see usage note at bechdelian
there is not a first time for everything. a very many things have already happened once and another very many things will never happen ever. but tonight several interesting, important, hilarious, and noteworthy firsts have happened and i would like to document them. in no particular order:
1. first gay book signing. can a book actually be gay? the author can, and that's good enough for me. i went mostly for the gay. changing hands sent me an email about it and i wanted to go firstly because the email said this: "A comic book for lovers of words!" and secondly because after much anguishing at work (i think i finally went round the bend, this afternoon), i read on wikipedia: "In November 2006 Bechdel was invited to sit on the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary." honest to God, i cannot think of a single thing that's cooler.
no one at work knew what the hell i was talking about.
2. first purchase of graphic novel. the book is called fun home: a family tragicomic. it took seven years to write and illustrate. it's a gorgeous book, and the part of the event i most enjoyed was watching alison's face while people noticed things about her work, asked emotional questions about the story of her family, felt supported by this group of folks who cared if her mother had received the novel well or not (it's not), and who laughed when she asked, "doesn't anybody want to know what kinds of pens i used?" and then, who asked what kinds of pens did she use. that must be a wonderful feeling.
3. first use of "graphic novel" without secret determination to mean "fancy name for comic book".
4. first giving of phone number to relative / total stranger. i haven't even read the book. just the first few pages. and i wouldn't have done it--it wouldn't have even remotely occurred to me, except for the following things: first, the book signing organizer wrote my name on a stickie note for alison to spell it right when i gave her my copy. it remained, of course, in the book, useless entirely after tonight. second, i had a fine-tipped sharpie in my pants pocket, carried around originally because i'm reading barbara kingsolver's animal, vegetable, miracle, and writing notes on a moleskine flyer. third, she's on the holy-fucking-shit-i'm-jealous Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary, are-you-kidding-me. fourth, possibility is an entirely new reality for me. fifth, accepting my own indeterminacy and learning to deal with my own eternal tension between creativity and possibility is an exciting and motivating process, necessary for dispensing with the paralytic over-analyzing i'm prone to--perhaps, in futurity, to be known in parallel as attention surfeit disorder. this is another way of saying, for the first time in years, i am alone, and it's hard. but i'm okay. sixth, alison's funny as hell, and she complimented my necklace, and i can't remember what she asked me about it, but then i asked about the usage panel. and she was just as excited about it as i was. seventh, before the signing, i pulled up and sat in my car listening to the end of a song and not feeling much like eating dinner, but debating a glass of iced tea, when i saw alison park and get out of her car. eighth, i was early in the book signing line, owing to having bought my book only two hours ago at changing hands and having asked for a ticket, which gave me privilege. so i got out the door with plenty of time not to get caught being stupid, that is, leaving the stickie note just barely under the windshield wiper. ninth, the very idea of it impressed me with so much humor that i was helpless to resist my own charm.
5. first time hitting on probably fortysomething author.
and, at last, drum roll please:
first time hitting on a member of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary. i've awarded myself an outrageous number of cool points and the giddy excitement of being forward with minimal risk, but most importantly, the unmitigated privilege of being able to say i've hit on a member of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary. isn't that totally bitchin'?
1. first gay book signing. can a book actually be gay? the author can, and that's good enough for me. i went mostly for the gay. changing hands sent me an email about it and i wanted to go firstly because the email said this: "A comic book for lovers of words!" and secondly because after much anguishing at work (i think i finally went round the bend, this afternoon), i read on wikipedia: "In November 2006 Bechdel was invited to sit on the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary." honest to God, i cannot think of a single thing that's cooler.
no one at work knew what the hell i was talking about.
2. first purchase of graphic novel. the book is called fun home: a family tragicomic. it took seven years to write and illustrate. it's a gorgeous book, and the part of the event i most enjoyed was watching alison's face while people noticed things about her work, asked emotional questions about the story of her family, felt supported by this group of folks who cared if her mother had received the novel well or not (it's not), and who laughed when she asked, "doesn't anybody want to know what kinds of pens i used?" and then, who asked what kinds of pens did she use. that must be a wonderful feeling.
3. first use of "graphic novel" without secret determination to mean "fancy name for comic book".
4. first giving of phone number to relative / total stranger. i haven't even read the book. just the first few pages. and i wouldn't have done it--it wouldn't have even remotely occurred to me, except for the following things: first, the book signing organizer wrote my name on a stickie note for alison to spell it right when i gave her my copy. it remained, of course, in the book, useless entirely after tonight. second, i had a fine-tipped sharpie in my pants pocket, carried around originally because i'm reading barbara kingsolver's animal, vegetable, miracle, and writing notes on a moleskine flyer. third, she's on the holy-fucking-shit-i'm-jealous Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary, are-you-kidding-me. fourth, possibility is an entirely new reality for me. fifth, accepting my own indeterminacy and learning to deal with my own eternal tension between creativity and possibility is an exciting and motivating process, necessary for dispensing with the paralytic over-analyzing i'm prone to--perhaps, in futurity, to be known in parallel as attention surfeit disorder. this is another way of saying, for the first time in years, i am alone, and it's hard. but i'm okay. sixth, alison's funny as hell, and she complimented my necklace, and i can't remember what she asked me about it, but then i asked about the usage panel. and she was just as excited about it as i was. seventh, before the signing, i pulled up and sat in my car listening to the end of a song and not feeling much like eating dinner, but debating a glass of iced tea, when i saw alison park and get out of her car. eighth, i was early in the book signing line, owing to having bought my book only two hours ago at changing hands and having asked for a ticket, which gave me privilege. so i got out the door with plenty of time not to get caught being stupid, that is, leaving the stickie note just barely under the windshield wiper. ninth, the very idea of it impressed me with so much humor that i was helpless to resist my own charm.
5. first time hitting on probably fortysomething author.
and, at last, drum roll please:
first time hitting on a member of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary. i've awarded myself an outrageous number of cool points and the giddy excitement of being forward with minimal risk, but most importantly, the unmitigated privilege of being able to say i've hit on a member of the Usage Panel of the American Heritage Dictionary. isn't that totally bitchin'?