In case you missed it, Evil Incarnate died earlier this week.
Even the British media is touting American jingoistic propaganda. I cringe to think how heinous the coverage must be in the Fatherland. For an antidote, learn the truth about Ronald Reagan.
Thursday, June 10, 2004
Wednesday, June 09, 2004
Boy
I stared at the boy for a long time. He finally noticed me and whispered to his friends. They looked at me too. They all smiled, and I couldn't tell if their smiles were self-satisfied sneers or genuinely curious grins.
They knew what I wanted. I didn't approach them. I was too scared.
For all my talk about how much easier it is over here, how much friendlier everyone is—it's still hard. It's still very, very hard.
The doc provided me with the analogy to a classroom. Some children thrive in experimental classrooms where everything is hands-on, whereas others thrive in stricter classrooms where memorization is key. Either way, they still have the same issues they need to work through.
And I still have a lot to learn—clearly.
They knew what I wanted. I didn't approach them. I was too scared.
For all my talk about how much easier it is over here, how much friendlier everyone is—it's still hard. It's still very, very hard.
The doc provided me with the analogy to a classroom. Some children thrive in experimental classrooms where everything is hands-on, whereas others thrive in stricter classrooms where memorization is key. Either way, they still have the same issues they need to work through.
And I still have a lot to learn—clearly.
Happy Endings
Ever since I decided I would move to Scotland, I've been looking forward to writing to all my friends back home to tell them how fucking fabulous it is. I'll be sending that email within the next few days to tell them how beautiful it is here, how wonderful, how cultured, how this was the best decision for me, and so on.
I could have written a rough draft before I even arrived, and every word would have been true.
But
I still don't have a place to live. It's forcing me to ask a lot of questions about myself that I don't want to ask. For example, most flats are either for "professionals" or "students." There are lifestyle considerations, to be sure, but also tax reasons. Professionals pay council tax; students don't. So while, I think my lifestyle is more like a student's (and God knows, I don't want to grow up), most students don't want me to live with them because then their flats would be taxed. And all the professionals like to talk about how they enjoy "quiet weeknights inside."
And I don't have a job. I look at the classifieds and they just make we want to cry. I don't want to work in a call center. Or manage things. Or have clients. Or any other of a long list of buzzwords that mean nothing.
All that said, I feel I belong here more than anywhere else on the planet. I love this city. And it's so easy to forget how toxic American culture is.
Annabel and I have been talking about how Americans like to view their history in movements. Civil rights, for example, was a struggle, one that creates heroes and ideologies. The same changes occured in Europe around the same time but without the fanfare. It's a foreign concept to the American state of mind, but maybe social change just happens, with or without our interference. George Bush's policies simply aren't sound. They aren't sustainable, so they too will wither away eventually too—and from that perspective, the election really doesn't matter does it?
Even if the worst case scenario came to pass and environmental destruction wiped out half the planet's population in fifty years—so what? Half the population would survive and continue doing things, building civilizations, and so on.
To an American mindset, that thought sounds like shameful apathy; to mine, it sounds like blissful reassurance.
I could have written a rough draft before I even arrived, and every word would have been true.
But
I still don't have a place to live. It's forcing me to ask a lot of questions about myself that I don't want to ask. For example, most flats are either for "professionals" or "students." There are lifestyle considerations, to be sure, but also tax reasons. Professionals pay council tax; students don't. So while, I think my lifestyle is more like a student's (and God knows, I don't want to grow up), most students don't want me to live with them because then their flats would be taxed. And all the professionals like to talk about how they enjoy "quiet weeknights inside."
And I don't have a job. I look at the classifieds and they just make we want to cry. I don't want to work in a call center. Or manage things. Or have clients. Or any other of a long list of buzzwords that mean nothing.
All that said, I feel I belong here more than anywhere else on the planet. I love this city. And it's so easy to forget how toxic American culture is.
