Bastique

September 30, 2004

Europe sneaks ahead

Posted by Bastique at 11:21 PM | Comments (0)

Tammi in Texas

Her blog is far from techinogically advanced. She doesn't pretend to know anything about html. But she's a really great lady and she's got a lot of cool things to say. Stop by and say hi to Tammy in Texas.

Posted by Bastique at 10:30 AM | Comments (0)

September 29, 2004

Letters from Club Fed (3/3)

3:30 PM Mail Call.

4:00 PM Stand-up count. This occurs every single day, without fail, and is the most important part of the day in the BOP (Bureau of Prisons). This count goes from every federal prison in the country to Washington DC so our fearless leadership knows how many of us are incarcerated on a daily basis. Do not, under any circumstances, get caught out of your cube at this time. It is almost considered escape!

4:30 PM Dinner time! Thank goodness my dorm is right next to the chow hall. I’m usually #2 or 3 in line. This may not seem like a big deal to most of you unless you realize that the facility houses about 820 inmates. I don’t want to stand in line for 40 minutes waiting to eat, would you?

5:00 PM Dinner’s finished and I head down to the lagoon with whatever bread, cornbread or cake I can smuggle out of the dining hall to feed the fish or seagulls.

5:30 PM – 9PM Off to the visitation room to play cards. This is my major form of entertainment for the week other than reading. We play “jailhouse” spades most often, a simple “either you have it or you don’t” type of game. We have recently managed to get some of the guys to play “real” spades with Nils, blind bids and overbooks, but this is a thinking man’s game and I don’t think 50 of the 800+ men here qualify as thinking men.

There are of course, 2 televisions in every dorm with a variety of programming, but the noise levels and lewd remarks about the anatomy of every female on screen do not make viewing a pleasant experience in general. It reaches new levels when MTV is onscreen.

Then of course, there are sports galore and of course, where would we be without BET? The overall intelligence level here dictates that if there are an ample supply of tits, ass and car crashes in the viewing material, it’s a hit. Both Chicago and The Hours (yes, we get movies every weekend) flopped miserably. There were only 2 of us left in the TV Room after The Hours. Go figure!

9:00PM – 10:30PM Reading in my bunk and off to dreamland. Another day dawns quickly.

This gives you an idea of my life as a guest of the federal gov’t. It may also suggest why I don’t write as often as I would like. I just don’t have an awful lot to say.

My hope is to have Cary post this on his website so you can all have access to what I may have to relate to you. I’m going to try to write every 2 weeks to update everyone on any noteworthy happenings. What you may find interesting is the workings of the federal gov’t through the prison system. If they run the country like they run the prisons, and from my point of view, they do, you might give serious consideration to emigration.

I appreciate your cards and letters. Please think of me from time to time. They really are a bright spot in my life.

Love you all!
Michael

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Note from Cary: Mike’s new sneakers will cost $65. Thanks to anyone who may have already donated. Any overage will go to defraying his monthly allowance from me of $75.
You can email Michael at mike@ this domain name.

Posted by Bastique at 9:37 AM | Comments (0)

September 28, 2004

Letters from Club Fed (2/3)

10:00 AM Lunchtime! Of course, I’ve missed breakfast (5:30-6:30) so by now I’m ready to eat. The menu ranges from awful thru pretty good, depending upon budget crisis. As you may be aware (or not) the prison system in the U.S. of A. holds more population per capita than any country in the world, incarcerated, somewhere between around 2.2 million men and women behind bars. Anyway, I digress.

One can always count on rice and beans as a staple, and generally a fresh salad bar. The rest of the menu changes daily. Could be grilled cheese sandwiches (Don’t get too excited—one piece of cheese only!), or spaghetti with choice of marinara or meat sauce, which until recently was 50% ground organ meat&ellip;lungs, kidneys, liver, and various other “unusable extraneous animal psrts”&ellip; now down to 15%), Philly Cheese Steak (low grade beef, sometimes buffalo meat, sometimes undefinable), burgers & onion rings (actually pretty good!) chili (again, that organ meat problem), corn dogs (yecch!!) etc. The bottom line is we have some good days and some bad. A lot of fried foods, high fat foods, freezer burned, out of date foods. And let me expand a little on the “out of date” issue. We’re not talking a week to 10 days out of date, we’re talking months to years out of date! And did I mention the bags of frozen corn marked, “not for human consumption”!???

10:30 AM Time for a quick after-lunch gig and then it’s back to work. At this point, some of the work crews are beginning to come back into the camp for lunch. About ½ the crews are given box lunches and don’t get back until 2:30 pm. Pity those who don’t make it to pick up their laundry before 10:00, because they’re out of luck until tomorrow, but for those who can squeeze in lunch and commissary. They can still make it into the laundry to pick up laundered clothing or replace missing, lost or damaged items. (I’ll do a while diatribe on the entire laundry crew at some future date. It’s a bizarre study of human nature.) I have a flurry of activity till about 11:30 and then we wind down till closing.

12:00 Noon Another work day is over and a whopping $2.03 added to my payroll account. I head back to the dorm, lay down on my bunk and pull out my book de jour. I have become a voracious reader. As of this reading, I am on book #172. Not bad for 18 months, eh? Within 15-30 minutes, my eyelids are drooping. Time for my daily nap.

I usually get in a pretty fair nap, from 12:30 to 3:00. By 3pm, most of the work crews are back in camp and the noise level has risen to intolerable. This is something one never gets used to in prison. The noise! It’s absolutely mind boggling! Far be it from me to make generalizations, especially along racial boundaries, but they exist nonetheless. The Latin boys don’t speak to each other, they yell at the top of their lungs&ellip; Really, no joke. There is no normal conversation level; everyone in the dorm has to be able to hear what they’re saying. If they’re showering or making use of the “rest facilities,” they’re yelling across stalls, if the need to talk to a buddy 3 cubes down, they yell across to each other, if they’re standing in a group, everyone within 50 feet has to be able to hear their conversation. Their “normal conversation level” seems to be 4-6 times mine. Who knows, maybe it’s part of their culture?

Posted by Bastique at 8:47 PM | Comments (0)

Psalm 2004

Bush is my shepherd, I shall be in want.
He leadeth me beside the still factories,
He maketh me to lie down on park benches,
He restoreth my doubts about the Republican party,
He guideth me onto the paths of unemployment for the party's sake.
I do fear the evildoers, for thou talkst about them constantly.
Thy tax cuts for the rich and thy deficit spending
They do discomfort me.
Thou anointeth me with never-ending debt,
And my savings and assets shall soon be gone.
Surely poverty and hard living shall follow me,
And my jobless children shall dwell in my basement forever.

Thanks be to Fred who sendeth this to me.

Posted by Bastique at 9:51 AM | Comments (0)

September 27, 2004

I'm done! Alleluia!

I wasn’t expecting too much from Sharon Shinn’s The Alleluia Files, and I wasn’t disappointed. Archangel was by and large the best book in the series—much of the reason being that Archangel dealt with one romance, while The Alleluia Files and the second book Jovah’s Angel, mix two romances together.

