Part Two of the Sunday Top Ten Gayest Moments of My Life on Earth

This is Part Two of the Top Ten Gayest Moments of my Life on Earth, the pre-quel to "The Top Ten Gayest Moments of my Life in Outer Space," which'll be a lot like "The Muppets go to Outer Space." I'm writing about gay stuff because there's an important election going on right now for the Best LGBT Blog of the year. I'm somehow a finalist along with nine legitimately mega-popular blogs, so it's a huge surprise/honor, and you can pick one of us here, today -- and you can vote again every 24 hours! I haven't got a chance unless LiLo personally endorses me this weekend, but I'm aiming for the stars -- Top 5!!! ALSO! There's gays you must vote for in other categories too -- firstly, 8 Against 8 ringleader Grace the Spot is up for Best New Blog, and I bet you haven't heard of any of those other people, I mean they're new, and who has the time, so you should probs just vote for her.

Honorary GAY A.E Brain is up for Best Australia/New Zealand blog (unfortunately Crystal's favorite blog and new blog bestie Defamer Australia didn't make the list this year), GAY Mombian's goin' at it for Best Large Blog, and BISEXUAL Margaret Cho and OBVS SECRETLY GAY Britney Spears are both on tap for Best Celebrity Blogger.

So the first five on this illustrious Top Ten Gayest Moments of My Life included The Rosie Cruise, Mz Hip 'n Fit New York 2008, my Mom's gay picnics, Melissa Etheridge in Atlantic City and the NewNowNext Awards.

When conducting a two-part Top Ten, I generally blow the best bits on Round One and imagine the second part being written by someone else, a better version of me with better choosing skills, or even a drunker version of me with less self-consciousness. Howevs, I'm so hungover I need a new word for Hungover and therefore it's just memememememe & my little baby mind.

I've had so many Gay Moments, especially these past few years. Even when I was a practicing het, I had a super gay life. I'm thinking big events for this Top Ten, but what about the really big private moments that I'll never talk about for free or the little private moments like the night I decided to finish reading Well of Loneliness after watching Brokeback Mountain and then cried and wanted to kill myself? I didn't though. So. Rawr.

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I gave "5" to the Indigo Girls @ Pine Knob.

I witnessed many homo-heavy events at the Pine Knob amphitheater in suburban Detroit in the 90's including Lilith Fair, Ani DiFranco, and, on more than one occasion -- the Indigo Girls. The best IG concert I've been to was at the Greek Theater in Berkley, but my gayest IG-related moment was the Summer '02 Pine Knob stop of the "become you" tour. The cheap seats are on the lawn at Pine Knob.

I didn't even know they had a new album out (this would NEVER happen usually, I heart Indigo Girls) 'cause my dumb boyfriend, who was living with me that summer in the lesbian-filled house I'd occupied year-round, refused to listen to anything other than Blink 182 andNewfound Glory. You know that look people give you when you turn on your car and the Indigo Girls blast out? It's like "Did you just shove Emily'sbirkenstock up my ass?" look, the "Are you trying to kill me with blood and fire" look. I just wanna listen to my feeeelings.

My lesbian rugby roommates invited me, it was one of the first times I'd been out w/o my boyfriend in a while. They danced on the grass with bare feet like kids and I sat on the blanket with the hummus and the pita and I quickly identified my initial disgust towards their comfort/fancy-freehood/self-awareness as deep jealousy and then, at that moment, as Amy & Emily sang with acoustic guitar, I honestly thought (ever soinsightfully) to myself: "my boyfriend will never understand me."

See I didn't even know what I was talking about. YET.

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[from Stef's cartoon recap of the Tegan & Sara concert.
Carly is bleeding from the head.]

But then ... speaking of concerts ... is that even gayer than when Tinkerbell got signed by Leisha & Cam at the Philly Uh Huh Her concert? Is that gayer than the Uh Huh Her concert where a fan with "you dismantle me" tattooed on her arm (it's a JennySchecter quote) bought us a round of lemondrop shots and showed me photos of her dogs and cats on her pink cellphone? Or the SXSW Uh Huh Her experience, like, in general?

Gayer than the Tegan & Sara concert where I tried to tackle Carly and she allegedly almost died but in reality experienced an awesome brush with the supernatural possibility of death?

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So I give "4" to The White Party - NYC during Pride '06, mostly 'cause it's an excellent example of totally mediocre lesbo-party planning, and an example of things we did in 2006 that we would not do in 2009. I mean, not everyone was wearing white. That was the point. There was a costume of the day, ladies! Costume of the DAY! All white! I remember drama and feelings that we actually for once weren't a part of. A random told us she liked us because we didn't look "like John Goodman," which was sweet.

I was on ecstasy, so I pretty much loved everyone in the world, which is a very gay feeling.

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For a person who never goes out, I've got a lot of memories of going out. Especially in the beginning of going to gay things. My Mom did that too in the beginning, which was neat, and then I could eatmozzarella sticks for dinner.

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According to Cait & Hav, my first visit to morally decrepit West Hollywood girl-bar (night?) "Truck Stop" (during our 3. West Hollywood Weekend) is the first time in my life that, when asked "are you ready to go home?" I was like, "Nah, I'll stay." I ALWAYS am on Team Let's Go Home Now. I vaguely remember this. I was drunkish and having a good conversation about how hard it was to even think about being gay at U-Mich with a friend-of-a-friend from U-Mich who's now my friend and also Haviland's friend 'cause this is the way that we live.

Truck Stop was totally disgusting but I had to stay like how I have to watch Intervention. Nearly naked girls did coreographed dances on the bar in bikinis. Ideally I'll never go there again, but realistically I probs will, because I love trucks.

The next night, in true form, I busted the OurChart-sponsored Lesbian Oil Wrestling event way early. Why? 'Cause I was ethically opposed to how The L Word stole this concept from a legitimately empowering Brooklyn-based event (the original focused on political satire and creating a safe space for women of all body types, classes and colors to play and fight) and turned it into a glossy sexy skinny white girls teevee-tied-in lesbian event. Other versions of this story claim I left the event early because I'm a bitch and/or cranky and/or impossible and/or unable to just have fun and be silly.Whatevs. Gay!

But really anytime you're in a room with Catherine Keener, Ilene Chaiken, Angela Robinson and Clementine Ford ... that's pretty gay. Like I could feel Ilene breathing (firetorches!!!).

