2010

1. What did you do in 2010 that you’d never done before?

Everything New Slang related happened in 2010, so that includes Grade School for Yuppies and all the other fun stuff that comes with writing, editing, pulling a collective together, and running a website. And Committee Geek Fight! That was fun. I also did the jockoff for NU, which was awesome, because one of the perks was hosting all Krautrock hour, where I just spoke in a German accent and played a lot of Amon Duul.

And I became a teacher and gave my first ever lecture in front of a real live class, which turned into a bunch of lectures in front of a bunch of classes and morphed into corporate seminars done on the side. I also got a few articles published in a men’s magazine and did my first band interview ever (Shonen Knife) and danced with the guy who sang “I’d Rather Dance With You”.

I also bought running shoes and took my first puff of weed (the two aren’t related!). Didn’t feel a thing though so that was kind of a waste.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year?

I saw my dad more often by default because my grandfather died. I’m not sure if I wrote any fanmail this year though. This year, I resolve to rid my diet of meat.

3. What do you wish you’d done more of?

Worked out. I got some exercise, but I feel like it was way overdue. Same goes with cooking. I really like cooking.
And costume parties! We need more of those!

4. What do you wish you’d done less of?

I wish I’d done less dicking around online. And Tinka’s cousin.
I wish I’d drank less drinking though. Beer is liquid bread, and I’ve got an uncooperative gut.

5. What was your greatest musical discovery?

Twin Shadow, Wild Nothing, Sleigh Bells, Danielson Famile, Mount Eerie, Ariel Pink, Hannah + Gabi, finally got to listen to The Sleepyheads and OMWF, Bottlesmoker. 2010 was made of a lot of good music.

6. What did you want and get?

A lot of love! And girlfriends!

I love my job. I’m glad I got that because I had my fingers crossed for it, and with my charming vocabulary that includes such fixtures as “Destroy fucking”, “Lord of all fuckery”, “High as fuck”, and “Shit ton”, it did come as something of a surprise.

7. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?

We had a nuns and schoolboys themed party at Dante’s. I turned 25!

8. Who was the best new person you met?

Best new people! Tinka, Tall Tara, and Edu.

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Dear Zac Efron,


Now that you are older, assuming that “older” means that you are smart enough to understand the repercussions of life choices such as Charlie St. Cloud and breaking up with Vanessa Hudgens, it feels appropriate that I resend this letter I wrote you almost two years ago. Hitting the “Publish” button will carry my voice into the ether in the form of so much html code, and hopefully it will find its way, uncorrupted, into your ears.

It might also be of interest that I have aged considerably in the physical department, but at heart I am still a 21-year-old rabidly ogling your abs of steel.

with love,

Alice

1 Dec 2008

Dear Zac Efron

As I type this, you are in the next room dripping hot fudge in the ripples in your six-pack. Frankly I find that disgusting, and I’m not sure why we entertain the commodified notions of “sexual play” that society has dealt us, but I do understand that after all those hours playing the good boy on TV (and now the big screen), you really do need to have a little fun.

And while I’m always game for a little fun (as long as it’s disease-free), I know that afterwards, we’ll both just roll out of bed and probably occasionally text each other about how “the moon is smiling! it smiles for you my apple-bottomed star of the night!” alongside the good night and good morning routine.

What I’m looking for, Zac, is someone who will make my head hurt; someone with whom I know I will DIE (literally die) if I didn’t get my life story out with him on the other line to listen to it. I’m looking for someone who will pick at my brain and want to take care of me even if I tend to violently lash out during bad dismenorrhea spells. Once I was in bed screaming for a Midol to alleviate the pain in my ladypipes, and when I got my Midol I threw the bottle at whoever handed it to me. And I’m not saying that you’re not going to put up with that or that you’re too dumb to talk to–I’m just saying I don’t want you to be around for any of it.

Nick Hornby wrote that the difference between a pop song and so-called “real music”, is that whoever writes “real music” is really burning up in their desperation to get it out, to communicate what it is they have to say. Zac Efron, you are a pop song. And I’m looking for real music.

With love,

Alice

Though it cannot be denied that you are adorable and that some pop songs will stay with you forever.

