Doctor Doctor

So I called up a doctors office in Cupertino yesterday and got an appointment for today. The local Berkeley clininc told me that I would have to wait weeks and that it would cost an arm and a leg. The Cupertino place was entirely reasonable. And, surprisingly, not homophobic.
Lesbians have higher cancer death rates that straight women and are less likely to see doctors, especially gynocologists. It doesn’t require a huge study to figure out why. Being hassled at checkups does not usually result in quality medical care or a desire to return any time soon. My experiences with the south bay have been such that it was a pleasent surprise not to be hassled or lectured about my poor birth control habits (so far 100% successful) and the many other things doctors have found it in their hearts to misunderstand and condemn.
But I still hate doctors’ offices with their ugly faux-sterility and their false promises of health and cures. The fasting for blood tests doesn’t help matters. So when I got my signed paperwork for school, I was out the door and on the road before it occurred to me that I was supossed to get preventative stuff against the sort of ear blockage that Christi had. (Caused by the type of ear plugs that we both wear and apparently very common in ear-plug wearing rock musicians.) Ooops. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t go back. Even very nice doctors are still doctors.
I can only imagine what my mom, who worked for many years as a medical technologist, would think of my anti-healthcare attitude.


I got more pride than I know what to do with.

We went to dyke march and got there very late. Not only had the march already stepped off, but it was almost completely gone from Delores Park. We got in near the back and noticed a very high percentage of creepy guys among us and so rushed forward to some place more firmly in the middle of the march. but creepy guys still abounded. In years past, creepy guys watched from the sides, but at least stayed out of the march. No more. And the ones on the sidelines were in about ten times their past numbers. Gross. It was bothering me a lot, so I took several swigs from Christi’s flask and felt enough better about it to take off my shirt. And then snarky, disgusting guys took my picture.
We need to take out an ad during the super bowl and it needs to say, “attention men: not everything on earth is done for your benefit. you do not own everything. some things are and forever will be completely off limits to you. cameras may be forcebly confiscated from you at some events. have a nice super bowl.”
How long now before creep dairy researches come up with ways to impregnate cows without bulls. And that research will apply to humans. and then males will be completely obsolete and need not be tolerated as a necessary evil any more. then we can start getting rid of the ones that have too big of a sense of entitlement. Maybe some mad scientist is right now working on a virus that only kills people will too much testosterone with the idea that it would be militarily useful. then surviving males would have to stay calm and non-agressive or would die of this evil virus. kind of evil virus. somewhat evil virus.
anyway, so dyke march was kind of fun. I have audio recording. Despite media reports of extra boisteriousness from the supreme court ruling, it was much calmer than usual. I heard no shouts of “show us your tits.,” but I did hear one woman complain that nobody even seemed to notice when she flashed her breasts. Also, the bill board that usually serves as a stage for women having sex or taking off their clothes or whatever was empty. I think maybe the new moon was making dykes mellow? One person was hanging out her window holding a sign that said, “Lick my pussy, it’s legal!” That was as sexy as it got. Well, except for a woman in front of me who stripped down till she had nothing on but her tatoos. then some guy appeared and was touching her, but she didn’t seem to mind and I didn’t feel empowered to eject him, since she wasn’t objecting. In short, everything is going to hell in a handbasket.
Last year, I decided to not attend the lame, corporate parade and faire again, so I didn’t. I dig being legalized by the supreme court and stuff, but assimilation is so boring. Is there a way we can have all the same rights as straight people but still be extra-hip outsiders who know how to throw a terrific party?

Behind the times

When I was a kid, I was a big beleiver in protest. My mom always told me I was born in the wrong decade. I should have been marching in the sixties instead of being trapped in the suburbs in the eighties. I still harbor all these dated radical notions, even though I’m trying to get more postmodernist.
My queer identity is often similarly old-fashioned. Some mock me for wanting to move onto a Womyn’s Land Collective (otherwise known as a Lesbian Seperatist Commune) or liking Alix Dobkin or whatever. For this I blame my upbrigning. The Cupertino library didn’t have a single lesbian-topic book printed after 1973. I read every lesbian book in that library and absorbed all the pre-1973 notions. Also, my parents were a generation behind. They were not baby boomers. They were over thirty when you weren’t suppossed to trust anyone over thrity. They did not share identity or values with boomers, but instead looked down upon them with the disapproval of the establishment. (Although my mom did go to some hippy gathering in Golden Gate Park once. Someone there got a contact high. It gave her a terrible headache. anyway…).
On Saturday, before going to the anti-war protest (retro is in!), I helped my friend move. After getting the truck to the destination house, we were all taking a breather in the living room. Somebody brought up the topic of Miss Manners. “I love her!” said one boomer gay man. The other boomer queers concurred. They started quoting her. “‘What do you say when introduced to a so-called homosexual couple?’ ‘How do you do? How do you do?'” and “‘What is the proper way to eat potato chips?’ ‘With a spoon and a fork . . .'” (that last one is ironic, btw.)
Good lord! Gay folk of the age my mom said that I should have been all adore Miss Manners! This must be how gay men who come out and find out that everyone else loves show tunes too must feel. I think that this is not entirely randomness. Miss Manners is a voice for equal rights and feminism. That “so-called homosexual’ question and answer was published right in the midst of the struggle for gay liberation. She’s brilliant because she showed that manners are necessarily compatible with a progressive agenda. To deny rights would be rude. She is a leftist in establishment clothing. Miss Manners is a friend to the opressed and a comforter of the polite in rude times. I’ve got to go get her new book.