The Alleluia Files brings us three hundred years beyond Jovah’s Angel, in a time when technology is advancing, albeit at a snails crawl. Tamar is the primary protagonist, and is a member of the “Jacobites,” a group of persecuted radicals who claim that Jovah, their god, is really nothing more than a powerful ship orbiting the planet. In order to prove this, the Jacobites have been searching for legendary recordings known as the Alleluia Files, hence the books name. Contrary to the book’s back cover, neither Tamar nor any other character has been raised in captivity among the angels.

Make no mistake about it, in spite of its science fiction leanings, The Alleluia Files is a romance. Tamar is destined to be the mate of the angel known as Jared, the leader of the angel host at Monteverde, a care-free leader who prefers r&r over real responsibility. Needless to say, the sparks fly from the start, but because of Tamar’s suspicious nature, the romance seems doomed. Rounding out the trio of characters is Lucinda, an angel raised by her aunt away from the other angels on a secluded island.

Although Lucinda’s role is ultimately critical to the story, I feel that her character development detracted from the more interest romance, the one between Jared and Tamar. Jared remains seriously underdeveloped as a character, and is clearly dragged throughout the book along the path that Shinn wants him to take.

Deus ex Machina takes on a whole new meaning with The Alleluia Files, and I don’t mean literally, the spaceship named Jehovah that orbits the planet. Shinn relies so often on “convenient occurrences” in the book that it comes out a very sloppy conclusion to the trilogy.

Finally, there is the issue with the Edori homeland of Ysral. One of the purposes of the spaceship was to regulate the atmosphere of the climatologically difficult Semorrah so that the settlers could live there fine. The angels would “sing their prayers to Jovah” and the rain would come, or stop, or medicine would come down from the ship, or a number of other things. However, in the conclusion to the trilogy, Ysral is described as a paradise.

Why didn’t the original settlers of Semmorah settle on the disastrous continent rather than the temperate paradise of Ysral? I find no rationale here.

I am happy to have finished the The Alleluia Files. It was an exhausting endeavor to muddle through it. The only consolation is that I understand that Shinn made a greater effort in writing the next book, Angelica. I have, in general, enjoyed the series and have every intention of reading the new book.

You can purchase The Alleluia Files here: The Alleluia Files

Posted by Bastique at 10:50 PM | Comments (0)

September 26, 2004

Letters from Club Fed (1/3)

This is the first entry of Michael’s into the blog. I briefly considered putting Michael’s stuff on a separate blog, but with all the work I have to do, to retype his words into the computer, I think it will be enough just to get his stuff in here, and skip my own stuff.

Sorry about yesterday, but I had a hurricane to deal with. AGAIN.

The rest is from Michael. Up at Eglin Federal Work Camp near Fort Walton Beach, Florida.

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9/10/04
Howdy ALL!

Let me begin with an apology to everyone for not writing nearly as much as I should or would like to, followed by an attempt at an explanation as to why and what I’ll attempt to do to remedy the situation.

The primary obstacle seems to be a critical lack of newsworthy information. This is, after all, prison. Nothing much changes from day to day. The greatest enemy to those of us vacationing at “Club Fed” is terminal boredom! This, you can be sure, is a vacation I’ll not book again. Let me give you an example of a typical day here at Camp Snoopy.

5:00AM I roll out of bed, grab my cup of instant coffee and head for the designated smoking area for a couple of generic cigarettes and exchange morning pleasantries, most of which is a gripe session about the insanity of the fed prison system or the not-so-charming eccentricities of any number of our beloved staff members. I’ll begin to keep notes on these issues in the future to give you an up close and personal feeling for the pervasive foolishness of the system.

5:15AM Back into the dorm. Dress (Camp Uniform) brush teeth, arrange what little hair I have into something presentable, get that award winning smile on my face (It’s for real!) and head out the door to begin my workday at 5:30AM.

5:30AM Arrive at the camp laundry, which is supposed to open at 5:30 sharp. I can count the number of times per month on one hand that we actually open on time. The staff member currently in charge of this facility is chronically late; one of those people who will be late for his own funeral. We usually open somewhere between 5:40 and 5:50. This is a problem as the work crews have to be out of camp, mowing and weed whacking between 5:45 and 6:30, and need to have breakfast, hit the laundry to pick up clothing, replace or exchange terminally stained, stretched, shrunk, worn out, or missing clothing, make beds and sweep floors, etc. The window of opportunity to get this all accomplished is pretty narrow. Keep in mind that the laundry closes at 12:00 noon, is open Mon-Thur and services 800+ men. It’s sort of like feeding time at the zoo. I actually have one of the primo jobs on the compound, locally known as the “demi-god of clothing.” When a “vacationer” arrives at our gracious facility, he sees me first, as I supply his clothing issue, consisting of 4prs khaki pants, 4 khaki shorts, 6 t-shirts, 6pr of underwear, 6pr of socks, 2 towels, 2 facecloths, work gloves, baseball cap, rain poncho, belt, new pillow/pillowcase. He then gets a speech about how the laundry operates, what other services/sundries we provide (razors, toothbrush/paste, combs, soap, deodorant, sheets, blankets, etc). All this with a caring, welcoming smile from yours truly. I actually like my job very much! I mean, really, what better job for a gay man at a men’s prison! [grin]

There are some very hot men here and of course I have to ensure the best fit for their clothing. “Oh, those pants don’t seem to fit well. Take them off and try these on!” “Hmmm—very broad shoulders and chest&ellip;maybe this shirt will fit better.” “Your not sure what size you need? Let me check your waist and inseam!” LOL—Really!

On the other hand, I also have “Plus size gents” to work with. “Lets see&ellip; 58” waist, 27” inseam&ellip; 5x shirt&ellip; I think these will fit OK” (Calling Omar the tentmaker!!) Anyway, I’m pretty secure in my job, am well-liked and respected around the camp, and will go the extra mile to make you try to feel as human as possible under the circumstances. On top of all that, the pay is great&ellip; 29¢ an hour. Not bad when the rest of the place is mowing grass for 11¢ an hour, eh? And of course, I always have the most fashionable clothing on the compound!

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Note from Cary: I’m taking up a collection so Mike can get a new pair of sneakers!!! $65. Any help is appreciated!

You guys can email Michael at the link posted on the upper right side of the screen. The email goes to me, not to him, but I'll print it and send it with my regular correspondence. He loves reading mail and I'm gonna push him to respond to every piece he gets, if I have to have him print the response on the email itself!

If you want to mail him privately, send me an email and I'll forward the address to you! Cary.

Posted by Bastique at 11:07 PM | Comments (0)

September 24, 2004

Conspiracy

Have I said lately that I’ll be glad when election season is over?

What is it about being me that is so difficult to withhold my tongue even when every piece of common sense is telling me I’m about to step face first into a hornet’s nest of anti-liberal sentimentality? Maybe it’s hard for me to bring up the topic of conservatism without making commentary on either the intelligence or the greediness of the people who are inclined toward conservatism. It’s still hard for me to believe rational people would vote Bush unless they had a selfish interest in maintaining the sad status quo.

