Day: January 28, 2015

Every age holds its terrors

At 56, I do not wish to be fooled.  So when I see something on the internet about how if you type in

“Im 9 should I”

and then increment up by one year until you hit forty, you get this.

I thought, you know that is just bullshit.  I bet I get different results.  Well, not by much.  It’s a horrific indictment of our culture, our family structures, our septic and moth-eaten education, and the din of heteronormativity.

Herewith, the Allegra Sloman Google search poem entitled I’m x should I.

I’m 9 should I wear a bra

I’m 10 should I date

I’m 11 should I finger myself

I’m 12 should I finger my girlfriend

I’m 13 should I finger myself

I’m 14 should I shave

I’m 15 should I lift weights

I’m 16 should I finger myself (Ed. back to that again I see)

I’m 17 should I buy M Rated games

I’m 18 should I get a credit card

I’m 19 should I move out

I’m 20 should I get life insurance

I’m 21 should I move out

I’m 22 should I move out

I’m 23 should I move out

I’m 24 should I join the military

I’m 25 should I go to college

I’m 26 should I go back to school

I’m 27 should I join the military

I’m 28 should I have a baby

I’m 29 should I work out

I’m 30 should I work out

I’m 31 should I have a baby

I’m 32 should I have a baby

I’m 33 should I freeze my eggs

I’m 34 should I have a baby

I’m 35 should I have a baby

I’m 36 should I shave my pubes

I’m 37 should I have a baby

I’m 38 should I have a baby

I’m 39 should I have a baby

I’m 40 should I have a baby

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Northern Hemisphere gets weather

It’s precipitating like, very hard, man, in a variety of places, including, according to my correspondents, England.  Israel and Norway are also getting pounded.

This showed up in my feed this morning courtesy of Ian Michael Walden

To quote the Two Ronnies – “It’ll be choking ’em in Wokingham, killing ’em in Gillingham, and if you live in Lissingdown, take an umbrella”.

YOINK.

Paul asked for additional support for the Yes, It Continues unpacking yesterday.  We also noodled around for a while (quite a while in my case) on musical instruments and vacuumed and swept various surfaces in prep for the party on Sunday…. and Paul made pork stir fry with yellow curry sauce and quinoa and greek salad om nom nom, while I collected Keith from work. Ayesha is a TUB but so affectionate and sweet.

The downstairs neighbours are appropriately chastened that Buster wuz not a grrl.

It would be nice to have a job.  This week I started pulling all my lyrics into one place; I know I’ve written a lot of songs. I’ve gotten better at it as I get older.  The novel sits glaring at me.

Sandy’s pipes are frozen.  My travails, in many respects, are small.