Monday, October 10, 2005

More about Me

I love education and thinking. Expression is sexy. I don't understand the world we live in, and yet I cannot escape the effort to try to make sense of it. I have yet to find what I want to do with my life. Since I am not independently wealthy, I must work, but working does not afford me the time to do what I want to do, which is dance spontaneously with the muses, free of time constraints. I have one child, my son, who is often my muse, or the muse behind the muses. 

I stand at the border of OCD and ADD, dancing and dangling my toes, crossing the lines--sometimes intentionally, sometimes unwillingly. I was born a decade or maybe even three, too late. My obsessions lay with the unconventional, the obscure, and the unknown. If my body were as active as my mind, I would be Ms. Universe. 

A good cup of coffee solves any problem.

Sunday, July 3, 2005

21st Century Woman

Silicone goddesses, melting in the sun
Skin showing, skimpy attire
Flat bellies, fat breasts
Pouty lips
Risking surgical slips
From nose to toes
Fake breasts make you best
Eyes to hide lies
A tummy tuck
So you don’t have to suck
Your belly in
Shave, wax, wrap, and tan
Slave to the attention
Of man

What is Poetry?

What is poetry? Poetry is the love child of the poet and the world she lives in, the wold she observes, desires, tastes, and touches.

Goddess

I wanna get drunk
Like in the old days
Drink whatever my hands touch
Let the giddiness set in

Courage and its troops invade my veins
And hold my blood’s purity captive
Warm flushed skin alerts
That transformation's happening

and I become beautiful
and I become sexy
and my ass wiggles and waves hello
As my voice becomes silky smooth
And I become a goddess

Meet a guy and take him home
Or go back to his place
Have an animalistic fuck
Or make love to a stranger

Be whatever I want
Because no one sees
Behind my mask
To know that I am a mere human

And then morning comes
And my stomach feels the devastation
Caused by poisonous intruders
As it, in a revealing reprimand for my fallibility,
Impeaches me and strips me of my divine title

I wonder how often Ma, Isis, or Aphrodite
Dropped their heads into a
Porcelain bowl to make their own
Offerings to the gods

As I look at the floating bile-brown remnants
From last night’s escapade
Memory begins to infiltrate my brain
Piece by muddy piece
With pounding anxiety
For those places still empty.

Squatters

There are words ensnared within me
Ducking and dodging, hiding in deep dark places inside me
Like squatters, leaving debris and tags marking their territory
Never showing their dusty, grimy, disheveled faces
Faces that are probably radiant with a good scrub

Like an infestation, overwhelming,
Frightening, but never quite conquered,
Unsure if their presence is good or evil
It’s the uncertainty of their motives and
Their next move
Sometimes they seem to show themselves
Apparition-like, wafting in and out, watching

Saturday, July 2, 2005

Wandering to No Destination


I drive on a warm, 75-degree late night in the summer, the window down, the wind whispering in my ear, licking my skin, and running its fingers through my hair, the bass in the music on the stereo rhythmically pumping and pounding into my body, reaching into the deepest parts of me.  I am eager to be a vagabond—aimlessly wandering to no destination—destined for nowhere, yet everywhere I go is where I am meant to be.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Chauvinism

Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote poetry, nonfiction, and the novels The Scarlet Letter, The House of the Seven Gables, and The Blithedale Romance. He also wrote numerous short stories, many which appeared in magazines and were later complied into two volumes: Mosses from an Old Manse and Twice-Told Tales. Hawthorne is one of America’s literary legends, paving the way for many modern-day writers, as well as writers of his day. He and Edgar Allen Poe are credited with the development of the American short story. In his literary criticism of Twice-Told Tales, Poe stated, “Of Mr. Hawthorne's Tales we would say, emphatically, that they belong to the highest region of Art--an Art subservient to genius of a very lofty order....” (par. 5). Hawthorne, in a letter to one of his publishers, is also credited with referring to women writers as the “damnd mob of scribbling women” (Baym, Again, 20). In a letter to his wife, Sophia, Hawthorne discusses fellow writer, Grace Greenwood, by saying:

My dearest, I cannot enough thank God, that with a higher and deeper intellect than any other woman, thou hast never—forgive me the bare idea!—never prostituted thyself to the public, as that woman has, and as a thousand others do. It does seem to me to deprive women of all delicacy; it has pretty much an effect on them as it would to walk abroad through the streets, physically stark naked. Women are too good for authorship and that is the reason it spoils them so. [Emphasis added] (qtd. in Baym, “Again” 24)


Given these comments, one could easily dismiss Hawthorne as a man who detests women writers or perhaps creative women. This paper will argue that although Hawthorne was antifeminist, he did not truly despise women writers, and in fact he respected them; however he simply did not want to compete with them as writers.

