Two Weeks In, Three Week Contract

The green digits square out a 3:40. If this were any other home, in any other profession, we would only be awake because of a terrible emergency. But. Tulsa quotes a Billy Collins poem--the one about angels. The one that ends, "and now it is very late, even for musicians." He gives a resigned smile: "it is very late, even for actors."

The men who have passed through these nail-up halls are all so physically fit. I see a lot of squats happening. In the yard, in the living room, on the deck outside the theatre. They drink ice cube blue liquor on lit patios but somehow eat chard in the morning.

Everyone is working on "projects" that are loosely named and lightly described because it all sounds moronic, but we dare not judge lest we be judged. And sometimes I stare for thirty minutes at this screenplay while the jack and jill door is the only thing between another tortured soul scribbling madly on a pad sketch ideas for a podcast. What possible words in the English language are more embarrassing than "podcast" and "sketch." We all toss up and serve the worst offender of all. "Comedy" we say. And we do bits in the parking lot. Writing that it sounds like a euphemism for drugs, and to some extent we have numbed ourselves and simultaneously depressed. Or upped.

I hope the fences we mended,

fall down beneath their won weight.

And I hope we hang on past the last exit,

I hope its already too late.

The Heat! (Some Spoilers, But, Like, Stuff You Coulda Guessed)

Welp. I loved The Heat.

Granted, I had an extremely generous mindset going into the theater--I wanted to love this movie. Oh, boy, did I want to love this movie. FIRST FEMALE BUDDY COPS, FEMALE SCREENWRITER, MIDDLE-AGE HEROINES, MELISSA MCCARTHY'S UNCONVENTIONAL BEAUTY! My gender equality dreamz exploding into unicorns.

Look, it's not GD American Beauty, but it's way way way better than, like, eighty percent of Will Ferrell's summer movies. I have way too much to think and say about this film, but this is my crummy blog, and I don't get paid for it, so I am just going to give some bullet points.

-It was just as exciting to see women run around with guns and narrowly dodging explosives as it would be watching men. Truth. Of course the amount of violence is problematic, but that's not what I'm focusing on right now.

-Witty, gritty women. Some of the banter and one-liners. #SupesSmartDialogue #SupesSmartDialogueInLadyMouths

-I was worried at first when the women were so horribly opposed, but I had to recognize that they were not just competitive women (cough, Bridesmaids), they were just two opposing protagonists. It's a buddy cop movie. That's how it goes.

-Perhaps women can be a little more emotional, but they don't have to be. The women become friends/learn from each other, but they maintain a playful hate/love relationship until the end. Like, women (especially women in the FBI maybe?) can be affectionate jerks.

-No sexualization besides minor comedic club dancing. More awkward than body-focused. In buddy cop comedies, we don't need to actually get into a dude's six-pack. Same goes got Sandra's bangin' bod.

-THAT said, the women talk about each other's appearances more than average cop duos might.  (Although, it does happen. Opening scene in 48 Hours.) But, let's be real...that's part of being a woman. That stuff matters more. It's natural, they would make it matter more in their conversation. It was never drippy. It was punchy and often entertaining.

-Men also commented a lot on their appearances/ages/hygiene. I think this may have been overblown. (The villain always commenting on the relative "hottness" of the pair.) But, possible (sad). It was done comedically like, "Oh, great! This silly guy not being attracted to Melissa LOL." In seriousness, I'm sure true male villains do use appearance as a wedge to make their female victims feel uncomfortable. But, that would be a different genre.

-Lack of romantic focus. Each woman had a little backstory (I'm wondering if to prove they weren't gay?) but not even a B plot worth. Not even a C plot worth.

-The supposedly touching friendship moment was actually touching for me. I wonder if it was just written well or if I could connect more as a lady. Is this what I have been missing out on bromance movies all this time!? Seriously felt slightly choked up. During The Heat.

-There was a big ol' lack of other women. One one hand, this was probably accurate. Female cops in high places? Meh? It helped show a subtle feminist message: woman against everyone else. But, I thought that may have been too strong. Of course Sandra wants a promotion that her male boss can't see she deserves. What if it had been a woman? Maybe, I'm reading too much into it.

