Saturday, December 22, 2001
thursday - theater, lord of the rings and vanilla sky, didn't end up going out on thursday to ann arbor. just hung low at dave's place. rented a car in anticipation of going to ann arbor the following day but circumstances prevented such an action. leather seats, movie shut down, all you can eat food, vanilla sky...cellphone, trippy
damn you all to hell!
yesterday mostly spent sitting in front of the damn computer. fuck.
last night.. royal oak brewery, detroit to steve's going 90 listening to digweed, then hung for a bit before hitting the scene at some party and hung out with shades and tamara, jemele hill..damn she was cool. damn damn. met this dude from the houston chronicle, eminem shades is doing that, then hit cpop but it was over, then went to majestic and had a fine time hanging in the ultra-cool rock scene.
i spyed Stephanie, along with that girl from outrageous cherry, nice. and the so so hip white stripes were there. neato.
met up with slumber party chick, susie from cpop, outrageous cherry girl, all the hipsters in the place
late night love, jazz club with fish,

Thursday, December 20, 2001

follow up-
getting off the plane
subsequent conversation with sandy from carlsbad, ann arbor
her mp3 player, cds. she was an odd one. alrighty. too talkative for safety.
meeting dave, hanging together
getting the luggage, finding my ruined luggage, dave's comments, us standing, my shirt ruined, offered new luggage after 10 minutes, we take it, transfer, woman who yelled to us...bitch. fucked up so much. she stunk.
the gaudy 3-d star down the street - red white and blue for your pleasure; the super lighted unbelievable house was too too much.
the chillspace at the domicle last night.
fell asleep after while.
woke up at 10.
did email shit for like 3 hours
finally hit royal oak. ultra dead walking to there crazy. went the wrong way of course.
went right way. people don't walk here. decision is made to get car rental.
made it to royal oak. interviewed by people about christmas video. song..god rest, no singing. change in xmas this year mor subdued, patriotism. fave gift..stereo when 12.
hit starbucks armed with card. big confusion 6.47. they held up line while they talked about it. dumb.
went to vintage stores. not a whole lot there. yucko. incognito el stinko. then hit bagel place. they weren't down with me having starbucks in there. walked back.
just missed rain.
hanging low here. chill.
hair goo, rental car, hit dave's tehater. cool on the projector tip.dave has nice house too.
kids playing at school. comforting.
tis all good.
seeing movies today. yay.
kazaa rules. changed dave's yahoo.
and here we are.
add deja vu at 26 mix the other night. i know i knew about that. the matrix?

good golly folks, i feel just so gosh darn awful about leaving you, my poor readers behind. my lord, i'm so overwhelmed, glory be.
appropriately enough, it's 4:20 as i begin writing this. i've been in Michigan exactly one day and oh my, so much to say, so much to saaay.
whooo, dogee.
but first, i figure it be best to kick things off with the some of the stuff i wrote on da plane, da plane, yesterday,, and begin from there. coo?
yepp yep.
oh joy, we gonna have some tales to tell!

3:47 pm, Phoenix, Tuesday, December 18
On the plane at the moment, I'm being treated to the lovely sounds of Placido Domingo, Tony Bennett, Charlotte Church and Vanessa Williams. Oh joy of joys. They're singing Christmas music. What the hell? or should i say, what the heaven? better yet, why?

this morning, i didn't even leave the damn house till 9 frickin 40! and i was supposed to be on the 9:10 am train, meaning i would have had to leave at like 8:50...see i had to walk to the damn BART six long blocks away with ALL my luggage. yeah, so i got a lotta shit. fuck it. it sucked. make no mistake. so i rode the damn thing all the way down to balboa park, where i had never been. i hobbled along with my luggage (consisting of me long duffle bag on wheels, small pliable suitcase, laptop computer, and backpack).. people were giving me the crookeye.
finally, i made it to Colma, where most of San Francisco's dead are buried (i bet you didn't know that!). yep.
hopped on a bus and made it to SFO. yay for me!
no problemo getting me ticket, however..the long line for security was horrifying. the gentlemen behind me talked of gardening and hoeing. yay. they also talked about the tiny woman outfitted in fatigues who walked past us carrying what they claimed to be an m-16. like i can distinguish. pshaw.
and Hee Haw as well.
but never grandpa on hee haw. i wanted to fight him.

thank god i flew on a less busy day. going this weekend will be terrible!!
as usual, i made it through with flying colors.
and frankly, why shouldn't i? after all i'm a responsible and forthright citizen.
why, i'd made a citizen's arrest if i had to! yes ma'am. Yay for that.
though some might just opt for some crotch action and bypass the security guards copping a feel to make sure you're not a terrorist to ensure happiness and longevity.

after spending way too much money on a beverage and other nonessential food items at the airport, we took off with east and on time. i was like, whoa, and shit like joey lawrence, who's dead.
ok not six feet under, but he should be!

There was the girl next to me before who looked just like a girl I knew from MSU that I liked for about a minute back in the day. She's on the Detroit flight too, which is weird. I should have asked her but too late.

Then of course there was the brief discussion among our little circle of passengers (us aisle people were so cool) about the time here in Arizona. I had to pipe in and let them know that Arizona doesn't have daylight savings time, therefore it would make it an hour difference from California for the half of the year.
Of course, the girl in front of me insisted that, because her phone said it was 2:30 California time. Idiot. This, despite the fact that the captain (who is like a god and really does know all) had already announced that the flight was going to take an hour and half (we left at noon) and that it was 2:30 phoenix time. pigs.

My nemesis was one of those peeps who insists that they are always right, so I didn't bother to say a word or anything. No sense in riling up peeps. i especially loved it when she leans over to her cohort within my earshot to let her know that she's right because of what her cellphone says.

So in my brief time here in Phoenix, I was able to catch a glimpse of the city from a distance, as I walked from one terminal to another. looked sorta cool from an interesting point of view.

