Skip to content

Another Olympia queer history fragment, this time from the bottom of a box of files

07-Apr-09

[the last one having been discovered in my underwear drawer, at which time I was delighted persons still in Olympia shared my delight.]

This flier:

Queer Nation flier, Olympia, WA, ca. 1991

Queer Nation flier, Olympia, WA, ca. 1991

…was from the first meetings of Queer Nation in Olympia, hosted by my roommate Tod Streater (RIP). With him, I attended said meetings - along with the first local meetings of ACT-UP, which was hosted somewhere else. I have to confess, though, that the only clear memory I have from the Queer Nation meetings was the time Tod answered the door, took one look at the guy who’d just knocked, and said “Why hello, FBI! You don’t belong here!” And then he cackled in his most gloriously queeny voice and slammed the door. (As for whether the Olympia chapters of such groups were, indeed, under any sort of government surveillance, I have no idea - but Tod, as one of the loudest voices around in terms of AIDS and queer rights activism, had every reason to be suspicious.)

The fliers were placed on bulletin boards at the Evergreen campus and the like. The phone number was for the campus queer rights group. The address was our rented household, affectionately then known as The Dreary Biscuit (one roommate - Julia, I think? had once lived at another Olympia household called “The Sunny Muffin”).

Filed in Amusements, Queer, Sources | | Comments

Update!

26-Mar-09

I forget sometimes that there are some folks who still read this thing, who do not also follow me on Twitter, so for the benefit of these 3 or 4 people, an update: my husband has a job! (Or will, in 11 days. It’s temp-to-perm, but still promising.)

I’ll edit the paypal link in the right hand column accordingly later, but for now, this will have to suffice. (In any case, know that while we’ll still be struggling for awhile - anyone know any trustworthy bankruptcy lawyers in Richmond, Virginia? - there is palpable reason to have hope, here.)

Thanks to all for your incredibly kind support over this difficult period, material and otherwise.

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments

A gentle word for the haters of the Oatmeal Raisin Cookie

09-Mar-09

(Such haters being rather epitomized in this tweet by my pal tj, who actually knows plenty about matters of hunger, poverty, and benevolence, and so, I trust, will not take personally my using him as a playful example of Anti-Oatmeal-Raisin-Cookie zealotry.)
__

Note: Want to skip the personal story (conveyed though it may be through an oblique discussion concerning the relative virtues of the oatmeal raisin cookie), and get right to the point? Leave this blog and go here.

__

Hey, folks. Long time, no blog. Have had a few things going on, not least of which has been anxiously shuffling piles of debt from creditor to creditor in order to help keep a roof over our heads, as we continue to cope with my husband’s extended unemployment. We have two children, ages 14 and 9; we are not homeowners (have never owned real estate); our sole car has nearly 200,000 miles on it; we have no savings; and we are hanging on by thread. (But, yes, hanging on - by the grace of God and any number of gracious human beings.) Through FAMIS, a program of low-cost health insurance for children here in Virginia, we are grateful that our kids receive all necessary medical and dental care; however, my husband has no health insurance, and my own coverage is limited. (My medical and hospital visits are, thankfully, covered after a copay; but my prescription copays are high enough that I routinely go without medications I’m supposed to have on a daily basis, to save money for utilities and the like.)

Incidentally, when I refer to my husband’s “extended period of unemployment,” I mean that my husband has now been laid off since April 22 of 2008. For all 11 months since his job was eliminated, he has been diligently applying for new positions, but the competition is fierce. He hasn’t collected unemployment benefits for the entirety of this period (or they would have expired by now), but we are nearing the end of our eligibility, and frankly, we’re terrified. The employment sector - most broadly: consumer electronics and the cable industry - which constitutes the entirety of his work history, has taken major, repeated blows in our community, most recently with the closing of Circuit City, which had been headquartered here in Richmond, Virginia. (More on this - with bonus awkwardness! here.)

But back to the truly critical issue at hand: the esteem in which various factions hold the oatmeal cookie.

I just wanted to say that when I recently posted this to Twitter, it was no joke. Nor was this, as long as we’re discussing the economy. (Post continues below image.)

Oatmeal cookies, 10 weeks expired.

Oatmeal cookies, 10 weeks expired.

