…and tell you who is so smoking hot. Tina Fey is. And Gillian Anderson, zOMG she is in Maxim* and it is So. Damn. Yummy. And so is Maggie and Olivia Wilde and Jewel Staite and Brooke Wassername from Idol. These are my current girl crushes, just so we’re current. And Alyson Hannigan, you know, she’s up there with Mags. Love.
My current and persistent heterosexual relationship (hi, we call that a marriage in the nice, simple real world outside my head) does not sully my lovely balanced Kinsey scale rating because my fantasies are so queer. I like that Dr. Kinsey realized that our fantasies and such are an important part of the holistic picture of our sexuality. Good on him.
And her is a LOLMaggie, which is a thing I invented just now:
* How many post-‘s do I need if I say I’m the kind of feminist who really likes Maxim?
(OK, so if the les-bi-rifficness is all too much for you, I made a very cute mommy blog post at Wabi Sabi Mamas today, and you can listen to my very first podcast there too if you like.)
This post is a celebration of the Sexography project in support of RAINN– the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network. RAINN provides information, education, outreach and other services. Among its programs, created and operates the National Sexual Assault Hotline at 1.800.656.HOPE. Please consider a donation to RAINN. If you donate, please mention the Daisybones blog and note “GBBMC:08″ in the “donation in honor of” section (in addition to anyone you want to honor, including yourself.) This will allow project-related donations to be tracked, and every donation sent from my blog will be (to me) regarded as honoring my mother and all others who were kept silent. Thank you.
(Yeah, I totally thought it was over, but turns out it’s not yet. So go donate and read the other amazing posts.)
I am reading Eat Pray Love. Only I am not. I am devouring, relishing, tasting, experiencing it.
I am Eating it, Praying it, Loving it.
I’ll write a response to it when I finish, I just have to! But not a review. Would you review the Bible? Well, I would… yes, I would, so it’s a poor metaphor. I’m having the intensity of reading experience I had reading A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Beneath the artistic awe and the total absorption in the story, there is part of me screaming and jumping up and down “I WANT TO WRITE JUST LIKE THIS. ONLY NOT, BECAUSE LIKE ME. WHICH IS SIMILAR. OR WILL BE. BUT STIIIILLLLL. I WANNA WRITE!!!!!!!” So I’m thinking a lot while reading about a book idea I conceived a few years ago that is very, very groovy. Oh wow. Idea.. maybe NaNoWriMo? Whew: scary. (And by the way, ladies- how in the name of Johnny Depp-see below- did you do this with toddlers in your home? I can only barely fucking write a blog post with Molly here.)
When God is mentioned in a traditional context or almost any male deity context*, I approach the concept with Athiest Mind.
If Goddess is referred to, with a specific femaleness, I respond with Deep Primal Cavewoman Awe Brain/Heart/Soul.
I just sort of noticed that today. I’m kind of stubbornly refusing to delve into the athiest brainiac chick vs. moon shreiking pagan witch mama, because it pretty much utterly fails to matter. If Persephone is a story that makes me imagine that some deep part of me resonates with this lovely ancient myth, who gives a rat’s ass if She is Real or she is a metaphor?
*Exceptions: mention Dionysos, and I respond much like I do to Maggie Gyllenhaal (click it. Seriously. Speaking of Cavew Woman.. grrroowwlll….)and Johnny Depp and full moons. Mention Ganesha, and my soul immediately drops to it’s aether knees, assumes the child’s pose and tears up in grateful reverence. Mention Hades and I think at once of a vision thing I had once with a very specific ritual I was supposed to do and have never done. I kind of think I should do the damn thing.
I’m thinking if I fully explain this I’ll get a severe spasm of one-handed-typer’s-carpal-tunnel. So, I’ll just throw out a chain of thought and you can feel free to follow it or me utterly lost.
I’m reading Eat. Pray. Love. It’s stirring my mind wildly + beautifully.
She studies at an ashram where they “allow” you- this wording directly influenced by my newfound loathing of zen meditation- to use a mantra
I remember Om Namah Narayana that used to stay in my mind for days on end when I listened to Prodigy’s Fat of the Land (love!)