Turds are everywhere here in Phoenix. me mate Mr. Rolls told me to take a hard look at the peeps walking around and get a glimpse of what the scene is all about. He was right.
turdville indeed.
It's like a slightly more multi-cultural Midwest (more Latinos, especially) I'm being treated to that one snatch, the blond who married the country singer Trace Adkins.
Faith Hill, I believe. Oh god. Nasty.
Did I mention they're showing this on video too? Jesus. Enough with the "Christmas is here" crap...---oh, My god, it just got wayyyy worse. She just started yelping and yelling. Ouch.

There's a lot of younger peeps on this here plane. Strange. Yep. all heading to detroit Now there's this really loud moaning sound coming from below my feet. maybe it's grinding the gears of the plane together. the girl next to me just mentioned that it was one of the worst sounds she'd ever heard. interesting. and don't get any ideas about that comment tough guy.

Oh my, now it's Luciano Pavoretti singing "White Christmas." Very interesting. It's the Christmas marathon apparently on ol America West TV.

Anyway, back to what I was saying... Phoenix is messed up. I wish I had a bit more time here to survey the scene. But I do not. What to do.

So fucked I gotta work on, get six stories and related nonsense. craziness, that is for sure monsignor.

I'm feeling like I'm getting sick or some shit too. Damn. What the hell.
Ok, gotta discontinue the use of electronic devices.
So here I go yo.
Fat fat fat.
Suck suck suck... 4:02...we are supposed to be leaving now. Dammit!! Sex sex sex.

4:46 pm MT time, whatever that means considering I'm in the air and going to change time zones. Yes yes.
I just remembered that I wanted a flask for Christmas. Ma'am.

I have my earplugs in while listening to my CD that I made for Mikey. Something do with Porpoise Spit, which was a fictional city (I'm assuming it was fictional) in Australia, from that film "Muriel's Wedding."

Ohhh yeah, grooving out at 30,000 feet with Layo & Buschwacka kicking it very live.

What have I gotten myself into? Now I have a shitload to do. And how am I going to do it all? I forgot I also have to write up my story ideas for an unnamed publication, which I can do on the plane here. Luckily, I demanded the aisle seat, which usually means that you're slightly less likely to get turd sitting next to you in the middle. However, on my return flight home, from Detroit to Phoenix, I have to sit in the middle. Which sucks royal ass. Damn damn damn. Hopefully, I'll be able to overcome. Because I can overcome.

OK, I cannot even believe I'm saying this but I'm starting to feel sick. Fucking A. The worse part of it is that I just said last night "I haven't been sick all year!" Yeah, yeah, I'm a chump. What can I say? I've been feeling hot all day, with a nagging headache and achy body all over.

Something just happened upon which I must comment (and we all know how much I like to comment about things!). This youngish girl next to me, who is from Ann Arbor and now lives in Carlsbad, which is near San Diego apparently (she told me, ok?) just sneezed and I didn't say God Bless You.

Here's the thing: I have a problem saying "God Bless You" for people when they sneeze. Sometimes there's this weird uncomfortable silence when I'm around people that sneeze and I don't say anything in return. But I don't care. It's the principle of the whole thing. Why indulge in some old school practice that's rooted in folklore? It makes absolutely no sense.

And people often say "thank you" afterward, as if the sneeze - if unrequited - will allow the evil spirits to take hold on our unsuspecting victim. Fuck that, I just don't buy it.

Plus there's the whole God issue. At this point in my life, I can't say whether or not a "God" actually exists, though I acknowledge some sort of higher power beyond what the paltry human mind can comprehend. If that's God, Satan or, the most likely, some other form of knowledgeable being, I seriously doubt they're going to be concerned about whether or not the sneeze will allow evil spirits in.

Adhering to the God Bless You mantra is comparable to subscribing to medical standards of the 19th century, and we all know how smart we were then. Bloodletting with leaches and flaying anyone? (Ok, maybe those weren't standard medical practices in the 19th century precisely, but you get my point, right?).
Yes, I do have a problem with God Bless You. Yes, I understand it's not something to get that worked up about. But hey, we've all got some shit to deal with in our own fucked up heads no don't we?

Fuck, I'm really starting to feel like shit. And it sucks. Dammit all to hell. More achy. Maybe I was getting a cold or something, after all. Hard to say.

Quite a week I just had. Damn. Hence, the reasoning for the lack of PaperSpray. Ya see folks, I have been mighty busy doing my duty as a responsible cultured citizen of the Bay Area. What did I do, pray tell? Well, sit right back and let me tell you what's up. How appropriate that, right now, I'm listening to the silky smooth sounds of Derrick May's Rhythim is Rhythim (purposely misspelled). On my way to Detroit Rock City.

I interrupt this thought process to digress: The movie being shown on the plane right now is none other than "Home Alone." Well, since everybody's seen this fine film, I'll spare the details on plot synopsis and such. But as you may or may not recall, Little McCauley Culkin (i.e. "Kevin") is stranded at home during Christmas by his family as they hurriedly rush off to Paris. Well, the old man that Kevin helps, the dude in the church who misses his family and all that, is the same guy that I was trying to figure out who he was when I worked at Whole Foods in Berkeley. He was waiting in line and I really wanted to talk to him. Dammit, I wish I would have now. Still, very interesting. I don't know the dude's name, but I definitely recognize him. And as if on cue, the old man shows up with the shovel and knocks the two robbers over the head. Nice.

if one of my dear dear readers could look up this man and find out his story, well, i would be oh so very grateful to you and yours. yes, i would. mamie.

ok, even deeper digression. let's backtrack, shall we?
here's a quick rundown to sum up what the fuck i've been doing of late to warrant such a horrifying interruption in PaperSpray services. these are notes i wrote on monday to toss into this here blog:

Monday, 12-17
i left work early today from B of A, after i showed off the spiffy new database for them. they seemed pleased. my exec pal Leslie even gave me a $5 gift certificate to Starbucks (in her defense, she just knows i like coffee, so the gesture was all good. besides, it's free coffee!). if nothing else, good karma. and even better, good reference. i'm always thinking bobo.

i left work at 2 with no lunch, got a call from a friend in the midwest as i was going to meet my good pal Bri downtown to trade cd-r's for each other. we're good like that.

then i ran into i ran into an old pal playing a saxophone on Market and Montgomery, near the BART station. this dude Noah was also laid off and told me he was working three days a week, doing a live jazz club gig the 2nd and 4th fridays of the month at the cellar. And playing on his free days to make ends meet. these times ain't easy friends.
Taking what they giving cause I�m working for a living.
then, i had to hit the doctor scene for an appointment. i won't got into the dirt on that. no sense in stirring up fresh egg batter.

finally, i made it home to start packing. but first, food.

