i think i'll wait another year

i finished the twilight series last night and i'm totally sad about it. i still have to read midnight sun, but i'm feeling a sense of loss. how nerdy is that? i don't usually get quite so attached to literary figures, ESPECIALLY when they're so badly written. stephenie meyer is no wordsmith, that's for sure. however! the author of the book (adam braver) i'm currently reading, nov. 22, 1963, is definitely a wordsmith. i picked this up when i was in texas because it seemed synchronicitous based on things i'd been thinking and writing about, but didn't pick it up until saturday, also november 22nd. the 45th anniversary of kennedy's death. the book is this really amazing jigsaw of fact and fiction revolving around minor characters (with the exception of jackie, maybe) in the whole tragedy. it's just so pretty. the words, i mean.


changing gears:

thanksgiving is shaping up to be something. what kind of thing it will be remains to be seen.

good news: my mom and brothers will make it to florida. bad news, and this may not seem so bad, but it induced a panic attack when i found out: my uncle ted is picking me up from the airport tomorrow night.

i'm wrestling with a lot of feelings. i'm trying to understand why my parents, knowing how i feel about him, couldn't come up with another option for me. this is not something i've ever kept to myself, the thing i feel which is closest to hatred for me. when he is around, i keep quiet and as far away as possible.

last night, my grandmother started asking questions about my flight information and, against my better judgment, i mentioned again how uncomfortable i was with the situation. she took on this tone of incredulity. "why?

it's so FRUSTRATING for me, having to try and explain WHY to someone who was there, who saw it all, who watched this happen with me for YEARS. she said, "was it the drugs?" well, partially, yes, but i'll get back to that.

what this has come down to, i think, is maybe this sort of roman catholic repression. it never really occurred to me that this could even be a possibility since my grandparents come from different religious backgrounds (though, upon further consideration, i think my grandmother's beliefs are more a mish mash and her labeling (presbyterian) is faulty), but it's all i can come up with. repression and a firm belief in resilience, maybe. like it's impossible for anyone to believe that the things i saw when i was a kid could have been traumatic for me, that they should never have affected me the way they have and probably continue to do. you drop something from a great height and it smashes. you can't fuck with a little kid's sense of safety and family the way he did and expect for it to remain intact and, at the very least, unharmed.

my first instinct, after a deep breath, was to say, "nevermind." she asked why again. my head wanted to explode. it all just seems so obvious to me, so apparent that the barbs caused wounds, and undressed wounds have the potential for infection.

"because of the drugs, yes. because of the violence, the thievery. because of the bad dreams i had for years about his drug dealers shooting me in my sleep because he fucked up and my window was the closest to the front of the house. because of all the times the police lights flashed in front of our house in the middle of the night and i was embarrassed to go to school the next day. because of all the questions. because of all the nights i couldn't sleep because of bullshit like that. because of the memories of harsh lights from above, glass shattered on the floor around three sets of feet standing in puddles of rum, the sharp scent of it, your arms around him as he fought. because of the gun he showed me and the bullets. because kids don't need to see that shit, but i did and you force him on me because we're related by blood."

i only said some of those things. i tried to hold my tongue a little, to keep from crying.

she said, "he's family."

i said, "not to me."

i feel like i'm being dramatic. maybe i am, but i can't decide if this is justified or if they're right or if my reflexive response to shut up and deal with it is BECAUSE of the way they've always seen it, the way i've always been made to feel it wasn't a big deal and i was making it more of a problem than it ever was.

i know that when the time comes, i'll be as gracious as i can be. quiet. i'll say hello, maybe i'll hug him, i'll get in his truck and look out the window, answer whatever bullshit smalltalk questions are posed for me. hopefully, i'll fall asleep. we all know the rule: if it's moving, i'm sleeping.

if i can just get past that, there's the holiday itself. the entire family will be there. all of my uncles. i don't have a memory where they're all there. john left when i was young. ted was in and out of jail. i couldn't bring myself to go last year because i knew my mom wouldn't be there. and now my mom says she has to be there because she has a bad feeling. the holidays are important this year.