-These humans were supremely unlikable at the outset and didn't get much better (although they grew on me). Perhaps showing some negative women blown up? I think no. I think that's just what comedy is. They were whole humans. That's the important thing. I mean, we can't complain about lack of women in film if we expect them all to be perfect. Perfect is boring.

-The plot skeleton was pretty intriguing. The cops are on the trail of a huge drug bust. Kinda one of the less important rings of investigation? (According to me, who, you know, doesn't know anything about the worst impacts of coke economy.) I guess it's comedy, so murders aren't the best bet. But, still...something about the women succeeding at a pyseduo-fruitless mission...Hm.

-For a female-centric movie, there were still a lot of dick jokes. But, part of standing up as a woman is making aiming some guns at guy crotches.

-No one ever made fun of Melissa's weight or even alluded to it. #SoFreakingHappy

-Mainly, SO COOL THAT THE WORD "MISOGYNY" IS JUST CHILLIN' IN A SUMMER BLOCKBUSTER!

Things are happening, and I feel really excited for the future.

Important Idea Regarding $$$

MONEY IS VALUE AND VALUE DOES NOT GO "AWAY."

MUCH LIKE THE WRAPPERS WE THROW IN TRASH BINS LANDFILL-BOUND, THERE IS NO "AWAY" WHEN IT COMES TO SOME THINGS.

SOME THINGS LIKE LOVE--

THERE IS NO AWAY!

YOUR LOVING GAZE MAY FALL ON A HATEFUL FACE,

BUT THAT LOVE HAS BEEN EXPRESSED AND DOES NOT GO

AWAY.

SOME THINGS LIKE JOY--

THERE IS NO AWAY!

SOME THINGS LIKE CARBON.

WE MUST BE WISE,

of course,

BUT MONEY IS VALUE

AND VALUE DOES NOT GO AWAY!

FOLLOW THE DOLLAR,

IT'S GOING WHERE IT NEEDS TO.

SOME DAYS I REMEMBER

I WANT TO SEND ANOTHER CHECK

TO HEFFER INTERNATIONAL,

SO I WON'T GET THE MOCHA.

BUT, SOME DAYS I'LL GO AHEAD

AND CONTRIBUTE TO THE CAFE'S

MANAGER'S DAUGHTER'S COLLEGE FUND.

AND ALSO,

NOW THERE IS A MOCHA.

IT DOES NOT GO AWAY.

I GAVE THIS BUM A FIVE

AND MADE HIM PROMISE IT WOULDN'T BE

FOR MEAT.

I'M NEVER GOING TO KNOW,

BUT I DO KNOW IT WENT SOMEWHERE.

MAYBE THE DRUG DEALER'S NEW MUFFLER.

THE AUTO-MECHANIC IS SAVING UP

FOR A KINDLE.

He wants to read Malcolm Gladwell on the bus.

WE LOST THE FAMILY MEMBERSHIP CARD TO THE SCIENCE AND INDUSTRY MUSEUM, AND I WANT TO GO TOMORROW.

RATS, MAN. RATS. THAT WAS EXPENSIVE, AND NOW,

I STILL HAVE TO PAY.

BUT THAT MUSEUM IS FULL OF MEMORIES FOR ME.

I LEARNED ABOUT COAL MINING THERE,

AND THE FIRST TRAINS, ICEBERGS, BABY CHICKS.

I CAN DONATE A FIFTEEN DOLLAR ADMISSION.

I HAVE BEEN GIVEN SO MUCH,

AND IT DOES NOT GO AWAY.

It's Actually Nothing

Botanical gardens!

