Trigger Warning: Catholic Gore

 

Got a short story published in Trashlight. It's called Binding and Loosing. Never thought it would find a home because of its rather...unusual nature.

Picked Up By A Periwinkle Pelican

 

Howdy December. Howdy All. New poem called "Another Borough" has been published in Periwinkle Pelican. 

On Childless Cat Ladies

 

You start out in 1954 by saying, "N****r, N****r, N****r." By 1968 you can't say "N****r"—that hurts you. Backfires. So you say stuff like forced busing, states' rights and all that stuff. You're getting so abstract now [that] you're talking about cutting taxes, and all these things you're talking about are totally economic things and a byproduct of them is [that] blacks get hurt worse than whites. And subconsciously maybe that is part of it. I'm not saying that. But I'm saying that if it is getting that abstract, and that coded, that we are doing away with the racial problem one way or the other. You follow me—because obviously sitting around saying, "We want to cut this," is much more abstract than even the busing thing, and a hell of a lot more abstract than "N****r, N****r."

- Lee Atwater

For those unfamiliar, this is a quote from Lee Atwater, a Republican political operative from the 1980s and one of the architects of the Southern Strategy. Thanks in part to his work, the once solidly Democratic South became a bastion of the Republican Party. It wasn't all him of course, and this process occurred before and after the 1980s. Nevertheless, this quote feels strangely relevant in light of the recent rise and fall of the phrase "Childless Cat Ladies." 

In the past couple of months, it passed from J D. Vance's tradcath mouth into the memesphere and has largely dissipated. When the phrase still emerges, it is in an almost ironic context (like “deplorables” two elections ago). I have seen men appropriating it for themselves, and so-called CCLs in real life mentioning it for a laugh in bars. Good for them. But it is important to unpack how something like this could gain any kind of currency in the first place. Its present ridiculousness can obscure the potentially serious division the Right seeks to exploit in the future. 

Returning to the Atwater quote, we may be at the N-word stage of the process the deceased operative outlined. The Childless Cat Lady occupies its place with gender swapped in for race. That is not to say the term is anywhere near offensive. Only that it is similarly clumsy, ridiculous, and to the detriment of reactionaries, obvious. It too easily reveals what they are appealing to. In Atwater's case, it was racism. For Childless Cat Ladies it is sexism. This campaign cycle, it has been to the benefit of liberals and others that such terminology was chosen. It gives them a good laugh and allows people like Vance and his ilk to be portrayed as "weird."

Well until the VP debate. Now it seems that "weird" has been put to rest. However, that other term, Childless Cat Ladies (which has its historical antecedents) may have its afterlife (or nine) too. Not in a literal sense. Rather, a sentiment behind it might provide a fertile ground for future reactionary politics to cultivate. That is why the phrase cannot be fully dismissed. Liberals and their coalition need to be vigilant. The sentiment in question is a resentment that could very well rear its head in more coded language. Echoes of “Childless Cat Ladies” reverberating through the campaign trails of the future.

And no, I won’t speculate on what those terms will be. I’m not going to help them. It must be remembered that resentment is the bread and butter of reactionary politicians. They are constantly sizing up society to find what might be bubbling under the surface and can be lanced for their benefit. The whole CCL nonsense is no different. It’s an attempt to explore and exploit tensions between the portion of women in this society who raise children, and those who do not. The distinction isn’t as clear as the phrase makes it out to be, but when has the Right ever allowed subtly, or reality to get in its way?

Obviously, throughout history not all women have had children (or children that survived infancy) but the numbers of women who decide to not pursue some form of motherhood (or guardianship) are higher today than ever before. Meanwhile the cost in terms of money and time for children keeps increasing and is also born more and more by the individual family unit, however it may be constructed. 

(Despite the wide diversity in parenting structures, there’s little chance of the Right trying to appeal to them all. It’s why this essay is discussing things in terms of heterosexual cisgender women. This is in no way meant meant to ignore LGBT heads of households. But they occupy a different place in the discourses of Right-wing politics. In theory, transgender men with children could be celebrated by reactionaries as a way to put down CCLs. In practice they, along with others who do not conform to their supposed ideal, will merely be put down as an aberration who should not be allowed to have children in the first place. It’s another clue, among many, of how the Right isn’t actually interested in the welfare of children as an ends, but rather as a means to assert control and slot people into their “proper” place.)

