Bathtubs and books, hippies

I had a relaxing and luxurious bath this morning in our new clawfoot tub, which is blowing our minds after some years of only having a shower in the house. While I was in there I read a good way into a book someone left on our sidewalk bench, Polaroids from the Dead by Douglas Coupland. I liked the title and was curious what Mr. “Gen X” inventor had to say. (For accompaniment, I put on Lou Reed’s album Transformer.) So far, Polaroids strikes me as mostly accurate in mood and content. I moved to the Bay Area in 1990 so it was all very familiar. It did feel a little more like the late 80s but still, accurate.

Part of the mood that I enjoyed was that it conveyed our (us being people roughly of my age in 1991 or so) attitude towards hippies and the 70s, which was that they seemed to have had all the fun and excitement but that there was a little left for us; they would kindly sell us blotter acid, and we could still go see them in concert.

I thought less about California in the 90s while reading this book and more about Austin in the 80s. I lived in or hung out at various co-ops (and yes it was pretty much exactly like the movie Slacker which captured the vibe perfectly (ofc I knew half the people in there) in that it was possible to live on your part time minimum wage job and go to school and fuck around doing art and music or whatever. ) So tempting to keep nesting parentheses, but no.

Here’s me with a guy I briefly “dated” (if you can call it that) from Arrakis Co-op and then a little after I moved into 21st Street Co-op in late 1986 or early 1987. He was a Deadhead and very nice, and had cases and cases of taped Dead concerts carefully labelled & often with very lovely art and handwritten liner notes. (I remember being impressed with this and also with how he would diligently do all his engineering homework, then hit the bong with equal diligence afterward.) But my point is that hippie culture was not at all dead in 1987, or 1990. It was alive and kicking. I was so relieved that I hadn’t missed my chance after all to experience it.

two white young people, me in sleeveless crop top, guy with mullet in a Woodstock tshirt

There was a guy who would come by the Loud Suite (where I lived at first in 21st St) named Motorcycle Michael, who had long white guy dreads done up in a crocheted hat, drove a van, and always wore pretty much the same outfit made of that gorgeous oaxacan or guatemalan woven cloth and a tie died tshirt. He seemed to be the most obvious dealer hanging out there and I don’t think I bought anything from him (I did not need to ; see above photo of me; do you think I got free bong hits or??! It didn’t even occur to me, and besides, I had no money) It did not have any sort of creepy feel (Drug dealer or pusher hanging out with teenage students) but rather, a sort of benevolent uncle and friend vibe. (Trust me I have seen the creepy, gross, skeevy ones and know; or maybe i just am overly impressed with any older guy who was decent enough not to hit on me) Like, his life was bopping around between Mexico and all over Texas maybe, living in his van, hanging out with people who were pretty chill, listening to good music, being super generous with his time and energy, telling funny stories, helping people out, going to Dead concerts. He was part of the culture! I heard a while back through a co-op FB group that he died, and then I just looked him up again and found this interesting memoriam.

Pic below of Loud Suite life:

several young people sitting on dilapidated couches, looking happy

Lest you all think of me as a drug addled fool, I can reassure you I was not much into excess, was a complete lightweight, would cut blotter acid into quarters, etc. etc. (We won’t even talk about where the other drugs like X came from, *cough* *Rice chemistry students*) It was occasional! And social! I swear! Anyway, I still graduated and I appear to have a reasonable amount of brain cells left.

A more wholesome photo, of a bunch of us cooking in the industrial kitchen – I learned to cook here, and was dinner cook (for 100 people) and menu planner for many years. Here, Ethan, Paul Macafee, Karen, Mike LeFebre, and I are drinking Old Milwaukee and cooking dinner. Ok, mostly wholesome. I blame Paul for the cheap gross beer choice.

several young people gathered around a giant bowl of steaming food. they are drinking old milwaukee beers

ANYWAY. Because of prepping to go see The Way to Eden in Star Trek Live tonight we watched the original episode yesterday and laughed our asses off at the space hippie children! (Their drug use is implied only, but their vibe is impeccable!) Star Trek tried hard to come to grips with how the future might see hippies. Were they wrong?!

There were really lovely hippietastic moments I remember, like about 40 people from the co-op all tripping and going to see Koyaanisqatsi together. It was fine! We were a lovely social amoeba moving across the town and into the movie theater! The point was not the drugs so much as it was being gorgeously social and also experiencing and creating music and culture together!

I have forgotten my point. I have more to say about hippies, drugs, and the internet, which we all talked about at DWeb Camp and which I kind of go into in my long poem “Whole Earth Catalog”. But here, I think my point was that I have found it funny and a little sad sometimes to see people now worrying that they missed raves, or grunge, or riot grrrl, or zines, or whatever, and then I absolutely fucking love it when they realize they can JUST DO THOSE THINGS. Nothing is stopping you! You are in history, too! You can make an entire scene happen, and also, whatever else you are doing now, someone is going to look back on with fondness and longing, in some way that you are not even aware of as a Thing! You are in your own Thing right now!!!!!

