"Some calls it madness...I calls it HiDeeHo." - Cab Calloway
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Saturday, July 27, 2002


I assume the nets, orgs and govs are also available for the above.

I was surprised to find this:

www.pooty.com is SORT of taken, but not really. I could do SO MUCH more with Pooty, but no, they have to have some fluffy-bottom babywink on their site. Nyah!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/27/2002 11:49:00 AM

When I was 18, I went to New Mexico Tech with the hopes of becoming a great physicist. Well, the watershed moments of my college career involved mononucleosis, English tutoring, alcohol, Mexican food, chemistry lab, and this man...John McCusker. Granted, he was but a lad of 19 then...but he played the fiddle like...like...like I imagine the devil did when he went down to Georgia. He still does. He also plays piano, whistle, and etc. He produces. He writes. He is an absolutely consummate musician.

This segues briefly into a Josh moment...this fiddle-playing lad had (has?) the same Puckish quality in person. You know what I'm talking about. John is the Scottish Pooka, if Josh is the American one. They'd get on like houses afire.

I have always loved Scottish music. I can handle quite a bit more bagpiping than the average bear. I prefer the Uilleann (say "illin") pipes; nevertheless, the wild, lonely, barmy bouzle hits my ears like Glenfiddich and whirls me round and round. John's fiddling makes me want to dance. I was one of the fools dancing on the side of the stage at NMT when The Battlefield Band came to play when John was still a major player, and my vision of Scotland has never been the same. Even Trainspotting didn't dampen my ardor for the culture. It did start a brief crush on Ewan McGregor, but that's about it.

So early early this morning, I fired off a missive to Mr. McC. My first fangirl email ever. Sigh, swoon. Funny thing is, he looks like he could be my brother. I never noticed that about him before.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/27/2002 11:06:00 AM


Bjork, sans umlaut.

Billie Holiday

Loreena McKennitt

Natalie MacMaster


Diana Krall

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/27/2002 01:52:00 AM

Friday, July 26, 2002

I will no longer apologize for anger. No more of this "I'm really sorry, but..." NO! Screw that. You think that after taking injustice, hypocrisy and flat out denied emotional abuse for close to five years, I'm not going to be a little angry? Let me ask you something else, general public; who is the "bad" guy, the one who perpetuates a lie or the one who tells the truth to the most important person involved? If the truth is known to you, share it while people are still flexible enough to recover. Don't make the mistake YOUR mother did.

I will apologize for pooh-poohing those who saw more clearly than I did. You were right, you were right, you told me so. Yes. Now I know. Emotional abuse comes in many forms, but usually the abuser will deny it right up until the end. "I never meant to hurt you, but you brought it on yourself." Turn it around. Make it all the victim's fault. Make it invisible.

Hint: DO NOT GET INVOLVED WITH PEOPLE WHO HAVE NOT DEALT WITH CHILDHOOD ABUSE. In therapy, fine. Recovered from it? Fine. Still trapped in a 15-year-old fatherless mind? Run like the devil and never look back. Take a look at the family. Minor dysfunction? Couple of weirdos in the closet? Deal-able. But EVERY SINGLE MEMBER of the family addled by drugs, alcohol, discontent, severe untreated mental illness, flakiness, Mormonism...well, my mistake. I see a pair of pretty eyes and I swoon, but I think my judgement was clouded.

So yeah, I'm pissed.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 09:24:00 PM

The name Alterna-Mom has been taken. Bloody hell.

Okay, how about Goth-Mom? No?
Goddess-Mom? Well, aren't they all? (huh, sarcasm).
Super-Mom? Waaay too "Mr. Mom" for me.

I think I may have to rethink my strategy here.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 08:49:00 PM

I went to Gothic Body this evening. Guess what I'm about to do?

