The inner sanctum

web — Tags: , , — admin @ 1:16 pm

Inspired by Stephen Elliott’s Daily Rumpus emails, and my own experience running an announcement mailing list back in the days (years) when this entire site was password-protected, I have decided to start my own newsletter of overly-personal emails again. Wait, you thought I could not get any more overly-personal than this site already is? You are very wrong. Just ask the fine folks who have been reading my (“friends-only”) LiveJournal for the past nine years. Now you* too can have access to the villanelle.org inner sanctum by signing up below.

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* offer does not extend to: family members, work colleagues, professors, students, lovers, former lovers (with some exceptions), and people I might want to make a “professional” impression on someday.

What do I get?

Occasional no-holds-barred musings/updates on the life of a 27-year-old academic/spiritual seeker/deviant living in New York City.

Like what?

The Lived Body is happening! Nadia EL-Imam, who is in town from Europe and sharing some of her user experience design mojo with us, gratis, is my new favorite person. I’m definitely going to run away with her to either Berlin, or Stockholm, or Milan, eventually; I just haven’t figured out which one yet.

I’m going to spend a week in November on retreat with the Trappists of St. Joseph’s Abbey in Spencer, MA. These monks start their day by praying Vigils at 3:30am. They don’t call it the Strict Observance for nothing. I’m pretty stoked.

It looks like I’m going to have some photos up at the Connecticut Muffin on Cortelyou Road, which is about a 10 min walk from my house. More details forthcoming!

Noam Chomsky is giving a lecture at NYU this evening. I’m still waiting to see if the University deems me important enough to grant me one of the coveted seats. Fingers crossed.

My housemates and I are hosting a Judeo-Japanese (con)fusion Rosh Hashanah dinner on Friday night. The menu will include miso matzah ball soup and gefilte fish sushi. No kidding.

Tao Lin, NYU, and teenaged online relationships

“‘People are assholes,’ said Haley Joel Osment. ‘You’re going to be angry at me. I think obese people are assholes. They take up more room. Taking up room is stupid. Eating more. People should eat less. And not take up room. And always do what they say. I can’t comprehend how a person can be late.’

‘I’m not angry at you. I will never be angry at you. I’m only angry at myself,’ [said Dakota Fanning.]

‘I can’t comprehend how people can be late or obese,’ said Haley Joel Osment” (66-7).

“Haley Joel Osment said Dakota Fanning should tell the therapist he was a graduate of New York University. Dakota Fanning said she did and the therapist was impressed and said something nice about New York University. Haley Joel Osment said the only purpose of going to New York University was so Dakota Fanning could now say to her therapist in the presence of her mother that Haley Joel Osment had gone to New York University” (77-8).

– Tao Lin, Richard Yates

* * *

I’m a member of the Rumpus Book Club, which is currently discussing Tao Lin‘s newest novel, Richard Yates. The book, which I have not yet finished, concerns the relationship between 22-year-old writer and NYU alum Haley Joel Osment and 16-year-old high school student Dakota Fanning. Haley meets Dakota online, talks to her on Gmail chat constantly, visits her in New Jersey, has illegal sex with her, and treats her like shit, causing her to spiral into bulimia.

Anyone who knows my history will already know that I have a lot to say about this.

Richard Yates is the third book I’ve read by Tao Lin. I’ve also heard him read in NYC. He’s friends with some of my friends. We’ve published in some of the same places.

When I was 14, in Georgia, in 1997, I met a guy online, who was 19, in Michigan. We talked on ICQ, and then AIM, all the time, for hours and hours every day, and all night long. When I was 15, he came to visit me covertly at sleep-away nerd camp. When I was 16, he came to visit me at home in Georgia, with my parents’ permission. When I was 17, I went to visit him in Michigan, with my parents’ permission. I lost my virginity with him. When I was 18, in 2001, I moved from Georgia to New York City, where I started as a freshman at NYU right before September 11th happened. Tao Lin started at NYU that same semester, I think. This was the same time period when students were killing themselves by jumping from the balconies in Bobst Library all the time, before the protective barriers were installed.