Today�s dilemma:
Herb & Butter or Parmesano Pasta Roni for supper.
i choose herb & butter.

- That guy that goes like 100 mph in his souped-up green chevy nova roaring down our street each day. I�m waiting for him to either: kill someone; kill an animal; kill himself.
- Pouring rain this morning.
- The fact that Happy doesn�t turn the shower nozzle off after showering.
- Cat pee really fucking stinks
- Thank you loss of hearing in left ear. what the fuck?

- new kitty litter
- defrosting the extra fridge downstairs
- Amelie�s upper lip
- Amelie�s hair
- Amelie�s overall cuteness in general
- The Kitty laying on my arm while I type.
- The Kitty licking my right hand. The Kitty purring
- Working at B of A today. Yay. Money money money.

i Need money back from San Jose. i'm Leaving tomorrow. i got Cds to burn too.

Didn�t sleep that much last night. Didn�t matter all that much, oddly enough. I�m not tired at all.
Need to wash my clothes. And write two cd reviews. My bills needs to get paid yo. and how about that photo to winona love.

Sunday (12.16) was a day of rest, considering I needed a lot of rest. Slept till noon. Stayed at home all damn day, yo. Making cd-r�s for the masses. a lot of cd burning, a lot of computer finagling, storywriting, story preparing, pitch writing, kitty loving and jump roping. did i leave the house? not.

Saturday (12.15) - "Went to a party last Saturday night. Didn't get laid, got into a fight." Don't know what the fuck made me think of Lita Ford. But I did. Hmmm. What the hell is wrong with me? Funny thing is it reminds me of the time I won tickets on the radio to see ol' Lita in Kalamazoo's State Theatre. Yes indeed.
we Picked up the painting tina b bought (it's awesome) and got litter and food for the kitties. Yo.

Ms. P's going away party at 26Mix. Party with Ms. P before she hits the road to Singapore for nine months. Hanging with all the BM peeps. Damn. I�ll miss that little minx. Good times had by all. Lovely lovely.
Hit the party scene with M but all that got us was lost looking for the pseudo-fictional party at 27th and castro, which never really materialized. other parties included the Coles st gathering, invited by Michael from the Ted party on Tuesday.
and the Hayes/Baker cokefest, which we missed. got home at 3:30 a.m.

Friday (12.14) - Hanging with Bri eating with Tina b for the first time during the nighttime at Axum, the Eithiopian restaurant. Then hit the Zim Zum Caf� on Haight for some fine cocktails (I�m down with the White Russian and, my latest fave, Citron and Seven�yep!! I�m hip to the Malibu Rum scene too).

After that, it was back on home to Sweet Home Alabama for pranks, laughs and fudge. Everyone loves fudge. Don't you?

Thursday (12.13) - Zero 7 at Bimbo's 365 Club in SF. Zero 7 show was fucking amazing!! Oh my god!! Totally awesome
and more. Gotta love America! 11 people on tour with them. Insane in the membrane.
Damn yo. Damn.

Wednesday (12.12) - DJ�ed at Fuse in North beach. Very cool scene. Did the East Bay Express/SF Weekly party right before at Sno-Drift. Nice. Picked up Brolin and shit. Brought his ass down. Met Charlie Amter, Dan Strachota and related folk. DJ gig went swell. Poor Tina B got rained on with a beverage. Shouldn�t have done the second spin go-round. not as good. Met a guy named Brent from Little Rock Arkansas who�s Asian. I love the Bay Area.

I need to wash my sweatshirt

Hitting the Mad Dog in The Fog scene for the first time. Striking. Yes yes. Beta Band. Crumpets without tea for the first
time. I lived so large.
Party that night was extra special and so damn good. Ted�s party was a blast and a half. Whoo, met lots of great people.
Including dj mermaid. And many many more. And how about that Nurse chick? Damn straight. And she even shaved her pubic hair in the shape of a cross. I love her already.

I also worked at Bluetooth Convention from Saturday to Thursday, though I didn�t actually work Saturday, even though I got up that the asscrack of dawn, dammit it all to hell! Worked with Angel and Mike from Boston. Learned how to say �beehs� instead of �beers� and �cods� instead of �cards.� I love Boston.

I liked the girl who told us her life story (Linda?), growing up in Utah as a non-mormom, she made $100,000 on her house, lessee..flunked out of school or not really�academic probation.
Bad girl. She needs to get laid. Those tech people are fucked.
Of course, there was also oddly odd asian girl. Her name was Velma. she liked to talk on the walkie-talkie.

and that be it on my end.

now you up to date and shit.
yeah. awww yeah.
more more more.
coming soon.
the actual tale of being in michi!!!
see, it was like a prequel and shit.
you know how we do.

eat crabcake grunion foam

your antler,

Cankerrr Lacka

Wednesday, December 12, 2001

i regret that i have been unable to update the blog as i have been quite busy with assorted tomfoolery. i really want to update it and hope i'll have time tonight to do so. i have to spin from 9-11 at Fuse in north beach. before that, i'm hitting the east bay express/sf weekly christmas party at sno-drift.
so fun and excitement awaits the needy and others who aren't so needy.

last night was a rip-roaring good time at mr. Ted's tuesday soiree, just in time for the holidays. a fine event it was, with good conversation, good drinks and fine inhalation had by all. indeed, it was something to be proud of. yahoo. mr. Ted dressed up in his finest Santa outfit. the quote of the night was "Wait 'til you see me with my ass in place!" unfortunately, he didn't don said pillow in ass while we were there. damn!

also last night was the first time i was ever in Mad Dog in The Fog on lower Haight to snag some food before the partee.
it was quite inviting. they were playing beta band. we enjoyed it. i'd go back.
so much more to talk about, like the near-fight we saw on Market.
the haircut woman. but...that will have to wait until another day.
goodbye to you.
eat uncooked pancakes.
love, chub

Tuesday, December 11, 2001

Haircut 100, a moving eyebrow and Pablo Cruise

i got my haircut yesterday. yessir, i did.
you should have seen me. if you would have been there, you would have been shocked, moved and amazed.
I believe it.

