blogday afternoon

“About two years ago, I decided I needed to find the purse that defined me as a person,” I wrote one year ago today, and with these words I began my pretty dumb things.

When I started my blog, I had no idea what I was doing or why I was doing it, beyond being motivated by spite. I had no idea that people would actually read my pretty dumb words and that they would seem to like them and me. I had no idea that I would actually want to write these selfsame words, or that this bloggy thing would become my virtual addiction at times.

I had no idea that it could or would become so consuming, so burning a bush that I would fixate on its imaginary fire, lolling in the hot, hot heat of my increasing readership. And so forth. Let sit some metaphor of conflagration and call it done.

I didn’t expect that my blog would become as important as it did to me. I had no idea that I would feel a bit over exposed from time to time, and I have. I had no idea that I would feel so much about it that I would threaten quitting, and I have. I had no idea that I could be prolific, that I could write so much and so often, and I have.

I had no idea that I could help people, and, apparently, I have. I have, apparently, managed to both to delight and to instruct, and that makes me very happy.

I write here because to me telling a narrative is not merely a way to make sense of my life to myself, but because to me narrative is life. To tell stories, to tell them again and again and to tell them different ways is imperative to me. It just happens that most of my best stories have to do with sex. Sex interests me because writing about it creates a challenge of putting into words the inarticulate, the guttural, the inutterable.

Erotic writing isn’t easy. It’s fucking hard, in fact. And while I’ve always hedged on considering myself a sex writer (I’ve always said I had a blog with sex, not a blog of it), the truth is that that the truth I return to again and again is that truth written in my body.

I am meandering here, and I apologize. With no real story to give bones to my writing, it tends to hang in elliptical folds. I appreciate each and every one of you who has read and read again, who has left me a comment, who has emailed me, who has donated some cold hard cash to me, who has thought about what I’ve written. I appreciate you all very much.

And now a recap:

My sister remains struggling with her schizophrenia. She has remained out of the hospital. I have not seen her in over a year because she chose not to see me when I was home for Christmas. She is, my family thinks, taking meds of some sort. They have sporadic contact with her; she does not return my phone calls. I miss her.

I have not sent the letter to my birthfather. I have yet to decide whether the outcome is worth the risk. So far, apparently, it is not.

I still see my Freudian. Recently, she cut her hair and did away with the tufty bits that looked like animal ears. We discussed her hair recently, and oddly, it was a big relief for me to tell her that I felt the loss of the tufty bits was a good thing. My therapy trundles on and I heal slowly. It’s a process that I hate and am committed to.

I have a new roommate, a virgin, the sister of Betty, my good friend who is also a virgin. It’s interesting, but we are oddly compatible. If you know any strapping sincerely Catholic men in their thirties looking for the loves of their lives, let me know.

My dog recently ate another condom. He farted a bunch of latexy-scented farts and then pooped it out. I wish he didn’t enjoy bodily fluids as much as he does, but I’m just choosing to consider it a doggy testament of his love for me. Delusion can be a good thing.

I have heard no more from the Son of Panties, the Vampire, the Accidental John or D & O, though other guys from SlutFest 2004 continue to IM me every now and then. Maybe if I tell their stories they too will go away.

And Donny and I continue on in our process of building a relationship. I love him so much that sometimes I feel as if my chest is just going to burst open like the stomach of that guy in Alien and that my love is going to squeal and scamper away, and now that I write that I realize I couldn’t find a less romantic simile, but there it is. I love him profoundly. My love for him makes me work at being a better person. And finding new stuff to do in bed, because, damn, the man has learned some fine new tricks.

And, finally, my purse continues to define me as a woman, despite the fact that currently I look more like Leif Garrett than Jane Fonda in Klute, hirsute-wise.

Today, I reflect on my pretty dumb things; tomorrow, we par-tay, the verb. Don’t forget to send me your poems, pictures, prose and podcasts. It’s an all-day affair here, and I want you to come.

