Sunday Top 10: Some Highlights from the Written Quotes of 2006

Is there a definition of the word "quote"? Like, when does a quote become an "excerpt"? I wish I knew. I wish I knew a lot of things, like: where to find some money, how to turn a fictional character on a TV show into my life partner, why it takes so long on the subway to get from the Upper West to the Upper East.

I started trying to assemble various tid-bits of wit and brilliance from 2006 for my promised TOP TEN QUOTES OF 2006: WRITTEN KIND, and then realized this is exactly the kind of project that I choose to embark upon that prevents me from living a normal life, like the kind of life where I sleep and return phone calls. Although actually no one really calls me anymore. I've trained my people really well. Like before the dinner party, I was getting text messages every 5 seconds (you know, "Should I bring red or white wine?" "What are you wearing?") from all the RSVP'ed attendants, and not a single phone call. Lemmings! That just goes to show what happens if you give a moose a muffin.


(not exactly the) TOP TEN THINGS (but still, close enough) WRITTEN BY PEOPLE IN ANY FORM DURING THE YEAR 2006

I hope my friends like being quoted. Personally, I love having my words on the internet for everyone to see. Or at least that's what I tell myself. To keep on keepin' on.


10. Natalie Raaber, e-mail, Feb. 2006:

"Question. Is it OK to Febreeze my hair?"


9. LupeDeVolga, Gawker commenter, Nov. 2006:

(Re: "By Popular Demand: Susan Sontag's Box Lunch," featuring photograph of Susan Sontag, preggers, which is summarily bashed by the commenters as causing "irreparable psychic damage" and "all that ugly")
"Ummm...so what? It's a picture of a hugely pregnant lady. What's the big deal again?

BTW when did the comments section become "Hot or Not" for every single woman in the public eye?

Yeah, that's right, I said it. See you at the execution."


8. E-mail Exchange. August 2006. Re: "Which Dawson's Creek Character Are You?" online quiz, which I plugged in my blog.

Ingrid:
I'm JOEY on the Dawson's Creek quiz. HOLLA!

Krista:
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

i'm dawson.

Ingrid:
Dawson always had better boobs than Joey, anyway, Krista. And he
probably knows more about etymology, Hegel, and important shit like that.

7. Robin Raisfeld & Rob Patronite, New York Magazine Food Reviewers, September 2006:
From: Milking It: Review of "Max Brenner: Chocolate By the Bald Man"
(To date, this is the only food review I've ever read from start to finish, aside from Lewis Jacob Lyn Bernard's food reviews in the Community High School newspaper circa 1998, and it is also--again, aside from the collected works of LJLB--the only food review to make me literally LOL)

"Like ChikaLicious and Room 4 Dessert, Max Brenner strives to be a dessert destination, and the minuscule café tables tend to be taken by groups of ­diet-be-damned girlfriends yapping away like overstimulated mynah birds, gurgling tots, and sheepish young couples on dates."

"You can order this invigorating libation to go at the takeout bar or in the dining room, where it’s delivered to the table in what your server will describe to you as a “hug mug,” a ceramic cup tapered at one end in such a way as to encourage the drinker to grasp it reverently with both hands the way a frostbitten Swede cuddles his goblet of glogg."


6. Scribe Grrrl, March 2006:

From Scribe Grrl's recap of "The L Word" Season Three, Episode 11: "The Last Dance"

"They hike on some more; Max says he can hear the waterfall, so they must be close. Yeah, well, I can hear your voice: does that mean I'm close to a factory where they make those shrieking golden eggs from the Harry Potter movie?

They get to the waterfall. We know this because we can see it, but also because Jenny says "Hey you guys, look at the waterfall."

They get ready to scatter the ashes. Bette says that Dana is in a peaceful place, but Shane says she doesn't buy "that fucking spiritual bullshit." I can't type up any more of the dialogue because it's just too painful — and I'm not talking about the fact that Dana's dead.

The other sign that you need to stop writing is when even your best actors can't rise above your crappy dialogue. Even Alice's tears seem crocodiley.

So they each scatter some ashes. Hey, hear that music? It's Jane Siberry again. What a waste of her talents.

As they leave, Alice looks back and sees some sort of fairy ghosty angelic tinkerbell (but giant) version of Dana in the waterfall. Please make it stop."


5. Rev. Jen Miller, January 2006:

From "I Did it For Science: Sex and the City Marathon, in which Jen Miller watches all five seasons of Sex and the City in a row, in celebration of the release of the complete series on DVD.

" Do people in Nebraska think this is how New Yorkers live? The women on this show work about as much as Mr. Rogers."

Tanya is a well-informed fan of the show.
"How can she afford an Upper East Side apartment on a writer's salary?" I ask.
"It's rent-controlled and costs only $750 a month," Tanya says.
"My apartment is cheaper than that."
"See, you could be living a life of Manolo Blahniks and you didn't even know it."
"You know what's weird? This all happened before internet dating. People still met in bars."
"And yet they manage to be so slutty without the help of internet dating."
"True. It was tough back then."

You should read the whole thing, it's a funny article. Also I was the intern who was supposed to procure an SATC DVD set and I spent like, 30 hours on hold for no reason. And e-mailing and shit. I think Malaina tried too.


4. Rosie O'Donnell, March 2006:
From "A Rosie is a Rosie is a Rosie," in New York Magazine, from way before the whole View thing was announced...

“I’m always like that Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon. You know how there are only, like, twelve of them, and it takes a hundred people in order to get them down the street safely for one day? And they have to all be synchronized and know how to move in unison in order not to let this big, big thing not crash into a pole and kill someone? Kelli's like the main tether. She gets me down the street without killing anybody.”


3. Letter from the Editor of GQ.
I quote things from New York Magazine too much. I would quote any number of the other 5,000 magazines I have read this year, but they have more pages and don't have such fantastic online archives. So I thought I'd try to at least quote one other magazine and there's a GQ with Clive Owen on it (HOT) that I can totally reach without leaving my bed. Here we go:

"Let's just get it out there: Fall is the shit. Unlike spring, which is overrated because it takes too long to happen and then never happens, fall delivers what it promises. Fall says it's going to get cold ad empty-feeling, and guess what: It get's cold and empty-feeling. Fall's a doer. (I've always hated 'spring people' and their trumped-up optimism, those chipper guys who, at first whiff of fifty-degree weather, start..whistling. "Looks like spring has sprung, good buddy." No it hasn't. It's going to rain for eighty-three days. Get used to it.) Spring is a liar; fall is as honest as a watch." (GQ, September 2006)


2. The Costumes of the Day, exercpts from various e-mails, Haviland Stillwell:

December:
i think our next costume night should be "ghetto fabulous". we should do this when heather gets back...she has the ridiculous, gawdy/awesome bling that the younguns wear these days. ;)

November:
we are meeting karen at 44&X at 6:30, The costume for the day is TIPPING THE VELVET. Yeah, I am busting out the pinstripe pants and suspenders, baby. Dress accordingly. (This could involve you as Nan, or as Kitty, or whatever...just run with it...) :)

September, Invite to my Birthday Party to my Friends:
The costume theme for the night is the hottest you've ever looked in your life. :) Think "I want Marie Lyn Bernard to find me absolutely irresistible tonight." :) Only the best for my friend.

