Well, this is it, I guess. What started as a series of un-furtive, semi-intellectual, vaguely thematic exchanges between relative strangers has totally….well, stayed that way. Yet it has been anything but a zero sum game. No, I have learned that I lack two of the three essential qualities necessary to date Elizabeth Wurtzel and Elizabeth Wurtzel, in short order will, if there is a Christ in Heaven, receive a $60,000 purse.

I can’t answer your last questions, because if I do, it will mean I will be telling you things I haven’t even told my wife. And I read somewhere, perhaps in a magazine, or in a manual of some sort, that this is wrong.

All I will say is this: For the better part of my existence I was convinced I would not get married. Even when I got engaged and planned an entire wedding, it still didn’t feel real. I observed it from outside my body. Outside my element even.

I basically snorkeled through the entire process, feeling nothing, until the moment I walked up the stairs with my father to the place where the ceremony was happening. It was just he and I. And then I just started crying. Like, hard. Not from joy, nor sadness. Momentousness hit me with one giant punch – the kind that knocks the wind out of you and makes you think you will never get it back. It was a bright day in May, so I was able to hide behind sunglasses. But I truly worried I would not be able to stop crying. Not before the ceremony, nor ever. That was the best day of my life.

Ben

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The words in your last e-mail all make sense. And they all seem true and heartfelt. But to me, everything boils down to simple want. Every word human beings speak is laden with desire. The engine of socialization coats our language and teaches us moderation and technique, but we are animals striving to survive and thrive.

I started out these exchanges with you pleading for you to like me. That was laid out in the form of a joke, but it was fundamentally true. I didn't plead for you to "know" me. Because ultimately, I don't think that's what most people want. It's why we dress up to go out. It's why we hope and pray that a person has fallen for us before they find out some of the dark, unpleasant shit. Could you imagine leading with, "Hello my name is Ben. I snore, have psoriasis and can be simultaneously imperious and childish"?

I haven't figured out anything about life or love. I really haven't. But my overwhelming suspicion is that is a lot simpler than 99% of all people make it. Unfortunately, simple does not mean easy. And honesty isn't always the best policy. Would that it were. So the natural question is, what do you want? Besides that bag, of course.

The post We’d All Rather Be Liked Than Known appeared first on Jewcy.

Read the following in a cranky old man voice:

What the hell kind of world are we living in?

I’m sorry, but it’s a fucking bag. There is little in this world that makes less sense to me than smart people going nuts over fancy pants clothing and/or accessories. I understand people trampling each other ever a $29 dvd player. I even understand why people would believe that a secret US-Israeli cabal conspired to bring down the twin towers. Seriously, that is not exaggeration. I have an easier time believing that shit than why people care about a bag. Even if it is nice. Even if it is made of the finest materials man has ever brought together in bag form. Okay, you can call me a cretin now.

Here’s a whiplash turn:

So you are still in touch with all your exes? Interesting. Who initiates that? It can’t be mutual. And how has or does the current guy feel about the past? That’s where you get into trouble.

I tried and succeeded for some time in keeping in touch with many of my former girlfriends. Something about wanting to prove that it really was us and not just me, or just her. "Look, we can still be friends. That’s real! Not just something we said to soften a blow." But one by one they fell away. People moved or got married or finally just gave up because after all, we were really only hanging out because we used to go out – not necessarily because we were super into the same things. (Otherwise, we might still be together, no?)

I have one friend who is a former girlfriend. She was my Bar Mitzvah date and we broke up in the 7th grade. We made out in a closet once. We had braces and it wasn’t particularly fun.

But back to you., since you're the single one. Do guys break up with you and then regret it? Do you dump them, then leave a door open? It’s never mutual. You know that, right?

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I’m not sure you are going to get your handbag this way. Go for it! Just put it out there that you want one. Why beat around the bush?

Everything I want is vague and ill-defined. That goes for life goals too. I have no ability whatsoever to look into the future and conjure a picture of what my life will be – or even what I want it to be. Please read this in as un-angsty voice as possible. It does not make me nervous. Just a bitch to shop for.

I am working on a bunch of crap for HBO. Though that is not how I pitched it to them. I presented it in a manner that would make them think it is going to be quite good. I am writing a pilot about the world’s 237th richest man. We have another show, written by someone else, about a UFO alien death cult set in northern Wisconsin, and a third, loosely based on my book, which is a comedy-variety show built around the theme of failed relationships. As much as I loved working on a daily show, there is something about the promise and possibility of developing multiple ideas that thrills me more. Like, even though I ground myself down to a nub running multiple shows, the idea of having multiple shows is still thrilling. This inability to learn from past experience could be labeled either “boundless enthusiasm” or “fatal flaw.”