Generous with their links

In what may have been the heyday of independent blogging, just as it turned to eyeball grabbing ad fodder, I remember my blog being reviewed by someone who described me as “generous with her links”.

This struck me as shocking on a couple of levels.

I realized they thought of my linking out as generous because I’m referring traffic outside of my own domain; the SEO strategies of the time probably recommended that you link only to your own site, directing readers to hit more of your pages, making you look more important to paying advertisers.

Needless to say (as you can tell from my own lack of fame, fortune, and ambition) I was not “optimizing” anything. Mostly I was just flinging posts into the public void out of being a compulsive diarist and having some ideals around women’s writing being mostly private, in diaries and letters, for most of history & wondering what would happen if we all split the world open by writing about our lives as part of public discourse.

younger liz peering over sunglasses wearing a beanie hat with the blue, white, and orange Blogger logo

Monetization aside, the good angle on the generous nature of linking would be the sense of taking the time and energy to add depth, to help the reader discover interesting things, like footnotes and appendices that knit information together and expand our minds – but that isn’t what the reviewer meant.

The whole point of the web is links! Creating a meaningfully interlinked body of knowledge and text! Consider Ted Nelson! And Vannevar Bush! Bring back the thinkertoys! But also just consult your own common sense and conscience!

If I remembered where that review appeared, I’d link to it!

white woman with a wry expression wearing a tshirt that reads "no one cares about your blog"

Reclaiming our brunchlord glory

It’s new notebook day! Always lovely even if you haven’t finished the new notebook (though I have!) to start afresh, to make resolutions, to number the pages and have an aspirational Index page, and best of all to feel the infinite possibilities of the fresh start and the blank book! Uncontaminated by to-do lists and projects undone – anything could happen!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted a bad invention; I’ve had some in the meantime which have already been forgotten and will never be documented – so here is something equally trivial and silly!

Danny was telling me on the drive up to DWeb Camp in some conversational tangent about the word “brunchlords” which apparently one journalist at TechDirt has been trying to make a Thing. And he is the only person to really use that word, and Danny was trying to explain to me the nebulous and complex idea it represented which he had a disconnect with in several ways, but I won’t go into that because I got at least some of the basic idea of what techdirt guy meant by brunchlords, but I barely even CARE because I instantly felt that running down the concept of brunch was homophobic and so it must be reclaimed, ASAP!

** vague handwaving ** (I gather it is highly derogatory! On my casual skim of a few paragraphs of exactly one article, because I can’t be BOTHERED, I got a good definition of it though: “utterly incompetent trust fund failsons” and somehow they RUIN TECH. )

(insert even more vague memory of Danny carefully explaining if, rhetorically you wanted to convey some particular idea, you were doing it wrong if you put that idea, and brunch, together, and also the idea that “brunch” represents impossibly wealthy elitism is ridiculous!)

Now, I obviously don’t love utterly incompetent trust fund failsons, but I don’t see why they get to have all the good things in life.

Rather than simply say, “Stop trying to make Brunchlord a THING, it’s not a thing!” … We need to reclaim brunchlords, including both lording and brunch!

I object! Brunch is wonderful! Hating brunch is like hating kittens, or sunsets, or walks along the beach, or queer flamboyance!

According to ME, a brunchlord is someone who is a joyous organizer of friend groups. A brunchlord has probably been up late, doing something fun! Brunchlords know where the most delicious breakfasty and also lunchy food is, whether it’s in their own kitchen or at a cafe where you stand in line with other hung over goofballs enjoying the (late) morning air and then spend $25 on lemon ricotta french toast with a side of candied bacon, or korean fried chicken on a waffle!

Why would you hate the flamboyant, decadent brunchlords, who can be any of the genders! A brunchlord may have bedhead, and their last night’s eyeliner may be smeared down their face, but they always look amazing! They want to take you out, and take care of you, maybe in a sunny parklet, and connect NIGHT with DAY!

In tech, the brunchlord is anti-utilitarian. They know how to embellish things, know how to add a little extra joy into an experience or into a piece of software, and will always make space to hang out and gossip. They aren’t just like, work work work, ship ship ship, all the fucking time! No!

In tech journalism, a brunchlord will do that interview with you…. AT BRUNCH. They will even buy you brunch. That’s how it works! If you aren’t buying someone brunch, how are you even tech journalisting? (Sad oatmeal, solo, over zoom…)

Well, anyway.

Reclaim brunchlords! Enjoy life a little!! Embrace brunch, and lords, at least metaphorically in an egalitarian and anarchist way! Go forth!

So many shows!

