Typecasting

MIKE: We watched this Spanish horror movie the other night and thought of you the whole time.

MIKE SQUARED: Yeah, it was pretty funny.

ME: Why?

MIKE: One of the characters looked just like you. She was your doppelganger, except she had red hair.

MIKE SQUARED: Totally. Just like you. Same energy.

ME: Wow, awesome! What was her character? Was she cool?

MIKE SQUARED: I’m not going to lie to you, Raff. She was the tattooed carnival slut.

ME: Goddamnit. Again??

MIKE: Yeah. Sorry.

MIKE SQUARED: Yeah…



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The Glamorous Life

ME (picking up a book Brooke has brought into the bar with her): “The Society of the Spectacle”? Sometimes I think you never want to get laid again.


BROOKE: It’s true. I think I hate straight men.

MIKE SQUARED: Raff, your boob is falling out of your dress.

ME: Thank you, Michael. You’re a good friend.

MIKE SQUARED: You tell me when I have spinach in my teeth, I tell you when your boobs escape! It’s win/win.

MIKE 1: razumfrazumrazumfrazum…

JOHN: What are you saying? Is that a foreign language?

ME: He said, “This song has bongos in it. I like bongos.”

DREW (dancing by): Raff’s the only one who can understand Mike when he’s fucked up. She’s the Mike whisperer.

MIKE 1: mrfrzzngbiglle!

ME: Your fly is undone? I hadn’t noticed…

DREW: More shots! Happy birthday, James!

ME: James is at the other end of the bar, Andrew. Maybe you should slow down on the shots.

DREW: Shut up, Mary. Stop oppressing me! I will not be kept down!

ME (pointing to him): How can you not want a magical relationship like that in your life?

BROOKE: Tempting, soooo tempting…

MIKE: Brggrrifflemuck!

2010 Bitches!

So far it’s been pretty fabulous.

New Years Eve found us at Mike’s delightful duplex in Greenpoint, one of my favorite places in the world, high praise indeed considering it necessitates traveling to Brooklyn. We drank champagne, ate hallucinogenic mushrooms, fought over the music control, and rolled around giggling on the couch and floor in front of Mike’s fireplace. Meanwhile, another crew of friends sat in the dark in his downstairs entertainment room, staring for hours at live footage of the Talking Heads.

Talking Heads? Even without the aid of mind-altering substances this would bum me out. Occasionally I would have to leave the cheery glow of the Christmas tree to use the bathroom downstairs, and every time I went down there I came back with reports of a spooky land in which the music sucked.

Mike, who loves an awful thing that Drew likes to call “Awkward Pause” music, explained that he loves the Talking Heads and that one time when he was too high on one thing or another he put them on the sound system and it made him happy again. So I guess this is what he did for his friends who like to sit quietly in his basement at every party.

Mike also explained that his friends come in two groups: Uplanders and Downlanders. The Uplanders, of which Drew and I number) prefer to stay in the light of the kitchen, fireplace, or backyard, while the Downlanders would rather watch his giant flat screen tv in the dark. He is comfortable in both lands, since they each belong to him, and thus he happily has feet in two worlds. We all thought this was very deep at the time but of course, we were on drugs.

I thought it hilarious to text him any time I felt the need, as any experience that involves mind-altering substances must have the comfort and joy of Mike’s presence nearby at all times. These are the texts that came out of the night. He never responded but would always come back eventually for more of my abuse.

Dec 31, 2009: Will you be our midget water sherpa?

Jan 1, 2010 12:46 AM: Damn you, stop snorting cocaine off our water cup!

1:35 AM: Come back!

2:06 AM: Have the ducks stopped quacking Michael? Have they?

2:22 AM: If that fireplace

3:01 AM: Shhhhhhh

3:24 AM: Your tree is pokey.

I know, I know. Pretty intelligent stuff. But my justification for this kind of stupidity is that mushrooms are a cheery and easily controlled substance with little damage to the body, and indeed we did have a lovely New Year’s Eve celebration, giggling with some of our closest friends in Mike’s beautiful home. It was one of the best I’ve had in many years.

This welcoming of the New Year with people I love helped with another peeling of the layers of my onion psyche. I am am somewhat loathe to put it down because I feel like I have beaten the subject of beauty down to a pulp, but it does seem to always be on my mind and my friends’ minds  as we watch ourselves age. So I thought I would share this:

A few weeks ago I flopped on the couch dramatically and said to Drew: “I hate getting older. I just hate it. I see women on TV and the street and I know I’ll never look like that again. I’ll never be able to wear a baby doll dress again, I’ll never be that fresh-faced and soft again. I can’t eat a pounds of pasta anymore with no consequences. I’m just fading and I hate it. It’s a big fat, fucking bummer. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it!”

