the awesome/terrifying freedom

happy thanksgiving!

i have identity again. i was able to fill out a simple form that required no special knowledge, and the colorado department of revenue sent me a brand new driver license with my 21 year old face stamped on it. is this all identity is? a piece of plastic that i can send for at any time? i mean, i'm glad i can fly a plane again and buy a drink on the ever slimmer chance that i get will get carded, but geez louise - the idea of government issued identity cards is nothing more than a cheesecloth security blanket.

and god, look at my 21 year old face. that picture was taken seven years ago on my 21st birthday so that i would have a new id before hitting all the bars in greeley colorado and getting trashed to hell. according to a monologue in 'waking life' (which i've never fact-checked, but i like the concept so i don't care if its true or not), all the cells in your body have regenerated after seven years. so really, i'm not the same person in the picture - i'm made up of completely different stuff. i just happen to be in the same physical space.

been thinking a lot about aging and getting older and kids even. aging (at least at this point) is not what i expected when i was a teenager, when you'd turn from 16 to 17 and feel nothing different. i think that continues for the rest of your life - this weird astonishment that time has passed, but your growth and change has been so gradual that you can't feel it. i got a haircut last week and it was the strangest thing to see all the cut hair collecting in my lap and so much of it was gray. i wonder if i'll be totally silver by the time i'm 35. i wonder if it will look good. ugh. and i was thinking about kids last night - how if i have a kid at 35, which is the absolute earliest i could ever see that happening - i would be 53 by the time the kid was 18. my dad's 53 now. sheesh.

i'm addicted to 'oz.' i can't believe i didn't watch this show when it was first on. it's like the sexiest thing ever. chris meloni. mmm. the best network show on right now is 'arrested development.' last week's episode guest starred liza minelli, and you have to wonder if she's aware of the self perpetuating joke she's become - in any case, hilarious. she's on next week too.

just in time to slit my wrists and dip them in sugar: i caught some of the 'american idols christmas' concert last night. again i ask, where the fuck is nikki mckibbin??

let me say something about michael jackson.

this is from the statement posted on thesmokinggun.com:

"..the next step was when michael jackson put his tongue in my mouth. i told him i did not like that. michael jackson started crying. he said that just because most people believe something is wrong, doesn't make it so.

... michael jackson masturbated me many times both with his hand and with his mouth.

... michael jackson had me suck one nipple and twist the other nipple while michael jackson masturbated. on one occasion while michael jackson and i were in bed together michael jackson grabbed my buttock and kissed me while he put his tongue in my ear. i told him i didn't like that. michael jackson started to cry."

ick, ick, and eww. first of all, you're stupid, stupid, stupid michael. i mean, if you're gonna molest a kid take a lesson from the catholic church and do it right. money alone will not buy you that virgin ruby starfruit, michael! you need a network of co-conspirators to assist in your coverup! and after buying your way out of trouble once, do not ever, ever ever put yourself alone in a room with a child again. hello, take a lesson from the church and involve a whole group! see the priests knew that if they passed around the goods they'd all become complicit and would all work together to keep it under wraps. stop thinking about only yourself, michael! and stop crying already.

(the previous paragraph should be read with irony)

in other news, slate has a really good article on why the right really hates gay marriage. an interesting deconstruction of their argument, and how they're all so careful to -not- condemn homosexuals, but to present it as some huge threat to 'the institution of marriage.' what bullshit. john stewart revealed last night that the most outspoken opponents of gay marriage have all been divorced at least once. sanctity of marriage, hello?

i wonder if humor, and having a sense of it, is really a chemical thing. i'm feeling particularly humorless today, and lately.. i hear jokes that i know are funny, process that they are funny, but it doesn't make me laugh. what's going on? is my brain no longer releasing the 'ability to find things genuinely funny' neurotransmitter? maybe i just need more sleep.

been listening to gavin degraw. love him.

i want to talk about a terrible relationship i've been having lately. i know that when i give him the time he needs i feel so much better, and so i'll do it oh, maybe once a week. but then once i've given just enough to feel better, i totally neglect him for the rest of the week. and i'm cranky and edgy and totally knowing that it's all my fault, and even though all the opportunites are there to give him more time, i don't do it. maybe it's this job - it's just not suited to the type of relationship i want to have with him. maybe it's all a sign that i need to change my life even further. of course, when i do have ample time to devote to him, i abuse it completely - i get so much of him that it makes me lazy and sick. but whether its the job or not, i've always had an unhealthy, tumultous relationship with sleep.

a gem from triumph, the insult comic dog.. you gotta love anyone who takes time out of their day to slam philip glass:

"I Keed"

American Idols
That's who I look for
In the 'poop' section
Of my local record store
Reuben or Clay
Oh, which should I pick?
It's like choosing which puddle
Of vomit to lick
And when I want something
Even more fruity and fake
I look up 'n' for N'Sync
Or 't' for Timberlake
So many skills
Justin's making a buck at
Does he rap, does he sing?
He doesn't know what to suck at
Now, as for the bitches
Let's give Britney thanks
For the face that launched
A million pre-teen skanks
You were a virgin
That had to be hard
You've had more bones in your mouth
Than a St. Bernard

...

