Sasha Is a Monster

When Recovering the Satellites came out, “Another Horsedreamer’s Blues” was my instant fave. I didn’t know what it meant, but there was a girl and she liked horses but she couldn’t have any horses at all because she wanted everyone to approve of her. Or sometimes I thought she could have the horses but didn’t get to play with them much. I was sad for Margery, in that detached way you can feel sadness while it makes you feel more full somehow. Here are the lyrics:

Margery’s dreaming of the middle of the day
Tiyuri to win
Perfect dozen to place
Money is the matter that’s been on her mind
Time ticks by her one race at a time

She’s tryin’ to be a good girl
And give ‘em what they want
But Margery’s dreaming of horses

Lookin’ at a green sky
Sun like a red eye
Bright blue horses are the fortune she lives by
She’s tired and lonely
Scarred and depressed
Her visions of one day go racing the next

She’s tryin’ to be a good girl
And give ‘em what they want
But Margery’s dreaming of horses

Margie doesn’t say anything all the way home
So afraid she’ll awake to find she’s all alone

Margery’s wingspan’s all feathers and coke cans, and
TV dinners and letters she wont send, and
Every race night is shot through with sunlight for?
Drunken fathers and stupid mothers and
Boys who can’t tell one girl from another
So she takes her pills
Careful and round
One of these days she’s gonna throw the whole bottle down

But she’s tryin’ to be a good girl
And give ‘em what they want
But Margery’s dreaming of horses

Tryin’ to be a good girl
And give ‘em what they want
But Margery’s dreaming of horses

At some point, I listened to this song and, while singing along with the lyrics, I was like, “Holy shit! She’s a gambling addict. Margery wants to be a good girl, but she can’t, because of this fucking gambling addiction! And if she can’t get it under control soon she’s gonna OD!!! We need to get Margery some help!”

I think it was this moment in my life where I realized that addiction is a real thing, that it happens, it happens to other people, to damn near everyone, really, it takes all sorts of forms …  and, ya know, gasp. Is it everywhere? Does it hide that well? Is it in me, too? This thing that enters a human body, quietly and with great cunning, and leaves a shell, a breathing, pulsing shell of a person who used to love things that could love her back. Is this thing in me?

I don’t know if Margery ever got help.

We went to the horse races at Emerald Downs today for Laremy’s birthday. It was the first perfect day of the year so far. I placed bets on almost every race. I placed bets on the horses who had the coolest sounding names. I picked three and then I’d get them all to show. I did this for every race. I did not win. Any money. No. But betting on a horse makes the whole event so much more exciting, like suddenly your financial future hinges, in some small part, on what happens in the time it takes these horses to traverse 4 Furlongs (Isn’t he an actor? a rapper maybe?). I mean, even though I only bet $2, I was invested. When my little guy placed I got money! And then when two of my little guys showed I got even more money. It was exciting. I think I understand it better now and I want to go back soon and make more money. I think I understand the system.

Except I briefly decided I will not fund this sport, because one horse (my pick!) got injured in the middle of the run and so now everybody knows they kill the horse and I was so sad about that. I had half a mind to make an offer on that lame horse. I will put him in my spare room and tend to his bandages. I will bring him oats and a doggie playfriend and he will love me forever. We can bring other fillies considering going pro into my guest room, where he will tell them his story and warn them that there are other choices they can make with their lives. He will remind them not to be like Margery. I will remind them that Margery is a human. This plan will not be pursued further.

What were we talking about?

Oh. Pictures.

Then Jason was in town so we headed over to Beacon Hill for his superhero party. He told me to just dress normally, but when I looked in the mirror I was like “JASON I AM GOING TO YOUR SUPERHERO PARTY DRESSED LIKE A WHORE” and he was like “k”. A super hot guy asked me to do luge shots with him. I told him I didn’t drink. Homeboy didn’t miss a beat: “We’ll do ‘em with Pellegrino, then!” Turned out I have Red Bull with me. “Perfect. We’ll get you a Red Bull luge shot.” And we did, and it was wonderful. The hot guy later turned out to be married, which I should have noticed the VERY FIRST TIME he put his left hand in his pocket throughout our entire conversation. Someone should manufacture pants that are missing a left-hand pocket. For wives to buy for their husbands. For them to wear when they go to parties without them.

