#this is not irony; i am obsessed with them to a degree that is terrifying

[watchtheblog]

false idols

(hi to my 9 real life friends, my 90 instagram friends, a handful of people who need to intend to make 2022 the year they find a hobby besides relentlessly keeping tabs on me, my ex bf who was the subject of the previous blog checking to see if i’m going to post the batshit text he sent me (i’m not; i showed it to God and he’ll take it up with you in 30-40 years), and my ghost’s therapist. this is my christmas wishlist; if you just want gift ideas, scroll to the bottom for this year’s treasures:)

i’m finally ready to break my silence following a solemn year and a half of mourning.

for those of you familiar with my monomania, i am of course referring to the disintegration of the union between my two most beloved chain smoking wisps, mary kate and olivier sarkozy, last may. for those of you just tuning in, start here.

these two have been my romantic north star since i became aware of their relationship in 2013. they are the only false idols i’ve ever worshipped, and i did so trenchantly at an altar fashioned from an ashtray.

unfortunately, 8 weeks into lockdown, these cognizant shadows succumbed to divorce, the covid of marriage.

when this news first hit TMZ i of course had no idea because i am not gossip reading trash, but when my gossip reading trash boyfriend shared the link i was heartbroken.

the news shook all of us within the automaton community.

if north america’s foremost contestants on “so you think you’re getting away with pretending to be human” - the reality game show that plays on loop in my head - could not survive a global pandemic, who among us could?!

some people were prepared for the pandemic because they’d been following the effects of the virus in europe, or they’d seen purell fly off the shelves in early march. as for me? i knew two months later when these XL and XS pillars of love threw their hands up and said “assez!” (that’s “enough” in french).

like that groundhog seeing its shadow, this was my indication that the pandemic was far from over.

with the threat of lung disease looming from outside the confines of a cigarette, and with global reach, mary kate and husband were forced to abdicate their role as spokescouple for Big Cigarette and separate, so as to focus on their individual roles creating new, more powerful variants of covid.

i guess i didn’t expect they would ever deign to lower themselves to the quarantine activities of the 99%, but divorcing in my personal greatest time of need was very rude.

(i know these people about as well as i know my own divorced parents, so this doesn’t feel weird.)

mary kate olsen and olivier sarkozy survived brexit, the death of noted recluse harper lee, almost the entire trump presidency, a banksy thirst trap, the fall of brangelina, the college admissions scandal, olivier’s hating ass ex wife, the advent of clubhouse; they stayed out of the press, they minded their own business, they were never cancelled… they had it all!

i really thought they’d stay together forever, but as a devout worshipper, i must pass on the gospel: marriage is the virus; divorce is king.

*

we may never know what happened to olivier, the live action pac man, and mary kate, his little pac-man food.*

what we do know, however, is money can’t buy you whatever the recipe is for staying married - which i suspect is love, lack of a prenup, kids, and a man with no instagram - money can only buy you cigarettes, lawyers you refer to as ‘attorneys’, the silence of your enemies, and the friendship of those who wish to remain on your holiday party guest list.

*(in lieu of condolences, please send prayers that their legacy will live on when i become little pac-man food to my huge pac-man husband.)

OK. HERE IS MY 2021 HOLIDAY GIFT WISHLIST. MONEY CAN BUY YOU SHIT FROM HERE, TOO!!

1. in my continued, everlasting spirit of altruism, please consider making a donation to the boys and girls club or (if you’re reading this before friday the 17th) ordering a gift from their holiday wishlist.

2. shoes for hiking. size 38

3. this jewelry or this jewelry

4. crypto… wallet address available upon request. serious inquiries only.

5. a private session with the hollywood medium tyler henry. i’m not putting a link bc you have to know someone, i feel… let’s hope someone of importance is reading this!!!

6. beach towel, even though i don’t go to the beach expensive - i love this. it is an insane product. inexpensive; also inexpensive another expensive one, in bright green

7. these travel containers which i was going to buy for myself but then i saw the reviews that said they were kind of heavy… so i’d rather receive them as a gift in case i hate them.

8. this tray, exclusively created for eating charcuterie in bed a slightly less expensive take

9. a lighter, though i do not smoke. consider it an homage. (i rly love this and will find a use for it. i can light some scripts i’ve written on fire.)

10. this throw blanket, also i love this website so much or this throw blanket; their website is fine, nothing to write home about another throw

11. this bag that i keep asking for and keep not getting

12. some reasonably priced furniture

13. a reading with astrofashionista — also… not an ad, but this is a great gift idea for anyone you know and love!!

14. wow. i should really sell ad space here. ugh.

15. this dress - size 34 this coat i very much need in an xs dress - size 0 another coat i am gagging for - xxs

16. this absolutely stunning, inspired piece of art this art this art this art big art wishes this year this art these arts are all sold out :( but let me put you on SO YOU KNOW

16. new candle alert extremely inexpensive dupe for a old favorite that will not be named here bc it’s impossible to find but if you buy this and smell it and also know of the other one well then good for you

17. this thing to dangle from your ears

18. why… would anyone… need… this

19. an anatomically correct and appropriately priced heart

20. a the real real or erewhon gift card for $10,000 thank you

21. this ridiculous thing

22. i’m running out of steam but i’d really love for my birthday next year for someone to rent out the studio where they film floor is lava so i can do it…

thank you!!!

[mittensmorgul]

Season 13 and the Big Bad

A defining characteristic of Supernatural in seasons past was the early identification and buildup of the Big Bad character of the season, to the degree that the cosmic escalation of big bads became a running joke. And then the show itself transcended the running joke with the whole “God’s SISTER!” thing, and honestly, where the heck do you even go from there.