He replied with something very nice about timelessness, and I did understand that I was whining over something pretty unimportant in the grand scheme of things. But it is there. And my struggles with having to spend time around the hordes of models that trail his last couple of bands (with well known male model singer Jamie Burke) has also been documented here.

I have made my peace with it as I have grown to trust my boyfriend, trust being something I’ve never had in my life up until now. But it still sucks to let him out of the house sometimes when I know he’s going to spend the night surrounded by some of the world’s most beautiful (and often very willing) females less than half my age. It’s been an interesting experience over the last few years, and I’m proud of myself for working through some very deep issues connected to the situation.

ANYHOO, so here’s my latest thought process:

Occasionally we have model castings in the store and there was a doozy this week. Three days of hordes of the most gorgeous young women you’ve ever seen, all lined up and hopeful with portfolios in hand. Each one was stunning–so tall and sparkly and  young, it felt like an invasion from another planet. I simply couldn’t get too worked up about my own insecurities standing near them because en masse they are alien. I am another species altogether. One of my boobs is as large as one of their tiny doll heads.

The kicker: the job was non-paying. And the photographer is completely out of his mind and was screaming at them: “TURN AROUND! WILL YOU ALLOW US TO PHOTOGRAPH YOU NUDE? CAN WE SHAVE YOUR HEAD?” Just totally obnoxious for the sake of being crazy and obnoxious. And then when they were finally done with the first day’s group I overheard him say, “There were no stars. No stars! Hideous, AWFUL girls!” So these individuals fixed themselves up, picked up their books, and took transportation in freezing January to stand in line for an hour, get abused about who they are, and then leave empty-handed. What a crappy afternoon.

Every one of the girls, and they are girls, most of them not yet 21, was absolutely beautiful. Even if she wasn’t perfectly beautiful, she was. If you know what I mean. And no matter how pretty you are, it must be excruciating to be rated and rejected many times as part of your chosen profession. I know that it would crush me at my age, with whatever wisdom and self-confidence I’ve garnered from the simple passage of time. What must it do to your psyche when you are 18? I know they get the breaks and perks that come with beauty, which are mighty, but once you get into NY and into that competition, it has to have some effect.

So I missed the last casting on Friday as I left work early. Vas and I went to see our old friend Eerie Von do an acoustic set and book signing at Generation Records for his new book Misery Obscura. If you are a Misfits, Samhain, Danzig fan, or if you just love that era, you MUST pick this book up. It is SO fun to look at and EV saved everything over the years, so there are some really fun photos. And he is hilarious so the text is pretty funny. The acoustic show was great, and he’s thinking about expanding that with a slide show, which I think would be amazing.

Afterwards a 22 year old model who I’ve recently become friendly with, who generally does very well for herself, and who I’ve blogged about before, texted that she wanted to hang out. It’s weird, for as much as I complain about the omnipotent NYC presence of the gorgeous foetus, they’re always wanting to hang out. Rocket says it’s like ducklings imprinting on me. I really like this one though, she’s smart and interesting.

So I told her that if she didn’t mind hanging out with the ancients to come and meet EV, Vas, and myself at the bar. She did, and Eerie thanked me for providing something wonderful to look at, and then just to be a dick asked if she was my daughter. I punched him and we got down to the task of drinking and reminiscing. It was a wonderful night, although I did have a pretty brutal hangover the next day from too many celebratory shots. I also have a vague memory of doing a “sexy” dance to Def Leppard, which is never a good thing no matter what your age.

At the beginning of the evening I complimented my model on what had to be a $4000 jacket and asked how her career was going. She always has the most amazing clothes and I’m incredibly jealous, although even if I did finally manage to wrangle something off of her I’d never in a million years squeeze into it. She told me that she got dropped from her US agency because of weight issues. The girl is a twig. She literally looks like you could snap her, she even looks like Twiggy. I said “What???” She said, “I was 95 pounds when they signed me, but I gained 20 pounds and that was too much.”

The girl is 5′ 8″. Can you imagine?

She didn’t seem too broken up about it, she’s creative and has a brain and other things going on, and said she’s fine in Europe. But she did confide in me about experiencing some pains that are classically the kind of crap you contend with when young; and that coupled with seeing the casting at my job seemed to be a good reminder for the new year that the grass is always greener. And that once again the lesson for me is to suck it up, stop whining and enjoy all I have, which is substantial.

