Monthly Archives: April 2010

i wanna do everything. what a beautiful feeling.

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i’m listening to joan jett’s cover of “crimson & clover” on my headphones, a song i have been craving all weekend, but don’t have anywhere in the house. oh, to be alive in 2010, when all i have to do is type the name of a song onto google at the public library & i can be swaying, remembering a tough girl who i miss, who used to blast this song on repeat, going on tangents about how she loved this song because it’s so rare–a rock ‘n’ roll lovesong from a girl to another girl. i wanna sing at the library but i was raised by a librarian so my library manners are fairly good.

anyway. last night i went to art all night, which is one of my favorite pittsburgh events. it’s basically a free, giant art show where anyone at all can submit one piece of art. they’ll hang it in a warehouse, which is open for 24 hours, and you can come look at all the completely random art that people bring in. some of it is brilliant, some is shitty, most is somewhere in between. i was really tired, but i was really happy to be there. there are bands all night too, and some not-really-that-good teen hip hop act was performing (they actually weren’t all teens, they ranged in age from about 17 to about 3) but people loved them, and all these teens in the audience were like totally freaking out, in this abandoned brewery with black mold all over the walls and art art everywhere (there probably were like a thousand pieces, if not more, no joke.) it made me feel so good. like, being around people who create art not for what it’ll bring them, or for any kind of recognition at all, just because it means something to them, because it’s better than being dead inside, because it’s better than anything at all really, BECAUSE CREATING MATTERS.

it was the complete opposite of how i felt at sister spit the night before. i know that the feeling i described in the previous paragraph was the general attitude sister spit was created under, but i wasn’t feeling it. i still had a pretty good time, and i’m glad i went, and i got something out of nearly every performance (the only exception being the one i detailed in the last post.). but it kinda depressed me too in some way, like, it kind of crystallized my boredom with a certain aesthetic, a certain way of being in the world that i, as a queer white girl, am supposed to relate to. but i don’t relate to it anymore, it doesn’t matter like it once did.

i don’t want to be yet another person on the internet who randomly bashes other peoples’ art, especially since i haven’t been doing much with my own lately. i see absolutely no point in any of that. & just because it doesn’t hit me between the eyes at this particular installment of my life doesn’t mean that it’s not worthy; or that i have any right to trash it on the internet. all i’m saying is, i want something more.

got more to say but there’s a storm a-brewin’, literally, a hailstorm coming our way, warned by the emergency alert system, and my cute boyfriend is on the library steps waiting for it and i’d like to join him, to watch the storm roll by, hand in hand.

it’s just the world spinning around.

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yesterday was truly the strangest day i’ve had in a while. it wasn’t a big strange thing, just about a dozen tiny strange things, ranging from finding a giant box of candy on the street in front of a speakeasy at 2 am to having someone call the front desk at my job and asking, “umm…where did i just call?” it felt like the universe was weird again, like my life was full of strange possibility. i stayed up past midnight for the first time in, like, months (seriously).

sister spit came into town & i was pretty underwhelmed, honestly. i did genuinely enjoy lenelle moise & that guy who used to be in tribe 8 (uhh….silas? his name escapes me). one performer did a performance that pissed me off so much. she shared a cutely-illustrated-yet-pointless story about a karaoke bar; and one of the stories main points was “a woman was stabbed there.” & the audience seemed to think this was hilarious! what. the. fuck. i wanted to stand up and yell, “IT’S NOT FUNNY. it’s really not fucking funny when a woman is stabbed, & hanging out at a bar where such things happen doesn’t make you cool or edgy. it makes you a voyeur to other people’s misery. & congrats on turning this shitty thing that happened to someone whose life is probably really fucked up into something for white hipsters a continent away to snicker at.” i dunno, maybe if the rest of what she had to say was brilliant it wouldn’t have rankled so much, but it was all pretty similarly mediocre. oh well.

i had a better entry in my head this morning, but it all fell out somewhere else. now i’m reeling with low blood sugar, with my lips unkissed for an hour which feels like years & years. truthfully, i am confused & strange these days. don’t know what i want or where. don’t know how to escape but know i have to. i miss my old backyard with the tall weeds; i don’t miss the drunken loneliness but i do miss laying in the hammock, surrounded in green, knowing that things would get better, someday.

birthdaze & internet boredom.

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i turned 28 on saturday & it was pretty fun. ray & i ate tasty thai food & then a whole bunch of people i like came over. it was kind of accidentally a sixth grade birthday, as we wound up eating pizza & playing “girl talk” for about two hours, but it was so fun. this is the first birthday where none of my high school friends called me. we’ve all been tight friends since 1994. i’ve been away from new york for a long, long time now; it seems like this is confirmation that we’re growing apart & they don’t really care about me. hmm. kinda weird.

on another note, lately there has been absolutely nothing to do at work. most of the good websites are blocked so i’ve been trying to entertain myself with some pretty dire-straits type entertainment. yesterday i stooped to reading the craigslist rants-and-raves section; i was appalled at the racism and general stupidity. one post (which has since been taken down) had the subject line “dam burritos” and the text simply said, “i’m gonna eat a burrito, take a huge obama and wipe my michelle reeeealll good.” i was like, what?!? that may be one of the stupidest things i’ve ever read in my life. & just having a thought like that is bad enough, but posting it on craigslist?
i wondered if it’s just a pittsburgh thing, so i looked at the new york city craigslist rants-n-raves. now, i should have known better, having been a longtime resident of the NY metro area, but the first post i saw was this, which is funnier and less racist but no less poop-obsessed or bizarre.

remember in the early-to-mid 90’s when the internet was heralded as some sort of intellectual breeding ground? the information superhighway? remember that? ha!

