Sunday, May 31, 2009

the curious case of nina and tommy button

reunited and it feels so good.

the more faithful readers will recall that tb is my best friend for about ten years now. he is also the other person that, along with myself looks increasingly better with age. we don't know why this is. it is a total mystery, as in times past we haven't exactly lived lifestyles that encourage a healthy glow.

you see, i am home for the summer before i move across the country to continue school. one masters degree down. one phd to go. right now, because i am unemployed, i can spend a good deal of free time with my best friend tb. and because we are all about ourselves all the time, we are left with nothing to do but converse with each other. which inevitably leads to a regression down memory lane. especially if we are hanging out with someone that doesn't know our stories. and there are many stories. this typically digresses into a little game of who's afraid of virginia wolfe, during which we see who can tell the most embarrassing story from the past about the other.

however, the renewed sense of shame at past acts that are better left in the past is such a small price to pay for the comfort of hanging out with someone that knows you better than anyone. if there's one thing i'm all about it's consistency. especially the consistency of someone that knows pretty much everything about you and loves you anyway. no surprises.

you see, we've had a lot of times, tb and i. tough times. funny times. weird times. good times. sad times. boring times.

If we had the chance to do it all again...Tell me, would we? could we?

the only option for those around us is to cue the streisand. and enjoy the way we were.

Friday, May 29, 2009

the pros and cons of self-revelation (or, pamphlet II)

i spoke with my sister last night and she is of the same mindset as tb when it comes to revealing flaws to potentially significant others. and that is you shouldn't. at least, not at first. she doesn't believe in hiding things, but strongly advocates that you should first play up your strong points so that the frame of reference is established as positive from inception. that way, when they find out certain things, things that could be perceived as flaws, they are more likely to accept them. like maybe you're really needy, but you're also a really good cook so it evens out.

to illustrate this point i have prepared an illustrative (and, i assure you, purely hypothetical) example.

in my world:

sig other:
do you really think you need to take all that xanax?
me: it helps me function. i have obsessive-compulsive tendencies, remember? deviation from routine freaks me out. if you hadn't insisted that i make coffee before i washed my face when i woke up this morning, then i wouldn't be stressed like this now.
sig other: but...but...
me: but nothing. i told you this eight months ago.
sig other: yes. that's true. guess there's nothing more for me to do, but accept it.
me: guess so. a xanax would help you with that...

in my sister's world:

sig other: do you really think you need to take all that xanax?
me: i have something to tell you. i have obsessive-compulsive tendencies. now don't worry, it isn't like what you see on television. i'm quite high functioning, but there are times when i find that i cannot lower my stress level. at those times, the doctor has suggested that i can use xanax to help control this.
sig other: wow. that sounds really hard. it kind of freaks me out, but you do cook a really mean steak and can discuss abstract philosophical concepts in a meaningful fashion so i guess we will work through this together. i'm here for you.
me: you're the best.
sig other: no, you are.

i still don't know the answer. but, it did occur to me thatmy sister was right when she pointed out that i did leave off a section in the pamphlet about positive attributes that i possess.

so here goes:

positive attributes:
good cook + i love to cook
flawless aesthetic taste
very well-read
possessor of thousands of random facts (if you are on my team, we will almost ALWAYS win at trivial pursuit)
not afraid to try new things (so long as these things don't interfere with my pre-existing phobias)
very open-minded
will move anywhere including to other countries
can discuss philosophy
i love art

Thursday, May 28, 2009

comment modification

so i just realized that only blogspot members can leave comments. super lame, i know. it was set this way because i am a technological idiot just didn't know any better. hopefully, there are some of you out there that were like "damn. i really wanted to leave a comment but i can't." is YOUR day, because now you can. so get to it...