In 2002, prompted by infidelity on my part, I dropped out of NYU and ran away with my online boyfriend. I was 18; he was 23. We hitchhiked all over the country together. We panhandled for food. We panhandled to pay for an abortion when I got pregnant. He hit me. I don’t mean he slapped me; I mean he punched me in the face hard enough to knock me down. We stopped hitchhiking, broke up for a few weeks, got back together, and got an apartment together in Washington, DC. He got a job at Whole Foods. I got a job in a bookstore and then a yoga studio. We became vegetarians. We read the labels on everything we ate, and only ate whole grains and organic things. We were so poor, we hardly ate anything. At 5’10, I weighed 120 lbs.

All this was, as you can probably imagine, a disaster and a mindfuck that took me years to get over. I was literally missing for months and my mother was, understandably, a wreck. The police were involved. I, the missing scholarship girl, was on the top of new NYU president John Sexton’s to-do list.

There were aspects of the dynamic between me and my then-boyfriend that resembled that of the fictional Haley Joel Osment and Dakota Fanning very much. It was a mess. I was very, very naive. But, even so, it was so much, SO much, deeper and more real than the relationship the characters in this book have, and our IM conversations were better-written and more “literary” than theirs, by a HUGE factor. And despite the fact that this particular experience of mine is close to some of the horror stories people tell about why kids shouldn’t be online, I am 100% grateful to have had pretty much unfettered access to the Internet while growing up.

Like Tao Lin, I’m 27. I started using the web as a social medium when I was 11. I started making personal websites when I was 14, which was how the ex in question originally got in contact with me. The benefits of having access to a world outside the reaches of the small, Southern town I grew up in far, far, FAR outweighed the negatives. But, as I have mentioned before, the Internet was a very different world in those days than in 2006, when Richard Yates is set. It was much smaller and felt like a private club in some ways. The people I knew IRL usually didn’t know the first thing about the web.

After we broke up, my ex went on the thruhike the Appalachian Trail, and to marry a very nice, very smart, and insecure girl from South Carolina, whom he met on the Internet. She is younger than I am. They are both vegans. He’s held a series of hipster-y jobs in hipster-y towns (e.g., a bike shop in Portland). He currently works at Whole Foods again, and he and his wife are separated. From what I can tell from his web presence, he is a lot happier and healthier than he was when we were together.

After we broke up, I went on to mend my relationship with my family, and to have a long series of power-imbalanced relationships with men who were, on average, 12.5 years older than I was. When I was 21, I went back to NYU and got a full-time job there with tuition remission benefits. I went to school part-time for five years and graduated summa cum laude with no student debt. I wrote about my hitch-hiking experience a lot, in places like The Sun. I’m applying to Ph.D. programs for next year. After eight years of vegetarianism, I recently started eating poultry again.

On the subject of NYU, it is the most expensive university in the world. The financial aid sucks in comparison with most universities on the same tier. What I would have paid, had I not worked here, even with a large scholarship, was completely ridiculous. I’m so glad I didn’t do it. An NYU education is not worth what it costs, period. I’ve heard it said that NYU, the largest private owner of real estate in NYC, could stop collecting tuition for ten years without feeling it. I believe it.

However, as much as NYU screws its students financially, it treats its employees (unless they are grad student TA’s in certain departments..) very, very well. In addition to my salary, as my employer, NYU gave me a high-quality, free education. And NYU’s retirement plan for employees is so generous (if I contribute 5% of my monthly income, NYU contributes 10%) that, at 27 (unless our economy really never recovers) I’ve already put away enough money toward my retirement that I’ll probably be fine when I’m 65.

On connections and Gen Y

The other day, I googled the term “Generation Y.” The question on my mind was, I guess, is that seriously what we’re called? Apparently it is, though no one seems to be sure exactly when Gen Y started or when it ended. It’s already over. The people who’ve been online their entire lives, not just starting from age 11 like me or in their teens like most people my age, are a completely different generation.