You will note in the above picture: there is but a single cookie remaining in this container. This is to say, we eated1 them. (And after this post, I will eat the last one, unless one of the kids calls dibs.)

Would we have preferred chocolate chip? Sure. Would we also have preferred that these cookies not have an expiration date in 2008? Obviously.

But we eated them anyway, and we were grateful.

__

So, what’s my point today? Only this: if you are able to donate to the Central Virginia Food Bank, please visit here. (We are fortunate to receive help from them via one of their partner agencies here.) As you may have heard, they have had to turn away volunteer assistance in recent months due to a lack of actual food donations - so to be clear, what they most need are donations of actual food and/or money.

If you are in the U.S. but outside Virginia, and/or you would like to locate a hunger-fighting organization in another state, please visit Secondharvest.org. Thanks.

___
1 We are also aware that ‘eated’ is not a real word, but we like it. As has been (haz been?) already established, we are a family already ruined by LOLcats.

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments

Because Googling lyrics is cheaper than therapy

21-Feb-09

Some time ago, I tweeted, “I really need to find a way to sort out which of the voices in my head I should be listening to, and which I should ignore.” Lest anyone imagine I was joking, I present the following, composed, yes, entirely on my blackberry this morning (with a few edits/link and file insertions) - or, shall I say, afternoon - after long, fitful dreams into which I could not, finally, collapse until well past dawn (the insomnia thing is killing me lately), because it was too important then, for me to wait for my computer to fire up. (Which is happening a lot lately. I swear I’m doing 80% of my writing entirely on my phone, and when I choose to share it, posting directly from there to my Medium Sized Blog - relative to the bloated largess of this one - on Tumblr.)

__

Image: Tears spilled listening to Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers & reading email, taken with the crap phone I had back in June.

Pertains to different album by The National than is referenced here, but it's still apt.

Pertains to a different album by The National than is referenced here, but image is still apt.

__

Some notes on waking, early one Saturday afternoon

Why go to your shrink, when you have the song that’s been stuck in your head for going on 72 hours, which, even though you love the voice of the man who sings it, is getting excessive, so finally you Google the lyrics and then freeze, with a certain horror of recognition, on reading this (on your blackberry, while you are still on the potty)?: If I were a spy in the world inside your head/ Would I be your wife in the better life you led?1

For context: In 1990, when I was first with my future husband (whom I’d first met when we were ages 3 and 4, respectively, and again in 1984, when I was 13), we had a romantic date at this Mongolian and Japanese restaurant in a strip mall, anchored by a K-Mart2.

When we got our fortune cookies, his said “Friends long absent will be returning to you.” (Through the seven years following - through each of our insane girlfriends, which in my case included decidedly non-awesome confrontations with the law - he kept it in his wallet, along with a picture of me he’d taken of me, in the yard of my now-estranged aunt.)

We laughed then, on reading his fortune, because that was how it had always been with us: rotating in and out of each others’ orbits.

Then I opened mine, which read, “You and your wife will be happy in your lives together.” We laughed at that too, because I was entirely out then as “bisexual, erring on the side of women.”

Coming back to him, seven years later, was, among other things, an admission that my fortune had been very, very wrong.

It took awhile for us to figure out that perhaps our fortunes hadn’t been so much “wrong” as “switched.”

Even so, I’ve had moments of ambivalence, in which my brain takes leave of my body, aimlessly wandering its “less traveled” roads. (Or, perhaps more accurately: “roads traveled extensively, but finally abandoned out of dire necessity.”)

And that’s when I need to get back into my own head, cutting through the static of last night’s drinks and dreams, to figure out what that persistent melody is trying to tell me, so I can pull myself back from the detour, and remember “this is the person I married, for all kinds of good reasons stretching far beyond the necessity of abandoning those other failed, landmine-infested roads, and I truly love him.”

__

1 The song is Bitters & Absolut, by The National (from their eponymous record). You can hear it and read the lyrics here here, and/or buy the mp3 from Amazon. No, there’s no affiliate link giving me any kickback from purchases (not that I couldn’t use kickbacks! See pathetic note in column at right, unless you’re reading via RSS!), because I’m too lazy to figure that shit out.