and i'm getting what i wanted. all i asked for was that my family be together. and now i've gotten that, but maybe i should have qualified it better because i'm still not happy about it.

i have to find a way around this, though. i have to find a way to make it right for me. it's going to be difficult. christmas, especially. that was the last day i saw my dad alive and i went too late, didn't have much time, left everything including my cash in the car, and i keep remembering that there was a man with a polaroid. for five dollars, we could have had a photo together. i barely recognized my father, anyway. he was bloated and pregnant-looking, his hair was short. i think he cut himself shaving his face. i didn't have much to say.

i need this to be good. i have to find a way to not hate or dread the holidays. this is supposed to be a time of joy and goodwill (i do think ALL times should be times for goodwill, though) and smiles and love and thanks and renewal. no wallowing. i just need a little help.

i can run from the law, i can run from my life, i can run from myself

what a good weekend.

saw amanda palmer on friday in nyc and saturday in philly. both shows were amazing, but there was something magical about the nyc show that philly lacked. i don't know what it was, really. just that extra spark. photos should be up on brooklynvegan shortly.

philly was amazing in its own way, though. mainly because i got to interview amanda. i got to sit in a room with her and ask her whatever i wanted. i got to look her in the eyes and have a conversation with her. i think i got a sunburn from the space heater in between us. she was all bundled up on a couch and i sat cross-legged on the floor, my tape recorder between us.

i think she was a bit put off by my questions, at first. or maybe it just takes her a minute to warm up. i asked her about her favorite writers, about her recent obsession with diy marketing, about whether or not she got shit for the amount of disclosure in her blogs, about whether people ran from her because of her intensity, who her heroes were, what her greatest fear was, how she feels about the cultural expectations placed on young people to know what they want for life by the time they're 18.

i feel so lucky. i don't want to forget what that feels like. i interviewed my HERO. there's not much more to say. it kind of leaves me speechless. i think i'm still processing that it even happened.

i got to hang out with liz after the show, which was nice, since she's leaving the east coast again for chicago in the soon. it's been nice to actually spend time with the human and not the text on the screen.

had brunch with michelle, lauren, aleigh, and catdowns. it was the most ridiculous thing in the world, and lasted about three hours. one bloody mary turned into three. a conversation with our server, patrick, about how aleigh doesn't like tequila turned into a free pitcher of amazing margaritas, turned into a less free pitcher of amazing margaritas. there was twittering, boobicles, aleigh the walrus, and laughing so hard i spit out my drink. michelle's camera was also present for documentation:


twittering.

antagonizing michelle.

many, many toasts.

we all started to look like this at some point.

walruses like alcohol too.

this is clearly not a sober face.

this is when i lose my drink.

i wrote our server a love letter on my credit card slip.

if you'd like to read a transcript of all of our twitter nonsense, michelle has provided that for us: click!

after brunch, we continued in our mission to stay inebriated. we acquired some craft beer and drank it on location. i am obsessed with raspberry beers. i also got a pyramid apricot ale and some cherry thing lauren told me was grood. i have three for this evening's bout of marathon editing. after that, cat, aleigh, and i dropped lauren off at work and had beer there, too. then i got on a chinatown bus and lost two hours of my life in a beer-induced nap.

i wish the weekends were longer. then again, two more days until florida. AND i've had a vacation a month since september, so i guess i can't really complain.

i love this woman.

those are from tonight's show. i'm gonna do it again in philly tomorrow. oh, and i'm interviewing her at 6pm at the venue. eep.

twilight

i went to see the movie last night expecting to hate it and i didn't. i actually quite liked it, after all was said and done. i remember balking mid-movie at the plot changes, though. they weren't major, just cutting corners a bit for the sake of brevity, giving some characters less of a voice than they had in the novel, etc. i guess i'm a purist. i don't think directors of a book optioned for film the first time should be taking too many liberties. think brokeback mountain. ang lee gave us a pretty faithful re-telling.

