I’m supposed to know what to say to people, but I seem to screw it up. They accepted my thesis, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever feel adequate. Let me give you some examples:

“Have you seen Mamma Mia? It’s a great film.”
“Mmmm, no, but I wanna be in an ABBA cover band!”

“Guess what I just did?”
“Shoplifted! Broke into your own home!”

“Well, congratulations on this milestone. Many good things lie ahead, no doubt.”
“Yeah, I’m working on having a pig farm and writing about digital colonialism!”

I get a lot of blank stares. At least I don’t give them, right?

A car alarm keeps going off in my building’s parking lot, every few hours. I wonder if anyone ever uses that as a makeshift alarm clock.

Bees are not my servants.

Also, speaking of what we eat, DDR could easily cure childhood obesity if they’d subsidize that action. $1/dance at the arcade, winning no tickets to boot, makes that shit otherwise pricey. Anyone remember when phys ed was mandatory and you had to climb the rope? Is dancing the same torture for the uncoordinated? I’m hoping it’s fun instead.

I would be the bartender if it meant going back to playing music I love and want to share. I went to see !!! for the ?th time and determined that Nic Offer is having more fun than anyone else on the planet.

Other goodness I love: Progressives Against Obama, the 2008 Midwest Flood Pig Rescue, and two blogs about friends who are abroad that I won’t link. But I will say this: personal travel writing can be fascinating with the right minds behind it. I never knew until now.

The thing is, I can sleep all day. It’s the nights when I’m awake, staring at the clouds, suspecting that what I’ve learned from my people will propel me forward. My grandfather has gone off the map this week. He’s 82, believes my institutionalized grandmother may divorce him, and he needs some reprieve from the blame that he hasn’t done his best over the past eight decades. He has, in fact, done an admirable job of staying true to a union people often disregard as too difficult or complicated. You can’t save someone who has been abused if they can’t save themselves, but he tried. I saved myself, and now I get to try my hand at this lifelong business of staying true. When the world makes it hard to sleep, my personal life makes it easier.

When I’m not reading & writing, I’ve been spending my month with animal friends, working on a way to one day house some of our own, sanctuary-style. I’m not a poster child, just a woman with empathy and a dream.

Here are ten lumiere videos that I’ve neglected to post this month. As always, they contain no audio, so you can sing your own song, leave your own music playing, or enjoy the silence.

click for lightless train (in a new window)

click for traffic jam

click for jim did it (in a new window)

click for turkey (in a new window)

click for llama (in a new window)

click for ‘08 4th (in a new window)

click for beer/wine/liquor (in a new window)

click for arcade carousel

click for tiny balls with townies (in a new window)

click for closing arcade (in a new window)

I know - why am I just now writing this? Well, thesis madness and other general excuses about bills to pay aside, I didn’t know what to say for a while. Glamour would come, my partner and I would make fun of it, and eventually, I’d toss it directly into the recycling bin without even glancing at the content. It made me feel bad about being a woman. No one needs that. And I would miss a periodical that got me through a very normative high school where I felt very much the opposite, but it’s also a magazine. I did feel connected to women whose writing I’d read for years, but it’s sort of like when a beloved blogger goes MIA. You unsubscribe, you don’t, it doesn’t matter. Everyone moves forward.

Unbeknown to me at the time, there was also a small feud (rivalry?) between Jane and another of my beloved publications, Bitch. In a somewhat infamous article long ago, Bitch editors slammed Jane magazine for every reason under the sun. And I’ll admit some of it makes sense - why was I so attached to a self-referential white woman’s magazine? (Hint: I was roughly 16 when I started reading, and I’m also white. Do the math.) But since learning of the tiff between lady mags, what has always bothered me about this is that even under the banner of feminists responding to pop culture nonsense, the editors at Bitch discounted something that was, for many women, a small step forward. Jane delivered content to budding feminists who might not have found it otherwise. You don’t wake up one morning and start reading something called Bitch. You might start reading something called Jane though. Despite an early feminist sensibility, I did because where I grew up, good luck finding Bitch even if you wanted to. I, along with young radicals I knew, did the best we could. Sticking around to watch the Jane-mobile veer off the road and burst into flames is sort of beside the point.

It also started me thinking about the history of Jane - what it was and why it doesn’t seem to be documented anywhere. Maybe no one cares. It didn’t have Sassy magazine’s cult following, despite it coming shortly after and being produced by some of the same folks. Maybe it’s easier to think material is edgy when you’re 16 instead of 26? I’m not saying Jane was Sassy. I’m saying I missed what was, for the window of my generation, a really helpful publication that understood a young, white demographic of women are whole, complex people: emotional, sexual, and complicated because we might happen to love makeup, cars, guns, and a whole range of things that don’t fit into the pages of Cosmo.

