life in prepositional phases: back at 2007, forward to 2008

One year ago about now, I was nervously waiting for the derailed NY Observer article to be published (it wasn’t). Today, I write this post with a book contract sitting all shiny on my desktop. Sure, it’s not a contract for my book—that is a book for which I hatched the idea out of the freshly fluffed fields of my imagination—but it’s a book contract nonetheless. In the intervening twelve months, I have gleefully left my Ph.D. program and have had two articles published in Penthouse, been paid to write for Sappho’s Girls blog, penned an introduction to an erotica anthology and had two more stories accepted for publication in anthologies in 2008. I’ve done a reading at Rachel Kramer Bussel’s In The Flesh reading series, been interviewed by the legendary Susie Bright for her podcast and the ineffable Alana Noel at Lust Bites. I like getting paid to write. It’s pretty much the grooviest.

In the past year, I’ve come close to getting engaged, come close to breaking up, and somehow come closer to my boyfriend, Donny. Though we have yet to resolve our relationship in easily parsed ways, we love each other great big fat lots. I have written virtual reams on Donny’s terrible beauty in bed. I don’t think I’ve written near enough about how very good he is at being my friend. He listens, even when he doesn’t seem like he is, and he surprises me repeatedly with how well he knows me. Trying to express my feelings for this man makes me tread on uncomfortably well-worn cliché territory. I’ll stop now before I write something your aunt would want to stitch on a pillow without irony.

And as for me, the inside of me, that pulsating and wormy-pink beating grey matter, I’m feeling pretty good, in general. Sometimes I feel frightened. Other times I feel confident. Most times, I feel a mixture of the two. I’ve seen my engagement flicker before my eyes like an apparition. I’ve experienced the thrilling cognitive dissonance of my birth-father’s return to my life. I’ve begun negotiating a successful move from academic to writer. Oddly, in the face of it all, I’m relatively shit-together, actually, which continues to shock me when I stand back and look at my relative shit-togetherness, though less shocked as I used to be, thus testifying to the aforementioned state of being shit-together.

(Parenthetically, one has to marvel at that particular scatological metaphor. I suppose it’s better than being shit-apart, but as a metaphor, the phrase “shit-together” really only gathers steamy luster when imaginatively juxtaposed against its opposite. No one wants to be shit-apart, but one only really wants to be shit-together when one imagines the alternative. You have to wonder if “shit-together” has been subject to scrutiny by William Safire, or if he found the term too cloacal and unsavory.)

With the hindsight that is if not 20/20 then is at least less fuzzy than my oft-myopic vision of the present, 2007 looks pretty rosy, however studded with the pricking thorns that make roses interesting. After all, if it were all milk and honey, I wouldn’t know what to do with it. It’s only through confronting adversity that I find I have the sterling stuff.

Here’s a look back at 2007, and here’s to you and yours and wishing you a simply smashing, if shit-together, 2008.

In January, I considered the bloody pleasure of menstrual sex, did my best not to flip out over my boyfriend’s virtual indiscretions, and evaluated the pros and cons of writing a blog with, if not about, sex.

In February, I sang a paean to my retired mattress, an encomium to dildos, and a requiem to Anna Nicole Smith.

In March, I suffered from mono, kicked my dissertation to the curb and missed my boyfriend’s kiss.

In April, I reflected on remakes, spit and people who suck.

In May, I wrote about my long-lost birthfather finding me, about metaphors of skeletons and other bogeymen, and about how spanking national holidays can be.

In June, I gave some advice for people who want to fuck (and haven’t), who have to go to a fucking party (and don’t know what to do), and who want to find a fuckpartner (and need direction).

In July, I gave you two separate opportunities to thrill to the sound of my voice, and I took some time to reflect on the dulcet tones of Jon Bon Jovi’s.

In August, I went on vacation with my boyfriend, ________ him,  and despaired at Wikipedia.

In September, I rode a rock-and-rollercoaster of contentment, disengagement, and whores.

In October, I celebrated a marriage, many manwhores, and Slutoween with mixed results.

In November, I marinated in the piquant dressing of my relationship’s apparent demise, got skewered by my readers, and ruminated on some hard-core fellatio.

In December,  I gave thanks to the kindnesses of strangers and opened a great fulsome can of writhing worms when I opined that, contrary to conventional wisdom, women do not have an easy time getting laid.

Enjoy your New Year's in whatever manner you see fit and wish me an easier and yet paradoxically interesting 2008.

kissykiss,
chelsea g.

Comments

[D'jaevle]

Although this isn't your blogiversary, I have to say I'm glad you're still here and still writing. Writing consistently while entertaining oneself and those who read isn't particularly easy, and it gets harder the longer you do it (as you exhaust your history, your thoughts and ideas, your toychest) and yet you've managed to do it quite well.

Cheers, CG!

[Selena Kitt]

Here's to another interesting year! :)

[six]

What a look back at 2007. It's a bittersweet farewell... but I too am looking forward to the new year, and to see what it will bring. I am anxiously standing on tippie-toes, always eager to read more from you.

.6

[Eamon]

You do have trouble with non-irony, don't you?

All the best for 2008.

Eamon

[chelsea g]

Would that be sincerity, Eamon? Because, actually, no, I don't. I'm equally sincere as I am ironic, and I'm often sincere in my irony.

The very best to you in 2008 too.

sincerely yours,
chelsea g.

[Edward]

It appears to have been a draining year (at times) emotionally for you, but also one of important discovery. As one of many many readers, let me say I appreciate your grammar, your open sharing of yourself, and of course your great writing!

Happy New Year to you. May the next be even greater.
E

[jess]

That list is extensive.

I can barely remember what I did 2 minutes ago.

[S.P.]

"I got my shit together, but it was too heavy to lift..." ;^)