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

the get-out-of-guilt free pamphlet

some years ago tb was briefly seeing this guy. his name was.... well... never really committed to memory. what i do recall is that after he and tb had hung out a few times and he sensed that it might possibly be headed towards datingsville (it so wasn't), he busted out this pamphlet containing information about himself that he had devised for potential relationship partners. things he felt that they should know about him. true story. this pretty much ended things. plus he showed up with a pink rose for tb. it was pretty lame. but hilarious.

tb and i laughed for a long, long time...days even...about "the pamphlet." and the rose.

now, however, i'm starting to think that the kid might have been on to something. you all know i have a strict policy of exposing upfront anything that might be perceived as a a flaw. tb thinks this is self-sabotage as far as dating is concerned, but i feel that it is only fair to the other person. i don't like surprises. and most importantly, if you tell them first then they can't get the satisfaction of discovering on their own or holding it against you later on.

also, it saves me feeling bad when things get fucked up because people try to use these things as reasons for breaking up. it's like, you already knew this about...what's the problem?

so then i started thinking...what would my pamphlet say? what is the necessary information that others need to know? here goes...

name: nina myers
star sign: cancer
enneagram personality type: 4
phd candidate- international relations/comparative politics: emphasis on feminist theory and human rights
political beliefs: socialist/extremely liberal

things i will not give up for you:

cigarettes (i only smoke occasionally)
celebrity gossips
OCD tendencies
hand sanitizer
my blog
my best friend tb
expensive skin care/hair care products
trying to start the revolution
bottled water (look, i've dated some serious hippie types that LOVE to go on about the evils of bottled water...i like evian. get the fuck over it.)

things i am willing to give up for you:

my job (provided that you can support me to my specifications...this doesn't mean i will stop working...i'll just do it at my own leisure and from home)
my car (provided that you can buy me a new one)
sex with other people

things you should NEVER buy me:
louis vuitton
fur anything
fois gras
a mercedes
any clothes that you have not heard me mention explicitly that i would wear

things i would like to have as presents:
estate jewelry
record player
a house
things for the kitchen
trips to anywhere
flowers (no one has ever bought me flowers...this would raise your stock considerably)
an am-ex black card
my student loans paid off/future tuition paid
your extra time and your kiss

*i'm not looking for anyone to buy me expensive things/pay my bills...but i would let someone...that's all i'm saying.

favorite movies:
breakfast at tiffany's
vertigo (i like hitchcock, generally speaking)
mommie dearest
hairspray (the original)
la vie en rose
the kid stays in the picture ( and documentaries in general)
a summer place
peyton place
seven year itch
sunset blvd
full metal jacket
(there are way more, but you get the idea)

movies i hate:
it's a wonderful life
war inc (for a full explanation of this see bfk's review)
romantic comedies in general
steven segal/chuck norris movies

favorite books:
a good man is hard to find, flannery o'connor
less than zero, brett easton ellis
everything is illuminated,
Jonathan Safran Foer
pimp: story of my life, iceberg slim
last exit to brooklyn, hubert selby, jr
childhood: the biography of a place/a feast of snakes, harry crewes
being and nothingness, jean-paul sartre
welcome to the desert of the real, slavoj zizek
the philosophy of andy warhol: from a to b and back again, andy warhol
the entire nancy drew/sweet valley high series
seedy biographies about old hollywood stars

books i hate:
chick lit
anything by ann coulter

things i love:
water ( this includes the beach/the swimming pool/the name it)
fast cars
vintage clothes
music on vinyl (the sound is superior)
the blues
sleeping late (or in general)
talking about myself
lush beauty products

things i hate:
extremes in temperature
deviation from routine
camping (i have allergies, ok...)
conservatives and neo-conservatives
new country as a musical genre
rich people who project an attitude of entitlement
the police (as in the law, not the band)
drama (if it directly affects me)
when men order for women in restaurants
when people try to discuss politics with me and really have no idea what they're talking about
when people try to explain why what i do is utopian in vision/futile (see directly above)

favorite foods:
really hot curries (thai, indian)
steak (red meat in general)
chick peas
lentils (especially red)

personal idiosyncrasies:
ocd (not in the card counting way...just the neurotic disease/routine deviation fearing way)

i have body image issues ( ie: i need a lot of validation

when i am working, my work is 110% of my has to be that way. my work is very important to me. it is who i am.

i cannot hide who i am. i am over that. do not expect me to keep things to myself or act a certain way for certain people. it simply isn't happening.

i am honest. i just can't hold my tongue. or leave well enough alone.

along those lines...don't ask my opinion unless you are prepared to hear it. i am trained in criticism. i am also a perfectionist, so things can always be improved upon. this applies to my own work and the work of others (or whatever).

