You Are A Dick

Yeah, right. You are moving, but you are not moving in. For someone who doesn't talk that much you sure haven't learned when to shut up. You joke at the most inappropriate times. You speak without thinking. You barely realize when you have hurt someone, and then you mount the defensive. You think in terms of zero sum games. If they are right, then you are wrong, and that is impossible. You are not in love with love; you are in love with lust. You disregard evidence that does not support your argument. Why don't you go blog about it.


True Romance

We were outside the Laughing Gull. Bobby asked, "You got a girl, Tommy?" (Tommy was in jeans and work boots; he did not look like a Benny.)

He said no.

I said, "Tommy, you're a hopeless romantic" and circled over to where he sat on the steps. We faced Erin and Bob. They leaned against the hood of the car. "Welcome to the club."

But my hopeless romantic status was revoked, Bob argued, because of that whole relationship business. Perhaps. But what does it mean to be romantic? I tend to think of Romantic with a capital R, emphasizing emotion,imagination over reason. (It was the first big history paper I wrote freshman year in high school, and then in junior year I did a term paper on William Blake.) Does a relationship end our romantic identities? And who among us can be called single? That's just a Facebook designation. Round up the usual suspects:

She has never given up on Disney-fed dreams of Prince Charming and true love's kiss.

She waits and waits, and what does she see?

He professed to be in love many times, but he is still searching. After every joke he tells he looks at her face to see if she is laughing with him.

She married the One That Got Away.

(The Book of Love is long and boring and written very long ago...)

He walks down the street where you live singing his heart on his sleeve after one good conversation.

He is unconcerned with obstacles like girlfriends or distance; love conquers all.

She cleaves to her boyfriend. Is she a realist who is settling, or a romantic who believes that the force of her love will one day change things?

And me, who crushes once a week and imagines futures that will never be (guy on the train reading Coraline, guy at the Jones Beach bus line, Blockbuster Movie Boy, Hot Wharton Boy, guy drinking orange juice from the carton waiting for the subway [why are all of these people in transit??], DEP Guy, Work Crush #1, Work Crush #2, Work Crush #3, etc.) Me, who once I've fallen, will bare my claws to keep you. Yes in the real world, I will probably treat you like shit, but in the fantasy world--in my head, in my heart--I will fight to keep you there always. (Cold comfort, I'm sure.) I could populate a city with all of you and then power it with swirls of emotion!

We are not hopeless. We are just in love with love. We are chasing a dream.


Dear Bitchlog: California (and Obama)

Dear Bitchlog,

California unraveled much as expected, with the Court upholding Proposition 8 but leaving the marriages legally performed prior to its passage intact. What I found baffling was this statement from the general counsel for ProtectMarriage.com, from the Times article before the decision was announced: "Mr. Pugno said his group was more concerned about the fate of Proposition 8 and was unlikely to challenge the marriages if they were allowed to stand. 'It’s such a tiny number,' he said. 'And it’s not the core issue.'"

OK, so the issue is not whether gay people can get married, but only if they can get married from now on? It's such a tiny number? Like, at what number do you start getting concerned? When that big gay storm cloud opens up? Because I'm pretty sure, statistically speaking, there's not ever going to be a huge number of couples directly affected by this. Or are you worried that by letting same-sex couples get married today, we're going to encourage future generations of kids to think that this is an acceptable "lifestyle"? I don't think you have anything to worry about. All the previous generations of straights in my family didn't rub off on me. But you know what I fear kids will learn from? Your shitty marriage, and you shitting on the lives of other people.

At least there is a glimmer of rainbow-colored hope in how narrowly the Court interprets the proposition.

Well, bitchlog, it looks like we're going to have to take care of this ourselves. Frank Rich this week:

Obama has long been, as he says, a fierce advocate for gay equality. The Windy City Times has reported that he initially endorsed legalizing same-sex marriage when running for the Illinois State Senate in 1996. The most common rationale for his current passivity is that his plate is too full. But the president has so far shown an impressive inclination both to multitask and to argue passionately for bedrock American principles when he wants to. Relegating fundamental constitutional rights to the bottom of the pile until some to-be-determined future seems like a shell game.

