the personal has gone political, I can tell by the weight of your words

Michael Lewis

An Escalade, a night with the same sex, and some of the best original jokes I’ve heard in a long time; what is a Saturday night adventure.


I’m reading a book entitled, Queering Bathrooms: Gender, Sexuality, and the Hygienic Imagination. Only an inch into the book and I’m feeling urges to take a personal day so I can finish this exploration of fringe academia. Who knew you could think about bathrooms, sexuality, gender, architecture, and intersections of power for a living?

Sheila Cavanagh states, “…the unconscious, like the toilet, is a dumping ground for the unacceptable impulses, practices, identifications, and desires.”  It’s enough to make you blush.

Since I can’t take a day off, I’ll have to settle with bringing the book to work and reading it in the bathroom. I will be able to privately think about “how the gendered spacial design of the public bathroom is dependent upon a cissexist and heteronormative ideal.”

It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one who thinks of such things and it heartens the soul to know that the education system isn’t completely anemic of stimulating knowledge production.


I missed Feminist Coming Out Day (March 8th, mark your calendars for next year).  I can’t reconcile the image below in a way that is comfortable to me. I’m both impressed and honestly horrified at the intensity of those amazing t-shirts. An explosion of transgressions that dares you call them anything but a feminist. It’s also radically essentialist with little context as to why this equals feminism. Maybe it’s the juxtaposition of cunt with vajajay that’s throwing me off.

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