What is my fate, am I supposed to pray...

2016 Road Trip.  Part Un.

How long should it take to get it together after what is supposed to be the rest and relaxation of vacation?  Being that I don't really rest on vacation, I'm still having some struggles.  I always have these visions of myself looking flowy and relaxed and breeze blown on a boardwalk somewhere-a stuffed animal some romantic show off won for me under my arm.  But that never happens.  I always somehow end up in the places travel brochures like to pretend don't exist.

I started this journey with my mind set on Captain Crunch french toast and bloody marys in Baltimore, but due to a late in the game suggestion and no real plan I ended up at Lexington Market. Just like any other "major" city, navigating Baltimore takes some savvy and charm.  One minute you're at Camden Yards, the next you're in a scene from The Wire. To be fair Lexington Market isn't some hole in the wall--it's definitely on the radar.  Though touted as a historic farmers' market, this place is obviously not for tourists.  And the locals will know you are one.

Bustling but not vibrant, at 9 a.m. on a Saturday this is where the elderly and mentally ill go to shuffle along and buy their weekly supply of rabbit parts and block cheese and grey pickles.  Maybe a lottery ticket and counterfeit cell phone cover.  (And if planning a party, one baker even offers Hannah Montana cakes for all those 2008 pre-teens.)  This is the kind of farmers' market where the merchants are suspicious of cameras and nothing for sale actually comes from a local farm--I mean there is produce, but you just have to trust me on this.  You won't find anything artisanal here.   But what you will find is Chinese food and carnival style sausage and peppers for breakfast.  And the people watching doesn't get better.  In fact I watched one of those people leave the restroom without washing her hands and go back to serving up turkey sandwiches.

But all in all, breakfast in Baltimore was a success-- I only had to say "what motherfucker!" once (which terrified my wife because she has 0 sense of adventure and -4 street smarts) and I ended up going with the chicken and waffles.  With powdered sugar-because, duh.

Joseph Stalin Malenkov Nasser and Prokofiev...

What a terrifying time to be alive.  The term "in light of recent events" comes to mind.  It's one I've never liked.  If ever I find myself saying those words out loud, they are usually accompanied by sarcastic air quotes.  And adding to the insanity is a heavy funk that settled over me shortly before the media started brainstorming headlines for America's latest bloodbath.  I blame the stifling summer heat and the process of recovery.  But I'm (mostly) over it now.
And today I talked with a friend I've been getting to know over the past couple of months. If you don't already have one, do yourself a favor and get an elderly friend who is not related to you.--  I can call him whenever I like, because his phone rings right to the watch on his wrist. He is a Croatian Jew-like my grandfather, but younger than he would've been.  He introduced himself to me as a world famous artist, which could technically be true--one of his paintings was part of a movie set once.  But now he paints on scraps of tin and sells them at the farmer's market on weekends.
He came to the U.S. to escape communism.  He already had an aunt here, a doctor either in or for the CIA.  I can't quite remember how that story goes.  He tells me that because we are Jewish we are good with money, and so he studied economy.  He invests in the stock market, and nearly all of our conversations start with how much he has lost or gained that day.  He tells me never to buy a house--that as soon as I finish paying for it, I will have to replace the roof.  But aside from that vicious cycle of capitalism, he loves America--and even believes the IRS is honest.  In 2011 he somehow managed to overpay them without knowing.  So they sent him a check for $68.00.  Just like that...
I tell him I worry that Americans will ruin Cuba.  He tells me he would never live there due to the socialism.  He has never come right out and said so, but I get the idea he hates Russians.  He often says to me, "Chairman Mao must be very happy with you."  He always says this with a chuckle, and I never know what he actually means by it.  But it wouldn't be as amusing to either of us if I asked him to explain it.
He jokingly (I think) says he is a proponent of men's rights and laughs at Andrew Jackson for being fired from the $20 bill so they could put a lady there.  He says I should listen to what my husband says.  He tells me that he knows I will make beautiful babies and wants to know when I will have them and fulfill my American duty to make more tax payers.  He says all of this because he currently has to do all of the cooking and cleaning, and laundry and bill paying.  And wheel his wife to the toilet when she's not in the hospital.
And knowing that I am sick sometimes he tells me the old Japanese cure for stomach ailments is Mountain Dew.  I should drink one glass a week. Scientists actually figured out how to make Mountain Dew in pill form, but the soda company wouldn't allow it for obvious monetary reasons.  He also tells me to take acetaminophen while I am young--though he says 'seeveetimen'--otherwise, when I am old my body will pay full price.
Talking with him always puts things in perspective for me.  I'm glad I got to chat today.  Because this weekend I leave the heavy behind and hit the road for a trip up the coast.  And among my stops will be dinner with a NYC police officer and a black man--very likely at the same table.
Maybe all we really need right now is a good Jew and road trip.