anyway, kristin stewart overacted bella a bit in places, but was really good otherwise. i liked the subtle changes in her expressions a lot. robert pattinson is gorgeous, though i feel bad that he's never going to be able to leave his house again for fear of fourteen crazed girls jumping his jock the moment he steps out the door. taylor lautner is also hot, but i don't like his hair much. i can't wait to see him play a buff jacob in the next movie. the sheer amount of relatively new, or at least previously overlooked, talent is nice, too.

i liked the camera work a lot. the art direction is really good in some spots (bella and edward at the piano) and less good in some spots (edward's skin in the meadow). the first kiss was REALLY HOT. the montages were a bit lame and i don't like how they fabricated background for laurent/james/victoria. the meadow scene was out of order and, i think, could have been a little more faithful, but it was still good-ish.

oh, and the music didn't suck like i thought it would. iron & wine's "flightless bird, american mouth" was amazing in the last scene--the prom scene--though a bit unrealistic as prom music goes. i have to say, i'm a little annoyed that sam beam will now be everyone's favorite again (remember garden state?) just because he's attached to edward and bella, but the song and associated album are so amazing that maybe it'll give the mainstream a taste of what REAL music is, albeit briefly.

either way, i can't wait to see it again. now taking bets on how many times i'll sit through it in theaters.

ps: i'm almost done with breaking dawn and i think i'm going to cry when i can't spend all of my time obsessing over edward and bella anymore. i mean, there's always midnight sun, but still. le sigh. let's all hope i don't freak out, need a fix, and start reading fanfic. that would be bad. then again, fanfic writers are probably more talented than stephenie meyer, anyway. she's one of the worst writers EVER.

media filler

if you haven't seen this and you care about the prop 8 craziness, watch it. it's so good.



i've been making mix tapes. the first is sort of a musical interpretation of what fall/winter feel like to me and the second is the lesser-knowns: lesser-known originals of songs with famous covers and lesser-known covers of famous songs. blam.

catch 22

i'm taking a little bit of quiet time. time away from shows and my camera and partying, a little time to catch up, time to watch tv, time to loll around in my bed, time to write, time to breathe, time to think.

i'm thinking about this catch 22 i've got myself in, the way i form my intimate relationships with people--and let's not relegate this to the romantic type because intimacy doesn't necessarily mean sex. i'm talking about familial bonds, both blood and otherwise, because i think we all know by now that i [mostly] consider my family of the created variety as opposed to the genetic sort.

april and i talked about this while i was in austin last. the woman helps me sort through my shit, and i have to say, i'm ridiculously thankful for that. she has no problem telling me the things i don't want to hear if she knows i need to hear them. it helps. we talked about the ways in which i seek out people who need me, relationships of ambivalence (whose terminology was this? sara beth's, maybe? she's been helpful, too.), the ways these bonds are cemented, the expectations that fall into place. i have these people in my life who say they love me, but who don't show it. there are the typical expectations of me, but said expectations go unfulfilled on the other end, and it doesn't matter because the offending party knows that i will always most of the time (and i falter too, let's not kid ourselves) do what i can to play my part.

the catch 22 comes in because, if i stopped fulfilling what i perceive as my role in one of these said relationships, it would hurt me just as much as it does when the disappointment comes from the other end. i'm trying to decide how selfish this is, how to break this pattern. i can see it in so many of my relationships. i am stable, i am constant, i am a rock--and when i make myself unavailable, the shitstorm starts.

i'm thinking about two things, here: a friendship which means a lot to me, which, on one end (mine), means a bit more and has blurred romantic boundaries, and then there's the usual holiday bullshit i go through every year with my family.

this friendship has, over the past two years, been something which has been very important to me. it's faltered, and there's been a lot of anger and resentment which i keep thinking has been cleared up, but now i'm not so sure. add into that mix all these feelings i have (and in my head, that word comes out silly, with a long e--i'm making fun of myself, even if i don't need to be. maybe it makes it easier.), which are, apparently not returned--be it denial, be it a fucked of way of showing affection--and houston, we surely have a problem.

