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
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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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!

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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?).

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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!

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xoxo
autowin.

Broken Down and Hungry for your VLOG

Today there's three L Words -- 1. Lozo Vlog, 2. Episode 512 (Finale!) Recap: Loyal & True -- [in which I'm less funny than I've ever been -- but at last, finally, at last, at last: done.] Speaking of "last": 3. Seven Last Sayings of Jesus on the Cross. I'd never heard of them before, but it came up today 'cause today was a big Jesus day for all you Christians (I'm a Jew, p.s.), and today was also a day with many implied associations to rebirth all over the place, though I spent most of it in my room writing the recap. I think some of the seven are appropriate for the top feelings I have after finishing-an-L Word recap: "I thirst," "forgive them for they know not what they do," "it is finished." Apparently mid-recap feelings include actually taking a break for a few hours on Saturday night to color with Chase, Semicolon and Angelica. I love Bunnies, there's chocolates in the living room on the table.

Lozo Thong

Not only is it time for a fresh new Lozo vlog, but I'd also like to announce that if you want to comment to Lozo, who no longer takes comments on his own blog, about college basketball, beer, girls, college basketball, movies Lozo hates, that HBO show Lozo hates, and I think also baseball, please share your feelings here. Who will win the big game? Who is going to bat a thousand homers? Say so, he'll get back to you, like Dear Abby.

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Today we thought about how long it's been since last Easter Weekend. A million years, it'd seem, have shot star-like since then, since last Easter weekend when the photographer from [redacted] magazine spent most of my hours shooting me & my then-girlfriend & my friends for The Little Article That Couldn't. We've still not seen these photos, but Chase has some Lainy took from the afternoon she came over to get shot. The L Word had already ended by then, though, Easter's early this year ... the photographer had an old school camera and set up every shot like a painting. You can see the camera a little bit on the side here:

Riese & Chase, Easter Weekend '07
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My love
Semiprecious & stoned
In the shoulder season we hold on
Though I am dismal & have no dope
Siphoned off behind pink Easter
I fake an optimism
Just to breathe—Just thinking of him for once &
The Wandering Jew that ate my sunshine
But I know flowers like Zorro was my dad
Those garlands of thin hissing lasers
So with the “sexy isotherms
Of semiotics” we meet again at the Kiev
To check chemistry. They bring the lights
Down on those cherry pies & like cryogenics
It sorta works. This time my love
The salt doll of night egging us on
Straight to the zeppelin mooring
With she-has-a-bit-of-the-neardamned-in-her-
Like-when-a-cloud-dies construed as
Well, all right, I’ve seen worse.
-
from "A Good Year Down" by Jeni Ollin
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Okay, turn up the sound, kids, 'cause Lozo's not a big enunciator. This is sort of a quickie, in honor of Lozo's favorite way to do it. JK. In honor of Speed Itself. Also watch for special appearances by Semicolon and her jazz hands. We discuss topics like Lozo's bachelorhood, all the ways he's deceived me, and how nice his shoulder is. Also if you haven't read my the interview with me on the dirty girls blog, you better do it now, 'cause it's awesome!

THE VLOG:

Friday Top Ten: So She Comes From the Land Down Under

Hi! As you know, when I get so so busy with my super-important life, I often outsource my Top Ten -- former guest-bloggers include Natalie, Tara, Lozo and my brother Lewis. Just like Natalie, Crystal from Australia was subjected to guest-blogging while visiting yours truly in NYC. It's one of many activities offered to guests here at Chez Planet Harlem, along with flying, dogsledding and watching Katlitter's vlog twelve times. ("I've got ADD real real Bad ...") Crystal has her own blog actually, it's called Disappear Here, but if I link to it I imagine she'll delete the whole thing, which she does about every 3-4 posts, and I'd like to discourage that behavior. Without any further ado, I bring you CRYSTAL. Also, as usual -- my notes are in italics/brackets.

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Hi guys. I'm Crystal from Australia, guest-blogging from Riese's couch in NYC. I feel like over the last few weeks I've sucked up a lot of Riese's time that she would've otherwise spent dedicated to her blog, and so I'm making amends by helping to deliver a Sunday Top Ten.

