Sunday Top Ten: Gayest Moments of My Life Part ONE

As your Mom(s) probs told you, I'm a finalist in the LGBT Blog Awards (voting begins January 5th). Therefore today I must talk about gay things. (Every day is gay day at my other blog auto-straddle, just FYI). I've perused the blogs of my nine co-finalists -- including an actual famous person, the web's largest LGBTQ group blog, last year's winner, a famous well-established news blog, an activist transwoman, an "openly gay, pro-choice, gun owning, pro-death penalty, voted-for-President Bush authentic feminist" and um ... "the internet home for the American gay conservative" -- and determined my only chance to win this thing is via a RUDY -esque last-minute triumph of underdog glory (You can call me "Marie" for the chanting part, 'cause "Riese" only has one syllable. RU-DY, MA-RIE, etc.). Chances are it'll be less like Rudy and more like real life, where the underdog sits on the bench and eats peanuts from a can. Well ideally cashews.

Obvs I'm honored to be on this prestigious list among these world-class bloggers, I love everyone, this is great for visibility, and I'm totally pumped just to be nominated. I think I represent the NeXt GeNeratioN of insane queer weirdos. I feel much like Blabbeando (an excellent blogger and new-discovery, thanks Webblog Awards!), who said in his "I'm a finalist post": "There is the itty-bitty detail of being matched up with Joe, Pam, Bilerico and Andy Towleroad as nominees. Beat them for the award? Yeah, right." Me too, Andrès, me too. But you know what, RU-DY RU-DY! YEAH! AN-DRÈS!

I feel among friends -- up there with Pam of Pam's House Blend, who I worked with on the 8 Against 8 Campaign -- her blog is fabulous and I read it every day. Also I know Susie Bright (my fellow bisexual nominiee) -- she's one of my favorite feminists & sexperts & writers in the world, and she edited The Best American Erotica of 2007, and picked my story to be in it! -- read Susie interviewing me here.

To segue into this weeks Gay Top Ten Topic let me tell you about when I met Joe.My.God who won last year. Lesbo blogger Curly McDimple organized the '07 Gay Blogger Weenie Roast, which I attended out of gay pride although it combined several of my most loathed activities: daytime drinking, outdoor eating in hot weather, networking proactively, beer, socializing with strangers, and traveling to the farthest reaches of Park Slope from Harlem by subway on a weekend. Sometimes one must suck it up and stop whining in order to be a good networker.

But I went (see photo of Hav & I expertly networking with Jamie, who's not gay but I forced her to attend anyhow) and brought Haviland, Carly and Carly's friend Roy (he's the one who told me "that's Joe.My.God, he's a real big deal") and it was super gay. Also super balmy, I sweated like a nun at a gay weenie roast.

Our new friend Caroline (we'd just met her on the rosie cruise) (she's now engaged to Heather Matarazzo) was there bartending, so it was awesome to see her AND I ran into a lesbo friend from my brief tenure at Sarah Lawrence -- well, she wasn't my friend exactly, she was my gay best friend's lesbian friend's then-girlfriend. We were sorta friends. The moral of the story is this was super gay and that's how it is with the gays.

But was it one of the Top Ten Gayest Moments of my life? No probs not, doesn't stand a chance against Tegan & Sara or the No on Prop 8 Rally, which brings me to today's Top Ten Topic ... to be delivered in two segments of five, 'cause doing all ten at once would be really long and I know you're all very busy.

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THE TOP TEN GAYEST MOMENTS OF MY LIFE ON EARTH
Part One, Items 10-6

First an honorable mention During my Mom's NYC weekend visit in April '07, my then-girlfriend TB was playing "percussive stuff at this new monthly Queer/Trannie Ethnic Drum party in Brooklyn." The idea of going to gay things with my gay Mom makes me really itchy, and although I protested that I wasn't ethnic enough for the drum circle (and I anticipated it involving actual granola), TB insisted and Mom was down. Therfore on a rainy dark April night I took Mom to far-away-land, Brooklyn on a series of buses (train canceled). Although TB had anticipated a "down-to-earth spiritual, tabla/djembe, chill-in-living room sorta thing" we got "whoa nightclub, ethnic hipsters and miked percussion." (all quotes are TB's, from this) and she apologized and said we could go, as it might not pick up for many hours, I had an article to write and Mom is a Mom -- it did pick up later, but by then we had cabbed it home.

The point is that had serious Best Gay Moment POTENTIAL but due to the thwarted extra gayness opportunity (actual ethnic hippie drum circle), cannot rightfully be on this list. But it deserves a moment.

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10. The Rosie Cruise

Everything about the Rosie Cruise is so gay, I could probs assemble a Top 10 Gayest Moments on the Rosie Cruise for each year I've gone (Alaska, Key West 1 & 2, New England/Canada 1 & 2 ). Gay families, gay children, themed costume nights, Susan Powter wandering the boat yelling about her vagina and/or yoga, a musical theater-heavy performance schedule, and the identically-outfitted "R Family Team" regularly introduced by the song "We Are Family." It's a bunch of famous gays with a bunch of normal gays and their kids and then rascals like us. Where else can Andrea McArdle ask you to come wake up her husband with "look at all the hot lesbians in your bed!" It's so gay and by gay I mean happy.

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9. The Mz Hip and Fit New York 2007 Contest

This was a two part exercise in gay-ness -- Hav was nominated for Mz Girl Nation (GirlNation hosts a gay Saturday night in NYC where everyone who's anyone goes to run into everyone they've already kissed) and Heather and I told her to do it 'cause we thought it'd be funny. It was FUNNY, obvs she won by a landslide.

I dragged my then-girlfriend to the event at Nation AND to the next event at "DUVET" (where Mz GirlNation would fight against Mz Cattyshack and etc for the "Mz Hip and Fit New York 2007" title) both populated largely by impossibly young fresh-faced Dos-Equis-chugging lesbians whooting and hollering Scores-style. We made a sign with markers. At DUVET, about 10 - 12 lesbians had to run on stage, dance, and then get voted on by the applause generated by the legions of friends they'd forced to attend. There were no speeches. There was also supposed to be no stripshows, but all the girls except Hav totally removed at least 50% of their outfits on stage. Hav was over it by this point and besides, nekkid-in-public isn't how she rolls, she's a lady from Savannah.

The first place winner had fake tits, they'd never let that shit fly on Miss America.

For some reason Haviland doesn't like flaunting this honor on all her promotional materials but I feel it should be her new nickname, like Haviland "Mz GirlNation" Stillwell. Google that, she-bitches.

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8. My Mom's "Gay" Picnics

Back in the 90's, my Mom used to host these "potlucks" for her "friends" from her "group" for "women in transition" in our backyard [I almost put "backyard" in quotation marks too, but then I realized, no, I mean, that for sure was indeed the backyard.] and try to con me into attending.

As you know, I dislike the following things: 1. outdoor eating, 2. outdoor picnics involving plastic/paper flatware/dishes and lawn chairs, 3. large gatherings of women my Mom's age, 4. doing anything at all whatsoever that my Mom wants me to do ("4" is also the reason why I was straight as an arrow for so long), 5. eating large meals at mid-day, 6. large gatherings of people I don't know, 7. large gatherings of people, 8. other people, 9. tuna salad casserole.

Mom's primo con/strategy to force my attendance was The Grill Trick. Although I'd insist I didn't want any part of the potluck, Mom knew eventually I'd be hungry (and I was, 'cause she'd moved all the food from the kitchen to the "back porch") and then, when I expressed interest in eating a grilled item she would not, per my request, permit me to wait inside for delivery of said item (she would've only had to slide open the door and pass off the burger, no biggie). Instead I was forced to go outside, defenseless save my Angsty-Depressed-Emo-Teenager Skater-Who-Doesn't-Skate cloud of hostility, and place my request directly to the grillmaster ... and then! sit and wait for preparation!

During the waiting & subsequent eating period, I'd be obligated by "manners" to meet people and consequentially listen to women in transition talk about transitional things, like civil unions and the Women's Studies department at U of M. That was really gay. Her friend Tabitha was kinda cute though.

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7. Melissa Etheridge concert in Atlantic City on July 4th, 2008

I'd never seen the Eth before and was therefore unawares that she unleashes mountains of gayness upon the crowd not only during her songs but BETWEEN songs. She basically told the story of every girlfriend she'd ever had, performed beneath a banner of Tibetian prayer flags, and called herself out for being a stalker. Real lesbians from New Jersey abounded -- women willing to miss fireworks for The Eth -- sang, swayed, cried a little, adjusted their tool-belts, etc. As you can see in the photo, Caitlin is popping her collar and Alex & I are full of passionate lesbian feelings. I love Melissa Etheridge forevs & evs.