August, with Forward of Bruce's Cruise Pics:
i love that someone got a pic of me in my 80s costume!!
(it was clearly the best costume for the day..)

August:
They are aparently beaters with pink writing - on the front it says, "Jill and Adam: Sept 8, 2007" and on the back of mine, it says "maid of honor." Which is amazing, and i'll definitely be wearing it out....what a fun costume! we could have like "ridiculous things our friends make us wear" night!! :) your would be, i don't know, lauren's lacey undies? ;)

May:
my friend is getting married in a few weeks, and this is her sort of "going away for a while" party...and i am frankly scared of venturing into astoria alone!!! and also..i mean, its a THEME party, and we can invent revolutionary costumes...

...and i like you in your cowgirl boots. (there's the real reason, ok?)

1. Scenes from the Collective Breakdown:

Krista, February, e-mail:
i totally miss the ghetto.
i even witnessed a fairly violent robbery yesterday and it didn't help.
everything is too predictable.

Matty, E-mail, March:
I have nothing to do but wait around for people to call me, I am going insane! The high light of my day is whe my mother comes home and I have to drive the car to go and get her. I get to listen to the radio play in the car, they usually have a Led Zepplin set playing when I am on my way there. I like that band alot, I head bob all the way there.

Lo, E-Mail, April:
I had this crazy idea to go to Bed, Bath and Beyond. I know its weird and might drain me of all remaining energy but I thought at least getting new towels would make me feel productive?

Haviland, E-mail, May:
your hotel is f-ing us over, preventing the online
banter between us...it's just like Shakespeare!

Natalie, E-mail, July:
i am working on my thesis right now. and am having my 4 month requisite i-have-no-idea-about what-i-am-doing-in-my -life-right-now-and-basically-i suck! and- i- am -leading- a -mundane,-meaningless- existence freak out.

Krista, e-mail, August 26th:
i have been on hold with the following companies in the past two days:

ikea: 76 minutes (need to turn gift certificate into much needed cash)

t-mobile: five thousand hours (broken brand new $200 phone)

u-haul: three separate phone calls 40 odd minutes each (making, re-making, changing and changing again reservation #496500)

new york sports club: thirty some odd minutes while their computers crashed (trying to cancel my very costly membership seeing as i won't be living here anymore. this was yesterday. as of today they claim their computers will still not allow them to cancel my membership.)

the new york times: 20 minutes four days this week (they want money, the delivery guy forgot to deliver, they have the wrong card on file....blah blah blah)

apple: on hold for all of eternity until i burst into tears gave up and hung up (recalled battery five days before graduate school)

duane mother-fucking reade: on hold for the majority of the best, most beautiful years of my life (as they tried to locate my prescription. and they are all retarded. literally. retarded.)

my doctors office: 18,000 eight minute long calls to leave messages on their machine. you have to listen to all six hundered options before the beep. there is no way to skip ahead to the beep. (trying to send immunization reports to school so they'll let me in the gate)

yale health: 18,000 eight minute phone calls with the receptionist (to see if "said files" have been received)

skagen watch central offices in nevada: seriously. i can't even explain.

every, literally every, used and rare bookstore in this time zone: on hold for the length of time it takes some stodgy librarian type to scroll through antiquated computer systems or, rather, shuffle up and down every cat -pee smelling aisle of books in their basement store in jersey looking for an 800 page theatre history text book that has been out of print since the mid-80s but that i'm going to be tested on on september fifth. (because this faculty is evil and i feel like i'm going through some perverse initiation. no one has it. it is not to be found.)

i swear to god ris when i close my eyes i hear elevator music and
canned recordings telling me "your call is important to us"
little pieces of me die with every 'in the order it was received'
message.

Haviland, E-mail, September 2:
From Stephanie on FULL HOUSE: "I guess when you use something too much,
it just shuts down."
(yep, I just quoted Jodi Sweetin)

Ingrid, Birthday Wishes e-mail, September 23rd:
If you were here I would carve "Wingnuts 4-eva!" in my chest with a razor and then rub ink from a Bic pen all over it just like Marky Mark did for Reese Witherspoon in the classic movie Fear.

The L Word Season Three, Episode 4 Recap on Automatic Straddle Blog

So this episode is called "Light my Fire." Personally, I like my "fire" "lit" by hot sex and compelling dialogue, but that's just me. Actually I wrote a novel in 8th grade called "Fly by Night" about this homeless pyromaniac girl. It was inspired by: The Boxcar Children, Stephen King's The Firestarter and Dicey's Song. Although my talents at that age were questionable, I would actually argue that the dialogue in said novel is (was) perhaps a little bit better than some of the dialogue in this particular episode of The L Word. Anyhow.

We open at one of those De-Gaying group meetings, the kind with the folding chairs and the dogma and all the nervous homos who usually look about as straight as Emmet Honeycutt in his Jackie-O outfit. We segue quickly to a bed (I wish I had the chance to use that transition more often in these re-caps) where Agatha (the nun from last week) is getting it on with another de-gayed girl and a dude who tells them that this is "better than hell's fire." As far as lines-to-get-girls-to-have-a-threesome go, that's just above "It's my biggest fantasy to see you with my ex-girlfriend" and below "I just think two women together is a beautiful thing."

P.S. Isn't everything better than hell's fire?
P.P.S. Jesus, being the heterosexual man I believe him to be, would probably agree that a threesome is better than hell's fire. I think.

Lesbian Sex Moment #7: Threesomes: Better Than Eternal Damnation?
The Players: Agatha, Frank, and another ex-gay.
The Pick-Up:"Jesus hates the sin between two men much more than that between two women."
Hot or Not?: I'd like a little less hell-fire in my sex, thanks.


