Public performances in 2008 - so far i've done this.

I've been trying to make a minute to get my 2008 forthcoming gigs/shows/etc. calendar up on here, but have been distracted by the actual off-line work that this schedule of work has me committed to complete.

I've already done two public performances this year. The first was at the January 3rd "Open Mic, Open Minds" show at 1919 Hemphill. The frigid temps had us all bundled in blankets, sipping hot chocolate and tea, as we listened to the performers. I headlined for a 25-minute set, accompanied on some new pieces by Ramsey Sprague, playing guitar or clarinet. This is a new collaboration, to work with Ramsey (aka "The Shortest Distance"), and we'd actually spent a total of only 5 hours or so working up our set in the two days before the show. Still, we did pretty good for a first outing together, and the folks there seemed appreciative enough. I sold a couple of books, and got a modest guarantee, which I promptly shared with Ramsey.

The next gig was a last-minute sweat-and-inspiration effort to make good on an invitation from Lori Thomson, she of the Firehouse Gallery. Lori had asked me, on the night of the "Buzzworms in the Backyard" art exhibit, if I wanted to present or perform something in her "That's Not Art" show to be held at the F6 Gallery in Arlington--a warehouse space outfitted for art-making and -exhibiting by cohorts Kevin Thornton and Cameron Thompson, et al.

Saturday, January 26th
That’s Not Art - exhibit/reception
F6 Gallery, Arlington

What I ended up presenting was my M.P.S. prototype. M.P.S., or Mediated Peep Show is an interactive intervention performance box which consisted mostly of me being the peeped-at artist in a large cardboard box with cut-out peepholes. I sat and did the M.P.S. for about 30 minutes on Saturday, January 26th, wielding a handheld Sony audiocassette recorder which captured the comments and responses to questions I whispered to my viewers through the peepholes. It was a provocative study of: the lure of peepshows; the vulnerability of the peeper as well as the peeped-at; and the expectation of titillation and engagement despite being disconnected strangers. It was a little scary for me, in terms of my questions and spoken commentary being improvised on the spot as well as in the matter of making myself an object of gratification for people whose intentions and motivations were largely unknown. It was, of course, obvious to me which of the peepers were friends and acquaintances, and in those cases, the play was delightful and non-threatening. In other moments, however, it seemed that the peeper was aggressive and demanding--several folks pushed at the peepholes, pressed heavily against the cardboard box, and in one case, when I dabbled too long in theoretical conversation, the peeper slapped at the box and hastily stepped away. I would like to present M.P.S. again, in various and different environments, to see what kinds of responses and interactions might transpire.

Photos come soon.

Texas Community Media Summit - Austin - Saturday, March 1st

Texas Community Media Summit
Saturday, March 1, 2008
10am-6pm
Texas Union Building
on the campus of UT-Austin
Austin, Texas

FREE and open to media producers in the public/grassroots realm. (bloggers, newsprint & web journalists, vloggers, public access tv and radio producers, performance artists)

++++++++++++++++++++++

For more information and to register online (asap, please), visit the Texas Community Media Summit website .

++++++++++++++++++++++

from Summit co-coordinator Stefan Wray of (Public Access Community Television) PACT-Austin:

"...the entire idea started last summer when we heard a report from Charles Benton about the Community Media Summit in Chicago. We're modeling off that. Chicago had a head start in that there was already a good network or directory of local community groups and organizations. We're a bit handicapped in that regard; there's not a good database for Texas community media. So really, one of the first things and main reasons for the summit is to start a conversation, to begin to get people involved in different community media to be able to recognize who we are all and to start figuring out ways that we can work together. We see this as the beginning of something."

some of the participating orgs and media outlets:

Dallas iMedia Network
Alliance for Community Media
The Benton Foundation
Texas Media Empowerment Project
Southwest Alternate Media Project
Department of Radio-TV-Film, UT-Austin
KNON-FM - Dallas
KPFT-FM - Houston
PACT-Austin
MIchael Verdi (San Antonio-based vlogger and co-author of the first book on videoblogging: Secrets Of Videoblogging)


Questions that will be posed for discussion:

1. How do we leverage our community media resources to expand and enhance our presence in the Texas media landscape?

2. How are we moving from traditional one-way media distribution and consumption to interactive media?

3. How do we transform our traditional funding strategies?

4. What are our community needs and how do we better meet them?
________________________________________

I'll be facilitating one of the break-out sessions--the one on VALUE--so I hope to see you there!
Fort Worth-Dallas represent! Houston represent! San Antonio represent! RGV represent! El Paso represent! Panhandle represent!

PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD. Thanks.

Love-themed art parties this weekend

I'm sorry that I didn't mention the ARTS FIFTH AVENUE love-in "Heart Art Exhibit" earlier, but I went and it was pretty chill, good energy, lots of creating people on the spot. Live acoustic music from various singer-songwriters took place in the main studio, while food/bevs, art-making tables, and crafty d.i.y. women displayed their makin's for sale or trade. Part of the proceeds were pegged for the sustenance fund for Arts Fifth, which really needs some love this year. (By the way, Paige Hendricks Public Relations, Inc. (PHPR) will be consulting with Gracey Tune & the Arts Fifth Avenue folks about re-branding (new logo, website masthead).)

The same sort of sell-a-bration is happening tomorrow at the east-side sister space, THE FIREHOUSE ART GALLERY, at the corner of Meadowbrook and Oakland.

Hearts On Fire!
Sunday February 10th, 4 - 8pm
Community Event - All Are Welcome!
Benefiting the Firehouse Art and Education Program and the New Arts Form series performance

Sweets from the Sweets Bake Sale
Love Song Karaoke Contest - $100 cash prize!
Fun!draising Raffle - Theater tickets, Weekend Getaways at area hotels, Dining excursions, Dallas Zoo, & much more!

Today is a good day for free film screenings in the 817

Of course, there's the big SPIKE LEE retrospective that's been happening on the campus of UTA (Arlington) all week, which culminates in a keynote lecture which he is due to present this evening (Saturday). Check for ticket availability, film screening times, and more here. Looks like all the film screenings are FREE, but you gotta pay to see & hear the man himself.

Then, there's the REEL Religion film festival "of religious significance" (huh?), here in FW. Apparently, this festival was created as a partnership between a coupla churches (University Christian and Broadway Baptist), as well as two department/offices at TCU. No matter what spin they're putting on this festival, I still think it's pretty cool that these folks are presenting a total of 18 films (some of 'em pretty cool selections) for FREE and open to the public. Screenings at the University Christian Church, a stone's throw from the TCU campus.

Film selections & screening times &dates:

Friday, Feb. 8, 7 p.m.

The History Boys
Amazing Grace
Good Night, and Good Luck
Waitress
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Charlotte’s Web


Saturday, Feb. 9, 9:30 a.m.

Paper Clips
Bruce Almighty
Street Fight
Husbands and Wives
Being John Malkovich
Pocahontas


Saturday, Feb. 9, 1:30 p.m.

Freedom Writers
Dead Man Walking
The Lives of Others
The Painted Veil
Vanilla Sky
The Prince of Egypt

Theater Workshop--on military counter-recruitment -TODAY@7pm

*** INTERACTIVE THEATER WORKSHOP on Tuesday, Feb. 5th, 7pm, at 1919 Hemphill ***

PEACEFUL VOCATIONS, your friendly military COUNTER-recruitment volunteer organization

presents
our first interactive theater workshop
on Tuesday, February 5th
@ 7pm at 1919 Hemphill in Fort Worth.

The workshop--free and open to interested participants--is part of a new initiative to create new and high-impact theater pieces which will be presented to students at schools in the FWISD and beyond.

Tuesday's workshop will begin with a screening of BEFORE YOU ENLIST (dvd documentary, 15 min.), followed by a discussion. Afterwards, a break-out session for participants to brainstorm and create original new skits and theater strategies for counter-recruitment will take place.

These new works will be shared with the group-at-large, and decisions may be made about further coordination of this theater project.

All useful and relevant ideas will be welcomed and considered.
_____________

Join us at:

1919 Hemphill
1919 Hemphill St.
Fort Worth, TX 76110

fmi:

PEACEFUL VOCATIONS website

PEACEFUL VOCATIONS myspace

1919 HEMPHILL website

NY Latino Film Festival 2008 - call for submissions

It's now time to dust off that original video footage and start editing it, cuz the NY Latino Film Festival 2008 is now calling for films for the annual festival--happening in July this year.

OFFICIAL DEADLINE: MARCH 14th, 2008
LATE DEADLINE: APRIL 11th, 2008

NYILFF will consider films made by, featuring, about and/or for the Latino community. The festival will consider all forms: feature narrative, short films, documentary and experimental shorts. All projects must have been completed by no earlier than 2006. Projects in a language other English must have English subtitles. Films cannot have been broadcast (television or Internet) or distributed commercially in the U.S. prior to the festival. Exceptions are made for short films and documentaries. All genres are welcome. There's also a YOUTH film category.