To get an adequate understanding of Hawthorne and the development of his attitudes about women, it is important to review his life.

Nathaniel Hawthorne (or as I like to call him, “Nate”) was born to Nathaniel Hathorne Sr. and Elizabeth “Betsey” Clarke Manning. The Hathorne family had a long history in the Salem area. In fact, Nate’s great-great-grandfather was one of the judges during the Salem witch trials. (This lineage has been considered as one of the reasons Nate would later add a “w” to his family name.) Nate’s father, Nathaniel Sr., was a sea captain and was at sea during the birth of all three of his children: Elizabeth “Ebe” (1802), Nate (1804), and Maria Louisa “Louisa” (1808). Captain Hathorne died in 1808, two months after the birth of Louisa and three months before Nate’s fourth birthday. Widowed and the mother of three, Betsey returned to her family for assistance and support. Having come from a large family, Betsey’s children were surrounded by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. After his grandparents died, and his uncles left, Nate was the sole grandson of the Manning family. Wineapple notes that a childhood injury to his foot, “afford[ed] him a certain guilty pleasure, the injury kept [Nate] the center of attention.” As a result, Ebe noted that Nate “was particularly petted,” and would later come to “identif[y] not with just the men but with the women of his household, particularly his mother and two sisters” (Wineapple 26-27).

Nate had a very close relationship with his mother and his sisters, all of whom were supportive of his endeavors. Ponder and Idol note that “such a childhood in the midst of a variety of girls and women gave Hawthorne an antipatriarchal, feminist perspective on life. He knew firsthand about the cruel impoverishment of single women” (4). They further state that “Ebe was also his competitor, no doubt spurring him on to his early publishing attempts. He wrote to Louisa, ‘Tell Ebe she’s not the only one of the family whose works have appeared in the papers’” and that “he [Nate] and Ebe evidently traded their writing samples” (5).

So now we see the early beginnings of the great Nathaniel Hawthorne, a boy doted on and pampered by his family, encouraged in his endeavors, and surrounded by girls and women—intelligent women at that.

Nate became acquainted with Elizabeth Palmer Peabody. Peabody was a devoted supporter of Nate’s work, despite their sometimes differing views on such issues as slavery. It was through his association with Peabody that Nate met Sophia, Elizabeth’s sister. Sophia spent the majority of her life sickly, but when Nate came to the Peabody home to visit, Sophia would make an appearance, and in 1842 they married. Sophia was intelligent and artistic. While Sophia had her own artistic talents in painting and eloquent letter writing, she preferred to focus her energies on her husband and children. In a letter to her husband, Sophia wrote, “I do not need to stand apart from our daily life to see how fair & blest is our lot. . . . Every mother is not like me—because indeed no other mother has such a father of her children, & and such a husband as herself” (qtd. in Hurst 54). Hurst explores the many ways that Sophia supported her husband, including allowing him to isolate while he wrote and making attempts to keep their children quite and away from their father.

Hawthorne went from the adulation of his mother, sisters, and his mother’s family to the worship of the Peabody women, most notably Elizabeth and Sophia. In his family, he was the star, and the women around him were his audience. He learned to perform for them. He wrote those things in which they would find a sense of identity. During his life, Nate became accustomed to having his way with the women around him. His foot injury allowed him to be able to stay home from school. His wife permitted him to alienate himself to produce his writing. So while Nate had a favorable view of the women around him (he was not only very close to the women in his family, but he also frequently asked their opinions on his works, and eventually Sophia became his critic), he nevertheless did not want to share the spotlight with them. Sophia drew an illustration for “The Gentle Boy,” and Nate dedicated the story to her, but he also talked her out of having her writing or paintings published (“The Wife and Children” par 2). Knapp describes Sophia’s “Roman Journal” as “a living document of the soul,” but Nate did not want the world to know of his wife’s talent (par 1).

Although Nate spent his life surrounded by girls and women, many of them talented and educated, he also wanted to remain in the lead role on the stage of his life, with the females around him in supporting roles.

In many of his short stories, Hawthorne’s female characters resemble the women in his life. Frequently, they are devoted and strong in their own way, but ultimately they give in to the men in their lives, even when their judgment warns them against it.

“The Artist of the Beautiful,” is the story of a watchmaker who finds himself alienated in his attempt to create the beautiful from machinery, Annie, the female character in the story, is described as being both “pretty” and sensitive enough to remind her father to stop his criticisms of Owen Warland because “He hears you! . . . His ears are as delicate as his feelings; and you know how easily disturbed they are” (249). Hawthorne further creates Annie as an “emotional” being, more “befitting” of a woman as “the thought stole into his [Owen’s] mind that this young girl possessed the gift to comprehended him better than all the world besides” (258). Annie is the object of Owen’s devotion, but she is also devoted. She doesn’t really challenge her father: she marries the man her father admires more, the blacksmith, Robert Danforth.