I am trying to remember all the shows and concerts I’ve been to in the last couple of months, all of which I had resolved to blog about. Maybe I can go backwards in time a little and this is going to be a mix of punk shows and opera. It has been a fabulous summer of having TICKETS. (I LOVE TICKETS!!!)

cameron diaz saying TICKETS! I *LOVE * TICKETS

Last week was for opera as I went with my friend Lisa the music critic to a winery in Napa to see Abduction from the Seraglio, which was fluffy and kind of adorable in a beautiful setting. The two sopranos stood out to me the most (which must be common in amateur enjoyers of opera) as Brenda Rae awed me with her technical skills & I also just really dug Krista Pape’s voice which never, ever sounded strained. The guy singing Osmin also had a spectacular bit in the last act. I’m not very familiar with this operam but Lisa mentioned they cut some bits out for length. The other thing of note was that the singing was in German while the talking bits (not really recitative, just talking!) were translated to English. At intermission we met some adorable young people who liked my hair and the stickers on my powerchair. The one in the suit reminded me of young Annalee; she and her companion were both so cute and liked that I gave them stickers and zines. I think we may have also met one of their aunts (their “chaperone”).

We then stayed for a super fancy dinner and some great musicians. I realized we were surrounded by people who like, own entire wineries, which was a bit weird but interesting, and that everyone at our table was drinking tremendous amounts but was still coherent. I did taste some of every kind of wine offered (3 kinds through the various courses, plus port, plus another one) but could not actually drink all of it, or began to falter midway through glass 3. All of the wine was delicious. I was pretty tipsy on the way home!

Another opera jaunt to the Italian Cultural Institute, with Astrid and our friend Dracaena Wolf to see the sneak preview for the upcoming Ars Minerva production of La Flora. Swooned as usual over Celine Ricci’s description of research in dusty libraries or laboriously scrolling through microfilm. BTW if you get on the Italian Cultural Institute’s maling list they often have great events for free. The songs by the cast of La Flora were good ! I’m looking forward to that show in November! Also I am burning to someday get to play on a harpischord. I could see the guy playing’s hands and I could imagine playing what he was playing as accompaniment – I am sure I could even sight read it, slowly and badly – We had dinner afterwards at Cafe Macaroni (or something?) which was delicious and so instantly homey to me (Sicilian family side of things) I wonder why I do not go more often to that neighborhood for actual italian food. I will be back to that spot for sure tho. Dracaena played me some short clips of her music, which was wild – doing very strange stuff technically with rhythmic variations and i think different … scales? that was over my head but i could glimpse and yet also being clearly danceable. I can’t wait to hear more from her.

Mosswood Meltdown was great as usual – lots of low key lying on our picnic blanket feeling happy – drinking weak margaritas, smoking dope, and admiring everyone’s outfits – I especially loved Go Sailor and their pop punk joy – Pansy Division made me all starry-eyed – and the B52s of course were fantastic performers. I also bought a black and white checkered sweatshirt and a ridiculous neon pink and green mesh crop top.

Team Dresch show was probably the highlight of my summer show going (so far) as they were perfect in every way – it was (like i mentioned with Hanna’s book talk) like seeing them as mature adults rather than flailing, fellow damaged kids in their early 20s when I was also – Donna Dresch 100% admirable as she rocked out and competently messed around with the guitar pedals (I was right at her feet). Kai(a?) Wilson on point – Jody Bleyle very adorkable in a pokemon hat – entire dynamic of the band beautiful. Oceanator was impressive – more to the rock side of “punk” which I could appreciate though it is not my preference for genre – and Eddie & the Heartbeats touching folk punk that sometimes made me tear up as bits of the songs and stories made me think of my own stories – At some point I accidentally imposed (?) on someone who is some kind of scene queen of SF punk, but she was nice and helped my friend Gina get a chair and made way for me right at the front and also went ot get me a drink, implying it would be the work of a moment as she knows the bartenders, then miraculously reappearing with my beer – I have forgotten her name but maybe it starts with an M. She had an entertaining back story of being a fucked up girl in her early 20s and being hired by some specific (beer?) company to buy people their “first” beer (Black Star?) and she had a corporate credit card to do so and so was Very Popular at all the early 90s lesbian bars of the entire Bay Area. Also before that show I was way too early by accident & ended up inviting a girl named Tessa (“girl” but … probably only a bit younger than me) who loves robotics (Maybe teaches it) to get ice cream, and we had slightly too sweet but delicious “instragrammable” artisanal ice cream sandwiches before the show, but then I lost her to the smoking patio and she left early. I like Bottom of the Hill a lot as a venue! Lovely.

Commando, charming emo noise band Godgifu ( who kind of made me think of cheerfuler Bliss Blood/Pain Teens) , and Boyswitch at the Ivy Room – Boyswitch was TIGHT and great performers. I bought their cassette tape and all their merch! I love Commando and am always there to cheer on Lynnee’s poem about Prince – and their metally funk goodness & chaos in general – and feel kind of stabbed in the heart in a good way from Juba’s incredible poetry & rapping – A great show. You should BUY and READ Juba’s excellent book Son of Byford. A great poet with a far-ranging mind, my favorite sort of complicated poetry.

There is more but that will have to be it for now. All very short because I want to catch up a bit to the Now.

