Brave

     Every night on the road I had the same conversation. I'd be checking into my hotel--in Vegas with the smoke and clamor of the Casino at my back, in Springdale with the massive rock formations of Zion looming in the distance--and the woman behind the counter would ask: "Just you?" 

"Just me," I'd say. 

"Wow. That's brave," as they handed me the keycard.

My solo trip wasn't so much a product of bravery as it was bad timing--I was accepted as Artist in Residence in New Mexico for the month of September, with only about a month to plan. It wasn't enough notice for my best friend to get the time off, and I work with most of my other good friends in San Francisco, which meant that if I wasn't in the bakery decorating cakes, they had to be the ones to do it. I didn't feel comfortable asking my friends in other parts of the country to spend their money on air fare so they could be cooped up in a car for five days. I also invited the photographer I'd been dating for about three weeks, but he couldn't come, which was probably a good thing. Yeah, he would have shot some bitchin' film, but he probably would have ended up buried under a cactus somewhere. Travel is not easy on relationships of any kind, and you need to have that solid trust and love so you can bounce back when someone (me) starts using her high-pitched, hysterical voice because someone else (you) didn't mention that 48 was the exit we were looking for until we were upon it and now it's too late to get on the ramp and it's five miles until we can turn around. Or maybe someone in your traveling party refuses to eat at any fast food joint other than Wendy's, which are not as numerous as McDonald's or Burger King, and you end up driving for hours, cranky and starving, all for the sake of a square burger and frostee. 

Anyway, I started thinking about the other times I've been congratulated for my bravery--driving from Chicago to San Francisco by myself, moving more than once to cities where I had one or two acquaintances but little else, sometimes not even a job. Daunting to some. Maybe even most. But for me it was easy. I've always been a solitary person. When I was a kid I preferred to play alone, with my dolls in my room or out in the woods with the creatures of my imagination. I had a hard time maintaining friendships because I would rarely seek out companionship--if someone wanted to hang out with me that was cool, but I was never the one extending the invitation because I was perfectly content to be alone.  Inviting someone to do the things I wanted to do with me didn't even occur to me as a possibility. (To be honest I still have trouble with that.) 

I'm not saying all that to boast about my courage. Quite the opposite. Being alone is comfortable and easy and safe. I control my time and activities. I don't have to compromise (unless it's with something within my own self, like my nemesis fatigue). It doesn't take courage for me to up and start a new life in a new city, or to travel alone for days at a time. What is brave, to me, is staying in one place and working on friendships and a career, making myself vulnerable to rejection or to things not working out just as I wanted. I do a lot of things with one foot out the door, looking ahead to what's next. In fact, I've noticed that I experience the itch to move to a new city precisely when I'm putting down roots in the current one, when I'm starting to have meaningful relationships and my boss starts talking about a promotion. That's the hard stuff for me. That's when I get scared, when I want to run. When staying would be an act of bravery. It's just a matter of perspective, really. 

All that being said, this residency is very frightening to me. It's a month-long commitment to doing the work I want to do, and it's no one's fault but my own if I squander this time. I've always had plenty excuses for not writing--working too hard, too tired, too depressed, not enough time, to obsessed with a relationship, too busy LIVIIINGGGG!!!--and this eliminates all of them. It's just me vs. the word. It's like a final face off, like that time I heard about Britney Spears and Justin Timberlake having a dance off when they ran into each other at a club after they broke up. But am I Brit-Brit or JT? Am I going to be shaving my head and attacking cars with an umbrella or am I going to be golfing with Jay-Z? If I can't do it here and now, I won't ever be able to do it, not for real. I see this as my big shot, and I'm putting a lot of pressure on myself, but I need to. I need to stop fucking around and either make this happen or give up the dream and move on. Man, that's like every Bruce Springsteen song ever. 

God only knew why they was dustin'!

I've been writing a ton, but sadly not for this blog. I'm working hard at about a zillion things, writing and otherwise. I just wanted to tell my 10 loyal readers that I haven't forgotten you.

Now check out this crunchy groove.

Why James Gandolfini Matters

"The success of The Sopranos inspired HBO to take chances on questionable projects that dealt with hot-button social issues (The Wire) and moribund genres like the western (Deadwood). And its critical and commercial success drew other networks into the game: FX and AMC used the proof that original programming could sell to build their brand and turn into powerhouses in their own right.... Without The Sopranos, there’s no New Golden Age of Television. And without James Gandolfini, there’s no Sopranos.... The anti-hero became an archetype because of Tony Soprano and the stunning work that James Gandolfini did. He showed what a great actor could do in a heretofore-disreputable medium. He spawned an entire generation of memorable characters, sympathetic creeps like Vic Mackey, Al Swearengen, Walter White, and Don Draper." - Sonny Bunch, The Washington Free Beacon

The Jam - Going Underground

You've made your bed

You'd better lie in it

Some New/Old Stuff

I tend to be pretty behind the times when it comes to music. I've never really known how to wade through all the shit to find flecks of gold, and have often relied on others to take me by the hand and lead me straight to the good stuff. I also really like music from bygone eras and mostly listen to hits from the 50's-80's, so when I finally catch wind of something new and amazing, it's usually blown up. And then I feel like I've missed the bus and I'd be a poseur and jumping on the bandwagon if I started listening, so I just watch everyone go by on the Cool Music float in the Parade of Life and wave to them. That's a lot of vehicle metaphors. 

