A NEW VERSION OF U, A NEW VERSION OF ME: ME & FELICITY.

The saddest part about graduating from college is not facing the cold harsh reality of entering the workplace during a time of record high unemployment. Nor is it saying goodbye to the hysterical parties, the weird hook-ups, the brutal hangovers. (I’m sure those will continue to follow me in post-collegiate life)

It’s none of those things. The saddest part about graduating from college is that I can no longer relate to this over-analytical frizzy-haired crazy person.

Felicity Porter was arguably my guiding light in college. I often yearned for a “What Would Felicity Do?” bracelet during those times of indecision and heartache. The show followed Felicity from freshman year of college to graduation. It ran for four beautiful seasons and now that I have graduated, I have to leave her behind.

Just like myself, Felicity underwent a major evolution in college. She  started college as a virginal nerdy stalker-type person in dire need of some styling assistance. She ended the series as a beautiful confident woman with amazing hair (& she wore less sweaters, thank God). And it’s not just Felicity I’ll miss. I’ll definitely miss her insane Gothic roommate, Megan, and that Pink Power Ranger who got raped by Brian from My So-Called Life.

I also really love that Felicity worked at Dean & Deluca during college. It introduced me to the beautiful/delusional world of $6.00 lattes and well-dressed grocers. Upon arriving in NYC, I shunned the usual tourist traps in favor of seeing the coffeeshop where Felicity, Javier and Ben worked. They brewed more than just coffee at Dean & Deluca. They also brewed the sexual tension and/or animosity between Felicity and Ben.

Favorite moments of the show include: the wacky Brit that lived with Felicity & did crack in the bathroom with her boyfriend, Megan’s spells, Megan’s wardrobe, Megan wandering with her Gothic friends in underground Subway tunnels, whenever the Pink Power Ranger wasn’t singing on her guitar about being adopted.

Some questions will remain unanswered as I venture out into the real world. Like, I still want to know why the characters whispered all the time. After having lived in NYC for two years, I can safely say that whispering does not exist in this city. You yell, you sob, you laugh. You never whisper. I know that Felicity was filmed on a soundstage in Studio City but I think it would’ve added a sense of realism if Felicity talked above a hushed tone once in awhile.

But alas, some questions weren’t meant to be answered. Bye college. Bye Felicity.

Goodbye Megan and your ridiculous iconic ensembles.

GRADUATING BYE.

I’m doing finals so I don’t feel like writing but here are some visuals:

An Olsen stoner.

Then:

Now:

Books That Aren’t Twilight.

 

I saw New Moon in hopes that it would provide me endless fodder for this here blog. While it did give me a bounty of material, I left the theatre with an icky feeling in my stomach. This is what America is choosing to latch on to? Bella Swan is the most offensive female character since….a woman in a revered piece of Victorian literature. Read between the lines, babes: THIS SHIT IS REAL WEIRD. I don’t even really wanna blog about it. It’s too depressing. 

 

In other news, I’ve been reading a lot lately. I’m graduating college in three weeks and have a plethora of writing to do before then. Reading unassigned books is not only a stellar procrastination method but it mellows me out. Right now I’m reading:

 

Opiates really softened the blow of getting hit by a car. In my experience, drugs like Vicodin don’t do much in the way of easing actual pain. However, they’re exceptional at making you not give a shit that you just had four surgeries in twelve days, fractured your elbow and had a skin graft operation. Trust me. This book is essentially a how-to guide on making opium tea. Now before you get all judgey, opium tea is not super strong and you don’t drink it in crazy opium dens with your drug dealer. It’s more of a “stay at home Rachel Ray” activity. Anyone wanna help me make it? Seriously, I need help. The directions are confusing. 

 

 

I love reading books about old New York, a time when you could get an apartment in the West Village for $300 dollars a month and have to be mindful of the syringes on the sidewalk. For us us newbies, It’s hard to fathom that such a place ever really existed. But it did because Edmund White wrote a book about it. It’s a fun read. I especially like the parts when he talks about gay life pre and a little post-Stonewall. It’s nothing too earth-shattering (People cruised on Christopher Street, felt shame about their sexuality. Wait, we are talking about the past, right?) I like the way he writes mostly. It’s simple, concise and direct. I also give him props. Living in NYC during the sixties and seventies was no cakewalk. Rather, it was more of a walk that was littered with muggings, paranoia, and drama. Bad drama.

