Monday, April 27, 2009



I am trying to link you guys to this and it won't work and I really am going to go to Wordpress as blogger is just so OVER at this point and I will need a working link situation in order to see this blog meet it's rightful fate.


I'll try to lik it again with that weird spider web thing but just cut and paste or copy and paste if that doesn't work,kay????

This is where I'll be in Come August if you want to finally get to meet me.

I want to tell you about some wonderful experiences I had there in the last 10 years or so, the minute I get a chance to inhale much less exhale. ROFTL.


Anonymous said...

Oh! sooooooo jealous, the Michigan festival!
Remember the West Coast fest we went to? we joined that moonlight drum circle, and oh, you danced like the sylphian goddess you are. Remember that one drummer, the one with the double labrys tattoo on her mastectomy scar (she was *soooo* brave, and funny, carving her mohawk into a pink ribbon, like wouldn't we all if we had the courage!), and she played while you snaked around her, naked as the day you were born....what a hoot! Goddess, I miss those days! Love ya girl, stay cool, love your blog! xoxo

Tarra Slovan said...

I have a hard time being sure that this is SHE as SHE is now calling herself anonymous.I don't like that I see HE in that S-HE and I especially don't like that I hadn't noticed that before.

Without doubt, I remember the West coast fest of which you speak. And, I remember the dance of which you speak (and which I can no longer due to my deteriotated knee and back discs.)

I do also remember the four hour spooning and tribbing session we had that this made all but impossible to resist.

I still am in touch(literally and figuratively) with Tamima and she still proudly wears the labrys on her masectomy scar and she now has a kd lang tattoo tattoo on her other scar which sadly is a product of a different cancer that Susan Coman(mad props either way) has not adressed or marketed as thoroughly.

The mohawk on the pink ribbon---??? Ah, memories. Memories that both soothe me and arouse my activist streak to the point of uncomfortable frenzy. How I miss the day when us womyn had the ovaries to disgard our titty holders and dance so salaciously with only a passing nod to the patriarchy(the police that harrassed us endlessly during that magic summer.)

As for the way I snaked around her. Remember we dropped acid and named that dance, "the serpent." And, then you accused me of cheating on you with her as you saw that my aeorolas were bigger than you'd ever witnessed???? We made up when you let me back in and understood that I had no control over that.

And, of course, of course, I remembered the nudity and how I just couldn't damn get rid of the nagging patriarchal inner voice whispering, "Tarra , one shouldn't be naked as the day wasn't born because on the day they are born they don't have explicit bosoms and a pubis that made one thing of Guyana.
I love ya too, but pleeze don't call me girl . I slip up to sometimes and say that but it is wrong.

How are you doing and did you get a life mate that will be there for life etc???