The signs are right there, plain as day. Oil. Iraq. Middle East. Lies. No real connection. Oil. Gas prices. Vehicle engine size increasing. More money for oil companies, usually based in Texas. Higher prices for medication in the United States than abroad, sometimes six to ten times as high; primarily when they’re manufactured here. More money for pharmaceutical companies, usually based in North Carolina (But wait a second&ellip; isn’t that where John Edwards is from? I don’t remember, Is Kerry promising affordable health care?)

What about that last Bush ad? The Agenda for America. More money for troops. More power to the police for anti-terrorism activities. More fear. Terrorism. Fear. Terrorism.

I saw some graffiti today (at Commercial Boulevard and I-95, if you want to see it yourself) that said “Cheney made 9/11.” I’m still not so sure that they weren’t at least indirectly responsible for the attacks. As of September 24, there have been 1,043 American military deaths in Iraq. 1,175 total coalition forces. Iraqi Civilian deaths account for a minimum of 12,927. Civilian deaths in Afghanistan from American military action account for another 4,000 people. As a result of George W. Bush and Dick Cheney’s actions, over 18,000 innocent civilians and allied forces have died. The price of freedom?

Is it so hard to imagine that, in order to win the people’s love and entrench their power base for decades to come, they would take measures not to prevent the ultimate death of 3,000 New Yorkers, many of whom were non-Americans and American Ethnic minorities. The price of freedom?

Open your mind up to the possibilities. Hitler didn’t come into power on his own; and Germany wasn’t full of crazy people in the 1920s and 1930s, but people who were proud of being German and were especially hard hit by financial woes, and a rampant xenophobia. The spirit of German Nationalism crafted together a coalition led by Adolf Hitler.

Posted by Bastique at 11:18 PM | Comments (1)

September 23, 2004

Feverish

I think I’ve got what’s going around. I don't feel like writing in the blog.

Why does my doctor give flu shots in November, if the flu is going around in August?

I just read this at USA Today:

Q: I am the principal at a school in Missouri and I get parents calling all the time saying "Johnny won't be at school today, he has the 24-hour flu". Having taught science for 17 years I tell them there is no such thing. Where can I find proof to back my claim?
A: The 24-hour flu does not exist, say the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). The flu is a respiratory disease and not a stomach or intestinal disease. The fever and body aches associated with the flu lasts three to four days — not 24 hours.

Then would someone please tell me why I only ever get these things for twenty-four hours or so? And it’s whatever everybody else gets, and they call it the flu&ellip;

Well, there are non-respiratory aspects to this, but what is it?

Posted by Bastique at 11:51 PM | Comments (0)

September 22, 2004

Weather Observations

Is this further evidence of a rampant government conspiracy to suppress critical world climatalogical data or simply an oversight by the American media because the media was focused on the first anniversary of our invasion of Iraq?

In March 28 of this year, another first occurred in world weather: A Cyclone that formed in the South Atlantic made landfall in the state of Santa Catarina, Brazil, killing three people. The Cyclone qualified as a Category 1 on the Safford Simpson Scale, and as the World Meteorological Organization does not yet have a list of naming South Atlantic storms, the name Cyclone Catarina has been informally adopted. This was the first recorded hurricane in the South Atlantic and the third cyclonic system. The first was recorded in 1991 and the second in January of this year. Details of those, and other unusual weather formations may be found at Tropical Cyclones Images and Movies.

A loop of the satellite images can be found here: March 2004 South Atlantic Hurricane.

This begs the question, am I completely out of touch with the news or did other people “miss” this important news story as well?

Posted by Bastique at 9:33 PM | Comments (0)

September 20, 2004

Fifteen Minutes in September

The sound of thunder echoes from outside the walls of his small converted office, while he listens blindly through glass windows still covered with plywood from last month’s hurricane. The dark loneliness of the rainy night is somehow comforting—being alone means there is no one to worry about pleasing except himself.

There’s one job left before the man finally sprinkles granulated food into five fish tanks in varying states of cleanliness and ambles off into his bedroom where a sixty pound American Staffy mix sleeps quietly and comfortably curled amid his master’s pillows, innocent of the day’s anguished paper romp through the living room. Fingers, nails chewed to the quick, tap lightly on a month-old keyboard, already smattered with coffee stains and cookie crumbs.

Bubbles rise and water drains from the tank near hin, while lone cichlid and gourami await tiny morsels of dried food, and albino channel cats and plecos patrol the pebbles for scraps. The air blows cool through the Maytag in the window, uselessly recycling air from an oddly cool night outside, a night more reminiscent of late fall then the menacing heat of a Fort Lauderdale summer.

Independently, the man’s legs bounce up and down, anxiously warding off aches that the body neither understands nor appreciates, notices of an approaching age of forty, now less than nine hundred days hence. He sighs, not entirely content with his quality of words, never entirely content. He knows he knows how to write, and in spite of the dissatisfaction, much of his words will serve to be appreciated, for free, by hundreds of people, many of whom are his friends.

A disheveled desk serves him, strewn as it is with multicolor pens with missing caps, an orange highlighter, business cards, a stapler, folders, work orders for scripts that he hopes to deliver the following day, his system CD, carelessly exposed to the splashing of the fish tank, a BellSouth bill that he hopes doesn’t overdraw his account once more, creating a charge that he can scarcely afford. A seventeen-inch flat screen monitor stares back at him, his last (he promises) purchase on a credit card that’s far outlived its usefulness to him.

Despair serves him not. He still remains entertained at the wonder of life and who he is. He still suffers from four of the seven deadly sins, having given up Anger, Greed and Envy some time ago, but now only gives in to small doses of Sloth, Gluttony, Lust, and Pride. They no longer suit his life.

He’s right there in the middle of a typical man’s years, but it’s not unlikely that the damage has been done and he will no longer serve the remaining thirty-seven years. It’s all fine, however, because he’s come a lot farther than he expected at one time.

The man hopes to do a few things before he finally rests, publishing his book, watching his niece marry, being there for his mother and father as they grow old. Maybe he’ll be close beside one that he loves, maybe he’ll be among many.

The man feeds the fish, closes his bedroom door away from roaming cats and disrobes. He rouses a sixty-pound American Staffy Mix who emits a futile guttural growl when the man pushes him from his way. Finally, he climbs beneath his soft sheets, closes his eyes, lying on his side, his arm around a pillow with a faint odor of dog. The American Staffy curls comfortably in the crook of his master’s legs.

He sleeps easily, for he has prospered another day and is satisfied.

Posted by Bastique at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)

September 19, 2004

Decided

I'm sorry, Dad. I know that I told you that I wasn't pushing for Ralph Nader this year. I know I told you that John Kerry had my full support. I know you're strong on Kerry's campaign, and that Florida is an important state. But things change.

But Dad, I think we all have issues that we feel close to our hearts—and mine happens to be the criminal injustice system on several levels. I think that not enough attention has been paid to our government's policy. The Republican policy of "lock them up and forget about them" has been mirrored by the Democratic policy of "don't go against Republican policy and there won't be any more Willie Hortons."

Cobb's stand on these issues was clearly found here: David Cobb on Crime. He has clearly stated what his position is on the issues before him. Ralph Nader emphasizes racism, but still remains inline with Cobb's ideology.

