Sunday, August 29, 2004

the greek ideal

Body and Mind, together, all hot and shit.

And now: A Salute to my Olympic Heartthrobs!

Aaron Peirsol, swimming gold medalist!

Liu Xiang (left), golden hurdler, the first Chinese to win gold in track and field!

And Jordan Jovtchev, the Bulgarian Lord of the Rings!

I am sad, because the Olympics are over!

Aw, shucks!

During the closing ceremony, I was a puddly mess, moaning out loud repeatedly, it's so cool...

Could you believe the spiralling field of wheat representing infinity?

Could you believe it when that 10-year-old orphan girl leaned forward, blew a little puff of air, and the enormous Olympic torch went out?

Could you believe it when they did that special about the Olympics that were held in the Nazi prison camp during WWII? Could you believe the Nazis let them do it, and even saluted the Olympic flag?

Can you believe how cool people can be sometimes?

Here's to one of the best things about being human.

There was some really messed up stuff that went down with the judges, but the athletes were dreamy.

Thank you to all the athletes for being so beautiful.

And to Greece for kicking ass. I can really relate to a nation of perfectionistic procrastinators.

This was the best Olympics ever.




Thursday, August 26, 2004

a whole damn week


Wow, it's been a whole week. My dog, who closely resembles the dog on the right (but, somehow, looks even more dopey and befuddled), got lost on Saturday, and it was a big traumarama. I found him nine hours later but I could not bear to leave him alone and didn't go to Sunset Junction or anything.

He's the hormonal equivalent of a 14 year old boy right now and his natural yearnings are leading him to dig holes into other people's backyards. This is a big stress for me. We made an appointment today for him to get snipped.

I will not feel too sad about that, after all.

I partly have to blame Brendan Benson for this event.

You see, I was cleaning my house with righteous Saturday-morning energy, listening to his album "Lapalco," and did not even notice Toby's absence for a long time. Damn you, Brendan Benson!

Also, this week has been one of incredible nesting: basically, going through my entire house and throwing out and reorganizing everything. While watching the Olympics. If you know anything about my "lifestyle" and have ever seen my car, you know this has been a long time coming. It's not finished or anything, either. I mean, I still haven't alphabetized my CDs!

Needless to say, I have also been working on recording for Pop Vultures at the amazing studio down the street.

This is the funnest activity in the world with the exception of a couple things.

This week I recorded with the remarkable Zoe Rogers, 14, a DJ at Little Radio, and her cool dad, Ian.

Ian gave the studio cat a shoulder massage and sang the praises of Willie Nelson's positive melancholy. In short, he's a peach.

Now, I have to go again!



Friday, August 20, 2004


i am so fed up with britney right now i refuse to post a picture of her on my blog. but i did see the new people cover (or "us," or whatever the fuck) where she's posing with her thoroughly creepy BF and her little dog, and the headline is 'we're engaged!' i find it telling that she isn't touching the dude, but seems to be showing off the dog. the dog's getting all her love, really. you can see it. the dog's making her feel safe, the dog's got her heart, she trusts the dog; the dog knows the real girl.

this is the power of dogs.

i got to run.



Monday, August 16, 2004

spaceball ricochet

I know I am small, but I enjoy living anyway.

Went to the Dodger-Marlins game to see what would happen with LoDuca. The fans cheered for him like nuts every time, and even cheered when they brought out Mota. And tonight the Dodgers sucked. I knew they would as soon as we took out seats.

"The Dodgers will lose tonight. They don't have the heart to beat LoDuca."

And they didn't. How could they beat LoDuca, squatting there in the one place in the world he feels most at home?

LoDuca, who's hitting something like .415 now?

LoDuca, whom all the cynics and number-crunchers said was no good after the all-stars.

I don't have much hope for the Dodgers.

I do have hope for the fans, though. Not only did they know which players to cheer for, but during the "AOL Sessions" contest, they got to choose between hearing Sheryl Crowe, the Cure, and David Bowie, and they chose Bowie.

Let the people decide.

Now, poetry.

Thanks for this poem, Tony. (I do cry.)


by charles bukowski

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going

to let anybody see you.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale

cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders

and the grocery clerks

never know that

he's in there.

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him,

I say,

stay down, do you want to

mess me up?

you want to screw up the works?

you want to blow my book sales in Europe?

there's a bluebird in my heart that

wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out

at night


when everybody's asleep.

I say, I know that you're there,

so don't be sad.

then I put him back,

but he's singing a little

in there,

I haven't quite let him die

and we sleep together like that

with our

secret pact

and it's nice enough to

make a man weep,

but I don't weep,

do you?

