Back on the 25^th of June, at the suggestion of nolan_ash who sent me a copy of the book, I started doing The Artist’s Way, a 12 week program created by Julia Cameron that’s designed to help you get in touch with your creativity.

The program involved “morning pages”, three longhand pages written out everyday as soon as you wake up, a weekly “artists date” where you go do something that nurtures your creativity and a variety of exercises and affirmations most of which involve taking baby steps towards doing things that will enrich your life. It’s a very spiritual program, very much based on the idea that creativity comes from a divine source and flows through everyone, which is something I’ve always believed.

Thus far, doing The Artist’s Way is turning out to be a really good experience. It encourages small acts and it’s gotten me to do things like make a collage and go out to a coffee show, little things that are a big deal for me.

Because I manage to do some writing and a little art here and there I’ve never thought of myself as creatively blocked however working the program has made me realize how passive and stagnant I am about a lot of things. I’ve never really defined what kind of life I want, much less worked towards it. I think I’ve always believed that I should take what I get so it’s very hard (and scary)for me to imagine what sort of life would make me happy and if you can’t imagine something you can’t exactly take steps to make it a reality.

Early this year I was driving home from work listening to NPR as usual and I heard an episode of the show To The Best of Our Knowledge that focused on Science Fiction and Fantasy literature.  Along with pieces on my longtime favorites H. P. Lovecraft and Ursula K. LeGuin, there was also an interview with an author I was less familiar with, George R. R. Martin, about his multi-volume fantasy series A Song of Ice and Fire. 

 

Because several of my fandom friends (including etrangere who has pretty impeccable taste) have mentioned an interest in A Song of Ice and Fire I paid special attention to the radio piece and found it pretty fascinating.  They talked about the complex religious systems portrayed in the books and I also discovered that Martin was the author of Fevre Dream and The Armageddon Rag, two of the more imaginative novels I read when I was a teenager going through my vampire phase. 

 

Based on this, I decided I’d give the series a try and picked up a copy of the first volume A Game of Thrones at the library.  I think I was on the second chapter when a bullying brother pinched his sister’s nipples and complained that he had to sell her off instead of marrying her himself as was the family way.  By page fifty there was full on incest between another brother and sister.  At this point, I knew A Song of Ice and Fire was for me. 

 

It’s not just the incest of course, though that’s what hooked me.  A Song of Ice and Fire is a truly extraordinary series.  Martin has created a world that includes geography, history, politics, several different religious systems, class structure and the cultural differences of different cities, regions, countries and peoples and conveys it in perfectly realized detail.  Despite the hundreds of characters and scores of noble involved in the story I found entering the world the A Song of Ice and Fire fairly effortless.  I absolutely devoured the first book of the series as well as the second (A Clash of Kings) and am about 2/3 through the third (A Storm of Swords which is about 1,100 pages long). 

 

The basic story of A Song of Earth and Fire centers on the Seven Kingdoms, a land where summers that last for years are followed by long and brutal winters.  To the North, in Winterfell, live the Stark family whose emblem is the Direwolf and who’s motto is “Winter is coming”.  The serious minded, uncompromising patriarch of the family is Ned Stark, an old friend and battle companion of Robert, the king who sits on the Iron Throne after deposing the near mythical house of Targeryen some years before.  Once handsome, charismatic, fun-loving and warm-hearted, being king has broken down Robert’s body and spirits leaving him embittered and a slave to his appetites for food, women and drink.  When Robert’s chief advisor or Hand dies (under suspicious circumstances), Robert names Ned to the position.  The Stark family, including Ned’s wife Catelyn and their five children, four boys (one illegitimate) and two girls who ranging in age from 16 to 4. 

 

The Stark’s are central to the novel and most of the chapters are narrated from the perspective of various family members yet at the same time other chapters are shown from the point of view of their enemies.  The novel is an epic but character driven.  The use of multiple points of view allows for an extremely complex chorus of voices but never for stagnant narration or the simplistic taking of sides. 

