A rum row (a line of booze-laden ships from Cuba, Jamaica, and the Bahamas) became a fixture approximately 35 miles (56 km) beyond the coastline where smaller boats fetched the goods and brought them to shore.

(Via The Free State of Galveston on Wikipedia)

Hurricane season starts tomorrow. So far in my tenure as a Houston resident, we’ve been super lucky with regard to missing the storms. For Katrina, Rita and Ike, we’ve been out of the country each time. But this year they’re predicting a hectic season. We shall see.

This weekend is the 10-year anniversary of Tropical Storm Allison. I hadn’t yet moved here, but I’ve seen the pictures and heard the horror stories. I’ve kind of always loved dramatic weather though, and in a small way hope for a storm — one that brings a little excitement, but doesn’t leave us without power for several days, or floods our house, or damages anything.

This time of year always makes me think bout the glory days of Galveston, mostly about the Victorian era and the 1900 hurricane and Kate Chopin’s Awakening, which I know is set in Louisiana but which represents the same time period I romanticism with regards to Galveston. Then I read this crazy comment on Swamplot about a very out of place house built in the 1920s in Dickinson, Texas.

During the 1920s, Dickinson became a significant tourist destination resulting from investment by the Maceo crime syndicate which ran Galveston during this time. The syndicate created gambling venues in the city such as the Silver Moon casino.

Ahh, the Maceos. That set me off remembering the old Balinese Room and my many fond memories of the place. Which in turn led me to a Wikipedia wormhole. So here are some links to enjoy. Did you know there used to be a military blimp base on Galveston Island?

• Free State of Galveston
• 1915 Galveston Hurricane
• Rosario Maceo
• Balinese Room
• Galveston Movement

The truth is, the "bikini body" craze goes so much deeper than fatism or fatphobia. It is part of our society’s relentless insistence that a woman’s body is not her own.

The last part of the line really struck me. I’ve been spending so much time lately thinking about all the ways the government tells us what we can and can’t do with our bodies that I have never really though about how the media sends us the same message.

(Via There Is No Such Thing As A Bikini Body – Jezebel.)

SlutWalk Houston is right around the corner. In case you’re not familiar with the march, SlutWalk was born of a Toronto police officer’s comment that women should avoid “dressing like sluts” in order not to be raped. It’s a chance to stop the cycle of victim blaming when it comes to rape, and possibly to strip a dirty word of its sting by owning it as only true sluts can.

Here’s an homage to our five favorite Texans who took a stand through the name of sluttiness.

(Via Five Texas Sluts Worth Admiring – Houston News – Hair Balls.)

Gaga just played two sold-out nights in Houston. I went Sunday night for work. You can read my review here.

Her music is mindlessly fun. But when she talks about her mission to free her fans of their insecurities, and when she talks about her relationship with her parents, she seems 100% legit, vulnerable and so honest and open-hearted. This is why I love her.

The reason why so many people are hesitant to admit that sexism exists, and the reason why so few young women are willing to self-identify as feminists is because the sexism inherent in our society is so ingrained that half the time *I* don’t even realize it’s happening.

I remember one WTF moment when a lady acquaintance hung out for hours after a show trying to meet the band. Years later, I would meet the infamous groupie, Pamela Des Barres, who shared with me her philosophy on what it means to be a muse.

Case in point — little girls groomed to be groupies while boys are groomed to be critics. Like there isn’t enough wrong with the music industry’s treatment of and respect for women.

But one thing I’ve noticed since I started writing about music is the number of people who seem to think I have no authority to espouse opinions. When I wrote about Kinky Friedman I had a guy try to tell me how to vote. When I gave Patti Smith an honest review for what I felt was an uneven appearance, I got slammed not only by commenter but also by people in real life.

I’ve suffered momentary doubts and been called plenty of names but one thing I’ve never done is question my own right to write about music — or anything — critically.

So the post is worth a read, but then the writer completely undoes all the mental gains she’s made with this self-deprecating line:

You might also want to look for Anwyn Crawford, whose essay — not fully available online — started this conversation. You are probably better off listening to her about this stuff than listening to me.

And then the title! The title, which apologizes for having an opinion in the first place. C’mon girl! Where’s your resolve?

*It’s always nice to have readers stand up for me in the comments.

Friday night I went straight from lapdance class to the Houston Symphony’s performance of The Rite of Spring, which was magical, to say the least. I kept finding myself almost panting at the anxiety the frenetic music was causing me.

There is a bassist in the Symphony whom I absolutely adore. I first noticed him when I went to the Oscars Red Carpet Party. He has great hair and he’s very animated when he plays, banging his head like he was Lemmy or something.

Here is my review from my first-ever Jimmy Buffet concert.

I regret to inform you that I might now be a Jimmy Buffett fan. I am certainly no Parrothead, but I had a working knowledge of his music before Friday night. However, as I say in the review, it’s fucking impossible not to like the guy. His early work is sentimental without being cloying. His later work is innocent escapism. His politics are sound. And he loves manatees. It’s the first show I’ve been to in a long time in Houston where the drunken crowd didn’t get aggro. It was a damn good time.

You can see a slideshow of pictures here.

* The title of this post? I want to learn that song on the ukulele.

Wednesday night I was going through my Google Reader and I came across this post on Metafilter.

A story I have written was posted to the front page of Metafilter. A STORY I HAVE WRITTEN WAS POSTED TO THE FRONT PAGE OF METAFILTER!

I’ve been a Mefite for five years and it is consistently one of my favorite websites, for its interesting, sometimes silly, but always intelligent links and discussions. Metafilter’s motto is “Best of the Web” and I’m honored that something I’ve written falls under that category.