"listen: there’s a hell of a good universe next door; let’s go."
-e. e. cummings (via mattfractionblog)
Two years ago today, I stood in a meeting room on the 14th floor of the UCSF Hospital, Palliative Care, and I exchanged vows with my soulmate. It was one of the greatest days of my life, coupled with the darkest of clouds hovering above and around it.
When I say we ‘exchanged vows’, that’s not entirely accurate… I’ll explain.
When the day of our wedding came, I was sleeping at the new apartment, because I couldn’t sleep with her every night, it was exhausting for both of us, I’d have to sleep perched on the edge of her hospital bed to keep from causing her pain, and nevermind her goddamned IV. I’m pretty sure those things are designed to start aggressively beeping every time you start to doze off.
As I was making my morning coffee, I got a text from her saying “I got us a wedding present, wait until you see it!”
As I arrived at the hospital, I found out what she’d gotten us as a wedding present: a large, almost palatial suite on the 14th floor, the largest room in the hospital, and private. A honeymoon suite with oxygen tubes in the wall. But it was nice, a double bed, a wonderful view. In our situation, you take what you can get.
Our friend Chanta (who had lent us our temporary wedding rings to use for the ceremony) came by, with an assortment of dresses, stockings, jewelry for Hollie to go through and pick out her wedding outfit. I donned my suit, as she, having asked the nurses for 2 Ritalin to give her some energy for the day, proceeded to spaz out, throwing on some footie socks and and adult diaper she found in the cupboards, and bounced up and down the hallway, in only that attire, mastectomy scar and one remaining breast fully exposed, razzing the orderlies, as Chanta and I rolled with laughter.
I did her hair, sculpted her blonde mohawk for her, twirled her side curls, and helped her put her cuban foot stockings on, while a small, select group of our friends gathered in the next room for the wedding. i asked her what she wanted to do for vows, if we she prepare them. She grinned and said “Nah, I’m just gonna wing it, that’s what I did at my first wedding!”
The time came, and she clutched her purple and black bouquet to her chest, as I walked her down the hallway to the next room, one arm guiding her stupid, loud-beeping IV, and the other on her arm. We walked up to the officiant, near the window, arranged ourselves and the IV, as he began the ceremony.
I held her hands as he spoke, and I looked into her eyes. The officiant knew the situation we were in, but for some reason, the ceremony was long-winded, and although secular, was full of exactly the sort of language I didn’t want to here…
"Forever and ever."
"For the rest of their lives."
"As they step into the great unknown."
Motherfucker, get real. We KNOW, and ‘for the rest of OUR lives’ has a bit of a short timer on it.
I brushed it off, but as fiance, soon-to-be-husband, caretaker and protector, it got under my skin a bit.
He turned to me, and said “Eric would now like to say a few words…”
I grasped her hands, and met her gaze.
"I think in our situation, traditional marriage vows would be pretty trite. We know how long forever will be… I know that you don’t like words as much as you like actions, and I think I’ve already proven that ‘through sickness and in health’ bit."
"So all I want to say to you is this:
"I will always love you. You will always, live in my heart. And each and every thing that I do, every thing that I create will always be made better by that touch."
The officiant looked at her, and said “And now Tia [Tia is Hollie’s birth name] would like to say a few words…”
She looked at me, and then looked down at her feet. She shuffled, and looked up at me again, and blurted out, “You’re really good at this, I don’t know what to say!”
We all laughed, I pulled her in close for a hug and said “You don’t have to say anything babe.”
There’s more to that day, but that’s the story I want to tell.
I love you Hollie Stevens. With all of my heart. I miss you so much some days, I’m so sad that I don’t get to see what you would have created next, and it hurts. But then I remember the promise that I made to you, and I remember that it’s up to me, to keep going, keep making things, keep feeling, keep creating, and allow you to live through me.
And I will. Happy anniversary darling. I miss you.
Last week I did the Mancow morning radio show in Chicago.
It did not go well.
As a comic, I’ve done a lot of morning radio. It’s the main press for most Midwest clubs. Never have I had an experience like the one I just had.
Everybody is familiar with the Morning Zoo stereotype – the sound…
The Douchebro of the Week Award (let’s make that a real thing, mmk?) goes to the fuckers at WePay, an online fundraising site that recently canceled the fundraising campaign of Eden Alexander. Eden is a porn performer who had an allergic reaction to a common prescription drug, so she was crowdraising $4,000 to pay her medical bills. The geniuses at WePay decided she didn’t deserve money because she would use it for porn. (Which, who even gives a fuck if she was? WE KNOW YOU GUYS ALL WATCH PORN, TECH BROS. BE COOL.) So they canceled her campaign and refunded her supporters’ money.
Long story short, Eden moved her campaign to a different site and exceeded her goal. But WePay, man. Y’all are douches. Read more about it here: http://valleywag.gawker.com/wepay-blames-the-rules-for-withholding-medical-funds-1578017696
There’s something so undeniably arousing about watching a man ride into battle, proudly clad in the colors of his fathers, his fierce visage painted with woad to honor his heritage.
A true representation of the alpha male. And the only man I want spilling his seed within me.
I have this little quirk that bothers my friends sometimes: I refuse to be completely anti-suicide. I’ve refused to join a “non-suicide” pact with them, I have philosophical disagreement with it. Which I’m not going to discuss here, but my friend ws the one who found this guy today, me and a couple other friends spent time with her today.
I don’t want to ever put anyone through what she had to see today.
Ok Dr. Phil’s wife, Robin, (yes groan, but listen up) has this new app out (iPhone and Android) that’s for people in abusive relationships. It’s called Aspire News and it’s disguised as a regular news app, but when you go to the “Help” section of the app, it leads you to…