my life in mocktails

For those of you interested in how Amy and I are doing with this detox bit, check here for updates, anecdotes, and breakdowns: http://onceandfutureslurry.tumblr.com/

We're both quite funny, so it's worth a read.

that time we stopped drinking

One night over drinks (naturally), my friend Amy and I decided to take a break from booze. We came up with a 90 day goal, which takes us through March. This isn't a Lohan situation (as it's not court-mandated), we're just seeing if we can.

The reasons why are plenty. First off, I probably drink too much, in both frequency and quantity. It could be that I'm feeling the weight of my holiday season glut, or that everything I did in my early 20s is now catching up with me (eeep), but I just feel my body telling me to slow down.

Speaking of body, well, it could just be gay panic (at the disco), but the post-holiday puffiness has me wanted to focus a bit more on all that, so the lack of hangovers will make weekend workouts less rare.

Oh, and then there's the money. My rough estimates for how much I spend going out each month are brutal and un-sharable. Let's just say funneling some of that into savings would be advisable (or at least that's what Suze Orman would tell me).

So far, it's been surprisingly easy. We started on January 2, after the New Year's revelry had subsided. The first day was easy, as I was in a van coming back from a boozy trip to the Catskills, in which I may have been my most hungover ever.

On Saturday, I went to the Xanadude party in Williamsburg. The whole thing felt like the East Village had hopped the river, devoured Willamsburg, and then thrown it back up. Which is my way of saying it was more gay scenester than gay hipster. That said, the music was killer (the theme seemed to be regurgitated glitter); there was a giant, inflated cat tacked to the ceiling; a drag queen wore gloves adorned with talons; tank tops are in this winter; and I was perfectly fine sober. Funny is still funny, and awkward is still awkward. The biggest challenge is that any social anxiety is felt more acutely (a big reason people drink in the first place). Oh well, I'll figure it out.

Going forward, I think Amy and I are going to set up another site where we chronicle all of this, so stay tuned!

(Pictured: Me, in egregiously mismatched patterns, a little over a year ago at a winery in the Franschhoek Valley region of South Africa)

christmas? again? already?

Moments of utter bliss can occur in the most random of places. Picture me, puffy-eyed, hair tussled, early this morning at the Admirals Club at O'Hare. What an odd time to discover a bootleg version of Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story online.

It's not an exaggeration to say I've waited my entire adult life to see this movie. It's the first work from Todd Haynes, who I've had a crush on since I saw Safe in high school. It only grew when I saw his other films -- Poison, Velvet Goldmine, Far From Heaven -- in college.

But until now finding this first short film has been impossible. Due to his liberal, unauthorized use of the Carpenters songbook, and the fact that he uses Barbies (a trademarked entity) to play Carpenter and the other characters, it's been banned everywhere.

Amazingly, it lives up to my decade-long anticipation. It's camp meets David Lynch meets Kathy Acker meets Ivy League dissertation. It's unflinching, impossible-to-look-away-from, highly stylized, and profoundly disturbing. So, a fitting precursor for the Todd Haynes filmography.

I encourage all of you to take a look!

best. date. movie. ever.

Obviously, I'm kidding.

Nothing says "afternoon of a bonus day off" like an ultra-realistic film about the explosive demise of a relationship, but laundry was the alternative, so I couldn't resist.

Eeep. To call Blue Valentine the cinematic equivalent of getting punched in the stomach might be an understatement. Deliberately difficult to watch and pulling no punches, the film painstakingly documents all the horrible things people do to each other in a relationship. Unfortunately, it's a like what Cassavetes would have been like if he tried way, way, way too hard. That said, Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams can't be faulted. Yes, they're "fearless" for being so exposed, but they also make the film seem almost believable and real, even at its most contrived. If this is what that hipster couple next door grows up to become, I hope to have moved by then.

To that point, imagine my surprise to be alone in a sea of couples watching the film at the Angelika. What were these people thinking? Apart from loving seeing movies by myself, I was thrilled to be alone, I was relieved to not have shared the experience with anyone I know (Trading gasps during an abortion or awkward sex scene isn't going to bring me closer to anyone).

So, as hard as it was for me, the cold walk home with someone else would have been way harder.