What do you think about my little new baby Beefcake?
MakeMeBabies.com - What will your baby look like?

So next Friday I will be performing at:

fri July 25: Mercury Cafe, 1505 W. Chicago Ave, features Lee Kitzis and Thax Douglas with Open Mic, 7 to 9 PM sharp, free.

So yesterday was pretty epic. My boss sent me out into the city to track down some "envelope sealer," I still don't know what the fuck it is, but I had to go to a bunch of art stores, and thusly headed down to the Art Institute, only to find that for three blocks on either side of Michigan Avenue were pro-life protesters. It was the Pro-Life Action League. They were each five feet apart holding signs that were 5 feet tall of dead fetuses, with captions like "THIS IS THE FIRST TRIMESTER ABORTION" and shit like that.

So of course I get pissed off at crap like this, but what really pissed me off was the fact that these were medically incorrect or at the very least misleading pictures. First trimester fetuses have tails, no eyelids, and look more like aliens than real babies. Further, an abortion looks like a blob, you don't fucking suck out entire fetuses, blech. I was so pissed off, I was shaking. I called Mike and told him what was going on and he was pissed too. I wanted to do something, to yell at these people (most of them were old dudes), to kick their signs in, anything. Instead, I went up to one of them, asked them how long they would be there. They told me they were moving to Union Station and then handed me a pamphlet. Then I had to go back to work.

But I was still pissed. I was still shaking. So, throughout my shift I took off into the library to track down books. First I photocopied a page out of MaGill's medical encyclopedia of real gestation periods, wrote some facts about pregnancy (fact: fetal brain activity is undetectable until the second trimester), cut out some shit from the pamphlet ("Pro-Life LIE Action League," "Face The Truth"). Then on the back I put some exerpts from a book on illegal abortion in the United States, about how the antiabortion movement pops up at times when women seek independence, another account of a woman dying in Chicago from an illegal abortion, and how it was still commonplace even though it was illegal, etc.

Went to Kinko's and made 100 copies of the fliers. Went down to Union Station at 5PM and met Mike, found two other pro-choice protesters, and handed them out. We got rid of all of them within a half an hour. And we made a lot of noise -- the pro-lifers were pissed as fuck. It was fucking awesome. Plus, my fliers promoted KNOWLEDGE. It felt pretty fucking awesome. The women were chanting, "ABORT THE PRO-LIE ACTION LEAGUE," and "Pro-choice girls have more fun! ...And a better sense of humor!"

The women I protested with asked for my email and told me they would keep me posted on future counter-protests. It was cool. I made room for the voice of truth about illegal abortion and people listened. Because that shit was fucking whack. Fuck that noise. Fuck anyone who wants to take away my sexual independence.

Add this shit: http://myspace.com/stephanielanesutton

So last night was pretty fucking awesome. I don't know if I've mentioned, but I started doing a poetry/music collaboration with this dude Victor who I'm pretty sure is god, because he has a big white beard and knows everything about guitar. If there is a god I'm sure he knows everything about guitar. Anyway, we recorded some stuff on Saturday, and at the end of it he was all, "Hey, let's go out and make a name for ourselves," and I was all, "Hell to the yes!"

Last night we had our first performance together. We went to an open mic at "The Cafe" in Lincoln Square. There were about 25 people in the audience and only four or five readers, so it worked out nicely. Also a lot of my friends came out for support which was nice! We kicked ass, basically. I read my coleslaw poem as an encore. After the reading was over, the owner of the open mic came up to me and asked for my email. Another dude came up to me and invited us to perform at his open mic, which we're doing this Monday (Waiting 4 the Bus @ Jak's Tap, 901 W. Jackson -- fellow Chicago poets should feel free to come and read as well, it would be cool).

The guy who ran the open mic sent me an email saying he's interested in booking me and Victor for a feature. AWESOME.

Also, my sister is probably going to get in on this project with some cello action.

So this is really exciting. It's the first open mic I've read at in Chicago and it went exceedingly well, and I did a lot of networking to boot. I'm really fucking pleased about this. I feel like we might actually make a name for ourselves. And that would be sweet.

I've been insanely busy for the past couple days and haven't read my friends page since last week. Sry. It will probably be a while, because I'm going up north for the weekend, hopefully making a stop at the Sleeping Bear Dunes.

Anyway. Gotta get going. Just wanted to drop a line about stuff. And, again, I hope some of you other poets will be able to make it to the open mic, or future mics.

From:
either love me or leave me alone




Date: Jun 23, 2008 9:02 AM
Subject:
its really over
Body:
time is supposed to fix this. i dont think it will. i think times the only thing that will make us get over each other. i dont see it happening this shits really got me fucked up. but i cant make anyone do anything, i am only me.
















smoke weed everyday

This weekend my room mate got two movies in the mail, La Chinoise and The Dreamers. Let's start off by saying that the whole concept of The Dreamers is inspired by La Chinoise. The latter was directed by Jean-Luc Godard and is said to have inspired the student protests in France in 1968, as well as those at Columbia University against the Vietnam War. The film is about five teenagers, college students, living in some chick's parent's flat over the summer and studying Mao.

Now, this is the premise of The Dreamers, for those of you unaware: three teenage "revolutionaries," a French brother and sister and an American, live in their parents' flat over the summer and fuck each other silly while the revolution goes on literally outside their windows. Instead of studying Maoism/Communism/Marxism/etc, they stroke each others' film-knowledge egos and bathe together and masturbate in front of each other and eat bananas out of the trash even though they're spoiled rich brats.

