Two Sound Pieces. There are two parts to my life, THINGS DAD. Football in the Big D Annually, for about 15 years, Dad chartered bus trips to Dallas to root for whomever was playing the Cowboys (see: THINGS DAD SAID) — the Packers, the Bengals, the Skins (many times the Skins — they always lost). $100 per person covered the charter bus, the game ticket, the motel room, all the beer and pop we could drink on the way down and back.
Dad shouted “It’s noon somewhere” at 9:00 a.m., and cracked open a Bud. The bus driver shut the doors, and the 2‐day party was on. Quarter‐ante poker for the first three hours down I‐35. We’d stop only for lunch at the Furr’s in OKC. A quick stop at the liquor store in Denton (Texas Stadium was in a dry county); check in at the motel; get cleaned up; go out (dad would rent me a car, and my friends and I would meet Dad and his friends over in Fort Worth to “do” Exchange Street — that is, we’d go to Filthy McNasty’s, the White Elephant Bar, or Billy’s Bob’s); get drunk.
Being Daddy’s girl, I never had to pay. Ah, Sweetness. Clothes Make the Lesbian. Mr.
Wolfe’s voice rose like a slide whistle, climbing two octaves after he reported the previous evening’s football score and transitioned into the next announcement: “Now something for our newest students. The seventh-grade autumn dance is scheduled for one week from tonight,” he said. “And now, please rise while we recite the Pledge of Allegiance.” Invitation As I stood there with my hand over my heart, I flashed back to three weeks earlier when I was still a sixth grader playing touch football in the middle of the street with the boys in the neighborhood.
The feeling of dread in my gut didn’t match the emotions I observed in the other girls around me as we retook our seats. No matter how much I wanted to be the kind of girl who looked forward to her first dance, I just couldn’t see myself going through with it. "And then I wrote queerly ever after...": A Performance. On being unable to write: I sit here and watch the clock: time flows past me in waves.
It engulfs me on all four sides; it moves onward and forward. Harlot of the Hearts. I don't have sisters.
His office is more like a cubicle with a door, but that honey-colored door eases open softly against my touch and he smiles as he looks up. A little too angelic with the May sun back lighting him. "Hey. " "Hey. I have my time sheet for ya," I say, handing him the piece of paper. "Alright. " "World Media and Culture Center? " "Yeah. " "It's alright. Who Are You What Are You Why? Real Estate Downturn. This piece began in the heat of a real-life dilemma: the real-estate market tanked and I was stuck with a house in Columbus, Ohio, long after I moved to Georgia.
Neurosis and anxiety demanded that I think of every possible way to get rid of the darn house, and as I became more desperate, I became willing to sell it even for scrap materials. Luckily it sold (finally) after a year on the market. I used this essay to joke about some real-life challenges, including the fact that someone broke into the vacant house and stole all the copper plumbing. The idea of real estate "investment" was a good target, because I will never, ever, ever again believe the idea that owning a huge chunk of earth, boards, and wiring is a good investment for me personally.
I'm interested in the problem of what to call this. For Sale : Great little house available ASAP—we're moving out of state. Sunflower Retreat : Cozy craftsman-style writer's cottage available for three- to six-month residencies. “phonesex : a digital collage” and “dis. By Jonathan Alexander Creator's Statement As a scholar in rhetoric and composition and a media artist, I am primarily interested in exploring how people compose with digital technologies, as well as what these compositions mean for their many and varied senses of self, individually and collectively.
I also work at the intersection of writing studies and sexuality studies, exploring what it means to "compose queerly," as well as what theories of sexuality, particularly queer theory, have to teach us about literacy in pluralistic democracies. These interests permeate the two digital compositions that Harlot has graciously agreed to publish. "phonesex : a digital collage" and "dis|orientation : a straight closet" explore how we interact with digital media, particularly a Web-based interface, to (re)experience differing senses of embodiment and the complex relationships among bodies, embodiment, and identity. (Click on images or titles to enter) Fair Use Statement Creator Biography. Photograph in Four Parts. 1.
On an ordinary Wednesday evening, the dog tears the crotch from Minnie Mouse, and yanks her snow-white insides out. I rest a cold pack against Minnie's head, and take a picture of the scene. Like a detective, I study the picture. I call my ex, a reporter for a big city paper, and offer to be quoted. She asks when the crime occurred. 2. We return the next week with photos of our kitchens, our children playing soccer, our lawns. 3.