How You Doin’ Blondie?


Pretty In Pink
April 19, 2008, 10:11 pm
Filed under: Anger, Life, Lonliness, Loss, love, Pain, Reality, relationships, Sadness, sex | Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

I went to Barnes and Noble’s today, and for the first time in my life, I was disgusted by books. Disgusted. Everywhere I looked there was pink and white and cursive script and cutesy designs; “Blonde” and “Sex” and “Beautiful” and “Affair”; skin and breasts and lips.

It made me so sad. And so angry.

Every author was competing for the coveted distinction of being the most renegade, the most taboo.

“Oh, Oh, I know! I’ll write from the perspective of the ‘other woman’!”

“Well I’ll write from the perspective of the current wife, who approves of the ‘other woman’!”

“Well I’ll write from the perspective of a single woman who has anonymous sex with multiple partners!”

“Well I’ll be a kept woman”

“Well I’ll be a stripper!”

“I’ll be an prostitute!”

“I’ll be a porn star!”

And on and on and on and on until I just wanted to stand in the middle of the bookstore and cry. I wanted to sob, big heaving sobs that rack your whole body and make you gasp for breath and send torrents of wet, hot, salty, tears running down your cheeks and your lips and your neck.  I wanted to destroy; I wanted to tear each and every single book off of the shelf and rip the pages from their bindings and shred each word, each paragraph into little tiny pieces of confetti and then spit on it, I wanted to spit on all of it. I wanted to cause destruction and turmoil and pain. I wanted those authors to see the fruits of their labor – their lifeblood – desecrated and defiled. I wanted the authors to be hurt, I wanted them to feel violated. And I wanted to stand in the middle of the chaos and scream at them

“ENOUGH! THIS IS NOT A GAME! You take the one thing that brings me joy, you take my one escape, you take the only constant that I have to cling to and you USE it, you USE it and you CHEAPEN it. You CHEAPEN it in the name of your precious creative genius. You enclose yourself in your edgy little writer’s retreat and you say to yourself, ‘How can I be dramatic? How can I be poignant? How can I be utterly unique?’ And you start to brainstorm and the wheels start turning and you start thinking ‘outside the box’ and you start to think about what’s hot and what’s fascinating and how can you really grab someones attention, really force them to look at you and suddenly you think, ‘Sex!’  You think, ‘One of the most forbidden topics!’ You think ‘I’ll write about sex and sluts and prostitutes and adultery, but I’ll disguise all the turmoil and strife and make it cutesy and humorous and lovable, even! I’ll be a real insurrectionary!’

BUT YOU’RE NOT. Are you listening to me? YOU’RE NOT. You write about all these things that you know nothing about and you make your busty blonde protagonist sarcastic and witty and sometimes insightful and largely happy go lucky, as if sure, she knows she might not lead the most normal, average, lifestyle, but she’s happy because she knows what she’s doing isn’t wrong, it’s just different.

And then your book hits the shelves and people love it, they go crazy for it. You’re on Oprah and The View and Good Morning America and The Late Show and people are just in LOVE with your book! How could they not be? Just look at what you’ve done! You’ve made them fall head over heels for the whore of Babylon! You’ve made them root for Delilah! And you’ve done it all without making them feel anything unpleasant, no despair or defeat. You’ve romanticized everything. You’ve cleaned it up. You’ve made it digestible. You ‘left out’ the part where the ‘other’ woman cries herself to sleep at night over the unrequited love she has surrendered her soul to. You ‘forgot to mention’ the part where the prostitute falls in love with a regular guy but watches the relationship deteriorate before her eyes because she doesn’t enjoy making love to him, she’s not even sure what ‘making love’ is.

You make it acceptable and understandable. You rob it of it’s realism. You’re a liar, a thief, and a whore, in every sense of the word.”

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So, To Summarize Thus Far…
April 14, 2008, 9:45 pm
Filed under: Life, love, lust, Men, relationships, sex | Tags: , , , , , , ,

“Somewhere, sometime, somehow, you lose something or see something lost.

If you are lucky, it was when you were young. If you are lucky, you saw your parents divorced. If you are lucky, your high school girlfriend died in a car crash. If you are lucky, you saw your little sister lose the use of her legs because your family couldn’t afford the right health care.

If you are unlucky, it will happen when you’re older. If you are unlucky, you will see your son lose his place at the college of his choice to a man richer then you, rich enough to donate some new lab equipment. If you are unlucky, your wife of thirty-seven years will develop bipolar disorder and have to be hospitalized after you come home from work and find she has opened her wrists with an electric meat carver. If you are unlucky, you will lose your job after twenty-two years of service and be too old to find another.

If you are unlucky, you will realize too late that the way you thought the world worked was just an illusion. If you are unlucky, you will become afraid too late.

But if you are lucky, you will become afraid when you are young, afraid of the unexpected changing of your life for the worse and not having enough power to set things back the way you wanted them to be.

And then, if you are lucky, you will pursue power from that day forth. You will lead armies into Gaul, you will take on a colony in a new world, you will acquire money, you will only maintain relationships where you have the upper hand, only stay in jobs that can eventually lead to you being the one in charge. And you will do this because if you are lucky, you will know that power means you don’t have to be afraid. Power means you can do what you want when you want to. Power means you can have what you want when you want it.

If you are lucky, you will do this because you will know it is really Power that is worth any sacrifice, that it is really Power without which you can’t live, that it is really Power without which you can only eat and breathe and sleep and sometimes not even that. You will do this because if you are lucky you will know that when we say we’d die for Liberty we’re really saying we’d die for Power.

Except that in the pursuit of Power one of the things you will have to sacrifice will be the ability to enjoy the thing you lost or saw lost.

So even if you reach that point where you aren’t afraid anymore, that point where you can relax, that point where you are free, that point you never reach, even if you reach that point, you will realize that you weren’t so lucky after all.”

Kelman, Nic. Girls. Boston: Little Brown. 2003.



Everybody Here

If I’m reading Michael Stipe correctly, I think the idea is that everybody has a burden they feel they have to carry, the trick is getting the fuck over it.

“No one remembers and nobody cares”

Preach it, brother Stipe