A Thousand Words


Chris Wage took this picture of John H., which I am so madly in love with I had to steal it and post it here.

Don’t you look at this and immediately want to know him?  Know about him?  Doesn’t he look holy?  I love this picture.

I hate looking at pictures of myself.  I’m getting better about it, just because, well, that’s what I look like and a.) what can you do? and b.) that’s what a lot of women I love look like and I love them so I ought to learn to extend that to myself.

It’s weird to really look and try to see myself objectively.  I’m big and fat like my dad’s people.  My eyes look a lot like my Grandma Doris.  I hold myself a lot like her, too.  But I think I look a lot like my cousins on my dad’s side, too.

And then just a little bit like only me.

I would love to look at photos of myself and see someone I thought was worth looking at.  I hope that happens some day.

I Have Damn Fine Readers

Not only are y’all some of the cutest people I’ve ever hung out in a bar with, you’re so damn sweet and have such big hearts.

It’s funny, you know, that in my spiritual life, I try to understand myself as a part of a community, something larger and more holy than me, and I try to understand myself as also being a benefit to that community–that being connected to others and allowing them to be connected to you is good luck to everyone.

And I think the thing that really shook me, in a great way, to my core last night was that here was my community–not all of it, of course, but enough to make me feel like the luckiest girl on the planet.

I don’t know. That’s kind of hokey and woo woo, but I just wanted to acknowledge that, as it seems to work, the “transcendent” understanding I was seeking came last night in terrific, but mundane ways. Unless my whole life has a vibe of woo woo, in which case… well, shoot, I bet y’all want to hear about boobs, and kissing, and butt tickling and dancing and singing and who managed to single-handedly flirt with the whole fire department, so you know, we can come back to the deep philosophical discussions later.

So, in no particular order are the things I want to not forget to tell you about.

–Coble was not drunk and yet woman still got up in front of a whole bar of people who sang like they’d just left the cast of a Broadway musical and slammed out the most awesome version of “Werewolves of London.” Like me, she was also there five minutes early.

–Speaking of singing like Broadway, Ginger was ridiculous! She’d get up on that platform, knock out some beautiful song that had half the bar in tears and the other half wanting to call their mommas just to tell them they loved them and she’d finish up, there’d be dead silence while people tried to collect their emotions, then this incredible roar would break out of clapping and cheering, the two Mexican guys in the place are chanting “Viva la Ginger! Viva la Ginger!” and she comes over and is just shaking her head all “God, I sucked so bad on that.” and I’m like “Woman, a riot is about to break out! I’d hate to see you when you think you’re good.”

–Slartibartfast kept knocking out these awesome soul tunes. I didn’t hear if his wife told any risque jokes, but I was encouraging folks to buy her drinks for that purpose.

–I rubbed my butt on Chris Wage and my boobs and I tried to start the rumor that rubbing your boobs on Chris Wage would bring you luck, but as far as I could tell, only Ivy thought she needed luck of that sort.

–Brittney and I were very excited to sing along with “Miss New Bootie” and I was more than happy to sing it in honor of her dog, “I found you, Miss New Tootie.”

–And then! And then, this was so awesome. Mary Mancini brought her own version of Beyonce’s “To the Left” to sing and it kicked ass. It was all about how everyone was crossing the aisle to vote to the left and how Georgie better not get to thinking he’s irreplaceable*. Brittney and I sang back-up. I’m embarrassed to admit, though, that I kept going to the right when I was dancing. I assume that’s just the draw of that pesky second amendment.

–At some point, I was talking to KateO’, her husband, and Jon from Mushin No Shin about how there seems to be a split in folks not along political lines but along a line I wanted to draw as pleasure-seekers and busy-bodies. Kate’s husband has a similar sense of that kind of split, but he calls it something different. But it was an interesting discussion that popped up so randomly that it kind of cemented my love for the whole evening.

–Mack was holding court out on the patio. I’d stumble out there and sometimes he’d be talking to Jon (who I totally tried to impress with my limited knowledge of the Beats, but he had no idea who I was talking about, so I was all embarrassed) and John Lamb (who is hotter than I remember him being) and whoever else.

–Plimco, Dr. J., the Queen and her boy toy came, too, and they were awesome. Plimco’s songs all involved acting out the words and Dr. J. sang me this awesome rendition of “Walking After Midnight” and the Queen did a kick butt version, appropriately enough, of Queen’s “Fat Bottom Girls.” And when they went to the bathroom together, they came by and tickled my butt, which, you know, tickled, because it was a butt tickling.

–Jag and Shauna were there too, just sitting at a booth like they ran the joint. Jag tried to help me twitter Smiley, but I was so drunk I don’t think it worked.

–John H and his lovely wife were there, too. They seemed to be at the tables that had the food, whenever it was that there was food to be had. I’ll say this, I’m growing suspicious that it might be very useful to have John H on a road trip with you because he does seem to find good food.

–NM was there to give us the inside skinny on the whole “Seemingly Alternative Newspaper Picks Fight with Magazine Devoted to Alt. whatever, whatever that means” bruhaha, which was awesome.

–And a commenter and lurker showed up and I’m completely spacing on the commenter’s fake name (though if your names rhyme with Smicole and Smamy, clearly this shout out is for you!) but they were so sweet and nice and cool. Hurray!

–The Professor came and then a few minutes later, her friend showed up. Every straight girl there pulled me aside to ask who he was. I tried to encourage him to just randomly start making out with women, but he didn’t seem too excited by that. It did make me think that, in a perfect world, I would live within walking distance of both the Professor and Dr. J and we would alternate which porch we sat on and got drunk every Friday afternoon while we thought deep thoughts and hashed out how to save the world.

–I could write you a whole post about Ivy. I will not. I just want to say that a little part of me wants to be as brave as Ivy some day.

–And Mack. What can I say? I want to be gracious about your big heart, but I feel incredibly unworthy of it. Next time I see you, we’ll just slice open our palms and squish our hands together and make ourselves blood brothers like a couple of over-zealous twelve-year-old boys and then I can just be all “Well, he’s good to me because we share blood.”

Anyway, I think I’ve gotten everyone, but if I haven’t, I’ll add you on as the fog that is my brain begins to clear.

I’ll be thanking you all personally in the coming days, but I just want to say thanks publicly, too. This is by far the craziest, coolest thing to ever happen to me. Thanks to Plimco for encouraging me to send my play and thanks to y’all for your generosity in helping me get there. Thanks to Mack for seeming to pull everything together and to Ginger for really doing it (tee hee). I really am so grateful and overwhelmed by that I about don’t know what to say.

Just thanks and I’ll take lots of pictures and tell y’all all about it. I leave July 6th and will be back July 9th.

Again, thanks everybody.

*Let us all pause now for a moment while Exador storms around the desk and begins to compose a comment about how all my good times seem to involve making fun of conservatives.