And there is some relief in allowing myself to step out of the race when I’m standing next to someone who truly could be my kid. In some ways it felt nice to sit back and let her shine for the people around us. Hmmm…maybe old age will be a relief one day.

So that’s where I’m at in the beginning of 2010, as I continue to work to relax into my life and age. The less panicky  I become, the more I can see that these people that I have felt so insecure about in the past have their own lives to contend with. Our personal worlds orbit around ourselves so tightly that it’s often difficult to see what someone else is going through. It’s so important to remember that we’re all human and to have compassion for others’ journeys. I love my life, with all of it’s flaws and dramas, and I wouldn’t change it with any one of theirs.

Although I wouldn’t mind the $4000 jackets.




Happy 4th of July!

Mike’s BBQ…

TIMMY (turning around to ash his cigarette): There’s a kid behind me.

(We turn, there’s a little boy with food smeared all over his face jumping up and down on a lawn chair)

Me: Oh ick. And he’s filthy. This is simply not acceptable.

Drew: Send him down to the basement with Uncle Bob and his silly powder. Family fun!

Me: MICHAEL. Did you kill my playlist??

MIKE (dancing past my chair): Yes! No more classic rock! The gays want something FUNKY.

Me: Goddamnit. I really hate it when you get funky. This sucks! My ears are sad. Look at Timmy, he’s drooping!

Timmy (blowing out smoke): I’m drooping. And there’s a kid behind me. Give her back the remote.

Me: Is this Neil Diamond? Are we actually listening to Neil Diamond right now? Agh! The life is draining out of me! Give me that remote!

BOB (holding the sound system remote out of my reach): You know, if I wasn’t high on massive amounts of mushrooms right now, my feelings might be hurt.

Orange colored, overly made up Long Island girl standing behind me to her equally spray-tanned friend: You drinkin’ the Mike’s Lemonade? How’s the berry?

Me (yanking Mike’s arm and pulling him down towards my chair): Michael, this guest list is out of hand.

Timmy: Bro, I hate kids.

Mike: It’s only once a year! Want some drugs? The fireworks are going to start soon!

Drew: Hey Mike, I think those random Korean cleaning ladies you invited just stole all the chicken. How’s the berry??

Bob: This is going to be my America mix! Next up, Born In the USA by Springsteen.

Me: Sigh…

Clean

First, re my last blog—the co-worker I spoke of is actually a supercool and smart person who went home and researched and listened to Suzi Quatro after our t-shirt conversation. She’s now terrified that a posse of ancient, angry rockers are going to storm the store with torches in hand, so please don’t be hatin’. P.S. The bitch was born the year I graduated from high school. How fucked up is that?

Some pretty interesting lessons have been coming my way, actually flying past my head at a lightning speed. I truly believe that we are in the middle of the planetary shift that so many people are speaking about, I can feel things speeding up and getting lighter all the time. It’s really marvelous.

My mother did a reading for me recently and one of the things she touched upon was that it’s time for me to start practicing unconditional love instead of seeing myself as separate from everyone except my friends or people exactly like us. I have built an entire life and personality out of separation, I felt separate from most of society from the minute I realized there was a society, which I’m sure is how most of my friends feel.

But she pointed out that because a lot of you people are kind enough to read my self-important ramblings, it is even more imperative that I operate from my higher self. So I’m working on it. Which does not mean that I am going to try to like everyone, which we all know is an absolute impossibility. And honestly, I don’t want to be friendly with the whole world, I like being scary and unapproachable and keeping some initial distance. It’s more about holding the consciousness when communicating with people.

This year has brought an incredible amount of healing to me. Drew’s presence in my life has brought a security that I’ve never known, and with it I am learning to trust the world in a way that allows me to feel and act much less defensively than I have in the past. I will never be a mellow person, but I would like to speak and act from a clear and secure place rather than from a place of automatically shutting someone down or out before they have the chance to hurt me or invade my space in any way.

So along those lines I’m realizing it’s time to be honest with people. Even though it’s sometimes more work, it’s also the cleanest, and I think (in the long run) the kindest thing to do, as long as we speak our truths with compassion for the other person.