i am hyper-sensitive. at times, i cover this up with an inflated sense of self. have you read this blog?

i have bad energy when it comes to electronic devices. every computer i touch breaks.

if we are rich, tb lives with us. end of story.
so...that's a really long pamphlet. i guess i would date anyone that got to the end of it.

all boring on the western front

i've been reading the gossips this morning, or what passes for the gossips, and....NOTHING. seriously. my game of {whatever passes for scrabble without copyright infringement} on facebook with fs has been way more exciting. seriously, i've searched the internets far and wide looking for ONE interesting story. from perez to byron crawford to OMG to us weekly, there is nothing going on.

to give you an idea...

katy perry plays herself AGAIN, in yet another interview. oh yes...your favorite lezploitational performer is back. reaffirming why some people should be seen and not heard. she's tedious, boring, and now, with the advent of her unfortunate haircut, unsightly. for someone that claims to "keep it all about the music," the interview pretty much confirms reviewer Tony Sclafani's description of her songs as "obvious bids for attention". because this interview reads like not so much as bid, but a desperate plea for attention. too much of which i am now giving to it...

speaking of people playing themselves, apparently jessica simpson is getting her own reality show. and it will be about, of all things (physical) beauty. i don't even have to go into this. you all know why it's just wrong.

and finally for all of you who keep up with the gossips and are now finding yourself wondering "who the fuck are jon and kate? and why should i be interested?"

the answers to those questions are "nobody of interest/irresponsible breeders" and "you fucking shouldn't", respectively. basically this trifling broad and her sad bastard husband decided that rather than accept infertility and do the morally appropriate thing and adopt (yes. i said it.), they would undergo fertility treatments and contribute to the overpopulation situation with a set of twins and a set of sextuplets. and tlc was kind enough to celebrate this with a reality show. and now apparently they are having affairs and what not. and whatever...

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

addicted to the struggle

i read a lot of things. books, blogs, web pages, pamphlets, and so on and so on. the satisfaction i derive from the consumption of, um, informational things (i was going to say ideas/knowledge but that sounds way, way bougie), lies in the extremes. meaning i get the most satisfaction from outliers. things i either strongly agree or disagree with.

oh fuck's really the things that i disagree with that i crave. the things i REALLY disagree with that give me the most enjoyment. there is nothing that gives me more satisfaction than proving someone wrong by exposing the flaws in their argument. or just shutting them down through a relentless display of will. even if they're not actually present to engage with.

i am a judgmental person.

i used to let people make me feel bad about this. but you know what? fuck that and fuck them. the only thing we have in this life is judgment. you experience things. you formulate postures to those things. before this, there is nothing. the truth is that there is no truth. when you accept that, you are free. the only reality that exists is the one that we construct through the determination of what we want it to be.

feeling uncomfortable? well join the club. it isn't easy for me either. i'm OCD, for fuck's sake. there isn't anything i love more than proving other people wrong, except for clear boundaries and succinct prescriptions for interpersonal interaction.

but back to disagreement. when i mean really disagree with something i'm talking like ann coulter, fred phelps, conservatives in general, those cartoon anti-abortion pamphlets you find at rest stops depicting hell in the most vivid and hilarious sense....and also really stupid blogs. of which there are PLENTY. especially thanks to c.b. at bfk, who keep sending me link after link. but i'm not complaining. i need the struggle, because without it i am totally adrift.

there are two possible explanations as to why i ultimately go for the past of most resistance. they may not necessarily be mutually exclusive. they may actually fit together quite nicely. but you can work that out for yourself.

first. i might be addicted to pain. this follows the enneagram personality type 4. my personal identity is so connected with the struggle that without it i have no identity. i am lost. and then i have to think about my own pain. and who wants to do that? i mean sometimes is ok, but all the time?

second. slavoj zizek writes about the phenomenon of cutting as follows...

Far from being suicidal, far from signalling a desire for self-annihilation, cutting is a radical attempt to (re)gain a stronghold in reality, or (another aspect of the same phenomenon) to firmly ground our ego in our bodily reality, against the unbearable anxiety of perceiving oneself as non-existing. The standard report of cutters is that, after seeing the red warm blood flowing out of the self-inflicted wound, the feel alive again, firmly rooted in reality. So, although, of course, cutting is a pathological phenomenon, it is nonetheless a pathological attempt at regaining some kind of normalcy, at avoiding a total psychotic breakdown.
i've never been a cutter in the physical sense, but all this engagement with things that infuriate me might be even worse. i'm cutting my soul just to feel something. to create this identity, the foundation of which is resistance and struggle.

and so it goes.