Women You Need In Your Life: Part Two.

Robin Tunney

Robin Tunney is one of my favorite forgotten 90’s stars. She’s best known for her roles in The Craft & Empire Records. But she also starred in amazing indie fare like Niagara, Niagara & Cherish. She always had this effortlessly cool vibe about her. I don’t know what the fuck she’s doing now. Probably starring in some weird TV show on ABC or something.

The Women of Popular

Popular had a huge impact  on my life. It aired while I was in middle school, a time when I was getting over Pam Anderson and under Antonio Banderas (Don’t judge. We all have our inexplicable preferences!) Even though I wasn’t due to come out til I was a senior in high school, my kinship with the characters of Mary Cherry, Nicole Julian, April Tuna and Bobbi Glass could only be explained in one way: I was gay (NO WAY.) Yes way. And I have the earth-shattering “borderline-retarded” character of Mary Cherry to thank for helping me come to this realization. Popular was the gayest “not gay” show on television. It was campy and had a distinct gay sensibility that all the other TV shows lacked. My connection to the show helped flesh out my sexual identity. I owe this show a major Nicole Julian-esque “thank youuuu.”

Women You Need In Your Life.

Kimmy Gibbler

Historically, sitcoms have operated under the idea that the sidekick is funnier than the star (ex: Karen versus Grace, Rhoda versus Mary). Iconic 90’s television hit, Full House, stayed faithful to this formula by creating the life-altering character of Kimmy Gibbler. Playing the best friend of D.J. Tanner, Kimmy became known for her brilliant insults and insane fashions. Whereas D.J. was better known for her moralistic behavior and her predilection towards stress-eating, Gibbler was the wild card, bursting into the Tanner’s house and ripping everyone a much-deserved new asshole.

And her clothes…there’s almost no words. Poofy dresses, brightly-colored tights, obnoxious accessories. Her outfits defied logic/any kind of tasteful sensibilities. Often, Kimmy would resemble a conceptual art piece rather than an actual human being. Genius.

 

Bijou Phillips

Bijou Fucking Phillips. Obsessed. Always have been, always will. This girl’s on acid…seriously. Think Paris Hilton but with personality and the ability to make facial expressions. She’s the progeny of John Phillips (who apparently liked to have sex with his daughters? UH-OH.) and Mama babe Michelle Phillips. In the 90’s, she was a total fixture of the party scene. She used this little bit of notoriety and parlayed it into starring in movies with direct-to-video queen, Dominique Swain, and recording albums that seriously five people bought. Even though Bijou has never really “made it”, it doesn’t really matter because she’s sexy, insane and says weird shit in interviews that keep me Googling her name on a continuous basis. Today, she’s the full-time girlfriend of Danny Masterson. They even graced the cover of Paper magazine together last year. The last thing she starred in that I could see in an actual theatre rather than at the racks of Blockbuster, was Hostel II.  Which was just weird,

New York

 

I know I’m late to this party but better late than never, right? Is it weird that I almost teared up the first time I heard this?

 

 

I’ve been writing my senior thesis and listening to a lot of Kurt Vile. I usually can’t write while listening to music but Vile has a calming dreamy effect on me.  It makes me feel like I’m high living on a farm somewhere. Which, after this semester, looks more and more appealing.

 

I saw Precious. Biggest gay downer movie ever. Really beautiful and fucked. You’ll walk out of the film remembering that you’re lucky. And then you’ll forget again. I also saw The Maid and The House of the Devil which were just fucking brilliant albeit completely different from one another. See immediately.

SHAMELESS PLUG.

I blog for this website now & you should all read my new article!

Double trouble.

