Monday, October 31, 2005

(start a rumor monday...)

do it for shoeless joe

now, i know a couple of you wanted me to comment on janet miss jackson if you're nasty's alleged 18 year old child (and maybe i will a lil later in the week), but i just felt that as an almost chicagoan it was important that i dedicate at least one post to the 2005 world series champion chicago black white sox.

also, since everyone was so distracted by sheryl swoopes' announcemnent that she caught the gay, no one really paid attention to some of the gayer events of the week, namely, the chicago white sox world series celebration. thus, as a public service to you, i now present a photo entry, "the chicago white sox: 88 years is a mighty long time."

pay attention, kids. here's a quick lesson: cause.


is that in inches? yeah, right. i may have the lesbian strain of the gay, and it's been a long time since i've seen one, but i've read bernard bradshaw long enough to know that even for a superstar athlete that's an exaggeration.

whoa. i just johnny fived on jokes that all involve the term catcher.**

frank thomas asks: "did we just win the world series, or are you just happy to see me?"

no glove, no love.

you promised to hold me when it was all over.

i like it when people touch my hair, too.

though the yahoo! photos caption called him a well-wisher, i do believe that this is ozzie's son. can someone get freud or cholly breedlove on the phone?

seriously, do i really need to caption this?

yes, whatever you're thinking is exactly what i'd say.

**johnny fived: meaning, i, or my brain, short circuited. yeah, like the movie.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Friday, October 28, 2005

this weekend's essay: road trip

this weekend, saf and i are heading to c-town. nothing major. she just needs to get an emissions test or something, and i'm coming along to make sure her black ass doesn't fall asleep at the wheel. (is it me, or does anyone with parents who put them in the car as babies to help them sleep have major issues staying awake while driving or riding in an automobile?)

so i was just wondering...if you were gonna take a road trip:
  • who you wit' (pick anyone)?
  • why did you choose him/her/them to roll with you?
  • where y'all goin'?
  • whatcha drivin'?
  • what's in the cd changer?
  • __fill in the blank__
as for me? well...
  • who you wit' (pick anyone)? rrrrachel
  • why did you choose him/her/them to roll with you? we need to bury a body. i need new teef teeth, and rrrrachel wants a graphaphone phonograph.
  • where y'all goin'? jefferson, yoknapatawpha county, mississippi
  • whatcha drivin'? a pimped out buggie, nigga.
  • what's in the cd changer? i don't think the buggie has a cd player, but just in case it did: prolly some erykah, lucinda williams, carole king, otis redding, and cody chesnutt b/c the nigga got so much heart.
  • __my mother is a fish.__**
i'ma try to blog better next week.

have a good one.

**ps: any (anonymous) commenters/admirers who dig and/or understand the references in my answers to the road trip questions w/o googling it will receive a free roundtrip plane ticket to chicago, along with a weekend stay at le hotel summer m. b/c, you know, i'd officially be in love with you. simple as that.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

now usually i don't do this but, uh...special wednesday evening news flash...

sheryl swoopes likes a girl. let the record show that catching the gay is real.**

now what, "purists"!?!?!?

acknowledge that shit: i am ahead of my time.

*runs off to flirt with "straight" girls*

**please refrain from wnba jokes. i know i least til monday.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

snippets of a random conversation take 6

summer: ...we walked next to each other for about two blocks, and i didn't even ask her name. i thought about it, though.

rrrrachel: you never asked her name? or her major? or if she had read the book? or...?

summer: no. i know. it's ridiculous. i'm ridiculous.

rrrrachel: summer, [*sighs lovingly*] it's like you're in the social special olympics. you're gonna keep having these really easy social situations until you get it right.

summer: *dead* social special olympics? you're my next snippets of a random conversation.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Monday, October 24, 2005

(start a rumor monday...)

evening edition:
foxy brown the exclusive (fecundmellow) interview

fecundmellow: so foxy, can you tell us about your new album, broken silence?
foxy: hunh?

if you didn't get that, go here.