 

I like very much that women and girls are included among the characters that Martin follows closely.  Also, he does something very rare in a medieval fantasy; he spotlights characters that are not able-bodied.  Early in the first novel Ned Stark loses the loss of his legs in a fall yet continues to play an important role in the novel.  Perhaps one of the most important of the characters outside the Stark family is Tyrion Lannister, the younger brother of Robert’s Queen.  Tyrion is a dwarf, referred the disparagingly as “the imp” yet he too is an important player in the novel. 

 

A Song of Ice and Fire works on multiple levels.  Often, the books read like historical fiction telling of battles but just as often of statecraft, of alliances and the shifting ground of political maneuvering.   In many ways it dovetails nicely into my recent obsession with the Tudor and Elizabethan periods of English history.  There’s every bit as much intrigue and Robert, the golden hero who matures into an overweight, frustrated and harried monarch certainly bears more than a passing resemblance to Henry VIII (also his wife is cheating on him with her brother, a charge that Henry VIII made against Anne Boleyn….) 

 

Sometimes it’s easy to get so caught up in the politics and faux-historical aspect of A Song of Ice and Fire that you forget you’re reading a fantasy novel.  This makes the intrusion of magic all the more shocking when it does manifest.  The fabric of reality seems to tear for both the characters and the reader.  The appearance of magic in A Song of Ice and Fire is never casual or predictable.

 

Along with actual magic, there are fairy tales tropes woven into the books-- A girl given three wishes, a beauty loved by a beast, an exiled princess cast out with nothing who overcomes obstacle after obstacle on her quest to be Queen*.  As I’ve said it’s an extremely rich series that operates on many different levels.  I find myself simultaneously wanting to tear head-long through the entire thing and to go slowly making it last for as long as I can.

 

*This character, Daenerys Targaryen is my absolute favorite but this is a pretty casual overview of the series and I can’t talk about her too much without revealing several key plot-points. 

 

 

 

After an unseasonably cool spring, summer has come down full force on Chicago. During the past week it’s like we’ve gone from April to August, the past few days have been oppressively hot. Tuesday night it was so bad I actually slept on my balcony. It was cooler but I ended up with a crink in my neck from being on the ground with only a thin mattress pad so last night I was back to my bed. The problem I have with hot nights is that I tend to sleep very lightly and have bizarre and vivid dreams (such as the disturbing one I had several nights ago about my grandmother being murdered). The problem I have with hot days is that I don’t function. I was off work for the past two days and I swear, both my kitty and I spent the whole time lying around in a semi-catatonic state.

Last night at about 8:00 p.m. there was a motorcycle accident right in front of my building. I didn’t see it but I heard a crash and then screaming and commotion outside and when I went to the window there was a man lying between the motorcycle which was on its side and a parked car. Because it was so warm there were a lot of people on the street and several had cell phones so an ambulance came right away. In Illinois, you’re not required to wear a helmet when you ride on a motorcycle and the man who had been in the accident was bleeding from his head pretty badly, another man was holding a towel to the wound and I could see that it was soaked with blood. The man was taken away in the ambulance and later that night a truck came and picked up the motorcycle, but when I came down this morning the blood-stained towel was still lying in the gutter right outside my building. Sort of scary. I can watch pretty violent movies but seeing people hurt and bloodshed in real life shakes me up.

I’ve come to the realization that I haven’t been a very good role model lately. A couple of days ago I posted some recent photos of myself stating that I’d taken them to reassure myself that I wasn’t unattractive or overweight. Everyone seemed interested in seeing what I looked like and was very supportive, but I can’t help thinking I was conveying a message that I don’t want to be sending out—that you’re somehow okay if you’re thin and attractive, implying that if you’re not thin or if you deviate from conventional beauty standards there’s something wrong with you or that you are in some way inferior.

This is simply not true.

I was overweight until I was twenty two years old. During that time I felt like being overweight was what was wrong with me. For the last fifteen years I’ve been anorexic, underweight and in a healthy weight range yet I continue to obsess about my weight. Clearly the weight itself isn’t the issue. It’s some deep seeded inability to love and appreciate myself and feel comfortable in my own skin.

But no one is an island. The things I write and do and say make an impact on other people and I want to have a positive impact. It doesn’t help anyone to see me obsessing over being overweight and unattractive. In fact it may do harm as it reinforces the idea that being overweight is something horrible to fear and dread. I want to try and be more conscious of the messages I’m sending out. When I can’t stay for dinner with my niece and nephew because I’m afraid I’ll overeat I’m telling them that my weight matters more than they do, that food is dangerous, that being thin is important and desirable over all else. I don’t want that.