New York International Latino Film Festival:
Our Culture. Our Stories. Our Movies. Our Way!
www.NYLATINOFILM.com

map of an online excursion

1. My friend, Ruben P. Salazar (not to be confused with Ruben Salazar, the journalist who was murdered by the L.A. Sheriff's Department on August 29th, 1970) is about to open a solo art exhibit in Waco, and has asked me to collaborate with him on a few of his visual works. I have submitted a few original poems with environmental themes, per his request. This morning, I finished a draft of a new poem, entitled "Steps on the Earth", which alludes to carbon footprinting.

2. The first draft of "Steps on the Earth" includes my slapdash use of the word "fractious," so I decide to look it up in an online dictionary to see if I misused it or not. I decide to keep the word in my poem, but tweaked the line it's in.

3. I notice, while googling "fractious," that there's an independent publisher called FRACTIOUS PRESS, so I decide to investigate who or what this press is about. I click on the NEWS link and become intrigued by the mention of something called BOOKSLUT, which turns out to be an online lit magazine. I meander over to their BOOKSLUT BLOG and devour many of the recent postings, enjoying myself immensely.

4. In a sidebar to the blog, I see that HOA NGUYEN has been interviewed by BOOKSLUT, so their stock value hits the ceiling. I really like Hoa, who--together with her husband and critic/writer Dale Smith--edits the SKANKY POSSUM, a literary journal and press. They live in Austin, so I get to occasionally see Hoa when I'm down there; I think she came up to Dallas in 2007 to read for a WordSpace event, but I was busy and had to miss her. Of course, I chow down on the interview and feel happy for her recent literary accomplishments, and suddenly long to visit her. (She is also one of about 5 or so editor/publishers who have, over the last 10 years, asked to see some of my work for possible publication. Why have I been holding back, holding out? In 2008, I will follow through...)

5. I now decide to soon send a greeting to Hoa, along with a few of my poems. We will see what goes after that. But, for now, it's time to sleep. It's 5:44 a.m.

Point of this exercise: to show that online browsing--even as I meander and indulge--ultimately gets me back on task, focusing on my literary (and otherwise) goals.

I have not fallen off the face of the earth, nor have I been...

...sucked up by that unidentified hovering aircraft that folks have been spotting over Stephenville recently.

No sir, it's just that I have been so uber-busy trying to keep up with this new year which has plastered itself all over me like ambitious presidential candidates kissing on unsuspecting babies (who don't even vote!). I am already behind, if you can believe that.

It's a galloping stallion of a year--I feel it, we (my friends and comrades) feel it. It's true, this set of 365 days is the whopper out of the ocean that we only dreamed of glimpsing. And it's ours for real...

Define-a-Thon - January 18th @ the DMA

Dictionary Geek Steve Kleinedler

Kleinedler, senior editor for American Heritage Dictionary, will be hosting/emceeing a Define-a-Thon at the Late Night Birthday Celebration of the DMA (Dallas Museum of Arts) on Friday, January 18th. I'm thinking about checking it out myself, and perhaps signing up to play. Sounds like nerdy good fun for word freaks. That includes me, of course. More details follow.

Define-a-Thon
Friday, January 18, 7:00 & 9:30 p.m.

Seventeen Seventeen Restaurant
Dallas Museum of Art

from the DMA website:
"On your mark . . . get set . . . DEFINE! When it comes to word-based competition, the ante has been upped. The American Heritage Dictionary Define-a-Thon is a test of vocabulary strength that takes participants beyond the spelling bee. Why? Because knowing how to spell a word doesn’t necessarily mean that you know how to use the word. In fact, the judges are more than happy to define them for you. This fast-paced game separates the vocabulary masters from novices. The host gives each contestant a definition, followed by four possible answer words. The contestant must choose the word that fits the definition. As the competition progresses, the degree of difficulty increases until only two players are left. These two players enter the final round with new rules and higher stakes.

American Heritage Dictionary Senior Editor Steve Kleinedler will host the game. Quick-witted and with a strong command of the English language, Kleinedler was recently profiled in a New York Times article about “the rise of young, hip lexicographers.” And he has a phonetic vowel chart tattooed on his back! He will share insights on how words are selected for the dictionary and what new words have just been added.

Think you have a good vocabulary? Test your skills in this war of words. Not feeling up to the competition? Come cheer on local logophiles and learn a few new words in this spirited and exciting game. For more details and registration information, visit DallasMuseumofArt.org/ALL. Winners will receive great prizes!"

"If you would like to be a contestant in the Define-a-Thon, please indicate this when ordering your tickets. Six spots for each competition will be drawn in advance on Monday, January 14. Arts & Letters Live staff will contact those selected by January 15. If you are not contacted in advance but would still like to participate, eight spots per competition will be available at the door on the evening of the event on a first-come, first-served basis. A sign-up sheet will be posted near the entrance to Seventeen Seventeen Restaurant one hour before each event begins (6:00 p.m. and 8:30 p.m.).

Grand prize winners receive:

1 hardcover edition of the American Heritage Dictionary
1 $75 membership to the Museum
2 tickets to the Arts & Letters Live program of your choice in the 2008 season (subject to availability)."

I'm doing a reading/performance @ 1919 Hemphill on Thursday, January 3rd

I'll be the featured poet at the January 3rd episode in this ongoing monthly series.

Check me out from 9:30-10pm.

Poem #352 of 365

The lessons have found me unprepared,
as a student without a manual,
and I am skidding as best I know,
learning how to maneuver mayhem.

I have lost so many kin, and
have attended more funerals
than weddings, yet the way and means
to handle the pain is something
that befuddles, eludes me still.

So when I walked over to the New Books section,
at my workplace tonight,
it took me by surprise when I laid my eyes
on a relevant new book:

Grieving for Dummies, the title read,
and I thought to myself--how insulting to me!
I would not care to share this
with a mourning family member, as if I thought her dumb.

But I thumbed through the pages and
found advice that could help us,
one and all,
and felt less a dummy than a smarty,
though sad as sad can be.

(Grieving for Dummies was written by a guy with a Ph.D in bereavement counseling, so it ain't no joke.)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #351 of 365

that cookie tasted awful,
like refrigerator--
but then, i smell like carport
and my cat smells like coal mine.

then to the parked car,
neglected and undisinfected.

i sniff and tell:
the backseat, of oranges and brake fluid,
and the floorboard, of moldy vanilla.

i have a sharp nose,
its sense of smell
propels me to the kitchen
to see what now
i’ve burned.

blackened skillets,
streams of smoke,

i hold them out the window,
see the vapor get took.
and the backyard takes
one great whiff.

you bet i can cook,
you bet i can burn,
when i feel it in
all of my senses.

well done.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #350 of 365

I pay ten dollars
once a week
to speak with
a man from
another nation.

He is quick to
smile, and bless
my day. He speaks
of lands with color
I cannot see.

We travel together,
show our worlds
and world perspectives
in the few minutes
I've paid for this.

His skin is sometimes
burnished brown,
with accent thick
as my strong morning
coffee, but stirred in
with sweet caramel
of kindness.

One man recited couplets
of Shakespeare, one
told me not to worry
about Darfur, and today's
man told me that every
single day is a beautiful day.

I arrive at new thinking,
new conclusions, but the
same destination, when I
ride with them. They are
my immigrant international
taxi drivers and they are
my Sunday morning teachers.

For the lessons, I tip them well.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #349 of 365

The six dollar
Bombay Sapphire
gin and tonic
stirred my muse
6 times.

With a fine point
red ink Sharpie.

For those of you
who are readers, not writers,
that is the equivalent
of 6 orgasms
on a hard wooden chair.

In an Irish pub.
In public.
Precisely,
well-written.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Now that the Wreck, Black Dog, & Metrognome are gone where do artists ART?

[a local painter who goes by the name of Semone (www.myspace.com/ssemone) sent along this invitation to an art show happening inside the Bar 9 Lounge tonight at 6pm - downtown FW]



[thanks to Gloria aka "glo (D-Tx)" for the following anuncio about a doc film screening tomorrow in the Bar of Soap laundromat, Fair Park area of Dallas, Friday, December 14th.]

Laura Tabor's documentary DFW PUNK will screen Friday at the laundromat area at the Bar Of Soap @ 10PM.
Bring a small chair if you like.

FREE TO KILL AGAIN goes on at 11:30 in the front window.




The address for Bar of Soap: www.barofsoap.net

3615 Parry Ave
Dallas, TX 75226
(214) 823-6617

Poem #345 of 365

do you see what i see?
people in endless shopping spree

do you see what i see?
for cutting down tree is only time outside the city

do you see what i see?
some workplace parties are scenes for enmity

do you see what i see?
wives desire a lexus and husbands hdtv

do you see what i see?
advertising sets the bar for what is hard to really be

do you see what i see?
that we can be at war as we make merry glee

do you see what i see?
orphans can get a free toy but no one gives a family

do you see what i see?
we act so rich, but still so many are in poverty

do you see what i see?
the u.s. tries so hard, smile and sing in harmony


(in a moment of despair & disgust for rampant mass consumerism in wartime)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #344 of 365

It was a surprise
to me, too, but a
for different reason.

