Thursday, July 05, 2007

I Don't Do Singalongs

[disclaimer: took an ambien at 5am and I am now attemptitsadhing to proofread in this compromised state and it is hopeless not working nonensese sorry wanredya[tjishblog will not make smuh csensne]

i. Fireworks:

My window's open and I can hear the fireworks; they sound like gunshots every time. I don't understand fireworks. I guess I never have, though it was nice when I was little to have an excuse to lie on a blanket on the grass with all the other girls, laugh, ooooo and ahhh, stare at the sky, lick sno-cones that turned our tongues red then blue then white. It was good for photography. Sparklers in the dark, glo-sticks like the ones ravers use.

These days: independence, yeah. Not our country's independence. Our country is fucked, obvs. Even if I was into things like eating outdoors, other people, and daytime drinking, it'd feel a little sadistic to celebrate anything that G.W. promotes as he escorts our civilization into total moral/ethical anarchy. But like ... independence. The concept? It's my favorite one. I get really pissed when someone makes me give it up.

I have nothing to say right now but can't seem to stop typing. I think it's become a bad habit, like biting my nails. Yesterday I wrote--oh--new topic.


ii. typetypetpye:

Yesterday we wrote 40 pages of the teleplay. Afterwards I jumped into the air a little and then stretched and then was like "Wow." And Carly was like "Wow." And we were like. "Wow. Go Us."

In 2007, I have learned that you can write and write and write for hours. Then what do you have? A lot of words. Where do they go? My hard drive. The internet.

Remember when there was no internet? I don't.

Whatever you can get from typing to much, carpal-tunnel or whathaveyou, I am going to get that problem. I probs already have that problem. My stomach is eating itself but I don't feel like going to the kitchen. It seems really far away.

Carly also eats cheese and peanut butter crackers. They are orange. Orange food, in general, is suspect. Unless it's an actual orange. Which I can't eat because I'm allergic to citric acid, duh! Howevs, I drink OJ, etc. anyhow.

I bought OJ and cigarettes for TB but then we broke up. I drank the orange juice anyhow. It made me throw up. Not because I'm allergic to citric acid, but because that was the same night that I accidentally ate that piece of paper that they put between slices of cheese? You know what I'm talking about? I was like "This lettuce tastes really funny," but I kept eating it anyhow because I need my greens. Then I realized I was eating the paper from the cheese. My stomach could not take all of that nonsense, it was like, Thanks but no.

Anyhow, I love those peanut-butter-and-cheese-crackers, though they're orange. I am glad I am not the only one who likes them. I'd eat some right now if I could. Unfortunately, I've already eaten all of them, circa a few days ago.


iii. Music, I:

I've become a person who moves, visibly, to the music on her iPod, in public. I can't stop listening to music, like I need a soundtrack really badly. Silence kills me. It reminds me of what used to fill it, maybe, or it's just not proper for the amount of daily excitement I've felt lately. Even sad music is a kind of excitement. It's excited enough about it's void to give it melody.

I've been eating music. I asked Carly to give me a list; she did, a good long one, I ate it. To be honest, most of the music I love was ciphered from someone else. Music's something I love [like I replaced a stolen iPod within 5 hours, a phone I waited 10 days] but have no remote talent in: can't sing, can't dance, can't play an instrument, can't read/write music, nothing. So I surround myself with people who know more and ask them to tell me what I need to hear. I love lastFM.

Seriously, I love lastfm.

Things I would make love to if I could:
-Google Reader
-Trebuchet Font
-Final Draft

Haviland made me a "You'll Make it Kiddo!" CD. I remember when she first played me the Phoenix song "If I Ever Feel Better." Now I play it to myself: I ain't even playing my own game, the rules have changed well I didn't know, there are things in my life I can't control, I feel the chaos around me ...

My headphones broke almost immediately following purchase a month ago (a month? I've got no clue, somewhere between then and now I lost concept of time), because that's how they do what they do, so the music kinda twists in one ear and out the other ear, and I went to Radio Shack but they said my warranty wouldn't kick in 'til July 1st. That must have been a while ago that I went there. I think my headphones have improved since then.

Everyone at Radio Shack is retarded. Seriously.

