Thursday, January 22, 2015 — turned my phone back on last night, first time since Sunday, I hadn’t missed any messages or texts. Got back on Twitter today, hadn’t missed any messages. Seems my disappearing is going to be even easier than I’d thought, LOL. Cue the rolling in of the green mist. Here were some notes I took during my absence — and a few added today.
Sunday, January 18, 2015 — I’ve turned off my phone. I’m rationing my on-line time. I’m not Tweeting or, even, opening Twitter. I need to re-program my brain so that I can, once again, focus hours-long on reading and writing. I’ve allowed myself to be short-circuited. Or, rather, as another step in my long and steady parade of self-destruction, I have short-circuited myself. So, in much the way I stopped with the damaging-self-negating relationships, stopped with the smoking, stopped with the drinking; I am stopping (for a while) with the techno-distractions.
However, I still get these URGES (compulsions) to drop a headline, elevator-pitch about things going on in my life. So, in lieu of the Tweet or the long-blog or the text — all of which distract not only me but at least some others who could (I must face this) probably do with less of me — I am going to keep a running list here. And publish every so often. Much better, I think.
- I have an I.Q. in the genius range. While this does not (has not) translate(ed) into financial success nor fame, it does make it unnecessary for you to speak to me as if I had suffered brain damage. You need not speak to me in that condescending tone and you need not say things over and over. The look on my face is not, “I don’t understand. Please say it again.” The look on my face is, “You’re full of ridiculous shit. Shut up.”
- When 85 people in the ENTIRE WORLD control as much wealth as 3.5 BILLION other people, can revolution be anything but inevitable? And, when the hell does it start? [CLICK HERE for story in The Guardian]
- But, my hopes for a rising up and revolution are constantly dashed by noticing things like the ridiculous number of articles concerning Justin Bieber’s penis and, too, that the opening weekend of Clint Eastwood’s right-wing-republican propaganda film had the biggest January opening in history. Why do I bother continuing to breathe?
- Dear Users of CraigsList: “Sumone” is not how you spell it. And, you mean “discreet”, not “discrete”. If you are “extramly” hung — well, does that have something to do with a British bus? “VGL / IN-SHAPE / AVAIL” is Brad Pitt or Channing Tatum, not a reasonably-unrepulsive, sucking-in-his-gut, slightly-balding, still married YOU. You are either lying or delusional or a little of both, which, I think, should have its own label. I’ll think on that.
- I can’t help but think the world would be a much better place if people paid as much attention to what came out of their mouths as to what went in them.
- I saw this still from the I Am Michael film premiering at Sundance. Zachary Quinto, Charlie Carver, and James Franco, sex scene. It’s just this sort of thing that reminds me just how lonely and alone I am. STOP IT.
- I walked into my favorite book store today, The Curious Iguana [CLICK HERE] and there on the front table a book from one of my very favorite authors and TwitLit pals, Elizabeth McCracken. Little joys. While there I bought a new book Ms. McCracken had said she couldn’t wait to read, Unbecoming, A Novel by Rebecca Scherm, which is also an Indie Next List pick [CLICK HERE].
- Say what you will about AMERICAN HORROR STORY: FREAK SHOW, but I loved it. Was it my favorite season? No. Did I make sure I was home every Wednesday night at 10pm in front of a TV and did I marvel at what went on? Yes. Any show that brings such amazing acting talent to us, week after week, with some truly remarkable performances — a show of ideas, some that work, some that don’t – I am grateful for it. I spent MANY years writing shows on demand for particular groups of people and I tried, always, to bring big ideas into the scripts. I tried, always, to make the scripts relevant to the lives we were leading. Some of those scripts failed because the message was too strident, or, sometimes, too obscured, or, sometimes, too unformed. Sometimes, some people got it. Always, we all learned SOMETHING about something — even if the something was how NOT to do something. I love this ensemble, create a world and story arc each season, use a company of great actor-friends energy of AHS and I am grateful to Ryan Murphy for the effort. And for Finn Wittrock in his underwear.
And Evan Peters. Just, yes, Evan Peters in anything.
And Jessica Lange. Her final scenes last night were genius. I was a sobbing fool. And all the ALL THAT JAZZ tie-ins. First Dandy said, “It’s showtime.” And then, Elsa’s roll to the afterlife was a direct homage to Fosse’s death in ALL THAT JAZZ. It was that film that sort of revitalized her career. She came back from Kong with Jazz. So, how gorgeous.
And that Elsa’s death — after a life of such terror and trauma and terrible behavior in order to survive. And the hope – the possibility of forgiveness and redemption and eternity? After her planned suicide? When she asked, “Mustn’t I be punished for my sins?” OH MY HEAVENS. I just — when Kathy Bates then embraced her, oh YES. Yes. I wish I believed in forgiveness and redemption and eternity — alas, I do not. I do, however, believe in suicide. If I could get Wes Bentley to do me in, I’d be out of here. Anyway, I will miss AHS, and I hope Ms. Lange returns in the fall.
So, somebody, cue the green mist and Bentley. I’m waiting. Later friends. Back to the void.