I really don’t want to get into a New York neighborhood apologia. In the 9 years I have been here I have lived in the West Village, Hell’s Kitchen, Greenpoint, Greenwich Village proper, off the Bowery in Noho, Clinton Hill and Fort Greene. What does that say about me other than settle the fuck down? There were things I loved about each place, though I loved Hell’s Kitchen least. Right now, I do live in Brooklyn, ambivalently. Don’t hate me for it. Hate me for a number of other reasons, which I would be more than happy to elucidate herein.

I am not now, nor have I ever been a birkenstock wearer. Here, however, for the purposes of partial disclosure, are some things I have worn or done that embarrass me in retrospect, though I stop short of regret:

1. Wore an earring briefly in high school, and again in college
2. Goatee for about a week, also in college
3. Wore a bandana in that hippee-helmet kind of way, though at a summer camp, which makes it slightly less obnoxious.
4. Frequently wore white tube socks with sneakers and shorts while not engaging in athletic activity
5. Killed a man just to watch him die

One of those things actually does not embarrass me.

Next: What the memoirist and the comedy writer have in common

The post Don’t Hate Me For Living in Brooklyn appeared first on Jewcy.

Elizabeth Wurtzel knows a thing or two about confessional writing. Her 1995 memoir, Prozac Nation, took an almost masochistically candid look at her experiences with depression. It made her a household name, equally beloved and reviled. She published several more books and then, inspired by the chaos that immediately followed 9/11, applied to law school at Yale, where she’s currently finishing up her thesis.

We thought Wurtzel probably needed a distraction, so we sent her a copy of Things I’ve Learned from Women Who’ve Dumped Me and set her up in an e-mail conversation with Karlin, who now heads a production company called Superego. To say it got confessional quickly is the understatement of the year. If you’ve ever wondered what Elizabeth Wurtzel’s dog looks like, read on.

From: Elizabeth Wurtzel To: Ben Karlin

Why superego? Why not id?

From: Ben Karlin To: Elizabeth Wurtzel

Well, the id comes up with the better ideas but is pretty shitty at getting things done.

From: Elizabeth Wurtzel To: Ben Karlin

Getting things done is so overrated! For every brilliant idea, there are a million shitty executions. Have you been to the movies lately?

Sorry…this is not what we're supposed to be talking about at all! I think we're meant to talk about dating, another nice concept that often fails when acted upon. But I guess that's not news.

How are you? And while I'm asking questions, the author blurb on your book says you live with your family, which would seem to suggest that you have a family to live with. Correct?

From: Ben Karlin To: Elizabeth Wurtzel

First of all, has any one pointed out how odd it is to have a physical address as part of your electronic signature? Is that like saying, “In case this whole revolutionary form of communication that is changing the face of humanity as I type this doesn’t work out, drop me a note”?

Anyway, I do, in fact, live with my family, if wife and child constitute family. I guess that does, though I tend to think of family in more pluralistic terms – like multiple children or at the very least the 1979 Pittsburgh Pirates.

I am winding down all my book stuff, which has mostly been fun and fine, and am back to working on content to put on the TV.

This is like an internet first date. All awkward stops and starts and I am already convinced it is going terribly. Like me! Why won’t you like me!

From: Elizabeth Wurtzel To: Ben Karlin

Yes, it is odd to have one's physical address attached to an email. They tell you to do that, though. Don't know why. I guess if you're a girl there's always the secret hope that someone might send flowers or something even better, like diamonds. Or a Birkin bag. Or a really good vacuum cleaner. Or, in my case, I could use a new sofa.

I could go on.

But enough small talk.

Let's start our second date.

And truly, since you are married and I'm not, it's more like an affair. Right?

Do you do that? Have emotional affairs? That seems to be the new thing–to not bother with the whole mess of physical intimacy but just get deeply intellectually or otherwise entangled with a person you're not married to or going out with as a way to relieve the tedium of foreverness. Not that marriage is necessarily tedious. Of course, I'm sure yours isn't…

Forgive me for being so forward. I just don't know anything about the 1979 Pittsburgh Pirates. I know a fair amount about the 1986 Mets. And the Red Sox of that same year. Who could forget the Bill Buckner fumble? Probably not Bill Buckner. My guess is that he still occasionally wakes up screaming over that snafu.

Anyway…

As much as you want me to like you, I want you to like me too–after all I'm Jewish, with all that implies. But I must admit, I have a few vicious tendencies. Like it occurred to me that this is the perfect forum for gossip, because we're having a conversation that's sort of being overheard, so I could say something mean about someone who irritates me and pretend to have forgotten that I was speaking to anyone besides you. Which would be a vicious thing to do, but only sort of.

Girls are so tricky…

Next: Married people have three kinds of affairs. One can't be forgiven.