SUNDAY TOP TEN: AUTOMATIC AMERICAN EXPERIENCE

10) Planet Harlem

The cab driver entrusted with transporting me from my midtown hotel to Harlem two weeks ago totally unnerved me with a 20 minute lecture on why I shouldn't be staying in Harlem. You guys, what I didn't realise was that Riese lives in the ghetto. I'm a suburbs girl, I don't even know what “ghetto” means, you know, except that Kelly Rowland has a song called “Ghetto” in which she essentially repeats the phrase “So Ghetto” over and over. [sidenote:I'd assumed, based on Crystal's rough-and-tumble past, including several citations of sleeping on rocks/streets, that Harlem would be ... um ... easy street! I underestimate the power of my own neighborhood.] But what I do know is that on my first night here, I was up on the roof with Riese and all of a sudden there was banging and crashing and sirens, like some serious shit was going down. We ran over to the ledge to see every cop in Manhattan apprehending these dudes who they'd just rammed off the street with their car. The thing is, I'm an uncomplicated and sheltered girl who doesn't like putting herself in risky situations, and so I just don't really see this kind of action in Sydney - serious, we Aussies are all too busy hugging koala bears to get into too much trouble.

Actually, Harlem has been a very comfortable and problem-free place to stay. Riese has a beautiful apartment, lovely flatmates, a wicked rooftop, a Starbucks within walking distance and one of the most comfortable couches I've ever slept on. When I told Riese that I was coming to NYC, she kindly offered: "we have a couch [available]. It pulls out. It's gotten really good reviews, four stars." Now I don't want to the kill-joy that points out false advertising, but the couch doesn't actually pull out into a bed. To Riese's credit, I'm sure the couch did once pull out before Carly and Alex broke it (allegedly). [They did.]

9) South by Southwest

Crystal at SXSW on Sixth Street

I'm really on this side of the world for my annual pilgrimage to Austin, Texas's annual South by Southwest (SxSW) music festival. I always have a great time there but it was super special this year 'cause Riese, Cait and Tara joined me.

Initially, the SxSW journey was all about 2008's hype bands, sex, drugs and rock n' roll - but that changed after Cait & Riese discovered that Uh Huh Her was holding a SXSW fan documentary competition. Clever, right? 'Cause Uh Huh Her's new album is called Common Reaction, and this video is all about recording the reactions of the fans ... anyway so moving right along... [SIDENOTE OMG IT'S OUR VIDEO! WANNA SEE IT? HERE IT IS!]

Riese: I hope you guys know we're only going [to sxsw] to see Uh Huh Her.
Me: Then I hope we'll be able able to get into the [Uh Huh Her] showcase.
Cait: I'm going to SXSW at 8am tomorrow. I'll scope us out a good spot.

We agreed that this video competition was a basically personal invitation from Uh Huh Her to Riese to create/win a contest, and so we were 100% focussed on attending all three Uh Huh Her shows and capturing stellar footage. Tara and I did manage to get out and see some real bands, specifically The LK (from Sweden) and The Breeders, both of who rocked our socks off. Oh, and - I bought a cowboy hat, and it's the best cowboy hat ever.

PHOTO: Natalie models Crystal's cowboy hat.

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8) Meeting Uh Huh Her / Leisha Hailey

The highlight of SxSW was hands down Uh Huh Her's 9:15 guest DJ spot at this random nightclub. We arrived at 9:15pm, but the band was nowhere to be seen. About 9:45, they saunter/stumble in, and Tara (designated camera-person) proceeds to march right up to Leisha Hailey and starts in all: When are you playing? You were meant to be on stage 30 minutes ago, so wtf?! We've got a video to shoot and some real bands to see.Actually, Tara was totally polite about it, but the message remained crystal clear [sidenote: this is a good example for me as my friends are attempting to teach me the nuances of "crystal clear communication.] Alice responded by mumbling something and looking to her iPhone as if it'd rapidly SMS her an excuse for her tardiness. They shared a few more words, shook hands, and Tara made her exit. Alice was left looking at me expectantly but I had nothing to bring to the table, so I gave her the two thumbs up and ran away.