Rebel Girl and the Human League

My sister and I went to see Kathleen Hanna talk about her autobiography, Rebel Girl, last week. I recommend it! She was interviewed by poet, musician, and zinester Brontez Purnell and that was a joy because they had such lovely friendly chemistry and were able to laugh and enjoy themselves.

What a story – that Brontez was one of, as he describes it, “the 5 total riot boyzz in the world” who were writing letters to Bikini Kill and getting answers back from Kathleen. She described his 1993-ish letter, accompanied by a selfie he took of himself on the school bus, and how she had it taped up over her desk for the next 10 years. Write to your heroes everyone! They may like it! Then years later his band was opening for her band and now they are friends! A fairy tale that I love so much. I will likely review his recent book Ten Bridges I Have Burnt in a different post, since I bought it at the talk but have not read it yet.

It shouldn’t have been surprising to find Kathleen is tremendously funny. I had this reaction seeing her age up into a mid 50s person who is happy and has a secure life who deals with the intense trauma of their past with wry humor and is hard as nails but also soft as fuck and able to let it hang out and tell her stories and have a different kind of creative freedom where you get to explore your art while also — shocker — impossible — being supported. Maybe it sounds a little arrogant but that is how I feel about my life trajectory and it was so good and moving to know she is in a good place with her bands and singing and writing and her Beastie Boys husband and their loved and cherished child.

I did not know but also probably should have if I thought for 5 seconds that she has some also similar experiences being a person who other people report their trauma TO. By talking about rape and harassment you become kind of a magnet, you have freed others to talk about their traumatizing experiences and they want to tell you about it. Like the boxes of riot grrrl zine mail I was getting (and still have in the basement unsorted, unarchived) while still super fucked up in my early 20s from girls just a bit younger than me – it can be hard to take and she had to do that in person while having that level of indy fame where people make a lot of assumptions but you are desperately trying to scrape $40 together for medical care and eating dry ramen noodles and working at a strip club while you are ill as hell. My point was that when you talk about fighting rape & harassment you become the respository of everyone’s worst and hardest stories, and that is a hard load to carry no matter how much you feel honored and are willing to do the work of it. I vibed with all of this.

Of course I could talk about riot grrrl shit for fucking ever but that can wait.

Loved her joy in figuring out recording and mixing stuff (much of that, later on, in Julie Ruin era).

Loved the Kathy Acker stories both about being told no one listens to poets – better to be in a band — and about being smacked with a challenge to feminist essentialism (which I don’t 100% agree with actually, but it sounds like it was good for Hanna to be taken seriously & challenged by Acker.)

You can think, well what if Kathleen Hanna and so many more of us could have made our art without all this abuse and trauma and constant harassment? What if we could have support and love from family and have friends who don’t rape us and people who support our artistic careers without grossly hitting on us every fucking 5 seconds ? WHAT IF. But you cannot eat your heart out over it. & just hope for the youth to be MORE OK or at least to have that love and support and freedom.

Instead of eating my heart out I just feel tremendous respect for all the punk rock women making their music and expressing their feminism against all the things that made it difficult – poverty – racism – family – gross men – addiction & alcohol’s pull – hostile media – And so on. They did it and they survived (or didn’t) and it gives me immense strength just to think of them.

(I still miss you, Johanna Lee.)

I’m also 100% ok with her telling her own story about herself. This isn’t a collective story written by everyone who was involved and it isn’t trying to encompass everything that happened. It’s quite hard to make a coherent narrative out of a life, even one’s own life! I also liked the style of the short vignettes (which I have also been trying out.)

I hope it is immensely (further) healing for Kathleen to talk about her book and her life on stage in venues where she is respected and listened to and celebrated as an artist and for her whole self.

I enjoyed her stories and the book. She left out countless assaults and rapes I’m sure (which she joked about on stage) And I read with some sadness but also interest, about “Susan” who I instantly knew who it was, and I’d link but, What the actual Fuck, apparently there is still shit you can’t talk about? Of course it is fraught but it was interesting to see Hanna frame that interaction as encountering someone who she could not deal with because of their intensity and over-familiarity and having repeated mental health meltdowns on the bedroom floor of someone who didn’t actually want to let you into their house. However I was kinda sad to see her throw shade on “Susan”‘s writing and zine output, which I thought at the time was great and still love for its raw energy and realness because it spoke to me. I always appreciated “Susan’s” zines, mail, and mutual distro activity. At the time I did not know about the ridiculous and horrible problematicness of their behavior and their claims. The information about how it went down was not super visible to me either at the time – a little bit thru zines but I only really got it a few years later once we had web pages and then i forget who explained it to me (pre-blog.)

