Get Over It Already.

Democrats of the United States, stop being such pussies.

Recently, Erica and I were sitting around with some friends at our house discussing what to do with our upstairs bathroom. Since our move last November, it has remained the one spot where we couldn't make a decision on which way to go with it, decor-wise.

Wallpaper? Paint? What colors? Someone suggested chalkboard paint.

Shouldn't people be able to write on a bathroom wall?

Days later we (read: Erica) bought the paint and a box of chalk and got to work.

Now we spend an inordinate amount of time in there doodling and it's filling up nicely. We've got the requisite, "for a good time call ..." entry as well as a nice "AC/DC" tag. During the Barack Obama speech at the DNC, our friend added "Barack Around The Clock". A couple of nights ago another friend added a political note of her own: "Flush Palin!" with an arrow pointing toward the toilet bowl. I thought it was funny and clever but then it got me thinking about this Palin hysteria.

Since when have we been so intimidated by a Vice Presidential candidate? It's like McCain isn't even running anymore. All you hear about these days is this redneck who is the mayor of a town smaller than Fitzgerald. As someone pointed out recently, the entire city of Wasilla couldn't even sellout Radio City Music Hall.She's another douche bag VP Candidate. Remember Dan Quayle? He was a douche and you didn't see the media or the Democratic party running scared because he was going to get Bush elected. From what I remember, Bush was elected in spite of Quayle. Not because of him.

Now I get that Sarah has other qualities that Danny didn't. She's likable. I mean, not for me. I find her abhorrent. But pretty much everyone between LA and NYC can find something endearing about her. Hockey mom, nice legs, good hunter. And, this fact certainly frightens me as much as the next sensible voter. However, can't we play it cool?

The more we focus on her, the more apparent the fact that we're all terrified of her. (I'm talking to you, Obama.)

Now. Ain't That Some Shit?

Can we talk about this, please?

What the fuck? These are the home pages of the Alcoholics Anonymous and Al-Anon websites. Notice a difference? Not only is the AA site better designed, more modern and more aesthetically pleasing ... it uses Flash.

The reason I discovered this atrocity, was because this past Saturday in DDP, we watched a Hallmark Hall of Fame movie starring James Garner, Jo Beth Williams and James Woods, as Bill W. "My Name is Bill W." is the story of Bill and Lois Wilson. Bill founded Alcoholics Anonymous after destroying almost everything he had because he was a drunk. Lois, his wife, founded Al-Anon, a group for the friends and families of drunks. I was going to write about the film for some reason, but now I can't remember what I intended to write. I was googling some information on the film and accidentally clicked on the AA link, not the Al-Anon one. And now I'm too distracted by the inequity in the different sites to recall what I wanted to write.

So. What am I going to do about this? I'm sure I can get Erica to redesign (or design for the first time) the Al-Anon site for free, we'd just have to get permission.

Dear Al-Anon,

You do amazing work. People all over the world are happier and saner as a result of going to the rooms. Yours is a great and noble program that deserves to present itself as such. And, Al-Anon. I am one of those people who has been helped. I have grown and learned so much from my meetings and I want to give back. I want to give back by offering to redesign your hideous, amateur website -- free of charge. Our members deserve to have as snazzy an online resource as those bastards who hurt us.

Sure, they're getting better and I am proud of them. But still, those of us who drained our bank accounts and cleaned up poop and vomit, deserve at least as nice a website. (And what I'm offering will be better.) The thing is, I feel that there should be an additional, unspoken step in Al-Anon, right between making a moral inventory of ourselves and admitting to ourselves, god and others all of our misdeeds.

4b. Having completed our moral inventory, we have realized that we are worthy of pretty things.

And, we are worthy of a well-designed website.

Your pal,
Susan

My god. Fucking Wal-Mart is starting to be trendy. And Wal-Mart is the devil.

Haven't we gone through enough? Do we have to suffer being shit on by the addicts' good design skills as well? We've already surrendered our childhoods and sanity. When does the hurting stop and the healing begin?

Things Are Really Good Right Now

How gorgeous is the weather today? I hope everyone has this weather today.

New York has been so hot lately and we're finally getting a break. I despise sweating. Despise it.

As a kid I always imagined that New York's climate would be more like San Francisco. I now know I was misled about the weather in the North. It's just as hot and humid here as it was when I was shelling butter beans on my grandma's back porch.

You ain't never shelled butter beans? Well, you ain't lived 'till you shelled butter beans.

The thing is, in the South everyone has air conditioning. Every store, every home, every car has air conditioning. People can't afford health care or food, but you'd better believe they have that A/C cranking. Just ask Mr. Curtis.Except, of course, my grandma who would only turn hers on when we were having company, and then it would be restricted to the kitchen area only. So it was either suffer the heat or suffer the family.

Anyway. It's finally a gorgeous day. Erica has been outside all morning pruning the bushes and squealing about our backyard rats. "They're as big as fucking possums!"

I am pretty sure Erica has never even seen a possum.

