Archive for the ‘Horrible Stuff’ Category

Breaking up with Vivienne Westwood

Thursday, March 27th, 2014

Viv Westwood snail broochimproved

Quintessentially English, the Snail Bracelet, delicately produced from a real snail shell, beautifully creates the suggestion of back gardens after the summer rain. – See more at: http://www.viviennewestwood.co.uk/shop/jewellery/bracelets/snail-bracelet-19425#sthash.gy1EXbN2.dpuf
Quintessentially English, the Snail Bracelet, delicately produced from a real snail shell, beautifully creates the suggestion of back gardens after the summer rain. – See more at: http://www.viviennewestwood.co.uk/shop/jewellery/bracelets/snail-bracelet-19425#sthash.gy1EXbN2.dpuf

“Quintessentially English, the snail brooch, delicately produced from a real snail shell, beautifully creates the suggestion of back gardens after a summer rain.”

No thank you, Viv.  Over and out.

Thank You, Beyonce.

Friday, March 21st, 2014

beyonce dammit

Oh, look: Beyonce visits the Anne Frank house. A good time for an instagram. But she handles herself so much better than Justin Bieber, so that’s a relief.

Let me just quote my favorite line from “True Detective“:

L’chaim, fatass.

Death by Scarf

Thursday, March 20th, 2014

etro scarf

I am now officially obsessed with death by scarf, following the news about L’Wren Scott. I didn’t want to believe that this really happens but as it turns out, hanging is the most effective method of suicide. Better than jumping or pills.

I am always prone to morbid thoughts but this is a dark endless loop. Don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything! I am just preoccupied with the question of Why, now that I’ve satisfied the compulsion to know How.

Let’s say her lover dumped her. Let’s say her business was on the rocks. These aren’t reasons to leave the world, to end your life forever, with so many possibilities ahead of you.

I know next to nothing about L’Wren Scott but I admired her as a designer and knew that she moved in a rarefied social circle. Maybe she had demons her whole life long that she hid from her closest friends. But didn’t any of them have enough insight or empathy to see that she was struggling?

I don’t want people to leave this way! The shock and the horror are unbearable. There are always answers. Let us reach out to anyone who seems more depressed than usual or who is experiencing a stressful life event.

Don’t use a scarf. Don’t leave us here without you.

If someone you know exhibits warning signs of suicide: do not leave the person alone; remove any firearms, alcohol, drugs or sharp objects that could be used in a suicide attempt; and call the U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-TALK (8255) or take the person to an emergency room or seek help from a medical or mental health professional.

Leather Cobain Pants

Sunday, March 16th, 2014

Leather Cobain Pants

“Leather RtA skinny pants channel the grunge styling with a zip-off shirt panel around the waist trimmed with denim-style patch pockets.”

Leather Cobain Pants front

$1,232.00 at Shopbop.com

Here we are now, entertain us!

 

Chris Christie: What a Fucking Cunt!™

Thursday, February 6th, 2014

chris christie pig improved

 

You know, I actually have mixed feelings about Chris Christie. On the one hand, he is a total cunt and a shameless lying pig who needs to go to jail. On the other hand, the daily tidbits about his various lapses of decency and ethics provide a welcome relief from the tragedy of Philip Seymour Hoffman.

I can’t handle the sadness. I can’t dwell on the horror and the loss. I need Chris Christie more than ever, and he is stepping up. He has come to the rescue with his idiotic critique of his own appointee’s high-school record, therein behaving like the vindictive middle school bully that we all suspected was the real Chris Christie.

What a fucking piece of shit this guy is. Funneling Hurricane Sandy money to political allies and rebuffing calls for oversight of this money is even more egregious than the bridge fiasco. Mishandling this money while Sandy victims wait in vain for someone to answer their questions ought to qualify Mr. Christie for a nice long jail term.

The thought of this cunt getting away with his arrogant abuse of power is too much to bear. But I’m grateful for his continuing malfeasance. The mere sight of him incites my wrath and indignation.  It’s the best, most reliable antidote to sorrow. May it never lose its power to distract us.

Crazy Mothers Club VII

Thursday, January 30th, 2014

mommy and me

 

Yesterday, I was bitching about my hair on facebook, and a friend passed on her mother’s advice about spending too much time at the mirror.

I couldn’t even imagine my own mother giving me any advice, although she did warn me not to have ‘intercourse’ after I started coming home at 3:AM. She was pretty useless in the advice department. She didn’t prepare me for anything except a conviction that I would never, ever, grow up to be like her.

Look at her body language in this picture. She holds me like I’m a time bomb or some infectious agent. And me, I look away anxiously, maybe at someone less scary.

