Lullabies for little criminals

“I tried to pass myself off as an adult when I was a kid, and now, ironically, I am an adult who tried to write in the voice of a child,” writes Heather O’Neil, who regurgitates moments from her childhood in vivid passages as luminescent as poetry in her first novel, “Lullabies for little criminals.”

Baby is the character partially modeled after O’Neil’s own experiences growing up in Montreal, with a father addicted to heroin, and turning to drugs and prostitution at the age of 13. Despite the dark and twisted aspects of Baby’s life, moving from cheap apartments to juvenile institutions, back to dirtier apartments, her imagination and optimism is never extinguished. What is revealed deeply throughout the core of O’Neil’s character is the need to be loved. As relatable as breathing, Baby walks through life placing her trust in others, searching for someone to notice her, protect her and find the value that she hasn’t yet found inside herself. Shadow and light intermingles in this novel which depicts a girl’s life of poverty and her struggles to become accepted and hold on to her childhood and the sweetness and innocence it holds.

Baby eventually turns to drugs to escape her life where her father’s withdrawal makes her into the enemy and sex becomes a meaningless act that a pimp convinces her is an inevitable fate. She starts to believe that she isn’t worth anything better and that her joy is slowly being sucked out through straw. In one scene she shoots up heroin in a bathroom stall to satisfy her craving for momentary salvation. “This dope was different. I could hear the sound of my own heart beating. The woman in the picture began combing her hair. I whispered the word “Shit” and it came out of my mouth in calligraphic letters, like in a cartoon…. I decided I’d better keep my mouth shut. I was way too stoned.”

Every experience in Baby’s life is written like poetry, or song lyrics too honest to be uttered aloud. O’Neil’s words punctuate every passage with shameless ease that flow and draw you avidly into her observations. Her story is described simply and what you’re left with is a brightly painted picture that hangs in your mind long after you’ve read it.

Every comparison is so blunt and unique, like, “the night was like a typewriter that got stuck”, or “I’d turned to a guy sitting next to me and said, ‘Somewhere there is a sparrow singing in B minor.’ I swear to God, pot made me a genius.”

Such simple things are made beautiful, and even when horrible events are taking place in the turmoil that whirls around her Baby gives everyday images a fresh meaning, like, “In the window, the moon had made itself so tiny it was just a hole in the elbow of a sweater.”

As O’Neil’s first published work, which won CBC's, Canada Reads award in 2007, this is a remarkable novel, poignantly told without reserve or fear. The part of us that wants to be loved and accepted is exposed in a raw, startling way. A meaningful message is summed up when Baby says, “I was just going to have to start being my own person.” Ultimately we can all be little criminals, but the choice is ours.

Beautiful, Miss Cho, Beautiful

When she started talking about the dirty penis's she has seen in her undoubtedly raunchy lifetime, I cracked up.

When she exclaimed that men need to wash those appendages between their legs, not just “WIPE THEM ON THE DRAPES!” I lost it.
That’s the kind of humor I love, and that’s what Miss Margaret Cho delivers every time. A masterpiece of sexual comedy that breaks all boundaries and double fists you into hysterics. I was privileged to witness her new tour, Beautiful, at Massey Hall in Toronto on April 4th, in a literal sea of uber-enthusiastic gay men and fag hags. It was the best crowd I’ve ever been a part of.

Margaret spoke with shameless wit about the three-somes she has been in, and how there was always too much cock in the mix. Her facial expression clearly depicted how difficult it is to stuff a large quantity of dick in her mouth at once. Her face took on the expression of a shocked goldfish as she stretched her mouth wide and mimed nibbling around a giant cock like a cob of corn. The crowd went wild.

She talked with great admiration of her close relationship with the gay community, especially the bear subculture. As a renowned fag hag Miss Cho is undoubtedly an unquestionable confidante when it comes to gay men, and the men in the crowd seemed to agree with adoring shouts and laughs. She announced that bears get the most cock. They swipe at it easily, like trout in a frosty stream.

Describing her vagina as a conch shell that she had to bend her ear to listen to, was a moment that I personally loved. She admitted that there are still sexual experiences that she is open to trying, and spoke about sex as if it’s the pleasure mission on her never ending to-do list. Her own, hysterical personal experiences always inevitably find their way into her shows, and this was no exception. She spoke about the intimate doctor appointment that she recently underwent where her G-spot was injected with a chemical that made it swell, so it would be easier to find. It was refreshing to hear her talk about the sexual insecurities that we all have with our bodies, and that for her, the G-spot was an X on the map that she was determined to find, no matter what it took. It went from strange and comical to side-splittingly hilarious when she said that it felt like she had a jock strap on inside her. Just more cushion for the pushing, as she mimicked a fist slamming into her self repeatedly.

When she got onto the topic of anal sex, it became clear that it was one more goal she was going to conquer. She explained that for her, anal sex is like a dentist appointment. She knows that she’ll have to undergo the experience once a year, but it will be painful, as she screwed her extremely animated face into a grimace of epic proportions. She went on to say that she would have to practice some positive association with anal. For instance, whenever something good happens to her, she’ll have to insert something up there. Well that’s one way to do it.

