Are You Smarter Than a Drunk Adult

"This is my dog's penis. And then I've also had his, uh...balls removed."

Actress and comedian Jenny Slate sits on a sofa, hair in a top knot, leopard print top askew. She is going to teach us all about scientists Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson. She is also extremely drunk.

Though Comedy Central's Drunk History premiered in 2013, I had not seen it until a couple years ago. I returned to the program once more once it started streaming on Hulu, and found myself inordinately emotional about the array of inebriated comics babbling about history's most epic moments. Figures from the past came to vivid life, portrayed lip sync style by beloved actors from Jack Black to Aubrey Plaza. Accounts of historical moments both well-known and more obscure unfolded via tipsy storytellers brought not only tears of laughter to my eyes, but a sense of revelatory wonder. Here I was, 33 years old and learning about Mary Ellen Pleasant for the first time.

If I learned these things in school, I certainly forgot them. What better method to jog my memory than sloshed, foul-mouthed entertainers who may or may not know what they're talking about? The delightful irreverence with which stories like The Scopes Trial are recounted is a huge part of the fun, and Drunk History keeps going strong year after year, a testament, I think, to not only how funny it is to watch juiced up individuals struggle through something, but how truly eager people are to learn things, even if it is done piecemeal and plastered.

There's something sweet and intimate about the way the meat of the show is captured. Derek Waters has a genuine appreciation for funny people, laughing gently and honestly at their foibles, pontifications, and slip-ups. The stories are related in an unaffected manner, partly due to the alcohol, that feels as though a friend is speaking directly to you. In some cases as in Jen Kirkman's retelling of Mary Dyer, the actor gets emotional about the subject matter. This rings so true to me. Watching someone wax passionate about history's finest folk while drunk (but not while being interrupted by their intoxicated friends), is a warm, familiar delight.

And you're learning something. I mean, don't that beat all?

Real life isn't like the movies. If you're emotionally unstable, no one sticks around because "they love you" and "you're worth it." Also, no hero busts down the bathroom door because you're mutilating yourself within. Leave that sexy stuff to Hollywood. It's just you and the knife, kid. What'll it be?

For Robin

I never touched you, never placed my hand on your shoulder
to steady myself, pitched forward because the joke you told was too funny,
the voice you used beyond the capacity of
a mere mortal's comprehension.
I never looked directly into your eyes--
those warm, electric-blue pools
that sparkled with some secret, long-contained joke
yearning to burst free,
to shatter the banal silence.
For you, nothing was incorruptible.
You were my father, your soft, sweet, baritone
delivering counsel from a place far away, yet so near
right here, in front of me. The wisdom that was penned for you
seemed your own and I heard it coming from your lips
as smoothly and as deftly
as an old, familiar tune
an anthem for the lyrical,
a ballad for those blessed
enough to witness it.
You were my friend, your over-sized boy's clothing
hung over a frenetic, hairy body
that once was uncovered,
dancing wildly beneath the moon
on a field
near Manhattan.
You were my brother, my fellow, my inspiration
guiding me onto my chosen path,
looking behind you
and beckoning with a nod, saying,
"Come with me, follow me--I won't be too far ahead."
No, I never touched you, never felt the warmth
of your skin beneath all that fur,
like a great, friendly dog.
You never heard my voice, never shared in my sadness, my joy,
my life.
But you were in it.
And I knew you.

I love you.

Lovers and Madmen Have Such Seething Brains

To all you people out there who see love as exclusive, to those who believe you can find all that you want, desire, and need from one person for years on end, to all who strive for singularity and commitment, I salute you. Yours is an ongoing battle, an uphill climb, a project. It is something that takes effort and care, something that isn't easy. To those of you who believe that the outcome is worth the struggle, keep on keeping on.

I, on the other hand, have never really viewed this as a possibility. The idea of two people learning, growing, and changing together seems an improbable if not impossible idea, and the notion that I could be fulfilled by one person is simply unrealistic.

I am an open non-monogamist in a day and age when this is viewed as abnormal, wrong, and bordering on pathetic. I have, of course, attempted monogamy, but my forays into that practice have been unsuccessful, unsatisfying, and at times downright depressing. To those who believe that non-monogamists are not capable of real love, I only have this to say, in my very best French: Go Fuck Yourselves. Not only have I experienced what it means to have real, rich, fulfilling love, but I also have experienced love that alters, love that gives, love that sacrifices and buoys and strengthens and inspires.

