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The Oily Pelican Cocktail!! Yummo

My body has been invaded by invisible creatures that seek the utter collapse of my lungs and nasal cavities for their wicked, wicked adventures.  That said I’m consuming cable news programs at a higher than normal rate.  PBS just tried to sell me a $60 coffee mug.  Not-for-profit my ass.  It wasn’t even the most awesome coffee mug.  I’d pay $60 for an awesome coffee mug, if the purchase was prefaced with consumption of a bottle of NyQuil.  But a mediocre coffee mug? At least try people. 

Oh, the cable news.  Well, on the Rachel Maddow Show there was mention of booze.  My attention she had.  Turns out there is a town in the Gulf of Mexico that is has a bar selling jello shooters called Tar Balls.  Gasp from wonder and disgust is appropriate. 

The recipe is as follows:

1.5 cups of smoking hot water

1.5 packets of grape jello

4 oz. of jagermeister (not my fav)

mix and pour into little plastic cups, cap, and chill

Now, this makes me think that all controversial potentially catastrophic events in recent history need to be solidified, ramified, petrified, sorry it’s the cold medicine.  Oh, these events all need to be commemorated with cocktails.  So here are a few suggestions:

Illegal Immigration gets two drinks:

1. Amnesty

2 oz. of tequila

2 oz. of triple sec

a splash of corona

2. Show Me Your Papers

Mix Amnesty with a little rubbing alcohol.

To honor the gulf crude spill how about this:

-The Oily Pelican

1 cup apple juice

2 oz. motor oil

Enjoy!

Quantum Physics and Wild Wild Sex

See I’m writing this story called “String Theory” at the moment.  I haven’t actually written more than two pages, but I’ve thought about it a great deal and read some books.  String theory is an element of quantum physics that I’m not at all remotely in my most imaginative fantasies qualified to talk about.  Still, let me explain it as best I can in preparation for converting this into a story with characters and emotional significance and junk. 

The universe as we know it is best understood through Einstein’s theory of relativity.  This theory deals with everything very, very big like the stars and planets and gravity and you and me and that guy over there and his sinister looking parakeet.  Quantum theory on the other hand deals with everything very, very small like atoms and the things even smaller than atoms like protons, neutrons, and electrons and the things even smaller than that, which we will (if our technology continues to have the limits it does) never ever see.  The problem with these two theories is they don’t make sense with one another.  The math is ugly and clumsy and doesn’t gel.  It’s like trying to get some ethereal deity to live in the world of primates.  An angel and a gorilla can’t quite stay in the same room let alone have a meaningful conversation.  The equations of relativity don’t work with the equations of quantum mechanics because the results keep adding up to infinity, not just infinity by itself but infinity plus itself times itself.  So while these infinities are banging away at each other no clarity and understanding of the universe can be known unless there is something more finite at the ends of each theory. 

Now, I mentioned those very small things like protons and neutrons, and there is believed to be something billions of times smaller inside called quarks, and inside quarks there is thought to be something that is the smallest point of matter that happens to not be a point at all but a vibrating loop of energy called a string.  If a string is the actual smallest of the small then the problem of infinity is somewhat resolved.  The angel and the gorilla can have a baby called the universe as we know it.  Here’s the rub.  The shape of the loops or strings can, gasp, be infinite.  So in some way the theory collapses again.  OK, this isn’t really about wild sex at all, but if you kept reading for that reason, congratulations.  You think like I do.  Good luck with life because you probably need it.

When Giant Lesbian Potatoes Attack!!

A few days ago I finished reading a collection of comic strip episodes by Alison Bechdel called “The Essential Dykes to Watch Out For”.  Not too many years ago I read the acclaimed graphic novel by Bechdel, “Fun Home,” which lived up to the promise of the title.  The episodes in the Essential follow the characters, a rambunctious overly political bunch of lesbians (as if there are any other kind), through the past twenty-five years.  The book doubles as an illustration/how to guide for raunchy girl on girl sex and political world history, at least it started off that way.  During the latter years all the angst and zeal are muted by a rather bleak perspective on the relationships between the characters and the general hope for a prosperous the world.  The characters have significantly less sex and the world looks significantly less jovial.  Is that what it means to grow up? If so, that Toys R Us theme song from a couple of decades back comes to mind.  Everything looks rather bleak these days.  Is it really the lack of money everyone has or is it something else?  Oh, but the book isn’t entirely a justification for prozac usage.  There are wine-sputteringly funny moments including the nightmare one of the heroines has involving, yes, a giant lesbian potato (as if there are any other kind). More of that is what the world needs right now.  More random blissful absurdity just for the heluvit.  I’m over the stock market and the tea parties and the terrorism and the volcanos.  I want more giant lesbian potato humor in my day!  Now.

Debbie Downer?

On more than one occasion I have been referred to as a “Debbie Downer,” the SNL ferry captain to the land of gray clouds and random reminders of Malaria, skin cancer, puppy mills, and manatee extinctions.  I haughtily resent that association.  The conversation I had via txt messages with my oldest brother yesterday reminded me of this label.

Don: Hey, D (my nephew) just found out hes gon b perm stationed in san diego. He’s happy 🙂

Me: That’s a good gig 🙂 I’m glad for him.

Don: Yep. D’s new nickname is GOLDEN KING LUCKY BUTTER

Me: Lmao, sounds like a Chinese food menu item

Don: It describes him to a t

Me: Yup 🙂 let him enjoy it before the world chews off his head and his soul passes through the anal rim of failure and missed opportunities.

Don: OMG I am forwarding that one!!