Iowa, Vermont, Maine, all of this California craziness. Dear Mr. President, how many times have I heard you say words matter? Can you please SAY SOMETHING? Yeah, I know you have 8,000 other things going, but it's YOUR JOB. You signed up for it, we said you were the best person for it, so do it. (I know where you stand on marriage (you are wrong), but could we at least get some leadership here? Halting DADT by executive order, maybe? What was that campaign promise?)

Tranche de Vie

By the time you leave Whippany, you'll have learned: if you get the red light at Adams Drive/Woodfield Drive, TURN AROUND AND GO HOME. The day is shot. It is like the Electronic Evil Eye.

On balance, my day didn't turn out so badly.

Where shit goes down.

Showtune Tuesday: Grease

Memorial Day marks the unoffical start of summer. Oh, those summer nights.

(Alas, old links are broken.)


Models Inc.

A mini-series about the fashionistas of the Marvel universe that also features Tim Gunn = gay nerd heaven.


Garden State

I needed to see Dani. I hadn't seen Dani since we were Golden Girls eating cheesecake around the table in Park Slope. Now she has a deli and a Pig Dog! And I laughed and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed, because I was at the Laughing Gull.

But before the Bennys went home, we stopped at Seaside Heights. Frozen Custard Skee Ball Buck Hunter Finger Trap Tons of Crap Palace. A shot of New Jersey concentrate.

This we will take: love of road as much as the city, beach, or ghost story it ends in.


Week versus Weekend

Every morning is a race to the station, then running through the parking lot, then calming down and steadying my hand to put the three dollars in the meter. I haven't been doing much of anything but work lately, though trying to schedule get-togethers for the last days in NJ.

In Denver, we saw the concert at Red Rocks, an awesome outdoor venue. We had an impressive picnic beforehand (JP's car has a stowaway TABLE!), and someone made Hiphopopotamus and Rhymenoceros sugar cookies. They opened with "Too Many Dicks on the Dancefloor." I missed most of "Business Time" with an ill-timed bathroom break, but was happy to be around for "Carol Brown (Choir of Ex-Girlfriends)." I liked "Jenny." We arrived in time to catch the last Iron & Wine song, and I've listened to it about four times today because it's so damn pretty.


Update: H Is

For hands as soft as gloves? as soft as any glove? Samantha and Jeanie think so, and that makes two. It rhymes with love, which also makes sense...

I am going to see Flight of the Conchords in Denver on Saturday! I hope they play "Business Time."


Showtune Tuesday: Showboat

I have to start keeping better track of which shows have previously been featured, hence my addition to the title.

This is a good song. And I'm on a one-man mission to bring back the dance that begins at 4:00.


Mother's Day Blast from the Past

M is for the many things you do for me,
O is for your overflowing love,
T is for the way you hug me tenderly,
H is ...
E is for your eyes that shine,
R is how I run to meet you,
'Cause Mom I'm glad you're mine!

We sang that song at a Mother's Day pageant in 1st grade or so. (The same one where we sang "I Just Called to Say I Love You." There was a spoken interlude and Janelle acted out calling her Mom from Florida. But Mr. Shirvanian wanted her to say "Flah-ri-da" (like most North Jerseyans) instead of "Floor-i-da," so we had to do it over and over and Janelle got upset.) It's so easy to remember. Except for the H!

Two of the most recent sayings from my Mom that have made me laugh:
  • We were watching the Today show on vacation in Florida, and it ended earlier than it does in New York, so I was confused. Bonstance: "Oh, that's right. Those two assholes don't come on down here." --referring to Kathy Lee and Hoda.
  • My mom is on Facebook. She was showing me pictures of one of my dad's friends from college. "You don't understand--in college he used to be so skinny. Look how fat they got!" A beat. "They're probably saying the same thing about us!" Ah, she is wise in the ways of the world.


Today's News In My Self-Centered Universe

Penn gets a shout-out in the WSJ article where they asked presidents of academia to answer an essay question from their own school's application.

Maine establishes marriage as a legal union between two people regardless of sex. (The comments are an interesting barometer of local reaction.) Speaking of the big gay storm, I don't think I ever linked to the interesting read at FiveThirtyEight on the factors that predict a gay marriage ban (modeling goes beyond marketing!) and when each of the 50 states would vote against such ban.


Dear Bitchlog: No Joke

Dear Bitchlog,

I hate when I can remember the punchline of a joke but not the setup! Barbara's Buttcrack!

Showtune Tuesday: Newsies

Musical Mondays played this one:

(Alas, old links are broken.)