Three envelopes landed
in your lap from Chicago,
blew open your future
and blasted a snow globe
of dancing light upon
your plans to study art.

Money is possible,
and it is coming.

Three tears, one from
each eye, and another from
my heart of eternal sadness,
stirred as I felt the surprise.

I've known you now for less
than five years, but have
become sister and listener,
mentor and friend to
offer new roots for
the potential i saw
blossom in you.

So, tonight when you softly
shared the scholarship news,
and the world turned faster
with change, I felt a letting
go, and not just of
one-two-three tears.

I'm sending you on your way
to your dream, and am so
thrilled i've had some part
in your early life, the fort
worth phase, and cannot
wait for you to become
the woman you've
sketched out on the
drawing board
in your mind.

I've glimpsed her in you,
that potentiated art-chick,
the one who'll be learning
the answers to all those
questions you've been
directing my way.

Find your answers
when you find yourself,
my friend, and then
please paint them onto the world,
your canvas spectacular
of a million confident strokes
in bold vermilion oils.

(adelante and good luck to Andrea G, who heads off to the Institute of Art in Chicago in less than a month!)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Record a message for loved ones behind bars--CALLS FROM HOME project--tomorrow, December 11th

I produced a community radio program called "Mandatory Prison Talk" in 1998-99 in Austin, and it was such an eye-opener. What I found, during that experience, is that community radio can be an easy way to connect the outside community with people locked up in jails, prisons, and other penal institutions of confinement. I received a few letters from prisoners who got to hear my show, and they were so appreciative of my dedicating time to disseminate info on the prison-industrial complex, prisoner abuse, and other topics not readily offered in the mainstream media.

KPFT (90.1 FM) in Houston features a Friday night program--run by Ray Hill since 1980--called simply THE PRISON SHOW. During the last hour of this 2-hour program, friends and family members can call in messages, love letters, and words of encouragement which prisoners within broadcast range can hear.

CALLS FROM HOME, a special project of the Thousand Kites organization, has the same intent as the KPFT show--except that
CALLS FROM HOME has the potential for nationwide impact and broadcast.

More info below, from the folks at Thousand Kites:



Dear Friend,

The Thousand Kites Team would like to ask for your support for a special radio project called Calls from Home. Calls from Home is a simple project. We open our recording studio's toll-free number from 2-10pm (Central Time) on Tuesday, December 11th and record calls from prisoner families and supporters from across the country.

We then broadcast the program on over 120 radio stations across the country and bring hundreds of voices (people singing songs, reading poems, and speaking from the heart) to hundreds of thousands of prisoners. We need your help in spreading the word and making the program as strong as possible. Here is how you can help us.

- Call in to the show on Dec. 11th from 2-10pm central time. Call toll free at 888-396-1208 and the Thousand Kites team will be there to take your call. We usually just say "Caller, you're on the air, who would you like to send a message to tonight?"

- If you want to call right now, you can leave a message on the answering machine at 877-518-0606.

- Spread the word to other people. Please pass this on and ask other folks to get involved. You can learn more at www.thousandkites.org

- After the show is recorded we put it up for free downloads. Download it and get it played our your local community radio station, play a section at a meeting, get it played at a church, class, or even in a prison and hold a discussion about incarceration in the United States.

Finally, help us spread the word on My Space. Please re-post this to your friends.

Peace,
Thousand Kites Team

email: thousandkitesproject@gmail.com
phone: 606.633.0108
www.thousandkites.org

Poem #343 of 365

Be your own hero,
feel like a champ,
layer up in wool and cotton
and pedal to work
after dark on a cool cold night.

Thrash the front wheel
in a single track mind
picking out the surest
way to get you there
less bumpy but fast.

Turn up the music
that beats a good pulse
to help you make
quick circles with your
feet and smile with
song and shivering.

Feel the warm air
between layers and
be thankful for sheep
and wool and wicking
ways on winter streets.

Leave that metal machine
behind, sitting in the driveway,
as you coast fuel-free
across the bridge spanning
the Trinity which sparkles
like a sheet of icy gems.

Squeeze out inertia through
your pores, keep the energy
of spirit in your chest and
hear your stunning laughter
blaze indelibly against
the blackness of the night.

Surge in triumph,
sweat like you mean it,
and ride ride ride
to cross all the starting lines
of your dreamy life
like the hero you
were meant to be.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #342 of 365

in the metro tunnel
with gabriela

she rubs the lamp
while i click my heels

and the amused gentlemen
in the sports jacket
holding a broken flashlight
smiles gently as he watches

and the soot-smeared
face of the now-orphaned
child lights up as we smile
in her direction and reach for her hand

in the metro tunnel
with gabriela

she has remembered the radio
and i distribute the bread

and the shaken wife
whose blonde husband
is lost, asks to sit with
us and we quietly oblige

and the hungry teacher
with the frostbitten toes
thanks me for bread as
i put my gloves on his feet

in the metro tunnel
with gabriela

we have not rehearsed
for this moment,
we have instincts that
we trust in one another

the tunnel fills with warmth
and the voices begin to
hum with happier notes,
tenderness is shown

and i know we have brought
comfort without plan, and it
is the least we can do, our lives
have prepared us for this

in the metro tunnel
with gabriela

the light in our eyes
illuminates reality, but shines faith
in the future, bracing with hope
that uplifts the weak

in the metro tunnel
with gabriela

the sirens sound, but all i can
hear is the thump and
continuity of brave strong hearts,
loving in the darkness.

Poem #341 of 365

i can tell that things in your head
are coming to a head,
and i feel for you, believe me,
i am lighting a metaphorical
candle on your behalf,
slashing together wood for a raft
so you can float, escape the moat,
and have new & wider doors
open to your stride and
friendly posture
despite what pain and
sorrow it may cost you.

keep up the writing, channel your
inner tremors through some words,
it can really help.

welcome on-board, compa-bard!

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Buzzworms in the Backyard -- art exhibit opening at FW Community Arts Center on Saturday, December 8th

I have been invited to present a performance at this opening reception tomorrow, taking place in the back gallery @ the Fort Worth Community Arts Center.

Sound Culture presents

"Greed, Caution"
a performance ritual lament

w/ ramsey sprague, angelique, gabriela lomonaco, tammy gomez

featuring the photographic art of shannon atkinson

(7pm presentation)


open to all / no admission charged / rahr brews in the house -- OPENING IS FROM 6pm to 9pm!!


Please, nuestra buena gente, help spread the word about this serious issue, even if you cannot attend tomorrow.

=====



buzzworm n : a quaint, western euphemism for a rattlesnake 2 : an insistent, noisy vibration 3 : a warning sign 4 : a metaphor for a natural gas drilling rig.

Opening Reception:
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Fort Worth Community Art Center (Back Gallery)
1300 Gendy Street Fort Worth, Texas 76107


background
In 2006, Fort Worth, Texas, became the first large city in the nation to allow drilling for natural gas in densely-populated areas - as close as 200’ from dwellings. While relatively few may be enriched by this unprecedented event, many others are concerned about the negative impact and far-reaching implications of industrial drilling in their communities.

With drilling either underway or planned for nearly every neighborhood, issues such as safety, air and water quality, property values, destruction of natural habitat, and threats to neighborhood integrity are very real. Gas drilling companies are waging an all-out advertising campaign to win public support. Many residents remain skeptical and ill-at-ease. Many feel powerless and resigned.

Because billions of dollars are at stake, the powerful energy extraction industry, aided by political interests, are trying to control the debate. However, as drilling operations move deeper into residential neighborhoods and parks, many people are turning their apathy into activism.

In the grand tradition of political protest art, and participatory democracy, FWCanDo (Fort Worth Citizens Against Neighborhood Drilling Ordinance), is hosting this art exhibit as an opportunity for artists to publicly express their concerns about these important issues. It also encourages them, and the community, to take a closer look at the facts concerning gas drilling in Fort Worth..

Artists, from Goya to Picasso to Keith Haring, to Anonymous have played a crucial role in bringing awareness and expression to the injustices of their times.

http://www.fwcando.org

Chicano Luncheon TODAY! 12 noon - 1pm

[Thanks to Renny Rosas for the following anuncio. These biweekly luncheons are an awesome networking opportunity!
My friend, Rick Leal, a producer for FW Community Cable Television, also told me that guest speaker Fajardo is here from Mexico City presenting his latest work--a documentary that he shot & produced about Russia in the 21st Century. He will screen part of the film at the luncheon. He is also interested in producing a film about the Chicano/Mexicano community here in North Texas.]

The Chicano Luncheon meets this
Thursday Dec. 6, 2007
Noon to 1:p.m.
La Trinidad United Methodist Church
1300 Gould Ave. (at Northside Dr.)
Fort Worth TX 76106

Our guest speaker: Raul Fajardo - Professor of Journalism, School of Performing Arts, Radio & TV
Photo Journalist & Documentary Producer

Please attend this informative meeting.
Everyone is invited.
($6 gets you a cheese enchilada plate and a slice of cake and iced tea.)
Gracias.