2 Said mall having been built over the literal rubble of one of my numerous, vaguely remembered childhood homes. Only clear memory from that address, on or near Williamsburg, Virginia’s Waller Mill road: when the stepfather I had for a brief period stepped on a nail in the yard, which may or may not have gone all the way through his foot, but there were weird and, considering his artistic rages and otherwise erratic behavior, nonsensical and scrambled allusions to Jesus that, still, I somehow associate with that moment. (And a further tangent: Since the restaurant still exists, we celebrated our 6th wedding anniversary there, in 2007.)

Filed in Images, Music, Narrative, Passages, Process, Queer, Sources | | Comments

Seven things about two brands of whiskey I’d just as soon never drink, and why

12-Jan-09

(But First, A Ridiculous Preamble)

Tonight I was reading one dude’s entertaining post in response to a “Seven Things No One Knows About You” meme. This led me to recall the fact that a number of perfectly lovely people have “tagged” me with such memes in the past. However, because I am a surly and uncooperative person (the handful of people who will read this already know this about me), I failed to respond. (So too with well-intentioned “blogging awards.”)

First, I don’t have too many secrets. (Particularly from those following me on Twitter. The poor wretches.) Second, if I wanted to make lists of stuff about my life that could be considered freaky (shall we talk about the funeral of my uncle, which had its own bouncer, or about being reported as a missing person in 1993 to Washington State police?), I could do that full time and never run out of material. Third, my best material is precisely the stuff I need to pull together for more sustained narratives - e.g., more short stories and fewer itemized blog posts. (And when I get better at finishing the goddamned stories I start - and, omigawd, start sending out work again - this is the last thing I published - can you say “pathetic”? - I need to move back in the direction of books.)

But whatever. Tonight I figured, “oh why the fuck not.1” So, following are seven things you don’t (or at least, probably don’t) know about me, which, rather than being individually substantive, are tangential but still (one hopes) relevant. I should be able to keep that short and sweet, right?

Seven things about two brands of whiskey I’d just as soon never drink, and why

  1. I am named after the granddaughter of the founder of Southern Comfort, whom my parents met at William and Mary: a woman named Vikki Fowler. (This has something to do with my blog’s title, although that’s only part of it.) I’m told I met her as a baby, and that she may have gone to Africa (on the inspiration of the 1966 film, Born Free, supposedly); in any event, a relative of hers, reached at the Fowler Museum of Cultural History some years ago, had no idea where Vikki ended up; in fact, she said if I ever learned what had become of Vikki, to please let her know. (I’d still really like to know.)
  2. Yet I can’t stand whiskey.
  3. Which is because whiskey was the beverage of choice for one of my most heinous ex-girlfriends, late in 1990 through early 1991.
  4. Who claimed to have a (juvenile) record for attempted murder, and whose behavior was otherwise sufficiently terrorizing that still, from time to time I run her name through her hometown newspaper’s search engines, because what’s more interesting to read than any given town’s police blotter?
  5. Which is how I know that among items she has been arrested for stealing (in addition to violent crime arrests), one of these was, indeed, a bottle of whiskey.
  6. However, that whiskey was not Southern Comfort. It was Black Velvet, which I understand is a) Canadian and b) Also the name of an extraordinarily cheesy late 80s tune recorded by one Alannah Myles.
  7. Who was just her type.

__
1 Not to worry, however. I will not further perpetuate the tagging-with-memes thing; I trust that if you feel like writing something in response to the “seven things” notion, that you will, and that if you don’t, you won’t, and I will love you just the same.

Filed in Amusements, Music, Narrative, Sources | | Comments

These are a few of their favorite things

04-Jan-09

My neighbors, last joked about here1, have what looks to be some strange former craft project set out with the trash. And not only is it set out with the trash, it also seems to contain trash. (I figured snapping these pictures was obnoxious enough as far as neighbor behavior goes; I didn’t actually investigate the contents of the container.)

(Click through to Flickr if handwritten captions are difficult to read at this resolution.)

(Click through to Flickr if handwritten captions are difficult to read at this resolution.)

__
1 Really, it was a joke. I do, in fact, carry a poop scoop with me when I walk my hound. (This is not to say I didn’t briefly consider leaving his poop there. Anyway, their guy lost, so NANNY NANNY BOO BOO.)

Filed in Amusements, Images | | Comments

Who would like to use me as an illustration for their ADD textbook?