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6. NewNowNext Awards - May 2008

A;ex & I plugged microphones into our pants pockets 'cause we had no actual outlets for them, I was sick and therefore looked like a cokehead, Tinkerbell was there in her Uh Huh Her outfit, the red carpet was actually grey, we were totally dissed by Christian Whateveriano from Project Runway but totally treated as 100% legitimate journalists by everyone else, Candice Cayne said we were "GORGE," The Dazzle Dancers got glitter on Tinkerbell's nose, Ricky signed my vintage '95 My So-Called Gay Life poster and Michelle Paradise asked Tinkerbell for her number. Our actual friends Carly & Robin work(ed at the time, in Robin's case) at Logo and therefore were present, amping up the OurChart factor. Anyhoo then I felt sleepy sloos, I'm not really good at being out late at night.

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I bet you are on the edge of your seat for Part Two yeah? January is a big month here full of excitement so you should probs put a cushion on the edge of your seat or a dildo, because there is so much fun to look forward to. Also, I clearly have a thing for befriending um, Capricorns? Birthdays - Caitlin (6th), Kelly from TLL (8th) (thank you facebook), Natalie (16th), Haviland (19th), my friend Erika from middle school (19th), Crystal (20th). OBAMA DAY on the 20th. L Word Premiere on the 18th. Also, it's fucking cold.

Tuesday Top Ten: All About Your Mother

[hello! It's me in the brackets! I was writing something kinda heavy for the Sunday Top Ten but then it got so heavy that it crushed me. Luckily, inspiration struck once again like a light object (e.g., a koosh ball, Tinkerbell) upon my braincase and here I am on Tuesday w/the Sunday Top Ten. In other words: The Tuesday Top Ten! ("holler alliteration!" - carlytron)]

Though I haven't lived with my own mother since 1997 [Because my Mother's become a more sensitive fact checker than my ex at the height of psychosis, I should add: "because I chose to leave, not because my mother didn't have a home for me to live in between those years of 1997-2002, complete with three full bathrooms, cable & internet, etc. and, although my mother moved out of that house in 2002, she still took me in at her tenement - esque one-bedroom for 24 hours in June '03 when my boyfriend dumped me and I needed to cry in an environment free of Kappa Kappa Gammas. Furthermore, during said hibernation, my mother even gave me $50 to go to the mall for "retail therapy," where I bought a cute pair of Mavi jeans I wore to my ex-boyfriend's apartment that afternoon to tell him I was moving to NYC for the summer, a plan he rejected in favor of his apparent summer plan to run over/play with my heart a few more times before school started back up. Furthermore, despite the menagerie of animals and children living in my Moms' current house, she is always very kind about wanting me to stay there and insists that I feel that I have a home somewhere, even though my stuff is in storage and during the winter holidays of '07 I was kicked out of said house by my mother and sent to a motel.], I've spent many a night with the mothers of others.

In addition to my uncanny ability to date people who under some circumstance or another are living with their mothers or other parental guardians, I'm currently living with Semicolon's mother, and the first week of September I lived with the random mother & children that Natalie is randomly living with (not her mother, obvs, her mother lives in Cleveland Ohio, land of champions). AND! I just snagged an October sublet with Hav's mother! Then! in November the sky's the limit you guys. Good news, November is my favorite month, it's the month that my brother and I try to remember which day my Mom's birthday is and decide who's gonna call first to find out.

Since I'm on such a roll with mothers, I got to thinking about ...

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Sunday Top Ten: Other Mothers I'd Like to Live With

10. Beverly Crusher, Star Trek: The Next Generation

I love Beverly not only 'cause I had a boi-crush on Wesley Crusher, Beverly's son (who looks like he could've easily made it to the final round of Brandon Teena auditions), but 'cause she's wicked smart and for vaycay would clearly take me to strange new worlds, seeking new life and and new civilizations and boldly go where no man had gone before. Her husband is dead but clearly I'm used to that, and besides she has Captain Picard as the resident surrogate father, I could live with that.

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9. Lindsay Bluth Funke, Arrested Development

The only element I ever disliked about Arrested Development was the Lindsay-Tobias marriage -- I don't think they did a good job of selling that to the viewer. Regardless, Lindsay's smokin' hot, loves charity, and accidentally makes jokes all the time. Keep in mind this is mothers I'd want to live with, not mothers I'd want to be mothered by. Not that I wouldn't want her genes, but you know, it'd be skeeze to crush on my Mom, and it'd be really skeeze to have Haviland crush on my Mom.

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8. Me & my Gay in H.S. - he had the best Mom ever, Christie!

Christie was my first boyfriend's Mom. Of course Ryan wasn't my actual boyfriend, he was my gay BFF with benefits, but Moms love gay boyfriend's girlfriends the MOST, 'cause not only am I the potentially-cute-if-she-did-her-hair super-fun smart girlfriend but I'm also their son's ticket to hetero-ville. Alas, conversion didn't stick, but let me tell you how I met Christie for the first time: Valentine's Day '98, a man in a trenchcoat shows up at my boarding school dorm to 'escort' me to a mysterious location -- Ryan's parents' motor-home, it turns out. The driver turned out to be Ryan's step-dad, and just as I entered the lux motorhome, Christie burst out from the bedroom in a french maid's outfit with champagne. She kept character for about three minutes before busting into, "Oh my god, I'm so glad to meet you!"

They had a ranch in Oklahoma with hills and rivers. She'd mail me newspaper clippings, beanie babies, cards, little gifts she'd just "thought of me" when she saw. She looked like Sally Field. It was so easy, winning her love, she liked me straight away. It's never been that easy since to snag parental affections. Maybe it's cause I was 16 and right on track, and now I'm a homeless delinquent with a weird blog.

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7. Peggy Peabody, The L Word

She's a crap Mom, but she's got the best lines on The L Word , did pay (unknowingly) for the entire De La Pica Morales clan to go to Canada for The Little Wedding that Couldn't, and is therefore my favorite character, besides obviously Papi, my favorite character of all time who unfortunately is not getting her own spin-off.

If Papi had a kid, what would they name it? Nino? Papi Jr.? Mini-Papi? Chi-Chi Rodriguez?

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6. Michelle Obama

I'm gonna do this thing where I not-so-subtly work Obama into every post until he wins in November. If he doesn't win, I want you to know I am going to quit all of you. I'm going to set the building on fire that's my cake. I'm going to take down all my posts like I do when I have a lot of feelings, post only song lyrics on twitter, and lie on my mattress in a street alley chanting "Dark Come Soon" to myself while eating the black polish off my fingers. Intervention won't be able to TOUCH me!

No but really, she seems like a sweet Mom. I'm not sure why everyone's freaking out about her ability to parent and campaign. If the Republicans had their way, women on welfare would all be working 60 hours a week and leaving their kids at home to eat fruit roll-ups and shoot each other. That's no good. The Obamas have it together, they match, and she's a beautiful, beautiful woman.

YES WE CAN! Vote!

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5. Marge Simpson, The Simpsons

I feel like this woman put up with some serious shit. Also her children never age, which is cheaper than the Oil of Olay my Mom uses.

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4. Kelli and Rosie O'Donnell

It's not the multiple homes that draw me in -- it's the arts & crafts hut. They're the most famous gay Moms ever, staunch democrats, philanthropic wonderwomen and genuinely caring & loving people. Rosie'd make jokes, teach me collaging and sing showtunes with me. Kelli's hot & capable and my siblings would be remarkably down-to-earth smart cookies who, much like me as a child, aren't allowed to watch the teevee. They're homos too, like my Mom, so it'd be basically like living with my Mom except with more trips to Miami and less yelling. Then I could go on the cruise for free and get free soda.

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3. Kanga

What if my Mom's name was "Ma" and my name was "Rie" and she carried me around in a fanny pack, like the turquoise one she used in the 90's'/probs yesterday? Then we'd be one-tenth of the way towards the coolness of Kanga, who had a kid named Roo she carried around in her pouch. I had a kangaroo stuffed animal with a Roo (a non-brand name version of the Pooh-Corner pair) and I got really upset when they'd be separated. We could live in the woods and eat coconuts and play with koalas and boomerangs, and I'd never have to pay rent or use craigslist again.

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2. Lorrie Moore, author

""The Mother does not know how to be one of these other mothers, with their blond hair and sweatpants and sneakers and determined pleasentness. She does not think that she can be anything similar. She does not feel remotely like them. She knows, for instance, too many people in Greenwich Village. She mail-orders oysters and tiramusu from a shop in SoHo. She is close friends with four actual homosexuals. Her husband is asking her to Take Notes. Where do these women get their sweatpants? She will find out."

(Lorrie Moore, "People Like That Are the Only People Here.")

