"There are more people here. It’s a numbers game."
"No, it’s that everyone has roommates and somehow crying in front of a subway car full of strangers seems less horrible than crying in front of your roommate. People here can afford to live alone, you can get a nice place in a good neighborhood for $800, easy."
Yeah, you’ve got to be pretty serious about what you want out of life when you don’t know what’s going to happen the next day. Some days, brushing my teeth was like, “When’s the applause track going to happen?” I was like, I wish there was an audience standing here watching me make it to the bathroom on two legs. I felt like I’d just run a marathon. I was like, “I’m amazing!” There were times when I couldn’t say three sentences without slurring or saying the wrong words. So to be able to now do an interview with you and sounding, I hope, semi-coherent, and to be in the position where I’ve played a couple shows, it’s like I’ve been given my life back. How could I not have changed? It made me realize what a fuckin’ dick I was before. Not in every way of my life, but I didn’t understand what people with invisible illnesses go through every day. Just because somebody doesn’t have a cast on their arm doesn’t mean that they are not dealing with serious illness. Invisible illness is especially insidious because people are like, “You look great.” Before I got diagnosed, I was trying all these weird diets to see if I was allergic to something or if I had Crohn’s disease and I lost a huge amount of weight. Everyone was telling me how great I looked. I remember one day somebody telling me that I was like, “You know what, I’m so skinny because I’m really, really sick, not because I want to be.” They just turned and walked away. I know weight plays such a huge factor in the way people relate to women, but that really showed me. How many people told me how good I looked when I was emaciated? I was like, “Wow.”
Performed Live at the UCB East on February 11th 2014
The Tony Show: Too Soon: An Evening with Woody Allen, Ronan Farrow and Philip Seymour Hoffman
Woody returns to the Tony Show to defend himself against the allegations of child abuse, but don’t worry, the Tony Show, like modern cable news channels, maintains the utmost impartiality. Ronan Farrow will be crooning his rebuttal. Finally, because Woody Allen often employs magical elements in his story telling, he will be conjuring the Ghost of Philip Seymour Hoffman for a final goodbye. Is it too soon for any of this to happen?
It’s been a week and in news cycle terms, this is like doing a show on the Challenger Explosion.
Just saw a thing about writers’ “residencies” on Amtrak. And it occurred to me we need some serious Onion level version of ‘what if other professions accepted such whiny navel gazing about the thing for which you are paid being difficult and needing some special hand-holding to get done” (Yadoo offers workshops for heart surgeons who are just finding it hard to get their first transplant done, etc.).
i was about to blog/brag about how excited I am to be wearing a dress with my jean jacket and boots and NO TIGHTS in a mere FORTY-EIGHT HOURS because i will be in ~sunny Georgia~ but then i got an email saying my flight was cancelled so now i’m just losing my head. it’ll be fine. it’ll get worked out. it’s all okay. better i know now than at 6am tomorrow while i’m sitting in the airport you know? but even if I didn’t NEED the no-tights temperatures (and I do) i truly do need this weekend and i know i’m not the only one.
Here we are. It’s 2014 and people are still blogging their first world problems. Maybe use this free time to read up on Venezuela and Ukraine.
Tumblr: home of the endlessly reblogged unchecked privilege.
The Olympics, which are pretty much the apex of Big Everything/Majoritarian Culture, are always interesting as an exercise in exposing the just how provincial our (American/New York-centric) media are. Even though pretty much everything served up east of Graham Ave is talked about like it’s shat directly into GG Allin’s hands and thrown into the face of flyover country, dimes to dollars all we are going to see today is a range of responses that start at snickering and end at SO WERD. We’re watching the equivalent of an F-150 commercial coming out of Sochi but the degree of Otherness-gaping we’re going to get will sound like a fourteen year-old doing their semester abroad in Paris.
Sometimes you feel real old, older than you are. Check the aches and pains, the hairline, the demands of life. Responsibilities, responsibilities. Worse things have happened to all of us; the circus wasn’t as good as you thought it would be, the movie stunk, etc., etc…
Punching the clock, punching the wall, hating your boss. You can’t go if you don’t know, and you can’t know if you don’t go. And everybody in the world has their own song in their heads. The best songs ever. Problem is figuring a way to get them out and present them to others.
You’ve got to know where the brakes are. Enjoy life at a realistic pace. You crazy youngsters, what with your nightlife and everything. And it’s important to trust other people while putting stock in yourself as well. Reevaluating your priorities, checking yourself daily.
Not everybody is a victim of circumstance; conversely, nobody should feel like a martyr all the time. Problem? It’s hard enough to communicate these days; some of us don’t even get the chance. Some others don’t know they have a chance.
When you travel frequently, you find a lot of images. And sometimes, you have to try and make the best of a bad situation: more often than not, we grin and bear it. Other times, you learn to enjoy some small facet of your predicament. Nothing too elaborate, just an attempt to adjust priorities. Revolution starts at home, preferably in the bathroom mirror.
Example? Winter always comes too soon. This year was the worst I can remember, except when I was five years old. Pushed open the front door, got lost in the snow.
one of my most vivid emotional memories of chicago is walking through a v. cold parking garage in the south loop trying to remember where we had parked before we went to see ‘blue valentine’, oh god, can you imagine and not giggle?