I want to try to be conscious of the messages I send about food, body image, self-worth and what’s important and I’m going to try to send positive message that are in accordance with the things I really believe rather than the distorted values of my eating disorder. I want to be a better role model to girls and other women and send out helpful rather than harmful messages. Maybe if I do, I’ll even start to believe them myself.

I had been planning on going to see Amber Benson (Tara from Buffy The Vampire Slayer) this afternoon. She was making an appearance at a comic shop in the neighborhood promoting her novel Death's Daughter. Unfortunately I had thought it was going to be next week, so I'd made a doctor's appointment for the same time and I sort of had to go so instead of seeing Tara real live in person I got to spend 35 minutes waiting for the doctor to see me. Alas and alas.

A little less heavy family stuff.

 

Before I went to work this morning I called my father in New York to wish him a happy Father’s Day.   It turns out my little brother was visiting from Washington DC for the weekend  so Pa-Daddy actually got to have one of this children with him on Father’s Day which was really nice.  I spoke to my brother, Jackson, briefly.  He had apparently been amusing himself all morning by telling my mother he wouldn’t go to church unless he got taken to lunch at the Otesaga, a posh hotel on Otsego Lake. 

 

Of course because of Father’s Day, the Otesaga was completely booked up so my mother was getting all worked up about how he had to come to church for the sake of his immortal soul and for this father and so people would know she really had children.  Jackson doesn’t take mum seriously the way I do.  Unlike my sister and I who would see the whole thing as her trying to control us he just likes to wind her up and watch her go. 

 

On Friday I was off work and went to visit my sister and her children (Kitten, age 4 and Minya, age 7).  We had been thinking of going to the zoo but there were thunderstorm warnings so we just went to a nearby coffee shop (getting hailed on as we returned) and then stayed around there place. 

 

Minya showed me one of the projects he’s currently working on, a comic book based on the Indiana Jones video game.  He’s drawn about 30 pages of it, each made up of one big panel of the story.  I was really excited to see this.  It’s really cool to know that he isn’t just consuming video games, passively absorbing them but is actively imagining.  Also, it means my little nephew is writing fan fiction which sort of confirms by belief that retelling stories and fantasizing about familiar characters is a natural part of creativity and should be played with (am I using a 7 year old to justify my own forays into copyright infringement and amateur pornography?). 

 

I ended up working on my own comic book project.  When I was in New York last month my cat, Dracula aka Big Kitty stayed with my sister and her family.  My niece was quite taken by Big Kitty and she made up a story about how Big Kitty had a little umbrella and walked downtown to visit her grandmother.  I illustrated this story in a few pages—first Big Kitty in the rain saying “I don’t like rain” , then Big Kitty with an umbrella, Big Kitty walking to the Hancock building where my niece’s grandmother lives and finally Big Kitty at grandma’s apartment curled up on her signature 60’s red butterfly chair. 

 

It was a lot of fun.  I’ve never been good with kids (or adults for that matter) but I’m really happy I can connect to my niece and nephew through artwork and stories. 

I had one of the most frightening dreams of my life last night.

 

In it I was at an event where President Obama was assassinated.  Because the killers were still at large, I locked myself up and hid in my parent’s house forgetting about Nonnie, my grandmother, across the road.  While I was hiding, the killers broken into Nonnie’s  house and murdered her in bed.  I dreamed I had to go over to identify the body (her curly white hair had been clipped short and dyed blonde).  I also had to clean up her last meal which was cake and ice cream, and ended up binging on the leftovers.

 

A really upsetting dream on so many levels, from the national to the personal.  I know the parts involving my grandmother must have been influenced by True Blood- the grandmother of the heroine, Sookie, is murdered and after the funeral Sookie eats what’s left of the last pie her grandmother made.  Still, even though I realize where the basic idea came from it still seemed so real. 

