Happy New Year 2020

In lieu of a Year in Review, here's a Douglas Adams quote. Whole mood, plus brain medicine.

“For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much—the wheel, New York, wars and so on—whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man—for precisely the same reasons.”

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Some Blogs I Didn't Post in 2019 (Happy New Year)

First there's the round-up of "Shittiest Twitter Takes," where I post tweets displaying the dumbest shit I have ever heard in my life. Like when Donald Trump Jr. threw himself into the Pocahontas attack on Elizabeth Warren by feigning wonder (unconvincingly) as to why people aren't protesting Disney, too. He was trying to push the idea that Disney is just as offensive as president Trump because Disney made an animated story of Pocahontas. Then there's world class boneheads Diamond and Silk, defending their idiot president on the matter of racist terms he used. These two clowns are suggesting that the dictionary must also be racist then, as it contains the same words that Trump used, so they'd like to challenge us based on "Is the dictionary racist, too?" There's about ten more of these shitty takes, but five or six of them are related to our embarrassment of a president, and I don't want to waste my time with words about him. So I didn't write that "Twitter Shittiest Takes" blog post.

Another blog post I didn't write is my round-up summary of all the ways people use Facebook and how there's one particular style of Facebooker that I find interesting. It's all the people who rush to write a post every time some little thing goes wrong or is inconvenient, it's like they cannot WAIT to tell us all about their hardship (they got the wrong coffee order, or the car needs a new tire) and these outrages are often marked by an exuberant FML or TFW. Everything else is a piece of news, a sweet photo, an adorable anecdote, or a lovely memory. These are like micro newsletters.Taken all together, their posts comprise an authentic micro-blog. Coming back to Facebook, I see how much I've missed. I didn't know Adam and Maureen got married. I didn't know Brian moved to LA. I didn't know Lisa switched to a new job, or has a podcast. I didn't know Walter has become slim as a blade! Inspirational! I didn't know Max has had poems published, how big Archer has grown, or that Cynthia has a new book out. I didn't know Amy is baking amazing breads. Scrolling back through posts, it's a composite, authentic sketch of how your friend has been doing. It's not practical to sit and write letters back and forth to each other...we are not permitted that kind of time anymore. Facebook posts take the place of correspondence, and I find it a bit nice. So now I'm torn about deleting my account as planned. Fucking Zuckerberg. I'm having a moral dilemma over walking out on this twerp?

I didn't write the blog post about returning to therapy last May and all that entails. As it turns out, I still need help. I'm on a new medication since October, actually on two new ones...three if you count trying out Prazosin. That one's for nightmares. It didn't seem to work for me at all, so I stopped taking it. There's been a lot going on with my mental health this year. I miss my brain. I'm tired. I'm broke. I can't focus, I can't work. I need help.

Finally, I was thinking of writing a blog post about Family. Lack thereof, more specifically. My grandmother Maggie had eleven siblings which would have been my mom's aunts and uncles, and they all had kids who would be my mom's cousins, who have kids who would be my second cousins, who have kids who would be my second cousins once removed if I understand how that works. In theory there's a big rollicking family on my mother's side who don't know who I am or that I even exist. As a child I had met few of them. But as I sit here, I don't know their names or where they live. Why didn't I get to have that family? I don't know the answer to how did that happen? Isolation from the family has never been adequately explained to me. I feel robbed of this thing I never had. In addition to that, then there's the two fathers and their families, these relations I can't even begin to explain. Most I have never met. More recently, there has been Joe's family, who don't really like me all that much, but at least they go through the motions, more than I can say for the vast family who didn't know me, didn't want me, never attempted to even try. Before this expanse of relations, I stand alone and confused and wonder if there's anything I could have done about it, but fret what would that have possibly been? 👪
Image: coloringpagesfortoddlers.com

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Dog Days

*not actual dog

So for two weeks I'm pet-sitting for some oldest/dearest friends. It's one dog and two cats and I'm staying at their house. It's in Brighton, not that far from my house in Allston, so I get the 57 bus and go "visit" Joe every couple of days, making food and hanging out for awhile until it's time to go back to the pack of furfaces currently in my care.