**a low blow, i know. but i do what i can.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

hold please...

the rumor, if there is a rumor, will not be up 'til late(r).

forgive me. every now and then i have a life to live.

in the meantime, is this shit still loading slow? iono why, but i thought i'd ask anyway.

oh yeah, and say nice things about me in the comment section. i'm not on the ropes yet, but life is trying to back a homegyrl into a arms are getting heavy...and the body shots are starting to hurt.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Thursday, October 20, 2005

(before i bitch, please visit studpoet's site. her most recent post is super genius.)

revenge of the race film, or why
crash sucked: open letter #5

dear paul haggis,
cc: oprah winfrey

though i dug million dollar baby, i didn't like your movie crash. i wasn't gonna say anything, but then the divine ms. o had a show about it last week, so i thought i'd write. not that i haven't driven that whole oprah aspect of my gig into the ground. either way, her show brought your wack ass film back into my memory. well, it wasn't just her. two fellow black women bloggers said they dug your flick, and that kind of perplexed me. i hadn't really talked to anyone who liked your movie. deshi and nahmix and i all saw it together a while back, and i'm pretty sure we all left the theater with a "wtf?" look on our faces. yet since i highly respect both of the women who said they liked your movie, i thought i'd think about it more. because, you know, maybe there was other shit contributing to my hatred of your movie. let's see...
  1. i saw your flick downtown, and i had to look for parking for a while before i found it. anyone who has ever really had to look for parking in chicago knows the kind of anger this spawns. it's an i wanna ram my front end into that hummer who fucked up the parking rotation (why couldn't s/he just pull up a bit more?), i wanna hit pedestrians preventing me from turning, why is that street sign so incomprehensible? kind of anger.
  2. i abhor going to the movies. i mean, you pay 10 bux to sit in seats with who knows what kind of stains on them. the ground is all sticky because some asshole spilled his 225 oz. soda, and some muhfucka keeps hitting the back of your chair with his/her knee because they're fidgety assholes with no concept of "someone is actually sitting in the chair in front of you."
  3. i was sober.
  4. wack ass customer service. lemme get this straight (prolly the only thing i'll ever get straight): you wanna charge me 8 dollars for some two-days old, stale ass popcorn and require that i, me my hotself, (myself be so hot) garnish the bag of popcorn with artery clogging butter?
  5. commercials. did i mention i paid 10 bux to get in this bitch? i can watch coke commercials for free. and at the crib, i can change channels. what happened to movie quizzes, and the lil animated spot of the mike and ikes and soda running into the theater?
  6. a lotta folks take oprah's word as a stamp of approval. i generally take oprah's word as a stamp of problematic wackness. when i (had) heard that she was allegedly running 'round calling that hermes incident her crash moment, i knew your flick was prolly gonna piss me off.
yet, despite coming to terms with the variety of issues that may have influenced how i saw your movie, i still wasn't quite convinced when over lunch saf said something to the effect that crash was the prolly the best race film we've had in a while. really? ok. just like i assaulted her with my laundry list of reasons why this shit was a waste of film, i thought i'd send it to you. so, you know, the next time you think of writing a race film, maybe you'll think twice.
  • mighty white of you. it is my understanding that "crashing" is the overriding theme of your film. ok. got it. don cheadle's character says some shit about people needing to crash into each other just to touch another person. but along with this, i believe i was supposed to leave this movie thinking about the idea that we "crash" into scenarios that force us to address shit like race and class. excuse me for being so frank, but: THAT IS THE WHITEST SHIT I HAVE HEARD THIS YEAR. (and that includes all the shit barbara bush and her idiot-ass son said during the hurricane kat(r)ina debacle.) excuse me for oversimplifying, but that is some white shit right there. any decent raced body running about this country doesn't "crash" into situations where he or she realizes that the person they are dealing with isn't the same race as they are. read any early 20th century african american novel (their eyes were watching god, the autobiography of an ex-coloured man, etc.); the evidence is all there. our lil janey, our lil unnamed narrator "falls" into race, screams "i'se negra" a la halle "make me feeeeel goooood" berry in queen, and goes on about their business. i am constantly maneuvering through this world as raced, sexed body. it doesn't all of a sudden dawn on me that i live in a primarily latino neighborhood, and just maybe my black ass sticks out like a sore thumb. the racial makeup of any situation is just some shit i mentally catalogue every time i socialize. wanna know how many folks of color were at such and such event? i can tell you off the top. and i don't feel burdened by it, it just comes with the territory. i don't have to "crash" into another muhfucka to realize this. it seems to me that the only folks who are surprised, and therefore "crash" into dealing with shit like race are (privileged) white folk, and black chicks suffering from hilary banks syndrome.**
