Well, I could. But I won’t.

The 8 Things Meme went around, and i got tagged. Twice.

Still failed.

Without further ado…

1. I love thunderstorms. The wilder the weather, the better.
2. Podiums are my friend, because that way you can’t see the leg shake I get, even though i love public speaking.
3. I despise Adam Sandler with all my soul. I’m not even sure why.
4. I’m a museum junkie. I use the floor maps as posters in my room, and a Modigliani is over my bed. My ex-boyfriend was a little skeeved by it. The SO compares herself to it. I just think it’s beautiful composition.
5. I have served Holy Communion while in bare feet.
6. I am beginning to grow into some of the vegetables and foods that my parents swore I would like someday. This vaguely unsettles me, even if they are tasty.
7. I have been on the floor of the US Senate while it was in session.
8. I go house shopping online when I miss the Twin Cities.

I think I’ve seen pretty much everyone on my RSS feed do this already, so I’ll pass on further tagging. Unless you’ve been waiting to get tagged. Then you should do this. It was actually vaguely fun, and distracted me from another “let’s call someone crazy” outbreak.




Let’s get the weekend started right.

From way back, and still a fecking classic.

I’ll try to get back around to a clarification of my last post…mostly to do with perceptions. Hint: I am not asking for you to feel badly about what has happened to me. I am telling you that you’d best get the fuck off my lawn.

No matter for now…enjoy Janet, or Ms. Jackson if you’re nasty.


Search term used to find Sly Civilian:

“clusterfuck AND divinity school”





Realized this morning that I don’t think I ever blogged this. May be old news to some of you, but it’s free. And good.

West coast rapper Free Speech and beat maestro Ro Boulevard put out a ten song set for free entitled Laffy Taffy Rots Your Teeth…and thus earned several spots on my main play list. “Everything is Different Now” happens to be my favorite, but the intro is pretty good too. The album isn’t entirely without problem, such as “Replace U,” a track that just doesn’t agree with me. But it’s worth sampling….

Also, everything isn’t different now. Outing and harassment still happen on the web, and Kathy Sierra is the latest to suffer. Show love, and remember that what happens to one of us happens to all of us. Hate crime is motivated by a need to silence and exclude…and targets specific individuals to have a wider effect.

Tonight, I’m driving home with two of my friends, and as they catch up, the conversation turns to some incidents in which white people acted a fool. I’m not surprised by this, not by now.

But when we talk about being the only black/white person in a class, they both had profoundly negative experiences. On the other hand, i will offer as close to verbatim quote as I can:

“It was a different experience, and somewhat unnerving at times because I didn’t know what was going on. I was really lucky that Prof. Name made an effort to make it a positive experience for me.”

Lucky isn’t quite the word I was looking for, was it?

Anyhow, we still had a lovely evening. I mean, lovely. Great food (if i do say so myself) and even better company. On the way back, we remarked on how cold Yale can be, and how fulfilling it was to take some time off and just be fun for a while. Sitting back over a meal, having my guests sing a duet of an old Elton John song that they think that as a queer man I am woefully remiss for not knowing, flipping through my baby pictures, joking around about relationships past, really taking some time to think about why people chose what is hurtful to their lives, going back to laughter, and sharing some good old fashioned camaraderie…

That’s lucky.

That’s lucky indeed.

-sly c

First, since this carnival is self-initiated, I urge you to consider calling a future edition. When the time is right, and you will know that it is, you will call forward Radical Fun. And then you will have posts about eggs and quarks. At least, that’s what my feed reader tells me.

Stop back over the day weekend, and as people add their posts, I’ll be collecting them here.

For the love of whatever gets you out of bed in the morning, blog it here.

-sly civilian

Entries To Date:

A quirky look at quarks from J. Haqq-Misra

Emily queers up pop music here.

Esther enters the Great Egg Scramble Off in search of the perfect oeuf.