Demons, Bigger and Scarier Demons, More Demons, Apocalypse-starting Demons with a side of Dick Angels, Lucifer and Michael, Raphael and Monsters, Leviathan, Demons and basically the Winchesters screwing with the natural order, Angels and Bigger and Badder Demons, MoC!Dean, God’s Sister the Darkness…

I mean who else was waiting for Fuckhands McMike to show up?

Once you hit that level, the whole IDEA of a single season Big Bad just… loses the power to engage. Almost everything after that point is gonna have a Been There Done That element to it.

That’s why the whole point of s12 wasn’t about a Big Bad Character, it was about the Winchesters finally having moved out beyond the plot far enough to look back at their legacy in a critical way. The BMoL weren’t there to act as the Big Bads, despite filling in part of that role. Same with Lucifer. Same with Mary. The real Big Bad of s12 was the Winchesters’ past, their legacy, their “destiny.” And finally beginning to find some sort of resolution and a fuller understanding of themselves. And that theme is continuing full-steam ahead in s13.

The real Big Bad is the friends we made along the way.

Nah, just kidding. The real Big Bad of s13 so far is Dramatic Irony. But let’s back up and examine the players on the board so far:

(under a cut because it’s like 3.6k words and this just seems practical, if annoying) :P

--There was much speculation that Wee Lil Nephilim Jack could “grow into his power” and become the season’s Big Bad, and 13.01 certainly tried hard to make us believe it… for about 15 minutes. He’s certainly got a terrifying amount of power at his disposal, but he’s such a lil marshmallow and just wants to be GOOD so badly. Just give him some nougat and watch him struggle to understand human morality with his Beyond God-like Abilities. So while he’s definitely a source of Major Cosmic Disruption, he can’t really fit the Big Bad bill.

--In 13.02 we met the Kentucky Fried Demon, the last yellow-eyed Prince of Hell, Asmodeus. Thanks to later retconning, we’ve tied yellow-eyed demons right back to the opening scene of the entire series, and the Inciting Incident of all the drama we’ve watched unfold over the last 12+ seasons. And the last one standing has now also been referred to by Lucifer as the “least” of his creations, yet Asmodeus has had a few surprises up his sleeve-- including his shapeshifting. But for all his inexplicable raw power to even confidently best Lucifer in a head to head fight, what are his actual goals? We know he’s long wanted to release the Shedim from Hell, but to what end? What does he even want? He talks a big game, but does he even have a Big Plan? Halfway through the season, we just don’t know, and as a result Asmodeus reads more like a cartoon than an actual threat, despite his “weirdly strong” powers.

--The Empty Entity, which after 13.04 I saw numerous posts speculating that maybe the Entity would grow weary of sleeping (or of being woken up by other angels and demons who somehow began awakening as a result of Cas’s disturbance to the force). But really, the essential nature of that force is… the opposite of interfering in reality. Much as God’s powers of creation held no power in the Empty, the Empty’s eternal stasis can’t hold power within Creation. Obviously Jack’s powers are somehow capable of bridging the gap between them, the same way he’s able to bridge the gap between alternate realities, but so far, the Empty Entity seems like a one-off.

--Billie as the New Death. I, for one, am SO GLAD she’s back, and that the mantle of Death has finally passed on to her. I’d been screaming about her being the New Death since 11.02, and she’s finally come full circle and stepped into that role. As such, she’s in a position to see the full scope of the Cosmic Circumstance, and her previous insistence on what amounts to a tiny cosmic imbalance of the Winchesters’ continued existence is more like a tiny grain of sand out of place while the problems the Winchesters’ continued existence SOLVES is like an entire beach crumbling away. As the linchpins holding the multiverse together, she’s counting on the Winchesters being ALIVE now. Hardly seems Big Bad-ish to have thrown her lot in with the protagonists of the piece, yes? She still has cards to play, especially after warning Dean about the cosmic house of cards and its current precarious state due to Jack’s interference with multidimensional affairs. Rather than having an agenda to do harm, like the Old Death, Billie serves more of a bellwether role. She’s a neutral force that’s acting within her powers to at least drop hints and warnings to the Winchesters.

--Lucifer has incredibly found his way back to the story AGAIN. Like, why won’t he just DIE already? *sighs heavily* At least now he’s been officially de-powered by AU Michael to the point where he’s become rather… ineffective. Poor thing and his little stick. So far, since he’s returned to the regular universe, his function has been running around Chicken Littling at everyone. Ironic since his main stumbling block so far has been his own personal Colonel Sanders impersonator. *cue all the chicken/egg metaphors* *something something chickens coming home to roost* *finger lickin’ good* It’s hard to take those sorts of parallels too seriously.

Just as Asmodeus is the “weakest” incarnation of a Yellow-Eyed Demon who has become “weirdly strong” mostly through the emotional significance that Yellow-Eyed Demons have held for the length of the entire series, Lucifer has become “weirdly weak” himself despite the effect his mere presence has just looming over the entire narrative since he was first mentioned way back in s3. His power is now largely symbolic through the psychological trauma he inflicted on Sam (and now as of 13.12, on Rowena). His Big Bad status seems far more weighty on a personal level for the Winchesters (and particularly on Sam), in finally confronting how their cosmic destiny has truly fucked with their lives.

