Friday, July 30, 2004

"This Is Enough"

She told the Times. "We have to react."

I know you probably heard this story a long time ago but i still like it.

Wednesday, July 28, 2004

my theory

stands, and apologies to tony pierce, dylan callaghan, emmanuelle richard and any other upstanding L.A.-transplants. BUT, it must be said that the worst, most "Hollywood" people I've met are from out of town. They move here from wherever the fuck and think they have to act like assholes to fit in.

but enough negativity. it's time to be positive. so i'm going to go walking.



Tuesday, July 27, 2004

the weirdos

hi guys

it's hard doing my radio show, pop vultures, because i send all my records out to minnesota to be used on the show, and then i have to get through my days without them. i miss them so. it's ridiculous to try and live right now, at this moment, without "plastic ono band." you may as well ask me to live without coffee or my bed. it's even worse trying to get around without "a kind of hush" by herman's hermits. i rely on this album the way some people rely on meditation. my t. rex is gone, too.

this summer has been beautiful and heavy. everything is different since sloopy died. maybe it's the war, too. i feel death and endings around me. people are driving like angry maniacs. today i was stuck on one of those narrow, winding streets in the hills behind a really bad, slow driver. someone behind me got impatient and went around us and got squished. it was collectively the worst driving i'd seen in a while--and the kind of mistake that's awful because you know that the impatient woman just knew she was fucking up--she knew it--but she just manically continued as if she couldn't stop.

people need to be careful in their cars; they need to be careful in cars just as they need to be careful in what they say to other people. you've got to resist the mania, because if you let it take you over, you can do damage without meaning to. and you'll hurt yourself, too. like that woman. it turned out the bad slow driver didn't have insurance.

sorry to be preaching, but i've been thinking a lot about how people seem to be mean and stressed and lashing out wantonly at the people around them.

last week was super bizarre. i found out i'd been back-stabbed by someone i thought was my friend--that was surreal! then i had to interview pamela anderson and the photographer david lachapelle at the chateau marmont. that made a surreal week supersurreal.

the interview was probably the most emotionally disastrous interview i've ever done--but maybe interesting, too, because i happened to catch these two divas on a strange night when she was totally manic and stir-crazy and he was exhausted, and they let me have it. apparently i'd offended her somehow at the start of the interview, and from that point, nothing i said was right, to her. everything i said she sort of said back to me as a question. i made the mistake of calling his photography "camp," and this opened a hornet's nest of nastiness. they ended up caling me a bitch and a cunt, as a "joke"---"you have to understand his humor," someone said. i've never been called a cunt by an interviewee before. this was a first for me. also, i noticed pamela anderson needed to be the center of attention -- when someone started asking me about myself, she interrupted to ask if they had any makeup. "do you have any makeup? can you do my makeup? i did my makeup myself. does that mean i'm not famous anymore?"

she seems to live in a self-constructed mental reality where she is the queen of everything. i know a lot of people like that. maybe we're all kind of like that, in our ways. as john lennon would say, hey, whatever gets you through the night, baby. i know it sucks to be in love with an addict. that sucks. and i wonder what it's like to build your whole identity around silicone.

there were tons of famous weirdos there that night, like ali g. and jimmy iovine. hollywood freaks my shit out. everyone thinks they're an "artist," and they use that word as a kind of get out of jail pass for being complete whores.

but i'd rather have people call me a bitch and get pissed off at me than be completely fake robots--that's the worst insult of all, really. there's very little worse than being patronized, and even though those two thought they were patronizing me, their anger betrayed them. like they said, hollywood really is the epicenter of all insecurity.

that hollywood is, anyway. i avoid that hollywood like herpes. i don't know how people can be happy in an environment of meanness 24/7. it's no wonder people like the boob-lady are all obsessed with "spirituality." how do you build a life when you're always falling through thin air?

anyway, all's i'm saying is, be careful out there.

Tuesday, July 20, 2004

the like

go here, click on "music," and listen to the song "bridge to nowhere." is it just the pms or is it too beautiful, and lovely enough to make me cry today on this hot afternoon?

you may not know this, but i get flak from player haters who don't like how much i use the word "like" on my radio show. ah, well.

have you ever noticed how the delete button is faster than the backspace button? i just deleted a bunch of stuff i didn't like. the beauty of the blog is that unlike newsprint, you can just delete shit.

rock on brothers and sisters.