I could probably listen to Youth Group's cover of "Forever Young" forever and be totally satisfied. Fuck fireworks.


iv. playlist.

heartbeats/the knife. don't cry out/shiny toy guns. who you are/tears for fears. if i ever feel better/phoenix. mary/sarah slean. city girl/tegan&sara. irreplaceable/beyonce. a better son or daughter/rilo kiley. hear me out/frou frou. let it rain/ok go. vintage people/eisley. you wouldn't like me/tegan&sara. send me an angel/real life. sober/kelly clarkson. life on mars/david bowie. puttin' on the ritz/shiny toy guns. haven't found/pras. sway/the perishers. sorry/madonna. forever young/youth group. a little respect/erasure. under water/tegan&sara. save me from myself/christina aguilera. be kind&rewind/rogue wave. laura/scissor sisters. frozen/tegan&sara. if you were here/cary brothers. jumpers/sleater-kinney. just one of thoes things/the verve remixed. must be dreaming/frou frou.


v. btw.

I don't get you. I can't forget what you've forgotten.


vi. music

Today at the gym I was listening to Rilo Kiley and the lyrics to stunned me out of my sweaty stupor: And sometimes when you're on, you're really fucking on ... but the lows are so extreme...

I got goosebumps.

Last Saturday night at Nation, the song finally played that I'd been trying to get everyone to remember forever by poorly singing it and describing Indian chanting. Poorly. No one knew what I was talking about, which was totes ridic as I knew I'd heard it every time I've ever gone out ever, and I don't go out that often, so clearly it plays every time anyone goes out.

I told Carly I'd have an orgasm right then if it played. Obvs that was proverbial, but I jumped up and down like I was about to explode when it DID play. Seriously, I was as happy in that moment as I've ever been. I mean, the moment when a song you haven't been able to place PLAYS, especially when you totes PREDICTED it's play at Nation on Saturday night? Tara looked at me like "Whaaa?" It was "Beware of the Boys" featuring Jay-Z/Punjabi MC.


vii. Our teevee show.

The thing is; teevee's a flawed format, clearly, in that it requires nothing of it's audience besides passive viewership. It's lulled our country into passive complacency and an inability to put it's own thoughts together. That, and the jarring effect of 30 randomized and often violent images/ideas per minute can't be good for anyone.

But film, we say, is a valid way to tell a story. And I think television is too -- COULD BE -- but better-- because it also provides an opportunity to create characters, to play with narrative fiction and evolution on a scale of massive import. I like that even though most of the screen is accurately an evil box, there's still people out there trying to tell stories, and I think the internet enhances that by turning those stories into words we use to communicate with people all around the world: common ground from which to tell our own stories.

I like the idea of creating people who can evolve and change over several years and tell a million stories. It seems so anti-climatic, film: you make it, two hours, finit. But there're still a few TV writers committed to honest and progressive storytelling [e.g., Alan Ball. Um. That's all]. I don't want to write a show for people to watch alone, really. I think the only advantage of TV over books is that you can enjoy it with other people. I want people to sit together and watch our show and think.

I get excited talking about it (the ... artistry of it?), like tonight in the Haviland-Carlytron-Riese three-way ichat that we all felt, at first, should be preceded by an age/sex check.

Maybe I just get excited because communication with readers and viewers is, in my opinion: the point. It always seemed silly to me, those reclusive dudes. Like, wow. You're so cool you can't talk to anyone? You just want to like, grace everyone with your brilliance and then peace out? I admire you, a little because that seems like humility, but no, I don't, because it isn't.

I like humility, obvs, it's like, my thing. Or, insofar as it's related to insecurity. I don't like it so much as feel it's something I can't change and therefore I must embrace it!

As in: tonight. Haviland's apartment, circa 6:30 pm, I was telling her how fast we'd worked on this thing and I said something nice about myself; about my writing. Like, that I was good? To have done so much in so little time ARCHHH writing that makes me miserable. bladibla. And she said: "It's really nice. To hear you say that."

A frequent convo, as quoted in an ourchart blog I wrote 20 years ago:

VIP: "So what do you do, Riese?"
Me: "Um, I go to the gym a lot."
[VIPs start looking vaguely uncomfortable]
Haviland: "She's a writer!"
Me: "Also, I like to go to Mandees and buy brightly colored bra-and-underwear sets. And I eat a lot of food. Like, all different kinds of food."
Haviland: "She has a blog, it's really good! Riese, give them your card."
Me: "Oh yeah, I have this blog."
VIP: "What's it about?"
Me: "Um, like, myself. Like, thoughts that I have about myself. Me."
Haviland: "It's totally about us! It's really funny! Like, us, and what we do, and how cool we are."
Me: "And it's also about Rite Aid."

ANYHOW There are some characters on the TV who've resonated with me. Who's stories meant something to me.