Lucifer himself, meanwhile, has spent most of the season impotently locked in the AU, physically locked in AU Michael’s Iron Maiden, physically depowered by AU Michael’s rift-opening spell, and then tossed around by his “weakest” creation and locked in a cell for the last six episodes. Granted this gives him motivation for taking action, but his obsession with destroying Michael still seems to be his underlying motivation. Sure, he’s still interested in saving “the last perfect handiwork of God,” i.e. the natural world, but he still doesn’t give a damn about humanity. As of 13.12, the most danger he represents is the fact that the Winchesters have no idea he’s back in this world, and that he’s not the one holding Mary captive in the AU and torturing her. Which brings us tidily to…

--AU Michael. The Ultimate Big Bad of s5, at the end of the day, was Michael. He was the one who insisted on sticking inflexibly to his “destiny.” The “good and obedient son” who was prepared to carry out what he believed he had to, despite every opportunity to resolve the apocalypse peacefully and just choose not to fight. Even LUCIFER tried to make peace with him when they finally met at Stull Cemetery, and yet Michael regarded it as yet one more act of “disobedience” from his disobedient brother. And in the AU, their version of Michael actually won the big throwdown, and as a result left the entire planet a wasteland. Lucifer may have wanted humanity wiped off the planet, but witnessing the destruction of all of God’s creation was a shocking reminder that he never wanted to destroy nature… Michael didn’t even care, as long as he’d fulfilled his destiny. How… righteous (in the worst possible sense of that term, bordering on self-righteous). That has some Big Bad makings, no?

The problem with Michael so far this season is that he’s already succeeded in destroying his version of Lucifer, and destroying his own Earth in the process. It’s a fait accompli in his world, but as soon as he stumbled across the rift and learned of another world where he’d failed in the past, he’s been rejuvenated with fresh purpose. It seems almost compulsive for him-- Find World, Destroy World. It’s like his Prime Objective, and he’s incapable of NOT living up to that destiny. It doesn’t make him a Big Bad, just based on that alone, but it does give viewers the ol’ raised eyebrow of suspicion, just based on Michael’s past history.

Not to mention, Lucifer’s pointed out several times that like Asmodeus who seems “weirdly strong” (and yes I keep harping on that phrase because the Plum Sisters were also “weirdly strong” in 13.12, and for Yockey to write such terribly awkward dialogue there HAS to be a purpose, aside from gently mocking standard Bucklemming dialogue), AU Michael is more powerful than the version that the Winchesters (including Cas) helped defeat in 5.22.

The fact that Lucifer keeps insisting that Michael is so powerful, that Michael always gets his way, for those of us actually WATCHING the show, that’s just… blatantly false. The one thing Michael wanted most back in s5 was for Dean Winchester to say yes to him. It’s the one thing he never got. Because Dean’s will proved stronger than Michael’s sense of destiny and obedience. Back in 5.22, Michael rendered himself irrelevant when TFW “ripped up the ending.” The AU where this version of Michael is from never had the Winchesters to contend with, and so has never had to confront the true power of Free Will. Honestly? With TFW 2.0 resurrected from the ashes, how big of a threat does AU Michael truly pose? Because from OUTSIDE the story? No matter how “weirdly strong” that Michael is, it looks more like he and Lucifer are playing out the same pantomime they did back in s5, with just as much chance of actual success as they’d had back then.

What Michael and Lucifer DO bring to the story right now isn’t so much their power to be New Big Bads, but their power to bring the PERSONAL trauma that Sam and Dean (and Cas, by extension) went through as a result of the original setup and downfall of the Apocalypse, and an outlet for them to finally examine the emotional and psychological fallout of what they’ve suffered through and sacrificed to keep the universe from derailing itself over and over again. Which brings me to…

--The interdimensional rifts themselves. Billie had warned Dean about the cosmic house of cards that was dangerously close to toppling as the characters become more self-aware, and realize there are actually ways to cut through to other universes where they might find a way to give themselves a mulligan… where they might be able to “start all over again,” where they made different choices that led to different results. But the stability of the multiverse relies on individual realities maintaining internal continuity, and not bleeding over into one another at random. Which brings me back around to what Chuck told Dean when he left Dean in charge of the universe back in 11.23, and which Dean referenced in his anguished plea for help in 13.01, namely…

--Dean’s not only the “firewall between light and darkness,” but he’s been set in place as the figurehead for balance in the universe. He’s been appointed the guardian of creation by proxy, and hell he really doesn’t want the job. And yet who else is even going to try? Is that what Lucifer is trying to do, at least on the surface? Is that what Cas is attempting in trying to find Jack? Is that what Sam’s attempting in trying to help Jack learn what it means to be human versus a monster?

--Heaven and their Endangered Species Repopulation Project. It seems the angels are growing more desperate as their numbers dwindle. They’ve mostly ceased their interference on the mortal plane, aside from their desperate quest to find and use Jack’s powers to replenish their numbers. But considering Jack’s power level, it doesn’t really seem like much of a real threat to Jack himself. Considering the burst of power that came from Jack’s “power up” of Kaia, that seemed to make BOTH of them “weirdly powerful” enough to tear open another rift and simultaneously nuke six angels. Something tells me that if Jack wanted it enough, he’d have the power to snuff out pretty much any threat to himself. Sure, he’s trapped in the AU right now, but even that’s effectively removed him from the angels’ grasp anyway. It’s been a non-issue for the most part, and in the overall scheme of things, doesn’t seem like a top priority concern for anyone right this second...

--and finally, after 13.12, Rowena’s true nature and full powers have finally been unbound. What is she? What will she do with her powers? What are her goals now that she’s finally been restored to her full power? Will she retain reluctant Frenemy status with the Winchesters? Will she actively seek revenge against those who wronged her, primarily Lucifer? Will she make a play for power in revenge for Crowley’s demise? What does she even want now that she’s attained the personal freedom and safety she’d been seeking since her first introduction back in s10? Right now, she’s a wild card, but we do love her dearly, and I’m glad she’s back. :)

So… who’s really the big bad?

Between the season’s major themes of “things that look like other things,” and things not being what they seem on the surface, as Lizbob’s been saying all season, the Big Bad seems to be Dramatic Irony. The story ITSELF is its own worst enemy.