 

Since I may very well be going to live with Nonnie in a few months if may be my subconscious trying to come to terms with the reality that she may not live very long and that I’m going to be involved in the last days of her life and ultimately her death if I decide to move in with her.  It’s not something I’ve wanted to think about, but Nonnie is 90 years old and though in general good health very frail.  I guess I need to acknowledge the reality that she probably is going to die within the next few years and that I’m going to need to come to terms with it, especially if I make her a more of a part of my life. 

When I was at the library the other day greedily stocking up on graphic novels (Angel: After the Fall Vol. 1-3!  Assorted volumes of Deathnote!) I chanced upon a book called Lying In Weight by Trisha Gura.

 

Subtitled “The hidden epidemic of eating disorders in adult women”, this book is the first I’ve ever come upon that deals specifically with disordered eating in adult women.  Eating disorders are still very much associated with girls and young women and a great deal of the literature on the subject does focus upon this age group.

 

While I did suffer from binge eating, compulsive eating and bulimia as a teenager, I didn’t develop anorexia until I was twenty two or twenty three and despite treatment and maintaining a “normal” weight for a good decade my adult years have been very much centered around issues of food consumption and body image. 

 

Lying In Weight is the first book I’ve ever found that directly addresses my situation.  Someone who doesn’t meet the very specific DSM-IV criteria for anorexia or bulimia but who has lived for years with compulsive behavior based around food and exercise.  The term Gura uses to describe this is “subclinical.”  That’s what I am, someone who doesn’t meet the clinical definition of eating disorders but who definitely does not have a healthy relationship with food. 

 

Because it deals with the effort of disordered eating over entire span of a woman’s life from adolescence to old age and addresses treatment options Lying In Weight is, by necessity, broad in it’s focus.  There was a lot of material, such as the chapters on pregnancy and motherhood that while interesting (and very often heartbreaking) didn’t apply directly to me.  Still, there was a great deal in the book that I could identify with, particularly where Gura talked about inter-personal relationships. 

 

The other day I was talking to my brother-in-law about how it doesn’t seem like I’ve been able to make any kind of substantial romantic or personal connections during the time I’d been in Chicago.  My explanation was that I hadn’t tried hard enough but perhaps I didn’t want to try. 

 

Reading Lying In Weight, I realized this that in a lot of ways I am typical of a woman who has made her eating disorder the primary relationship in her life.  Keeping to my diet and exercise regiments are my top priority.  Getting too close to anyone threatens this so I’ve always kept my distance, despite being very lonely at times.  The one relationship I did have was with a man who was extremely self-involved and didn’t really notice or care about my disordered behavior. 

 

Another revelation that came to me while reading this book is that unless I make the effort to get better, to really heal myself, I could very easily function as half a person for the rest of my life.  My eating disorder isn’t going to go away on its own.  When contemplating this, what really frightens me isn’t the possibility of being a subclinical mess as a senior citizen, it’s that I can’t really imagine what my life would be like without the system of controls I’ve built around my eating disorder.  I feel like if I didn’t count calories religiously and exercise rigorously I’ll be completely out of control.  My recent foray into alcohol abuse only seems to illustrate this to me…

 

Still, putting aside my own concerns I think the appearance of Lying In Weight at the public library is a very positive sign.  It means that eat disorders in adult women are starting to get some attention and will therefore be taken more seriously by the general public making it easier for women who need it to get treatment. 

The first season of True Blood came out on DVD a couple weeks ago and I’ve been re-watching it.

 

I watched True Blood when without having read any of Charlaine Harris’ Sookie Stackhouse novels on which it’s based.  Now though, having read several of them, the show really strikes me as a form of fan fiction.  The world of the books remains recognizable, the characters have the same names and many of the major events remain intact, but everything has been sexed up to the max and minor characters have been given personalities, histories and stories of their own in no way suggested by the source material. 

 

For instance in the series, Tara is Sookie’s best friend (with a long standing crush on Sookie’s brother Jason).  She works with Sookie at Merlotte's, has an affair with their boss Sam (Tara/Sam anyone), and is entangled with an alcoholic mother.  Yet Tara doesn’t actually appear In Dead Until Dark, the book the first season of True Blood is loosely based on.  Tara doesn’t make her appearance until the second book, Living Dead In Dallas, and then she appears only fleeting as an old friend of Sookie’s who is marginally connected with some unpleasant supernatural business, a bystander at best. 

