Poverty Is Not an Accident

Poverty Is Not an Accident
Nelson Mandela

Friday, April 30, 2004

wal*mart underwriting on NPR

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We're talking about whether we can trust the media, in my newsgroup. I offered the following:

well, I may just be paranoid, but I could swear there are more stories about wally world, since they started underwriting NPR.

One was a story on their website, where customers can download music...to attract them to buy crap online. that story sounded, to me, like an infomercial.

another was on the superstore in Inglewood that the city voted down, so that wasn't a bit positive.

another was on outsourced manufactured products, particularly from China, sold at wally world. that story was neutral.

But there certainly haven't been any stories on how management councils underpaid workers without benefits on how to sign up for welfare!

No stories on how wally world stores kill local businesses, either.

Nor on the fact that wally has WAY too much power over the music, book and periodicals publication industries. They won't allow certain things and don't believe in freedom of speech, so they're influencing these media in scary ways.

They're the largest purchaser of many of these media, and the media are publishing with wally world in mind.

Scary stuff....

So, if NPR wants to PROVE they're not corporate whores, I'd suggest they do some HARD journalism on wal*mart, and not just rely on press releases FROM them, or on AP wire stories!

At the National Federation of Community Broadcasters' convention here in Albq. last week, Saturday's breakfast was provided by NPR. An NPR rep got up to speak to us. As she left the podium, I shouted, "NO WAL*MART UNDERWRITING!" and people laughed and applauded.

I'm pretty serious about stuff like this. And I do despise what wally world stands for, which is profit over people, every time!

I'm officially a PAID journalist!

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The check from Pacifica came! Already deposited most of it in the bank.

Got some one dollar bills, to pay back da grrls on da first floor, but they bugged out early today! LOL

Stopped at the Middle Eastern restaurant and got me a lamb shis kabob sandwich. Tore up some lamb pieces into a bowl of pintos, ate with the olives and pickles.


Rent should be covered; webtv bill, too. I even have enough left for a cheap carton of cigs. at the Pueblo Cultural Center smoke shop tomorrow!

And, next week, I start on my NEXT story! That one will be worth a hundred sixty!


Dang, them lamb sammiches is GOOOD!

Got me a glass of iced tea and I'm just chillin'.

I found peppermint tea bags and Lipton in the dumpster outside Project Share. Five cheap bags, one peppermint, two green tea and one ginsing. VERY tasty!

It was scary for a minute, but life is good right now!

And I ran into Steve at KUNM today; he'll make sure my pot o' pintos & I get to Food Not Bombs on Sunday.

High fiving myself...

people are outraged

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Boy, my Why They Hate Us blog is getting a work out! People are searching for info. on the abused Iraqi prisoners.

What scares me, though, is some of their searching. The two, most notable regard Brig. Gen. Janice Karpinski. They want to know if she's a Jew. And they want to know if she's a Lesbian.

Excuse me?

I suspect Islamist propoganda regarding Jews and the USA is causing this.

As to the Lesbian thing, I'll bet that's searching by right wingers, particularly since they were searching fox news.

If she's a Lesbian, I'll bet they're thinking, it would explain how corrupt she is and maybe even brand her as a "man hater."

If she's a Jew, the others are thinking, it's just more proof that the US administration is a puppet of Israeli domination, according to conspiracy theorists.

It doesn't matter whether she's a Jew or a Lesbian, fools. She's an incompetent. It has NOTHING to do with any subculture in which she might fit. It doesn't even have anything to do with her gender.

She's a failure. She allowed her subordinates to abuse, humiliate, terrorize, mock, shame and photograph Iraqi prisoners. For their own amusement, as though their charges were toys!

And you'll notice our great "commander in chief" hasn't said one word about it. And he's the most responsible of all.

So, stop trying to blame this on a subculture's decadence. The real issue is abuse of power.

The REAL issue is abuse, period!

my ol' body's so mad at me!

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All the working, all the running, all the walking.

I hurt so bad. And I'm dizzy weak.

The abdominal pain never stopped. It's miserable. I don't understand it.

So, I'm watching a Mexican chef on Martha Stewart, making beer battered squid. And boy, does it look GOOD! I'll have to try them puppies! Squid is cheap, too.

My house smells lovely, with my simmering beans. I'll fill up on them for supper.

I have so much I want to do, but I'd better rest.

Sunday's Food Not Bombs, and that's always a work out.

And I plan to kill myself, next week, working on two reports for KUNM.

It's cool and sunny out: quite beautiful.

But I'm laying around, indoors, being a potato.

I even have a sick head ache. I'm a mess.

I'll just eat what I need, drink lots of fluids and rest as much as I can.

Besides, if that check comes today, I need to go to the bank, and that'll wear me out, even on the bus.

This is just too much pain. And I have a fever, too. yuck

Giant Pot o' Pintos

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I have a gallon pickle jar, full of pintos. Now that I know I can access such foods easily through Food Not Bombs, I decided to cook the whole jar.

I added: red onions, a whole garlic, rock salt, habeneros, anise seed, seasoning salt, oregano and (I know this seems weird, but Middle Eastern foods have many of the same spices as Latin foods) a box of dried falafel mix. Oh! And two cans of crushed tomatoes.

I know Food Not Bombs is supposed to be vegetarian, but I also threw in the skin and fat from my ham.

I'm planning to make refries. We always have corn tortillas, so they can make "tacos" with it.

I expect to have about two gallons, total. Sure smells good!

I brought everything to a boil, then reduced it to a simmer. I'll just let them cook all day, stirring and adding water, occasionally.

Thursday, April 29, 2004

da grrlz on da 1st floor

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Well, I checked my bank balance this morning; I was almost two dollars in the hole! How, I don't know. I called the bank; if I could deposit the $ today, they wouldn't slap on a thirty five dollar fine!

So, without a shower, I threw on some clothes and walked to KUNM, in the wind, with my hair turning to a mess.

I asked a few people if I could borrow some $, but payday is tomorrow, and everybody's tapped.

So, I wrote and recorded my commentary on the inaccessible hotel where the broadcasters' convention was held.

I went down stairs for one of my last, three cigarettes. I ran into the grrlz on the 1st floor.

I'm not sure what they do, but it has something to do with training teachers in elementary education.

We smoke together, out on the patio.

So, I told them about my improvized feminine hygeine (see the Viri Diana blog for details). I told them I hadn't eaten all day and was facing a long walk back. I told them I'm out of cigarettes. I told them my eighty dollar check will probably arrive today, after the bank closes.

Well, I ended up with seven dollars, several pantiliners, a couple of pads, granola bars, soy bean granola, protein bars and a few cigarettes! LOL

They ran all over their offices and kept tossing stuff into my tote bag!

I brought the rest of the food up to the news room. Leslie has an "emergency" food drawer, any of us can eat from. I fed her some, because she hadn't eaten all day, either. We showed the stash to Tom, who's diabetic and needs emergency sugar from time to time.

It occurs to me: we should keep that drawer better stashed. I've got some mixed nuts someone gave me. I've got that case of chicken soups, ready to eat, I could bring in. We get stuff at Food Not Bombs, too, from time to time: cookies, crackers, snacks, individual servings of weird stuff.

And I'm going to try to find the newsroom its own coffee pot, so we don't have to rely on the pot in the main room; everybody who passes it loads up and never refills it.

We need decent emergency food. There are several reporters who show up half starved, too.

So, I'll dig around and find some microwaveable crap.

I'm going to walk to the station every week next week, to work on 2 stories: homeless shelter & no child left behind. I can sell them to Free Speech Radio, too.

Should get me out of debt with that %$#@&!!! bank, so I can move my account to a RESPONSIBLE, not PREDATORY, financial institution. Evil trolls!

I'm TIRED of other people's incompetence putting me on the cusp of friggin' HOMELESSNESS!

I'm tired of freaking out and panicing over money, because my bank is out to get any money they CAN out of their most vulnerable customers!

I can't WAIT to close that account and tell them where to cram it!


so there!

I'm frying chicken legs now. I made alfredo noodles recently, and that'll be a great lunch, with th asperagus I bought recently.

I'm tired of being treated like a second class citizen, based on my income.

I can't do MUCH about my income...yet. But I can scrounge enough to give me a tiny bit of a buffer zone, to protect my safety.

I've seen another world, where people are respectful and considerate. This callous, hateful predation I've endured has got to STOP!

There's something I can do about it, and I'm going to do what I can.

And I'm going to work on my appearance, too.

I'm always going to be an ugly, old woman. But I know how to trim my own hair. I also have make up. And I'm even going to get me some outrageous color of hair dye! Just for fun. I never color my hair the same way twice; Sometimes, I'm blonde, sometimes red, sometimes brunette, etc. Cuz hair dye should be FUN! It's costume. There's no reason to pretend I'm not dying my damn hair! And the Dollar Store has some good brands, for less than five bucks a month.

I've already started cleaning tarnish off my silver jewelry. Some ear rings and necklaces are in order.

I can't do much about shoes. My feet hurt too much to get creative.

But, dammit, I like being colorful and twinkly. So, why not???

I will MAKE them treat me like a lady, if I have to bitch slap the whole BUNCH of them!

From now on, if it's windy out, I'm MOUSSING my damn HAIR!

I know, this is all middle class, superficial, consumer garbage.

But I have to live in the REAL world, where people are JUDGED by these ridiculous and insulting standards!

I'm an artist. If ANYBODY can do theater, it's me. SO I'm committing myself to friggin' CAMOFLAUGE, so I can get some damn RESPECT!

I can outfox these petty trolls, and I WILL!

And I can' WAIT 'til I've paid off my direct deposit advance to Wells Fargo so I can get the hell OUT of that reactionary money pit for good!


...yeah, but tell us how you REALLY feel, Rogi! LOL

As soon as my food stamps come, I'm going to cook something FABULOUS for the grrlz on the 1st floor, and bring the leftovers up to the station for everybody else, too!

