Post-vacation Crash Rant

So I've been back in the States for less than a week and the post-Nova Scotia blues just hit full force.
I've been writing multiple blog posts in my head (I know, does no good there) over the past couple of weeks, but just haven't had the oomph to write them. I get it, depression. Understood. However, it's more than that. I was OK for a while because I thought I was going back in September--was going to hit the Jim Jefferies show at the Wilbur, hop in the car, and haul ass for Halifax and The Hill encampment so I could see all of my friends again.
Not happening--for a lot of reasons, most of them monetary. But it hurts like hell. I miss my NS people desperately, and the only reason to be back here are the good people in my life.
I really hate coming back here, and I've realized why: lack of community. Lack of cooperation. And the fact that Americans are the biggest bunch of spoiled, lazy, fucking brats on the planet. (More on that later.)
I spent the last weekend of July in my version of heaven on earth: the Annapolis Valley. Most of it was spent at a living history encampment of the 84th Regiment at Fort Anne in the piss-pouring rain. In full 18th century dress (which I am not doing again unless I'm in drag--there's something going on with my abs that are making anything tight incredibly horrible). I'm going to do a full post on the encampment--a happy post, because this is NOT a happy post and it was a happy experience. What I left the encampment with was a feeling of community--of being a part, even if on the periphery--of a solid community which watched out for its own and welcomed others willing to commit and give back.
I am not a crunchberry--while I believe that yes, we are bloody irresponsible in our use of resources and hate the disposable society in which we live, I am also as guilty as the next person of not being as responsible as I could be in making things better. However, having worked in the People's Republic of Cambridge for over two decades and dealing with starry-eyed fascists who shoved their politics and naive idealism down my throat until I choked... yeah. I believe in being responsible. What that means is that I eat the cow AND wear leather because the idea of wasting the animal is repugnant. I honor the sacrifice; I also accept that it's a part of the cycle of existence. I will be cremated because my remains will not be allowed to break down naturally and enrich the earth (although, being born in the late 20th century and raised on crap food for 40 years, I'd be worried about what would leach out that would poison the earth). The re-enactors I was with are probably the best example of effective use of resources I have ever come face-to-face with: all natural fibers, thrift store shopping, items mended, repurposed, passed down, passed along... nothing going to waste.
Chortling over "Frenchy's Finds"--stuff found at thrift stores for cheap money, perfectly good stuff that other people threw away, given new life. If you didn't have goods, you gave services--cooking, child-watching, help with a tent, whatever. Cooperation.
The cooperation extended beyond the encampment--whether it was just having coffee, help with moving stuff, advice, whatever--the community continues over.
I miss that community desperately. I miss having a cup of coffee in the afternoon and a yak-yak over a snack. I miss having people to meet up with and just be. I miss the Nova Scotian common sense and acceptance of life and limitations--and the indomitable will to just keep going and make things work, somehow.
Because you have to.
I got a little sick of the anti-American sentiment (actually, I got a lot sick of it, and had to bite my tongue a couple of times from saying, "WELL, WHY THE FUCK DO YOU TAKE IT?!?! Close the goddamned border, stand up to the US. What the fuck are we going to do? Nuke you? We'd be killing ourselves and losing everything we need because fuck knows, drilling for oil in the Gulf isn't working, we've decimated our forests, and most of our top entertainers are imported from either Canada or the UK); I got sick of apologizing for American stupidity, not just because I was annoyed with the fact that I know a lot of people who are NOT like what gets shown on the TV--most of the people I know are decent human beings who are doing their best. The other reason I got sick of it is because I'm sick of our diseased society.
And here begins the rant. Sit down or click off, kids, because the Empress is about to throw down: Dear America: Please WAKE THE FUCK UP AND PULL YOUR COLLECTIVE HEAD OUT OF YOUR ARSE. I don't give a rat's nadgers what you classify yourself as--liberal, conservative, progressive, Green, Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, what-the-fuck-EVER. GROW UP. Our government is in the pocket of corporations and very, very wealthy people who have directed us on a course of self-destruction that will make the fall of Rome look like a backyard game of tug-o-war because, thanks to technology, we have far more destructive toys than our Roman forebears ever did.
The world economy is collapsing because of irresponsibility and laziness. Because we want to go farther, faster, quicker, sooner, without regard for the consequences. Somewhere along the line, we forgot there were consequences for our actions, or, to use the physics formula, for every action there is a direct opposite REaction. The human race, in its race to advance, has condemned itself, and no society greater exemplifies this than the US.
And it breaks my fucking heart. We have an AMAZING country, founded on an incredible visionary law code, on a philosophy that believes we are all capable of achievement, of raising ourselves up and being better than what we were at the beginning.
As a society, we have lost sight of this. Over the past century, we have gone from being pioneers and citizens to being spoiled, entitled brats, and there isn't an echelon of American society that isn't guilty of it, from the very rich to the very poor.