--
CIAO!
Renny Rosas
The Chicano Luncheon
817.924.8181 ofc
chicanoluncheon@gmail.com

Poem #340 of 365

i am drinking shiraz, white shiraz, late into the morning,
celebrating my rise, my shine,
my finally finishing the Final Report
to my funders at NALAC, who
bankrolled my play this year.

18 pages of narrative to describe
the results of the project, and a budget besides.
all the money is gone, well-spent, and well-deserved.

now i'm on to the saturday gig, and moving fast,
with a photo shoot yesterday with Shannon and Angelique,
and Ramsey practicing a song, and me slimming into my
dance skin clothes, as i bike to work everyday.

those who now sleep are dreaming their wishes.
and then there are people, like us,
up late at night,
fishing for dreams.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #339 of 365

Ryan the rescuer
fixed up my tire,
brought me a tube
from his old pick-up truck.

This is the story of
a Texas romance,
a tale that portends
the dovetail of a man
and a girl, a perfect
north texas courtship.

But this is only a favor,
a one-time howdy-doo help,
and the girl is grateful
and the boy feels useful
and as they part in the sunset
of so many beginnings,
they separate to different roads,
she on a gravel two-lane way,
and he on a bypassed heart path.

Such missed and sidestepped love.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #336 of 365

Whizzing around my house is that flying thing
which you might call a bird.

But inside that bird, with its cardboard beak
and construction paper wings,
is another thing,
itself a flying creature
of smaller bulk,
and perhaps even that thing
is a facsimile of something
that it cannot ever be, and what lies within
is something smaller yet,
with wings of its own
that flap in darkness
and perhaps in light,
and it, that thing on the inside
of the inside
of that fake flying bird
in my house, is what i want
to identify
for what it could be:

The greatest creature of love,
or maybe
the strangest creature of evil,
or perhaps it is both at once.

When it stops gliding over our heads,
when it makes a choice to land,
then we shall all know and recognize.

I trust that it is a good thing,
an honest animal,
which merely plays strange
under a sheath of paper and twine.

It is only teasing to be cute,
and hopes soon
to share in an amicable bond,
here in my parlor of laughter and passion.

I succeed at removing masks
from preening creatures,
who long to finally show
their true faces of love, of goodwill.

We will stare at length into
each other's blinking,
unadorned eyes,
as the windows open,
and there is a moment to spring free.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #335 of 365

i pull out the clipboard to which
i've fastened the quite lengthy
roll call of concepts to be developed
on the acreage of tract housing
in the cobwebs of your mind...

but what did you meme?

the vulnerability of desire PLUS
the schism between manual labor and desk thinking IN LIGHT OF
the campaign to hand wash with woolite BECAUSE
you need media storage when the memory fails.

breakfast before poetry FORESHADOWS
risk assessment in the dungarees AND YOUR
impulse to propagate in exclusivity DESPITE
my arguments that you must allow comments on your blog IMMEDIATELY.

(and i sincerely meme that.)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Greening X-mas

A great little article came to my attention via Christine Granados, who spotted a photo of my friend Donna Hoffman in last Sunday's New York Times (style section). Sure enough, Donna or "Ms. Demeanor", as she sometimes referred to herself when we were on the air doing KO.OP Radio stuff together in Austin, was interviewed for the article about folks who are divesting from the hyper-commercialism of christmas.

My mom gave me a cute little live tree last December--a Norfolk Island Pine--and I've actually kept it alive for a whole year now. It stays indoors year-round and I'll probably hang the same 3-4 holiday ornaments on it as I did last December. One christmas, my live-in boyfriend made a blatant commentary on how I threw my clothes on chairs instead of hanging them up or putting them away. I arrived home from work one evening to find a short stubby tree brandishing miniature holiday lights. Upon closer inspection, I found that James had taken one of my garment-laden chairs and merely thrown a string of lights around that. Hah, I got back at him by decorating a free discarded (y'know how some folks'll throw out their x-mas trees BEFORE the 25th) tree with his dirty tube socks.

One of my best xmas-es was the year, 1996 or so--when I took off for Mexico City on x-mas eve, but flaked out at the border. I returned to Austin, but told no one that I was back in the states. I wrote, meditated, strung fresh popcorn for the birds to eat, attended a jazz/poetry x-mas eve concert, and got drunk at the x-mas night karaoke at the Hole in the Wall down on the drag. I guess, for me, the better approach is to relax standards, be willing to embark on new (and different) traditions of celebration, and to detach from expectations.

Anyway, here's the link to that NY Times article: "JOLLY AND GREEN, WITH AN AGENDA."

*********

And, if you do feel like shopping this weekend, I recommend stopping by this year's version of:

the Annual Alternative Holiday Bazaar,
Sat./Sun., December 1st and 2nd,
at the First Jefferson Unitarian Church, 1959 Sandy Lane,
in East Fort Worth.

Homemade edibles, handcrafted gifts, and fair trade imports are all available--for reasonable prices, I might add.

World AIDS Day - December 1st

Emanuel Xavier, from New York City, is a performance poet and queer activist/educator whom I met in Austin several years ago. He reposted the following poem on his bloga (yes, we Latino/Chicanos have decided that blogs are female) recently, and I thought to share it now with you--as a way to commemorate World AIDS Day 2007.

AFTER THE BALL

I search for laughter
down an empty Christopher Street
remembering innocent smiles
with every used condom
every vial
of crack
never looking back

but all the sisters are dying
all the legends are dead
our sanctuary closed
always living on the edge

Children floating by
on the Hudson
love is the message
still lingering
in their vacant eyes

Winds call out my name
but I will not listen
I will stay behind

© 1997 by Emanuel Xavier for Pier Queen Productions.
Taken from the poetry collection, Pier Queen.

(photo credit - by Greg Wharton)

I find it very interesting--and definitely disappointing--that many folks here in N. Texas aren't aware that December First is World AIDS Day. In Austin, the conceptual/performance artist Sally Jacques created the tradition of organizing "Body Count", a sobering and amazing interactive ritual that involved hundreds of people. The public was invited to lie on their backs, along the Great Walk (wide sidewalk leading to the front steps of the State Capitol), with flashlights directed below their faces. It was an eerily beautiful sight, but it was also mournful because these lit-up faces were suggestive of the numbers of people who have died from AIDS.

from the AVERT website:

"According to UNAIDS estimates, there are now 33.2 million people living with HIV, including 2.5 million children. During 2007 some 2.5 million people became newly infected with the virus. Around half of all people who become infected with HIV do so before they are 25 and are killed by AIDS before they are 35.

Around 95% of people with HIV/AIDS live in developing nations. But HIV today is a threat to men, women and children on all continents around the world.

Started on 1st December 1988, World AIDS Day is not just about raising money, but also about increasing awareness, fighting prejudice and improving education. World AIDS Day is important in reminding people that HIV has not gone away, and that there are many things still to be done."
____________

A few days ago, I was at the FWCAC (Fort Worth Community Arts Center), and Marla Owen--business manager--shared with me some information about an upcoming, month-long "arts intervention" that is scheduled to happen from:

May 10 - June 8, 2008
titled MORE LIFE: THE ART & SCIENCE OF AIDS.

From the save-the-date postcard:

"During the upcoming More Life Festival, more than 20
arts and science organizations will focus their energies
and talents on programs that increase the awareness
and knowledge of AIDS in our community."

I'm considering how I myself--along with some possible collaborators--might get involved with this month-long festival next May. (And you can get more info too by visiting the MORE LIFE website.)

I'll close off by sharing some lyrics from a Michael Franti/Spearhead song I've been listening to lately:

"...and how am I going to live my life if I'm positive, is it gonna be a negative? how am I going to live my life?"



live well/be safe!

Poem #334 of 365

Pops paces casually
through the kitchen,
sipping from an opened
cold can of sauerkraut.

Rose has just issued a
complaint, which is
forwarded to me by
another client, and I'm
not sure how to respond,
what action to take.

"Pops is doing sieg-heil again."

I'm not sure if he's a
Nazi sympathizer for real,
or if he's temporarily
homeland sentimental
for distasteful German
foods and fascist regimes.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #333 of 365

synonyms for sin:

you look away as loving words are spoken to you.

you keep windows closed when the air is fresh outside.

you forget that food tastes best when it is shared.

you stifle a hum, a song, a whistle in your mouth.

you disdain your body's scent and mask with store-bought smells.

you avoid learning the burn of your muscles working hard.

you greet strangers sternly until you start to need them.

you ignore your dreams when they are boats for your journey.

you believe that curiosity is only for kids and kittens.

you live your life without living.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #332 of 365

Discussing the future of one's abdominal muscles
with a
cat
is an exercise
in futility.

"And, speaking of exercise,"
she murmured
to her yawning
short-hair,

as she clenched
at her dinner,
which intermingled
with a hastily-sipped
Shiner from the
1am Chat Room
station stop.