Annabel and I have been talking about how Americans like to view their history in movements. Civil rights, for example, was a struggle, one that creates heroes and ideologies. The same changes occured in Europe around the same time but without the fanfare. It's a foreign concept to the American state of mind, but maybe social change just happens, with or without our interference. George Bush's policies simply aren't sound. They aren't sustainable, so they too will wither away eventually too—and from that perspective, the election really doesn't matter does it?
Even if the worst case scenario came to pass and environmental destruction wiped out half the planet's population in fifty years—so what? Half the population would survive and continue doing things, building civilizations, and so on.
To an American mindset, that thought sounds like shameful apathy; to mine, it sounds like blissful reassurance.
Go Here
This boy was cool enough to link to my site, so you should visit his too.
http://www.thatqueergeorgiaboy.com/
http://www.thatqueergeorgiaboy.com/
Saturday, June 05, 2004
Drunken Blogging
Thank you for reading (Vivian). This is my first drunk blog since arrival.
I adore this city. I adore this city. I adore this city.
I had forgotten what a thrill it was to miss night entirely. I enter a club just as the sun sets around eleven p.m. only to see it rise again when all is said and done at three. The sensation is indescribable.
Also, everything I thought I would miss turns out to be better over here. For example, I knew I would miss Trader Joe's if only for its Fresh-Pak Stir Fry Vegetables. Not only does Tesco have stir-fry veggies but it has a variety of at least six different kinds. Also, I thought would miss peanut butter, that staple of the American diet. Not only has Tesco started stocking peanut butter in the last two years since I've been here, but it's the best I've ever tasted (even the wheat bread is fantastic).
And the boys. I went to Evol at The Liquid Rooms tonight. (Curse you, Tim, for never telling me just how fucking hip it is!!) And where else in the world is Outkast mixed with Madonna mixed with The Strokes mixed with Morrisey mixed with Belle & Sebastian. Indie kids are hipper here than anywhere else in the world—if more confusing.
For example, I found the coolest boys in the world tonight. The had this whole shushing and pointing thing going on; that was their dance: they would hold a finger to their lips and point at whoever they chose. So I had enough to drink to join in. The music was too loud to talk, but they were willing to play. And the cute blond boy danced with the cute brown-haired boy, and then he ran his hands down his back to his butt. Then, later in the evening, the blond boy made out with a girl. I don't understand. Are indie kids so hip and nonchalant that they enjoy feeling up their friend even though their both straight? Or do gay boys just make out with girls here? Or are they bi (even though bi boys are actually a myth in America)?
Any insight would be greatly appreciated.
Most significantly, however, is simply the fact that I lost a flat. Not just a flat, really, but the flat. Basically, it was a beautiful, spacious room with leather furniture and bay windows. And dead center of the bay windows was the most stunning view of the castle I've ever seen. (Heaven says what?) Unfortunately—and I will talk about this flat and curse this man until the day I die—the landlord won't let to non-student so as to avoid the council tax. UGH. Nonetheless, I've seen some other flats, and they look promsing. I'll keep you posted.
Until then, know that Edinburgh can do no wrong.
Cheers.
I adore this city. I adore this city. I adore this city.
I had forgotten what a thrill it was to miss night entirely. I enter a club just as the sun sets around eleven p.m. only to see it rise again when all is said and done at three. The sensation is indescribable.
Also, everything I thought I would miss turns out to be better over here. For example, I knew I would miss Trader Joe's if only for its Fresh-Pak Stir Fry Vegetables. Not only does Tesco have stir-fry veggies but it has a variety of at least six different kinds. Also, I thought would miss peanut butter, that staple of the American diet. Not only has Tesco started stocking peanut butter in the last two years since I've been here, but it's the best I've ever tasted (even the wheat bread is fantastic).
And the boys. I went to Evol at The Liquid Rooms tonight. (Curse you, Tim, for never telling me just how fucking hip it is!!) And where else in the world is Outkast mixed with Madonna mixed with The Strokes mixed with Morrisey mixed with Belle & Sebastian. Indie kids are hipper here than anywhere else in the world—if more confusing.