As gossip comes to me over the years I continue trying to unlock levels of understanding about things that affected me and my art and friendships even tho I was incredibly peripheral to those things. Why must it be so mysterious. But then I can SO easily imagine the queer anarchist collective meetings, or the personal arguments and angst, or whatever, that probably went into the non-links in this non-entry: https://zinewiki.com/wiki/Riot_Grrrl_Press Though you can get closer with this thoughtful post by ciarra.

there was also a lot of really interesting stuff about REDACTED & her crew. the book didn’t get into all the race controversy that happened after REDACTED wrote in her zine about the racist antebellum “one-drop rule” & how it is possible that she may have a black ancestor & so she can speak on behalf of all people of color everywhere–basically turning into a denier of privilege & positioning her identity in a big sick game of oppression olympics in which she can do no wrong. but it did kind of edge in that direction & shared a bunch of other ridiculous shit REDACTED did that was pretty similar.

it made me think about all the ridiculous arguments i have had with people over political things–things that sometimes seem like pointless internecine in-fighting, especially in retrospect. it made me think about how imperfect riot grrrl was, but in a way that didn’t really make me feel sad. it made me think more about how these girls were just muddling along, trying to make something out of nothing, doing what girls do, & because they managed to concoct this historical movement that has created such an intense feminist legacy, all the fights & snap decisions that didn’t seem so huge at the time, are being documented, & then they become evidence of the fractiousness that has plagued feminist movements since the inception of feminism.

WHY MUST OUR HISTORY CONTINUALLY DISAPPEAR. AAAAAAAAUGHHHHHH.

(It is because, the more marginalized your group is, the more vulnerable/more precarious everyone’s situation is so there is more at stake if you reveal the problems you will all be attacked personally in the worst ways and your internal / personal problems used to represent your entire category of people.)

Once I tried to trace what “actually happened” (as if that is possible) with the ending throes of the Combahee River Collective and whoooo. It’s none of my business on most levels. But it is interesting because of the way the dynamics are so similar to other groups who do amazing things and how they do not always last for a long time because Reasons.

It is so fraught to realize that sometimes the people you are THIS close to ideologically and personally are also the ones you cannot stand to be near, maybe they are just that bit of extra fucked up or chaotic that means they will drag you into their worldview or their own mess. Or you realize (like I did with “Susan”) that their racism is real and super harmful. I mean, we all want to “fix this mess”. Sometimes we can’t do it together I guess! I’m glad that “Susan” seems to have a more stable life now too. I am also extremely glad I was not close enough to any of that to be anywhere near the actual drama. WHEW.

In comparison, Hanna makes an attempt to talk about her own and white punks’ racism and the harm it did. Her big example is when she co-hosted a forum about undoing racism without realizing at all what was about to happen, which was white women’s tears to the max to the point where all the women of color left the event by the end except her very upset black co-host. There are many lessons there and one is probably, know how to just stop an event like that in its tracks. Like disrupt it or tell off your own audience or just full out end the event in the middle. As I get older that is part of what I think I may have learned or am learning. Sometimes things that seem good or well intentioned need to be stopped or destroyed, because they are so full of shit that allowing them to continue under your watch, is harmful and you’re complicit. “BURN IT DOWN.”

ANNNNNNNYWAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYY

I promised some Human League commentary in this blog post. I was randomly listening to their first (?) album this morning in the shower after reading all the way through Rebel Girl in my pajamas, and I realized how much I appreciated their most famous song when it was new, because of how it wasn’t the usual fucking thing of a man complaining about a girlfriend who broke up with him and doesn’t appreciate him with an extra helping of “veiled” threat. Here is my freshmen composition essay about it! (I taught freshman comp briefly and read many a hastily tossed out song analysis! Why not.)

In Don’t You Want Me, which honestly is a bit insipid, but whatever, we all know the song — the dude has his say – he claims he discovered and “made” her in some way (assuming a musical career or something similar) – Then the threat. “I can put you back down too” and “we will both be sorry”, disturbing! He doesn’t accept that she is breaking up with him, and even tells her she doesn’t know what she wants, a total denial of her agency. So far, par for the course in pop songs and movies and books and like, everything. (This is why I hate most movies by the way, along with all the rapey fear bullshit and more general hetero/sexism/gender essentialism. I don’t need to consume any more of that toxic shit!)

But then the song totally redeems itself by Susan Ann Sulley giving our former waitress and now successful (artist) a voice in this!

I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar
That much is true

Already, I’m happy because she instantly makes it clear she has a different version of this story! He doesn’t have a lock on the truth!

But even then I knew I’d find a life on my own
Either with or without you

Yes! Tell it! She also wasn’t pathetically waiting around for a man to come “discover” and “make” her! She had ambitions and plans and knew what she was doing! Thank you Susan Ann!!!!!!!

She acknowledges they had some good times together and she still has feelings towards Mr. ExBoyfriend, but…

But now I think it’s time I lived my life on my own
I guess it’s just what I must do

No argument, not a lot of explanation, no room for argument, just a clear message that it’s over and she is moving on.

I found this heartening and refreshing in the 80s. A woman could just break up a relationship and move on because it’s what she wanted to do. Duh! The end! (We hope, despite Mr “I made you, I can destroy you” making his gross threats.) It seems like a low fucking bar to set for one’s basic humanity.

San Francisco wheelchair repair program

If you’re out on the street and your wheelchair breaks down, you need immediate help. (You can’t always rely on Love and Magic!)

