A strange email titled “Ryan Allis 2” arrived in our spam box, where it shouldn’t have been. Unfortunately, there was no “Ryan Allis 1.” If you’re reading, tipster, please resend!
The email caused me to dive into HIVE. Cailleach De Weingart-Ryan, Donk’s Georgetown BFF, is no longer COO. That lasted three months. Her prior job lasted five. Still want to FaceTime, lover?
Faith Shorney is now #2 on the HIVE totem pole. On her FB page, Shorney professes to be “Architecting Transformation & Community for 7+ Figure Entrepreneurs and Global Leaders.” Only seven figures?
Not surprisingly, the willowy one seems to have little relevant work experience and her HIVE bio is pie-in-the-sky gibberish. Shorney claims to have been “CEO of Tribe, an investment crowdfunding platform for social and sustainable businesses predominantly in Sub-Saharan Africa.” I could find NOTHING about Tribe online.
What I could find out about Shorney, head of HIVE Impact, which sports a blank Instagram page, is that she worked primarily as a yoga instructor before becoming a “life coach.” She did a TEDx talk – big whip – and appears on a retail site endorsing a pair of hiking boots. She also might have been a London party girl and there are ample fauxtos of what appears to be a young Shorney in skimpy porno skirt attire.
Oh, the horror! Shorney is partnered with a manbun!
Equally worrisome, the shornsters is a top HIVE exec but still has to buy her own insurance?! Was the situation the same for the lééchsters, former COO?
Hmmmm … I wonder what Jay Gunther does for a living?
During my HIVE dive, I found our donkey on the organization’s list of advisors, next to Yvonne Cagle, NASA astronaut. Judy is listed as being affiliated with the Upward Spiral Foundation, yet I could find nothing about her involvement in any organization bearing the words “upward spiral.” There is a FB page for Upward Spiral Foundation, but it doesn’t even have a working internet address, just broken links. That’s SO Donkey!
The shantress is getting in touch with her inner creatrix:
What a f*cking privilege it is …
To breakdown so completely that I can question my ability to continue, and then to be held in that breakdown so fully that the answer becomes undeniable as I re-member into the deep gratitude I have for the privilege … and the responsibility.
What a f*cking privilege it is …
To allow the overwhelm to wash over me, and move through me, and to feel the full pain of “too much” “how can I” “who am I to” “I’ll do it wrong” “they’ll hate me”, as I take on more than any one person can possibly handle, drop balls, postpone things that I thought were important and sob, and sob, and sob … only to re-member, I just have to breathe and keep going … that’s my responsibility.
What a f*cking privilege it is …
To give more than I think I have to give, to take on all the projection and the reflection and the growth and the learning that comes with it, to be called out (or in), to take it in, to say yes, thank you, more please, to expand my capacity to receive and keep it all flowing through …
What a f*cking privilege it is to be human, in this body, with all this capacity and space and time and energy to fuck up and feel and recover.
I do not take this responsibility lightly.
And, I pray I am wielding it wisely, while also knowing I can do even better. Holding myself in love, while also calling for the more to become every more clear.
Gently. And it’s a privilege to even be able to ask.
I have the idea that this may be the beginning of a spoken word piece, or a show, or some other kind of artistic expression of my relationship to privilege.
This morning, the pressure of being human got to the point at which I felt as if I was going to explode. As I drove to my gyrotonics session with Amber Widom, I messaged to let her know I had a big cry coming. And she said, “it’s welcome.”
She immediately took me into the healing room and began to help me move the energy pouring through me. Thank you dear sister.
And, as the energy moved, all I could think about was how fortunate I am, how privileged I am, for the luxury of feeling it all and moving it through, so supported.
The part of me that wanted to reject the support because why should I have it if everyone can’t, got heard, and felt and seen, and loved. And I remembered that it is both my privilege AND my responsibility to receive it all and then from the fullness of the receiving to let it all flow through me and back out, expanding the collective capacity to receive and give.
What a fucking privilege it must have been to be held by Amber prior to Skankatron’s gyrotonics session. Why must all the tho-evolved woos behave like needy trainwrecks?
As for Ali’s fucking attempt at Karen Finley, circa 1992, it could only be better than Isabella Braveheart’s (nee Konold) performance piece at Christopher Life’s One Nation Under Woo political rally. Christ, this woman is annoying!