The smoky gray cat has decided he's my bestie. He likes to headbutt me, purr and knead me and then curl up and sleep on me. That's understandable as his usual Humans are both slim, and I am a nice floofy cushion. Cats love to lay on me, that's a fact from previous Cat Situations. The Mary Tiger striped cat hasn't slept on me yet. She lets me chuck her chin and stroke her head, but overall she is not as affectionate, mostly appearing for breakfast and dinner and to give me judgey looks of general disapproval.

The dog is amazing. She's a Pharaoh Hound, not a breed you see very often. She's the color of honey in sunlight, a slim blade of a thing, fleet of foot and playful, playful, PLAYFUL. I got here on Decemer 20th, and that whole first week the dog was in heat, meaning I was reading articles such as "How To Care For A Female Dog In Heat." Let me tell you something: Heat is awful. I know the dog pretty well, it's not my first time caring for her. I know she likes me, but for six days she ran from me, barked at me, paced and whined and whimpered. I had the impossible job of trying to get her into a diaper because of the let's-not-discuss-it, and getting her into her kennel when I leave the house was ridiculous. She didn't seem to have much of an appetite, and she had to pee quite a lot. But YAY, she feels much better now. Last night she curled up against me to sleep and get strokes while I watched a movie (with bestie cat on top of me) and I texted her Humans a photo captioned "Pinned down by furfaces." Today she brought me her red rubber bone and we played Fetch, all tail wags and silliness. She's still a bit whimpering, but getting back to her old self.🐕
* Photo not the actual dog.

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An Uneasy Glance Inside My Fraught Head: Nightmares

Thursday is normally when I see my psychotherapist, but this is a holiday week so instead I'll have to tell you guys about my nightmares. If you hate when people tell you their dreams, please click away. If you love picking part what dreams may mean, then you'll love this; it's about my recurring nightmares evolving and merging into one. I am plagued by two dream "themes." These aren't the only kind of dreams I have, but these two are frequent. When I'm in the nightmare, it's fucking terrifying. I think I need to ask my therapist about a different medication, one that can maybe give me some less terrifying nights.

My Two Recurring Nightmares

One of my recurring nightmare themes involves deadly water. Tidal waves, tsunami, raging floods, hurricanes, rising seas, crashing waves. It takes different forms, but there's one that keeps coming back. There's a shore, with a boardwalk and walkways. There's a sea wall, with a stairway on either side that people use to access the beach. In my nightmare, I'm on the beach when the sea suddenly turns from calm lapping to rising, churning and crashing against the sea wall, and I'm trapped by the rapidly rushing water, unable to clamber up and out because it's too powerful. I am pinned against the sea wall. Waves keep taking me under, and I'm trying to pull myself over to the stairs but finally I see that they've been washed away, leaving just a sandy slope that's being eroded by the pounding surf. It is impossible to get a grip on anything. People are around but they're a faceless, screaming clamor and nobody sees me going under. There have been nights when I'm drowning all night, and I wake up exhausted and tearful.

Another recurring nightmare is that I'm in a room that isn't mine, and it's filled with stuff...racks of clothing packed tight, so tight I can't tell what anything is (a coat? A dress?) until I pry it out from the racks. There's stacks too, and lots of boxes containing even more stuff. Sometimes the room is dark and I can barely see, just the light under the door and lots of voices carrying: I have to get out there but I can't because I don't have anything to wear. My dream-self keeps looking, pulling out item after item trying to find something to wear, and I'm panicked because outside the door there's a whole party of people waiting for me. It's dire that I get dressed and go out the door, but I can't find what I need. Sometimes the thing I'm looking for is my real-life bag and the little red wallet I wear that contains my ID, bank cards, library card etc. I need it or I can't leave the room. I can't find it, nothing fits me and I can't go out there naked. There've been nights when I feel like I'm frantically searching the room all night long, and I wake up exhausted and tearful.