Now is this particular resentment there? It is hard to imagine any useful polling that might shine a light on its dimensions. How widespread is the feeling, and how deep does it run for those who feel it?  One might have a tinge of resentment for something but it might also not bother them much. But I think it's worth an educated guess to assert there's a strong potential for it. 

In a healthy society that manages to be both empathetic and rational, there would be no conflict from those who have chosen one path over the other. Women who do not want to have children, would feel no pressure to do so, and not have their decisions over their body denigrated. They would have access to contraception, abortion, and the education to know how to use and access these options. Meanwhile, for those who choose to have children, they would have childcare, health care, flexible working situations, and affordable housing. 

But America is far from being an empathetic country and its conception of rationality is stuck in the amber of 18th century metaphysics. In short, it is a country that makes it hard to be a mother, and is trying to make it equally hard to not be one either. In such a situation, it’s only natural for a reservoir of resentment to build up. In particular, those who have taken up the responsibilities of motherhood can begin to feel like they’re providing a valuable service for a society that ultimately turns its back on them.

This feeling is not going to be universal, because motherhood is not experienced the same by everyone. Some people are under more of a strain than others. The kinds of resources available vary widely. In many situations, women with children are directly supported by their relations and friends who don’t have them. Nevertheless, I don’t think it takes much of a stretch of the imagination to see the potential for a growing divide.

As with most cleavages, a politics of solidarity would bridge it. In their absence, the divide only grows. It’s a common enough process across all kinds of social struggles and contradictions. The divide begins in a gap between what people (in this case mothers) need versus what society provides for them. Then this divide moves, switching from a “vertical” focus to a “horizontal” one that strikes out against another group of people perceived to be contributing to the issue of inadequate provisions. In time, and with enough focus and ire, this division deepens until it becomes a trench in a culture war. 

The last stage rarely happens spontaneously. It come about through a process of messaging that is both subtle and overt from reactionary forces. In this case, “Childless Cat Ladies,” is quite overt. It’s hard to think of anything that could be more on the nose. One would have to reach deep into the recess of old misogynistic lore to find it. Harridan? Maybe “Queen of the Harpies.” Yet as with CCL, these terms carry such a ridiculous, over-the-top quality that they easily become coopted into badges of merchandisable pride. 

We could be become a society that supports both groups, along with all kinds of parents and guardians. To embrace a politics of family choice that would challenge the current the system of benefits and the present work-life balance. There’s no reason to raise up one group at the expense of the other, since both experiences overlap. Plenty of women make the decision to have and/or raise children at a later date in their lives. Others with children make the choice not to have any more. This blending and entwining of paths offers proofs that politics of resentment over who is and is not a mother is nowhere near inevitable.

Unfortunately, liberalism is inadequate in creating the politics that can diffuse tensions in society through material improvements. It has a grave-digging inability to grapple with the very concept of resentment, often confusing this feeling on the Right with the rage and revulsion expressed by the Left. Liberalism believes it is above recognizing such things. The ideology treats emotion in politics as a stain on what should be a sober calculation in the minds of the citizenry. 

Which is why, when the champions of liberalism do try to get “emotional,” the attempts feel half-hearted and come off half-baked without about follow through. The “Politics of Joy” is only the latest attempt at trying to do liberalism with a human face. How quickly that seemed to fizzle out. 2024 isn’t 2008. A campaign of “Hope” or “Change,” is only sustainable when people believe actual material improvements are around the corner. When they fail to well, materialize, the collapse is hard. Both heart and mind feel betrayed.

Maybe the child/childless divide will not provide much fodder for the future Right. Reactionary forces might decide this line of attack is not worth pursuing and instead focus on cracking the African-American vote. They have been recently trying to do it by cultivating resentment against immigration. Or perhaps one day a clever operative will come along and they (and it could very well be a lady Atwater) will see the potential to seize on the underlying resentments I’ve previously outlined. The GOP has a problem with female voters and this might bring more of them into the Republican fold. Nothing helpful will be proposed or enacted. Just the cultivation of resentment with a little pandering rhetoric thrown in as a treat. 