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But how ridiculous, right? I mean, being gay isn't about half-naked celesbians rolling around in hot oil. It's about being denied civil rights! YEAH!

So the 2. No on Prop 8 Rally deserves a shout-out. My gayest moment w/r/t the election was fo'sho the 8 Against 8 thing, but if I started including cyber-moments, it'd get out of control. The rally felt a little disjointed, but still -- it was something to be a part of, besides just screaming into machines, which is so much easier. To chant & yell with signs in public and physically feel the community, and about something important and unifying, is the most important gay moment of all.

Thinking about Prop 8 makes me want to bang my head against the wall. Owsers.

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But then my original number 2 in Draft #1 was our 1999 trip to the River Run B &B (now under new ownership)

Ryan & I brilliantly chose a random B&B in the Catskills to get away from Sarah Lawrence for a weekend. The bus driver dropped us off and said we'd be miserable here without a car, even offered to take us elsewhere for free, but we'd already paid. It was a ghost town, just one Mexican restaurant, La Chacha or something, boarded-up houses and this particular B&B. Larry the owner concurred -- "if you'd told me you didn't have a car, I would've said not to stay here" -- as he gave us the house tour. I noticed the rainbow flag out back. Ryan (gay) didn't.

Breakfast confirmed my suspicions. So! Many! Gay! Couples! I was totes pursuing straighthood at the time, but I was the one who picked up on Larry's drop of "they're family" when speaking of certain snow-shoe-trail-blazing-mountain-hiking-leading-guiding-stores and far-away restaurants and subsequently pointed out to Ryan that in our attempt to avoid our friends' Fire Island weekend ("too gay"), we'd accidentally booked ourselves a weekend at a Gay B&B in the middle of assfuck nowhere, which is the gayest shit ever.

(we read books and wrote all weekend, it was perfect.) (gay!)

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See, I don't like to go out. I like to have little gay moments right here in my room.

Last night I had a bunch of people over for The L Word premiere (we watch it ahead of time to ensure timely recaps) and two separate people said, upon entering my room (they'd never been in); "so this is where the magic happens." Really what magic. Besides the rabbit in the hat thing. If there is magic in this room I need to find it stat. I cleaned yesterday so I feel like it should've turned up then. Guess what I'm listening to? Tegan & Sara. Where's my wings.

The past two years have been chock-full of gay moments. Honestly when I started this blog, I never expected to one day fit quite accurately into this particular category. But maybe I never really considered, at that point, living the life I actually wanted to live, either.

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.

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

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Caitlin keeps on rolling.
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This is when I gave up and ran down the hill.
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Caitlin and Alex - still rolling after all these years
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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.

Live Blogging my DONE To-Do List: 1. Auto-Fun - DONE, 2. Book Club/B-Day Contest Info- - DONE

I completed the auto-fun last night, and then said: "Now I am tired and must retire to my chambers. There are bunnies and littlefoots waiting for me with tea and crumpets and a lullaby. Tonight's lullaby will be "Major Tom" sung by the Langely School Choir. I'll do the book club stuff tomorrow at the end of the auto-fun."

It is now the bright shiny morning of our content, and scroll down for all things Junot Diaz and LJLBF (those are my brother Lewis's initials, in full).

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quote: "And how I feel right now about that is a little sad because I want to live so much and have all my time and do so many things. So I have to attend to the thing in front of me because if I am not focused I can get overwhelmed by my desire to do everything still, yet as they say the clock is ticking and I won't get to it all. I can't. And the impossibility of that choice, of the everything when I was young, that choice made me a poet because I could have some purchase on everything and do a little bit of it all day." (Eileen Myles, "Live Through That?!")

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auto-fun:
1. An advantage to my elite education is that I was compelled to read this entire story from start to finish: The Disadvantages of an Elite Education (@the american scholar)
2. Gay Men and Straight Women Have Similar Brains, Study Says (@the la times)
3. Another great Dirty Girls Review. (@city paper)
4. Rich people actually are happier than poor people. Ta-da! (@portfolio)
5. OMG, this is really sweet. (@the planet podcast)
6. "there's still nothing like a good old-fashioned hardback." Editorial Notebook (@nytimes)
7. Top Ten Family Guy Newscasts (@nerve.com)
8. Interview with Drag Historian Joe E. Leffreys (@naked city @the village voice)
9. Media Bitchery: The Definitive Biography. (@gawker)
10. The Microfame Game. .A lot of feelings about this. (@nymag)

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Y'all rocked the Birthday Contest. You made me & Lewis laugh & smile over and over. The videos! The Jesus-postcards, personally selected songs, e-cards, animated postcards, personal photographs etc. -- y'all blew me away. SO it's hard to pick a winner. I shouldn't hold contests, I feel bad about all the people who didn't auto-win. I'd be better as a teacher where I can grade people. Contest judging is like teaching a class where everyone's pass-fail, and only one student can pass.

I wonder if there's anything I'd be qualified to teach a class in. "The Collected Works of Cecily Von Ziegesar" or "Contemporary Writing By Urban-Dwelling Sexually Flexible Women" or "The Contemporary Memoir" or "The Short Story after 1950" or "Suburban Discontent in the Modern Novel." Anyhow, back to Lewis.

Rather than waste a tree by literally pulling names from a hat, I made a numbered list of all the entries in order of submission, and then emailed Alex:

Number 17! Dorothy, here's lookin' at you! Email me with your address and you'll get a book in the mail, or, if you've already got the book, you can get next month's book when it's decided, or auto-gear.

The creative award was a little harder. So I narrowed the field and then asked Lewis for his faves -- and, having disqualified his first two selections 'cause I'm not about to give a free book to someone who's already endeared to me (a.k.a. people i know outside of blog-world), especially 'cause obvs they'll be buying the book on their own or else I'll kill them ...

As y'all know, I'm a sucker for things that are so bad they go all the way past good, back to bad again, and then into the beautiful realm of terrible/AWESOME. Chaitee wrote a poem, Lewis cited that as a favorite because though it was "terrible," it indicated admirable "effort." Of course, I love it.

Highlights include:

Happy bishday Lewis, I thought your name was Leonard
Can I call you Leonard? I think that name is splendid.