Now look how friggin' cool
Those guys from The Strokes are
Their riffs are three times
As old as my jokes are
Hey White Stripes guy
Is that your wife or your sister?
Shouldn't you be playing
Country music twister?
Hey Coldplay
Maybe you should be 'Coldsore'
Back when you were U2
I liked you so much more
Somehow your song 'Yellow'
Reminds me of pee
I think 'cause when it's over
It's a big relief to me
Yo, Pink -
Is that your hair or a tattoo?
I didn't know Supercuts
Had a drive-thru
Yo, Nelly
What the hell kind of name is that?
That's about as gangster
As an Easter bonnet hat
And Snoop says he's clean now?
You make the call
The guy's higher
Than Billy Joel's cholesterol
Snoop . . .
There's only room for one dog, putz
And I can rap
Can you lick your own nuts?
Poop Diddy
Are you in showbusiness still?
I didn't know wearing
A suit was a skill
J. Lo, J. Lo
The giant tail-o
For a doggy's nose
That's the holy grail-o
Shakira's butt's fine
But it won't hold still, you see
I sniffed Elton John's tush
Just for all the history
I sniffed J. Lo's ass
And got too touchy-feely
She let loose a bomb
That was bigger than 'Gigli'

I keed, I keed
(He just make a little joke)
I joke with you
(Little dog, little joke)
I keed, I keed
(Nothin' wrong witcha butt)
I even like . . . I don't like Affleck
(Nothin' wrong witcha butt)

Avril Lavigne, punk queen?
Now there's a kidder
Go back north
Celine needs a babysitter
Phillip Glass, atonal ass
You're not immune
Write a song with
A fucking tune
And on the list of pussies
Don't leave off MTV
I scare them and Eminem
So they gave the hook to me
Slim Shady
Why do you find me so scary?
We're just two regular dudes
Who banged Mariah Carey
Wipe of that frown
Just do without it
Hey, my mom was a bitch, too
But I don't go writing songs about it

i along with the rest of the world watched britney spears cry her eyes out on national television. i feel sorry for the girl. she is clearly the victim of a personality trait that makes her able to become whatever she thinks people want her to be at any given moment. unlike madonna, she doesn't seem in control of her shifting personas - they just kind of happen - at the whims of photographers and video directors and stylists. i don't get the notion that she really chooses anything.

still, if i was a breeder, i totally would.

speaking of breeding, my friend's boss is named 'hardy justice.' which got me thinking about how we should start naming our kids after phrases. like horses and such. ya know, for sociological experimentation. i'd like to name a child 'destined to fail,' or 'saddlebag thighs' or 'ugly on the inside' just to see how they'd grow up. then you can have an office pool over whether they live up to their names. it's a great way to make sure your kids turn out the way you want them to. name your daughter 'artsy fartsy' and she's certain to be a soulless but rich investment banker.

i am beginning to reassemble small iotas of identity. today my birth certificate arrived in the mail.

wow. i've actually never looked at one of these before. it has your parents age at the time of your birth. my dad was 25. twenty fucking five. quite an eye opener. if i had a kid at twenty five, well, it's pretty safe to say that kid would end up left in a taxi with my old wallet.

it's been an eternity since i had a great morning. why am i having a great morning? what makes this morning any different than any other? why am i not falling asleep on the subway? why am i suddenly devouring my book again? why am i taking the stairs instead of the escalator? why am i exhilarited by the endless walk from the subway to the office? why do i get a happy chill from seeing clouds slowly scroll behind the skyscrapers? why do i, for the first time in a long time, feel like a 'type a' personality? i can actually feel the dopamine or the serotonin or whatever releasing into my brain.. ahh..

do i exist in a normally lethargic state only so that i can enjoy these precious few moments? why do i immediately assume that this is temporary? what is the secret of those for whom this is the normal state? damn them!

finally heard clay's song and saw the video.

dear lord. 'invisible.' he says 'if i was invisible i'd do this and i'd do that blah blah. if i was invisible i'd whack off in the varsity football shower, if i was invisible i'd make out with ryan seacrest while he was sleeping, if i was invisible...'

and this is the best part of the song, he goes 'if i was invisible... wait, i already am!'

ooh, snap! the heartwrenching irony. who can stand it? see, he says 'if i was invisible i'd have all this power, but oh dear sweet cruel lord above, you -have- made me invisible, invisble to 'her,' the object of my forced affection, thus making me powerless.'

i haven't said it in awhile, so i'll say it again.

clay aiken is a homo. homo is clay. aiken is homo is clay. homohomohomohomo

dear lord above. clay aiken's album is number 1.