03-Jan-09

Recently, I was invited to join a group called “52 Stories” on Flickr. After leaving an exceptionally long and undoubtedly annoying comment in the group’s discussion forum about how I wasn’t sure how this or that would work and how I’d most likely flake out after making a sincere initial effort, I finally posted something. (So here is my sincere effort.) Of course I’m doing it wrong (Moltz! You are my inspiration!) because I think you’re only supposed to post one photo per week to the group - hence “52 stories.”

Also: between these two photographs - click through to Flickr for the rather exhaustive and bizarre annotations (mouse over the images and they pop up) - there are at least 52 stories, so maybe this covers my group participation for the entire year.

Post script: After all the notations in the photos specifically pertaining to issues around psychiatric medications, it occurred to me that amid the papers, I found not one, but two, written prescriptions for ADD-specific drugs (Concerta, in the highest dosage available) - but since I’d managed to lose both prescriptions before getting them filled (while we still had good insurance), they really weren’t much help.

From my office, after an all-nighter of cleaning:

Click through to images hosted on Flickr for annotations.

Click through to images hosted on Flickr for annotations.

Filed in Images | | Comments

Something I may or may not do during 2009

01-Jan-09

If I should, during this calendar year, attempt to perform in any amateur standup comedy venue (some people1 think I’m funny - go figure) - even if only once2 - my first line will likely be “I don’t have a fart’s idea what I’m doing here,” because:

  1. I most certainly will not have any such idea, and
  2. In honor of the lately reclusive3, but always awesome @fedge, whose forthrightly rendered tweet found below was one of my favorites from 2008.

(It’s okay if you don’t get why it’s so funny. I’m trusting that the vast majority of persons I might encounter in a live venue won’t get my variety of “funny” either, because for me, “funny” has never been anything more - or anything less - than the flip side of “fucked in the head.”)

__
1 A recent example. For the non-Twitter and/or non Favrd-aware, the little avatars below my comment indicated persons registered with both services who found it either amusing or horrifying (amusifying? horrifusing?) enough to “applaud,” or click the little star doohickey that appears at the initial tweet when one is also logged into Twitter. (Also: What hotdogsladies said - to far more, entirely warranted “applause” - about Twitter.)

2 I’m okay with “once.” I went skydiving once. In 1989. I truly do not need to do it again.

3 Of course, the possibility exists that in his own physical environs, he is lately a wildly flitting social butterfly; all I mean is, he hasn’t posted much in a particular venue in some time. (More recent fedge: here.)

Filed in Amusements, Twitter | | Comments

Until I figure out an effective way to integrate Tumblr posts into this here blog

07-Dec-08

I’m mostly blogging here.

Tumblr is sort of a good middle path between the extreme fragmentation of Twitter and the often unnecessarily profuse and convoluted prose that has tended to appear here. (Other aspects of my “online presence” or whatever the hell you want to call it can be found here.)

Right now I don’t have time for dealing with a lot of design and format issues, so there you go.

I will continue to post here when I have longer material I find necessary to post (for example: a follow up to what happened to my NaNoWriMo attempt, which was an extremely eye-opening experience for which I am deeply grateful).

And on that note, I leave you with a ridiculous picture of my dog.

Shrek ears on the hound. My husbands doing.

Shrek ears on the hound. My husband's doing.

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments

Well in excess of any anticipated 38 spanks

26-Nov-08

So yeah, I had a birthday. As with most other anxiety-engendering processes, I live-tweeted the whole mess, with nervous observations ranging from the mundane to bemused/bitter to the semi-scandalous. Occasions of this nature can be a bit loaded for me, owing to frayed and/or volatile relationships with some members of my family, so all my other relationships: familial and otherwise, online and off, are all the more significant to me as I do my best to face down all the usual fears about mortality (or, more precisely, about fulfilling my life’s purposes - from my babies to my books - before I finally keel over).