40 Acts I Should Be Ashamed Of Myself For Loving

And I Don't Even Care If We Can't be Friends

In no particular order...

1. Matisyahu
2. Anne Murray
3. Diana Ross--the disco records
4. Miley Cyrus
5. Teena Marie
6. They Might Be Giants
7. Marc Anthony
8. Fantasia
9. Kim Wilde
10. DeBarge
11. Something Corporate
12. Ricky Martin
13. T-Rex
14. Suzi Quatro
15. Divinyls
16. Hot Hot Heat
17. Cher Lloyd
18. Sylvia--the singer, not the band
19. The Struts
20. Richard Marx
21. Pantera
22. Plastic Ono Band
23. Muse--This seems like a weird choice for this list, but a lot of self-important music snobs turn their noses up at these guys.
24. Kings of Leon--see above
25. Gerry Rafferty
26. Tyler the Creator
27. Don Johnson--No word of a lie, Don Johnson released a record in 1986.  It was called Heartbeat.  I was 9, so clearly I had to have it. My Dad (who years later bought me a 2 Live Crew cassette) refused to get it for me out of principle, because it was just too ridiculous.  So my grandmother did--she never could say no to a man on a record. Some pretty serious musicians contributed to it, so I stand by my 9 year old music choices.
28. Lady Antebellum
29. The Alan Parsons Project
30. Marilyn Manson
31. Fall Out Boy
32. Poison--'Look What the Cat Dragged In' era. I would make out with every one of those 80s ladies.
33. Rick Astley
34. Charlie XCX
35. Ke$ha--specifically the trashy mess dollar sign version.  I can't get behind the grown up.
36. Bob Seger
37. One Direction
38. Glass Animals--This band is actually on the cool kid list, but if you listen closely, they're really just White Town.  And that is quite embarrassing.
39. Carly Rae Jepsen
40. KISS

These Stones That Are Thrown Against My Bones...

I am not OK.  Maybe it’s because I kicked off the week listening to Loretta Lynn sing “Wine into Water” on a Monday morning.  Maybe it’s the recovery.  I find myself obsessing over every pull and pinch in my gut.  I watch the glue on my skin soften and pill.  When I lie flat my muscles flutter. When I close my eyes I see the inches of tube being pulled out of my body, and I feel it happen all over again.  I inspect the hole it came out of every day to make sure it’s still closing.  To see if it has gotten blacker.

I once knew a woman with Body Dysmorphic Disorder. -- This is not anorexia, and beyond counting celery sticks. When she looked in the mirror she saw holes in her face. Some days it was horror movie terrifying. Other days she just stood quietly caking makeup on her cheeks as if she were filling in a fender with bondo.  And it all started for her after having her wisdom teeth taken out.

Maybe this is happening to me.

Or maybe it’s something else altogether.   Maybe it’s this 250 pound boulder sitting on my chest, pushing me down, taking my breath, stealing my joy.  Reminding me I will never be settled. That there will always be unease, and uncertainty, and the burden of digging out into the light-in an endless cycle of anxieties and release.   A new crisis strapped to my back, a new neurosis, another hole to close.

I cried myself to sleep last night.  And then I didn’t sleep at all. I am not OK.

 

40 Things I Learned From Abdominal Surgery

1. Showering is the single most exhausting thing a person will ever do.
2. I hate sports bras.
3. A grown adult woman can in fact live on animal crackers alone. (I may or may not have gone through a pound of them in three days.)
4. No one means it when they say, "no judgment here."

