Time

The smart money's on Harlow
And the moon is in the street
And the shadow boys are breakin' all the laws
Oh and it's east of East St. Louis
And the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause

And Napolean is weeping
In a carnival saloon
His invisible fiancee is in the mirror
And the band is goin' home
It's raining hammers
It's raining nails
Its true there's nothing left for him down here

And it's time time time
And it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time

And they all pretend they're orphans
And their memory's like a train
You can see them getting smaller as they pull away
And the things you can't remember tell the things you can't forget
That history puts a saint in every dream

She said she'd stick around
Till the bandages came off
But these mama's boys just don't know when to quit
And Matilda asks the sailors
Are those dreams or are those prayers
Close your eyes son and this won't hurt a bit

And it's time time time
And it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time

Oh and things are pretty lousy
For a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars
And splash into the street
And when they're on a roll
She pulls a razor from her boot
And a thousand pigeons fall around her feet

So put a candle in the window
And a kiss upon my lips
As the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
Pay the fiddler off till I come back again

And it's time time time
And it's time time time
And it's time time time that you love
And it's time time time

Gooey Deschanel

I have for many years resisted dedicating any space to discussing Zooey Deschanel on my blog.  There are plenty of writers - both male and female - who have taken issue with the sentient glitter cloud (kudos Gawker*), and I haven't felt the need to reiterate what had already been said.

Today, I feel differently.

Today, while I was eating a warm falafel sandwich and watching The Replacements for the tenth time on TBS, Ms. Deschanel's reallyfuckingstupid iPhone commercial came on.  My reactions, in order of how I experienced them, went something like this:

Why is this commercial still in rotation?  Why are you asking Siri if it's raining outside when when it's clearly raining outside?  Who the hell orders tomato soup for delivery?  OPEN A FUCKING CAMPBELL'S SOUP CAN.  For the love of God, please stop dancing like an 8-year-old boy watching a Barney sing along.

I don't ordinarily react to television commercials this way.  Needless to say, I strongly dislike Zooey Deschanel, and for a plethora of reasons.  There's the acting critique: that she plays hollow characters whose chief characteristics are their beauty and ability to attract men (see all of her movies).  There’s the real-life critique: that she is troublingly girlish, even childish (see her website, HelloGiggles, or her Twitter feed, where she once wrote, "I wish everyone looked like a kitten."  WTF?).  Still, my biggest problem with the actress du jour has to do with a message she pushes implicitly, but incessantly: that the measure of a person’s character - the test of what makes him or her nuanced and compelling - is the magnitude of endearing personality quirks.

Think about it.  Have you ever seen Deschanel when she is not doing something twee or "adorkable," to quote the Fox marketing execs shamelessly shilling her awful show "The New Girl?"  Has she ever just been real and not some hipster masturbation fantasy?  The entire show is premised on how darn "cute" and "odd" Zooey is because she's a free spirit who lives with a bunch of dudes.  Isn’t that hilarious?!  It is, because she wears glasses!  And is all flibbertigibbetygoo!  Jesus.

I know what you might say: It's just an act.  But it can't be argued that Deschanel's persona in film and tv apply equally to her public, off-screen life.  Deschanel has called her character in The New Girl a "perfect fit."  In interviews, she seems programmed to talk and behave exclusively as an adorable oddball.  The New York profile describes her replying to a journalist who asks her about her cuteness by covering her ears because that’s what “my mom told me [to do] when I get compliments.”  She plays the ukulele and is apparently learning circus tumbling.  In an April appearance on Craig Ferguson’s late-night show, she talked about why she doesn’t consider Scotland a part of Europe (because it’s an island, more or less) and the challenges of mini-golf, and she played the harmonica.  On HelloGiggles, she regularly posts videos of herself looking doe-eyed at the camera while performing retro karaoke for adoring fans.  My favorite post (no) from last year: a doodle she drew of a robot that gardens.  "He rolls around and finds all of those cherry tomato bushes you planted and kohlrabi seed rows you forgot about and actually cultivates them."

I’m not saying there's anything necessarily problematic about being quirky: with singing spontaneously, wearing fake teeth for fun, or dreaming up robots.  It’s a character trait, which in moderation, can be quite interesting.  What I am saying is that charming quirks should not define one’s life; they don't add up to a whole person.  Being oneself, something fans of Deschanel praise her for doing, doesn't just mean being comfortably zany.  To suggest otherwise is to diminish the complexity that actually makes people interesting.  Apparently someone forgot to tell that to the spectacularly irritating Zooey Deschanel, who has made an entire career out of the conceit of the manic pixie dream girl real, much to my chagrin.  Indeed, it is her contentedness to present herself as weird for weirdness' sake that makes her seem vapid and bland.

