30 November 2012

4 pure mourning

"the eighth stage of grief is going back and apologizing to all of the people you offended while you were grieving."

steven said that a few weeks ago. in between discussions of how successful he would be as a drag queen and the unexpected, awful death of his 19-year-old cousin/brother/friend the day before.

i find this hilarifying and true. and laugh. and then cry. and then laugh again.

at the time, lindear was having a bad week. it was very up and down. i sent her a short story as told through emoticons because, really, what else can you do?

everything, everywhere, right now, for so many of us, feels very up and down.

entirely too many people i know are grieving. there has been too much death. it is unacceptable. i do not approve. i am not resigned. 

the other evening, on the train after our semi-monthly dinner, my chicago godmother asked, "what is that on your wrist?"

and i told her.

i told her that when we were just friends, before we dated, when it came time for a term break or a long weekend when we would be apart, donovan would take a marker and he would write on my hand or my arm or my foot. always the same thing. always: "donovan was here."

and so, every morning now, for however long it needs to happen, i take a marker and i write on my wrist "donovan was here."

as a reminder. that this happened. that it is real. the hole that's there.

that donovan was here.

0 burvil would kill me if she knew i was letting this image out of the family

her best soundbites from thanksgiving:
(1) "i'd rather be whipped than eat an oreo."
(2) "i'd rather just not eat than sit at a crowded table."
i love this woman with all of my heart. 

29 November 2012

2 so, let's be real.

to do:
(1) ride an elephant.
(2) ride a camel.
(3) ride a mule.

i'm moving to london, ya'll.

(so far from all of those animals!!!!)

presumably the three of you who read this blog know that by now.

still, i had no intention of blogging about it until it happened. until i was there.

i'm not yet there. but i am moving to london.

it seems important to say that now. here. i don't know why.

i've known i was moving to london since august. since the day the katies and i were in memphis and stood in the longest line we'll, hopefully, ever be a part of. (hence the frolicks.)

donovan and i had this inside joke that i don't even really remember beyond the fact that the punchline of it was the phrase "coming true."

it was something about honesty and belief and dreams and love. (inside jokes are so lonely when the people you share them with are no longer here.)

coming true. like a fairy tale.

you know me. you know how i doubt. you know how i can bear everything but disappointment and disappointing other people.

i've known about london since august. since this past monday around 5:47 p.m., i've believed london might actually come true.

note the "might."

and the fact that i only ever refer to the entire enterprise as "london."

to vocalize specifics at this point would be entirely too much commitment. i am not ready to commit. i am not ready to have my heart broken.

though i am, apparently, all too willing to break my own heart.

so this is why the vieve has moved to memphis (OUCH, MINE HEART) and why my apartment is up for sublet. it's why i've not really written anything much of substance in the last two months. because i've been writing blogs about moving to london that were meant to be posted once i had.

i am moving to london. but i have not yet.

and, because i am gary's daughter, because i have been raised always with a worst-case-scenario in mind, there's still this tiny piece of me that worries i may not make it, may not get there. that everything will fall apart and i will have to pack it up and move back to memphis, jackiebook unwritten, an utter failure, all the time and money i've put into my relationship wtih this dead woman a total waste. this story i have coming to nothing.

i worry about that despite the fact that "london" has fallen together near perfectly. despite the fact that i know i must go. even though i am moving to a city i do not love. even though i love chicago with all of my heart.

i love jackie more. i have loved jackie longer. always, jackie wins.

donovan complained about this when he was breaking up with me. when we sat in the hi-tone, me wearing that stupid air hockey champion t-shirt, us waiting for fucking rogue wave to take the stage. six months later, he apologized in chicago. because, he said, i had done something incredible. i had written the story of a life. a book.

i hadn't.

i've still not written that story.

but i'ma gonna.

in LONDON. or greece. or paris. or wherever.

a brief reminder...

here's how you fly on a trapeze:

you climb a freakishly skinny ladder.
you get buckled into a harness.
you stand at the edge of a platform.
you grip a bar with your two hands.
you bend your two knees.
you take one hop into nothingness.
you swing through the air.
you put your knees back over the bar.
you let go.

27 November 2012

0 PS90210: “so you’re homeless, huh?”

Are you all stuffed from turkey… still? well, there’s nothing more american than gluttony so get ready cause you’re gonna get a second helping because it’s totally still thanksgiving in 90210land! woo!
today, we will be solving the following problems: what to do when a homeless person crashes thanksgiving, what to do when the cable goes out, why it’s maybe not a great idea to bust your jailbird dad out for the holidays, and why it’s maybe best not to notify your mother on national tv that you got kicked out of school. Continue reading 

0 nervous laughter

you should read THIS.
and THIS.
totally wonderful in entirely different ways.