They saved my butt today!

Wednesday, April 28, 2004

the pain won't stop

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I sort of rested today, honest. I did wash dishes, though. I ran out of forks today. So it was time to wash dishes. I was even running out of frying pans, and I have a dozen! LOL

I wish my belly didn't hurt so bad. Especially the missing fallopian tube area. It's pretty serious pain by now, which is really unusual for me on the 3rd day of a menses.

It feels about as bad as.... a bad headache, combined with a deep cut on a finger knuckle. but in my belly, of course.

And it won't go away.

My check hasn't come yet, so I haven't gone to the bank yet, either. Or to the station.

Our mail gets here late, too; it might not be 'til Friday before I can go to the bank. dang...

Well, forced vacation...guess I needed it, huh?

go read "Why They Hate Us"

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If you didn't watch 60 Minutes II tonight, you should have.

I'm completely disgusted.

just go read my other blog.

voices of a great tradition

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I'm watching The West Wing.

During a commercial, I surfed over to PBS. It's some "documentary" on Time Life.

I immeditately recognized the voice of Scott Simon, Saturday morning's Weekend Edition anchor on NPR. He's voicing the piece.

Suddenly, I realized where I am. I am at the threshold of a long and dignified tradition: journalism.

Screw this infotainment garbage of the networks and cable.

I'm talking Helen Thomas. I'm taking Nina Totenberg, Cokie Roberts, Linda Worthheimer, Margo Adler, Amy Goodman...and the female journalists whose names I can't remember. The ones who bucked tradition and patronization and made a difference.

I'm talking about my heros: women who wrote their truth. And it goes beyond journalism. It's Emily Dickenson, George Sand, Virginia Woolfe, Audre Lorde, Adrienne Rich, Emma Goldman.....

And the illiterates, like Harriet Tubman, who spoke, when they couldn't write.

I am home. I'm where I need to be.

I'm doing what's right, what's necessary, what's useful.

I feel my sisters, my mothers, my grandmothers behind me. They are not silent, even in death.

And that empty spot between my shoulders, the one I can't reach, feels comforted.

Unknown News

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ooooops! UK goes in the Daily Rogi! nah, I ain't tired...

I knocked off early today

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Well, half of the 25' square bed is weeded. ugh

I sewed some seed today: garlic, flowers, melons, fennel.

I have three huge piles of weeds drying in the yard. I'll compost them, once they reduce in size.

I'm watching Martha Stewart. I really like her. She just explained different types of chopsticks. Now, she's explaining differnt types of rice, their histories and uses. I think stuff like that is fascinating...now, they're showing how rice is grown.

Where else can a poor woman, with only a set of rabbit ears on her tv, learn stuff like this in the middle of the day?

I really like Martha. Damn shame...

I hung a shade tarp in front of my bedroom window, from the horse fence lattice I put up for gourd and morning glory vines to climb. The "tarp" is actually 2 shower curtains: a pea green, plastic one I found in the alley and, under that, an ivory, fabric one with a French looking design on the top and bottom. I put the plastic on the outside, to protect the inner one from sun burn. The plastic will direct water run off better, too. The light in my bedroom is muted, but cheerful and it's much cooler in here than it normally would be at this hour. This will save a fortune on air conditioning. My lawn furniture is all covered by it now. The morning sun can't fry my bedroom this summer.

I still have a lot to do out there, building beds, weeding, planting....

But I'm off to a very good start. I think I'll be done next week.

I've put in about fourteen hours, already. The cats and dog love helping me. Miss Thing helps pull weeds. I pull with one hand and put the weeds in the other, until I have a substantial bundle to throw out. The weeds are talll and boingy and she loves to attack the bundles and run away. It's not really helpful, of course, but it makes the task more entertaining, at least...

My poor belly really hurts from thsi menses. It's pretty bad.

So, rather than work myself sick, I stopped around ten this morning.

I have to remind myself: I can do a little every day. I don't have to do it all at once.

I need to terrace the big garden patch again, so water won't spill into the alley. It'll happen.

Actually, I'm surprised how quickly I'm getting stuff done, anyway.

I'm looking forward to fresh, home grown produce again.

And I love the intimacy of working at ground level in the garden. I can easily judge the health of the soil, potential problems, etc.

It's meditative. It's soothing.

And, apparantly, it's very unusual, any more, for a person to grow her own foods, without chemicals.

On "Bioneers" today, a man was discussing how we no longer have "relationship" with our foods. We don't know where they come from, how they lived, how they died, etc.

I'd have to agree with him that this "one night stand" relationship with our foods is dangerous and unhealthy.

So, my little revolution of nonGMO seeds may not mean much in the larger scheme of things, but it makes a difference to me. And the cats.

to the man with too many balls in the air

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I'd say your family comes first. If the poly "movement" can't live without you, it isn't a "movement," at all; it's a personality cult. Let them do their own thinkng.

I hope your family can, at least, help financially. Don't let them eat all your food and not contribute.

Sorry to hear about your daughter and the epilepsy. Please remember, too, that there are huge, neural growth spurts at this time. Plus, many teenage girls are ferociously angry at this stage of life.

Don't feel guilty about others' expectations if they're not helping you out around the house, helping you with the business, and helping with your daughter.

Doesn't sound, to ME, like you're "giving up;" sounds MORE like you're in danger of BURNING OUT, if you don't get some cooperation and support soon!

Also, many people who settled in Albuquerque did so because the horse...or the car....died here. They're still pioneers, or settlers. Sometimes, life just makes you "settle." Like Psalms says, "he MAKETH me lie down!" Didn't say "he" ASKED! lol

He replied, to let me know his family does contribute.

I keep forgetting: it's nine am there. Although I'm still surprised you wrote back so quickly! LOL

OK, I get it.

Still, it makes sense, to me, for you to take care of yourself.

I've left UUA all together: online and brick and mortar. I just can't educate everybody on issues of economic disadvantage. They're priviledged; they can buy books. Funny, for people who quote Woody Guthrie and Maya Angelou, they sure don't get it.

When I think back on the incredible amounts of work I did for churches, both in Louisville and here, and how little tangible support I received when I REALLY needed it, I just shake my head and sigh.

I'm afraid people just EXPECT the services of a church to be in place for them, like some vending machine. Take what you need; don't say "thanks;" be angry if it doesn't work immediately; walk away after you get what you want; kick it if you don't.

People in churches watched me go through homelessness, the death of my daughter, severe illness, etc. and didn't even send a casserole or a greeting card. That doesn't feel like community, to me.

And I got tired of having to "prove" myself. I had hoped for some networking, so I could access resources I needed. These were modest: employment, affordable housing, legal advice, etc. No matter how much I contributed, I was never seen as worth the "risk" of such networking. I was kept at arms' distance, outside the "loop."

At the radio station, that doesn't happen. Everybody there is working their butts off, for little or no pay, trying to perform a community service, have some fun, do something creative and subversive, in these "homeland security" times.

I'm not considered "peculiar" or "threatening." I'm one of them. The medium encourages individual creativity, as well as collective cooperation and support. So does the station's mission statement. It's assumed individual contributors will come from diverse backgrounds, have disparate agendas and skill levels and will find ways to interface those within the context of the medium.

I'm a good writer. They appreciate that. I've got a good ear; I'm a good editor; I'm a good interviewer and reporter; I'm a hard worker and a fast learner. I get lots of positive feed back. And I'm even starting to get paid.

btw: Free Speech Radio Network is the satellite version of Pacifica Radio http://fsrn.org

I've respected Pacifica all my life, since I first ran away from home as a teenager. It means a lot to me to be writing for them.

A Public Broadcasters' Convention met here in ALbq. last week. A guy from our station couldn't go, so I got to use his pass. I met people who can help me get documentaries aired nationally! Including a woman from NPR! I had a BALL!

So, it looks like I've found my "church," where my "sermons" and "education classes" are appreciated and encouraged.

I'm much better, recorded, than in real life, anyway. I don't even want to do live radio; I want to produce reports, documentaries, etc.

And there are nationally syndicated programs to which I can contribute, for pay.

I'm just getting started. I have no reliable transportation. But I'm learning the equipment quickly and I work like a dog.

It shouldn't take me too long to provide myself with a more comfortable life, while doing useful work, if I just keep at it.

I'm taking this week "off," so I can garden, do laundry, clean the house, etc.

But I'm anxious to get started again, next week! I have lots of story ideas: not impossible scenarios; practical, doable pieces for which I don't need to kill myself and can still produce useful stuff.

My next, big deal is a report on a women's homeless shelter in town. I plan evening reports for KUNM news, as well as a 1/2 hour documentary for Women's Focus locally. Then, I'll see about distributing it nationally!

It's my first, big project.

Tuesday, April 27, 2004

I'm a potato

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Yawh. I managed to take a normal nap! I was awake by five pm.

Porky and I walked to the convenience store, but I'm in trouble. My balance is way off and I'm very weak.

I knew my arms were tired when I woke with cramps, but my legs and back are suffering, too.

I'm also pretty dizzy.

Came home to chicken, noodles in alfredo sauce, pastry with butter and raspberry jam (these last were liberated from the Hyatt, during the public broadcasters' conference).

Had a tall, cold glass of soda pop. I'm reviving slightly.

I really don't eat enough.

It's a pleasant evening out. A cool breeze is refreshing me through the bedroom window.

I'm watching a show about fiver optics. It's really fascinating! And pretty! The diameter of a human hair! Glass! And it's flexible!


Stuff like that excites the hell out of me.

Did you know Bell thought up light wave communications a hundred years ago?? just didn't have fiber optic cable...

people can be SO wonderful, when we're not being snot heads...

Well, I see several of you have been checking in several times today, so, here I am.

Finally: a boring, ordinary day. No crisis, no angst, no rush, no hustle, no good news, no bad news.

Just a tired body, piles of drying weeds and a lingering smell of chicken from the kitchen....

I sure could use a massage...sigh.