 

The Sookie Stackhouse novels are told in first person from Sookie’s point of view, and tend to be very plot driven so expanding the roles of the minor characters like Tara, Jason, and Sam really serves the series well in many cases.  It makes for a more character driven version of the stories presented in the books and also offers more color and contrast. 

 

Except when in crashes and burns. 

 

There are more than a few sub-plots in True Blood that if they were fan fiction would be considered pure, unadulterated crack.  Some of the scenarios are so far out and extreme they’re just painful to watch.  Most of these involve Jason being remarkably stupid and having sex but the whole voodoo exorcism with Tara and the things with Bill’s “daughter” are also pretty bad. 

 

In fan fiction, there’s always the “out of character” factor to contend with, the question of whether or not the characters are true to the source material.  Watching True Blood after having read the books I do occasionally have moments where I find myself thinking “Sookie would not do that”, “Sookie would not wear that”, “Sookie would not masturbate on Bill’s steps”, or “Sookie would not use the f word in public”.  I suppose though that’s just part and parcel of an HBO (or Showtime) series.  In the realms of premium cable all characters cuss, dress scanty and are perpetually hot and bothered be they Miss Sookie Stackhouse or the King of England (see The Tudors). 

I never watched the Sailor Moon anime series, but I’ve been fascinated with Japanese pop culture since I was in high school. In the summer of 1997, my sister and I made a visit to San Francisco and it seemed like there were a Sailor Moon imports for sale everywhere. I bought a bunch of stuff including a bunch of stickers, a pvc figure and a talking Sailor Mars dolls. A couple months ago ozma914 mentioned his daughter used to collect Sailor Moon paraphernalia, so when I was visiting my parents this last week I took some photos of my Sailor Moon goodies.

( Sailor Moon goodies )

My visit with my parents went surprisingly well.  The weather was wonderful, the countryside was beautiful and there was no insanity.  After many weeks spent tied up in knots I was able to do some serious relaxing.  I did a lot of reading, walked in the fields, and spent time with my grandmother everyday. 

 

In addition to loafing about, I did some other stuff.  I went to a really interesting panel discussion on Gian Carlo Menotti political opera The Consul.  A friend of my parents showed me around the 1820’s house he’s restoring.  I had coffee with a friend from high school and my father took me to see Angels and Demons (not great, but in general a better film than The Da Vinci Code which had little of interest except the homoerotic subtext between Silas and Bishop Aringarosa.  Also has anyone else noticed that Tom Hanks has the same nose as Richard Nixon?)  I even ate in a restaurant (which I rarely do) and had something over than a side salad (even more rare.) 

 

It was, amazingly, a really pleasant little vacation. 

 

The overall lack of craziness makes me wonder if I haven’t been unfairly vilifying my parents, judging them based on things that happened in the past when they’ve changed and moved on.  Maybe I need to learn to forgive and live a little more in the present. 

 

On the question of whether or not I’ll be moving back to New York, I remain undecided.  I need to really think about it, what I can handle and what I need.  I don’t want to make a decision based on others but its difficult not to.  I feel very isolated and unloved here in Chicago though I realize it’s mostly my own fault.  I haven’t tried hard enough to make friends and connect with people.  A lot of that has been because of my depression and now that I’ve finally gotten that more or less under control it might be worth it to hold on, give Chicago another chance and try to really put myself out there.  

 

Money of course is an issue.  I don’t make enough at my job to really meet my expenses so if I do decided to stay I have to find another, better job or I’m going to have to start drawing from my investment account (which unfortunately was cut nearly in half when the economy crashed last fall). 

 

All factors I have to take into consideration.  I don’t go back to work until tomorrow so went to an ANAD (Eating Disorder) support group this morning.  It really helped me put everything into focus.  I really wish I could make it to these groups more often.  Back when I had an office job and regular hours I was able to go to two meetings a week and it really helped to keep me balanced.  I miss that. 

I'm in Upstate New York on my scouting mission/vacation.

My computer access is going to be seriously limited during the course of my visit as they have dail-up but I wanted to take a moment to wish lawless523 a very happy birthday.