maryindiana tells me to check out the new issue of 'in touch' magazine for some juicy fodder on clay. will have full report later.

walt, also in indiana sent me a heart-felt apology for the behavior of black people in movie theatres. no need to apologize! i think there's much to be said for yelling at the screen. just as long as you know what you're getting into when you buy your ticket.

so i watched the jamie johnson's documentary on his rich friends 'born rich' the other day. wow. rrrgh. rich kids suck. except for jamie. he seems well adjusted and asks good questions of his rich friends. the basic conclusion of the film is that rich kids are just as normal, or just as fucked up as everyone else, just moreso, because they have unlimited resourses with which to express their normality or fuckeduppedness.

take for example cody franchetti, infuriatingly sexy heir to his family's textile billions. he says 'i'm always dealing with the struggle between intellectualism and sex. when i'm reading a book all i can think about is getting pussy. when i'm getting pussy i'm thinking about the book.' he does modeling because he's bored. he plays classical piano because he's bored. he colelcts antique telephones because he's bored. he fucks every open hole because he's bored. amazing.

i worry about money so much - i just can't imagine not having that struggle. in some ways i'm envious of jamie johnson because he has everything, knows that he'll never have to work in his life, and is desperately trying to find an avenue through which to channel his seemingly unnecessary energies. i imagine all the things i would do with that money, but then i wonder if i would ever have these aspirations if i had been born into it. poor poor rich kids.

ivanka trump also seemed suprisingly well adjusted. she's cool. i'd do'er. except for that whole vagina thing. but it'd be worth it for the moolah.

so i'm going to talk about something that has always bothered me, but i recently had another run in and it just drives me crazy. over the weekend i went to see the remastered, very slightly tinkered with, brilliant director's cut of 'alien.' in fact i went to see it twice - not by design, i just happened to be with two groups of friends on separate nights who each wanted to see it. it's one of my favorites so i didn't object.

the first viewing was in union square on halloween night. the audience was quiet, appreciative, and was wrapped up the story. i was amazed at how well it has held up, and felt it was a testament to the uselessness of computer generated monsters in our current 'thrillers.'

the second viewing was in brooklyn heights - what is commonly known as 'the black theatre.' now there are some films i love to see at the black theatre - 'there's something about mary,' any of the 'scary movie' films, 'spiderman.' but not, defintely NOT 'alien.'

'alien' executes a masterful use of suspenseful silence. long tracking shots that move through empty hallways.. it also provides plenty of down time for people to yell at the screen, take phone calls, walk in and out of the theatre, have conversations and then occasionally check back in with the film to see if the white bitch is dead yet.

now i'm torn. i knew what i was in for. i knew i was going to the black theatre. part of me just has to accept that, culturally, this is the way a film is viewed in this neighborhood. this is the norm. the viewing experience that the majority of this audience paid for is not the same as the experience i paid for. they paid for a party. i paid for a movie. for me to ask them to be quiet is viewed by them as just as much of an infringement of their enjoyment of the film as their talking is to mine. tough situation.

i never really had to deal with this overwhelming cultural difference until i moved to new york - in colorado the problem would usually be one unruly drunk, or a small, isolated group of kids. it was quite easy to do the 'turn around,' give them the evil eye, and actually have it work!

when i'm in a theatre with an annoying audience i leave feeling totally powerless. i want to see the movie - and spend the duration of the film debating whether or not it's worth missing part of the film in order to tell management, or if asking someone to be quiet will actually make it worse.

during 'alien' a woman in the front stood up and yelled to the back rows 'please be quiet! shut up!' i'm sure you can imagine the pure icy fear she sent through their spines.

'bitch don' be yellin at me! you shut up!,' 'shut yo' ass, ho!,' and 'i'ma gon' make you shut up, white bitch!'

sigourney weaver was also repeatedly referred to as 'white bitch,' 'stupid white bitch' and 'no-ass white bitch.'

i guess for the audience, sigourney weaver was a representation of ass-less white america's attempt to exterminate the large, ebony-phallused 'alien' population. see, that's what i love about 'alien.' it works on so many levels.

Now that you have been banished to the land of wind and ghosts,what must we,your legions of fans,call you?
If you really want your identity back,try NOT paying your taxes next April. Committing a violent crime will have
the same effect, but I'd go with tax evasion. The IRS will let you know exactly who you are without the messy inconvience
of prison time,just a hefty fine.
MaryIndiana

oh, it's a great idea! except, i usually get taxes back - and me wants my moolah. i'd also like to be able to get on a plane and go home for x-mas (which is probably how long it will take to replace all of my documents). documents documents. and photos. why do we rely on these things to establish identity? why isn't there a fingerprint id system at the DMV? or the social security office? do i have to kill someone and leave prints all over the weapon before existing technology is used to 'officially' id me in the easiest way possible? lame lame and lame.