n: vb: the spice of imagination
American citizens: If you experience any irregularities in voting today, call 1-866-OUR-VOTE, the hotline for the National Campaign for Fair Elections. EFF lawyers and many others are standing by across the country to take legal action to remove malfunctioning voting machines, keep polls open, etc.
“R.I.P. Habeus Corpus, 1215 – 2006” from jwz
The Military Commission Act has been signed.
President Bush this morning proudly signed into law a bill that critics consider one of the most un-American in the nation’s long history.
The new law vaguely bans torture — but makes the administration the arbiter of what is torture and what isn’t. It allows the president to imprison indefinitely anyone he decides falls under a wide-ranging new definition of unlawful combatant. It suspends the Great Writ of habeas corpus for detainees. It allows coerced testimony at trial. It immunizes retroactively interrogators who may have engaged in torture.
All but one of the items on the bill of rights has been affected by this new law.
ACLU:
The president can now – with the approval of Congress – indefinitely hold people without charge, take away protections against horrific abuse, put people on trial based on hearsay evidence, authorize trials that can sentence people to death based on testimony literally beaten out of witnesses, and slam shut the courthouse door for habeas petitions. Nothing could be further from the American values we all hold in our hearts than the Military Commissions Act.
“One of the terrorists believed to have planned the 9/11 attacks said he hoped the attacks would be the beginning of the end of America. He didn’t get his wish.” George W. Bush, upon signing the Military Commissions Act of 2006 into law.
Tonight a whole bunch of us will be performing at Catfish and other Delicacies, Beth Brown‘s musical brainchild. (Nicholas is coming from Victoria to play).
Johnny Depp to play Sweeny Todd.
Have you ever met someone who tasted like wind? Their hands feel pleasingly tarnished, as if at one point they were molten. One day, walking, you may find yourself an inch above the ground. They will not notice and you will not tell them. They open their clear water eyes and the earth slips away, tumbling away like rainclouds. It rushes away with the sound of quick violin.
Treading on shadow, voice like the vectors of a moths wing, he is skin tattooed with opiates. Installed into his world, I feel the fortune-teller again, like my body is becoming a messy chapbook of small beautiful prophecies. My kiss becoming inexplicable, knowledge pooling in the crevices of my joints, ready to spill out and stain my lips with black twists of old-fashioned ink. His name becoming something other in my mouth, a brocade curtain illuminated as a religious manuscript, each letter exhaled as stars, reclaimed into treble clefs, sharps, bright notes of terrifying purity.
He has built a thousand ships so that I may capsize within them, day by day, every time I step toward him. My eyes are cameras that will never be good enough. Our plans coalesce from whims, they thicken and grow from thin candles to blazing soprano ravens. This is a man who grew up in homes, celebrating roots and history and form. He speaks of security as a casual thing, the waxing of the moon, as I watch and feel as a mouse might, worried about being trod underfoot. It is as foreign a concept as a rainbow in a catacomb.
Mexico’s Partial Vote Recount Confirms Massive and Systematic Election Fraud.
For those who are interested, I have been informed that the zombiewalk will probably be covered on Canada Now at 6PM PST tonight.
CBC TV as well as CBC Radio both spent the last 45 mins interviewing Andrew and getting some of his photos of the event, including the car photos, (license plate & driver). They’re possibly interviewing a couple of high school kids as well and the whole thing will apparently be on sometime in the 6 o clock news hour.
Apparently the driver of the car has only received a traffic ticket at this time. The police are getting in touch with Andrew tomorrow, so expect further details then.
Bush Now Says What He Wouldn’t Say Before War: Iraq Had ‘Nothing’ To Do With 9/11.
I’m sorry, apparently Canada had an attempted terrorist attack this week? What? Did anyone bother explaining to these people what we’re like here? Gruesomely chopping off Stephen Harper’s head would not send us into an epiphany of terror, we don’t like him. We sort of expect it to fall off anyway, like a withered vestigial limb might. Blowing up Parliament might raise some blood-pressure because it’s some of our only architecture, but I imagine it would become an interesting bit of novel political history to be bantered over dinner rather than a great loss to rally with. As far as I’m concerned, unless they blow up the CN tower, they’re out of luck. Poor sodden fools, let’s dip them in maple syrup and throw them to the moose for being ignorant in their goals.
Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain
I went to AJ’s after work yesterday and by midnight we had finished my gown. (My mother had been wonderfully helpful in procuring tulle for me while I was at work). While I was there sewing tulle to my crimson dupone silk, AJ was finishing a dress for another masque attendee, a black and white kimono that, in contrast to mine, perfectly exemplified the spray of different aesthetics I’m expecting to see Friday. It was fun. I’m going to have to dive-bomb them randomly with cookies later.
