New Years Revolutions: Time Can Never Kill the True Heart

On December 30th, 2008, I wrote a post that I was going to post on New Year's Day, but I never did because I decided it was too personal in parts, or that I wasn't sure it was stuff I wanted to really say. I think I had a lot of weird situations I was navigating then. Well, I've always had weird situations to navigate, at least since starting autowin and until about a few months ago. I'm not keeping anyone else's secrets now, except for Colonel Sanders, who gave me the secret recipe for Kentucky Fried Chicken before he died. One day I'll sell that shit on ebay.

Somewhere in the middle of this unposted post I wrote, "This year I resolve to begin with practice," and perhaps I did just that. Not like I'd anticipated -- but anticipation is just a fancy glowing crystal ball; who needs it.

A few days ago at therapy she let me go early. I couldn't think of any problems to talk about. I navigated briefly into the past, shut that suitcase, complained a bit about not having money, pitched the business to her in disguise as me working out my problems (Luckily that's how a pitch starts -- with a problem. then you state the solution, the solution is your business. Get it? Clever!). I attempted to get worked up about an upcoming three-day period when Natalie, Alex and Brookling will be out of town and then realized I was really just being paranoid. After I'd ranted for ten minutes about Prop 8, I was dimissed.

+

+

I'm sure I do have problems, I'll have some this week maybe. But I gave up trying to change my personality and decided to change my life to better bring out the most functional parts of my personality. That makes it sound so solid, like Legos. But who doesn't love Legos. Asshats, that's who. I don't know. I want to talk to you. With you.

Anyhow this is what I wrote back then. [I just added pictures now] It's weird:

New Years Revolutions + Jaunary '09

I wanted to tell you that people never change. I know that sounds terrible, saying it like that? Especially from me. In September, only four months ago, I declared triumphantly: "... people can fuck you up but people can change. People will change, no matter what the stakes. People CAN change," and now I'm saying that's a lie. I wanted to tell you that people don't really change, not without a serious rock bottom (imminent death, eviction) and people change only when it's time, almost by default. Change can't be imposed by a mantra, an insight, another person or by anything so surface, no matter how resolutely these things poise to attack our stubborn souls. I mean and also people can change, to an uncertain degree of authenticity, with the right cocktail of regulated medications.

Somewhere between theory and the practice is the only me I've ever known. This year I resolve to begin with practice. It's never the bad behavior that bothers me in and of itself, it's the lingering guilt that these prescribed activities/habits are somehow responsible for the circumstances of my life and I feel, somehow, that the circumstances of my life are not enough.

If the circumstances become enough, logic dictates that guilt will then disappear.

When it's you alone -- guilt & other people & resolutions & declarations don't stand a chance against those tiny habits, your attempts to bridge the moat of your very existence, and then what changes is not YOU but the lie you tell me, or yourself.

I do it too I'm saying this to you.

But I'm saying I've seen people I love relapse consistently, sometimes innocuously, and I think nothing happens overnight, things happen exactly when these things better fit into your life.

So I'm saying people change but it takes years if it ever happens at all, so I think that's not people changing -- that's people growing up.

++
"You're happy if the thing you naturally want makes the other person happy. If it's not that way, then I don't know. I guess you're in limbo."
- Richard Ford, Wildfire
++

Because my story is the only one I'm legally allowed to tell, I'll tell a good chunk of it now. It's not different from other stories I know, that's what I'm saying, there's nothing too spectacular about it, none of my bad habits are that dramatic.

So for the first 14 years I vacillate -- through no fault or doing of my own -- between princess or criminal. It just depended on who was in charge. I had no control because my treatment wasn't dependent on my behavior. It was wonderful and terrifying, I couldn't sleep, I told a lot of stories.

This is the story of what happened next, in chronological order: Darkness. Then watching tv & eating & running away & darkness.

I change because I run away to boarding school and I grow up there. Here I am both supervised and happy and deliciously codependent on R. and then he leaves, and then I pop caffeine pills 'til I take too many to talk or work so I have to stop. Then I am happy, incredibly happy, and then boarding school ends so then I have starving & working out obsessively. Then starving & working out obsessively & overeating & throwing up & flirting & shopping. Then exercising obsessively & overeating & cutting & caffeine pills & throwing up & sedatives. Then I get sick and I am not allowed to work out. Then just starving. Then I get better, get head/body back in shape. Then boys. Drinking & boys boys boys.

Then I get out of control like my body isn't mine anymore, like it's a thing other people can do things to, so then I get a dumb loyal boyfriend. Then shopping & boyfriend's rules. Then this really slow feeling like I wasn't myself anymore, like I was dead inside, like I had merged with the wall-to-wall carpeting and I was the only one with a chance to go out. Then I get fixed with medication, feel like self again, but faster, and I break up with dumb boyfriend three days later. Then starving & drinking & working & working & working & shopping. Then I meet S., get addicted to him hard, we fall in love, he has control, he fucks it up.

++
"Help, I've done it again. I have been here many times before. Hurt myself today, and the worst part is there's no one else to blame."
-Sia, Breathe Me
++

Then drinking & inhaling anything crushable or already in powdered format & running & starving & shopping & playing The Sims. Then friends return from being abroad. Then inhaling & speeding & addicted to S. and still & drinking. Then friends rally around me and tell me I can change and I think they are right and decide to change. Instead S. comes over an hour later. Over and over. Then swallowing everything crushable 'til I was put on Wellbutrin to ensure that wouldn't happen again.

