Adventures with Dr. Lady Cutie Troublemaker

I went and saw Black Gold tonight. I’m feeling a bit tired and lazy, so I’ll copy-paste the description from the web site:

Multinational coffee companies now rule our shopping malls and supermarkets and dominate the industry worth over $80 billion, making coffee the most valuable trading commodity in the world after oil. But while we continue to pay for our lattes and cappuccinos, the price paid to coffee farmers remains so low that many have been forced to abandon their coffee fields. Nowhere is this paradox more evident than in Ethiopia, the birthplace of coffee. Tadesse Meskela is one man on a mission to save his 74,000 struggling coffee farmers from bankruptcy. As his farmers strive to harvest some of the highest quality coffee beans on the international market, Tadesse travels the world in an attempt to find buyers willing to pay a fair price. Against the backdrop of Tadesse’s journey to London and Seattle, the enormous power of the multinational players that dominate the world’s coffee trade becomes apparent. New York commodity traders, the international coffee exchanges, and the double dealings of trade ministers at the World Trade Organisation reveal the many challenges Tadesse faces in his quest for a long term solution for his farmers.

This is a really important film. I feel like I won’t ever just wander into a grocery store and buy coffee produced by a massive corporation. I’ll do my research and make sure I’m not contributing to the fleecing of poor farmers in Africa. If you choose to buy your coffee from a company that is buy directly from roasters who have bought directly to farmers, then you won’t get that 6-fold markup that is so typical of most coffees you find in the store. For a list of where to buy this coffee locally, nationally, and online, check out:

Where to buy Free Trade Certified Coffee

A quick list of local chains: Caribou, Dunkin Donuts, Harris Teeter, Peet’s, Trader Joe’s, Whole Foods, and (this is a surprise) Starbuck’s! But not all the products at these stores are Fair Trade Certified. Read the labels.

For those of you who’ve been long-time readers, you will remember my strong interest in a situation that went down outside Memphis a few years ago. A boy named Zach came out on MySpace, which prompted his parents to send him to Love in Action, a program which attempted to make their son straight, i.e. an "ex-gay". At that time, I became friends with a wonderful activist and actor named Peterson Toscano. He is an ex-ex-gay who spent time in that program himself and who now tours the world performing one-man shows which educate people about issues of sexuality, especially as they relate to what is called "reparative therapy". That euphemism means "repairing" what is felt to be "broken" sexuality. It means making it possible for gay people to live straight lives. In short, this is a stupid idea that isn’t even possible. If you want to learn more, peruse the archives on the topic here and elsewhere.

On Thursday (3/15), Peterson will be on the Montel Williams Show. The topic will be Reparative Therapy. Check out listings in your area. I’ll be setting my TiVo.

I’ve never written about this before since it began a number of years in my past, and it hasn’t been an active part of my life for a while.

In the summer of 2000, I took an Intermediate Statistics class. My main friend in this class was a woman named Julie. She and I organized a study group and met at Encore Cafe in Bloomington before tests. We became friends, too. She was an Educational Psychology doctoral student, and she had been teaching the Ed Psych class (the one I was about to start teaching in the fall) for two years already. We hung out a lot that summer. She alluded to having had a rough few years. I knew that she was incredibly aware of her own safety. When we hung out at her house, she always waited for the garage door to close completely before getting out of the car. She had bars on her bedroom window. Her pet was a German Shepherd that was trained using French commands (he was pedigree). She was a good friend and a supportive and competent mentor when it came to preparing me to teach. She was also very sweet, and sharp as a tack.

I have a file in my file cabinet: “Julie Rea”. That fall, it came out that she had been accused in the 1997 brutal murder of her own son with a knife. She was immediately put into the local jail. That whole fall, I wrote to her every day. They put her in solitary confinement because women who are accused of murdering their own children are not safe from other prisoners. I learned about exercises that could be done in a small space (yoga in particular) and sent them to her. Sometimes I’d just ramble… just so she would always get something in the mail from me. I took pictures of the trees changing color and sent them to her.

When her parents came into town, they stayed in her house, and each night, Julie’s friends would alternate bringing her parents dinner. I remember that I made them tuna casserole. I knew they were “simple folk”, and I didn’t want to bring them anything to “weird”. They were extremely religious, and when we sat down to eat, they took my hands, and while sitting in a circle, they said a prayer for Julie. I remember having a birthday party (my 33rd, I think), when the phone rang, and it was Julie calling me from jail. It was a collect call. It was a strange time. I didn’t know if she’d done it or not, but I did know that she absolutely believed that she was innocent. My thought was that if she had somehow done it, it was in a completely psychotic state. But really, I knew Julie. It didn’t seem right.

While Julie was still in Bloomington, I went to two of her hearings at the courtroom in the same building as the jail. Julie was always thin, but I was shocked at how much thinner she’d become, and her eyes were puffier than I’d remembered. She was distraught at those times. It was clear that the simple experience of jail was taking a massive toll on her. That experience in itself was a traumatic one.

March 2002 was when my husband and I separated. It was an unexpected and sudden separation for me, so I became unable to be as supportive of Julie as I had been. I just didn’t have much to give. While I was not facing murder charges, I was still emotionally distraught, and I knew that I had to take care of myself first for a while. Sadly, I lost touch with Julie’s situation until later that year, when her case was on 20/20.