  • next time you wanna talk about black nationalism, don't. to put it mildly, your character development fucking sucked. how about we make the asian model minority not a model minority? that shit is um, so not genius to anyone with any decent knowledge of the way race works, silly...mexicans with invisible capes and blank bullets? como agua para chocolate anyone? why, how magical realism of you. gabriel garcia marquez et. al. should kick your ass all up and through central and south america. and that whole ludacris character? ludicrous. if the world needs anything, it's a robinhood, car-jacking nig (he only steals from rich white people) breaking down the racial politics of a given situation. it seems to me that you pepper his speech with some black nationalist rhetoric, which is, like mad problematic. just what the world needs: a car-jacking marcus garvey. as if the ideology isn't already one of the most misunderstood things in this country. i'm not saying that the ideology isn't super problematic and flawed. yet at the same time, i understand why people are attracted to it. you, obviously, don't. i left the film believing that you regard this movement as pretty much some of the dumbest shit ever, and you made no effort to really try to understand it on other people's terms. and the fucking terrence howard character really showing luda what's up?** plus you got anthony (ludacris' character) on some nat turner freeing thai slaves shit at the end of the movie? haggis, kiss my black ass. next time, read a book or call spike lee or something. (did i just suggest he call spike lee?)
  • new york...a couple pet goat. it's my understanding that this film is supposed to take place in a post 9/11 world. so, then, where dem a-rabs (long a, please) at? if you're gonna talk about race today, i figure they gotta be tops on your list. especially since for a hot second americans hated them more than black people. except for some gun shop owner who seems like he should live somewhere other than l.a. (forgive me. i have my own prejudices), no one says anything about it. i'd like to say that this was your effort to implicitly suggest how short our cultural memory is, but at this point, i don't wanna give you that kind of credit.
  • pc=pretty comical. so, everybody was all praising you because you let all your characters say racist shit. and i guess this is supposed to be groundbreaking because it forces people to really address how they think and talk about members of other races and such. and i'm not gonna join other critics who are on the whole "matt dillon would have never said's so unrealistic" bandwagon, because imho, they don't get it either. and i'm not gonna talk about how i kinda sorta think you just wanted to see how you could get away with saying racist stuff without getting in trouble. don't get me wrong, i understand the temptation. i love epithets. and i kind of liken the impulse to make matt dillon-like speeches to those moments when as a kid i'd whisper curse words while i was alone because i wanted to know what it felt like to say "shit" (i giggled). rather, the whole oversaturation of the film with racist rhetoric is most problematic to me not because it's unrealistic (which it is), but because if this is supposed to be the film on race in 21st century america then you have to figure out a way to do the exact opposite of what you did. let me unpack that. i am not a fan of the politically correct. i think it limits language and precludes people from having honest discourse about what's going on in the world because they are too afraid they'll offend. to compound that, there is already an extreme paucity of language when it comes to race and racism. it's either racist, or it's not. there is very little, if any, gray area. thus, it seems to me if you really wanna talk about race today in america, you have to figure out a way to film people being handicapped by language, not showing them becoming the most eloquent mofos on the planet with the ability to spit the history of affirmative action policy in a single bound. it's because of this debilitating silence that white people keep crashing into race and such and don't know what to say. then again, who the hell am i?
  • unlike the d.o.c., someone can do it better. this letter is already super long. so i'll just say: i saw both grand canyon and magnolia. don't try that shit at home anymore, paul.
so, yeah. despite the crankiness that i approached your movie with, there were enough issues in the film for me to still give it too middle fingers up. then again, i'm not film skolar, though i've been known to segment a film with some decency. but since when has lack of knowledge of something prevented a grad student from talking about that shit anyway? exactly.