Does anyone know of a professional alteration shop that won’t break the bank?
I have a line on a fairly simple gown that I would like to be a bit more complex. Mostly the skirt ruched up with tulle put underneath as the green one is on this page, or with something on top, as the red one is, yes, flowery bits and all, if that’s easier. It’s about time I admitted myself a flowery bit of girlishness rather than have certain aspects of femininity drift blankly past me like a painted-eye shopping mall crowd after a fire.
Last Sunday I went to Seattle, and after a pleasant ride down with Brian’s friend, Jane, long silver hair, the pretty violet mannerisms of a relaxed bird, I found myself in the grand company of Eliza, who walks like she really means it and takes two hours to decide what to wear. It felt somehow like I was speaking with an echo of something I used to believe in. Three days of barely sleeping, being thrown into a car with a familiar stranger, a city I’m not familiar with. I felt like a game of jeweled cards was playing inside my head where I didn’t know the rules. I appreciated her friends, they were relaxing, a black clothes contingent to take my hand and keep me standing through my weary run. more pictures soon.
People have been repeatedly sending Robert Newman’s History of Oil to me the last few days. I am remiss in not posting it immediately, I’m sorry. (I forget more people read here). It’s a shining and clever monologue that discusses the critical political issues of war and energy use in an exceedingly accessible manner. He gracefully binds imperative information in laughter and ties it all up with a fun sense of charming levity, which may sounds silly, but it really needs to be seen to be properly understood. Watch it as soon as possible!
Quote of the Day: Andrew: “I think it says bad things about me when I try and go to the site http://super.cali.fragi.listic.expi.ali.do.cio.us/ and get disappointed that no one has made it yet.”
June 9, from 8pm to 1pm with live entertainment beginning at 9:30.
Sunbury Hall, Sunbury Park, 10409 Dunlop Street, North Delta
(Arrangements are in process for a shuttle to and from Scott Rd. Skytrain)
Tickets: $20, $30 for an open bar. They are to be paid for in advance. Please RSVP at geminifest@yahoo.ca
No Guest Shall Be Admitted Without a RSVP Response Card. Pseudonym Formalwear and Mask are Required.
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Speaking of parties, I need a venue for my birthday party. My apartment has grown too small for the number of people who’ve been asking what I’m doing this Saturday. Does anyone have a flat bigger than mine they would be willing to put up for a night? Or a house? House preferable, really. Back yards and porches are a double plus for any party, in my opinion. We’re an exceptionally non-destructive group, the worst we’ve ever done was set off confetti bombs and I’ll vouch that you’ll get ice-cream.
“Tories to legislate fixed American-style election terms“: this is worrisome. Currently, it’s up to the prime minister to decide when to call an election any time up to five years. The idea is that the government should fall when it can’t pass legislation. Otherwise the electorate has no recourse, they have to wait for however many years to oust the government and get one that does have the support of the people. Right now in the U.S. George Bush’s government is hovering around 25-28% approval rate. If this was Canada they couldn’t get a bill passed in the House of Commons, but in the U.S. they get two more years of Bush. Another reason why fixed terms are bad is that only half the time the government is running for reelection (i.e. trying to please voters). Shouldn’t they try to please the voters all the time instead of whenever the election looms around?
Whittling my bookshelf down is difficult. It’s a heartless occupation for me, throwing out worn books. They threaten me with undefined guilt that changes my perspective on what’s between the covers. The minute I reach out my hand to pluck something from the shelf, it’s like I’m being subtly affected by a villainous mind-ray from an old radio-play. “Well, this one wasn’t as bad as all that, was it?” I’m having to use my potential time on transit as my gunpoint. If I can’t pick it off the shelf at random when I need something to read or recommend the author to a stranger, then I should discard it. Get it out of my room, out of my life, to where it might prove useful for someone else’s future summer afternoon. Unexpectedly, the speculative fiction section is proving about as hard a bitch as the out-dated medical texts.
Tossing out old clothes, however, not so hard.
Which is almost a problem.
Now I can’t find any long sleeve shirts.
I promised to duet tomorrow at the strangely awesome Veteran Hall Karaoke night, (remember, doff your hat to the Queen or be kicked out), so now my playlist consists of only two songs; Tom Jones with the Cardigans singing Burning Down the House, because it’s something that Bob and I both know, and The Pogues Fairytale of New York because my invisible roommate Ryan is a romantic bastard.