Monday, May 25, 2009

people always find out. ALWAYS.

yeah, that's right...i watched peyton place last night. true, as far as lana turner films go, it's no imitation of life. except in the literal sense. apparently grace metalious imitated her own life very closely. and the lives of people she knew. she got sued over some stuff. at least that's what it said on wikipedia. and if it says it there then it is like reading the word of god, so don't doubt it.

in a stranger coincidence the film actually mimicked lana turner's life. if you've ever read detour: a hollywood story (which i have. more than once), then you recall cheryl crane's (lana turner's daughter) discussion of this very subject. if you HAVEN'T read this memoir, then you probably should. truthfully, as memoirs go, it is one of the better ones. it's about secrets and what they do to you. although, unfortunately, cheryl had to deal with the public disclosure of her secrets given the nature of her mother's celebrity status.

in a nutshell, what had happened was lex baker husband #3 or #4 (lana had like 7 of them and MANY boyfriends) sexually abused cheryl, which undoubtedly left her in not such a good way emotionally. then later lana started in with this mafia boyfriend, johnny stompanato (who worked for mickey cohen). he was apparently extremely violent towards lana. in the heat of an argument between johnny and lana, cheryl killed him. again this is a BRIEF synopsis, you should really read the book...but cheryl lived through it. and to be clear, it wasn't a mommy dearest situation, by any stretch of the imagination. cheryl just had some bad shit happen to her. the celebrity life (read: studio system mentality) coupled with the times made for a perhaps imperfect handling of one's emotional issues.

anyway...the murder trial of cheryl crane sort of coincided with the peyton place's release, making it wildly successful.

i did read the novel once. it was pulpy, but really enjoyable if you like gossips. which you all know i do. but the lesson learned, from both the book and the movie, is well taken. society might convince you that secrets and lies are necessary for the cohesion of reality, but they will get you in the end. you have to get things out or it destroys you. take a lesson from cheryl crane.

eventually people always find out. you might as well own your own life. if you don't, then one way or another you pay the price. just ask the kennedy's. which is another blog entirely.

Saturday, May 23, 2009

fuck you, soccer mom.

i am severely addicted to several things. one of these things being starbucks. but, as with every addiction, comes unpleasant side effects and inadvertent contact with undesirables. putting up with this contact is the price you pay for your sweet fix.

in my case, the daily trip to starbucks brings with it the much dreaded, much in need of eradication from the gene pool of our mom. for the ultimate depiction of the soccer mom and why she is a plague on all our houses, please refer to senior cranky's vintage column for punchline, elegantly entitled "i hate soccer moms."

seriously, ladies. you fuck up my pre-caffeinated morning with your tennis skirts (yes. people other than professional tennis player actually wear these). and your ungodly SUV's. i should have to wait twenty minutes while you execute the twenty-five point turn that is necessary to get your yukon holding no more than 2.5 children into a normal size parking space? and, for the love of god, please just go inside to order your five distinct speciality frappucinos that you are bringing to your ladies sewing circle or whatever the fuck it is you do while your husband works to bankroll your undeservedly lavish lifestyle. the drive-thru is no place for that.

and when you do go inside, keep your fucking kids quiet and away from me. if i wanted to listen to children first thing in the morning, i'd have my own. stop forcing me to bear the brunt of YOUR lifestyle choices. i don't know what it is about yuppie children that makes them unbearable. i know lots of people with kids. and they are awesome. but the soccer mom spawn make me want to have a radical hysterectomy. probably because i know they are going to grow up to be spoiled, useless bastards.

and most of your spiteful looks in my direction. i'll remember that next time i'm at the bar and your mid-life crisis having husband is paying my tab. because, believe it or not, it isn't my fault you peaked in high school. i'm not the one who knocked you up and gave you stretch marks. so get the fuck over yourself.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

and they all lived happily ever after

it's good to have goals in life. we all have a picture of how we want our lives to look. like myself, for example. i'm still sort of half-heartedly clinging to the middle class nuclear family idea/dream. i can't help it. i was raised on it. but i am coming to realize that that's what it is. a dream. a fantasy. seriously, do people even really have that anymore?