It is pointless to blame your crazy mom for all your shortcomings, and yet. Getting over a crazy mom is a tall order.

An interesting school of psychology maintains that Adverse Childhood Experiences can represent trauma that doesn’t just ‘go away.’ Having a crazy mom is an ACE; enough ACE’s and you are screwed, unless other factors were present to create some resilience. You can get your ACE score here.

“The CDC’s Adverse Childhood Experiences Study uncovered a stunning link between childhood trauma and the chronic diseases people develop as adults, as well as social and emotional problems.This includes heart disease, lung cancer, diabetes and many autoimmune diseases, as well as depression, violence, being a victim of violence, and suicide.”

Bummer! On the one hand, you now have an excuse for being dysfunctional. On the other, it is awful to reflect on your childhood helplessness, or on your own failings as a mother.

Thoughts?

Triggers and Tarzana

Thursday, December 19th, 2013

vintage sheet music

 

Once you are traumatized, you are vulnerable to triggers. And triggers are everywhere.

Jane Birkin’s daughter, Kate Barry, jumped from her fourth story window last week. I couldn’t stop thinking about her despair, and how fame and talent don’t protect families from depression or suicide.

Then, on Homeland, they executed the poor hero, making us watch as the life drained out of his face.

When I’m triggered enough, my mind reverts to familiar paths that lead nowhere. Often, it settles on Tarzana Treatment Center, a lucrative rehab business whose $45 million budget is largely funded via contracts with Los Angeles County.

I took my son to TTC when he relapsed during a period of hard-earned sobriety. They made a big fuss about payment and made a copy of my credit card. They refused to let the family inside the building. After a few days, I started receiving calls from a guy named Del, in the financial department. He said they needed more money, even though they were a Blue Cross provider and had accepted our son’s insurance.

Del’s harassing phone-calls brought me to tears but he persisted. He threatened to kick Max out instead of keeping him for the agreed 30 days. I came up with $1,000 and then another $1,100. Del kept calling and demanding money. He said the rehab cost $500 a day. Meanwhile, Max called me, sounding panicky; he shared his room with a bunch of convicts who played cards all night, depriving him of sleep. He was cold but I wan’t allowed to bring him a blanket.

After around 12 days, a woman called me and said she was a therapist at TTC. She told me that my son was being discharged for lack of sufficient funds, but that she had convinced them to let him stay until morning.

In the morning, Max’s dad picked him up from TTC. He was still in withdrawal from klonopin. At dawn the next morning, he jumped off a cliff.

So I think about Del. I sometimes call his extension at TTC but I always get his recorded message. A couple of days ago, I called and he answered.

I told him who I was, and told him what happened after he kicked out my son. He stammered that he was sorry for my loss but quickly regrouped. He denied calling me to demand money and I laughed maniacally. WHAT?!, I said, Are you serious? You called me a million times! You made me cry!

No, he said firmly, this never happened and couldn’t have happened. They never discharge anyone for lack of money. Never. He has worked there for 18 years and it has never happened. Furthermore, it wasn’t his call. It was someone else’s.

I asked whose call it was and after some arguing, he gave me a fake name with a fake extension number.

Now, if  you are still reading this, you can understand my distress. I’m going to call it distress because rage doesn’t cover it. Why didn’t that cunt just apologize and say it was a terrible unforeseen consequence, one that he regretted?

I don’t want to hear “Just let it go.” I want to hear useful ideas about how to proceed.

Where is Jackie’s Hat???

Friday, November 22nd, 2013

Jackie's hat

 

Last night I heard for the first time that Jackie’s pink hat is missing: No one knows what happened to it after all these years.

This is just mind-boggling, isn’t it? If anything in this world is iconic, it’s that pillbox hat. How can it be missing?! Jackie’s maid put the suit in a plastic bag but she doesn’t know about the hat.

If they managed to keep this secret for 50 years, they fucking well know about the conspiracy/conspiracies, too.

I genuinely feel upset about the hat. I am surprised but less upset to learn that the pink suit is not Chanel, but rather an exact copy of a Chanel suit, made in New York. Good for Jackie. Coco Chanel consorted with too many Nazi’s. Perhaps Jackie knew this subconsciously.

Watching the old news footage, I can’t help but marvel at Jackie’s immense grace and dignity. No wonder our fascination with her is so enduring.

But the missing hat reminded me of a dream I had a few years ago, that for some reason I had in my possession a hatbox with Jackie’s head in it. I’m pretty sure the hat was there too. I remembered being appalled by this horrible dream imagery, and yet kind of proud of it’s originality.