It’s the narrative structure screaming, “What you don’t know absolutely can and WILL hurt you.”

And all of this is being delivered through the resurfacing of old friends in slightly “off” ways. How many characters and cases and circumstances have directly pinged circumstances from the Winchesters’ past? Going right back to the opening scenes of 13.01, and the “vision” Dean had after Jack knocked him and Sam out-- the flashback to Mary burning on the ceiling overlaid against her being dragged through the rift by Lucifer in 12.23. The entire setup of that scene was rife with flashbacks to Sam losing Jess in the pilot episode, the woman in white played by Kelly Kline, the yellow-eyed monster in the nursery played by Jack, and Cas playing the role of the loved one who was burned and therefore was supposed to “stay dead.” But Mary had already defied that assumption, because she didn’t stay dead. Cas didn’t stay dead either. And now Rowena has also defied that particular truism...

Right from the start of the season we’ve been confronted with things from the past, but which only hint at the past because they’ve now either been applied to different things, or they’ve been transformed into something different, or encountered under entirely different context.

--The “Black Spur Bar,” which had previously been Demon!Dean’s hangout during his summer of love with Crowley was transformed into an entirely different bar where Dean mourned Crowley’s death and was unwittingly confronted by a new demonic adversary (dramatic irony!).

--Donatello the prophet, now purposeless in this post-prophecy, post-God world, left to live on without his soul, and yet still doing the best he could in the circumstances he was left with.

--Literal Alternate Universe versions of lost friends-- from Bobby to Kevin, to mentions of John and Mary and their existence in that other world. There’s no bigger metaphor for “Things that look like other things” than literal alternate versions of loved ones…

--Missouri Moseley, absent from the narrative for thirteen years, returned to pass on her legacy to her granddaughter, who’d been raised to doubt her own psychic powers and has now been forced to face what having those powers means for her.

--Not to mention Patience Turner’s last name dredges up questions about who the “Turner” who gave his name to James and Patience may have been, and as I sit here watching 11.16 I’m again reminded of the speculation that maybe it was actually Rufus Turner… we may never know, but heck, it’s definitely not wild to believe it might be true.

--Buddy the shapeshifter, in the sense that nobody is GIVEN the name “buddy.” It’s a nickname, and one that Dean has used many times in the past for Cas. But “Buddy” by his very nature… wasn’t. He impersonated Dean and attempted to shoot Sam. He wasn’t their “buddy” either.

--I mentioned her above, but Billie is no longer what she was before. She’s not a reaper, nor a dead reaper, but has been returned to the story as Death.

--The reaper who comes to collect Dean (and who Dean defies) in 13.05 is named JESSICA. That name is never spoken lightly in Supernatural. It’s a name nearly as loaded with personal baggage for the Winchesters as Mary or John, and again resonates straight back to the pilot episode of the series.

--Themes of monsters and the old west and cowboys and time travel (it was an antique pocket watch that even tipped Jack off to the case in Dodge City in the first place), with Cas now fully reintegrated with TFW, all call back to 6.18, even with the same musical cues, but the themes have all been twisted around sideways and reframed to new purpose. The fight’s no longer about external monsters and stopping the apocalypse, but internal monstrousness.

--We all thought Arthur Ketch was dead until he showed back up pretending to be his own “good twin.”

--We all also thought Rowena was dead.

--Nick’s Bar, where Lucifer chose as a convenient spot to have a chat with Cas about the potential Apocalyptic Situation they may be facing… while Lucifer’s now perma-trapped in the vessel formerly known as Nick…

--The new King of the Crossroads who survived less than the run of a single episode before being dethroned… He thought he could be the next Crowley, and Dean slapped him down with the truth, calling him “Some random demon.”

--Smash, aka Alice; the human dragged against her will into matters Supernatural, who pretty much everyone saw and immediately yelled OMG CHARLIE.

--The return of the Wayward crew, Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex… but now they’re no longer victims of the narrative. They’ve got their own entire spinoff. :P

--The Bad Place. Aka Purgatory Redux.

--Darth Kaia

--A monster auction that put the Winchesters on the chopping block, run by an FBI agent who literally served the monster population, in contrast to Human Authority Figures of the past, up to and including the BMoL who’ve fairly unilaterally wanted to destroy monsters in favor of protecting humanity.

--In that same episode, we finally see a bit of Donna’s personal life-- from her care for her niece to her relationship with Doug 2.0, and Doug’s ultimate rejection of the hunting life when he’s finally introduced to it.

--Jamie, aka Dean’s temporary “soul mate” in 13.12, was also the name of the bartender in 4.05 that was symbolically Dean’s “new first time” after having been “rehymenated” after his resurrection from Hell.

Not to mention Various and Sundry Villains, the theme this season being “Not what it appears to be,” as demonstrated at its most basic visual level with physical masks and hoods obscuring identity, monsters that take on different faces like shapeshifters and ghouls, or force their victims to PERCEIVE an altered version of reality such as the wraith.

Things are not what they seem on the surface, and the entire plot, the monsters of the week, and even ALL the potential “Big Bads,” and the narrative structure itself-- which is turning around and around this central point of Dramatic Irony-- is the fact that even us as the audience to this entire spectacle, with our added insight into SOME of the dramatic irony playing out week to week, even WE still do not see the bigger picture.

I'm cautiously optimistic that a lot of the Winchesters' problems regarding what they Don't Know will resolve when Cas joins up with them again. Cas holds a lot of Important Information that Sam and Dean need. They’ve been kept as much in the dark as a result of Cas’s imprisonment as Cas himself has. But even through the early part of the season, the validity of information they’ve worked off of has been suspect at best. The info they got from Jack's Vision Download in 13.09 wasn't the WHOLE truth about Mary’s imprisonment in the AU. They’ve made several rather large inaccurate assumptions based off that quick glimpse, though. Just like Patience's vision of Claire's death wasn't the WHOLE truth either, but it let to making several Big Choices that ended up having Massive Consequences.

