Thursday, August 31, 2006

Shelby Lynne - Go With It

Possibly one of the sexiest songs ever. This version I don't feel as much because it is slower, but if you heard the orginal (or want it... I can send it to you)... that bass line... top or bottom, I just want it.

"Go with it, you know it feels good. Go with it, you know it feels good. Just doit doit doit doit -- just let go!"

SEX in a song.

Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Josalyn in 2005

Originally uploaded by Quentin Ergane.
Lately, I have been feeling low. I decided to upload my 2005 pictures. I love organizing them into sets and then writing descriptions. Mind-numbing and yet something to do that won't... we'll see. This really reminds me that I need to get out of the house and take some pictures and check into some things I have been meaning to check up on.

Maybe I will start writing more.

But when everything feels like mush inside and in your mind... it's hard.

Wednesday, August 23, 2006


"Time may heal and birds may sing
Words may kill and truth may sting
And love may conquer many things
but derma covers all..."
- Little Annie, "Derma" from Songs from the Coalmine Canary

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting

Monday, August 21, 2006


Originally uploaded by Quentin Ergane.

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

"Can You Show Me Anything, But Surrender?" - Patti Smith, "Land"

... ok.

So it just dawned on me, like really... I get it.

Most people feel that gay males get off from:
"being a man"

all that because they/we prefer the same sex.

This strikes me as odd... when did "gay" change again? I mean, Falcon videos notwithstanding: When did being "gay" become about being "man"? And not just anyman... but a man, steeped in patriarchy, thought given to hierarchies, masculinity...

When did this happen?


Can we change it back?


I haven't been feeling good as of late. Right now, I am fighting to keep down the contents of my stomach -- bidding them to find a different, more compatible with Q way of exiting the scene.

I am spending time perched on the toilet, thinking too much about everything and trying to process it or sitting in front of this machine where my thoughts are cool and more silent if my tummy not more rumbly.

This was supposed to be my writing week. Instead, I killed it for myself with unanswered pressure. That and no tap... but I think I am going back to that and living a really clean eating style. I am not addicted to nicotine, folks. I am addicted to salt.

I don't want to drink anything for a while.

I keep thinking to eat something, but my imagination does me in every time.

Anyway, when I am in front of this machine, I read the words and listen to the voice of and watch a video blogger (who is just really funny and cute and clever, too)....

Present tense: Someone is being evicted. My cats are not in their usual morning spots because the crashes are startling them. It is odd to think of Josalyn being afraid of something. Odder still to imagine them, somewhere in the bedroom, huddled together. Especially because while she has accepted he is here and harmless for the most part, she does not like him... It is a passive dislike. All he has to do is be himself.

I chuckle thinking about that sentence and how some people... that's all they have to do to activate passive dislike, just "be themselves."

I want to be asleep.

The sad thing is... I know I was never going to sleep today, I know that now. Now, with them hurling things from their balcony. I wonder how people can just leave their shit. And then I remember not everyone is as tied to my things as I am. I am tied to my things and my shit -- not wanting to let either go. Do not pity me so much. I am never sure my shit is my shit or my things are my things. Sometimes, my things are my shit and my shit my things and sometimes, you've guessed it, it's just shit.

I am telling myself that one does not reach to write... one writes or one does not. Right now, writing, on my own, in my box, would save me lots of arguments. It may even make me friends -- because want as one might, you can never make those wonderful friends who support you and go through things with you, never trying to influence or sway -- just getting you to get it out, to write it down... instead of telling everyone.

I am thinking about the other day, when I had to speak to people as if they were completely ignorant. I guess I did not have to talk to them that way, but it was as if they surrendered their will to mine and they were devoid of moving without my word. I do not know why men always think that is what I want from them. I have no need for that. I long for someone who can speak back, who knows how, who doesn't become a feral animal in the sound of thought -- to the point where I feel as if I need to tell them when to inhale and when to exhale.

Is that all men understand of power? Or has my conception of power via Foucault became such that I've rounded a corner other people haven't gotten to yet (that I was probably around in the first place, but the question becomes: can you realize you are doing something before identifying what you are doing?) and acting out of my position and folks are aware that they are missing something... missing that you don't treat me like you would most people. It's a built in equality. I won't treat you the way I would treat most people.

I have lost my path...