And similarly, if you’re stuck in your house because of a flat tire, wobbly wheel, bad battery, blown fuse, or whatever mystery problem your wheelchair has, what happens? In the East Bay in the Bay Area we have the great non-profit Easy Does It, which will come pick you up and fix your chair for free. (Shout out to long time repair expert John Benson, who is an amazing person and who supported their program for many years with his Secret Wheelchair Parts Warehouse!)

Now, finally, in San Francisco we have the Independent Living Center SF Wheelchair Repair program that does something similar! I went last week to the ILRCSF launch of the program and hung out with Vince Lopez, who is an experienced repair tech and all around great guy. Lana Nieves who heads up the organization welcomed around 40 of us to the spacious conference room, Vince talked about his experience as a tech, we toured Marisol’s assistive tech lending library, and also heard from Michael from Pride Mobility who was there to offer whatever resources and connections he can provide.

a row of masked people in a conference room posing for a group pic

This new wheelchair repair center is funded by San Francisco Disability and Aging Services and is available to San Francisco residents, for emergencies and repair visits within the SF city boundaries. The repair program has limited hours (I think working daytime hours) and you can request either emergency help, or schedule an appointment, by calling their number at 415-609-2555 or emailing info@ilrcsf.org. Vince will come to you if that’s needed with a bag of tools. He can also provide rides to a safe location where you can transfer, in a wheelchair accessible van ride (provided free by Waymo) and even a loaner chair, powerchair, walker, or scooter if he has one available.

a man posing next to a row of loaner rollators, manual wheelchairs, and powerchairs

The program is also supported by many wheelchair manufacturers and by MK Battery. (You can get your batteries replaced! Free!!! At least for particular lead-acid scooter and wheelchair batteries they have stocked.)

shelves with new wheelchair batteries in stock

One last nifty service, you can get your wheelchair washed down completely in their portable washing station. I noted it looks like something that is not too hard to build, made from super-sturdy plastic tarp/map base, PVC pipe, shower curtains, a hose, and a pump to drain the water out. (This kind of setup can be used in a kitchen or even a yard for people to wash in if their own bathroom lacks access.)

people in a conference room looking at a wheelchair sized portable wash station

Murderbot’s spa day!!

After the event I got some help from Vince back in the shop. My Whill Ci front fenders break often, I’ve gotten them replaced several times, then lived with the brokenness and loud rattling for probably over a year now, sometimes temporarily fixing it with duct tape and Sugru.

Vince called Whill support, got them to email him the service manual (which I’ve asked for for YEARS and haven’t gotten!) and we got down on the floor to pop the wheels off and figure out what was wrong. While I was on the floor scooting around on my butt, I took the opportunity to wet-wipe the dust off the entire front of my chair.

a powerchair frame up on a jack with its wheel off

Some foam tape, new screws, blue loc-tite, and some cleaning, vastly improved my broken fender and wheel situation. More calls, a quick trip to the nearby hardware store, and a lot of fiddling around fixed my chair! (I got to try a loaner powerchair while all this happened!) And Vince is continuing to investigate if he can wrangle a replacement joystick controller out of the company — another thing I have asked them for but he is apparently the wheelchair support tech whisperer, because he got actual help incredibly fast!

(While I get told to buy a new Model C2; sure, like I just am going to drop 3500 bucks when I could fix my current chair?!) Fortunately now we have California’s new Right to Repair law to support our efforts to maintain our incredibly critical assistive tech! So when I do get a new powerchair eventually, the manufacturer will have to keep its parts available for at least 7 years.

My chair’s fenders no longer rattle, which is great, so I can perfect my technique of me + Murderbot sneaking up on people on the sidewalk!

Funding for Disability Justice & Tech!

Are you working as part of a U.S. nonprofit, on disability, justice, and tech? Read this to find out how to apply for DIFxTech grants! The deadline to apply is May 29th.

About the ideas behind DIFxTech grants

DIFxTech funding supports nonprofits working on disability inclusion and justice as it intersects with technology.

As program manager for DIFxTech, I’m doing this work while keeping the principles of Disability Justice in mind,

And the ways we can use tech for good, for our collective liberation, as well as how we need to fight against its misuse.

We wrote our Request for Proposals in collaboration with a committee of other disabled advocates, activists, leaders, policy wonks, researchers, rabble rousers, trouble makers, writers, artists, and nerds,

With funding and support from the Ford Foundation and MacArthur Foundation.

Who can apply

  • Nonprofit organizations in the United States,
  • Where the organization or program is run by and for people with disabilities, and,
  • The organization or program works towards transformational change

How to apply

There are several ways to apply for DIFxTech funding.
The most common is to make an account on the Borealis portal and select DIFxTech 2024.

Other ways to apply

  • JotForm application (may be better for screen reader users)
  • Video or audio formats if that is your preference or access need

DIFxTech can provide the application form in other formats upon request.

Details of the Request for Proposals
If you take the time to read the full request for proposals and FAQ, that will help you decide whether to apply.