In my “Julie Rea” file, I have lots of articles about Julie – even one about about how she would NOT receive the death penalty. Each time I have revisited what was going on, it feels surreal. The smart Julie I knew? Really? It seems like someone else I’m reading about. Not her.

Today, my mother sent me a link to an article: ABC News: Untangling a Murder Mystery – Julie Rea Harper Was Convicted of Murdering Her Son. But Was a Serial Killer the Real Culprit?. Tonight, they are revisiting the story on 20/20. I’m halfway through. I had to take a break. It was too much. I don’t know how Julie has gotten through. I think it’s time to write her again. It’s been too long. I hope she’s OK.

OK, I just watched the end. I feel like an ass. She was finally acquitted in August, and I just heard the news today. In fact, I was so focused on trying to get my computer working (it still isn’t, but thanks for all the help, Massimo), that I never finished the article. I think it’s time to contact Julie again. I hope she can forgive my absence. It was so great to see her talking like herself again. Like the Julie I met that summer, not the wrongly incarcerated mother. God, I’m so happy for her!

Last night, I headed out on a solo adventure to Cat’s Cradle in Carrboro to see Of Montreal. I bought these tickets before I left Boston. I think I was afraid there would be no good music down here, so I wanted to be sure that I had at least one gig to look forward to. I always like to be holding tickets for something. It may not be a trip back to Paris or Cinqueterra, but it’s a little something. I only remembered that the gig was last night on Sunday, so I sent out emails to Xopher, Katy, and Massimo (a Flickr friend) to see who wanted to go. No luck there. I decided to go alone, thinking that my friends Brian and Shannon would be there, although turns out they couldn’t get tickets. I sold my second ticket at the door and walked in to catch the tail end of the brightly colored Mixel Pixel. By the time I’d bought a beer and headed back up front, they were practically finished. I moved up front by the stage thinking that Of Montreal would be on next, but there was another opening act.

Grand Buffet were a total trip! It was two guys rapping, sort of old school Beastie Boys-esque. Their shtick was that they would act like total badasses about VERY unbadass things. They’d exclaim things like, "I’m drinking distilled water, yo!" And "Who’s wearing Rockports? I’m wearing Rockports." They had amazing energy and were actually pretty tongue trippy talents (I just made that shit up!). I got some great images and videos. After the show, I spoke with one of the guys, and while looking at some of the pictures I’d taken, he pointed out his good muscular definition. Here’s that one.

And another:

Here are the rest of the pictures I took of them. And here’s some video (please forgive the sound quality).

My experience with Of Montreal is interesting. I first heard about them because Amy Carpenter, A blogger and performance artist/activist in Jamaica Plain, posted a really great video using their music. I downloaded that song right away, and it his my regular rotation. After that, I heard another song or two here and there. Recently, they were on an episode of All Songs Considered that I listened to at the gym. My point is that I know of their sound, not their look. A few weeks ago, a report came up that the lead singer had disrobed on stage. (NSFW link) It sort of registered. When I saw them walk out, it came back to me.

I don’t know any better way of sharing them than some visuals. Some people do full reviews. That’s not really my scene. What I can say is that it is clear that the band rotates around the axis that is Kevin Barnes. He’s a terribly charismatic and complex performer. The music is chromatic, with unexpected harmonic and rhythmic changes, and the words are also surprisingly complex. Not the normal chantable hooks and simplistic style of lyricism found in most pop/indie music. Even the titles of their songs are fascinating and beautiful. The first song I started to listen to by them (the one in that video) was "Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games". Their new album (Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?) has some really catchy songs, but again, the titles, and the lyrics themselves are indescribable, angsty, and at the same time, sometimes very catchy. Visually, this band is total 70’s glam. The addition of several video screens behind flashing images of the performers themselves (in negative and with fancy retro digital effects), the costumes… It was all really FABULOUS! What’s amazing about this band is that while there are all these distractions creating a decadent visual and audio feast, there is one basic fact that makes it all OK. These are competent musicians with a real perspective. They each play several instruments, and play them well. There was a lot of leaping from one instrument to the other. The man I thought was the drummer played the keyboard and even pulled out a trumpet. They so-called "lead singer" played the drums (better than the drummer?) and the guitar. You get the idea. This is starting to sound more and more like a review, huh?

Anyway, it was a delightful time. No chance of boredom. I spent time talking with the "kids" up front with me. An 18 year-old couple and a 25 year-old couple who’d driven from near Knoxville, TN to catch the gig. I love how the 25 year-olds thought I was their age. I swear I was definitely the oldest person there. The 18 year old guy (Scott maybe?) said I was old enough to be a "stranger" he was supposed to fear! It was at that point that I offered him candy. Then cracked up and admitted that I was actually a child psychologist. It sounded like a good joke so he laughed, but I had to admit that it was actually the truth. Then I gave him a piece of gum… and he lived.

Here’s the entire Of Montreal photo set. Here is VIDEO! (again, TERRIBLE sound quality)

I stayed up late editing pictures and slept until noon. I really need a job. Yes, I’m still waiting to hear. And I’m starting to get pretty antsy about it.