“The Birthmark” is one of Nate’s short stories that deals with the theme of science versus nature, and man’s search for perfection. In this case, it is Alymer who is married to the lovely Georgiana, who has a small, hand-shaped birthmark on her cheek that keeps her one breath from being “perfect.” Alymer tries to convince Georgiana that he can remove the birthmark from her face, ultimately rendering her truly perfect. Initially Georgiana declines, stating, that “it has been so often called a charm, that I was simple enough to imagine it might be so” (176). Nate doesn’t create her to be strong and independent, but rather, Georgiana describes herself as simple enough to believe what others have told her. She doesn’t decline her husband’s offer to remove it because she likes it or feels that it is a part of her. Rather, in time, she becomes so desperate for her husband’s attention, because he has come to resent her and the tiny hand that she consents. She gives in to her man—and the procedure kills her.

Elizabeth, the “plighted bride” of Mr. Hooper, the minister of “The Minister’s Black Veil,” shows a little more independence. After being denied her request that her love remove his veil, she tells him, “Then, farewell!” (155). Although she did not give into Hooper, she also did not show true strength. Her real reason for wanting him to remove the veil was “what if the world will not believe that it is the type of an innocent sorrow,” reminding him that “Beloved and respected as you are, there may be whispers, that you hid your face under the conscious of a secret sin. For the sake of your holy office, do away with this scandal!” (152)

Then there is the story of “Wakefield” who:

[A]bsented himself for a long time from his wife. . . .when his death was reckoned certain, his estate settled, his name dismissed form memory, and his wife, long, long ago, resigned to her autumnal widowhood—he entered the door one evening, quietly, as form a day’s absence, and became a loving spouse till death. (124-125)

Upon his departure, Mrs. Wakefield seems to think nothing of her husband’s flight. She is “indulgent to his harmless love of mystery,” and only “interrogates him with a look” (126). Again, Nate does not paint the female character as especially weak, but he does depict her as especially accommodating and faithful.

The beautiful Beatrice in “Rappaccini’s Daughter,” is another subservient woman who seems content in her ignorance. Her father, Signor Rappaccini, a scientist, has created plant life that is poisonous, and raised his daughter around the plants, causing her to develop immunity to the toxicity the garden contains. However, in doing so, Beatrice is also toxic to all other forms of life: plants, animals, and humans. When Beatrice first meets Giovanni, she doesn’t question or seem angry with her father’s choice—a choice that has sentenced her to a lifetime of alienation. Not only is she devoted to her father, but in time, as she spends more time with Giovanni, Beatrice begins to “watch for the youth’s appearance and flew to his side with confidence as unreserved as if they had been playmates from early infancy” (305). After Giovanni realizes that he has been cursed with the same fate as Beatrice, he blames her and scorns her, but being ever loyal to him, she responds, “It is my father’s fatal science!! No, no, Giovanni; it was not I! Never! Never! I dreamed only to love thee…” (313).

Hawthorne’s female influences from his early years carried over into his adult years, not only making him understand women’s issues, but as Margaret Fuller commented in a letter to Sophia about her engagement to Nate, “for if ever I saw a man who combined delicate tenderness to understand the heart of a woman, with quiet depth and manliness enough to satisfy her, it is Mr. Hawthorne” (qtd. in Kesterson 65). Kesterson indicates that rather than detesting Fuller, Nate and Fuller were both personal friends and professional associates who shared a “mutual respect and admiration” (72).

Baym points out that in his children’s books, Nate makes the “adventure stories…directed toward boys, the domestic stories toward girls, and that they exhibit a conventional socializing didacticism, inculcating feminine and masculine virtues appropriate to the places assigned to the sexes in society” (Hawthorne’s Myths par. 10).

Budick, as quoted in Ponder and Idol, explains:

Hawthorne acknowledges his own origins within the female body; he graphically demonstrates (in her language) that his story is the extension of hers, that he (and perhaps all men or, for that matter, all women) only edit and retell the stories their mothers tell them…When Hawthorne puts himself in his mother’s line of inheritance and declares himself her heir, he accepts and explicitly acknowledges that his power derives from hers, that he is empowered, and even as he is engendered by his mother.

This accounts for Nate’s understanding of women. He appreciated women. If he didn’t, the female characters in his stories would not have come across as they did. We the readers feel a sense of pity or empathy for the women in his stories. Why couldn’t Alymer accept Georgiana as she was? Why did Rappaccini have to poison his own daughter? These were the women in his stories, his image of what a woman should be. She could be intelligent and even slightly strong, but she should always be loyal and faithful. That is the way the women in Nate’s life were: they let him have center stage.