don't get me wrong, i wasn't bored by your movie. i laughed my ass off. it's just that next time you wanna show me a race movie, i'd much rather watch mahalia jackson singing "trouble of the world".


summer m., unofficial voice of the race

ps: i was really happy when sandra bullock's character fell down the stairs.

open letter #1
open letter #2
open letter #3
open letter #4

**hilary banks syndrome is a term used to describe what saf calls "white-identified black chicks."

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Tuesday, October 18, 2005

snippets of a random conversation take 5

me: ice.**

mom: mummer!!!! [no, that's not a typo.]

me: you busy?

mom: nope, just got off my last conference call for the day.

me: are you sitting down?

mom: yes, i am.

me: okay. i'ma tell you something, but don't freak out okay?

mom: are you okay?

me: yeah, i'm fine.

mom: (affirmatively) you got a job.

me: i hate you. yes, i got a job. i like how after knowing i'm ok you assumed that that would be the news.

mom: well, i know you're not pregnant. unless it was jesus again.


me: and i had to pass a drug test, too.

mom: good for you. because, you know, some people in our family ain't able.


mom: when do you start?

me: orientation is monday.

mom: ...i knowed there was a god.**

me: you get on my nerves.

mom: i feel like i growed ten feet just from listening to you.**

me: you are such an asshole.

mom: well, i been having like the worst day ever, so i was looking for material.


me: i think me and saf are gonna drive home the last weekend of this month.

mom: ok. well, lemme look at my calendar, see if me and nala got something to do. we might not be home.

me: well, crayola me in if you're not busy.

**along with pam (not her real name), ma, mommy, and boss lady, my mother is currently known as "ice" by one of her children. yeah, short for in case of emergency.

**the color purple swipe.

**their eyes were watching god swipe. (phoeby to janey at the end of the novel.)

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Monday, October 17, 2005

(start a rumor monday...)

millions more march... Posted by Picasa

dubya's questions and bill bennett's observations about the millions more march as overheard by fecundmellow head hater, summer m.**

dubya: shouldn't these people be on a roof, or in iraq or something?

bennett: i do know that it's true that if you wanted to drown those black people at the march, if that were your sole purpose, you could unload your surplus of malt liquor into the reflecting pool. you could, if that were your sole purpose, you could pour malt liquor into the reflecting pool, and every black person at the march would drown. that would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do, but every black person at the march would drown. so, these far out, these far reaching extensive extrapolations are, i think, tricky."

dubya: condi, i think your cousins are outside. something about a family reunion.

bennett: i do know that it's true that if you wanted to get soul train canceled you could, if that were your sole purpose, you could kill every black person at this march and soul train's ratings would go down. that would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do, but soul train's ratings would go down. so, these far out, these far reaching extensive extrapolations are, i think, tricky.

dubya: what do they want now? i told them i saw roots.

bennett: i do know that it's true that if you wanted to know if these black muslims knew of bin laden's whereabouts, if that were your sole purpose, you could torture them by frying bacon and making them eat it. that would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do, but you'd find out if they knew where bin laden was hiding. so, these far out, these far reaching extensive extrapolations are, i think, tricky.

dubya: is this the world's largest outdoor electric slide convention?

bennett: i do know that it's true that if you wanted to make all these black women run for shelter you could, if that were your sole purpose, you could make it rain. that would be an impossible, ridiculous, and morally reprehensible thing to do, but these women would run for shelter. so, these far out, these far reaching extensive extrapolations are, i think, tricky.

dubya: what would bill clinton do?