Then S. stops coming over. Why? Not 'cause I've changed but because I leave the state. In New York now. Working & hooking up with girls & drinking & shopping & smoking & meeting strangers. I wasn't happy, but I was having a lot of fun! Then I meet J. Lying. Go off Wellbutrin, break up with him a few days later. Hooking up with girls, drinking, lying, applying the same fervor to paying off debt that I once applied to shopping -- not 'cause I've changed but because I have more money. Again I have so much fun, occasional bliss, and big plum-sized patches of misery! but such fun in between.

+

Do I change here? Not really. I just change my perspective on confidence or something. Also, The L Word, I get addicted to this new awareness of this new culture realizing that the girls I'd always liked might actually like me back. I read & watched & dreamed & went out and spent as much time around and inside those girls as I could & fought with people who'd loved me before all that and were trying to keep it up. Fun but darker than expected. I became addicted to the idea of girl-on-girl culture.

So then girls & drinking & drugs drugs drugs & cigarettes & girls & cross-town cab rides & throwing up. Then I start doing this 60+ hour workweek, but have to take care of M. who's now back from the hospital and I'm too busy for much else but still drugs & smoking & girls, almost because of it, and it's an energized, focused darkness that often bounces and becomes light. Then L. & I become BFFs and I try to make L. change, try to be a living demonstration of how people change, but maybe I hadn't really changed at all, I just talked a lot.

Then I was lying but with a partner-in-lying. We had party tricks & games. Co-dependent. Wicked fun, sometimes. Then drinking & drugs & girls.

Then I meet Haviland, she helps me to change no, she helps me to evolve, no, it's just harder to lie around her so I have to make my life a life I don't have to lie about. Then drinking & drugs & girls & lying. Then blogging & drinking & girls & starving & smoking but actually here is a period where things almost get better, start moving forward, so I celebrate by getting drunk and ruining everything.

Then I stop drinking 'cause I want to help MM stop drinking 'cause she'd almost died of it, and because now I have the internet, and smoking and then ... well ... now we have new things ... and this is where you've come in, probably. This is where autowin became The Real Secret. I'm not ready yet with the story of this, 'cause I can't keep trying to kill those things with storytelling or make it a trump card. I'm trying to be careful with that.

What I mean is ... did I change? Have I ever changed, or do I just replace one bad habit with another, one crutch with another, and as I get older, it's not even new addictions, it's just recycling old ones to fit the void of the day. Do the sickest people I know ever stop being sick? How do you escape a ten-year lie, a five-year habit, how do you ever do that? Is it just replacing one addiction with another? To meetings? To the gym? To balancing your checkbook? I have no problems because I am productive and healthy, because I work harder than most people who never drink or lie. Right?

+
"I think people can change dramatically, but not completely. I mean, I've changed a lot since we met, but not completely. I'm still a junkie. I'm still reckless. I'm still everything I always was, but I've been conditioned to hide it better or suppress it. The instincts never change."
(A friend)
+

I'm trying to put all habits - -anything you'd resolve to stop doing -- on the same playing field. Like drug addiction is just a good example, but this isn't about that,it's not even about licking the edge of those solid addictions like you're starving for a reason but scared too.

+

+

"In real life, every day you might come to a new conclusion about yourself and about the reasoning behind your behavior, and you can tell yourself that this knowledge will make all the difference. But in all likelihood, you're going to keep doing the same old things. You'll still be the same person. You'll still cling to your destructive, debilitating habits because your emotional tie to them is so strong--so much stronger than any dime-store insight you might come up with--that the stupid things you do are really the only things you've got that keep you centered and connected."
- Elizabeth Wurtzel, Now More Again
+

This is about how I wanted to tell you that people never change. Whatever our relationship is to that pit between our heart and our hips that stores all that is compulsive, comforting, familiar, habitual, uncontrollable ... the part of us so essential that it's immune to others' desires.

So one must find another way to evolve or one must trick those same destructive rotations into a new song.

++

"The problem with your life is behavior, not disclosure. Secrets are what addiction calls foreplay. If you want to live a life that you can be honest about, live one that is worthy. The answer to life is learning to live."
- David Carr, The Night of the Gun
+

++

What I mean is do what you can to make your dreams come true. Don't assign value to the things you can control and the things you feel you cannot, just control the things you can control until that side tackles the other.

++

So I guess my New Year's Resolution/Revolution is to do what I want to do and I think from there the rest of it will fall into place. (Dec '08)

Sunday Funday Tuesday Top Ten: Top 10 Weirdos of 2008

When did "weirdo" become the go-to noun for personal greetings? See, all my language is stolen from other thieves, or from an ex, or a BFF. Language is funny like that. I'm going back to school, I'm studying Linguistics. (Other subjects I've claimed I will soon pursue a Master's Degree in, due to recent falling-of-sky, etc.: Education, Welding, Computer Programming, Nursing, Opera.) Because most people I know and/or read about and/or watch on various screens are at least slightly insane, it's always a challenge to select the Top Ten Weirdest Weirdos of 2008. There are so many weirdos. There's obvious choices I'm not allowed to write about, and then other worthy contestants I just didn't include, like Tegan & Sara and eric mathew.