i think i've been dreaming the wrong dream. i have to accept the reality that i am, in fact, an extraordinary person. and, as such, cannot expect to lead an ordinary life.

i have to clarify that i don't mean extraordinary in the sense that i think that i am super talented or qualitatively better than other people in some way.

ok. fine. maybe just a little.

mostly i'm just not making the long journey to the middle like most of the people i went to high school with (NOT my friends, other people). i refuse to settle. i could be married right now. i could have the children. the house. i already have the dog and cat. but i refuse to settle for someone that is ordinary. that life is not for me. i am henceforth rejecting it.

but enough about that. what would my dream life look like.....

i've kind of always pictured myself in california. i need sunshine AND water to be happy. so i'm seeing a really big house with a swimming pool. maybe a rich husband is in order?

now, hold on a sec...i'm not talking an eagles lying eyes/ hall and oates rich girl kind of scenario like SOME people are inevitably envisioning. i'm picturing young, talented and smart rich husband. a self-made kind of person. fuck trust-fund babies.

but what comes with me best friend tb.

that's the deal breaker. if i were to find a rich husband, tb lives with us. that is how it is. i don't see this as an outrageous request. whomever i marry would want me to be happy. and having tb live with us would make me happy.

the way i see it, with all my fucking issues, having my gay best friend live with us is the least of it. and like i said before, when you love someone you want them to be happy.

before i end i would also like to point out that this is totally a fantasy sequence. if i end up with a rich husband, it will likely be a total accident. i fully anticipate that if i do actually get put in the institution of marriage, it will most likely be with another academic. i'm quite partial to philosophers.

Monday, May 18, 2009

transcending the impulse for self-destruction (or some more deconstructive thoughts on mickey avalon)

so i could write about my own descent into self-destruction, an urge that seems to have reemerged now that school has ceased to occupy my time. thesis come back...without you i am up to no good. which you all would probably like...or i could write about something else. which is what i am going to do. and that something else is mickey avalon.

those of you that know me (which would be the 5-10 people that read this blog), know that i have a thing for mickey avalon. actually, not so much for him personally, but his work. i wouldn't say that his work is extremely well-known (i don't know why i interjected a hyphen there...but it stays...oh wait it is supposed to be hyphenated...enjoying this foray into stream of consciousness?), but just a cursory glance at his myspace page and it's

i mean you've got profile pics showing everyone from 12 year old girls to girls with pictures of their boyfriends to girls with pictures of their children to sexually confused teenage boys talking about how much they want to fuck him. actually it gets much more graphic than that. i mean, it made me blush and you all know i'm not exactly the shyest violet. did get me through my thesis. if i needed to take a break i just read the comments and it distracted me to the point that i could keep working.

to get you up to's this skinny, tatted up white boy rapping over semi-decent beats talking about addiction, hustling (midnight cowboy type hustling), and fucking rich girls. in short, the type of shit that can get really old, really quickly. or just usually isn't worth listening to period. oh... and sampling john sinclair (i do not know WHAT is up with that, but i would love to ask). and then giving interviews likening himself to...bob dylan. confused? that's just the start.

i quite accidentally came across mickey avalon via the internet when i was researching the tragic LA scene, because i was in the process of applying to school there. luckily, i am not going to have to live in LA, just near LA so i can engage that scene at will, rather than being stuck in the middle of it. honestly, i just don't have the energy for that kind of thing anymore.

so i came across mickey avalon... and i couldn't stop trying to figure out why. why i couldn't stop listening to his music. why he has such a fanatical following. why these really young, really spoiled girls are obsessed with a self-professed (oh it is ALL about hyphenation today) ex-junkie that used to support his habit by tricking. because if you've experienced that scene in real life you are...i don't even know the word for it. horrified maybe? saddened.