Grandma junction was around today and didn't do anything but push me around. she deserves the maximum treatment.

there's a lot of coverage in these parts about ol' johnny walker. why, just last night as i was getting my ears lowered, the barbers were commenting about Johnny Walker Red and having a good yuk or too.

They call me yukmouth, cause i don't brush. oh i like my teeth like this.

Monday, December 10, 2001

ok, this is too bizarre. i have this weird knack being able to tell when people are going to email and/or call me. actually, it's not all the time and it's not just email and phone, but also running into people, finding things i haven't thought about in ages, and other seemingly random events.
my latest is i was just sitting here thinking that I hadn't heard back from this magazine I sent a long list of pitches to last week.
i had just fired off an email to a friend and went back to check my email, there sat an email from said editor. very bizarre.
i definitely know most people would say "oh that's just a coincidence." agreed. but those strange coincidences happen to me frequently, as many as 3-5 a week. all the time.
so i know it's not just some random thing.
i've am often calling people that are calling me at the same time, usually randomly.
gotta go, but so much more to talk about. so much so much so much.
beeee goood.
eat no cake

Saturday, December 08, 2001


ok, so i get up extra early for this temp job this morning, stroll on into the ol' moscone center north for some sort of computer supply type jobby and nobody knows what the hell i'm talking about.
one of the security guards was like "they ain't set it up yet. they ain't set it up." or other helpful advice such as "you got the wrong information buster" and "try one of those rooms," pointing to about 50 of them. thanks.
of course, the agency got it wrong. moscone SOUTH. yeah. sheeeit.
so i just got paid for the last four hours for doing, well, sitting on my computer and deleting old email files, listening to a couple CDs (including Four Tet!!! Yes, it's my favorite cd at the moment. but damn, it's too short. i weep).
anyway, i'm about to get up outta dis piece, yo. back to tha bart, yeah.
fun fun fun at the moscone center for me.
i love the things we do for love and money!

buck up little children.
eat mango chards.
your comrade,
T.S. Rakish

Friday, December 07, 2001

a good bludgeoning

i do declare, things are a lot different today. hey.
right and so forth, we must go forward with disarmament if we are to be taken seriously.
so sayeth the shepherd.
so sayeth the flock.

the phone is ringing.
somebody answer the damn thing.
somebody might no answer the damn thing.

Thursday night in SF was spent doing time at the Bottom Of The Hill, hanging with the oddball boys in Anti-Pop Consortium.
They are a strange lot, quite, but are also a good deal of fun, that.
Yes yes, enjoyable they are, but so much more.
Reading the room like you knew they would (even though I didn't know) and giving the audience a show unlike few others.
Octavius opened up and they were very atmospheric, yes. I dug some, in varying degrees. they were more on the noisy end of things, with elements of hip-hop and stuff.

No more mosquitoes.

Four Tet was so good. the album is so good. i am so good. you are so good.
everyone is not so good.
but we are all good together.

Stop ringing. That thing has got to stop ringing.

This is what is called random thought syndrome.
You are sharing in the bath. Immerse yourself into tranquility.

Base. or Bass. or bass, the fish. or Lance Bass, the twit.
There are many uses for you to enjoy.
Say them loudly and proudly.

A fortnight ago, I was unsure about things.
Today, I am more unsure than before.
Lo, I know.

At the twilight's last gleaming.

Puncture me with words.
Stab me with liquid.
Flatten me with pooridge.

Do you have any more cream?

I'm not bunk, you are.
Give me more apple pie.

Eat fennel milk.

Buffer tone for you,

Bun E. Carlolita

Thursday, December 06, 2001

Basic Pattern Control - Simple Simon mix

Belittle the earnest works of your brothers-in-law
Embrace yourself

Lack of saliva makes me nervous.
Only half a cup? Don't you like my coffee?

It's like a jungle sometimes.

Someone somewhere will die a peaceful death today.
And someone will die a violent death.
Will I be one of those people?
I hope not.
Though I wouldn't have to worry about my bills anymore.

Cheap perfume smells better on expensive kites.

At least I have a camel. You don't. That makes me better than you.

I�m unsure as to whether or not this is what you want me to see or some cruel wicked game you're playing on me. Don�t forget to blow your nose today. - Chris Isaak

My god, it's full of stars. - crunchy mcfeeno

I was in a deep house mood yesterday. I wonder if the rain has anything to do with that.
On Monday, I was in a banging techno mood.
Tuesday...ambient (I saw 2001 last night at the Castro...whoa, that is slooooowwww. but amazing too).
Today I�m in breakbeat IDM mode.
Maybe I should start planning my days according to what my musical mood is.

Mos def is playing at the justice league in SF for a mere $75 on New Year�s Eve. Damn. Insane.

I've readjusted my thinking about white bread. I was taking it too literally, the sticker that said, "white bread sucks," apparently. On the other hand, I really do like enriched white bread. However, I understand that white bread does indeed suck juice.

For some reason, I just thought of a story I was told by the manager at the defunct reptile house club in Grand Rapids. Monster magnet played there and after they were done, the manager went back to talk to them and there was the lead singer having sex with some girl propped up against the wall, not even 2 minutes after they were finished playing. That image of the greasy lead singer from monster magnet fucking some random groupie in this dirt-ass place makes me laugh. God, the reptile house. That place needs to be frozen in time as a time capsule of the early 90s music scene. I saw some incredible bands there.