I'm not into "Mom Lit," or Mom-Bloggers, or really any books about mother-daughter relationships. This's probs 'cause most mother-child focussed movies end with someone dying and lots of sentimental speeches that make me barf, or 'cause good mothers don't make very interesting protagonists, but ultimately the only time I can stand reading someone talk about child-rearing is when they approach it with the barenaked humility and admitted incompetence that Lorrie Moore does when she talks about motherhood. (Tama Janowitz fairs admirably in this area, too) In her novel Anagrams [SPOILER ALERT], we eventually discover that the protagonist's child isn't even real! She's an imaginary daughter! basically I feel Lorrie Moore knows how to mother 'cause she doesn't know how to mother, and I'd like to be a part of that. Or maybe I just want to move to Wisconsin, 'cause getting fat in Long Island isn't as accepted as getting fat in Wisconsin.

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1. Susan Powter

Alex: "I miss Susan Powter yoga."
Me: "We only went once, Alex."
Alex: "But I miss it."
Me: "How can you miss something we only went to once? That's like saying I miss my Bat Mitzvah."
Alex: "Can't I miss it if I want to?"
Me: "I think you're projecting your real sadness over missing the cruise and the team onto Susan Powter's yoga class."
Alex: [makes pouty face]

[this is the level of conversation we've come to during these weeks of forced co-habitation.]

I just feel like if I lived with Susan Powter, I'd probs get killer abs. Plus I'd want her to say "Tell Riese I'm looking for her. In heels."

i'm a VLOG Crash, but i have to get up, and every morning it's a clean-up

Y'all, I'm still waiting for my copies of LYING to come in the mail, so all apologies to anyone waiting on auto-gear or contest updates. In the meantime, I'd suggest deerskin, k-mart, and modge podge. Guess what? I made a vlog. On a scale of one to ten, I'd give it a "three." We answer two "advice column" questions, though they were more like the kinds of questions you'd ask your girlfriends while enjoying a game of Girl Talk. Still every child deserves his or her day in the sunshine -- or behind the veil of a color filter I can't seem to get rid of.

So! I should be a salesman! Here it is -- Hav & Riese Vlog 467. I mean, 29.

Also: send your questions to askautowin@yahoo.com. We've already gone through all the questions except two, and we can't answer those two until we get two more, which means someone's sitting at home with a girlfriend who's got a massive crush on Susan Powter not knowing what the eff to do with herself. You can make stuff up, we won't know, unless you're one of the 3-4 people we speak to regularly. We just want to tell you what to do! That's all we ever want to do! Help people! The meat of this blog -- the words and the video -- would suggest I might need someone to help me. But before the storm, please welcome the pleasing valleys of its meadow for now.

I Write Down Everything That Comes Into My Head While [While/When?] Trying to Write Rosie Cruise Blog #2

I boarded this year's cruise intending to embark upon a professionally productive week -- I'd NETWORK! I'd WRITE WORDS! I'd make VLOGS with strangers -- funny bright-eyed strangers, musical strangers! I'd create a business plan & finish Orlando & lead book club, & eat a foster child & figure out what the eff I'm doing with my life & get a boombastic tan & take freelance work on the ship & blog daily & Alex + I were gonna finish the website and we'd all have Important Meetings About Important Ideas.

I know -- "Riese, you're crazy, no one wants to do that much work on holiday." But see, I LIKE doing work on holiday. I don't even really believe in vacation, I believe in "wireless, only elsewhere." I struggle to resist the mating call of my work (which sounds, p.s., like chicken) while galavanting.

But um ... so, I did ... not a whole lot ... almost nothing I said I'd do ... which is ... amazing. Some small accomplishments: shooting photos & making a short video of it, some reading, attending of worthwhile performances, thinking & drinking & memory-making .. embracing the warm of my friends moreso than in prior years when I focussed on promising strangers.

"Live Blogging Every Thought That Comes Into my Head While Sitting at my Desk in front of my computer while
Thinking About our Recent Cruise Vaycay to Fabulous New England and two different parts of Canada!"

Our First Team Honest vacation! All of us together, and I mean a lot of things when I say "honesty." All kinds of coming clean, and each of us to our own '08 Evolution Tour.

If I had a dog, I'd name it Revolution.
If I had a cat, I'd call it Retribution and sneeze on its face.

If Tegan & Sara were my neighbors, I imagine they'd do sweet things like bring me a cup of flour for the cookies.

Alex said; "I've never had a group of friends like this before where it kinda really does feel like a team. Like each of us offers something that no-one else can do, performs a unique function," and I said, "you know, that's true," and maybe that's how it stays a dynamic dynamic.

Haviland goes back to Los Angeles tomorrow. We all go back to our lives tomorrow, or shortly thereafter.

I spent eight hours cleaning my room today. I've got about eighty more to go. I think I have too much stuff.

So I guess honesty means a lot of things -- whether it's giving up a fairy tale or another kind of tale (redemption, illusion, boundlessness) in favor of fable, accepting help, re-inhabiting the skin, taking initiative or choosing life. Even if choosing life means you've got to endure a seemingly unbearably painful heartbreak first, or fall/grow, or work way harder or drive far far away or accept medical solutions or throw away crutches or kneel and reel. Start being polite, and make it real. Meet Everyone's Someones; the mothers and the ghosts.

There's this surface you're skating called happiness. The poetic stuff's down at the ocean's bottom. There's a lot of sharks down there, and jellyfish.
So then there is a way to learn to swim when you start to drown. 'Cause you're on this boat, and the only thing that matters is that we're all outsiders, beyond that, I want slabs of cheese, cheese on crackers ...

Also! Also. Also. Honesty's realizing that life is never gonna get better, it's just gonna keep going how it's been going -- bad, then good, bad, good, etc. -- no matter what we do about it. So we might as well just make out and wait for the next joke. And read books. Trust me! It's the most important thing you can do while on earth, besides kindness and commenting.

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Oddly, I look kinda bear-ish in this photo.
I'm like "I'll eat your children, hug me, rawr!"
It's BEAR WEEK in Provincetown, p.s.
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I took Tinkerbell out to the pool deck & its crowds on Day Two 'cause she wanted tanning & a chance to show off her new outfit. So then Caitlin took away my Tinkerbell privileges but I found a new prop (clearly having my own feelings is out of the question, I must project and DANCE!), inspired by Little Edie in Grey Gardens -- american flags! Christine Ebersole, who played the role in the Broadway musical of the cult documentary, was there. So I did some flag dances like Little Edie.

Here's Edie's flag dances. Please note that the first four seconds are black, but then it starts I promise.

End video

So a lot of people were there -- I mean, my friends, and our new friends, and also the Broadway stars. Here's a list of some of the people who you may have heard of, and therefore will appreciate my insidery name-drop of their little names: Sheena Easton, Christine Ebersole, Andrea McArdle, Lillias White, Anne Steele, Brenda Braxton, Andrew Keenan-Bolger, Jake Wilson, Ann Van Cleave, Haviland Stilwell, Craig Ramsey, Brian Nash, The Broadway Boys, Julie Goldman, Jessica Kirson, Ross the Intern (from "The Tonight Show"), Seth Rudetsky, Susan Powter and the cast of LOGO's "The Big Gay Sketch Show."

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Every year I pledge to get it together after the Cruise. Plan for my life, which's fundamentally ridiculous. Boat works 'cause your deep thoughts have a control environment (like in a science experiment), a blank slate to write on while looking ahead into the murk/stars!

Did I actually talk about the cruise? Does anyone care? Probs not. I'm so glad slide-shows have faded from popularity. Memememe fa so la ti DO!

Imagine ten slides. In eight of them, I'm running into walls & people, in one I'm recycling old vocabulary and in the tenth photo I look like a girl who could be okay with everything. The boat sees the tenth photo and because I'm on it, I see it too. Today, I flew home. Tomorrow, I will need to get groceries, no-one is bringing muselix to my door.

I don't understand why no meal is even half as good as breakfast!

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Babypop
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Babypop, Jack Skellington, Caitlin
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Haviland, Babypop
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Did you see the article in the New York Times? So nice!
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""What makes humans human is precisely that they do not know the future.
That is why they do the fateful and amusing things they do: who can say how anything will turn out?
Therein lies the only hope for redemption, discovery, and--let's be frank--fun, fun, fun!
There might be things people will get away with. And not just motel towels. There might be great illicit loves, enduring joy, faith-shaking accidents with farm machinery.
But you have to not know in order to see what stories your life's efforts bring you. The mystery is all."
(Lorrie Moore, "People Like That Are The Only People Here")
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[Although I didn't tag the "horizon" as "horizon," be well aware that much like my last post's "hill," that is indeed the horizon.]