Sunday, August 15, 2004

i heart search engines

some of the more original recent search words for visitors to my blog:

"keanu Reeves" Depressed

tell me how to use sally hansen suddenly nails

sullivan's livestock show equipment

"Gay Icon" + "Catwoman"

pie on geena davis's face

"where does bowling come from"

pictures of ghosts in Cheremoya Elementary

"dougie fresh" and scientology

kibitz "muddy waters"

african american masseuses in Los Angeles

hillary duff's feet

ukulele cords to honey baby

sleeping with leadies

the history and the person who discovered psychotherpy

pictures of asian millfoil

Saturday, August 14, 2004

meaningful results

Eskimo nebula 5,000 light years from Earth, photographed by Hubble space telescope.

Jan. 23 White House press briefing:

Reporter: But for the sake of clarity, could you please get us a fuller explanation of why Sean O'Keefe plans to end the Hubble program?

SCOTT McCLELLAN: The President wants to make sure that we're focusing our resources on clear missions and on programs that produce meaningful results.

star bear

hi kids.

the news is too awful today, isn't it?

my god.

ok, i have to go cuz i got nothing to say much.

keep your eyes on the stars.



Thursday, August 12, 2004

perfect thursday forever

Today is just such a perfect summer Thursday here in Los Angeles.

cool breeze, light clouds, sunlight

i hear chimes, even.

I have to go clean my whole house and rearrange my new desk area and wang chung the shit out of it.

wish i could write more about music today.



Sunday, August 08, 2004

it's ok

I feel a bit softer toward the foo fighters as i just found out the song "everlong" is apparently about doing drugs and stuff with kurt cobain.

it never felt ingenuous to me as a song about boy-girl romantic love; but i'll buy it as a sort of lament/tribute to rock/drugs love.

Friday, August 06, 2004

a note

Someone left a shlumpy comment about the previous post, to which I say:

Please read more carefully. When I say "some men," I mean some men; I do not mean "all men." And if I ever say "all men," I will mean "all men."

I wish some people read more carefully.

But then again, I wish everyone wore white slacks and lipstick, too.

I'm going to see the Dodgers tonight!



Thursday, August 05, 2004

yeah man

i sent paul loduca a thank-you card yesterday. i read an article where he's acting all tough-guy now, saying stuff like, i could care less about the dodgers; i just wanna kick their asses in two weeks...

it's funny how some men deal with stuff like rejection and grief. i mean, it's so transparent, so obvious he cares sooooo much. as he should.

but yes, he should be pissed, and he should want to kick their asses, and i hope he does.

it's funny how some men say the exact opposite of how they feel in the vain belief that people will buy it.

i used to think that people said how they feel. but they really don't. i don't know how we all get by without saying how we feel, but i know people who speak almost entirely in untruths--like this one girl who's a pathological liar. everything she says is truth turned inside out and slow-roasted on a spit in the fire of self-hatred. she's incredibly articulate---inside an upside-down world of insanity.

or this other guy i used to know who wasn't a liar per se, but who had sort of hand-built this gerry-rigged persona from his own bones and blood and shards of painful memory. he wore this identity much like a gorilla suit to hide and protect himself from the world, but i suspect it got awful stuffy in there.

but that's got nothing to do with paul loduca.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004


I wrote this before but didn't post it till now 'cuz of the whole Pamela thing.

I'm still terribly upset about it. I actually cried.


Saturday July 31

I can't handle it. I can't handle it. We had such a good thing going. We had "It"--the thing that turns mere work into an act of love; that makes success probable, and failure bearable--we had style, we had glamour and fun; we had honesty; we had chemistry.

Now, I just don't know what. The Dodgers' bosses took a gorgeous, weird, number-one team, a team of friends who really knew and respected each other, a team anchored by a brilliant catcher, who also happened to be an ace hitter, and they decided the team would be better off losing its single most important player. Its core. Sure, Gagne's a rock star, but he stands on LoDuca's shoulders. And LoDuca isn't only brilliant; he loves Los Angeles.

I don't know shit about baseball whatsoever; I didn't even know that they traded players in the middle of the season. What the fuck is up with that? That's like dumping your girlfriend in the middle of summer or right before Christmas: It's out-of-sync with the rhythms of nature. You dump your loser jerk boyfriend or girlfriend between New Year's and June.

And if your boyfriend or girlfriend is a totally kickass genius team-player who helps you to be more happy and fun and successful, you don't dump them. You marry them. And you ride out the ups and downs of the season together.

I sound like a female Tony Pierce; it's so weird. I don't mean to.

This is from the Dodgers' official corporate website, so I can only imagine how outraged everyone must actually be:

"The trade rocked the clubhouse, where the Dodgers have credited their close-knit chemistry as one factor in their success.

'There's a lot of sad faces in here,' said veteran Jose Lima. 'I don't want to create a war, but breaking up a first-place team, wow, that's something. We accomplished this together. We overcame adversity, people not believing in us. I don't make the decisions.'

Shawn Green agreed.