i mean the things these girls say. the identification with things that are supposed to horrify. i don't think that mickey avalon's lyrics are necessarily supposed to make you comfortable. to give an idea of what his work is like... think of an auditory translation of larry clark's teenage lust + tulsa. think the vivid description of hubert selby jr. coupled with a linearity and clarity of hindsight reminiscent of jerry stahl. it's not comfortable. it's not supposed to be. but it is, in a way, a very existential and artistic expression of personal experience.

it's the fucking blues.

there was just something so familiar about the lyrical construction of the songs. i couldn't think of what it was. then it hit me. it's the blues. his songs are set up like blues songs. which not only speaks to a really grounded sense of musical history, but also to the act of storytelling itself. the strange mixture of fate and freedom. and swagger.

the stories are embellished. but they are true.

and here's the thing about the blues. the thing that probably goes a long way in explaining the attraction. the thing about blues songs are that they were intentionally designed to make the listener feel as though the person performing them were speaking directly to the listener. the interpersonal connection enabled the performer to make what Kuhn (1999) refers to as "high-cost, real-life requests."

and you can only say yes. even though you know better.

plus it doesn't hurt that he interviews better than anybody i've ever seen. he is so incredibly consistent and meticulous in his answers. and charming. no matter who is interviewing him.

plus i really like blogging about him because he is blowing up right now and every time i tag a blog with "mickey avalon," i get TONS of hits. even though i get NO retention as far as readers, i like to see my numbers go up.

i'm so adding my light to hers

a special shout out to carrie at add your light to mine. in addition to being a super awesome person and a great friend over the years, she has made me this. i love mentions on other people's blogs. thanks carrie.

du bist sehr spitze. (yes. today i have random german phrases in my head.)

oh, and if any of you haven't been reading her should start. it's really fucking good.

Sunday, May 17, 2009

everyone loves a charade

think about the lies you tell. no, really. think about all the lies you tell, big or small, for the purpose of keeping your life together.

i am happy. i am satisfied. i don't want -fill in the blank-. i wouldn't be any happier if i had -fill in the blank-. i don't care what other people think. i deserve to be happy. this is the life i wanted. i am free. i love you.

what if you just gave up all of these lies (if they are lies)? what would happen then?

i have tried to live by avoiding telling lies of this sort, both to myself and to others. if i feel something, i say it. i'm no good at hiding things. especially feelings. i have always felt that this was the more honest and thus more appropriate way to be. i mean what's the point of lying anyway?

but i am severely unhappy most of the time. and have also begun to think that sometimes, perhaps certain things are best left unsaid. i also happen to think that certain things are perhaps best left unfelt, as well. i mean, maybe i should practice more of a policy of keeping myself to myself. but then i just feel worse.

i think i work the opposite of other people. instead of weaving this intricate charade for the purpose of sustaining the comfort levels of those around me, i am constantly trying to find the truth. plus, i was never very good at leaving well enough alone. i have to accept that not everybody is comfortable with the truth and that some people need the charade to be happy. introspection isn't for everyone.

i believe that the most unhappiness arises from the intersection of people's realities. the realities that they have constructed and that they choose to maintain. maybe that's what relationships are. you meet someone and either you can reconcile your realities. or you can't.

is it true that self-delusion is the key to happiness?

Friday, May 15, 2009

art worth looking at

i wrote that whole thing about bad art/artist statements, but if you want to see art that is actually worth looking at...
trust that your girl would never steer you wrong.

Thursday, May 14, 2009

permanent deletion

really freaks me out.

i'm cleaning out my work computer and the idea of deleting things off of it for good is so super stressful to me. what if i need it later and i though i didn't? what if i didn't put it on the flash drive? what if the computer is lying to me (which they sometimes do) and it isn't actually on the flash drive?

i go through this super long process of transferring files. double checking them. making folders so i have a vague idea of where they are when i potentially (but probably will not) need them later. and then i get them all copied and into the recycle bin. i go through the files a final time to make sure i haven't made an error. empty the bin.

but wait. computer has to play with my ocd one more time before the process can be complete.

"are you sure?" it asks.