3 that one time we went to reelfoot lake

so, this one time- presumably my dad's birthday because he is opening lots 'o gifts- we went to reelfoot lake. which is of some geological renown as it's the lake that was created by the total collapse of earth that occurred during the last massive earthquake along the new madrid fault. 

things you should know about reelfoot lake? it's purty. 

things you should know about my family at reelfoot lake? two words: joe's jumpsuit. 

he had two. one was red. the other was orange. both of them made him look like a prison worker which is why they were AWESOME. 

19 November 2012

0 PS90210: “there’s only tonight, baby. tomorrow it’s adios la-la land.”/ “well, money can’t buy you everything, now can it?”

Dear class, 90210 and i are set in america and we’ve a little thing called thanksgiving coming up this thursday. since we’re very nearly on the exact same airing schedule as the 90210 of 1992 (give it up for historical accuracy!), we’ve a thanksgiving episode in our future for next monday, but as a pre-turkey hurrah, i’d like to indulge in a little list of things i am thankful for:

1. season three is the start of seasons with closed captioning capabilities. omg, you guys. TIME HAS BEEN SAVED. this is epic. in terms of the ease with which i can produce the content you see here, this is like switching from a twelve piece orchestra to an ipod.

2. david silver’s lyrical genius. example: “my lyrics furl along the sides of what’s to make a positivity.” i mean, for realz, RIGHT? dude is a kanye.

3. DIESEL STONE and the waste management, because… well, yeah, have you ever heard of a better 90s band name than that?

4. we have reached the almost end of patchworkpants!!!

we’ve much to be thankful for. oh but wait for it…

this is the week of “WILD HORSES”!!! do you know “wild horses”? knowing absolutely nothing of the popularity of individual 90210 episodes among the general fanatical electorate, i will blindly declare “wild horses” a fan favorite. for reasons that will become obvious.

so today, as per ushe, we’re solving several problems. how do you solve a mystery when all your leads dry up? what do you do when you’ve broken into the school’s computer system and are about to be caught? what do you do when your BFF betrays you? what do you do when the person you’ve betrayed your BFF for, totally disappears? what do you do when all the women around you are driving you crazy and you’ve run away only to wind up falling in love with a mysterious older equestrienne? and, OH.MY.GOD, what do you do when your girlfriend dumps you for DIESEL STONE?

ya’ll ready for this? {continue reading}

0 the english garden of 1989

we- and i use that term loosely, as it appears all i did was pull these perennials out, touch the dirt and pose for photographs- worked on it all summer. a mountain of pea gravel was imported. timbers were bought. there was a "master sketch."

i find two things striking here. 
1. debo and i have the exact same posture. 

2. arthur seems to have known this was folly, that we would move to atlanta in three months. 

16 November 2012

2 the epic eaton family camping trip of 1988

what you need to know: 

*burvil kept buying a loaf of bread, leaving it in the van, going to the grocery, buying a loaf of bread, leaving it in the van, going to the grocery... when we got to the camp ground, we had eight loaves of bread.

*photographic proof: we really did ride around in joe's van sitting on plastic lawn chairs in the back.

*in the middle of the night joe's air mattress sprung a leak. the entire rest of the night, he and burvil argued back and forth about her sleeping on the leaky mattress, him not wanting her to, him not being able to sleep on the leaky mattress, her volunteering to sleep on it instead, him not wanting her to. 

*yes, my sleeping bag was herself the elf

15 November 2012

1 the best

my parents and i skped the other night and my dad got waxing all nostalgic for how wonderful their trip was when they came up here a few weeks back. 

he is genuinely confused by the responses of his friends: i try to explain, but they don't get it. that i lost my phone, walked home in the rain, carried a bookshelf down four flights, had a car wreck, got a parking ticket, slept on a blow-up bed and caught the flu, but it was THE BEST trip we've ever had.' 

14 November 2012

0 an open letter to lindsay lohan regarding the upcoming trainwreck that is the lifetime movie “liz and dick,” and which is very nearly upon us

this is a major excitingment. Continue reading 

0 i have resisted lincoln. this review might make me give in.