Anyway. Pics cuz it happened:

I’m doing marketing for this company called Barking Minds that makes this cool iPad/iPhone app called CrowdMap. It’s a productivity app that allows teams to collaboratively develop mind maps in real time. The devs on the team build mind maps called “WWDC keynote” and “User data protection” and “extreme programming.”

I did this one. (Click to view the whole thing.)

Readers, meet Disqus commenting. Disqus commenting, meet readers.

I’ve set Disqus so that anyone can comment — as long as they have a verified email address with Disqus. So you can still come here, know everything about me, including my real name, and talk random shit about me in the comments, but now you have to own it. :)

I assume many of you will stop commenting/reading now. That will be fine with me. I would do this to Evil Beet right now and do a happy dance if it wouldn’t mean the termination of my income stream. Still. I MIGHT FUCKING DO IT.

I just want to take something I left in the comments and push it up here:

[L]et’s be clear that I am not in favor of forced contraception, for anyone, even though I’ll admit it sometimes strikes me as a fantastic idea. I think that’s how you “respect” a woman’s decision to have or not have a baby. It is, in the end, her decision, and I respect it in the same way I respect a woman’s decision to have or not have an abortion, in the same way I think that goddamn retarded Octomom DOES HAVE the right to have those eight babies, awful as it all may be. I will fight for women to have the rights to these choices. That doesn’t mean I agree with them.

I hate how, no matter what I say, the response from commenters is “I thought you were all about women’s rights,” like it’s some kneejerk argument everyone keeps in their back pocket. I am a supporter of women’s rights. I vehemently disagree with “women’s rights” as they’re practiced and preached today. So, yeah, I’m all about women’s rights. I just think what most people consider being all about “women’s rights” is stupid, parroting and unexamined.

“Women’s rights” is such a broad concept, and everyone interprets it how they want to, and most people interpret it in some way they heard it from someone else, who heard it from someone else, who read it on a website, which was just parroting something they read in a book published twenty years ago, and no one along that chain actually sat and thought deeply and creatively about what is and is not beneficial about championing certain aspects of a woman’s potential. And what was true then, in that context, is not necessarily true today, although we continue to form “feminist” arguments as though the supporting tautology had not long ago decomposed.

Things I am also not in favor of: Murdering babies, or murdering your baby specifically. Things I am in favor of: The right to choose an abortion, even late-term; and the right to ask a doctor to implant eight goddamn fertilized eggs in the uterus of a woman who doesn’t have any money or any foreseeable capability of making money or, really, any sustainable runs at sanity. Because if I’m going to support the right to choose, it’s got to work both ways.

And I don’t think people make the decision to have children maliciously, or with any sort of ill intent, I just think it’s a largely unexamined decision, or at least one examined from all the wrong angles. Why do we want to have our own children? Why, exactly? Why today, when we have so many other options and childbirth is no longer in any way necessary — but, rather, detrimental — to the survival of the species? Who, really, benefits from the birth of a child? Does the child? Does the parent? Does the world? If you say the child is a beneficiary, how do you know? How can you claim to know what is beneficial to a non-existent life form? Your child never got any say. Your bio-baby is now stuck here, in this mortal coil, for eight or ninety or more years, because of a decision you made on behalf of the child. It was the most important decision anyone will ever make in the history of his or her life: You decided to conceive and birth her. You decided to put her here and it’s a mostly irreversible decision. You never asked her permission. So how can we talk about a fetus’s right to life without taking about a fetus’s right to pregnancy termination? About a fetus’s right to have never been conceived in the first place? (Getting a little ridiculous here? Yeah. That’s because the fetus right-to-life argument is ridiculous.)

Why are we not having this conversation in larger forums? Why, when I raise the question of “Is it really a good idea to biologically reproduce?” am I shot down by blindly furious mothers who want to tell me, specifically, how horrible I am as a human? No one is saying we should kill your existing kids. No one is saying you weren’t making the best decision you knew how to make when you had them. No one is even saying you’re not a good mom. But why can’t we have this conversation objectively? Why does everyone involved have to focus all their fear and doubt into anger toward me.

This planet does not have the resources to support its existing humans — not even close. We know this; it’s not a secret. Why do we need to create more humans right now? There is no easier way to increase your carbon footprint sky-high than to birth another human. You can drive a hybrid for the rest of your life and it won’t even come close to cleaning up the harm you did to this planet by having a child.

If the planet’s trees were taking up too much of the planet’s C02 and producing too much oxygen, we would, like, stop planting trees. No-brainer. We’d all be like “Hey! Stop planting trees! We have enough! If you want a tree on your patio, just go get one at Home Depot! Don’t plant it yourself!” and that’s what would happen.