It will not lead to the kind of natalist policies the European Right proposes. Their Right was stitched to Capitalism in a shotgun wedding presided over by NATO after World War II. Meanwhile, our Right’s true love is Capitalism. High school sweethearts, who were Homecoming King and Queen. Our Right would hate to see support mostly going to non-White women as well. A story with a familiar refrain in this country. White Antebellum Americans were perfectly fine extolling the virtues of motherhood while selling the children of mothers they enslaved (and sometimes even fathered). 

No, under this manifestation of resentment politics, mothers will be made to feel elite and “seen,” by punishing all the single ladies. Taking away abortion rights, restricting contraceptives, outlawing no-fault divorce, and censoring any information about this (one of the chief uses of obscenity laws in the past). Children will not receive any better healthcare; their mothers will be forced to work longer hours. The cats, more or less, will probably be fine.

Part of a Joyous Mosaic

 

Thanks to Mosaic here is a poem of mine that appeared in their most recent issue. I hope it is clear enough. I originally took a picture of it on my phone but unfortunately you can't add images from your phone (or anywhere else) onto this site directly. I don't know why Blogger is so anti-Mobile. I guess it's still 2002 over at HQ. So I emailed to myself, downloaded it to my laptop, and pasted it here. If there are any issues viewing it, blame the people who created this platform. You have a dozen different fonts to choose from on the mobile version, but no option to add images. Go figure. 

I Am the Opiate of the Masses

 

Or at least my poem "Jackie at 93%" is up at The Opiate. That's the same thing basically, right?

Let's Break it Down with a Poem About Tinder

 

(Not fro my phone, Wiipedia)

A poem of mine about Tinder is up at Jack Henry's site, 1870 Poems. Why not give it a look, then swipe right, as the kids* say.

*not to be confused with the kids in my basement

Celebrating the Work of Benjamin Nordolilli

Really enjoying this poem "The Lunar Gemini" in the Poetica Review. It's by an up and coming poet named Ben Nordolilli. I don't know what it is, but there's something about the language I like. It seems...so familiar. Overall, I hope you enjoy his work here and be on the look out for more of it!

A Bleached Butterfly Has Come Out from Its Cocoon

Two poems of mine are in the fall issue of Bleached Butterfly.  Scroll through the PDF to find them.

I also have another poem at the Rye Whiskey Review.

Enjoy!

Call Me Mint Jelly, Because I'm on a Literary Heist (and the Lam)

A poem from a while back I forgot to post from Literary Heist. Probably one of the few things I've written about perfume.

Owl's Brew Radler is Rad

I'm more of a coffee man than a tea man, but I'm more of a beer man than a coffee man, so when you mix beer and tea together, I'll give it a try. Frankly I've never had the combination before. Yes, I've had vodka and tea, and unidentified malt beverage and tea, but never true, brewed beer and tea. Thanks to the Owl's Brew company, I get to expand my taste horizons this way.

Up for review are two products from this fine business: That's My Jam and The Blondie. They both combine beer and tea to create different flavors, finely balancing bubbly and bitter, sweet and tangy. You might think the use of the Penny Farthing is an homage to the Prisoner. You may be right. But there's solid history behind it, because these kinds of beer, tea, and lemonade drinks were developed for thirsty bicyclists on the go. On the back of the can it reads "Do us a solid and fill in the blank: I drink @theowlsbrew when I____________." Well I guess based on my experience I can say that I drink the Owl's Brew when I watch David Lynch's Mullholland Drive. Owl's Brew Radler didn't exactly clear anything up but that's not a knock against it. Perhaps I should've drank Mezcal instead.

That's My Jam is better on first taste and if you're looking for just one can to drink at a time, I would recommend it over The Blondie. It's a sweet, fruity concoction, perfect for the warm spring days I'm sure we'll be having any day now. It combines Darjeeling and fruit peel, a little heavier than a pure cider.