NO!!!! I AM NOT SURE!!! (i scream in my head)

but i did empty the bin. and am now trying to divorce myself from the thought that i have lost something forever.

thanks to the help of statistics

i can see what the people reading this blog are really after...

after consulting google analytics, i see that reader attention to this blog varies according to subject. it confirms what i've always suspected, which is that everybody loves a train wreck. as in, when i blog about the crazy neurotic shit that goes on in my head the hits to the blog go way up. also, the more outrageous and sexually explicit the blog topic, the more hits i get. which isn't surprising.

for example, if i blog something crazy like "i think i'm having a nervous breakdown and am reduced to crying and sleeping on the floor of my office and am now eating sugar like a maniac and considering dropping out of school to become a stripper," or something obscene like "i want to fuck jennifer beals" so many hits. if i blog about something really interesting like national pi day...nothing.

let me reassure you all...this is fine. no judgement here. PLEASE DON'T STOP READING. and tell your friends' friends. and their friends. as i'm sure they like to watch too.

it's just funny. and i'm on to you. let me also take this moment to shamelessly implore you all to comment. it makes me feel good. the awesome thing about it is you don't even have to use your real name. so if i blog about something crazy and you want to talk dirty (i'm speaking figuratively here)...don't be scared. no one ever has to know.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

ain't nobody gonna love me like the devil do

i can only be who i am. and i progressively approaching the realization that i am a totally selfish person. but i'm a lot of fun. hey...i may have been a headache, but i've never been a bore.

and i tell people straight up who i am. the question that emerges is does that make it all right? for instance, i told one person that wanted to date me flat out,

i will make you unhappy. this will end badly (for you).

didn't change a thing. he insisted on dating me and then things went bad, as i expected that they would. the only thing i felt when we broke up was relief. like i could breath again. i am forced to point out that he was a good person. probably one of the kindest, most genuinely good people i have ever met. but i was never good at the whole checking in/ dealing with other people's feelings thing. i felt bad when i broke it off with him. i hate to see people sad. mostly because i know sadness so well that empathy just takes over.

i feel other people's emotions. i feel everything. so much. it's hard. i try to block it out, but i just can't.

before you applaud my empathy, just know this. it's more in kind of in a bergsonian way than the pure feeling of the righteous (if i understand henri bergson correctly). the bergsonian way implies that you feel an emotion like sympathy (empathy's over emotional- moralistic cousin) in response to something negative, it has less to do with genuine empathy and more because you can imagine that bad thing happening to you and in that instance you would want someone to care. however, the implicit point is that nobody actually cares, except for themselves. i think it is actually a little more complex than this and i fully welcome anyone who knows about bergson to correct me. oh, you're not out there? thought so.

i've always cared. or at least taken on the emotions of others in an unhealthy, albeit selfish way. but this has never preempted stopped my actions. i usually just do it and then spend vast quantities of time feeling bad about it. and punishing myself. which mostly takes the form of an incessant feeling of not deserving to be happy.

i have done things for which i fully expect not to be forgiven. i mean, i can't forgive myself, how can other people be expected to forgive me. and then every now and then i meet someone that feels the same way about themselves that i feel about myself. and i feel most bad for them. again with the bergsonian translation of emotion.

there are a few people that i really care about. they are few and far between. i am coming to know that i can't force myself to care anymore than i can change things i've already done. and all the crocodile tears in the world can't undo those things. i look back on my life and realize that if i had it all to do again, i would do no differently. feeling bad for the past hasn't stopped bad things from happening in the present. and i can't keep punishing myself.

Got me drunk on whiskey, drunk on wine
Lord don't like it but the devil don't mind

in fact, i might actually have more fun if i had to do it all again.

Well I ain't been saved by the Lord

If I went to Heaven I would only get bored
Ain't nobody gonna love me like the devil do.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

jennifer beals...i fucking love you...

or i'd love to fuck you. forget being a catfish. right now i wish i was a lesbian. which makes this entry like the most cliched one ever, as 1) who doesn't want to fuck jennifer beals? and 2.) it stems undoubtedly from watching 'the l word' like incessantly ever since school finished.

however, sadly i know it's not for me. although if it were, i would have like the hottest girlfriend ever. like the ronnettes said...we'd make 'em turn their heads every place we'd go.

back to jennifer...i mean look at her and just try to tell me she isn't the most flawlessly beautiful person you've ever seen. i have always thought so (anniversary party, anyone?). and she just keeps looking better and better.

like my best friend thomas and i, instead of looking increasingly haggard with age she keeps improving. i would argue that she looks at least 65% better now then when she was in flashdance. seriously.