I’ve been very withdrawn for the last couple of weeks.  Questions of whether or not I should move back to New York have been on my mind to the point where it’s difficult for me to think about much of anything else.  I’m going to visit my parents in New York from the 18^th to the 22^nd and its sort of a scouting mission to determine if I want to move back.  If I get there and realize it’s impossible for me to ever live there again I’ll have to figure out someway of staying in Chicago when I’m not sure if there is a way….

 

In an effort to get away from my worries I’ve been spending much of my free time watching movies and episodes of the television series Mad Men as well as losing myself in novels.  I’ve read some really excellent stuff, including Tom Perrotta’s very funny, keenly observed Little Children and Atonement and Enduring Love by Ian McEwan who is poised to become one of my all time favorites.  His books are exquisite, every page, even paragraph seems infused with so many levels of meaning.  McEwan’s writing makes me feel the same way Henry James’ does, like I’m reading something at a level so high above anything I would ever attempt as an author.  Yet I find this inspirational rather than discouraging, they set a standard to aim for. 

 

Still, I feel like I’m consuming books and movies without digesting them properly, just using them to numb my anxiety and pass time rather than properly thinking about what I’m reading and watching.  Hopefully after my visit I’ll be able to figure out what I’m doing and be able to focus again. 

Of all the various fan fiction activities I participate in, I considerlgbtfest  to be the most important. lgbtfest is an annual ficaton focuses on exploring issues that effect gay, lesbian, bi-sexual and transgendered people.

For those of you not familiar with the workings of fan fiction,lgbtfest  works like this. Prompts, or story ideas are submitted and a list is compiled. The prompts can involve any characters in any fandom (a fandom is the book, movie, comic book, TV. show or band that fans are into) but must involve some aspect of lgbt identity. After the list is posted, anyone interested in writing one of the stories can claim a prompt. When a prompt is claimed the writer is then assigned a date when the finished story may be posted.

There are hundreds of ficatons going on at any given time but the thing that really separateslgbtfest  from the rest is its sense of purpose, to specifically address lgbt issues and experiences. I feel like there’s a real need for an event of this nature. While at first glance, a lot of fandoms seem to be all about “teh gay” there’s a difference between being turned on by something and actually thinking about it. I’ve actually seen some surprising examples of ignorance within slash communities, such as stereotyping and using the word “gay” pejoratively. lgbtfest seems like a great way to increase awareness of lgbt issues within the fan fiction community and also to invite identification and empathy rather than objectification of lgbt characters.

Additionally, I find it’s good for me as a writer. Like many fan fiction writers I tend to focus on sex and romance. Many of lgbtfest ’s prompts go beyond this. They place the relationship in a context and require the writer to use a broader canvas and take on different perspectives than usual.

This is the second year I’ve participated in lgbtfest . I’ll be posting my story, which is about DC Comics new, lesbian Batwoman character, on 04/26/09. I’ve been in a bit of a slump lately and I don’t feel that it’s as strong as the work I did last year but I’m pleased that I was able to get something together and take part.

On Saturday night I was over at my sister’s visiting with my dad and my niece and nephew were watching a show called Secret Saturdays on Cartoon Network.

 

I love animation so I sort of got drawn into the program.  It’s about a family of scientists that investigates mythological creatures.  The plot of the episode that was on involved a crystal that had turned a lake into salt.  There was a danger that it would spread and all the water in the world would be changed. 

 

I remarked that this reminded me a lot of a story I’d once read by one of my favorite authors, J. G. Ballard.  I think it was called “The Crystal World.”

 

The next day I heard on the radio that J. G. Ballard had died.  Weird synchronicity, but the sort of thing you sort of expect where J. G. Ballard is involved.

Since Easter I’ve been pretty busy between work, family, medical appointments and a story I’ve been working on for lgbtfest.

My Dad was in town from New York State for a five day visit. I was working most of the time but managed to get over to my sister’s place to see him everyday. Also yesterday I had off so I showed him around my neighborhood, Logan Square. He was of course interested in who it was named after and the history of the monument, things I knew nothing about but luckily there was some information posted at a kiosk so I got educated about my area as a result of his visit.