I acknowledge that racism plays a big part of the criminal injustice system, however, class plays an even bigger part. Innocence can be bought for anyone that can afford it. Guilt is determined not by evidence but by one's ability to search for and present that evidence. If an individual has the power to pay for the man-hours to work the system and get a soft judge, sympathetic jury, and distracted or incompetent prosecutor, that person has a one hundred times better chance of winning his or her case than the rest.

Even the rich sometimes are used as examples, like Martha Stewart, for instance. And even the prisons like Danbury, once known as "country club" type holding facilities, are environments fraught with shoddy health care from uninterested physicians, regular humiliation by underpaid prison guards, and overcrowding due to "cost-saving" measures by the government contractors who run these facilities.

At one end, Club Fed, Eglin Federal Prison Camp near Fort Walton Beach serves food that rarely changes, and is disturbingly high in fat and cholesterol content not suitable for its large number of senior inmates. At the other, the inmates on Florida's death row were being fed spoiled food and still suffer in facilities with no air conditioning.

Kerry, for his part, mentions nothing about his stand on the criminal justice system on his website. Is his position the status quo?

Don't worry about my vote for Nader, Dad—it's not going to happen. This is strictly personal, based on his performance in television appearances of late. As I have no interest in dissuading anyone from voting for Nader, that's all I will say about that.

Up until today, I was balancing on a fence, whether to vote for Anybody But Bush or to vote for Somebody that Matters. John Kerry has neither done nor said anything to tip that balance his way. Now that I know a little more about David Cobb and his stand on the criminal injustice system, I've decided to vote for him.

Dad, you know, you had a lot of influence on me growing up. I admire you and always have. One of the most important things I learned from you was to think for myself. Thank you for that, Dad.

Posted by Bastique at 1:56 PM | Comments (0)

September 18, 2004

Books and Books

In continuing my tradition of reviewing a website every Saturday, the website I'm featuring today is All Consuming. What this website does is loads up blog reviews of books and tracks them. That's it. For book connoisseurs I find this uniquely fascinating.

What's interesting is that it doesn't list books by what's selling or by what's being read, but by what's being talked about. The site picks up books talked about in the last hour, top books of the day, of yesterday, one week ago, one month ago, and one year ago.

I found All Consuming one day while googling myself. My first review was Fool's Errand (See links at right); and this service immediately picked up on the link and listed my site on their pages.

There are some serious glitches. For one thing, the site goes down with regularity. Another is that for some reason it stopped picking up my book reviews. But I guess things like that happen when a site is pretty much run by one person, on a shoestring budget. Eric Benson is the creator of All Consuming, and has his own personal weblog at Erik Benson

If I could figure out how to use Trackback without Blogger, I'd go that route, because I simply want to be included. I'm not certain, however, so I'm not going to really worry too much about it.

If you like books, then you'll like All Consuming.

Posted by Bastique at 11:15 PM | Comments (0)

September 17, 2004

On Writing

Prisoners, Lovers, Politics, Hurricanes. This is my roulette wheel of topics. I'm tired of all of them.

Sometimes it's hard to figure out what to write about. How did my day go? I went by my doctors to get my blood taken, I wrote several scripts, I forgot to get my meds—twice, I went to a meeting, I watched a movie with Will (Love Actually, a pretty good movie, rent it if you haven't seen it and like romances), I made a quote on web site work, I got the web site work. On a scale from bad to good, with good being 10, today was somewhere around 7. Nobody wants to hear about my day, unless it involved sordid sex with the plumber. As if I could afford a plumber.

No, I know what I need to write about, again. I need to write about writing.

I finished the first draft of a book by taking an hour every morning and just writing. You can find the prologue of my story, A Mirror's Shard here: Prologue. I worked best when I went to a critique group every week and had regular interaction with people reading my work. As I couldn't afford the maintain my participation in the critique group, I don't have an incentive to write regularly. The answer? Maybe it's time I formed my own critique group.

All interested parties email me.

I write best when I just go on and on and worry about correcting the mistakes and things that sound awkward later. If I get bogged down in a word choice, I never finish what I'm doing. The primary thing is to plan to spend a little time after each session to go over what I've written and correct any typos then.

Bird by Bird was an incredibly useful tool for me to get a good writing habit going. It made me understand why things like not getting bogged down in the details had its uses. But like all good habits, we can undevelop them as easily as develop them.

To-Do List

• Personal Writing
• Letter to Insurance Commissioner
• Contact Credit Card Companies to Request Extension

Posted by Bastique at 11:56 PM | Comments (0)

September 16, 2004

Ivan Breaks Out

I just read this blurb at Sun Sentinel:

Eglin Air Force Base, Pensacola Naval Air Station and Hurlburt Field ordered all nonessential military, civilian employees and their dependents to evacuate. Military installations along the Panhandle sent away at least 275 aircraft, including gunships, jet fighters and helicopters used by Special Operations units to safe locations, and moved others into hangars. The air station sent about 1,200 military students to Albany, Ga., and another 4,000 military students helped set up emergency shelters in Escambia County.
The entire article may be found at Hurricane Updates at a Glance. Eglin is where Michael is being held. It pisses me off is that according to the BOP Prison Report there are 795 inmates at Eglin Federal Work Camp and nobody bothers to tell anybody what happened to them. Did they simply leave them there while the hurricane pummeled them? Probably not. But they're still not important enough for our fucked-up government to report to us about them.

Send them to jail and forget about them. That's what everyone in this country thinks its right. That's why prisoners get treated like numbered pieces of meat—because people—and I'm probably talking to you if you're reading this—don't care about them. You don't write to them, you don't visit them, you don't stand up for thier rights. As long as you are comfortable in your homes, and it doesn't affect you at all, you're happy. It's what they deserve, right? Never mind that 2%—YES, one out of every fifty—men in America is incarcerated, on probation or parole, or in jail awaiting trial. Most of these men made some stupid mistake because of drug addiction or because they were young—perhaps the kind of mistake that many of us may have made and gotten away with. Or we could have made that sort of mistake but we made a split second decision in our past that prevented us from it.

But there is such a thin line between us and them. Most of people who are incarcerated are not violent. But they are not receiving adequate medical care—they are generally treated by sadistic doctors whose only interest is showing up and making their daily paychecks. They are not receiving inhumane treatment from prison guards who thrive on making inmates feel like shit.

Who has a vested interest in incarcerating prisoners? Republican presidents who have investments in prisons and get elected by tiny margins in states that regularly purge the voting rolls of convicted felons who typically vote Democrat in other states where the president's brother isn't governor, because ex-felons are allowed to vote.

Personally, I think that we should have an "adopt-a-prisoner" program, and it be mandatory that every citizen in this country be required to participate. Maybe it's the only way we can finally understand what drives so many of our citizens into our prisons, and start doing something about it. But if people open their eyes, they might actually see what's going on, and the part that they played in it.