Stream of Consciousness Blogging while Surfing the Net, or Finger Vomit, Just Because I Can

Halcyon Digest is a great album.

Why do people tag themselves in pictures in front of Pizza Hut? Or have I become so condescending that I no longer have it in me to understand what constitutes another person’s good time? I mean, isn’t this the kind of bullshit ad copywriters thrive on: seeing people actually eating that shit up? Why don’t we just draw arrows and strategically place neon signs pointing the way to “GOOD TIMES HERE.” Ohmygod, why? Facebook has only led me to question what in the world is tag-worthy and what isn’t. Really? Does everything serve a purpose? Does everything need to be committed to memory??? Forgetting is underrated. Anal retention is where it’s at. AND WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR DSLR?!

And just like that, “Memory Boy” starts playing. I think I’m starting to love Windows Media Player. HAHA! You Apple loyalists are all SHEEEP!!! Judging.

I like how the holy grail is sharper than anything else in this shot. Good job, self! We found it! And now we shall live forever!

But I don’t want to live forever, mommy. All my friends are gonna die and it will be just like that Flaming Lips song, only without the confetti and gymnastic balls.

Shut up! You’re gonna drink from the cup of life and you’re gonna enjoy it!

Forget is a really good album.

As with everything else.

I put a lot of stock in one’s willingness to commit. I remember telling the Livejournal universe that I wanted to be a tattoo artist because of how underrated commitment is. So much value is placed on vacillation, on dwelling and letting things sit until they’ve hashed themselves out.

I’ve made a lot of decisions based on my instincts and I’m not saying they’re usually the right decisions, but they have forced me to wonder what it really means for something to be the right decision. This can come off as a really fatalistic way to put it, but if there’s anything that really pisses me off about a person–it’s the lack of a spine. If I have to ask myself at any point in our relationship (regardless of the nature of that relationship), why I’m making your decisions for you, I end up very pissed off. I like collaboration. I like commitment. I hate the point where you hand me the menu and say:

“You decide.”

It’s just one meal, it doesn’t have to cause so much agony.

As with everything else.


To edit is to acknowledge that you cannot have it all, that there are some things that can–and should–be deemed unnecessary or superfluous and must be removed. And the removal of an element requires the same degree of commitment as the acquisition of one.

Nothing says “I’m trying,” quite like this

My sister told me that Manix told her that Melay told him that Hemingway said something to the extent that “You should never travel with someone whom you do not love.” And the number of degrees that statement went through just to reach my ears forces one to question its reliability, but I can stand behind the shred of truth it contains. While “You should never travel with someone you do not love,” sounds like a fair enough disclaimer, taking the risk will at the very least provide for some fairly interesting experiences. And no, “fairly interesting” is not necessarily a euphemism for weird. If anything, my visit to Hong Kong this time around could have been weirder, could have contained less vapid anecdotes about getting lost and clinging to every penny, but there’s not much you can do about what already took place (or didn’t take place. For shame).

I look at the short time I’ve been alive–actually been alive, like made my own choices and all that shit that comes with it–and traveling alone has always provided the best stories and lessons about my valiant efforts to act like an adult. And out of the events that transpired last week, nothing quite captures that experience of fumbling into adulthood like arguing in public, or having to keep a straight face despite being hopelessly lost (in a city, in a sentence, in a fancy restaurant where none of the words on the menu sound [or look] even remotely familiar). Try doing this with someone who broke your heart several months before the trip, and you’ll know what “alone” really feels like.

I read this poem (Edward Hirsch? A.R. Ammons? I’ll check when I get home, I promise) with the line “Plural is everything that multiplying greatens,” and I thought of that trip. Or rather I went on that trip and thought of that line. And then I went home for what now feels like a ritual weeding out of things-I-don’t-need, and this whole thing went with it. No compulsion to tuck souvenirs into the little pockets of space left on the nightstand or into the mirror on my dresser or anywhere, save for this blog. No ticket stubs saved or inside jokes that can dignify the mundane reality that we were alone together and the only thing worth salvaging was the truth that he really wasn’t worth the trip, because he didn’t think I was worth the trip either.

No regrets here, really.