I hear your car uses diesel
So does mine
It's not really feasible
To use petrol
With fuel prices the way they are
Though diesel is $1.70 a litre and climbing here in Australia which makes me want to gouge my eyes out with spoons, mash them into a fine meal, mix with water; and use as my own special brand of fuel
I forget what word I was supposed to be rhyming
Diesel
Rhymes with weasel, maybe you should get one for your birthday
Or get a sticker of one, to put on your car window, that'd be awesome, I say.

What a blow
No giant rubber fists
as gifts
For your birthday

Howevs, Chaitee's already confessed to buying the book, which means she'll be taking another prize. So ... Sarah R., want a copy of The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao?

Lewis was very heartwarmed by all your good wishes and wrote this story for all the heartwarmers. Apparently he already posted it on his Facebook, so if you're facebook friends w/Lewis, you've already read it. I'm not facebook friends w/Lewis, 'cause I'm scared that one day I'll get something in my feed like "Lewis Bernard has added 'booty calls' to his interests," and then I'll be scarred for life. Which's probs how he feels every time he tries to read my blog or published stories.

Also, Lewis was inspired to catch up on my blog and would like to make it known that he hasn't worn Axe Body Spray since high school, and that since abandoning the allegedly irresistible scent, his luck with the ladies has increased exponentially.

Here's Lewis:

I'd like to thank all of you who wished me well on the 24th anniversary of my escape from my mother's womb.

Looking over the list I see a nice variety of friends from the third coast to the dirty coast, spanning a couple of continents and countless (well, like 6) states. It's a privilege to have touched so many lives and so, for those of you don't know about June 16th's bender at the Maple Leaf (for the record, neither did I, surprise!) I'm gonna share my favorite story from it.

Early in the night I'm chatting it up with this girl. (I don't remember her name, hair color, age or really anything besides her saying she's some sort of singer and that she had a nasty bruise on her arm.) She says the bruise on her arm is a result of taking too much Valium on her private plane, apparently, though she couldn't recall specifics. I'm bleeding from the elbow for some reason too, so I find her admission comical and noteworthy.

The conversation shifts to astrology ... so, I leave her at the bar, find my friends on the patio, and one thing leads to another and before you know it the five of us are at the front bar ready for birthday shots. I look up to see Valium Girl standing on a bench, watching the band.

"Come take a shot with me, it's my birthday!" I yell. Valium hops down and joins me and together we find my friends -- money unspent and no shots to be seen.

Dan explains: "There's no sugar for lemon drops so Margot went to Jaques-Imos to borrow a cup."

Valium starts laughing: "I thought you said MAKE OUT with me, not ..."

Oh, I know what she means, and it's awkward, but I manage: "No, no I said take a shot with me --" and then -- excellent! "... but you followed me!"

"You just looked so confident and it's your birthday! So I just figured."

So there's the lesson: Carry yourself with confidence, say it's your birthday, and the world is your oyster.

(Additional Life Lessons from the Lew-Man are here.)

Book Club:

Okay. I'm gonna give y'all a week to get your hands on Junot Diaz's The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao and then you'll start reading like wild rabbits. It's cheapest online. Wao has received numerous awards including the New York Times Notable Book Award, National Book Critics Circle Award and the Pultizer Prize for Fiction. A brief Wiki-hijacked description: "The novel chronicles not just the "brief wondrous life of Oscar Wao," an overweight Dominican boy growing up in New Jersey and obsessed with science fiction, fantasy and women, but also the curse of the "fukú" that has plagued Oscar's family for generations and the Caribbean since colonization and slavery. The middle sections of the novel center on the lives of Oscar's mother Beli and his grandfather Abelard under the dictatorship of Rafael Trujillo. Rife with footnotes, science fiction and fantasy references, and street Spanglish, the novel is also a meditation on story-telling, Dominican diaspora and identity, masculinity, and the contours of authoritarian power."

You must be at page 160 by July 2nd for our first team meeting. If you aren't, you will suffer. Look at Junot in that picture! He's standing by a wire fence on an urban street! You know what that means. I wonder where my author picture will be taken if I ever have one. Hopefully on the roof. Of my urban street. Anyhow.

While awaiting your book's arrival, you should read his short fiction: I love the story Alma (@the new yorker) and FYI; Wao started as a short story, I've not read it (Fear of Spoilers), but I imagine it'll be interesting post-reading. Last summer I ate Wildwood -- (not available online), and I'm recognizing much of it in the novel. I was encouraged to read that Drown was his only book before this one, so, coupled with The New Yorker's stories, I've read almost everything he's published and therefore I am a Junot Diaz expert! Perfect for my position as book club leader!

In the mean-time ... if you've got any questions you think would be good to ask/discuss, vocab you didn't know, or opinions about what you've read so far, email me at Automatic_Win@yahoo.com. I'm gonna try to finish it within the next few days so that I can field your requests regardless of how far you're reading ahead.

I'm compiling a list of some of the english translations of spanish words I didn't know (nothing that'll give anything away. I'm only on page 100) Not knowing a few words here and there really doesn't matter, though. FYI.

OK -- I'm still figuring out exactly how one operates an online book club, and how I will make mine super-special and fun ... but I will figure it out and obviously you will be the first to know. I'll be posting online interviews and other related tidbits over the next few weeks. But I promised some information today, and I like to follow-through on at least 65% of my promises.

Also! I'm really excited. This is more-or-less my fantasy about anything a blog could ever be. We're all gonna read a really fucking good book together and have good conversations about it! Srsly, I've had a legit pep in my step for the past week just thinking about it. You can ask my neighbors on my urban streets all about it.

Pardon Me, But Wasn't that your VLOG? That I Felt On the Bed In Between the Sheets?

The thing is; I have an air conditioner in my room. But what happens when I leave my room? How long can I survive on only crackers? It's totally "Do the Right Thing" around here, and "around here" extends to both my kitchen and my neighborhood. Anyhow, some of you live in other countries and aren't experiencing what we're experiencing. Want an experience we can all experience together, like a family? Well, I've got one. It's called "a vlog," and if you've got broadband internet access, we can share this moment together, 'cause caring is sharing.

Haviland's coming to visit super-soon, I can't wait! But in the meantime in between time, Carlytron has valiantly stepped up and vlogged her little ass off with her roommate Matthew and her lesbian dog Saffron. Topics include: flying lesbians. Also, Cesar was there but he wouldn't participate and therefore he was punished.

A;ex just told me it's hard to hear in some parts and that she'd probs have to listen to it 7-8 times. Which's fine, that ups the views. I-movie won't let me make the music quieter than 7%, which is actually apparently a lot. What you're going to have to do is listen up. Like in gym class, when the teacher was like: "listen up."