i've been trying to figure out the best way to resolve this, to fix the friendship and suture the tears it's created in that figurative part of my chest that supposedly radiates all the love a person has to give or whatever. i decided physical boundaries were necessary, which helped a bit. emotional boundaries were also put into place, but i think they were misinterpreted somehow, and it feels like this huge chasm. it feels like all the interactions since have been fearsome and partial.

then, if we were to lift all of that, would it go right back to where it was? if so, not good. i suck at holding back. let me rephrase: i don't suck at it; in fact, it's a talent i have. thing is, when i hold back, i become absolutely, relentlessly neurotic, as if i need any help with that.

so, i decided that silence would help. silence and the attempt to make it look like this person meant less to me than she does. this journal entry won't help, either, because i know she'll read it, but i guess that doesn't matter much. i remember her saying some time ago that she has always held me in the highest regard and that she questioned whether i did. the funny thing is that she is and has been one of my closest friends since we met. i can make myself vulnerable to her in ways which are tough for me to do with many others. i have trusted her implicitly (not the case now) and i feel like she's dropped the ball more than once.

so, really, how do we reconcile this problem? i don't know. i am constantly seeking a solution. maybe not in the best, most relevant ways possible. i sent a brief text about it last night and was met with, "i don't know, i have no solutions." so she's given up, she wants me to shut up, she's flipped the switch and, to me, it sounds like she doesn't care anymore. this is where my passive-aggressive side rears its ugly head. all i can think is, fuck it. why bother? i'm not being met head-on, here. i have too little time or space in my life for this bullshit and she's lucky i even bother to begin with. that doesn't seem right, though, not when i love her as much as i do.

and so i find myself coming to the same conclusion she has: i don't know, i have no solutions. i think the difference is that i'm willing to try, and i really don't feel like she is. but then we come back to the catch 22. i try because we all know i will, even though it hurts when she doesn't, but it'll hurt me when i stop, too. fuck.

then we have the problem of the holidays, a time of year which, when i was younger, was my favorite. i remember it being shimmery and perfect the way it's supposed to be when i was a kid. i can't remember when that stopped. maybe when i was in high school, maybe later. i know my attempts to make the holidays special outside of my blood family and within the confines of romantic relationships have failed, too.

i remember jessi and her indifference to thanksgiving with my family, her absence over christmas, and the way she went to bed before midnight on new year's eve and i found myself on our porch in sarasota crying when my mom called. i remember that kat spent a christmas with me and shit went down, but i don't remember specifics, and that's probably a good thing. in fact, i remember very little good coming of our relationship but the lessons i learned to make me the emotional disaster i am now, which i am thankful for. i just wish i wasn't so stubborn that taking my lumps meant trying to take my life. i am such an asshole sometimes.

it's not been any easier since i've been alone. every year becomes a financial struggle. and now that my family's splintered off to different states and i'm not the lone nomad, it makes it infinitely more difficult because, i swear, i'm the only one who gives a shit if we're in the same place for the holidays. it just means so much to me. it's all i want. and i don't know if everyone else just resigns themselves to the fact that it won't happen, and not because it can't, but more because they don't want to do the work. but i can't resign myself. the holidays, to me, mean family, and i do everything in my power to make it work. i ALWAYS make it work, and i can't figure out why this is so hard for everyone else.

thanksgiving was easier this year because there was no question. my grandparents just moved to orlando, they lost their home in miami, they say they're alright, but i want to see it with my own eyes. i want to make sure they're as happy as they can be, given the circumstances.

christmas is a different animal, though. i come up with solutions to get us all in one place and i'm told i'm whining because i place a time limit on a decision. just because i've always made it work doesn't mean that the burden should be made heavier. i'm terrible at planning and bad with money and i'm trying to be responsible on both ends here and make decisions and i'm being delayed because i can't expect that everyone will do their part.