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 04:57:00 PM

Since I don't have a comments facility, and since I need a lattice, all (fill in number of readers) of you can email me, you know. The "how to get to sesame street" link above is my mail. Don't be afraid. Come on. Come ON! I dare you. I double dare you. I double dog-dare you! Email me!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 03:25:00 PM

In case the below nauseated you, get some Pepto-Bismol. I can't live without the stuff, personally.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 02:31:00 PM


I'm radiating, broadcasting on YOUR wavelength
Yes, you are.
It's pagan poetry
And I'm receiving loud & clear.
and...imagine the multiverse born from THAT experience
I love you, my dear.
Oh, I love you too
It will always be about us, no matter who or what is involved.
in that trance staring contest
wherein all that goes between our eyes is matter and energy at the same time
You SO inspire me!
You are SO my muse.
You are MY muse. How can I ever repay you? When I said you brought back my magick, i was not exaggerating
You ARE my magick
Repay me by staying with me forever, playing with me for ever.
and Goddess bless you
We will make beautiful magick together.
We will BE beautiful magick together.
and the naysayers be damned to a life of bleary teary adulthood
But we'll invite them to join in on a life of significance & energy & magick & play.
and they will dance a ring of steam thrice around us, hailing us as majesties, King Pooka and Queen Titania
apricot nectar falling out of the sky into the conch shell cup in my hands
I drink and am intoxicated
whirling and spinning in gold light
sticky, sweet, ambrosial
You are so amazing.
Are you surprised? After all, I am a goddess
My sweet faerie queen. My sweet Titania. In her cloak of purple light.
a clash of auras
mixing and swirling into boreal wonder
I'm overwhelmed.
the sky loves us
the clouds love us
the world loves us
This is better than sex.
I SO want to spend the rest of my days & nights with you.
I will make it worth your while
I want to dance under the stars with you. And kiss in the moonlight. And drink wine with you. And spin magick with you.
and catch fireflies
and sing them to sleep
And play pranks.
and wear them dozing
And dream big dreams.
And live lives less ordinary
And turn poison into flowers.
And wander labyrinths.
And turn banality beautiful
And kick up dust.
Spray pain-glitter
over all and make it sweet
be the messiahs
And blow sugar & spice over everything.
to a world of starving souls and thirsty wells
Cinnamon & spangles & candlelight.
flutes and harps
wicked angels

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is love. Kind of makes you cry, doesn't it?

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 02:12:00 PM

Altoids. Especially the cinnamon ones. Also quite self-explanatory.

The manifestival, the first collaborative work of Mr. Josh and Ms. Julie. Hype hype hyperbole!
(frantic rewrites...)

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 12:38:00 PM

This was just too good not to steal, especially with the cloud of angst lately hanging over my head. This site is SOOOO angry, I can FEEL it!

Multimedia virtual reality text-based illustrated Smell-O-Vision Feel-O-Vision all-singing all-dancing Technicolor Surround Sound interactive...hey, are we gonna write this book/game/show or what? He had my mind rolling over roadblocks (like a certain twit) like a flood. I love you, Pooka. Never ever forget. Yeah. Um, okay. Yes. Fine.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 09:29:00 AM

We had a visit from Thor last night. No, not THAT Thor, you sick little monkey! I'm talking about the God of Thunder. Holy fookin shite! I have never been in such a loud, constant flash-crash wall-rattling storm before. I had two mugs hanging off the edge of my dish drainer next to the sink. Well, they both fell off. I have candle sconces on my walls. THEY fell off, all three of them. Nothing broke, but Jeeeezis! Wonder what bug got up his butt?

This site has Storm-God tracking information.

Propitiate your favorite Roman deific entity on these days. Hey, they left one out...every day is Discordalia!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/26/2002 07:58:00 AM

Thursday, July 25, 2002

"I am a nobody, and nobody is perfect; therefore I am perfect."

See what's wrong with linear logic?

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 02:47:00 PM


Lanterns away down the river high
Gunpowder blossoms soot the sky
Amidst the thundering gonging plunder
I whiled and wandered, awash with wonder
At the fire flowers blooming above
Bursting, combusting, inflammable love

See? I can write verse, too, not just that weird imagery stuff. Heehee.

No more than a peek
Embers dampened by night's dew
Fire flower hides

Now THERE'S a thing. Smirk, smirk.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 01:34:00 PM

Go here. This shouldn't be a joke. This is how we want it to be for real!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 12:37:00 PM

Ever wonder what actual spoken Gaelic or Finnish or Magyar sounds like? From the people who brought us the Linguistic Restaurant, comes this page. Learn to say good morning, good afternoon, good night, please, thank you, and other pleasantries in 31, count 'em, 31 languages.