This year we have three repeats from last year's list: Jenny Schecter, Haviland, and me. I will always be number one. Trust me, if last year's number two couldn't beat me out for top spot, then no one can.

Actually I had a hard time writing this, it took forever. I think it's been a really long time since I've actually talked directly about my friends or other living, breathing people who will read this -- like who they really are. I don't know how long it's been, maybe just a few weeks, but possibly that's been a long time for me, relatively?

And now I'm like "what's up, this is me."

Sunday Top Ten: Top Ten Weirdos of 2008
++
10. Rachel Maddow

"I have a little stockpile of lawn mowers, some of which it has been years since they worked.
But it seems wrong to get rid of lawn mowers, so I keep them."
(Rachel Maddow)

I've enumerated her many virtues many a'time on this here blog because I love Rachel not only for her political acumen & homosexual hair, but also for her weirdo dorkdom. She's the geek the popular girls are too endeared towards to talk shit about. She's bright, earnest, humble, knowledgeable, well-informed. And Rachel crushes aren't really about sexified passion as they are about being sort of warm and settled, intensely satisfied by the quality of life enabled by this supreme physical and intellectual union.

---

9. Stef

"I really want to express first and foremost that my hair in this photo [on my blog]
is inspired probably 99% by alanis morissette,
the only person in the whole world who really GETS me."
(Stef, on an adolescent photograph)

Stef is Weirdo Pride, one day she will write a book like John Waters yet-unwritten Role Models ("a self-portrait where I write profiles of other people and how much I love them and how much they changed my life and influenced me—famous people, criminals, people you’ve never heard of"). Stef faces every day with a Sharpie on a rope looped around her belt-loop, black eyeliner and sunscreen. Stef, fastest texter in the West, is an obsessive conisseour of all things terrible/AWESOME and their bretheren: JT Leroy, Lindsay Lohan & Samantha Ronson, fedoras, The Spice Girls, Amy Winehouse, Courtney Love, Alison from Intervention, etc. and is "a totally shameless nerd about theme parks, water parks and zoos." She's not just moderately interested in things she is interested in. She's also totally ironic about most of those interests, and ironic about the irony of me using "ironic" to mean whatever I want it to.

I've come to realize life's got a lot to do with who knows what you're referencing when you reference something. If it's something weird, I know Stef will get it.

---

8. Jenny Schecter

"Well you know what, Kevin? I don't really care what you and your
fucking
purple
tie
think about my whereabouts, okay? What the fuck do you think this is, 1952?"
(Jenny, The L Word)
Initially, including Jenny on this list for the second consecutive year brought me joy. Now, I approach this task solemnly 'cause now I know that Jenny's gonna kick the bucket in Season Six. But y'know. What better time to honor her memory? Right-o. In Season Five, Jenny built upon Season Four's steamrolling glory with all new levels of megalomania, but this time her initial divaliciousness changed as the season went on -- ultimately we saw it morph, like a butterfly, into something laced with humility and sadness and a sort of muted humanity that evolved and then self-combusted.

Though I described Jenny as a "manipulative weirdo amazing ball of psychotic joy" early in the season, things changed by season's end. After losing Niki and her film to All About Adele, I described Jenny as a "dark angel from dark angel heaven" and declared "We love you too Jenny! Even though you've combined a doilies with your garbage bag dress for an all-around disaster, it's fine, at least your tights don't have holes, you've grown up so much."

Although often insufferable, she had some really vulnerable/self-important moments in Season One. What I mean is she was only a weirdo insofar as I, also, am a weirdo, and all of us, who think too much about ourselves, are indicted in this too.

---

7. Natalie

" I just feel I'm not human, more of the animal world. I wish I was an animal & I could have puppies."
(Natalie, on how "moo" became a part of her vocabulary)

Natalie is a very special person who I've been besties with since the year 2001 and now we live together. Sometimes when she knows I can hear, she'll burst into the opening chords of "Circle of Life" or "Jingle Bells" or "Where I Stood" and then I'll sing back, from my room, the next line or two. Natalie's pick-up-the-phone greeting: "Moo moo moo?" Natalie believes there are 24 usable hours in every day and each of these hours is equally adequate for any given activity -- the gym, sleeping, working, phone convos, a long walk in the freezing cold, dinner, breakfast, coffee, etc. Natalie talks to strangers. Strangers on planes, in lines, on the street, apparently in the gynecologist's office, at the car rental place, everywhere. Natalie wants her gynecologist to be her friend and just came into my room to announce that she's pretty sure she could seduce Shane, given the chance.

Natalie is also legitimately brilliant and actively contributes to the betterment of the world via a Women's Rights in Development (whatever that means) NGO.

Natalie watches Office Space every night while she (tries to) sleep. When Natalie comes home, she goes: "Bernie?" and then I go "Rabie?" (variations on our last names) or sometimes we'll switch. Natalie wants to walk to Pinkberry right now, and it's about 23 below zero, windy like apocalypse.

