If you live in NYC, come see me, Jack, Summer, and Mike lecture about dumb things. It’s going to be fun. There’s going to be keynote presentations.
It’s at Housing Works bookstore in SoHo at 7pm tomorrow. There will be beer!
I’m giving a VERY thoughtful and well-researched talk about Pokémon and the origins of life. Here’s a preview:
I am going to be talking about EMOJI SEMIOTICS tomorrow night and if that doesn’t give you a boner IDK why you’re following me.
Kickin it wit my daddy!!
I wanna kick it with ha daddy
IF THIS AIN’T THE CUTEST SHIT EVER!!!!!!!!!!
I’ve watched this so many times and it never gets old.
I have had this song stuck in my head for days, & I am 200% okay with that.
wanna get this single tho
Infallible happiness machine.
My mom texted this to me from a thrift store because she knows what I like.
Although I’d played some games of spin-the-bottle and acted on some dares, my first real kiss — with no one else there, and because we wanted to — happened 15 years ago, when I was 17.
I’d had a crush on a boy who worked at the grocery store near my house, the one that later became a movie theater, and is currently a pile of rubble surrounded by a new condo development. I found excuses to stop by the store and buy a single strawberry popsicle out of the fridge by the checkout counter, making small talk but never advancing our relationship past first names. After months that way, a braver friend came with me and invited him over to hang out with us, and he came and stayed after everyone else left, and we sat together in the giant tree in front of my dad’s house and talked, all night long. At some point, we moved to the playscape and he put his head in my lap and I brushed my fingers through his hair.
Around sunrise, we found ourselves on the couch in the living room, and it finally happened. Up until that point, the night had been the kind of magic that people put in romantic comedies and write young adult novels about, all being understood and understanding yourself and feeling beautiful in a new way. Once we started kissing, things went downhill immediately. I didn’t quite know what to do and he was forceful and had, clearly, obviously done this a lot more than me. My teeth were all awkwardly pressed against my gums and my eyes were squeezed so tightly shut that it made my head hurt, and my hands flapped around nervously not knowing what to do. He pressed his entire body against me and it felt more angry than sweet, like he was saying “why can’t you be soft and calm?”
Afterwards, he said “I don’t think this is going to work” and we didn’t see each other again for weeks. I wrote diary entries about it and stared at myself in the mirror wondering if maybe something was wrong with me, but also feeling mad at him for not having more patience to try again.
I ran into him downtown a few weeks later while I was out with my best friend. Somehow, he ended up coming home with us and it was raining and we had a bucket of chalk and the three of us got the chalk wet with our hands and painted on our entire bodies with it. Then the rain turned into a thunderstorm and we laid outside in the grass together while my friend heated up soup inside, and we didn’t kiss again but I knew we would later, and I was right.
We spent the next four years together, more or less turning into grown-ups, and I went through some other firsts — the ones you’re thinking of, plus firsts like “first time someone you love tells you they’re in love with someone else,” and “first time you wake someone up in the middle of the night because you’re crying and they get mad instead of hugging you and you feel like there is a cavernous difference between you and the person you’re closest to in the world,” and “first trip together” and “first month apart” and “first time you see that your mom loves the person you love as a son and wants the two of you to be happy together forever and it makes you want that too, so much” and “first time you forgive someone for things you never could have imagined forgiving someone for,” and “first time you are broken up with by someone with the flu,” and “first time you kiss someone who broke your heart,” and “first time you go from feeling that falling out of love is an oxymoron to feeling like it happened when you weren’t even paying attention.”
Anyway, I was thinking about all of this tonight and about how people come into our lives and change us and teach us how to play “Five String Serenade” on the guitar and then sometimes they go away and, miraculously, it ends up being okay. And how different things feel when they are happening than they do when you look back on them. And how I once thought I would never recover from being a bad kisser on my first try, and how much I love kissing even though I hated it that day, so people do change.
But mostly, I was thinking about how throughout that day and that year and during all my relationships since, I’ve always worried so much about being left alone and wanted to be with someone who understood and loved me and wouldn’t leave because my hands didn’t know where to settle or because I woke them up in the middle of the night, someone who would help me build a bridge and stand in the middle of that cavernous distance between all of us humans. Those are still nice and lofty relationship goals, but more importantly, I am figuring out that there’s one person I can always count on. Someone was here, forgiving me and understanding and keeping me from being truly alone that entire time, and who won’t ever leave:
Partying is fully immersing ourselves in the best and most immediate aspects of this incredible gift called “being alive.” Joy brings out the best in us. Partying allows us to experience the best of that joy and be truly ourselves. Partying allows us to be close with other people that we wouldn’t necessarily connect with in other circumstances. To look over and see a total stranger lost in blissful happiness, smiling from the depths of their soul for no reason except that it feels good, and to understand exactly what they’re feeling because you feel it too. That is the magic of partying. That exhilarating pleasure of not-having-to-be-yourself! That sheer delight of really being free! That glory of being in love with life! That feeling of feeling really, really good!