One such artist was Amy Winehouse. I was into her singles, and it was obvious she had incredible talent, but I never bought her albums. And now the poor girl is gone. That's another thing. Most of the musicians I like are dead. (Just like my celebrity crushes. I'm so goth!) I finally bought Back to Black and what the FUCK?! Why did I wait so long? It is so perfect. It's the best break-up album for someone getting out of a really sick relationship. It gives me an ache that's like pinching a bruise. In particular I've been listening to Back to Black on repeat for two or three weeks. Oh Amy. I died 100 times. 

There wasn't really room for country music in our house. My parents like rock n roll--they both saw Jimi Hendrix, my mom watched Jim Morrison swing over the crowd on a rope at a Doors concert, my dad would go see Springsteen when he still played bar gigs. So they were a couple of rockers (and also had a soft spot for smooth music but that's another story), and I guess I followed in their footsteps because my musical interests are pretty much that of a 60 year old man. I think if there was a mirror that reflected your spiritual self I would look like ZZ Top. 

Still, I'm surprised I was never exposed to any country music (except some Garth Brooks at weddings), not even Johnny Cash. In the last decade I've become somewhat enamored with classic country, like Patsy Cline and Hank Williams and Willie and Waylon and that one Conway Twitty song where he's singing all soft and then he's like "IT'S BEEN A LONG TIIIIIIME." And now I'm exploring some of that newer stuff hat pays homage to the greats. Part of my new weird country thing is watching Nashville (because Connie Britton is a goddess). They featured Emmylou by First Aid Kit tonight and I've already downloaded it and listened to it a bearzillion times. I am a huge sucker for a steel guitar, and I love that it's about finding a partner, someone to inspire you and make you better. Not even necessarily in a romantic way (I could be wrong, but I don't think Emmylou and Gram were ever more than friends?). It's a really lovely song and you should give it a listen. 

The Cruise

I found this when I googled "Tampons Cruise Ship."

I was afraid to use a tampon until I was a sophomore in college, when my family went on a cruise over the Christmas holiday. My sister and I were sharing a cabin, and I told her I couldn't go swimming. When she found out why she gave me a fist-full of tampax and trapped me in the bathroom. I tried to get out but she leaned all her weight into her shoulder and kept the door pinned shut.

"Do it," she said.

At least that's how I remember it.

This post is brought to you by me getting my period  Every. Single. Christmas.

Last Minute Halloween Costumes, 2012 Style

I decided to help you out again this year, slacker. 

PSY, Gangnam Style Music Video

Duh. I have a feeling PSY look-alikes are going to be riding their imaginary steeds all over the country this year. So you're not going to stand out in your blue tuxedo jacket and bowtie and shades, but you at least know in ten years you can look back on the pictures you took this holiday and wonder what the fuck you were supposed to be. For the pros: Get one of your friends to dress as the guy in the yellow suit, and your other friend to dress as humpy-humpy guy in the elevator. You could also ask someone to precede you with a giant fan and spray trash in your face all night.

Maddie The Coonhound, Maddie on Things

To truly capture the essence of Maddie the Coonhound, you're going to have to focus more on your energy and state of mind than your physical props.  You can make a quick dog costume by cutting out some floppy dog ears (you can use felt or brown paper or even a paper bag!) and tape them to a headband, and paint a dog nose on your human nose, and make a tail and wear a collar. Then all night, be very patient, and polite, and climb up to very high, precarious, unexpected places and just stay there. For the pros: This would work really well if you have lots of sunspots on your skin. 

 Brandon, Shame

Dress really sharply, comb your hair neatly, speak with just the barest hint of an Irish accent. Also get a huge fake dong and hang it out of your open fly. The girls will love it. For the pros: FUCK EVERYTHING. 

Hannah Horvath, Girls

Strip on down to your birthday suit and be kind of awful to everyone. Don't forget your cupcake! For the pros: Do not, I repeat, DO NOT go to the bathroom alone or let your bffs go to the bathroom alone! This includes doing number ones and number twos and also bathing. Don't forget your cupcake!

The Higgs Boson, The Beginning of Space and Time

Pipecleaners. For the pros: More pipecleaners.