So about three minutes after I posted the ad, I got a very enthusiastic email. “I want them!!” But what caught me most off guard was that the mail came from a very familiar name to me - Cati Vacuelle, who writes the very excellent design/technology blog Architectradure. I wrote back - feeling very fangirly - that of all people, I’d love to give them to such a smart, critically thoughtful home where they might be put to good use (or at least analyzed as more than just an outdated fashion rag). And so, this becomes a story of two events: how I gave away years of media hoarding, and how one of my favorite bloggers came to have tea in my living room. Once coupled together, the former feels much easier, and the latter is just fun karmic connection in what ends up being a pretty small city for media folk.

I’ve started posting more old family photos on factory takeover. It brings a lot of joy to my heart.

Owing homage to an original cloud lumiere by Andreas, I made one this week from an airplane window.

click for clouds

A salad bar is not communal dining.

My roommate watches television shows that feature dancing children with Down Syndrome, and people then call them “global messengers.” They do not, however, identify the message that these jovial children are carrying worldwide.

Here is a message of hope, via a b-boy crew at the AMC. It is a lumiere video and has no audio track, so I suggest you put on some of your own library’s best hip hop.

click for the crew (in a new window)

Despite my love for the AMC as opposed to the slew of other conferences around this globe, I found a disturbing trend this year, a lack of analysis as it relates to co-opting new media for the revolution. Technology can be an amazing tool, but more than once, I heard people (presenters or attendees, not conference organizers) say things like, “We started a revolution because of MySpace” or, “Television is a ubiquitous language.” While these things may be true, why do we believe our revolution was in spite of Rupert Murdoch, or think we should follow outdated, one-way, over-produced transmission models? More like News Corp. allowed y’all to organize using their platform, and we’re repeating bad patterns in media making and distribution because we’re stuck within language and ideological confines.

I also heard dismissals of legitimate privacy concerns and found a real lack of understanding among many working in areas of high risk. One panelist, an advocate for illegal immigrants, did not understand the risks involved with alerts about INS raids sent to mobile phones. Cell phone numbers entered willingly into a website may save lives and keep families together, but this technology may also endanger many more through security failures or service providers willing to hand over sensitive information.

I’m not trying to hate - I’m trying to be practical. And, while I love facilitating about video, it is increasingly obvious that my heart and mind are focusing on other realms of activism these days. I met with another woman who works on issues of digital colonialism, and I was particularly inspired by artivist/hacktivist Ricardo Dominguez’s presentation about the Transborder Project. As I’ve processed my discontent with the media analysis and lack thereof I encountered, I’ve decided that it might be time to start rethinking how I contextualize my message and how to move forward to new areas of education, conversation, and facilitation.

Here is a short video of conference footage. I never edit video anymore - the lumiere project killed editing for me, and I’m happy about that. I’ve never been an excellent editor, and not wanting to contribute to the massive amounts of sub-par video available online and not wanting a career as a tape digitizer, I have little incentive to get better. But I do love hanging out behind my camera, so here are some clips of what I saw this weekend in Detroit Rock City.

click for the amc 2008 (in a new window)

Go vote for this amazing video by a wildly talented ally of mine, Joe Namy. I didn’t even know he was behind it until the credits rolled. Stellar.

And, from my intentionally now defunct videoblog, here’s a video from my time in Detroit last year with good friend and ally Ron Scott.

Click to play

I always promise to blog about why I’ve grown to so loathe social media. I’ve finally discovered that for me, the Internet replicates what I also hate most about real time relationships: performativity. On more than one unfortunate occasion, I have found myself the object of people’s gaze. I’m not speaking strictly about the male gaze or street harassment, though I’ve experienced both in abundance. I’m talking about people who believe you to be their own personal circus, or sideshow, or cruise director. I am not a product or a toy. I am not to be consumed, particularly without my consent. I’m a person who today: ate vegan Thai food and a vegan “B”LT, took one ibuprofen, drank vanilla rooibos tea, bought a piece of cake that I forgot to eat. These are examples of consumables. I am not. My activities, my crying in public, my wacky CraigsList trades and purchases, my random assortment of jobs, are not for the sole amusement of others. I’m living my fucking life. I do not exist as a performer, but online, even more than in real life, that is what we all become.

At night, bots email me. Airline deals. Conference updates. Tomorrow’s news arrives sometimes before I was aware the current day had ended. I’ve asked for it, and now I receive. Subscription spam.

If you miss someone in the middle of the night, if you love them and they love you, if you are both alive and able, make a pact to pick up the goddamn telephone. You’ll get back to sleep. We do, and those interludes sure do ease the heartache.

Here are some summertime lumiere videos. They do not contain audio and will all open in new windows or tabs, depending on your browser settings. Andreas also recently made some of me, as an art model, eating a Sour Patch Kid, and holding a sign post I found on the street.

click for wooden road chimney

I’m concerned I may be on the verge of being a neo-Luddite.

“User” is a word for people who love either computers and drugs.