Go play now!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 10:46:00 AM

Couldn't come soon enough. Not that I begrudge a girl (yes, a GIRL, not even close to being a woman) a living...I just am damn sick and tired of seeing this Barbie mug everywhere.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 06:56:00 AM

No, seriously. The screening of Willy Wonka was pre-empted in favor of Mulan, by order of the Mo. Captain Underpants 3D Hypno-Rings are useful for many reasons. Coconut may be low in fiber, high in fat, but boy is it ever yummy. I think I'll have leftovers for breakfast.

I also feel a bit like Baby Bear.

Alterna-Mom is still sleeping, but plain old Julie is wide awake.

Aubrey's herbal musk perfume. This stuff is so primal, down-and-dirty, pheromonal in a good way, I just had to mention it. I used to be able to get it at Nokomis Farms in East Troy, but alas they no longer carry it. It adapts to your body chemistry and broadcasts the "mating season" message. Heehee. I am Lotus Woman.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/25/2002 06:52:00 AM

Wednesday, July 24, 2002

In the Wake of the Wind by David Arkenstone. He records under the Narada label. All of Narada's Acoustic, Jazz, World and Fusion artists are top-notch, and hey...they're headquartered, guess where? The infamous, notorious Farwell Avenue in the soon-to-be even more infamous Milwaukee, home to the already infamous...oh, you know. Ahem. Okay.

That link on the side to the hard rock? That is the only other hard rock band I like besides Metallica. No link to them, they're too famous already.

I know Mad-J through Denver, STBX. They are HIS friends. I want them to be MY friends too. They are immensely talented.

Mark's drums are intricate and throbbing, and he can sing too. I had the hugest crush on Mark throughout the entire time I have known him, but I think he already knew that. Angie, you are a lucky girl. Oy gevalt, whatta mensch!

Andy, the singer, is the closest to Calvin from "Drawing Blood" I have ever met, has pipes with stripes, and is his wife ever a hot one, whoo!! He is also a smashwalking/trashtalking billboard for Dan Hazelton, if memory serves. Been a while since you pierced me with a Scorpion-eye.

Danny is one of the best guitar players I've ever heard, and that is said without bias. He is technically and expressively masterful. He's got a pretty face too, and seems to have the way with women his older brother had before he was snagged. You still my buddy.

Jason's bass rolls like the God of Thunder and he even sometimes moves his feet, and he has one of those lanky, rangy physiques that just begs to be shown off. Next time you guys play a show...let Jason take his clothes off, please. He is SOOO much nicer to look at than Flea.

They are playing a show on Aug. 30 at Shank Hall in Milwaukee, a stone's throw from Pooka's lair. I'll be there with bells on, babies!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/24/2002 02:36:00 PM

Here is a link to another new blog: Synkronisiteez. Come on, let's be friends. My beglittered hand is extended in camraderie...we have to stick together. I like your music. I like your attitude. I understand.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/24/2002 10:55:00 AM

I have my harem dancer costume on right now; sky blue satin harem pants, a black stretch half-top, all of my dingdings (jingly belly chain, necklace, bracelets, anklets, rings, earrings), hair up in a messy ponytail, smoky eyeliner, stars at the corners of my eyes embroidered black velvet slippers...the earthiest perfume I own, and I have to go to the grocery store at lunch time to get coconut and coriander, glittered and jingling. I need a scimitar and a tambourine!

Right now, I look like my own dream girl. Whoohoo, go self-esteem! Gyrate around, edit a cardiac cath and a mole excision, dance to Segovia, wish you were here. Anyone. Someone paint me, please? This can't last and a photo will steal my sprit. We can't have that. Let's not let the magic fade with the day...let yourself get between two mirrors and see how far into infinity you can go.

I am going to go to Wal-Mart too, just to see how many people I get to look at me funny. I won't buy anything, I'll just wander around and occasionally shake my shimmy to make my bells ring. Hachi-machi!

All of Mo's little friends at day care, especially Hannah, will appreciate my costume. As one snarky little soccer mom said yesterday, "Oh, here comes Alterna-Mom again."


I think I have my superhero identity. Am I a gyspy, a priestess, a warrior, a nurturer of children, a midwife, a healer, a poet? YES! Am I weird? YES! Am I alterna? YES! Am I a mom? YES!