Lesbian Squabble #9: Too poor for firewood. Must burn "Bastard out of Skokie."
In the Ring: Little Prince and Jenny.
Little Prince comes home to find Jenny throwing a draft of her novel into the fire.
Little Prince: "I hope you backed that up on your hard drive."

(I wish she hadn't said that, because actually it draws attention to the fact that she is burning a manuscript which she has printed out somewhere (maybe en route at a "typical small-town lesbian copy shop"), which is essentially meaningless--or, rather, it is only meaning--it is symbolic, but has no actual real-world repercussions. She's not like, burning her computer or something. In any event, where else would she have saved the document to begin with besides her hard drive? LP obviously means external hard drive, but even then, it's more or less irrelevant.)

Jenny: "Where the fuck were you?"
Little Prince:"I was hanging out at the beach, look, I was like I was sleeping in my truck, you know, I was trying to figure out what I'm doing here in L.A."
Jenny: "What are you doing here in L.A?"

(Good question, Jennifer. We are wondering the same thing, because I.C. has failed to provide even the most minimal backstory on this particular relationship).

Little Prince: "I don't know. I don't know what I'm doing anywhere, I don't know who I am anymore actually--"

JENNY MOMENT!

Jenny:You know what, nobody knows who they are. You know? That's what life is about, you walk through life and you try to figure it out and you probably won't figure it out.
Little Prince: It seems like you know who you are.
Jenny:Absolutely. I am the picture of togetherness and sanity.

You GO GIRL! Jenny, you rule so far this season. Your lines have been pretty spot-on. I kinda like--like--you. You kinda remind me, sometimes of me, but I almost like you better than I like me (not hard to do).

Continue Reading and Comment on Season Three, Episode 4 Recap on Automatic Straddle...

Why Is This Day Different From All Other Days? Or, "What a Lark!"

Mrs.¹ Monkeypants said she would buy the discontinued limited-edition Betty Crocker "Chocolate Chip Cookie" flavor candles from the Dollar Store herself. Last week I failed spectacularly and repeatedly on many fronts, and because (like Beyonce) I am a survivor, I began this week with a burst of uncharacteristically human-like activities; e.g., other humans make doctors appointments and then go to them, e.g., other humans enjoy the company of other humans, so much so that they would invite said humans to where they live with other humans and perhaps offer them food and drink. I did both of these things yesterday (Monday). (brief tangent for those who care about such things: Please check out Automatic Straddle: My L Word Blog if you want to experience a brief moment of impenetrable bliss, via Season 4 Promo Photos, just discovered this morning.) 

 I present: Manic Monday, a Work in Three Acts (like Ira Glass does!), or "An Inspirational Tale of Riese's Triumph Over Counter-Productive Habits and Behaviors": Act One: Our Heroine Attends a Dermatologist Appointment at The Ryan Center, which is located in the Fifth Circle of Dante's Inferno. (Note: I have a really bad habit of not showing up for doctor appointments. Or canceling them on a voice mail the night before. That is, if I even make them to begin with. I skipped one last week, in fact.) 

Characters: Me 

Dorothy at the Desk 

Elizabeth the Dermatologist 

The Nurse 

I

10:20 AM: I arrive only 5 minutes late, which is pretty much as close to "on time" that I can be. I am sent to the desk "down the hall on the left." This desk is horse-shoe shaped, with two chairs and terminals. I go to the side with a person at it. Dorothy tells me I need to go to the other side of the desk. I do this. I figure I just need to wait for this other woman to return to her desk. 

 10:30 AM: Dorothy catches my eye. 

Dorothy at the Desk: "What happened?" (but by that she means "Whats up?") 

Me: Oh, nothing. 

DD: Oh, I thought you were trying to catch my eye. 

10:35 AM: There is no one at this desk. I am just standing here and there are people like, dying and having convulsions all up in my grill. 

 Me: (gesturing towards empty chair) Is she coming back? 

DD: No. 

Me: Didn't you just tell me to stand here? 

DD: You need to put your form in that silver basket next to you and wait for the nurse to call your name. 

I think we all can agree that was not the first chance DD had to share this coveted information with me. Dear DD, I am sorry that you are wearing white jeans, but that is no reason for you to make me stand there like an idiot for twenty minutes, about 4 feet away from you, when you know full well that you haven't given me the proper directions. I will not forget this. 

 II. 10:45 AM: I take the only available chair. Directly to my left, an elderly woman is describing a recent accident suffered by her big toe, which is why she is here at the doctor today. Not content with merely relaying the tale, this woman proceeds to provide a visual aid: she removes her shoes and socks, and her friend, in an act of pure comfort with the obscene that rivals anything I've ever seen on Fear Factor (which, actually, I've never seen, but I've heard about it), inspects said toe and confers that the toe is In A State. 

 10:50 AM: I'm not sure how this happened, but my dermatologist is kinda foxy. At least I hope that's her--she keeps coming out here and calling people, I just have a feeling. She has great skin. She looks like a grown- up Elizabeth from Sweet Valley High. WOMAN PUT YOUR TOE AWAY! 

 11:10AM: Yes, you, Mr. You in the tapered jeans and the orange sweater. We both appear to be Caucasian, unlike the rest of the patients in this room. But you are going to need a lot more in common with me (also, I mean, talk about judging a book by it's cover) to justify all those creepy looks you keep shooting my way. Seriously, stop it. Don't sit next to me. Achh!! 

 III. 

11:15 AM: I am called back with two other whackos, asked if I have allergies, and sent back into The River Styx with my traveling companions. This is known as "a tease" which is one step a way from "a complete douchebag." 

 IV. 11:17 AM: Every time they call for a "Maria," which is about every five seconds, I think it might be me. But it's not. It's never me. I have almost finished my entire book. 

 V. 12:30 AM: At last my moment arrives. At one point, Elizabeth coos "you poor baby!" and she totally means it. The good news is I don't have skin cancer so I should go tanning ASAP. She sends me back out there to wait for something else, who knows what the fuck. 

 VI. 1 PM: Seriously? I go into the back room like all the crazy people do and try to make my shit happen. Nurse: So you need to see her again in 3-4 weeks, do you want to book that now or do it by mail? 

Me: I would like to leave here either immediately or as soon as possible. 

Nurse: Oh, I hear ya! Mail it is. 

  Act II: In Which Our Heroine Treks to the Upper East Side to see her Psychiatrist. 

 Characters: Me, the psycho. 

Him, the doctor. 

 He is not the one I talk to about my problems every week, that's my therapist. He is the man who gives me pills once a month. 