There's this part in My So-Called Life where Angela emotes: "there are so many different ways to be connected to people. There's people you feel an unspoken connection to, even though there's not even a word for it. There's the people who you've known forever who know you in this way that other people can't because they've seen you change. They've let you change." That's how I feel about Natalie.

---

6. Andy Warhol

"I wanted to paint nothing.
I was looking for something that was the essence of nothing,
and the soup can was it."
-Andy Warhol

This year I became obsessed with Andy Warhol (coincidentally, it would've been his 75th birthday this year, thus inspiring millions of media tributes) and secondarily, Little Edie, who was my party-fashion icon far before I took the time to learn who she was. I feel like I get him. I don't feel like we could've been friends, but if the dead lived among us, I feel like his ghost and my real self could be friends. You know? "Meeting creative new people -- especially young kids -- was always important to him; he thrived on it. But he knew that people only come to you if they think you have something to offer them."

I want to make the Factory, you know, still I do. I mean that's still the point, I guess, if there is one. We can get Rite-Aid brand tin-foil, print our magazine on all the unused credit card applications that still come every day in the mail as if we've got anything left to owe. I'm 27, for Chrissake!

---

5. Michael Scott on The Office

"Yes. Money has been a little tight lately. But, at the end of my life, when I'm sitting on my yacht, am I gonna be thinking about how much money I have? No.
I'm going to be thinking about how many friends I have, and my children, and my comedy albums.
I mean, I have a yacht, so I obviously did pretty well money wise."
(Michael Scott, The Office)

If you haven't really watched a sitcom, besides occasionally Arrested Development on DVD, in several years, and if everyone's been telling you to watch The Office and you've thought to yourself; thanks, thanks really but no thanks, when you do, you love it, and watch hours & hours back to back while cleaning .... you eventually begin embodying the spirit of Michael Scott. He's not even my favorite character. After several hours he annoys me. But in some way, sometimes, I get this man.

Though his character is sympathetic but still quite unlikeable, one often desires to inappropriately interrupt people diligently doing work because work is what one does with pointless, poorly executed hijinks and other totally non-productive activities in the name of "having fun." You can see this effect directly in our NewNowNext movie.

---

4. Autumn
"ok so i read, re-read, and re-re-read this post. sadly i am at a loss.
maybe i would understand if i would have read the book. that might have helped.
just a little. but the one thing i understood was that hitler sucks."
(one of autumn's first comments ever, on the Oscar Wao book club post )

Starting now the Weirdo Commenter of the Year will be an official designation with a voting process. However I received a lemon tree last week in the mail, therefore cinching Autumn's auto-win. The tree's currently living in our living room. Natalie's singing to it.

Here's the thing: back when we made the 'zine, Autumn declared: "not that your poems arent great and stuff, but i think i can pass on buying stuff, especially when i dont get it." We clearly took action mailed Autumn a 'zine immediately, therefore extending an olive branch to the red stated plains of Kansas, where Autumn lives. But obviously she was already turning around even before receiving the 'zine and becoming the best commenter ever. She even took a photo of her 'zine with Lieutenant Teddy and emailed me a photo of her toilet-paper-hosted list of Cool people, and I was totally on it! Rock!

As I write to you today, Autumn has sent us a lemon tree, no longer lists Jesus as top interest on facebook, and voted for Obama. That means I [kinda indirectly in this sitch, but whatevs] influenced 5 people to vote for Obama this year. That's pretty much my biggest accomplishment of the year. Srsly.

I mean, seriously, actually. It does mean a lot to me to engage someone in a dialogue about political issues that's not possible in their 3-D lives. I think it's really cool.

---

3.Haviland
"If I told u where I was and what I'm doing right now, u might wanna kill yourself.
Alternative universe faux reals."
-Haviland, BBM, yesterday.

Haviland is a weirdo still just like last year. Actually, she's even weirder, 'cause I think we are all getting super weird with age.

PRETTY PARTY PYRAMID!

---

2. Caitlin
"A hoodie does not a critter make."
(Caitlin)

A quick confession: I listen in, you should know this. I pick up voices, phrases, words, expressions, we swap and cut and paste and incorporate and then develop an intricate and multi-sourced linguistic web. After Cait & I landed in L.A. in February, Haviland declared "you guys are totally talking the same." Some melding of cadence, volume, vocab ... later we determined it probs made it really irritating to hang out with [all of] us. But still, we go on; i have a lot of feelings right now, time for sleepy sloos, this makes me itchy, okay i have a lot of feelings about this first of all, team meeting, i have a lot of questions for [person], hot panic, my head's gonna explode, mouthing off, talking crazy, crazytown, and really an endlessly bountiful bevy of phrases and words we've picked up this year. Like I said in the intro, I'm sort of interested in linguistics these days. When I say "these days" I mean it, 'cause I usually keep an obsession for about 3-4 days.

Caitlin prefers to be the one sitting or lying on the floor and is grossed out by the thought of hot soup.

Caitlin is frequently mistaken for the elevator guy, a situation that [in order to be true] would require serious time travel (which luckily I love), I mean who still uses elevator operators? Paddington Bear or something? By "Caitlin is frequently mistaken for the elevator guy" I mean that when other people enter the elevator and Caitlin is in it, they are inclined to announce, loudly, their intended floor: "TWELVE!" "FOUR!" "THIRTY-TWO" expecting her to press the button.