Silence after that.
Such a non-conversant cat.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #331 of 365

The film buff boys spoke her name
as if she were a desired nymph
of the Hill Country,

and I found myself jealous of
this virginal ingenue
of a French-language classic.

What did she have that I
didn't have, and how could
I get it, if I didn't have it?

My neurotic compulsion to
be equal, to make Austin
men revere me as much,
swelled into obsession.

What she had? She had
a director, Robert Bresson.
And her creator, Georges Bernanos.

And her name?
Mouchette. She was
the uniquely captivating
French girl Mouchette.

I had never seen Rick
and Brecht and those
other film boys so smitten
as with that threadbare teen
in the muddy clogs.

But tonight, we met.
After all those years, I
dared to see her and study
her gaze.

I was enchanted, I am enthralled,
She is that muse I had
once wooed. I now give her
breadth with my imagination.

Her stride has changed my walk.
I wear a skirt like the rural French.
Her mystery smokes in my dark smile.

Mouchette has finally entered into my life.

(after seeing the film "Mouchette" by Robert Bresson)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Medical research study - Men needed

Here's another call for research study volunteers from the University of North Texas Health Science Center. I get wind of these ever so often, and I actually participated in one study (lower back pain was the focus) this summer, and was compensated to the tune of 30 bucks for every time I went in for "treatment". Not bad, considering I was lucky enough to not be in the control group, and so I actually did get back (manipulative medicine, as well as ultrasound) treatments. Contact info about this particular study is included below.

MALE RESEARCH VOLUNTEERS NEEDED: Healthy men who exercise regularly, ages 18-35.

Description:
Adult male volunteers are now sought to participate in a research study entitled: "The Effect of Fitness on Cardiac Work and Cardiac Efficiency with and without cardio-selective beta-adrenergic blockade."

The purpose of this study is to investigate whether blockade of specific proteins located on the heart, called ß1 adrenergic receptors, effect how hard the heart works during exercise. Participation in this study will include administration of a drug that will inhibit the ß1-adrenergic receptors. In addition, we will measure various cardiovascular variables such as: heart rate, blood pressure, cardiac output, oxygen consumption, and thoracic impedance. These measures will be made while sitting, and while performing moderate and strenuous cycling exercise.

We are recruiting men who are of average fitness or are competitive runners, cyclists, triathletes, swimmers, and other athletes.

All subjects must be disease-free, drug-free, and between the ages of 18-35. Total time involvement in this study will be about 8-10 hours over a total of two days. Participation in this study is completely voluntary, and if you are a student or employee of UNTHSC your participation in this study will in no way affect your academic standing or employment. All subjects will be compensated for their time and effort.

If you are interested in participating in this study as a research subject please contact Megan Hawkins at mhawkin@hsc.unt.edu or 817-735-2088.

Poem #330 of 365

As the bottle empties, my belly expands,
and I am pregnant with suds
in the sleek dark night, and I wonder
about trade-offs and
more significant siphonings
and apportionings,

as when the mailbag empties and becomes
less burdensome on the postman's shoulder
while our mailboxes swell with bills,
and the gasoline fuel burns out of a car to
exhaust to zero, and as the refrigerator,
once well-stocked, now holds two jars
of pickled things--and camera film.

But an open book, in the hands of a
studious child, only the book can
feed and fuel and give and emit,
filling a mind, enlarging an intellect,
without itself thinning, emptying, lessening.

It is the vessel that stands fresh with
water for the brain, every day, every page,
like an ever-youthful generous sage.

A book forever fruits.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #326 of 365

Lazily cradled in colorful hammocks,
Zack and I swung in the midafternoon shade.

I had just finished a slice of cake, home-baked
and sold by a barefoot local who peddled her
wares, from palapa to palapa, to the turistas.

I was one of those, for the moment.

Humming Billie Holiday songs and
lamenting no lost time.

Zack offhandedly asked what day today was.

I don't know, I replied. November something.

You know, he continued, I think that Thanksgiving
is someday this week. Maybe today, maybe yesterday.

Oh, really, I hadn't thought about it.

Yeah, he said, as he stared at the Pacific, lulled
back to another relaxed day of not talking much.

Well, happy thanksgiving, if it's today or even if it's not.

The rhapsody of the cool blue waves tranquilized,
and I drifted off to more thoughts of being
completely content with where I was,
what I had, and
who I was with.


(about that endless day around Thanksgiving, 1990, Zipolite, Mexico)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #325 of 365

"dying uncle in Abilene"

i've never written that configuration
of words before,
i've never ever seen them
together like that on a screen.

somehow, a finality.
and i wish i'd not typed them
flat-out like that, wish i hadn't
been cursed to
read them on the screen,
looking so official and certain
this afternoon.

how do i undo this, that which has
been written and
allowed to set in as factual truth?

maybe i can scramble the message,
make something new in these words
to discern instead:

"uncle in dying Abilene"

"Abilene dying, uncle in"

or further, mishmash the letters
to quite distance myself from cancer
and suffering, familial loss and pain:

"lean, ying, nun, Abe"

"undying clean Nile"

but, ultimately, cuz it's
best that i face fully what he
has already known:

"in u lean. i end cling. bye."

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Weirdest List contest / deadline is November 30th

I generate lists constantly because they help keep me on track as shorthand for: longer lists, future things I want to write, and images and events and conversations I want to implant firmly into memory. I am constantly writing on small pieces of paper, receipts, unpaid parking tickets when I'm in the car. Usually, it's to capture some nuanced impression--with just a few written words--that's been made on me by a song or conversation on the radio. I imagine that drivers in the next lanes over think I'm a kook for scribbling behind the wheel, using the dashboard as desktop--but only when the traffic light's red.

On that note (no pun intended), I want to spread the word about a very cool contest created by Sasha Cagen, whose many "jobs" also reads like a laundry list: writer, editor, quirkyalone-movement- leader, and world's leading to-do-list-ologist. Sasha maintains a very quirky blog called the TO DO LIST BLOG, which evolved out of her zine about to do lists. Sasha's quite the darling of sub-cult community-making, with big-name contributors to the book (including Nick Hornby) and big-media (Anderson Cooper, for example) attention to her to-do-ology.

Okay, here's the info, as excerpted from one of Sasha's blogposts:

THE WEIRDEST LIST Contest

"To celebrate the book's release, I'm sponsoring a contest: The Weirdest List. Send in your weirdest to-do lists (real authentic lists that you wrote or found in the course of everyday life, please, nothing constructed for publication). I'm interpreting to-do list broadly for the contest, just as I do for the book. . . so this could mean life list, ideal mate list, possible goldfish names, etc. Weird can mean the entire list, the title, or a single odd item on it. Sometimes the most intriguing lists are entirely banal and mundane until the eye gets to that very cryptic item.

Here's how it works: Send a scanned jpeg of your list to todolistblog AT gmail.com by November 30.
Please write "WEIRDEST LIST CONTEST:" in the subject line before the title you give your list.
Readers of todolistblog.com will vote on the winners in the first week of December.

The top three vote-getters will win signed copies of To-Do List: From Buying Milk to Finding a Soul Mate, What Our Lists Reveal About Us (published by Fireside, November 6, 2007, 256 pages) and limited edition copies of "To-Do List," the print magazine where this project got started. . . in addition to bragging rights for having written or found the weirdest to-do lists ever."

Fort Worth Police Officers endorse Juan Rangel

Tonight, at a "fun-raiser" event at the Embargo Club downtown, an officer representing the FWPD made it official: "...by unanimous vote, the Fort Worth Police Department endorses Juan Rangel for City Council, representing District 9." Sal Espino, current Councilmember, was on hand for the announcement and pronounced that, because the Fort Worth Professional Firefighters Association also endorses Rangel, "he is THE public safety candidate".

I approached Rangel a little later to ask him if he thought that urban gas drilling was as much a "public safety" concern as having well-compensated and -trained firefighters and police officers protecting our neighborhoods. You think he was gonna answer 'no' to that? I sincerely hope that Rangel can walk a little faster, to keep up with his talk about his opposition to gas drilling in our 'hoods. He did unequivocally state that he will do "everything" he can to keep gas wells away from schools to "protect our children."

Thanks to stellar Embargo bartender Jem for the custom-designed mojito-esque margarita he freebied me. Owner Andrew is sporting a big bushy beard which I've dubbed "his winter coif." He kinda liked that.

Poem #324 of 365

Leave my Aung San Suu Kyi the fuck alone.
Leave my Benazir Bhutto the fuck alone.
Leave even ole Hillary the fuck alone.

(written the week that the world kept messing with these women who are trying to stand credible as political leaders, and yet are being affronted by government manipulations, outright violent aggression, or sexist bullying)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #323 of 365

He pulled a pointy pepper
from his pocket
and offered it to me,
and as I ran off to
finish my walk
I wondered what
kind of cooking
would I stir up
with this pepper
in my pot
stewing so hot.

