The Difference Between Frozen Hands and Feet

Hi you guys! My computer keeps rejecting Britney's new album, wtf. Oh, firstly, let's talk to the elephant/unicorn in the room -- Haaayyy: I've switched from crack to smack. Did you know that "smack" is another word for heroin? I didn't. In fact, I listed them as two separate habits in a prior blog, which's enlightening w/r/t (w/r/t="with respect to," write that down) my total ignorance of all things injectable and/or requiring accessories, though I did learn a lot from Traffic, Queer as Folk, Gia, Trainspotting and True Life: I'm on Crystal Meth. Also, just for the record, in addition to not enjoying ass-sex or beer, I also don't like Diet Coke or video games, so there. We'll see who dies first.

i. Deep Blue Walls
So we're speeding towards that time of year
To the day that marks that you're not here
And I think I'll want to be alone
So please understand if I don't answer the phone
-Azure Ray, "November"

November's my cruelest month. I love the weather usually -- chilly enough for layers but not too cold for long walks [well, but today, though, today was cold, and I was up with the lark for a job interview wearing my insufficient grownup jacket, the one my Mom got me when I graduated college for my then-anticipated grownup life 'round the corner] -- but the days numb over sometimes w/harsh memory. Last November was possibly the best I've ever had, howevs, see archives. There's only one day in November: it starts in the middle and then barrels out at you -- shooting from one side backwards into memory, from the other forward like the future because it is. Someone made a movie called 11:14, that felt a little cruel to me.

ia. Rachel Verification

Speaking of archives -- Rachel/Merc/Noxious where are you? You guys [you guyssss], before there were most of you, there was Noxious. She's like, seventeen, and already brill beyond her years. This girl can write -- evocative of John Marsden -- she lives in Alaska and's been reading since almost the second month I did this. She's a hairstylist, like Haviland and/or Shane for Wax. For some reason her blog would never show up on my Google Reader, like some error in its RSS feed, which majorly cramps my style, but today I go to check it out and it is gone, where'd it go?

ii. Where's The Turkey, Chuck?

I'm apathetic towards Thanksgiving. I don't like turkey. I love eating, obvs, but I overanalyze everything too much to fully embrace any holiday that on its surface is simply a day for a large meal. I mean, don't families often have large meals when they hang out? Why aren't those meals also Thanksgiving? Is Turkey only cookable on one day of the year? Unfortunately, no, it is always cookable. I'm part Native American, P.S.

My Dad used to take us to Ohio: biscuits buttered in Crisco, football on the teevee, me getting antsy. Now; friends are family. Last year Lewis, my brother, was visiting, he made macaroni and cheese in New Orleans and brought it to NYC. [Al Queda, write that down.] I cooked, had people over, the next day Lewis & I got cultured at the MOMA with the other hipsters.

Are there any holidays I like? I'm like, Scrooge in the body of a 26-year old blonde-highlighted bisexual. Oh! I like: Passover, Christmas, Martin Luther King Jr. and President's Day. Hm. Labor Day's not so bad. Every day is Labor Day for me.

iii. The Time You've Got Me Running

Did you know it's national blog every day month or something? I've somehow adopted this spirit -- gratitude? Procrastination? I'm procrastinating: my life, my book. It'd seem the best topic for NaBloPoMo bloggers is how there's not enough to write about. Also, I think I'm going to change "Warlem almost-hipster" to "NaBloPoMoem hipster." I like the word "pomoem" which I just invented. I'm going in the opposite direction with my linguistics, y'all, I'm gonna make super long words, like longer than a boa constrictor. Typetypetype. Bla bla bla.

And then: nothing happened. We all went to sleep, and we woke up and asked each other "what did you dream about?" but no one remembered. We had to make up new dreams so as to not seem forgetful. They were like the ones we'd forgotten, only moreso.

iv.