I can't make it

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I'm to tired. I turned up the chicken with a lid on it, then turned it off. I can finish it later.

I went out to the empty lot, covered my barbeque and put it up under the window, so people can't steal it easily. I was burning twigs and branches in it this morning.

Right now, Mugwart, my old man cat, is sitting by me on the bed, staring at me, waiting for me to lie down properly so he can stomp on my rib cage. He's grinning, but I know he really wants to nap.

So, run the world without me for awhile. zzzzzzzzzzzzzz


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Well, I'm getting there. Four more loads of laundry today and a few more bushels of weeds out.

That "new" patch I'm planning to plant this year has very rich soil! It's under an elm tree and the compost is very thick.

I have a big tub of yogurt balanced between my breasts as I type. I keep forgetting to EAT!

So, I have some chicken legs frying and ham thawing. I feel like doing something "gooey" with rice....

I'm very sleepy, but I'm TRYING to make it through my "soaps," just for the helluvit. I like the escapism. They're good for a laugh.

Besides, some really famous and decent actresses worked on General Hospital. They've got a good casting director, apparantly.

DId you know June Lockhart performed with Bette Davis?? I heard that on NPR this morning. She plays a grandma on G. H.

..and a nun from The Sound Of Music plays Lila Quartermane. Then, there's Demi Moore and that kid on Joan of Arcadia.

I'm babbling. Sorry. I'm sleepy..duh.

I'm sorta kinda taking this week off from KUNM, although I'll probably record a commentary this week.

So far, I've put in about ten hours on the garden in the past, two days. HARD work.

I've decided to wait for my Pacifica check, before going to the bank. Why not?

I can't sleep 'til the chicken's fried, or I'll burn it.


Monday, April 26, 2004


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YAWN! Well, about forty feet of flower beds are weeded and cleaned out. Even got the friggin elm seedlings out. All ready to plant.

I still have a LOT more work to do. I have a whole, other garden, about twenty five feet square. And I'm building a new one this year, about ten by ten.


PILES of weeds, sticks and saplings out there!

I'm going to the radio station tomorrow, I think. Bank too, now that I have bus fare.

Or should I just wait 'til my PACIFICA CHECK comes? LOL...actually, I could....hmmm...

That way, I could keep getting dirty and grubby, without worrying about what other people would think...hmmm.

I'm sure getting a lot done, but man, are my arms and legs sore from pulling weeds and trees! moan.

Well, it's eleven thirty; I think I'll croak for da nite...

yall on yer own..L8trz....zzzzzzz

My first piece for PACIFICA!

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Well I can't hear it, because I'm on a WebTV, but maybe YOU can! Anyway, here's the archives page, with my piece on it.


Gurrl hit da big time now, fo sho!


war on the poor

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Lucy Komisar, Pacific News Service
As states and municipalities reel from service cutbacks
caused by lower tax earnings, big corporations use
elaborate "shell" games to pay virtually no taxes on huge

Tom Matzzie, TomPaine.com
Every day in America, 85,444 workers lose their jobs. 14.7
million people are jobless, underemployed or have given up
looking for work. What's missing from this accountant-like
recitation? People.

oh GAWD!

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I killed myself today! I did FIVE loads of laundry and pulled about 3 bushels of weeds and baby elm trees!

THEN, I walked to the convenience store for cigarettes and Evil Soda Pop (hey, I deserved a good burp!). I got 2 dollars for the bus, too.

On the way back, stopped at that FABULOUS Middle Eastern place. I got a lamb shish kabob sandwich.

Now, when these people say LAMB sandwich, they mean LAMB with a modest pita wrapped around it, some sauce, and tomatoes and onions, with a side carton of pickled: beets, pickles and olives!

Five bucks. That's all.

It's gotta be close to half a pound of lamb. I'm not kidding. Barbequed. Tender. Juicy. Smokey.

I'm in HEAVEN! And swatting cats with all I've got.

OOOO this is SOOO much better than a friggin quarter pounder!

What a TREAT!

And, now that I'm EARNING MONEY AS A JOURNALIST, I can eat like this once or twice a month, without feeling guilty.


It's two thirty; I'm done for the day.

Got most of the garden really soaked, so I can pull more weeds tomorrow and start planting.

And I wasn't kidding about laundry; I ALMOST didn't have any nice clothes LEFT!

PEEEiiiuuuuuww! Do I need a SHOWER!

After General Hospital and lamb...


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...pronounced, "WELLguh," means "strike," in Spanish. My body's on strike.

I woke to a pain in my upper back that makes it hurt to breathe.

I think it's from the rice pudding. At first, I tried baking it, in a water bath, in the oven. But it was too thick and wasn't finishing soon enough. So, I picked it up and poured it into a pan on the stove, set in a water bath.

The oven at Project Share is old and scary. They're raising funds for a new one. At one point, the oven rack slipped out of one track, tilted and sloshed some water in my poor pudding. Everything was hot, heavy and hard to handle.

I think I hurt myself. I mean, I KNOW I hurt myself, but I think it was worse than I thought.

Gave me an idea, though, for baking huge volumes in the oven. From now on, I'm setting a coffee can of hot water in the middle of the pan, before I pour in the food. It'll act like a "bundt" pan: giving me a "hollow" center. The water will stay very hot and help cook the food surrounding it, so I don't have to worry about stuff being raw in the middle.

But I did hurt myself.

In addition, my poor, premenstrual body is dealing with another menses and isn't a bit happy about it. I'm sure glad it waited 'til now, though; it would have been very inconvenient, last week! Gawd!

For the person who stumbled upon my web site yesterday, looking for a definition of "for cripes sakes," let me explain. The actual expression is, "for Christ's sake." However, as much as I distrust religion, I try not to be disrespectful of others' names for what they see as divinity. That's why I say, "gawd," too. See, it's not mysterious. It's like, "gees," or "jees," for "Jesus." Or even "dayum," instead of "damn."

I'm offensive enough; I don't need to gratuitously disrespect people. I'd rather do it with purpose, I guess.

You'll notice I don't use many conventional obscenities or epithets, either. I figure: if you can't say it without them, you've really got nothing useful to say.

Hey! Spencer's the host of Performance New Mexico this morning! Congrats, Spence! Marty Ronish just moved to Washington, D.C. to work for NPR, and Spence moved up to her chair.

Congrats, Marty! As I told you in the hall last week: Couldn't have happened to a more deserving person!

But, as a native New Mexican, the crowding and the humidity of D.C. is going to be very strange.

Won't stop Marty; she always showed up here, ready for business.

I wish her all the best.

Laundry and gardening, gardening and laundry.

I got up REALLY late this morning: nine thirty! I've got to get started soon. I've only really got 3 days for this, as Raul, my coke/beer addict neighbor is off Thurs-Sun., and I don't want to have to run into his savage butt out front. The man is deranged! And he attracts thugs.

Since my ATM card isn't working, I have no access to even a dollar for the bus. It's a loooong walk to the nearest bank branch. So, I'm waiting 'til Thursday, as I'm going to KUNM then to record a commentary. The bank's on the way. Besides, maybe by then, I'll have a check from Pacifica! Whoo hoo!

I have to conserve my strength for laundry, gardening and house cleaning. So, I'll just be stranded for a bit. I can still buy stuff with the credit card part of my card, but I can't get any cash, dang it! Maybe from the local convenience store; maybe they'd let me write a check for over the amount of purchase. But that's still a six-block walk, so I'm in no hurry.

Besides, I just want to stay HOME! I miss my home. And it's air conditioned now, if I need it.

I have lots of food, toilet paper and everything else I need, so I'll just hunker here as long as I can and enjoy my pets, my garden and my HOME!

Right now, though, I need to EAT!

c u L8trz.

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Ram Dass

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Independent Lens: "Ram Dass: Fierce Grace"

Self delusion, submission to authority. He's still and always was a Good Boy, a Harvard Professor, a rich man's boy.

"He made me feel...." "He told me...." "He showed me...." "he knew me..." "He changed me..." self delusion. He, He, He...

The reason your guru felt, to you, like your "greater you" is because it WAS your greater you, silly! You never saw the man you adored; you used him as a mirror to admire yourself! THAT's why you didn't cry, as others did, when he died! THAT's why you feel he never left!

You can't lose what you never had. And you never had him. You masturbated to your reflection in his eyes. You still "feel him" because you always and only felt yourself.

WEEKS of dropping acid, prancing in the grass by sunlight and torchlight? Years of dancing to your own twinkling?

You're a Good Boy; everybody likes you. "You make them feel..." etc.

Talking about your car, surrounded by your stuff, obedient to your acupuncturist, whom I watched overextend your atrophied leg, as you said, "he should know; he's the doctor." Good Boy!

All my life, people have called me a failure because I can't, or won't, submit to authority.

Why should I submit to a Good Boy? Why should I submit to a drug, designed by the military as a weapon? Why should I submit to an incompetent malpracticer? Why should I submit to the Book of the Month Club? Why should I submit to others, just as damaged, traumatized, neurotic, bogus and blind as I am, just because THEY say they're authorities???


Because you're a Good Boy.

Now, while you stroke yourself with your stroke, you use even that as a prop in your self delusion, your magic act for your lemming devotees. Good Boy!

"I've been stroked," you say.

You stroked yourself, buddy.

Decades of self indulgence, self delusion, self egrandizement, self stroking.

What caused the blockage in your brain? What caused a bleeder? What caused the stroke, professor?

You're a Harvard psychologist; you were on the tenure track; you were a Good Boy. You know the physiological causes of strokes.

Why are you pretending you don't? Is it because you KNOW you stroked yourself? Even as you babble with your ghost writer/editor that your GURU stroked you?! You're blaming him?

Why not? You've placed responsibility for your life outside your life, all your life.

Maharaji was a fakir. He was a good magician. He was a good teacher. If you'd listened.

Maybe you did listen; maybe that's why your father's golf course was full of prancing orphans in paisley.