For example, I found the coolest boys in the world tonight. The had this whole shushing and pointing thing going on; that was their dance: they would hold a finger to their lips and point at whoever they chose. So I had enough to drink to join in. The music was too loud to talk, but they were willing to play. And the cute blond boy danced with the cute brown-haired boy, and then he ran his hands down his back to his butt. Then, later in the evening, the blond boy made out with a girl. I don't understand. Are indie kids so hip and nonchalant that they enjoy feeling up their friend even though their both straight? Or do gay boys just make out with girls here? Or are they bi (even though bi boys are actually a myth in America)?
Any insight would be greatly appreciated.
Most significantly, however, is simply the fact that I lost a flat. Not just a flat, really, but the flat. Basically, it was a beautiful, spacious room with leather furniture and bay windows. And dead center of the bay windows was the most stunning view of the castle I've ever seen. (Heaven says what?) Unfortunately—and I will talk about this flat and curse this man until the day I die—the landlord won't let to non-student so as to avoid the council tax. UGH. Nonetheless, I've seen some other flats, and they look promsing. I'll keep you posted.
Until then, know that Edinburgh can do no wrong.
Cheers.
Wednesday, June 02, 2004
Here
I had forgotten how stunning this city is. Of course I remembered its landmarks—the Scott Monument, the Castle, Carlton Hill—but I had forgotten that the streets themselves are beautiful: the stone apartments, the cobblestone streets, the nestled churches.
I am at a loss for words to describe this city. I nearly cried when I saw the castle today. My heart soars here.
My view is slightly skewed in that I'm staying with Annabel in her gorgeous Victorian flat with twenty-foot-high moulded ceilings and hardwood floors (and rent so low it makes me choke). And its a five minute walk to the supermarket or to a pub (or ten or twenty) or a club or a cute, hip, gay cafe. Or a bookstore or a fresh fish shop or newsstand. And all these walks are beautiful.
And I'm going to live in this area, so in less than a week, my flat will be a five minute walk from all those places. I stand by what I said before leaving: Edinburgh is a lot like Heaven.
For my devoted fans who actually read this thing: I'm sorry I haven't sent you an email yet. I don't have anything to report yet, but I'll write soon.
I am at a loss for words to describe this city. I nearly cried when I saw the castle today. My heart soars here.
My view is slightly skewed in that I'm staying with Annabel in her gorgeous Victorian flat with twenty-foot-high moulded ceilings and hardwood floors (and rent so low it makes me choke). And its a five minute walk to the supermarket or to a pub (or ten or twenty) or a club or a cute, hip, gay cafe. Or a bookstore or a fresh fish shop or newsstand. And all these walks are beautiful.
And I'm going to live in this area, so in less than a week, my flat will be a five minute walk from all those places. I stand by what I said before leaving: Edinburgh is a lot like Heaven.
For my devoted fans who actually read this thing: I'm sorry I haven't sent you an email yet. I don't have anything to report yet, but I'll write soon.
Monday, May 17, 2004
Gratitude
We spent the day in Oakland, so my father could meet a like-minded satellite fanatic and "pick his brains." Within five minutes of meeting this man, he informed us that he was unemployed and his wife had left him last week.
Lesson Number One, Dad: Ninety percent of the boys you meet over the internet are losers.
Nonetheless, my father spent eight hours (count them!) at this man's house flipping through channels—not watching any but just seeing what he's got.
So my mother and I ran errands and made due. We bought printer cartridges and phone cards and shoes and books and cough drops.
It was irritating but fine. I think what got me, though, was what he said as climbed into my car:
"Thank you for your patience waiting for me today. I don't ask for much."
Gracious?—no, not really.
Lesson Number One, Dad: Ninety percent of the boys you meet over the internet are losers.
Nonetheless, my father spent eight hours (count them!) at this man's house flipping through channels—not watching any but just seeing what he's got.
So my mother and I ran errands and made due. We bought printer cartridges and phone cards and shoes and books and cough drops.
It was irritating but fine. I think what got me, though, was what he said as climbed into my car:
"Thank you for your patience waiting for me today. I don't ask for much."