Even when they think they're seeing the Big Picture Truth, there's still critical info missing from that picture.

The entire SEASON is the big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing.

That’s the entire POINT.

[loserbeam]

2016 retrospective

I usually do these right after the new year, but I’ve been getting clusterfucked so here we are. Sorry for making you wait, literally nobody!

JANUARY

Stepping off of a burst of energy from wrapping up finals and celebrating the new year, I lapse into a heavy depression.

Consequently I take time off stage. This is death to me.

My roommate takes full advantage of my insecurity about not performing. My home life is a lot of hearing about how I’m not a comic if I’m not performing.

And why? I don’t know. He fed me the line, “I’m just trying to help you.” This is a classic tactic of emotionally abusive people and, as I’m gullible, affable and eager to please, I fell for it hard. 

The idea that I’m not doing well in comedy is a much bigger road block to doing well in comedy than actually not doing well in comedy.

Instead of working on my thesis, I read a lot of comics and hide in bed.

FEBRUARY

My roommate took our utility money without paying the bill and our gas gets shut off. This sparks a mood swing that ends with me punching out a window. 

I start writing poems during math lectures again.

I get back on stage slowly. I feel like a newly born giraffee up there (google it (but not at work)).

In typical bipolar form, I obsessively chase the only thing consistently making me feel good. So I dedicate myself to writing a new character every week.

MARCH

Lapsing out of my depression one warm day I realize how many of my troubles are in my head. In an effort to take back my life, I pitch my show as a SPANK and, surprisingly, it gets accepted.

I wonder briefly about life post grad school and, terrified, eat a sandwich instead. 

My brother mentions that he needs someone to apartment sit in LA for the summer. In the parallel structure that underpins the crap novel that is my life, I am reminded of the summer I spent with my sister immediately after graduating undergrad--which was the last few months before I finally got treatment for bipolar. So I agree to go for a few weeks only, in case it all goes awry.

APRIL

With my birthday, I am faced with the cruel reality that I am absolutely not a kid anymore. I’m 25. When my grandpop was my age he had three kids and a drinking problem. It’s time to act my age.

With no sense of irony, I purchase the entirety of the Naruto manga.

For the first time in memory I have a birthday I enjoy. A last minute change of venue put us at the Stonewall on a slow night; celebrating in such a historic place made me feel connected to being a gay in a way that random grindr hookups and being self conscious about my body never has. A smattering of people from all walks of my life come together. There is much love in the room. Perhaps I am not a bullshit person.

My roommates ask me to leave the apartment because I punched out a window.

I realize I have done almost no work on my thesis.

Oh no. I am a bullshit person.

MAY

With my thesis due in under a month, I end up spending 2 weeks nonstop on a breakneck schedule: wake up at 8 am, in the library by 9 am, there until 12am, home by 1 am, bed by 2.

I fail a final and laugh at the possibility that that might doom my degree. (It doesn’t.)

In the same week, I put up a SPANK, turn in my thesis and move out of my apartment. Then I go to LA.

The plan is to literally go straight to the airport after moving out of my apartment. I enlist the help of one of my roommate’s estranged ex’s, now a good friend (because he has taste, at least), in moving my things to a storage unit. She yells at his bed, hoping she can yell loudly enough give advice to herself in the past, and we briefly contemplate stealing his dog.

We should have, but we didn’t.

The night before I go to LA I decide to leave my apartment early and stay up all night to go to BYOT, the mic I frequent at UCB. This is an act of defiance against the universe, which is my oppressor, because I no longer have authority to revolt against.

The night is great--a great set, a great time, great friends. It feels like the last day of school. A chapter in my life is closing.

Before I head to the airport I decide to get something to eat. I am caught with my luggage in a rain storm and get completely soaked before sadly eating McDonalds. This is an omen.

JUNE

My expectation is that LA will be a place I want to move in my thirties--quiet, calm, a better quality of life but so much less going on. I am completely right.

My only chore at my brother’s apartment is moving his car to avoid parking tickets. Twice a week I nervously get behind the wheel and inch it down the street--because I have only driven 5 times in my life, the 5th being the license test. The first time I move it I have to google “which pedal is the brake?”

I acquaint myself with LA busses, which are essentially NYC subways but with all the crazy people jammed into one car.

Which is wear I witness the best dialogue I’ve seen in person. My favorite: A grumpy old man yelling at everyone; a tired queen headed home from WeHo. Queen: “Stop being a dick.” Old Man: “Stop sucking dick. I worked with Sinatra you fag, who are you?” Q: “If you worked with Sinatra then why are you riding a bus?”

I do an escape room for the first time with a friend from NYC who was also venturing out. We keep this up back in New York for quite awhile.

I also spend a lot of time with my uncle, who is a very successful writer and producer. He imparted some very important knowledge, including haranguing me for not working enough, which stung but I needed to hear it. Some other highlights:

I had picked up a habit of judging improv and other comics from my shithead roommate (who is a stand up, kind of). I got coffee with my uncle after seeing a weekend team at iO that was fun but a bit underwhelming. “But you know, that’s improv,” I laughed. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, “What do they have on you except 10 years of performing experience?”

Another time we met at a cafe he liked. Everyone--I do mean everyone--was on a laptop writing a screenplay. “What a cliche,” I joked. He looked at me very sternly. “I want you to understand this,” he said, “Everyone in here is working and you are drinking coffee I bought you. Okay? They’re doing the work and you’re making fun of them. That’s the difference.”

Ow!