When they finally started their DJ set, we convinced Cait to go ask Leisha to play some BETTY. The jury is still out on whether Leisha Hailey understood the joke, but hilarity ensued regardless. Stef, a SxSW warrior, got kicked out of the venue prematurely for being drunk and disorderly, and we followed shortly after.

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7) Hotels / community living

I feel like I've stayed in a lot of hotels this trip, and I'm fairly certain that if Cait was to never share a bed with me again then it would be too soon.

Times Square's Paramount Hotel -- where I stayed sans-Riese for three days prior to relocating to Planet Harlem -- was the most interesting experience. I booked this hotel 'cause I read a review where some disgruntled guest rated the Paramount 0 stars out of 5 'cause "the staff was flirtatious." 'Cause I've got no standards, this review SOLD me and I picked a room called "The Petite Suite." The whole hotel had some crazy decor and the room would've been more fairly represented as the "Don't Bother If You're Over 5'1 or 90 Pounds Suite."

See Photo:

The review was true however, they earned 5 out of 5 stars from me and many generous tips.

A stuff up with our hotel reservation in Austin lead us to spend our first few nights in a room about ten minutes away from downtown. The room wasn't really equipped for four adults, meaning we had to sacrifice all available floor space to achieve adequate sleeping arrangements. It was close living quarters, but as long as you didn't want to open the mini bar at the same time someone wanted to open their suitcase, it was all sweet.

Cait: Can we just stop and talk about how our room is one big bed?
Riese: It's like summer camp!

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6) Public Transportation

I've been to NYC many times but I've never taken the subway before because, as Law & Order is the only TV show we get in Australia, I've born witness to a plethora of plots relaying the message that I'm likely to get killed or harmed on the New York subway. Now -- I don't necessarily count on Dick Wolf to determine my personal barometer of what's safe and realistic in this world, however my suspicions were confirmed when Tara took me on the subway for the first (and possibly last) time and I was nearly killed and/or harmed. Tara was so enthralled in some witty/intelligent tale I was telling that she didn't realise we'd arrived at our stop, and when she did, she ran off the train suddenly and I followed a little too late, getting stuck between the doors. My life flashed before my eyes, along with a number of other scenarios where I'd get separated from Tara indefinitely and find myself selling coke in Chelsea until I could afford cab fare back to Harlem.

It's probably a well known fact that the cab drivers in this town are kinda crazy, but the past few weeks I've experienced madness to an extent I hadn't anticipated. Tonight, my cabbie jumped out mid-drive to engage in a lengthy screaming match with a policeman telling him not to drive down a particular street -- with the meter running. I tipped him anyhow 'cause I was a little scared he might yell at me too.

I also learned about these modes of transportation that Riese (and no-one else I have yet to meet [sidenote: everyone]) calls "Gypsy cabs". I was amazed when Riese told me that if I was to stand on her street corner, random cars would just pull up beside me and offer me a ride... [sidenote: this's cause they seem to think any white person in my neighborhood is clearly looking to get out asap] and that it's completely normal and safe to get into the vehicle. In Australia, we call this kind of thing Stranger Danger.

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5.) The L Word/Parties

Ever read Auto-Straddle and wondered what really goes on at an L Word party? I did -- and now I have the answers. Sadly, I didn't witness any Hollywood TV style behavior worth reporting, like sorority-sister pillow fights, but still I attended two and they were a lot of fun!

As soon as I got here, Riese sat me down in front of the TV and forced me to start watching from Season One. [sidenote: "Guess what I'll be able to do when I get to the states, tiger? I'll finally get to see this L Word show you're always talking about!" - Crystal, email, a long time ago] I made it through S1 and part of S2, but needed to take a break when Jenny started writing a short story about a woman who's born mute who one day discovers that she can understand and speak the secret language of the manatees. Also, did anyone else find it incredibly disturbing when Tina set a place a the dinner table for her positive pregnancy test stick? OMG.