'Right now, it's hard to fathom,' he said."

I didn't used to like LoDuca because I thought he was just a cocky dope. But I came to understand that he's salt of the earth: He's the guy you want as your older brother; and even if he were your little brother, he'd live like your older brother. He's Johnny on the spot, with a good heart.

"Paul Lo Duca cried and talked openly about the pain of leaving the only organization he has ever known. 'I always dreamed about being a Dodger for my whole life, having a 20-year career, but I guess it didn't happen. It's tough, so many friends I've made along the way. The fans in L.A., they treated me so well. It's tough.'"

I predict after they fire Jim Tracy, Paul LoDuca will be back.

That's who they really should have traded. Traded him for a funny monkey with a tiny organ that plays "She Bangs."

Sugar, Sugar

I just found this snippet of a 1973 conversation recorded by Lester Bangs, who is my own personal George Orwell. (George Orwell is ... uh... my own personal George Martin. Who is my own personal Jesus.)

Lester Bangs was probably drunk, and his subject certainly was, and there's a good chance this was written down later, from memory. However, I have total faith in his memory for such things, drunk or not.

Bangs: (Sort of baiting him) Hey Lou, doncha think Bowie's a no-talent asshole?

Lou Reed: No! he's a genius! He's brilliant!

Bangs: Aah, c'mon, what about all that outer "Space Oddity" shit? That's just Paul Kantner garbage!

Reed: It is not! It's a brilliant masterpiece! Oh, you are so full of shit!

Bangs: It was dogshit. Why don't you get off all this crap and just try being banal for a change? Why doncha write a song like "Sugar, Sugar"? That'd be something worthwhile!

Reed: I don't know how. I would if I could. ... I wish I'd written it...

Finally I know what I already knew. I already knew it, I tell you. I already knew.

Sunday, August 01, 2004

Yes, You Can!

Ahoy Maties. Remember how I wrote about interviewing Pamela Anderson and David LaChapelle? It must have been a slow gossip week, because the NY Post ran an excerpt from my blog on Page Six, but misspelled LaChapelle's name and bleeped out the profanities--which made the story considerably less fun.

In any case, I feel obliged to clarify, the interview was for Black Book Magazine.

(It freaks me out: The NY Post didn't try to verify any of that information--at least not with me. I could have totally made it all up. Isn't that terrifying?)

Now, speaking of fun and profanity, commenter Kristy raises an Important Question.

She writes, "I got wind of your radio program (Pop Vultures) and thought it was great. Is there something I can do to try and get my local public radio to subscribe since I am a member?"

Yes, Kristy, there is!

By the way, for any new friends, Pop Vultures is a weekly radio show wherein music geeks in Hollywood, New York City, Chicago, St. Louis, the Twin Cities and beyond get together--over the phone or in-studio--to argue about pop music and everything else--and play the records we're debating. A discussion of Outkast leads us inevitably to T. Rex and, somehow, "Snoopy Vs. The Red Baron." Similarly, talk of the Neptunes brings up Jerry Lee Lewis, Run-DMC and Tommy James and the Shondells.

I definitely don't want to be all braggy and crap, but some types of people are saying Pop Vultures is the first NPR show since This American Life to have a unique sound. Actually this one dude from the NY Times Magazine said it's the descendant of This American Life, in part because it sounds nothing like This American Life.

To me, it's kind of like how Quiet Riot descended from Mott the Hoople, but sound nothing like them.

Or, maybe, how peanut butter was conceptually derived from butter, but tastes nothing like it. Or...

Bang your head!

Curiously, the show was conceived by Garrison Keillor and is produced by his radio company and distributed by Minnesota Public Radio. I am the host, writer, and coproducer.

Here's a cool article where people talk about the show.

But ANYWAY. Kristy brings up an interesting issue.

Because our show is unique, some stations need a little encouragement to open their minds to our crazy new-fangled sound. So, Kristy, and anyone else, here's what you do. Email the program director or general mailbag at your local NPR affiliate.

NPR has a station finder to help you locate your local station's website.

We're already on in several great American cities and numerous funky small towns--and will be on XM satellite radio beginning in September. We're especially eager to find homes in New York, Boston, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Detroit.

Classical and news stations are probably not interested.

If you need any advice on what to say, remember, it doesn't hurt to mention your subscription! Or, you could say, "Gee, I'd gladly subscribe to KCRW---if you aired Pop Vultures."

KCRW is a lost cause, but it wouldn't hurt to let 'em know what's up!

And, a final note: We're deep into production on our new season and it's so exciting, with crazy music---the episode we just finished features Fantasia Barrino, the Stooges, Mozart, Herman's Hermits, Benny Goodman and "Plastic Ono Band," among others. Plus, we've got several new Vultures in the house from different parts of the country and different generations.

These will become available in the fall.

The old episodes up on the website are so last year.