 

It’s strange to think of Nicole Ritchie now having all these babies & chilling out in Glendale when just a few years ago, she was eating a pretzel a day, hanging out with Lindsay & driving on the wrong side of the freeways. I love this bitch in any incarnation. She’s so quick-witted and fiery. I remember this picture, in particular, sent shockwaves through the tabloids. Party girl U.S.A. Too bad Lindsay missed the memo and is still living her life circa 2006.

 

Um, best movie duo ever basically. Kirsten Dunst & Taryn Manning need to exclusively be in movies together. Crazy/Beautiful is life-altering and also my life story. Malibu brat falls in love with mexican babe? Fact. Also, can I please show up drunk in a bra at a football game like Taryn Manning did? I try to recreate this movie as much as possible in my daily life.

 

 

Arguably one of the best movies on planet Earth, Go made me want to party at a rave and hang out with Sarah Polley & Katie Holmes (pre- Scientology life takeover) so bad. These girls were so awesome. Katie Holmes made out with a drug dealer on some stairs, Sarah Polley sold baby asprin disguised as Ecstacy. Bad girls for sure.

 

 

I spent middle-school dyeing my hair Lil’ Kim blonde and dragging my mom to repeated screenings of Drive Me Crazy. Not Evan Rachel Wood & Nikki Reed. These girls huffed computer duster together, made out and punched each other and snorted prescription pills all at the tender age of thirteen. I don’t know whether to be jealous or horrified. Probably a mixture of the two.

Lost Anj.

I went to Los Angeles this weekend under the pretense of  my father’s birthday. But in all honesty, I went because I missed smog, canyons and beaches.

I can’t exactly pinpoint when my fixation with Los Angeles began. I grew up an hour north of L.A. in a sleepy beach town. My parents grew up in the San Fernando Valley and most of my family still lives there. Growing up, the Valley was like my second home but I never thought of it in relation to L.A. It was, and still is,  very much its own entity.  The Valley has always weirded me out. The weather is impossibly hot and it’s littered with disgusting strip malls. Most of our nation’s porn is produced there and it’s not surprising. There’s a seediness to that place. You just know that people aren’t living right.

In the summer of 2007, I moved into an apartment in Westwood. It was my first taste of living in Los Angeles proper. My father moved to Malibu when  I was fourteen but my experiences were very much limited to weekend trips. When I think of my first few months in L.A., I think of traffic, listening to great radio, pools, sunshine, and going out on the Eastside. It was sort of an effortless adjustment. It made sense. Since that summer, I’ve been bi-coastal and have lived in Beverly Hills, West Hollywood & Hollywood. At first, the L.A. lifestyle agreed with me. Everything seemed to move in slow-motion. Days were punctuated by lunches and dinners. They were the only real markers of time. I’d go to the movies a lot or just wander down Sunset. People go to the movies a lot in Los Angeles and they do seem to wander aimlessly.

I began to realize that everything that had been said about Los Angeles was true. It was hazy, dreamy, fake, inconvenient, beautiful, ugly, alienating. People spend their days trapped in their cars. The sidewalks of major streets like Melrose and Sunset are practically desolate. People park their cars and walk the five steps to their destination.

So many people  are self-employed. At 3 P.M. on a workday, coffee shops are filled with people typing on their Mac’s and chatting on their cell phones. Everyone’s always in-between projects and something is always about to happen. People market themselves. Their image is their job. For most, it doesn’t translate to any success. But if you were to become famous for being yourself, L.A. would be the place to go.

There are a lot of things that are inherently wrong with the city. But what draws me back in is the history, the beauty and the sun. Beautiful Malibu beaches, Laurel and Topanga Canyon, the hills of Hollywood.  There’s stunning architecture, stellar parks. The aesthetic of the city is almost unreal. And I guess that’s the point. It’s drenched in an ungodly amount of sun at all times. It makes even all the ugly things look a little pretty.

I always tell people to go to L.A. with little expectations. Finding a substantial human connection can be difficult. But you need to embrace the city for what it is and forget what it’s not. Because it’s an absolutely insane place. When all is said and done, I can’t imagine ending up anywhere else.

Liberal Arts College Homework.