Posted by Bastique at 10:47 PM | Comments (0)

September 15, 2004

Good Luck Bad Luck

This friend of mine, who shall remain nameless because I know him from a twelve-step fellowship, was telling me the story of his two DUI’s here in Florida, and how it’s become quite difficult for him to get back behind the wheel. I want to mention it not to talk about how unfair it is and all...someone who gets two DUI’s really deserves to have to jump through hoops before they can ever be allowed on the road again.

I wanted to talk about his bad luck. The first time he got stopped...er, cited, he ran into the median of the road, just barely missing a police car in front of him. A marked, uniformed, on-duty police officer. Guess who wrote the ticket?

The second DUI occurred after a collision that my friend caused right in front of the Fort Lauderdale Police Station. The report read, “Officers heard a crash and walked to the scene...”

I’m going to admit it here, in front of everyone. I drove intoxicated. I drove really intoxicated. From the age of 17 until I was 34 years old, (minus a couple of years in my twenties), there were moments that I really should not have been behind the wheel of my car and on the road. But I somehow survived, as did anyone driving, cycling or walking nearby. Just lucky I guess.

In all honestly, I probably only drove intoxicated about three or four times a year. And saying that my friend was unlucky is probably not necessarily accurate either, because he was a regular on the road. And if you look at it another way, his luck might have been good, too. He is still alive, and, (as far as I know) he hasn’t killed or harmed anyone with his driving. And the rest of us are lucky that he’s clean today, and not behind the wheel of his vehicle.

Maybe I was a better driver under the influence. I’ve gotten a number of traffic violations in my life, and not one of them while I was using drugs (including alcohol). It could be that my fear of getting stopped caused me to be a tad bit more careful on the road. I never drank so much that I blacked out, so I do have one memory of driving up Powerline Road, every effort made trying to control my vehicle, and thinking “What the hell am I doing out here, driving? Somebody could get hurt?”

Heck, forget about my friend—Thank G-d I’m clean today!

Image by Peter Kuper and used completely without permission

Posted by Bastique at 11:48 PM | Comments (0)

September 14, 2004

Tight Ends

Why is it that when I’m feeling happy I don’t feel as if I have anything to write about for the blog? I don’t want to be stuck in the negativity of the hurricane season or the election season or football season. Yes, that’s right, it’s time for us to avoid any discussion about how poorly the Miami Dolphins are doing for yet one more year. We have an excuse for not paying attention. Self-respecting gay men don’t watch football. Unfortunately, our hetero counterparts have to justify supporting a losing franchise year after year.

I used to have this fantasy that once Dan Marino retired from the sport, the team would finally get to the Super Bowl. Like a sort of ironic poetic justice, for making me have to look at Dan Marino’s goofy face day in, day out, on the news, on local commercials; over and over again. Well, he retired some years ago. The Dolphins still haven’t won the Super Bowl, and I have to see Dan Marino on every automobile commercial for the South Florida automobile uber-dealership, Maroone. Note: This link will subject you to Maroone’s awful jingle. What kind of self respecting advertiser would destroy an already contrived song like the “Theme to Ghostbusters”?

I don’t really care about the Miami Dolphins. Is that bad? I’ve lived in South Florida for fifteen years come November. I moved from Washington DC, where I spent most of my childhood, a football watcher and die-hard Redskins fan, and living in South Florida with our uninteresting football team has numbed me to the sport altogether. I can’t even tell you who’s on the team. Do they ever get into the playoffs?

The Bucks, now, that’s a Cinderella story. They were a joke when I was a kid... and they won Super Bowl XXXVII in 2003. Know how I know that number? Because that’s the same age I turn in the same year. The first Super Bowl, attended by twelve people took place just 18 days after I was born; January 15, 1967. People had to watch it in black and white because color television gave off x-radiation and caused permanent sterility. It was played between two teams, Kansas City and Green Bay that nobody hears much about any more, in Green Bay, which is named that way because the pollution in Lake Michigan has caused the entire region to be clogged with algae.

I know it sounds like I’m rambling. But I’m talking football, right? Since when has it been interesting?

Posted by Bastique at 11:58 PM | Comments (1)

Geekslut fans

Alas, if you found me from Geekslut's site; you'll find no nasty stories of depravaty and decadence, nor semi-nasty pictures of me working out. It's not saying that I haven't taken part in the nastier sort of rituals of sex like good ol' Steve has, I just don't like to describe the details in great length. My Ma reads this blog.

Actually, I've been celebate for nearly three months, and will possibly continue to be. There's something that comes from Eastern Philosophy about being able to refocus the energies of sexuality into other, less corporeal endeavors at certain times of one's life, and now is one of those times.

When I do write about sex I like to get paid for it. I've done some quality stories, check out: Law of Desire and Out of Control. Spend a few dollars and buy them, even. They feature top erotic fiction from awesome writers like Patrick Califia, Trevor Healey, Greg Wharton, and, well, Cary Michael Bass.

Keep the peace.

Posted by Bastique at 9:09 PM | Comments (0)

September 13, 2004

Lavender Moves

For immediate release:

Lavender Writes will now exist at its own website, at www.lavenderwrites.org

Okay then!

Posted by Bastique at 1:07 PM | Comments (0)

September 12, 2004

The Mongolian Horse

Today is a creative writing day, primarily because I’m too tired to write much else. The following was what I wrote today to kick off our new BelleHistoire scenario, China Rules the Seas:

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Posted by Bastique at 11:05 PM

September 11, 2004

Black Eye for the White Guy

   The Black Commentator

This website qualifies as one of my "stumble-upons"; I was doing a google-search for I-don't-know-what and landed here. I have to say I was quite impressed. Needless to say, the general political leanings of the ethnic community mirror my own, when the church-goers are filtered from the mix.

The periodical features cartoons, which is always a favorite place to go to for me. I found offense however, in this one. The cartoon is split down the middle, featuring a typically ethnic group in a crowded prison on the right and white, "white-collar" criminals in a barely-crowded prison situation on the left. The intent is honorable, although the cartoonist apparently knows little of actual prison life.

I have seen the inside of a "white-collar" prison, and I am intimately acquainted with an inmate of one. Let it be said here and now that Prison is Prison. The conditions are overcrowded, the food is terrible, and inmates suffer as much abuse, and sometimes more, from the guards as they would in a maximum security prisons. While I can't speak for other places, Eglin, the camp that used to be known as "Club Fed", is also no longer an "all-white joint." While it continues to house non-violent offenders, the population is ethnically diverse, with a roughly even mix among European, African, and Latin American inmates.

The disparity is therefore not within the prisons, but in the sentencing. Once in prison, the experience is destined to be the same for Martha Stewart, as it would for anyone else entering a Prison facility; demeaning, degrading, and humiliating. The Westport Now Article, Report: Martha Stewart Waits Out Cell Crunch remarks that Martha hasn't gone in yet because she has to wait for a bed at the overcrowded Danbury Prison. But all to often, the rich folk that break the law are not subject to the same sentencing guidelines as the rest of us, white or otherwise. The OJ Simpson trial showed us that it doesn't matter any more what color you; if you have the money and the notariety, you can buy a "Not Guilty" sentence.

The reverse is also true. Judges don't say in their chambers, "He's a white man, he won't survive in that prison. Let's send him to the work camp." If you can't afford a decent defense, the color of your skin doesn't matter, you can expect to be convicted to the fullest extent of the law.