 I. Him: "Do you get blonder every time I see you?" (is that literal, or figurative?) 

 II. Me: "I have that same shirt!" (he's wearing this shirt:)

Him: Oh yeah? I got it at one of those outlet places-- 

Me: I got mine at Filene's Basement-- 

 III. (We're still talking about clothing, and I told him all about when I worked at Banana Republic, etc. Very important convo re: prescription medication) 

Me: I mean, I haven't really worn normal-people clothes for that long, like only since I was like, 16. 

Him: What are "not normal people clothes?" 

Me: I mean, I used to wear like, big skater pants and huge oversized polo shirts I bought at the Kiwanis sale and a winter cap every day and boxer shorts under my pants and all of this like, glitter? and tore-up sneakers----- 

Him: (laughing) You had some uh--- gender identity problems? 

 IV. (Clearly we can see where this is going) 

Him: So do you uh--like girls? 

Me: I like both. I like boys and girls. I mean, I think I like men better (Why do I say things like this? Internalized homophobia? What's wrong with me?) 

Him: Uh-huh.... 

Me: I mean, I don't like men better, actually. I'm just more likely to date one. Sort of. In the past..... ramblerambleramble..but now...baalaalhlblahablahah 

 V. (yeah, still) 

Him: I imagine a girl like you could really have anyone she wants, right? I mean, you're tall and thin and blonde, and Jewish and smart, you probably have men and women lined up around the block for you. (What are you trying to say? Mr. Robinson are you...) 

Me: Yeah, I don't know, not really. 

Him: I'm sure you do-- 

Me: Just call me Cinderella. 

Act III: In Which Our Heroine throws a dinner party at her apartment. 

Mary, who originally suggested such an event a few months ago, has no clue that I am so not the kind of girl to throw a dinner party, but I am so glad that she suggested it because I can become that girl. I mean, even when I am surrounded by loved ones, I often feel an urge to run into my room and hide behind my bookshelf and write poems that read like Soundgarden lyrics, so this was important for me. Even Haviland's therapist was proud of me. So Yay Mary! 

 Characters: 

Me My Domesticated Partner Haviland 

My dear friends: Sherri, Katy, Anna, Janet, Mary. 

My dear roommates: MM and LS. 

My dear roommate's friend Evan, who supplies the testosterone not provided by a roomful of ladies (although the ladies present include 4 Homos, 3 Bis, 1 straight roommate and 1 almost-completely-straight roommate) 

I. I look online for recipes about 2 hours before party-time, and realize that if I am really going to feed 10 people, it's best to get a big pot and some pasta and sautee some shit up, and then try to get everyone stoned/drunk enough to like it. 

 II. The guests arrive, we drink, we eat, I do not take photographs because you know, sometimes it's best to just let things be. Also Janet is currently using a cane.

Evan: You're like, Tiny Tim! 

Janet: God bless us, everyone.

III. Sherri makes me laugh so hard I can't breathe, which reminds me of how I would laugh until I hurt with Veronica and Lizzie and Lisa and Ashley (from the Macaroni Grill in Michigan), which is an interesting memory to be summoned when my jaw is about to fall off, but still a fitting one: those girls really did almost make me pee in my pants more than anyone before or since. Until last night. 

 IV. Anna, who was recently in New York Magazine (I would link to the specific article, but I am aware she would find this unsavory), and I, the Open-Minded Dater in marie claire magazine, discussed the travails of weird photographs and interesting "quotes" and sudden, overwhelming fame. 

 V. By request, Haviland and I perform the In the Flesh reading again, the lovely tale 'Fucking Around.' Katy: "First I think you should put on short shorts and boots, like at the reading." 

I try to re-create the original August night by asking everyone to vote for Stephen in the hotties of publishing, but I am told to make it a new experience. It is a success especially because of those who I love who could not be there at the time, which is a lot of people, and I was happy that Katy and Anna enjoyed it again. If anyone wants to know more about enjoying things again, I would encourage you to listen to the delightful This American Life podcast, episode titled "Reruns" that I downloaded this morning. V. In an act of unprecedented maturity, when my stunningly hot roommate offers to give me a lap dance because I have just admitted that I've never been to a strip club, I squeal a lot and then just admit I must deny on the "It is Not Healthy for Riese to Have Intense Pent-up Sexual Desire for Her Roommate" Clause, which was added this year in order to make my life less complicated and more comfortable. This clause battles other, more biological urges, but nevertheless I rose above the burning desires of my lap and did The Mature Thing. 

 VI. In another act of unprecedented maturity, I do the dishes immediately. Here I am doing the dishes and MM is being fabulous: We are rock stars, or something. ¹: aside from the sex part and the money part and the living together part, tonight Haviland and I discovered that we are in fact engaged in a domestic partnership. FYI, we're allowed to see other people. that's right, Kim Stolz, I'm talkin' to you.

Sunday Top 10, Times Two: BEST. QUOTES. EVER. I. MEAN. OF. 2006.

Remember earlier this year when some intrepid detectives discovered that Kaavya Viswanathan's debut novel included copied passages from The Megan McCafferty Cannon (e.g., her seminal classic Sloppy Firsts) and then Kaavya was in big trouble with Little Brown and also she was totally embarrassed and she said that it must have just been subconscious, like, because she read McCafferty all the time and had a super-good memory? I believed her for about five seconds, which is more than most people, 'cause sometimes I feel my obsession with collecting and sharing other peoples' words could easily be taking over my brain and could eek out subconsciously, which as far as I can tell is the worst kind of way for something to happen. Because "consciously" is like, on purpose.

I'm semi-obsessed with quotes. That sounds like nothing, like saying "I'm semi-obsessed with eating." Really? You are? Amazing. (My website, p.s., is quote-heaven) You are so unique and such a special snowflake. Speaking of special snowflakes ... name that movie ...

It's the end of the year, which for those of us in the Top Ten business, is much like the first day of deer-hunting season or like, whenever the wheat gets harvested or whatever it is that people do out there in the heartland. It's 4 AM. I'm losing it.

TOP TEN QUOTES OF 2006, FROM MY FRIENDS AND OTHER FAMOUS PEOPLE OR FICTIONAL CHARACTERS (THE OUT-LOUD SPOKEN KIND)

Obvs this is impossible, because a year has 12 months in it and that's a long time. So I'm dividing this into spoken quotes and written quotes. Written includes: text messages, books, newspapers, street signs, AIMs, e-mails, telegrams (not singing telegrams), words written in clouds by those jets that fly over football games, messages in bottles, letters, magazine articles, tattoos, blog posts, confessional type love notes (I get a lot of those), etc.

