlafly, and Marabel Morgan* on the "10 Women Who Make Us Cringe" list makes perfect sense (and the last-minute addition of Bratz dolls is beautiful).

But why add Britney Spears?

So she married an asshole and nearly dropped her baby- is that really such a big deal? A lot of women marry assholes, and yeah, it is cringe-inducing, but shouldn't we really be cringing over the asshole husbands, not the women? As for the baby thing- maybe I'm being blase, but what the hell is the big deal? I can't count the number of times my father let us roll off the bed and onto the floor when we were in diapers. (Of course, that possibly says more about his parenting skills than anything.) And my mum used to buckle us two to a seat when we went on long car trips- if the cops came near she'd just yell "DUCK!" and down we'd go. That doesn't make her an irresponsible mother, and frankly, I think Mini K-Fed was in way more danger from the paparazzi chasing his mum than he was from sitting on her lap.

As for all the hullaballoo about her (gasp!) shaving her head and (horror!) getting tattoos... jeezy creezy, people, it's HAIR AND INK. I don't see people going crazy over Justin's velcrohead or tattoos- why is there such a damn double standard? So she's not dancing around in a schoolgirl outfit anymore- so the fuck what? Why does she have to be "pretty" all the time?

(Obligatory disclosure over Stubblegate: I think Britney looks way better with the shaved head. Of course, I am predisposed to drool over bald women- see also V For Vendetta.)

I used to hate Britney Spears a whole lot. I'm still not a big fan. But she doesn't deserve to be villainized just because she's a non-virgin with no hair and no husband.

* Back when my mum was in child care, she mentioned her marital problems to one of her female clients. Said client gave her a copy of The Total Woman. As a serious attempt to help her out.

She still has it in the linen closet. Sometimes we read it out loud when we're drunk.

NOT ON.

Sep. 11th, 2006 11:33 pm
ishyface: (feeling angry)
Dear asshole dormmates:

We're sorry if we're being too loud (though I admit I do find it slightly ironic that YOU'RE complaining after you and your pinhead buddies stay up 'til three drinking and listening to the Black Eyed fuckin' Peas). Really. Sometimes we don't notice when we're disturbing other people and we're definitely not above a reminder to be polite. I mean, if having a British mother has taught me anything, it's that.

Hahahahhhhowever, ON WHAT PLANET IS JUST WALKING INTO SOMEONE ELSE'S ROOM OKAY? YOU KNOW, CONSIDERING YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW MY NAME (AND HAVE NOT, I MUST ADD, TRIED PARTICULARLY HARD TO FIND OUT). THERE'S A DOOR THERE, FUCKER. IT'S CLOSED FOR A REASON. NAMELY, TO KEEP YOU ALL OUT BECAUSE I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES AAAAAAAARGHIHATEYOU.

Next time we'll be NAKED. That ain't a promise, it's a THREAT.

No love,
Me


P.S.: And, if you want to get all nitpicky, IT'S CALLED NOT SHOUTING IN THE CORRIDOR. I mean, Jesus, you're kvetching about US and then you go trumpeting down the hall a bare half hour later, what the fuck?

God, I HATE these people.

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