High School Lesbian Poetry Teacher

The shirt of a high school lesbian poetry teacher. Pedagogical Lesbianism. Sapphic poetry, odes of love from Sappho's Island of Lesbos ("What an island." - Burt Lancaster, in The Midnight Man). Is it simply the purview of academia, or does it have deeper resonance, in the creative writing workshops and homoerotic homework sessions of middle America? Across the pond, does the oeuvre of Jeanette Winterson inspire desire? Do daughters

Do nymphet nubilians squat and strong alike gather round to discuss Nubians, Sophie Scholl, Buckingham Nicks, and the near Talmudic levels of meaning in the 2 Live Crew chant of "hood-rat, hoodrat, hoochie Mama!" Poutina or poutine? Is it only adult fun, or young work? Lyrical lines on the elegance of the yellow heron or Yeats' mischievous soul?

Polanski's late-night dalliances with Sharon Tate, squatting in shadows, alone in the apartment, the thick, strange, brooding mood and anchorless violence of "Knife in the Water." How did Dean Martin & Mia Farrow play into this? Did Frank Sinatra (Senior, not Frank Sinatra, Jr., that faked Lindbergh baby) have dark connections to a couple of world famous riflemen, one of which ? Incestuous strands tied together here and there. What's the meaning of the Chinese Walk Into Ocean meme? Racist claptrap not on the level of Konrad's Captain Kurtz? Apocalyptic Christian hysterics from born-again grandmothers? Post-modern paranoia with anti-mercantilist roots, as old as the times of Tutankhamun and his Egyptian tomb? Lupid rhymes with stupid, but lupus rhymes with a couple Latin words, maybe. Shameless video clips. Shamelessly wondering if you can ride a dog. Can you ride a dog? Can I ride a dog? Dogs can be flea-bitten, but can they be ridden? Saddle up to ride, astride, a Labrador or a Pekingese? Who is the most disturbing, kitschy, and perverse? The director of KPax, the director of the film Powder (albindo deer-healing prowess), or outsider artist par excellence Henry Darger, janitor by day who favoured inaccurate depictions of flat-fronted genitalia, like Depression-era dolls done art brut?

Symphony no 6, op 74. Or Symphony Number 6, Opus Number 74. Tchaikovsky, by the Leningrad Philharmonic Symphony Orchestra. Here we find the light touch and seemingly effortless of a genius. The mood sours, the pace quickens, the strings swell! Proto-Gershwin for Fellow Travelers! A Rhapsody in Red! That's familiar!

I went to a Japandroids show, last night, in Montreal. Never heard the band, but they both went to UVic, guess they shopped at Ditch. Some guy was opening up named Slim Twig, played amped-up looped and sampled post-punk-noise-funk, as if Sunny Kay from the VSS was now fronting Suicide for a reunion tour, instead of Alan Vega, and he wasn't afraid to trade in rockabilly licks for Sly & The Family Stone loops. Never saw Japandroids, but they like Atlas Strategic. Fine. Evan Dubinsky was there, from the pride of NDG, Bad Flirt. Evan, if you're nationalistically Googling yourself right now, Hi. Evan Dubinsky, who will soon move to Los Angeles to seek fame, fortune, and a better quality of t-shirt, made with pride by migrant workers paid a living wage under the watchful eye of Dov. Noah Bick, too. Hi, Noah! (Well, he was there. Noah isn't re-locating to the USA. Not yet...) Really, though, I bet Evan's moving to California to escape the creased-corduroy socialism of his brother, who has ties, deep and pink, to Canada's NDP (New Democratic Party). Evan wants to be more Donald & Keifer Sutherland than Shirley Douglas, daughter of Tommy Douglas.