i don't know what her secret is (money, perhaps?). we're still trying to figure out the curious case of mandy and thomas button. it kind of defies logic as neither thomas nor i have really led the kind of lifestyle that conducive to maintaining a youthful appearance. hey...could be the experts are wrong about cigarettes accelerating the aging process.

and while we're speaking on the past. i'm done with it. but that is for the next blog.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

i wish i was a catfish....

swimming in the deep blue sea. as the song goes...

to begin....a very merry un-birthday to cb. his birthday was actually yesterday. hope you had a good one.

all of this birthday this and that got me to thinking about myself. nothing shocking there. my birthday is fast approaching. and i'm going to be...thirty. actually i've been telling people for the the past year that i was thirty. i think it was just my way of getting used to having to say it. and the fact that twenty-nine is kind of a bullshit age anyway.

to begin my life with the beginning of my life i record that i was born. actually i don't recall that i was born. in my head i construct my own mythology. to myself i imagine that at some point on the morning of july 20, 1979, a morning overshadowed by the oppressive mississippi heat of late july, perhaps between the time when president carter was breakfasting with zbigniew brzezinski at 7:41 am and trying unsuccessfully to telephone entertainer and political activist joan baez at 9:28 am (they finally spoke between 10:17 am-10:19 am), my mother goes into labor.

i was born late that night. on a friday. sun sign, cancer. ruled by the water and the moon. and, hence emotion as opposed to reason. which undoubtedly indicates that i should not be an academic. if one were to consider the personal history and experience of david copperfield, i was destined to be unlucky in life and...i was destined to see ghosts and spirits; both of these gifts inevitably all unlucky infants of either gender born towards the small hours on a friday night.

i have never seen a ghost.

but as i have gone about swimming through my life, like a catfish in the deep blue sea, i...just don't know what. i don't know even towards what i am swimming anymore. i used to know, or thought i knew, but i found none of those things. not love. not god. and not happiness.

actually happiness comes and goes. there are happier times and less happier times. and times devoid of happiness in their entirety.

but no matter how happy i am, there is always that undercurrent of nothingness. it is like there is a hole in my soul and i can't fill it. and i have tried. many different ways. and nothing works.

i think i grew up with the idea that love could fill this hole. and i think i put this idea into looking for the one. and i haven't found them. love has a nasty habit of disappearing overnight.

so now i am doing my best to accept that they might not even be out there. and even if the are, i'm not sure that there's enough love in the world to undo the past.

i'm a taker, not a giver.
but i am free to swim the deep blue sea as i please.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

love the art, hate the artist

or conversely speaking, love the artist hate, the art. both work for me. while desperately avoiding writing the last paper standing in between myself and my MA (which is now complete), i began dicking around the internet looking at this thing and that. mostly linking off of other people's facebook things and such. which led me to this one artist's homepage.

before i even go there i have to digress for a moment.

i find with art that i encounter the following conundrum. sometimes i am really feeling someones art. THEN i read their artist statement and find that i can no longer respect their vision based on the fact that they are clearly incapable of connecting with, much less understanding or conveying the sublime. sometimes it is because they express and idea which their work OBVIOUSLY fails to convey, either because they completely fail to grasp the philosophical point that they themselves are trying (and failing miserably) to make. or their vision is just completely inane to begin with (thomas kincaid...i'm talking to you).

or, maybe their statement is not the problem. maybe they're just really bad artists who have unleashed their own specific plague upon people with a sense of aesthetic. because that's who i am. a person with a sense of aesthetic. i am moderately well read when it comes to art history/theory. but i know what conveys emotion and experience appropriately.

back to the offending artist of the day. i'm not going to name this person/show a link to their work here. they aren't worth it. trust me, you don't want to look at their "art" anyway.

the statement said something to the effect of when they are involved in the creative process they like to work by feeling their way towards the conclusion.

well, feel your way to THIS conclusion...your paintings look like someone asked anne geddes to replicate kandinsky while channeling one of those people that paints copies of monet for wal-mart.

just awful.

sadly, this is indicative of art today. it's tragic really. nothing sublime. nothing that makes you feel anything other than depressed that there isn't anything better to look at.

i miss europe.
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