Anyhow: who among us have not wanted someone else to make that final action, anyhow, the action directed by your choice, let someone else conduct as to how far up you'll be going, how high you can get. Who among us haven't dared to lean against the mirrored walls of that tiny industrial transportation machine with the confidence and surrender and complacency of a person traveling but not conducting, traveling sweetly and laughing, not a care in the world besides to, once you get off into the world; to save it. The thing is, she does do it. She does press the button for them, and it happens all the time. Usually in the time it takes for someone to yell "TEN!", for her to press the button and for us to arrive at our floor, we can hold the laughter and laughter-inducing looks in. More often we can't, and so we laugh and smile as we go up into the air. And so on.

---

1. Riese
"Obvs."

Because I still write this blog. Wouldn't it be funny if this was like when Time made "YOU" the person of the year with a reflective cover? I remember thinking it was "YOU-tube," I just couldn't see the "tube" from the street when the cover flashed by. That'd be funny if I could do that here. They'll invent that soon I bet. Then ... who will be Number One? Huh? Joe? Joe Who? Joe Mama, totes.

---

In conclusion, one may ask oneself -- "how does one become a prestigious weirdo?" You may notice that this year's list does not include idiots from OurChart or soulless bisexual dating show contestants, like last year's. That's 'cause I've grown & changed and feel it's more important to honour only weirdos with good hearts rather than wasting one's time on the scourge of the earth.

One becomes a weirdo by harboring strange obsessions, maintaining inconvenient neuroses, greeting prescribed situations with unexpected behaviors, being someone that I love, etc. Any sort of functional yet serious psychological disorder enhances one's weirdo-hood, though it is not necessary for your success. One becomes a weirdo by paying attention, and, consequentially, totally freaking out about it. This freakout is the most beautiful thing forevs and evs, I promise. Don't trust me, but I promise for real!

Open Letter to The Future: You've Got Your Whole Life to Lose, Let's Auto-win Some!

I have some ideas about the future. Welcome to a special edition of the Carousel of Progress.

So I get it, I read the news, we're apparently facing some kind of worldwide economic apocalypse. This all seems unreal to me, not 'cause I've been immune to its impact -- because trust me, my consistently near-empty pockets are particularly empty these days -- just 'cause the economy is a structure we set up, like ... as humans? Why'd we invent something so crummy, and why can't we take it back, like a broken toaster? "No thanks, we prefer the fire pit after all, works every time?" I'm down to hunt & gather.

I've been thinking about the future because:

a) I've been reading the answers to What's Your Dangerous Idea? ("The history of science is replete with discoveries that were considered socially, morally, or emotionally dangerous in their time ... What is your dangerous idea? An idea you think about (not necessarily one you originated) that is dangerous not because it is assumed to be false, but because it might be true?") the 2006 question posited by the Edge World Question Center to top scientists around the world.

b) Obama, the economy, the environment ... there's been a lot of talk lately about ... well ... what's gonna happen next.

c) I've been trying to think about the future in a real way lately now that I'm actively increasing rather than decreasing the probability that I'll be around for that much more of it. It's freaky, I don't even know if I love time travel anymore! I guess I only like backwards time travel. I just want to churn butter in my Little House on the Prairie, that's my true destiny in life.

I have some ideas about things I would like The Future to consider for our future.

Okay, dear the future here are some things I would like to see:

1. Factory: The Magazine: So OurChart's over, The L Word's almost over, so many magazines & newspapers are vanishing, and I feel many bloggers are losing steam or simply the time to do so much unpaid writing ... I feel now's the time for someone with a good voice -- hopeful but careful, snarky but tender, ridiculously mind-blowingly intelligent, quick, and clever, queer in sensibility, not gay but also not hetero-normative, not women-targeted but mostly women-staffed -- to emerge and start something really new and spectacular that actually takes prior internet-media lessons learned and applies all of them from the get-go. 'Cause here's what we've been left with: the surviving media is either sarcastic or old-school, the failing media ran the gamut but often was twitching for tradition, the mainstream sources remain as they've always been (dumb).

What about something that actually speaks our language? 'Cause we have one, and it's a little bit newer, but also kinda awesome, and valid. It's diverse and expresses itself in every format we can touch or see or find. We are infinite. I drove home listening to some of the songs we listened to those times when we were infinite.

2. I'd like for New York Sports Club to fix at least three of its machines at the 125th & Broadway location, e.g., the clanking ellipticals. The teevee audio & video is out of sync, the magazine rack's a mess, the seat of the ab machine always slides down, that girl in the yellow shorts needs to see an ED specialist and please for the love of G-d get someone at stall #3 in the ladies room STAT.

3. I'd like to finish writing this novel, or at least 50,000 words of it, by the end of the month of November.

4. It'd be neat to see a smooth transition from Obama's eighth year to Hillary's first, almost like something they'd just talked about the two of them, decided would be best, asked if that was okay with America, and calmly traded chairs.

5. The economic crisis should lead us to question our attachments to material goods and money. Capitalism isn't a religion, and advertising dictates desire dangerously.