One of the biggest problems the American underclass is facing is the misconception that "It's all about being black." One statistic that doesn't get stated is that the number of European-Americans that are falling beneath the poverty line is growing. Many of these people hear African-American complaints about the racial division but they see Oprah, Condaleeza Rice, Shaquille O'Neal and Don King, people who can go anywhere they want, and do anything they want and buy anything they want. They can't. They are white and poor and everyone they know is white and poor and they are not being courted by Democrats, but Republicans, who are quick to manipulate their minds with Fox News and other outlets, pointing out that they are not the ones causing the grief.

We're not suffering so much a racial disparity but a class disparity. Yes, African-Americans are still greatly overrepresented below the poverty line, but the overrepresentation is much smaller than it was years ago. Considering the massive exploitation of African-Americans by whites only fifty years ago, some racial disparity is to be expected. In fact, however, it's harder to stop being poor than it is to start being poor, and the change in representation is more due to an increase of European-American membership in the underclass.

It is my conclusion that blacks are overrepresented in prisons due as much to the fact that the poor in general are overrepresented in prisons, and blacks are overrepresented among the poor, notably in southern states. Furthermore, the decrease in black representation is not so much due to cultural advancement as it is due to the increase of whites below the poverty line.

Racism still exists today, but in the 00's it is far less a concern than Classism. Despite all that, The Black Commentator features many intellegent commentantors, and it's a great read.

Posted by Bastique at 11:14 AM | Comments (0)

September 10, 2004

Hurricane Seasonal Affected Disorder

It’s been a rough day for me, and I’m not much in the mood for writing, but perhaps that is the best time to do it. Will and I just finished watching Kill Bill, Vol. 2 and he’s across the fish tank watching the DVD featurette, which is distracting me.

Ah, the fish tank. I did have survivors, I mentioned five survivors in an earlier post. They’re all doing fine. Today I upped the PH, took out some nitrates and added three very small Silver Dollars and two Albino Channel Cats. Huge Silver Dollar fish were some of the ones that we lost, and a few years ago Michael and I had some channel cats that did pretty well, and got pretty big. The gourami and cichlid are nosing around, but so far they haven’t attacked any of the little ones. I’d love to find some more leporinuses. I’m really sad about the one I lost.

There’s been talk about preparing for Hurricane Ivan. You heard it here first: I don’t think it’s coming. I always keep up at the NOAA website and it looks like in the last hour it made a solid westward turn. I’ve been saying that I wasn’t going to worry about Ivan. I feel sorry for those that have and yet to have suffered through it—I’m thankful it isn’t going to be here. Two major hurricanes making landfall in one state, in one season is quite enough thank you.

Finally, if you haven’t seen the following somewhere, had it forwarded to you at some point, I present it for you here, now. I have not, unfortunately, been able to determine the source, and thereby credit the original author, but I have seen it posted in several different websites, none of them crediting an original author. If someone else can offer me information, I greatly appreciate it:

Florida Hurricane Season Notes

We're about to enter the peak of the hurricane season. Any day now, you're going to turn on the TV and see a weather person pointing to some radar blob out in the Atlantic and making two basic meteorological points:

1. There is no need to panic.
2. We could all be killed.

Yes, hurricane season is an exciting time to be in Florida. If you're new to the area, you're probably wondering what you need to do to prepare for the possibility that we'll get hit by "the big one." The best way to get information on this topic is to ask people who were here during Hurricane Andrew (we're easy to recognize, because we still smell faintly of b.o. mixed with gasoline). Based on our experiences, we recommend that you follow this simple three-step hurricane preparedness plan:

• STEP 1. Buy enough food and bottled water to last your family for at least three days.
• STEP 2. Put these supplies into your car.
• STEP 3. Drive to Nebraska and remain there until Halloween.

Unfortunately, statistics show that most people will not follow this sensible plan. Most people will foolishly stay here in Florida. If you're one of those people, you'll want to clip out the following useful hurricane information and tuck it away in a safe place so that later on, when a storm is brewing, you will not be able to locate it.

We'll start with one of the most important hurricane preparedness items:

HOMEOWNERS' INSURANCE: If you own a home, you must have hurricane insurance. Fortunately, this insurance is cheap and easy to get, as long as your home meets two basic requirements:

1. It is reasonably well-built, and
2. It is located in Nebraska.

Unfortunately, if your home is located in South Florida, or any other area that might actually be hit by a hurricane, most insurance companies would prefer not to sell you hurricane insurance, because then they might be required to pay YOU money, and that is certainly not why they got into the insurance business in the first place. So you'll have to scrounge around for an insurance company which will charge you an annual premium roughly equal to the replacement value of your house. At any moment, this company can drop you like used dental floss. Since Hurricane Andrew, I have had an estimated 27 different home-insurance companies. This week, I'm covered by the Bob and Big Stan Insurance Company, under a policy which states that, in addition to my premium, Bob and Big Stan are entitled, on demand, to my kidneys.

SHUTTERS: Your house should have hurricane shutters on all the windows, all the doors, and -- if it's a major hurricane -- all the toilets. There are several types of shutters, with advantages and disadvantages:

Plywood shutters: The advantage is that, because you make them yourself, they're cheap. The disadvantage is that, because you make them yourself, they will fall off.

Sheet-metal shutters: The advantage is that these work well, once you get them all up. The disadvantage is that once you get them all up, your hands will be useless bleeding stumps, and it will be December.

Roll-down shutters: The advantages are that they're very easy to use, and will definitely protect your house. The disadvantage is that you will have to sell your house to pay for them.
"Hurricane-proof" windows: These are the newest wrinkle in hurricane protection: They look like ordinary windows, but they can withstand hurricane winds! You can be sure of this, because the salesman says so. He lives in Nebraska.

HURRICANE-PROOFING YOUR PROPERTY: As the hurricane approaches, check your yard for movable objects like barbecue grills, planters, patio furniture, visiting relatives, etc.; you should, as a precaution, throw these items into your swimming pool (if you don't have a swimming pool, you should have one built immediately). Otherwise, the hurricane winds will turn these objects into deadly missiles. (If you happen to have deadly missiles in your yard, don't worry, because the hurricane winds will turn THEM into harmless objects).

EVACUATION ROUTE: If you live in a low-lying area, you should have an evacuation route planned out. (To determine whether you live in a low-lying area, look at your driver's license; if it says ``Florida,'' you live in a low-lying area.) The purpose of having an evacuation route is to avoid being trapped in your home when a major storm hits. Instead, you will be trapped in a gigantic traffic jam several miles from your home, along with two million other evacuees. So, as a bonus, you will not be lonely.