So where does cheating fit in? To me, the idea that a cheater does not love the person they are cheating on is folly. This, to me, is a perception engrained in us from outside influences, whether it be religion, the media, or our peers. It is simply not true. I have seen it, I have experienced it, and I can say without guile that love can exist even when outside gratification is sought. There are, of course, circumstances where love is lost and infidelity occurs, but I am willing to believe that 9 times out of 10, this is not the case.

This brings me to the point of this piece, something that has been on my mind of late, and that is the difference between partners and lovers.

I have been a partner, and I have been a lover. I have had partners, and I have had lovers. To me, there is a difference, and, though you can have both from the same person AT TIMES, there is a reason why people with partners seek out lovers.

Partners are people you love, people you fill your time with, people who give you strength and care for you, people who remain steadfastly on your side through life's turmoil and strife, people with whom you share assets, people with whom you build things, whether it be a home or a family or mutual devotion and trust. Partners are difficult to come by, but finding one can mean a lifetime of friendship, love, and support. Partners are wonderful.

Then why seek something else?

It has been said, "Love leaves the back door open." In my monogamy essay, I mentioned the practice of taking a lover, and how it has been common habitude in certain places of the world for centuries. The idea seems somehow lost on Americans, who view the idea that you might need to seek fulfillment outside of your partnership the height of betrayal. Swinging couples are viewed as hedonistic and sinful, though their marriages may be some of the strongest. It is my belief that couples who understand that their wanting a partner to remain sexually faithful to them as merely a matter of self-esteem, and therefore an entirely selfish desire, are couples who approach life with more confidence and perhaps a healthier grasp on reality than those who jealously seek to own their partners, viewing love as a platform for score-keeping, resentment, and control.

So what is a lover?

A lover is a person with whom to share secrets, a person that fills in the holes (for there are always holes, don't kid yourself), a person who may drift in and out of your life or be replaced by another, a person who fulfills appetites and desires, a person who acts as an escape from reality. They may be someone of which you know very little, and so your idea or perception of them remains in the realm of fantasy, which can be a very good thing in a life full of drudgery. A lover is the partner's polar opposite; where one stands beside you as you go through hell, the other allows you to escape from it. Is one better than the other? Of course not. They are different things. Does the enjoyment of one negate the importance of the other? I do not think so. I believe that seeking fulfillment is not at all the same thing as betraying trust. The two should not be, in my opinion, synonymous.

The question now becomes how we can begin to alter our perceptions in order to achieve gratification in our sexual lives. After all, if the Europeans can do it, what is the hold-up in our corner of civilization? Why is it that we restrict ourselves, when we, as free adult citizens of the world, have the luxury to design our own lives? We are living in a world when the most exciting changes in how we view human sexuality are occurring, where people are beginning to accept that there is more than one option out there, more than one sexual practice, more than one way in which love and sexuality can be expressed and enjoyed. It is a very volatile time, which I view as a positive. Chaos is a catalyst for change, and change can be wonderful.

I think a little chaos in one's life is healthy. So I'm up for it. Are you?

There's three things in this world that you need: respect for all kinds of life, a nice bowel movement on a regular basis, and a navy blazer.

I have so much anger right now. It's palpable. On the other hand, I feel more in touch with the poet in me than I have for ten years. Maybe the anger is a good thing. Maybe within the anger lies the lyrical.

Much of my anger comes from being a woman, and stems from the injustices I see brought upon my sex. Yes, it has gotten better. But it still isn't good enough. Sometimes the way the media treats us, the way the world treats us, the way my close male friends treat us--it's too much. And I try not to be too much of a raging feminist (who wants to hang around a raging ANYTHING?) but it just comes leaking out of me. And it ends up playing a role in my personal life, in my sex life. I feel like until I find a man that is a feminist (not just one that begrudgingly accepts the fact that women are "equal"), I won't be able to let one in entirely. Perhaps it is a lost cause. Perhaps it is a cause not worth fighting. Perhaps I am just too angry. Perhaps I just need to relax and just hope that everything will work out and that the anger will go away. But would I be turning my back on something important not just to me, but to womankind? "We have to be the change we want to see in the world."

Love makes me angry. This past year I have experienced the full spectrum of love, ranging from the unrequited to the unresolved to the unwelcome. All too intense, all too upsetting. My experience with love has been volatile at best, devastating at worst. Is it better to have loved and lost? Yes. Without a doubt. I wouldn't trade a minute of it. To the men whom I have loved, and the ones who have loved me, I thank you. Without you, I would not be who I am. Every bit of torture has informed the kind of woman I have become.