There were three situations recently in which I just totally came clean with my thoughts, when in the past I would have just complained to my friends and then expressed my true feelings with random bitchiness. Two of them are not close people in my life and I could have easily kept them in the dark and not been too affected, but I went out of my way to explain some things because I felt that it was information they deserved to know. The third person is someone much closer, but I might have blown off the potential friendship and just gossiped behind her back because I didn’t think she would “get it”.

I expressed myself gently, but frankly. The first two people just disappeared. It was absolutely amazing. They just never responded and dropped off the face of the planet, which is pretty great because they were both annoying as all hell. The third person stepped up in a way that was well beyond my expectations and really lovely, and that was great too because I enjoy her company and now we can move forward with a real friendship.

So KIM and I had a conversation yesterday about how people are either stepping up like champions or dropping off like flies right now for both of us. The cosmos is just forcing the hand with relationships. And it’s been clean and easy, there are no crazy dramas with anyone. It’s like there’s a giant cosmic broom in place.

Yesterday was such an in-the-groove day that I can’t help but think that changing my focus is effective, and that there is something really big going on planetarily. First, there was the afore-mentioned person who stepped up. Then Kim and I confirmed that the same things are happening to each of us. Then Drew and I went out to visit MIKE while he DJ’ed at a delightful transvestite party. And I do mean transvestite: not transsexual, not drag queen, but burly men in crooked, ratty wigs and smeary orange-red Kmart lipstick, shuffling around in Easy Spirit pumps and librarian skirts.

I’ve never seen a more clueless and unattractive bunch, and I could not have been happier. It was awesome. One guy put his leg up on the pool table while he made a shot and his balls fell out from under his dress. Mike turned to me and said, “It’s important to cherish these special moments together.” Oh yes. Yes indeed, dear friend. I am SO taking my mom to this party next time she’s in town.

Drew was in Drew on Fire® mode, and did some delightful dancing for us and “the ladies”. He really wanted to put his head on one ample, ahem, “breast” for a slow dance, but alas, we had other places to go. We headed over to the polar opposite kind of party to hang out with Drew’s band and the models and beautiful people who orbit around them. And that was equally as fun and just as silly, although much easier on the eyes and I’m guessing with a few less balls under dresses.

I rolled around on the couch with my favorite supermodel (being careful not to crush her delicate bird limbs) and Drew continued to entertain with the smokin’ moves. And I was nice to everyone, even the twits (of which there are many in this crowd). Imagine that! We got totally loaded and it was an absolutely fun and completely pointless night.

This morning I woke up (late for work, with a hangover) and found the most vicious, vitriolic and abusive myspace message waiting for me from an old friend who has been descending into madness for some years now and has become increasingly violent tempered. I almost want to post it here because it was so crazy that it’s entertaining, but I don’t want to create a shitstorm.

The message was pretty much out of the blue, and I’m not sure what set it off, but even it’s randomness is lovely in a way, because it seems that the Universe is just doing more cleaning for me. This person deleted me and ended what was left of our friendship, and I could not be more grateful that I didn’t have to do anything to exorcise this particular toxicity out of my life. And I truly wish him the best, with no residual anger on my part whatsoever. We had a lot of fun and special times together over the years, and I value that. And he introduced me to Drew, who is my heart, and to Mike, who is my family. How can I hate that?

So the point? I’m not exactly sure yet. I’m just fascinated at how things are falling into place at the moment, and enjoying the experiment of being alive. And it appears that making the connection in my brain to at least attempt to operate in a deeper and more truthful manner is manifesting in my outer world.

I understand that it’s easy to say this when I’ve got a fun job, killer friends, a loyal boyfriend and some really sexy cats:




But it hasn’t always been this way, and it’s deeper than that. I believe that we’re in the middle of a giant shift in consciousness, and that because I have been handed the gift of some really happy times after an entire lifetime of being angry and in pain, it’s my responsibility to pay it forward by reporting from the frontlines. It’s time to either jump in or get left behind and I want to be on the ride.

I realize that not everyone thinks this way spiritually, and that’s totally okay; you can think of me as a silly girl and I’m fine with it. Just do me a favor and please keep your balls in your skirt.

Thanks Mike, You Rule

This will be going on every summer holiday until the end of time:

Me (in Mike’s kitchen mixing a pitcher of bloody marys for a bbq full of people): Agh!! What’s coming out of the speakers? What the hell is that? Is that electroclash? Is someone playing ELECTROCLASH?? What the fuck?? Are my ears bleeding? Make it stop!!!

Mike (already sprinting in from the back yard): I’m on it, I’m on it!!