a few random things…

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first & foremost. a lot of you know that i was buying a house with my boyfriend. we were under contract & about to get a huge chunk of change to purchase this kinda-boring house that neither one of us felt passionately about, because it seemed like a good deal & our last chance to buy a dirt-cheap house in our rapidly-gentrifying neighborhood. well, this house has hella electrical problems & a possible softening foundation problem, & last night we decided–fuck it. we’re not gonna go into debt forever for a house that we don’t really love. we already have a house that we really love, and it’s my house that i live in now, so we’re gonna stay there. the knuckle tat for this weekend says RENT LIFE cuz i’m going to be living the rent life for a long, long time. maybe forever. i feel a little bad for wasting even more money on rent, but my rent is really cheap (& may soon be getting 50% cheaper) & i love my house so, so much. the idea of leaving it was tearing me up.
& honestly i’m getting really tired of pittsburgh. i don’t want to buy a house & make a commitment to HAVE to be here for 4-6 more years. the idea of being here for at least 4 more years is mildly horrifying to me. that said, i don’t have any immediate plans to move anywhere else. i don’t really know where i would go. i just wanna do something different.
i miss little things. i miss the amazing lemon-blueberry sorbet i had last summer in columbus, OH. i miss being a NYC lesbian with a shitty office job that was in the middle of an amazing neighborhood, & i could run out every afternoon to the post office and see a hundred amazing things. i hated it then, was miserable then, but now i work a shitty office job in a drab rotting neighborhood with nothing going on & no post office. there are some nice trees & some nice decaying victorian mansions. good views. but it isn’t what i need. it isn’t what feeds me.
yesterday at work, the highlight of my day was teaching a 60-something woman how to make a smiley face on her keyboard, you know, like this : ) [with a space so it won’t automatically turn into an obnoxious yellow smiley!]. it took her several tries. first she did this ; ) and then she did this :0 and then she finally got it and was so, so happy.
for some reason, it warms my heart that angsty teens still wear giant pants in this day & age. like, some things never change.

on money, love & closets (in a mostly random way)

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i had a strange experience at work on friday, in which i talked at length with four middle-aged female co-workers about queerness, without disclosing myself as a queer person. these ladies know that i have a boyfriend who i’m buying a house with. they don’t know that my boyfriend spent nearly two decades living as a woman, or that i spent five years of my life in love with a woman in particular and the previous five years of my life in love with women in general. there was actually a moment when i could have come out very easily, when a co-worker asked me jokingly, “oh, do you know all of this stuff from personal experince?” and i kinda froze and then another co-worker jumped in and said, “she’s young! she knows a lot of gay people, because it’s okay to be gay now. it’s not like when we were young.” and i didn’t really feel safe saying, “no, actually…”
so i felt like a giant sell-out assimilationist loser all day afterwards. but then i started wondering, is it really so important for me to come out? right now, i am not super actively queer. my relationship is fairly queer in many ways, from how our bodies are to how we have sex to how we relate to each other, to all the genders we embody and emulate and are. but are the intimate details of my relationship really anyone’s business, especially the business of co-workers who are all straight, married, middle-aged, whom i never see outside of the office? i am not currently attracted to any women, i don’t want to have sex with any women i know, i don’t really dream of any ladies, don’t check out cute girls on the street. back when i had a girlfriend, i was always out about it, even on the construction site and within my family, two fairly unsafe environments. i never called her “my friend” or “my boyfriend” when telling stories about her. but now everything’s so much more complicated.
my co-workers, to my surprise, were very open-minded about gayz (after that initial comment). two of my co-workers commented on how a lot of the gay people they knew were nicer and kinder and more worldly than the straight people they knew, because they’d been through so much, which kind of warmed my heart. also, the tough security guard (who i totally read as queer at first) said, “what i don’t understand is why females want…[miming the shape of a dildo on her crotch] the apparatus!” i have so much to say on this subject, but i wasn’t really in the mood to discuss it with a bunch of straight women who i have to work with every day, so i said, “uh….why do you think they want it?” this woman seriously would not drop the subject of dildos, just going on and on and on, until someone said, “do YOU want a dildo?” and she got a real sassy look on her face and said, “no, i got the real thing at home, honey!” life certainly takes you places. if you’d told me six months ago that i’d be sitting in an office discussing sex toys with a bunch of straight ladies who are my mom’s age, i’d have thought you were crazy.

p.s. so, i kind of like “o” magazine & was pleased to learn that they published a very good, sweet article on falling in love with a transgendered man. it was one of the sweetest articles i’ve read in a while anyway, and the fact that it was semi-relevant to my life made it all better. despite the huge boom in people identifying as transgender in the past few years, there’s pretty much nothing out there for partners of transpeeps. incidentally, an article i wrote for partners of transpeople should be in the spring 2010 as-of-yet-unreleased issue of original plumbing, so look out for that!

since i get enough hits for “bad tattoos,” part deux

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i seriously get like over 200 hits a month for “bad tattoos”, far more than anyone who actually wants to read anything i actually have to say. so what the hell, let’s do it again! everybody loves bad tattoos.

Kikkoman Monster
see more

all of these tattoos are taken from ugliesttattoos.com.


oh, is it? nobody told me!


this really makes me mildly amazed at humanity in general.


also, this one. what’s this woman’s story? who is she? why? why?


branden, i am shocked that you don’t have this one yet!


what an excellent remedy for the classic dilemma of “i got someone’s name tattooed on me and then we broke up!”

this one just makes me sad.

and that’s all for now. i’m off to eat passover dinner with my boyf and his family.