Slab of misconduct awaits you.

Sometimes urination is annoying. I need a catheter. Or maybe a speculum.

Cappadonna fucked me over one too many times yesterday. He�s going down.

Areola fever is sweeping the nation. Get yours in red white and blue today and show your true patriotism.

I am not a clunker oven.

Gil Scott heron will no longer be broadcast on the radio. The past will be broken.

I like some songs more than others.

Nature can be rewarding.

Grass is good.

Excellent choice, Jose. I expect a full report on my desk Monday morning.
If that means you have to lock up the kids, leave the wife, starve the dog, and avoid all aspects of general responsibility as a human being, so be it. I expect the work to be done. Or you're out on your ass. Do I make myself clear?
That's right, I�ll need 100,000 words on my desk before I get in to work. And I get up damn early on Mondays, due to my wife's condition and all.
Her condition makes things difficult. You understand.
Good. I'm glad that's settled.
Now let's get to work.

Patience, young man. For tomorrow, we fight on a different day of the week than today.

Everything comes out in the wash, unless you're Martha Wash.

I really do miss Tom T. Hall.

I've never had a bun in the oven. I prefer toaster oven or microwave.

Liz Phair is my lovechild from a previous life.

That bloke is deaf.

Steve Clarke is dead.

Lamination is an important part of this nutritious breakfast.

Shower cap me with savings, salary man, before I get wet.

My ducks have never been in a row. I got into a row with the ducks instead.

Wordiness is the key component to anything we might discuss.

Leather jackets aren't made in my house.

I like orange peel juice better than John's show on the BBC.

The Bricks in my House aren't as good as the Commodores' bedpan collection.

Place your feelings on the floor, count to four, pick up sticks, round up Stevie Nicks, rotate and turn, let your body learn, Nitzer Ebb is no more, get up and open the door.

Cranial surgery can be fun.

Early morning feels better than young afternoon. Not really.

Tangible items available for less today.

Do you want more cheese?

Black items can be useful for some events.

Toads live longer than frogs. It's true because I said so.

Be careful out there. It's a tough world, little monkey.

Brought to you by "M.H.A.C., Inc." (My Hands Are Cold, Inc)
more things to give to charity, the homeless and the better business bureau campaign to save sheep

top phrases have to be thrown up soon too.
how soon is now?

1. what up chopper.
2. how YOU doin?
3. hey charmer. fuck you.
4. tad, you've got to take off those pajamas. they smell of urine cakes.
5. i'm digging that shit.
6. pants are for pussies.
7. c'mere or i'll smack ya.
8. fire it up
9. i stink.
10. jesus kee-rist in hell.

please do not post these wherever fruit cake, warm ham or supple chimp soup is sold.
we don't support those items.

thanks for your beneficiary money.
it'll come in handy for my wedway people mover remover plan.

eat popple juice

tormentingly yours,

Concave-ass antonym boy
Elementary Soup Kitchen

damn that dj made my day.
you know, i've never actually said that in all seriousness.
so i guess what i'm saying is that goddamn, a dj never truly made my day!
2:24 in the A.M. on a Thursday morn, cold and yep, still rainy. actually, more of a light drizzle that's been virtually nonstop for the past couple days. damn, the rain gets old.
i wuz just sayin' to ms. tina b, "yo, ms. tina b. i could, like, never live in, like, fucking seattle or portland or some shit like that. cuz, look here now, it's been raining something silly the last few weeks and it's driving my shit wacko! damn!"
"that shit is wack, yo.," ms. tina b. replied. "now go get me my cotton balls and fishnets."

actually, ms. tina b. didn't really say that shit about the cheese nips.
or was it something else?

something something "sometimes, when i think i'm going under.." damn, it's this early 80s song stuck in my mind that i heard at dj food show tonight at justice league in SF. �I think my something sometimes because I think I�m going under� with that fluttery synth rainbow. I keep thinking it�s grandmaster flash but maybe I�m thinking of �white lines.� Who knows? I gotta find out like pronto.

Tha dj food/four tet/bonobo show was pretty damn good, I must say. It was, how do you say, enjoyable? Yes. Indeed. Tis special night.
To be honest, I think I dug Four Tet the best, which is kind of strange considering I didn�t know much about Four Tet until today.
But ah, so much has changed now, hasn�t it?
FT is done by this very intense looking dude with unruly pseudo-afro hair kicking it as he meandered through a splattering of beats, cut-up guitars, tight break samples, weird hip-hop elements, flat tonal sub bass rippling through your testicles, old school soul, funk, electro and anything else you wanna toss in.

But what was even more intense was the super-fired up cat with the even bigger afro. he got seriously out of control.
He was falling into people, including me. Yelling, getting into people's faces, throwing his arms around wildly, going fucking nuts.
He told Dj Food at the conclusion of the show that they could have done better and that they sucked and told them so.
They were good...a bit too much on the '80s thing from time to time but a whole lot of fun.
and a whole lotta rosie.
just like lotta from harvey comics.
little lotta to be precise.

even though lotta was not little.

so i gotta find out about Uncle Charlie.

longer letter later

true love always

eat mule skin at some point

embrace yourself

Buttercake Mattle

Monday, December 03, 2001

Plastic Bubble For Kicks

i would like people to start calling me Vicar. I think it suits me.

I have been calling other people Chopper lately. I think it suits them.

There's a man outside on Market St. selling lighted yo-yos. He is selling them via a movable cart, which also includes a small radio from which he is blasting Willie Nelson tunes and other familiar favorites. He is a fine man.

I was told by one homeless man, who sits next to a sign that says "homeless? my ass! I just wanna get high!" (which, by the way, I don't think is a good sign to have even if it is true, especially now during the holidays), that I was going for the "Andy Warhol look." Hmmmm, while my hair is certainly blond and it's a bit longer than usual, mainly due to my inability to actually make it to a barber of late, i don't think it looks much like Andy Warhol. But then again, he could have said something much worse, like "you look like barbara striesand" or "you remind me of jim nabors." see, life is good.

gotta go finish my resume for shit.

more commentating later. back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now.

eat soiled crabcakes

love yourself first! love Don Johnson later.