Characters who've resonated, limited at one per show, except SFU, they get two, because they rule:

-Angela Chase, My So-Called Life
-Claire Fisher, Six Feet Under
-Brenda Chenowith, Six Feet Under
-Emmet Honeycutt, Queer as Folk
-Pacey Witter, Dawson's Creek
Josh Lyman, The West Wing
-Elmo, Sesame Street
-I really liked Peter Jennings. I was sad when he died.

OK, that's all I can think about. What other shows've been on the teevee? Hm.

I had a crush on Jacinda from The Real World London. And Kim Stolz from Americas Next Top Model. And. Um.


vii. Live-Journal:

It's late now. The fireworks are over, but there's persistent flashes of lightning. I'm awake because I'm supposed to be working on an ad for a copywriting job and because I was talking online about the teevee show and because I'm up. I'm writing this for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

I don't know if I have anything to say right now. I used to have a livejournal [I know, surprise, right, like I haven't already mentioned this 10,000 times]. I could just write random things about whatever. Personal things, too: the truth, or a piece of it.

Lately, I've been mute on all things personal because if I opened my mouth I'd have so much to say I might never do anything else, ever, and I might get trapped back into an impossible and endless cycle that feels a lot like running into a wall over and over again and telling everyone I like the bruises. Sometimes I just want to scream. I stopped reading those things that made me want to scream but they keep showing up in my inbox and in unexpected places. I want to scream. I have so many things I want to scream: the obvious truth, for example. But I know it'd be like the scream of a tree falling in the woods with no one sane enough to hear it. I want to scream and then have it break into tears.

Instead, I laugh. Instead, I write. Instead, I pretend like I have something to say and then I write it. Instead I just type.

Writing's the only place, I think, where I even look at emotion/feelings. I've had people scream at me and ask me if I ever wanted to learn how to feel. If I had any interest in the territory of emotional vulnerability or of emotional emotions or of emoticons which I also hate. Sometimes I decide it's safe to feel (or maybe not? Maybe I decide it's totes unsafe, and want to verify that?) and then I give them all away.


I'm so much better at emotion in retrospect. If you dare me to feel in the moment, you better mean it. You better have your shit together.

See instead of having feelings, I just think about how I'm going to write about them later. I think about how someone else might feel. Instead of telling people how I feel, I write it down three years later, which's also when I've realized whatever feelings I had three years ago.

Even when I try to locate/express feelings I actually have, I feel like I'm telling a story about a girl named Marie who feels things. Real Marie is an action super hero.

She is made of plastic and she can fly.
She has no super powers.
But she goes on. At the speed of sound. Eating her own dust.


My tiger my heart
We're growing apart
We're trying to be friends
But it's hard sometimes
To be friends with something
That eats butterflies
And pencil sharpeners
And I think it would be
Happier being free


So it's almost five a.m. This is a moment when I think "What would it really mean to just click 'Publish Post'?" Nothing, right? I mean, right? Then I could just go to sleep. These are just words.


turn the pag said...

I have this song I can't remember, but I know it exists bc I heard it once and although I can't remember the tune I rememeber thinking "this is the best song ever"... I've never heard it since but if I was to I'd recognise it instantly. If anyone can help me out...

Also, Marie, I love that you're on London time... I get up at 2pm and still feel like I'm ahead of everyone bc I read your blog before anyone has commented.

Bourbon said...

I am in awe of how you can speak volumes when you're just typing nonchalantly at 5 am.

"Lately, I've been mute on all things personal because if I opened my mouth I'd have so much to say I might never do anything else, ever, and I might get trapped back into an impossible and endless cycle that feels a lot like running into a wall over and over again and telling everyone I like the bruises. Sometimes I just want to scream"

I've been living my life avoiding anything that triggers any sort of emotional response lately, which had me thinking that I was just going to explode with all this pent up [too many emotions to name] bc nobody gets it and then I come here and read that someone else on the other side of the world gets it and writes about it so accurately. It's uncanny. I had to go back and read it three times bc it was like "is this for real?" - you may not have the musical talent to strum my pain with your fingers but your totally singing my life with your words.

Anonymous said...

two days, kid, two days!

MLissa said...

I've been a reader on your blog for awhile now, but something you said rang completely true on this one.

"See instead of having feelings, I just think about how I'm going to write about them later."

I do this way too much, only for me, it's "how I'm going to look back on this later"...I can't be present, I can't enjoy/hate/bleed the moment, I have to analyze it from some unknown future vantage point. I'm going to work on this...hopefully.