Whatever it is that Deschanel has done to capture the hearts and minds of the 20-something bearded set – and those who market their products toward them – I seem to have missed the memo.  I much prefer characters in entertainment and real people who are defined by more than eccentricities, like by their smarts, their relationships, their careers, and their principles.  Call me crazy, but substance will never take precedence over the merits of a personalized Chicken Dance.

inventory of everything currently on my bed

2 pillows
1 duvet
1 laptop
1 boy

Enough

I seriously don't know what I'm doing. Do you?... Know what I'm doing?

i watch your lips moving
i see the words taking shape
but love is like a language i cannot translate
i can't afford to be careless
and let you in
i turn my head for one minute and lose everything

wish i had someone on whom i could lean
cause everybody's always counting on me
with my hands held real tight
always ready to fight
for the few pieces of joy i have now
you have turned on the light
and i've lost my sight
but my heart still remembers the sound
of a dream of a love one day found
so don't let me down

your past, it may be rocky
but your present is clear
my present situation is the sum of all my fears
i take responsibility for the few things i done right
i got so much on my plate i'm scared to take another bite
wish i had someone on whom i could lean
still i don't want no one's charity

heartbreak and bullets can try
to steal any good from my life
fathers and lovers have lied
rivers have flowed from my eyes
never seen love face-to-face
just seen it walking away
why would you think i would recognize
something that's never been mine?

you have turned on a light
and i've lost my sight
but my heart still remembers the sound
of a dream of a love one day found
you're the dream of a love one day found
and the freedom from what kept me bound
and the promise of staying around
my eyes may not work for me now
but my heart sure remembers the sound
so if you're saying it, please, say it loud
and don't let me down

pant v. dress

ok so pants suck, am i right? everyone feels that way? they feel like pants suck?

no? i guess not... huh.

i recently read that women tie their blue jeans with some manner of twine so they can continue wearing them throughout their pregnancies. this terrifies me, first because i suspect that one day i will get knocked up (ok that's a separate fear), and second because i thought pregnancy was finally the time you got to break out all those great empire waist dresses.

i'm apparently wrong. all the time. pants: they're something women are committed to, especially feminists.

meanwhile, i almost never wear pants. not because i'm somehow being ladylike. i'm not like mandy moore in that movie where spoiler she dies, just wandering around in knee-length dresses, clutching my cardigan, speaking in bible proverbs.

the reason i usually opt for dresses over pants is because i’m not that competent, and wearing dresses is an easy way to trick people into thinking that i am.

i mean, i’m certainly not competent enough to commit to a style decision that would require twine artistry in the event i'm with child. still, i guess everything goes with blue jeans. you could wear pretty much any kind of top with them and it would be fine. military jackets, regular jackets,... straight jackets. JACKETS. and teeshirts. oh my god teeshirts. and then you could coordinate them with your shoes and maybe you would have to layer another top over it or something. add a sweater. maybe a scarf. aaaand i'm tired. point made.

do you know how much planning goes into styling a dress? PUTTING IT ON. boom. you have a look now. your look is “i’m wearing a dress, i already look pulled together, running around in this here dress.” it’s winter? okay. your look is now “i’m wearing a dress and put tights on under it. boom. running around in this here dress, my legs encased in tights like i’m a goddamn ballerina.”

the amazing thing is that people will not see this as a sign that you have only the most basic understanding of how jackets work. they will instead say things like “your look is so polished.” yes. because you are wearing only one garment instead of five making you an f'ing genius. and if you spend $25 to go in and get your dresses tailored to fit you perfectly at your dry cleaner’s after buying them, you will come off as some kind of style superstar even though you're just smart.

also, as much as i LOVE jeans, you know that thing that happens when you are wearing them and you sit down and your butt crack is revealed? that will never happen in a dress. ever. you would have to wear the weirdest dress in the entire world for that to happen. and then i suppose it would be a very "strategic" part of the look. the worst inadvertently exposed body part mishap you can have in a dress is that you might go out without underwear and flash someone if you spread your legs like sharon stone. that would still be sexier than exposing your butt crack, and, correctly applied, could probably get you featured in star magazine. otherwise, you could solve that problem by wearing underwear, or not spreading your legs like you're at a gynecologist appointment.

in sum, dresses are amazing; pants require twine; make sure to cross your legs.

man of peace

One of the reasons why we crave love and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for loneliness, and shame, and sorrow. But some feelings sink so deep into the heart that only loneliness can help you find them again. Some truths about yourself are so painful that only shame can help you live with them. And some things are just so sad that only your soul can do the crying for you.

I laughed and laughed and laughed

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