Now I feel guilty, in keeping with my pervading sense that everything, everything, is my fault.

No Dancing

Monday, November 18th, 2013

Jessie Wilcox smith - At the Back of the North Wind

 

When I saw a few moments of the Cancer Dance video on the evening news, I was dismayed. The news people smiled and exchanged platitudes about courage and healing. Wouldn’t it be wonderful, they mused, if people everywhere were inspired by the dancing mastectomy patient to face cancer with such joy?

If you’re reading this and you have cancer, and you like the dancing, please forgive me for my bad attitude.

I just feel that it’s one more way to pressure people into masking their trauma and fear and grief. BE HAPPY! Find a silver lining! Things could be worse! Be thankful for the ‘lesson’ of cancer or death!

Our culture offers nothing for the grief-stricken. We just want them to keep quiet or go away. What if some women insisted on wearing black mourning clothes to her mastectomy, to say goodbye to her breasts? That video would not go viral.

I will never be “over” my loss and I will always grieve. I accept that but no one else does, except for the parents I see on online forums, who express their anguish and desperation to strangers who have Been There. Online People can be remarkably patient and compassionate. Real Life people get sick of your morose demeanor. They get sick of hearing you ask with complete sincerity, “Why doesn’t so-and-so just kill themself?” They are upset by your negativity. And they feel helpless in the face of such intractable sadness.

A couple of nights ago, I chatted online with a total stranger who seemed really smart and really nice. I told her my story and asked what to do about facing or avoiding my dark constant companion, as I think of it.

She asked a few questions and then told me that grief was noble. She advised me to look for people I could help, and to honor my son however I could.  Her words were a huge comfort.

I’m going to just feel noble instead of hating myself for being sad. I’m not going to dance and act happy, because I’m not a model of courage and positivism. And If I find out I have cancer, I’m going to make a big fuss and take to my bed.  I wish America were like Africa, with shaman elders to dance around and perform some rituals for us who have lost our children or breasts or limbs or sanity.

At least there are wise strangers out there in cyberspace.

Bullies

Wednesday, October 23rd, 2013

welcome to the dollhouse

 

Unlike gun control, the subject of bullying seems to be maintaining some traction in social media and elsewhere. Now we have a 12 year old girl who killed herself following a long reign of terror by schoolmates who even gloated after her death.

Yesterday, I read about a father who had taken to Facebook to denounce the bullying that preceded his son’s suicide, and was subjected to a barrage of nasty comments.

The two responses that bother me most are these:

“Kids have always been mean and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

and:

“Parents should monitor what their kids do online.”

Both are just excuses for maintaining the status quo, and the status quo is pretty fucking alarming.

I don’t believe that kids are born mean, or that bullying is a developmental phase that is hard-wired and natural. The old adage that Kids are Just Mean is as stupid as the injunction that allowed parents to beat their children with impunity: Spare the rod and spoil the child. We now agree that the latter is outrageous. It has been a slow change in our culture but nonetheless it is a significant shift in thinking and behavior.

I think that our culture can eliminate bullying by a concerted effort at home, in child-rearing, at school, and in legislation, to make it clear that bullying is socially unacceptable, period. Where it occurs, just like smacking your kids around, it should result in sanctions like fines or hearings in Juvenile court.

The opportunities for bullying have obviously multiplied with new technology. There are brand new platforms for bullying every day. Like the news cycle, the bullying cycle is now 24/7. There is no safe place for a kid unlucky enough to be targeted by bullies. You can’t just go home and watch TV to forget about it.

When I talk about cyberbullying with friends, they tend to blame the victim for going online or using their smart-phone. But that’s what kids do! Why should a kid have to give up this means of recreation to stay safe from other kids urging them to drink bleach and kill themselves?

A couple of months ago, I read about a programmer who had developed an algorithm that Facebook could use to raise a red flag for bullying or suicidal ideation. But guess what? Facebook was not interested. They are busy suspending users for posting depictions of nudity for other adult friends and followers. The safety of teens is a non-issue to Facebook. In fact, Facebook has just relaxed its restrictions on teen users, to compete with other forms of social media that are gaining popularity with that demographic.

Bullying is out of control. Most schools just give lip service to “Zero Tolerance.” This is clear in every tragic news story and in my own experience as a mom. We need to agree as a culture that kids are people, with the same rights to safety and dignity as adults. Kids can be fragile and insecure and kids can be angry enough about their home-lives that they seek relief by abusing someone they perceive as weaker. We need to intervene.

Bully_Rules_poster

 

Thoughts, anyone?