Written quotes coming next week. So you know, hold your goddamn horses.
Spoken quotes follow.

10. FOOD GLORIOUS FOOD

Lo: I can't decide if I should eat Oreos and milk right now or cottage cheese and peaches.
Me: I guess that depends on if you feel 12 or 85.

Cameron:
I was walking around outside in this heat for like, an hour this morning when I wanted pizza. You have no idea how hard it is to find a piece of pizza in this city before 10:30AM.

On "The View" in July,
Barbara Walters:And how have you managed to stay so thin?
Debbie Matenopolus: I don't eat, Barbara.

In the locker room at New York Sports Club,
Krista: I gained a lot of weight this summer, so I'm trying to lose it in two weeks by going to yoga every day.
(takes a bite out of the muffin she's been eating while dressing for yoga)
Want some muffin? This is my third pastry so far today. Are we getting lunch?

Matty (to me): Maybe when you move to Brooklyn, I'll just play in traffic all day. Or get a dog.
Krista: Can the dog cook, Matty?

9. CRUSHING

In a discussion about facial hair during a query meeting:
Marie: Oh no, I don't like mustaches on men. I like my men so clean-shaven that they almost look gay. Except Tom Selleck, he is the only man I can think of who pulls of a 'stache. I'd totally do Tom Selleck.
Don: Whoah, you like Tom Selleck? Is someone writing this down? I need to record this moment. (gets pen, starts writing it down) Marie, August 8th: "I would totally do Tom Selleck."

From Krista's friend, Erin, who stayed with us in East Harlem one weekend:
"Um, so, you told me about Marie's crazy friend Matty from across the street, but you failed to mention that he is an ICELANDIC GOD."

The setup: Haviland and I, still hot to trot from the White Party, are getting out of a cab at my apartment.
Heckler: "Hey Ladies!"
(I dash across the street in 4 inch gold heels, drunk off my ass, while dodging traffic and Haviland fears for my life while waiting patiently for the light to change)
Heckler (to Hav): "You need to tell your friend she doesn't need to run FROM the black man...she needs to run TO the black man!"

8.MAYBE YOU'RE CRAZY, MAYBE I'M CRAZY, MAYBE WE'RE CRAZY

Marie: Remember when I made the password on your computer "Michigan" so you'd remember where I was from?
Matty: Yeah, but then I fucking stabbed that computer with a really big knife.

Hav: I wonder if my therapist is writing in her notes; 'Haviland hasn't worn any makeup for two days. Appears to be in a downward spiral towards total dishevelment.'

Steph: I've been drinking this tea that's supposed to burn extra calories.
Me: Yeah, maybe if like, you drink that tea every single day five times you can burn off a slice of bread in a year.
(pause)
Me: Okay, obviously we are all sitting here calculating exactly how many calories you can burn from the tea and then how many are in a slice of bread--
Lainy: Oh that's easy--
Steph: like 90--
Lainy: mine is like 80--
Steph: if you get the grainy healthy whole wheat bread, that's like--
Me: 120--
Steph: but you can get 80 or 70 with normal bread, yeah--
Me: or 60, for the like--
Lainy: "light" bread but the slices are so small--
Steph: yeah, they are so small--
Me: but yeah, the carb-free sugar-free, everything-free mini loaves are like, 60--
Lainy: probably 80 or 90 is normal--
Me:or like--average--

8. MAKING IT WORK

From "The Little Dog Laughed" (Mitchell is an actor, Diane is his agent)
Mitchell: Diane, just relax. Go back to your room, I'm with a friend.
Diane: Friend? Come now, Mitchell--you're just having another one of your little adventures.
Mitchell: I don't have adventures.
Diane: Please. You're like Huckleberry Finn on a raft made out of rent boy.
Mitchell: What makes you think he's a rent boy?
Diane: You're sleeping with him.

Stephen: Yeah, you know, basically, I put an offer on the table. I said, [redacted], what we're looking at here is a very handsome signing bonus. We're talking no commitment, no guarantees on my end, as in--you'll be agreeing to work exclusively with me, but I am free to take on other clients as the need arises. And um, yeah, she wouldn't take the offer. I put it on the table--and she rejected it. So yeah, uh, [redacted] and I broke up.

From "Workout,"
Jackie Warner, talking about her girlfriend:
“She bites me when she loves me, and she bites me when she's mad.”

7. EL L

Me: Why are all the L train service advisory signs at this station only in Spanish?
Lo: I guess it affects an area of Brooklyn so far away that the only people who live there speak Spanish?

From OverHeard in New York:
"I went to Boston this weekend. Mostly to avoid the L train."

6. YOU ARE THE YOUNG ONES (all quotes from Susan Powter from the RFamily Cruise that Haviland and I went on in July and perhaps, more than anything, the quote of the year ought to be: "Can we get back on the boat yet?" "Why aren't we on the boat?")

"You need to cut out refined white sugar, refined white flour, refined white men and the refined White House."

"I don't care about your issues, I don't care about your trauma, every woman in this room has been traumatized and if you haven't than you're BLIND!"

"I'm your worst nightmare. I was born with a very good brain and a very nice ass."

"Do not have a Bloody Mary at 11 o'clock in the morning. Have some GRANOLA."

"When you get kicked out of the Vatacin at 10, you're on an express train to hell."



"I am the most immature, hate-filled person you will ever meet and also the most honest."

"The nice thing about my job is that i can just roll out of bed .....and then apply massive amounts of makeup. I mean, just massive. When they mistress the art of tattooing make-up, I'll be the first in line."

5. LET'S GET IT ON

Mary:
"I just need a girl who will see me in a little mini skirt and then tear me limb from limb!"

Lo:
"Somehow, every time Marie wears those cowboy boots they end up on the floor in my room."

Krista:
"Marie, if I had your standards of attractiveness for boys, I would've never gotten laid."

Me: You missed meeting Haviland last night by like, three minutes.
Stephen:Oh yeah? What was she wearing?
Me:A very short skirt.
Stephen: So, how do you girls feel about making out in public?
Me: Stephen, I'm not sure where you're trying to take this conversation.

4. SIN IS IN

Marie: Shh...I have roommates!
Steph: I don't care, I'll fuck 'em both! I'll fuck em both with a STRAP ON!

MM: "Maybe I should just like, fly somewhere in a different time zone, where it's night-time, and I can start drinking there and then come back here in time for night?"

From the movie "Short Bus.":
Justin Bond: These people spend all night sucking cock and eating ass, and then hit the buffet claiming they're vegan.