I got nostalgic for Final Cut (which I didn't use, 'cause I film vlogs on imovie, so that seemed counterproductive) while editing this today. I feel like that's a good sign. It's a sign that one day, I'll learn how to use Final Cut. As Adele would say: "cut, print ..."

It's 4 AM on a Monday Morning and Your Girl is Lovely, Hubble. (Obligatory SATC movie post)

[UPDATE: Somehow this published last night without the last two paragraphs. Sorz .. Fixed now.]

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I saw the colors and the wind in their skirts; four women clompity-clomping down a sidewalk and the sheer power of their power seemed like parting seas. I saw Carrie perched like a cat at the edge of her bed, typity-typing words that were just for us to eat up like bon-bons stuffed with both alcohol and fortunes. We could crack open our sweetest spots and inside we could read: "Do mistakes make our fate?" "Do we ever give up the ghosts of relationships past?" Then we'd eat our cookies and the sweetness would stick to our teeth.

I believed those were our sweetest spots: "Is it smarter to follow your heart or your head?" "Is hope a drug we need to go off of, or does it keep us alive?" Our sweetest spots weren't what we'd suspected (animals wanting their bellies scratched, or food), they were what we'd hoped (a drug that keeps us alive).

And then; we could eat our cookies.

And, in Michigan, alone at night-time when I'd feel like an alien accidentally born on the wrong planet, I'd watch this show called Sex and the City on DVD and I'd write in my journal: ONE DAY YOUR LIFE WILL BE FAR MORE FABULOUS THAN THIS. I'd cut out magazine pictures of women in powersuits and paste them into my journal and draw pictures with colored pencils. A boy would call and I'd glance benevolently at his name on the ID and sigh at how silly and small he was compared to this city. He was insignificant and mean, I was clompity-clomp and mean, he'd eat my dust like an expensive bon-bon and it would taste like my mouth and then I'd bite his hand.

I saw the sex. I saw the city which got dark and dirty at night -- teeeming with prostitutes and puddles and heartbreak and shoe-break. I saw these things only -- the way the word "brunch" sounds like "french," like french kissing, or french toast. I heard other sounds too; women laughing, the self-assured lilt of Samantha's unapologetic lust, full of pride and self-reliance and hunger. I heard Charlotte's lips twisting in prudish neurotic adorable Charlottehood. I felt Miranda's eyes rolling far far away and then reluctantly returning to the table like someone who'd just eaten your fourtune without reading it and then offered you a really good book in exchange.

I heard Miranda; "We're four smart women with jobs and men is all we can talk about? It's like seventh grade with bank accounts." I thought; true story. I thought; let's talk about women instead. Let's talk about other kinds of desire, the kind we already understand but maybe don't know what to do with yet. Not these strange games and boundaries, where closets and rings mean more than poetry.

"Carrie" was right about one thing -- it is our mistakes that make our fate. And that's got nothing to do with mistakes and a lot more to do with fate. We've all got the same one, and maybe we come here to escape it. And if we don't come here -- to this immortal city -- it doesn't matter. What we come here for is the same exact feeling that every person everywhere feels through fucking or through drugs or through a car speeding through a clean night or through laughter or the kind of love you can't put on a keychain or in a newspaper or on a blog.

Through the moments when stars looked like bright lights, big cities. Through silence. We came here 'cause we wanted it double, which means paying double too.

Here, here, here, this city. Its lights and garish billboards of women selling shampoo like shampoo is secretly a blow job from a girl made out of candy and colors. Women selling underwear like underwear is sex or a city or sex in a city or women on magazine covers, the sides of busses, is women still making less than men but fighting just the same. Is women made immortal by the ambivalent wave of an airbrush, like photographs are magicians and women are bunnies with their ears pert and open. And also by the dirty things women don't talk about, by the compromises.

This is New York City: sex isn't always a soundbyte, isn't how Samantha comes like she's warning the neighborhood. Sex is not always brunch or french.

Sex is not always coloring though sometimes it is. Sometimes it's like the colorful dresses the girls wore in the movie and the show that I liked when I used to have dreams like balloons that kept getting bigger as long as you remained willing to blow.

Sometimes sex is like touching someone's skin with your fingertip and feeling that you've accidentally split their lungs right open and then saying "It's okay, I can teach you how to breathe." It's saying, "trust me," and then leading them underground with one finger latched into their finger and a darkness only you understand.
It's saying "look me in the eyes and tell me how much you like me," and then crawling inside of that feeling like it's a swimming pool you can sleep in without drowning. You can just dream and kiss forever after all.

Is like hitting someone in the face, or just wanting to.

And sometimes sex is a strong hand on the back of your skull, is a moment when you close your eyes and think about ponies and pudding and the sound of your best friend laughing and licking frosting off the spoon while your mother makes cake and you are small and far away. It's thinking these things until it's over and you're still gasping for air and then later, alone in Manhattan at night, walking towards wheels to take you home, you'll hold a cigarette tenderly to your lips to remind yourself that sometimes you can choose the kind of death you let inside you. It's how easily smoke covers his smell and every smell you've ever smelled.

It's the relief of a night where no one gives a shit, where you could drown in a puddle or a pool of pudding.

And the city ?

Is work. Is women working their assess off as if we never took back any kind of night. Is everything that happened after the year 2000 when we realized actually none of us had the right to vote. The city is women working in big, hulking, angry buildings that raise triumphant and phallic into the sky. Is women winning and losing and giving up and leaving and winning and auto-winning some.

Is Samantha in Richard's office, determined to get the account. Is Miranda. Is everything about Miranda until the movie. Is the episode when all four women admit they've been taking care of themselves for a long time, and they aren't really necessarily ready to let someone else take that part over. The film at times felt like women begging for someone else to take over, clinging to prior independence like an illness they couldn't shake. Not 'cause they were tired -- which I fully understand-- but because it just wasn't so important, not as important as keychains and purses.

In the finale, I cried when Big said; "You three are the real loves of her life." Did you? And I wanted a moment in the movie like that. Some were close -- the girls shuffling Carrie into the car outside the library (I'm trying to refrain from spoilers) -- but I wanted one step closer. Clickity-clack, and how do they feel about Carrie's book? How's she doing?

