Tuesday, November 11, 2003

BENT GENDER: My Ambisexual Name   “Those who do not believe in the hereafter give the angels female names.” The Q’uran   My parents have never adequately explained why they named their eldest son after a Celtic river goddess, and a saint.  Dana Patrick Pattillo is my full name.  Dana, or Danu, as in the Tautha de Danaan, the “Children of Dana,” is the goddess of flowing water and synonymous with the goddess of poetry, Brigit, thus coterminous with St. Brigid.  The Danube is named after her.  Odd that I should be given the name of a Celtic mother goddess as my first name, by two people I am certain had absolutely no knowledge whatsoever of pagan mythology or Irish history. Odder still that my parents gave me for a middle name that of Patrick, the man who “drove the snakes” (of the goddess) from Ireland and brought Xtianity to the last homeland of Celtic paganism.  No one in my family and no extant friends of my parents bore the names Dana or Patrick before me.  Mom and Dad named one of my sisters Stacy, which is an ambisexual moniker, too, but usually presumed male.  Dana of course is usually presumed female. The name Stacy also has no predecessors in our family.  An impulse right out of the collective must have prompted my parents to attach such androgynous labels, names with bent genders, to their offspring.   My last name, Pattillo, originally Pattilloch until the "ch" fell off sometime during the 16th century, is Scottish Gaelic, meaning (so I've been told) Foot-of-the-Lake or By-the-Lake.  Pattillo is usually presumed to be Hispanic and read off as Pa-tee-yo instead of Puh-til-loh by those who don't know me.  I have occasionally styled myself D. Patrick Pattilloch for purposes of recreational pettifogging, and sketched out a bio for the lesbian Latina poet Dana Patillo in case I decided to apply for a grant or enter a contest in which my masculinity would be held against me.  My friend Deb volunteered to appear in person as me, in case I actually entered and won anything, in return for a lifetime supply of batteries for her vibrator, Betty Crocker, and a new Water-Pik (A gadget that substitutes for your toothbrush.  Cleans your teeth by means of a pulsed jet of water.  Clever Deb had discovered another use for the pulsed jet.).    Names are like hats.  My Greek sailor’s cap gives me a different aspect and people react to me differently than when I wear one of my fedoras.  Dr. Omed is a funny hat I wear to the Blogger’s Ball.  Dana has plumes, and makes a woman of me.   11:13:38 PM    comment []

PoD 68 My father in Korea, January 1953 6:33:56 PM    comment []

Dave Pollard thinks I'm a girl. Quoting from the postscript to his Nov. 7 post on female bloggers: This is not to take anything away from the twenty active (posted in the last 30 days) veteran (around more than 6 months) female Salon bloggers. My bloglife wouldn't be complete without checking in with (in longevity order): Kat, Neva, Susan the Human, Maxine, Elsa, Julie, Paula, Kriselda, Rayne, Kristi, Amanda, Fiona, Leah, Catnmus, Penny (come back!), Meg, Michelle, Julia, Marie and Voodoolulu. I'm sure I'm missing some -- if you know of any, or if I've missed you, please let me know. And I'm convinced that Dr. Omed is female, although two fellow bloggers say I'm dead wrong, and Dana, the name on Dr. Omed's poetry, is androgynous. More on this later. The mysterious Dr. Omed   12:57:25 PM    comment []

Today is FIONA'S Birthday Bless her and all who sail on her (Or something like that) Happy Birthday! 12:39:36 AM    comment []

Dr. Omed and the Nightly Pseudonym   Back in the early nineties, I used to work the graveyard shift (11p to 7a) at Mumble & Mumble Corporation in downtown Denver. I won't go into what I did, except it involved shovelling what came out of the rear end of one corporate elephant into the feeding trough of another corporate elephant, sometimes accompanied by the screaming of lawyers.  After business hours, one was obliged to sign in—name, company, and floor—at the building security desk. The security guard was an annoying little prick who pissed me off for some reason I can no longer remember. One night I made up a name and company and signed as "Akmed Fazool, Olay Oil Co., 25th floor."  The building only had 24 floors, you see, and I worked on the 18th.  The guard did not notice. From that night forward I signed in with a new pseudonym and a fake company located on the 25th floor or above. "Manchu Piccu, Condor Importing Inc." "G. Zilla, Great Pagoda Insurance Co."  "Ray Manta, Remora Consultants" Like that.  If I couldn't think up a suitable name, I would sign as "Oscar Wilde, Dorian Grey Ltd." or "John Hancock, Independent Underwriters Group" or "Stephen Daedalus, Shakespeare and Co." or "James Bond, Universal Exports."  It was very silly, but I did this for six months before someone noticed.  My boss called me into his office one morning, and I had to go downstairs and apologize to the building manager for taking their security in vain.  I think they got rid of that guard, tho'.     12:15:54 AM    comment []