Me: Agggggghhhhh!! I’m melting! It burns! It’s horrible!!

Mike (hastily scrolling through the music list): I’m moving as fast as I can!!

Drew (rolling his eyes): It has to be something from the narrow window of 1970 to 1978 or she’ll never shut up.

Steven Tyler from the speakers: HUH! Write me a letter, write me a letter today…
 

Me: Ahhh…thank you…brain is unfreezing…I can feel my fingers again…

Drew: God, you are such a brat, Mary.

Mike: Sshh, you’ll ruin her concentration! More tobasco?

Disconnected, very gay voice from the back yard: What happened to the music??

Turns Out I’m Actually Very Shallow After All

So I’ve been in a horrible, depressed funk all week long and going through all sorts of inner dialogue about what I want and need in my life. Turns out I just needed to get drunk have a good time. Who knew?

Went to Motorhead last night and screamed A LOT. I am a fan of the high-pitched “Wooooooooo!!!”, while my new best friend Corinne favors the more guttural and plaintive, “Lemmmmyyyyy!!” My brother uses the standard male shout of “Yeah!!”. And since we kept making our friend Mike go get the beer he had no time to shout anything but “Corona?!”.

Afterwards I abandoned my friends and family like the shallow rock whore that I am and finagled my way backstage. This involved much trying to look nonchalantly hot while standing behind others more famous than me who did the talking. Once we got back there it was the usual clusterfuck of road crew trying to do their job, rock and roll types blocking the way looking for action, and giant security jerks barking at everyone to move. Good times.

Ended up alone w/Lemmy for a few minutes in his dressing room, I sat on his lap like a good girl and he poured me a jack and coke. We had an interesting talk about his having a vein cauterized in his heart, they had to go through a vein in his leg. Turns out 30 years of constant speed usage can cause arrhythmia. Again, I must use the phrase: who knew?

I told him I think he’s going to just go and go like a motherfucker until he drops one day, and he agreed. I have a friend who said that this is the kind of conversation that everyone dreams of having with Lemmy Kilmeister. I think you just have to catch him when he’s feeling contented. I haven’t had a real conversation w/him for years so it was a nice surprise.

He has three loves—sex, drugs, and rock and roll. And while he’s the coolest guy on the planet, if you’re not providing one of those things he doesn’t have time to slow down for your ass. I’ve never been a fan of speedy powders and he gave up on trying to get me in the sack a long time ago, so it was wonderful to hang alone w/him for a minute. He is not a close friend in the every day sense of the phrase, but I have a great fondness in my heart for him. To me he is the embodiment of rock and roll spirit, and is a true gentleman to boot.

Then it was on to some of the usual bars to meet up with my patient friends, where I continued to drink jack and coke in honor of the evening, completely forgetting that I have a low tolerance for whiskey, sugar and caffeine. So within a very short period of time I was not only completely loaded, but bouncing off the walls like an eight year old the day after Halloween. I was FLYING. Again, good times.

Well, for me anyway: my boyfriend Drew hooked up with us halfway through the night and I could see the terror in his eyes as I spun around the room. That man suffers! He claimed it was all very Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, but it’s his own fault. When we first hooked up my brother took him aside and said, “Run, man! Run while you can. You don’t know what you’re getting into. She’s smarter and meaner than you, and you don’t stand a chance!” So he knew what he was getting into.

Anyway, at some point Mike just stopped making any sense but wouldn’t shut up, so I decided to lick his forehead in a sugar and bourbon fueled attempt to affectionately slime some cohesion into his wasted brain. Drew said he wouldn’t kiss me if I didn’t stop licking Mike’s head and Mike just continued to talk nonsense, so eventually that plan had to be abandoned in failure.

We didn’t see Motorhead again that night. There was some talk of them going to Snitch, but I later heard that Phil Campbell and Mickey the drummer ended up at Niagara, and that Lemmy went to Scores w/my myspace acquaintance Rocka Rolla and her girlfriends. I think she’ll probably post a blog later on if you’re interested.

So I am feeling so much more cheerful than I have all week long. Turns out there was no existential crisis, I was just too sober and not getting enough attention from aging rock stars. Maybe all that sugar helped, too. And just when I was feeling all deep and ready to do some very serious blogging…

As I type this, Mike is at his desk at his job with his head in his hands. He claims he has no recollection of the head licking and doesn’t remember what was so all fired important that he couldn’t stop talking about it. Here is the one photo I got from last night. I look absolutely terrible in this one, but Lemmy seems pretty perky, no?