I am cat-sitting for my friends Mitsu and Sue (who are textbook Gen Xers) and gallery-sitting for BronxArtSpace (which Mitsu co-directs) while they are on vacation in India and California respectively. Mitsu and I met in 2004 through a mutual Internet friend, Bruce Barone. I was preparing to move from DC to New York at the time and Bruce thought Mitsu might be able to help me get a job doing HTML coding or something. It turned out Mitsu knew an awful lot of my most-admired people in person, people like Miranda July and Heather Anne Halpert. (Note that I am only refraining from linking to Heather Anne’s new site, BlurryYellow, yet again, because I am embarrassed about how fangirl-y I still am about her. I still remember excitedly telling a third party, after I met Mitsu, how I had met someone who “knows LemonYellow in real life!!”)

Mitsu never got me a job, though he still tells me I ought to get into the tech industry. (If I had multiple lives to live I would definitely spend one as a UX designer.) He did eventually introduce me to both Miranda and Heather Anne. (I am sure Miranda July does not remember meeting me, but, really, it happened.) And, more importantly than reducing my degrees of separation from other cool people is the fact that, six years later, Mitsu’s arguably my closest friend, the person I talk to the most out of anyone.

Without the Internet, we never would have met. I would not be sitting here, in this loft in the Bronx with Circles (the cat who loves me dearly when Mitsu and Sue are not available) and George (the cat who loves me dearly when Mitsu and Sue are not available and he wants something to eat), in this building that they originally moved into because Heather Anne used to live here, who they met because Mitsu read this website called LemonYellow, which I also read, in 1998.

My “how we met” story is similar for, not just a few, but almost all of my best friends. With the exception of very small subset of the people I grew up with in Georgia, my entire tribe, as it currently exists, came together online.

Mitsu was also the first person to tell me about Khaela Maricich, a performance artist and musician who was part of the same artsy crowd in Olympia, WA that Miranda July was part of when Mitsu met them. I used to read Khaela’s old blog, The Touch Me Feeling (apparently now closed), and I’ve seen her perform at the Kitchen a couple times and with Electrelane (another amazing, though sadly “on hiatus,” band with whom I have connections, but I will save the story of how I got a ride on their tour bus from DC to New York that one time for another entry (Hi Mia!)), which was, as I recently mentioned, the second-best moment in my musical life.

So, today, I sent out a tweet asking if anyone knew what was going on in New York tonight, and someone replied with a link to a list of shows, and (*gasp*) there was The Blow (Khaela’s band), playing at Joe’s Pub. Tonight!

The show was sold out, but the person I spoke with on the phone at the box office told me I might be able to score a last-minute cancellation ticket if I showed up at doors-open, which was 11 pm.

While I was awkwardly standing outside the Public Theatre on Lafayette Street for forty-five minutes, hoping a ticket would materialize, I had what might have been my first genuine Web 2.0 microcelebrity sighting. I’m not certain of this, but I think Kara Jesella, who co-writes the popular feminist nostalgia blog 90sWoman.com (which I am sort of addicted to), was there. I think it might have been her because: a. it looked like her, b. Joe’s Pub is right near NYU, where I know she is a grad student in Performance Studies, and c. the Blow is about as “90′s woman” a band as they come. I could not bring myself to be all Hi! I read your blog! on a person I’d never met, who might not have been Kara, but, Kara, if that was you, I was the tall girl in the black dress with the brown pigtail braids looking like some sort of total dork who thinks people scalp tickets to tiny shows by bands most people have never heard of which are starting close to midnight in tiny venues, and I apologize for staring at you.

There are definitely no scalpers at shows like this, but I was not the only person hoping to score a last-minute ticket. Most of the other seekers gave up pretty quickly after finding out the show was sold out, but there was one other girl who was lingering there with me the entire time. She was smart enough to make friends with the staff (who, at long last, came through for her with a comp ticket). She was also cute enough that the one time someone actually did approach the “awkward standing around” area and inquired if a ticket was needed, they inquired it of her, not me. But she was sweet enough to pass along the somewhat dicey already-torn-off stub she got from that other girl to me when her new best friend the manager hooked her up.

I finally got in the least glamourous way, by pleading with the box office girl that I had been standing out there since before 11. She let me buy a ticket at full price (a whopping $15) about 5 minutes after Khaela went on. The show was great. I got the t-shirt.

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