There is an over-the-top suggestion that the female protagonist of the film has sexual relationships with both her father and brother to the point of the American protagonist finding brother and sister naked in bed together. But they are never shown actually getting busy and it turns out that -- SURPRISE! -- she's a virgin all along. Even though she loses her virginity in front of her fucking brother while he makes eggs.

What really bothers me about this is that there is a suggestion of this incest being "cultural." The film is, ultimately, an exploration of sexual relationships (with a shallow political affiliation tacked on -- fuck you). However, it also is an exploration of cultural differences between the French and the Americans. I feel there is a suggestion that this overt intimacy between family members is supposed to be chalked up to French intimacy ("supposedly they touch hundreds of times during conversation"), which is why the American protagonist is constantly put into situations of intimacy while his French friends don't bat an eyelash (ex: French brother washes his crotch while American protagonist is in the bathroom -- he shades his eyes from this). Further, since the French sister turns out to be a virgin, it is suggested that what the American protagonist sees is all that's going on -- just really fucking creepy intimate touching.

I find this to be a bit xenophobic. Yeah, the French have more intimate terms of body language -- most cultures that aren't North American do -- but that doesn't mean that their morals also completely transcend that of the rest of the Western world, that incest is expected or okay enough to make a display of in front of a house guest.

Further, WOW FUCK YOU, LET'S SET A FILM DURING THE STUDENT PROTESTS IN FRANCE AND PLAY IT OFF LIKE IT ACTUALLY HAS SOMETHING TO DO WITH ANYTHING IN ORDER TO ADD A TOUCH OF "EDGE." LET'S PREMISE THIS WHOLE FILM WITH GODARD'S POLITICAL MASTERPIECE AND THEN MAKE A FUCKING MOCKERY OF IT BY PUTTING THREE OVER-SEXED TEENAGERS IN A FLAT TOGETHER WHILE THEY PISS THEIR LIVES AWAY WITH PRETENTIOUSNESS AND A COMPLETE DISREGARD FOR RESPONSIBILITY.

LIKE COME ON. YOU HAD SO MUCH OPPORTUNITY FOR A THICKER PLOT LINE. YOU FUCKING SET IT DURING THE PROTESTS THAT LED TO THE OVER THROWING OF AN ENTIRE FUCKING GOVERNMENT AND THIS IS THE MOVIE YOU MAKE??? A FUCKING CIRCLE-JERK OF FILM KNOWLEDGE AND A PERVERSION THAT IS SUGGESTIVE OF RACIST?

WHAT

THE

FUCK.




The end! :D

I now own an album I have coveted for months, searched every crevice of the internet for, and every record store I've happened upon. Go figure they'd have it at Reckless in Wicker Park, even though I had to search a bit before finding it and pooping my pants on the spot.

From: Tom Budday
Date: Jun 17, 2008 7:20 AM
Subject: RE: Ballad of Horselover Fat
Body: i have been really impressed with the growth in your writing lately. i suspect it is a direct reflection to a personal growth.

Ballad of Horselover Fat
by Stephanie Lane Sutton

You didn’t know, couldn’t answer
after making love, when I asked you
how Philip K. Dick died.
Eventually we fell asleep,
our bodies lined evenly next to each other
like twin snakes. In the morning
you eat the venom
from behind my teeth.

You buy me breakfast.
The waitress has a tattoo of my name
on her forearm.
I see it as she hands you your eggs.

It was a stroke.
Five days later the line had fallen flat
and they pulled the machine out from under him.
No more blood moving beneath his flesh.
But they say the hair keeps growing after you die,
and the nails. The electricity
clings to those roots
for some months.
His face slides off his cheekbones
but his skeleton is in need of a shave.

You have given your body over
to the forces of now. You wish to stay here.
As a man, you fade away.
The light from the window behind you
has washed out your lips already.
You’ve got no fat for me to hold on to.

My sister graduated from the University of Chicago this weekend. I don't know if I've ever mentioned how much my sister means to me. Seeing her graduate (with honors!) was so emotional for me. I never cry at ceremonies or movies or when I read books or anything, but I cried twice. I'm so proud of her.

She got a degree in political science, but since I've moved here and been all "Blah blah following my dreams blah blah," she's decided to go into music. My sister was a really passionate cellist and composer until she graduated from high school and went to UChicago. Literally everyone in my family told her not to go into music, and rather to go into business or law. I think my coming to Chicago has had a big impact on her life. I'm so glad that I can be there for her and I'm so glad she has the courage to do what she wants to do now, because she's so brilliant; she could do whatever she wants, and doesn't deserve to be unhappy just so that my family approves of her career choice.

At breakfast this morning she was talking about her future plans and my grandma was all, "Well make sure you get a good job; you want a lot of money, don't you?" My family is so materialistic it's disgusting. The goal of life is not to get as rich as possible, kthnx. And it really irks me that they seem to do this only to my sister, who just wants my family to be proud of her. She's been fucking amazing at everything she's ever done, can't you just have faith in her and let her do what she wants? Ugh.

I can imagine how scary life must be for her right now. Last night I was in her boyfriend Ben's apartment, "The Mallard," as it was infamously Christened. The home of the Gordian Knot and five awesome dudes. It was completely empty. Everyone else had already packed up and bolted. I looked at the mural on the wall and realized I would never see it again. I have some great memories in that apartment, I can't imagine how my sister and Ben feel to be leaving it.