If you see anyone with a frazzled head of red hair schlepping around in huge baggy army green Mossinos, gypsy slippers and a black T-shirt with Irish Poets on the front, chewing on a sucker stick, jingling, reeking of vanilla and musk...you've seen Alterna-Mom, crusader for independent thought, culture shock and good nutrition.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/24/2002 10:36:00 AM

I love Josh so much, I can't even stand it. I can't even sit it. It lays me out flat every time I think about it. Everything in my whole life was leading up to the moment he and I met, and I can't say I regret one tragic moment. He is wonderful, fabulous, spectacular, the daisies in the bouquet, the file' in the gumbo, the spring in Springfield. He makes me so happy, I can hardly contain myself. I am sitting on the biggest secret I've ever had in my whole life. Words fail, and THAT is a big deal to someone who has built their whole identity and career on words and being able to use them. I just...I don't know. Like the love of mass for gravity, the love of hygroscopics for water, the love of Brownian motion.... you know. He's just like that.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/24/2002 09:38:00 AM


Tonight promises to be fun. We have dinner (sesame chicken and coconut rice and mango slurp) and a movie (Willy Wonka) on deck, as well as discussions about architecture and other irrelevancies. Tiny bees awhirr in the hive.

Mo has been vegging, and I have been letting her. Hey, even the Masters need a sloth break every once in a while. Her friend Kristianna is at day care with her today and she has a new rainbow dinosaur with a squeaker to show off. They go the library for story hour on Wednesdays. We listened to all of Musical BBQ last night, and sang every word. She has a phenomenal lyric memory. "Lima, lentils, soy and pinto, navy, northern and garbanzos, kidneys and frijoles negros, I love beans."

Speaking of beans, you can't have 'em without...

Tabasco products. Self-explanatory. Wonderful stuff.

Close second: Cholula products. Yummy!

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/24/2002 09:30:00 AM

Tuesday, July 23, 2002


I need a break. Pouring my heart out is EXHAUSTING work. More to come on the morrow.

The sky does seem to be a particularly intense and clear shade of blue today, though. We have monarch butterflies everywhere and little white fluffs of stuff flying around. I feel dizzy. I feel like the cherry on top of the sundae, sweet-staining and unchanged in the gut of the octopus. I feel like the electric eel at the power station. Short-circuit mundane reality and let it crackle and sizzle with the purity of a samba. Slide on down to the underside of the big blue bowl, you see so much more from down here on your back...Tampa girls and sidestreet boys can't pick me up...I'll lie here forever embraced by the midsummer wind and Spanglecized solar rays.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/23/2002 10:40:00 AM

Monday, July 22, 2002


I must redundantly reiterate how much I am absolutely enthralled with Joshua Neff, also known as Pooka and the Goblin Cartoons guy. I will admit, yes, I met him through a personals ad. Mine was similar to his in that I wanted to put as much of the real me out there and see how many takers there were. I was sick of the facade I had put up for Denver for so long. I was SO not looking for such a serious thing. There were a lot of responses, too many actually. I was hounded by perverts who wanted to share their slaves with me.

When I went to Borders one Saturday to sneak a stalker peek at him, it was as close to love at first sight as I have ever been, if not actually there. Those of you who know him, isn't he just the devilishy cutest thing? He has the kaleidoscope eyes and the dark Calvin hair and the neoteny and the je ne sais quoi and the sense of humor was the best I had yet encountered.

We had coffee one night. A lot. I think I took down about six or seven cups, all with a crapload of sugar. He was the perfect gentleman. We talked. A lot. We talked about everything and nothing, rather like Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin. Things were divulged. New connections were forged in both of our brains. I ran to the bathroom to giggle at myself in the mirror. We talked and talked and talked and talked until the sun came up. We plotted and planned. We admitted things. I convinced some drunk/stoned/otherwise fucked up young lad across from us that I was actually a forensic pathologist and played with dead things for a living. It was a seminal moment. You know how when your true sense of humor comes out and the person/people you're with get to see it? They can either go, "Um, okay, let's get as far away from this girl as possible," or, "Hey, wow, she is hilarious, bold, not afraid of talking to strangers and fucking with their minds, I like this..." Well. The rest is history that has yet to be written.