I shit on my own experience, talking about having bar shows where the audience is the other comics, performing for 3 people at a time, etc. He tells me the story of his own big break--as a two man group he had a show at a new club. Three person audience. Instead of being flippant about it they put on the best show they can; one of the people was there to review the club. They got mentioned in the paper. It snowballed.

“And stop talking shit about your material,” he said, “You’re just telling people you’re not worth watching.”

JULY

On the plane home I write the entirety of a pilot I had been thinking about but was afraid to put down.

I check my email as soon as I touch down in NYC. A festival I had never heard back from had a drop out and needed me to do 20 minutes of stand up.

The show has a 6 person audience. I’m about to feel bad about it until I remember my uncle’s advice. I take it seriously. i do well. This show puts me in graces with an artistic director who would go on to stage many of my shows. Good advice, that.

UCB finally gets back to me about my SPANK. It is rejected.

The ebbs and tides of my life feel more like droughts and tsunamis.

I live for the month with my good friends Ryland and Dave. They are the absolute best to me. Dave smokes in his room and ashes on the window sill. Cool breezes blow through as we watch Buffy. One night we try to find the documentary Tickled, but it’s just out so we can’t find it. We settle on watching one of the actual competitive tickling videos. It’s a little hot.

I go on a date with my now-boyfriend. He is cute.

AUGUST

I finally lock down a new place. My new roommate? My ex. Why? I love a story.

The apartment is a trap. The gas isn’t set up, the construction isn’t finished. We struggle to find someone for the third room.

One night when things have finally calmed down, I throw myself a small dance party and in the midst of it notice a bed bug crawling up my wall. This is the death of my happiness, I decide, and for the most part I’m right.

We find someone to move in to the third room. He is a bland twink and could be replaced in the story of my life by a mannequin.

I spend a lot of time at boyfriend’s, consequently.

I call him my boyfriend for the first time at his birthday party, which felt tacky cause I didn’t get him anything (per request) and I hope he didn’t think that was, like, my gift.

SEPTEMBER

A friend from grad school hooks me up with my first ever teaching job. I am an adjunct instructor, but I like to tell people that I am a 25 year old professor, which I very much get off on.

The only perks of the job are getting off on calling yourself a 25 year old professor. It’s fun but I’d get paid more as a doorman.

After hosting some stand up, I mention to my director friend that I’m working on a show. He agrees to put it up.

OCTOBER

For the first time, I put together a one-man show. I perform it as an 18 year old womyn doing her one woman show about her family. It is fun and stupid and a handful of people come.

I produce two running shows at other theaters about town. They have no audience but nobody knows that when I say it.

I make my boyfriend do a couple’s costume. 

NOVEMBER

My friends from BYOT and I form a sketch group, CHUMBLE. (We’re a fan of caps lock.) They ask me to direct the inaugural show, which will need to be written and rehearsed in under a month.

We pull it off. It’s great.

On election day I go back home to vote. I get dinner with my mother and a work friend of hers, a mouthy French woman who is a delight. Slowly word eeks out that Trump is winning. This memory feels a bit like the band playing while the Titanic sank.

I end up writing more about nazis than I thought I would be.

I start going to workshops for Queerball, an LGBT thing at UCB, where I meet a new director for my one man show.

We both, incidentally, end up in the same scene of a film shoot where our characters have our dicks stapled together by a murderer. (It’s a horror comedy.)

DECEMBER

My one-man show premiers on the mainstage at PIT, paired off with Ryland’s. It’s a good night to be human.

But I don’t get to celebrate much, because I have to be up to teach in the morning.

Christmas is a rough patch. Bland roommate decides he will move out, telling us to use his deposit to cover his January rent--which sucks, because we aren’t a management company. I go broke. My boyfriend and I have a spat. (But we make up.)

I get to spend New Years with Ryland and Dave and so many of my best friends.

Ryland drinks his favorite beverage, a large cup of midori. And its flavor matches my year: a dose of thick cough syrup doused in neon green.

[watchtheblog]

what we talk about when we talk about talking about love

it’s amazing that i have any time to go on weird dates or attend parties i want to be ejected from considering how consumed i am with the relationship between mary kate olsen - human baby’s breath - and olivier sarkozy - a franc* personified.

*(france’s erstwhile currency)

i think true love is wanting to know the way the person you love describes something meaningless, and whenever i look at these two assholes, my most distinct thought is “i want to live inside an interminable game of charades with you”.

i want to take up residence inside a page of the DSM in olivier’s therapist’s office, and listen while he details the four troubles he’s dealt with this past year: being outbid on 1st dibs for a blood diamond, finding out alexa isn’t on his payroll, only getting to smoke 89 cigarettes instead of 102 because of daylight savings, accidentally mistaking a ficelle for a baguette.

i want to hear mary kate explain to olivier what burning man is, and i want to hear olivier laugh in disgust and tell her to stop. then i want to hear olivier’s footsteps as he walks over to their landline telephone, and i want to listen as he gets his accountant on the phone to ask him how much it will cost to buy black rock desert.

the pleasure i derive from working myself into a dizzy spell staring at these two for so long is tantamount to my most joyous moment- the moment immediately post coitus when you silently exclaim “THANK GOD THIS IS OVER”, and gleefully realize this is the farthest away you’ll be from having to do the sex act again.

i love these simulacra of human life so sincerely, i file all my posts about them under a tag entitled “this is not irony; i am obsessed with them to a degree that is terrifying”.

think about the most you’ve ever felt loved in your entire life. then multiply that by the amount of likes a widely disseminated post denouncing the killing of a wildlife animal gets. that’s how much love i have for these porcelain ornaments.