i don't know where the key components of my family will be. i know one half will be in orlando. the other half is questionable. can they make it to florida? if not, i know that the holidays, for me, are not complete without having them all. i also know that this means several hundred more dollars come out of my pocket. this doesn't come without sacrifice.

i just wish someone cared enough to say, "hey, i know what you're trying to accomplish. let me help you plan." i'm not asking for money or gifts. i want my family for christmas because it's a gift i so rarely get. i have these little brothers who are getting bigger by the minute--i barely recognize tommy's voice anymore--and it was my choice to leave, but i try to be there when i can, and i don't think we need to make it anymore difficult. my grandparents are getting older, and one of my greatest fears is losing them. again, my choice to leave. my mom is one of my best friends, and her absence is felt everyday. my choice to leave. i know. it's also my choice to be there when i can, and i do my best, i just wish it didn't have to be this hard.

i want this christmas to be something special. last christmas was so difficult for me. it was the first one away from my mom, my brothers. it was so quiet. it hurt. christmas day was the last time i saw my dad alive. maybe i just want my gift to be feeling loved by my family in addition to having them present. i want to feel supported and present and like someone's proud of me, and the recognition of loss, even though no one ever thought it could be as hard as it's been. i wish that didn't feel like asking too much.

straight from the womb

my mom, amazing myspace stalker that she is, recently found my godmother, who occasionally likes to go missing for a couple of years at a time. since her resurfacing, we've been exchanging messages a bit. we've talked some about my dad and i gave her updates on me and sent her some photos. i mentioned that i had a photo of her and my dad in my bedroom and that i'd gone back and scanned some oldies in for my mom. she asked to see, so i obliged. here's the aforementioned photo and her response:



damn girl, the pics are like a walk down memory lane. the one of me and your dad was taken on THE DAY YOU WERE DUE TO ENTER THIS WORLD!! that's right, it was your mom's due date and we were so scared getting her into the journey concert safely with her big fat belly. i suppose that's really the true beginning of your love of music cause you were there, just not outside yet!!

for years, i thought my mom was at a bob seger show on my due date. when i asked her to clarify, she told me we saw bob the week before. sounds like she went to shows back then almost as much as i do now. ha.

EDIT: research say journey played on apr. 24, 1983 at the miami baseball stadium, with bryan adams, sammy hagar, aerosmith. funny, that's my little brother's birthday.

just another day

mitch and i got facebook married today while i fantasized about the entrails of virgins. here's the conversation that ensued:

Mitchell: are we getting married?
Dese'Rae: lol
Mitchell: I'm so excited
hopefully we get lots of presents
Dese'Rae: true
we should sign up for target's gift registry or something.
and babeland
ask for lots of boy butter
and a mixer.
Mitchell: there are a lot of things I would like to have from Target
Dese'Rae: like a three in one onion chopper/wine key/oil change kit.
Mitchell: that's always been at the top of my list
Dese'Rae: mine, too.
Mitchell: this is why we go together so well honey
Dese'Rae: of course.
and also because you're totally a bottom.
Mitchell: I'm scared, but anything for you
Dese'Rae: fucking right.

oh, and gay cowboys!

fun fun fun fest & reasons why i'm magic

hello. i fly out of texas today. prepping to leave austin.

fun fun fun fest was just that. nice and chill and lax on the security and good music and let's not forget the gay cowboy bar, but i'll probably get to all of that later. here are some reasons why i'm magic:

1. annie clark (also known as st. vincent):

2. i got to touch matt berninger of the national.
3. i got to shoot onstage for islands, tim fite, and dan deacon.

win. pictures later. driving now. or soon. once i get the chelsea out of bed.

don't let it be forgot that for one brief, shining moment there was camelot

you know, i've never been a very patriotic girl. i've felt for years that our country didn't have any reason to be prideful because we had so far to go, especially as a gay young adult. i lived in the south for awhile and i know what it feels like to fear for your safety because of what you are, even though i had it easy. anyway, you know, last night gave me a glimmer of hope, and for the first time ever, i can say that i'm proud to be an american.