Monday, July 19, 2004

good people

maybe it's the beer. maybe it's the pms.

(and by the way, on my show i discovered this amazing mary j. blige song called "pms," which includes the following lyrics:

i'm down and out in depression.

i think the worst of everything.

my lower back is aching, and my clothes don't fit.


ain't that a bitch.)

anyway, maybe it's that stuff, or maybe it's the impending National Crisis--can you feel it coming? i feel it in my bones like disease.

but tonight, i just want to take every single lovely person i've ever known into my arms and hug them good and tight, till they squeak.

i wish to ask the universe to consider them the next time the gods are giving out the extra lovin', the surplus good luck, the unforeseen windfalls, the happiness and health, the moments of perfection, the dreams fulfilled and the wounds healed.

Monday, July 12, 2004

the worst dream

Some chewing gum was stuck in my teeth and I pulled and this whole set of hollow teeth came out of my mouth, with plastic gums. Apparently I had a fake facade system going, and underneath my real teeth were filed down to little pointy bits and were all brown.

This image must have come from watching the Swan, where this one woman had hugely gnarly teeth issues, including a sort of fake tooth thing she had to put in every morning.

I never want to watch The Swan again. I hope it never ever comes back. Die, Swan, die!

The thing I hated the worst was the weird nebulously European host-woman (who I think was actually Irish, which is tragic), who was some sort of Patsy for the beauty industry and arbiter of her own sex's servitude, total lady uncle tom. What a fucking phoney. Don't get me started. Getting in shape is one thing, man, but the worst thing was the kind of underlying violence toward women's bodies--shit, not even underlying. Right there on the surface. The drive to chop up women's bodies, because let's face it, the female form is the most powerful thing in the world. Fuck you fuckers. I hope you get sliced up with your own instruments and you are blinded and suddenly learn the life of the senses that has existed all along outside the borders of your perception, you sad idiot.

The worst thing in the world is idiots who don't know they're idiots.

Sunday, July 11, 2004

sunday again

The day is winding down and I am glad to be alive, because even though people can sometimes be a bummer, the air is full of kindly spirits.

You can contact them by saying Hi.

I went to see Spidey yesterday. I liked it. I don't know if it's "good" or whatever, but I enjoyed the love story and I discovered that this Tobey McGuire person is kind of sexy. I never expected that. Not one little bit. But he is. I am such a sucker for pretty boyish boys with big blue eyes and secret superhero lives.

It's important to be a superhero, don't you think?

There are lots of ways to be a superhero, and only you can figure out your way. And whatever it is, it'll probably be something no one could have imagined.

Right now, I am going to become a Housecleaning Superhero. They call me the Swiffer. Wet Swiffer, actually.

Have you tried the Wet Swiffer? Oh my gosh, it's delicious. It smells chemically sweet and fake and wonderful. It makes me want to be a better mother. To Tobey. You know, the dog. Now I think maybe Tobey was a good name for a whole reason.

He's added a few names recently. Now it's Sir Tobey Tyler Circus Boy Dreamweaver Spookytooth Belch the First.



Thursday, July 08, 2004

couple a things

First: Do you listen to AM news traffic radio in L.A. like I do? KFWB 980 in particular? Yeah? Then maybe, like me, you're starting to get all hinky feeling from all those "eharmony dotcom" commercials with this creepy man going, "lota happy couple out there tonight thanks to eharmony dot com." It's so creepy.

Also, is anyone else tired of getting all janky feeling from all those creepy "On Star" commercials with live calls from people in car crashes and stuff? Life is stressful enough; I don't need to hear the real-life sound of human terror in a radio commercial every ten minutes.

I did not yet see Fahrenheit 911 but my 4th of July was literally the best I ever had.

Talk about fireworks.

I live in a neighborhood of crazy Mexican dudes, and they really went for it. And we had a perfect view from my patio. It was the most professional non-professional fireworks show I've ever seen.

Fireworks, starbursts and sparklers are everywhere in my mind.