**

I came here expecting that kind of life and it hasn't been that way at all -- not even for one minute. I came here expecting lessons and shiny shoes and the colors. Tutus. Pillows like apologies and/or hugs and a world where women could have their cake and make it, too. Men like tiny snacks on little pieces of bread. Clackity-clack go the women on the street. Typity-type on the computer.

I'd never understood why people got upset that TV characters had unrealistically large Manhattan apartments, like Rachel Green in Friends. It's teevee, I thought, who cares? It isn't real, we all know that. Who cares?

I guess ... I did. I cared. I believed in Sex and the City.

And watching the film, I couldn't help but wonder ... how, exactly, does Carrie manage to write about her sex life in a weekly column and regularly publish mysteriously profitable books while managing to avoid that occupation's two elemental repercussions:
1) conflict over writing intimately about the lives of her friends, lovers, and friend's lovers.
2) financial struggles.

The L Word unquestionably cloaks characters in Free City, but it's easier to swallow Shane's $200 t-shirts than Carrie's shoes 'cause we literally see Carrie shop. It's part of her character. She cabs, she brunches, and -- most enviable of all --- lives alone in a nice neighborhood in Manhattan while putting in approximately two hours of work per week.

I came here expecting that but with no real “plan” for obtaining it. I wanted movie magic. Did Carrie have a plan? Did you?

The only part of a wedding I ever got excited over was picking bridesmaids, and thinking about a dress I could wear that'd piss everyone off besides whatever woman had agreed to marry me, and that woman would think the dress was sexy.

What happened when she'd put out three books divulging all her personal failures, put it out there for everyone, and was still the only one without a savings account? Did anyone care that she wrote about them? Did Gawker cover the Vogue fallout? How, how, how ... I wanted to see Carrie's plan, the overlap of the personal and the professional. Her body, her self.

**

"So here I was, a 35-year-old single woman with no financial security, but many life experiences behind me. Did that mean nothing? After all, heartbreak and breakups are the hardest kind of work. So shouldn't there be some sort of credit for enduring them? And if not, how do you retain a sense of value when you have nothing concrete to show for it? Because at the end of yet another failed relationship, when all you have are war wounds and self-doubt, you have to wonder, what's it all worth?"

-Carrie Bradshaw, episode 64, "Ring a Ding Ding"

[Howevs -- she has $40,000 of shoes. In the Book of Riese, ebay gold star seller, those be some assets, SRSLY.]

I came here wanting experience ... and rewards for experience ... at at times, I've had it!

I've had moments that make me jealous of myself and they all felt like magic and gifts. Almost everything I've gotten here has been through magic and love and things I deem unquestionably real, deserved.

This isn't a good long-term plan 'cause magic comes and goes but 9-to-5 jobs are forever, but luckily I believe very strongly in the moment and try not to think about next week.

As for financial security and white knights ... I guess I was looking for a different kind of rock. For what I loved about the show and loved for those brief, multi-colored moments in the film when the four girls rounded the corner and they could've been twenty or two hundred, what mattered was they had each other and they had themselves. Which matters to me more than any kind of deep deep closet.

**

We saw the movie on opening night in Chelsea at midnight. A drag queen introduced the movie. I raised my hand when he said "Who's a Miranda?" Miranda didn't believe in jackshit. 50% of the theater -- mostly gay men -- cheered for "Who's a Samantha?"

I was entertained and delighted and sometimes moved to tears. I had to hide under my hoodie a few times when it got too cheesy -- most scenes involving J-Hud, or when our dear Stef, fully wasted, punctuated her favourite moments rock-show-style with a scream and a fist in the air. But I believe in that, too.

**

I didn't come here expecting to give up men altogether, I didn't come here expecting anything that I got. I may've come here expecting the precise opposite of all this in which case yes, my mistakes did make my fate except I don't believe in fate. I believe in many silly things, but not that.

As for this city and what it's got that I believe in; I believe in love, and I believe in Caitlin and I believe in Alexandra (though they don't live in the city proper, 'cause no one does anymore) and Natalie, and I believe in music and I believe in english muffins and Team Emily and words and books. In art. In everyone who lives here that I love and who will walk down the street with me in Chuck Taylors.

As for that silly movie -- I found Charlotte charming, Samantha oddly bearable, Miranda not pleasant though she's usually my favorite, and Carrie -- I don't know. I liked the fashion show in her closet. I liked the moments that reminded me of 80's movies about cute girls in suburbs who wanted to have fun. I was thoroughly entertained. I didn't like the parts where strong women had nothing else to talk about besides men.

What I love about SATC the show, and what changed my life while I thought I was watching love stories and colors in fabric, was that it challenged my perceptions of the centrality female friendship could hold in one's life. Prior to SATC and TLW, most onscreen female friendships were a series of Brenda and Kelly esque catfights -- competitions over boys or cheerleading squad, etc.

This was embodied in Carrie's walk to Miranda's apartment in the movie -- so totally bogus, and yet so beautiful. And the snow. And the city and the sex inside it and all over it. The places we dream of, the places we can't bear to be found.

Later that day, I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that split you right open like the heart is just another fruit and those that yank you from your present and drop you mercilessly into the feelings of someone you thought you'd left behind. There's those that remind you of where you were, those that help you get where you're going, those that make you think you've got it all wrong and those that lift a heavy gate revealing something right and full of color. There's those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.

I Pull Up to the Front of Your Driveway With Magic Soaking My Spine (and Auto-Fun)

A night out: widespread potential for things to go wrong. For me, the moment I leave the safety of a designated shelter, I'm already on edge, thinking of the myriad missteps possible between the door of aforementioned shelter and the engagement in the promised fun. ("Fun" = the commonly agreed upon purpose of a night out).

These areas of potential failure include:
a) Entertainments (Good movie? Party full o' douchebags?)
b) Company (Friends, humor, value, tension, fights, lovers, diversity, desire, deflection, admiration, the whole spectrum of human emotion really.)
c) Food (Hunger, cravings, availability, economy.)
d) Intoxication (Level, type & sensation, result, how your stomach/head feels about it.)
e) Transportation (Form, comfort, cost, pleasure experienced en route, cabbie smelled/ruled.)
f) Economics (Cost more/less than expected, you saved twenty percent on car insurance, something inspiring a "priceless" away message on AIM happened, you were robbed at gunpoint.)
g) Special (Having your phone stolen would be an especially bad thing, getting hugged by Cam and Leisha at their initiative would be an especially good thing. Meeting the ex-love of your life in an unexpected but terrible place = bad. Meeting the love of your life = good)
h) Health (Are you tired? Are you allergic to the punch/cats? Did you get too drunk, or take up yoga? Or ... like, the proverbial yoga?)
i) Intellect (Did this event make you smarter somehow? Probs not, but you never know, I do enjoy a good poetry reading, I felt spiritually moved by Uh Huh Her the first time I saw them for real.)
j) Fashion (How did you look? Did you do the costume of the day? Did Haviland compliment your attire? Is your name "Tinkerbell," and were you wearing a pullover made out of Uh Huh Her briefs?)