look at olivier. he’s carrying a briefcase. for what?! there’s no reason for him to be carrying a briefcase. (really. show me one single man carrying a briefcase in 2018 and i will show you howie mandel filming a sizzle reel for a “deal or no deal” reboot, or i’ll show you a criminal who didn’t want to strap a gun to his calf for the bank robbery he’s on his way to.)

what’s in there? it could only be one of three things - two cartons of smokes, their marriage certificate which (even if it’s not in there) i know he looks at 2-4 times a day to remind himself he’s not dreaming, or the canon of mary kate and ashley’s film and television work that someone transferred onto a single DVD at olivier’s behest.

the man is a walking annal of 1957, and his wife is in drag as a friar, and they exist, and though i am paying them as much attention as is humanly possible for a person so deeply self involved, it is somehow still an inadequate amount of attention for our earth’s most hallowed creatures.

in conclusion (to a truly plotless rambling), here is a photo of mary kate and olivier where olivier looks, as always, like gaston, and mary kate looks like she’s dressed in the trench that was swathing both her and the other v tiny person whose shoulders she was atop while they were scamming people door to door in a pyramid scheme three hours prior. (i tried really hard to make this land. if it didn’t, click here. this is the joke.)

[watchtheblog]

tenets and tenants of endearment

this is a love letter to the purest love i’ve ever known.

“i should like to go with you -- nowhere. it would be rather wandering just to nowhere. thats the place to get to—nowhere. one wants to wander away from the world somewheres, into our own nowhere.”* (women in love)

*wander to this blog about nowhere. also, here is a link to my canon of work on these iconic darling dreamboats.

whenever i think i’ve run out of ways to count the ways in which i love mary kate olsen and olivier sarkosy, i am reminded that the universe is abundant and i will never be at a loss to describe the most sacred union to have ever been deemed sacred by the act of consecration at an undisclosed private residence on east 49th street where they were married, among their cigarettes and expensive friends.

we are not worthy to lay our eyes upon this fusion of wealth, nicotine and languid passion… but let us sin for a moment, shall we?

there’s a phrase “money talks, wealth whispers”, and in addition to introducing it as a way to softly let you know the kinds of disgusting, elitist platitudes i have in my lexicon, i’m mentioning it because i want to use its grammatical structure to riff off of:

(although, to be fair, this old chestnut does also apply to these opulent oligarchs (ish; adjacent) without modification. money talks (see: someone who buys bottles at a club), wealth whispers (see: mary kate and olivier who skip the club altogether in favor of eating *whatever the fuck* while wearing rags.))

love talks, TRUE love (this love here) silences itself with cigarettes and making out so it can focus on cultivating the deepest love known to human kind, aliens, poets and cardiologists.

like, look how quiet their love is. this image came up when i searched for them and it took me almost a minute to even process that they are IN this photo.

back left. (not the attention desperate two front right. SEE YA LATER.)

look at these little moles!!! these sneaky ass, little groundhogs.

love projects itself over the internet in a garish display of falsified emotion. TRUE love removes itself from the public gaze, somehow, despite its immediate presence in the gaze of said public.

REMOVES. entirely. seriously. you erase yourself from public documentation. that’s how you exercise your force as a couple. that’s how you shove your wealth of adoration for each other down the throats of everyone in your nuclear and extended life. you disappear.

i bet these live action adults don’t even deign to partake in the census.

my google alerts for them lay so dormant i often find myself checking to make sure they’re still set up... the way i’d check my blackberry’s vitals in 2009 to see if this guy ken who was a bartender (lol i did a typo here and it changed “bartender” to “partner” and i laughed when i deleted it to write “bartender” because it made me feel like i was getting one over on this guy. this guy from 10 years ago, from when i was an underage club bop — let me stop) at the famed #thebox had texted me.

(he NEVER had!!!!!! also. that is his real name. please hit me up if you’re reading this, i would love to catch up and hear about all those weekend trips you’d mysteriously take every single weekend when i’d be like “let’s hang this weekend?”)

mary kate and olivier are floating caspers, devious beetlejuices… *google search “famous ghosts”, find one you relate to + add adjective to round this out for me*

when i dare ask google, “google, are there more images of these human crack bags?” google responds, “no.” and even though google - like the instagram of the *cool, fun, 10k followers away from a fitness tea or teeth whitening system #spon deal* girl you stumbled upon after vigilantly checking your (ex) boyfriend’s liking activity - is never misleading, i check anyway.

and i confirm this for myself as i reach the end of the archives. as i exhaust the results. I REACH THE END. of a google image search. of a wildly famous child actor cum designer of multiple fashion brands and a tall, rich banking man who is the relative of a former french president. mangnifique. they’re walking nostalgia.

once, a man i should not have let love me and vice versa… - well...

they all were (…men i shouldn’t have let love me).

anyway, this one in particular told me he was breaking up with me because he “wanted to be anonymous”. lol! i scoffed at that of course and not just because i wanted to be like, “you’re anonymous as fuck, my dude” (which i said; because he was; he remains.) but also because i was like… what? what a crazy gross thing to want to be. to aspire to be the whites of my eyes after rolling them at that comment.

but wow. was i wrong.

love exposes itself for others to gawk at, TRUE love consumes itself. true love says, “i want you to contain me in physicality and not in the vulgar sexual way”.

TRUE love swallows itself, disappearing, completely unconcerned with you in any way. TRUE love, real, lasting love, slinks around the world in a hearse, hidden from the prying eyes of fans and enemies alike because true love doesn’t need your approval... or marked indifference. these fucking lilting daffodils read each other like motherfucking braille.