We eat over-processed food, approved by a government agency in the pockets of corporate food producers, food that is poisoning us because, while it is convenient, it lacks nutrition and introduces compounds into the body that are deadlier than bullets.
We watch corporate-produced crap on the television that more and more, isn't well-written entertainment (although that was scarce enough even before reality TV), but a glorification of all that is wrong with our society. But for a bit of attention, people are willing to sell their souls for a slice of the pie. We get the Kartrashians, heiresses little more than self-supporting whores, neglecting mothers, shallow idiots, and values that have nothing to do with common sense, common courtesy or common decency, all for Warhol's fabled fifteen minutes. How ironic a hack would come up for the label for the fall of America.
We support professional sports teams who are paid more money than any human being is worth to play games for us--rather than going out and tossing a ball around for fun, it's about who can win the scholarship, who can get signed, who can take this to the limit and get all the money. It's not about sportsmanship, it's not about athleticism, it's about money. You will not see me at Fenway, Patriot Place, or the Garden, folks. Fuck them. And fuck the owners of these franchises who are little more than modern-day slave owners--ever see Gladiator? I really am NOT entertained.
We elect politicians who talk a good game and do nothing but line their own pockets preparing for their next run for office. Hypocrites, the lot of them, particularly on the far Right--decrying everything the lowest, least-educated part of society fears while committing the same "sins" in private.
This is what is being played out in "the media"--on the television, the newspapers, the magazines, etc. This is what America broadcasts to the world--that we are a nation of lazy, stupid morons being puppeteered by corporate masters, new money who have no grasp of the concept of noblesse oblige--I may hate Bill Gates for being a plaguirizing jackass, but he has done great things with his money. He has given back. Warren Buffet is another great example. Not so Donald Trump, Rupert Murdock, the thieves of Wall Street and their ilk, and sadly, they are in the majority, takers who suck the life out of others and don't give a damn thing back, selfish idiots who have lined their pockets and bought expensive toys that use up precious resources that can't be replaced while people die because of the conditions they perpetuate.
Don't tell me Wal-Mart creates jobs and has affordable prices--I know this. What I also know is that Wal-Mart has actively worked to destroy American manufacturing in order to keep its prices low, thereby eradicating well-paying American jobs that would allow the workers to better educate themselves and their children and dear Gods, we can't have that happening.
We have an education system that is, quite frankly, piss. Great universities so obscenely priced that we have three generations who have begun their adult lives deeply in debt, the latest with little hope of paying it off in less than two decades. Primary and secondary education are now test-driven--state-sanctioned test-driven, to the point where if you don't pass the government test, you don't get the degree, therefore you don't get a job, and hey, let's talk about those crime statistics.
Are you seeing the vicious cycle we've created? And you want to cut social programs but not tax the rich motherfuckers who aren't giving a cent back to make things better. Instead, you want to cut money for the elderly, cut benefits for children and families, and in short, make the poor pay for the sin of being poor.
This is Calvanistic Puritanism at its most vile and disgusting. Think I'm kidding? Ever heard of the theory of "The Elect"? It is a philosophy at the center of many of the Protestant sects--the concept that there are a finite number of people who have been "saved"--i.e. whom God has chosen and who are going to heaven no matter what. The Elect can be identified by their fortunate lives; the damned can be identified by their unfortunate lives. In short: they ain't going to heaven, SO FUCK 'EM.
I was raised Catholic; Catholicism states that even the worst sinner can be redeemed by sincere good works (sincere meaning that the gestures come from the heart--from a genuine desire to do rightly). If you want a good example of Catholic redemption theory, see the praying scene in Hamlet--the one where Claudius is on his knees but cannot pray because he has no repentance in his heart.
I am sick at heart for all this, folks. I'm angry, I'm upset, and I am sorely disappointed in America in general. What makes it more painful is all of the wonderful people I know down here--my friends--who are trying to live their lives rightly and do right by themselves and those around them. I am tired of the fact that down here, we're doing our best, but up there... up there, they just don't give a rat's ragged arse about what's right, just about what is right for them.
So what am I doing to counteract the stupidity? To avoid the only real sin I acknowledge, i.e. hypocrisy? I'm doing my best. Trying to eat decent food, grown as locally as possible. Trying to be smart about what I buy. Using thrift stores. Repairing instead of throwing away. Passing around, not throwing out. I wish I didn't have to use the car so much, but my knees aren't allowing for walking.
I'm going to go get some coffee and see if I can find a little peace of mind. A positive vacation blog will follow--going over the really high points and giving lots of credit and kudos where it's due--but right now... right now, I need to have a good hard cry because I'm not going to get to see all of those folks again for at least a year.
while I have much to be thankful for, right now... right now, life fucking sucks.