When she was still Konold, Isabella fucking teamed up with … EW!
Getting back to One Nation, founder Christopher Life’s wife, Adelle Juliet, revealed she and the former Cory Tanner Glazier were homeless and living out of their car for the past eight months:
We’re into our 8th month of being nomadic; living out of, and today working from, our car.
Sometimes we’ll know where we’re going to stay next, and sometimes we don’t.
Right now we’re going night by night.
We’ve grown comfortable in the uncomfortable.
We can stay grounded, despite being ungrounded.
We’re strengthening our capacity to listen and wait for clarity to emerge – and it always does.
When we left our house I would never have guessed we’d be on the road this long. But this has been good for me.
It’s been good to break away from my comforts and surrender more deeply into the super flow of life.
It’s been beautiful to spend more time with friends, especially living with them. Our friendships have strengthened.
And we’ve strengthened – individually and as a partnership. We’re in this mystery together, figuring it out as we go, grateful to have what we have, and live it fully.
Julia Allison praises Adele for her “wisdom” – all that intellectual acumen must know a kindred soul immediately – but I was left wondering if this lovestruck woman and her husband were more co-dependent than brave. And, like Ali Shanti, Chris/Cory has always seemed a little off to me. Mental illness and/or drugs? Also, he has a son. Does the kid come and visit Chris and his stepmother in their car?
Next, Feminist Julie left us a link to an article on radical lesbian Andrea Dworkin, quoting the piece’s third paragraph on using aggresive tactics to fight pornography. Not sure if Julie & her intellectual acumen read the rest of the article, or if Donk is even aware of Dworkin’s attacks on the First Amendment, but how apropos. You will hand over your DVD of “The Devil in Miss Jones” to Red Guard Judy, comrade!
Yesterday, Kosher Judy dedicated her life to saving the three little pigs:
A revolting video follows, and no, I won’t be embedding it here.
Hey, Judy! I’m a pescatarian, too. I don’t eat meat, don’t drink alcohol, don’t smoke cigarettes, don’t use recreational drugs (not even aya or “plant medicine”), and use sugar (it’s poison!) only sparingly. However, I don’t feel the need to get on my high horse and morf into Scoldy Gilly, berating those who engage in any of the above.
Also, I’ll be holding on to my Blu-rays of “Halloween” and “The Opening of Misty Beethoven” until you and Mao Zedong pry them from my cold dead hands.
College first-year Donk’s brief stint at Big Ten Indiana University in Bloomington is shrouded in mystery. It’s one-half of the RBD holy grail – the other half being the “IT Girls” pilot for the series Bravo chose not to pick up, particularly after test audiences deemed our burro “thoroughly unlikable.”
What went down at Indiana? A commenter writes:
I know some girls who lived in the same dorm as her the same year as her. It’s a large dorm, but it’s co-ed, and certain floors were reserved for certain programs–making it somewhat easy to narrow down which floor she might have lived on. The group of girls I know (who were split between two floors) don’t remember her at all. I have (embarrassingly) asked. One girl was like “She looks vaguely familiar and if it’s the person I’m thinking of, she never left her room.”
As an IU alum, I can see Julia not fitting in there at all. It’s a big school and easy for anyone (especially freshmen) to feel lost or invisible. Also there’s just no way her schtick would fly there. IU is definitely a place where substance is valued and cultivated over façade, all the way down to shallow-ish party people.
I have followed our dear donk since the [redacted] days, and I am inclined to believe that she wasn’t fawned over or immediately given special treatment, so she hid away in her dorm room feeling lonesome and saying “this place sucks / everyone here sucks.” I wonder if her Georgetown persona was an extreme overcorrection in reaction to her IU experience?
Of course this is all pure speculation. I wish I knew more.
Veeeeery interesting. Indeed, Donk’s exhibitionist routine never would have flown at a Big Ten school. Nor would Indiana have held her hand while tracking her academic progress, or lack thereof. It’s highly doubtful our burro would have graduated from a state school.
However, Georgetown has the lowest attrition rate in the nation and the administration bends over backwards to ensure students leave with a diploma.
If only Donk could be admitted to Georgetown as a transfer student, but how to compensate for that mediocre high school resume and dud college semester … ?