The madwoman in the attic continues to tap away. There is wisdom in the clack, so listen up.

There's not as much overt Politics (at least in terms of the formal structures of power) in this issue, mainly because the two main events on the landscape are still to be decided; to wit, the US election (When will it end? Which evil man will be declared the victimizer of the American underclass? (My, what prophetic word choices, writing as I was in early November, 2000 - Bush was indeed 'declared', wasn't he? :-) ). and the upcoming Canadian equivalent (When will it end? Which evil man/woman will be declared the victimizer of the Canadian underclass? (Not much suspense there - meet the new boss, same as the old boss...)).

This time, she does some follow-up on a strange old fellow in her hometown who threatened her last summer, in which she discovers he has some serious issues; covers websites of doom, including an anti-teen snitch line set up by the Pinkerton Detective Agency in 'reaction' to the Columbine shooting and a bizarre anti-masturbation site that is apparently quite serious (I assumed its recommendations about not letting women buy whole carrots or cucumbers anymore HAD to be satire, but nooooo...); responds to a Salon.com contest on potential new internet suffixes (you know I'D visit http://www.billgates.die over and over again); comments on bizarre news items again, as in the last issue; outs her 'evil transvestite cabaret-show twin', Oodles Galore, to goof on altered proverbs; writes a sensitive editorial on mothers pushed to the brink by poverty and/or health issues; pens a tribute to Pierre Elliot Trudeau, Canada's Prime Minister from 1968-1979 and 1980-1984, who died on September 28, 2000, three weeks short of his 81st birthday; commits wanton acts of poetry with such gems as 'Velvet Devolution' (about the anti-World-Bank demonstrations in Prague) and 'Hockey Fight in Canada'; reviews Hole's Celebrity Skin and Rush's Test For Echo, using any excuse she has to digress into commentary on fame, corporate policy et. al.; offers an interesting analysis of make-up's role in women's liberation and sisterhood, while plugging Read My Lips: A Cultural History of Lipstick by Meg Cohen Ragas and Karen Kozlowski; violates confidentiality by sharing correspondence she has received (including something by yours truly); and, as usual, much, much more.

Now that it is on-line, you have no excuse but not to take a peek - and I'm warning you, you had better... :-)

Bitch Nation #8 , ed. GB Jones (P.O.B. 55, Stn. E, Toronto, Ontario, M6H 4E1, CANADA, $2 CAN/US to cover postage and all, or trade)

This newsletter, by movie-maker/Fifth Columnist/artist GB Jones, is crammed with info on 'zines, music, books and videos available through her and affiliated penpals, and has an op ed piece, this time by Rita Fatila of Pure Tuna Fish 'zine, dealing with her experiences around a queer organization in her school.

There are web links, as well as a profile of the Top Secret Bitch Nation Cassette Swapping Club tape's participants, though, due to the failure of a camera, my picture is missing, a fact which has thousands of furry young men across the notion sobbing uncontrollably. Not to worry, boys - I'm coming...to take over the world, that is, as the magazine carelessly reveals - curses! back to the drawing board!! It also includes lots of info on international Bitches, radio and 'zine alike.

All this, plus clip art (which reveals that my postcard sent from Berkeley DID arrive), makes for a compact, rich source of ideas for reading, listening and rebelling...

can you see yr self?, edAllison (1015 Whispering Road Drive, Missisauga, Ontario, L5C 3Y7, CANADA, $2 CAN/US should cover postage, or make a good trade - e-mail at [email protected])

It's a queer girl 'zine from Missisauga, a document of events in the life of a Canadian grrrl poised at the end of high school (dated August 1999).

It covers: homophobia she and her then-girlfriend experienced; facts about the relationship of Barbies and mannequins to real women; an essay on the practice of (not) shaving one's legs and battling with one's parents over it; Allison's experience of the Reclaim the Street protest; blatant Diana worship (the goddess, not the problematic Princess); plus some poems and a short story.