It's too damn early

To be awake, never mind functioning.

Although I don't know if I consider blogging functioning.

So, today, I'm off home. Thrills. Joy. Oh, extremes of ecstasy.

Oh, pardon... I seem to have dripped sarcasm all over the lappie. Thankfully, it doesn't cause short circuits or get stuck in the keys.

I have never looked less forward to a trip than this one. I don't want to go home.

Now, this is nothing new--I go through this every time I come up here. I love this place, and when I'm here, I know I'm where I belong. Boston may be home, but Nova Scotia is Home.

Doesn't help that I'm grumpy from last night, either. Started out grand--great lazy day yesterday which Vicki actually got to enjoy (I don't know how she does it. I am in awe), a final Frenchy's run with a couple of interesting scores that will go to ebay, I got to prep dinner (fabulous roast chicken and sides), and finally got to see the Russell Crowe Robin Hood. (LOVED IT! Gods, that man is so damn hot--talent, beauty, and fuck me blind, can he sit a horse! They grows 'em pretty down there in the Antipodes... rough, ready and rrrrroowwwww!) Made toddies for Vicki and I, we had a snack, and then... shakes and tremors, followed by hard retching.

Thank you, high fructose corn syrup. *slams head on the desk*

One of the after-effects of the gastric bypass is that I can't do anything heavily sweetened with high fructose corn syrup. Now, I had started avoiding that a while ago--after I kicked the Pepsi habit, I tried to cut it completely out of my diet. Since surgery, I can't go near the shit. A tiny bit won't hurt, but anything that is heavily sweetened with it will make me very, very, VERY ill.

Like last night.

I read labels when I buy things. I have to--I'm allergic to so much shit, I have to be careful. What I didn't know is that in Canada, HFCS is called "glucose-fructose syrup." *slams head on the desk*

I can't abide vomiting. Seriously. It's the worst physical experience on the planet--I find it utterly humiliating to be hunched over a toilet, my entire body spasming, retching, and just wanting to fucking die. I've had people attempt to comfort me in this moment, only to have the door of the bathroom shoved closed--I can't stand for anyone to ever see me like that. It's so utterly undignified.

Last night was so bad, I was crying at the end of it. Wretched feeling.

So I'd like to say to the Corn Refiners Association: Go fuck yourself. HFCS is NOT SAFE for human consumption--it is NOT the same as sugar, you lying fucks. It's garbage, a poison, and has been directly SCIENTIFICALLY linked to the obesity epidemic, and you bastards should be taken out and shot for the commercials you're running on television promoting the shit. I don't get my information about HFCS from my hairdresser--I've gotten it directly from my body. Thank you for ruining my last night with my best friend; instead of hanging on the couch, talking and laughing until 4 a.m., she ended up fussing over me (bless you, Vicki, you are a saint) like a mother hen until I fell asleep (after the tremors stopped from the sugar shock).

And I leave you on that very grumpy note, my darling blurkers. Don't believe me? Just take a troll around Google; you will find a great deal of information on the dangers of consuming HFCS. If you're having weight issues, start reading your labels, and I'm willing to wager that if you cut the crap out, once you're over the withdrawal, you will start seeing a difference. One hundred pounds and dropping later...

Off to pack.
Much love,
Your Empress

Another one bites the dust...

Quite possibly the one Queen song I never need to hear again. (Although I have a soft spot in my heart for "Fat Bottomed Girls" for obvious reasons.)

Well, it's my last full day in Nova Scotia for this trip. WAHHHHH!!! Yeah, my heart is already aching at the thought of going (forget about packing. Argh). If you've never visited up here, you need to. It's like getting the best of New England with the best of the Midwest scenery-wise, and the people... The people are the best. I think I've heard one car horn since I left the States (and it might have been mine). People are friendly, relaxed, genuinely nice.