And for extra background:

If you have questions

Please, first read the Request for Proposals document!

For further questions or discussion, contact difxtech@borealisphilanthropy.org

Thoughts on a silly song

I’ve been going through old playlists and this morning’s was the album Book of Love (by Book of Love) which I found I could sing along to in the shower when I wasn’t laughing at how bad the poetry of it is. The most generic and banal lyrics but so weirdly fun anyway! Imagining one of these new wave ladies composing “Yellow Sky“, writing in blue ballpoint pen in her spiral notebook the immortal lines, “I dreamed about / how it would be / if you would come / and stay with me”.

Not that I demand much more out of a song. But then the song got even funnier to me as I wondered if it were written to a Lucky Charms leprechaun. “Blue Moon, Orange Sun and Yellow Sky” — not made any more profound by adding “where do we go when we die” for the rhyme.

What does Rap Genius have to say about it? appropriately… nothing.

Sorry Book of Love, I love you but I also love lightly making fun of you!

One more thing about this album – it is very consistent! You can listen to the whole thing without skipping and kind of stay in the same zone. And it is easy to sing along to as the vocal range stays in about the same 5 notes forever.

The Unquiet Grave

Morning reading: The Unquiet Grave by Palinurus (aka Cyril Connolly). A little treasure chest by a thoughtful, neurotic slacker, reader, and writer, a sort of miscellany as he muses on the problems of being a person of great discernment who has failed to write a masterpiece. My kind of guy! Moody longing, regrets, dreams, drama, probably some sort of opium ingestion going on as well. This is a great book to dip into to get yourself going poetically, like Coleridge’s Anima Poetae or Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy.

The more books we read, the sooner we perceive that the true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and that no other task is of any consequence. Obvious though this should be, how few writers will admit it, or having made the admission, will be prepared to lay aside the piece of iridescent mediocrity on which they have embarked!

I don’t really agree with this – obviously we can write for a million reasons, and readers don’t want to encounter nothing but masterpieces! – but I do understand the fierce longing to write something amazing.

“Others merely live, I vegetate.” Vegetating, contemplating, spacing out, are all very useful for creativity! Not exactly thinking – not exactly meditating. An interior liminal space.

Palinurus was Aeneas’s navigator, who the gods force to fall asleep at the wheel & fall overboard as a sort of sacrifice.

I found this book on a free bookshelf in Cole Valley – the one outside Cole Valley Tavern. What a gem!

book cover of unquiet grave

Weird SF and a kids’ book binge

I did a lot of trying to say no to things and step down from things I wasn’t doing (well enough, or in some cases, at all) which was kind of my therapy homework and which was very difficult. Why is focusing so difficult? Why can’t we live 6 lives at once??? Why am I getting older and more tired? It just has to be.

More centrally (the therapy part I suppose) What if I didn’t feel like I was somehow failing all the time and disappointing people? I think last time I said this in semi-public a little group of my friends stared at me silently, looked around the table at each other and then one of them as spokesperson explained that when I said things like that with all the things I actually do manage to accomplish, I was insulting them. Like if I thought that harshly of myself, when I had a job, was in grad school, had a toddler, and was still also doing extra projects, then… how was I judging them? Years later I still think of this (thanks elaine) and how helpful it was at giving me a kick in the ass. (Not an instant fix obviously, but a useful insight)

Dealing lots with architects/contractors. There is some little thing every day and a bigger meeting once a week. Construction continues under our house. Someday, someday! we will live in that bit of house, it will all have wheelchair access, I will have a REAL BATH and soak and read in the tub, without the noise of power tools, and I will get to fix up the garden again to enjoy it.

Last week and this week, I’m focusing in on work for DIFxTech and on GOAT. I even got a little help from M. in discussing how to catalogue and tag some of the GOAT archive – how useful to have another librarian in the family! And both kids were here last week and are now back at school while Danny is in Europe till the end of the week.

Annoyingly I not only got a cold (not Covid thankfully) but also got my period for the 2nd time in the past year, resetting my menopause clock so I will still be officially “perimenopause” till at least next January. Mother of God, I was so fucking pissed, it was so great to have it over with, but no. Fuck!!

I took a sewing lesson in the Mission, making a striped velvet zippered throw pillow with fabric that reminded me of one of my grandmother’s couches that had similar colors and how I would lie on it and pet the velvet one way & then the other. Got my sewing machine out resolving to practice on it on some scraps but then realized the pedal was missing which led me to clean out the entire row of cabinets.

Will I actually learn to sew and finally complete the blue jean blanket of my dreams – modeled after that crazy quilt bed cover I slept under once in the 90s at Harry and Daffodil’s house, made of I think Daff’s former lover’s favorite jeans, with all the pockets and rips on top and the underneath soft with the texture of the inside-out frayed bits. It was comfy and comforting and so bittersweet to think of his love for this dead young man and all the ways the radical faerie & other community had come together & was grieving so hard. I have forgotten his name but not the love that whoever made the quilt had for him. I think he must have been an amazing person.