But in dropping those first nervous messages into the Internet’s often weirdly benevolent tubes, I never expected to be all but pummeled by the collective wonderfulness of so many people in various forums, known to me “in real life” and otherwise, wishing me a happy birthday. It became enough that it was impossible to thank everyone individually, hence this humble blog post, which will still fail to convey the depth of my gratitude, but it’s what I’ve got.

the cake Jeff made me

the cake Jeff made me

Nor is this a complete accounting of all generosities received. My teenager made me a beautiful scarf; her sister made me a collage; their dad made me this cake (and, in general, simply made me happy; see above link at “semi-scandalous”). My aunt sang the birthday song over the phone from Idaho - which was hilarious - while my stepmom and dad apologized for not having anything in the mail yet, which was funny, since it turned out to be untrue; the mail was late on my actual birthday, but when it got here, there was a card and a poem from my dad that was nothing short of astonishing. (And not only because he’s finally moved on to wordprocessing from his ancient typewriter. The guy can write.)

And, at a party thrown together with so little forethought, I didn’t manage to invite anyone (while my husband invited a few, mostly via phone while transporting the kids to his folks for the night, while I frantically attempted to clean the house; indeed, when the first guests arrived, I was sweeping into our dustpan enough cat hair to comprise a whole cat) - those who did make it on such short notice brought food and cards and stories and laughter and even, from this lovely person, flowers. (Apologies to the numerous local people we ought to have invited; rest assured it was an exceedingly small, chaotic affair that almost didn’t even happen; we’ll try to do much better next time.)

with Randy before the show

Further, cards and gift certificates were received from lovely friends and family members who probably wouldn’t want to be mentioned on this blog; my BFF surprised me with some long-pined for schwag from my Amazon wish list; and my dear pal Randy, while in New Hampshire doing the last recordings for Wrath, went to this indy bookstore to get this awesome book for me, because he’d bought a copy for himself and, reading it later in the studio, knew I had to have one too. (And then of course put me on the guest list for Lamb of God’s last Richmond show before their national tour, and gave me a birthday shout-out from the stage. Dude. That is a friend.)

But through all that, I really was dumbstruck at the number of people I know online in various capacities (mostly through Twitter and/or Facebook) who sent the kindest and sometimes most hilarious messages, some of which are excerpted below for your enjoyment. If I skipped anyone, God help me, and know I didn’t mean to! Just: thank you. It meant a lot.

A partial registry of awesome birthday greetings received (persons also met “IRL” are in bold, though with plenty of you, I expect it’s just a matter of time until that happens):