HURRICANE SUPPLIES: If you don't evacuate, you will need a mess of supplies. Do not buy them now! Florida tradition requires that you wait until the last possible minute, then go to the supermarket and get into vicious fights with strangers over who gets the last can of SPAM. In addition to food and water, you will need the following supplies:

• 23 flashlights. At least $167 worth of batteries that turn out, when the power goes out, to be the wrong size for the flashlights. Bleach. (No, I don't know what the bleach is for. NOBODY knows what the bleach is for, but it's traditional, so GET some!)
• A 55-gallon drum of underarm deodorant.
• A big knife that you can strap to your leg. (This will be useless in a hurricane, but it looks cool.)
• A large quantity of bananas, to placate the monkeys. (Ask anybody who went through Andrew; after the hurricane, there WILL be irate monkeys.)
• $35,000 in cash or diamonds so that, after the hurricane passes, you can buy a generator from a man with no discernible teeth.

Of course these are just basic precautions. As the hurricane draws near, it is vitally important that you keep abreast of the situation by turning on your television and watching TV reporters in rain slickers stand right next to the ocean and tell you over and over how vitally important it is for everybody to stay away from the ocean.

At that point, if you've prepared all you can, there's frankly nothing left for you to do but pray. Good luck and remember: it's great living in a tropical paradise!

Posted by Bastique at 11:25 PM | Comments (1)

September 9, 2004

History Shorts

Occasionally I'll pick up a book of short stories and read it. Stephen R. Donaldson, whom I have read prodigiously and at whom I'm currently annoyed because he didn't respond to my question on his website, came out with two anthologies, Daughter of Regals and Other Tales in 1984 and Reave the Just and Other Tales in 2000. Because I am fascinated by Donaldson's work, in spite of his aloof nature with regard to my questions, I picked up both of them as soon as I knew about them.

Now, when I ordered Remaking History and Other Stories, I thought it was new. It was actually published in 1994, and furthermore, was a compilation of two separate anthologies, Remaking History in 1991 and The Planet on the Table in 1986. It wasn't the first time I'd read dated Robinson material. I ordered his California Trilogy and read them and was still impressed by the plausability of his subject matter. I was not disappointed, as the stories retain their novelty even today.

Robinson deals with history and alternate history, as well as future history with such depth and detail that it's hard to believe that he hasn't experienced in fact the timelines in which he engages us to travel. "Venice Drowned" takes up a subject matter that Robinson uses frequently, oceans and the rising waters. "The Lucky Strike" involves the split second decisions of Captain Frank January, a man who has to take an atom bomb on a questionable mission following the premature demise of the Enola Gay. "Coming Back to Dixieland" shares with us the hope and despair of five brothers who have one shot of getting out of the asteroid mines, winning a scholarship at a music competition with something old and yet novel: Jazz.

Well worth the read; and usually a story before bed is just what's right. Buy the book here: Remaking History by Kim Stanley Robinson

Posted by Bastique at 9:00 PM | Comments (0)

Breast Lift

New from Mary Damiano:

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Hi Everyone,

Due to Hurricane Frances and the possibility of Hurricane Ivan, the Lavender Footlights Festival, where my play "Jane Fonda's Breast" was to have a staged reading this Friday, has been postponed. The new dates for the festival are October 7-10.

It's the best possible decision, and I'm happy about the postponement. I'll keep you posted on other developments and the new date of my reading as I learn more.

Thanks also for all of your kind words of congratulations. It meant a lot.

Mary Damiano

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For more information, see Jane Fonda's Breast

Posted by Bastique at 8:23 PM | Comments (0)

September 8, 2004

Be Liberal, Be Happy

There is absolutely nothing wrong with this word these days. Back ten, twenty years ago, there was a reasonably successful campaign to turn “liberal” into some kind of slander word, something to be derided and shot down. “Tax-and-spend” liberals they were called, while the real culprits, those so-called conservatives, in power, were taxing the middle and lower class and spending on business initiatives that only benefited large corporations, research initiatives that benefited large corporations, and the military, whose contracts benefited large corporations.

Conservatives spend just as much of the government’s money—but only on the same corporate hacks that send their campaigns money. Liberals, on the other hand, believe in liberally spreading the expenses, on all fronts, aiding the underclass, small business initiatives, education, health care, etc.

I’m not entirely sure what there is to be ashamed of in declaring oneself Liberal. It would seem that to say that you are conservative is equivalent to saying that you are one who would take American money and give it to the rich, much like a feudal economy. Isn’t that a bit shameful?

I wish more people would be vocal about being liberals, but it seems that the difficulty arises in the fact that nearly all of the media is owned by large corporations who have something to gain by filtering out as much liberal propaganda as they can, as has been most especially the case with FOX News lately.

I love Bill Maher; and truly admire him, but unfortunately, I don’t believe he gets taken seriously enough. ABC let him go a few years ago for some rather innocuous comment he made that seemed to criticize the president and governmental policies. But for anyone that has HBO, there he is, freely available. Much of his commentary may be found on the HBO Website.

I’d much rather be thought of as a Liberal, then as a Democrat. I want to see George W. Bush out, as much as anyone. He is quite possibly the worst president ever, certainly of the 80 years. But when Party operatives play the dishonest games for which Republicans have become notorious, they only serve to alienate the rest of us, the growing number of independent voters and members of third parties.

I can’t campaign for anyone if I haven’t myself decided for whom I want to vote. Do I want to see George W. Bush get beaten out of the White House more than I want to see the Democrats get a wake-up call from the far left? If Kerry wants to win, his campaign has certainly got to appease the leftists, because he will lose a lot of votes, not only to Ralph Nader, but also to David Cobb, the Green Party Candidate¹.

It’s pretty sad that Al Gore didn’t realize that in 2000. He kept trying to appeal to an imaginary middle while blowing off the left end. The Republicans would never have been able to steal an election if it hadn’t been as close as it was.

I’ve been tempted before to go Socialist, but I go so much better with Green than I do with Red.

1 Click here for the Vote Cobb campaign blog

Posted by Bastique at 11:47 PM | Comments (0)

September 7, 2004

Powerless

This simple word may be used to describe my feelings in relation to the more upsetting aspects of the recent hurricane, which shall remain nameless. She knows who she is.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I had fish die as a result of the power loss. I’m estimating about $600 worth of fish, dead, in the lake. The value is not as important as the loss of life. I felt nothing but utter helplessness as I watched these fish that grew so well and so large in this tank, slowly suffocate because I can’t figure out how to save them. There were three survivors, three plecos, one gourami, and a pair of large yellow cichlids, one of whom jumped to its death from the temporary pail onto the kitchen floor.

The Fort Lauderdale police department, rather than suffer the depleted manpower, chose to route traffic around intersections, making certain roads at certain intersections right turn only. God forbid any of them get out of their cars to direct traffic. Yeah, I know—it was probably the best idea, but this hurricane got me cranky and I have to complain somewhere.

There are people still without power in Broward County. We had virtually no storm damage, but hundreds of thousand people in Broward suffered a power loss for greater than twenty-four hours. There's something seriously wrong here.

I’ve got power back. It was nice to sleep under the air conditioning last night.

Posted by Bastique at 5:25 PM | Comments (1)

September 6, 2004

Frances Aftermath

I'm not so upset about the negligible wind damage caused by the recent hurricane. I lost an arbor that can be repaired, most of the bamboo leaves that I found in the pool and some loss of small limbs and leaves on my large trees. As far as hurricanes go, Frances barely made a scratch around the home.