Nathaniel Hawthorne admired women, and he loved intelligent women, but he did not want to compete against them on his stage—the literary stage. Like an actor, he struggled enough to make ends meet. Just as Elizabethan theater forbade women from playing the roles of women, Hawthorne did not want women writing stories. He wanted that to be left to men, and if it remained a man’s world (even if it was a woman’s world that was being written), his competition was only half what it had the potential of being.

Was Hawthorne a chauvinist? Most likely. A misogynist? No way.

Works Cited
Baym, Nina. "Again and Again, the Scribbling Women." Hawthorne and Women: Engendering and Expanding the Hawthorne Tradition. Ed. John Idol, Jr., and Melinda Ponder. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1999. 20-35.
---. "Hawthorne's Myth for Children: The Author versus His Audience." Studies in Short Fiction 10.1 (1973): 35-48.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel. "The Artist of the Beautiful." Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales. New York: Oxford University, 1998. 248-272.
---. "The Birthmark." Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales. New York: Oxford University, 1998. 175-192.
---. "The Minister's Black Veil." Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales. New York: Oxford University, 1998. 144-158.
---. "Rappaccini’s Daughter." Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales. New York: Oxford University, 1998. 285-316.
---. "Wakefield." Young Goodman Brown and Other Tales. New York: Oxford University, 1998. 124-133.
Hurst, Luanne Jenkins. "The Chief Employ of Her Life" Sophia Peabody Hawthorne’s Contribution to Her Husband's Career." Hawthorne and Women: Engendering and Expanding the Hawthorne Tradition. Ed. Idol Jr. John, and Melinda Ponder. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1999. 45-54.
Knapp, Bettina. "But It Is Impossible in Such Hurried Visits to Immortal Works, to Give an Adequate Idea of Their Character." Journal of Evolutionary Psychology 22.1-2 (2002): 47-58.
Kesterson, David B. "Margaret Fuller on Hawthorne: Formative Views by a Woman of the Nineteenth Century." Hawthorne and Women: Engendering and Expanding the Hawthorne Tradition. Ed. Idol Jr. John, and Melinda Ponder. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1999. 65-74.
Poe, Edgar Allen. "Review of New Books: 'Twice-Told Tales'." Graham's Magazine May 1842: XX. :298-300. Literature Resource Center. Thompson Gale. National University. 31 May 2005
&srchtp=adv&c=1&stab=512&ASB2=AND&ADVSF2=poe&docNum=H1420014397&ADVSF1=hawthorne&ADVST1=NA&bConts=514&vrsn=3&ASB1=AND&ste=74&tab=2&tbst=asrch&ADVST3=NA>.
Ponder, Melinda, and John Idol Jr. Introduction. Hawthorne and Women: Engendering and Expanding the Hawthorne Tradition. Ed. John Idol, Jr., and Melinda Ponder. Amherst: University of Massachusetts, 1999. 1-19.
"The Wife and Children of Nathaniel Hawthorne: Introduction." Hawthorne In Salem. Northshore Community College. 01 Jun. 2005 .
Wineapple, Brenda. Hawthorne: A Life. New York: Random House, 2004.

Tuesday, April 5, 2005

Ecstasy, Temperature, and Long-Term Effects

Ecstasy has become increasingly popular among young adults, especially within the young adult dance scene at parties known as “raves.” Ecstasy or 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine, also known as MDMA, gives users a euphoric feeling, often making them feel closer to other people, thus giving it the name, the “love drug” (Ramcharan, Meenhorst, Otten, Koks, de Boer, Maes, and Beijnen, 1998). Patented in 1914 as an appetite suppressant, MDMA was banned in the 1980s (Henry, Jeffreys, and Dawling, 1992). Many users today assume that MDMA is relatively safe and only causes slight impairments to functioning; however, research shows that use of MDMA can have neurotoxic effects. Studies indicate that ambient temperatures can induce toxicity, and MDMA use can cause a decrease in 5-HT (one type of serotonin receptor) axons and axon terminals (Malberg and Lewis, 1998). When regeneration of 5-HT axons does occur, it is often abnormal (Green and Goodwin, 1996; Hatzidimitriou, McCann, and Ricaurte, 1999).

Kalat (2001) states that low serotonin release can cause an increase in aggressive behavior. Studies show that monkeys with low levels of serotonin turnover display an increase in aggressive behavior. This also may be true for humans with similar serotonin deficiencies: low serotonin has also been found in persons attempting suicide. However, it is not conclusive that low serotonin is responsible for aggression as it is for impulsiveness. Mice given the choice of a small but more frequent reward or a larger reward with a longer waiting period chose the small but frequent reward. Serotonin levels not only affect aggression and impulses but thermoregulation as well (Ramcharan, Meenhorst, Otten, Koks, de Boer, Maes, and Beijnen, 1998). In studies of tissue distribution in MDMA users, the brain and liver showed the highest levels of MDMA (Ramcharan, et al, 1998).