Layla Love,
Haviland Pekor,
m
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We MUST!: Rosie Cruise '08 Part #1 With Vlog, Words, Photos, and a Snack

So, I'm on the Rosie Cruise right now and when it's over I’m moving to Halifax, Nova Scotia. Halifax is packed with bookstores (including a feminist/queer store called "Venus Envy") and therefore reminds me of Ann Arbor before The Man/A-E-Phi took over. Coincidentally, Halifax is Ellen Page’s hometown (“I LOVE Ellen Page. I want to EAT HER FACE!” – Riese, Jan. '08), though we didn’t spot her during our Self-Guided Shore Excursion on Wednesday -- I think Ellen’s career is peaking right now so she’s probs making an edgy film in L.A or New York or one of those other big show-bizzy cities filled with annoying people who’ve got bogus body parts and drink sugar-free syrup/eat babies for breakfast. I live in New York City, but trust me if my neighbors had fake body parts, they’d look a lot better than they do, I’ve seen better waist-to-hip ratios on a fried chicken. JK, I love all people and actually loathe fried chicken, so there you go.

Also my keyboard feels like it’s on fire, it must be all the gay magic. Or it could be the boat, which is presently rocking back and forth, making me feel crazy/nauseous. Maybe it’s my hands. Maybe I have magic hands! I have magic hands! I like chips!

Hello o-pirates! Look, I've got a multimedia Friday for ya. I'll go into details -- e.g., extremely compelling details about Our Grand Vaycay -- when I return to the asphalted treachery of my regular life. I'm sure I'll have a lot of feelings and consequentially a book club, poetry, auto-fun, advice column vlog installments, late-night confessionals, streams of consciousness, top tens and totes random weirdohood.

For now ... firstly, a VIDEO of Haviland & I & Layla Love and a vlog in our room and all kinds of things well okay I made this movie for y'all this afternoon. Caitlin is becoming quite the cameraperson, p.s..:

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"Leaving New York -- never easy -- I saw the light fading out."
-R.E.M.
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“I wish we were on the boat right now,” Haviland is liable to moan on any of the 358 days of the year she’s not on it. After the boat, there is only “boat” and “not boat.”
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Boat: At 6 A.M. we’re on yoga mats at the fitness center waiting for Susan Powter to yell at us, to tell Caitlin “If I was that tall, I’d be illegal!” and to tell the fitness center employee “I like you, but I don’t like your penis” and to tell all of us that we’re sexy/beautiful/the future. How long will we wait?

Me: “We will wait until she comes. We must be patient, like the Jews at Mt. Sianai. They waited, and then Moses came down with the Ten Commandments."
Fellow Disciple: "Not everyone waited. There was the golden calf--"
Me: "Exactly. Thou shalt not worship false idols, and we will wait for Susan."

And we did. And it was worth it. And I can barely walk today, neither can Alex, we feel like our hamstrings have been through a tractor pull.

I'm listening to Tegan & Sara, I started jonesing. This is strange: here, now. Relatively alone at the computer in the internet cafe, paying for it, and so on, alone with my music and the words. It's the writing that makes me crazy, though I couldn't have it any other way. I'm not just saying this 'cause I'm reading Orlando.

Tuesday night I dreamt that the ninth plague was miniature cats dropping from our ceiling.

Susan's commandments are strict/sexy/beautiful/the future. She gets crazier every year. More on this later. Caitlin's written down some of her commandments and we will be gathering these, grasshoppers, and then we will bless you with them.

Modeling Through it in Halifax - 1
*

Album Cover (Title: "Modeling Through It")
*

Boat: I never return to anything. It’s a minor miracle I’ve spent over a year in my present apartment, and summer camp’s cliques and obsessive heterosexuality and insider-y gossip never worked for me so I never returned. Next year, a new camp, and then another, and another. But this’s my third fucking cruise. MY THIRD “CRUISE.” Aren’t I too cynical for all this? No, of course not. There’s water underneath and around us. No-one cares what you’re wearing or who you’re kissing and we’re too cut off to feasibly work while on board. So that's a few reasons why it's magic.

Boat: The entertainment’s appeal is never what I’d anticipated – in ’06, Cyndi Lauper and Kathi Griffin were – just as I expected – amazing. But I didn’t know Broadway Belters would be like a highlight reel of the last twenty years of Tony-award winning performances or that Hav & Brandi Massey doing Defying Gravity would almost bring me to tears, or that Elvira Kurt would be so fucking funny. Last year Sandra Bernhard wasn’t spectacular and we left Erasure early, but we made our own entertainment (“Living it Out” reading) and under certain circumstances, I found beaches and sunshine not only tolerable but lovely.

This year it's Julie Goldman. Literally the best/funniest stand-up I've seen all my life.

Boat:We decided to have a rolling race down a hill in Halifax (a.k.a. my future home), but halfway down I started feeling itchy and everyone thought I was kidding when I said I think I've developed an allergy to grass (I tend to exaggerate a lot) but whatevs. Anyhow, we made a lot of memories. And because we're all here, and I'd like to foster a spirit of togetherness and sisterhood under the light of the moon of the glow of all my sisters and brothers all over the world, I'm going to share them with you.

*

*

Caitlin keeps on rolling.
*

This is when I gave up and ran down the hill.
*

Caitlin and Alex - still rolling after all these years
*

Sooooo ... 'cause I want book club to be really good, and 'cause I owe y'all a "Stuff I've Been Reading" like WHOA, I'm gonna hold off on that discussion 'til I reach the shore. I'd tell you when that is, except I've got no idea what day it is and I'm in denial about any semblance of a life outside of here.

I've gotta get back to the room before Alex falls asleep, therefore lessening the chances I'll talk her into a grilled cheese.

pre.boat. ... 7-13-2008 ... autographed fun of the day

It wouldn't be a fun-filled stress-free vacation without a few Nth hour Catastrophes -- I write to you in a state of arrested attention which'll ideally be dissolved in 24 hours when I'm floating towards the allegedly breathtaking landscapes of New England and Canada as a bunch o' gays in shorts and matching t-shirts perform highly conceptual parodies of showtunes while dancing in relative unison. I will also, clearly, be blogging, and also -- vlogging. The fact that those verbs have become a real part of my vernacular is either awesome or embarrassing, I can't decide. UPDATE: I have decided -- embarrassing/AWESOME. On the up-side, though I've eaten all the groceries I purchased two weeks ago, I have NOT drunk the wine I purchased two weeks ago. Obviously, I'm taking care of that right now, lest good food/drink go to waste. I've put a photo of my sponsor child above my desk to remind myself how ridiculous I am and that I need to be doing more to save peoples of the world. It's totally working, actually. Also if you haven't watched our advice column vlog yet, you're pretty much gonna be getting fourtunes like "Let's Go: Non Fat Whole Wheat Green Tea" for all your many years of future time in grasshoperworld.

First of all, big news re; The 'Nards:
1. My Mom pretty much won the diary contest. She mixed up '06 and '07, but that was clearly a typo (I've fact-checked this w/Mom) 'cause I know she knows which diary entry was from '07, obvs. That's how cool I am you guys, my Mom won the contest. Also, my Mom entered the contest! My Mom is kinda magical.
2. Also my brother Lewnard has started his own blog! He likes to write complaint letters to corporations that let him down, an activity he's been pursuing since the age of 7 or 8, and now he's taking it to the streets with "Memo to the Man." We learned this anti-corporate spirit from our parents, Actual Hippies who eventually saw Lew & us employ their Vietnam Protest chants against their insistence we go to the furniture store (1-2-3-4-We don't want your fucking war = 1-2-3-4 we don't want your furniture store) to watch cardboard televisions while they stared at couches.
3. Next thing you know, Tinkerbell's gonna be getting her own myspace page or hanging out with Barack Obama and Brangelina.
4. OMG!