Hey, a guy's gotta eat.

Good Boy!

Maharaji told you something. I don't think you heard him. He told you to serve people and feed people.

I haven't heard you mention doing either of those these past, forty years.

You'll die as you've lived: placing responsibility for your life outside yourself, laying it on some Authority.

Hell, even as you stroked, you weren't conscious that you were dying! You just let yourself be distracted, even at that!

Trust you? I wouldn't even want to sit next to you on a bus bench!

You've learned nothing. You know nothing. You have nothing. You do nothing. You don't serve. You don't feed.

You're a patchoulli-scented Hallmark greeting card.

You stroke yourself.


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I'm done! A young couple showed up after ten, by which time I was pretty paranoid nobody was coming.

We had some coctail weinie corn dogs, some dollar-sized pancakes with syrup. We had frozen pizzas, and I added refries, tomato sauce, salsa and cheddar cheese to those. We made oven roasted potatoes with seasoning. I made a big pot of rice pudding with apples.

Steve came by, loaded up some food and me, and drove me there. He said, "get the pudding." I said, "Is that all?" He said, "yes." and he drove away.

I walked up with the pudding and the young couple said, "where are the potatoes?" Suddenly, I realized we didn't have to pizzas, either! Steve drove home with half the food in his trunk!

The couple left some....um...rude messages on Steve's answering machine from their cell phone.

I apologized and apologized to the homeless people.

Suddenly, after almost everything ran out, here comes Steve, with the rest of the food!


There aren't many dishes, so I begged the couple to bring me home. They agreed they'd do them.

So, I'm home, in bed.


'course, it's been so long since I've relaxed, I don't remember how. All I can think about is all the stuff I still have to do.

But I'm going to MAKE myself rest!

The cats and dog are thrilled that I'm actually home and lying down.

It's over: a HARD week at the station and lots of running at the broadcasters' convention and a busy morning of cooking and a near heart attack when the food drove away and....

I have one can of soda pop that I smuggled out of the hotel yesterday. There's a ridiculous Goldie Hawn movie on tv.

I'm going to be a potato for as long as I can get away with it for the rest of the day.....


poor ol' Mugwart

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My left hip and leg are hurting.

Normally, I sleep on my right side, with my left knee on a pillow.

Mugwart climbs up onto my rib cage, stomps around a bit, sneezes and goes to sleep for the night.

But, because I'm hurting, I rolled over onto my left side and back several times last night, trying to get comfortable.

Mugwart has, over the past, eighteen years, learned the art of "log rolling." He's able to maintain his balance on my ribs as I roll over.

Well, he sure got a work out last night!

He finally gave up when I woke up this morning. He's now in the baby carriage/cat bed at the foot of my bed, sleeping peacefully.

I'm worried about my strength. I'm worried about the cooking at Food Not Bombs today. And I'm worried about getting a ride back home this afternoon.

I'll go. And I'll start cooking, because I'll be there early today, if Steve remembers to pick me up.

But, if nobody else shows up by about ten this morning, I'm in trouble. I can't get the food to civic plaza, even WITH my scooter; it's too heavy. It requires a car.

My SiteMeter.com isn't working this morning, so I don't have any idea who's been visiting my sites today.

I took care of my PiercingMildred.com dolls this morning, though. I love that game. At one time, several years ago, I had THIRTY dolls!

I'm easily amused.

If I can limp along for one more week, I can do all the scooter repairs and be back to normal again.

I've got to focus on my home this week. I'm going to try to only do a commentary for KUNM. I have research on my homeless women story to do, but I can do that here.

It's cold this morning, but I don't care. It's crisp and bright again. As long as it stays cool, I'm happy.

Summer heat will get here soon enough!

Saturday, April 24, 2004

I have to cook tomorrow

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for Food Not Bombs.

What if nobody else shows up, and I'm just stranded there, with no way home?

Steve said he'd give me a ride there early, before he goes to the station.

But what do I do if nobody shows?

public broadcasting conference

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I learned so much today. I went to a workshop on collaborative investigative reporting and learned lots of networking stuff. I also got a "quicky" course on satellite and internet sites.

I heard FABULOUS productions from thirdcoast. They had a listening room, played bits of documentaries that won awards, and had discussions.

I have a good ear for audio, but this was inspiring!

I went to a wonderful workshop on developing documentaries. I met an editor from NPR. She worked her way up from temp office work to receptionist to documentaries editor! And is she sharp!

Also, she remembered my name, which really scared me. I told her, ut oh, I'm in trouble now; the principal remembers my name! She just wanted to make sure I got a copy of NPR's documentary guidelines.

I learned SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!! It was like a year of college in two days! I swear it was!!!

I ate over a DOZEN sausage links and six slices of the ripest pineapple for breakfast, drizzled with pancake syrup! LOL

I never buy sausage; it's too expensive for pig anus and lips. But I really like it! And pineapple is WAY too expensive here...weird, since we're so close to Mexico, huh?

We had a fabulous "taco salad" for lunch: deep fried, flour tortilla "bowl." Black beans, fresh salsa, corn relish, guacamole, sour cream, cheddar cheese, lettuce and turkey breast. We had gespacho, nice rolls and.....CHOCOLATE MOUSSE for dessert!!! Lots of ppl had gone home already, so I had three desserts!

I'm so hyped. I know how to begin to educate myself about independent production now. I know how to interview. I know how documentaries are pitched now and where to pitch them. I know how to network with other investigative journalists now. I know who to email.

I know how to start the last part of my life. I know how to succeed as a journalist, a documentarian, an editor, a sound mixer, a producer.

It'll take time. It'll take practice and commitment and looong frustrating hours.

But, compared to the death of my daughter, serial homelessness, beatings, rape, stalking, rejection from the love of my life, eating out of dumpsters, assaults by total strangers, terrorism from cops.....

....this will be CAKE!

It's the love of my life. It's what I was born to do. It's my passion.

In one of the pieces in the Listening Room today, called "Let's Call The Whole Thing Off," a story about NAFTA, using tomatoes as the example, I heard Fred Estaire, singing that song.

And I quietly wept.

My father was the sound engineer on that movie.

And here I am, seventy years later.

Doing what I was born to do.

I'm scared senseless.

But I'm no longer afraid I can't do this. I know I can. And I know how to proceed. And I WILL do this.

...or die, trying.

what a blessing this conference was! What a joy! What a priviledge.

And the sausages were very nice, too!

I'm so hungry!

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boy, I sure hope Steve remembers to pick me up this morning! I'm going to eat everything in the building for breakfast! I was WAY too tired to make supper last night.

I took a longer-than-usual and hotter-than-usual shower this morning, to relax my worn-out muscles and soothe my screaming joints.

Osa's being her usual, adorable self: fluffed up on the pillow by my elbow, totally ignoring me and making excuses for physical contact. The older she gets, the more svelte and luxurious she gets. What a fabulous coat!

Yesterday, I rememberd something Paul had told me: he said I'm a good interviewer. So I went to a workshop on interviewing techniques.

I only went to community colleges, with a smattering of University stuff. I didn't have money for more.

So, there are vital courses in communications which I'm missing.

The workshop was pretty basic journalism. But I'm glad I went; I learned a lot.

I'm intuitively good, because I'm interested in everything. And I like to research my subjects.

I also like to play hostess and make my guests feel welcomed.

So, with the stuff I learned yesterday, I ought to be much better in the future.

I surfed Paul's website last night: PaulIngles.com.

I wanted to learn about his back ground.

Jees, for a person with that much experience to say I'm a good interviewer means a LOT!

The respect I get for my work at KUNM is SO validating.

I'll never be a "normal" person again...if I ever was. Trauma twists things about trust.

But, if I stay focused and keep working hard, I think I can truly salvage this last part of my life and maybe even provide myself SOME comfort and security.

I've never had those. If I did, it was only temporary and broke my heart when the rug got pulled out from under me. I was sort of "getting away with" the priviledges I managed to secure. They really belonged to someone else.

If I can earn a living in broadcasting, I'll never be rich, for sure. And it's not a steady pay check unless one does a lot of juggling and planning.

And there's a lot of luck involved, too. Broadcasters are notorious for long resumes and many gigs. Stations change ownerships, formats, management.... people move around a lot.

Broadcasters are gregarious gypsies, setting up camp for awhile and moving on to the next thing.

But I can look into independent production. I'm learning how to market programming to community and independent radio.

Gawd knows I have access to connections; I just have to learn how to USE them effectively!

I think I'll be a good producer/programmer soon enough. I certainly am learning the equipment, writing and editing styles, and that friggin' computer! Stubborn bastard!

And I'm at KUNM, which is fertile ground for inspiration, leads on story ideas, advice and support. There's NEVER nothing to talk about there! LOL Sometimes, it sounds like a cage full of gibbering monkeys! It's GREAT!

My poor garden! My poor LAUNDRY!

If I don't do something pretty soon, I'll have no produce for summer, and I'll have to go out NAKED! And I have a LOT of clothes!

Well, this broadcasting convention ends today. It's a special deal. It happens every year, but not HERE.

People from other markets are impressed with KUNM: our facilities, our talent, our diversity, and our sheer numbers.

I just said, "our," didn't I?


Friday, April 23, 2004

wells fargo bank is evil

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I'm not going into it, but they're predators and I can't wait 'til I don't have to bank with them any more.

My ATM card isn't working and they don't know why. One minute, it was fine; the next, I have no PIN number! IDIOTS!

I almost got stranded down town with no bus fare home. gggggrrrrr!

Some broadcasters from Colorado gave me a ride, on their way to the Pit for the Gathering of Nations pow wow.

Otherwise, I'd have had to walk all the way, in a wind storm. Everybody from KUNM was already gone.

I had a great day and met interesting people and learned wonderful stuff and brought home fun swag.

Lots of good food, free soda pops.

Steve, from Food Not Bombs, is coming to get me in the morning, early, so we'll be there in time for free breakfast! And free lunch!