Gracious?—no, not really.
Africa
I saw Oriana last night, and she reminded me that at the end of high school, we had both been convinced that the other would be the only person in the world with whom we could have a functional relationship for the rest of our lives.
We both chuckled at the thought and wondered why we had moved on since then.
The simple answer: we both now entertain romantic delusions of having a functional relationship with someone we love—but if the last four years are any indication, we are so, so deluded.
So once we've finally come to the realization that true love is flawed (something we seemed to know in high school but apparently have forgotten), we will raise children in Africa away from socialization of all kinds.
The only fairy tales allowed in our home will be the original Grimm ones.
We both chuckled at the thought and wondered why we had moved on since then.
The simple answer: we both now entertain romantic delusions of having a functional relationship with someone we love—but if the last four years are any indication, we are so, so deluded.
So once we've finally come to the realization that true love is flawed (something we seemed to know in high school but apparently have forgotten), we will raise children in Africa away from socialization of all kinds.
The only fairy tales allowed in our home will be the original Grimm ones.
Sunday, May 16, 2004
Boys
My cousin Travis and his boyfriend Kent are easy fodder for envy. They are both tall and stunning and stylish. They have been ripped straight from the pages of Abercrombie & Fitch ads, except they wear nicer clothes: Polo, Banana Republic, etc. They are exactly the type of boys who would typically ignore me in L.A., so there is something utterly surreal about having Travis hang on to my every word. Now, they are both high-powered corporate lawyers who will soon be living the good life in their midtown Manhattan loft.
So right now, I wonder whether I should be grateful that my father has British citizenship so I can leave behind this skewed American dream, or whether I should curse my mother for squandering her genes and marrying such an evolutionarily unsavory character.
I wonder if Travis can introduce me to his friends...
So right now, I wonder whether I should be grateful that my father has British citizenship so I can leave behind this skewed American dream, or whether I should curse my mother for squandering her genes and marrying such an evolutionarily unsavory character.
I wonder if Travis can introduce me to his friends...
Saturday, May 15, 2004
Demotion
I demoted my 10 to an 8 last night.
That might not sound too profound, because 8 is still pretty fucking high. And since all my crushes are pathological, does it really matter how much their intensity fluctuates? (Eight is still very pathological.)
It matters to me if only because it was accompanied by a realization: I've always said that I loved him because he laughed at all my corny jokes—and hard. But I realized, as thrilled as I am to have such a receptive audience, someone who made me laugh that hard would be even better.
Still, I'm glad to be creating a vast distance between us and surrounding myself with beautiful accents that will hopefully keep me adequately distracted.
That might not sound too profound, because 8 is still pretty fucking high. And since all my crushes are pathological, does it really matter how much their intensity fluctuates? (Eight is still very pathological.)
It matters to me if only because it was accompanied by a realization: I've always said that I loved him because he laughed at all my corny jokes—and hard. But I realized, as thrilled as I am to have such a receptive audience, someone who made me laugh that hard would be even better.
Still, I'm glad to be creating a vast distance between us and surrounding myself with beautiful accents that will hopefully keep me adequately distracted.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
Self-Loving
The most fabulous thing about being gay is that I get to tell stories like the following:
So, the five of us ended up at this apartment, and the host was like, 'I'm going to take a shower, anyone want to join me?' So I asked, point-blank, all the other boys in the room, what their sexual orientation was. Spandex shorts and vocal inflections notwithstanding, they all claimed to be straight. I turned to the host, 'So the only person who would realistically consider taking you up on your offer would be me?' He just shrugged. So we took a shower together.
It's true and fabulous and expected. I'm gay, so I am just walking controversy. I live for the envy elicited in straight men's eyes when I tell one of my sordid stories. If only it happened more often.
So, the five of us ended up at this apartment, and the host was like, 'I'm going to take a shower, anyone want to join me?' So I asked, point-blank, all the other boys in the room, what their sexual orientation was. Spandex shorts and vocal inflections notwithstanding, they all claimed to be straight. I turned to the host, 'So the only person who would realistically consider taking you up on your offer would be me?' He just shrugged. So we took a shower together.