Personal and insightful, and well worth a peek.

Chickfactor #13, ed.Gail O'Hara (245 East 19th Street, #12T, NYC, NY, 10003, USA, email to [email protected], $5 US)

Words fail in conveying the fabulousness of this zine.

I wish it came out every month instead of (very) irregularly.

As a document of pop from Belle and Sebastian to Zombies, it is unparalleled.

Where else would you see polls about the biggest onstage atrocity you've ever witnessed, or your best/worst heckler tales, or your favourite lyrical stanza?

That, plus lively interviews, reviews and ads for records you might consider buying, make for a read you are sad to see behind you. Hurry, #14!

Mad Cow #8, ed. Una Crow and Vix Spooky (c/o University of Toronto Women's Centre, 563 Spadina Circle, Toronto, Ontario, M5S 2J7, CANADA, $2 CAN/US or good trade)

YES!! This is FUN and SMART!!!

The theme of this 8th installment of a long-running series (that I have somehow missed before now) is animals, be it: whimsical stories about heroine cats ("Mistress Meow: Super-Kitty Extraordinaire" by Neurotic Jellybean); a rant by Vix Spooky about how, since society has a hard time dealing with pluralities (gender, sexuality, etc.), it correspondingly has a hard time imagining someone liking both dogs AND cats; an amusing but pointed cartoon by Una in which an interviewer/propagandist tries to sell the concept of work under capitalism to animals, with little success (the Bear eats the twit, which we WOULD do); a piece by Vix about which beasties appeal to her as former-life candidates, including pygmy marmosets and otters; a piece of crow appreciation by (surprise!) Ms. Crow, coupled with a clipping on Japanese crow-anarchists that have been sabotaging train lines; and much, much more, including a piece on Bear appreciation (the hairy big gay guy variety) that gave me a chuckle and a warm glow (it was sweet...woofs to ya, Una!).

As I said, entertaining, clever material.

 

Man With Broken Leg #2, ed. Anthony Gerace (806 Barclay Rd., London, Ontario, N6K 3H6, CANADA, [email protected], $1 CAN/US should cover postage, or a trade)

Despite its being by a straight boy who often bemoans his lack of success with women, I decided to give this magazine the benefit of the doubt.

Anthony has some original things to say, and really is not too pathetic or sappy - and lovelorn is not the only colour in his crayon box.

He does a (too) brief DC vs. Marvel Comics bit, in which he judges DC the winner. Leaving aside cheap jokes about me being AC, I must say that, though I liked Black Panther(droooool) and Aquaman (wouldn't throw HIM out of bed for smelling like fish ;o) ), I would have to award the prize to Marvel, who had Dr. Strange AND Howard the Duck.

Anthony reviews shows by Limblifter (shrug) and Stereolab (joy! joy! joy!), and also subjects a few bands of whom I had not heard to questions (a quiet band called Exercises in Breathing; Heavy Blinkers, who sound keyboard-driven; and Casket Lottery, who come off as moody and introspective).

He also includes his poetry and essays, which are sensitive, image-laden and intense.

Hey! I kept reading - and, I think, so would you... :)

Melissa and the Worm #1drawn and ed. by Karyn Ellis (P.O. Box 2012, Kingston, Ontario, K7L 5J8, CANADA, I would guess $4 CAN/US would cover postage and all)

When I was a wee gay thing, in the early Nineties, I used to go see Karyn Ellis play (confirming my reputation as a dyke trapped in a man's body).

Recently, I saw her at a benefit, got her to sign my copy of her first tape and acquired this comic that she did in 1997, which she still had a few of.

If she has not read Hothead Paisan, I would be surprised, since the tone, drawing style and use of devices such as a self-conscious narrator who addresses the author are something the two have in common, although her characters are perhaps more hopeful than Hothead.