*

"Yes we can!"
-Tinkerbell

Madamme Tussuad Loves Tinkerbell

Tinkerbell = Also Having Twins

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[Contents of a Dream of Genie, Carla Ganis ]
*
Quote:

"I went into a glass maze called the Palace of Mirrors.
I wonder where the dreams I don't remember go.
I do not know what to do with my hands when there is nothing for them to do.
Even though it is never for me,
I always turn around when someone whistles in the street."
-Edouard Levè, from "Autoportrait"
*

[Defining Madness, by Mary Jo Rosania ]

"Sometimes, if I talked for too long, I'd be yanked beneath, into cold and weedy water.
Down there, I could not see or breathe; I was dragged backward and it wasn't even the submersion that was the worst part, it was that I had to come up again.
My present world was always, in in its mildness, a little disappointing.
I've never since Ault been in a place where everyone wants the same things; minus a universal currency, it's not always clear to me what I myself want. And anyway, no one's watching to see whether or not you get what you're after -- if at Ault I'd felt mostly unnoticed, I'd also, at certain moments, feel scrutinized.
After Ault, I was unaccounted for ... I've never paid close attention to my life or anyone else's as I did then.
How was I able to pay such attention?
I remember myself as often unhappy at Ault, and yet my unhappiness was alert and expectant;
really, it was, in its energy,
not that different
from happiness."
-from "Prep," by Curtis Sittenfeld

Ethan and His Blue Things - -SeeWoo and Her Pink Things
[JeongMee Yoon]
*
Auto-Fun for the Time Being:

1. An intelligent summary of the last few weeks of automated phun (like "fun" married "phat" and had a ferret) ending with a BANG w/an excerpt from one of my favorite David Foster Wallace essays ever: The Internet and its Enemies (@The National)
2. Really all I can do w/r/t this shared item is quote stef's google reader note on it: "I don't even know what's going ON anymore.": In Which We Recommend You Become a Better Person (@this recording)
3. Biexual Species: Unorthodox Sex in the Animal Kingdom (@scientific american)
4. The life of an artist -- a writer, in fact -- is, just as I suspected, a lot like being a psychiatrist. It's proven here. (@the guardian uk books)
5. Death by Gonzo: Hunter S. Thompson had fear & loathing for, also, himself (@ny mag)
6. Number one feeling: dancing. Number two feeling:is it sexist to be sexy while dancing? (@dance magazine)
7. I think this could also serve as an answer to question 7 in the Junot Dìaz discussion: "How do you win a booker prize?" (Take readers to a faraway place, fyi) (@bbc news entertainment)
8. It almost makes me LOL, how predictable the major news-outlet Web 2.0 stories are ... everyone announcement; last month you wrote about self-indulgent writers, this months you write about asshole commenters ... ooo! Time! You're rarely good at this, so you get to go first. Go!: "Post Apocalypse" (@time)
9. Obama on reading Harry Potter (@motherreader)
10. A woman is dedicating her life to doing everything Oprah recommends for a year. I hope that includes Gayle, just saying. (@chicago tribune)

---

[carla gannis ]

Insomnia Poem #4: Ode to a Grecian Sutter Home

I used to think pink wine was trashy
I haven't changed my mind
about pink wine
but I've changed my mind
about trashy.

Wine - oh. Wino. Oh!

I'd like to be the wife of bath
leave bubbles in my path
clear like glass, empty and fast
before I sleep
I try to go deep
not sheep
but
as far away from real as me
so the body gets some sleep

you want to know
why I'm such a parody
it's 'cause people bring out the worst in me
like boyz ii men i'm on bended knee
i can't trust 'cause i see just what i see
like roger rabbit i jump with glee
like jessica rabbit it's not a cartoon, it's me
i mean
you who've drawn mememememe.
your pencil pops bubbles friendships
you prodded, i burst
i mean the general "you."

When I turn off the lights
it gets so dark in here
I was joking about the cave
but not about the emo
I've never seen finding nemo
And I don't want to.

P.S. Also I don't want to see Wall-E. Sorry-e.
P.P.S. I'm listening to Tori Amos.
I don't know why
but I don't care 'cause sometimes I said sometimes
I year your voice and it's been years years

This is a Happy Phantom

H & R Advice Column #3/VLOG #27: You've Got Feelings, We've Got Video

Hello friends & family, welcome to your audio-visual entertainment one-stop megashop of the world wide webbernets. This week, in honor of Haviland's East Coast presence and a busy few weeks, we bring you our Third Very Famous Advice Column as a VLOG. This is Part One, containing only 50% of your feelings/our answers. I've also transcribed the questions below -- though slightly paraphrased and condensed -- in a fuller form than what we read on video. We thought it'd be best to read/answer live on camera, and as I'm presently cutting & pasting said questions, I'm realizing ... um. Well, we skimmed. We did what we could do!

Anyhow, definitely watch the movie first, it's funnier that way and it's kinda okay. You know I'm telling the truth, because that? What just happened? See what I did there? That's not what I do.

Right ... that was actually be the first time in my entire life I've recommended visual entertainment over reading. I never, ever, ever do that. Obvs the secret about flying lesbians and the video Papi sent us from her cave are in the video.

Tune in to find out how to be a bisexual, have a climax, and overcome your addiction to sex with pineapples.

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Dear H&R,

If you'd told me four years ago I'd ever fall for a girl, I'd have laughed in your face -- all my relationships were with boys. My senior year of high school I had a drunken makeout with my best friend -- a girl -- and while hammered we made out a few more times that summer, but it was always innocent. Now we remember it as wild, reeling with our impending independence, fundamentally ridiculous, etc. I went to college and dated boys, did bad things, and eventually met a boy I thought was the one. When we broke up two years later, we didn't stay friends 'cause we'd been such assholes during the breakup.

Senior year of college I was heartbroken & alcoholic, trying to have fun. Then I met a girl. We were both straight but we started having weird feelings we'd never had for a girl before and eventually (drunk of course) we finally made out. We freaked out, decided it was a mistake ... and we failed future attempts to not talk or just be platonic when we did. We didn't know what we were doing, so we drank a lot and said "fuck it, let's give it a shot." We tried to keep it casual, "Papi Doesn't Do Breakfast," etc., but when we were sober (an increasingly frequent state) it got really relationship-y. We'd freak out. WTF OMG. Why am I in love with a girl. Dated on and off for about a year but ultimately she was uncomfortable about being with a girl forevs, due to her traditional family. It's been mostly a surprisingly amicable/healthy break-up. We love each other but know it's not right.

We both date boys now. When my gaymo friends take me to the bar, I don't look at anyone. Am I just attracted to straight girls? Are there any other weirdos out there like me? Is it possible to just go gay for one person? I've always considered myself a Kinsey 5, but then there's that year-long aberration ... am I not being open-minded enough?

Also ... since I've never had an ex-girlfriend before ... we're both affectionate still. Haven't entirely adjusted to the "just friends" thing. I don't think we want anything to happen, but we do non-sexy cuddling that I don't do w/my other female friends. Is that weird? How do you stay "just friends" w/an ex w/o ever acting inappropriate? (i.e.. If they come to visit you from out of town are you supposed to make them sleep on the couch or floor to prevent non-sexy cuddling from happening while you're sleeping?) How do you and Haviland do it??

-Unable to Solve For Ex

[I'd like to add to the plethora of coverage in the vlog ... that anecdotally -- I feel stories like yours usually end up in one or the other or both going back to girls at some point, even if not permanently. Y'know, like in Brokeback Mountain and many popular lesbian romantic comedies. JK, no such thing, but in many books, movies and teevee shows, as well as amongst my friends. In fact, my personal story's not so different from yours, I guess. Ultimately my advice is ... it sounds to me like you're curious about what could happen if you let it ... and if you feel this lingering curiosity is preventing you from getting serious with a boy right now, then look at that and figure out what to do with it. If not, then just keep on living/loving/laughing and see what happens. It took me about six years to acclimate to the possibility myself -- and I come from a liberal town with a gay mom, went to art school, live in New York City, and have befriended a significant number of attractive gay female friends. I'd recommend you read Tipping the Velvet & A Woman Like That & Surface Tension and take The L Word 'What Character are You?" quiz on facebook.

So my friend, the world is your bisexual oyster. Eat it up/out.]

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[I realized we just assumed this was written by a woman, though I don't know why made that assumption. Hm. Unless I left something behind while paraphrasing.]

Dear H & R,

My girlfriend and I have the beginnings of a problem. Its a sex thing so if you consider that an inappropriate topic please stop reading and hit delete. I promise not to be offended.

For about two weeks it's been difficult for her to reach climax during sex. She wants sex, but it happens even when she's the initiator. It's not that she's physically unable, 'cause she eventually does, and it's less intense. It doesn't actually bother me, but it bothers her, like I'm waiting on her or something, and I don't wanna do that. She says there's nothing different she'd like to try and our relationship hasn't suffered yet.

But I feel a little inadquete even though she says it's not me and don't know what to do/say.

We've been together for almost 10 years, there's been no other recent changes in our lives, she's not cheating ..

Thanks,
Story of O

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Dear Riese and Haviland,

For many years, I have lived in fear. I have many, many demons that I am afraid to even speak of, for fear that once let loose upon the Internet, they will haunt me forever. But you two ladies seem very worldly and wise (and have great asses, too), so I think you can help me with my problems.

First and foremost, I have a problem with fruit. And it's not allergies, phobias or anything that simple. You see, I am uncontrollably attracted to fruit products, and I am unable to make it through a day without having sex with a piece of fruit.

You name it, I've boinked it . Watermelon, regular melon, grapes (sadly) and coconuts. Those were always the toughest, but hey, you don't go to Hawaii on vacation to not fuck a coconut, you know? Ha! LOL OMG!

But my addiction is out of control. I have to order Fresh Direct these days because grocery stores won't let me in anymore. If I walk past all that fruit, it's too much. Do you know what it's like to have security toss you outside with your pants down and you erection impaled on an apple? Of course you don't.

