Category: Shorts

Oklahoma Moonshine



Miner Mishap, originally uploaded by Brian Wilkins.

Drank this beer while we were in Hot Springs, and it was deeeelish. There were not yet microbrewerys when I was living in Oklahoma so I’d never had it before.

The Oklahoma Historical Society has an excellent write-up of so-called Choc beer which has nothing to do with chocolate and does nothing to dispel the stereotype that Native Americans like to hit the sauce.

Greasy hands

I just changed my very first bicycle inner tube thanks to Sheldon Brown’s website. I feel like She-Woman. Rest in peace, Captain Bike.

Galveston

Even in its hedonic infrastructure, Galveston displayed grand aspirations. The city had five hundred saloons, more than New Orleans, a city not exactly known for banking its fires. Galveston’s poshest whorehouse was situated right behind its richest men’s club, the Artillery Club, which barred women except for an annual ball and the occasional coming-out party of a member’s daughter. The city’s most disreputable block was Fat Alley, between 28th and 29th. In Galveston alcohol was blood, but one could also gamble, acquire love, and lose oneself in an opium mist.

The city exhibited a rare harmony of spirit. Blacks, whites, Jews, and immigrants lived and worked side by side with an astonishing degree of mutual tolerance.

From Issac’s Storm. Oh how I wish the city was still like this.

Prop 8

Not really news unless you live under a rock, but the words fundamental right to marry make me fill with gooey warmth.

Summer Tour 2010

I’ve been counting down the hours to Wednesday and Memorial Day weekend because our trip to San Antonio for Amerivespa starts off a summer of travel that will take me to the other side of the globe and back. I am excited.

We’ll only be home about five weeks total during the entire summer. Looking forward to may adventures.

I was awakened at 5 o’clock this morning

“I had a dream I was trying to exorcise a demon…”
“And I had all this paperwork to fill out…”
“And I had to get the demon to sign the paperwork too…”
*sighs*
“Stupid thing couldn’t even hold a pen correctly.”

On editorial license

As I mentioned yesterday, I have had some shitty editors in my life. I have also had some great ones. I think I’ve cried in front of just about every one of them.

My current editors are pretty awesome — so awesome that I have sent a letter to their bosses and their bosses’ bosses highlighting the ways in which they’ve made my life, and my work, more enjoyable and easier. Which is why this memo, from Village Voice editor Tony Ortega to writer Foster Kamer, makes me giddy.

We put into words the things people actually think and say when they are being honest with each other and not talking in that pretend-voice that the dailies and the television people put on. Right? I mean, that is at the core of this foul-mouthed, truth-telling, non-pandering institution. I mean, that’s the only reason I want to work here, anyway.

It is so heartening to have an editor stand up for the bottom line (the realbottom line, journalistic integrity, not the financial one).

I have this rule, see

I referenced the Bechdel Test in a longform essay test today about the plight of the female protagonist in Leslie Fiedler’s pattern of the male narrative. I am awesome.

Rockers vs Mods

I was the Mod in a photoshoot Monday for the poster for the upcoming Houston Rockers vs Mods Rally. See more outtakes here. I hope our photographer, Jamie, has some mad Photoshop skillz because I look like a raging goofball in half of them.

I had just met Crystal, the Rocker girl, about five minutes before the shoot, and then we had to sit there and stare at each other menacingly. I couldn’t stop giggling. The awesome part was that she rode her own bike, and I rode mine. We’re legit!

Patriots*

Teabaggers were protesting downtown yesterday because it was tax day. Wonder if they drove in their cars on roads (paid for by tax money) to get to Discovery Green (also paid for by tax money).

Last weekend at the BMW motorcycle rally in Llano a couple of guys showed up with the Gadsden flag and this one hanging from their tents. “Don’t Tread On Me. Unless you’re a maker of fine German motorworks.” I wanted to take a picture but there was no way to do it covertly, and besides, they were drunk and I didn’t want them to throw me in the river.

More on the moto trip later. We camped, and carried everything with us on the Beemer.

* Insert air quotes here

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