We also talked over my future plans. I’m not sure if I’m going to continue living in Chicago. My lease expires in September and when it does I may move back to New York. If I do return to my hometown I’m not going to live with my parents indefinitely as I did in my 20’s. I’ll either find of job and an apartment of my own in a city (probably Utica or Albany) or live with them for a few months until I can set something up and go back to school for writing. In the meantime I’m going to try and start looking a better job and researching schools while I’m still in Chicago. Now that I’m less depressed there’s a chance I can make things work while still living here. Pa is being very supportive, he’s not pressuring me to leave Chicago like my mother would but made it clear that if I feel like this stage in my life is done I’m welcome to live at home until I figure out where I’m going next.

He’s in the middle of a very emotionally charged time himself. Early this year his mother, who lives in a suburb of Philadelphia, was hospitalized with pneumonia. When he visited he was pretty distressed by the conditions she was living in. Unlike many older people she’s not hurting for money, but both she and my grandfather (who passed away in the 1980’s) were antique dealers and their house (as well as a barn out back) is packed with stuff to the point where many of the rooms are unusable. Everything was also pretty dirty and covered with dust.

My grandmother agreed to get rid of some of the excess and since my father is an expert in antiques with a lot of connections he’s spent the last few months making regular trips to Pennsylvania (about a 4 ½ hour drive) to sort through things and organize an auction that’s going to take place next month. During these visits he’s had to go through a lot of drama with his brothers and sisters and assorted nieces and nephews who all feel they know best not to mention Grandma who has always been very good at making him feel bad by deliberately doing things to belittle and exclude him even when he’s doing her a huge favor.

When he was talking to me about this, he said that he’s really starting to not be concerned with things anymore. He said that five years ago he would have had problems with getting rid of things and would have probably gotten into arguments with his sisters over who got what, things like that but now he’s able to let things go. He didn’t say so explicitly but I know this has to do with the religious revelation he had two years ago. He’s changed so much since then and I really respect that though I continue to struggle with faith.

My father used to have a very strict, unforgiving interpretation of religion that I didn’t agree with. He’s moved beyond that, yet in a way I haven’t. In a lot of ways he defined religion for me and I always find myself returning to his old definitions. I know I’ve recently referred to things like the idea that by interpreting the Bible selectively I’m “cherry-picking” and therefore can’t be a “real” Christian. I don’t know that my father would think that mattered anymore yet I still let it matter to me.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a great deal lately, though I can’t seem to compose my thoughts the way I’d like to. I was hoping I’d be able to do so today (I’m off work and Pa went back to New York last night) but instead I’ve just been wiped out all day, probably a combination of my recent activity (and using said activity as an excuse to eat as little as possible) and the sweeping changes in the weather (from the 70’s to the 30’s). I actually ended up falling asleep for a couple hours this afternoon, something I generally try and avoid as I find it disorienting.

There are a lot of things I want to write about—religion, the a performance of Mary Poppins I attended last week, the stuff I’ve been readings lately and my lgbtfest story… Hopefully I’ll be feeling a bit more focused and energetic tomorrow.

My first LJ post was made back in February of 2006 while I was at work (not surprisingly I lost that job six months later). It was about how I wanted to do bad things to Jeremy Piven.

I still would very much like to do bad things to Jeremy Piven.

A family friend is a member of a comedy ensamble called The Best Church Of God (BCOG for short) and on Wednesday evening I went to a special show they were having at the Chopin Theater.

 

Earlier that day (the first day of Passover no less) I’d mentioned that I rather missed the religious rituals of Holy Week.  BCOG ended up providing me with a (satirical) taste of what I’d been missing. 

 

Attending a BCOG show is exactly like attending a church service.  When you enter the theater you’re not just given a program, you’re given a hymnal and a loaner Bible.  It’s not a show you can just sit back and watch— you get to sing, and pray and even take communion.  Also every BCOG performance, like every church service, is different.  Different scriptures, different sermon, different hymns.  This was the first time I’d attended but for quite a while they were doing a new show every Sunday morning which is pretty amazing. 