I've tried getting off fruit on my own, but it's just too hard. There's no patch for my addiction, so I tried to ween myself off fruit sex by wrapping my johnson in fruit roll-ups. Alas, it just heightens the excitement. I am at a complete loss.

Are there support groups? Clubs? I'm desperate here. If you can solve this problem for me, I'll let you know of my other deep, dark secrets.

OMG, LOL, LMAO, ROTFLMAO, OMFG, Whatevs,
Fruit Salad Jones

---

You guys, the cruise leaves So soon! Yay!

Sunday [Monday] Top Ten: A Queer, Sultry Summer

So, air conditioner emissions worsen global warming, but the warmer the globe gets, the more we air condition. Right? That's not gonna work out long-term. Good thing I plan to die at 33, like Jesus. JK. I'll resurrect myself, obvs. Maybe on wordpress. Anyhow, when summer hits I get very cranky: "I hate summer," etc. But let's look on the bright side of life, at least it's summer 2008 and not summer 1808. I had this thought last summer while pondering "what did Emily Dickinson do without air conditioning"? I have the same thoughts over and over, like how we have the same seasons over and over. Like how there was summer last year, and there's also summer this year. That's called "bringing it back around"/"phoning it in." I'll keep going like this for the remainder of the post.

I don't want to take up too much of your time, 'cause as you know, we're only two days away from July 2nd, when you'll be at page 160 of The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. Furthermore, you're probs going to VOTE tonight to see Haviland sing and be cute.

SUNDAY TOP TEN:
REASONS WHY SUMMER IS SLIGHTLY MORE BEARABLE NOW THAN IT WAS IN THE OLDEN DAYS OF THE PRAIRIE

10. Air Conditioning:

[I made this graphic last year to announce the installation of my air conditioner.
So many things have changed since then, I can't believe that's the same room I'm in right now.]

I rush into my room, I stand next to the boxy white A.C., I put my forehead as close to it as I can without catching dysentery. You can snatch a blast from a store if it's got its doors open, or maybe a surprise gust from a heavy office door shutting. When the subway pulls in during rush hour and one car is strangely sparsely occupied, don't fall for it; that's the hot car. You've been waiting all this time in the sweltering black musty gasoline air of the station, anticipating the magic cool of the train, you just can't settle for this sauna. I don't.
*
9. Edy's Frozen Fruit Bars: I like to stick things in Alex's mouth that she wouldn't put there willingly, like drugs and Tinkerbell. Howevs, I force-fed her an Edy's Frozen Fruit Bar 'cause it's delicious, not 'cause I wanted to corrupt or annoy her. Unfortunately I forgot that Alex can't eat cold food 'cause of her special teeth. You'd think after visiting the dentist 400 times in a month, she would've had that fixed. In the old days, there were no popsicles, you had to go to the cellar.

*
8. The Microwave:

Back in my formative summers, my Mom often denied me requested meals on the grounds that it was "too hot to turn the oven on" (we didn't have air conditioning). Basically what I'm telling you is I grew up in the suburban equivalent of the Nigerian desert. We made our own popsicles out of apple juice and slept in the basement, it was like having a slumber party with your family, which is every pre-adolescent's number one dream. *
7. R-Family Vacations
In the olden days, people only traveled by sea when they wanted to move from England to America on the Mayflower or if they were pirates. (Or "o-pirates" as supr might say.) Now, we hit the ocean in order to spend as much time as possible around other homosexuals and their adopted children and to visit the exotic beaches of Massachusetts. I've gone on "the cruise" the last two summers and this year will be all-a-boarding it once more with Haviland, Caitlin, Alexandra, Tinkerbell, et al -- and hopefully I'll have lots of fun stories to share and a nice tan. I wrote about it in Curve (Page One, Page Two) maybe this year OurChart will hire me to live-blog from the ship. I hope they can sense my wanting telepathically.

*
6.Tank Tops

Before feminism, women were supposed to stay covered up all the time, unless they were dirty whores. In fact, even if you were a dirty whore and/or hooker, you would've worn a lot of clothing in the old days -- and "hooker" and "gay" meant the same thing. Look:

I just want to state for the record that I use the word "hookers" as a non-judgmental word, like when I say "slut." I know & love many sex workers, just like I know & love many lesbians but still call them "lesbos" or "homos" 'cause I like the way those words sound. I also love the word "hooker." It's right up there with "cock" and "fuck."

Anyhow, but it's not just hookers who've stripped down -- all women have. Myself included. We wear tank-tops and cut offs ...

... though I despise shorts and all leg-revealing things. Jeans with holes in them: "Instant air conditioning," said Matty as I debated what to wear to work that day. Then we descended my staircase and out onto 115th. He'd walk me to the bus and then go visit his friends at the Taco shop, or go get his big red jeep vehicle and drive to the beach. Or we'd get in the car together and he'd take me to the train station and for a second with the top down atop the monster wheels it was like we'd traveled through time to this strange sweaty street, it was wind like wind itself. The air beneath us conditioned our calves, our whole bodies. Then underground and to the office. Whoosh!

*
5. Hot Summer Jams

So obvs the olden days feature many of history's finest musicians, e.g., Bach, Beethoven, etc. Howevs, the villagers didn't always have an orchestra handy to really lay into Beethoven's 5th. Now, thanks to technological advances, you can listen to summer jams on your earphones, e.g., [admit it you want to get back into] Exile in Guyville [so bad it hurts, right? You should, you really should, I am, and it feels so good!], Rhianna "S.O.S." and "Umbrella," Beyonce "Irreplaceable," etc. Although I feel like last year's summer jam was ... THE CON!

Oh also I forgot that people could gather around one person on an instrument, like a piano or a banjo, but that still isn't as good as a Cure song on your ipod.

*
4. Girls in Shorts

Standing outside the Border's Bookstore at the Arborland Strip Mall, waiting for my boyfriend to swing around in the purple Kia ("blue!" he said), I told his friend I felt like my boyfriend was mad at me. His friend said, "Well, it is is break up season. Every summer, I want to break up with my girlfriend."

He looked like a sage at the expanse of the parking lot. High school girls in Abercrombie shorts -- half-teenage and half gazelle -- grazed their way across the pavement: "But I don't," he concluded.

"Why is the summer break-up season?" I asked.

"Girls in shorts," he responded. "It's all the girls in shorts," and his eyes traced the legs of all the girls in shorts who suddenly seemed to be everywhere. All the limbs. I was scared, I was not in shorts, would I be left for a girl in shorts? Would I be left for Lolita? Should I wear shorts? Do I need a tan? Heterosexuality was so exhausting. Maybe if the rules had been more innate and less societally prescribed, it would've been less stressful.

Also, there were so many high schoolers in Michigan. They're hidden here, in apartments or schools, or on the Upper East Side. It's better that way, less jealousy of youth's untarnished parts.

*
3. The Fourth of July

Prior to the year 1776, there was no "Fourth of July," cause the 4th is a holiday that celebrates the United States winning independence and blowing things up in the air on July 4th 1776. Although you still can't purchase fireworks in Michigan, you must drive to Ohio. After 1776, we started inventing more mini-explosions, intended to look like war-explosions but not the mean or deadly kind (hopefully). As you know I'm not a fan of Fourth of July 'cause of being outside during the hot-times, but this year I'll be in Atlantic City, kissing people's dice so that they'll win big money and we can Damn the Man, Save the Empire!

*

2. The Possibility of Sudden Turnaround

Most of global warming's effects are negative, but I do like the possibility that things could suddenly turn around at any moment. We've had an unbearable heat wave every summer since I've gotten here, and each wave is followed by surprisingly temperate conditions. I mean, it could snow tomorrow. It probably won't -- but it COULD. In Orlando, the narrator says that Elizabethian England, things were so different than now: "Of our crepuscular half-lights and lingering twilights they knew nothing. The rain fell violently, or not at all. The sun blazed or there was darkness." It's not like that anymore.

*
1. Pinkberry
I want pinkberry right now!

I've Been Doing Circles I'm Taken I Am Yours I am Doing VLOGS I Collapse

Last week, I wrote an opus-y piece regarding my super-important feelings on blogging, identity crises, true sentences, feeling unhinged, instant gratification vs. real literature, returning to the deep yearnings of my soul (books, print, tangible words, small silent private lives), feeling slightly insane w/o my anti-anxiety meds, wanting to call a team meeting with my head, and other very world-shatteringly important milestones of the twentysomething apspirant's Search for Self. I read this and this and this and this. Then, instead of finishing this navel-gazing epic [or anything] I pulled a MeMeMeMe and, per Haviland's request -- busted this pop stand for sunnier skies. I was lucky enough to be able to escape: clean blue sky, those lappy waves, long roads through mountains and along ocean, sandy feet, and an internet-free home. I hacked at my ars poetica while in the air on my way .. then I realized; why I am I spending so much time writing about how I need to spend more time writing/reading, when clearly I should just be writing/reading? So that's what I did.