abigvictory (“May your birthday be devoid of cute animals and soul-shredding wordplay”)
abonsig
aedison
ahtitan (“Happy Birthday! You are now three years younger than me. You bitch. You young, young bitch.”)
ajinnashville (“Happy B-Day tomorrow, V. And happy hunting tonite”)
Akelaa (“HIPPO BIRDIE TWO EWES!”)
andersonscooper
Ayse E. (“38’s going to be even more kick-ass.”)
badkitty_ (“I’ve been trying to think of a suitable present but can’t seem to get it off my chest.”)
Barb Adams
bcompton
Ben Jordan (“Ben *TackleHugs* Victoria screaming Haaaapyyyy fuuuuckkkkking Biiirrrrtttthddddday the whole time”)
Bill Griggs
BradHart (“my son’s baby sitter nearly lost her job when she said it was cool I was old enough to heard Nirvana before Kurt Cobain died”)
brettp
bsheepies (“Dear @vmarinelli and @girlmonkey, I’m sorry that your birthday is also a Monday. I’ll wish extra hard that it’s awesome.”)
califmom (“Had hoped to locate that thing you lost in the sand to give it to you for your birthday. Turns out you can’t regift virginity.”)
caprice_b (“We 60-somethings are laughing at you”)
CcSteff
ChrisClarkeCRN (“Gets off of @vmarinelli’s lawn”)
cjereneta (“Hippo birdie. Er… TJ Hooker… Mott the Hoople. Welcome to 38. [I'm 32 days away from 40. Not that I'm counting.])
clapifyoulikeme (“Happppppppppppppppppppppy birthday wooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!”)
Clayton Diggs
cleversimon
crispycracka
D.L. Hopkins (”Merry annual birthing celebration!”)
dani3boyz
detweiler (“Was trying to think of a joke, but I think I’ll skip it and wish you a sincere happy birthday.”)
Doug Burton
eatfoss (“Happy birthday! I think. I was never any good with time zones.”)
EffingBoring
emilybrianna
expat_erin (“Shame I wasn’t online yesterday, as that was your Australian birthday! Many happy returns!”)
FanEffingTastic
FarkerPeaceboy (“Hey, it’s birthday excitement! Woo-hoo! Have a great one… poo with a bow on it is being flung your way!” 1)
fncll (“ Look young lady, I turned 38 exactly a month ago. You have a lifetime of whippersnapperishness to go!”)
frageelay (“Happy Birthday!! You’re younger than me. Bitch.” Bwahaha.)
Gail M. Witte Anderson (“¡Feliz cumpleaños! Mwah! Mwah! Double-Mwah! [I'm limiting them because reading Mwah! 38 times could get annoying!]”)
girlmonkey (“WHOO HOOO! Happy birthday, mon ami! May the next year of your life be filled with good food, great friends, and hard laughter.”)
glucas (“38 is the new whatever”)
Gwen Wolverton-Diggs
Hello_Nurse
hoosiergirl (who promises to eat an excess of cake in my honor)
IanGraham
indefensible
jackholt
jagosaurus
Jessabelle207 (“Happy freakin’ Birthday, @vmarinelli!!!!! I hope you have a fabulous day, my dear!”)
Katrina Cauble
kayhan
kellydeal (“Happy soon to be awesomer at 38!”)
Kenya Watkins
Kimmy Certa (“Wishing you many more happy and healthy birthdays!!”)
kmwalsh
lindstifa
lonelysandwich
MikeTRose
Moeskido (“Happy 38th, young lady. Oh, I see you’re busy. Pardon me.”)
mogrify (“You must be excited about tomorrow. And not only do you get to meet me in person, but it’s your birthday and there’s a concert!”)
MsNovember
natthedem
peeppeep
phaedral (After I’d posted, “Working on blog post thanking every one of you who wished me a happy birthday. Thanks for making this extra-time consuming, sheesh! <3,” replied “Me too, I want to complicate your task too!”)
phyllisstein
Riskin (“enhappified is best new word of the month - many happy returns”)
Robguy
Robsama (“I hope @ThunderDolt gave you everything you wanted.”)
ronbailey
Samantha Emswiler
savoytruffle
schmutzie
SeoulBrother
sflovestory
shoesonwrong (“Congratulations on making it out of a vagina in 1970!”)
smartasshat (“And here I was trying to think of something clever. No luck. But I hope you get lucky! Happy Birthday!”)
spdracerx
Steve Whitaker
Steven Saus
tdavenport (“hope you get whatever you want [and didn't get last night])”
tehawesome (“Happy Birthday! Kickin’ 38 off by offering sex. I like it. Though you ARE the birthday girl. You could be demanding it…”)2
texburgher (“Happy Birthday. Remember 3+8=11. A PRIME NUMBER.”)
thedayhascome
Tinu (“Had to say Happy Birthday before I leave. Here’s to 27 more years. You *are* 27, right?”)
toldorknown (“Congrats @vmarinelli and @girlmonkey on your new bidets. What?”)
twoname (“Happy bday @vmarinelli, even tho she doesn’t follow me.” 3)
Vanessa Lane-Griffith
Virgotex (“hippie birthday”)
wakitu (“Happy last day of being 37! My last day being…a little older than 37…was yesterday. TraLa! May our next be our best year yet!”)
weselec (Who, addressing both me and @girlmonkey, wrote: “happy birthday, ladies. I’ll be in the back room when you’re ready to claim your seven minutes in heaven”)
wryredhead (“Happy birthday to yooooooou!”)
Xytrex (“Oh no, no, no…if you have a b-day coming tomorrow, you have to suffer through it with the rest of us.”)

__

1 Peaceboy and I have a running thing about being distant poo-flinging monkey cousins.

2 This was in reply to my post, at exactly 12:00 AM on 11/24, addressed to my husband: Hello, midnight! Hey @ThunderDolt, wanna do it with a newly minted 38 year old? (What, too soon?)

3 This was all the more hilarious since he doesn’t follow me on Twitter, either. (Nor do many other people listed above, which is just fine! Indeed, I pray for a world in which Twitter users refuse to get butt-hurt over whether or not everyone they follow is able to follow them in return. We have these things called human limitations which are not personal, you know?)

Filed in Uncategorized | | Comments