I even smuggled out 2 cans of pop. LOL I coulda stole toilet paper, a booze decanter, pounds of butter and cake, too. shoulda, huh?

There's this person I really like. The person's seperating for a significant other. I met the significant other today. I can't possibly compete. It broke my heart. sigh....

I look like an old sofa, left in the alley, compared to this person.

It was humiliating. I wanted to crawl under a rock.

So, I feel ugly.

When I couldn't get any money for bus fare, or even to use a pay phone to call my bank, some of the greeters at the registration desk for the conference mocked me. I was so angry and so hurt.

I'm just over whelmed. BUt I DID have a good time. I made a couple of jokes that cracked people up. Like: what's another way to say, "tune in?" First, I said, "dial us up." And then, I said, "twist your knobs!" and everybody lost it.

I learned a lot aout interviewing techniques today. That's great.

I'm a pretty good interviewer, and these tips were really important, so I'm glad I got leg cramps, listening for four hours!

OH, I wish I wasn't so ugly! This is SUCH a nice person: smart and comfortable and kind and principled and thoughtful and creative and sweet and generous and.....and I'm an ugly, little troll with broken teeth.


so much for resting!

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Linda just called from the station. Tom Trowbridge isn't going to the public broadcasters' convention today, so I can use his pass!

Gotta check my bank acct. Gotta send my invoice to FSRN and gotta find my shoes!

It lasts 'til eight tonight, so don't expect to hear anything else from me today!

good thing I listened to Paul's broadcast, instead of napping, or I'd have missed Linda's email, and they'd have given the pass to someone else!


man, I'm pooped!

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It took awhile this morning for it to hit me how tired I am. It happened after I finished a big breakfast of ham, eggs, English muffins and pineapple. I'm reeling, trying to digest it.

I'm laying here, trying to play catch up with my blogs, and nodding off to the morning news.

I think Paul Ingles has an hour special at 8 this morning, and I want to hear it.

But I'm falling asleep.

I may not be conscious...

It's crisp and sunny out. very beautiful. I'm glad to have this bedroom window.

I'm pretty weak and in a lot of pain.

I'll try to get some stuff done today, but I need rest.


Sorry it's taking so long for me to get the blogs caught up; I'll get there...

Holy Smokes!!! I'm working for PACIFICA!!

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See, nobody tells me ANYTHING!

Lemme explain about Pacifica and me.

I ran away from home at the ripe old age of 17. I'd had it with Mom's attempts to kill me, and was starting to fight back. It was either her or me, so I left.

This was in the '70s. I went to a jr. college in the area and met up with the progressive students: Black Student Union, MECHA, etc. They listened to KPFKfm, the local Pacifica station.

I became an avid listener. Where else could I hear poetry, jazz, commentary, live performance, etc? Where else were women, people of color, the disabled and the economically disadvantaged not only tolerated, but ENCOURAGED to broadcast?

I began volunteering at the station. I didn't broadcast; I did other stuff: helped with fundraisers, helped in the office, etc.

At some point, the Most Important Microphone in the Most Important Studio broke. My dad had an old motion pictures studio mic in the garage. I took it apart, found what didn't work, and repaired it. It was so old, it had vacuum tubes. But it was a great uni- and omnidirectional mic: it could hear the whole room, or it could be focused on one person in it. Think the Howard Dean Scream here:everybody was screaming, but the mic only picked up Dean.

I also assisted with sound for live performances, as I did with underground concerts elsewhere in the city.

I've missed KPFK ever since I moved away. It was my nearly constant companion. Even during, gawd help me, the Watergate hearings, which they broadcast in their entirety.

I am not a Communist. I am not a Black Panther. I am not a Sandinista. I am not a Zapatista. And yes, they all broadcast on Pacifica network stations and services.

I am, however, an advocate of the United States Constitution. And I believe as firmly as I know how that ALL of us have the right to free speech. And I'm committed to providing the MEANS to do that.

I've learned a LOT from people of very different experiences than mine, and I plan to keep it that way.

I would never pick up a gun, a stick of dynamite, etc. At least, I'm priviledged enough that such action hasn't been necessary.

The way things are going in this country, though, I shouldn't say, "never." I could easily be branded as a threat to homeland security, for my bland little blogs and news reports. These are terrifying times.

But, so far, as angry and frustrated as I get by circumstances and conditions, I haven't felt the necessity to consider violence as an option. Violence seems reactionary, to me.

And I'm not a reactionary.

I'll probably try to TALK them out of shooting me!

Anyway, I hadn't heard about this contributor-driven FSRN stuff. What do I know about satellites? I'm a phonograph gal.

SO, I'm totally blown away that I'm being PAID, not only to do what I love, not only to do what I'm good at, not only to do what is my ethical and moral center...I'm being paid to write for old "friends," my origins, my home.

I'm coming back, full circle, into myself..after a 20 year sentence for being poor, traumatized and exhausted.

I'm coming home!

Thursday, April 22, 2004

I earned money today!

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Good money: eighty bucks.

I got to the station by about five thirty. Boy, was Tom Trowbridge surprised! He usually has the joint to himself that early.

I started taking notes on today's story sound bites, so I could write my script.

I went out in the hall for some reason. A tiny woman, with lots of electronic gadgets and a lap top, stood there. She said, "I've been pressing the button for ten minutes, but nobody heard me." It wasn't an alarm button; it was a door opener button for people with the security code. The door is security locked overnight, to prevent theft of expensive sound and computer equipment.

I explained. I used my code and let her in. She was looking for Tristan, who usually shows up around eight or nine. He'd given her permission to use the production assistants' room. I told her about Linda, who had the key, and she got in.

I went about my day and forgot all about her.

About ten am, I went down to the patio for a smoke. There was the tiny woman, smoking. I sat with her and we chatted.

My polka dot, silk dress must have thrown her off; she asked me if I was the news director.

I explained who I was. I said, only crazy people want to be news directors or President of the USA.

I asked who she was.

"I'm a news director."

ut, oh.

She's here from Los Angeles for the public broadcasters' convention. She works for Free Speech Radio Network, a satellite-fed broadcast.

Somehow, I ended up telling her about my five day story, my first time out of the gate. I also told her about the sound I collected on homeless women at the city council meeting, and my plans for it.

She said she'd love to have a two-minute piece of them for her broadcast tomorrow night. Sunday's the big March For Women's Lives in Washington, DC. They're doing a broadcast on it, and the issues involved, tomorrow.

She thought it would be nice to go out of the broadcast with the voices of formerly homeless women and their advocates.

I said, "sure! I'll do it!" Sucker.

She wanted it finished by two thirty, when she thought she'd be leaving.

Well, I got back to work on tomorrow night's story. Nothing is ever as smooth or as fast as I think it'll be.

At one pm, I finished the last of my stories. I was beat and I just wanted to go home. Besides, I've never recorded digital audio off a minidisc before, and had no idea what I was doing.

I went into her office and tried to beg off.

She said, "we'll pay you eighty dollars."

I said, "sure, I'll do it!" oh, crap!

I used the newsbooth computer. I figured out how to operate the minidisc player. I opened the digital audio program. I went ahead and recorded all eighteen minutes of testimonials, as I'll need them for my stories, later. I saved this "raw" sound as homelesswomen.wav, in my audio folder.

I cut my sound bites. I assembled the whole thing. I got her to come hear it. With one, minor adjustment, it was finished.

I saved the file as homelesswomen.wav. It asked me if I wanted to overwrite the old file with the same name. I clicked "yes."

....and distroyed both my 2nd and first audio files! Sounded like hiccups.

By now, it's getting close to five pm. I've been there twelve hours; the news will be starting soon, and they'll need the newsbooth for the broadcast. I've got about twenty seven minutes, before everybody panics and throws me out.

I started all over, recorded from the minidisc, cut my sound files, assembled....and called them something else.

Tah dah!

I reported to her. She gave me a blank CD to burn. CD? Burn? Huh?

I went into the newsroom. I called up the file from the kunm network. I opened the CD burner icon on the screen. I tried to record the file.

I took it in to her and asked her to preview it, to make sure I got it right. It was blank.

Now, in the middle of all this, there is trauma in the control room: Democracy NOW! didn't broadcast at 4pm; something was wrong with the CD on which it was recorded; they'd have to go to a live feed off the satellite. Lots of arm flapping, phone calling and button pushing ensued.

Somehow, in the midst of this chaos, I boldly asked Tristan why I couldn't record my CD.

He explained I'd have to use the newsbooth computer, after five thirty.


Well, I sat down at the newsroom computer and thought a minute.

I'm just now relearning Windows Operating Systems. I'm on a WEBTV; we don't use such things. We don't even have mouses. Last time I used Windows, it was the ninety five version: a dinosaur.

BUt I know I can drag and drop a file from one computer folder to another computer folder.

So, I copied my newsbooth file to the newsroom computer. I put in the CD. I found the CD burner icon and opened it. I dragged and dropped my copy into the CD burner and...boom!

I did it.

I figured it out all by myself, without anybody's help!

I wrote my name and email address on the "dead" side of the CD, with the title of the track. I made 2 identical tracks, just in case.

I gave it to the tiny woman. She slipped it into her very kewl lap top. It played.

She emailed my Yahoomail account with the info I need to return to them. If I send an invoice by tomorrow, they'll cut a check on Monday.

They're doing a lot of coverage of No Child Left Behind.

I explained how New Mexico is at the top of all the "bad" statistics lists for the fifty states, and at the bottom of all the "good" lists.

Like literacy, teen pregnancy, substance abuse.........

I also explained that this state's politics are dominated by the Democratic party, which is run like a mafia here. So, one can't accuse me of partisan politics in my analysis and reporting of the situation here. I also explained there are dedicated elementary school educators, RIGHT IN THE SAME BUILDING with KUNM, whom I can interview.

She wants me to cover it: local story, with national implications.