Jack Colorado

Sunday, December 02, 2001


Did anyone hear that Melanie Thornton, the lead vocalist of the dance duo La Bouche, was killed November 24? Yes, with all this craziness surrounding some war we're fighting, the dozens dead in the latest suicide bombings in Israel, the death of George Harrison (who played in some band called the Beatles??), this important news development was grossly underreported.
I am devastated now, and don't know if I can continue on with PaperSpray.
But persevere, I shall, for I am strong in the land of the Apes.
Make no mistake, I will prevail.

Young Melanie was just 34 when her plane crashed, along with 23 other people, in Switzerland. Some people have been insisting that it was Swaziland, but I guarantee, no Swaziland plane crashes have been reported, so this must have been correct. She sang that song "Be My Lover."

Actually, another recent death, also grossly underreported. Actress Charlotte Coleman, who played Hugh Grant�s red-haired roommate in Four Weddings And A Funeral, died of an asthma attack in London November 14. To be honest, I don�t recall any other films in which Ms. Coleman was in, but I�m sure they were damn good.

I tell you what.

George Harrison dying has been an odd thing, in that it didn�t get as big of coverage as I thought it would have. Not to say that it hasn�t. Shit, there was an hour special on CNN People, so you just know there�ll be a cover story on ol� George. I dunno. I guess I sort of believed all those articles in the past few years in which his spokesperson denied he was �dying� and going through all these different tests and shit.

Or at least, I had no idea his condition was as bad as it was. After he was stabbed in his own apartment and survived, I thought he would surely live for a long time. Crazy. The Beatles made a huge impression on me, and really, I got into them with real vigor after John Lennon was killed in 1980. For a while, I had a Beatles craving. And as I got older, I had a renewed interest in many of the albums � especially the later ones like The White Album and Abbey Road. � that I didn�t necessarily get as a budding Beatle maniac.

Anyway, I feel sad that he died but I guess knowing that he had been very ill for so long made it easier to take. Not like when John Lennon was killed, which came completely out of nowhere and shocked the world. But Lennon was bigger than life, it seemed.

Harrison was much more subtle, much less outspoken and more reserved than his counterparts.
And so he wasn�t necessarily owned by the public like Lennon and McCartney were. I truly thing that when McCartney dies (and I think he�ll be the last to die�though maybe in some cruel irony, it�ll be Ringo that lives to be 100), it�ll be a much bigger deal. Christ, he is �Sir Paul,� after all.

So I went to the see the greatest film the other night: Amelie. What a joy!
This was one cute film. And I loved every minute of it. The woman who plays Amelie, Audrey Tautou, is the perfect person for this role. Filled with all sorts of whimsy and the tiniest of nuances, Amelie is one of those movies that you�ll walk out grinning from ear to ear.

At the performance we saw (Friday night at the Clay Theatre in SF), the audience clapped enthusiastically immediately following the end of the sold-out show. And when does that ever happen?
Yes, it�s in French, but no matter. So much fun. The movie just won two European Film awards for Best Picture and Best Director. Something must be right.

After the movie, a small group of us meandered down Fillmore � walking around in an area I never even knew existed in SF�very yuppie-ish and just plain fucked up � and stopped at this Mediterranean restaurant. Though it was raining that night, we ate outside on the small patio covered by tarp near the warm fire and overhead heaters.

Sure, it was a bit overpriced for what you got, but damn, the most interesting thing were the hookas you could order. One could choose from three different types of fine tobacco from Saudi Arabia, ranging in price from $10 to $20, depending on your grade of tobacco you wanted.

Though we didn�t order one (expense factor), everyone else around us was smoking them�they looked like huge bongs with everybody sharing the same long tube, though it smelled very fruity and nothing like what we think of traditional cigarette tobacco.

The owner, who was taking casual puffs off one all night, brought one outside and asked us if we wanted to try it. Of course, I relented, though I had some problems because I attempted to inhale like it was a bong. Bad mistake.

Coughing action kicking in full effect. Damn.
The Middle Eastern guys next to us were having a good laugh at my expense. �Everyone has their first time,� one said to me.
True, true. Now gimme back my hooka.

Last night, we went to check out the Euphorium way the hell out in The Presidio. It was pretty interesting, based on vivid imagery described by Kubla Kahn back in the day. You walk through this sort-of maze while wearing a headset and this giant wooden thing sitting on your shoulders that contained a mirror, so essentially what you were looking at was on the ceiling and then transformed for you so it looked as though it were right in front of you, in 3-D.

It was pretty cool. Sure, the budget was fairly low-fi�a little lower than what I imagined. After all, it was $15 a person. Certainly a trip and something that made you a bit wobbly at times.

Basically, you followed this path around this big warehouse by holding on to rough cylindrical tubing while wearing your headphones and gigantor mask. You heard many things around you: voices, crying, wailing, whispers, wind, and other goodies, while confronted by those objects in various visual forms.
It only lasted about 20 minutes, but again, it was interesting and I�m glad I went.

At the moment, I�m once again practicing the art of procrastination. On the other hand, I�m finishing something and writing, right? I mean, PaperSpray has to be given its fair share, no?
Indeed, indeed.

Today was a great day in that I didn�t leave the house once. I�m not sure I even opened the door, though maybe I did early on. Ah, but it�s so nice to just relax and enjoy hanging out. I also interviewed Adult today for an upcoming show, so it wasn�t like it was a total waste of time.
However, I still have much to do and now it�s 9:05 p.m.

Nevertheless, dammit, seems like I work better at night anyway, ya know Charlie?
Funny, I was just thinking about the fact that it hadn�t been raining in a while today (it�s been raining virtually nonstop all weekend�actually for most of the last week) and it just started raining again.
Nifty nifty.