What really gets me pissed off is that I lost power at 8:00pm on Saturday night and at 1:09pm on Monday it still hasn’t come back. I’m almost certain that our power has been diverted somewhere else; and even if that isn’t the case, that it would take no time at all to restore it. But, the word is, from FPL that the best we can hope for is tomorrow night.

This hurricane has brought out the worst in everyone. I’ve heard more talk of looters of every kind running around. It looks like they’re catching these guys for the most part, some of whom have been looting vacated trailer parks, because there’s nobody there. What kind of person preys on people who live in trailers? It’s not bad enough they have to live in a trailer, but they have to get lost every time a storm comes through and now worry about whether their property has been stolen! Because of these assholes looting them, now the people in mobile homes are going to be less likely to abandon their homes the next time a storm comes through.

I’m surprised I got this much out. I’m at a borrowed computer on borrowed time.

Posted by Bastique at 1:05 PM | Comments (0)

September 3, 2004

Waiting for Frances

I'm sure that hurricane Frances is boring everyone. She's certainly boring me.

We're waiting and waiting, and more waiting; but still Frances is just offshore, not close enough to do very much but annoy us, and moving in this general direction at a rate of 4 miles per hour. She's diminishing in intensity, and I'm wondering if she's going to blow herself out before she gets here. There's apparently some kind of upper level high that's shearing the storm from above. But there's still a chance she may intensify once she gets over the gulf stream.

I keep putting off one or two things until I'm absolutely certain that I'll need them. One board is still off the sliding glass doors; I'll set that up before I get to bed. There are still some things around the yard, less critical items. We're not going to experience that level of intensity here, I'm certain of it. The top wind speeds are only 110 mph. Frances is now a lowly category two, and her latitude is somewhere north of here, so there's only a remote chance the eye will reach landfall near here.

Am I disappointed? No. Am I tired and ready for it to be over? Yeah. I wish I could relax, but this is the perfect excuse to put things off, and even though I could be working, could be writing, could be cleaning up, I'm spending most of my time sitting here, at the PC, working at Ebay on the new store or messing with the Flash for Will's site. It's very easy for me to beat myself up over all the things I could be doing.

But, I went to a lovely 12 step meeting that I wound up chairing because none of the group members were there—getting ready for the storm, I guess. There were a number of people there, including a nationally known celebrity, so I can say that I chaired a meeting at which ******* shared. It really sucks having given a hug to someone of significant fame and not being able to tell anyone who it is.

No, it wasn't Rick James, silly, he's dead. But think that famous.

Satellite photograph stolen completely without permission from The National Weather Service

Posted by Bastique at 11:22 PM | Comments (0)

September 2, 2004

People Who Need People

There is nothing like being a part of a community coming together, putting aside their personal differences to help each other get through a looming disaster. The events I have witnessed today while out doing chores and the similar stories I have heard across the community were absolutely nothing like it.

I certainly expected grocery shopping to be a nightmare, and after careful consideration I chose the Winn-Dixie store in which Will and I would do that shopping. And to my credit, the parking lot, although pretty full, was not a madhouse. The shelves, while entirely empty of bottled water and many specific canned items, were not devoid of quite a bit of non-perishable foodstuffs. Many of the canned vegetables we bought were even on sale, as if everyone else had the same list of items to buy.

We didn’t spend more than twenty minutes shopping before we made our way to the huge lines at the checkout. Every register was in use, and each of the regular lines were backed up more than three carts apiece. It wasn’t long before a row broke out in the line next to us, from a loud, boisterous, and dressed-like-a-street-whore Caribbean woman. Apparently, she had left her daughter to save her place in line and at some point people began to move ahead of the poor girl. I’m not certain what happened, but an older woman, also with a Caribbean accent, refused to let her in front of her.

The manager finally had to come talk to her, and they both finally found their place in line, but the loud woman could not let it go. She had to keep egging on the older woman, who had yielded her position, because she didn’t want anyone to think her a liar.

I finally had to shout at her that nobody cared if she was a liar or not because we were all in the same boat, hoping to survive the same storm. I’ve heard stories about the lines of people filling their tanks of gas, and how rude everyone wants to be, at each other, and at the service clerks.

The spirit of togetherness that unified our nation after 9/11, seems to have evaporated. A horrifying tragedy has been so manipulated and perverted to fund a war that benefits a few, and nobody can seem to agree with what being an American means.

This hurricane couldn’t have come at a more inopportune moment, a Republican Convention that pretty much erased the closing ceremonies of the Olympic Games from our consciousness. The president and his party have polarized Americans like never before, and many of us don’t know that the stranger on the street isn’t to blame. “I’m not voting Republican and nobody I know is voting for him, so it must be the man/woman I don’t know.”

Or it could just be that people can be real assholes in times of crisis.

Posted by Bastique at 11:46 PM | Comments (0)

September 1, 2004

Frances Blows Me Away

I should be nervous. I should be freaking out. Instead, I am getting excited.

I’ve never been afraid of hurricanes. Somehow, just knowing one is about to bear down on me gets me excited.

I remember 1992, and the townhouse that I shared with George when Andrew came through. I was thrilled listening to the strange sound of hundred-mile-an-hour battering the outside of our home. The electrical connection to the house would spark regularly, but it was only one more thing to add to the excitement of the event.

I drove down the Florida turnpike during Irene 1999, a category one that nobody expected to be where it was, barely managing to keep my car on the road during rush hour, with torrential rain and 60 mile-an-hour winds trying to send me into the cars around me. What did I do? I tried my best to drive over 50 mph. I had to get to our dealer’s house and pick up drugs for Michael and me before the excitement of the storm passed.

One would think that now that I am sober, I might take a different approach on the events, but for some reason, I am eager with anticipation. I feel compassion for the people who will inevitably perish at the hands of such a storm; and pray that I am not among their numbers, but beyond that, I have no fears.

Certainly, I know that my house could be damaged—but I have insurance, and I need a new roof anyway. Times have changed since Andrew. Homes have been built to better standards since then and the insurance industry will not be suffering a catastrophic loss like they did then.

Long-term power outages will be a serious problem. We’ll lose the fish tanks if the power is off more than 8 hours, but I can always set the critters free. The food situation will be difficult, but we haven’t had a lot of money lately to spend on groceries, so there’s not much likelihood of things spoiling.

The worst part would be not having an Internet connection for a long period of time. And I spent twenty-four years of my life not connected to the Internet. What’s a few days/weeks?

So I have a realistic perception of the possibilities that Frances poses—and I’m still excited about our impending doom. I just don’t understand why I should feel this way. I’m not an excitement seeker. I’ve never bungee jumped or skydived, rock-climbed or even skied down a slope. What is it about hurricanes that makes me get all excited and eager with anticipation? Was it something from one of my past lives? Hurricane Betsy hit the Gulf Coast less than a year before I was conceived; and I haven't asked, but I think that may have been somewhere in Mobile.

Forty-eight hours looks to be the current estimate for landfall. I’m praying that I’ll make it through safely. Beyond that, I’m looking forward to it.

Satellite photograph stolen completely without permission from The National Weather Service

Posted by Bastique at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)