 

The BCOG performers are all different characters—the service is lead by Pastor Dave with assistance from his bloody-minded daughter Ruth, the flashy Reverend Joy Phillips (RevJoy for short) the  choir director/Sunday School teacher and several congregation members who contribute with scripture readings, prayers and (ahem) interpretive dance. 

 

While a lot of humor aimed at religion seems to targets hypocrisy BCOG takes a different approach, reproducing the sort of earnest, amateur pageantry I remember from my years of church-going. 

 

Sometimes it gets silly but they’re frequently dead-on.  There’s a moment where the audience is asked to be seated after singing a hymn then immediately asked to rise for a prayer that’s a perfectly observed detail.   

 

Wednesday’s show was special in that it included a debate between members of the BCOG and Sunsara Taylor, a real life writer and academic who is an advocate of atheism.  Presided over by Pastor Dave (who accidentally mispronounced her name as "Sinsara" and "Sunsatan") the debate was pretty hilarious.  Portions of it followed the same trajectory as the theological arguments I have with my father.  One side quoting scripture, the other side maintaining that scripture is folklore, history and law created and compiled by man to support their own ends.  

 

Taylor seemed pretty game, allowing herself to be referred to as a “full-time Whore of Babylon” and other such indignities yet I couldn’t help feeling that there were a few moments when she was stating her position that she seemed every bit a zealously irrational as the BCOG debaters. 

 

Of all the wacky things said that night I have to include her statement that Mao’s China was liberating to women as among the wackiest.  I have strong socialist leanings but I dislike it when liberals from wealthy countries paint rosy pictures of the worker’s paradise they want to exist in places like China and Cuba (case I point, the ending of Sally Potter’s film Yes where the biracial couple were blissfully reunited in an idyllic Cuba ruined the movie for me—all I could think of was that it was a good thing they weren’t a gay couple or they’d be in a idyllic Cuban prison).  I wish Communism had worked but it did a heck of a lot of damage and destroyed a lot of lives.  That shouldn’t be glossed over because it fits your political rhetoric. 

 

Overall, I have to say I was very impressed with the BCOG.  Part of the reason the show was so funny was because they’d obviously done their homework.  The show included really extensive, in depth use of the scriptures.  The main sermon,, titled “Jesus Does Whatever He Wants” was fabulous.  It laid out dozens of contradictions and examples of irrational behavior by Christ only to dismiss them with a hearty “Jesus does whatever he wants.”  Also excellent was a triad against Taylor in particular and women in general by CPA/Liturgical Dance Captain Brother Matthew Leppin that really laid bare the misogyny the Bible contains. 

 

Questions of religion and faith are something that I struggle with on a day to day basis.  I tend to take these issues very seriously and I think it did me a great deal of good to see them dealt with wit and levity.


 

Yesterday my nephew, Minya, turned seven. 

 

I made him a painting of a Killer Whale for this Birthday.   He seemed to like it quite a bit.  He’s terribly fond of Killer Whales, to the point where he claims that Legos and Killer Whales are the only things he dreams about.    Needless to say he also got quite a few Legos for his Birthday as well.  When I went over to give him his present he was in the process of assembling at a Lego set of General Grievous from Star Wars: Clone Wars that looked like it was going to be about as tall as he is when he finished.


 

 

In addition to the Killer Whale painting, I also made a special treat for he and his little sister—dark chocolate covered Matzos studded with jellybeans.    I haven’t done any cooking or baking in years and I had great fun making them but I can’t help but cringe a little.  Given the rich cultural and spiritual history of the Matzo I can’t help but feel that I’m defiling it by coating it with chocolate and jellybeans (jellybeans from the makers of Peeps no less).    

 

I’m afraid this of year brings out my kitsch factor.  Easter has some very bizarre foodstuff associated with it.  Peeps of course, the day-glow sugar coated marshmallow chicks and bunnies are the strangest but there are also lamb cakes and butter shaped like lambs, and molded chocolate crosses.  On the high end is the Red Fire Bunny.  The Red Fire Bunny is something we sell at Whole Foods, a solid dark chocolate bunny flavored with chilies and cinnamon.  It’s made by Vosges, a very posh Chicago known for it’s eight dollar chocolate bars flavored with things like ginger + Wasabi, curry, green tea, bacon, grey sea salt and Himalayan pink salt.