We should begin thinking about embracing the DIY movement (thanks to a;ex for this article, @lifehacker: The "Greater Depression" can be a DIY Renissance). We should start making more stuff, and also stop judging one's employment potential by the amount charged to their credit card to buy the suit and the soft makeup for the interview. That's dumb. I really would be totally down with growing my own food, but I live in the city, although I'm getting a lemon tree soon so.

---

6. I think books can make it. I think people who write books might have to respond -- as writers always have over the centuries -- to an audience who's taste and attention span has changed. We can produce novels that appeal to new readers without sacrificing intelligence or word count.

I think people are capable of reading a shit-ton of words, now more than ever. Book people need to realize that since paper is the big difference between online writing and books/magazines/newspapers, we should think about how to really sell & market the paper.

Part of our problem? There's too many books to choose from, and due to the mental engagement & silence & time required to read a book, no-one can read every book they want to read in one lifetime and therefore we can't produce infinite books like we do with teevee channels. We're printing too many books. A lot of them suck.

Independent presses are being drowned out by big presses who don't even have the time to focus on quality over quantity, and the reading public is suffering. We have self-publishing for people who can't find a major publisher for their work, so it's not that a shafted writer is left up shit creek without a (albeit not too cool) paddle. If it's that good, your self-published work'll emerge from the muck.

I think literature will survive everything that people are saying against it, but that also means we can't forget about literacy. We need to seriously work on literacy if we want people to read our books!!

So -- we focus on quality, literacy, making the internet work for us and not against us, incorporating new media and targeting different audience styles to our advantage. The independent presses can play that game too, just by promoting the quality-based system on a smaller revenue model.

---

7. Pinkberry should bring back the coffee flavor, by popular demand (as you can see in the photo I will wait for ice cream). All grocery stores should carry Sausage & Cheese Breakfast LeanPockets, especially you, FreshDirect. It's not fair that I only know the calorie counts of corporate chain restaurants, you can't convince America that we can only rely on The Man to keep us healthy too and give us the numbers, make everyone do it. No no no. Also, I would like the world to be made of some combination of chocolate and peanut butter.

8. New books by: Lorrie Moore, Miranda July, Maggie Estep and Mary Gaitskill, New music from Uh Huh Her and no more re-runs of Intervention, just new episodes, thanks.

9. I think that Haviland Stillwell should be in "The Farm" which'll reveal itself to be secretly totally awesome. So far it looks kinda weird, like Bad Girls. But whatevs, last time we stole a British queer show concept (Queer as Folk) it turned out a lot better than our own.

---

10. I'd like a publisher or magazine to commission me to do a year-long project in which I approach, as a journalist, taking on the jobs of people who I think are bad at their jobs. Like I bitch about Duane Reade but if I worked there, would I be any better? Not like Nickel & Dimed, this'll be more about how we assess service and performance in others than about socioeconomic realities for women.

It would be a 12-month thing and each month I'd have to try to get a job and then work the job at:

1. Time Warner Customer Service
2. 125th & Lennox Starbucks
3. Duane Reade
4. The U.S Postal Service
5. New York Sports Club
6. the editor of an online magazine that will not be named
7. President of the United States George W. Bush
8. Head writer for The L Word
9. The Manicure Lady
10. the pantry chef at The Macaroni Grill I worked at for three years
11. a receptionist at the Ryan Center on 96th street
12. my 10th grade English teacher

And I'd open talking about my ire for said worker of said job and then find out like, well, wtf, could I do any better? You know? I wonder if it'd be harder to be Time Warner Customer Service than it would be to re-design OurChart (that's not the online magazine I refer to, but you know?).

---

11. Also I think Prop 8 should be overturned and gay marraige legalized nationwide.

Okay, thanks for listening to my ideas. Let's get going to the Invention Convention! Bring legos and fruit punch please, thanks!

+++
xoxo
autowin.

I Wanted To Paint Nothing. I Was Looking For Something That Was the Essence of Nothing, and the Soup Can Was It.

[Attempting to construct a frivolous Sunday Top 10 with disproportionate self-consciousness, I figured I'd just write down my feelings -- mostly carry-overs from a few weeks ago -- and move on from there. Here they are. Yay! Sunday Top 10 is finished, will come tomorrow (it's finished, so that's a real promise)].

An Open Letter to All Interweb Haters and Self-Righteous Anti-Blogging Journalists:

[Not Good Autowin Readers, I love y'all. You're the best! This is directed at interweb haters, which sometimes includes people I know, but 95% of the time, doesn't.]

You Chorus of Cuntish Commenters [not my commenters, obvs], your twatiliciousness skyrockets. You under-sharers! You private, nasty people with little boxes of secrets in your stomachs! You're still riding the self-righteous tails of That Emily Gould Thing, a "kids these days" nose-snubbing/squabbling, or you're fired up by a number of additional fuels: NY Mag's recent "microfame" dissection, Keith Gessen's me/"the me you hate" breakdown, Julia Allison's continued Julia Allison-ness (although even she called it quits once).

The problem is: I let public & private negative discourse pervade my headspace. I get beautiful, supportive emails & comments from Autowin/straddle readers and yet a few negative voices overwhelm them. It's precisely the grateful notes that stop me from giving up -- it's not about ego-stroking, or wanting attention, it's about feeling that it matters though Old Media says it don't.