This comic book deals with the title character and her dog, Worm (aka EnviroDog), as they right wrongs against animals and women, though Worm does most of the work.

It's not great art, technique-wise (says the man who can't draw a fish well enough in Pictionary for people to REALIZE it's one), but its heart is in the right place, and the dogs are endearing. I hope that there's a #2 some day (fighting bad puns about body functions desperately...).

Open All The Time, ed. Angela (c/o 90 Porteous Circle, Brampton, Ontario, L6S 5C5, CANADA, $2 CAN/US should cover postage and all, or a good trade, [email protected])

This is a personal 'zine, informed by politics, thought and research. Angela holds forth on biphobia and bisexuality, providing written and Web resources for you fabulous fencesitters ;o); analyzes the concepts of 'hate crime' and 'safe space' with a critical eye; informs us of a queer 'zine library project; gives one of the first critical analyses of economics that I have encountered from a student in that discipline; and dares to touch on transphobia at the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival.

This writing is a delight to read and contemplate, and, at the risk of sounding all ageist or patronizing, stunning from someone who was 19 at the time!!

Pictures of Dead Relatives Holding Dead Kittens, by Mojo Clark (no contact address, try [email protected] for info)

I found this at the Sleepless Goat, a Kingston commie coffee/cocoa collective, and decided to take a chance, even though it WAS a poetry 'zine.

Some of it is driven by cut-ups and word association, while other pieces are more structured and pointed. None of it is conventional verse, in any sense of the word.

There are no titles, but selections I shall dub 'A haunted amusement park...' and 'these sad ghosts...' especially move me.

Mr. Clark has quite a vocabulary and a way with impressionistic portraits/statements, and I hope to see future writing by him, with perhaps more discipline to it.

Poser #3 ed. by Rufus Poser (P.O. Box 1457, Bentall Centre, Vancouver, B.C., V6C 2P7, CANADA, $3 CAN/US or a good trade should cover it, [email protected])

The philosophical porn 'zine keeps jerking along (tee hee). It's a load of fun for solitary pleasure (this is getting worse!! Get a hold of yourself, Tim...STOP IT!! STOP IT!!! STOP IT!!!!).

This issue's pornogami insert is on auto-fellatio, which, as god is my witness, I WILL try some day (to assemble one of his artworks, that is - not self-sucking - I'm simply not that LIMBER!!).

There is a computer-altered holy icon of the late Quentin Crisp; an ode to Rufus' old printer that is quite touching until one considers the subject; thoughtful meditation on the importance of peep-shows as tension release; a piece by Cookie on 'her' life as a gender-bender; an interview by Rufus of his old friend, Brian, on straight-edgedness; Jo's musing about her niece's experiences with sex; bitching about working as a bartender in a gay bar; and some net porn complaints and suggestions.

This would be an ideal piece of family-destroying filth, were porn actually capable of and/or willing to follow through with its promises to annihilate that institution. :)

Tainted Life by Marc Almond (Pan, London, 2000, about $20 CAN)

(Thanks to Oscar of Novel Idea ([email protected]) for giving me this book. It was something I would have contemplated buying, so it was kind of him...mwaaaah...).

Mr. Almond, of course, is most famous as the lead singer of Soft Cell, who had an enormous hit in 1981 with "Tainted Love". Marc refers to it as "that song", which should give you a hint about his feelings.

This book does not hold back on or spare any other feelings, either. He details his childhood, which was as you might expect for the average queer boy in England in the late 50s, 60s and early 70s - his college days as a performance artist/petty thief (how Genet!) - and, of course, material on Soft Cell's rise and fall.

Once he became a solo artist, his excesses, faults and ego had free rein, and here the book becomes its juiciest and most scandalous (yaaay!!).

I think it is safe to say that the odds of him working with former record companies or a gentleman named Stevo again would be slim - but stranger things have happened.