Last Night

I dreamt I was in a room where people have been gathered together for some kind of event, and it's time to take a group photo. I look down and see that I'm wearing an unfamiliar outfit. The skirt is furry like a "fun fur" wardrobe item, and I like the way it looks. I have on some boots and a clingy top and my dream-self wonders where I got these strange items, and then dream-self remembers the dark room with all the clothes. I reason (in the dream) that I found something acceptable to wear even though it's unlike anything I own. Then my mother comes in and a person gathers us all...me, my mother and a bunch of other people...onto a long couch where we are to sit, and I come to realize we're about to get our picture taken. Then the person in charge says in a loud voice, "Not you, Michelle, could you move?" and I am sent from the room. My mother doesn't look at me. I leave the room and go outside, and I'm on the shore where there are walkways. The walkway I take goes over water down below and I think it's a nice place. On the path in front of me I see a dead sea creature of some kind, it's like a cross between a squid and a starfish. I go over to it and see that it's not dead, it's alive but barely. I decide I can save this creature, briefly wonder if it's safe to pick it up, but then I just pick it up. It's heavy, and feels dry to the touch. I need to get this creature back into the water, so I run with it and drop it over the side into the water down below. I keep walking, hoping the creature will be safe now. I find a pathway that leads to a sea wall, and there's a structure built on the ledge that juts out over the water. I enter, and that's when I notice that the water is starting to rise and crash against the structure. It's all glass and I think "Surely it must be strong enough to withstand..." and that's when I see a gargantuan tidal wave coming. There's no time to react before the massive wave overtakes the structure. The water rushes over the structure and for a minute, the windows hold, it's like looking into an aquarium because the structure is fully immersed in sea water. For some reason I look into the inky black water and look for the squid/starfish that I just saved, then all the windows crash through and I'm drowning.🌊

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“It’s hard to fully understand the motivation of the president.”

“It’s hard to fully understand the motivation of the president.” Yeah, I think we can all agree with Tom Kiernan, chief executive of the American Wind Energy Association, who told the Washington Post in August that Trump is absolutely full of shit when it comes to his bewildering battle against wind energy. I mean, Ted Kennedy (RIP) hated the offshore wind turbines too and fought against them because they'd "ruin the view" of the sea from the Kennedy compound, a specious argument as most people find the modern design quite beautiful. That was annoying. But this latest Trump rant against wind power is full tilt boogie, mind-bendingly BONKERS. My regular readers will have noticed that I don't write about the motherfucker anymore, in the interest of self-care for my broken brain, but the speech he gave this weekend is a whole new level of astonishing word casserole with a side of WTF pie. The president was speaking to the conservative student group Turning Point USA on Saturday and the transcript is a bizarre tirade even more bonkers than his wild claim that "windmills cause cancer," and then he'd make that weird "WEW WEW WEW" sound with his stupid mouth. This is the lunatic ranting of a bloviating old fool who isn't qualified to run the White House gift shop. I assume there's a gift shop. I've never visited the White House. 🤡

I never understood wind. You know, I know windmills very much. I’ve studied it better than anybody I know. It’s very expensive. They’re made in China and Germany mostly—very few made here, almost none. But they’re manufactured tremendous, if you’re into this, tremendous fumes, gases are spewing into the atmosphere. You know we have a world, right? So the world is tiny compared to the universe. So tremendous, tremendous amount of fumes and everything. You talk about the carbon footprint—fumes are spewing into the air, right? Spewing. Whether it’s in China, Germany, it’s going into the air. It’s our air, their air, everything, right? So they make these things and then they put them up. And if you own a house within vision of some of these monsters, your house is worth 50 percent of the price. They’re noisy. They kill the birds. You want to see a bird graveyard? You just go. Take a look. A bird graveyard. Go under a windmill someday. You’ll see more birds than you’ve ever seen ever in your life. A windmill will kill many bald eagles. After a certain number they make you turn the windmill off, that is true by the way, they make you turn it off. And yet if you killed one, they put you in jail. That is okay. But why is it OK for windmills to destroy the bird population?

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Throwback to that time I put my husband's bare butt on my party invite

Here's a pile of pictures

There's a story behind how I even got this photo. It's from September 2015 after our Mel Torme 90th Birthday party. #AfterTheParty

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That Would Make A Good Band Name (ongoing post)

The Russells Brand
Slow Turkey
Clueless
My Pants Turned Two
Old Men Waiting
The Ones
The Rewarded
Pat the Dog
The Wondering
gNot

Spider Material Scientists

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BLOCKED ON TWITTER: I Finally Made It?

They say when someone blocks you on Twitter, it is some kind of honor. People out here bragging about "I got blocked! I made it!" Having experienced getting blocked for the first time, gotta say, that's not what it feels like at all. Maybe it feels good if it's a certain kind of Twitter personality. In that case I think mine is a dud.

