I'm a freak in Washington, D.C. When I go out on the weekends, especially if it's with my co-conspirator in freakiness, the magical mysterious Mer, I get lots of stares. And the comments, geez! People are so funny. "Are you guys going to a party?" "Where's the party?" "Why are you wearing horns?" "Why are you wearing glitter?" My responses: the party is right here, and horns and glitter are fun. Get over it. Embrace fun. The fact that *I* do so does not make me a stripper or a psychopath or willing to fuck you or any other sort of menace to society. Mer and I have very exciting plans in the brewing to do a little bit of performance art whereby we'd temporarily playa-fy people out in public (especially the douchebags out in their douchiforms--read: khaki pants with polo shirt(s), often with popped collar(s)). We'd have the works for them--a crazy fabulous outfit, blinkies, horns, goggles, furries, etc. We'll take before and after pictures and post them on the Capital Fire Arts Web site as a way to get them there (marketing, baby!).

Other recent blog-worthy experiences:

National Insecurity:
Remember the Washington, D.C. post office that was shut down for a year following the death of two of its employees after they were exposed to anthrax that came in the mail? (Go here for more info: www.usatoday.com/news/nati...wood.htm). Just to give you a sense of this facility, it's fucking huge. It services nearly the entire capital area, and has at least 50-something loading docks. On September 11, 2007, about three weeks ago now, I had to go there to drop off a massive bulk mailing shipment that my employer was sending out. And let me tell you, that post office may be prepared to handle an anthrax-laced postal shipment, but they are sorely susceptible to a human being walking in with whatever they damn well please, be it anthrax, a marching band, or any assortment of weapons or other means of sabotage. I was told to go to loading dock 23 to drop off my shipment. When I got to loading dock 23, the dock door (like a garage door) was down, as were the adjacent doors. There was no signage to indicate how I might notify a person that I was there with a shipment, so I entered the building through a door to the left of dock 23. I walked around for 2 or 3 minutes before finding a person to help me. During that time, I could have wandered all through this facility, used its computers, tampered with the mail that was all over the place, or hidden myself in a mail bin and shipped myself to Siberia. When I finally did find people I thought might be able to help me, I had to stand and wait for several minutes while they finished their conversation before I could indicate why I was there or what I needed. There was absolutely no security whatsoever. Ahhh, the irony.

Hooping at the Jefferson Memorial and Rule #36:
I organized a hoop/poi jam to take place at the Jefferson Memorial today. A small group of us jammed out on the giant "patio" of the memorial, which overlooks the tidal basin. It was BEAUTIFUL out today, and, although it was kind of hot in the sun, still lovely weather for hooping and spinning. But just as I expected, a US Park Police officer eventually came over to us and told us we had to stop. His reason? Well, he wasn't able to articulate a reason, other than comparing hooping to bicycling and throwing footballs, which are not allowed at the memorial. I told him that the second I was breaking a law and he could tell me which one I was breaking, I would gladly leave the memorial to hoop elsewhere, but until then, I wasn't going to move based on his personal preference. So he left. And then came back about 45 minutes later and--I shit you not--declared that we were breaking rule #36. Apparently, rule #36 bans self-expression at the memorial, including singing, praying, and, in his own interpretation, hooping. I think that no one should be allowed to wear clothes at the memorial, since one's wardrobe is a form of self-expression. Naked touristing! I'm sure that Jefferson wouldn't mind.

Californians:
I'm really irritated at all of you Californians who are just going on about your lives while the DEA raids the fuck out of medical marijuana dispensaries and suppliers. You guys courageously passed Proposition 215, legalizing the use and distribution of medical marijuana in California, and set the national stage for marijuana law reform. So now that the federal government has decided to make life hell for medical marijuana dispensaries, patients, growers, and landlords, you guys just sit back and take it? The feds are telling you that your opinion doesn't matter, your state laws don't matter, your sick and dying patients don't matter. And you just sit back and take it? WTF?! People, take action before it's too late. Show the federal government that you won't take it. Rise up, protest, block dispensaries the DEA targets (so they can't raid them or so they can't leave after having raided them). You can sign up for instant raid alerts here: www.safeaccessnow.org/form.php There's only so much we can do from D.C. It's you guys--warm bodies--who need to get out in the streets and make a statement. Please. You are squandering an opportunity to help create a better world.