"Each of us is here now because in one way or another we share a commitment to language and to the power of language, and to the reclaiming of that language which has been made to work against us. In the transformation of silence into language and action, it is vitally necessary for each one of us to establish or examine her function in that transformation and to recognize her role as vital within that transformation.

For those of us who write, it is necessary to scrutinize not only the truth of what we speak, but the truth of that language by which we speak it. For others, it is to share and spread also those words that are meaningful to us. But primarily for us all, it is necessary to teach by living and speaking those truths which we believe and know beyond understanding. Because in this way alone we can survive, by taking part in a process of life that is creative and continuing, that is growth."

(Audre Lorde, "The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action"). Via { Palimpsest }.

Hmm...some geniuses have devised a new formula for the girlz to size up that potential lover before round one in the hay. Being the curious soul that I am I went ahead and checked it out to see if it was all it is cracked up to be, not that I'm an expert and such. Needless to say, the { Penis Size Calculator }has some potential. I mean, depending on how seriously you take it. It has the potential to make the naive or unwary extremely hopeful, depending on the results, or utterly disappointed. Loved the tagline:{ "How Big Is His Click" }It's fun though if you're just killing time. The whole idea behind it as suggested, is to help determine the correct sized condoms one may require based on the rendered results and, some enticing looking condoms are served up at the site too.

Oh, { News } has it that George Bush was not in the least amused when Secretary of State Colin Powell, on an MTV show, warned young people against having sex without using condoms. "This statement is absolutely opposed to the US government's official policy towards the issue. The government recommends total chastity as the best way of avoiding an unwanted pregnancy and diseases." So proclaims the voice of America's Conservatives.

On another note...I love shoes. Fetish? I guess, just as I am with toes. That said, I like all kinds of shoes and the more unusual the look the better, though the ones I find unusual, usually sport heels around 3 inches and more in height. This irks me, for being 5-11 in height myself, it ain't no joke walking around Manhattan towering over everyone else and not being able to walk straight or even steady. Worst even if you're on the train--say the #2 at rush hour speeding to its destination and you're hanging on for dear life to the hand rail while trying not to tip over, and, if you do--trying at least to tip over and God forbid! collapse in style, you know--like a lady. Phew! Hats off to { Rupaul } and others who do it gracefully and stylishly.. But hey, I still love them and when I'm in the mood I slip my feet into a pair and take off...that's what I did tonight in fact when my friend suggested, actually it was a dare, that we drop in at the gay male bar on Amsterdam Ave.

I felt up to the challenge so, and don't ask me why, but I laced up a 3 incher and with trembling legs walked smack dab into the middle of the bar with Keith, me being the only girl from what I could see. He soon ran downstairs to use the bathroom and I was close on his heels. Of course, I stopped short of entering the door he dashed into, instinct I guess, and hung about outside trying to stare casually at the photos in a corner on the wall. A few guys hanging about the doors donning bath towels around the waist walked over to observe me and I freaked out. I guess I could've said hi/hello but I suddenly felt as if I was invading a private world so, I dashed back upstairs with break-neck speed as nonchalantly and as stylishly as I could in my heels--trying not to draw further undue attention to myself. That is what I was thinking at the time but imagine the sound of the heels clicking on the tiled floors...well, I went outside to wait. Afterwards we hung about town a bit, driving around; I've mentioned that { favorite pastime } of mine, had a bite to eat and decided to call it a night. It was simply fun, all in a New York Minute.

It is an overcoat day--bleaky and almost winter-like. A certain chill being pushed by a quiet wind has wounded its way through the air to mask the summer heat. It began last night and was unusually cold for a summer's night.

It is also unusually still. The constant buzzing of the air conditioners nestled into the various apartment windows of the building, in single file from top to bottom like marching soldiers, has stopped. Puddles of water settle on the ground.

Haven't heard the birds all morning nor the hissing neighborhood cats always quarelling outside for tidbits of food and other scraps. I lean out the window to observe then sometimes. They are pretty cute but hungry and skittish. They scramble to their little hideouts at the least sound. If you whistle to them or sound the usual cat call they look about madly, poised to run. But today, they are nowhere in sight. It really is quiet.

I wonder if Nature has made some kind of ghastly mistake but then, given the eratic nature of Nature, I know there is no mistake. It just is. Nature or God has commanded it so. Of course I'm not complaining just contemplating... I've been dying for the tentacles of the scorching heat to let go and it finally has.

The City can rest easy today. It probably is a great day for shopping downtown but I'll stay in and laze about the house. It's a great day for playing scrabble. I smile now as I think of the play on words between "scrabble" and "scramble" especially because HE usually says: "Let's play scramble!" Anyhow, last night I didn't join the others to play, didn't really feel like thinking and I like to win. I win now and again. But today, the unusualness of the weather inspires me.

I'll finish reading G.K. Chesterton's piece: On Lying In Bed. It's a pretty short essay in comparison to a short story and I've only gone through the first few paragraphs having liked thus far how he explains the great art of lying in bed. "Lying in bed" he says, "would be an altogether perfect and supreme experience if only one had a colored pencil long enough to draw on the ceiling...Michael Angelo was engaged in the ancient and honorable occupation of lying in bed that he...realized how the roof of the Cistine Chapel might be made into an awful imitation of a divine drama that could only be acted in the heavens." That, I'll finish reading today. Still haven't seen the cats...Perhaps today it will rain.