Light Speed and yet Glacial

It's been just about three weeks since this mutual crush was revealed between Myna and me. Over this three weeks, we've managed to spend time together, dream of one another, and continue to hold off on the kissing, on the sex, but the groping is something else entirely. There is something both glaringly wrong with, and completely organic to, our situation in all the grabbing, holding, hair pulling, nuzzling, clawing, intense squeezing, very nearly humping that we're doing together without having kissed on the lips, without removing a shred of clothing. It feels complete in itself, and also unfinished. We agreed this week that we are doing something very odd and awkward in a space that falls somewhere between friendship and dating. I wonder if calling it "dating" would make some sort of psychic difference, as I'm finding it hard to capture, and in essence, to comprehend what this is that we're doing. I asked her if I could call her my "potential future-lover and current clit-tease" and she was game. It's now morphed into just "clit-tease" for brevity's sake.

Why don't we get it over with and fuck, you ask (knowing as you do that Ms. Bree never holds off if it can be helped)? There are two reasons at present for us to be cautious, even though heavy groping is not really the most cautious m.o. on the books. One is that we know each other professionally. Our working relationship will end in about two and a half months, so that won't be a problem for much longer. The other, much more salient factor is that Myna is attempting to sit with the concept that I have a main squeeze, and that I'm not available for a full partnership with her. She doesn't have any experience with open relationships, though she's keen at the very least on talking about it, perhaps reading about it, and mulling over what this might be like for her. Meanwhile, Astrid has been completely amazing in holding all this, and our communication has been excellent—sticky in moments, but once we get to talking about real feelings that are emerging, we are tender and real with one another, and we give each other the spaciousness to work through it all. Although Astrid and Myna have met briefly a couple times, they haven't spent any time together since all this energy has coalesced and been revealed between us, so that will probably be one of the next steps that we pursue. Exciting, anxiety-inducing, and compelling, all.

Insatiable...in our dreams

Astrid and I woke up this morning feeling all cuddly, and eventually shared timid morning breath kisses and groped each other until our sleeping clothes came off. She told me about the dream she'd just had, a gorgeously smutty dream in which she was having sex with a current crush boy of hers among the throngs at a sort of pride parade for perverts. I told her about my dream in which I'd been making out with one of my current crush girls. My entire body seized with desire when she told me about fucking her boy in the dream, and I wanted her so badly. After we groped and kissed more, Astrid's urge to get on with the day superseded the urge to get it on, and so she left bed to make us a glorious frittata with eggs, greens, shallots, and garlic. I stayed in bed and got myself off three times. Not a bad way to start the day.

Red to Green, Part Four (of Four)

…in which Bree's sex life gets much more sane and we wrap this thing up.

Click here for the legend. Apologies for the small size of some of these charts (having trouble with Photoshop) – please click on a chart for a larger version.

Jump back to Part Three

2005-2006. Drama factor: 2 (mostly the fun kind!) Astrid and I met in '05 and became casual but intentional lovers. Both of us continued and began sexual connections with other partners during this first year we were dating. Astrid was involved with Kiley, Jesse, and Bren when I met her, and I had a few casual hook-ups with my friend Rita and with a random woman I met on Craigslist. I imagined Astrid to be sleeping with, like, "everyone," and I'm not sure why I harbored this fantasy. Probably 'cause I found her to be so unbefuckinglievably desirable, and couldn't figure out what she was doing with lil old me in these first few months. I was pretty fresh off of my break up with N., and feeling shaky about what I had to offer, as well as emotionally raw. But as I healed and got some equilibrium, and as Astrid and I grew more intimate, I felt much more confidence and really hit a stride with my polyosity. Astrid dated Cian in the fall, and Dax and I met around that same time and fell into a yummy, loving dating relationship. Though this was hard to navigate at times, I felt really good about being able to express my feelings with each of them and I was even able to balance my time in a sane way (read: this was before I started grad school!) So, for several months, I was dating both Dax and Astrid, as A and I gradually became more committed to each other, in as open and unconventional a way as we could. Eventually, Dax fell in love with her new partners, Boi & Boy, and she decided to become polyfidelitous with them. High point: Sexual freedom, developing intimacy with both Astrid and Dax, and authentic and honest sexual connections with shorter-term partners. Low point: Figuring out how to facilitate as safe a space as possible for both Astrid and Dax to be in my life in their different roles. I can't say that I handled this as elegantly as I should have, but this was nowhere near the totally unethical ways I handled nonmonogamy in past relationships (See the Bianca Bramble, ten years previous.)

Drama factor: 1. In '06 and '07, things calmed down as Astrid and I navigated changes in our relationship. In '06 we became girlfriends and I started grad school, and we began living together in '07. I smooched a couple women (a make-out at the Lex and subsequent awkward date; a kiss with my coworker Shareen on the eve of her return to living in the Midwest.) So, nothing too involved. I'm not 100% sure, but I don't think Astrid had any action going on during this period either. My crushes on various people flourished during this time (some of you know who you are). High point: Being with Astrid just fucking rocks. Low point: Not really a "low" point, but it can be difficult to negotiate my desire for being with multiple people even if I'm not actively involved with anyone other than my partner. Sometimes I'm perfectly content, sometimes I feel angsty, and there are a whole range of other associated feelings at any given time. Mostly, I was just really happy in my primary relationship and very busy with school.

2007-2008. Drama factor: 3. No other involvements for either of us throughout 2007, and then toward the end of '08, Astrid and I had a visit from an old lover of hers, Elle, which provided a really complex and beautiful experience for us to navigate together. Then not long after that, I hung out with a friend of mine on whom I've had the hots for a long while, the beautiful and bawdy Calista. We had a few drinks at various local haunts, and then, once she figured out I was attempting to make a pass (I'm really not subtle, and neither is she, thankfully) she reeled me in for a lusty little kiss on the corner of 24th and Mission. She put the kabosh on anything more happening, due to her own relationship concerns, but I will go on record as saying "Mee-ow!" Both because of the specific interaction with Calista, and the more general state of my polyness and not having had another involvement outside Astrid and I in a couple years, it felt really vibrant and alive to be able to play with that sort of energy with another person again. It was fun stuff. More please! Anyone? Bueller?

Fin

Jump to back Part Three or Start at the beginning with Part One.

Red to Green, Part Three (of Four)

…in which Bree's sex life gets even dodgier.

Click here for the legend, which will open in a new window.

Jump back to Part Two

1995-'96. Drama factor: 10! Notes: Oh, lord, where to begin? Well, you've read the overview of the situation already. I'll describe the players and the context in a semi-systematic way:

Center branch: Bianca was my lover for about 1 ½ - 2 years. Bianca was living with her partner Bella for about 4 years at the time we met. The three of us negotiated my involvement with Bianca, so the connection between us is green. Over time, however, as Bianca and I got more emotionally involved, Bella's consent eroded, yet the relationship persisted. I'm not proud of this, and I gather Bianca isn't either.

The early period, counter-clockwise from top: Elsie and I had a sweet fling in the spring/summer of '95, til she went off to be a garden monk at a nearby zen center. Bianca was apprised of this, whether she liked it or not. I also had the opportunity to sleep with Lola and Iris again at various times during my involvement with Bianca, and these were legit and openly discussed. Note that Lola and Iris, having met through me, were dating at one point previous to this period, which I found revolting.

Throughout my time with Bianca, she continued to burn a torch for her erstwhile lover, C., who she had rare opportunities to be with during our run. This was a major source of tension between Bianca and Bella, but I was so very enthralled with Bianca's flair for drama and always keen to hear stories about her Great Love C. Meanwhile, Bella had a lover for a spell, Edward, whose presence kind of relaxed the stress between Bella and me and provided a bit of freedom for Bianca and I to spend some time together during the mid-point of our affair.

Later on in the relationship, as Bianca and I became more emotionally enmeshed and Bella became less okay with our affair, my other involvements went underground. I was fucking our mutual friend Pookie, who also worked at the Org, and that was a direct affront to Bianca; in fact, very unfairly to Pookie, I consciously used her as a wedge to put some distance between me and Bianca. Meanwhile, Pookie had also fucked both my exes, Lola and Iris. We were all such class acts, right? I also slept with a sweetly nerdy boy, Jarek, made out with a new friend Kate, and then had a couple-week fling with yet another co-worker, Irene. Of those involvements, I managed to come clean about the boy, but I outright lied to Bianca about Irene, which put the final nail in the coffin. During this late period, Bella had a clandestine affair with her friend Hank as well, so Bianca was getting grief on all sides. Not that she was the innocent in the situation; after all, she had continued her affair with me long after Bella had clearly stated it was no longer okay. High point: Bianca and I had the most indescribably hot sexual rapport. Low point: it should just never get this low.

1997-'98. Drama factor: 2. Notes: When Bianca and I were finally done with all that, and Iris moved back to Santa Cruz from points East and North, we made another go at being girlfriends, this time for about two years. We always maintained an open agreement, but neither of us really put it into practice – I think we were both sufficiently worn down from all the previous turmoil. We once took my friend Kate (see the Bianca Bramble) to bed with us, which was fun and low-key. I always nursed a handful of crushes, but nothing materialized. Then, toward the end of our relationship, after it was clear things weren't going to work out long-term for us, Iris became involved with Shannon, a local dyke-about-town. We broke up within a month or so. High point: my first really adult relationship, and sharing our lives together. Low point: we were both pretty bored.

* * *

I then entered a beautiful (and rare, for me) period of being single. No chart here, but honorable mentions to Callie, Kate (again) and the random playmates who passed through my life in the fair annum of 1999, the year I finally quit the Peace Org, road tripped across the country, and landed the very unstressful jobs of making sandwiches and scrubbing down hot tubs.

* * *

2000-2004. Drama factor: 3. Notes: As you can see, structurally, my relationship with Nat was almost a mirror image of my relationship with Iris, as far as nonmonogamy goes, even down to the three-way, this time with a random Craigslist hookup. I was adamant that I wanted to make nonmonogamy happen this time in a mature way, but I was still restrained. Natasha had had a very bad pseudo-polyamorous bramble of her own with her ex-husband, just previous to our relationship. Internally, I had my own unresolved emotional issues and guilt, and fears about hurting Nat in the shadow of her situation with her ex. So I stalled on it for a long five years. My most persistent crush at the time, Rita, became fuel for some low-level drama between Nat and I, but really nonmonogamy was one of the big elephants in the room for the entire course of our relationship. High point: hands-down the most mature relationship I'd been in to that point. Low point: we were both repressing what we really needed.

One more installment, kids…

Jump back to Part Two
Jump forward to Part Four

Red to Green, Part Two (of Four)

…in which Bree's follies continue.

Click here for the legend, which will open in a new window.

Jump back to Part One

1992. Drama factor: 4. Notes: After many months of sexual tension, Casey and I finally started dating. In the interim, I was still burning a candle for Iris, and had hooked up with Ube's UCLA housemate at some Jewish student retreat. I had the opportunity to see her again after Casey and I had gone GF. I was straightforward with Casey, but she wasn't happy about it. After I moved to Santa Cruz that fall, Casey and I both became involved with other people, she with a guy friend of hers and me with Lola, who would become my first really long-term partner. We discussed both our other involvements with much maturity, and at that point, even though I was open to our relationship continuing, Casey read this moment as our break up. At least, that's how I think it went (Casey – any feedback from your side of the table?) High point: those magical, unforgettable hugs. Low point: showing up to meet Casey with a fresh Lola hickey on my neck. At my eldest nephew's bar mitzvah. Real classy, Bree.

1992-1994. Drama factor: 7. Notes: Lola and I were together for two years, and during that time, I was always clear about wanting to be open. She was willing to negotiate, but it wasn't ever something she was into, and so I remained nonmonogamous mostly in my fantasies. I still had the Energy with Iris, and became really smitten with my friend A. who lived in Tucson and wrote the most intellectually juicy letters, but I didn't discuss these emotional involvements with Lola. Somehow I was able to talk openly with her about my crush on my friend G., maybe because my feelings for men have always been less serious and therefore seemingly less threatening to my primary relationships. G. and I had made out at a party early on in my relationship with Lola, before we were calling ourselves girlfriends, and I didn't reveal that. I ended up smooching a casual friend, and Lola wasn't thrilled, but we discussed it at least. Then toward the end of our relationship, Lola and I both kissed our mutual friend Spider unbeknownst to each other! I think I may not have known that Spider and Lola kissed until years later. So somehow the nonmonogamy was not working properly in that relationship, even though I was constantly preoccupied with it. High point: a lot of great communication, despite my intermittent tendencies toward repression. Low point: oh, that breakup really stung. It was awful for us both.

1994-early '95. Drama factor: 4. Notes: Dani and I dated but were never SO's, which I think accounts for some of why the nonmonogamy went smoother than many relationships before and after. We were also both oriented toward being open, and this was a first time for me, dating someone else as slutty as I was. The drama wasn't about the negotiations re: nonmonogamy, but about my push-pull with intimacy. Fresh from the breakup with Lola and wanting to be a free agent (not to mention I was kind of insane at this time in my life) I wasn't willing to be very present with Dani, even though I cared about her a lot. I had a passionate evening with A. (the letter-writer from Tucson), and got to fuck Iris again for the first time in years, and had a one-night fling with Kym, a friend from school. All were talked about freely with Dani (and with my other lovers). When I started to become involved with Bianca, Dani knew it was the death knell for us, and the drama spiked. High point: most above-board nonmonogamy yet. Low point: hurting Dani and the resulting awkwardness at work. Yes, we were co-workers. Can't say it was the last time for that nonsense…

Jump to back to Part One
Jump forward to Part Three
Jump forward to Part Four

Red Turns to Green, Eventually (or) The Map of Bree's Kooky Sex Life, Part One (of Four)

Recently, two events in the Facebook universe have inspired me to do some navel-gazing (even more than the usual level, if it can be imagined) about my relationship to relationshipping. The first was the unexpected communication from Bianca, which you read about in a recent entry. The second was the mistake (or maybe it was a fruitful misstep) of accepting my aunt Rhoda's friend invitation, knowing she was going to make some sort of intrusive comment about my open relationship status on my profile. As predicted, the very first message I get from her on Facebook (thank god she didn't post it on my wall!) is simply:

Title of message: "O.R., hmmm..."
Body of message: "Dangerous territory."

When I responded with a quip that being in an open relationship is better than relationship stagnation, she didn't register the joke (pointing not so subtlety in her direction) and proceeded to claim vast knowledge on this issue from "personal experience" and to grill me about whether Astrid and I are in therapy.

Now, I know that Rhoda is just concerned about me, and granted, she's doing it in a hip, been-there-done-that kinda bohemian artiste way, and not in a prunesy old spinster aunt haven't-had-nothin'-near-my-twat-since-the-Ford-administration way, but the message couldn't be clearer: you don't know what you're doing, and this is wrong.

* * *

This frustrating exchange with Rhoda paired with the more positive (but still quite emotionally provoking) communication I had with Bianca conjured up a lot of rumination for me about my relationship history, and just how far back polyamory goes in my life. While it may be new information to Aunt Rhoda, I've been in some form of nonmonogamous situation in all my significant relationships since the first time I kissed Scarlett back in 1991, when I was all of 19 years old. Of course, I cannot boast the cleanest, most conscientious record devoid of any moral ambiguity or outright impropriety for these last eighteen years; nevertheless, on contemplating this history—and geekily applying it to eleven color-coded charts—I realize that the improprieties began to melt away with the years of experience. I don't have it all figured out by any means, but I (now, at least) know how to be honest with my partners and my lovers, and honor my own desire for more loving connections (or just playfully sexy ones) in my life.

So, over the course of several entries, I'll be guiding you through the sometimes naïve, often messy, and always amusing history of my poly love life, as seen in two-dimensional line-drawn splendor!





* * *


1991. Top row: Me, Scarlett, her husband Norbert; bottom row: Scarlett's other lover D., and his girlfriend R. Drama factor (scale of 1 to 10) 6.5. Notes: As far as I knew, Norbert was vaguely aware that Scarlett had other lovers, but it wasn't go-go-go polyamory. Meanwhile, D., Scarlett's other lover, happened to be my boss at the hippy-dippy café where I worked, and his short-term girlfriend during this hot mess was Scarlett's lifelong best friend. High point: Scarlett literally made my knees weak. Low point: bless her, but she was such a tease.

1992. Top row: Me, Iris; bottom row: a one-night stand crush of mine named Ria, and the multitude of her minions. Drama factor: 2. Notes: Iris and I were each other's first official girlfriends, and this first incarnation of our romantic relationship lasted all of two months. While Iris was away for the holidays, I slept with Ria, who was Mrs. C's housemate. I had somehow thought this was okay with Iris, on account of having discussed nonmonogamy with her, but years later, I found out talking about the issue abstractly did not constitute consent in her eyes. Go figure! Thankfully, our relationship as friends survived the indiscretion. High point: Ria was just plain hot. Low point: This might be the only time I've really "cheated" on someone.

Jump to Part Two
Jump to Part Three
Jump to Part Four

Vintage Bree: The Communal House orWhat's on Your Bookshelf?

When I first moved to San Francisco in September of 2000, or "Y2K" as some were known to refer to it, I was paying next to nothin' to live in an anarcho-syndicalist communal household in the lovely and rapidly gentrifying neighborhood once known as the Fillmore, now known as Duboce Triangle, and fondly referred to by many of my friends as TriBeSa, the Triangle Behind Safeway. Well, it wasn't really anarcho-sydnicalist, but a watered-down communal post-punk socialist sort of arrangement. Décor included a taxidermied white long haired cat on the mantel and decaying linoleum in the kitchen and dining room. There were four of us in the house, including myself, cute lil gay Spencer, and Émile & Jaqui, a nonmonogamous straight/bi couple who were the longest running denizens in the house. I was paying like $300 a month for a pretty sweet situation, save for the aggravation of living with Jaqui, who was the only housemate I've ever had who I didn't get along with. At one point, late in the game when I'd long since decided to find another living situation, Jaqui derided me in one of our house meetings by suggesting that I must have grown up in a "flophouse" because I put my feet up on the living room ottoman with my shoes on.

But here's why I am compelled to write about this experience: when I first moved in, before the petty battles with Jaqui (because I wasn't clever enough or stylish enough or whatever it was that doomed me never to make the grade with her) the four of us had amused ourselves with an exercise. When I moved in, and set up all my stuff and unpacked my boxes and stocked my bookshelves, we walked around the apartment scoping each others' libraries to see what books we had in common. This was evidently a long-standing tradition when new housemates moved in. It turned out that the only two books each of the four of us owned at that time were The Marx-Engels Reader and Switch Hitters, a book of erotic stories in which gay male authors write dyke fiction and lesbian authors write gay male fiction. So at least we had liberal arts degrees and smut in common. This leads me to wonder what books my readers might have in common with their housemates. If you're interested in investigating your mutual bookshelves and care to leave a comment, please do. In this age of Shelfari and other virtual bookshelves, I challenge you to do the physical work of perusing the real-world library of your housemates or live-in significants and let me know what odd combinations of shared literary enthusiasm you've got.

Doing this exercize now, I see that Astrid and I both own the following books:

Valencia by Michelle Tea
Choir Boy by Charlie Anders
Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera (although Astrid says her copy might actually belong to DJ).
and, yes, The Marx-Engels Reader, edited by Robert Tucker.

*Edit: 1/18/09: I just discovered that both Astrid and I also own copies of Love Medicine by Louise Erdrich.

Opening Up*

L's visit from Germany is now a few weeks passed, and both Astrid and I are in a good place about all, but it was somewhat of an emotional blender while she was here. The blender contained the following: major portions of sexiness, excitement, love, and wonderful communication, one part confusion, a generous dose of longing and disappointment, dash(ed) expectations, and a pinch of loneliness. And I'm not just describing my feelings being in the spectator role of Astrid's renewed connection with L., but the collective feelings of Astrid and I as they mingled together in the rich concoction we created together with her.

It had been a long time since Astrid or I had had other lovers. My last significant involvement was with Dax, which ended about 2½ years ago when she entered into a more or less polyfidelitous relationship with a couple, and then wound up in a monogamous relationship later on with her current sweetie. I had had a make-out and one awkward date sometime after that, but nothing noteworthy. I think it had been about three years since Astrid was with another lover. And since then, we have developed and deepened our relationship, and we have been discussing our feelings and dreams about polyamory and nonmonogamy quite consistently, the identity and style of loving being at the core for both of us. "Opening up" as a theme is very apt: the opening up of possibilities between Astrid and I; the opening of our hearts to new loves; the opening of our bodies to a new vibrancy and new experiences of pleasure; the opening of our spirits to loving each other in an even more intimate and honest way.

The week didn't progress in the way either Astrid or I had hoped it would, based on the excitement of Astrid's interaction with L. the first couple days. When L. arrived in town, she and Astrid got to reestablishing their rapport and becoming lovers again very quickly. The energy between them was high on the night of Astrid's poetry reading, and after we all got home, they stayed together on the couch while I went to sleep in my bed. When I woke up at about five a.m. to pee, I heard wonderful moans coming from the living room and felt this amazing mixture of vicarious arousal and joy for Astrid, as well as a subtle anxiety that I knew I wouldn't be able to process in such a sleepy and excitable state. When Astrid joined me back in bed not long after that, it felt warm and sexy and connected between us as we snuggled and talked a little about everything that was happening. I was thrilled for her, and so turned on, and felt very grounded about giving them space to be together. And then the next day, L. and I had dinner and talked for a long time about the situation, and I made it very clear to her that everything was cool with me, and that she should feel free to be affectionate with Astrid around me and essentially entitled to take up more space (in fact, in the interest of full disclosure, I told L. it'd be my pleasure if she were affectionate with Astrid in my presence. I got a chuckle out of her on that one--I'm an unrepentant voyeur, it's true.) She said the situation was very unusual for her, and she felt a lot of discomfort with it, having no exposure to open relationships, but said she was really impressed with how Astrid and I were handling it, and that she was learning from it. I assured her we were learning too.

But then, sadly, for the rest of the week, L. was distant from Astrid, and I found myself there in Astrid's disappointment, feeling it with her, and feeling the years of my own start-and-stop polyamorous leanings being dashed. It is not wise to put all eggs in a basket, as the cliché goes, and so wisdom knows that L. was no wicker for our whims. When Astrid came to bed the next night, curling into herself and feeling rejected by L., I felt disconnected from her and alone, knowing it wasn't me she wanted that night. We slept lightly and proceeded awkwardly through the next day, and then Astrid and I took a walk together up to Dolores Park late in the evening, and had a radically honest talk about everything we were both feeling. How glorious it was to share my intimate joy and pleasure and sadness and fear with her, and to be fully open to hearing Astrid's specific pleasures and pangs, even as they were about another woman.

But radical honesty is more multifaceted than glorious: it's tiring. It's exposing. It's relentless, and once you start, you can never stop, because anything less feels inauthentic and flat. This is the precious and frightening underside of opening up.

________________________________
*This entry is named after the new book of the same title on nonmonogamous relationships by Tristan Taormino, out now on Cleis Press.

Lisa Lisa, Redux

My dear friend, astro-b, left a comment on the previous blog entry regarding the song Head to Toe, by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. I thought the comment deserved some particular attention, so I find myself now writing not one but two entries on the subject. He writes:

I'm impressed you know who Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam are. Perhaps the last time you heard them all those years ago was in my car...?

B. actually caught me in an illusion of "finished product," as I didn't immediately remember that the song was Lisa Lisa's, and so fetched the info online in writing the blog entry. I vividly remembered the song and, for brevity's sake, left out the part of the story which involved my reverie about who it was performed by.

As I listened to the boom box, I thought that the voice was Madonna-esque, but knew it wasn't Madge, and wondered whether it was someone like Samantha Fox or, shit, I dunno, Paula Abdul. B's surprise that I could've pulled Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam out of my ass was right on the mark, as he's known me since the '80s (in fact, since June of 1987, which makes our 21st anniversary as friends coincide with the chart-topping anniversary of Head to Toe!) and is quite familiar with this particular blind spot in my popcultural knowledge: I often can't distinguish one '80s pop songstress or girl group from another, with some exceptions, based on areas of personal interest. As an example, I still can't differentiate Bananarama from the Bangles, even though I know they sound totally different.

I never remember which one did Hazy Shade of Winter, which one did Walk Like an Egyptian, and which one did Cruel Summer (Bangles, Bangles, and Bananarama, I'm told by the magical internets. And now that I'm hearing the difference, I will admit I much prefer the Bangles.)
I'm also utterly lost trying to pick out Debbie Gibson from Kylie Minogue from Taylor Dane and so on. To B., this has always been blasphemous, because he has been obsessed with the pop divas since well before he started sucking cock. I think there must be some sort of gender component here between the fag-to-be and dyke-to-be sets, 'cause while B. was car-dancing to the chick singers of the '80s, I was scandalized by how girly they were, and opted to listen mainly to classic rock dude bands at that time in my life.

But let's get back to Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam. During the '80s, while I couldn't have told you what songs were theirs, I was certainly aware of LL & CJ. But in an amalgam of my ignorance of both pop divas and hip hop, I always thought that LL & CJ had something to do with LL Cool J, given their initials lined up so nicely. I also remember thinking at the time that Lisa Lisa was the same Lisa of Wendy and Lisa, Prince's sexpot sidekicks, which, again owing to the wonder of the world wide web, I now know to be patently false.

So, yes, all this was swimming in my head yesterday at 4:30am, while I was trying to determine who sang Head to Toe and why it should serve as my personal alarm clock. I guess it was just another manic Wednesday.

Dreaming is Free, but Drinking Ain't

Mag and K. and I went to Pauline's last night. Shit howdy, they have good pizza! And I didn't know til last night they grow their own vegetables at a farm in Berkeley.* They do a très California style pizza--thin crust, with organic toppings and lots of flavor. I also got a salad and a Boont Amber. I will freely promote Anderson Valley beers 'cause they're not only yummy, they're also Solar Powered. After dinner, Mag and I strolled down Valencia and had a drink and good chat at the Elbo Room. Drink number two of the evening was an exceedingly dry Manhattan with Knob Creek bourbon (even when funded solely on student loans, I manage to drink beyond my means.) I don't think the guy even put the sweet vermouth in there; it was just whiskey, bitters, and a cherry. It was pretty ick, actually. As with my martinis, I like my Manhattans on the wet side, and "dirty," as Mag pointed out, could be said of maraschino cherry as well as olive juice in their respective cocktails.

We parted ways, and I biked back home and did a little Netflixing and other various online things, expecting Astrid to be home soon from work. At about 10:00 o'clock, she called me from the sushi place down the street, right next to the Mint, and asked me if I'd like to join her. I mozied on over, and sat with my girl while she ate decent sushi and drank cheap sake. A karaoke patron's rendition of "Little Red Corvette" encroached into the sushi bar, and we toyed with the idea of putting song requests in for ourselves. While Astrid finished up her dinner, I grabbed a songbook from the bar and began with the A's (ABBA, perhaps; America...neh; Bee Gees, too falsetto...)

Astrid looked at the list upside down from across the table and saw a Bjork number she was excited about. I settled on Blondie's Dreaming, and we got ourselves seats at the bar and passed our slips to the usual KJ, a man on whom I've projected an elaborate fantasy of knowing which songs are in my range and which are not, and whom I dreaded would know that I wouldn't be able to carry off Blondie and would communicate such disapproval with a raised eyebrow or a shrug. Of course, he paid no attention to me as I stuffed the song slips into his jar with the requisite couple-buck tip. Astrid ordered a lemon drop, and I had another Manhattan (this time with well whiskey, and I specified "on the sweet side" to the bartender, who humored me.)

For a Friday night, the Mint was uncharacteristically dead, so we knew our songs would come up quickly. Astrid ordered another lemon drop meantime.

I pulled off "Dreaming" pretty well, and was surprised (the KJ knew I could do it all along, naturally,) but the real star of the night was Ms. Astrid, who totally nailed It's Oh So Quiet, with cute little dancy flourishes and crazy head-shaking and screams, just like our little cuddly/scary Bjork. It was delightful to see her so free and having so much fun on stage! When we were both done with our 3 minutes of fame a piece, I posed this question to Astrid: "Should I order another Manhattan, or should we just go home and fuck?"

We left the bar feeling horny and pleased with ourselves.


_____________________________

*Farms, in Berkeley? Mooo! (Thank you, B. I know at least you will get a chuckle out of that joke.)

2006 Wrap!

Previous Years-in-Review
This shit's becoming an institution. Study up on the last three years of my life before moving on to Aught 6!

2005
2004
2003

Stuff that happened in 2006:

I'm opting for the bullet list, since I've been taking notes throughout the year. It's hard to convey how very much my life has changed in 2006, but the key words are: amazing new girlfriend and grad school. Here are just a few of the (mostly) high and (mercifully few) low points of the past year.

* became part of a writing group formed from my screenwriting class; continued to work on my script. I broke about 60 pages before getting distracted by the whole school thing.

* applied to motherfucking grad school!

* cultivated very important relationships with lovers and got myself some of the best friends in my life out of the process.

* took a trip to Asheville, North Carolina, with my family to see a stage production of Pippin directed by my neice, Halina (Read about a previous trip to Asheville here.) Took a few extra days out there to visit my dear friend Maggie and her husband and kids who moved to Chapel Hill a couple years ago.

* fell way the fuck in love with Astrid and asked her if she'd be my girlfriend while we were in the middle of drunken, passionate sex. She answered in the affirmative, though I remember her saying "Yes," and she remembers just nodding through teary eyes.

* been having the best sex of my life (see above)

*got accepted to motherfucking grad school!

* attended the weddings of two of my dearest friends, Lola and Ube.

* fell down a wooden staircase (at Ube's wedding, actually) and ended up with a thigh-bruise the size of my head.

* gave up my car and opted for the more pure, uncomplicated and less polluting (if a tad less convenient) non-motorist lifestyle. Viva la bicyclette!

* started motherfucking grad school!

* went to Astrid's high school reunion!! Met Ryan Brown, the most popular boy in school!

* met Astrid's family!!

* started another round of head-shrinkin' with a new therapist. This is a requirement of my grad program, but it's a well-timed foray back into this particular type of guided introspection. It's hard, but not nearly as excruciating as my last stint.

* discovered the joys of "drinking dreidel"

* rediscovered the joys of Tetris. The last time I was addicted to the game was, naturally, when I was a student twelve years ago and used it as a distraction from my reading. Old distractions die hard.

* when not playing Tetris, I've been reading about 200 pages a week for school.

* where previously I have identified as someone who gets into bands five to ten years after their heyday, this year I actually started listening to bands that, like, still exist. (Tip of the hat goes mainly to DJ for making me a shit-ton of excellent mixes, thus scoring the soundtrack to 2006. Thanks, man.)

* on a down note, my last remaining gradparent died at the end of the year. She was my dad's mother, in her late nineties, and had lived the last few years of her life in a nursing home in the Bronx. I bought a ticket for a red eye the day I heard the news and was able to make it to the funeral. I'm really glad I went, and was able to be there with my Aunt Melba and get to know my cousins and their kids a little bit. Rest in peace, Grandma.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And now, the annual run down of the (pop) culture I consumed.
My tried-n-true ratings system has two components, which I will dutifully explain here and now:

1. The Star System - to convey my idea of the "objective merit" of a piece of work (i.e. if I were a professional critic, these are the ratings I'd give).

zero = utter trash, and not in a good way.
one * = a redeeming aspect or two, but otherwise, shite.
two ** = enjoyable, but deeply flawed or ordinary
three *** = solid, definitely worthwhile.
four **** = truly stellar—highly recommended.
five ***** = flawless

2. Ranked-order - In each section, I will order from top of the list to bottom, the top indicating the read, flick, or show I enjoyed the most and the bottom being the work of least interest in the category. This ranking system may or may not correlate with whatever "objective merit" the thing might have.

I will share a brief example of my brilliant two-pronged rating system for the following three movies:

Annie Hall *****
Grease 2 **
Blade Runner ****

Annie Hall was fantastic, one of my favorite films of all time. In this case, my tastes gibe with the cultural zeitgeist, since the film was critically acclaimed and won four Oscars, including Best Picture and Best Original Screenplay. Grease 2 also happens to be one of my all-time favorite flicks, and I'm under no illusion that it was a "good film."

But nine times outta ten, I'd pick Adrian Zmed and Lorna Luft shimmying down a bowling lane singing about how they're gonna "score tonight" over Blade Runner, the beautifully filmed and innovative sci-fi classic that, I agree with all film nerds, is a truly compelling movie.

So you understand the system, right? Good. Let's proceed. Oh, and there might be a spoiler or two, just so's ya know.

The Books (and other printed matter) I read:
This section does not include my reading material for school. Nor does it include online reads, sides of cereal boxes, or highway signage. You're a little bit disappointed, aren't you?

The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton ***** An as yet unmarried 29 year old woman in turn-of-the-century New York, Lily Bart is driven to create a compelling future for herself. But her ambivalence to grasp at either love or the comforts of the Good Life lead to her descent from the apex of New York's upper crust society. Written in 1905, Wharton's beautifully crafted story remains uncannily comtemporary. It might actually be the best novel I've ever read.

Fun Home by Alison Bechdel ****

Illustrated autobiography about "Dykes to Watch Out For" comic artist Alison Bechdel's life and her relationship with her very troubled father. This graphic work of nonfiction was poignant, hilarious, disturbing, and strikingly detailed both in its visual artwork and written content. Highest recommendations!

Stranger Things Happen by Kelly Link **** Kelly Link's words are amazingly evocative and her phrasing packed with meaning. Stranger Things Happen, a book of surreal fairy tales, ghost stories, and characters immersed in any manner of otherworldliness is her first short story anthology. Can't wait to read her more recent collection, Magic For Beginners. Astrid says it's outta sight.

Dibs: In Search of Self by Virginia M. Axline *** A moving and fascinating account of a year's worth of non-directed play therapy sessions with a very disturbed child. This book is completely accessible to lay people (almost too easy to read), and I read it during the summer before I started the psych program.

Strangers in Paradise, Volumes One and Two by Terry Moore ***
Yet another comic series I'm getting hooked on, thanks to Astrid. A very satistying strip about two women, best friends, one in unrequited love with the other, and with a very dark past. The only major flaw I find is author Terry Moore's consistent use of very tired clichés in his dialogue. I imagine this is meant to mimick old school comics and pulp novels, because his gifts as a storyteller seem above it.

Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman **+ This self-described "low culture manifesto" provided me many moments of nerdy Gen-X bliss, particularly while reading the chapter entitled "Sulking with Lisa Loeb on the Ice Planet Hoth." Klosterman and I are exactly the same age, both born in 1972, and so share an inquantifiable number of pop culture references. But I'm not impressed with his self-important reading of meaning in pop culture, divorced as it is from the real political economy. And, actually, I'm not down with his take on women, either. I don't fault him for certain aspects of the personal experiences he shared, even the anecdote about burning the exact same CD for two women he was dating at the same time. While this may ruffle a few feminist feathers out there, I find that kind of honest self-exposure to be authentic and admirable, even. But when he referred to Cameron Diaz (in relation to Penelope Cruz, in the movie Vanilla Sky) as a "repulsive hoebag" I wasn't amused. Ultimately, he's a guy writer writing for guys.

Dykes and Other Carbon-Based Life Forms to Watch Out For by Alison Bechdel **** The 10th book in the DTWOF comic series. Basically, Bechdel is one of the key historians (dare I say "herstorians"...um, actually no, I won't dare) of contemporary lesbo life in America.

Freud for Beginners by Richard Appignanesi and Oscar Zarate **** A really fantastic illustrated history of Sigmund Freud, the granddaddy of modern psychoanalysis.

Godspeed by Lynn Breedlove *** Every dyke in San Francisco has read this novel, so I felt it my mission to keep up with the Lesbo-Joneses.

I've seen Lynnee perform with Tribe 8 and I've seen hir read at spoken word events and, while s/he's hilarious, obnoxious, and a powerful performer, I didn't expect to be impressed with hir prose. The novel was fast-moving, emotionally resonant, and overall, better than I'd anticipated.

The Loss that is Forever: The Lifelong Impact of the Early Death of a Mother or Father by Maxine Harris, Ph.D. ** Being that my grief about my dead dad figures large in my life, and that I'm now pursuing a new career in psychotherapy, the timing was right for me to pick up a book about this big subject (just the title brought tears to my eyes in the bookstore). While I was moved by many of the anecdotes with the over 60 people interviewed by the author for this book, I found Harris's writing to be simplistic and unengaging. While she used her subjects' stories to illustrate useful psychological frameworks for understanding grief, her language remained flat, and the book is poorly edited. This would be a phenomenal subject for a documentary, in which these survivors of catastrophic grief could speak for themselves.

Some of the Parts by T Cooper ** An engaging, gender-bendy story about unconventional relationships in a loosely configured family unit, taking place in New York and Providence. I liked the characters a lot, but the writing, when I compared it to Kelly Link's first collection of stories (see above) felt pretty anemic to me. Sentences were just sentences. They weren't departures into the emotional worlds of the characters.

(A tip o' the hat to Astrid, who recommended or physically gave me about half the stuff I read this year. Thanks, dollface!)

Films in the Theater:
2006 was kinda lacklustre at the movies, I think. I didn't have time to see as many films as I'd have liked, though, so my list ain't exhaustive by far. I'm gonna try to be concise and stick to two or three line reviews here:

Little Miss Sunshine ****

One of the most genuinely funny movies I've seen in forever. In particular, an outstanding performance by Steve Carell and a plot that devolves downward and again into blissful comedic chaos.

Children of Men **** The last movie I saw in the theater in '06. A truly intelligent and provocative dystopian vision of the near-future—surprising fare from Hollywood.

Broken Flowers **** I loved this meandering, muted film by Jim Jarmusch. Bill Murray is great, as usual, and the supporting actors are brilliantly cast. Don't see it if you can't deal with a slow pace and a story that doesn't really "go anywhere." (I really liked that about it.)

Brick **** Inventive, fast-moving, and clever spin on the hard-boiled detetive genre, told from the point of view and millieu of suburban high school kids.


Nine to Five **** - revival at the Castro. One of the funniest social satires ever, and totally holds up more than 25 years after its debut. Fantastic performances by Lily Tomlin, Jane Fonda, Dolly Parton, and of course Dabney Coleman as everybody's favorite "sexist egotistical lying hypocritical bigot."

Xanadu *** and Roller Boogie ** - double feature at the Castro. I hope I don't need to explain to you the campy brilliance of Xanadu...maybe you should just watch a bit for yourself. I can't say that 1979's Roller Boogie is as timeless a film, but it's a pretty amazing period piece, and, hell, you get to watch Linda Blair's whole body spin around in this one! (Sorry, couldn't resist.)

Sing-A-Long-Grease **** - again, a revival at the Castro. I found the hosts of the feature to be a bit overbearing - they actually had the nerve to tell me when to throw my pink slip in the air, and how to react when Rizzo came on screen! But seeing the film on the big screen and singing how Greased Lightnin' "makes the chicks cream" at the top of my lungs - priceless.

Scoop *** Woody Allen's second film featuring his fantasy leading lady of the Aughts, Scarlett Johansson. I found it to be a solid Woody flick, except that his portrayal of a (what else but) neurotic magician this time 'round was enough to inure me to that bit of his for all time forward.

Pirates of the Caribbean II – Dead Man's Chest *** - very fun, glad I saw it on the big screen. I found the plot twist at the end to be a verbatim repetition of format from the first movie, but other than that, totally entertaining.


I couldn't stop picturing Davy Jones every time Davy Jones was onscreen though.

A Closer Walk *** - a documentary about the global impact of HIV/AIDS, narrated by Will Smith and Glenn Glose. I felt the narration to be heavy-handed, but the global devastation of AIDS pretty much needs to be pounded into our heads, so, yeah.

Why We Fight ** - I found this documentary unremarkable, probably because I'm already very fluent with the subject matter. The interviews and footage were compelling, and I would recommend seeing it if you are unfamiliar with the economic politics of the weapons industry and its influence on the foreign policy of the United States.

The Fountain ** - Darren Aronofsky movie with Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz. See the mixed reviews at Rotten Tomatoes for a good sampling of opinions. Other than the visual artistry of the movie, the flick sucked. Instead of listening to the sappy, redundant storyline, I wish I could've just muted it and put on Dark Side of the Moon.

Toward the end of the movie, when the protagonist assumes the lotus position as he is about to unite in cosmic love with a supernova, I couldn't muffle my laughter anymore. The woman in the seat in front of me turned around and told me to "Stop it!" I apologized, and explained that laughter was my authentic response to the movie. She didn't appreciate this.

On DVD/Video:

TV Shows:

Six Feet Under, Season 5 (the final season) ***** The finale fucking floored me.

Friends, Season 10 (also the final season) *** On the whole, the last three seasons weren't as good as the first seven. I think the shark jump was approximately the birth of Emma. Whadduya think?

Don't blame it on Chandler and Monica's new twins. Emma already ruined the show two seasons ago!

The L Word (finished Season 2, and watched the complete Season 3) *** The drama picked up with characters dying, babies being kidnapped--and despite the schmaltzy writing in a few of the episodes, the cliff hanger season finale was a doosey. Disappointment of the season: Max, the only transgendered character on the show, is a complete asshole, and the actress playing him is unconvincing whether male-identified or no.

Films:

The Squid and the Whale **** - uncomfortable, subtle, brilliant. A sixteen year-old boy (Jesse Eisenberg tries on different identities, including that of his asshole intellectual snob father (Jeff Daniels in a superb performance) while coping with his parents' divorce. Set in Park Slope in the 1980's and also stars the reliably nuanced Laura Linney. [P.S. I think Eisenberg would be amazing in the title role if there's ever a biopic made about Nick Drake]

The Conformist ***** (tentative rating) one of the best films I've ever seen, although the jury's still out because I kept dozing off while watching it (renting an Italian DVD with subtitles is not a good idea when one is jet-lagged).

Junebug **** Hilarious, realistic glimpse into the bowels of a Southern family as their metrosexual golden boy, the eldest of two sons, returns home with his girlfriend, a city-slicker art dealer intent on discovering the next Picasso in the backwoods.

Amy Adams as Ashley Johnsten in Junebug

Thumbsucker *** a 17 year old kid still sucks his thumb. Drama and comedy ensue.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead: A Way of Life and The Great Liberation *** Fascinating made-for-Canadian-TV documentary about the Tibetan Buddhist rituals for the dead and dying. Though the imagery of family members in prayer around their dead loved ones was moving and shocking to my Western eyes, the slow pace and Leonard Cohen's low drawling narration almost put me to sleep at times.

Match Point ** I liked it more than I thought I would, but it's not one of Woody's best.

Pirates of the Caribbean – The Curse of the Black Pearl *** Fun for the whole family.

24 Hours on Craigslist** we were long overdue to get a documentary about Craigslist, the beloved online community where you can find a new apartment, a new job, a new lover, and a new couch. Unfortunately, this one is pretty crappy.

Star Trek – The Movie** Despite (or, really, because of) its hokiness, I enjoyed this fantastically bad first installment of the Star Trek film franchise, part of a Star Trek-a-thon Astrid and I have been partaking in with our pals, Calisto and Dave.

The Lost Weekend ***

The Oscar-winner for Best Picture in 1946, I found this film technically good but tiresome to watch. I kept wanting there to be more of a premise for Don Birnam's draw to the bottle, other than his failure as a writer. One of the booziest movies ever made, DJ and I quite enjoyed drinking our Manhattans while we watched Don devolve into a drunken torpor.

Pippin ** I watched this in preparation for seeing Halina's play in North Carolina. All I have to say is Ben Vereen = good, William Katt = baaaaaadddd.

Friends with Money ** A few keepable moments and a compelling cast, but overall, kinda boring, honestly. DJ put it well when he said that the parts didn't add up to much.

Evil Dead II ** Would probably have enjoyed this one more if Dax hadn't been snoring in my lap the entire time I was watching it (it had been her request, after all!)

Art School Confidential * This review captures my feeling about this infantile, sexist romp. I loved Ghost World, but this flick has permanently turned me off Daniel Clowes and Terry Zwigoff.

Lonesome Jim ** I was excited to see this little indy film directed by Steve Buscemi, but alas, almost totally unremarkable. In honor of the milquetoasty, unlikeable and untrustworthy main character, played by Casey Affleck, Astrid has dubbed this film with the perfect alternative title, "Feckless Jim."

Julie Johnson

I give it Zero Stars, can you believe, with a cast including Lily Taylor, Courtney Love and my dear, departed Spalding Gray?—all of 'em, wasted, on one of the worst scripts that's ever been produced. For reals.

On the Rerun:

Hairspray
Star Trek II – The Wrath of Khan
About a Boy
Star Trek III – The Search for Spock

Live Music:

Pinback at Bimbo’s, San Francisco **** Fantastic live show.

Jonathan Richman at The Make Out Room, San Francisco **** As usual, Jonathan delights.

The Starlight Mints ****, Dios Malos ***, and The Octopus Project ** at the Bottom of the Hill, San Francisco

Aimee Mann *** and Seu Jorge *** at Stern Grove, San Francisco. I've seen Aimee Mann live a few times and this open-air venue wasn't the best way to see her. Seu Jorge was really great, though I'm not very familiar with his music.

Replicator – The Hemlock Tavern, San Francisco *** Loud fucking left-wing nerd-noise rock.

The Matinées ***, Warren Teagarden **, and The Slow Poisoner*** at the Edinburgh Castle, San Francisco

The Mekons, acoustic set at The Hardly-Strictly Blugrass Festival, Golden Gate Park ** I prefer this legendary and sorely underrated first-wave British punk band plugged in, myself.

Live Performances:

Orbit **** – The Erika Shuch Performance Project at Intersection for the Arts, San Francisco

Pippin **** stage production at Warren Wilson College in Asheville, North Carolina

Kathy Griffin *** at The Warfield, San Francisco.


Fin

Ted Haggard Rocks My Ass Hole!

Can I just say that I hate Democrats, but not as much as Republicans? There, I said it. You have to love the news lately, right?

Some highlights:

*The Dems gain at least 25 seats in the House! Check out up-to-the-minute election results at NYTimes.com

*One of the most powerful leaders of the right-wing evangelical movement in America has admitted that he likes to suck big dick! See him preach the gospel in "Jesus Camp"

* Rick Santorum is out! (of the Senate, I mean, not the Closet...)

**note that Bob Casey, the Dem who beat Santorum is anti-abortion and anti-gun control--how's that for the Dems ushering in a "sea change" of ideology?