Loud-mouthed liberal feminist. Anarchist knitter. Tequila-drinking artsy-smartsy fat chick. Bluesy folk-rock singer-songwriter. Rebel with too many causes. Quirky eclectic pagan poet. Paradoxical intuitive smartass. Sarcastic brainiac insomniac. You know, for starters.


Storms a-brewing...

Between Gustav and Hanna and Ike, hurricane season is well underway. I was just reading about tropical storm devastation in Haiti and Cuba, exacerbating an already drastic situation for Haiti's poor.

This is a really interesting piece, talking about New Orleans and how its suffering has been used as a political gambit by the GOP, when it should be the smoking wreckage borne aloft as a symbol of everything the Obama camp intends to change. I can't decide, today, if I find this energizing or depressing. While I make up my mind, I plan to donate to Color of Change to help out those in the Gulf region who are still trying to rebuild from Katrina, and facing additional setbacks because of Gustav.

Also, if you haven't yet watched the joint press conference of the RNCWC and the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign, seriously, check it out. It's worth watching; particularly part 8, which features some tremendous thoughts from Shamako Noble of Hip Hop Congress. Additionally, there's a really solid overall summary (though not as complete as I would personally prefer) of the whole RNC mess, by Adam Turl of SocialistWorker.org, here.

My head and heart are hurting right now, and I need to give them both a break. I predict Jane Austen movies, cheesy romantic comedies, and Shel Silverstein:

The Lady With the Torch
Shel Silverstein

The lady with the torch in her hand
Stood in the bay on a cold grey dawn
Stood in the bay and looked out upon her troubled land.
The lady looked over the bay,
Looked to the south where the streets ran red
Looked to her children who suffered and bled,
And the lady looked away.

Then she looked to the east where men were marching,
And saw the bitterness and hate
In the eyes of those who wouldn't change
And those, who couldn't wait.
The lady saw faces of black,
Felt the anguish and heard the cries
Saw the pain in a million eyes,
But the lady turned her back.

Then she remembered a promise forgot
For over a hundred years
And the cries and shouts of freedom now
Come ringin', ringin' in her ears.
The lady with the torch in her hand
Looked to a dream that had almost died
Looked to the heavens then bowed her head
In shame and cried.

That makes two of us.

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