Monday, April 26, 2004

Greetings, Kings and Queens of the Impossible:

News of the Day:

1. A swarm of wasps took over my bedroom today, climbing all over the windows, getting in through the doggy door, crawling on my bed. It was the most Amityville Horrorish experience I've ever had. (Except for that giant pig who used to wake me up at 3:15 a.m. But I always thought of that as a more Pink Floyd thing.)

2. I still have almost no interest in music. Like, I didn't get tix to Coachella in time, and even though I really do want to go, and I really do want to see all those bands, I'm really not bothered about it. I'm just like, oh, whatever. My friend John, who's visiting from Minneapolis, and kind of came out here for Coachella, and also flaked on getting tickets, is equally blase about it. I love that.

3. I think this has to do with having my own pad. When you're in school, you just want desperately to get out of the house and do weird things with strangers in groups, for some reason---in deadly heat, on drugs, with retarded shoes. But see now that I have my own place and no parents running my life all the time, I have no need to "get out of the house" like before. Why would I want to get away form a totally awesome cottage with records and clothes and dishes and stuff strewn everywhere? I can get high right here, if I want to. And do everything else.

4. Nevertheless, I would still go to Coachella if I could, for sure.

5. I went to a Dodger/Giants game Saturday night at Dodger Stadium. It was awesome. I mean, we lost, but it was a stylish loss---Shawn Green broke his bat and that little elf guy hit a home run. Plus the crowd was soooo mean to the Giants. It was awesome. Much better, say, than Sunday, where the Dodgers won by so much it wasn't even that fun to watch.

6. It feels like Sunday to me. Doesn't it feel like Sunday? I think it feels like Sunday.

7. I feel bad because we killed the wasps with the only thing we had on hand--bug spray for rose bushes. The wasps died long, clearly insane-making agonizing deaths. I feel bad. But shit, man.



Monday, April 19, 2004

You know what makes me feel so old?

There's a picture on Tony Pierce's blog of Prince William, which indicates that he's starting to lose his hair. He's shockingly fetching but definitely thin up top.

This makes me feel so old. I remember when he was born.

I dated a guy once who lost his hair at like 19. It happens to some people.

Anyway, the reason I haven't been barely blogging nor writing at all I guess is dead dog syndrome or something. I have no interest in rock music right now, nor in writing. It's so brutal. All I want to do is listen to Herman's Hermits, which is also a symbolically appropriate statement about my current lifestyle.

Early Bee-Gee's won't do. The Zombies suddenly don't cut it. Dave Clark's too angry. Nope, all I want is Herman's Hermits. Maybe a tiny bit of Tommy James and the Shondells. My stomach won't handle anything else.

Herman, dear Herman. And his wee hermits.



Friday, April 16, 2004

Hey You Guys!

I have some weird news: I'm going to be putting the blog to bed and re-starting it as a more "professional" blog for a while. I wanted to let you know in case you wanted to check out the archives before I do it.

The reason is that I'm unveiling a new venture, my Top Secret Project. For two years I have been working on a radio show called Pop Vultures.

The show was conceived by Garrison Keillor and is produced by his people and me. But it's nothing like "A Prairie Home Companion." It is a pop-music rap session, inspired by the countless late-night bull sessions I have had over the years with my friends, where we debate the relative merits of Britney and Xtina, Bowie and Bolan, Clay and Ruben, etc.

It's also inspired by Car Talk, Mr. Rogers, This American Life, MOJO Magazine, and my dad.

I am so proud of it and I have so much fun doing it!

The web site is totally under construction and going to become ever so much more fabulous over the next month.

Ditto the shows themselves. The episodes posted on the website are pilots, which means that we have been learning as we go and making lots of mistakes. They're sort of a beautiful mess. I would recommend you avoid the segment on Tupac. I have been told the Outkast one sucks, too, but I still like it a lot. Conversely, I have been told the Dave Grohl one is good, but I can't stand it! I can fully endorse the episodes on the Neptunes, Eighties Nostalgia, Pink and Mary J. Blige.

Because much of the material is like a year old, you will notice some of the stuff seems weirdly out of date. That's just one of the hazards of developing a pop-cultural show like ours. Eventually this won't be an issue.

The reason I'm putting the blog to bed is that the show is going on the air in two major markets in the next couple weeks--Seattle and Philadelphia--and I am not keen on a bunch of strangers Googling me and discovering secrets of my love life and whatnot. Apparently we have been on the air for weeks on some college station in New York and I didn't even know about it.

I'll post the new URL for the new blog when I figure it out.




Tsar's playing tonite at some weird downtown thing, should be fun!


Hangar 1018

12:00 Midnite!!

1018 S. Santa Fe

Downtown Los Angeles 90021

$5 w/ flyer

Go here to print out flyer.

Wednesday, April 14, 2004

Hi postmodern Postweirdos!

Quentin Tarantino is sposed to be the guest judge on Idol tonight. I love this country.

i swear I am not going to turn this into Kate Sullivan's Dogblog, i SWEAR.

But. This baby needs a home. Dig the cuteness.

He's one year old, housetrained, non-chewy, neutered and healthy, loving and protective. He needs a stable, quiet house, preferably adult, with no cats. He's great but not right for me, since there's a cat in my life. I adopted him Saturday from the pound without thinking enough. Ooops.

If I still lived in my old place he'd be great--a nice combination watchdog/lapdog. Verrry lap-oriented.



