Tuesday is my favorite day of the week because it’s when Dan Savage drops his most recent episode of the Savage Lovecast. I love sharing podcasts with likeminded friends, I consider it a type of free-form bookclub.
It turns out that Junebug is also a major podcast junkie, I’ve turned her onto my favorites and I’m always excited to listen to something new. So I was extra excited when she sent me this …
I’m hard to surprise because if it’s weird and not about serial killers or politics, I’m most likely into it. But there is nothing better than listening and live-texting our reactions.
The above text is about Heavyweight, my favorite new show. It’s about people revisiting an event, conversation, experience that they are really hung up on. Sometimes they don’t understand what happened, sometimes they just feel shitty about how they handled a situation, but Jonathan Goldstein helps them find some resolution, which is crazy because he is super neurotic and would seem to be the least likely person to be able to guide an experience like that. But he actually rules.
And I’m just going to put this out here on the off chance Goldstein ever reads this blog. It would be my honor to verbally abuse you.
Love+Radio is my all time favorite show, though. It’s too weird. Naturally I had to get Junebug in on it. I sent her the link for this episode and pretty much had a complete nervous breakdown listening to it as I saw how easily I would become the woman interviewed.
Texting is like a conversation that can go all day. Some criticize it for ruining conversation, but I find it to be a rich way of communicating with friends. Especially ones far away.
My dear Màrion messages me at least twice a week, no matter where she is, Spain, Germany, Brazil, MONGOLIA! We are always on opposite time zones so I’m waking up just when she’s about to go to sleep. It’s like having a friend in a different dimension.
So I do the same and we keep it going with pictures from where-ever we are, but with me it’s mostly in bed.
She has taught me so much about how to be in this world. I don’t think it is hard for her to find the time, to keep her heart open, to maintain her connections with people with the same reflexiveness I have for feeding my cats and brushing my teeth before bed, it is a practice.
Sideboob told me that I am like Màrion in that way, which is why our attraction is so powerful – did I write this before? Maybe because it’s the nicest thing she’s ever said to me so I can’t let it go. And also because Sideboob would never say anything just to be nice.
I feel like I am the person doing a 10-minute daily meditation app versus a person who fully embodies mindfulness, but I’m working on it. Resisting the urge to shut down and shut out and create distance. It isn’t to say the everyone gets let in, that there are no protective boundaries, no radar for folks who mean no good, but I can feel the energy flowing between me and my close friends and it is elevating.
Stitch is now in Berlin so I don’t get to see her anymore, but I still feel her in my heart. I wasn’t sad when she left because I knew she was living her life, doing what she needed to do, and thanks to technology we can still be there for each other.
Like the other morning – and I apologize for this – I took the most amazing poop of my life.
I’m not one to flash and flush (and don’t worry, there are no photos) but what came out of me was so remarkable that I had to take a picture and send it to her.
This is serious intimacy, y’all. Why am I blogging it? Because I go through my old posts every now and then and some things are too funny (to me) to not memorialize, even if it is about poop.
My Asian Daughter is pursuing her MFA in dance at UC Davis and is slaying it. I love her IG feed as she takes on the role of mother to all her little dancer babies. It’s a role she was born to do, teach that is. They’ve been doing wonderful work under her tutelage. Even when she taught me and I was 40 and she was 23 I felt her authority and absolute certainty in her abilities and technique. I love seeing her step into those shoes.
Texting can go wrong, but that’s not news. The other day I thought I was being texted by a guy friend of mine but it was actually his wife. She led the conversation down a sexy road which surprised me but who am I stop something crazy from happening? I like to think of life as an improv set, the answer is always yes and … In retrospect I should have known because he doesn’t send me stuff like that. But you have to know that if you ask me to do something strange the answer is usually, “Yeah, sure, you betcha.” Yes. And.
So he (but really she) propositioned me and I was like, “Yeah, why not?” because YOLO.
And THEN her husband came on and was like …
That was awkward but whatever. In the end they are a bunch of weirdos like me and know a good prank when then see one. I took it hook, line and sinker and I twisted magnificently.
So the kids are back in school. It has been two weeks of kids flopping around the house playing video games and generally pissing me off while I alternately work all day or collapse in bed with the dogs.
I have been dog sitting for a friend recently so I’m up a dog and it’s 100% awesome.
And this happened …
New Year’s Eve was okay this year. It wasn’t the complete disaster/shitshow it was last year when I had a nervous breakdown. That said, I think I should abstain from NYE because it seems like no matter what, the wheels come off and I ending up having to apologize for my behavior and I’m really not into that.
Bad behavior, that is. I am fine with apologizing, it’s one of life’s graces. I mean, thank god it’s a thing. What if you fucked up and there was no way to express regret and a desire to make it right? What if it just had to hang out there forever? That would be the worst.
I didn’t even need to go out that night, except I promised someone I would be there and I like to keep my promises. And it was mostly fun. Redacted deejayed and is always great despite having to walk the fine line of going all out with the trippy music (which I like) versus satisfying the people who just want to dance to 90’s hits (almost everyone else).
And the space has MY FAVORITE THING which is this tiny room – really a closet – but it has a chair in it and a window that opens to the room where the music is. The joke is that I always disappear during shows to talk to strangers in the bathroom. I LOVE IT! But it’s not the bathroom part (that’s the stuff of anxiety dreams) it’s the close quarters. It’s the part where you are kind of trapped in a small room with someone and you can either pretend they aren’t there or you can talk to them.