I still don't know the answers to most of the questions I've been asking myself, and every day there seem to be more questions. I don't know.

One thing is pressing, then something else presses harder. Our brains only have room for one thing at a time. Also I'm still chillin' in this self-consciousness fog, trying to shake irrational insults/judgments that wound deeper than they oughta, but this is me, this is me, this is me, calm down, I'm calling you to say I'm capsized erring on the edge of safe, calm down I'm calling back to say I'm home now and coming around .. since returning, I see that maybe life is simply limbo, from now on, let's only speak in invisible ink. You go first.

In times like this, only one person and one thing can make you post again during a self-imposed hiatus ... and that's my dearest BFF Haviland Stilwell and her love of and natural talent for The Vlog. So ladies and gentleman, I present to you the longest vlog ever, starring Haviland Herself.

This blog features Haviland P. Stillwell herself, along with Cait's laughter in the backgorund, and some clips from a vlog that Alex and I tried to do but then gave up after about two minutes. There's also a few flashbacks. It's an epic, like Gone with the Wind. Topics discussed include drama, comedy, tragedy, the meaning of life, very important arguments of modern literary theory, and gymnastics. Oh right and flying lesbians. And; briefly .. the riese & haviland true hollywood story, Cait & I's phone call from Leisha Hailey, Los Angeles, etc.




Soundtrack:
0. Intro: Tupac /California Love
1. "Haviland & Riese: The True Hollywood Story" : Melissa Ferrick / The Breakup Song
2 "Oh Fans oh Fans" : Once on this Island / Waiting for Life
3. "Mini-Feed Me" : The Cure / Pictures of You
4. "Fiction vs. Reality" : Uh Huh Her / Explode
5. "I Do Not Know Who I Am" : The Who/ Who Are You

Sunday Top Ten: We've Got Trees We've Yet To Live In

My favorite part of doing things is the part before you start doing the thing, where you can just think about how great the thing'll be. This takes many forms: a manic anti-inertia writing-spree with my little notebook on the subway, light bulbs turning on and then exploding in my head like stubborn shooting stars, or sitting with stacks of books or magazines at Barnes & Noble, pouring over a promising title like The Well-Fed Writer or a magazine I want to write for, convinced I've unlocked The Secret: then I'll get home and sit down at my MacBook and um ... check my email. Then I'm like, "Hm, maybe I should have dinner ..."

Last week: THREE projects which could've remained strictly in conceptual stages made advancements. It helps that they involved other people, because I bet there's a mathematical formula about that. Like if you combine two people generally with big dreams and little time/follow-through, it equals one very motivated human. You've gotta convince your Other that you're reliable, in order to look like a worthy partner/employee/manager/whatever. And it's just someone else to keep you on task, edit your "Yee-haws!," etc.

Also, we've got this post-cruise energy thing. Every text Haviland's sent me this week has included at least sixteen exclamation points and/or one motivational statement and/or a word in all caps, like "AMAZ" or "HOT"! (!!!!!)

Life feels strange, almost like school, where we'd get assignments, and then we'd have to do them. Especially group projects. JK, I always did those myself. I didn't trust those randoms with my multi-media projects. Plus, all the popular girls'd wanna work with me because I made such hot videos and got good grades for everyone, which worked out well for me, 'cause then I could be around them.

Today I will look at some of the things I lost along the way: those uncompleted projects. There're so many of these, really, that my mind almost exploded just thinking about it. I'll probably revisit this topic at a later date, because I'm sure it's really super-compelling: I mean, if it's not fun enough to read me ramble about things I HAVE done, just imagine how interesting it is to read me talk about all the things I HAVEN'T! (Not at all). All the things I wanted to go to school for (media studies, web design, Reiki)! All the bizarre things I attempted to organize as a child (charities, eco -action groups, street fair, magazine, 'zine, film festival, radio show, theatrical productions, etc.)! All the career paths/temporary jobs I suddenly lost interest in/abandoned (camp counselor, model, waitress, Jell-O shot girl, grant writer)! Oh, the Places You Will Never Ever Go!

SUNDAY TOP TEN: SOME THINGS I LOST ALONG THE WAY, OR, CONCEPTS ABANDONED PRIOR TO EXECUTION
(limited to recent history, lest this list spiral out of control, like life itself is wont to do)

10. "I'm Gonna be A Book Packager/Ghostwriter Thing!" : The Gossip Girl Phase

I pick up voice fast, almost too fast. I start reading someone I admire and I start writing like them, it's like taking a shot of Raymond Carver instead of vodka, then right after reading I've got this buzz. I can get drunk off a writer, a good one, if I've got a lot of long train rides. I'll start thinking like them, a little, their voice invades my brainspace and refuses to leave 'til the book ends. Maggie Estep shoots me up with poetic perverted instinct, her and Mary Gaitskill both ignore dirt by speaking explicitly no matter what the vocabulary, by being hard and gross but sort of honest about the deepest most deviant but really earnestly beautiful pit of us. Lorrie Moore sucks me inside of me, sarcastically but plainly and naked too, builds stronger and funnier walls around my self-preservation and/or vulnerability. She makes me desperately unique, alone, unable to communicate with men at all whatsoever, filled with private thoughts and bitingly witty/astute judgments. Marya Hornbacher made me stop eating, John Marsden lifted me out of high school and into another universe where I floated through hallways and meditated apocalypse or something to get me out of my own life, anything, Pam Houston makes me miss wide open spaces, mountains and men with skills, Tama Janowitz glazes my eyes over with sharp stupidity, she makes me tilt my head and say strange things to make normal plain people uncomfortable, wear costumes as assault ... the dozens of lesbian essay collections I've digested this past year rewrite my history in my head, they transform my memories into memories of always wanting women, which is true, too.

So I had this idea, upon reading a New York Magazine/[redacted] article about Gossip Girl, that I would become a ghostwriter for Gossip Girl. Like many YA series once they get big, the author just writes outlines, and then book packagers write the content itself. All I had to do was get the voice into my head and then write a sample chapter and send it off, I read all about it, and I was pretty certain that book packaging was my real destiny, due to my talent w/picking up voices. Then Don [owns my agency] told me it was a really bad deal because you only get like $4,000 a book, and the authors at our agency who did book packaging deals weren't always pleased with it [they've done a lot of TV tie-in books, like Star Trek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, etc.] I was like, Dude, I will totally take that!" I see now what he meant, about ratio of time/money/recognition. But seriously, $4,000 is a lot of money! How long could it possibly take? Also! It could be fun.


So I read like, seven Gossip Girl books. My mind was all like "Welcome to New York City's Upper East Side, where my friends and I all live in huge, fabulous apartments and go to exclusive single-sex private schools. We aren't always the nicest people in the world, but we make up for it in looks and taste."

Then I sort of told myself I needed to wait for the next one to come out to really get moving on it. That was August of 2005.

Number 9 Interlude:

I la-la-la-love the planing stage. Like reading Get a Freelance Life or studying for the SATs to become a Kaplan Tutor. In preparation for a never-executed lit-mag blitzrkrieg, I created a ridic database of literary journals listed by prestige, payment, submission periods, and formats accepted, and supported the lit-journal industry by buying like, hundreds of them.

8. The Next Play

My senior year of high school, Krista directed "Familyland," a one-act I'd written. That was the best night of my life: incredible cast, a roomful of people laughing at my jokes ... I was all gung-ho about playwriting . Unfortunately, theatrical genius hasn't really struck since then. In '04, Krista started badgering me to come up with something new; she was starting a new job where she'd be in a position to get my work produced, if it was worthy. So, fast-forward to the night before Krista leaves for the summer of '05 [my play-completion deadline]: I had nothin'. So, as she packed and Pete made jokes, I wrote a 96-page play in about ten hours.

Two weeks later, when Krista and I were traveling cross-country together (long story), sitting in Denver in the Amtrak station, having completed every question on Trivia Machine and needing new entertainment: Krista pulled it out, and set it on her lap, and began:"'Well ... I really loved the character descriptions! I was so hopeful for the rest of the play!" That's totes not a good sign at all. These are those character descriptions:

CRYSTAL JONES, 18: Looks as though her clothes no longer fit properly. Awkward, plays with her chin-length blonde hair a lot. Blue eyeshadow. Medium height, mostly plain looking with a hint of cherub beauty. Wants to be a stage makeup artist.

DR. JEB JONES, 48: Gynecologist, specializing in giving birth and fertility treatments. Pro-Life. Tall, white beard, Donald Sutherland-type. Polite but angry. Liable to burst. Stoic exterior, creepy interior.