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4) Some of my Non-L Word/SxSW social activities

On my first night in NYC, Tara picked me up and took me to this bar called Karma where we smoked Hookah (flavoured tobacco out of a giant bong-like device). You can't smoke indoors in Sydney, so I felt like I was living a little on the wild side. [sidenote: Karma's actually one of the only places in the city where you an smoke indoors.] We met many aspiring writers who came and sat down with us, leaving us with cigarette lighters and memorable quotes to coin, such as "if you want to fuck me, buy some art". Later on in the week, Cait became mildly disgusted at the state of my footwear [sidenote: one of her shoes was missing a sole] and took me shoe shopping in the West Village. Stef took me to a cafe that served vegan food. I hung out at St Mark's a lot and got embarrassingly excited when I realised a dude in Trash and Vaudeville was on the phone to Slash. Riese, Tara and I went to the Mercury Lounge because Yuko Honda and Sean Lennon were performing, and we saw a lot of short guys with tight jeans and sports coats.

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3) Learning

I've always had a tough time commenting on Riese's blog because I've never really understood all her references, like about Duane Reade and its incompetent employees (it's true!), or why anyone would combine peanut butter with chocolate (ace!). I know all about these things now. Cait & Riese also taught me a lot about serious community/social issues that I'd been completely unaware of, namely the poor education and health system in this country. I always knew that I was lucky to be raised in a country whose government (in comparison) invests greatly in the well-being of its community, but to discover that most kids in America don't have their own text books was a real eye-opener for me. Riese lent me this book called Savage Inequalities by Jonathan Kozol that explores the poor education system - I recommend it to everyone who has not experienced the inequities of the US education system first hand. [sidenote: and everyone who has]

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2)Language

I've experienced (and overcome) a few language barriers since being here. I've found that my common phrases like "I'm not fussed", "peak hour traffic", "how're you going?" and "cheers" are not terms that Americans easily understand. Store employees give me an impatient sigh if I take the time to construct a polite sentence instead of just barking out my order. In Austin, the owner of the hot sauce shop told me I 'must be Australian' because I said thank you when he gave me my change. I thought the accent probably would have given my nationality away, but it was interesting nonetheless. Afterwards, I walked into a bar that had a sign saying 'Cheers Mate' Is NOT An Acceptable Tip In Texas. It was funny, but maybe you had to be there. I also learned that in America, you guys don't only type in acronyms - you also speak in them, and it's kind of hilarious. I had no idea until I met Riese and Cait, who literally do lace their spoken out-loud sentences with OMG, WTF and LOL.

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1) Meeting Riese and Co.

L to R: Crystal, Natalie, Alex

A long time ago I posed this thought to Riese via email: I've been to NYC so often that I've probably walked past you in the street, [and so it's interesting that] we're here now, talking, on the opposite sides of the world. If had run into each other at some stage, in person, pre-emails, would we have stuck around to hear each other out? And based on all of this, how much do we really have in common with those we think we know, but have never met?

It's impossible to realistically answer the question of whether two internet friends would've become friends if they'd met in person first -- and thanks to the internet itself, we really don't have to answer this question anymore. Many of my friends back home couldn't understand why I'd go stay with someone I'd only ever communicated with via email [sidenote: and skype! 'cause I freelance for Crystal's company and she had to train me, I haven't open that application since.]

They definitely couldn't comprehend how this person had become someone I'd consider to be one of my closest friends. Walking into Riese's apartment and meeting her for the first time is one of the most comfortable first encounters I've had -- I didn't feel like I needed to impress her or show her who I am, 'cause I knew I'd already done so virtually. On the surface, we're not that similar as people or personality types, but underneath it all we share the same basic human qualities, the ones that really matter: e.g., compassion, love, kindness. And for those of you who wonder about such things, in 3-D Riese is similar to as advertised on this blog: outrageously funny, intelligent, warm-hearted, and not at all keen on leaving her house (for real). I also had the pleasure of meeting most of her friends, such as Cait, Alex, Natalie, Stef, Tara and Carly - and they were all awesome people, because like attracts like.

Okay, that's all from me, it's my last day in the USA and I've got a plane to catch. later.