The Blondie is the drink for those long Sunday afternoons trying to get through an inane conversation at a party. That's My Jam is too sweet to go down six times in a row. The Blondie though, is for any long-haul drinking you might have (but please drink responsibly etc.) It tastes more like a traditional shandy, less like a cider. It combines black tea and citrus juices. Which ones? It's a mystery! Perhaps the red finger lime, or even more exotic, an etrog. Hey, a drinker can dream, right?

The relatively lower alcohol content and the mix of flavors in these beers also means they can be used for cocktail purposes. The Owl's Brew also sells cocktail mixes, but these radlers work just fine. I tried them both with vodka, that universal solvent for unlocking the good and bad time out of everything. I found that the Blondie works better than the Jam. the Blondie covers the vodka and smooths it out.  The Jam gets frothy upon contact and it's pretty sweet after a while. Now sweet might, in fact, "be your jam." it certainly is my girlfriend's. She liked That's My Jam over The Blondie. Then again maybe its because she's The Brunette.

Both of these drinks are fine and if you're a tea enthusiast, I would recommend them both. The only thing I didn't like was the plastic used to hold the six packs together. To be fair, I got these drinks straight from the source. In the store it might be different. The plastic is hard to describe. It's orange and thick, almost like tiny Frisbees settling over each can. My girlfriend had trouble pulling the cans out because of it. The plastic is hard and it's loud when you try to snap a drink loose. If you're trying to hide your drinking from someone, I wouldn't recommend these beers. Or you can just wait until they leave and untangle the cans all at once.

All Hail Ben Nardolilli's Groovy Blog!

At least that's what they're saying at the Midnight Lane Gallery. Three of my poems are hung there for viewing, thanks to Johnny Longfellow.

Also two poems were published on this site based in Berlin, The Wild World. Poetry truly is international! It knows no borders except those at the end of a page or the end of a breath!

OPEN THIS PDF!

Black Wire Magazine has a poem of mine in it. The Illustrated Civil War. In care you're bored with words the issues has some nifty pictures in it to look at instead! And now, in quasi-honor of the magazine, I am going to listen to Backwater by Brian Eno. Ciao.

A Message from Bank of America

I guess it lends a whole new meaning to the phrase: "Too big to fail." Also, judging from the picture it looks like Brian Moynihan really let himself go. Or Charles Holliday.

Title and Deed

This is pretty much how I dress when I 'm a substitute

A new poem of mine is up at the Fat City Review. So you better get yourself over there and have a looksy. Another anthem of exhaustion because variations on a theme are what we all live for.

The Evening Mysteries

This morning I have a new poem to link to and therefore a new poem for everyone to read. It is up at the Rainbow Rose. Read away! It is one of the only places online you will find the phrases "I feel down by the carport" and "beneath all craft." History is being made my dear readers!

Celebrate the Close of November

...with a poem on decline, the theme of themes to ponder as December approaches. Read "A Promised Mutiny" in the Entroper.

Show Time: A Book Review

Another book came for me in the mail a while back and I finally got around to reading it. Today's review is for Phil Harvey's Show Time, a 257 page novel from Lost Coast Press.  Lord of the Flies meets Survivor in this tale of seven reality TV contestants left stranded on an island in the middle of Lake Superior live in front of an international audience. However, despite this promising premise, Harvey's novel falls flat, with clunky and far-fetched dialogue, too many loose ends, and a failure to take account of the ways reality TV has changed since the late 1990s. Despite these flaws, the novel does hold some appeal if one forgets the reality TV show aspect and focuses instead on the characters' attempts to survive in the wilderness and make it through winter without starving to death.

Show Time is set in the not so distant future, when the viewing public has become bored with what violence is offered to them on the TV. To satisfy this demand, a group of TV executives have created a new breed of reality show, where seven contestants are brought together on an island and have to survive the elements and one another. If they can make it, the contestants will win $400,000 apiece. The group onsists of four men and three woman. Each one brings skills of their own, but also faults which threaten their ability to work together to improve their odds of survival. Most of the novel centers on Ambrose, who is a capable and levelheaded, but suffers from a severe gambling addiction that he can only pay off by participating on the show and winning.

