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Sunday, Nov 8, 2009
Hmm...so, all these letter writers are appalled that Salon once again is running a self-indulgent, non-newsworthy story when its attention should be devoted to much more important matters...
Ok, if you're all so obsessed with real news, then why on earth has this story generated, um, 55 letters and counting, where as the lead, real news story about Abu Ghraib has generated 3.
I would think that all you Calvinistic concerned citizens of the world would focus your time and energy debating REAL news, rather than taking the time to argue about non-news.
Yup, it's pretty obvious, you all LOVE this stuff too.
Unmasking Sam could become an interesting investigative report. It's difficult to guess what twists Sam's life took, especially after the soured romance that he had a really hard time remembering. It's possible his life spiralled downhill after the break up with Tess. Perhaps he turned to qualudes and strippers. Tess must do a sequel. I promise to sign up as a paid member if she does.
It's disappointing to me that you follow up an excellent article about open adoption with a breathy drug diary more worthy of Page Six than Salon.
The author ignored the obvious signs of addiction, and instead chose to revel in the lavish gifts and cuddling. I'm glad that she, in retrospect, is ashamed of her passivity. I guess you can't blame her for accepting nights in La Sirenuse, Barneys pajamas, and soulless garden abusivparties in Southampton.
In retrospect, I'm ashamed of my passivity with my boss, but he just keeps on sending those paychecks.
Salon has been slipping in recent weeks. The overall quality has been decent, but there have been a few articles here and there (including the carbon nanobot freakout from yesterday) that have betrayed a startling lack of editor oversight. In the end, I'd prefer that Salon take risks like this, but this one definately failed.
Ho hum. A rich girl's carefully constructed life is thrown into sylishly-tussled disarray by her faux-serious problems with a rich drug addict. I may as well be reading about Paris fucking Hilton's problems.
When I started to read this article, it was the idea of the boyfriend having a different personality at night that attracted me. I had one of those myself, once.
I, too, dated a guy I thought of as the "sleepfucker." He wasn't all that bad conscious, but he was inhibited in some ways (didn't like giving oral sex). But at least twice a week, I would wake up in the middle of the night to find his face in my crotch, going to town. We would progress to intercourse from there, and he'd usually wake up somewhere in the middle. Invariably, he'd ask me how "that" started. Eventually, I referred to it as "Chester the Molester came out again." Sleepwalking, I'd heard of--but this was something new.
So I was intrigued that maybe someone had had a similar experience--only to find that theirs was the result of bad drug/alcohol juju. No drugs or alcohol were involved in my experience with Chester. Freaky.
The sad part was, he was better asleep than awake.
It was hilarious and well done.
What I'm getting tired of are not Salon's articles but people's thoughtless and judgmental responses lately. The person who wondered why these offended people aren't responding to the other more serious articles has asked a very good question, and I think the answer could be that these people can't think well enough to write about the others.
Lighten up, people, every article doesn't have to be profoundly meaningful or politically correct.
This article was a truly enjoyable (and well-written) chronicle of a trainwreck, and I'm glad the author is now happily married to someone who doesn't need Ambien and scotch to love her. What fascinated me about it was how it seemed to be an entirely new version of a very old narrative, in which, by day, a woman's lover is bewitched (and often invisible, or in the shape of an animal or a bird) and comes to her at night in his true human form. At some point she breaks the spell and he is restored to his human glory, and they are married and live happily ever after, etc., etc. If there's a Cinderella syndrome and a Sleeping Beauty syndrome, maybe this is the "Fenist the Falcon" syndrome? (That's the Russian version of this tale.)
Only...which is the magical form, and which is the true form? It's hard to tell. Those of us who have benefited from antidepressants know that sometimes it really does require chemicals to lift years of the effect of depression and psychological trauma from one's mind, and the difference is often dramatic and clearly visible. Perhaps this man was self-medicating successfully. Perhaps, during the day, he really was depressed and detached and unable to relate to a woman he found lovely and absolutely necessary while under medication.
Or maybe, sadly, it really was the medicated version that was all a ruse. That's the problem with transposing fairy tales to modern life: the protagonists never manage to reproduce those perfect endings, no matter how much they believe in them. Sometimes the "happily ever after" ending involves not rescue, but walking away from the seductions of the bewitched lover and finding true love elsewhere.
I have a horrifying Ambien story, as well. About three years ago, I got two traffic tickets in one day -- one on the way to work and one coming home -- both deserved, but I knew they would be very expensive despite the infractions being minor. I was having financial trouble already at that time, so it was pretty devastating. When I got home, I talked on the phone with a friend and drank a bottle of wine (first mistake, as I NEVER drink when I am upset). Deciding that the day was not going to get any better and I might as well get a good night's sleep, I took an Ambien and went to bed. I fell asleep, in my bed. The next day, I woke up in an ex-boyfriend's house, wearing clothing that I didn't remember putting on, and that's when I started remembering some of the events from the prior night, although it took a couple of days to put everything together.
I had apparently woken up, gone to my computer, chatted with this ex-boyfriend, who I hadn't talked to in a couple of years, and who then invited me to come out with some of his friends. In the meantime, I e-mailed a childhood friend I hadn't seen in years and told her I was gay. (Didn't remember this AT ALL until she replied the next day.) I proceeded, although I don't know in what order, to throw up all over my living room and bathroom, to fall into the shower doors, completely knocking them off their tracks, to dress in clothes I would never wear out normally, and to leave my apartment with NO keys and leaving the front door open. I remembered vague snippets of some of these events, but not all. And while a bottle of wine is certainly not a small amount of alcohol, it's also not enough to cause this kind of memory loss.
It was a horrifying event, and I am just so grateful that I didn't go near my car and that no permanent damage was done to anything or anyone. While the bottle of Ambien was printed with a "Do not drink alcohol" label, I had no awareness that this kind of reaction could occur... I merely thought it said that because the combination would make me even drowsier, which was fine since I was trying to go to bed. Anyway, I'm glad that the public is becoming more aware of the side effects of this drug. When taken correctly, it's a godsend to anyone who has trouble sleeping. But when taken with alcohol, it's extremely dangerous. Thanks for helping raise the awareness of the risks.
Much of the initial coverage about Fort Hood turned out to be wrong. Is there anything wrong with that?
The accountability imposed by another country for the CIA's kidnapping and torture reveals much about our own.
Fox News' morning show plays to type, talking about whether Muslims in the Army should face "special debriefings"
219 Democrats and one Republican join in favor of the legislation, which passed by a narrow margin
The survivor and author is upset about comparisons some on the right are making to genocide
Salon headlines in your mailbox