Haviland, in Alaska, after taking a motion sickness pill:
It's just like, everything is so bright! Like it hurts to look at things!

3. U.S.A. USA! USA! U.SSS. AAAA!

Stephen Colbert, White House Correspondents Diner:
"The greatest thing about this man is he's steady. You know where he stands. He believes the same thing Wednesday that he believed on Monday, no matter what happened Tuesday. Events can change; this man's beliefs never will."

Bette Porter on "The L Word," at a court hearing, in response to accusations that the NEA's decision to refuse her gallery's grant is justified because the art is "un-American Filth."
"Un-American. Not as un-American as what you just did. You oughtta be ashamed of yourself. You know what you are? You're just the latest reigning vigilante self-appointed culture watchdogs of the moment. Devoting countless hours and enviable resources to this bogus mission of stifling creative expression in the name of patriotism. And you know what it is, Senator? It's a distraction. It is a wanton distraction. Because let's just be forthright and honest about what is truly unpatriotic. Abject poverty is unpatriotic. The failure of our education system is unpatriotic. Lies told by presidents as justification for war is unpatriotic. It is unpatriotic that elected lawmakers fail to acknowledge, let alone address, real desperation."

From the First Episode of "Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip"
"This show used to be cutting edge satire but it's gotten lobotomized by a candy-ass broadcast network hell-bent on doing nothing that might challenge their audience......Yes there's a struggle between art and commerce. Well there's always been a struggle between art and commerce, but now I'm telling you art is getting its ass kicked, and it's making us mean, and it's making us bitchy, and it's making us cheap punks and that's not who we are. People are having contest to see how much they can be like Donald Trump...... We're eating worms for money, "Who Wants To Screw My Sister", guys are getting killed in a war that's got theme music and a logo. That remote in your hand is a crack pipe."

2. I FEEL PRETTY AND WITTY AND GAYYYY!

Kathi Griffin, on her cell-phone, to the talent coordinator on the gay cruise, while walking with Hav and I:
"Can you tell him I want room temperature Evian and Diet Coke on ice? And some cocaine for Jessica, pre-cut lines if possible. And is someone going to escort me to the theater? I'd like if you could find a gay to come to my dressing room please so I don't get lost. Can I get a lesbian to take me? I'd feel better if it was a lesbian."

Kathi Griffin, to Hav and I, who were also lost in the ship looking for the line to get off the boat and see Alaska.
"Are you a gay? Or a child of a gay? I need a gay to help me get off this boat."

Random Girl at White Party, to Us:
"You and your friends are hot! I think all lesbians should look like us, but instead they all look like John Goodman!"

Rosie O'Donnell, on The View:
"The lesbian haircut didn't help. Oh--the haircut. The vein of my existence! You know, I didn't think it was that bad, but recently someone showed me some photos and ok, I agree, it was an error of epic proportions. The haircut was a mistake on many levels."

My Shrink:Do you think you'd ever tell your father's family that you're bisexual?
Me: I think Marie Claire is gonna do that for me.

1. TAKE ME OUTTTT TONIGHT!

After the "Complacent Danger" party or whatever it was called:
Lo: I think from here on out, we can figure that the quality of the invitation is directly disproportionate to the quality of the party itself.
Me: Yeah, I guess guys who are good enough with computers to design such a kickass website and invitation aren't necessarily who we want to party with.

Me: We should create our own club in the city, for like, really hot lesbians, but make every night costume night. But not like The White Party--
Haviland: Yeah, and it's like, we won't just let anyone in, you have to be in costume to come in. You can't get in if you aren't in costume.
Me: Yeah, and like, look, I'm sorry but I've had it with your gay best friend, okay? He can't come.
Haviland: Unless he's in costume.
Me: Unless he's in costume as a girl in costume.
Haviland: Yeah, totally, we don't discriminate against drag queens.
Me: We encourage them.
Haviland: And Da Lypstyxx can obviously come.
Me: Obviously.

The L Word Season Three, Episode 3 Recap on Automatic Straddle Blog

I guess everyone was on their period this week because there was no fucking, just bitching.

The opening of course involves some sexual activity, but it takes place in 1984 (in Sublimity, Oregon) and therefore is exempt from the period theory, and also because it involves nuns, and nuns don't have periods, because of Jesus.


Lesbian "Sex" Moment #6: I'm Starting to Feel Like "Dedicating yourself to a life of celibacy for the church and for Jesus" is code for "Gay."
The Players: Agatha and Toni
The Pick-Up: No words required--Toni spies the "Lesbian Nuns: Breaking the Silence" book that her seat-mate is hiding underneath a less conspicuous title. I can totally relate because 1: I hid "Pomosexuals" and "Real Live Nude Girl" by doing some serious spine-bending on the subway, 2: Once I picked up talked to gaped at a girl reading "Rubyfruit Jungle" on the subway.
Hot or Not?: HOT. Reminds me of: 1. Reese Witherspoon's orgasm on the roller coaster in Fear.
2. Our 6th grade trip to Washington DC on the Indian Trails Bus, if I had gotten any.

As of last week's episode, I was totally a lesbian, (Kinsey 6, y'all), and I'm confident with that decision. Then the theme song begins it's assault on my ears and the descent begins. Obviously A.M Homes did not write this episode.

Lesbian Squabble #5: The Political is Personal

In the Ring: Bette and Tina. Duh.
So, the gallery or whatever that Bette works for has lost it's NEA grant because of "fucking McCarthyism."
Tina:"Are you gonna lose your stipend? We have to let go of Angus. We couldn't afford him before you lost your funding. You're going to have to get real about your finances or we're going to be completely wiped out."
Bette: "Thank you for laying your petty bourgeois anxiety on top of my already profound anger and disappointment over losing something that means so much to me."


Continue Reading and Comment: "The L Word Season Three, Episode 3: Lobster" Recapview on "Automatic Straddle"

Channukistis Wish Lists: If I'm Gonna Go Down, I'm Gonna do it With Style

I wasn't going to do this, but I think I have to. Mom claims not to read the blog (except, oddly enough, when I "joke" about stealing her Xanax) which she says is because she respects my privacy (let's take a moment for the concept of my mom respecting what millions thousands hundreds of people read every day when I ask them to. OK. good. thanks. moving on.) I think it's mostly because she still has dial-up, and I could probably take the M14 bus to South Ferry and back before her computer would load all the snazzy graphics employed on my wild little corner of the webbernet. Like stock photos of "lesbians" with bows on their coochies for the "holidays/celebrations." (see image, right)

Okay so: last week I had a fleeting thought like this:
"Wow. My life is going really well right now. I am so lucky to have these people in my life, I'm making progress in so many areas, I love my life! " and then: "I feel too good for this to ever really last."