Sometimes the stars align however, and all in one night -- you make it to your far-away location without pulling any U-Turns, despite Miss GPS's stern desire to re-calculate the route, run into a friend you haven't seen in forevs, enjoy the friends you're with, reach the perfect level of intoxication (giggly, but not about to crack one's skull on a glass table), drinks seem basically free compared to NYC, your cabbie actually waits outside of Wendy's -- for y'all to fulfill your specific 5-piece and fries craving (easily satisfied within blocks of final shelter!) -- just like you asked him to, Leisha and Cam say awesome mega-kind unexpected things about your video/your yous and are super-sweet all around, Tinkerbell gets her Uh-Huh-Her outfit signed, etc. I'm just saying ... such a thing is possible. Did we see Eric Mathew? No. But otherwise, Philadelphia, we're cool now. I call truce. Also, UHH, we still need to have a chat about tardiness.

Also "Special" is that North Star Bar in Philly had a gigantic fan upstairs, providing many opportunities for memory-making via photograph. Unfortunately we didn't see Rovermom, so I didn't have a chance to punch her in the face.

---

I have this idea that I take too long to write things. And I don't know if that makes me write better things, or just write things that are equally good (if not polished/refined) but in different ways.

---

Someone explain twitter to me. Why would I want people to keep tabs on me all the time, isn't that what stalking laws prevent? I just don't understand it.

I saw this on post secret and thought I'd put it here.
I like it.

---

I have notes, everywhere. I go through them to put things together and my mind boggles itself. What was I talking about? Here's a sample of a notebook page of material from yours truly, circa I'm not really sure, but I think at least two years ago?:

Under "heroes," I wrote "Mrs. Dalloway." Aspeth wrote "Captain Kangaroo." That's when I knew I loved her.

I didn't like him in the morning. Sometimes men reminded me of giant animal trees. Sad ones. This primal lust -- beast -- cut through way too quickly with its apology. It was in the moment between animal and apology where he lost me.

"She's not very bright, Marie. She's just beautiful and not bright and so totally ordinary."
"But she's got a really extraordinary ass."

face of faith - nellie mckay
melt your heart - jenny lewis
go your own way - snow and voices

Her friends were all angles, it turned out. She'd thought they were gelatinous, gooey things -- shifting & blending into each other ... forming better, stronger things. But no, it turned out, looking around the table - all points, points wanting to be made. and now.

"you are so lovely it makes me sad" -text message from a---.

-Veronica is from Florida.
-2BR apt w/a vegan drug dealer.
-Alice runs everywhere she's crazy like that

In middle school, the songs were our ideas. "Our song" -- an initiative, carried forth w/o support or input from our partners. We chose sweet pop ballads like "Hero" or "Groovy Kind of Love." First song we danced to, lyrical relevance. Our boyfriends were scrawny kids with awkward teeth, swallowed in skater pants; they listened to Nine Inch Nails.

"I got a lot of problems. I am very sick. I have a lot of problems, Miriam. I used to have a Camaro." (-Man in metropolitan hospital.)

All I had then, was a faint suspicion that I was more than this.

Me = "Long, lanky Olive Oyl type. Perverted in a good way." - Daphne

---

And in this spirit, I go on to the automatic "fun" of the day. This's been difficult to assemble, 'cause my internet has been completely spastic for about four days now, making life so insufferable that I actually subjected myself to making an outgoing phone call to fix the problem. I thought just now it was fixed via that magic trick that verizon people do when you call them that makes you look like a total idiot for even calling, but it turns out; totally not. I keep starting thoughts I can't finish, it's disorienting.

---

[Someone quoted this in the comments recently ... i couldn't find it ... then i was reading this blog just now and came across it, subsequently, the poem its from in poetry, and thought, this is something to say again ...]

**
quote: "What are you thinking?" She asks.
Light shutters across us. Wherever you are
in me I'm there, though it's not what you wanted."
(Phillip White, "Infidelity.")

---

links:
1) Speaking of the stars aligning; last week I randomly felt inspired to speak of Chris Farley. This week, Sam Anderson reviews a book about Chris Farley, (@nymag)
2) I just finished "Have You No Shame: And Other Regreattable Stories," but I'm not gonna talk about it 'til July, which's when I estimate I'll finish "Stuff I'm Reading: May" considering we're well into May and I've yet to do April ... anyhow, recommended. (@mediabistro)
3) A poem for Michigan, the Midwest : "A Primer," by Bob Hicok. "February/ is thirteen months long in Michigan. / We are people who by February / want to kill the sky for being so gray / and angry at us. 'What did we do?' is the state motto." (@the new yorker)
4) "Dear Writing, a love/hate letter" (@lusty lady)
5) Audacia's got a video clip now of her standing up for sex worker rights during the spitzer hoo-ha on CNN (@waking vixen)
6) Janice Erlbaum: "Remember when I used to talk about myself all the time. I kind of don't feel like it any more." (@girlbomb)
7) The Top 12 Jews in Cinema (@nerve.com)
8) "Another person chimed in: 'Do you like fag porn? All my queer female friends do.'": Girls Love Gay Porn (@the village voice)
9) It's possible, apparently, that instant messaging is not harming teenager's language skills but rather represents "a linguistic renaissance." Includes LOL statistics. (@the new scientist)
10) Anyhow, yay! Gays can marry in California! (@nytimes)
11) Also, I updated autostraddle! Kinda ...

Auto-Fun, Etc., for a Great Bright Beautiful Tomorrow :: 5-15-2008

A'ight ... first off a brief Autowin PSA. This'll be like a Lozo PSA, except without the big-girl bashing ... or like a TV PSA ... except I'm certainly not about to tell you "don't do drugs," that'd be boring. Do drugs, come on, you only live once, and you defo only overdose like 2-3 times, max. No seriously. Also, I won't tell you who to vote for (*cough* Obama), or if you should choose recycled or unrecycled paper. I'm gonna talk about myself. That's right. Mememeememe. For a change.