Speaking of that night, I recommended that the stoned young lad try QDoba as a way to sate his munchies. He actually asked for a good place to get burritos at 3:00 in the morning. He actually SAID that. Alas, Qdoba is only open till like 9:00 or 10:00. I told him to avail himself of them when he was able. He was pissed that they weren't open.

On the way home that Sunday morning, I babbled to myself in a British accent, and felt something I hadn't felt in years. I felt a kindred, a tangible connection, something that scared me out of my wits. You know, people who have been treated badly respond strangely to kindness. It makes us scared and cry and scream, "No! No! No intimacy, no love, no more pain!"

He was too good to be true, but you know what? He is true, an actual real-live person who embodies qualities that I thought were extinct. There is overwhelming love, there is intimacy, there is a meeting of minds that throws off measurable Roentgens of radioactivity. We are DANGEROUS. We are like John and Yoko, Jean-Paul and Simone, the Curies, the Shelleys, the Rosettis, some of the greatest collaborative efforts of all time. We are immortal and unstoppable. You heard it here first. You can say, "we knew them when..."

End of temps perdu.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 10:25:00 PM

Space Ghost is my favorite cartoon show.

Close second: The Brak Show.

DENVER (not the city)
WARNING! SLIGHT BITTERNESS...very slight. This is more therapeutic than it might seem.

Morgan and I were coming home from getting gas in East Troy tonight, and lo and behold, what do we see? A black 2001 Corolla with illegally dark tint, WJY-458, in the gimp spot. Denver came to visit while we weren't here. He ostensibly came to get the mail, but AGH, he had a GIRL in the car with him. Morgan noticed that. More power to you, buddy. He got no mail. Wah fuckin' wah.

This STBX of mine, I don't know. I used to think he was devastatingly good-looking. He has pretty jade-green eyes, dark hair, a "fuck-you" scowl...but now, he's just this guy, you know? He walks a little funny. I hear Joe Pesci shot him once for doing a bad impersonation.

Hey girls (and I do mean girls, he has a hard time with grown-up women), he's out there and looking for a rebound. He works for Sears as an appliance repair guy. He has nice abs and is working on them. He can be a good sugar daddy, now that he's a big boy and has a job and a place of his own to live. If you live in the Appleton/Sheboygan area and have a broken air conditioner or fridge or washer/dryer, he's your man. He likes classical music and the Beastie Boys and Crystal Method. He's not a bad guy, honest. He will criticize you into improving yourself. If you have a weak ego and live to serve your man, he's the one for you.

Okay. End of advertisement.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 09:51:00 PM

Barry at Barryiant has inspired me.

Dig this: some slang history

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 03:14:00 PM


"Smoking, drinking, never thinking of tomorrow...nonchalant.
Diamonds shining, dancing, dining with some man in a restaurant.
Is that all you really want?...No."

Ah, Lady Day.

Okay. I have a confession to make. I have smoked on and off for years. I imbibe alcohol on occasion. I have had an addictive relationship with food. Now...I have never, in my years and years of displacement behaviour, done the food thing and the smoking/drinking thing at the same time. My periods of semi-recovery between relapses of bulimia involved Camel Reds and schnapps. Then, when I got too hungry, I quit smoking, went on the wagon and ate until there was nothin' left to eat. Then smoked/drank, then binged, etc. ad nauseam.

I have been off ALL THREE of these pathologies for a while, but oh now, now now...something in the air and something about someone is making me want to start smoking again. Why why why? It's naughty and bad and dirty and yucky. I quit all three while I was pregnant with Mo too, but less than a month after she was born, right back to old tricks (only outside, never ever smoke around babies and kids, it's very bad form). Smoking was the first habit I fell back into doing. I wrote a poem about it entitled "Nicotiana." I am going to frazz if I don't find a displacement activity soon. I am a bundle of nerves even without caffeine now and sucking my thumb is not expedient for my line of work. Lollipops are just not the same. The difference between lollipops/gum and smoking is like the difference between halfhearted masturbation and actual earth-moving sex. You dig?

Damn, do I need a cigarette.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 01:50:00 PM

I have completely forgotten to mention Tom Robbins and Jean Auel.