I can pay off that damn, predatory debt! I can afford an inner tube, slime and a vacuum cleaner drive belt!

I may even get me some cheap Chinese food, for a treat.

I am not only earning money, I'm doig what I love, what I'm good at, and what I believe in with all my heart...and tried to do, all my life, for free.


PS: and, no, in all the hub bub, I do NOT remember the tiny woman's name!

u should smell my house!

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ooo, baby! I'm frying 2 chicken leg/thighs with garlic, leeks, Cajun seasoning and gobs of black pepper. mmmmmm...

I just stepped on Osa and made her scream. She was lurking outside the bathroom door, in the dark hall. I came out from taking my shower, dress over my head, and stomped her. That'll teach her for lurking in the dark; she's a black cat!

I'm wearing my silk dress: navy blue with dime-sized polka-dots, long sleeves, weighted neck...so it droops nicely. It's almost ankle length with a full skirt...I'm tempted to wear my petticoat under it... I'm not wearing a bra, even tho the bodice is rather fitted...nipples happen; what can I say? It's too comfortable and slippery to deny myself silk on my breasts! shoot.

I'll just try to avoid really cold air conditioning at the station...so I won't salute.

I want to pack some Cheddar cheese today. Yesterday, I made a 3 duck egg omlette, with ham, frozen vegies and salsa. Nuked it in the microwave at the station. Man, was it tasty! But cheese would be even better!

I'll take a chicken leg, too.

I can't wait to start digging in my garden next week.

I'm goin to smuggle some seedlings into the garden of the patio of the bldg. the radio station is in, too.

Rogi Everything Seed.

It's almost 4:30 now. Chicken'll be done in half an hour and I can head out for the station.

Maybe I won't wear the petticoat, so I can feel the silk on my thighs....yeah.

I've always been perceived as an eunich. Those few lovers who have discovered me are always blown away by my sensuality. But I don't broadcast. Part of that has to do with being an incest and rape survivor: my body is private and not for exploitation. Part of it is feminism: you WILL love me for my mind! Part of it is modesty; part is a Fundamentalist xian upbringing.

I'd make a great Muslim, if I could swallow that crap.

I'm always embarrassed by female exhibitionists. Oh, they get a lot of attention, for sure, for the wrong reasons....

I finally came to the conclusion that the most sexual women in OUR culture never need to advertise. It seems the most sexually awkward and insecure have to broadcast their availability.

I have a wonderful sex life, even when celibate. I don't need to beg for it. I'm quite satisfied, thank you.

As you can imagine, from my outlandish scooter, weird clothing, arts, ideas and etc., my sexuality is very diverse, creative and fun.

It's also the best-kept secret in my life. Only the Chosen Few get to discover it. It's a real compliment and honor to be chosen by me; really. And certainly not boring, tedious, demanding, etc.

I like to share.

Well, I'd better start packing up for the day. Need to beat my hair into submission, so I don't look like I was caught in a wind storm. I have 3 kinds of hair: whispy blonde; thick, straight black; and kinky brown. Well, four: I now have course, grey, too.

It's a real Gathering of Nations on top of my head. I have to placate some and control others, without restricting anybody. Cooperation and balance are only achieved by accomodating everybody, to some reasonable extent.

One of the challenges of being multiracial.

I don't really have a hair "style;" it's more of a collective....

ps: thanks!

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Somebody has mailed this Hood Life blog to a buncha people, all over the world! I see referrals from yahoomail.

Whoever you are, thanks for the free promotion!

And welcome to my hood, everybody!

ah, jazz

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The overnight dj is playing some very warm, toasty jazz. Right now, it's one of my old theme songs, the theme from the Mary Tyler Moore show.

I laughed: you might just make it, after all. Too bad I don't have a busy street corner, where I can throw a hat into the air, huh?

Man, did I sleep! I was literally falling asleep while I was trying to make the links for the Alter Net news. That was during Democracy NOW! which starts at 4 pm here.

I made it through the local, evening news and PART of All Things Considered, but man, I was dead.

So, finally, around 6pm, I decided to nap until 8. I wanted to see The West Wing, and something on PBS. I can live without 60 Minutes, but would have liked to see that, too.

Well, I woke up at 2:30am! I brewed a fresh pot of joe and fed the catz. I'm back in bed, nekkid as a jay bird, keyboard on my lap and Miss Thing at my feet.

They all helped me make coffee. They miss their mommy; they're following me all over the house. They ACT like they don't give a damn that I'm here, but, everywhere I go, here come the cats! It's cute.

This has been good for Porkchop, too. He usually sticks to me like a tumor. But he's now sleeping on the sofa, not with me. Weather's warmer; he can use the space. And, when I come home from the station, it takes him a beat to realize I've even been gone all day! When he figures it out, he damn near wags his butt off for a bit, then goes right back to sleeping or whatever. So, he's learning some independence. He's learning it's ok for Mommy to disappear for hours, that I WILL come back, that he really has a permanent and safe home.

I know he misses hunting duck eggs with me, though. He trots beside the scooter on the sidewalk, with such a look of purpose on his face. I let him set the pace: if he wants to run, I accelerate; if he's tired, I coast. The only fixed rule is no sudden stops to sniff or pee on things. We have regular spots for that, where I just stop and wait for him to do The Dawg Thang. Every place else, we just go by. Otherwise, it'd take all day to get home! He thinks greater Albuquerque is all his "turf." He'd pee himself dry, if I let him.

He's very obedient; he knows lots of commands and obeys perfectly when we're on the "run." He knows his directions, stops, waits, jumps into the dog carrier when asked, etc. He's not obedient as in subservient, though. He does things voluntarily, now that he understands the "dog logic" of my requests. He's more like a team mate than a servant. I really like that about him.

ANd I pretty much understand his vibe, too. That's why we have doggy rest stops, where he sniffs and pees and scratches. Dogs need that, you know; they have to mark their territory. And the paths we take to the duck pond, the grocery, etc. are "his territory." He'd be disappointed if he didn't get to mark the weed patch at the corner of Las Lomas and University, or the barkless tree on Silver.

Other dogs pass those places, all the time. He must tell them he was there, too.

I have lots of clothing with cats on it. Tristan was surprised to see me wearing my cat skirt the other day. "I thought you were a dog person!" he exclaimed, real surprise on his face.

"I am, but I'm also a cat person."

He still looked surprised. So I explained that I have five cats, and he really looked surprised.

I said, "it's really hard to get five cats to run along beside a scooter. That's why you've only seen Porkchop."

At which point, he looked convinced.

But the cats hear me coming up the street.By the time I turn into the alley, there's usually 1 to five cats sitting out there, waiting for me. They run beside the scooter as I bring it home. Chaco even sleeps in the dog carrier, when the scooter's parked and the carrier door is open. They think it's their scooter.

Cats think everything is theirs, though...

The plumbers are fixing the water lines for the air conditioners. I really haven't needed mine yet, but it'll be nice to have everything operational on the first hot day. Last year, I really suffered, between delays in getting them up in the spring, and my motor burning out in August. Gawd, was I miserable!

But, I have a BRAND NEW air conditioner this year! And I've found 3 box fans in the trash. People throw them out when they collect soot and dog hair; they stop running well. I spray ammonia window cleaner on them, scrub, hose them off. I take the fan blades off and scrub the motor, too. The dirt gets in the spindle and gunks it up, causing motors to overheat. I leave them to dry for weeks, then put petroleum jelly all over the moving parts, reassemble the fans, and they're like new! Hence, 3 perfectly good and very large and powerful box fans!

I can cool this entire apartment in about five minutes, flat. And, since I have no kitchen vent, I use them to direct stuff outside, even in winter. They help to dry laundry indoors on rainy days, too.

I think I could mount the scooter motor over the FRONT tire of a bicycle! I have a bicycle baby seat I found in the trash, with all the bolts and fasteners.

That way, I could have 2 drive chains: one for motor, one for pedals. That way, I can help the motor from dead stops, by pedaling. I can also rest my feets on the pedals, which would be very nice.

I hate bicycle seats; my skirts go up my butt. So I'll look for an old chair I can adapt. I just need to rest my butt, not get a gynocological exam! Jees...

It's after 3am now. I'll take a shower in a bit and head for the station around five. That should put me at the duck pond by sunrise.

I bet I can get my remaining stories in the "can" before ten. May even start working on the homeless women story.

But I should probably learn to convert my sound files to mp3s, for MSNTV users, and transcribe the texts of my stuff...I'll see when I get there.

I can begin the research for my story from home. While I'm at the station, I need to be using equipment I don't have here.

Wonder if there's a cassette recorder, so I can make a copy of the sound I recorded of the city council mtg? hmmmm....Tristan probably has one; he's got equipment from the stone age..his own radio production museum. Did you know radio used stones? :) Sort of a Moses radio....the origins of rock music.

This is probably a very long post, as I'm rambling. Blame the overnight dj on KUNM. And the coffee.

Wednesday, April 21, 2004

news story

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Ok, obviously, I've been a LITTLE busy lately, and I haven't had time to convert the sound file into a format MSNTV users can hear. sorrrrrry. I'll try to do it next week. honest.

Here's the link to Monday's segment, anyway.... http://kunm.org/view/view.php?profile=news&kind=id&id=EplkVlkFupYEQDmFmK&sec=news&cat=recent&pagetitle=Monday+April+19+2004

that's a loooong url, huh???


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Ok, I'm not nearly as grouchy as I was.

I got tonight's story in the can.

I went through all 4 of my interviews and selected pieces to use in the 2 remaining stories.

I created files for each, and put the segments in order.

So, all I have left is listening to my selections, taking notes on what they've said, writing copy to bridge the interviews, recording my voice, chopping that into segments, slapping me into the rest of it, mixing it, sending it to the newsbooth computer, and writing a "lead ins," for the news announcer to read.

I know that sounds like a lot, but it's really not. And it's the most fun part of a story, cuz it's creative.