He discusses his duet with Nico, and the comments she allegedly made about him in Richard Watt's contentious biography, Nico: Lives and Lies of An Icon, that appeared after her death, with tact and reverence.

Bitchy - dishy - somewhat contrite - troubled - all the things a gay man's autobio should be... :)

It's Not Mean If It's True by Michael Thomas Ford (Alyson, Los Angeles, 2000, $12.95 US (not sure of Canadian price, as I have not seen it anywhere up here yet)

Continuing in the series begun with Alec Baldwin Doesn't Love Me and That's Mr. Faggot To You, the adorable Mr. Ford graces us with more (overly) personal essays.

This time, he holds court on an even greater variety of subjects than the previous book (which, in turn, was more wide-ranging than ITS predecessor - picking up a pattern here?), including: nostalgia for the twenty seconds that MTV was good; an hysterically funny summation of gay history, not to mention a vicious but true guide to some new hanky codes/gay personality types; a sweet story about a gay duck (okay, so it's flawed by human interpretation of animal behaviour, but it's still nice); the inevitable savaging of Dr. Laura; an encouraging essay on how he would be beaten to death by the fashion police; a piece on the Columbine tragedy certain to make smarmy Christians upset, as it suggests they may be a little paranoid and blinkered; and a welcome deconstruction/analysis of the Ten Commandments.

Mr. Ford's work is pointed and acute without being sledge-hammerish or catty (well, not VERY catty) and it is a delight to read. As another fashion-police-victim and sufferer-from-hetero-hair, I could truly relate... :)

Anti-Diva by Carole Pope (Random House Canada, printed in a secret USA location (it honestly does not say!!), 2000, $32.95 CAN/$22.95 USA)

Ms. Pope has graced us by a book crammed with name-dropping, attitude and slight evasion about anything dealing too intimately with herself.

For example, she avoids discussion of birth data, except to reveal she is British and a Leo (she must be 50ish), and skips in-depth discussion of the years 1987 through 1995 (it is not a chronologically ordered book, but even still...).

However, she DOES dish deep about: her years in the band Rough Trade with Kevan Staples (revealing they had a relationship and he is straight); her affair with Dusty Springfield; her difficult dalliance with Canadian comedienne Elvira Kurt, in which you can sense real pain through the flippancy; and Sarah McLachlan (not confirming those rumours about her liking a 'box lunch', though).

Given her distrust of segregation, she is astonishingly uncritical of the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival, which she played (you would think a woman who challenges gender and looks kindly upon Divine would say SOMETHING about the event's transphobic tendencies, but no...not a word...).

One would have hoped for less posturing and more insight, but it is an entertaining tome with a strong sense of the performer's voice (who HAS warned us in song that she is 'so afraid to show the real me'), and has enough bitchiness and gossip to satisfy the yellow-journalism yen in me.

Salad Days by Charles Romalotti (Layman Books, P.O. Box 4702, Austin, Texas, 78765, $13 US/$18 CAN in stores ($10 direct from mailbox in US), [email protected], 2000)

This is a semi-autobiographical novel about a fellow who launches a 'career' in punk/hardcore in the Eighties USA.

It's wordy at times, occasionally a bit too much so, which may describe Charles, and certainly does Frank, his too-clever-for-a-pigeonholed-existence main character, who escapes Kansas for a tour (through hell) with his band, The Jerkoffs.

The novel portrays the joys and pains of being a touring punk rock band, and is written by someone with a love for and knowledge of the times' underground culture (I wish I HAD known about it, but am learning in retrospect...).

The Jerkoffs' drummer being a dyke made up for a couple of sterotyped gay characters, in my estimation (not that I'm much concerned with all queers in fiction having to be depicted as angels (far from - I actually kind of LIKE there being gay serial killers, in a twisted way...), and also caught my interest and appreciation.

Sadness - sex - camaraderie - punk - philosophy - something for everyone - and a worthy start to a writing career, whose next step is a book called Rash some time this year...