Here's what happened. This young woman posted on the topic of UnFriending over Politics. Her very strong stance is that, if you UnFriend due to difference in political opinion, that means you are, and I quote, "an imbecile." She insists that "Political opinion doesn't define character."

Oh dear. Well. I've recently written on the topic after much thought, and my thing is that we have to stand up for what's right. We're in a time when there need to be consequences. Friendship has to matter. If you place value on the idea of Friendship, presumably you think yours is worth something. Your time, attention, care and kindness...those matter. I wanted to say, "I used to be like you" and then share what I have learned over the years. I thought, a possible teachable moment in action. Once you cruise past the age of 40, they give you the Experience Card and you can pull it out and lay down some sweet Elder Magic. The disconnect is that, while you get to pull your Experience Card, that doesn't mean shit to Arrogance of Youth, on social media or anywhere else in life. I know it didn't mean shit to me when I was young and arrogant. Well sometimes, but not in most cases—I rolled my eyes at certain advice from older women that, boy howdy, do I wish I'd taken. So I get it. 

I replied, "Political opinion does in fact define character. In rather large part, actually. You're young, you will learn. Took me awhile too. It matters, kiddo."  Okay, I could've been less of an Old Auntie with the "kiddo" but I was feeling it just then. Still: THAT gets a block? What I'm feeling now is, after she blocked me, is...Hey kiddo, you just posted with a great urgent insistence, doll-face, that a person who can't simply disagree with another opinion is an imbecile, buttercup. Take a selfie, champ, that's a photo of a person who doesn't know how to disagree politely, love. Trust me. Honey.

Alright, that's out of my system. As you can see, I was a bit hurt.

But can we discuss the irony of being so quickly blocked. If stepping away from a Friendship because of "political opinion" means you're an imbecile, then what are you for blocking a total stranger for suggesting there might be some validity to it...I mean...?

I have been singed and suffocated by the heat of the exhaust from the energy expended trying to remain friendly with terrible, awful racist, self-centered assholes who call their bullshit "political opinion" and just call everybody else rude names. I'm done. The whole "He's my friend, not my fault" stance, well it's hard work for me, not for them. They get to be simply terrible, while I have to keep working to burn fuel keeping the peace, keep making excuses for their awfulness. Years, I did this. Then, I got some self-respect and simply stopped making excuses for keeping these people as friends. What for? We have to stand up for what we believe in. It matters. Stand for something, or sit the hell down. One thing this Trump beast has done is bring them all scurrying out into the light. I learned I don't have to stand by and abide "Friends" behaving in this terrible way, trying to "other" and marginalize other people. So, political opinion very much does, in fact, define character. We ARE our politics. In my opinion, it matters. ∎

Related: Yes, I UnFriended You

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Penny Fox is just about finished

See some in-process photos on Instagram

I make thrift store "upcycled" dolls often starting with a baby onesie and building from there. I use kids clothes, fabric scraps a NY friend sends, broken pieces of vintage accessories, beads, yarns etc. Again, silk neckties are great for these characters. 

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In Other Words: You're Posting Wrong

It is November 27th 2019, and I've re-activated Facebook after one full calendar year. To the day. Know what I've noticed? It's still a mess. Having said that, I've missed almost everyone. I wish the platform hadn't gotten so revolting. It seems there could have been a sustainable business model that didn't require vanquishing the very soul of the nation, but Zuckerberg gonna Suckerdrag. Truth is I'm better without the bitch, so I'm only back briefly. I'm giving myself six weeks to gather contact info for Friends I want to keep in touch with, and then I am deleting Facebook. But while I'm here...

Among the lesser trials of having Facebook in one's life is watching in real time the devolution of written communication. Can you believe how lazy everyone's getting about...well, words? People out here subbing out words for other words that aren't the right words...and worse, making up new meanings. I saw someone say something is "timely" and only through careful consideration of her post did I realize she meant "time sensitive." Girl. You don't want to mix those up. People using words and expressions they don't understand gets me right in the gonads. You guys, can we be more sure about what we're saying?

"Hear, hear!"

Don't type "Here! Here!"  "Hear, hear!" is the missive you're looking for when in strong agreement with a Friend's post. "Here, here!" doesn't make any sense. You can look it up or you can trust me, I'm a writer. To wit: "Everyone deserves clean air, water, affordable nutrition and health care as a human right."
"Hear, hear!"