Then, I'll have Friday through Monday off from the station, so I can work on my garden and my scooter.

I got back today at about two thirty; Linda gave me a ride, so I didn't have to hoof it.

I'm tired, yes, but I'm not in agony, like I was yesterday. dang, that was AWFUL! and this morning, too. I was suffering.

Next week, I'll start researching and interviewing for my story on the women's homeless shelter. that'll be kewl. I can't wait.

I dragged food to the station, so I didn't starve. Made my shoulders sore, carrying it, but what the heck? there's still some stuff there, in the ice box, so I won't need to carry as much tomorrow.

I told Tristan my Evil Idea. They're just about ready to start tearing the station apart for the remodelling. The walls have one inch square tiles on them. I want to make tic tac toes and crosswords and stuff on them.

So, Tristan and I think it'd be fun to have a tagging party. Why not?

am I awake yet?

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I went to sleep about ten last night: two hours early, by my standards.

I was up at 5, staggering and hunting for coffee.

I'm in pain that makes no sense. Forget describing it.

Somehow, I've got to eat and dress and head to campus.

I'm overwhelmed by pain. Just sitting here is torture. I'm really dreading this.

But I'm going to do it.

I'm going to hide in Studio C this morning, before anybody gets there, and try to put all 3 of my remaining stories "in the can."

When people show up, I'll try to hide somewhere else.

If I can get it all done today, I can spend the rest of the week and the weekend, taking care of myself and TRYING to patch my scooter tire.

The University has its own bus system. It's for students. I think it's free, and I doubt they'd challenge or question me for using it. The first stop I can get to is still about a mile from here. But, if I can use it, I think I can at least get a ride to the duck pond, which is half way between here and the station.

I don't know if there's a stop near the station, but I'll ask.

ANYthing will help!

I can't carry much. I'm too tired. I can't even push my small, collapsible stroller. So, packing food is a problem.

I may just work up the nerve to ASK someone with a car to get me some lunch somewhere cheap.

And Linda may be able to give me a ride back; she comes home early.

I have a feeling I should take the scooter motor, throttle, etc off the scooter and put them on one of my bicycles. The tubes are much easier and cheaper to replace.

The main problem with that is I can't balance very well on a bicycle anymore, motor or not. Maybe I could devise a "running board," so I can stand with my feet on something....

It won't be easy, of course. And I don't know what that little motor will think about pushing a large tire. Bicycle tires are apx. eighteen inches; scooter tires are eight.

But I can try.

The trick, of course, is the pedals. I'll have to bypass that gear with the drive chain, all together. I may even have to remove it.

So, mounting the motor onto the bike will be tricky.

But the throttle ought to go easily onto the handle bar, once I take the grip off.

I'll work on it, once my stories are done.

If it CAN be done, I'll certainly do it.

If it can't, I'll have the discouraging job of putting the scooter back together. sigh.

Well, sunrise is coming.

I need to get out of here soon.

Wish me luck.


Tuesday, April 20, 2004


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Good lord, is the middle class really as superficial and pathetic as portrayed on tv? Judging Amy is a simpering, whining therapy session for a self-obsessed and arrogant pseudointellectual who thinks she's too good for the real world.

So, I switched over to PBS: celebrity environmentalists. I listened to a B actress, extolling her virtues and values, and explaining how the whole planet would be much better off if we all think like she does. She's so noble, she won't let her gardener trim her pinon pine, even though she actually has to stoop, to get to her hot tub. Poor thing.

Mean time, in the real world, Indian men set their wives on fire; Chinese babies are murdered regularly for population control; African AIDS orphan girls end up pregnant and HIV+, trying to support themselves through prostitution, which pays better, if no rubber is used.

I mention the name of the women's homeless shelter in town to a feminist activist; she didn't know what I was talking about; she'd never heard of it!

The problem with the planet is phalocentric values. Yet US feminists seem to think the oppression and victimization of poor women is their own faults. If they were more spiritually evolved [read: had the priviledges of feeling smug, arrogant and supperior], they wouldn't suffer like they do.

I actually heard a woman on Women's Focus on KUNM say that women who flip burgers for a "living" are missing the point of life.

um....WHO'S missing the friggin POINT!?!?!

Sisterhood is a VISA card, apparantly.

I'm tired. I'm sad. I'm discouraged. I'm frantic.

I don't know how I can put together 3 more days' worth of stories, walking 3 miles per day to the studio. As tired as I am NOW, I don't think I could do it! Add more fatigue and pain, and I just don't know how I'll do it.

But I will. dammit.

tire's flat

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I'm heart broken! After a long day at the station..I didn't go home; I was there from 8 - 5. I was supposed to return tonight at 7, for Tristan's production class.

I ran out of gas and stopped to refill. When I fired it up again, the tire was flat. I don't know why.

I pushed it home two miles. It's six thirty; I just got in.

I haven't eaten all day and there's nothing cooked up. I'm frying frozen hamburger.

I'm going to try to patch my last tube, using rubber cement and a patch made of old bicycle innertube.

Guess I won't collect duck eggs tomorrow; I'll be in too much pain to walk in the morning.

Tomorrow's midweek of my series; I HAVE to go back. I HAVE to finish this week! DAMMIT!

I'm afraid to use "Slime." It seems one must remove the valve stem and I don't know how to do that, nor if I can replace it properly.

I was too tired tonight to examine the wheel.

I'm so miserable! And I'm in sooo much pain.

cold morning

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THe ducks won't lay, 'til it warms up; only got 3 eggs..the bums!

I'm about to shower and head to the station, anyway, so I'll stop back at the duck pond on my way, to see if I have better luck.

Bastard Gardener was just arriving as I left; hopefully, he won't be around when I get back.

I haven't heard back from SAGE Council about their meeting today; I don't know where their office is, nor what time. Waiting for email....

Lady from Albq. Archaeological Association emailed me a couple of addies for ppl. working in archeoastronomy and Chacoan culture. Gotta write them.

My feeties hurt. My ol' body's tired, and it's only Tuesday..Sigh

But, I had to agree to a week long series, for my first report, so it's my own, damn fault. Looooong week.....

Wish I had a way to edit my audio from home, but I can't do it with a webtv. So I have to go to the station. ah, well...

I'll work a few hours, come home to rest, and go back for Tristan's production class tonight.

My animals miss me.

I've got a gut full of duck eggs; bathroom heater's on; gotta get my arse in gear.

I sure wish they'd made plans for a hot tub, in this station remodelling project.

And I think all volunteers deserve back rubs from the bean sprout underwriters!

...and slave free chocolate, of course....

Monday, April 19, 2004

my very first news story aired tonight!

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Marcos, pgm director, and Renee, news director, decided I CAN voice my own stories, but also write commentaries! As long as I don't comment on news stories, or write commentary INTO news.

SO, the 1st part of my 5 part series on the Paseo del Norte road extension aired TONIGHT! Because the City Council was scheduled to vote on approval.

I was so scared, I almost puked! I was still putting the damn sound together 30 minutes before air time!! I didn't even get a chance to double check the audio before air! I literally had it done ten minutes before the news started!

So, that's the first of my five part series for the week...and the public broadcasters' convention is going on this week, so MAYBE some of THEM will hear me, too! DANG!!!

I stayed at the station 'til almost 8pm tonight, trying to record the city council on the station's tv. I finally had to give up and come home, because I really don't want to drive around in the dark, if I can help it.

I'll have to review my minidisc and see if I got it; they may vote on it after their dinner break tonight, though, and that's when I left.

HOWEVER! I DID capture audio on an agenda item re: Barrett House, a shelter for women and children. They're asking the council for more funding, as their lease runs out soon, and they must find other facilities.

I got GREAT sound of testimonials by formerly homeless women, from staff, from community members, etc. It was EXTREMELY moving and powerful!

Renee has agreed to let me report on it next week.

Since I have everybody's names recorded, too, I'm also going to produce a documentary on women and homelessness, for Women's Focus.

As luck would have it, Carol Boss was hanging out in the hall with Paul Ingles, so I told her about it. I didn't ASK; I told.

I didn't mean to be rude, but I'm absolutely sure I need to produce this piece!!!

As Paul left, I walked out with him so I could smoke a cig. I said I think I should submit the finished documentary for a journalism award.

I bet I'll win, too.

I can't WAIT to start it!!!

I am a reporter! Do you hear me??? I am a REAL REPORTER, on the five o'clock news, on KUNM, 89.9fm Albuquerque!

My piece ought to appear on the KUNM website tomorrow. kunm.org

I am learning how to convert my soundfiles to mp3 format, which MSNTV ought to be able to hear. NOw, I just need to figure out how to email them to myself, using Yahoo Mail. sigh...hang in there; I'll get it.

I'm also finding the texts to my stuff, so I can transcribe it to my domain.

I told Rachel Kaub, Operations Mgr. and volunteer coordinator tonight, "I guess I'm not in the War Zone anymore...."


I just keep bursting into tears...

ah, reality

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I had a brain storm re: the city council meeting tonight. I don't NEED to be there! I just need to go to KUNM and record it off the gvt. channel on cable tv! TAH DAH!

I stopped by the station after collecting duck eggs. Wanted to talk to Tom Trowbridge, the morning news guy. Asked if he's planning to go to the meeting (I was going to ask him to share his sound with me), but he's not going. Then I asked about the equipment. He THINKS I can record off of tv.

So, I'll go in in awhile, with a bunch of food to last me for the day, and start.

I have people to call, interviews to record, a commentary to write and record...blah blah blah...

And I'd better get transcripts of my commentaries! They're all in a computer in the volunteer area, and that's getting stripped down for remodelling! Gawd only knows what they'll do with the puter for the next six months! Jees!

I need to email myself .wav files of commentaries, too, so I can post 'em on my domain.

Basically, I have a lot to do.

Right now, though, I have to go to the cat box...so see u later.

angry legs

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Wow, I barely made it 20 feet to the bathroom this morning! I kept losing my balance. My legs throb like they've been beaten.