In a study of the effects of ambient temperature and neurotoxicity on MDMA, it was found that a change in the ambient temperature of as little as 2° Celsius (C) can cause neurotoxicity (Malberg and Lewis, 1998). In the study, rats were treated with either MDMA or saline. Ambient temperatures were controlled at 20°, 22°, 24°, 26°, 28°, or 30° C, core temperature was measured, and after two weeks, the rats were killed, and 5-HT and 5-hydroxyindole acetic acid levels were analyzed for toxicity (Malberg and Lewis, 1998). It was found that in rats that were treated with saline, the core temperature was not affected by the ambient temperature; however, in the MDMA treated rats, hypothermia was produced in ambient temperatures of 20° and 20° C, and hyperthermia was verified in the MDMA-treated rats in an ambient temperature of 28°-30° C (Malberg and Lewis, 1998).

No changes in neurotransmitter levels were found in the saline-treated rats that were in an ambient temperature of 24°-40° C; however in the MDMA treated rats, depletions of 5-HT and 5-HIAA levels occurred with 24° C being the “breaking point.” As the ambient temperature increased, the more depletion of serotonin receptors was found (Malberg and Lewis, 1998). It seems that MDMA causes neurotoxicity with increased ambient temperatures. Caution is needed since many users take MDMA at “rave” parties where the environment is very warm, and the users are often dancing, drinking alcohol, and not replacing lost fluids. Thus, one of the environments that MDMA use is most popular, raves, could also be one of the elements that increases the neurotoxicity of the drug.

In another study (Hatzidimitriou, McCann, and Ricaurte, 1999), monkeys were studied to find if 5-HT deficits continued after seven years of being treated with MDMA. Previous studies were done 18 months after MDMA had been administered. Monkeys were treated with either saline or MDMA and killed at either two weeks or seven years following administration of saline or MDMA. The monkeys treated with saline showed no significant changes in 5-HT axon density, thus ruling out axon degeneration caused by aging. In MDMA-treated monkeys, significant reductions of 5-HT axon densities occurred in many areas of the brain, including the cerebral cortex, hippocampal formation, striatum, amygdaloid complex, hypothalamus, thalamus, and raphe nuclei. Of those areas, all except the hypothalamus, thalamus, and raphe nuclei, showed significant loss in 5-HT axon density at two weeks, and when there was recovery after seven years, it was rarely full recovery and often the recovery was abnormal. After seven years, the hypothalamus had complete recovery to damaged 5-HT axons, most of the nuclei of the thalamus had complete recovery in the seven-year monkeys, and the raphe nuclei showed no loss of cell bodies or 5-HT axons at either two weeks or seven years in the MDMA-treated monkeys (Hatzidimitriou, McCann, and Ricaurte, 1999). Hatzidimitriou, et al., state that there could be several factors to explain the regeneration in some areas of the brain and not in others. One explanation is the proximity of the axons to the cell bodies, the myelination of the fibers, and the size of the lesion caused by MDMA. In the occipital lobe and the primary visual cortex, reduction occurred in fibers in layer IVC. Even after seven years, the layer was still unrecognizable as a distinctive layer. In the hippocampal formation, the subiculum showed the most decrease in 5-HT axons, with an 80 percent loss remaining even after seven years (Hatzidimitriou, McCann, and Ricaurte, 1999).

Boot, McGregor, and Hall (2000) state that the most long-term damage is done to the 5-HT axons of the cortex, hippocampus, and striatum. There is an argument in the studies aforementioned. One argument is that the laboratory animals have the MDMA injected, while many human users of MDMA take the drug orally. The injection of MDMA in monkeys is far more neurotoxic than oral ingestion in humans (Boot, McGregor, and Hall, 2000). Another argument is that low densities of 5-HT axons might be the cause of MDMA use. 
There have been links between low 5-HT concentrations and impulsiveness (Boot, McGregor, and Hall, 2000). Boot, McGregor, and Hall (2000) also state that heavy users of MDMA have EEG patterns similar to patterns of people who are aging or experiencing dementia.

Research shows that severe degeneration of parts of the brain can occur after a single dose of MDMA in rats (Green and Goodwin, 1996). Yet, there are cases of individuals who have survived massive overdoses of MDMA.