And the men... oh, giiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllllsss, the MEN ARE FINE!

And, sadly, for the most part either taken or gay. *sigh* Saw my last Canadian Crush last night--his girlfriend is damn lucky.

Which, of course, brings us back to my sordid love life.

Potential Paramour is out. No meeting will happen, and all further communications will be cut off. Those little warning signs I spotted? I was spot-on.

I've mentioned the Xanax Days in the month--the 2 or 3 days I need to pop half-a-tab of Xanax to control the hormonal attacks from the PMDD--well, one of them hit the other day. I was CRANKY. Of course, Potential Paramour showed up looking for IM sex that night. We got into a convo first, and I was a bit contrary.

He said I was cute. *looks for shotgun* *realizes I do not allow myself firearms* *pouts*

As I have said, I AM NOT CUTE when I am cranky. I am a pain in the arse, a royal bitch. Now, by this time in the evening, the Xanax had taken effect so I was calmer and not irrational. We were talking about my drive home; I made a 10.5 hour drive in 8. I am hoping to do the 12 hour drive in 10 but of course, will adjust speed for weather conditions (especially if the conditions on the road are anywhere near as bad as they were here yesterday; I am crazy--I AM NOT stupid). He keeps warning me; I state that I have Jedi reflexes and a serious measure of common sense. And then am told not to let my vanity get the better of me.

Say what? There are a couple of people who have seen my Jedi reflexes in action behind the wheel--no vanity involved. Experience, skill and confidence, no arrogance.

The conversation goes on a bit.

I mentioned I was feeling bratty (because I wasn't allowing him to take the convo into sex).

To which he responded: "You need to be roughed up."
Me: "I beg your pardon?"
Him: "hmm a spanking maybe and later sweet love"
Me: "Uh huh. "

The conversation ended there. He was on-line for another two hours; I worked on my book and other things before having a good sleep, and no word since.

I'm good with that. I'm really good with that. See, I realize that I might have read too much into the "roughed up" comment with my history and all, but at the same time... No. Abso-fuckin-lutely NOT. A sensual spanking has nothing to do with being "roughed up"--it's a game, a bit of fun, and there is no implication of violence. (Yes, I realize the contradictions in that statement, but if it's the kind of game you play, you know what I'm talking about--it's fun, it's exciting, but it's also SAFE, and you know that while your bum may be stinging, you don't have to worry about your lover going psycho and putting you in the hospital. It's a fine line, I know, but it's very, very real.)

My advice to anyone considering bottoming: LISTEN TO YOUR INSTINCTS. If the little voice in the back of your mind is saying, "RUN AWAY!" - LISTEN TO IT.

And yes, I am listening to mine. Besides, I'm not interested in getting involved with someone who will require me always on the bottom, not when I have so much more fun being on top.

*slams head on the desk*

You'll notice I'm not talking about the Captain. He's on probation with me; we shall see. Ooohhh, yes, we shall see indeed.

The Empress Abroad - The Vacation Posts

OK, kids, Your Empress is on vacation. Halle-fuckin-lujah. I know of no one else on the planet at this moment who needs a vacation as badly as I do.

I claim that, I own that, and I'm fuckin' good with it.

So, my itinerary... first stop was yesterday, NYC to see my current celebricrush, Jim Jefferies. There will be a multipart post on the God of Comedy. :-) Yeah, I'm smitten. Utterly smitten. I love the fact that this cynical old bitch can still have a crush. And, Gods, he's worth it.

The next stop on the itinerary (after about 24 hours back in Boston) is Camp Atherton in Pittsfield, NH to see Ferd and Laura and plan out my next step in World Domination: my website. It has been suggested to me that I need to do podcasting because my delivery is so vital to getting my humor. So me and the Ferdinator are gonna put our heads together.

Next stop: the Gods' Own Country, Nova Scotia. The most beautiful place on earth. Friggin' awesomest city on the planet, Halifax (well, it is becoz there are such cooooooooooooooool people there). I get to celebrate Real Thanksgiving with The Fam up there, and visit The Hill, and hang with Vicki and see Eileen and Wanda and Andrew and Calliope and everyone else I miss so much.

Wow. The sun's up here, and it looks like it's going to be a perfect fall day. Unlike yesterday which was shit weather. Fuck cares--it was a damn good day.

On with the blog....