---

Hi guys it's me again, Riese. Unfortunately Crystal whipped this baby out prior to last night's journey to The Red Lobster in Times Square (trivia! Red Lobster's owned by Darden, which also owns The Olive Garden, where I used to work). I felt The RL would offer a pure American Experience, and, had we gone earlier, she would've been able to discuss her very first bite of a Cheddar Bay Biscuit.

Last week Crystal had drinks with Diana, who she'd met through my blog, and last night Diana joined us for Red Lobster. Natalie was telling Diana our (Nat & I's) legendary love story -- how we'd met (English 125), the first time we'd really hung out (we ran into each other outside of the bookstore during the first week of our second year at Michigan), the standard lies Natalie infuses this story with (Natalie: "Marie! Hi!" Me, In Natalie's Creative Re-Telling of the Sory: "Let's go get dinner, I think I have AIDS."), how Natalie'd pursued our friendship. And it was funny, really, that Nat had to emphasize that unlike most of my VIPs, we hadn't met online.

I never thought I'd be the kind of person to make so many cyber-friends, you know? ... though I was likely destined for that fate the moment I picked up my first pack of Magic the Gathering cards. I met Haviland through a friend (a friend we'd both met on the internet) pretty much the same week I started Auto-Win, but aside from Natalie, most of the people I talk to regularly are people I've met through blogging.

Maybe it's easier this way 'cause blog-friends, unlike real-friends, will say: "it's okay, we don't have to hang out, I want you to finish the recap so I can read it." But mostly I think my plethora of cyber-originated friendships can be attributed to the fact that these people, by reading and talking to me, are at least kinda drawn to my sensibility and sense of humor ... and consequently, I'm drawn to theirs ... during the Dark Fall of '07, I probs talked to Crystal more than I did to any living breathing friend -- maybe around 10 emails a night. It helped that I was writing for her company and she was sorta my boss (instant legitimacy beyond any instinctual certainty). I worked out a lot of issues talking to Crystal that I couldn't discuss with anyone in my "real life" -- blogfriends or not. Before Crystal even landed stateside, we already had at least 10 facebook friends in common, and Tara even met her before I did (I was still in L.A.), which was funny, and awesome.

I think in a few years, when the internet's been around long enough for us to step back and think about it really -- it'll probs seem quite marvelous. For loners, who don't believe in the inherent value of live socialization, this is a pretty legitimate space to communicate. Most cyber-connections never translate into real life, but it's quite affirming that they so often do. That someone who knows the ugliest rawest weirdest parts of me would actually want to sleep on my couch, which doesn't pull out, 'cause Carly and Alex broke it.

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"The internet is, for loners, an absolute and total miracle. It is, for us, the best invention of the last millennium. It educates. It entertains. It transforms. It facilitates a kind of dialogue in which we need not be seen, so it suits us perfectly. It validates. It makes being alone seem normal. It makes being alone fun for everyone."
(Anneli Rufus, "Party of One: The Loners' Manifesto")
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"No one, wise Kublai, knows better than you that the city must never be confused with the words that describe it.
And yet between the one and the other there is a connection ... on the outskirts where men and women land every evening like lines of sleepwalkers, there is always someone who bursts out laughing in the darkness, releasing the flow of jokes and sarcasm."
(Italo Calvino, "Invisible Cities.")
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Also okay everyone watch the video and go to the Uh Huh her contest youtube page and vote for us to win this Uh Huh Her contest, if we lose we're gonna be really pissed. Like this:

(SXSW Photo)

The Difference Between Frozen Hands and Feet

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

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

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

ia. Rachel Verification

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

ii. Where's The Turkey, Chuck?

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

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

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

iii. The Time You've Got Me Running

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

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

iv.

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

v.

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

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

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

That's what my hair looks like right now.