My fave temperature is when it's cold out and your heater's cranked up and your window's wide open. The other night, I was walking around Columbia, 'cause that's what I do now, and the sky broke out into literal violet hours. I'm reading "Come to Me" by Amy Bloom. If you can eradicate your memory of Jenny Schecter endorsing Amy Bloom in the meeting-Marina convo, the book's really something. I get most of my books from the St. Francis thrift shop on 96th between Broadway & Amsterdam, 'cause it's next to my CVS and they're retarded [it's a pre-req for NYC pharmacists, retardation] so there's alway a wait period. I'll go nap in the tanning bed, or get books, but last week I had to go to two CVSes. What am I, Forrest Gump running across the country or something, obvs no.

v.

All Novembers are shaded in the guilt that I oughta enjoy this month more because it's big for birthdays, like my Mom's ... this weekend is Lozo and Stef's. Obvs we will be celebrating with a menage, per Lozo's request. I just went on g-chat and got so confused about Saturday night that I got a fever like John Travolta in that movie with the hairdryer.

So, One: Stef's birthday is Saturday night. Who'll be there? Lozo says he's not going, but if he doesn't go, I'm going to take back custody of the children, soooo ... I'll be there. Me, Haviland, A;ex, Cait I think, and Stef's weirdo friends. Maybe Natalie.

Two: Tegan & Sara is super-soon. Who will be there? Me, obvs. Carly, Vicky, Cait, Haviland, Stef ... you? Will you be there? I might die at the concert from excitement. I might just die!

That's what my hair looks like right now.

"You sound a lot better than I expected you to," my Mom said on the phone today/yesterday.

Yeah? Do I? I've got some strategies: 1. Y'all, 2. Hey, you, 3. Olive's continuing devotion to sainthood, 4. my complete single-moment-oriented focus. I'm seriously not thinking any farther ahead than the rest of November 9th. I'm trying to relocate my long-term goals. Where did they go? What were they? Am I making progress? What should I do with my life? Advice?

vi. Walking With a Ghost

I'm not into deathiversaries really. Anniversaries are cool; you're like "omg, I just made it through another year without throwing any objects at my girlfriend!" but like, death-anniversaries -- wtf? He's just as dead on the 14th as he is on the 13th and the 15th.

But ... I know on the 14th I'll have to talk to my Dad's family, who I've been deftly avoiding as there's very little shareable life material currently. All my biggest stories, good and bad, are linked to The Gays and their Fat Agenda or my Smack Addiction. What if I was addicted to Honey Smacks? That's a cereal right? It's possible I'm underestimating them. They could be reading this and wondering why I'm still feigning secrecy, but I really doubt it. If Reeseville -- seriously, totes not making that up, that's really where my grandparents live -- ever shows up on my sitemeter, I'll take notice. Also, it has a population of 63. If my Dad was alive, I would've probs been wearing combat boots and shouting feminist propaganda during large meals, toting a girlfriend, etc for some time now. But that stuff's not fun anymore, not when you're not just a niece/granddaughter/cousin but a Living Legacy, a Walking Ghost.

Anyhow, I'm gonna have to come out eventually if I end up settling down w/a lady. They'll probs disapprove with the fury of a thousand suns, blame my Mom, and make me feel like a bigger totes weirdo than I already do there. Like no one dug my skater pants and winter hat phase for some reason, I've never quite recovered from that.

It's my Dad and his shoulders. My aunts and grandparents like to place their hands on my shoulders and say "You've got your father's shoulders." I don't think that's true. My shoulders are kinda bony and muscle-free. I've got girl shoulders, but broad, I guess, 'cause I'm tall. Anyhow, I think they'd like some dude to shoot his sperm inside me and make more shoulders. Nice ones. Hello, turkey baster.

vii. Re:

Oh hey, I never responded to some of the comments on "I want one VLOG I wanted to come through." So let's do that now: um, the idea that my blog gets better as my life goes downhill is obviously the most awesome thing I've ever heard, it's proverbial icing to my proverbial smackden. And veddog, even better is the line directly following that one, when Haviland goes "What? I'd never eat a taco!" You can barely hear her though, thus it's not in the movie. Also, I don't know about BFLs but Carly uses this word "BFD," that means Big Fat Duh, or Big Fucking Duh. I can't remember. And w/r/t to the word "obvs," Hav says that "totes" came from CCM, I don't know where we got obvs from, who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear.

viii. Power in my Words/Passion in my Eyes

So, re: what happened last week. Most of it I really can't/shouldn't talk about for many reasons. Also, Olive is awesome. But I added a Top 8 at the end of this other blog -- kinda trying to condense my bad vibes around this debacle as much as possible.

