Elided awesomeness: NaNoWriMo and Coilhouse.

I’ve cut back on social media and skipped blogging entirely for the past two weeks while I try to compose something extra-cerebral on the subject of books, as a precursor to reviewing some excellent YA novels. But I was reminded of two rather severe oversights in my 2011 review post, that I think I should correct right now.

It’s possible I forget to mention it because I’m still reeling from the experience, but over the span of the month of November I managed to write something roughly novel-length, made of words that mostly connect into coherent sentences. In a word, NaNoWriMo. I had never done something like that before, having never written anything longer than my 18-page senior thesis (double-spaced, of course), and I’m even more surprised to learn, from the three people so far who’ve read my manuscript, that it could have the dents banged out and the chassis polished up into an actual readable book. That’s probably the only solid goal I have set for 2012, apart from getting more art made and put on display somewhere public. In the wake of finishing my NaNoWriMo draft (two days early, even), I began writing another story, just to see if I could do it a second time; whether I’ll finish that one is unclear, but it’s good to have something to turn to when my visual art muse is eluding me.

November was also the month I had the pleasure of meeting Meredith Yayanos, musician and co-founder of Coilhouse Magazine & Blog, and procured my first copy of said magazine. I honestly haven’t read a magazine that resonates so deeply with me since Sassy went belly-up, and in this age of increasingly digital infotainment I hope Mer and Nadya can continue to produce it in its material form, which is sleek and more archival than most of the rags you’ll find at the local big-box chain. It took more than one sitting to finish perusing all the articles, which feature the likes of Blixa Bargeld, Rachel Brice. Jared Joslin and Terry Gilliam, some of whom I’ve long admired and some I’d only just begun to learn of. The magazine only comes out quarterly, but there’s a constant stream of content surging through the blog section of their website, which one can sup on freely.

I think that’s everything worth posting about, now. I should really fill more jotters in real-time with stuff I ought to mention online, even if I found said stuff online. The internet is amazing in its ability to be sprawling and vast in breadth, yet ephemeral in its passage. It may lighten our loads and keep us from turning into the Collyer brothers to have fewer books, magazines, portfolios, planners, etc and more smartphones and tablets, but I wonder if we won’t lose something if we fail to keep some touchstones specifically dedicated to what inspires us. A special book, a particular painting, an objet. Something to think about.

Taking a shine to the new year.

I hope 2012 is off to a decent start for everyone reading this: a good but modest start, since it’s only just begun and we shouldn’t get anyone’s hopes up just yet!

I should have blogged about this at least a week ago, but I just couldn’t get organized enough to do so. No excuse, really—how hard is it to blog? Half the people I read online are probably ELIZAs. But anyway, what I wanted to talk about is this holiday some friends of mine invented: Glitter Day. As I explained over on the Queer Etsy Team blog:

Perceiving a gap in LGBT-centric celebrations between the holidays of Christmas and Valentine’s Day, some intrepid queer folks have set out to establish Glitter Day, an event held on the second Saturday of every January, as a time for queer people and the people who love them to celebrate their lives and loves any way they see fit. The only rule is harm none, and have fun!

Sounds simple enough, right? Not to brag, but I had some say in determining the date it should be set. After New Year’s, obviously, but never clashing with Martin Luther King Jr Day. The second Saturday in January was the 8th, last year*; this year it’s the 14th, and all future dates will inevitably fall somewhere in between.

Some might ask if we, the human race at large, need another holiday. Holidays have the unfortunate tendency to swell into massive boils of societal expectations and ritualized consumerism, weighing down whole sections of our calendars as our bank accounts run dry and our cortisol levels shoot up. And all sorts of fights break out over the ownership of any particular holiday, which is just pointless and fruitless when said holiday consists of one culture’s religious and seasonal traditions stuffed inside another and wrapped about with yet another’s, like a big multi-cultural turducken stuffed into an already seething melting pot.

Well, let’s expand on the excerpt above and discuss further ground rules.