I am re-reading Patternmaster by Octavia E. Butler. It is my least favorite book. However, recently, I watched Kingdom of Heaven while stoned (and re-watched Rome with Ryan) and understood something about the genre I never understood before... what these guys valued. Oh! And the Inuyasha movie Saturday. Reading PM has become an exercise in galloping and anticipation. I am about to meet who might be... I should hold onto that.

I am thinking of my paper -- which is still in production amazingly. The only way of writing it that I can see is to assert what cannot be done if certain readings are forbidden or left out while making a sweep across the readings that would be left out of a discussion about Butler. Yeah, Xandi, if you are reading this, know that my paper has started to change and grow up some.

I am thinking about college. I am thinking about what I did whenever I was stuck. Back them, I knew them by automatically. My mind has grown and I know I wouldn't remember. But that's why I keep my shit: I do think real intelligence is knowing where and how to find information. Why cram your head with it, just know how to find it.

Yes, I know, that has holes in it.

In that moment, I pushed the piece-of-computer chair backwards and picked up Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student .

I am trying to see where it is and realizing it might have been a different book I am thinking off... not the Corbett... but... ah. I see it. There's another place this information is lodged... in a stack of cross-pollinated papers under the bed in the crate. I am SO not going through that today. This is what I have come up with, but I used to know the




I cannot reach for writing. Writing is all around me.

Now, I am studying different things for a while. Either I will write, vomit, or once my belly no longer threatens me with discomfort, I might go back to bed.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

All the way around

Things are not good. I am not sure how to talk about it. I am not sure I WANT to talk about it, but right now, I feel certain that things are so wrong, so out of wack... I fear I will do something drastic to stave off or to push a position, reaction or change.

It's mostly communication. Lately, it seems like I need communication and the people around me cannot communicate with me. I cannot find it in my tight isolated circle; I cannot find it on-line. That leaves, literally, only one last rung.

Friday, August 11, 2006

BBC NEWS | Africa | Zimbabwean drag queen reveals all

BBC NEWS | Africa | Zimbabwean drag queen reveals all: "'A queen must protect her subjects even if the president refuses to do so,' he says."

Thursday, August 10, 2006

I admit

Originally uploaded by Quentin Ergane.
Sometimes, I think I am beautiful.

Wednesday, August 09, 2006


Originally uploaded by Quentin Ergane.
Josalyn has the SWEETEST face.

Monday, August 07, 2006

Strength to Endure

Strength to Endure
Originally uploaded by AntonioPhotography.

Staying your path


One of the hardest things to do, once you know what it is you want to do, is to stay your path.

Sometimes, especially after the AmeriCorps debacle, I have felt that I wandered off my path and into the jungle and goddess only knows if I would be seen again. And then today, de-cluttering my house, I came across something I wrote on the back of an envelop when I was 22, three names:

Jean Baudrillard
Jacques Derrida
Hakim Bey

and realized, with glee, that I am right where I am supposed to be as I have been reading Baudrillard's Simulacra and Simulation all year, reading about Derrida through secondary sources (and I watched the excellent documentary about him on Sundance last Jan. 05)... Bey is left.

What I am getting at here, is that we are always given sermons about how to cut and run, but no one talks about staying a course. Understanding that you are moving in a certain direction for a reason, to meet a purpose, and walking that/those paths. Maybe our ideas about freedom creates this impulse within us, and I am not saying it wrong, but I am saying that beside this impulse, besides these cut and run sermons, we should also talk about staying our path or, at the very least, realizing that our path is always before us -- no matter what.

Sometimes, I am so amazed by life. Amazed by how, no matter what happens or what is done, every move made is the "correct" move. Every one. Everything we go thru leads us to this moment and informs who we are within this moment, this context, and how... how holy that is.

... I have nothing else to say that would not be recirculation.

Consider staying your path and standing your ground(s) rather than cutting and running sometimes.




Friday, August 04, 2006

Creativity on BLAST

Here's a recording of me reading "I Could Cry for Days" -- a poem I wrote today. It ain't great, but I likes it.

Here's a recording of a song my spirit called me to make for Brie that I call "Going Where."

Here's a recording of that same song put through my creative filters (meaning my percussion).

P.S. PLEASE let me know what you think if you bother -- it IS important, even if it is to say, "liked that!" or "hated it"... Artists need feedback. Without feedback, we can't grow. Also, I don't create for my bubble. When I do, you never see it.