I’m working on an article about the digital colonialism of white feminist bloggers. I’d also like to write about the ubiquity of Daft Punk.

I’m done with people who deride the sexism Hillary Clinton has faced but feel the need to add “but I never intended to and didn’t vote for her.” Give me a fucking break and chop your sentence in half. This race had better not end up poetry v. fear, assuming this isn’t all a media hoax and we even have a chance at reclamation.

We don’t think our computers are machines because of a culture of simulation. Secret hacker chat rooms are clubs without signs. Few things are as good as sitting in the same room - or even on the same park bench - with someone(s) who understands what the hell you’re talking about.

These are lumiere videos. Love them or hate them, they’re real.

click for train transport

We watched part of the Boston Marathon last week, saw a friend in her final miles, and felt really good about humanity. Strangers show up in the streets, and for a few hours, they cheer relentlessly for runners who are working against incredible odds. In pretty much any weather, communities of survival form, and everyone has hope. A guy who had come alone beat empty containers - a small water bottle against a giant water cooler jug - and his DIY drum matched his enthusiastic screams for any runner passing through Cleveland Circle wearing a nametag. “YOU’RE ALMOST THERE, DENISE!!!” A few hours later, everyone had disappeared as if it never happened. Same time next year, folks.

Ivettza and Leslie and I got word that our panel has been accepted by this year’s Allied Media Conference, which is nothing but good news. We’ll be presenting with Maia from Arts Engine, which pleases me to no end as a big fan of their inclusive and youth-oriented work. Ivettza and I had a super time in Detroit last year, and it’s actually where I met Leslie in person! Looking very forward to what will be my last chance this year to connect with a diverse group of U.S. allies and see some good friends.

I was also asked, as a founder of HollaBackBoston and HollaBackTALK, to present for the second year at the Boston Public Schools Girls’ Conference at Pine Manor College this month. I’ll show up and listen to several groups of young women, and we’ll discuss street harassment, safety, and how we navigate our city.

I volunteered with the Independent Film Festival of Boston, which was a great way to catch some slightly under the radar documentaries and shorts (for free…mostly), and for the record, I recommend Crawford, Not Your Typical Bigfoot Movie, and Sex Positive. Andreas and I caught a Kevin Devine show, brother of a friend and ridiculously underrated folk rocker. I found a pet loss support group, which we plan to attend next week. We rocked with Free Blood and Hot Chip, the former owning the show as I’d been missing John Pugh from the !!! lineup. A dear friend, one of the best two I’ve had since living in Boston, left for love and the promise of sunshine in LA, and I cried so much in the coffeeshop where we said goodbye, a barista inquired about our separation. As controls against soldiers with PTSD, we were interviewed for a relationship study about how people process anger. We started volunteering at the Maple Farm Sanctuary, which is a healing, beautiful place that deserves any support they can receive. We even saw PUSA in concert, a happy first for the superfan I live with (and an unexpectedly fun show for me as well). None of this is particularly lucrative - some the opposite - but it sure warms my summery soul.

And, I had a close pal end up on the street this week. People always think I’m exaggerating when I say we’re all only a step away. I’m not. I’m only once removed from openly crazy. I could be next, the girl on the street corner screaming into a cordless phone attached to a mic stand, wearing a ripped up quilted flannel, smoking butts from the gutter. “Spare change for a happy birthday.” Then I’d be there, doing that. Nothing wrong with acknowledging the possibilities, and it’s sort of fucked up to not consider your options.

Other stuff I love right now: Copenhagen Cycle Chic, Fleet Foxes, Adventures in Menstruating & Chart Your Cycle zines, Not So Fresh Feeling on Flickr.

Below is a twelve second video of Ben Kingsley walking through a theater lobby. It is a lumiere video, and you can find a full list of mine and others’ silent captured-to-video observations here. I recently uploaded videos of cops and a cameraman, as well as folks waiting by a red carpet. Not all videos are on blogs.

sir takes a stroll

When I was growing up, gasoline was $.89/gallon. I paid over $4/gallon for diesel yesterday. Fuel might finally be competing with Boston’s public transportation fees.

Does anyone try to make a living by mass producing cardboard signs that the downtrodden can hold while standing on corners and in medians, asking for spare change? Does anyone assume people in public space need help with their message, their content, their audience participation? Do we try to sell them on our brand of pen or marker? Then why would we insult strangers online with the same condescension?

Reading: An Open Letter to White Feminists, Bitch blogs, The Autumn of the Multitaskers.

Loving: windchimes in parking lots, Brian Gibson’s Photography video, the work of Anna Chiaretta Lavatelli, photos from Cindy Pistachio, forcing Andreas to listen to Andrew WK party songs and our confusing debates about why it is/not the best pop music, ever.

Whoever you are, you’re wrong. You don’t have your own TV show.

click for idol in an empty arcade

This is a lumiere video and does not have an audio track.