End of queer—er, year—post.

2011 was a mixed year for me personally, but overall quite good. I’ve referred to it once or twice as my Year of Queer, since I finally found the courage and the local community necessary to take my queer activism beyond the level of Like/Share/Retweet, beginning with the seminal Queer The Night march back in June that saw an impressive turn-out in response to some homophobic and transphobic assaults in the region. Other queer happenings I’m proud to have taken part in include openly gay Olympic athlete Blake Skjellerup’s anti-bullying tour across the nation of New Zealand and my first ever podcast interview on the weird and wonderful Feast of Fun (which, if you haven’t noticed by now, is the place I tend to archive all the queer happenings I hear about or take part in!).

Starting this blog at long last was also a good move, and I hope to write more in the coming year, a mix of information and entertainment as best as I can manage. Updating at least once a week seems doable; I may go for twice, but at the same time I’m trying to cut back on my internet use so I have more time to read, make art, exercise, and generally do things that are objectively healthy and good for me.

On the subject of healthy and good, I have reduced my weight to a number not seen on the scale since I graduated high school. What’s significant is that back in high school, I would have done so through some very unhealthy and sad-making methods, and this time I did so through much more laudable methods. What I did exactly, why I did it, whether I’d recommend others follow suit, etc? All subjects for future posts.

I get the impression from reading others’ end-of-year posts that I should end with some bold declaration of my plans for the coming year. Thing is, I’ve been keeping even stranger hours than normal lately—I spent the last two nights sorting through a pile of clothing that has been sitting around waiting for various repairs and alterations, running bits through the sewing machine and rewatching the last season of Doctor Who on DVD—and I don’t think I can come up with anything too thoughtful or inspiring at the moment, as the sky outside pales to powder-blue and the birds start warming up for the dawn chorus.

So I’ll close this one with some idle critter geekery. Which is the more awesome name for an animal that really exists? The Screaming Hairy Armadillo? Or The Dark Chanting Goshawk? I vote the latter, as I imagine it perches in wait on a gnarled acacia tree, and when likely prey flies or scuttles by, it bursts out with the refrain of “O Fortuna” and causes the unfortunate target to drop dead on the spot, to be eaten or tucked away for future degustation.

Sunset clouds, seen from the train from Kaikoura to Christchurch.

But that’s me. Happy New Year, all.

On tragedy, stress and frustration tolerance.

I was already composing this post in my head yesterday, while reflecting on the thousands of women marching through the streets of Egypt, in outrage against the stripping and beating of a young woman by soldiers meant to serve and protect. I felt further driven to expound after my San Francisco-based friends started reporting today on the five-alarm fire that engulfed three buildings just a stone’s throw from where they lived.

And now in the latest installment of infuriating/frustrating/saddening news, the city of Christchurch, which last February saw major disruptions, damage and loss of life in the form of a massive earthquake, is being shaken up once again, just in time for the holidays.

As I attempt to transcribe while listening to the news, some salient facts are repeated: liquefaction in the backyards and driveways. 26,000 residents estimated without power. The main drive through town is closed off as it’s been declared a red zone. Basically more of the same crap the residents of New Zealand’s Canterbury region have had to put up with all year, at least on the part of those who’ve stayed as the city begins the laborious process of rebuilding. One resident being interviewed is making the best of things, saying the most important thing is to be with loved ones as she wipes away tears, shin-deep in muddy water.

It makes me all the more chagrined to think of the petty things I was concerned about earlier this week, the minor successes that I was tearing down out of impatience and dissatisfaction, and the ungrateful behavior I showed towards those who meant well. Some people, when they’re in pissy moods, react with bitterness when the only response they get is to be reminded of those who have significantly harsher circumstances to deal with. One could see it as a fascinating feature of the human psyche, if one didn’t greatly wish to punch the surly mood-haver (regardless of whether it’s yourself or another person).

To those dealing with events on a scale worthy of making the news should go the deepest sympathies and wishes for the cessation of violence and instability.