I don't talk about this stuff, because I think it's on my Top Ten list of lame things to talk about ... but, although my friends enjoy mocking me (as per their writings [(1) OMG Stef's cartoon recap is up! LOLZ!] and recent comments), the truth is ... I'm a big huge rockstar, and whomevs wants to yell at me on the street (please use only my rockstar name, Van Halen) (Haha! I'm so funny! I mean, Automatic Win!) should go for it. It fuels my big rockstar ego and I'm totes used to it. Later, me and Penny Lane and the other girls, we go down to the river, and we see our friends at the record store.

No fo'reals reals, as at least 4-5 people can attest but really only I can say for sure ('cause only I receive my ingoing and outgoing correspondences with excellent verbal and oral communication skills), I do from time to time receive emails/comments, or hear people know about me from friends, or witness real live-conversations regarding recognizing me ... and sometimes also people talk to me! In public!

It's more likely, however, that I'll get an email the next day, probs 'cause I talk about my social awkwardness often, therefore I: a) have socially awkward readers, b) have non-socially awkward readers who don't know how to talk to someone who's already explained 100 times that they don't know how to talk, period. Therefore, they don't wanna talk to me 'cause they don't wanna risk a panic attack or, really, anything involving me responding in "not the cowboy way" or in a way not evident of the aforementioned rock stardom. c) I'm not a very exciting person to meet, 'cause I'm weird/not actually a rockstar.

I remember I the first blogger I really read was waking vixen, and I'd see her places but never say anything, because I'm a weirdo. Then she posted a post saying, "Hey, if you see me, say hello," or something to that effect. I'm certainly not going to go that far -- if you see me, feel free to say hello, but also, feel free to say nothing, or to write later, though I'm bad at writing back (I'm better at passive forms of procrastination, like "reading emails") ...

Anyhow, this was leading to some sort of point ... oh! I'm sure about 25% of you are socially less awkward than me, and actually might consider yelling at me on the street, and I just want to be sure that no one is deterred form doing so in the future by thinking it's a revolutionary act based on all the recent chatter. 'Cause it's funny, and awesome, and rocks like a rockstar.

Oh also, from my top ten favorite second-hand stories ... someone asked my roommate, upon her reveal that auto-win was her roommate, if I was "that crazy in real life." (Yes!) (No!)

Anyhow, I have the whole "omg, it's so awkward," routine down pat, I do the same thing every time, it's actually a whole new kind of lame. It's much easier w/Haviland, 'cause she's good at conversational arts. Also, you can just throw money at me, or yourself/your body. The latter option has offered thus far a 100% success rate.

If I'm out in public, chances are, I'm already drunk, and therefore vulnerable to your wanton affections. This is how I always end up in an alley somewhere, up to my elbows in won-tons. Like the soup!

OK, that's all. Really, only 20 people read this blog, the rest of the commenters are just me jerking around. That doesn't fly for The L Word Online, I'm not taking responsibility for 75% of those commenters, but also, I'm not certain they read my recaps, I think they just have a lot of Bettina related feelings they want to share ASAP.

--

On youtube, "Videos being watched right now ..." is like 'everything that is wrong with the world. Terrible pop star, bloody sports, emo tree, something involving glitter, girl with her red thong panties around her ankles. Ta-da, this is America!

--

I've been thinking lately about increasing leisure -- remembering a time before I was determined to exist with 150% productivity at all times and never be at rest. As long as I haven't finished (or started) the proverbial book (which really exists on a symbolic level at this point), haven't paid off my debt, or had seven babies and eaten pickles with cream cheese in my bunny slippers, I haven't earned leisure (the latter doesn't count as "leisure," 'cause even though there's slippers, I'm preparing for birthing ritual). Howevs, I've decided that I'm going to take unearned leisure from now on, to prevent losing my mind.

Sidenote: Hanging out w/a friend counts as "doing something" 'cause "hang out with ____" is one of the things you can put on your to-do list and then cross off right away, I like to have as many of those things as possible. E.g., "email Mom," and then I'm like, omg, just did!

Speaking of Leisure ... tonight, Philadelphia here we come! A;ex and Cait and I are heading to Uh Huh Her. We're a bit worried that Rovermom might be there, and if so, I'd like to let her know especially that emailing the next day is fine, let's not throw punches.

---

Auto-Fun!With your host, me, the girl that writes this little blog.
I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!
*
quote: "When I was 28, four or five years after I quit playing music, I married a postmistress. Because she was pretty. Because she was sweet and she loved me. So that we could have two sons who could both be drummers like their dad. For those reasons. But also so I wouldn't have to wait for my mail. Because there's a letter coming, a letter from the actor James Dean. And here's what it will say: If the life you lead is not the one you dreamed about, then flee." (Rick Moody, "The James Dean Garage Band.")

---

links:

@ Granta: (2) Web Habits of Highly Effective People. A.L. Kennedy, who I mentioned before 'cause he wrote my least favorite story in The Book of Other People says, "I don't blog or Facebook. If I want to write, I'd rather do it to some kind of definable end."

He's got a point. But it's funny that it's him, specifically, making this point -- the author responsible for that story I hated -- howevs, I did preface my dislike with my recognition of the fact that A.L Kennedy is more successful than I'll ever be.

Now I'm blogging about blogging about hating Kennedy's story 'cause Kennedy himself said --in an article I'm blogging about right now -- that not-blogging is the secret to his success, and if that's not meta, then, well, I QUIT. Also, someone make up a abrev for "meta," STAT, I've got monkeys to save. The tornado isn't going to stop on its own accord.

Also, via the same Granta piece ... Maud Newton's (3) detailing of her ADD-writing habits, which reminded me of my own, almost exactly. I relate to Amanda Gersh's habits. Oh, Granta, how perfect this piece is for me today! A success! Unlike me, much like A.L Kennedy.

'Cause I have this theory? [cue Angela Chase theme music] That my time managment issues relate to me being my own boss. My own motivator. It's hard to come up with daily self-motivation. Probs all the world feels this way, which's why other people work at the dairy queen & are closely supervised at all times. Clearly I'm too hard on myself, and deserve a pat/rub on the back.