I Google the chant, and find lots of incredible facts that resonate, including this phrase at Wikipedia:
This mantra is most powerful remedy for those who has atmakaraka either Saturn or its dispositor is Saturn.
Another interpretation of the word Narayana sees “Nara” meaning human and “Ayana” read as direction/goal. Hence Narayana refers to the “direction of a human” (or the one that helps a human to his/her goal) — that towards moksha.
I then Google “saturn atmakaraka” and am overwhelmed with information the necessitates a much deeper knowledge of astrology than I possess.
Then I remember hearing The Grudge for the first time, and well… every time and grokking that Saturn is an important thing striking cords in my and must be addressed.
But it hasn’t been.
And the symbol. I love his glyph.
But suddenly I want to go look up my birth chart again and then sit chanting for a few hours and see what the hell Saturn has to tell me and ask him WTF a Greco-Roman deity is doing hijacking my Hindu mantra synchronicities.
I feel a need to explain my feelings about astrology but I really can’t without diving headfirst into a complex and labyrinthine diatribe about mysticism/pantheism/atheism/skepticism/transcendence and I really don’t want to write a novel. My shiny new tagline can actually pretty well sum up the whole self-contradictory mess.
I really need to consolidate categories. Spirituality would be a nice neat box. Or, well, with this brain, probably not.
And also, holyshitsquee: Maynard James Keenan is an Aries too.
Why do I watch this fucking circus?
OK. David Cook: Very cute. Pretty talented. But for the love of pop music, WTF is a dude who cultivates the indie rocker vibe doing on this show? Meh. Chris Daughtry, blah blahdee blah blah. So, in vintage Daughtry fashion last night, he rode high on the “brave reinterpretation” of a song from one genre to another, with the glassy-eyed judges ignorant of the fact that the arrangement and whole essence of the cover was blatantly stolen from another artist. Last night, Seacrest at least acknowledged that the Billie Jean cover was via Chris Cornell’s version. The judges still went off an orgy of David worship anyway. Seriously, he did perform kick-ass-ingly, but the coolness of the thing was all due to Cornell. So I was pissed last night at the whole affair. This is Chris Cornell’s fabulous Billie Jean.
Then I saw this link from Eden and wigged completely. Doxology apparently did the arrangement for the Eleanor Rigby cover. srsly.
Add to my bitchfest the fact that every time I look at Carly Hennessy Smithson I want to bitchslap the producers because she already had (and it was an epic fail) a music career.
I’m just done. The coolest thing is getting not one night, but two back from teh box. It’s just a ridiculous time waste for me. ‘Specially now my David Cook bubble has burst.
*Edited to add* OMG I totally didn’t realize Betsy is a famous Reality TV commentator. Dood, you need to be telling us these things. How cool:) Here is her right-on recap, including how great Brooke’s Every Step You Take was:)
I keep forgetting to say, but I am in love with Brooke White and the fact that she is a squeaky clean, never-seen-an-R-movie-nanny makes me dream up all kinds of deviant fantasies that I blush to even entertain. She is So. Freaking. Sweet!
ZOMG: there is a North American Discworld Con. Is far from me but maybe Leigh could go. If Leigh likes Terry Pratchett. Which she would, as would you, if she/you read his adorable, endearing, and your-pants!-pee-in-them funny books.
Joss Whedon. New show. ZOMG. Scifi premise. X-Files + X-men + Matrix + Eliza Dushku = Daisy writhing in fits of mad, gasping-for-air, undiluted squee.
And can I say “rock on” to a dood whose fan base is so rabid they have a blog up & running immediately- before the ‘sodes are even written?
Bu’s Valentine’s Day card. I’m feeling really self-satisfied right now and am enamoured with my own cleverness.
Edit: I hope Bu isn’t freaked out:) I have never gone humorous with the Val Day card- I usually go the metaphysical Rumi-quoting route. I had a great one a few years ago with a human heart and ribcage with layers of thick red peeling paint texture over parchment with a Rumi poem but I can’t find it. It was gorgeous. I’m sure he’ll dig my snarky fun. I did write very emotively on the inside. We are a fine wine, Bu & I, I wrote. Seven years together this June- is that long enough to say we are wine? Does it sound like, “Jeez we have been together soooo long…”?