And would my
mouth burn?
A lot. A lot.

(with thanks to DO for sharing from his garden harvest today)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #322 of 365

Mari, Tania,
cantando,
pateando--
bring us your
stomps,
bring us your
songs.

Mari, Tania,
tan apasionadas
tirando tantos jaras--
hitting my heart
with voice,
hitting my heart
with dance.

(Mari Carmen, an amazing flamenco singer, and the sublime flamenco dancer Tania Malagon, were my personal favorites of the "Estampa Espanola & El Cafe de Chinitas" dance performance presented by the Daniel de Cordoba Bailes Espanoles ensemble on Saturday, November 17, at the Rose Marine Theater. More info on them at flamencodallas.com.)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #321 of 365

I took issue with my tissue,
which reeked of a strong
chemical smell straight
out of the package.

So I had a talk with Brandy,
and she responded
with professionalism,
no bathroom humor
for her.

So now Fed Ex is picking up my bathroom tissue,
in a special envelope mailed to my house,
and I wonder if the
world's going to the toilet
if flagrant saboteurs are
dousing toxic fragrance
on my Angel Soft rolls.


[From "Brandy", a consumer response specialist, Georgia-Pacific, Atlanta, Georgia:
"Thank you for contacting the Georgia-Pacific Consumer Response Center. Georgia-Pacific places tremendous importance on the opinions we receive from our consumers. We have recorded your concern in our database as having detected an unusual scent or chemical odor in the product that you purchased."]

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #320 of 365

a december forecast:

i long for something
i never knew.

i miss someone
i forgot to meet.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

District 9 run-off candidates address Chicano Luncheon today, 11/15/2007

With a rep from the League of Women Voters moderating, Juan Rangel and Joel Burns faced a standing-room only live audience of mostly Latino/a professionals at the Chicano Luncheon this afternoon at La Trinidad Methodist Church in the Northside of FW.

For a not very riveting 45 minutes, J & J kept measured expressions on their faces as they responded to prepared questions, with Pastor Flores (of La Trinidad) keeping time cards at the ready, pre-empting any longwindedness. Nothing really surprising in the presentations/responses by J & J, except for the fact that they professed to agree on a couple of issues, particularly urban gas drilling and development along the "Hemphill Corridor."

Both seem to have finally woken up to the troubling potential of gas drilling rigs in urban (near schools, football stadiums--as in the case of TCU, public parks, and future passenger rail lines) settings. Both called for a scrutinizing second look at and possible rewrite of the city's ordinance for gas drilling in FW. This is one issue that J & J know they cannot ignore during this election. 'Bout time.

Today's candidates forum was videotaped for repeated broadcast on FW Community Cable Television. I suggest you tune in--i think it's Cable Channel 31 (for Charter and One Source subscribers) and Cable Channel 36 (for you Verizon customers), starting as early as tomorrow, Friday, November 16th. It's worth watching, at least once.

And on December 11th, it's definitely worth voting.

Poem #319 of 365

i.

he rocked her to death
he rocked her to death.

ii.

my mother is in the doorway
and my eyes have just opened
to the day
i think she wants a hug
but she gives me a skirt
and coerces me to try it on

as we make a little conversation
and i try to elevate her spirits
while she repeats

5th and morphy
5th and morphy.

he did it it to his own mother
he killed his own mother

and i remind her not to dwell
on the tv news, especially
when it can drown in despair
along with you in it

but she is stuck on repeat
and so i hug her, admonish
her, figure her out in my
half-waked state of
understanding.

iii.

there is seaweed across his cheek
and the tide is moving in and out
lulling them to slumber,
she wears a tight cardigan, faded
mustard, over a flower-patterned dress.
she may have been taken over with
a deep cough, bubbles in her lungs,
and her toes keep floating up to
be tickled by the foam. he is her
son and silent, staring at the horizon
where the greying sky meets the sea,
but briefly lays his lips to her head,
filling with ocean and fins of the end.
as the waves pull and push, their dance
becomes a steady lullaby of teetering,
a little to the right, a little to the
left. he is rocking her, he is rocking
her, he is rocking her to death,
he is rocking with her to death.

iiii.

that ocean laps so close sometimes.
rocking me to reality.
doorways and cryptic visits
from mothers happen in morning time,
and i live two blocks
from she who was rocked to death.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez



[Police Arrest Man Suspected Of Killing His Mother With Rock - November 15, 2007

FORT WORTH, Texas -- Forth Worth police said they arrested a man Thursday morning who they suspect was involved in the death of his mother.

Police said they suspect Erasmo Herrera, 24, beat his 75-year-old mother, Juana Herrera, over the head with a rock in front of her home in the 1400 block of Fifth Avenue.

Neighbors called 911 and the mother was taken to JPS Health Network, where she died just after arriving.

Herrera ran away, but police caught him a short time later.]

Poem #317 of 365

xxxxxxxxxooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuuuuu

kissing and hugging - I and You

uuuuuuuuuiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiioooooooxxxxxxxxxxx

You and I - hugging and kissing



copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Circuses feature abused animals - Friday & Saturday protests in FW - Shrine Circus

[Molly Fallis and Ramsey Sprague sent along the following announcement about upcoming protests at Will Rogers Coliseum, where the Shrine Circus is currently presenting shows. Some of my own thoughts can be found below the announcement.]

From Molly:
"This is something I feel very strongly about and wish I could attend but I'll be out of town....PLEASE SPREAD THE WORD!!! At the very least, please don't support animal cruelty and exploitation. Going to this kind of circus IS NOT some childhood right [sic] of passage! There's a zillion other things you can do with your kids for fun! Don't take them!!! I went as a child and figured out on my own that this shit ain't cool! Peace! Molly (thanks Ramz)

I've added a couple of links...tell me if it looks like these elephants are living happy lives and having fun...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SMlS3KG7nRM

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9akKP6RPbY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7u1uTNdp2c

ever wonder how they learn all those tricks???"








----------

WHAT: Peaceful Educational Outreach at the Shrine Circus

WHO: ALL COMPASSIONATE PEOPLE in the DFW Metroplex (If those who care about animal abuse don't come, NO ONE will speak for these frightened and abused animals). Isn't this worth 30 minutes to one hour of your time?


WHEN: REMAINING EVENTS ARE----

Friday, November 16, 6 PM, (doors open 6 PM, circus starts 7PM)
Saturday, November 17, 5:30 PM (doors open 6 PM, circus starts 7PM)



WHY: Animals in the circus are tortured, not trained, into performing.


Animals do not naturally ride bicycles, stand on their heads, balance on balls, or jump through rings of fire. To force them to perform these confusing, physically uncomfortable and often frightening tricks, trainers use whips, tight collars, muzzles, electric prods, bullhooks, and other painful tools of the trade. Educate the public that intelligent, social animals are deprived of ALL their natural behaviors and forced to perform silly tricks for humans.


Speak up for the animals who have no voice!

IF NOT YOU, THEN WHO?
IF NOT NOW, WHEN?



WHERE:
Will Rogers Memorial Coliseum
3401 W. Lancaster Ave.
Fort Worth, TX 76107
Look for us leafleting along the sidewalk at each gate and at the ticket counter.



CONTACT: Margaret Morin at dogs_good (at) yahoo.com or 972-578-0370 or 972-571-9603 (cell # for day of circus use only, please)



DIRECTIONS: Take I-30 to Fort Worth, Exit University. North on University. Turn left on Lancaster and look for tall tower.


Map: http://www.mapquest.com/maps/map.adp?formtype=address&addtohistory=&address=3401%20W%20Lancaster%20Ave&city=Fort%20Worth&state=TX&zipcode=76107%2d3045&country=US&geodiff=1

Parking: Free Parking across the street from the WRC at the Kimbell Museum.


PLEASE POST ON YOUR MYSPACE PAGES!

CROSS POST THIS EMAIL TO YOUR FRIENDS & FAMILY!

HELP MOBILIZE CARING PEOPLE TO SPEAK FOR VOICELESS ANIMALS!

To ensure you get such announcements in the future, if you are not yet a Vegetarian Network of Dallas member (free), please join now by going to:

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/VegetarianNetworkofDallas/

Thank you.
Margaret Morin
Vegetarian Network of Dallas
www.vegnod.com

++++++++ my thoughts: +++++++++

Just a few days ago, I read that Nazi officers, as part of their training, were given live animals to feed, care for, play with, and name. They were eventually forced to kill these animals that they had bonded with, without expressing any emotion. No wonder the Nazis were able to callously perform the heinous torture and murder of thousands of human beings.

+++++

As a child, I was taken to circuses now and then. I often felt queasy during these shows, and never quite understood why. The clowns scared me, with their garish antics and exploding devices. And to see the animals lumbering and galloping in circles, through hoops, or into nets made them seem like heroes to me--surviving the crazy challenges that their handlers were subjecting them to. It was a metaphor for survival in an illogical, uncomprehending and unsympathetic world.