We�re going to see 2001: A Space Odyssey on 70mm widescreen this Tuesday. I�m excited. Whoo hoo. It�s playing at the Castro Theatre, which is gigantic. That�s where we caught the DJ Qbert short film a few weeks back.

On Wednesday, we got Bonobo and Four Tet kicking it at Amoeba at 6 p.m. before their show later that evening with DJ Food at Justice League. I think I may have to sacrifice and attend said show. On the other damn hand, it�s fucking $15 to get in.

I just heard that SF Gate cut loose all their entertainment coverage and so that means that me writer compadre M and my pal Ron from xlr8r aren�t going to be able to do so much freelancing. Damn, yo. The strings just keep getting tighter. What the fuck am I going to do?
Jesus. So crazy how much as changed so quickly. Appalling, really. There�s less and less work for writers all the time.
Damn is right.
Somehow I�m going to have to keep going, but it�s difficult too.

Speaking of, if I�m going to do something with whatever it is I�m doing right now, then I�m going to have to dig deep and finish this shit. Am I Right? I�m right.

Keep on keeping on. Sometimes being sedentary makes it more difficult to be clever. Ah, what can I say? It�s all about a mood thing, ya know?
How else to explain?

Did I tell you that I�ve figured out that I�m an idealist? Big surprise, isn�t it? Yep, that�s me. Hoping for the best. Or at least, I�d like to think I think like that. Who the fuck knows anymore?

Mickey Mouse is in heaven now.

Love Yourself,
Chuck Brown

Saturday, December 01, 2001

I'm angry

Angry I had to wait for half an hour in stopped traffic less than five minutes from my home.
Angry I wasted two hours doing two things.
Angry that i haven't had my coffee yet today.
Angry that some people decide to ignore the "10 items or less" sign at the grocery store and hold up the line for everyone else.
Angry that i haven't finished the work i need to finish today.
Angry that i don't have a lot of money right now and I'm therefore dictated by how much money is in my wallet.
Angry that there's not more time for me to do the things I want to do. It seems like i'm always running errands, making sure this payment is in on time, going to the next event that's a "must-attend" affair.
Angry that i have a headache.
Angry that it's cold in my home.
Angry that i have to leave the comfortable confines of my home at all.
Angry that I'm the only one with a car and therefore, I'm always elected driver.
Angry that i only had one donut instead of two.
Angry that the donut juice stuck to my fingers, requiring me to lick it off.
Angry that I'm angry.
Angry that I can't be more angry.
Angry that I'm lucky enough to be able to be angry about such inconsequential things. Some people have none.

I'm mad about the buoy.
back to the matter at hand...

"Groove Salad" from, on da web (www.somafm -

it's cold, it's 3:15 a.m., it's raining outside...again....i'm drinking a coke out of a hands are even cold....i need to sleep...i'm fighting in my head about whether or not i should call beano back and go to some party that's "five miles from our house on Grand" in Oakland. part of me is saying "go go go go" and then there's the part of me that's saying "stay stay stay stay," be responsible, get your work done, yessir be a responsible citizen.
happy happy.

yadda. so here i am, being the proctrastinator that i am and, by doing so, eliminate the slight urge to leave the house. i mean, beano called me at about 1:30, it's now 3:18 and a while since he called. he has an extra ticket, sure, and it's only five miles from our home, but dammit, jim, it�s hard to be a cowboy in Mississippi.
Especially when you�ve had enough of women and children taking over your land.
For this land is your land and it�s made for you and me.

Yeah, maybe, but not just yet. The beginning hasn�t started, not just yet.

I just spent the last four minutes trolling through several fonts, not really happy with any of them. Why am I so obsessed with the fonts I use to write with? I never seem to settle on one I like, fucking a.

Many things to talk about,oooohhhh so manythings.
You understand, busy time of late. You understand, busy time.
Busy time.
Preoccupied time. Wasting time. All time time time. Me love to shed time. So much fun. Still waiting for something to happen. Time time timmy timmy time time.
Good gracious, Mooolly, what shall we do?
Grandma, you would have been proud of my spaghetti I ate all by myself that one time. Sure, I was not standing upright, but dammit, I did it.
People are happy for that kind of thing, you know.
At least, where I come from. Those parts, damn, they something.
Don�t look now.
But things aren�t still happening.
You understand.

Busy time.

Basically, it�s like this. Scored a gee-that�s-kind-of-cool-thing-from-a-pop-culture-standpoint by hanging near the lovely actress Clare Danes (you remember �My So-Called Life� don�t you? Oh my god? Have you been beheaded? Good.) Ol� Clare, I spotted her first as she sauntered up to the long as hell female bathroom line at 330 Ritch in SF Friday FRiday Friday Friday night. In case you weren�t sure on which day it was. First, I see her, we lock eyes, we stare into each other�s souls and weep for joy�at last, our moment has come. Alas, that moment is merely, uh, a, um, moment or two, and then she turns around and gets in line.
Clare is small. Smaller than I would have guessed. But then again, all stars are small, right? Hell, I heard John Wayne was 4 feet eleven. Kick ASS! Love that fucker, Marion.
As I was talking before I was rudely interrupted by myself�Clare is TINY and, as ms. Tina B noted, she also has a small and pointy ass. It was quite alarming.
I had to sit down on the floor in the middle of the crowd and catch a breather or 63 before I was able to face the reality of my surroundings.
Ms. Tina B walked outta the bathroom and I pulled her aside to let her in on my find.
�I think I�ve spotted Clare Danes! Whadda say you walk back that way and you check it out.�
�Hmmm, I had better go first to avoid suspicion,� replied the eagled-eye ms. Tina B.
So she did, hat and all, sidestepping on the slow tip past the potential star of the feature film �The Mod Squad.�
I also get another peek. We lock eyes again. Our lips become one in the cosmos. Somewhere, a man gets pushed down a flight of stairs for uttering such madness.
Damn, then she brushes her goldie locks back over her face. She�s like the wind, moving on.
Tina B gives me the high sign after we do our pass.
�I think you are right in that we have one Clare Danes kicking it live and fucking shit up over yonder, hanging with the homegirls on line for the tinkle palace,� Tina stated. �Yo, shit, fucking A. Damn. I liked her better when she had long red hair and was hanging with Ducky and that Jared Leto kid she wanted to bang. Those days are on the DL.�
�Yes, Ms. B, you are correct,� I replied. �You are very alert. Thank you for your confirmation. Would you care for a cocktail? Tea? Oboe?�
�No thanks, timmmiP. But you go ahead. Ah, oh wait, we should go the other way. Less people. Back by Clare. Whatcha say, mister?� she said.
And so we did. And then we went and found our right ful place in the crowd. We hooked up with some pals I know from xlr8r, where I was earlier Friday. Gee, these things do make the heart go atwingle.
(it�s raining harder now)
When we first strolled up in the piece, we were thinking we were going to be in for the long haul or not at all, but thankfully, I was on the guestlist, we skipped the line and strolled up to be greeted by Dan the Automator spinning hip-hop.
But by the time we were dancefloor, after the Clare sighting and kicking it with xlr8r kidz, the Avalanches were on the stage, throwing down a very very strange mix that encompassed everything from The police to Daft Punk to the Jackson 5 to Bob Dylan to Adult to the Avalanches to DJ Rolando to Jay-Z�you get the idea. Everything. On the TVs everywhere was playing old Sid and Marty Kroft favorites like �Pryor�s Place� (see Richard Pryor be extra high and teach kids about life lessons!), �Land Of The Lost,� and a couple other puzzlers such as Bob Denver and this other dude being repairmen and they get into some sort of mischief; and some story involving Jim Nabors and Ruth Buzzi as persons in spacesuits while arguing with cavemen. Very odd.