In reading this week and last:

Loved the Christopher Rowe books and short stories, tons of Weird Kentucky, the wonderful Navigating Fox, and I hope maybe there could be more about the detective dog. (Maybe a prequel so we also get the crow friend?)

I also loved Tuf Voyaging, which somehow I have never read. It’s a great read that comes off like light space opera, but which is actually kind of a complicated moral fable. The Portmaster was so interesting – like Martin trying to write in a super valid critique of his too powerful main character and what power does to him – I am always saying this so I warmed to it. It was like seeing him in dialogue with the ghostly hand of feminist science fiction, so I enjoyed that. Plus of course I warmed to the (too powerful) nerd hero and his cats and his (too powerful) spacecraft (as the youth say, he is “a bit acoustic” in a charming way.) Having the down to earth feministsf Portmaster tell him off repeatedly did not stop the OP MC one bit. But she wasn’t treated badly in the story, and she gets some kittens, and she had her own problematic behaviors; I liked how Martin treated her as a character.

Damiano by R.A. MacAvoy. Readble but not my favorite, a little too fetishy of a certain type of anguished christian man that just annoys me. I did like the witch Sara from Fennland for a moment, and then didn’t again (bad boyfriend, whinges too much about age) I also don’t think much of Damiano. Oops I accidentally slaughtered more people with my magic ™ waah waah oh my little doggie is so pure oh also my literal angel who i definitely don’t lust after, wahh wahh but also women are purty. Goth cosplay and a broken lute! The end. (Sorry everyone.)

Very, very, very annoyed by Rome of One’s Own, which I feared was going to annoy me. I had some hope it might be a nice overview, since “forgotten” women of history of basically anywhere and when is one of my very favorite things to read. Maybe I would learn something about women of ancient Rome. BUT NO. It’s so, so bad y’all. The most annoying kind of “history” book.

I want to just blast it with my scorn for a moment but let me set a background first. At best, the book is trying to explain that historical interpretation can change over time. But it fails to make that clear and usually ignores the historical context of it sources. Instead it messily conflates truth, what the authors of those sources (Livy, Ovid, or whoever) thought was true, what later generations thought, or may have thought, was true and how they interpreted a story about a particular woman, and then what the book’s author and apparently, her (British, women) readers will read into that story. Often kind of (and only kind of!) attributing agency, empowerment, or historical importance to the woman in the story.

If you want an example of this done incredibly well, I love how Margaret Reynolds approaches it in The Sappho Companion.

Rome of One’s Own did not do it well. It was like I was nonconsensually shunted into a wine o’clock mumsnet party who were all incoherently yelling “You go, girl!”

Please just go read some primary sources! OMFG!

There could have been a fine book here that clearly outlined, here’s some things that particular writers said about particular women who may or may not have been semi-mythical, and exactly when that was, and what else was going on, and then, what other people in England/Great Britain then said about those women in subsequent centuries and how they reinterpreted things in their own context! And then you could add your own Liberated Ladies perspective onto that but make it clear what you are DOING. you could write a popular audience history book that lays some coherent groundwork and is still readable!

And, only talking about what Livy and Ovid and like 3 other dudes said about some mythical women of Rome’s founding, does a huge disservice to all the cool history of regular people and women’s daily lives that we can look at from the past… century that puts it into actual context including with archeological sources!

Here is where I should recommend something better as an antidote and I do have examples but the first thing that comes to mind is Elizabeth Wayland Barber’s “Women’s Work” and of course Prehistoric Textiles. (Way too broad in scope, not actually Rome, but gives you actual information! that! is! organized!)

I then bounced hard off a detective thriller, Zero Day. It started OK promising a married pen testing duo and a competent hacker heroine and then went quickly to some places I did not want to go: a background of what sounds like violent/life threatening/maybe rapey abuse by her cop ex boyfriend, and her nice hacker husband murdered by chapter 2. I can’t read that shit while D. is out of town! Fuck no!

Not to mention, after the murder, she gets a mysterious email saying that there is a mysterious 1 million dollar life insurance policy and she CLICKS THE PDF IN THE EMAIL.

Nope nope nope! Must we?! NOT going to finish that one. If there is a less violent novel by Ruth Ware, with less dwelling on women’s fear, trauma, and fucking up, please let me know.

To clear my mind of all that, I went on a Project Gutenberg spree and downloaded a lot of dumb Angela Brazil books (The Jolliest Term on Record; Madcap of the School), an equally ridiculous Cherry Ames book, and Clematis by Bertha Browning Cobb which is a lovely book about a neglected orphan and her beloved kitten. And some things off the 19th century list of classic kids’ books. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_children%27s_classic_books that I haven’t read.

So in short, BRB, gonna play some jolly field hockey with my chums and then go back to my digs for tea and spiffing rock cake (wtf is that, i’m still not sure but it does not sound nice). Why is diggings, or digs, school slang for where you live? mining and miners? archaeology? something else?)