I'm Mortified

If you're in Chicago this Friday at 7:30, you should come see me at the Mortified show at Schubas. I'm reading a piece centered around my 8th-to-12th grade diary entries (lots of LSD-addled poetry, my dilettantish attempts at being wiccan, and sundry 'nobody understands me'isms). The awesome and supportive producers of the show helped me put it together and it might be the hardest I've worked on anything all year. Well, the hardest I've worked on something that's actually finished. This weekend I got to hear a couple of the other readers and their stuff is funny-awkard-adorable. Come out!



Mortified Chicago Promo from Shay DeGrandis on Vimeo.

I tried to watch the "New Girl" pilot without prejudice, but I just can't relate to Zooey D at all. I think it's because she strictly plays two kinds of characters: either girls that must have strawberry-scented farts, or girls that make NO farts. "I'm offbeat and wacky but never, ever in a way that makes me look remotely unattractive!" Zzzzz.

I'm practically STAR MATERIAL.

Take the Narcissistic Personality Inventory

Remy Ma - Conceited (There's Something About Remy)*

*Currently serving time for shooting a member of her entourage

Personal - Tony Hoagland

Don’t take it personal, they said;
but I did, I took it all quite personal—

the breeze and the river and the color of the fields;
the price of grapefruit and stamps,

the wet hair of women in the rain—
And I cursed what hurt me

and I praised what gave me joy,
the most simple-minded of possible responses.

The government reminded me of my father,
with its deafness and its laws,

and the weather reminded me of my mom,
with her tropical squalls.

Enjoy it while you can, they said of Happiness
Think first, they said of Talk

Get over it, they said
at the School of Broken Hearts

but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t
believe in the clean break;

I believe in the compound fracture
served with a sauce of dirty regret,

I believe in saying it all
and taking it all back

and saying it again for good measure
while the air fills up with I’m-Sorries

like wheeling birds
and the trees look seasick in the wind.

Oh life! Can you blame me
for making a scene?

You were that yellow caboose, the moon
disappearing over a ridge of cloud.

I was the dog, chained in some fool’s backyard;
barking and barking:

trying to convince everything else
to take it personal too.

A toast to Courtney Stodden, or: You could just skip this post and read "Marriage" by Gregory Corso

Last weekend I went to a farm in New Jersey and I watched two of my favorite people marry each other behind an old silo. A recurring theme of the toasts at the reception was how the two of them bring out the best in each other, and that's something you hear a lot in toasts like that. The difference was that in this case that old you complete me sentiment is absolutely 100% true. They turn a light on inside each other and you can see it happening. With a lot of other couples in my life —some married and some that will probably marry — I see the opposite, where being around their partner makes them a little duller and a bit less funny or fun, as if the other person has a tranquilizing effect on them. And maybe that's what some people need: someone that will make them more tranquil.  I don't profess to know what's best but I know that's not what I want.

Two men have expressed the wish to marry me in my life. The first man later recanted his wish; it was ultimately the right decision and we parted with a lot of respect for each other. The second man proved to be so mentally unstable that I still half-believe he'll show up someday to turn my skin into a suit (for the record I never returned his sentiment). As for my own feelings toward marriage, I'm somewhere between indifference and skepticism. I'm not against the institution and if we all could have what Coach and Tami Taylor have then by all means sign me the fuck up. But between my lamentably short attention span and the impermanence that's characterized most of my life, I have a hard time believing I've got what it takes.

By "what it takes," I mean both the ability to maintain interest in one person for all of my days and the stones to jump in with both feet and believe with my whole heart that it will work. I went to dozens of weddings in my twenties and several of those marriages are over now. If I've learned anything it's that there's absolutely no rhyme or reason as to what lasts. A couple that dated for 6 months beforehand fared no worse than one that had been together for 7 years. When I was younger, hearing about a rash and probably ill-fated engagement would horrify me — I'd think they were making the mistake of their lives. Now I know so many divorced or remarried people that when I hear of two people getting engaged, somewhere inside I just do a standing ovation for their fucking bravery. Have I ever been so sure of anything in my life? These days I'm wondering what good things can possibly come out of caution and safe bets. I'm becoming increasingly averse to risk aversion. Good for them I say, good for all of them.

Little Dragon - Ritual Union

Ricky Nelson - Fools Rush In 

Split Enz - History Never Repeats

Department of Eagles - While We're Young

Boyfriend Rap

My friend Hanna and I totally took some time out of our busy prank-calling schedule to call that Vanilla Ice 900 line back in the day. 

Sassy Nostalgia Corner: Funny Old Ads

I thought "Nicolas Cage awoken by naked man with Fudgesicle" was the best headline I would read all day, but apparently not. [via Gawker]

Soft Cell - Sex Dwarf