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Chancellor Wiley, Faculty, Parents, Friends, Family and Students of the Class of 2006. Specifically… Abbott, John Phillip Ably, Emily Karen Abrahamson, Christopher Eugene Abram, Alexis Marie I have the whole list you know. Ackerman, Joseph John Adams, Brett Addison, Kathryn Lynn Adelstein, Rachel Louise Don’t worry, only 2463 to go. Ader, Lilian Adler, Leah Catherine …. It is indeed a great honor for me to be here this afternoon. When I was a student at UW, I worked at The Daily Cardinal and covered the Badger football team. My job was to try and write positive stories about a football team that—back then—was winning two games a year. That's when I knew I had a future in fake news. But today, I am proud to stand with you. And I really am standing with you. I stand on this stage, on this globally warmed December afternoon, feeling very much your kindred spirit. In fact, see if you can relate to this: I have spent the last several years working very hard doing something I love. But I will be moving on from that world in a matter of days. The last 4 to 7 years have been spent in a structured yet friendly and fun environment. I’ve made amazing friends, lived through some emotional, historic times. And now, in a few days it will all be over. I am excited, but a little nervous about the future. I will continue to see some of the people I’ve worked with, but it will never really be the same. The only real difference between you and me today, is that I probably have more stuff than you. It happens. You say it won’t, but you accumulate things like toolboxes and photos and pots and pans that you actually like. Hell, I even have a wife. But those are earthbound details. For all intents and purposes, and certainly for the purposes of this premise – I am you. You are me. And we all need a job. So, in this, your final lecture as students at the University of Wisconsin, I intend to share with you everything I know about being on the right path in life. This is a task I take very seriously. I want to make this count. I believe you don’t want bullshit philosophy, though, according to my records, that is what 249 of you are getting degrees in. Now you may say, “How can you give advice that applies to all of us? We are a mass of humanity with a thousand different goals and a thousand different definitions of happiness.” It is true, you are bound only by accident of birth, or geography, and I believe in three cases, recruiting class. So what? The last thing you need to hear right now is kitchen wisdom passed off as sage advice. Do you really need someone to tell you to always wear sunscreen? Or to always carry around chapstick? If you’ve made it this far, and are still on the fence about whether chapstick is for you or not – I’m sorry, you are way beyond my help. No. I came here to tell you about the big stuff. The gut-check moments. What matters most. Graduates, I am here to tell you when you get to the fork in the road, always go left. Don’t ask why. Just do it. And if two roads do diverge in a yellow wood – take the path most traveled by. Chances are, it’s most traveled for a reason…like, because it’s awesome. And while we are on the subject of roads, it may not rise to meet you. If that happens, go meet it. No one I have ever met has ever gotten anywhere waiting for a road. So, how will you know, now that you are leaving academia’s protective embrace, whether you are on the right or wrong track in life? Here’s what I’ve learned – sometimes the hard way. You are on the wrong track in life, if, before heading out for a night with Paris Hilton, you think – “it would take too long for me to put on underwear.” You are also on the wrong track if you are known by name at any of the following places: The local OTB. A pawn shop. That place that buys human hair for money. You are on the wrong track in life if you find yourself in a foreign prison facing charges you don’t quite understand. Yes, you most likely are living a very interesting life, but you might want to consider changing some of your behavior. For example, if you must swallow condoms filled with a foreign substance…how about Jello? You should also know that getting paid to do what you love is not a birthright. Sometimes it’s nice to just have things you love to do. To that end, not all of you should necessarily follow your dreams. For example, if your dreams are ridiculous. That’s what hobbies are for. You may not be able to become a billionaire by age 30, but you certainly can collect coins. Or, if you lack even the motivation for that, what about buying a coffee table book about coin collecting? Surely you can do that. My point is: Get a coffee table. They come in handy. Oh, and you are definitely on the wrong track in life if your nickname is “The Widowmaker.” And you are without question on the wrong track in life if “reality show contestant” is on your list of goals for 2007. In fact you’re not on the wrong track, you are on an express train to Sad Town, making stops in Depressionville and Oh-My-God, What-Have-I-Donesylvania. Now that is everything you need to know about the wrong track. In the spirit of affirmation that is commencement, it is equally, if not more important, for you to know how to tell if you are on the right track in life. This is comparatively simple. You are on the right track in life if you are unaware of the time going by. That is all. If you look up from your evening’s reverie and find the sun lifting over the horizon; or you turn around and discover you are 80 years old and asking, “My God, where did the time go?” Chances are it was time not wasted. I have never been able to answer the question, “Where do I see myself in five years?” Because I don’t. I see myself now, like you, excited, a little anxious, wondering if I will be able to do all that I want in this world, ready to try, ready to fail, ready to live. Graduates, I’d like to close with my words – since I think it’s cheap to get out on someone else’s good idea. What I’d like to say to you is this: “Sweet Home, Alabama. Where the skies are so blue.” Wait a second, those aren’t my words. Congratulations. You’ve done a wonderful thing. And I salute you.

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