I will kill a Norah Jones moment...

I hate me a Norah Jones moment. Standing there, all wide eyes and optimistic and nervous, in a little lacy dress. Such a big girl in front of such a big piano. Singing, "oooooh oooooooh ooooh ooooh, sunriiiiise sunriiiiiise..." Beckoning to all sorts of 30something stay at home mom/housewife with nothing to do. The kids are at work, the husbands are at school, maybe it's time for a heaping glass of Arbor Mist or a nice Zinfandel at lunch with her girlfriends. Mmmmmmm, delish!! Maybe some yoga, maybe some scratching and pawing as girlfriends do. Bumping pussies. It's a fantasy moment. All against the backdrop of little ole Norah Jones. "oooooooh ooooohhh ooooooohhh oooooh, don't know why...." Channeling those zany middle aged women from a Glade Plug-ins commercial. Sniff Sniff. "Not from a boutique" all ooohhing and ahhhing.  Whilst at school, the kids have no idea what mom'll do why their astray. Their waiting for a nice home cooked snack, a la, Giada or Paula Dean or my personal Sally Jesse Sandra Southern Drunk.

I love Miss. Sandra "It's not a meal unless your drunk" Lee. Creating table scraps for overly complicated cocktails. Pairing delicate liquors with deep fried Oreos, grease for a the pending hangover. It's the kind of meal you just know my favorite housewife is cooking up, of course I am speaking of the lady and her clan over at Casa la Palin. Recently the former-future-son-in-law of Mrs. Palin-the handsome Mr. Levi Johnson disclosed his life in the Palin household for my beloved Vanity Fair magazine. Vanity Fair referred to Mr. Johnson as both an author and a memoirist. I laughed until I cried. That is rich! And I just love the Tina Fey-Megan Mullaly looking porn parodies out there. Titles like "Nalin Palyn"  The republican moment has never been prouder. Now let's hope someone leaks the Bush family gynecological records and the whole family values moment will really be going strong. 

Though I must say, it is nice to have a first couple that actually share a bed. I mean the last first lady getting any from any in the white house was Ms. Jackie. And now you have these conservative children are coming for Ms. O about exposed arms and things. Just because Laura and Babs Bush weren't channeling Linda Hamilton circa T2, it's no reason to call Mama Michelle to task for a worked out strong bared arm. 

Speaking of arms- Madonna is scaring me these days. All yogi-meets-steroids. It's no wonder Mr. Ritchie did last, there was no way the man that brought us Snatch was ever going to go all macrobiotic on us. He wanted to head down to the pub with Robert Downey Jr. without incurring the wrath of the lady....

rip...

i would walk 5,000 miles...

i just walked 4 miles on the hottest day we've had in a long time. i walked 4 miles and it was energizing. i love walking. i love seeing my body get me from point a to point b. i love walking and biking and dancing because they remind me i'm alive. 

i hate cars. i hate that they boxing us in. from the boxes we live in to the boxes we drive in to the boxes we work and shop and exist. we forget about the ground beneath our feet. we forget to look the sun and remember how sweet this life is. i love to walk and i hate the way people in cars look at me like some financial or mental problems are why i'd walk. like the idea that i would choose to walk. choose to be actively apart of the background. 

oh you know

i tried blogging before. which btw is the only time i'll use blogging as a verb. i tried and it didn't work because i tried to make it about things and not about nothing. and it should be about nothing. it should about adventures and people you know and people you meet and people you'll never see again. and it should be about the things that scare you and the things that fuck with your head. and it should be honest and not lies and not scary. 

i wanna tell you all the stories in my head. about the time my mother and i collected lightning bugs and the time i lived with brave/crazy trans ladies during the scariest time in my life. but i don't wanna force it. i don't wanna just talk to talk. to tell stories because their floating in my brain. 

it's the summer and i feel like i have so many ideas and i feel like all i wanna do is walk and listen to sad/funny songs about how we fall in love and how we fall out of love. i wanna make egg salad and talk about the importance of being queer and out and brave. and not brave in away that's forced but brave in away that feels safe and nurturing. 

this is only a beginning and it's also a commitment to getting it all down because i know i have to. and maybe someone will read it and maybe they won't but i need to do it. i need to sing. it's like doris said, "you look great. you are great. sing. i swear there's nothing wrong with your voice." really there isn't.