So the little closet (which I think is a time-out space) is perfect for my purposes. All night I pulled people into it, some I knew, some I just met, and started conversations with them … details are fuzzy, but it was weird and strange and just up my alley, maybe even more than dancing.
But the night before I went to the most beautiful show.
The artist’s name is CloZee, a French deejay from Toulouse. I didn’t know anything about her music but oh my god, it was the most ethereal, emotional, spiritual show I’ve ever been to. It was a last-second decision by Redacted that we should all go and he’s got us all trained to do as we are told. To be fair, he is never wrong, we always have a great time.
The next day Junebug and I were still completely high on CloZee’s music, all we could do was go on a walk with the dogs and talk about it.
I have pretty much decided that the thing I did in the pole world (ie seek out the artists that interest me the most and invite them to my home) is what I’m going to have to do with this little corner of the music world. I want to spend time with people who make music and vibe on their creativity, I also want to show them gratitude and a little comfort because being on the road is tough. We’ll see if I can pull it off.
Anyway, all that said, I probably should have called it good at my friend’s little house party. It was a family thing and the highlight was watching Scratchy rake it in with some card game they played.
I had a gathering a few days before with my pottery people. We had a theme for the meal but the truth is that all we wanted was to be together.
I miss my day life. I really like my job, especially now that I’m no longer doing eldercare for my mother-in-law. Before that I thought I was going to lose it. Like, for real. It was simply too much. But now that she is with my sister-in-law (bless her) I have some more perspective and I can enjoy my work.
I like being productive and I love making money, but I was spread so thin I thought I was going to snap. I haven’t achieved full work/life balance yet. My friendships have largely moved on-line (bless) as I don’t have time to meet with people IRL but I can always squeeze in a text and pretend we’re in the same room like normal people.
I call it Text Support. Get it?
I don’t walk as much as I like – which will change as the days grow longer and I can go out earlier – but most of all I haven’t been in the pottery studio in ages and I really miss it. At least I managed to go on a creative expedition with Junebug.
She’s a brilliant young photographer and I made a really cute time-lapse video of her taking a self portrait on a frozen waterfall.
Good lord, it was so cold, I can’t believe she didn’t get frostbite. I just stood by screaming at the dogs to stay the fuck away from the open water, and to give her some direction like turn over and point your toes, but it was hard because I could feel her slipping into hypothermia in front of my eyes. Then I had to get her dressed and warmed up as quickly as possible.
Afterwards I made breakfast for her at home.
If it seems like we spend a lot of time together, it’s because we do. It doesn’t mean I’ve fallen out with My Asian Daughter, Stitch, Bina, Sideboob, My Parasitic Twin or any of the other regulars in my life, it’s just our time.
One of the great losses of the New Year is The Cup. Loony said he thinks the owners just got tired of running the business.
I get it. It doesn’t help that rent is so friggin’ high in this town that you have to bust ass to barely get by. But poor Loony is going to have to find his new coffee equivalent of Cheers.
I remember when it was Café Allison, Itchy was an infant and I was pregnant with Scratchy.
Speaking of pregnant, I was showing Junebug pregnancy pictures (she’s interested in photographing pregnant women) and I came across these taken by George Woodman.
At the time I didn’t like them. I was focused on the darkness around my eyes, the “mask of pregnancy” on my face. I hadn’t seen these in years and now I’m like, wow. Look what I did.
I remember a friend dismissing pregnancy photos. He said, “What is it with women? Why do they all have pictures of themselves pregnant? It’s such a cliché.”
Speaking as a woman, it is a time of life, enormous yet fleeting. The question should be, why wouldn’t you want pictures of yourself pregnant? He once sent me a picture took a picture of his ass after taking a nasty spill on his motorcycle. Why? Because it was transformed into a purple eggplant, huge and deformed and it was fascinating. Who knew bodies could do that?
But I digress. Café Allison closed and the next day it was The Cup and has been a solid neighborhood anchor ever since. I don’t know what will come next … probably a bank/Apple/Google/ satellite office because only huge corporations can afford this town. It makes me sad.
I shouldn’t complain because I’m sitting on some pretty great real estate and have it good, but it upsets me that the kind of people I like can’t make it here.
Yesterday I called up an old friend out of the blue, we used to walk dogs back when I was 19, I guess I’ve always been into walking with friends. Or maybe it was something he started with me, which is an even better story. We would load our dogs into his huge old Cadillac and take them everywhere.
He moved to Durango because he just can’t afford Boulder and he’s the kind of person that made Boulder so cool. Hearing his voice, reveling in his laughter and our shared history, it made me miss the good old days. He couldn’t move back if he tried his hardest. But if there are any rich ladies out there that want a hunky trainer-chef-hairdresser-welder-carpenter-guy-who-can-pick-up-big-things-all around great guy, I have just the man for you.
So I gave up on doing holiday cards several years ago, for a lot of reasons, but that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy getting them. This year I got one from a fellow blogger who lives in Nashville. I met her on-line and we follow each other and this year she sent me real card, I couldn’t believe it.
And because she is the funniest people in the world she also had the funniest card.
Sometimes my imaginary friends turn into real ones. Sometimes my real ones become imaginary. In the end it doesn’t really matter. Connecting is connecting. Love is love.