In one case, a 30-year old man, who was reported to have taken 50 tablets of MDMA in addition to alcohol and oxazepam, was admitted to the hospital comatose and convulsing. With the exception of an increase in the enzyme creatine phosphokinase (CPK), (probably convulsion induced), the subject had a complete recovery in two days (Ramcharan, et al, 1998). Although the literature does not state whether or not there was significant reduction in his 5-HT axons or axon terminals, perhaps the dosage was not as lethal as it could have been. The man took the dosage at home in a cool and relaxed atmosphere where the ambient temperature did not increase to the levels indicative of toxicity (Ramcharan, et al, 1998). The literature does not indicate if the individual was taking any prescription drugs in prescribed dosages. Studies (Malberg and Lewis, 1998) have shown that fluoxetine (Prozac) can prevent MDMA from entering 5-HT neurons. Although rats in the experiment still suffered from hyperthermia, there was no evidence of neurotoxicity with a fluoxetine pretreatment. Despite this individual’s survival of such high doses of MDMA, due to the neurotoxicity of MDMA, and its effects on 5-HT axons and axon receptors, there could also be long-term psychological problems due to impairment of serotonin processing, including depression, aggression, and impulsiveness. Studying the effects of MDMA in humans is difficult. MDMA cannot be administered to humans in a research situation, and the means of administration to animals is often different from that of humans, so frequently studies must be done on individuals and self-reports. Even when examined in a scientific situation, results may be inconsistent. If people obtain MDMA illegally, and it is not a natural-based drug, ingredients and the levels of the ingredients are likely inconsistent, thus making it difficult to determine exactly at what levels neurotoxicity occurs, and if perhaps other chemicals might be reacting with MDMA. In the mean time, more research needs to be done to determine the effects of MDMA on humans, and the effects selective serotonin reupkate inhibitors such as fluoxetine have on the decrease of the toxicity of MDMA.

References
Boot, B., McGregor, I., & Hall, W. (2000, May). MDMA (Ecstasy) neurotoxicity: assessing and communicating the risks. The Lancet [Online Serial], 355 (9217): 1818, Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://web7.infotrac.galegroup.com/itw/I..._A62266508&dyn=105!ar_fmt?sw_aep=nu_ma
Green, R. &Goodwin, G. (1996, June). Ecstasy and neurodegeneration: ecstasy’s long term effects are potentially more damaging than its acute toxicity. British Medical Journal [Online serial], 312(7045):1493, Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://web7.infotrac.galegroup.com/itw/I...0_A18456698&dyn=70!ar_fmt?sw_aep=nu_ma
Hatzidimitriou, G., McCann, U., & Ricaurte, G. (1999, June). Altered Serotonin Innervation Patterns in the Forebrain of Monkey Treated with (+/-)3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine Seven Years Previously: Factors Influencing Abnormal Recovery. The Journal of Neuroscience [Online serial], 19(12):5096-5107, Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://www.jneurosci.org/cgi/content/ful...d=QID_NOT_SET&stored_search=&FIRSTINDE>
Henry, J., Jeffreys, K., & Dawling, S. (1992, Aug). Toxicity and deaths from 3,4-methylenedioxymethamphetamine (“ecstasy”). The Lancet [Online serial], 340(8816): 384(4), Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://web7.infotrac.galegroup.com/itw/I...0_A12554376&dyn=98!ar_fmt?sw_aep=nu_ma
Kalat, J. (2001). Biological Psychology (7th ed.). Belmont: Wadsworth/Thompson Learning
Malberg, J & Seiden, L. (1998, July). Small Changes in Ambient Temperature Cause Large Changes in 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine (MDMA)=Induced Serotonin Neurotoxicity and Core Body Temperature in the Rat. The Journal of Neuroscience [Oneline serial], 18(13):5086-5094, Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://www.jneurosci.org/cgi/content/ful...d=QID_NOT_SET&stored_search=&FIRSTINDE>
Ramcharan, S., Meenhorst, P.L., Otten, J.M.M.B., Koks, C.H.W., de Boer, D., Maes, R.A.A., & Beijnen, J.H. (1998, Dec.). Survival After Massive Ecstasy Overdose. Journal of Toxicology: Clinical Toxicology [Online serial], 36 (7): 727, Retrieved March 24, 2001 from the World Wide Web: http://web7.infotrac.galegroup.com/itw/i...0_A53499521&dyn=49!as_fmt?sw_aep=nu_ma

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Kane's Room

"Boy, if you don't clean that room, I'm going to beat you. Do you understand me?" I try to sound stern, but I think I come across more as defeated. It is already 12 o'clock on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in late September, the kind of afternoon that begs you to come out and play. My five-year-old son, Kane, has been cleaning his room since Friday night, and the really frustrating part is that it isn't even that messy. It should take him all of twenty minutes—that is if he would just go in there and get busy, but he has his mama's ability to entertain himself. This is definitely history reenacted. As I say those words to him, I can hear my mother saying the same thing to me 27 years earlier as I lay on my bedroom floor marveling at the fibers of split-pea-soup-green carpet. I wonder how they twisted all those little hairs together, and how they got those tiny fibers to stick together without moving or falling off—oh, look over there—there’s a little spider. See how he bobs when he walks? I wonder why he does it. Is he doing spider push-ups? I stand up, mimicking the spider, and bounce like I am a little basketball and someone is dribbling me ever so slowly to the hoop. Is it a girl spider or a boy spider?