if you would have asked me months ago who i was rooting for, i would have looked at you incredulously if you'd assumed that it was obama or hillary. i didn't think we were ready. i had no faith that this country would be up to the task of electing someone DIFFERENT, someone not a white protestant male. i stand corrected. i am amazed and so, so proud of us.

the change that we're all hoping for remains to be seen, though, and i really do think it's going to be a harder road to travel than we think, especially while we're all basking in victory. thing is, all those initiatives (okay, so it's four as opposed to, what, fourteen from 2004?) banning gay marriage were passed last night. what's worse is that proposition 8 was passed in california, which will effectively take away rights that had been given prior--i think that's an interesting first. what i'm trying to say is that we're ahead, but not too far. we need to keep working and we can't forget how important this was to us, how we made our voices heard in record numbers, how inspired [most] of us feel at this very moment. it's not going to get any easier. baby steps and all.

the difference in the speeches was interesting to me. mccain's speech was well-written and poorly delivered and his fans are sore losers. all that booing was just in bad taste. obama's speech was beautiful. i know he didn't write it, but he sure as hell made it his own. it was inspiring, mostly because he seemed genuine, he asked for help, and he never said the work would be easy, not once. i don't think there's anything wrong with a little bit of hope in these times of desperation.

i like that the obamas look like REAL PEOPLE, too. i like the smiles on so many faces today. i like that we all look sort of stunned because it really did happen. i just hope we remember.

and i think of jackie kennedy and the camelot interview and i don't want to be afraid. i don't want november 22nd or april 4th to come along and fear that there will be another date to remember, another day a great, hopeful leader was lost. it just seems so clear to me that there's this raging, violent underbelly to this country sometimes.

okay, okay. i lost that train of thought and it wasn't going anywhere good anyway, so my point is this: yay us! i'm gonna go to texas now. or soon, anyway.

victory is sweet

palpable

interesting, sharing a home with someone and watching this election rooting for opposing candidates. not in a bad way. in a good, interesting way.

i took this photo this morning:

that bumper sticker appeared at my bus stop near columbus circle overnight. i wanted to document this day, but there wasn't much to work with, sadly.

8:25pm and we're 77/34 in favor of obama.

gobama!

oh, halloween

well, halloween was a success. mostly.

no one really knew what quinn was until we probed them about what bunnies like best. if left to their own devices, they guessed she was shrek or a dr. seuss character. i had a lot of little children squealing, "BUNNY!" it was adorable.

earlier in the evening, we tried to check out the halloween parade (nyc will use any excuse to have a fucking parade. i don't get it.), but ended up on a particularly congested corner. we couldn't move, i was getting elbowed, and then a homeless dude started yelling in my ear. i went off at him and it was all downhill from there. had the first panic attack in three or four years. one other shitty thing happened: i broke my zoom lens at the end of the night. we're trying not to think about that.

otherwise, HALLOWEEN WAS AWESOME! once we finally maneuvered around all the parade craziness, we met up with shanna at the duplex. they had an outdoor patio set up, so we sat around and heckled all the costumed passersby. we also played a drinking game. anytime anyone saw a pirate, joker, religious figure, political figure, or slutty costume, they had to drink. needless to say, i ended up pretty bombed. couldn't figure out why i was so wasted until i got home (at 630am), when i realized that the only substantial food i'd had came in the form of four potato skins at like 630pm. oops.

pictures!



is she not the cutest carrot you ever did see?






shanna's boobs are almost as big as mine.


princess di and doty fayed.

an election booth.

i don't know what that is, i just know it was terrifying.

joe(s) the plumber!

HOLY SHIT! best costume of the night.

vanity.

i'm pretty sure he was gay, but he's lucky he moved along quickly because i would've jumped him.


yoda!

cruella!

my butt. please note how drunk i look.

gonzo.

a polish girl with penises on her head. she was pretty awesome. she saved me from the guy who kept groping me and calling me his wife.