Why is sharing inherently bad -- and NOT sharing consequently "good"? There's plenty of bad oversharing out there, of course ... and I don't read it. Furthermore, I understand we must withhold most things, in fact, our hearts & guts tell us precisely what to hold back, just as it tells us it's time for lunch.

I like the internet! I LIKE IT! I'm sick of apologizing. I'm tired of reading over & over that the cultural pulse is beating inside an indulgent body and that this body is sitting & judging while we bloggers croon on like washed-up lounge singers. Watch me, watch me, I'm a lock-free Dear Diary, my Hooker Name is Elizabeth Wurtzel and my special trick involves opening my whole mouth and letting you touch my wisdom teeth. My Pandora's Box was opened against my wishes, but I haven't figured out how to close it and besides, everything happens for a reason.

In fact, this here blog has lead to many fabulous beautiful intangibles and I think it's better karma to keep going than to stop. I refuse to believe the internet isn't a little magic, look at this video from Kelka Pride. It's easy to scowl protectively at everyone, but it's more fun to play with them. Next year, p.s., we're all going to Kelka Pride.

(I read: "On the Internet, a person can enjoy all the downsides of fame without actually being famous. You can inflate your ego, betray your friends, alienate your family and earn the contempt of strangers without earning a penny in extra income" here and wonder -- am I about to make a ridiculous, flagrantly wrong point? But then I think -- I'm a young earnest writer, isn't it only natural that I'd write a blog, explore the medium? I wouldn't be the first "artist" to forge on so foolishly, w/o it being my "job"?)

[self portrait with sunglasses, andy warhol]

Watch me! Stick a tip or a word in the g-string of my informational striptease. I'm human. I've got a concrete heart & walls like pink floyd ... but humans, even loners like me, need some connection to the rest of the world, even if they hate the rest of the world. Even better, I like feeling that I've done what can to change it just by being me. And that live person-to-person thing -- that petrifies me, and I'm getting too old to keep drinking every time I'm forced to cross the gulf to strange strangers. But I'm safe here, and I like it here.

[Ten Portraits of Jews of the 20th Century Portfolio: Sarah Bernhardt
by Andy Warhol]

Example of Magic: Women's voices. Queer voices. Are everywhere. There's still a million differences between how they're received vs. the traditional voices but to simply exist is a big step in the right direction.

And here's what really I don't get -- and didn't get, re: the emily gould debacle, or any situation in which the writer isn't actively attempting to incite/provoke argument/debate, expressing hateful or bigoted ideas, or auto-playing an annoying song on launch ... if you don't like it ... don't read it. I don't like video games, but I'm not writing Nintendo to critique their latest version of Death Killer Raider Game #456 and, while I'm at it ... "p.s. Nintendo is fat & ugly!"

But -- commenhaters, you do read it! You eat it, devour it, lick the plate click-by-click and then smack your lips and vomit on the cook's face: "That was terrible."
The cook will ask: "Why'd you eat it?"

“Life will give you whatever experience is most helpful for the evolution of your consciousness.”
- Eckhart Tolle

Writers (and musicians) have been oversharing forevs, it's just more searchable now. We're not savages. But we're vulnerable, 'cause we've taken off our armor and are now sitting behind it, naked & waiting. And there you hatoraiders are with your daggers & shimmering shields. You see our weapons and our best defenses, but decide instead to plan attack based on your feelings about our underwear (and women's underthings: far better to criticize). I didn't ask you to undress, so you don't have to, but you don't have to watch my undressing, either.

[Andy Warhol -Burkley Reinhold]

What can bloggers say in return to anyone who isn't "out there" like we are? I don't even know, 'cause I don't sit around thinking about why I hate people and where I can yell about it. I have complete respect for cyber-"anonymity" (in fact! Not only do I respect it, but I think it's a good thing that the blogosphere seems to be getting less crowded -- those meant to endure, have, and those who haven't, haven't, for whatever reason. Also 'cause if I add one more blog to my Google Reader, I'll have a heart attack), what annoys me is self-righteousness about cyber-anonymity ... the chip on the shoulder of many cyber-anonymous/non-bloggers ("learn your lesson from Emily," they say); loyal only to native art.

In fact -- bloggers can get fired (or -- just to avoid risking a blogger will blog about work when there's plenty of applying talent w/o blogs -- never hired in the first place) simply for having a blog, w/o first amendment protection. Your online-self is so damaging that companies exist now simply to erase it (for a fee). Blog-to-book sales have disappointed. Blogger-to-paid-blogger tales are increasingly less frequent. Oversharing's the Eighth Sin.

Sometimes "I'm not an internet participant, just an observer," is the new "We don't have a television, it's in the closet." (P.S. My teeve's in the living room, though I don't turn it on. I'm so cool, aren't I? For not watching teevee at home? I'm so much better than you. Don't worry, I'm also just like you at your worst and ugliest. Wanna hear about it? Listen: I watch TV at the gym, or with friends I'll stare blankly at its cheap stories and flat people w/expressive eyes and let it fill me like so much styrafoam.) Don't get me wrong -- I don't want you cyber-anonymous, or anyone who doesn't want to, TO participate. But if you do observe, and consequently choose so participate, I'd hope your contribution would be productive rather than just bitching at the content creators.