It's true and fabulous and expected. I'm gay, so I am just walking controversy. I live for the envy elicited in straight men's eyes when I tell one of my sordid stories. If only it happened more often.
Burning Bridges
Even though I'm not getting rid of my books per se and I'm loaning them to friends I trust on a long term basis, just seeing them all in that box is enough to make me cry.
The pictures are my only consolation.
The pictures are my only consolation.
Sunday, May 09, 2004
In less than a month
I will be living here
And here
And I will ride trains all day long, leaving from Waverly Station
And buy five pound CDs on this street with all the goth kids
And take boys on to the top of this hill to see the view and snog
And wander, since freedom to wander is written into their law
And wonder why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else
And here
And I will ride trains all day long, leaving from Waverly Station
And buy five pound CDs on this street with all the goth kids
And take boys on to the top of this hill to see the view and snog
And wander, since freedom to wander is written into their law
And wonder why anyone would ever want to live anywhere else
Girlfriends
I don't know how I ended up with a girlfriend—make that two girlfriends—but I don't like it. I don't know how you straight boys deal with it. The sex better be something amazing.
Saturday, May 08, 2004
Here's the good news:
You think that I don't know you read this. I write this message for you, precisely to horrify you. My intention is to burn bridges. See, here's the thing: if you ever were posessed to sleep with me, I would cancel my flight. I would postpone Scotland to stay here in L.A. to woo you over, because I think you're beautiful and amazing.
It is precisely for that reason that I deliberately come across as needy and frantic (and I probably am, but that's not the point). So long as you won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, I must go to Scotland. And deep, deep down, I know that is probably best.
(And lest you gloat in your superiority, know this: my short list includes no less than five boys. Nonetheless, you are five out of a million.)
It is precisely for that reason that I deliberately come across as needy and frantic (and I probably am, but that's not the point). So long as you won't touch me with a ten-foot pole, I must go to Scotland. And deep, deep down, I know that is probably best.
(And lest you gloat in your superiority, know this: my short list includes no less than five boys. Nonetheless, you are five out of a million.)
Hello
This is the gay hook-up service. This is your last call. You should not expect to receive any more drunk dials after this one; however, this is not a drunk dial. This is an automated message to let you know that there is a gay boy in your vicinity who is interested in hooking up with you at the present moment. If you are interested in hooking up with said person (irrespective of who they might be), please press one now. For all other options, please press two.
Friday, May 07, 2004
The 674th Thing To Keep Me Up At Night
My suspicions have been confirmed by other Americans who have spent time in the UK: the British don't date. Instead, they pull, they snog, they slide into each other and hook up.
Is this a positive atmosphere for someone already riddled with self-esteem complexes? I can't seal a deal here: can I expect to there? Or will it be easier there, since that's what people do?
My ability to connect with people (emotionally, intellectually, spiritually) has always been my most fragile. Should I then cast myself into a culture where—from an American standpoint—I should expect to be used?
Granted I haven't been even remotely successful dating in this country, but at least I know the rules, I know how things works, and I'm learning to read the signs. And I won't break some social taboo by asking someone on a date.
Or is this precisely the culture I should embrace, because only there will I learn the (tired, old, boring, easy) lesson that I will only connect once I learn to connect with myself?
Life's hardest lessons are always such clichés.
Is this a positive atmosphere for someone already riddled with self-esteem complexes? I can't seal a deal here: can I expect to there? Or will it be easier there, since that's what people do?
My ability to connect with people (emotionally, intellectually, spiritually) has always been my most fragile. Should I then cast myself into a culture where—from an American standpoint—I should expect to be used?
Granted I haven't been even remotely successful dating in this country, but at least I know the rules, I know how things works, and I'm learning to read the signs. And I won't break some social taboo by asking someone on a date.
Or is this precisely the culture I should embrace, because only there will I learn the (tired, old, boring, easy) lesson that I will only connect once I learn to connect with myself?