**um, can anyone tell me if bill bennett is being vicente foxed by our noble black leaders?

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Thursday, October 13, 2005

this weekend's essay: judge a book by its cover

the other day, i was watching my daily dose of golden girls. it was the episode where blanche decides to sell a mercedes, only it's not really her mercedes.** in fact, she rents the mercedes and advertises its sale in the newspaper in order to get more dates. she casually mentions that you can tell a lot by the way a man drives.

a while back, i mentioned that one of the the first things i notice is a person's shoes. i don't know what i can tell about a person by his/her shoes, but the shoes you had/have on when i first saw/see you always play an important role in the way i view you. in the comments section of that entry the always eloquent saf broke down the shoe science,

A shoe is not just a cover for the foot... It is, at the very least, an indication of a person's taste or sense of aesthetics. It can also signify his or her financial situation, level of materialism, or even allegiance to a certain subculture. And you can usually tell if you're dealing with a person who values comfort over appearance or vice-versa, is comfortable with his or her height, or is casual or formal in his or her approach to life. Shoes are, like, signifiers of the sole.

For example, I only wears three-to-four inch heels unless I'm wearing sandals or flip-flops, of which I have approximately 20 pairs. W-T-F does that say about me? I have a fucking Napoleon complex, I'm lightweight hung up on appearing "sophisticated," I'm a bit of a compulsive shoe shopper, and I think that my fucking feet are cute.

See, the shit is a science.
so, you know, i was just wondering, if you had to complete the sentence, "you can tell a lot by a person if/by the way s/he _____," how would you fill in the blank? (you know, like what sonny tells calogero about women and car doors in a bronx tale.)

enjoy your weekend.

**will somebody tell me why rue mcclanahan (one of the greatest. names. ever.) was in the fighting temptations? not that i saw the movie. i was just wondering.

(and for the ladies out there obsessed with shoes, i rock {clean} sneaks like, e'ryday. mostly pumas, but also ponys or adidas maybe once e'ry two weeks. you know, fyi.)

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

snippets of a random conversation take 4

me: ...common. he's my all-time favorite emcee.

anonymous: common?

me: yeah, common. you heard his music?

anon: not really...but i like his aids commercials, though.

me: *dead...cracks the fuck up.*

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Monday, October 10, 2005

(start a rumor monday...)
in 14 hundred and ninety-two, columbus sailed the ocean blue

a large segment of the american population is descending on washington d.c. today, and it's not to protest george "dub-ya" bush's latest act of cronyism. instead, activists have come to the nation's capital to protest the celebration of columbus day.

native americans, african americans, "pure" latinos, and people who have suffered from syphillis have united to form the forces united against celebrating killers and global expansion masked as "discovery" or f.u.c.k.e.d. for short. the coalition is in washington d.c. lobbying for the elimination of columbus day.

"we believe the recognition of christopher columbus' so-called 'discovery' of the new world is a perpetual disrespect to people of color and those who have suffered from the s.t.i., syphillis," one spokesperson said during a rally near the lincoln memorial. "we're here to let the president and other members of our government know that we are willing to fight until columbus day is removed from both our calendars and our colonized minds. we didn't land on plymouth rock! plymouth rock landed on us!"**

"columbus didn't land on plymouth rock you friggin' idiot," said someone from a crowd protesting the protesters. "i mean, it's not even a real, true blue holiday! sure, you get a white sale here and there, maybe no payments and no interest on a sectional until october 2008, but i still have to take my goddamn kids to school!" members of f.u.c.k.e.d. were undeterred by such verbal rage, however.

