People constantly quote you for your definition of cheating, but what are your definitions for classy and trashy? You seem classy, but you’ve had life experiences that some of the more narrow minded populace would consider quite the opposite. How do you define those things?

Classy and trashy are objective manifestations of opposing states of mind that exist across a subjective spectrum of aesthetic sophistication.

These objective manifestations aren’t classy or trashy within themselves. They require contextualization within an aesthetic framework.

For instance, Britney Spears sporting fishnets and a top hat is inevitably trashy, whereas Madonna rocking out the exact same outfit is classy as fuck.

Now, is this due to either woman’s money, talent, or beauty? No, not at all. You’re missing the point if you think like that. Those things have no direct correlation to aesthetic sophistication, and while money, talent, and beauty may make it easier to develop and express aesthetic sophistication, they also make it easier to express a blatant lack of it.

This isn’t just about fashion, by the way. The same holds true across the entire range of aesthetic endeavors — design, music, architecture, the visual and performing arts, even culinary aesthetics.

Come on, it doesn’t take much to know that Anthony Bourdain is all class and Rachael Ray is nothing but trash.

Do you look forward to the extinction of humankind? I sure do, I feel like the most beautiful thing that humans could achieve would be to finally die off and let the good earth try to heal itself. When I say this to close family members they never agree and sometimes are angry at me, calling me morbid. There isn’t anything more morbid than our species smothering and poisoning every other one on the planet. I’m not worried about being judged, just worried about those who are reproducing and those who want to cure major human diseases.

The good earth? You fucking idiot. The earth is an ethically inert mud ball hurtling around an amoral little star in an infinitely vast universe that is neither good nor evil. On a geological time scale, the measurable effect of our species on the planet is an insignificant burp.

It takes the human condition to color the world with value judgments, and yours are self-hating and silly. Besides, we’re not going to make it anyway. Not at our current stage of evolution, and certainly not if we stick around this corner of the solar system. 99.9% of all species that have ever existed on earth are now extinct, and one day we will be too. We aren’t that fucking special.

Does that mean we should wish for our annihilation? Fuck no. Only arrogant malcontents think like that. All you’re doing is projecting your own self loathing onto a species-centric world view, one that’s no different from the ignorant fucks who think we were put on the planet to rule over the animals.

Humanity is a fleeting and beautiful experience, the sum total of which probably won’t count for shit in the long run. So what? Don’t resent your species. It’s a wasted emotion based on a primitive way of thinking.

If you really look forward to the extinction of humankind, then do your part and kill yourself. Otherwise, shut the fuck up and enjoy the ride.

What do you MEAN there’s no such thing as wasting time? What if I dick around on the internet when I have reading to do or papers to write…isn’t that wasting time?

No. Procrastination isn’t wasting time. It’s merely a reflection of your inability to prioritize according to a given value system.

Not that time really exists to be wasted in the first place, but if we limit the definition of time to be the perceived duration of your consciousness, it’s still impossible to say that such a concept could be experienced in an inefficient or ineffective manner without first imposing a value system. Fuck it. Just shift your values, and suddenly the time you enjoy wasting is not time wasted.

Of course, if you really want enlightenment, just shift your perception of consciousness, and you can enjoy the present moment without the notion of time or any value system whatsoever.

I miss myself some fucking butterflies. If things are stale should I just move on?

Butterflies are a drug. Stale is a judgment. This question is the romantic equivalent of wanting to get high because you’re bored.

If you think the relationship is stale because the butterflies are gone, that’s an indication of your emotional immaturity. People who aren’t willing to put work into their relationships move on and chase butterflies because it’s the quickest way to get their romantic fix.

That’s fine in your teens and early twenties. Eventually though, you’ll want to start developing those long-term relationship skills, because the butterflies are always gonna be temporary.

You can’t stay high forever, and afterward you gotta keep that shit fresh.

What’s up with the collective disinterest in NYE this year? A shared coming of age for those claiming to be newly minted as mature? “It’s a recession, yo” (hardly seems to be the case with economic success to the few at all-time highs)?

It’s almost January, mid 60s and sunny (my half-hearted condolences to anyone on the other side facing torrential cold), coming off of a Christmas lull of unfulfilled wanton needs. So why am I in the majority, content to avoid parties and instead find NYE’s solace cuddled with opiates, Ketel and something with scoring by Zimmer or Mansell?

I know it’s an epidemic, but I don’t know why. Your thoughts?

I blame Snooki.

No, I really do. That tacky-as-fuck Oompa-Loompa is responsible for so much of our collective ennui, it’s not even the least bit funny.

Snooki will literally be the centerpiece of MTV’s New Year’s Eve in Times Square as she is dropped inside the ball at the stroke of midnight as she puts it, “like a friggin’ hamster.”

What a perfect little fuck you from one of the shittiest years I can remember.

Regardless of our maturity, everyone did some growing up this year, and it took a lot out of us. Sure, the recession is our excuse, but it’s not about the money. Not really. You can always celebrate on the cheap, but we don’t even give a fuck about that this year. We’re all too fucking exhausted.

Meanwhile, instead of a respectful nod to the puffy-eyed zeitgeist, popular culture is acting like our drunk and obnoxious friend who insists we go party one more time at club 2010, which everyone knows is the douchiest hole on the strip. Why? Because Snooki will be there.

Are you fucking kidding me? Bitch, I’ve had enough of that awful scene, and the last place I want to be is anywhere I have to be reminded of this awful year or how unbearably shallow and ignorant our fameball icons have become.

Am I gonna end up going out that night? Yeah, I am. Why? Because I’m not a quitter. I have no expectations and no desire to celebrate, but I’ll still show up, not with bells and whistles, but with shovels and bats that we’ll use to beat down 2010 and bury it alive like Joe Pesci in Casino.