LOVE IS LOVE… per macklemore and LGBTQ ads everywhere. but true love is right here. hiding somewhere behind someone of higher value domestically (at a box office, for example) but where it matters (in love or the billion dollar net worth arena) stratospherically inferior. see, look. here they are behind the man jack nicholson, star of things and etc…

love is love, true love is a phenomenon.

these are injunctions not opinions. this is the truth. this is how love works. i’m sorry if i had to break it to you.

i read somewhere that olivier’s ex wife said his relationship with mary kate was “disgusting”. oh. really? what’s disgusting? finding the man of your dreams in an AARP magazine? having a girlfriend so adorable and young, the person who took this photo might not have known that only one female present is biologically related to you?

i’m sorry that that’s disgusting to you, charlotte. broaden your scope of reasoning. widen your understanding of love. of dreams. further try to understand the vocabulary that you are carelessly throwing around the way olivier throws mk around when they’re watching a live stream of … “the markets” and the nasdaq is down and he desperately needs to change the channel for his blood pressure but cannot find the remote and because of his inherent french rage he ends up throwing mk across the room because he mistakes her for a doll.

what’s disgusting, lottie?

the pure joy on the faces of these two sacks of heroin? they’re literally effervescent, merely acknowledging that they are both "alive” and able to smoke another hundred thousand cigarettes together.

DEFINE DISGUSTING!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok. thank you.

in closing. i just want to take a minute to elucidate the extent to which olivier sarkosy - a man i do not know - has no idea what “social media” is. like, i feel like mary kate once might have tried to explain it to him and he waved it off like you’d wave off someone offering you a sample of some food related item when you’re in a supermarket shopping with a v specific list of food items and not a moment to spare (and also maybe you have some pesky food allergies).

“how silly,” he probably said. and then puffed an accordion of marlboro reds, looked around at the circle of people in his captive audience (only his wife, mary kate olsen), and said, “the night is young… and so is mary kate” before devouring her pre dinner.

[watchtheblog]

smoking guns

the last time i wrote about my friends (people i’ve never met) mary kate olsen and olivier sarkosy, they were not married. well, TA DA. since then, as you may know, they’ve been married - in as far as two people who are not real can be “married”.

they were joined in holy matrimony amongst their closest cigarettes, family and people fortunate enough to be called upon on such an occasion. yes, people, as well as cigarettes, congregated somewhere to watch mary kate olsen and olivier sarkozy deign to engage in one of life’s most pedestrian activities for the sake of once again, trying to convince us that their claims of being “human” are not erroneous.

one can only hope to experience the pleasure of bearing witness to something so monumental as the union of two mere reflections of actualized human bodies.

despite my initial proclamation:

the internet told me these marvels are getting married in the hamptons [...] until these two have said their vows, there’s still something to live for!

which might make you assume that once the nuptials had taken place there would be nothing left to live for - i am somehow still finding life worth living.

yes, hard to believe. i too am shocked as i find myself continually inhaling and exhaling as if by rote memorization and not due to fervent instruction from a youtube tutorial. but here we are. it is a gorgeous time to be alive.

i renounce my former decree, for as long as our heroine - mary kate olsen, star of screen, stage and streets - continues to breathe (in between smoke in/exhalation) and remain so elusive and intriguing a “human being” that even her minutiae is headline news, so too will my life continue.

there hasn’t been much photographic evidence of mary kate and olivier’s existence (i scour the web for images of their countenance) since their wedding last fall, but a crumb will do. here, mary kate her mans leave a restaurant.

here they are. here they continue to be. existing in a world that is not ready for them; nay, a world that knows not how to prepare.

the news almost has to cover them doing “normal” things because otherwise you would never know they were “human”. at a glance, of course, it’s to be expected, you assume they are book ends, shuffling through life just looking for something to hold up next.

but then, thank god for the news (an excellent source of valuable information). regarde - from just these two morsels, we can confirm that mary kate smokes (but we already know this) and she and olivier have, at lest once, entered, spent time in and left a restaurant.

and any reasonable person with agency knows a book end does neither of those things. a bookend smoking a cigarette? entering a restaurant? that would be pure chaos. voila. we are one step closer to determining in what exact form mary kate and olivier are intending to present themselves to us... because it certainly is not “mortal”.

here they are again. devouring each other, as two cherubs who are completely drunk on each other tend to do. look at them. really look at the faces of the two most in love characters ever to be documented in human history. these faces are of the utmost importance. these faces are anthropomorphized high holy days.

they live for each other. they live on each other. they are literally each other’s lifeblood. one can simply not exist without the other. in fact, i think we would be at a loss to find proof of olivier’s life prior to mary kate’s birth in 1986.

alone, apathy incarnate:

together, literal unstoppable firebombs:

LOOK AT THEM!!!!! LOVE IS REAL AND AVAILABLE TO YOU IN THIS WORLD IN SOME FORM THAT IS BENEATH* THE LEVEL OF LOVE THESE TWO PEARLS HAVE FOUND, BUT STILL. WHOLLY AVAILABLE.

(*seriously. are you looking at them? i don’t think anything bad has ever happened to them, nor will it. i don’t think they have ever had to exert themselves in any situation under any circumstance (not that they should!!!), i don’t think they remember a time before they were in love, i don’t think they have fear or doubt. i don’t think they’ve ever fallen ill, seen a medical professional for something other than a routine check up (which they are sent along on their merry way from on sight), i think they are invincible phoenixes who we are not paying nearly enough attention to. they are the one true romance of our lifetime (prior lifetime potential competitors: june and johnny cash, frida and diego, vera and vlad.))

they are divine ephemera - leant to this world by a higher being we may never be able to thank profusely enough - discreetly billowing through major american and european cities on saccharine clouds of nicotine and blissful marital filth, whispering their patois and, on occasion, indulging in an activity at oliver’s behest for the sake of letting the world see that which has besotted him, for he is so proud.

find you a love so deep and fulfilling, you confuse your existence for fantasy.