Regarding the following:
In a time of real crisis in this country, when it has been overthrown
by a coup, you go off on vacations in a masturbation of drinking and fun.
Hi, My name is Tammy, and I used to be "The Diva." Most Bartcop
probably never heard of me, but for while, I had my own little website for protesting
this world gone mad -- my personal quixotic response to the coup of election 2000/2001.
My website was The Bush Brothers Banana Republic (coup2k.com).
It is no more, and neither is The Diva.
Why? (That's the question that keeps popping up in MY email inbox,
and has been, for months now:
"Why did you stop?" "What happened?" "Why aren't you writing anymore?"
"Why isn't your website being updated anymore?")
I'll tell you why. I'm not as smart as Bartcop, that's why.
Beginning in mid-November 2000, I gave up everything to fight the coup.
I stopped having fun, because it somehow seemed "unpatriotic" to be happy
under these circumstances. I stopped watching movies. I stopped watching
TV (except for news and commentary). I stopped listening to music, and
I stopped dancing around my house like Madonna on crack. I ceased all
Basically, I turned into a PURITAN.
Seven months after all that started (or rather, stopped), I did a radio
interview, and when I
listened back to it, I didn't recognize my own voice. I sounded like shit. I sounded NOTHING like myself.
I sounded tired and wasted and joyless. Before that, I'd noticed changes in the mirror, but I pretended
they were for the best. I was smaller -- about 40-50 pounds smaller than when I started (imagine losing
that amount of weight in that amount of time, and that will give you an idea of the importance I placed on
little things like EATING), but it was hearing my voice on that radio interview that scared the hell out of me.
I burnt out. I blew it. I quit.
Bartcop is a fucking genius, and that is why he is still "doing it"
writing and fighting -- and why I am not.
It's called "pacing," and any good runner can explain the principle
to you if you've not heard of it, popabear.
The upshot is this: If you blow your wad in the first 10 miles of a marathon, you're NEVER going to make it
to mile 26. Never. While others are crossing the finish line victorious, you'll be back at mile 20 puking in the
bushes on the side of the road, and repenting your bad judgment.
Lay off of Bartcop. He deserves (and needs) his hedonistic forays
into LIFE (does the "pursuit of happiness"
ring a bell?). And you? Well, you deserve a spanking from The Diva, you judgmental shit.
Too bad she's not around anymore...
But I am, so... to use your own words...
"The Artist Formerly Known As The Diva"