"At its heart, Lincoln! is a wonky political procedural about the mad scramble to pass the 13th Amendment [...] It's basically one of those episodes of the West Wing where Josh and Leo and Toby are running around dropping tasty bon mots in secret meetings with congressmen trying to scrounge up votes for the gun bill or whatever—except everyone is wearing a bonnet and talking about 'negroes' like it's totally normal."

"99% of Abraham Lincoln's waking hours were spent walking slowly in silhouette while someone played a bugle." 

"Seriously, I know she had a rough go of it and this is just one movie's interpretation, but every time she started shrieking and melting I wanted to give her a hysteria-bonk and be all, "Quiet, woman! The men are trying to do history!" So thanks for turning me into a sexist nightmare-person, Mary-T."

"And sure, at one point, Lincoln's magical Tupac hologram (Picture Me Shawlin'!) appears inside a majestic candle flame and gives a speech about liberty from beyond the grave..." 

13 November 2012

4 a few thoughts on boston market

on election night, sensei, the dane and i went to boston market. half out of convenience, half in homage to our comrades croftie and dougo, recent boston transplants whom sensei subsequently referred to as crofto and dougie the entire night. 

why we opted to homage them with cheap take-out comfort food, i'm not entirely sure, beyond the fact that our love for them runs that deep. to a strata where macaroni and cheese equates to a vegetable. 

anyway, being at boston market- where the dane and i approached the counter with a trepedation i've not felt since partner and i went to subway in london and found ourselves completely overwhelmed by the language barrier presented by all those british accents- i was reminded of the only other time i was at boston market. the day i first moved to chicago the first time, back in september 2003. 

the night before we left memphis, my grandparents and my mother gathered together, whispering about the dangers of my city life. burvil, making eye contact with me though addressing my mother, said, sighing with relief, "AT LEAST she won't be on the south side, praise god."

i faked a smile, not wanting to alarm her, knowing the south side was exactly where i was going to be. 

we got off the dan ryan at 71st street. i lived at 51st. 

why did we do this? i do not know. but, as result, our introduction to my new life in chicago was hard-core south side. 

what i remember is the tremendous silence that prevailed as we passed abandoned buildings and abandoned storefronts and abandoned cars. a silence that was somehow as loaded as a flat note held on a violin. 
and also the collective sigh as we arrived the haven that was hyde park. 

and then our shock upon seeing that someone in a neighboring apartment on my block had been evicted and all of their worldly belongings were being thrown out the window into a pile in the middle of the street. 

it was an emotional roller coaster. coming to chicago. for reasons that had nothing to do with the fact that we didn't know if i would be there for one year or twenty. it was an emotional roller coaster because it seemed so foreign, so strange, so unnecessarily harsh. 

in light of this, my parents took me to boston market. because we are southern and our first line of emotional defense is food. 

despite the fact that i'd survived four years of college, my parents were suddenly stricken with great fear that i would starve in chicago. boston market was meant to diffuse this fear. 

they said, "you can come here! it's cheap! the food is warm! it's delicious!"

and i remember with what enormous relief i listened to this litany on the wonders of boston market. because it seemed so safe after everything we'd seen that morning. so solidly there. i would come here often, i knew. 

i thought this, i drew great comfort from the idea and then i never went back to boston market again. 

0 PS90210: “sometimes when you care about someone, honesty isn’t necessarily the best policy.”

Ok, where were we? oh yeah.
you’re looking at that thinking same old west beverly but BOOM! our world is over, ya’ll. everything is wrong. somebody tried to break into the school system! some of the grades were wiped out! brenda+dylan = not forev!
and now [OMINOUS DRUMS] brenda is about to start dating reeeeeeeeek. {continue reading}

12 November 2012

0 hmmmm

you guys, it's like he heard me. who? my boyfriend adrien brody, of course. at this point, i've no doubt he's reading my. that is why he got all snazzed up, went to a film festival in rome where he got all kissy with his girlfriend and made this douchtastic hand-sign.

09 November 2012

0 memories via joe

in 1990, while we were in atlanta, my family went into the breeding business. this was weird. we know that. it's come up before

but the upshot of that was that for the christmas of 1990, when everyone came to atlanta, there was always someone missing, always someone had snuck off to play with the puppies. 

nine collie puppies. plus their mom and dad. 

for weeks, my dad had panic dreams that they wouldn't sell and we'd wind up with eleven dogs. and then they all sold and they were gone and their having ever been there felt like a dream. 

joe is still scanning his slides and sending us a batch every week or so. today, the puppy pics made the rounds. and, as one, we all responded the same: gosh those puppies were cute and dang we were young.