So obviously a few things have fallen apart since then.
So you know, what have I got to lose? That's right! My family!

On with it!

When I was a kid/adolescent, we always put holiday "wish lists" on the kitchen door. These lists tended to easily spawn into spirals of absolute futility, as Lewis and I, the young and fundamentally ridiculous people that we were, found it endlessly amusing to clutter our requests for Abercrombie Jeans (me, 96-99), Pirate Legos (lewis, late80s-mid90s), Tommy Girl Perfume (me, 1997-->), Sim City 2000 (both of us, 92-94), Boyz II Men CD (me, 91-93) with the standard: Porsche, Sega Genesis, A MILLION DOLLARS!, a pony, a puppy, a VCR, a trip to Puerto Rico, a HARLEY DAVIDSON!, a date with Leonardo DiCaprio, etc.

Now we do wish lists via e-mail. Though my Mother sent an e-mail containing the desires of herself and her wife (My Other Mother) about a week ago, to which I responded promptly with my Amazon Wish List ...

it took me 'til now to really look at their list and consider it.

I'm crossing my fingers that they will think it's fun to laugh at themselves too, just like I do. I'd be willing to provide a long list of times I have made fun of myself. (see archive, left hand sidebar)

The following is the wish list, with commentary.

My Mother:

Cutlery Set with Steak Knives
This is really nothing compared to what's coming up. But I think this would be a funny item to buy in New York and bring on an airplane. Also I recall being told that those CutCo knives we bought in '98 would last forever. Forever never seems to be around when it ends, eh?

No Batteries Flashlight/Lantern
What's going on? Really?!! A flashlight? What's next...you want a can opener? Some twine? I think it's my job as the starving artist to ask for things like flashlights. Is there a spelunking expedition in the future? A possible tornado? A stock market crash?

Queen Size Flannel Sheets--no flowers!
Again with the what-an-exciting-gift thing. I guess she did ask for socks for like, five years in a row. Maybe she doesn't trust me to pick out anything special or complicated. What's going on here? I tend to feel people are best at picking out their own sheets, especially when they're telling me to avoid florals. Jesus. What then? Trucks? Solids? Calico? Calico is a flower. My sheets are patterned with bleach stains, and I like that. Something about this feels uncomfortable to me.

Anyhow, I think these are really sexy. I found them at The Lesbian SuperStore L.L Bean.


But if flowers are really gonna kill the mood, how's this:


Beading How-To/Starter Set
Can flowers be involved in this one? Is beading complicated? What is beading? Can I get you a 'starter set' without a how-to? Will you know how to start without the how-to, if you just have the starter? What comes after the starter set? Will you be able to bead what you need to bead? Will I get you started but not teach you to fish? Are you going to bead things? Like flowers? What's going on? Whatever happened to Fimo? Fimmooooooo

Mac Word
Oh, wow.

This is problematic on a few levels. The first is that I know my mother is sitting there at home with the AppleWorks program that came with her Mac (WHY DOESN'T MAC COME WITH A GODDAMN REAL WORD PROCESSING PROGRAM? THIS IS HIGHWAY ROBBERY AND IT NEEDS TO STOP) and she's annoyed that it's ancient and not compatible with other computers made after 1996. However, attempting to solve this problem with MacWord is a bit troubling. I think she means Microsoft Office for Mac. It's okay, Natalie thought The O.C was a channel.

Gas Card
That means a like, gift card to a gas station. Where you put gas in your car. Nothing says "I love you" like 10 bucks at Texaco.

Movie Theater Certificates
OK. Fair 'nuff.

Sharper Image Digital Dashboard Compass & Weather Station-CE352
HOLY CRAP. Gas Card, Flashlight, SHEETS...and now you're busting out with not only a brand name and a specific store, but an ITEM NUMBER?! I haven't even begun to imagine what on earth this gadget is, though it is from Sharper Image and thus I imagine it massages something or perhaps plays jazz in the shower, but I am absolutely getting one for myself, it sounds very useful, how specific, how dynamic, I mean, wow, really, wow.

Another Copy of that Great CD Marie gave me last year that I've lost.
Aw, Mom! I love making CDs for my Mom, because she granted me many musical gifts as a child, including but not limited to: David Bowie, The Beatles, Carole King, The Indigo Girls, The Who and Raffi. So I can give her Nellie McKay and Martha Wainwright, or something. A woman can only listen to so much Dixie Chicks.

Okay, since My Other Mother and My Mother have only been married for 2.5 years I don't know if I have earned the right to make fun of her yet, but if I had, I would absolutely point out that it is amazing, and in another context would have struck me as clearly a tongue-in-cheek request, that she has requested a:
Lawn Tractor,
Reciprocating Saw,
and "other cool toys/tools." If you don't know why this is funny, I'd suggest you treat yourself to a little lesbian humor. It doesn't mean you're a lesbian, it just means that you think it's funny when lesbians make fun of other lesbians. Like, about tools. And stuff.

The "for both of us" list includes only three items:
gas grill, snowblower, canoe.

"We're not getting a canoe, because then they are going to want me to ride in it."
-Lewis.

Wait one more thing ... tool/toy? Sheets? Flashlight? Just putting it out there.

Sunday Top 10: You're Coming Out, I Want the World to Know

The cover of "The National Enquirer" this week promises to tell you who is gay and who isn't. This is an interesting premise (I mean, granted, we're talking about a paper that built it's empire on stories about Michael Jackson impregnating three thousand pound aliens and giving birth to cat babies), which somehow seems less fun than talking about who is giving birth to alien babies. And then there's Perez Hilton, that savvy blogger with the site and the money and the photos, who has been outing people for a few weeks, which makes some people pissed, some people smile, and some people develop anxiety disorders and then lose their mind and then muzzle Kelly Ripa on Daytime TV. Personally, I think it's all a bit silly, because as the Late Great Kurt Cobain said, everyone is gay.

I don't think who Clay Aiken wants to boink is nearly as important as a lot of other things that are being kinda-sorta covered up right now. And Jodie Foster? Really? Really! You don't say.

SUNDAY TOP TEN: THEY'RE COMING OUT, I WANT THE WORLD TO KNOW

10. East Harlem would like to come out as not being "the next East Village." Also, it's not the next Lower East Side, or even the next West Village, or the next Tribeca or the next No-Ho. East Harlem is the next East Harlem.