Blushing!

Some of my pysanky specifically designed for breast cancer charity were featured on another blog this past week:

http://shootsforacure.com/2011/12/rock-the-wear-wednesday-seawall/

Various bits of my work show up in Treasuries on Etsy a lot, which is flattering, but it’s nice to be acknowledged in a space outside of Etsy once in a while. Not to downplay the business I have received through there, but it always seemed a bit like a walled garden. Joining a Team is a good start for getting more visibility, but even then you still have to network with other platforms. I’ve been on Etsy almost three years now and I’m still learning as I go!

Cyber-exhibitionism

Still tinkering around with WordPress behind the scenes. I thought I was supposed to have a list of links show up down yonder in the margin, showing all the other platforms and sites I visit and/or help maintain. Not seeing it, so for now, here’s the list:

My Etsy shop – Where I sell all the crazy artsy stuff I make as if it were pathology. I specialize in black velvet paintings, Ukrainian-style egg ornaments, art cards, paperweights, hollow books and avant-garde jewelry. Currently, if you enter the discount code REINDEERFART during checkout, you’ll get 10% off your order. Valid until Dec 13.

Feast of Fun – The website for iTunes’ most downloaded LGBT podcast. Co-hosts Fausto Fernos and Marc Felion are a lovely couple living in Chicago who provide news and entertainment for freaks, geeks, queers, and general fun-loving types. I used to blog in the Fresh section a lot more than I do at present, and Fausto will probably be mad at me for taking more time away from there to write here instead.

Twitter – I also used to update my Twitter feed a lot from my phone. Said phone has since been lost (and most likely stolen judging from account activity I viewed before suspending it online), and I’m currently adjusting to using a new one of an entirely different make and model. Not missing too much there, except for the occasional funny or intelligent retweet (what I use the “reflected brilliance” category to refer to). You might as well just follow folks like journalist/blogger Laurie Penny or musician/magazine publisher Meredith Yayanos directly.

Tumblr – Again, not missing too much original content there. If you already follow The Wellington Young Feminists Collective or ANIMALS TALKING IN ALL CAPS, good on you.

That’s enough updating for now. I have a Gothic horror novel and a painting waiting to be finished. Good night, and good day, ye pleasant few.

The Weekend of HELL, and its aftermath

So this thing happened here in New Zealand over the past week. A popular pizza chain, HELL, caught flack for having, among their Misfortune Cookie line, a “misfortune” that read “You will marry a transgender” (sic). A photo of it made its way around Facebook, starting around Friday evening, and several people (myself included) responded on HELL’s Facebook page (and other blogs, like the fantastic Coilhouse) that we didn’t think it was funny, it was in fact tantamount to bullying, which transgender people have to put up with on a regular basis already, and so could you please stop it? By Monday evening, HELL co-founder Stu McMullin released a statement:

“We like to be irreverent and cheeky, and most of the time we think we get it right…..On this occasion we experienced a sense of humour failure. We have caused offense, and contributed to the bigotry that hurts LGBT people all over the world every day, and we regret this.”

How genuine this statement is, who can really say? Businesses generally do what’s most economically expedient, and with (very… slowly…) growing support of LGBT rights around this country and the rest of the developed world, it’s not just the business of queer folks you might lose, it’s the business of their friends, family, and anyone else who thinks it’s not cool to dog-pile on them. I’m willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Most of the furor has subsided, but there are still a few people complaining on HELL’s Facebook Wall who, clearly operating under the impression that they’re some sort of freedom fighters in the culture wars, think that what will hereafter be referred to as “the Cookie Incident” was a miscarriage of justice and a travesty for free speech.* They insist that the rest of us need to “get a sense of humor”, “lighten up”, “don’t be so PC”, and the usual accusatory litany that I’m quite familiar with from reading trollish comments on feminist blogs. Some are actually saying that the misfortune in question actually was funny. “It was a joke!” they insist. Really?