So, again — why can’t we just have this conversation? Why can’t we talk about how maybe, just maybe, we should be having fewer kids, or none at all. About the pros and cons. Like reasonable people.

It makes me insane to see couples spend tens of thousands of dollars and endure countless tearful, sleepless nights, relationship endings and hospital visits and ALL THE ENDLESS DRAMA just so they can have a shot at reproducing their own biological material. It’s so blindly egomaniacal. Like there aren’t enough fucking babies on this planet. Like what this planet REALLY needs is the VERY SPECIAL baby that you and your partner feel UNIQUELY CAPABLE of producing.

Listen: My dog is, hands-down, the coolest dog that ever lived on earth, and offers more value to the planet than any dog in the history of time. And he already existed when I decided I wanted him. He was born with about 50% of his awesomeness, and I loved him into the remaining 50%. I’m no less a mother to him because I didn’t birth him. He is no less my child. He will never be as good at math as I was, for sure, but he is a true joy and a life I can be proud I raised.

Why does everyone need their bio-babies so very, very badly? Why, other than pure, unadulterated ego? I know we don’t see it that way — it’s disguised under layers and layers of trickery, and we firmly believe that it is our absolute purpose in life to gestate and vaginally recover a human life. Again: No one does this maliciously. The ego is a cunning and quiet thing.

But what is so special about your biological material that it absolutely must be merged with your partner’s and reproduced to create one of a billion potential outcomes, most of which won’t be what you were expecting or hoping for anyway. But you’ll love that baby no matter what — even though it didn’t get your eye color, or your husband’s patient disposition, and instead has a funny chin that no one can quite account for and a total inability to get through the school day without winding up in the principal’s office. You will still love that child with every cell in your body. Why does that child have to share half your genetic material when you’re gonna love it no matter how that genetic material manifests? Why is it not better for the planet, and equally good for you, to adopt a baby that already exists? Why can’t we at least talk about it like adult humans, and not like Angry Mama Bears out in the woods; Mama Bears who keep the “women’s rights” argument in their pocket because, as long as you don’t pull too hard at it, it holds together about as well as toilet paper.

A reader sent me this article, titled “Should This Be the Last Generation?,” which I found to be brilliant and insightful.

“[W]e think it is wrong to bring into the world a child whose prospects for a happy, healthy life are poor,” says the author, Peter Singer, “but we don’t usually think the fact that a child is likely to have a happy, healthy life is a reason for bringing the child into existence. This has come to be known among philosophers as “the asymmetry” and it is not easy to justify. But rather than go into the explanations usually proffered — and why they fail — I want to raise a related problem. How good does life have to be, to make it reasonable to bring a child into the world?”

Continued:

“To bring into existence someone who will suffer is … to harm that person, but to bring into existence someone who will have a good life is not to benefit him or her. Few of us would think it right to inflict severe suffering on an innocent child, even if that were the only way in which we could bring many other children into the world. Yet everyone will suffer to some extent, and if our species continues to reproduce, we can be sure that some future children will suffer severely. Hence continued reproduction will harm some children severely, and benefit none.”

And my favorite:

“We spend most of our lives with unfulfilled desires, and the occasional satisfactions that are all most of us can achieve are insufficient to outweigh these prolonged negative states. If we think that this is a tolerable state of affairs it is because we are, in Benatar’s view, victims of the illusion of pollyannaism. This illusion may have evolved because it helped our ancestors survive, but it is an illusion nonetheless. If we could see our lives objectively, we would see that they are not something we should inflict on anyone.”

All this, my friends, is perhaps the most articulate argument I’ve read for my long-held desire to adopt rather than to biologically reproduce. How can you force an additional sentient being into this shitshow of the human experience and then claim to love it unconditionally? Your having conceived and birthed a human was, at the very kindest, an entirely selfish act.

Hey, so, on Saturday night, I went to a bar, which is not such a big deal in and of itself, but Saturday night was special because I got a crown. I got a crown because the bar had a competition where girls had to unwrap certain things (a Reese’s crunch bar, a Twinkie, a giant and difficult-to-unwrap-so-you-had-to-use-your-teeth sausage) and then put condoms on them. It was all very feminist and empowering and you know that because of the crowd of men surrounding us, taking pictures and cheering us on in our feminist empowerment.

I won that competition, bitch.