Me: Ha well it happens to us all.

Don: Yep unfortunately. Hey we swimming in dooky we just keep pushing each other to the top for air.

Me: Lol sick. When I said it there was less nasty involved.

Don: I just want to be clean!!!

Me: Goodluck. Some people are just made like dung beetles. Crap is life. Make it move it eat it accept it.

Don: We are sorry to inform you that you have failed the suicidal hotline employment test.

Me: Lmao! I so would fail that test.

Don: For you every watermelon not sweet all clouds rain piss if I thought like that I would have wrapped my lips around a shotgun barrel long ago lmao!

Me: I’m a realist fool! I notice postitive things but I don’t sit around living in happy fantasyland like some while random people garnish my checks. Your life isn’t the crappiest though. That lizard I shot with the bb gun earlier had a worst day than yours I’m sure.

Don: OMG you shot the lizard nice and toshay guacalote mujer toshay lol

Me: Did you call me a turkey woman?

 

The conversation took an even deeper emotional dive after that.  As a writer, failure is imminent.  Rejection happens blah blah blah.  I’m not supposed to live in denial of the crap storms that hit, and I dont’ think I relish them either.   So there.

VONA 2010

Hey, it looks like I’ll be in San Francisco this June at the Voices of Our Nation workshop with Mat Johnson.  I haven’t been to VONA since 2007, but it was a great experience.  The community of writers is so unique and all kinds of awesome.

Blurbs

OK, just bought Sarah Silverman’s memoir, The Bedwetter, and it’s kind of awesome.  All I have read is the jacket so far and she had me with the praise from Diego, age 2.5 that says, “I want juice.”

This inspired me to post the blurbs for a novel exerpt I workshopped some 3 years ago (gosh) I’ve been working on that thing for a long time.  I’m not working on it now though.  I’m in a perpetual state of “eff that” at the moment.  The blurbs are below.  Enjoy.

Praise for Venita Blackburn’s Who’s Afraid of the Pussy Monster 

 

“Shameful.  Where is the pain, the murky terror of truth that a writer or otherwise must devote one’s full girth to until there is nothing but that which is unspeakable, that which is most evil and that which is the purest blessing of all?  This?  This is tripe, cold as a Thursday and thankfully not as long.”

-Toni Morrison

“Although it is a rare and violent thing for a person with my sensibilities, I think she could have made me laugh.

-James Baldwin

“Marry me!  Don’t tell my wife.”

-George Saunders

“Terrific!  Here is a writer with mountainous calm and patience in life and an unrelenting, hysterical voice on the page.  The words are pleasant and surprising like finding loose change, fragrant as bubble gum in the cushions of a sofa.  Better still, somebody else’s sofa.  She is an everyday delight.”

-Aimee Bender

“Not in my book club.”

-thus saith the Oprah

“You, Venita Blackburn, should marry me, David Foster Wallace, and feel free, not bound or hindered, to tell my wife, person that deserves no proper name, if you, Venita Blackburn, want to talk about it, the marriage.”

-David Foster Wallace

“I’m award winning.  I’m British.  I’m beautiful.  What the fuck else matters?”

-Zadie Smith

“I believe I should live a few more years in hopes that this will pass.”

-Gabriel Garcia Marquez

“Dark.  Unflinching.  It stays with me.”

-Renee Simms

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

-T.M. McNally

“I love the Pussy Monster.”

-Beth Staples

“I was confused about the celibacy.”

-Paul Tunis

“I like that scene of the man buying tampons.”

-Aimee Baker

“disturbing and well done, although a bit hard to picture.”

-Liz Wimberly

“Greatest masturbation scene of all time.  Dear Jeebus.  What a sense of urgency.  (2nd place-The Land Before Time)”

-Robby Taylor

“I know that took a lot out of you, tahehe.”

-Marqueshia Wilson

“Big deal.”

-Aaron Velasquez

Yes We Can Do Better!

I’ve never been one for protests, but I think I will have to show up to one of these.  I do know a few people who are protest whores.  They just love home-made signs and t-shirts that have slant rhymes and alliterations.   Usually, I feel the cause, but don’t feel like getting off the couch.  This time, I’m so annoyed I may have to leave the sterile bubble that is my home and enter the muck pit of the world to say we can do better than this.  This law is weak and unnecessary when confronting the real issue of illegal immigration in this country.

Migrants from Mexico have been known to pay $2000 dollars to smugglers to enter this country only to be caught by the feds and sent back.  Why not have the U.S. charge $1500 for a temporary guest worker pass that does not equate citizenship but does equate legal residency status for a while?  The pass can even be renewed annually.  This is money in the bag and will help diminish the criminal incentives that take advantage of desperate people. 

OMG, don’t get me started on Tuscon banning ethnic studies classes.  The reason supposedly something like the classes encourage division and segregation.  The reality is there is a lot to learn about the world and ethnicities are not fake arbitrary concepts.  There are multiple cultures that exist and should be acknowledged.  There isn’t enough time to do it all in one big giant humanities course.  What this really says to me is that the history of “other” ethnicities can be relegated to footnotes as was once the case.  I wonder what the east asian studies or african american literature professors are going to do now over there?  Move.  Is that what is happening in regions of our country, a not so subtle ethnic cleansing?  Hmmm.

I’m venting, yes, but only to say we aren’t all delusional and afraid of the twenty-first century in Arizona.  I’m not hankering for the good ol’ days of antebellum south like some (yes you Virginia).  I just don’t want to see another dark age hit our country by acquiescing to the lunacy.