Because our Blog Mother in Radical Fun is off at a conference, I’m stealing a post from her that I found fun, and to be posted in the spirit of the same. And cats. Fun cats. Cats that could drive you to drink, of only they would hold their antics at a time of day that didn’t make you seem sketchy for cracking open a beer.

Kevin promises fun is incoming. And delivers the fun, both in sartorial and snow forms.

pheonix and tree blogs about board games, sitting around a table with folks, and euchre.

Sage writes six word stories, and celebrates her students.

Vegankid writes a 6 word love story, and tags me. I’ll get to it soon. Vegan also adds the many sources of fun. A personal shout out to Civilization, Sid Mier’s contribution to my computer addiction.

Petitpoussin blogs about really, really cute things here.

Blue combines booze, power chairs, and a balloon for a until then unheard of amusement.

Elle waxes a sweet nostalgic about the hottest spot in all the South.

Sylvia explains why books are so damn special, and how the best kind of reading lets you forget you’re holding a book at all.

DeviousDiva writes of the pleasures of life, quiet things, raucous parties, and taking photographs which always make me miss Greece something awful.

IrrationalPoint has some logical fun. I don’t know if this really qualifies as fun fun, but sensing the barely concealed glee in the mathematical formulations i don’t understand, i have decided to go ahead and post it.

My contribution is a brandy soaked travelogue.

Multiple entries welcome, and I’ll start leaving comments for all you deadbeats who said you were gonna have fun and haven’t yet.

This is odd. It’s Radical Fun Day 2.0, and I don’t have a piece written. I’d finished one a while back, but it just doesn’t feel fun anymore. So now I’m a little stuck. Quick, before class, come up with something fun. Something that doesn’t just have to do with the goddamn Man. The point of this exercise is quite important after all. It is to release us from the constant engagement with the way things are, and to give a push and pull at the horizon of our imagination.

No pressure, of course.

So losing one piece on ice, I shall steal another. This is probably one of the odder things I’ve ever written. It is on beat up legal paper, with several different shades of cheap blue and purple pens. It’ is folded over several times, and is interspersed with another piece. Lines of academicese on Dante and the semantic structure of torture give way to romantic poetry.

This is a very belated travel blog, a snap shot of being in Paris.

I walked Paris last night. Miles from Gare Monteparnasse to the Tour Eiffel, to the Arc de Triooopmh (as it is called in the vernacular of our day), Louvre, Toullieries, and finally back to Notre Dame.

The air was cold, but not all consumingly so and I just kept on walking, all my gear with me. I had one ear open to the street, for oncoming cars, for vendors, for anything new. The other was being dedicated to country gospel and the House of Mercy Band took the stage.

It was cold and I was having my dinner of wheat bread, chasing after it now and again with the brandy, and it was beautiful to me, and so it went all the way to my fingers and kept them warm.

It was cold and the fading light of the sky did nothing to conceal me as a tourist and a watcher, but i crept anyways as if it might make a difference, and I guess I couldn’t be found. Not a single soul who knew my Christian name could have called out to me then. So I stayed high above it, because the river was rising and swirling over the paths below.

It was cold, and I was awake, alive, loving every minute, every hour the lights of the tower would flash and sparkle. My camera flashed, but when I really wanted to remember something, I just stared.

It was cold, and I thought about Athens, the future, Yale, and everything and nothing. My thoughts swirled in the brandy, biting my throat, just a little and made me silence it all.

Now warm again, paying tourist prices for espresso, and one last last final until it happens again dance with Notre Dame. That beautiful place that tells me that it is not over, and my jaw can still drop and not to talk but just to stare. It is lit for night, and the gargoyles scream, but then again there is Paul and I think I know him. I wish the doors were open, but I content myself to eat the last of my bread.

I hardly slept.

Resting now, calm morning, still thinking of bread and brandy, solitary communion, peace and love.

Yours in the fun,

Sly Civilian

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