I’m not really sure why it took me so long to get into zines. Even now I’m not particularly ‘into’ them, to tell the truth — which is strange, considering that I love handmade objects, and I obviously love informal self-publishing. True zine-ophiles (ha! xenophiles!) might cringe at overly broad definitions of the form, but to a layperson like me, the essence of zines seems to be (a) self-manufacture and (b) text and images. Why wouldn’t a blog count? (Unless, of course, you’re a stickler about the handmade-object thing, which, really, I wouldn’t blame you, because as I said, I have a crush on handmade objects.)
Today’s zine captured my heart immediately, not only because it was made by one of my all-time favorite bloggers / writers, who goes by brownfemipower (or bfp for short), but also because it arrived at my home in the mail as a gift, all the way from Ypsilanti, Michigan, accompanied by a beautiful note in sky-blue ink.
Some days all I can really manage to do is make an omelet. Not that I'm fishing for compliments — I'm aware and confident that this was a fucking phenomenal omelet, filled with beet greens sautéed with garlic, lemon zest, great-tasting olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and just a touch of brown sugar, then rounded out with grape tomatoes and goat milk blue cheese, and finished with cilantro. Tremendous. One for me, one for Ryan. And our kitchen conversation during the omelet forging somehow led to me drawing the following charts about the Cycle of Productive Capital:
Both of these charts represent my still-dim comprehension of the concept, and if someone else has better charts or corrections to add, please share! Minimally, this illustration should probably be in the shape of a spiral to show how M'>M, and the extra (profit) gets re-invested? I dunno.
Some images from a 5-day strike at the Children’s Hospital just a few blocks from where Ryan, Mai and I live. The contracts that the bosses are trying to push would include so many “takeaways” (cuts to previously held benefits) that nurses who work in the hospital would no longer be able to afford to bring their own children there for treatment.
Ryan and I chatted up a lot of the workers for a while, and thanked them for setting an inspiring example by actually going out on strike and fighting back. Lots of positive energy, aided, I think by the freshness of the action (it was the first of the 5 days) and a steady stream of honks of encouragement from folks driving down Martin Luther King Jr Way.
Happy Good Friday to those who observe it! To celebrate, here are two good Internet things.
One: Tibetan youth resistance hip-hop music video.
With gorgeous lines like:
“Get used to me! I am the decadent breath of your uncontrollability.”
“We are the sharp wisdom that your lectures and speeches haven’t reached!”
“We are the smooth darkness that your flame and power hasn’t absorbed.”
“I am very light, in your imagination. I am very small, in your vegetable patch.”
“Get used to dreaming. Get used to unlawful damage and uprisings. Get used to this way of living.”
And Two: this powerful, deep, soulful project by my friend Mahfam: Watch Me Cultivate. Honest, raw, and mad intelligent, she offers daily reflections and chronicles her own growth and change, symbolized by the literal growth of her hair, which she buzzed off 78 days ago (and counting).
Enjoy! Have a great weekend, folks — see you Monday.
Last week, our Marxist Feminist study group assembled some offerings for a care package. A comrade of ours in LA (close friend to some, known through her work to others) has been going through a difficult time lately, and we wanted to send a small token of appreciation for her strength, amazing organizing work, and general fabulousness.
Handmade stencils, a card, a poem, ginger candy, green tea with a honey stick, a necklace pendant, and a hand-stamped group photo from our inter-state Marxist Feminist gathering a few months back. The finishing touch will be a batch of cookies I’ll bake up tomorrow.
One of my favorite magazines, make/shift, asked me to write a guest column for their next issue!
Honored, excited, terrified. Mmhmm. It’s a giddy mix.
A few months ago, a friend threw a wonderfully skillful and game-filled birthday party that involved personal Q&As to help us guests get to know each other (and ourselves) better. One of the questions was: “What is a fantasy of yours that you would like to make happen in 2011?” Dreams ranged from starlit sexual scenes to entrepreneurial victories (one person aspired to be “Businesswoman Of The Year”). After some thought, mine was: “Be paid to write a radical article that I believe in.”
At $0.02/word plus two copies, I think this may be my shot! :)
Thanks to everyone who’s encouraged my typety-type-typing. I appreciate it more than you know! And I feel blessed to contribute to a chorus of voices that, I hope, will help bring us closer to liberation.
