Last week was filled with strep throat, fever dreams, and a post that I cried while writing. Then hundreds and hundreds of people came and left their mark on it and it moved from being a post to being an movement. And it was awesome. And terrifiying. And it inspired this email from a girl named Rachel who made me feel a million times better about the state of the world:
A couple of days a friend and I developed what we considered to be a plan of pure genius. We decided that we would get rid of most of the states except for a couple of them, which would move up to Canada to live with us. Chicago could pretty much replace Alberta, and Florida would come and stay in the water near Quebec. Normally I would not consider saving Florida, but my friend is a Quebec Francophone and I am a Toronto Jew, and if we are ever to live in the same place the natural choice is Florida. Then I made a map using my great art school skills, which I have attached. (The map is attached, I mean. Not art school. If you would like such amazing skills as mine, may I direct you to MS Paint? Yes, I may). Then I filled the rest of the states with puppies and considered myself the smartest person in the world.
Then you go and write a post on Tuesday, which I just now saw because I am slow, and I decide I cannot make the states disappear. I do not actually remember why my friend and I came up with our plan, except that I really liked the idea of pulling the state of Florida on a tugboat. Also, there would be a Yiddish newscaster narrating events and he would be all “Oy vey! The alter cockers are all fercockt!” So, basically, I spend a great deal of time entertaining myself.
Anyway. I will return Florida and Chicago (though I am keeping several Mexican restaurants), and I will even let America have all the puppies, because if I take away all the states (which I can totally do, just look how I did it in the picture), then there would be no you to remind people of awesome and beauty. I am not going to read the comments on the post now because I do not feel like crying today, but I am sure there are even more reminders of what matters in there. Sometimes it is good to think you can invent a new world by moving a bunch of places and then filling other places with puppies, but other times it is good to remember that our own world is not so bad. It has bad in it, more bad than we think we can handle, but it also has so much right-on. So, basically, you articulated the human part of that with a quarter of the words that I used, and you didn’t even involve an alternate universe.
I am pretty sure I am trying to say thank you, and this would have been much too long for the comments. I cannot imagine how it feels to have so many strangers reach out to you, but I hope it maybe makes it less overwhelming if you know that many of the people that reach out to you will find their own way. The kids and the fuckups and the losers (all of which I was deemed, at one point or another) will find their own beauty, and know the value of the simple awesome beauty in others. They’ll find their place, and hopefully they’ll grow up to be people that others reach out to, and not people that do things that cause us all to stop and go “what the?” and make us type overly long things in the first place.
So, yeah, you are pretty okay. If you are ever up here, I will take you on a tour of various pies.
Thank you, Rachel. Thank you, everyone. And now…the weekly wrap-up:
This week on my sex column (which is satirical and vaguely safe for work if your boss isn’t a douche-canoe):
This week on the internets:
- I got selected to be Miss March for next years Hot Blogger Calendar but I can’t afford to fly to New York for the photo shoot so instead Karen’s agreed to shoot pictures of me in the most inappropriately themed photo-shoot I can think of. So far I’m leaning toward “mutilated by zombies”. Sexy zombies though, because it would be rude to not stay within the theme.
This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:
- “I hate fucking birds.”
- It’s like a magic show. With your vagina. During a romantic pap smear. I’m going to stop now.
- Kids are stupid.
- It’s like a Mr. Show sketch. But it’s real.
This week’s wrap-up sponsored by the Novel Doctor, who isn’t actually sponsoring this post at all and will wonder why he’s even here and if he bought a spot during a drunken blackout but he helped me finish a tough chapter out of the kindness of his heart and this is the only way I have to repay him. Thanks, Stephen.