More on reading habits & styles at (4) Light Reading.

Obvs I like to limit my perusal of book criticism to one author and one author only, Uh Huh Her, I mean, Sam Anderson, but (5) I love any reviewer who opens with: ""Bright Shiny Morning" is a terrible book." Usually I think all book sales are good for publishing and therefore won't bash authors, but James Frey is not good for publishing, bash away.

My internet's been in and out all day -- I'd rather just have it or not, this way's such a tease. The articles are taking full hours to load, it's pretend dial-up. I write an email, and 40 minutes later, it sends! It reminds me of downloading songs overnight many moons ago ... sticking in a CD to burn, leaving home for a semester, then returning to find it: Ree's Hot Mix, Happy Hannukah to ME!

OMG, the plus-sized girl won on (6) America's Next Top Model! Oh, it's a hoax, obvs, everyone knows plus-sized models aren't real, like unicorns and fraggles.

Critical Mass has an (7) interview with Jeff Gordiner on his book "How Generation X is Saving the World." And he includes this Borges quote, which I love:

quote #2: "A man who cultivates his garden, as Voltaire wished/He who is grateful for the existence of music./He who takes pleasure in tracing an etymology./Two workmen playing, in a cafe in the South, a silent game of chess./The potter, contemplating a color and a form./The typographer who sets this page well though it may not please him./A woman and a man, who read the last tercets of a certain canto./He who strokes a sleeping animal./He who justifies, or wishes to, a wrong done him./He who is grateful for the existence of Stevenson./He who prefers others to be right./These people, unaware, are saving the world." (Borges, "The Just")

Let's finish up:
(8) The Chicago Tribune insists that "no man" should be forced to sit through the Sex and the City movie. Stef, Cait and I had a serious team meeting last week regarding the fact that we've already put May 30th in our calenders and have been looking into getting tickets online. Errr/Durrr. (@the chicago tribune)
(9) I'm still not entirely certain why people la-la-la-love these Nintendo Wii machines, but apparently they can now also work out?: "Wii Fit" (@ny times)
(10) Science has confirmed that all the neurotic people live in New York City and THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call "bringing it back around." Thank you and goodnight. (@the boston globe)

Under Feet Like Ours, Under Vlogs Like Ours, Uh Huh ... Her.

On Monday night we went to see a music show featuring the band Tegan & Sara, it was quite delightful. I adore Tegan & Sara all over: music, witty banter, stage presence. Natalie remarked, "This is the best rock 'n roll concert I've ever been to!" I'm not gonna divulge how many concerts she claimed to have attended (en total) in her entire life, I'm hoping she may've been exaggerating for dramatic effect on that, like I often do. We've been besties since college, therefore we share some key personality traits, e.g., a tendency to spark up a story with a little glimmer of fiction. On a scale of 1 to 10, this particular post is written at a USA Today reading level. There will be a powerpoint presentation and short video after class, in the meeting room, with danishes. xoxo gossip girl.

I've got a lot of shallow vapidity to cover today, so on with it, yes.

Okay so; Tinkerbell didn't go to T&S, which was valuable foresight, 'cause we all accidentally wore brightly colored hoodies from the same store -- therefore, we already looked like the M&M's Street Team (or the Tellitubbies) and would've looked ridic w/the added element of comedy/childhood/dymensia implied by the tote-age of a stuffed de-strapped dog sporting American Airlines wings.

Luckily, Tink makes plenty of appearances in our latest vlog, which covers the following topics: durrrrr.

Honestly; I think I used all our best footage on the first one, recklessly, w/o any consideration for the future. Perhaps 'cause at that time I had bleak overall feelings about the future. Then, yesterday, I decided instead of hating everyone per always, I'd just love everyone! Really, I mean, it's just as fair/unfair.

Then, only hours after making that new life choice, I was forced to reconsider: some people enjoy, it seems, screaming along to Tegan & Sara's already quite harmonic melodies, therefore reminding me both why I hate everyone and of sing-a-longs in Kindergarten and on Sesame Street. I get the desire -- I do it sometimes too. But you don't need to SCREAM sing along, this isn't System of a Down or heavy metal rockers, they're quite lovely w/o your harmonies. I've seen the Indigo Girls live a bazillion times, so I know from sing-a-longs.

I think it's possible we're getting too old for this -- my companions agreed. Therefore, we'll have to pack the next couple years as full to the brim with this kind of activity as possible.

But really: the concert was awesome, there was loads of witty banter, and I enjoyed spending quality time with Cait, Alex, Stef, Natalie, Chase & Ang and Ms. Jackson. I'd talk about the concert, but how do you talk about concerts, I think that's like dancing about architecture, right? I think I said that last time, but then tried to write about it anyhow, and I imagine whatever I said last time goes for this time too -- I love them, they played this and that song, omg, are you jealous do you wish you'd been there omg. They told lots of cute stories, unfortunately Carly was not there and therefore I had no one to tackle when they played "Living Room," so we all left relatively unscathed. There was heaps of witty banter, like a story for every song, like Raffi! Super-cute.

Maybe Stef will do a cartoon recap?

Afterwards, someone tried to pass off a flier about some other place we could party at (unfortunately, I'd surpassed my daily allotment of "other people time" about four hours prior, also: sleepy sloos time) and Alex whooped and gave them a high-five. We inquired re: whooping, she looked dejectedly at the flier and said: "I thought it said MADONNA, not MONDAY."


So anyhow, we made this vlog. Believe it or not -- 'cause we do enjoy talking about the same things over and over again, and you might think I'm recycling old footage -- this vlog contains 100% all-new never-before-seen footage. Topics include: global warming, the health care system, Encyclopedia Brittanica, Fellini films, your Mom, truth in memoir, flying lesbians, how to get a date with Haviland, dancing lessons from Alex, the United Nations, world peace, and the proper position of second-wave feminist discourse within the modern fourth wave pro-sex feminist movement. JK, it's about nothing at all whatsoever.


Speaking of videos! Leisha & Cam have debuted their video for us (part of the Uh Huh Her SXSW Video Contest Winning Prize Package), and you can watch it here ! Obviously, they were held up in post-production -- special effects, animation, etc. Anyhow, clearly we'll be collaborating in the near future, 'cause I am really good at following people around and talking to strangers. No but honestly, wouldn't that be awesome! I'd be like "Alice, what the frickin' frack?" JK, totally professional, obvs.

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.

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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)