Really.

Kissykiss and thank you all for making my first year a grand one,
chelsea girl

Comments

[efg]

Brava... sempre avanti!

Un abbraccio d'cuore

[Balthazar B]

You are a beautiful, articulate, sensitive writer. You don't need to thank me for being a reader. Thank you for stringing together such wonderful words. You defy definition and avoid easy cliches. I wish you all the best, Chelsea Girl.

[becky sue]

There are so very many things that I dislike about being a civil servant, one would think the NUMBER ONE annoying aspect of wasting your tax-payer dollars would be something specifically task-related. It is not. It is that I cannot access pretty dumb things from ANYWHERE in my damn office and thus, am able to read this astonishing, always surprising and fucking-a extraordinarily well-written blog like, once a week. It pisses me off just thinking about it. I'm going to work first thing tomorrow morning and hide everyone's staplers. Just to act out.

[KtotheE]

You know CG, I'm comin' up, so you better get this party started!

[alwaysarousedgirl]

You are beautiful and amazing and I love to come here every day...unlike Becky Sue, no one blocks me!

Congratulations...and many more happy blogger years.

[O]

I hope you like my present. It's art: a paint enema, of course. What else?

[VJ]

What a long strange trip that was. Thanks for the ride. I cried, I laughed, I thought of more lines of poetry to put on your...well you get the point. I've not been here long so I had a lot of catching up to do. Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'

[Jonathan]

I only discovered your blog yesterday evening - it's now joined the ranks of those I check every day. While reading blogs last night I started thinking about the first impression a blog makes - about how people see mine sometimes. I don't put as much effort into my entries as some of the people I read, and always wonder at blogs like yours, where you seem to have so much more to write about. Perhaps I need to become more opinionated :)

[S.C.]

Happy Anniversary!

"I love him so much that sometimes I feel as if my chest is just going to burst open like the stomach of that guy in Alien and that my love is going to squeal and scamper away,"

Ever watch Coupling? There's a great bit in the fourth season where one of the characters talks about Alien (in reference to pregnancy), calling it "The John Hurt Moment." Good stuff.

And now, just for you, a few S.C. Haikus:

Buoyancy of breast
Is almost as sexy as
Your wild, witty mind.

Slutty New Yorker
Writes blog, tells stories and finds
Unknown family.

Literate goddess
Provides prose, erotica
For adoring fans.

[Tree]

I only found out about your blog recently and have been eagerly dipping into your archives. You are an amazing storyteller and I can't wait to read more. I now know why O calls you her blog goddess.

Happy Anniversary.

[Miss Syl]

CG,

Happy, happy blog day!

I'm so glad I found your blog this year. You are a wonder to behold, a delight to read, and a constant sparkler of thought and life bursting into the darkness of the world's apathy.

Burn on, you soul sister of salaciousness! Because, as those luscious little shoegazer boys in Ride said about you, back in the day:

You must have something and what it is I don't know,
You must have something 'cause I can't let you go

xo,

Syl

[Shay]

Well I'm so glad that you get something out of writing you blog - since we all come here and get something from reading you. ^_^
I'm sorry to hear about your sister and about your dog!
"He farted a bunch of latexy-scented farts and then pooped it out."
You made me laugh out loud!

[learn]

This blog, your writing, your stories, your insight, your humor is just so good.

You are just so good, it leaves me wanting to bow down, snivel, whimpering, "I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy..." (What, me, idolise?)

Instead I will simply say, happy blog-a-versary!!

And many mooore..

Thank you for writing,

Learn

[MonMouth]

Darling CG, congratulations and warmest blogday wishes! Had I world enough and time I'd add to your pile of gifts. I hope we'll have you for a long time to come.

*mwah*

Mon

[An Italian Guy]

Women like you drive me insane with joy. Then I get bored.

Is something wrong with me or them?

Or is it the submarines?

-Sometimes an Iroquois