She continues to belch away any possible enjoyment I might derive from eating at a time when I am forced to dine at home. My food sensitivities test came back negative for a gluten allergy but mildly positive for 26 other foods. For three months, avoidance is mandatory, and because one of the culprits is PEPPER it's virtually impossible to find suitable food for myself outside of my house. Before 3:30, when I leave for rehearsal with Sean, Luke, and Vanina, I have to prepare and pack a dinner and snacks that are basically devoid of fun and flavor. Whatever I take has to be enough to power me through the pehrspace party tonight.
But hell. At least I CAN eat. The National Inflation Association's new projections came out yesterday, and they are horrifying, but because I am in a state surrounded by "progressives" who deride "conservatives" for policies that are virtually indistinguishable from their own, I have learned the hard way to keep most of this stuff to myself. I still don't see how bashing mirror images of ourselves advances our humanity, but if you do, feel free to enlighten me.
Almost all of my facebook friends applaud the free lunches that are killing our currency. Round two of quantitative easing is upon us, but we're drowning in petty talk and pejorative terms. Both sides are pushing monetary policies that will likely destroy the dollar, and the only thing, I think, that will unify the people behind a better way will be the hardcore experience of struggle that lies ahead. "Within a decade a loaf of wheat bread may cost $23 in a grocery store in the United States, and a 32-oz package of sugar might run $62. A 64-oz container of Minute Maid Orange Juice, meanwhile, could set you back $45.71 (http://www.naturalnews.com/030309_food_inflation.html)
We are looking at a deadly combo of price inflation and dollar deflation, and not enough of us are talking about it, and even fewer are suggesting solutions because who wants to be that guy? That unpopular dude who will make the cuts that will hurt? A representative of sound money? WHO? There are a few, but they're kept on the periphery for the most part. Alienated. And I feel their pain.
When I used to be a "progressive" who derided "neocons" as racist buffoons, I would have found solace in my facebook roster of liberal cheerleaders. Now that I actually read about the world beyond mainstream media sources, I have a broader understanding of the ideological framework, and both parties leave me unimpressed. These days I'm cheering for a new team. Gerald Celente suggests it is the emergence of the progressive libertarian, but it's not growing fast enough to save me from alienation today. So I stand by and watch my friends on both sides gut each other over nothing, wielding that ever-potent weapon of deletion.
Then I go quietly to practice what I no longer preach. I buy only organic food. I use baking soda and lemon and vinegar to clean my house. I have my own garden. I filter the chlorine and fluoride out of my water. I exercise. I support sustainable businesses, and I am starting my own, details to come, of course. I refrain from unnecessary travel as a boycott of increasingly intrusive searches, and if I must travel, I will opt out of naked body scanners. I embrace holistic medicine. I use pure cosmetics with fruit-pigmented ingredients. I read. I breathe. I make an effort to be a good girl. For these reasons and many more, I appear to be a radical among my peers when the truth is I represent a growing minority of people who have no allegiance to anything that doesn't serve themselves, their contemporaries, or their planet.
I'm sort of a transcendental vigilante in a sea of distraction and complacence. In 1856, antislavery orator Wendell Phillips warned, "Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty," and that really resonates with me lately. I feel it viscerally. A primal desire for unadulterated freedom. And, like Tantra, it has opened up new pathways in my brain, body, and heart. My most recent creation, "South," is a record of this unrestrained way of being, and it's just the tip of iceberg for this "queen of cool," to cite my own lyrics.
I can't wait for tonight. It's going to be so much fun having a proper lineup instead of a phantom one like that band of bones in the Grateful Dead's "Touch of Grey" video. Who am I kidding? Even those skeletons are a realer band than we have been over the past couple of years. Finally. A chance to be heard. What every artist wants. To revel in my devotion and my difference. And maybe when I've accomplished that much, my social acceptability will simultaneously soar, and I'll be lauded for my liberty-loving, article-devouring, discipline-cherishing self. A chance to be nerd.
For those of you who cannot make it to the show tonight, you can buy our EP on iTunes!
http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/audition/id402380199
OR if you want a hard copy, hit me up ASAP! My limited edition jersey girls are already selling out, and they're not even officially for sale yet. They include four acoustic tracks. Positively charming!
UGH! After staring at me all the way through the rough draft and the rewrites, my aunt has begun rummaging through my stacks of nutritional information, supplements, and receipts. Talk about intrusive searches! Mother drssshhhhhh!
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