So there’s this new group weblog / online magazine kind of thing for Albuquerque called the Duke City Fix. It looks interesting and already has some good posts. But it definitely is presenting a very specific we’re soooo alternative view of the town. Call me the nitpicking Affirmative Action Head Counter but, as far as I can tell, only one actually grew up here, I don’t think any are Hispanics and, of course, there’s nary a westsider. So, like I said, this is a very specific perspective on Albuquerque.

But, hey, if you live on the east side of the river, particularly in Nob Hill, eat organic food, visit martini bars and art openings, dig 50s Route 66 type kitsch, especially if you are a baby boomer you are their target market. Go read and enjoy.

No, I’m not bitter for not being invited as the singular westside blogger. Am not! Like they’d have my national chain coffee drinking, non-La Montanita Co-op shopping ass. I don’t exactly fit their profile. But I don’t fit any profile. And that’s not by accident baby.

I’ll admit, I actually got a slight thrill when I first moved to New Mexico from that Birmingham Methodist greek fraternity hell liberal arts college where I had been considered a freak for wearing black and being an art major. I actually felt conservative compared to most of the students at The College of Santa Fe. It was such a novelty to be comparatively conservative with the people in the room after being surrounded by Bush Sr voters - especially that night in Kyoto during the interim trip to South Korea and Japan when Clinton was inaugurated and I was the only one in the group, including the professors, who had voted for him. Lemme tell you, THAT was fun. In the end I drank a lot and sang Frank Sinatra songs in the style of Johnny Rotten in the hotel’s karaoke bar.

But when I moved to Santa Fe I never quite felt that I fit in there either.

Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above, Don’t fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love, Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin’ breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please, Don’t fence me in

Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise

I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can’t look at hovels and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in

Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies, Don’t fence me in
Let me ride through the wide open country that I love, Don’t fence me in
Let me be by myself in the evenin’ breeze
And listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees
Send me off forever but I ask you please, Don’t fence me in

Just turn me loose, let me straddle my old saddle
Underneath the western skies
On my Cayuse, let me wander over yonder
Till I see the mountains rise

I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences
And gaze at the moon till I lose my senses
And I can’t look at hovels and I can’t stand fences
Don’t fence me in, no
Pop, oh don’t you fence me in

–gotta love Cole Porter

On a more positive note I have been invited to take part of this really cool woman-goddess-centered group weblog called Every Woman is a Goddess. It’s a fun bunch and the type of posts vary from personal essays to poetry to links. I was totally flattered to be asked to join.