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

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

vi. Walking With a Ghost

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

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

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

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

vii. Re:

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

viii. Power in my Words/Passion in my Eyes

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

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

10. 31. 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Title from this Tegan & Sara song, which you can listen to in the sidebar for burning-a-little-brighter purposes.] FYI, none of this is real. It's all a trick ... I mean illusion. Although you may've suspected that Riese is actually a cover for a 50-year old SARS-infected Unabomber living in a Nebraska basement/crystal meth lab, the truth is way hotter. In fact, Riese is a cover for someone even cooler than actual Riese! Real Riese can fly, obvs, is 75% lesbian, rides to and from work on a unicorn and when she dreams, she dreams in big bright colors about worlds resembling Milton Bradley board games, specifically Chutes and Ladders and Candyland. Her real friends are Gloppy the Molasses Monster and Princess Lolly. The former offers good advice, the latter has an agile tongue, which is handy. I think I've been reading too much experimental fiction lately.

Back in the days of Livejournal '03, [I believe I have 2-3 carryover readers, yes? Jenna? Carl? Hello.] I got frustrated that my boy's other girlfriend was [understandably] combing my LJ for hints about his secret life and, in reaction to this, I began posting on LJ as if I was in the Witness Protection Program. The best part of this game was taking new photos for my icon in my roommate's Marc Jacobs sunglasses. Everyone [all five of my readers] got really confused like "Are you really in Montana and if so why?" So I gave it up, though it was way more fun than telling the truth. I never expected my banner to be such prophecy, w/r/t honesty being a bitch, etc. Speaking of prophecy, what is truth? I don't know, I don't believe in it. I believe in only one thing and that thing is heart: is your heart good or bad? That is all that matters. You know the answer. Disowning your daughter for imaginary reasons, P.S., is bad, though I guess it's easier to handle when your wife is her age, it's like you can still be connected to our generation and not miss out on the latest developments in facebook applications, etc.

Also. Also. Also. I've got all these ideas, like for a glossary and a cast of characters and a more useful organised blogroll and such things, but for now I've sort of created this blog just where I can keep all the stuff I want to copy down every day, which's a lot of stuff, and also [also. also.] to archive the auto-fun of the day. Just so you know. The more you know, you know?

"I do not mind living
like this. I cannot bear
living like this.
Oh, everything's true
at different times
in the capacious day."
(Stephen Dunn, "Between Angels")
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"No man has ever dared to describe himself as he truly is." (Camus)
*

So, I'm still gonna like, explain stuff later this week, 'cause it's obvs more complicated than it seems and I feel I owe y'all that after um, deleting my entire blog etc. But things'll be okay. There'll be no Dream Job [the hours/pay/perks were so incredible, obvs too good to be true], but I'm lucky to be surrounded by dreamy people, including Olive, who believes in follow through, which's also something I believe in. Last night Haviland and I discussed, for about an hour, the possibility that Olive is in fact an angel.

For now, I'm still riding the "fuck it" end of major depressive disorder, obviously. Thus, this week's VLOG, in which Haviland and I play "I've Never"/"Never Have I Ever"/"The Ten Fingers Game."

FIRST: If you're considering paying me to do something and are reading this blog to uncover my true self -- you know, all the secret and terribly relevant aspects of my past and recreational activities that will absolutely bear just as much upon my job performance as it does upon the performance of your other employees who've committed similar sins but don't have blogs -- I'd like to provide a disclaimer/rant ...

How has our culture come to this: we are obsessed with "uncovering" the truth, but we despise honesty ... and, right, what is the truth? After all, ultimately Olive and I were punished for deductions based on a version of truth I offered up here ... clearly we're dealing with a maniac and therefore, truth is about as real as the word "truthiness," or is about as real as Auto-Win. Whoever I am. I don't know who I am. I can't even write an "about me" for any of the 500 social networking sites I'm on, I can just give quotes. I mean, old-school AutoWin was so unlike my actual self, it was/is/was/is a character. We all become characters we become the stories we tell about ourselves, Often the facts I present here are about as true as fiction, and sometimes it's fiction but totally true. All I know is this: whatever I do say is somehow important, essential, necessary, honest -- to me, and hopefully, to you. Above all, I would like everyone to LOL as much as possible and LMAO or ROFL whenever possible and not to take anything too seriously.

Mostly I just want to make fun of myself and all the follies of my past & present and yours too, because life is obvs hands down totes RIDIC.