Still sick as a dog, folks, so I’m letting Bessie take over for me today. Found this gem through the James Baldwin essay I mentioned Wednesday. Just amazing. I love the way she draws out her first “You can’t trust Noooooooo-body/ You might as well be alone.”
LONG OLD ROAD
Bessie Smith 1931
Bessie Smith rec June 11th 1931 New York
It's a long old road, but I'm gonna find the end,
It's a long old road, but I'm gonna find the end,
And when I get there, I'm gonna shake hands with a friend.
On the side of the road,I sat underneath a tree,
On the side of the road,I sat underneath a tree,
Nobody knows a thought that came over me.
Weepin' and cryin', tears fallin'on the ground,
Weepin' and cryin', tears fallin'on the ground,
When I got to the end, I was so worried down.
Picked up my bag, baby, and I tried again,
Picked up my bag, baby, and I tried again,
I got to make it, I've got to find the end!
You can't trust nobody, you might as well be alone,
You can't trust nobody, you might as well be alone,
Found my long lost friend, and I might as well stayed at home!
[Lyrics from lyricsplayground.com]
(Contributed by Peter Akers - May 2009)
Speaking of the blues, in a way: have you ever had a very hideous umbrella? Not as a backup in the closet but I mean like your main public umbrella. Currently I’m saddled with one. i can imagine equally ugly models, but none uglier. it’s large and striped like a circus tent, yellow and white. the yellow isn’t a pretty saffron or gold, but like this really awful chemical lemon-drop yellow. the fabric is also torn off the spokes in one or two places. anyway, the reason i bring this up is that thursday morning i had a revelation about my very hideous public umbrella. before now, the two qualities counting in its favor were (a) that it was free, and a gift from my dad: i think he gave it to me one day when i was unprotected; and (b) that it is big: i think it was originally a golf umbrella, possibly one of the freebies they give you at the end of a swanky tournament (but not too swanky, i guess, since this one doesn’t have any sort of country club logo printed on it).
Random ugly umbrella on flickr; mine not shown. Would you be able to lose this? Didn't think so.
yesterday, however, i realized that the ugliness itself is also an advantage. because, like so many of us, i’ve lost uncountable umbrellas in my lifetime. uncountable. small, shitty ones; big, precious ones. but this guy i’ve hung onto longer than usual. why? precisely because i’m embarrassed about its hideousness. wherever i go, when i set my huge, janky, chemical lemon-drop umbrella on the floor, i remain mildly self-conscious about it the whole time. so i never forget to bring it with me when i leave.
has the Hideous Umbrella CurseBlessing ever happened to you? what do you think of my theory?
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Finally, I leave you on an exciting note about fresh news to come on Monday: I’ll be reporting back from the first action of the new East Bay Solidarity Network that I helped to start up with four friends. We’re taking on a case of a comrade of ours who was unscrupulously fired from his live-in job, and summarily kicked out into homelessness. Next week, the fightback begins! I can’t share more details now because the action has to be a secret reveal, but I am suuuuper pumped about getting this production rolling. Already the organizing feels so solid and healthy with this quality team, based on the excellent, proven “recipe” for solidarity networks that comes out of the Seattle Solidarity Network, or SeaSol. It’s compassionate action with people power to back it up. I’m about to learn a TON through this project, and can’t wait to share it with y’all as it unfolds.
SeaSol logo, links to nifty web site
One note: since EBSol needs to get some more groundwork in place before our grand opening in mid-April, we’re not yet having open invitations to meetings or actions. But we will in a couple of weeks! So if you’re in the East Bay and want to help neighbors win stuggles against bosses and landlords, definitely hit me up and we’ll get you into our contact list!
love, solidarity, and no hugs for the moment due to unending nasal drippery,
Yesterday’s International Women’s Day reminded me of how, worldwide, imperialist accumulation, austerity programs, and sexual violence — all swirling together in the global financial crisis — continue to exploit and poison women. Especially, obviously, poor women of color. And yet, so many women and allies are fighting back! In ways big and small.
Here’s a friend of mine making stencils to celebrate the day. Hope you did something uplifting, too. :)
Kloncke 