Smirn and I were talking about the coke industry today and how even the CIA has been known to get finding via drug cartels. The drug game is totally cray, and the economics and sheer magnitude of that kind of dough blows my mind. And then I realized the weirdest thing: that all the money is being used to make, sell, ship, hide cocaine--which is NOTHING. Cocaine does NOTHING. Like, the oil industry is bonkersville, but I GET that. People use oil for gas, and gas fuels family trips, and our work commutes, and is essential in grocery-getting...but coke literally does NOTHING. It gets people messed up in their heads for no good reason. That's all it does. And more money than I can even imagine is wrapped up in that white stuff.

NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING NOTHING

It's Hard for More People Than You Think

Beautiful people. October 2010.

I think it's really important that people understand It's Hard for More People Than You Think. I think frequently we look at our vices and say, "I really can't help it. I realize not everyone struggles with this, but it's probably easier for them." Well, probably not true. Or, probably at one point wasn't true.

I was talking with someone about drug addiction the other day, and this came up. It's hard to reason with someone addicted to substances because often they think, "Yeah, but you can't understand. You're not attracted to this!" When really...lots of people who don't do drugs are attracted to them. Hoards really. They just abstain because they are also attracted to other things. Like maintaining their health and safety, for example.

I used to think "Yeah, but it's not hard for you" when it came to exercise. I just didn't get it, and it was really hard for me to do it. Then, I nibbled away at the concept of physical activity, and now I love it. And I think some people could look at me running my little legs off and say, "Yeah, but its not hard for you." But, 1. Sometimes it still is. If I push myself, or if I'm tired, or if I'm bored. And, 2. It's only not as hard because it used to be. And I worked on it.

It's just a small example, but this is a concept we can all be more aware of. When we see a super peppy hostess--don't think, "But it's easy for her." When we see talented musicians, informed politicians, all the good grains of the earth, know it is all there for us under the surface of our "Yeah, but it's easy for you"s and "But you don't get it"s.

I haven't finished a thing since I started my life. Don't feel much like starting now.
Walking out lonely has worked like a charm--I'm the only one I have to let down.
But
watching you
makes me think that that is wrong.

My Brush with Insanity (Post-Surgery Blues)

waiting for my last crepe in Paris 2009

When I found out I was being hooked up to an IV pre-surgery I laughed and laughed. The anxiety of an IV just hit me right in the funny bone. A month later (yesterday) I found myself giggling like mad again as I changed into my hospital gown. Then things were getting black and I could hear me laughing before feeling the sudden needle prick, and I burst into tears.

Next thing I know I'm somewhere dark. I can't see anything. My cheeks hurt and are very cold. Eggs are filling my mouth.

This was actually a few hours after the surgery. I don't remember waking up or leaving the office or a darn thing even though apparently I was talking to my dad and sister and fully able to walk to the car myself. I apparently demanded to watch Third Rock from the Sun and accepted to eat some egg. But, as I said previously, all I was conscious of is someone cramming egg into my mouth.

An hour or so later I woke up to Back to the Future. From that point on I thought I was my old self again--even with the gauze in. Uh. No. I actually didn't regain non-crazy form until around 10 PM.

Things that Happened (when I thought I was fine but actually I was still on the bus to wacko-land):

-whined to no end about the gauze in my mouth but also demanded my sister take pictures
-in a panic asked, "why is my lip...so close to my lip?"
-tried to drink some salt water, but it dribbled out onto my crotch, so when my sister returned I announced sadly, "I peed."
-drooled all over
-had at least three conversations about the same four topics with absolutely no recollection of it: wanting to watch Sex and the City DVDs and being heartbroken when Pookie said she didn't bring them, asking about why the ice packs on my face were so cold, my astonishment of how drugged I must have been to not remember leaving the surgery, and what I was going to do about my broken computer
-speaking of, I USED my computer several times yesterday because every time I woke up I thought I was fine when really I was still cracked out--many IM conversations I do not remember and I'm pretty sure I submitted poetry to a few journals
-went to the bathroom and was so happy I decided to live there, had a laughing attack about my new life in the bathroom with my sister outside the door worrying I was crying
-when I did decide not to live in the bathroom I came out to the couch and sobbed yelling, "It's not even funny! It's from here (pointing to my gut) not from here (pointing to my head)!"

I am never doing hard drugs.