One of the fascinating parts of the novel deals with how the characters enter into a shifting array of alliances to secure food, shelter, and other supplies. Even though the seven adults know they are being watched and judged by millions of people, it does not take long until their true, instinctual natures emerge. Harvey posits an interesting take on the different philosophies of human nature, which reality television is a ready means of conveying.  However, they do not surrender to their violent impulses and create a purely Hobbesian world of endless strife on the island. Nor do they build a peaceful Utopia fit for Rousseau's noble savage. Instead, their self-interest motivates them to work together in a Machiavellian fashion. A barter economy is set up where anything, including sex, can be exchanged for goods and the contestants continue to vie for power, especially the males Ivan, Rudy, Ambrose, and Valentin.

The novel could have spent more time focusing on this development, showing how over time the behavior of the individuals on the island becomes more institutionalized and the effects of their division of labor. The lives of the female characters, Ahai, Maureen, and Cecily  would also have been interesting to spend time on. Would their trading sex for protection and food become more regulated over time in this evolving dynamic? Or would they eventually be forced to deny their right to participate in such exchanges? The world of the executives producing the television show needed work as well. It could either have been expanded or dropped altogether. Throughout Show Time, the people putting the drama together constantly speak of how the violence of the show is necessary to keep the population pacified  but this idea is never quite fleshed out with too much telling and not enough showing.

Instead, their are too many scenes which seem designed to merely showcase the authors' idea of "snappy" and "witty" dialogue. Unfortunately it is this dialogue which is likely to take the reader out of the world of the novel. All too often the characters resort an affected speech that seemed drawn from pulp and noir novels and is out of place, especially among people starving in the wilderness. These ridiculous exchanges made me put down the book and write either "wtf," "ugh," "really?", or just "?" next to the offending passages. It is not a good sign for a novel when a reader has to stop eating their malai kofta and feels compelled to mark up your book.

Nevertheless, it is a quick and compelling enough read when the novel centers on the inhabitants of the island, and no one mentions or worries about the the cameras. These sections which deal with simply trying to survive are engaging and well written, even if they tend to get repetitive. There are only so many different ways of writing hunting and fishing scenes. Harvey also does a decent job of dealing with the effects of expose to prolonged calorie reduction and heat deprivation.  At times it seems the whole reality show conceit is just a way to write a novel about survival instead a scathing commentary on the media and American culture. It seems difficult to believe people would spend so many months risking death or serious injury just for $400,000 when there are so many other televised contests that require far less risk for far greater reward.

Show Time treads on previous concerns of where reality television might be heading without adding anything new to the discussion. More importantly, it ignores the ways reality TV has changed since it initially become popular with Survivor.  This work might have been timely in 1999, when shows were centered around competitive ordeals held out in the dark wilds of nature. Now, it feels dated, showing us a vision of a future which seems unlikely due to the rise of shows which deal with the lifestyles of the somehow rich and famous. These have become America's current opiate, not bloodletting spectacles. True, we are glued to our television sets so we can watch others' bad behavior, but these deprived actions occur within civilization, not outside of it.

Locofoco Memories

The Death of Locofocoism

A new poem is up at Wordsmiths. I know the website spells it differently, but the journal is Wordsmiths. The poem itself is culled from various memories I have of a trip I once took from San Francisco.

Personal Ads and Eno Numbers

This month I have two poems up at Five 2 One Magazine. They are from my cycle of fake personals ads. 

New idea: the Eno number. Basically it functions like an Erdos number. It measures the distance a musician is from musician and producer Brian Eno. Eno has a number of 0. David Byrne of the Talking Heads has an Eno number of 1 because they worked together on several albums. St. Vincent has worked with David Byrne but not with Brian Eno (yet). Her Eno number is 2. Some people who also have an Eno number of 1: Philip Glass, Bryan Ferry, David Bowie, Paul Simon, and Mark Mothersbaugh.

Also, Donald Trump is a hoax.

Squeezin' the Plebian Rag

Well, since the world did not in fact end yesterday, you can all celebrate by reading a poem of mine at the Plebian Rag. Fans of theater may be amusued.