"The price of being known has gotten really low. I mean not the price, the reward.
Or whatnot. Andy Warhol could more accurately have said in the future everyone will be famous for $15."
-Emily Gould, Emily Magazine
*

[Screen Test: Edie Sedgewick. By Andy Warhol.]

So here's the kicker: the thing about microfame is that it doesn't necessarily bring any profits whatsofuckingever. It can even be a liability. This can be tough, I imagine -- dealing with the cons of fame (being recognized, criticized, insulted, gossiped about, dumped or attacked by a friend/partner) without the pros that make the cons bearable (this is how I make a living and feed myself and my family, so the sacrifices are worth it). I say "I imagine" because I'm not famous enough to deal with those cons, not because I have dooce.com-ish economic "pros." I don't know if the financial rewards for blogging will change, or if that's even the point -- though in a capitalist society, it sure seems like it is.

Saying you're a "blogger" once meant you were part of a forward-thinking generation of new-media enthusiasts, dreaming of an age that marries art, community and self-expression and births an international and ideally merit-based medium. Now, it kinda means you're a sucker, unless "for Deadspin" or "for Jezebel" are the next two words rolling off your tongue. Hell, it's gotten so bad that even Gawker seems to be pretty nice these days. Everyone's been snarked at, it's boring now.

The only thing left to do is be earnest, I think.

[In the Bottom of My Garden, by Andy Warhol]

What I like about Andy Warhol is his playfulness -- this can be fun. It can be entertaining or poetic, but bloggers can't have a deep thought or pull off perfect similie every day. Personally, I've lately tried to save those moments for the Sysiphean task of my novel. (Not a memoir anymore. I just ... can't.) Also, personally: my commenters don't yell or hate and are usually encouraging, and I like the challenge of increasing the user-friendliness and overall derth of fulfillment and format I can do with a receptive audience ... and at its very best most thrilling moments, it's like being an editor of my own little magazine, which has always been my dream job. I like dreams and the beach!

I've got faith that this medium's ultimately good for humanity, and also -- this medium's one of the only things I believe in that I can elect to take part in w/o spending money or leaving my apartment. There's frivolity, but there's also stuff I'm passionate about: group therapy, internet performance art, literature, book club, making people feel a little less alone.

The journey is all. We'll see.

*

The magic of the internet, again!: I just went online to track down some referenced posts, and found this at Slut Machine/Jezebel, expressing similar resolve. When I went to Gessen's blog to grab a link for my earlier graf, I found he'd posted this, which says what I just said, but better & briefer, and includes this exchange, which reminded me of conversations I've had:

Hampton: Rich people don’t blog. Happy people don’t blog. Successful people don’t blog.
Gessen: I’m not any of those things.
Hampton: But you’re those things enough, man. You wrote your book out of pain, and that’s why your book doesn’t suck. I don’t care what these people say. Whereas this blog is just the result of pique and wounded vanity.

[ Details of Renaissance Paintings (Paolo Uccello, St. George the Dragon), by Andy Warhol]

So, all ye haters, just shut your mouth. If I've learned anything of substance from blogging, it's that human beings are, by and large, better than we expect -- or could be. I think we will make this matter. We enjoy the first bite so we'll take it, and when we're all certain it's not poisoned, I'll pass it on to your grandchildren. I could do doomsday too, dressed in black for you, skip to my deepest blue. But this is much more fun.

Because I'll never be happy, therefore I must try whenever possible to feel happy, otherwise I'll die like a SIM, plunging red, time for bed, the hitch is dead.
I can't prove you're wrong about this medium ("the medium is the message"), but you can't prove I'm wrong about it either.

I've been obsessed with Andy Warhol lately, following the recent Interview Magazine issue dedicated to remembering him, which Alex brought me one evening and which enthralled me. I bought The Warhol Diaries and we need to finish Factory Girl. We wanna re-create The Factory, yes! we are such posers! Even my desire is a clichè, and I don't care! into something we call "The Warehouse." Like many things, it may not happen. Also though; it may. There was dry lightning for thirty minutes before the rain, and then the heat returned, following thunder. And then we went to bed, and then we woke up.

Brigid Berlin: He'd sit behind me reading The Post. He'd say; "Well isn't this a great story. Why can't Pat make a script out of this?" I'd say, "What are you talking about?" I didn't have the Post in front of me. "Well, this is a great murder, why can't we do this?"
Vincent Fremont: Or, "they're so peculiar."
Brigid Berlin: "All these young kids, they're doing such great things, and we're doing nothing."
Vincent Fremont: "He liked youth and he liked the news. I think that Andy would have been with the kids at 80. He would have appreciated anybody creative who was young, and helped them go forward. ..
*
Vincent Fremont: It's hard to project what Andy would be like today because he was so unpredictable. People always ask me what Andy would have painted. I think, with all the scandal that's gone down over the years, Andy would have been fascinated. And all that world of technology -- we would have stayed with it. Andy was very curious and he always wanted to know what was going on, and that keeps you young. I'm still trying to emulate him in that sense. Can you imagine how many young artists would have been coming to visit him?
*