You're writing makes me smile and think. I appreciate you...a lot.

MoonKiller said...

Fireworks brought me into this world. Well, I was going to be brought here anyway but they brought me two days early. Early on Guy Fawkes night obvs.

I can't stop listening to music either. I also love LastFM. I also love Google Reader purely because I can read blogs in IT lessons. I read part of this earlier in IT. And three people pointed out that I close one eye when I read. But it's because I need glasses. But my optician disagrees. But I had a letter off him in the post this morning telling me to go see him.

I have Life On Mars and Sway on my current playlist on my phone. And also Heartbeats but the Jose Gonzalez version.

Anonymous said...

I got butterflies in my stomach reading this.

Brave post.

Anonymous said...

wow, that was a really, superbly good post. it took me a long time to read because almost everything that you wrote made me think of something in my life and sent my mind off on a tangent..which is groovy. also, even though your not good at making music, you can be "good at listening to music."

Anonymous said...

i. I was listening to Youth Group when I read this. Weird. I had no idea they were known in the US.

ii. I bet it was the thrill of writing the job ad that kept you up all night. Happens to me ALL the time. The adrenaline.. wow.

iii. Nice one.


Anonymous said...

French fan to Riese aka Reeze wif ze accent:just broke up/so many crumbs on my couch but I just can't leave it; I might have to die there, because the world is harshly looming outside of Sofaworld/Impossibility of not writing or saying things, and crying is second nature of course/the universe in slow mo because his tastesmell is no longer lost in my hair and hands, and that he is gone forever. Your post made me smile through my crumby tears darrrrling. Merci!

The Brooklyn Boy said...

The spoken word poet in me wants to say, "You make me want to comment blog entries back to you."

So much to cover: Peanut-butter-and-cheese-crackers are that crack. Google Reader and Trebuchet get lovin' - but only if I'm in on the threeway. Rilo Kiley = the hotness. Add Ed Burns and David Simon (The Wire) to your list. And I might even throw in Denis Leary and Peter Tolan (Rescue Me). Those shows are the realness. TV can be a great medium, and I'd like to try writing for it. Also, feeling is way easier years after the fact. (see: poems, my; also: blogging)

Ruth said...

That Youth Group song was superbly popular when I arrived here just over a year ago. It's fucking heartbreaking. Now it's sort of faded away, and I can't listen to it without thinking of everything else that faded away for me in the past 12 months.

Everyone gets their heart kicked to shit. It's a blessing to be able to write about it as honestly as you do.

Anonymous said...

It’s nice to know that sometimes there are people who can accurately articulate things that I can’t. I have a massive fight within myself over the humility argument, I feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable with compliments even though I hate it when other people aren’t able to handle kind words graciously. Sometimes it seems like everyone in life is either over or under estimating you so much that you aren’t sure what par for the course is anymore.

I'm so much better at emotion in retrospect. If you dare me to feel in the moment, you better mean it. You better have your shit together. I work off the idea that if I keep telling everyone small irrelevant facts about my life and my day-to-day goings-on that they’ll eventually figure that they know enough about me to stop asking questions and expecting answers. I think that most people assume that people like sharing themselves - I’m starting to figure out that I actually do like the bruises.

Bit of a change from my usual comments but I think you’ve hit the proverbial nail on the head.
Word, holla, props and all

Anonymous said...

also - i have a theory that reaction to fireworks is genetic, with indifference being the dominant gene and awe the recessive. both sides of my family expressed the awe. fireworks are one of my favourite things. ever.

Anonymous said...

But words are not "just." Roses are not called armpits. Some noteable (incredible smelling!) rose varieties:

Audrey Hepburn
Class Act
Moody Dreams

Less fragrant varieties I have sampled:

The Leanne Rimes
Brilliant Pink Iceberg
Sheila's Perfume
Gourmet Popcorn

Incidentally, there is also a Rosie O'Donnell rose variety.

I'm going to let your firework-hating slide for now. I understand that they are disruptive, particularly for a person in the act of writing. But if I may suggest, the brilliance of fireworks is in the light, not the sound. The sound is what lets you know you should go outside.

Anonymous said...

p.s. I know you already knew that. about the not just words bit. sticks and stones and insulation and many other things besides.

carlytron said...

i don't know how you were able to write anything after our marathon scriptwritingmarathon, especially something this good.

i said marathon twice. i did not realize that. and i am not changing it.