"it doesn't matter. they can protest our protest. but we will not rest until the second monday in october is no longer known as columbus day." this statement was met by cheers from the f.u.c.k.e.d. crowd.

though most of the f.u.c.k.e.d. coalition wants to simply refer to it as just another manic monday, certain radicals in the group want to rename the the second monday in october. instead of columbus day, a small faction of f.u.c.k.e.d. wants to change the name of the holiday from "columbus day," to "we wish the world had been flat that day day." though these members of f.u.c.k.e.d. have yet to garner major support within the group, news of their proposed renaming of the holiday did reach the president. he mentioned members of f.u.c.k.e.d. after saying the following about harriet miers, his most recent nominee to the supreme court.**

"with my reelection last november, i earned political capital, and i intend to spend it, and right now, i'm spending it up on harriet miers, ya dig? the truth about my crony, she's a sweet ol' girl," dub-ya said. "about the sweetest little girl in the whole wide world. and i'm sure the rest of the united states will soon see what i mean. harriet miers is my crony and my crony is so right. i think she'll be a justice for the rest of her life."** dub-ya concluded, "and tell those f.u.c.k.e.d. people to go screw themselves. it's dub-ya and i'm out this bitch. 5000."

in a seemingly unrelated note, el presidente is heading back to the gulf coast to mingle with the poor black folk for the eighth time since hurricane katrina hit.

notes (or, as nick likes to call them, cliffs notes for white people):
**"we didn't land on plymouth rock..." a line from the spike lee joint, malcolm x.
**"the truth about my crony..." is a swipe from the song, "roni," performed by my main nig, bobby beresford brown.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Thursday, October 06, 2005

this weekend's essay: shit that bothers you (that prolly shouldn't, but does anyway) take ii, or, reader appreciation day.

last week, i got an email from my oldest friend, shon. we go way back. like back to when i had a relaxer and a boyfriend. she started reading my blog last month maybe, and asked,

On your website, do you ever have days where you allow people to gripe on
misc. topics? I mean I got some shit that I need to get off of my chest...
this entry is for shon and the rest of y'all. understanding that you all--for whatever reason--listen to me bitchbitchbitch all the time, i wanna give ya the opportunity to vent your frustrations again. y'all really took advantage of the comments section the last time, i assume you'll do the same for this one.

i was able to come up with a few more of my own:
  • people who don't turn off their turn signals.i've no idea why, but this bothers me more than rush hour traffic on the kennedy. i swear to you, last saturday, a woman in one of those space ship minivans (illinois license plate number: 350 XXXX) kept her turn signal on for more than 12 chicago blocks (which, i believe, is about 1.5 miles). it was prolly on longer, but eventually i turned left; she just kept faking me out like she was going to.
  • profit driven aid.i listen to the radio a lot, and sometimes when i channel surf, i hear this commercial about some buick dealership in the suburbs. basically, the owner is offering a percentage of her profits from every new 2006 ride she sells between now and the end of the month or something to hurricane katrina victims. now, this isn't new. but the reason this particular commercial bothers me is because after she explains the deal, she goes on to say how she knows that it's most important that we give, but if you're in the market for a car blahblahblah. look, man, i know we live in a capitalist (racist, sexist, ___ist, ___ist) society, but why must helping people always be profit driven (why do these business owners front like they're still not trying to make a dollar)? why does it seem that i have to buy something to give something?
  • indirectness. i don't have time to read between the lines, nigga. that's my day job. just say, "(i wanna) fuck you, summer," so i can move on. and if i just assume some shit, and get it wrong, don't say shit to me. i'm not in the bidness of reading minds.
  • songs about mamas. i'm going to hell for this, i know. now don't get me wrong, i have the same unhealthy love for my mama as the next black kid, but songs about mamas are inherently corny. yeah, i said it.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Tuesday, October 04, 2005

i used to work at footlocker, they fired me and fronted, or...

the puma cabana racer "sum 69s"

okokok. first off, i wanna give a shout out to my homegyrl, deshi for providing a wonderful, albeit not so sober second opinion regarding color and material selection. second, i gotta give propers where propers are due. if you haven't noticed...big.blk.saf. has a knack for coining terms and giving folks nicknames. and, anybody who knows me long enough doesn't really call me summer. generally folks call me sum, sum-sum, whatever, and it's cool. (just don't call me collect.) saf took my name and remixed it. first it was sum 41 (yeah, like the rock band), but she flipped it to sum 69...the name has nothing to do with me; it's just saf's dirty mind. but yeah, that's how the kix got made and named. are the one and only sum 69s (because i know how badly you wanna see them):

the colors are navy blue, baby blue, orange, and silver...

thank you for supporting my self-centeredness and materialism.

that is all.