5. Nurses are mean, and 2 out of 3 of them are trashy.
6. The good, the bad, the ugly of opioids.
7. Walking is weird.
8. Yawning hurts
9. Coughing is terrifying.
10. Sneezing is certain death.
11. People who choose elective surgery are retarded.
12. The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air is actually kind of horrible.
13. So is Law & Order.
14. It is possible to be starving to death and blindingly nauseous at the same time.
15. I'm not very good at extended down time.
16. Hospital vegetable broth tastes like ramen.
17. Animals really do know when something is wrong.
18. My wife thinks matzo is just salty communion.
19. To be grateful my midsection is made of cotton candy, actual muscle tone would've made this a lot worse.
20. Two weeks alone on a sofa is the saddest thing ever.
21. Grey t-shirts are essential to healing.

22. Elastic is the devil.
23. Having a drain removed from your body is rather unpleasant.
24. Records aren't as fun when you can't lie in the floor to listen to them.
25. Every noon news program has an awkward gardening Q & A segment.
26. My mailman is a dick.
27. Co-workers are gruesomely nosy.
28. I will not be acknowledging my navel ever again.
29. Antonio Sabato, Jr. is renovating houses now.  And he's not that good at it.
30. Medical professionals are obsessed with bowel movements.
31. Fingerhut catalogs are wildly entertaining.
32. Missing out on all the fun stuff sucks--FOMO is real.
33. The human body is not a miracle masterpiece, it is vile and disgusting.
34. I hate Kelly Ripa.
35. There is an end to Netflix.
36. There is also an end of the internet.
37. And Twitter.
38. I am one window peek away from becoming Gladys Kravitz.
39. People really can be glued back together.
40. I am an excellent armchair detective.

And He Cut My Lip, And He Cut My Heart...

I have never had a perfect body.  I can say now at almost 40 that I have never wanted one, though I don't quite remember if my 20 year old self would call bullshit on that.  But long before this trendy "body positive" movement, I owned my body. No matter too fat or too thin,  I stood naked in front of camera lenses in the name of art.  I tattooed my body. I pierced my body. I suspended it from hooks. I used my thighs to keep rhythm when I learned to play music. I scrawled Sharpie messages on my skin for my own sanity.  I endangered my body on carnival rides, with drugs and drink, walking home alone at night, in bed with strangers. And now I'm learning I endangered my body just by living queer. But those were all my choices, I controlled the uncontrollable.  And I show off every scar those choices left me.
But now my body swells and shrinks with sickness.  Something happens when you hand over control. When you know your body has been violated, and you've consented to it, but you can't quite put your finger on what has happened to you. Running your fingertips over black incisions, not knowing how eager you'll be to share them when they turn soft and pink. Finding mystery bruises and random bits of tape and missed electrodes. And just yesterday the horrifying discovery that something nefarious has happened to my belly button. You give yourself over.  Forced to ask for help and company. Watching the blood flow from the inside out, collecting in plastic. Thinking about "in sickness and in health" and wondering how'd they know.

40 Things That Bum Me Out

In no particular order...

1. mosquito “mouth parts”

2. road kill

3. not being able to open a banana

4. people who can’t walk in heels and choose to wear them anyway

5. Marc Jacobs lipstick

6. strangers who want to chat in public restrooms—actually this is not limited to strangers.  I don’t want to chat in the bathroom.

7. This infuriating bullshit:

 

8. death before 40

9. sneezing right after applying mascara

10. people who don’t vote

11. morning TV and/or radio “personalities”

12. the Yulin Dog Meat Festival

13. flip flops worn in public (in the absence of a dorm shower or body of water) as if they were a proper pair of shoes—which leads me to:

14. looking at your chipped toenail polish

15. facebook

16. crust on condiment lids

17. mumbling

18. paper cuts on my face—yes, this happens to me often enough that it made the list.

19. being the only party in a restaurant

20. reality television

21. that no one remembers there was a chick in Black Flag

22. spray tan

23. dudes who don’t wear undershirts with button-ups

24. gum smacking

25. thigh gaps

26. jealousy—usually my own, I tend to ignore everyone else’s

27. IPAs

28. excess saliva

29. sleeveless anything

30. people who walk without picking up their feet

31. non-stop yammering

32. existential loneliness

33. fleece

34. bad table manners

35. my mother

36. motherfuckers who have no interest in yielding and/or merging

37. that I never know when to use were vs. was

38. solo careers

39. long, flat butts

40. that thing when someone is just a smidge too far away for you to hold the door/elevator but you know they see you and you don’t want to be an asshole, so you have to make a split second choice between standing there for too long like a ding dong or being an asshole