Thursday, April 08, 2004

Hi Peachfuzz:

We buried Sloopy in the yard and planted a peach tree on top. It seems to be happy in its new home and has some peach buds. One of them bears a notable resemblance to Sloopy's belly button--and naughty bits?

The peaches are pooch-peaches, you see.


Wednesday, April 07, 2004

Good morning:

It's like four thirty. i just woke up for no reason and can't sleep. Kind of gross but I could smell my dog's booty ... and even though he's now immortalized in my soul and will shine in my heart as long as it beats, it was still kind of, you know, a little bit gross. I really need to wash my bedding. It's just the type of thing I haven't had the energy to do. But I mean shit, the little guy barfed on my bed on his last day (and the floor, and his bed, and the outside patio...) I should probably move on, huh.

The Tsar show was excellent. It was so cool---before they went on the PA played a scratchy old version of Cole Porter's "Anything Goes"--Jeff wouldn't like this but it was very White Stripes. And yeah they've been doing that for years, since way before the Stripes. Anyway the show was great and real fun and moving and felt important.

I went to a seder last night but had to duck out at eight to see Idol. Debbie and I watch it together every night on the phone. She's in Vegas. And I feel proud of my people: Fantasia, Huff and Jennifer, who dominated. It was Elton John night, and the whole affair really proved two things: 1.) The difficulty of his songs for any average singer, and 2.) the weirdness of them. They're really strange songs, and only a strange person can pull them off---which is why the technically perfect LaToya didn't triumph in the face of "Someone Saved My Life Tonight." A song that bizarre is just far beyond the grasp of any well-adjusted human.

And someone saved my life tonight, sugar bear.

You almost had your hooks in me

Didn't you dear

You nearly had me roped and tied,

Altar bound, hypnotized,

Sweet freedom whispered in my ear

You're a butterfly,

And butterflies are free to fly,

Fly away, high away, bye bye.

The rhyming structure alone is totally high.

It was real tough to see the waitress make a mess of my favorite Elton song, "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road." As Simon said, surely Sir Elton was in a Vegas hotel room throwing a TV out of a window. It was as if she had never really read the lyrics and had no sense of what the song was about. I mean, granted, I don't think 99 percent of anyone has ever really listened to those lyrics--and the song has a melodic identity all its own. But the lyrics, man...

It's a gay man's song and you've either got to be a gay man or a real deep kind of girl to get it. Like Fantasia. Sigh.

I was so overwhelmed by the weirdness and positivity, as the Spice girls would say, of George Huff's performance, I don't even know what to say. He sang "Take Me To the Pilot," because he is so in love with that one obscure song. He said he wanted to bring that song to everyone in America. And he did! Take me to the pilot of your soul, George.

So anyway, happy Passover and whatnot. I learned that Passover is a time to remember the earthly struggle for freedom, and I learned that in ancient times, the sign of a liberated person was to eat while reclining. Cool.

I think that may still be the sign of a liberated person. I recommend eating in bed while watching Idol.

By the way, did you know we're in Vietnam? I just found out for sure. An article in the L.A. Times on the recent murders and mayhem quoted an unnamed "senior U.S. official," who had this to say about the situation:

"We have more people, more power, more money than them. We will win."

I mean, just in case you were wondering whether we were in Vietnam.

Debbie's mailman just got out of the Air Force. She met him yesterday. She told him about how her dad, a Republican Air Force vet, has decided he'd sooner vote for a ham sandwich than Bush, and the guy said that he and a lot of people in the military feel the same way. I don't have any friends or family in the service but I still feel heavy in my heart. Yesterday was a dark day for America. It was a really bad day.

I have a dear friend who is a de facto apologist for the Bush administration, I think out of an essentially good heart--he needs to believe in human nature and not blame individuals but systems. Anyway, at this point I don't care anymore if Bush is personally bad or just a cog in a wheel--the fact is that four years ago we were not mired in an impossible war of our own invention, and today we are. I really don't feel silly for attending anti-war rallies now. There's a time to stand up. And I believe that if we had known this many people would be dying this much later, most people would have stood up too.



Sunday, April 04, 2004

So, I heard you wanted to rock.

I mean, that's what I heard on the street.

I do too.

I think the best way I know how is to see this band I love, Tsar, tomorrow night. Monday nights are so rock, to me.

They're playing at the El Rey Theatre. I think it's sort of early-ish, but I'm not sure.

Their record's coming out soon so it's kind of exciting and everything.

I need some more glam rock in my life today, and every day.

I have decided to become a glam rock hippie. You didn't think it was possible but I'm going to prove it is. It involves bleach blonde hair, such as mine, and a big garden. I'm inventing a new life.



Thursday, April 01, 2004

My Love Had A Belly Button

My Love had seven toes on his back feet.

My Love kissed all people, even bad ones.

My Love didn't understand one single thing--not even being sick--except being held close, French kissing at all times, and handing you his paw, over and over.

My Love hated the White Stripes.

But he loved blankets. You know, that way.

He struggled in his body, but didn't know he wasn't totally normal.

He knew he was cute, though. And he wasn't above working it.

And it worked.

My Love had silky puppy down that stuck up on top of his head.

He left his body. I saw it in his eyes. I want to put him back inside.

Maybe Lauren is right: Now he is a part of everything that loves and needs to be loved.