Jul 27 2004
among other things, nostalgia
Before I get to the other stuff, I just want to say that kids are awesome for many reasons, one of them being that they apparently do not have to obey the rules of postage. Case in point:
I got a letter from one of my students yesterday, mailed with a one-cent stamp. Yep. Kids rule.
Onward.
Recently (Friday, to be exact) LitKicks celebrated its 10th birthday, and now, like all stylish 10-year-olds, it is undergoing an extreme makeover. I personally find this kind of exciting, and I seriously hope LitKicks considers the Prada shoes. Every good website deserves Italian shoes, I say. I’ll even be a sport and wear them for LitKicks, because I’m nice that way. Ahem.
Anyway, now that this is going on, I am left thinking about all the fun LitKicks has been up until now. It’s been a whole lot of fun. With whipped cream and sprinkles, even. Those festive multicolored sprinkles that I won’t eat because I think they taste pink, but we don’t really need to get into my hang-ups about food. And even though LitKicks is totally inedible, rendering this entire paragraph even more pointless than it was when I started it, I don’t even know what I’m talking about so let’s just move on, shall we?
I don’t mean for this to be about my entire posting history, since I definitely don’t have enough time to write that, and nobody on earth would want to read it, but I’ll start off this way. I first posted to LitKicks back in April 2001, when I was seeking advice on a paper I was writing for a history class, and was told by feral to read The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. A couple of days later, I got into a discussion with (I think it was) Billectric about the meaning of Moloch in Ginsberg’s “Howl”. At the time, I was a college student trying to finish writing my not-really-a-thesis-but-still-totally-a-thesis about creating a space for individual activism within third-wave feminism or something like that, and I was serious and plagued by insomnia and terrified about the fact that my upcoming graduation meant losing my lifelong identity as a student. I didn’t post too much back then, but I do remember that I got a pretty impressive list of ways to say “I like cheese” in various languages and some interesting suggestions on what to name my then-new-but-now-dead goldfish, that I ended up formally naming Garibaldi, but mostly referred to as “Hey you, fish, quit making out with your reflection. Pervert.”
I quit posting for awhile, only to return a few months later and commit myself wholeheartedly to the constantly-changing insanity of the message boards. I discovered a kinship first with Kairo, then with Firecracker, and later, Piph. We formed the Mutual Admiration (or Adoration) Society, which basically manifested itself as the four of us commandeering the Action Poetry board and writing about sex. And of course, plotting total world domination. I tried playing hostess at the first-ever Battle Creek LitKicks gathering, a weekend that will forever live in my memory as a mental documentary called, This Is Not Really Happening. Oooh! Castanets!
At some point, I became a member of The Imperial Triumvirate of Literary Kicks the LitKicks Staff, which is an experience I wouldn’t trade for anything (except maybe being served margaritas by my cabana boy, Raoul Sergio). We get a lot of work done, but we also have a lot of fun. There are no other meetings on earth where it would be okay if I started quoting Andy Dick in the middle of a discussion (at least not out loud) and I love that we all can work so well together, even if we do disagree on issues like the brilliance of Radiohead or the necessity of carbs.
I’ve met a fair number of people from the LitKicks community, and with one exception, the experiences were really very cool. I’ve shared meals, opinions, bottles of wine, a really cute mini key lime pie, pigs in a blanket and oh, millions of cigarettes. There’s been a little bit of heartache, a whole lot of laughter, a few very lovely kisses, and way more hangovers than I can possibly count.
I’ve talked to many, and taken my phone bill to new heights. My favorite of all of the conversations I’ve had would probably have to be the time I called feral and he tried to pretend that I’d called a pizza place, only to start laughing and have me ask, “Jason, are you fucking with me?” I swore out loud in front of my grandmother while talking to Marty, and there was this one time Kate made me laugh so hard that I actually did fall on the floor.
Of course, as I’ve often said, I fall a lot.
I have art, jewelry, postcards, an orange koala stapler, a stuffed Gene Simmons won out of a Denny’s skill crane, a bedazzler, several wonderful handmade collections of writing, and permanent residence on the Barry Manilow mailing list due to the connections I’ve made. I got to channel Satan on numerous occasions. I think dirty thoughts every time I go to the chiropractor now (although I’ve always had a hard time not asking him to marry me every time he’s hovering over me, readjusting my spine. But let me not follow that tangent.). Sometimes I’ll say “bitchin’ camaro, bitchin’ camaro, Tony Orlando and Dawn.” Right out loud, no less.
I’ve heard Firecracker sing karaoke, I had a panic attack in the rain in New York. I witnessed in_extremis eating apple pie with his bare hands, and if that’s not a defining moment, then I obviously don’t even know what a defining moment is.
I got a jar of Nutella in the mail, people! LitKicks is love!
And I read some pretty good stories and poems along the way, too. For all of this wonderful connection that I’m sitting here marveling at right now, I think the thing that amazes me most is that we’re all a bunch of writers and readers who get to ignore geography and create something together. I’ve loved most every moment of the experience, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t say thanks for making it so great. And I hope to see everyone back at the next ultra kickass-o-rama phase of the site.
To close, I want to quote the superintendent of the school district I graduated from quoting Kool & The Gang at every high school graduation she presided over:
Celebrate good times. Come on.