And ... I wrote this on the day it happened:

10. 31. 2007

Here's what gets me. I'd like to say "things are turning around" and mean it for more than 24 hours. I'd like to have enough humility to not whine about my life when there are people all over the world w/o food. I'd like goodhearted people w/pure intentions to proceed as they desire. I wish this world ... its fucked-up "values," shitty medical care, consistent& pervasive ignorance of truth in favor of shiny, smiling artifice ... the culture of doing the least amount of work possible for quickest rewards ... I wish we could mobilize change for the better, 'cause we're presently stagnant or getting worse.

Today didn't start out right: I was worried that I hadn't heard from Mr. Redacted's people. I called my ex, Jeremiah -- I'm naming him, because he's an asshole -- he's in the NYPD, I thought he'd have advice. I'd called him once this summer under duress, but he'd ignored it, and the last I'd heard of him before then was in March, when, following my rejection of multiple dinner invites and telling him I had a girlfriend, he let me know "I hope you go back to men. Have a nice life. I was worried something awful may've happened to Mr. Redacted's family/people 'cause this silence from them was completely uncharacteristic ... dramatically so.

I figured J's professional ethics might endear him to me, unfortunately, he is a douchebag:

J: "I think u have lost ur mind -- please dont call me again expecting me to get emotional about your personal problems - gbye and good luck to you .. :)"

Also, I feel like that text more or less sums up the mentality that's been grating at me. I've always felt like a bad person but I've been working hard this year to change that. I've got so many kind & generous friends but they seem unhappy more often than the assholes do. Are assholes too dumb to be unhappy? Too mean? Can you be happy w/o a soul?

[ED. NOTE. UPDATE, following a two day pause, because how could I even respond to that, like wtf?, the following exchange occurred:]

J: "I apologize for being harsh with my words. If that is the only reason u call me (trouble) tho u should prob not call me anymore ok."
Me: "OK, well, I hope that you do call me if you're in trouble, as I'd always be there for you in emergency circumstances, even if we don't talk normally."
J: "Why would I need u for emergency help? Lol" [Sidenote: I dunno, 'cause you came to me w/all your girlfriend issues for over a year after we broke up? Also that lol makes me want to throw up all over you, and I hope it's not true.]
Me: "You're so right, I'm totally useless."
J: "Boo hoo."
J again: "It was great when we could speak to each other about anything but now it seems u only call when u need some kind of help i cant even provide."
Me: "I hope being an asshole is making you feel better, because it's not doing anything for me."
J: "im not being an asshole -- im expressing to u that im not here to get used by u yet again -- in a world where everything is about u! call me just to say hi ass."
J Again Surprise: "or dont call me at all - because right now i dont think very highly of you."

Okay, perfect. Also, you're not invited to my party, and also, I am rubber and you are glue, and the human head weighs ten or eight pounds I can't remember, and I'm not sitting with you in the cafeteria anymore and also wtf happened to like, unconditional love? It's not like I handcuffed him to my air conditioner and made him install it or something. Or handcuffed him to the coat rack and made him hang it. As the above picture indicates, I was indeed handcuffed to myself, so obvs I think the world revolves around me. mememememe.

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I think I'm going to have to edit this post later today because right now it's just a bunch of smack or something. Typetypetype.
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And also: We are, per always, taking requests for vlog topics. Also when I post photos of half-naked women, because I think it's funny to do that, does that make you nervous to read my blog at work? Like, NSFW or whathaveyou?
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