It's five thirty. I could still sleep, but I'm chugging coffee, so I can get to the duck pond before the Bastard Gardener does. moan

There's a city council meeting tonight re: the Paseo. I don't think I can go, dang it.

And tomorrow's a SAGE council meeting.

The city says it sees no legal impediment; I wonder how they can ignore the outdated environmental impact survey? hmmm.

All I can do is try.

Sunday, April 18, 2004

lord, 'm tired

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Well, my marmalade was a success. My tomato sauce went into a big pot with a can of beans...restaurant size...some chili seasoning and some baby cereal, to make a kick ass pot of chili.

I tried making chocolate banana nut bread, but someone turned off the oven: raw inside, burnt outside. damn.

I got there early this morning and found HUGE bags of food, thrown in the dumpster! Whoe cases of baby cereal, pastas, canned food, tea bags...all KINDS of stuff! I picked out as much as I could, and Robert and Steve picked more when they got there.

Baby cereal is flakes. It, and potato flakes, make good thickeners for soups, stews, gravies... you name it. And you can add them to baked goods, too. It's CRIMINAL that someone threw out so much FOOD at Project Share!!! At LEAST leave it BESIDE the dumpster! Jesus, how many homeless moms would have KILLED to get there hands on that????

I brought home a box: 2x2x3 feet, FULL OF FOOD!!!

We had: chili, nacho sauce, cheddar potatoes, sweet potato soup, salad, ginger bread with apple compote, FIFTY scrambled eggs with mushrooms and other vegies, lots of bread and tortillas, marmalade, guacamole. It was quite a spread.

We fed about thirty people.

My trailer fell off my scooter. When I first attached it, I TRIED to take the front wheel off the stroller, but the fork was bent, and the axle wouldn't slide free. So, I just bungie corded the whole tire onto the seat bar.

Well, I guess after a couple of months of bouncing around, the axle finally came loose from the fork. THank heavens it happened in the Project Share parking lot! Whew!

I've got it attached with a coat hanger and bungie cords for now. Works just fine for now, but I'll need something stronger, more permanently. I can probably use the chains Beto took off my air conditioner. No biggie.

My legs are SO sore! My feet are screaming!

But I'm so happy we did such good work. I really love cooking and feeding the homeless! It's a lot of fun, and most of the people we meet are sweet as hell.

They sure like our cooking! They brag about it.

I'm going to try to throw together a little documentary. Cable Access TV station is right across Civic Plaza from where we set up. THey could video tape us and I can edit the tape for broadcast to fill time for "short" hours.

We need more volunteers to help cook and to pick up food. Today, it was pretty much just the 3 of us. That's one person, cooking for eleven. That's not enough.

Even dish washers would HELP!! Dang! Nothing like coming back, tired and sore, and having a big pile of crap to wash! ugh.

I'm watching a documentary. Jews, returning to Poland, visiting the camps, ghettos and old neighborhoods.

I don't know if I could stand that. I saw a pile of crematory ashes that must have been ten feet tall and fifty feet around.


Well, I'm going to watch this.

Beaver's supposed to come by around seven tonight.

The place still isn't clean enough, but dammit, I'm exhausted....

Here's what I was watching: http://dev.polasmarch.org.

It's part of March of The Living International http://www.motl.org/, a VERY good idea!

We should have something like that in the USA, memorializing both slavery and the genocide of Native Americans.

Especially since Prez. Andy Jackson was Hitler's model for exterminating races!

house work

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Well, except for the floors, and a monstrous pile of to-do laundry, the house is a lot better.

The cats seem to think so, anyway.

I even got my bed linens changed...which explains most of the monstrous pile of laundry, as I've removed the 3 heavy, winter blankets and replaced them with light, summer blankets. Each blanket is a whole load, so it'll take me awhile to finish them.

But, with the lawn furniture moved from my little yard to the bed outside my window, I now have more space to store the laundry 'til it's done. Looks awful, sitting out there, though...sigh.

Hopefully, I can do a load a day next week, while gardening. And gardening's great therapy while working on that Paseo series for KUNM.

I can't seem to contact the city councilor with whom I'd like an interview, but there's another guy I can try. I need the city's perspective. But I'm avoiding the Mayor's office like a stink bomb. No thanks!

If the mayor had his way, the entire city of Albuquerque would be a giant tourist trap, and any inconvenient locals would be elbowed out of town. jees.

Don't SOLVE problems; cover them up with Ferris wheels.

Marty, I've got news for you: Albuquerque is an ugly, dry, miserable city that people want to pass through as fast as possible, on their way to California, Santa Fe and the East Coast. They only stop here for gas and tax-free smoke shops. Get over yourself.

And the only people who STAY in Albuquerque are disgruntled yuppies, escaping California crowds, colors and land prices -- or poor people whose cars broke down on the interstates.

Gross generalizations, but you get the idea....

Albuquerque, I've discovered, is the armpit of the entire southwest: stinky, hot and hairy. It may be necessary, but it's no fun to sit too close to it.

Well, I'm in a good mood! LOL

If you're planning a trip through Albuquerque, bring lots of money to bail you out as quickly as possible, before you get stuck.

The motto is, "New Mexico: Land Of Enchantment." But, when it comes to Albuquerque, it's "Land Of Entrapment." Albuquerque is a tar baby.

I MIGHT have my first segment done for Tuesday night. I'm not promising, but....

I have 3 dozen duck eggs to take to Food Not Bombs today, and I'm going for more this morning.

I made sure to make room in the fridge for more food. I also washed all the dishes, so I'll have room in my sinks and on my tiny counter to processs whatever I bring home today.

I've got to call Beaver; she wants to come by and see my place today.

It's 6am; isn't that hippy show supposed to be on KUNM now? I'm hearing gospel. yuck. The hippy show is New Dimensions. Maybe there was a problem with the broadcast..who knows? Maybe I'm crazy.

But I ain't listening to no gospel, so the radio's off. I need my brain cells.

Too much church music is about battering people into a "mood." You're not supposed to think; you're supposed to get worked up into an emotional frenzy. It's great mind control. Dammit.

See, that's why liberals, progressives and social activists can't compete with the christian Taliban: we don't provide easy answers; we don't make problems someone else's fault; we dont provide emotional bandages; we don't damn as "evildoers" those with whom we have issues. We also have this uncomfortable habit of expecting people to take responsibility for their OWN lives.

Our churches have dozens; the Taliban has thousands.

How can we possibly compete? sigh.

I have GOT to get out of this MOOD!

I'm sad and resentful. 2 people did special shows on KUNM for Poetry Month during the past week. Neither allowed me to read my stuff.

And some reporters at the station have been talking about me, as though I'm a problem. I asked them to "voice" my Paseo piece, since I can't do it. I thought it was my responsibility, as the reporter/researcher/producer of the piece to line up the talent. So, I did the best I could: I asked for assistance. I figured it was one, less thing to worry about as I worked on it. Seems now, I should have let Renee assign it to someone. How could I have known that?

It's solved now, though: Renee has agreed to voice it.

What worries me is that people have been talking ABOUT, rather than TO, me. That's been, in my past experience, the Kiss Of Death. It means people have this invisible agenda, about which I know nothing. They act on their agenda, pushing me out of the loop and rendering me impotent. And, because I don't KNOW about it, I don't get the honor of addressing this agenda directly, setting people's fears and concerns at ease, and putting out any fires.

Next thing I know, I'm painted into a corner, shut out and silenced.

Both the poetry and this are the same issue: silencing me. It's the theme of my life and my greatest heart ache. I really think I have useful things to say. But I'm always put in positions where I don't get to say them. I HATE being dismissed without even a responsible consideration, especially when this is based on prejudice and "first impressions."

People make a lot of assumptions about me that simply are not true. I'm not a "loose cannon." I'm not irresponsible. I'm not a flake. I'm not silly.

So, I resent having to "prove" myself, at square one, all over again.

And I don't have a clue how to break out of that. Especially when it happens in a subterranian fashion, where I can't see it, don't know it's going on until it's too late, and can't stop it.

I did tell the reporter who admitted to this extracurricular conversation with another reporter that I don't want people talking to me behind my back. But the comment wasn't acknowledged. I even made a joke, "isn't talking behind my back talking to my front?" but that was ignored, too. The person was wearing head phones, looking at a computer screeen. I suppose the person was editing a sound file and didn't hear me, but somehow, managed to hear me ask a third reporter to voice my story.

It's unnecessarily uncomfortable. When I asked the 3rd reporter, this first reporter interrupted the conversation to say it's not kewl to ask people to voice storis they didn't write themselves. I'm sorry, was I talking to YOU? How is this any of your business? I didn't say that, of course. The 1st reporter said I should talk to Renee about this.

um....I DID talk to Renee about this, and that's why I'm ASKING reporters to voice my story! I guess they think this is all my crack pot hairbrained idea? I just made this up, out of thin air?

Do they think I'm stupid????? LOL

y'know, I'm the new kid on the block. And things are going to have to adjust, slightly, to accomodate the fact that I write and voice commentaries, in order for me to research news stories.

Now, maybe nobody's ever done things this way in the past, but they're doing things this way, now.

Adjust and get over it.

I'm not insulting anybody. I'm not threatening anybody's "turf" or journalistic integrity. I'm trying to do my job, the best way I know how. If my methods don't suit yours, just leave me be. But don't interfere; don't gossip about me; don't make assumptions about me and for gawd's sake, don't sabbotage my work!

THAT's why I'm in a mood today.

As for the poetry thing: the reason you people haven't heard my stuff is that I don't have a car and haven't been able to participate with the "in" crowd. But my poetry's published, both in my domain and on the KUNM bulletin board. You COULD have read it, if you wanted to. One person actually said they didn't know if they'd read my stuff, because their FEET HURTH! HUH?? You surf the net, standing up????

Who's crazy?

Don't silence me. I've had enough of that.