"I want to be consistent
with the truth as it reveals itself
to me," Gandhi said, and I felt
the hard permission right words give us
to disobey, to become ourselves.
I loved thinking that integrity
might be fluid, and still do,
though the indulgent, rudderless
and without shame, love to think so too,
and the truth is
the indulgent are my careless brothers
half the time."
-from "Loves," Stephen Dunn
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Dan: When I get back please tell me the truth.
Alice: Why?
Dan: Because I'm addicted to it. Because without it we're animals.

-Closer, Patrick Marber

"You can doubt anything if you think about it long enough, because what happened always adjusts to fit what happened after that."

-Ani DiFranco, "Reckoning"

This is my weirdo story, for whatever that's worth, for whatever is true or untrue, good or bad, wrong or right, hidden or revealed, for whatever I've done or the ordinary events of my life I've converted into legend. I've obvs got more than this to say on the topic of truth, story, character, it's one of my favorites, clearly. But for now, this is like, the brillest vlog of all time. I'd like to subtitle it "a hot mess," and add, also, that there's so much brill footage from this one, there'll be another later this week fo' sho. Also, we weren't making out in the bathroom, P.S. and also I didn't ... who cares.

""None of us seemed to know the nature of the coincidences that bound us together, as I know now, or that junkies and masochists and hookers and those who have squandered everything are the ring of brightest angels around heaven."
(Rick Moody, The Ring of Brightest Angels Around Heaven)"

I'll Send My Winter To You

It's Winter Now. Cold, etc. An open letter of tribute to Winter-Wear, My Winter Essentials:


Jeff Buckley:

He (not Jeff Buckley, but My He, an Illusive He, He Himself) told me in one of our first conversations that he wanted to play Tom Waits at his funeral, "Take it With Me," to be specific, and I've listened to it a million times since then and I think I agree, mine too, maybe he and I will go down together, that would be easiest, you could just play the song once. But what gets me about funeral songs (those of us who've spent years feeling morbid, staring into voids of emotion or aspiration, know this) is that people can't sing at their own funeral, you know? But if the ghost of Jeff Buckley could've sang a song at the funeral of Jeff Buckley I would like for it to be "Lilac Wine." Listening to Jeff Buckley is like flirting with Death, except that Death is fashion model with expensive skin and eyes like bullets and she is wearing a white t-shirt and Jeff Buckley's underwear. Listening to Jeff Buckley is the closest we can get to unbridled pain without having any unbridled pain in our own lives. "Everybody loves Jeff Buckley," a friend said to me yesterday. "Not people who want to be happy," I said. In grey freezing January, you have no choice about happiness. Crank it up. Cold and broken Hallelujah ...

Lovers in Hoodies:

Maybe you like them naked, which is obvious, I guess, and makes certain things quicker, and maybe the fact that I'd rather see my lover in a hoodie is the kind of thing that indicates premature aging, perhaps the shriveling of ovaries or that my kind of love is less like Maxim and more like Good Housekeeping but when I see my lover in a hoodie I want to curl up next to them and stay there, possibly forever, or at least until March. I want to laugh while I stick my head underneath the billowy stomach of it and then push it off. I want to see you in a hoodie and then I want to take it off.

The L Word Day:

I remember when the boys complained 'Why isn't there a "Take Your Son to Work Day?" and I thought Because every day is Take Your Son to Work Day, because that's how it is, you take him there--THERE--or you raise him to believe he deserves Assigned Work and he takes himself somewhere like THERE, and The L Word is Our Day, like Our Chart. The L Word Day is because everyone else got Christmas. The straight people got Christmas, because they had swollen bellies holding babies and man holding wife. But too many homo-people didn't get Christmas, didn't get real questions about their lives which are words that mean I Love You, instead they got the cold stare people deliver instead of saying I hate you you make me nervous and they didn't get rings that later go with certificates to announce at cheering tables of families lost already to the abc family channel and so you come back to where you've set up exile and you wait and in six days, it is Your Holiday, it's The L Word Day, where lesbians are beauty queens and straights are serving punch and crackers on folded tables, it's The L Word Day you deserve it, everyone else just had Christmas, goddamnit.