BARBARA JONES, 40: Stunned into persistent silence. Painfully nice. Enjoys crafts, always makes too much for dinner. Hopelessly codependent.

MIKE JONES, 17: Shoulder-length hair. Self-conscious. A bit tall for his age. Plays a lot of pool in the basement, drinks a lot of flavored cola. Wants some ass.

RICKY, 17: Crystal’s best friend. Gay. Thin, good-looking, puts a lot of gel in his hair. Hasn’t yet figured out how to make it through. Wants to be a model.

DEVON, 19: Swedish exchange student. Kind, the airs of someone who is well-traveled and well-read but never makes a point of it. Non-judgmental. Wears glasses.

It was all downhill from there. We discussed revisions. Which I never did. Because I am retarded.

7. On the subject of theater ... My So-Called Life, The Play

I was pretty convinced that this was the most brilliant idea I'd ever had. So I wrote 46 pages of "My So-Called Grown Up Life" in the car as we drove to Vermont for New Years Eve and was like: "Haviland Stillwell: this is the best play ever written." It was the cast all grown up. Brill.

Then we all read through it and everyone who knew the show thought it was really fun and funny, but Hav was like Riese, really? Because of like, copyright, and plays don't make money, I shouldn't put all my energy into something so futile, and this and that. I was like, silly, that sounds like the perfect project for me then! JK, I was like. Oh.

Here are those character descriptions:

ANGELA CHASE, 27 – Author of the New York Times bestselling book "Getting Out Alive: How To Save Our Adolescent Girls," psychologist and public speaker. Despite this, she still tugs at her sleeves and often avoids networking parties. Has resolved to practice what she preaches for the past two New Years. Married to Brian.

BRIAN KRAKOW, 27 – Began as a development intern at WebDoctor.com after his third year at Brown and now serves as Chief Design Director. Most of his friends are still in coffee shops, plotting The Revolution. Secretly wishes Angela was more of the barefoot-and-pregnant type.

RAYANNE RAYMOND, 28 – Completely out of control, possibly on a downward spiral. Recently divorced, recently disheveled, often drunk/drugged but surprisingly functional nonetheless. If she knew what a Peter Pan complex was, she might know that she was developing one.

JORDAN CATALANO, 29 – Blue-eyed and beautiful, still makes 15-year-old girls melt when he mops the floors of their private college prep high school. Veteran of "Operation Enduring Freedom," honorably discharged after two months of service when he lost two fingers in his left hand.

Then, we decided to dress up in the O'Donnell children's snowsuits, pull out their props, and take photographs of ourselves. So that was that project.

Number 6 Interlude

Most've my memories of great ambitious projects which I eventually abandoned are from the Spanish Harlem apartment. I had a lot of misdirected ambition then. I didn't even start this blog 'til I moved to Williamsburg (which continued when I moved to West Harlem, obvs). While living in Spanish Harlem, Matty [my friend I met at a CAKE party who lived across the street] decided we were going to:
1. Start a business collecting cans in a truck that doubled as a can-deposit-center. Use this money to "teach kids to build birdhouses."
2. Buy old buildings [with non-existent start up] and fix them.
3. Start selling pot brownies from his kitchen.

I honestly fully embraced, researched and considered all of those options. There are diagrams.

This was our temporary can collection vehicle. Here, he's putting the doors and roof back on, since it was night and we were done stopping every ten seconds to leap out and get cans he's spotted.


What lesson did I learn from that? Kiddos, don't do drugs. If you do, someone might try to talk you into selling pot brownies from their kitchen and driving out to the beach stopping every five seconds to pick up cans.

5. Gimme an M! Gimme an F! Gimme an AAAA!!

On my last day of class at the University of Michigan, I remember telling everyone: "This's my last day of class, ever." And everyone was like, well, what if you go to graduate school? And I somehow just knew I wouldn't. I don't know why. Maybe it's 'cause I'd spent all my money already on going to school, and didn't think I could handle the stress of finances and school at the same time,which'd mean I'd need a career first, which'd mean I'd probably lose interest 'cause I'd be so ridiculously successful already. (HA!!!!)

But my writing teacher'd told me: "Don't pay for an M.F.A. program. They should give you a full scholarship." I sent out for pamphlets. I was thinking of myself in Iowa City, looking serious but wearing a hoodie. I was imagining living in a sort of faux -bohemian apartment studio with some sort of dark hot androgynous girl in a white v-neck t-shirt who was a Fantastic Creator of Art of Some Format and had all kinds of secret skills. It'd be Iowa City, but it'd be cozy and perfect and I'd become a Great Writer who maybe lost a little voice but gained an ability to choose words properly when I'd re-find it, back in a more hard-core city, a few years later. But then what if the other kids were really annoying or something? It's like, a twelve person workshop.

Anyhow: I've got lists. Rankings. Books. Pamphlets. Really obviously I just like reading material about things I COULD do with my life, rather than the actual act of doing these things.

Number 4 Interlude: Website

Areas of my website I keep thinking I'm going to update any minute now: The L Word Season Four Quotes, add some fiction to the "Fiction" area of the website (All I've done so far is change it from saying: "This page, like life itself, is a work in progress" to "Though this entire site is 'in progress,' this page is especially so"), creating an overall design that doesn't make me want to pull my hair out every time I see it (w/o using HTML editor or a web designer), add recent stuff/links, add new movie quotes, add book quotes because the book quote page was so aesthetically irritating to me that I had to take it down, create a "cast of characters" page for my blog, update my links, write that Season Four Auto-Straddle Round-Up I said I was going to write, and wow. So many things. I could go on, but this I think is mostly for my own reference.

Number 3 Interlude: Sign Up Now!

I wish the Internet had existed back when my insomnia was really bad, like in the 90s. Then, instead of watching Undressed marathons on Volume Level "4" [a.k.a.: requiring closed captioning, but preventing my Mother from getting pissed at me], I coulda spent all night joining various web-communities, beginning my profile/database/creative content/great moneymaking idea, and then never signing on again. I've got half-assed membership all over the goddamn Internet. The best are the ones that make you register every single book you've read in your life, which I love doing, 'cause I get to think about all my books, but it takes forever and you keep thinking of more. It's like that scene in The Phantom Tollbooth where they want the kids to fill a lake with an eyedropper. I've also started and never regularly updated profiles at a million photo-sharing sites and various writerly places.

Sites I've joined, half-assedly, and set up a profile/presence/registration of some sort, never to truly follow up again: flickr, library thing, all consuming, onemodelplace, goodreads, care.com, technorati, youtube, del.icio.us, etsy, shutterfly, cafe-press, and so on. And so on. Could go on forever. Won't.

2. Novel Ideas

I've started about 10,000 novels I never finished. I even have a folder called "Big Ideas," which is code for "Things You'll Probs Not Finish." A doc labeled "Great American Novel" (HA!) (81 pages). "Memoir" (written in 2001, 219 pages). The best was the YA novel, "For a Girl" (118 pages). I was totally into the YA Novel when I decided to write "my book." You know, that book I keep talking about? The one I'm allegedly writing? Right! That [the moment I gave up YA novel to pursue My Book] was an embarrassingly long time ago. Like, wow. Hang on BRB I'm going to go clamp a mousetrap on my ear and stick my finger in the toaster.

1. The Cruise Video

I stopped myself this time. I was like "Are you really seriously Riese going to spend hours and hours editing a video of you, Heather and Haviland talking to yourselves? Could anyone possibly find this entertaining?" Then I thought to myself: "Obvs/No way." So it's totally uncompleted, unimpressive, and I'll never make it snazzy. But that's okay, I'm learning all about time management.

Some notes about this video:
1. I copied some clips really quickly from Haviland's camera yesterday. She wasn't at home or anything, but I have keys, because we're weirdos. Anyhow I had to jet back uptown, so it's pretty random what I uploaded, and I couldn't go back and get different clips when I was doing the editing, per ush, so this's just what it is.
2. Because Carly and I are obsessed with the confidentiality of our concept, I've only included three super-brief snippets from the reading, so as to not really give anything away or really show anything besides that we did it. The people with music stands in front of a red wall: that's the reading.
3. That muppet is me.
4. Heather and I are, sometimes, intoxicated. We're really good at keeping our cool though, obvs. She's the one talking when I'm on their balcony.
5. UPDATE: I just watched it and decided it's totes entertaining. Seriously!

RFamily Cruise 2007

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Okay also: I'm doing this reading on Tuesday [see sidebar] at the KGB Bar. 7pm. Be there.

Also my roommate Ryan is gonna be on Guiding Light on Tuesday! He's a waiter, and he's never even waited tables in real life, that's how awesome he is at acting! He's in a few episodes, so this's only the beginning of the glory.