She ended the show appropriately, with a love song to her vagina. She happily announced that it would be a tune you will be forced to sing at work the next morning. Everyone eagerly sang along as the perfect evening drew to a close.

Beautiful was an appropriate name for her tour, because Margaret seems more comfortable in her skin than ever before. Her jokes reflected where she is at in her life, completely fearless, confident, and firmly aware of her own strength and beauty. She has used humor in a positive, empowering way, to call attention to the fact that no one needs to be ostracized for being who they are. Be it straight, gay, or just slutty, as she once said about herself (“Where’s my parade?”) Margaret is teaching audiences about how acceptance is a powerful thing and that sexuality and humor connect us all.

This woman speaks the truth. So listen up, and learn to love yourself. While you’re at it, explore your vagina and tell the men you know to wash their penis.

Grave of the Fireflies

Something I’ve discovered about movies is that they can take you to very different emotional places, and the most memorable ones are those that are most moving. Whether I’m laughing or crying, I fall in love when it touches someplace inside me and makes an impact.

Grave of the Fireflies, by Japanese animator Isao Takahata, struck a poignant chord in my heart because it explores both the simple elements of childhood, and the dark, and unimaginably horrific experiences that we hope to never live through ourselves. This film came out in 1988 and is based on the semi-autobiographical novel by Akiyuki Nosaka, who created the story as an apology to his own sister, who died in wartime Japan due to malnutrition.

Set in Japan during late WWII, Grave of the Fireflies follows the struggles of a small family after their hometown is firebombed. Seita and Setsuko are orphaned siblings who are sent to live with their distant aunt after their mother perishes in the air raids.

Seita is the brother who labors to shield his younger sister, Setsuko, from the harsh realities of the war, and keeps her hopes up with tireless devotion, comforting distractions, and a cherished tin of fruit candies. The children are treated with cruel indifference and stinging judgment from their aunt, who blames the children for failing to contribute to the war effort or work for a living, despite their youth.

Feeling that they are treated unjustly, Seita decides to leave the shelter of their aunt’s home and survive independently in a deserted bomb shelter in the nearby countryside. This part of the film is the most touching, as Seita strives to provide for his baby sister and prove that he can fend for them both. The scenes where the children cook and play house are very idealistic and serene. You become attached to these characters, and their plights and hardships become your own. One night the children capture tons of small blinking fireflies in their makeshift home, and try to preserve the hopeful lights in their empty candy tin. Their innocence and naivety makes it harder to watch them endure what children should never have to endure.

Ill equipped and too proud to return to his aunt and ask forgiveness, Seita steals food from the nearby villages and fields as the bombs fall, but vainly scrounges for the necessities of life that are futile in securing their survival. Setsuko falls ill and Seita’s attempts to revive her fail. In the end both children meet their end, which is symbolic of the fireflies that they catch, which flicker brightly but eventually extinguish.
This film is tragic and moving, but also contains element of childish hopes and innocence. The painful journey that Seita and Setsuko make reveals the longing of all children, to be loved and taken care of, and to have someone there watching over them. Even in the face of hardship their love for each other is apparent to the end, even as Setsuko lies malnourished on her small bed, making cakes out of dirt for her brother, and asking him not to leave her side. These raw emotions are very relatable, to want to be near those that are dearest to us and take care of them, even when we have limited knowledge and resources.

This movie made me cry, but also made me smile. It is one that I will never forget, and I believe that Takahata has truly created a film that evokes painful truths about war and the loss of family and innocence. It is both intensely sad and overwhelmingly beautiful in its honest storytelling and brilliant animation.

Ladyfest 2008

What is this Ladyfest business you may ask? Well it certainly isn’t a bunch of women who paint their nails and gossip over the latest Britney Spears information leak. No, it’s an annual four-day grassroots arts, culture and music festival that promotes urban feminism, sexual diversity, anti oppression and trans-inclusive issues. It’s woman-created and women-run celebration that showcases the talents of amazing, beautiful, confident, strong women that inspire and move their communities.

This epic shindig will take place from September 18- 21 in Toronto, Kensington Market. So get your buns over there if you are pro-woman and get involved in something that has been going on in the city for the past five years. Using art to battle racism, sexism, homophobia and other forms of ignorance through art, open discussion and talented collaboration is the key element of Ladyfest. The lady-filled event originated in Olympia, Washington in 2000, and has since spread like wildfire to North and South America, Asia, Europe and Africa.

Performances by bands, poets, visual artists, filmmakers, speakers and a multitude of workshops, from sexual education to literature and social issues will pepper the festival. For example, last year one of the workshops featured a discussion about the legal rights of sex workers, while a series of smutty feminist films was showcased at the Brunswick theatre. Other stimulating pursuits included arts and crafts creations and sales, dance parties with DJ’s and any other amazing activity you can imagine.

Since the festivities are still in its planning stages volunteers of all types are needed, as well as musicians and artists, so if you’re interested in participating or performing you can contact ladyfesttoronto@gmail.com. You can also send any enquiries and dialogue you may want to communicate.
So if you enjoy strong female artists, speakers, musicians, naughty literature written by feminist women, and discussions of our sexual rights in a friendly, open environment, then you know what to do. Grab a girlfriend and plan to explore artistic girl power in Toronto’s vintage sector.