If we’re lucky, maybe in 2011, the executives at MTV will realize that’s exactly what they need to do with the entire cast of Jersey Shore. Sure, Snooki is an all-too convenient scapegoat for everything wrong with this past year, but I’ll be damned if she wasn’t perfectly cast for the job.

You wanna know why everyone is collectively disinterested in New Years Eve?

Because fuck 2010, that’s why.

I just started reading your blog, and I’ve noticed a pattern: people write to you with a seemingly one-dimensional question, and you answer by pointing out more underlying issues. You say things like “deal with your intimacy issues”, or “stop being so afraid”, but my question is HOW?

Are there some sort of exercises one is supposed to do to no longer seek attention in the wrong places? Should we tell ourselves nice things in the mirror everyday to know that we deserve to be loved? How does someone get past codependency when every  relationship they’ve ever had or seen is codependent?

Is the answer therapy? It seems therapy can tell you that you have daddy issues, but not how to stop chasing every alcoholic older man that gives you a little attention. I am aware of my issues, just not how to deal with them.

Just because your issues have a name it doesn’t mean you’re aware of them. Say nice things into the mirror all you like, but looking at yourself isn’t the same as seeing yourself.

Self-awareness takes work, and dealing with underlying issues is always a unique and intensely personal struggle. Sure, I’m good at parsing people’s issues out of a few hundred words of bullshit, but that’s just a parlor trick. Telling you what’s broken isn’t the same skill set as being able to fix it.

Short of following you around all day and sticking a little red flag into every behavior that’s a negative manifestation of an underlying issue, there’s not much else I can do.

I deliberately stop short of telling you how, because I can’t. I know better, and I’m not one of those assholes like Dr. Phil or Dr. Laura who deal in cheap platitudes and feel-good McTherapy.

Nobody can tell you how. Not really. Over time, a good therapist may be able to give you the tools for you to come up with your own solution, but that’s not the same as saying therapy is the answer.

That’s why this shit is hard. You gotta do the work yourself, one shovel full of crazy at a time.

Hell, you’re already off to a good start. It sounds like you’ve made enough bad decisions to realize that dating in your daddy’s drunken shadow makes for a pretty miserable love life.

Good for you. Now fucking quit it, and no, I can’t tell you how.

He’s trying to get to know me, but I just want to fuck. Why do guys insist on going through this phase? I just don’t see a point unless you’re looking for something serious.

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because you’re a beautiful and interesting human being worth knowing beyond your vagina who somehow doesn’t quite grasp that the delicious complexity of interpersonal relationships can’t be reduced to a binary state of “something serious” or “I just don’t see the point.”

Or maybe he’s just a dildo with a dude on the end of it.

Which do you think it is?

I love the song “For the Widows In Paradise, for the Fatherless In Ypsilanti.” Sufjan Stevens is incredibly talented, but so many people interpret that song as religious. What’s your interpretation of it?

People see Jesus in everything from Sufjan Stevens to a slice of toast. That’s not gonna stop me from enjoying beautiful music or an egg salad sandwich.

Honestly, whether I’m gazing into Sufjan’s lyrics or a slice of burnt Wonder Bread, I’m happy to acknowledge that there’s a vague resemblance to what everybody thinks Jesus looks like, but in both cases, that’s more a reflection of their own childlike simplicity.

Yes, the song is openly Christian in its references, but anyone who’s not desperate to validate their faith can appreciate multiple layers of meaning and think critically about Sufjan’s words.

For instance, there are quite a few old testament references to widows and the fatherless. Most of them are when god is threatening not only to kill you, but also make your family suffer. (Because anybody who reads the old testament knows that god is basically an angry and jealous mafia boss.)

Still, the general theme throughout is that during the bronze age patriarchy, widows and the fatherless are considered the dregs of society. Nobody wants to bother with a dead man’s wife and kids.

Interestingly, there is only one mention of widows and the fatherless in the new testament, at the end of the Book of James:

“If any man among you seem to be religious, and bridleth not his tongue, but deceiveth his own heart, this man’s religion is vain. Pure religion and undefiled before God and the Father is this, To visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep himself unspotted from the world.”

Take a minute and read that again. Let that shit soak in.

It’s saying that if you’re acting religious or preaching religion, you’re missing the point. Instead, you should be quietly looking after the fatherless and widows in their time of need without seeking any recognition for it.

It’s one of the few places in the entire bible where you’ll find a tight passage of scripture that unequivocally says, “ignore all this other ridiculous bullshit and just be a good person when nobody is looking.”

Don’t think for one second that the song’s title is a coincidence. As a matter of poetry, Sufjan couldn’t be more clearly indicating that he understands that the purest form of religion is altruism, and of course, that’s what the song is all about. Altruism.

Of course, the song is poetry written in the first person and uses semiotically charged words such as father, son, and preacher, so if you’re looking for Jesus in the toast, he’s very easy to find.

Those who identify the first person voice of the song to be Jesus aren’t exactly wrong, but they’re also missing the point. It could be Jesus, but it could just as well be anybody.

He’s singing about a certain kind of selfless, altruistic enlightenment that anyone is capable of achieving, because quite frankly, Sufjan’s sophistication isn’t outweighed by his Christianity. (Seriously, don’t even get me started on his deliberately vague and poetic usage of the homophones “morning” and “mourning.” That shit is painfully beautiful.)

Those who need a savior aren’t quite ready to accept that the the song is just as much about them as it is Jesus, and that’s fine. The nature of poetry is that it’s open to interpretation.

Of course, the nature of good poetry is that when you’re ready to see them, new layers of the poem are revealed as you add new layers to yourself.