I am enjoying the day from the couch. Though we have these huge windows that are wide open, so it's like I'm outside. I may even sit in one of them to make it really feel, you know, real. Or at least get Erica off my case.

It's so nice today, you should be out here. ... Eeeeeeek! Fuckers! There's another one!

As I'm sitting here, I can hear Erica talking with the neighbor over the fence. We're meeting friends tomorrow night, so I'm making plans with them via a someecard conversation. Chulo's sleeping under the couch with his new bone and it's just all so nice and, well, normal. I have to remind myself that we're a family because I so frequently realize that I'm actually surprised at the normalcy. Like we're portraying characters or something.

We've had such a nice weekend. Friday we had dinner with three of Erica's friends from work and then went to a bar where one of them read our Tarot cards. Fun! Yesterday after my DDP class, E and I had brunch then last night had dinner with our friends M&M (A&L were supposed to join, but their baby was sick) then went to a fantastically fun burlesque performance. Today is Sunday & that means a day of reading The Times together and watching CBS Sunday Morning. When I woke up Erica had made coffee and bought fresh bagels, scallion cream cheese and heirloom tomatoes. Awesome.

I love our life. I'm so happy these days and so thankful. I'm so thankful, I'm thinking of getting a tattoo that reads, "Thankful". I just have to find the proper font.

I hope you're all well and happy and enjoying your Sunday.

Mwah!

Happy 9-11!

It's that time again -- the day we remember the most awful day in our country's recent history, and the day all of New York gets their panties in a wad because the memorial STILL has not been finished. Though I believe the design has finally been approved.

For seven years, Ground Zero has been a hole. Sometimes with fancy lighting, sometimes not. For seven years, New Yorkers who were in the city on 9/11/01, have watched every plane they've heard flying overhead to decide whether they're at the proper altitude or not. For seven years we have tip-toed around this date and kept it sacred and made a big deal about it. Not saying that it's not a big deal. It's a huge deal. But I am ready for September 11th to be a normal fall day again.This evening Dan is having an opening at his gallery and when I called to tell him about having dog pee on my hand yesterday (Tragic and awful story. I'm clean now.), I told him I couldn't make the opening because I planned to spend the day in mourning and re-tracing my every movement from that fateful day.

Fuck you! You're an asshole.

Turns out, Dan has received tons of comments and pseudo-complaints about the opening being today. You know, what if it's bad luck? What if it's disrespectful?

Seriously people. Isn't this exactly what the terrorists had planned? Doesn't this mean they're winning?

I respect the memory and the honor of 9/11. I was here in the city when it all happened and I am not the same as a result. But I don't feel that we have to be miserable every year in order to prove our reverence.

I, for one, will be attending the opening.

From My Journal, August 1998

There was a boy in my life who I loved desperately.

we had a really good day yesterday. he sat and listened to music while i read dickens. it was a beautiful afternoon with a partial eclipse.

things are getting so much better. it's so fun hanging out with him -- and he pisses me off frequently enough to remind me that he is not the one. once he told me that i could call him every morning at 8 to say, "you're an asshole," and we'd still be friends.

that's funny, but pretty comforting.

And there was a girl.

i just don't even know where to start. she is so incredible. such a bad ass. she amazes me. inspires me. gives me such confidence. it's weird to think that we've been friends for such a short time. but we've been friends the entire time. better than people I've known for 20 years. when i say forever with her, i mean it. she's fascinating, brilliant, talented, she drives a truck, she's an artist who likes synthetic fabrics, she's stunning and real.

And I was a mess.

strong? i don't think so. i don't feel so. sad? i don't know. i feel it sometimes. but not really. loved? yeah. by a lot of people. but not really. alone? more than i should be considering all the people around me. but what do i do? where do i go? who do i really have? i don't want this place and i don't want these things and i don't want to be with these people and i don't want to be alone and ....

That one went on for an entire page. And it included a poem.

dog hair on my shirt -- symbol of my weakness
alone and mad in my room -- symbol of my weakness
tear stains in my book -- symbol of my weakness
big ass in my pants -
broken heart in my chest -
brand nubian in my cd player -
broken radio in my car -
symbols of my weakness

Obviously, I was a wreck. Also obviously, I was not a poet.

I've officially been living in New York City for ten years as of August 30. I'm still not a poet, but I did move past the "being a wreck" phase. (I hope.)

I think the most significant change from then to now is the fact that I'm not "almost 30" anymore. I'm almost 40.

It's good though. I like myself a lot better these days. My life is so much better. My apartment. My friends. My love life. My job. My attitude in general. I think it's just part of growing up and I've gotten to this phase of things.

You know. I think that's what the 30's are about. It's like, the 20's are the time to figure out who you are. Mainly by fucking up a LOT and hopefully learning from those mistakes ... eventually. The 30's are the time to learn to accept the fact that you are who you are, and to get adjusted to the shock.

My feeling is that my 40's will be about finally embracing that person.

And her fuck-ups.