I am torn. How can I get upset with Kane when he is exactly like me? I understand him. He is me. When other parents see it as being difficult, I see it as the innocent, inquisitiveness of a five-year-old trying to find the answers to everything he sees and finding beauty and intricacy in all the things we take for granted as adults: the way the dust settles on the carpet behind the bed; the chip of paint, missing from the door frame, a chip so small you can't see it unless you are laying on the floor and looking at a 45 degree angle; and all the wonderful zoo animals formed by the texture on the walls when you just sort of stare off and let your eyes go lazy. But, nevertheless, I still need him to learn how to be responsible and clean up the messes he makes.

I walk back into the living room to finish cleaning the house, and decide to put another CD in the stereo. I look through my two hundred plus CDs and can't decide what I want to listen to. I take each one out and read the song lists, searching for a CD that will bring back memories of happy times and that will motivate me. And while I am doing this, I am contemplating my next course of action with Kane if he still hasn't made progress on his bedroom. Should I take his Batman toys away? Maybe I will tell him he will be grounded if he doesn't have it done by 2 o'clock. My mind wanders back and forth between my disciplinarian actions with Kane and the alphabetizing of my CDs. After all, if they are in alphabetical order, they will be easier to find next time.

Before I can go back in and check on Kane's progress, he comes running down the hall shouting in an elated voice, "Mom! Mom! Look! I drew you a picture. Do you want to see it?"

My first inclination is to tell him no, and to go back into his room and finish cleaning, but his grin is as big as a banana, and his eyes have excitement dancing in them as if he has just discovered buried treasure.

"Okay. You can show Mama the picture, but then you need to finish cleaning your room," I say this trying to sound somewhat authoritarian. Kane climbs up on my lap and begins to describe his work of art to me.

"Look, I drew a house. That's our house—that’s the window, that's the door, that's the door knock, (he will argue until he is red with frustration that it is a door knock and not a door knob), and that's the sidewalk. See, there are some birds--five birds because I am five. And that is a flower growing on the top of the roof. That's kinda silly, huh?" He giggles and grins even bigger when he tells me about the flower on the roof. And, I just look at him with amazement and wonder at how I have been blessed with such a wonderful child with such a sweet and beautiful spirit.

“That is the chimney, but I couldn't draw the bricks, so I drew squares. That is smoke, but it isn't real smoke. It's pretend smoke. Those are clouds, but they aren't rain clouds. They are white clouds. That is the grass, and that is the dirt. You have to have the dirt so the grass won't fall down. There is the sun, but I didn't make it yellow because I used a pen, and the pen was only blue, but the sun isn't really blue. Those are train tracks. Mama, I like trains. Do you like trains? And that is you. You are holding a flower because you like flowers. You love flowers, don't you, Mama? See, and you are smiling. You are smiling because you are happy. You are so happy because you have a flower. And that is me. I am doing my Winnie the Pooh puzzle and putting it away."

All I can do is look at his drawing with the same admiration as if I am looking at a Renoir painting. I look at Kane and I look at his masterpiece again. I feel my eyes becoming moist. "Honey, I love it. It is a beautiful picture. Thank you for drawing such a lovely picture for me. You did a great job, and you drew it with so much detail."

"Mom, what does that mean? What is dee-tail?" I explain detail to Kane and then ask him if he has finished cleaning his room.

"Oh, I forgot to clean my room, but I will, Mama. I'll do it right now." I think about it. I have lost almost two days with my beautiful, precious baby. I will have to go to work tomorrow, and I won’t have an opportunity like this again until next weekend. We have the rest of our lives to clean, but only a moment to enjoy the beauty of the world through his five-year-old eyes.

"Tell you what, baby. You go in there and get your shoes on while I look for a frame for this beautiful picture you drew."

"Do I still have to clean my room?"

"You still have to clean your room, but not right now. How about if we go to the park, and when we get home, I will help you clean your room?"

"ALL RIGHT! We're going to the park, Mom?"

"Yes, we are going to the park, and don't think you hornswaggled me, because you didn't." I laugh as I say that to him. I know he indeed hornswaggled me. He pulled a fast one on me whether he meant to or not. But, he also taught me a valuable lesson--the mess will always be there, but the innocence and the excitement he has when he sees the world around him will fade too fast. I may be his mother, but that doesn't give me the right to break his beautiful, inquisitive, and innocent little spirit.

"I love you, my son." Kane looks at me and smiles at me with a huge toothless smile.

"I love you too, Mama."