Life's hardest lessons are always such clichés.
Thursday, May 06, 2004
So here's my question:
If moving to Scotland is so exciting as all my other graduating friends tell me it is, why aren't they doing likewise?
We are all in essentially the same boat: poor economy, lousy job market, meaningless liberal arts degree, and time to kill—so why are they all settling in Los Angeles with heavy sighs of resignation?
This feels, so truly, to be the more exciting thing to do, so that must mean one thing: I'm missing something. Everyone else did the same cost-benefit analysis I did, so why is mine heavier on the other side? What am I missing?
Someone please tell me before I give out my three hundred-plus books, because once I realize what an awful mistake I've made, I'll miss them. I really will.
We are all in essentially the same boat: poor economy, lousy job market, meaningless liberal arts degree, and time to kill—so why are they all settling in Los Angeles with heavy sighs of resignation?
This feels, so truly, to be the more exciting thing to do, so that must mean one thing: I'm missing something. Everyone else did the same cost-benefit analysis I did, so why is mine heavier on the other side? What am I missing?
Someone please tell me before I give out my three hundred-plus books, because once I realize what an awful mistake I've made, I'll miss them. I really will.
Wednesday, May 05, 2004
Senior Autobiography Profile
Completed Major: Creative Writing
Hobbies, avocations, obsessions: writing, reading, alcohol, coffee, iced tea, three-ingredient cooking, postmodernism, restaurants, publishing, theater, Europe, Joseph Mazello (no, not really—okay, yes), a certain someone else who shall remain nameless, communication
Favorite Books: Giovanni's Room, Running With Scissors, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Naked, One Hundred Years of Solitude, White Noise, Them
Favorite Movies: Elephant, L.I.E., Northfork, The Cure, Capturing the Friedmans, Peter Pan, As Good As It Gets, Fargo, Parenthood
Favorite Singers/Groups: Belle & Sebastian, the Shins, The Hidden Cameras, Radiohead, Guster
Most Exciting Thing I've Ever Done: Approached the most beautiful boy in the world
My Hero: David Sedaris and Peter Pan
My Secret Desire: money. Deep down inside, I want to be orgiastically rich.
People don't this about me, but: I'm extremely sexually inexperienced and come from a conservative, religious background
Easiest thing to leave behind: smog and traffic
Hardest thing to leave behind: driving (I know, I hate traffic but love driving), L.A.'s restaurants, and my collection of three hundred books
Ten years from now I hope to have: a boyfriend and published my first novel (either as writer or editor)
Any message for your fellow classmates? Good luck, kids. And if you're one of a select few, stay in touch (otherwise, you're probably insane and no longer in school).
Hobbies, avocations, obsessions: writing, reading, alcohol, coffee, iced tea, three-ingredient cooking, postmodernism, restaurants, publishing, theater, Europe, Joseph Mazello (no, not really—okay, yes), a certain someone else who shall remain nameless, communication
Favorite Books: Giovanni's Room, Running With Scissors, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Naked, One Hundred Years of Solitude, White Noise, Them
Favorite Movies: Elephant, L.I.E., Northfork, The Cure, Capturing the Friedmans, Peter Pan, As Good As It Gets, Fargo, Parenthood
Favorite Singers/Groups: Belle & Sebastian, the Shins, The Hidden Cameras, Radiohead, Guster
Most Exciting Thing I've Ever Done: Approached the most beautiful boy in the world
My Hero: David Sedaris and Peter Pan
My Secret Desire: money. Deep down inside, I want to be orgiastically rich.
People don't this about me, but: I'm extremely sexually inexperienced and come from a conservative, religious background
Easiest thing to leave behind: smog and traffic
Hardest thing to leave behind: driving (I know, I hate traffic but love driving), L.A.'s restaurants, and my collection of three hundred books
Ten years from now I hope to have: a boyfriend and published my first novel (either as writer or editor)
Any message for your fellow classmates? Good luck, kids. And if you're one of a select few, stay in touch (otherwise, you're probably insane and no longer in school).
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