Tag Archives: goodbye

Adieu, Carpe Diem Girls

I miss Sherry.

With all of the hubbabaloo about the feminist paper — especially that feminist paper, I’ve been thinking about her more often than not for the past few days.

This paper, the jalepeno-cheese paper, offending people in the pizzaria while we’re talking about BDSM, submission, and feminism. This paper that caused her to crow “I knew you were a feminist” like she’d caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. This paper that prompted me to look at women’s silence as something subversive and the importance of voice and presence in a Shakespeare play.

This paper, the one in which I discovered my own voice. It wasn’t just my paper. It was our paper in a way that I really can’t describe.

I went to the seminar on relationships a couple of weeks back, and I can’t explain how powerful it really was. Chris Chenoweth really put things in perspective for me. He talked about how people don’t fall in love with other people; they fall in love with the way people make them feel.

Continue reading Adieu, Carpe Diem Girls

Waterboy

(From Live’s Mental Jewelry)

Just because it seems so apropos.

Waterboy  
What do you say to the child
Whose god is in the T.V.
And what do you say to the man
who blames the world on T.V.

They don’t even know how to sing my song
But they won’t even try it
With me, with me with me

Who is standing over playing like
The teacher
Harnessing the learned
Who try but can’t leave her
I want to beg the liars to lay down
Their sirens
That play like the angels
To my deep desire

Free my son
Let him walk right through the rain
Free my son
Make him waterboy
Free my son
There he stands down on the shore
Free my son

What do you say to the man
Who treats her like a mother?
And what do you say to the man
Who treats her like a father?

“Come and see my heart, come inside and learn”?
“Come and see my soul, it’s like yours.
I say it’s just like yours”?

Who is making over
Idolizing princes
Banishing the dreamers with
Barbed wire fences
And telling all the children who run to
Her feet
That they have no vision
And love’s all diseased

Free my son