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

Tangelo Stallion

Lo, gallant stone, I
Tell a gal to sin on
A goon’s ill talent.
A gent, lain lost. Lo!

An agent ill, loots.
Alone, stalling to
Listen. Go on, a tall,
Tall elation song.

O! An angel’s ill tot,
No legs; all on a tit.
No little gals on a
Tangelo stallion.

All gents toil on a
Gale lost, lain not
Slain, not legal to
Tell it on a slogan.

On a little slogan,
I lost all on a gent,
Into legal talons
Not on a legal list.

In all, get lost on a
Tangelo stallion
To let all sing on a
Long-last elation.

I stall on tangelo
Tangelo stallion
Slain nag too. Tell
All—ten slain! Go to

Gloat, all in stone.
Align no stale lot.
Alone, sin got tall,
Along tall stone, I

Got all silent on a
Stone gal, ill to an
Angel, a tot son—ill!
Lo! All-stone giant

Still to no glean, a
Gallant oilstone,
All lit onstage, on
A signal to tell on.

Angel, it’s on all to
Align solo talent
Ain’t along to sell
A tall silent goon.

Alas, no telling, to
Let slang toil on a
Last legal notion—
Tell it on a slogan!

I, along tall stone,
Alone, angst I toll,
In all, get lost on a
Legal nation lost

To let all sing on a
Long-last elation.
In all, get lost on a
Tangelo stallion.

Alas, no ill gotten
Long salt elation
Lo! All nations get
A glint lost alone.

Monday, January 24, 2005

Piss-Shit Water

Feces floatin’
in a porcelain bowl
of beer-yellow urine,
“Git chur ass ov’r here!
Ya little chickenshit! I’ll give ya shit!”

Whiskey-tainted piss-shit water
Flushin’ away six-year-old tears,

stinkin’ in my nostrils
forcin’ me to fight,
encouragin’ me to lie,
wakin’ me from sleep,
scarin’ me into survival.

Pruno-tainted piss-shit water
remindin’ my cellie he’s my bitch

Feces floatin’
in a stainless steel bowl
of beer-yellow urine,
whiskey-tainted piss-shit water
still with me after thirty years.

Monday, January 10, 2005

To Virginia

I lost you once,
and I lost you twice, then
I lost you thrice

stolen in secrecy
a decade before
you would weep
your thief
dead
before discovery

unaware
you were gone
you were
resurrected

snatched away violently
weeks before
you were legal

thieves
abscond
into dark anonymity

your absence
denied
you were
resurrected

given
instantly
to the first bidder
the recipient
not fit for
your worth

your absence
acknowledged
your were
not resurrected

like the son
you were
sacrificed
for the sins

of the mother’s drunken father
of the two drunken men in the red truck
of the
hopeless
drunken
girl

I lost you once,
and I lost you twice, then
I lost you thrice.

Sunday, January 9, 2005

The Liquor Store: a sestina

One night I stopped to buy some smokes. Into
the liquor store I walked. Many people
were inside, some in search of bad habits;
our vices bring most of us here. A woman
in front of me was buying smokes—two types;
she bought beer too. I looked over at her.

She was clean and well groomed. She reached in her
purse, took out her card, put her PIN into
the machine. Plastic has different types.
Some people have bank cards, and some people
credit. An EBT card this woman
used—welfare! To support her habits?

I felt my body tense up. My habits
aren’t paid by the government. I watched her
and felt a deep disgust for this woman.
I wanted to curse her. I delved into
my mind to ask why we allow people
to use aid to purchase things of these types.

I began to think of different types
of people. Each of us has our habits.
I don’t know all the obstacles people
face. Then I pondered the “what-ifs.” Was her
story one I could understand? “Try to
put yourself in the life of this woman.”

Did her man say, “Go to the store, woman,
and buy me some beer and smokes—get two types.”
Did he make a threat to beat her into
oblivion—again? Are his habits
supported by Her fear of him? Is her
life spent taking care of other people?

Her life intrigued me. She treated people
with respect. She was pleasant, this woman
who I wanted to curse. Now I saw her
differently—just one of many types
of people, all with various habits
and whose lives I will never get into.

In the store are people of many types,
and I found this woman may have habits,
but I can’t judge her or what she’s into.

Friday, January 7, 2005

Little Bird

I found a little bird with broken wings,
so emaciated from starvation.
There’s no voice for songs, just a sound that stings.
His scared, child-like eyes can’t see salvation.

Cold and trembling, sure that harm is to come,
his beak and talons are just as a hawk’s
Angry about what his life has become,
if I try to help, he scratches and squawks.

So, he lacks the skills of civilized cultures.
Some would say he’s just a barbarian.
He’s a dove, been raised by vultures,
and fed just bits of diseased carrion.

I see his chance for recovery’s slim,
so I put him back where once I found him.