+++++

An Austin poet named Kevin used to perform a poem titled "Smashing the Butterfly". It was profound. The poem was about Kevin's experience as a horse trainer, working with a veteran who knew the tricks of "breaking" a horse. Through the course of the poem, we learn that this experience was very traumatic for Kevin, and certainly for the horses. The upshot of the poem is that, as you smash the spirit or will of the creature with which you are working, you are--at the same time--killing something within yourself. Doomed to be broken. Amazing poem--I wonder where Kevin is today?

Poem #315 of 365

A betrayal from the other room
looms on the tray and
you are asked to swallow

something you would
never care to taste,

and your throat
feels clogged
with the pain
and embarrassment

of a decision
forced upon you,

but the bitterness lingering
now in your heart
will take much
longer to digest,

because
breaking bread together
fatefully changed
a full-course meal
into the rotten bite of
trust breaking apart.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Save Sunday for SHE: BIKE/SPOKE/LOVE - November 11th in Fort Worth

It was standing-room only on September 22nd, when we unveiled this show in FW. Come see what Fort Worth theater critic Mark Lowry calls "extreme theater". Basically,
it's hiphop/spoken word at the intersection of theater & bicycling. Is that complicated? Well, not really, but it sure makes for a helluva fun ride to watch. Make reservations at sound_culture@hotmail.com TODAY !



Two Shows
Sunday, November 11th.
2pm - matinée performance
7:30pm - evening performance


Sanders Theatre at
The Fort Worth Community Art Center
1300 Gendy St, Fort Worth
(The southeast corner of Lancaster & Montgomery)

Admission (at the door!)
$5 for those who bike, bus or walk to the theatre
$10 for those who arrive by automobile

This experimental play features poetry, lyrical dialogue, freestyle and choreographed bicycling, video sequences, and a turntablist.

"Extreme production fascinates with variety"
- Fort Worth Star Telegram

Poem #311 of 365

Whales do wop.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #310 of 365

strapped to a drip and drool napkin
i force my mind to conjure
some people,
challenged folk,
who can gain my sympathy
as i strain to forget
that i am in a dentist's chair

Aung San Suu Kyi

Benazir Bhutto

they are losing a country
they are losing their country
they are losing the battle for democracy in their country

and i am only losing a tooth.
one naturally-decaying
tooth.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #309 of 365

jesus,
these butterfly wings
are the on-ramps to superhighways
for chicano/a progress towards
liberation. education and enlightenment.

the tiny little sticks connected on top
are utility poles strung together,
electrical wire stitches of power,
as we get sewn together
in hopeful expression
like so many bright flashes dotting
the landscapes across tejas

con honor y esfuerza.

(considering an original artwork by Jesus "Cime" Alvarado of El Chuco (El Paso), Texas)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #307 of 365

I'm wondering if this has happened yet,
or if it's merely a promise of a future shadow.

My dreams have taken place
during this changeover,
so I'm not sure if they are

premonitions

of
things
to come

or verifications

of
things
done
gone.


(don't ever dream during the changeover of daylight savings time on sunday mornings...)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #306 of 365

Delivery of nouns
happens without
the basket or the sack.

There is naming in
your mouth, and I
will read that list
when you finally kiss me.

I ordered the verbs:
caress, thrust, stroke,
and hold,

yet the market cannot
bear this love, assign
a value to this rust.

Bring me the water
to fill my mouth,
gargling to filter
distress, deny, distaste.

I make room for your nouns
in my clairvoyant sway,
opening doors to air the day.

Finally: thicket, trunk,
trust, and tremble.

I climb the noisy trunk
of your body, lose myself
in the tremble of your
heartbeat thicket, and
stretch along your length
as far as the rumor of love can trust.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #305 of 365

The quetzal feathers magically appear
in my outstretched fingers,
and as my hand closes upon them,
a force greater than me sweeps me up off my feet
and suddenly the feathers
have swollen up within my fist
to become an entire shimmering wing
which carries me higher and higher
to the land of my beginning.

I close my eyes to keep this dream alive
and to let myself release the fear,
for the winds have graciously parted
to make our flight both smooth and sweet,
and by now I can tell that
one wing has doubled to two
and soon a tail and head emerge
to form a complete magical bird.

As I climb up the muscled back
of the quetzal, we aspire to even
higher elevations, and I do not
question an uprise. I have glimpsed
down below and recognize this terrain,
a mountain place of winged fish
and fluorescent frogs, where I
have forced my dreams to take me
again and again.

We are cascading now, one feather
at a time, a shower of plummet,
and I feel my arms open wide as if
I too were a bird. We race,
the feathers, the beak, my body,
my smile, to the place of my dreams.
I will be landing soon, as the campesinos
raise their eyes to welcome what they have been
dreaming for centuries. One upon another,
our visions will blend and, when I touch Mayan ground,
my arms will remain open,
as I fly towards the deepest embrace
I have ever dreamt, ever known.

(thanks to Ozomatli for the musicial pep talk, and to my dreams which often carry me to my ancestral land)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Upcoming weekend in Fort Worth

FRIDAY things:
1. FREE screening of "Motorcycle Diary" (screenplay by playwright Jose Rivera!) - at the Rose Marine Theater. Preceded by the Professionals Supporting the Arts mixer in the gallery--always fun.

2. The Hip Pocket Theater play - about the falling thing that might be a UFO, and i forgot the title--oh well.

3. Ellen Fullman, creative musical brainchild who I knew when I lived in Austin. You might, if you were a lazy describer, call her "the Laurie Anderson of Texas". Okay, i'm a lazy describer. Anyhow, what drastically matters is 1) that she's brought her long-stringed instrument and set it up in a cow or pig or goat barn in the Will Rogers compound area; 2) she's gonna do some shows for us this weekend; and 3) that it's pretty freakin' amazing that--for once in my life--there's a cool show advertised on that L.E.D. marquee sign on the corner of Lancaster and University Drive. (Brought to you by Herb Levy, nice guy of The Other Arts)

** I'm going to see Ellen Fullman

SATURDAY things:

1. Puppet-making workshop (for children--borrow your niece or the neighbor's kid and take 'em to this) - it's FREE.
12n-4pm at the Rose Marine Theater

2. Go vote and look at a little lake at the same time. Echo Lake Park -- east of I-35 at Ripy St. Some folks are hosting a festival out there all afternoon as a way to make you fulfill your civic duty. It's actually kinda neat by the water.

3. Hispanic Women's Network of Texas is putting on this year's version of their annual women in the arts fiesta. Last year, there was great art, music, food/drink, and a silent auction. FREE, but they like it if you bid on the auction stuff--proceeds go to their college fund. Starts at 7pm-ish.

4. ELLEN FULLMAN, again. In one of those aforementioned barns. HIP POCKET play, again. It's the last play of the season,
the final weekend.

5. If you know Chris.Blay, go sit in his time machine before he whisks it off to Prague.

** I'm emceeing a memorial service for journalist John Gutierrez-Mier at the Sanders Theatre.


SUNDAY things

1. Slight hangover from tequila consumed on previous night at the memorial you hosted.

2. Drive to Cross Timbers @ I-35 North. Exit and drive east on Cross Timbers for about 10 minutes. See the huge pumpkin patch on your left. It's an annual festival. Eat pumpkin things. Buy pumpkins. Crawl through a huge maze made out of straw bales. Yodel.

3. 100 FRIDAS community art happening. Show up dressed as your favorite Mexican-German female painter married to a larger-than-life muralist. We need 100 people to show up--men, women, children! Get your FRIDA on. 5pm. Corner of Magnolia & Henderson Streets.

** I'll be documenting the 100 FRIDAS thing.


Have a lovely weekend!

Poem #290 of 365

"Our diaspora done died," quipped
a sculptor into his martini.

"And i beg to differ,"
piped up a classically-trained
singer with business cards:

"Just because we have lost
our critical habitat
and artist anchor-spaces,
ain't gotta mean
that we don't exist,
dried up and desiccated
as locust skins."

"Well," the martini-ing
sculptor revs up his
rejoinder, "we can
still meet up at
Central Market,
over asparagus and
bock beers and, and, uh--
we're on each other's
myspaces constantly
commenting--doesn't
that count for something?"

The vocalist erupts in
impatient trills, her satin-
clad arms akimbo:
"i don't want another
fuckin' social space
for artists to conveniently
convene, cavort, and
crescendo in chords
of frustration, bitterness,
and alcohol alleviation."

"i WANT solid, stable,
sea-worthy locales
for artistic production
and presentation."

"i NEED inexpensive
studio space and gallery
access. i NEED low-rent
performance venues and
rehearsal rooms. i CLAMOR
for non-patronizing local
press people who give a
shit about what i produce
and know how to describe
and discuss it. i CLAMOR
for a community of arts
patrons who will demand
that publicly-funded art
spaces be used for art
exhibits and shows rather
than weddings and alumnae
reunion mixers."

"How can you not want that,
how can you just keep
standing there, drunker
by the minute, relenting
and consenting, as your
city gives way to bulldozers
creeping up your domain?"