I am angry because of the place I am in right now. Because of goals still not reached, of dreams that still hover in the unattainable distance, taunting me, mocking me. I'm getting older, and here am I still. This is not to say I haven't accomplished anything. I have. But I have so far to go. SO. FAR.

I am angry at some people I love. I feel abandoned and cast aside, misunderstood and taken for granted. That sounds so mawkish, even as I type it, but it's the truth. And it doesn't even begin to graze the surface of what I have been feeling lately. But I'll leave it at that. Far better to be brief than maudlin.

When I was seventeen, I was misdiagnosed with Major Depression and given Prozac. Now, to anybody who knows anything about Bipolar Disorder, this is a HUGE--and quite dangerous--mistake. Prozac causes a Bipolar mind to cycle every day. (Usually you cycle every few days, or every couple of weeks.) Needless to say, my seventeenth year was a scary one. I was so angry ALL OF THE TIME and there was hardly anything that could make me feel normal. My own mother was afraid of me, and was at a loss for what to do. I cut class, I flunked out, I ran away, and every day was a challenge. But damn, did I write good poetry that year.

I feel seventeen again.

For a long time, I have been wanting to write about the subtle differences between all the different sort of Romance Films that mistakenly all get lumped together under the blanket term, "Chick Flicks." Setting aside the fact that this is a highly offensive and duragatory term that should warrant the castration of whomever coined it, I would like to set the record straight. Are there movies that earn that horrid categorization? Sure. But not as many as you think. Let me clear this up for you.


Romantic Comedy: This is a film that both men and women can enjoy, whether or not it was originally geared toward women in the first place. The writing, acting, and comedy is so fun that you don't mind that it sticks to the same basic formula. The characters are memorable, and some of the moments in the film are iconic.
Examples: "When Harry Met Sally," "Pretty Woman," "Roxanne," "Splash," "Sleepless In Seattle," "The Wedding Singer," "Sixteen Candles," "Some Like It Hot," "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," "I Love You, Man," "Clueless," "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," "Bringing Up Baby," "The Holiday," "Spanglish," "Philadelphia Story," "Sabrina," "Ten Things I Hate About You," "Love, Actually," "High Fidelity," "Annie Hall," etc.


Woman Movie: These are smart, funny (or dramatic. Or both), movies geared toward women, celebrating the female spirit. Men can also enjoy these films, and will probably earn extra points with the ladies for making an effort.
Examples: "Fried Green Tomatoes," "Steel Magnolias," "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood," "Practical Magic," "All About Eve," "Yentl," "Muriel's Wedding," "Sex and The City" (Yes, the television show, too.),"Little Women," "Thelma and Louise," "The First Wives Club," "The Help," etc.


Romantic Drama: Like Romantic comedies, both men and women enjoy these films. Some of the greatest films of all time happen to also be romances. I know, it may shock you.
Examples: "Sense and Sensibility," "Breakfast at Tiffany's," "Casablanca," "From Here To Eternity," "A Streetcar Named Desire," "Pride and Prejudice," "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," "Chocolat," "Say Anything," "Shakespeare In Love," "Titanic," "The Bridges of Madison County," "An Affair To Remember," "Moonstruck," "Love Story," "The Graduate," "The Sound of Music," "Brick," "Roman Holiday," "Notorious," "The King and I," "Gone With the Wind," "Benny and Joon," "Garden State," etc.


Chick Flick: First, a disclaimer: I have heard this awful phrase uttered way too many times, and think it should be wiped from the face of the planet. But, since it seems to be a popular one that won't go away, here are some movies that I think may, in fact, deserve it. These films are so formulated, so cheesy and sicky-sweet that you feel as though a baby cupid is hovering over you, whacking you in the head with a giant ball of cotton candy.
Examples: "Win a Date With Ted Hamilton," "The Prince and Me," "Just Married," "The Wedding Planner," "Maid In Manhatten," "When In Rome," "Sweet Home Alabama," "27 Dresses," "Whatever It Takes," "She's All That," etc.

Milestone

On April 17th, 2012 (yesterday), I finally finished my novel, Albus Unus. I got the idea for this book when I was sixteen years old, and, though I had many ups and downs in the actual writing of the damn thing, I decided that I would buckle down and finish it before my 26th birthday, making it ten years since I started it.

A fan page for my book can be found here:

http://www.facebook.com/AlbusUnus

Anyone interested in more info or requesting a copy of the book can message me.

Next step: publication. But for now, I'm reveling in the moment. Champagne, anyone?