living in bizarro world

Having returned from El Salvador yesterday, I’m just struck by…almost EVERYTHING about my daily life and how different it is from the past week. I think we, meaning Americans and certainly Brandeis students- we are the ones living in surreality, considering how many people in the world live our lifestyle and how many people live more like rural peasants.

I woke up this morning in my apartment, alone. No one was sleeping in the next bed, I had a door to my room, instead of a curtain. There were no roosters crowing or children running around. It was around 10 AM, not 6:30. I have time this morning that isn’t scheduled for anything and yet there is a tremendous sense of urgency, instead of a loose attachment to time in which, paradoxically, more activities are scheduled. I made myself a bagel instead of being served some combination of rolls, plantains, avocadoes, fruit, and sugared coffee. Of course, it’s real cold, instead of a pleasant 87 degrees and sunny.

One thing I NEVER thought I’d say: I kind of miss latrines. Wait, wait- not in the sense that they are AT ALL fun to use or comfortable. But at least latrines never back up (well, they probably do, but let’s move on) and fail to flush- because they DON’T flush at all, genius- and you never have to futilely plunger the latrine and watch your waste matter linger stubbornly, staring you in the face. Our apartment toilet sucks, even if it is the greatest luxury ever.

wonkity wonkity wah-wah-waaaaahhh

Last night my dad called to inform me that Eric Fingerhut, my gubernatorial candidate of choice and the wagon to which I had hitched my post-grad star, has dropped out of the race. Which sucks on lots of levels- Eric is the most innovative and savvy policy guy of any candidate, totally devoted to Ohio's economic competitveness, and a truly decent, likeable man. I can't say he ran a great campaign ("what campaign" is more like it) and he should have locked up his announcement by November to be viable, but it's a shame nontheless that the Ohio Dems are crowding around Strickland like sheep running from a panther. Yeah, yeah, Strickland's a good guy and he's raised money and his Early Childhood Development plan made me like him quite a bit more- but I'm still voting for a Democrat by default instead of with enthusiasm.

So I'm already reeling from that announcement when PAUL HACKETT announces, with his usual delicacy, that he too is dropping out of his Senate primary, because of backroom manipulations and pressure from party leaders to make way for Sherrod. Again, no secret that I luuurrrve Sherrod and am no fan of Hackett or his reckless, self-aggrandizing decision to run in this race. But a) it's stupid to alienate a charismatic Iraq war veteran loved by the blogosphere from politics entirely, as Hackett claimed (to which I call "drama queen," and say he should have made the responsible decision on his own long ago) and b) it is VERY clumsy of Chris Redfern and the D-trip to apparently nudge two primary contenders out in the same day (or even remove one in close proximity to the resignation of another).

So...some ends are positive, some negative, all are kind of inevitable, and poorly orchestrated. Time to regroup.

abandoning my oh-so-clever gimmick

Well, my takeoff on James Frey-America-oil addiction memoir was going to be a three-parter, but it's getting old and Tom the Dancing Bug on Salon already made a comic with the exact same joke (I did it first, but his stuff is actually read by lots of people...). The third part would have been "America exposed as a fraud." Ha, right?

Speaking of frauds, I cracked up at the story about Dick Cheney accidentally shooting his hunting buddy. Seriously, where's Justice Scalia when you need him on a hunting trip (what? come on, Ann Coulter wants to put rat poison in Justice Stevens food). I guess we know now how Dick ended up getting all those deferments from serving in Vietnam (twelve, I believe. OK, OK, five, whatever.) Interestingly, he was also a prominent figure in our marathon session of "death is not an option" last night. For those unfamiliar with the game, you have to choose who you would sleep with among two competing repulsive options. These range from lighthearted (i.e. dorky television characters) to truly disturbing (political figures, teachers, friend's parents, etc.) Dick lost out to...pretty much everyone he was up against. Trust me when I say that the "winners" of each round had rather Pyrrhic victories.

America becomes a national phenomenon

Our interview guest for today is America, author of a fascinating and gripping MEMOIR about recovering from oil addiction. America, welcome. Tell us why you wrote this book, what you were trying to do here.

"I feel like this is the defining story of my generation. Of course it was hard to break free oil, once it's in your system you can never be fully rid of it. but Americans like me, we're tough, we can force ourselves to endure that withdrawl, that awful fucking pain- heck, I rode a bike without even fucking stretching first, I hadn't gone anywhere without a motor in so long, man, this was like two weeks out of oil rehab and I absolutely wanted to die. But I dealt with it, because I knew oil had led me down such a destructive road, and incremental weaning wasn't gonna do it. After you've driven Nascar without a helmet, dude, after you've made a cross-country trip without license plates or a muffler just to enjoy the sound of your engine going and stop at as many gas stations as possible, looking for those highway signs with increasing desperation, you have to just let yourself feel whatever pain youre in, and hybrid cars are for pussies who can't face the reality of their own addictions. "

Let's take some questions:

"your story was so inspiring to me, I decided I would finally sell my car even if it costs me my job, because I have been under the thumb of my need for oil way too long, and you're right, minor adjustments with that false "support" just can't cut it."

Wow. Wow. let's hear from someone else.

"I want to be strong like you, and vomit blood for the sake of slaying my demons on my own- but I don't know how."

"First of all, don't accept compromises. Don’t let anyone fool you that steps programs will redeem you. This is something you have to handle yourself, and when you do that, you'll feel so superior that it replaces whatever is currently filling that void within you."

It is my privilege to recommend the American's new memoir to each and every one of you, so please go out and buy it. Discuss with your friends, and maybe use it to bring about healing for yourself or someone you love.

America breaks into a millon little pieces: an excerpt

An American is an American. It doesn't matter whether the American is white, black, rich or poor, celebrity or middle-of-nowhere rube. An American's life is consumed by an overwhelming obsession, all-encompassing, overwhelming, smothering, can't-breathe-from-it's-fumes obsession. No light, no happiness, just madness, all the time, and for me, American, it was oil. This is the truth about obsession. The truth is what matters. My truth is what matters.

When I went to oil detox, they had this former auto company exec come and talk to us about how much money he earned back in the day, and how he used to keep a barrel of oil in his backyard, just to admire it, and how women would always ask about that oil, and his cars, and he started sleeping at the office and not talking to his wife, because he was working eighty hours a week and I keep thinking this is all bullshit this is all bullshit I want to throw up...

Three months later (a month after Betsy, my lover, had run away, and I wanted to find her so bad but I had to stay and be strong and beat oil now so I could save her later) and then I walked into that gas station, next to the SUV showroom, because I knew Betsy was there, back on the smack, just gunning her engine over and over and over again and working the stick shift with her hand back and forth and back and forth like she could never let go until it became part of her hand and sunk into her skin like another appendage because she just needed that high of burning fuel inside her and I wanted to jump in that Escalade with her so badly but I knew she couldn't love me if she still loved oil, so I bombed the gas station and dragged her onto my rickshaw to get her away from that madness...

To be continued...