For all intents and purposes 

This speaky-speak qualifier is what I call "junk" and as editor I'd cross it out hard. But if you're gonna use it, at least use IT, not its muddy inbred cousin "for all intensive purposes." For all intents and purposes, the clause modifies the content of whatever you just said, presupposing every possible intent and purpose. Don't say "for all intensive purposes." What would that even be.

All of a sudden

The first person I ever heard say "all of the sudden" was my then-future husband Joe, but I have since heard it from other people. Not a lot of people. But enough to show me it wasn't a Joe-only thing or a New Jersey (where he's from) thing. I don't know if "All of the sudden" is grammatically incorrect, it just sounds weird, doesn't it? The sudden what. Implies there's only one "sudden."

By accident

I theorize as follows: people who say something happened "on accident" do so because they're using a certain prepositional logic: because we say "on purpose" when we purposely cause an event, surely  it's "on accident" when we blunderbuss our way to disaster. Dude, no. It's "by accident" and "on purpose."

 

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Stop what you're doing, Jane Fonda said a thing

According to everyone older than me, every living individual is required, right now apparently, to be outraged, because by Boomer logic: Jane Fonda.

JANE SAYS!

Jane Fonda has been happening for my entire life. I can't help but wonder what the young people must be thinking every time Jane  trends. "You mean the bony one from the old lady show?" That would be Grace and Frankie (Netflix) and yes, that's her, kids. Hey, old guys? Jane seems like a nice enough woman, she makes me laugh, she is a right proper movie star, and she is entitled to voice opinions. You're just mad because she's famous and happens to be right and you hate that, don't you, Guys Who Want To Own Water and Sell It Back To Us at a Premium? No. We DO need every person to have clean water as a human right, and all of us should rally behind climate change, thank GOD Jane Fonda is amplifying this message. What is wrong with these mostly-old-men hating on Jane Fonda my whole life. Boomers being angry. Boomer angry. Chill out, Boomer-angs. ∎

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Tee Shirt Sale Time

All Body Types and Sizes $40.  

Paypal with your address and size, allow about two weeks.

HOW TO GET A SHIRT

Email me! I answer all my emails, please send any questions anytime...it's my full name @ gmail

DM me via Twitter @SuperLowBudge. 

Of course no problem if you'd like to have a phone call with questions or special to-order requests! 

857 203 1436

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Amanda Fucking Palmer

Right now on the Internet there is an Amanda Palmer hatefest.
Another one, and it's a doozy. As a onetime music writer and promoter, I don’t know what to make of the truculent, sneering Amanda, or her weird, brill fame. This latest wave of #AmandaPalmerIsACunt started I guess with a muckety muck at The Guardian having an odd sort of go at Amanda on Twitter, and once there's a splash of Palmer blood in the social network seas, forget about it—Frenzy. My eyeballs can actually feel in a physical way the super-cool drawl of the Boston scenesters trying to out-casual each other as everybody competes with how early in Amanda's rise to fame they hated her. One person tried to win with "I hated her upon sight having never heard a single note of music." A surprising number of tweeters replied with "Same." Well...weird, I guess. I will come back to this later when I feel more Write-y. Or at least more Amanda-y. Love her or despise her "on sight," I tell you what, the chick can trend. 🦈

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13 "Cunts" on a Monday

In my experience, older ladies (retired, grannies) are the ones who lose their minds when you use the word "cunt." Men and younger women (practical, busy surviving) don't even blink. So this one is for the ladies. My message is simply this: cunt happens. It just does, I'm sorry if you're offended, but what should offend you, ipso facto, is cunts—not the word used to talk about cunts. If I am talking about a cunt and I use the word cunt, then trust me, I'm a writer. I know what word to use. I'm like a surgeon with the things. The word exists because cunts exist. Cunts are...well, cunts are dicks but worse. Cunts are such dicks that we have this super-specialized word to describe, encapsulate and convey their extra-special flex of dickishness. It's a good word. Supercharged. The word so good that here you are clutching your pearls when presented with the word itself. Cunt happens. Don't be a Karen about it. 🙋

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When the Veil is Thinnest

I have stories. Here's one.

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