Mercury said...

I love this blog post. You are beautiful in a way that has little to do with physical appearance. I think you're my favorite person ever, ever. I want to keep your honesty in a locket around my neck. I would never take it off.

I want to hear. I want you to start, I want you to open your mouth and speak forever to ME. Because I'm greedy like that.

I love this - "I'm so much better at emotion in retrospect. If you dare me to feel in the moment, you better mean it. You better have your shit together."


riese said...

peter: I know, I find my hours are very international and this makes me appropriate for an international audience. Like for a while I was more on MERC-time, and then it seemed like I was on razia-time ... it's 2 a.m. Who is awake now? Let's see.

razia: Thank you. I mean ... your comment warms my heart strings. I think we learn to when growing up in certain environments ... and I've always been restrained emotionally in ten thousand different ways but I've been challenged lately in a way that makes me feel i've got no choice but to go on like this forever... it could be easier, too. I think closing off is a reaction to powerlessness, sometimes, too? But an acceptance of that, rather than a fight for it? [does that sound like, super dark? maybe? eruhm.]

hav: yay!

mlissa: Thank you for commenting and appreciating and everything and yeah. Thank you. :)
This's a funny quote from Kicking and Screaming:"I 'm nostalgic for conversations I had yesterday. I've begun reminiscing events before they even occur. I'm reminiscing this right now. I can't go to the bar because I've already looked back on it in my memory... and I didn't have a good time. " That was the "about me" when I had a livejournal, I think.

moonkiller: OK I take it back about fireworks then. That is the point! Moonkiller is the point. I'm glad that we are lastfm friends now. You can see what cool music I listen to. I think you probably need glasses too, that sounds off. I will write a letter or a blog to your doctor if you want. I am an expert because I am opening both my eyes right now. Ka-pow.

anon 1.: thank you. [and for ... realizing that.]

laurrrita: Thank you. And I've tried that ... I think I am. Right now, I'm being a really good music listener.

"anon" : And probably also talking to me. And I'm sure it does, clearly. my. arenaline. too. Thank you.

ollie: that comment i read out loud to carly immediately. amazinggg. I'm glad to help anyone with crumby brokenhearted problems, that's hands down totes awesome.

brooklyn boy: The blog writer in me wants to say: "That's a really cool thing to say!" And I've never seen The Wire or Rescue Me ... and thank you for supporting the c-and-pb industry. That song is fucking heartbreaking when you think of it associated with other people ... i'm glad i don't ....

and re: "everyone gets their heart to kicked to shit. It's a blessing to be able to write about it as honestly as you do." thank you.

kate: That's so true, about "sometimes it seems like everyone in life is either or over under estimating you so much..." It's actually funny how much of your comment relates to a lot of the issues we were discussing for one of our characters today. Whee, you'll see ... and interesting about the bruises ...


And I've already redeemed fireworks because of moonkiller, but I'd re-reedem them once more for you.

lain: this's brill: "roses are not called armpits." I sent TB roses twice, I remember the first time I picked a bouqet called "Delusions of Grandeur," simply because that's what it was called. I was like, that's the best boquet name ever. The second time I don't remember what it was called. I think I went for astetic glory that time around.

Also beautiful: But if I may suggest, the brilliance of fireworks is in the light, not the sound. The sound is what lets you know you should go outside."

carlytron: lets change it to abbreviation. FLC.

mercury: if you wrote that down i'd rip it out of your notebook and put it on my wall, or on the under-bed of your bunk, or something. over mine? i just typed and deleted ten cryptic verses of code that sounded like we're playing pretend or something in the backyard with dumb hats on. and you can be 'greedy.' even the best of us are accused, by various irrational inner or outer selves, such things. anyway. you know. like. yeah. (clicks flashlight, etc}

frank said...

i've decided to comment on the first half only. it's really long. i stopped before iv. i'll read the rest later.

but my comment is, you don't like eating other people? but isn't that part of the lesbian/bisexual creedo?

Mercury said...

I want to write it out and mail it to you, for you to put wherever? but I obvs do not have your street address.

I totes always am on the top bunk.

jenna lynn. said...

seriously, marie... i've been going through a really really hard break up too.. and "a better son/daughter" has been one of the only things that can calm me down and make me feel as though life is, indeed going to be okay. i've listened to it probably 50 times. it's ridiculous.

also... it's days and situations like this in which i really wish you still used your lj... because i've been writing about everything that's going on there, and i'd really like to hear what you have to say. oh well, i suppose.