This is the view from my ex-East Harlem apartment on 115th street, where Krista and I set up our happy warm hardwood-floored home from September of 2004-January of 2006. Our block was really quite lovely, except for the morning that Krista stepped over a dead person on her way to the train and called me in a total state.

East Harlem itself lacked many things (a place to buy tampons after 11pm, a safe street at night from the subway, a good grocery store, fresh-direct east of First Avenue, food delivery from a various international locales besides Mexico, China, and PizzaLand, an office supply store, a reliable crosstown bus), but East Harlem if you like that kind of thing is a fantastic place to breathe and walk in this city, because it has a life and culture that the East Village no longer has (in case you count twenty-year-old girls whining that they didn't want avocado in their Soosh-aaahy while wearing $500 sweatpants as "a culture"), but don't sign the lease for that $700/month steal expecting Mimi Marquez to come barreling down the street in hot pants and beg you--you the melancholy former junkie/musician from Scarsdale-- to come out tonight because her "body's talkin" to her and her body is saying "time for DANGER," that it wants to "commit a crime," "be the cause of a fight," and "put on a tight skirt and FLIRT with a STRANGER!" So you know, take your striving back to Williamsburg. If you like: 1. Goya products, 2. A street fair for the entire month of July which means Elephant Ears and flying children, 3. The frequent opportunity to purchase four neon pink thongs for 4.99--go to East Harlem. But there is no Angelica's Kitchen, no hypothetical Live Cafe, no Tunnel nightclub, no cute girly boutiques that advertise in Bust magazine, no lesbian mystery bookstores and no Nyuorcian Poets. And there ain't gonna be, you "young professional" you.

Also, it's really far away.

9. Friday Night Would Like to Come Out as Thursday Night, and vice versa: Call me crazy, but I think Friday night is the absolute best night to stay in and clean. Why? Because you can watch "The N" (new episodes of Degrassi and South of Nowhere) while you wash dishes for 1.5 hours, and you are tired anyhow and it's hard to deal with people after a long work week and because also:

"Why not make your life easier? I mean, life is so fucking hard, even when it's easy." (Margaret, Six Feet Under)

Thursday night is the sexiest night of the week. So just do what you wanna do then. Everything is too crowded on Friday night.

8. Meeting for Lunch would like to come out as Eating Not Just a $10.75 Plate of Mixed Greens and Petrified Grilled Chicken, but as also Eating Up Your Whole Goddamn Day.

7. Drew Barrymore Would Like to Come out as Thin. Why is she continually held up as an example of a woman who is "voluptuous?" I saw her once and she is the tiniest thing ever. Not as tiny as Shane, who is SO much thinner in person than I ever even imagined which means that Sarah Shahi must be like, ridiculously tiny too (like Drew Barrymore), and y'all need to eat a sandwich, all of y'all.

6. College Degrees Would Like to Come Out as Relatively Useless Pieces of Paper: However, it remains a less useless piece of paper than a high school diploma. So you know, study kids, (sound of whip snapping), children, I said study!

5. Jennifer Lopez would like to come out as a Replicant. Seriously, why is she on the cover of every magazine all the time? The thing about J-Lo is that she has done a lot of things that are very pleasant and entirely forgettable. Aside from maybe Selena (which I didn't see) and that music video where she's almost naked with that pole and the shimmery gold costumes or something, I can't credit her with making any great contributions to the artistic universe. Except for her ass. Oh and I heart her lingerie line.

I'm not even gonna talk about Gigli, because at least that shit was so bad it was memorable. I'm talkin' about Shall We Dance. About Maid in Manhattan, Jersey Girl, The Wedding Planner, Monster-in-Law.

If they are throwing her in there all the time just to add some diversity to the Charlize Theron/SJP/Paris Hilton/Meg Ryan rotation, here's some suggestions for other potential Hispanic cover girls:
Rosario Dawson, Iyari Limon, Rosie Perez, Daphne Ruben-Vega, Roma Maffia, Penelope Cruz, Selma Hayeck, Elizabeth Vargas, Michelle Rodreguiez, Alexas Bledel, Sarah Shahi.

Anyhow, she's on the cover of Harper's this month. Second time this year. I'm just sayin'. What did she do this time? Is she going to say something cool in her interview really? I mean, Angelina Jolie gives a good interview. J-Lo? Really? When I see her on the cover of magazines, she always is airbrushed so much she hardly looks like anyone at all. Which is why I, on behalf of Bladerunner, must let you know that she is not a real person, she is a replicant.



4. I AM: The Girl Who Stepped On Your Feet, Ran Into Your Century 21 Bag, Elbowed You in the Face, etc.
That was me. Yup. I'm actually totally over it. This is a crowded city, you gotta hustle.

3. The Following PlayList would like to Come Out as the Only Thing For Grey December:

Elliot Smith. Somebody That I Used To Know
Jeff Buckley. Lilac Wine
Feist. Lonely Lonely (Frisbee'd Mix)
Depeche Mode. World in my Eyes
Rufus Wainwright. The Art Teacher
Azure Ray. November
Ave Maria
Heavenly. She and Me
Delibes. Dome Epais
Radiohead. Nice Dream
R.E.M. New Orleans Instrumental Number 1
Ani DiFranco. Shrug
Imogene Heap. Hide and Seek
Jeff Buckley. So Real
Melissa Ferrick. Break Up Song
Leonard Cohen. Everybody Knows
Tom Waits. Tom Traubert's Blues

2.I'd like to out myself and most of my friends as not having it all together. That's right. We are all a huge mess. Standing by the door last night, on my way out to make a mess of things, I looked at two friends and said "We're a sad bunch, aren't we?" and I said "I need to get ready to go out" and she said to me: "Don't go out there. Things get worse out there, in the world."

What are we doing, where are we going, we are striving like monkeys following dreams that look like bananas and we're happy to see you, or maybe just pretending we are. We are trying, this is our time at the edge, we even carve out little pieces of this imaginary online universe to tell each other who we are without getting reactions right in our faces or our ears, so we can control somehow the output, the image, the response, the reverb. This is our time at the edge?


1. I read something really beautiful today in the form of a short essay by Brian Doyle in The American Scholar, as reprinted in The Best American Essays 2005. I luckily found the entire essay transcribed here and you should check that out asap. If you are too lazy, here is just the last paragraph from Joyas Valadoras:

“So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end--not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched up by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman's second glance, a child's apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words ‘I have something to tell you,’ a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mothers papery ancient hand in the thicket of your hair, the memory of your fathers voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children."