The Seasonal Affective Disorder Playlist

how to fight loneliness/wilco. lilac wine/jeff buckley. please please please let me get what I want/the smiths. incredible machine/fiona apple. take it with me/tom waits. so jealous/teagan and sara. virgin state of mind/k's choice. good enough/sarah mclachlan. dream brother/jeff buckley. most of the time/bob dylan. five string serenade/mazzy star. yesterday/the beatles. marrow/ani difranco. hold on love/azure ray. about a girl/nirvana. latter days/over the rhine. hurt/christina aguilera. the promsise/tracy chapman. exit music for a film/radiohead. hazey jane II/nick drake. hold you in my arms/ray lamontagne. hallelujah/rufus wainwright. when doves cry romeo and juliet/prince. shadowboxer/fiona apple. no woman no cry/bob marley. witness/sarah mclachlan. strung out again/elliot smith. s ick of me/ani difranco. proudest monkey/dave matthews band. where did I go wrong?/martin sexton. wish you were here/pink floyd. ghost/indigo girls. after you're gone/mary gauthier. fly away/poe. ill take the rain/r.e.m. does he love you/rilo kiley. the weakness in me/joan ardamtrading. nowhere to go/melissa etheridge. fighting chance/melissa ferrick. fade to black/metallica. porcelain/moby. will the night/low. blue/joni mitchell. ghetto gospel/tupac with elton john. bother/stonesour. evolution/cat power.

mr. burt and your bees and your affordable line of moisturizing products in small containers

Remember when we thought it was addictive? Maybe it is, I guess, like water. I wish you could protect me from other things too like how you protect my lips from the elements with your chapstick. I wish you could protect me from other things too. I like what you've done for my skin, but you could stick around a little longer, I won't go crazy, just make a commitment, protect and protect. I wish you could protect me from waiting for the bus in the windy cold for thirty minutes when I could have walked in ten. They probably don't have busses where you're from. Burt, you don't need the m15 because I feel like you know how to fly, all raincoat-yellow grease and water cutting against ice-blue sky.

children in a lot of winter gear

I make animal sounds (gentle animals, animals with fur who can't run too fast) of approval and Hallmark quality cute overload for small children who have little limbs sticking out of their boxy winter parkas. I think it is funny. It makes me laugh and smile and want to be a child or have one, and if I have one I want to drop it into a big green puffy coat like a pea into a fleece pea-pod with gortex lining. Like a marshmallow.

empire corner

You are only two corners away from me but I am too hungry to walk. Maybe I passed by you on the way home but honestly I've never been inside, I don't want to smell like Wok Night (wok night, we had that at interlochen, the teachers made stir fry in a wok and all night long our clothes reeked of soy sauce and sesame oil just from that thick air in the cafeteria). I find it amazing that you ride your bicycle through snowdrifts. My fortune is a snowflake, all lucky numbers, and the cookie is only a little stale.

sleeveless coffee

Maggie and i just had a 10 minute conversation about ways to get Starbucks delivered here (car service? homeless person? courier? submissive man from craigslist?). I am thinking of my fingers on the coffee cup without a sleeve. In the summer we have shirts without sleeves. In the winter we have cups without sleeves. It feels like the cardboard might be searing away the lines of our fingerprints, but it feels like so much good heat all at once, I'm willing to burn my tongue or my identity just to taste it.


top song for s.a.d:
"I'll Send My Winter To You"
by Saturday Looks Good to Me

Holding together with glue
he says the particles are entwined
a presentation past due
outdated misshapen valentines
I'll send my winter to you
with the last of the ice early april melts
No point in being confused
over old months collected and times we've spent
spring has been harder to see
then at one point I might have believed
Light pulls itself into view
weary eyes watched sun rise over fall
sleep for an hour or two if only in respect
for the principal
Written in rain in a coat designed to be unbreakable
At the bottom of the lake
in the center of town
still covered with snow
Elected scraps
and artifacts
of some unsung history
dragged from frozen deeps
while the neighborhood sleeps
silently leering
I'll send my winter to you
if only to have someone to send it to.