She sipped, finally, after her
dose of diatribe, and he
strode away quickly, soon
to forget the points of
her passionate pronouncement.

Minutes later, she saw him,
shaping cheese cubes
into sculpture, leaving
them atop the emptied
beer keg in hopes that
some drunk scenester
would happen upon his
impromptu creation
and perhaps
greet and high-five him
before offering
computer coordinates
for future myspacing
til kingdom come.

[Sculptor and singer are fictitious characters for this narrative poem. Any similarity to actual, existing artists
is purely coincidental.]

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #289 of 365

Rolling off the Santa Fe roof
and placing a bike between
my legs, the night became
younger with my sultry joy.

You had climbed off first,
off the roof of the house,
as friends were knocking
and wandering about.

As they greeted you and
joined you inside, I strapped
on my bag and took a long
ride. I passed cars of
laughing kids, and stores
with neon signs. I felt the
breezes caress my knees,
but never as nice as your
tongue ten minutes before.

I wandered into Wild Oats,
so perfectly named, and
picked up foods with
colors that would zing
in my belly, and I had
money for beers and
room in my bag, well-laden
to share with my crew.

When I coasted back
to the house, the
pad was rocking
with song and
stories, and I
pretended surprise
that our friends
were all there. I spread
out the feast and we
lapped and we laughed
at the cup of cool life
that we poured this
night and so many
nights in my summer
of Santa Fe.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #288 of 365

I will help you become
a Brazilian actor on
American tv, but you
better not try to sell
me fast-food in one
of those slick advertising
spots where the hip
multi-ethnics love
them some Mickey Deez.

If that gluttonous
corporate behemoth
could pull it off,
it would not hesitate
to appropriate
your culture, put a fat
yellow M and C
in front of it and
sell it back to you,
triple-stacked,
over-priced,
and trans-fat-fried
as your very own
McSamba McAmazon--
deluxe super-sized.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #287 of 365

With Breanna in the Hills,
we serenade our pores,
puffing and trudging
in strenuous effort
and breath
until our gait relaxes
to a smooth
momentum along the pathway.

Soon, the sweat comes.

She is taller than the
grass, but shorter
than the sky, but
I marvel anyway,
watching
her equalize with nature
in five minutes flat.

The concrete glaze
on her face dims
as the dirt path
kicks up crickets
mariposas and
grasses all around,
and I drop back
a bit so she can
acquaint on her own.

She allows a longing,
which is evidenced
by the sway in
her steps, a city
girl is loosened
on the praire
and finds pleasure
in this place.

I look up at her
face, because
she has grown
taller still, and
she pushes
forward, as if
finding home,
and I lift my
eyes up and
away, my
mouth closed
and small,
so she can
claim this
as her own
found joy,
and so my
words
will not
crowd out
the memory
she will make
of this meander
for herself
on her own.


copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #286 of 365

I feel like the giddy
girl whose parents
might have left her
for good, swooning
happily outside
the tom thumb,
her thick brown
thighs clinging
irreversibly around
the fiberglass belly
of the sturdy
stallion she's chosen
to mount.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #285 of 365

The buick needs some air for the Finnish line of male-dominated poetry scenes i am so tired of in the surreagionalism of my soul, yet the blanket of Netherland hills is reminiscent of the road i'd surmount to get my teeth on track, rhyming my muscles to the tune of Led Zeppelin guitar wails launching an 07 model Cad which you will never ever drive.

{mash-up on cars}

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #284 of 365

When white men are
sardonic and sarcastic
on tv to captivate their
comedy audience

it's not much different,
to me, at least,
from the usual way
your bewitching smile
and cunning guile

tries to fool me
into celebrating
my disinheritance
from my own homeland.


(happy...columbus day.)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #283 of 365

What snake sleeps with you tonight,
curling in cold coils
on the sweet chest of your
deepest breaths?

How you allow this risky
partner into your lair,
gamble your crotch
on a rookie table!

I have called animal
control, so be forewarned,
the net and noose
will soon lurk your way.

And when I hear you moan
in this city, at last when
the slithering creature
has left your bed, I'll rest
assured that you're flesh
heats nothing but the
damp photo I've stitched
onto your nightclothes.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #282 of 365

I gave up hope when
they reduced y'all
to numbers, money
in the bank for
buying airtime
for future
manipulative
campaign ads
that will try to
sell us a line
that's as fake
and irrelevant
as the sitcoms
sandwiched in
between.

(not looking forward to Election 2008...)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #281 of 365

When I splash water,
I Kiss My Face
with lathering cleanser,
and I feel polished,
ready to cast my net
into a new ocean of day.

When I post a bulletin,
I Kiss My Space
with informing phrases,
and I feel published,
readily broadcasting on the net
into the world wide way.

Either way,
I'm showing my face
in a public space,
and you can choose
to play, read, join me--or not.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #280 of 365

You are so close,
and this microphone
makes us closer,
and mama, I don't want
to pry into your life,
but there's so little time
to tell, y tus cuentos are
so sweet and you sugarcoat
the trouble and when you get
to the happy parts, well you
spend more money on
this type of candy.

As you talk, I pretend to
be distracted, feigning
a steadied poise that
dams up the things
I feel in
here. I have learned
so well to cough on
cue, trim the tears
that might stumble
my words. But you
do most of the talking
anyway, and as I hand
you the tissue box, you
do most of the crying too.

One day, we'll hit rewind
and I'll let the gates give
way, and your story will
come flooding by again,
floating in bays of
my saved-up tears.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #279 of 365

To be flanked by two women with
tears in both eyes

is like clutching a wing of two
mighty birds who've paused
to sing in my ear

and though i'm caressed
by the coo
that i hear

it is vital that i turn away
let them soar
as their vision comes clear

i had taught nothing
but only served to
remind them how:

to let go of their fear,
see goals come near,
and to realize
that recovery
and discovery
of self
is what we
all should revere.

(para Leti y su amiga)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #278 of 365

Find the man who held my hands
weeping for justice after the Rodney King verdict.

Find the man who kicked a car
as I clung to him top-speed on a Harley.

Find the boy who returned from Amsterdam
chubby but smitten, though I rebuffed him.

Find the kid who averted my gaze
saying he was afraid to see my third eye.

Find the cherub who sang Sherpa greetings
when I hiked down from seeing Everest.

Find the man who showed me the alleyways
and tundras of my sex.

Find the filmmaker who dragged my bag over
for the nonexistent contraceptives.

Find the blonde who snapped me nude
on the Zipolite beach one sunny afternoon.

Find the hippy who leaned over in Taos
and told me he liked my vibe.

Find the poet who had the funny piece
about his grandfather with a flyswatter.

Find the chef who smiled in New Orleans
and told me he liked my reading.

Find the Indian who drove around the plaza
repeating, Tammy Gomez is in town.

Bring them to my circle,
those who you find,
and we'll burn fire bright
and remember our histories
and compare our brilliance
to the sparks in the flames.

Time has separated you
from me, him from thee,
yet roads continue to
sprout which reconnect
us again once more,
inevitably.

(after meeting Tunde and talking with him for two hours before realizing that we had known one another in an earlier time in this very town--yet so long ago and so far away...)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #277 of 365

i've seen arms and things jutting out towards me,
out of flipped-over upside-down windows
on impossibly slippery sunday streets
in downtown dallas.

through tightly-compressed elevator doors,
a generous last-second gesture
makes a skinny arm go numb with panic
and eyes go taut with pressure.

some day i too will stab some arms
into the sky and poke my things
in your direction
not so much
to scare you awake
as to
welcome you home.


(a med student tonight tried to hold an elevator door open for me--bad idea, good sentiment.
the flipped car thing happened in 2006.)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez

Poem #274 of 365

work out in a huipil
of brilliant colors,
with two shiny trensas
of indio black hair
trailing down your
back as you
pounce and pound
in the fitness room
like an urban
tex-mex soldera
of power and strength
with tawny shoulders
showing your muscle in
traditional ways

smoke the copal in your
incense burner with the
Buddha tiger lighting
your day on a
smoky path that
confuses you briefly
to test your muster,
to challenge your mind

work out in huaraches
with tire tread soles,
who can tell the indigena
that she needs to recycle
when her spirit is brought
up by cycles of past
ancestries which appear
to her as she blinks
with exertion,
squeezing twenty more
pounds of history into
a brain typically
weighing only 3,
the boys lift iron
weights but you can
impress with the
heft of your words,
the weight of your
wisdom, and bench-pressing?
she's small press
publishing and that's
no small feat

find your indigenous
pulse on the stairmaster,
but don't become its
slave, you have other
struggles outside the
gym which are gonna
sweat you, as you live
out a modern-day version
of the ancient stories
through brown open pores

and when the treadmill walking
makes your legs burn later,
remember the climb that
your ancestors had
up the pyramid steps,
in Tenochtitlan, Tulum,
glistening like buffed bronze
beneath the spotlight
of the sun's burnishing heat.

(after a mild workout at the community gym, wearing one of my favorite huipiles)

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez