Mischief Night 2020

 Because most of 2020 has felt like opening your front door to stomp on a flaming bag of dog shit, only to find all the foliage on your property draped in soggy toilet paper and your car windshield crusted over with egg whites, I'm resharing my Mischief Night essay from last year.  

Please also enjoy this picture of a black cat that may or may not sprout bat wings and drink my blood tonight:

If you do go Mischiefing tonight, I totally get you.  It's been a rough year, and sometimes you just have to purge some emotions.  Do keep in mind, a lot of people have doorbell cameras now so, you know, maybe wear a ski mask.

Syllabus #76

The theme this week is Escape.  Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?  I dunno, but if that B is as smart we thought she was, she probably isn't trapped in the smoldering ash heap that is the US of A.

I could get down with this island hermit lifestyle.

Si, por favor.

On escaping the trappings of the beauty industry.  Yo, real talk, I haven't touched my hairdryer since early March, and I didn't pluck my eyebrows from March to June.  It was majestic, though a little less Kahlo and a little more McPoyle than I would have hoped:

Escaping to the Jurassic era - hold onto your butts

Watching:

The new Borat movie.  I cackled, and then fell into a deep depression.  I'd love to watch a making of documentary about the Borat movies - how can these people be serious?  I want to be skeptical about these people not being in on the joke because I don't want to believe people are that despicable and unflinching in the face of racism, sexism, anti-Semitism, and sexual abuse, but like...*gestures randomly at all of the world we live in...*

Analog Reading:

Almost finished with Emily Temple's The Lightness.  It has really picked up.  It's kind of erotic and clearly heading for disaster.  Just like 2020.  Minus anything erotic, unless you're into dinosaur buttholes, I guess.

Syllabus #75

Yesterday I was returning home from a long walk with Charlie.  I turned off the main drag to head up the alley that runs behind our house so I could deposit his bag of party favors in the trash can out back.  I have this thing for alleys - these weird, liminal spaces that aren't intended for foot traffic, really, but who cares?  You never know what you might find - interesting compositions of garbage, expertly-rendered graffiti, stray cats.  Yesterday, the alley gave me the most wonderful gift.

A few paces in, I looked up and saw a woman sitting cross-legged on a pile of dirt, her back up against the wall of this abandoned mechanic's garage.  She sat there twisting her long, brown hair into a braid as if it was the most natural thing to be doing at 10 in the morning on a Saturday.

She could have been 25 or 45 - she had one of those ambiguously-aged faces you sometimes see as the 'after' photo on a meth PSA.  Not wanting to be rude, I nodded to her and said good morning as Charlie and I passed by her earthen perch.

She called back to me in response, "Them the new in-style glasses?"  To which I replied, "Uh, what?"

"You know.  The in-style glasses - you see er'body wearin' 'em," she informed me, her remaining teeth looking like so many yellowed piano keys.

"I guess so, then."

"You know, it's like, 'steada the new iPhone or money in your pocket, people be buyin' these glasses."

"Well, I'd be blind without these, so uh, there's that.  Have a good one," I said, pulling Charlie away from the discarded take-out container he was sniffing.

As I picked up the pace to put distance between us and this oracle of fashion and discretionary spending, she called out, "That's what they all say, but I don't think I much believe 'em."

What a rich tapestry life is.  What a fascinating, weird thing.  You can be walking your dog, minding your own business one minute, in in the next, a stranger braiding her hair on a pile of dirt questions your sartorial choices, spending habits, and ocular health all in one fell swoop.  

Speaking of things that make you question the world and your place in it - here's some shit I read on the internet in the past 7 days!

Tell it, Cory.  It's not normal, and Amy Clowney Butthole is the worst kind of conservative christian - she acts all nicey on the surface but she uses language like 'sexual preference',' which is almost certainly not a mere slip-up, but rather deliberate and coded language used by those who would be quick to take away gay rights on the basis of believing that your sexual orientation is a matter of choice. 

I didn't watch the town hall, I just couldn't, but I'm proud of the thrashing Savannah Guthrie dished out.  

 

Cool idea, guys.  Actually this might have been the only reassuring thing I've read all week.  I was ready to throw myself on the middle-age bonfire and just burn my irrelevant body to a crisp but it seems I still have a couple youthful tricks up my sleeve.

What are we doing for the holidays this year?  I know for me, Thanksgiving is a hard no because of my work situation, but Christmas is more of a gray area.  I'm not sure if I find these suggestions and mathematical breakdowns of risk to be encouraging or horrifying.  

Uh-duh.  I feel judged and pitied and pressured and guilty ALL THE TIME.  I'm including this whole paragraph because IT ME:

In our society, the consistent message is that if you opt not to have children, your life is less meaningful. To become a parent is the norm, and anything else is a deviation from that norm. In a study conducted by Dr. Leslie Ashburn-Nardo, participants reported significantly greater feelings of moral outrage―including anger, disgust, and disapproval―toward voluntarily child-free people. At the same time, child-free people were consistently viewed as being less personally fulfilled than those with children. According to Dr. Ashburn-Nardo, perceiving child-free people as less fulfilled acts as a way of “punishing” them for violating what’s often considered to be both a social norm and a moral imperative.

Analog Reading:

Just finished Our Lady of Perpetual Hunger by Lisa Donovan.  I loved it so much, in no small part because she's a Nashvillian and it's wild to read a book that takes place largely in your literal backyard.  Then I found her Instagram and discovered that we are practically neighbors, in that I am certain I have run/biked/walked by her house multiple times before.

Picked up Lightness by Emily Temple again.  I'm sure I'll enjoy it, but it's off to a slow start for me, maybe just because it's hard for me to concentrate on fiction these days.

Syllabus #74

Hey all you cool cats and kittens!

Can you tell who is the buffer friend in this picture?  I like to imagine that when I'm not around, the cats have nothing to talk about except me and that it's really uncomfortable for them.  Is that weird?  Don't answer that.

The sun setting on my sanity

Are we still talking about the fly?  I mean it was some real gallows humor.  Everything is shit and we're all going to die, but this fly brought us all together for the kind of shared cultural experience we haven't enjoyed since Tiger King.  I mean, the fly was funny and all, but let's not let the hilarious symbolism distract us from the actual evil coming out of Pence's mouth - failing to condemn white supremacy, threatening the civil rights and bodily autonomy of black people, gay people, and women, you know, just some of his greatest hits.

So basically, stressing about the virus makes you more likely to become severely ill from it.  That's quite a troubling feedback loop.  Super helpful to know!  I'm not stressed out, you're stressed out!  I didn't break out in an unexplained rash after visiting my mom because, despite isolating to the best of my ability and obtaining a negative test before driving for 6 hours without stopping to pass Go, collect $200, or empty my bladder, I was convinced that I had brought a pox upon her house.  I didn't have rolling panic attacks for two days straight until I got another negative Covid test after I got home.  Nope, not me.  I know how to chill.

God damn, Lindsay Graham!  You just saw the line and sashayed all the way across it.  Whether you live in South Carolina or not, consider throwing Jaime Harrison some bones.  He's giving Graham a hell of a run.  I watched their first debate and Harrison did a damn fine job.  He was focused on the issues and what he would do for the people of his state, and still managed to come back with some totally respectful, factual zingers to the utterly ignorant, trash comments and questions from Lindsay Graham Cracker.

If you have to protect everyone from things that conflict with their religious beliefs in their workplace, here's a brief, non-exhaustive list of things we just have to eliminate:

• Some religions have strict dietary laws that their adherents follow.  No more restaurants where pork or shellfish are served, or where meat and dairy are mixed.  After all, what if a Jewish person works there?
• While we're at it, let's get rid of the entire pork industry just to be safe.  You like ham?  Too fuckin' bad.
• Some religions are very clear that divorce is forbidden.  What if a clerk in some government office just gets the vapors at the very thought of filing divorce paperwork?  Better take divorce off the table.
• What about religions that are opposed to premarital sex and/or sex outside the purposes of reproduction?  Let's wave goodbye to condoms and birth control pills, dental dams, spermicidal lube, sponges (do they still make sponges or was their discontinuation the whole point of that Seinfeld episode?). After all, someone has to manufacture and sell that stuff, and what if it violates their religious beliefs?
• You know, some faiths require women to dress with extreme modesty, but there are an awful lot of clothing stores that sell risqué fashions that would violate religious laws.  Guess we better shutter the last 7 remaining malls, and just put the kibosh on the whole fashion industry, save for the burlap sack sector.  The Pantone color of the year is just 'ehhh I dunno, brown?' from now on.

Just a super casual, not at all worrisome headline to add to your list of things to think about during your constant, rolling panic attacks.  Just a little garnish on this horror smorgasbord.  Just a lil' sprig of parsley to get stuck in your teeth.

Analog Reading:

Finally finished Utopia Avenue by David Mitchell.  It took a hard left turn towards the end in a surreal, mystic direction that I did not see coming and I'm not sure how I feel about it.  Overall, I liked it, and despite its length, I found myself feeling sorry it was over.

Started reading Lightness by Emily Temple.  I picked up an ARC at a library conference shortly before we started staying at home.  I'm only a few pages in, and the premise seems interesting, but it's too early to pass any judgments.

Plowing through Our Lady of Perpetual Hunger by Lisa Donovan.  I wouldn't call her the female Anthony Bourdain, but she writes about cooking and the restaurant industry with honesty and rawness and fervor and she isn't afraid to season her words with a well-placed fuck here and there.  Given that food is one of the only experiential pleasures available to me (or any of us, unless you're a maniac) right now, I really appreciate food-centric books these days.

Syllabus #73

I'm a day late with this post.  Sue me.  I mean, don't.  If this is worthy of litigation, you might need to like, do some breath-work and check your priorities.  

The past 8 or so days have been another vanishingly short and incomprehensibly long interlude.  Weird times we're living through, amirite?

Speaking of Weird, 1994 was a great vintage:

Is some of this even relevant anymore?  Probably not, but being slightly out of style is kind of my brand.

Vote, vote, vote.  Vote for Biden.  Our lives, our country, human decency and dignity depend on it.  What we saw on display during that debate was terrifying.  It was an explicit, not tacit or subliminal, encouragement of white supremacist violence and voter intimidation.  

I've never been more terrified to exist in this country 

Schadenfreude.  There's too much to say about it all.  Who can keep up?

Halloween's not canceled, but if your child shows up on my porch this year in any type of 'Rona or Trump related costume I'm going to give them an uncooked, previously frozen Brussels sprout rolled in used cat litter.  Honestly, that's what I'm giving any child that has the audacity to ring my doorbell this year.  Stay off my lawn.

Speaking of Halloween, here's something pointless and dumb and weird that made me laugh for a second: 

I think I'm more scared of post-Covid lingering symptoms than I am of just straight up dying.  

In the words of the Sex Pistols, I wanna be anarchy.  What IS so bad about it, exactly?  I think the problem lies in the fact that these types of movements can only succeed if those who affiliate themselves with the movement are acting in good faith.  Distributed movements without formal leadership can accomplish a lot but they're also fragile in critical ways.

Watching all of this interrupting was very triggering for me. I know Joe Biden is capable of deep empathy, and now he knows what it's like to move through the world as a woman, with some asshat talking over you and cutting you off every step of the goddamn way. 

Analog Reading:

Still plodding through Utopia Avenue.  I like it, but it's hard to concentrate on it.  That's my sophisticated literary criticism.