I grew up with a combination of Jean Auel's Ayla, fairy tale princesses and Tom Robbins heroines as my "I wanna be like them" models. I give the brothers Grimm, Ms. Auel and Mr. Robbins credit for helping me define myself. I also will give honorary mention to Marion Zimmer Bradley, for her feminista Camelot/Avalon.

Okay, end of serious note.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 11:36:00 AM

Sunbelt granola bars. Oh come on, you didn't think a run-nekkid-through-the-woods sprite like me wouldn't eat granola. They are the best. They are Morgan-tested, Morgan-approved and they will get black bears to follow you anywhere you go. The cereal is pretty darn yummy too.

I'll link to the parent company then, who makes some of my favorite (used to be) binge food: McKee Foods, makers of the Little Debbie line of snarfage. Oh, I know. It's junk food, it's tooth rot for kids, it's contributing to obesity, blah blah. Bite me. It is RECREATIONAL FOOD. You know what I'm talking about.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 08:11:00 AM

Oh, my poor doggie. Brownie needs to go to the vet today. She has impacted anal glands. That explains a lot.

Update: My healing instinct takes over and I have the vet show me how to take care of this myself. Blech, but necessary. I won't pay someone else $38 to do what will take me a second, no matter how gross it might sound. Poor Brownie. She was such a good girl at the doctor's, yes you were! Yes, you were! Oh, there's my good doggie! Who's a pretty girl, then?

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 08:03:00 AM

The Appalachian Trail. Sigh. A walk in the woods would cure what ails you.

Here is a site with pretty pictures and more info about the A.T. and other hikes.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/22/2002 08:00:00 AM

Sunday, July 21, 2002

Awash in the holler
Digging out the diamonds
Sun dancing for the hidden stars
Moon singing an ancient tune
Culebra de cascabel
Clanging in the tower
Ambrosia fantasia
Masterpiece in foggy dew

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/21/2002 04:07:00 PM

Amelie is stunning visually, provokes cutesy chuckles and a few hearty guffaws, and would have put me in a diabetic coma about two weeks ago. As it stands, I understand perfectly. Zwahd-veev!

Now, this is not really a product, but I endorse the process necessary to acquire it. As an amateur baker, I have tried my hand at every bread and pastry and galette and torte and etc. known to man and Julia Child. I needed a challenge (never mind that croissant dough that turned into a kind of pie crust...) chef levain is a challenge. Never mind that I don't live anywhere near SanFran, I still managed to snag and grow some wild yeast out of the air of good ol' Mukwonago, Wisconsin. So I endorse wild yeast fully. I have yet to research enough to find out what strain I am using. It imparts a very symmetrically round crumb structure, and the breads are chewy, but not so much to choke you.

Oh, I also highly recommend butter. I, like some others, despise margarine and that "I Can't Believe You're Going to Eat That Shit" stuff. Blech.

Just occurred to me, speaking of butter and the dairy industry, I have another pet issue; factory farms versus family farms. Now, I could post a link or two, but I think everyone reading this is familiar with the activism regarding this subject. Both sides of my family had farms taken away or driven out of business. It's not so much that I'm bitter about losing an inheritance of a legacy that has been in my family since they left the Isle of Thanet and eastern Europe (not SO much, anyway), but farming is still one of those dream occupations where you see literal fruits of your labors, you get in touch with life as a matter of course, you work like a dog and love it; you are in touch with the divine on a very intimate daily basis. Being a farmer is on par with being a doctor or nurse, a priest/priestess, a parent...so yeah, I'm a little angry at ConAgra and such like. See Josh's thing about tainted beef (what, expecting a link?). Blech again. From someone who has experienced the gut level quake of killing an animal and dressing it for human consumption, and then consuming it, there is no strength and substance of the cattle left in the styrofoam packs. No one buried the heart or a piece of the liver and praised the bovine for his/her brave struggle and thanked it for giving itself so that we may build our muscles and blood. Instead, there is hell on earth for cows.

But you know, I just can't quite bring myself to be a vegetarian. I do try and make a point of buying kosher and free-range, but out here it's rather hard to find. Oh well. Red beans and rice didn't miss me.

posted by Julie Neff  # 7/21/2002 11:19:00 AM


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