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison

Monday, October 03, 2005

(start a rumor monday...)

say it loud!...i'm gay and i'm proud!

late last week, harold gibson, unpaid and allegedly sexually harrassed fecundmellow intern, forwarded the following message from a reader to summer m., cranky chick in charge:

dear summer m.,

let me start by saying i hesitate to send this message, because i've seen how you've responded to negative commenters on your blog [jay and robert]. but i feel like i just need to be brave and step up. that said, i'd also like to preface my remarks by telling you that i read your blog everyday, and i love it. i think you're fantastically brilliant, and hot. i just can't believe that someone of your intelligence and sexiness is running around the city of chicago single [neither can we]!!

i have just one problem though: your blog isn't gay enough. you talk a lot about black people, and that's really great, but it's not the only marginalized and oppressed group you belong to. what about your gay and lesbian brothers and sisters?

where's your pride?

devoted reader

this is my response:

dear devoted,

thank you so much for reading my blog on a regular basis. i sincerely appreciate your dedication, despite your problems with my lack of "gay material". though i do generally rip "negative commenters" a new one, i'm turning over a new in regard to your comment that my blog isn't "gay enough," i'd just like to say...

you're right.

yes, i have no quarrel with your argument. what you said is essentially true. who am i to run around here claiming to have a liquor license if i don't represent it as hard as i do other things? i mean, it's tough when you think about it...having to constantly write gendered, raced, classed, and same-sex loving toned blog entries. but i can do better. i really should get off my nig shit and write more about gay shit (and broad shit and working class shit). so i've come up with a 10 point plan to make my blog more gay:
  • this blog will no longer be known as "fecundmellow" but "taste the rainbow."
  • from this day forward, anytime i am talking about women, i will refer to them as womyn. "y" being the operative letter in the word.
  • during the summer months, i will advertise and attend (black) gay pride weekends; and i will only endorse the products of those companies who have booths at pride events.
  • in the "favorite movies" section of my profile, i will list bound as my all time favorite flick.
  • hereafter, all blog titles will now be inspired by the lyrics of ani difranco, indigo girls, tracy chapman, and meshell n'degeocello.
  • though i find the show to be obnoxiously boring and problematic, beginning in january of 2006, "start a rumor monday..." will be replaced with weekly recaps of the l word. i will refrain from talking about things such as how the only black chick on the show is straight (pam grier), for we all know that jennifer beals only gets partial credit for being a member of the race. (wasn't she outed as [part] black, after flashdance?)
  • i will no longer use the phrase "the gay". i understand that using the article "the" implicitly suggests that homosexuality is some kind of undesirable and contagious disease...sort of like saying "the clap."
  • i shall refrain from using homosexuality as a "dis" to certain people. thus, you will no longer see things such as "kangay west" or "oprah's lover, gayle" on my page.
  • i promise to stop objectifying women, and being so obsessed with how pretty i think they are. it's most, er, more important for their politics hearts to be in the right place.
  • finally, following the lead of two more famous bloggers, i will proceed to publish blog entries dedicated to asking whether or not certain black public figures who spew homophobic rhetoric are in actuality gay. (more on this later in the week.)
though my conversion to a more thoughtful, gay friendly blog will be difficult (i had to tear up approximately 75% of my jokes), i will do my best to show my pride. i've already taken positive steps, for i am eating a bag of skittles as i write this.

again, thank you for reading.

summer m.
hatin' ass homo blogstar, and unofficial voice of "the race."

language alone protects us from the scariness of things with no names. language alone is meditation. ~toni morrison