So how many of you have seen the Has President Bush Finally Bit It (let’s all sing impeachment) poll that’s up on MSNBC at the moment? I’ve been checking on it every few days to marvel at the numbers. Last look in, votes were at 203923 responses, (!!), with an 86% of Yes, Most Assuredly, Kill Pussycat Kill Kill. It’s giving me a bit of hope that otherwise I wouldn’t have what with stupid laws declaring annoying someone anonymously over the internet is now a federal crime. What we need are genetically engineered politicians who explode if they lie. Ka-blam and pink splatter everywhere, like an extremely wet ticker tape parade celebrating democracy the way it should be.
I have so much mail to reply to that it’s ridiculous. In form, it would have been half a young tree bleeding sap all over my carpet. A damaged piece of earth trailing broken roots across my kitchen and onto my desk. Printed and slippery, a texture taken for granted more than telephones. In face, it is the trappings of other hands, dancing like slow two fingered rain to flood my computer box. I can’t stop randomly smiling. I look down the other way inside me and feel a tingle flow from the soles of my feet. My world, those gods of laughter, this is the beginning of soon I’ll run.
When I have time, I will reply to you. I promise.
Until then, tell your friends, post it on forums:
You can vote for both COPE and Vision as they’re not competing with each other (one runs for 19/25 seats, the other runs for 6/25). That means: night buses, actual support of four pillars drug program, cheap housing, community policing and no Wal-Mart.
You can vote if you:
* are 18 years of age or older
* are a Canadian citizen
* have lived in B.C. for at least six months
* have lived in Vancouver for at least 30 days
So bring ID with an address and some back-up ID. Stamped letters and parcel-wrappers are good.
To find out where to vote, go here.
For descriptions of all candidates in their own words, go here.
Between my mind and my hands, my words are getting lost. They are collecting in all my joints, crackling when I move. I stretch and a paragraph shattered. Unfortunate, as I need to pretend I’m functionally literate in spite of my complete and utter lack of sleep, and whore myself out some. Because guess what? The time has come.
Back in spring, I had the misfortune of being arrested for smashing into shards the glass door of a bus with a paper sandled foot. I, having not noticed this misfortune, continued walking home. The police car, lights flashing, was not as unexpected as the police that poured from it to pin me with handcuffs and write me a court date. The ridiculousness of the situation was not lost on me, nor the officers present. All charges were subsequently dropped. However, the broken window must still be paid for, and my time is running out. Translink have begun to call. I’m planning on a colour-in-the-increment thermometer, like we had in grade school for food drives. If anyone’s got any bright ideas, feel free to pass them along. As well, invite friends, invite family. Jacques has asked me to make a flyer image for him to hand out at his play this week. (A weary inability to focus my eyes is demanding that I do that tomorrow). If you care to perform, just give me the say so and I’ll add you to our list of entertainments.
KEEP JHAYNE FROM JHAYLE
a party of proportion
#340 – 440 west hastings
The Date: Friday, November 25th
The Time: 9:00 – onward
The Goal: $300.00
Earlier tonight I was basically paid in tasty food and delicious chocolates to examine Picasso with people who assumed that I was important. These political things, I should really go to more of them. Both the company and the conversations, were wonderful, surreal on many minuscule levels. For one, I had my HENTAI INSIDE bag with me at almost all times. For another, I got away with saying rather audacious things to people who are apparently running for various offices in the city of Vancouver. Oh, right, it’s the children of unwed mothers you tie into sacks and dump in the river, not kittens, my mistake. The ones who didn’t blink, they’ll get my vote. I felt somehow like I was representing alt-youth to some of them. An odd sort of dyed hair child who can speak lucidly on whatever subject you want is here, let’s go see, honey. From controlling the police to art history, political correcting institutions or obscure attempts at bailing out on theater, it was all easy, it was speaking back to them. An echoing trick of the light, fade out then on to the next person washed up on the beach of this gathering of people who live in a tax bracket that I only swim in on a guest pass.
from domystic
link
11/10/05 – Aretha Franklin was teary-eyed, Carol Burnett was teasing, Alan Greenspan was reliably taciturn, and “The Greatest of All Time” stole the show when President Bush bestowed the Medal of Freedom on them and 10 others in a White House ceremony yesterday.
Bush, who appeared almost playful, fastened the heavy medal around Muhammad Ali’s neck and whispered something in the heavyweight champion’s ear. Then, as if to say “bring it on,” the president put up his dukes in a mock challenge. Ali, 63, who has Parkinson’s disease and moves slowly, looked the president in the eye — and, finger to head, did the “crazy” twirl for a couple of seconds.
The room of about 200, including Cabinet secretaries, tittered with laughter. Ali, who was then escorted back to his chair, made the twirl again while sitting down. And the president looked visibly taken aback, laughing nervously.
