Bitch Anarchy

I am taking the entire month of April – and maybe the month of May as well – off to concentrate on my life outside of this blog. I have a new talent manager who will be working hard to get me into a TV writer’s room, and I simply need more time to work…

The United States has a very sordid race history, one that conservative bigots don’t want their precious White (and half-White) children learning about: racial cleansing of Midwestern and Deep South towns & counties. You undoubtedly have heard of ‘sundown towns’ – I wrote a post about them not too long ago. Well, the racially cleansed…

A modern version of “(I Wish I Was In) Dixie’s Land” (1859); old lyrics by: Daniel Decatur Emmett, new lyrics by: Michelle Karman We still live in the land of bigots,Wasting money on lotto tickets,Look away! Look away! Look away! Dixie Hell.In Dixie Hell where the Whites live well,Others live as if in prison cells,Look…

White people – particularly White men – are afraid of powerful, strong Black women. Look at how they’re mistreating Ketanji Brown Jackson! Perhaps this is why Tina Bell, credited with starting the Grunge rock genre that one usually associates with stringy-haired White dudes, is not widely known outside of Seattle and the punk rock subculture.…

Lulled by the sound of the wind, the warm air, and the cool fragrance of the flowers, he sank into deep, drowsy retrospection. It had been wonderfully simple; when they had shut him out of the theater and concert hall, when they had taken away his bone, the whole thing was virtually determined. The rest…

After a night behind the scenes Paul found the schoolroom more than ever repulsive; the bare floors and naked walls; the prosy men who never wore frock coats, or violets in their buttonholes; the women with their dull gowns, shrill voices, and pitiful seriousness about prepositions that govern the dative. He could not bear to…

A quick gust of wind brought the rain down with sudden vehemence, and Paul was startled to find that he was still outside in the slush of the gravel driveway; that his boots were letting in the water and his scanty overcoat was clinging wet about him; that the lights in front of the concert…

His teachers were in despair, and his drawing master voiced the feeling of them all when he declared there was something about the boy which none of them understood. He added: “I don’t really believe that smile of his comes altogether from insolence; there’s something sort of haunted about it. The boy is not strong,…

 A 1905 story by Willa Cather It was Paul’s afternoon to appear before the faculty of the Pittsburgh High School to account for his various misdemeanors. He had been suspended a week ago, and his father had called at the Principal’s office and confessed his perplexity about his son. Paul entered the faculty room suave and…

From VIOLETS AND OTHER TALES by ALICE·RUTH·MOORE, (c) 1895BY THE MONTHLY REVIEW via The Project Gutenberg Yes, Eleanor, I have grown grayer. I am younger than you, you know, but then, what have you to age you? A kind husband, lovely children, while I—I am nothing but a lonely woman. Time goes slowly, slowly for me…