For more information go to:

http://www.ladyfesttoronto.ca/

I found a new city the night that I found you

Ever wandered into a lullaby that sails to the moon, then to the bottom of the ocean in a single breath? I hadn’t either…then I heard Lisa Bozikovic’s soulful voice and realized that slow melodies possess their own charm. I had the pleasure of witnessing this feminist solo artist from Toronto perform at the launch party of Shameless Magazine’s spring issue. In a vest and sneakers, with short spunky hair, Lisa stood on a stage before a crowd of do-it-yourself feminists (and her grandmother, who she announced was in its midst), and played her keyboards like they were a reverberating extension of her fingers.

One especially moving song was “Take + Take”, which poured out of her in a crooning gush of emotion that kept your eyes glued to the sound. The passion in her voice resembled the kind of realization one comes to after an intense breakup, where oceans are parted, ties are mended and bitter truths revealed. She moved between an old school instrument which she admitted to using because of the different sound it produced, and a newer set of red melodic keys, much like an owner moving from pet to pet, scratching behind its ears. Always on the brink of laughter with a flirtatious smile, Lisa took her audience on a journey through deep chasms of memories, disappointments and loves.

One deep and murky song entitled, Winter Load, makes me want to curl up into a sea of comforters, drink some cocoa and watch a storm of marshmellows rain down on the fleecy landscape. Her voice takes on a storytelling quality, as if she’s pouring out tales that your grandmother told you once, and you only half remember. Stories from all ends of the earth, that issue up out of the ground like a slow motion volcano. Her voice floats up and then dips down with the first rays of sun breaking out over an expanse of arctic tundra, fluffy and fragile, a crunchy set of new notes over the snow.

Her distinct vocal style, which she describes as a mix of folk and emotronic certainly can reach some dark places, accompanied by a synthesizer, but it also breaks through into a lighter place. There is a classical, layered element to her pieces, like a warm shepherds pie of guitar cords, birdlike crooning, horns, banjo’s and electronic sounds. You can find her on MySpace, http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=162421652, where her upcoming performances are listed. Although she has yet to be discovered by big music honcho’s with suitcases and fancy suits, this gutsy lady has many performances under her belt and is still recording and collaborating.

She currently has a self entitled EP, which I bought immediately after hearing her live…and was surprised to see that the c.d. case was stitched with blue string, and covered in some kind of funky retro comic strip. You can buy her creative creations at Soundscapes in Toronto, at 572 College St. Apparently she made them using images snipped from 1962 encyclopedias she chanced upon on her porch, so you’ll learn something new…like what a lathe is (Wikipedia informed me it’s a machine that can drill, cut and sand an object that spins…at least I’ll never forget it)

All in all, Lisa’s aquamarine colored lagoon of a voice and the cozy intimacy of her words makes every song into a secret session with a friend under a sleeping bag. Its time for lights out but you keep on chattering, spinning yarns that glow like embers, swept off into the shadow of a willow tree, branches swaying in time with a melody as old as a cave’s echo. Then, just as you’re about to drift off into a slumber of low, serene melodies you hear your best friend whisper, “No we shouldn’t have to be so smooth, cuz I like being awkward with you.”

Cock-hungry Axe women

“You’re needed at the Axe cottage”…..ummm excuse me? Did I hear that right? To do what? Play badminton, apply sun tan lotion, paddle a canoe or saw a log? Are these typically male activities? Have women become weak, helpless little nymphs that require a man to step in and fulfill the gender roles that ads spoon feed us?
When it comes to Axe deodorant body spray women become transformed into mindless, man-meat hungry vixens that are willing to reveal their cleavage in public places, tackle men in supermarket aisles and hunt men for sport. If anyone actually believes that a fragrance can turn women into cock-hungry zombies then it appears that you lack any common sense, decency or you live in some twisted fantasy world. The message is that what men want is a woman who will do anything to get them. They will drop everything to serve a man sexually, and will compete for their attention in ways that are never realistic or plausible. What Axe is basically selling is a male ego boost, or a visual form penis enhancement.

Let’s face it, people can be insecure about their ability to attract the opposite sex, and when some magical fragrance will help get you multitudes of pussy on a platter it becomes a quick fix for guaranteed sexual stimulation. But what kind of message does it send when women are reverted back to their stereotypical 50’s gender roles where they need a man to do the lifting, and a waft of hyped up spray to get their juices running.

When I see women transformed into a pack of dogs in heat, hurtling down a beach after a man, like they want to fight for the kill, it irritates me to see us typecast into these degrading roles. I don’t want to see ads where all women have to offer is their bodies, their sex appeal and their mating abilities. I would rather see them thinking about something more worthwhile than how to get in a man’s pants. Because believe me, there are many things that are much, much, much more worthwhile. I say us girls head up to the cottage and forget the men. What we don’t need is a male-ego boosting fragrance….I’d rather have some smores, and I can apply my own lotion, thank you very much.