Well, as it turns out Clare is in town with Australian would-be folk/hipster singer Ben Lee, her boy toy. Did I mention how small Clare was? I did.
While grooving along to the zounds of two kids from the Australian group The Avalanches, there were Clare, frizzy-haired Ben, and their little entourage that also included Dan The Automator (he�s a large fellow) and some dumb chick hanging on him.
Yep, they were grooving all over that dancefloor, yo. Clare was rocking out.
Funny, one guy said to his friend after the pair left �Dude, Clare dances good~!� Yes, yes. Sort of.

We departed from the establishment about 10 minutes later, having our fill of highly eclectic dj set performed with a sometimes awkward viewpoint.

Jesus, there�s so much more. But I must sleep. I have much to do and little to see and someone to spank America.
Won�t you join me again soon?

I have to tell you about the hookas, the gorgeous film Amelie and my concerns with public restrooms and how they�ll affect my pocketbook.

Eat back hair tuna salad.

Sporkingly your mammal,

Bubbles McFeec

Monday, November 26, 2001


- beans are never as good as they say.
- sometimes alcohol tastes good in the morning.
- atmospheric drum 'n' bass is still better than techstep.
- my arms hurt.
- i've never bleached my pubic hair. i have attempted to shave it. that didn't really work out too well.
- i can't play bass guitar.
- i loved tang as a child. today i don't love it.
- i am currently hungry.
- i never liked ronnie james dio. i only fooled myself into attempting to like him because others said he was good. And I hated the fact that virtually every fucking writer for Circus and Hit Parader magazines (which i read fervently as a budding rocker teen) used the word "dimunitive" to describe Dio.
- Peeing is overrated.
- Eating is overrated.
- Sometimes, when I look at a large group of people, i think "man, all these people were created by people fucking." and yet, we are taught from an early age that sex before marriage will lead to trouble and we're taught it's dirty and blah blah wonder we have so many hang-ups about sex. everybody fucks.
- there is such a thing as too much house music.
- there is such a thing as too much cream cheese on my toasted sesame seed bagel.
- there is too much mediocre jazz appropriation going on in electronic music right now. it's a separate genre, ok?
- music is going to sound much different 10 years from now.
- just think: 100 years from now, you'll be dead.
- kicking can be fun.
- republicans still suck. Our fake president is dumber than ever.
- cassette tapes are becoming like 8-track tapes.
- marijuana is psychologically addictive
- MC Hammer was never good.
- Someday, Right Said Fred will return.
- Norman Fell is dead.
- Ducks are strange animals.
- Insurance companies are evil.
- Cable companies are evil.
- Money isn't real. It's temporary.
- I've never had an enema and don't really know exactly what it entails.
- I haven't had a shot in my butt since I was 4 years old.
- I cracked my head open in Chicago when I was 5 years old.
- I've broken many bones.
- I'll die with a stack of books and magazines that I'm "planning to read."
- sometimes i wish i could smoke without the health worries. i haven't had a single cigarette since May 4, 1999.
- i used to like crackers more than i do now.
- My parents never talked to me about sex. which is fine.
- i need to stop procrastinating.

love and biscuits,

Everything's funnier when grandma is involved.

not your grandma, not my grandma, but just "grandma," that indiscriminate faux person living somewhere in the upper regions of your noggin who you picture when you hear the word "grandma."

that grandma. whether it has to do with just throwing grandma into random conversation, blaming grandma for all the things that went wrong with your life, or specifically identifying grandma in a bizarre sex story involving Cheerios and the latest cd by Nikka Costa, you can be sure that grandma is readily available to use, abuse, defuse, choose and booze it up.

here are a few examples:
- i never knew i had such a spark in me till grandma came a-calling.
- grandma chicken ate my roast beef to spite me.
- my grandma likes to boil soup before giving it to grandpa, then doesn't tell him that it's hot.
- this cd kicks ass! i hope grandma will get me an extra copy.
- grandma introduced me to those hootchies that i fucked. grandma sure is something.
- we want to party, we got to party, we are the party...grandma in the house.
- grandma's kicking it old school on the decks tonight. better watch yo ass.
- dammit! grandma stole my stash again!
- me and kenny were just chillin when all of a sudden, grandma barges in, knocks over kenny and snatches his spliff right out his mouth. damn girl, you be trippin!
- get away from me or grandma gets it in the chin! if you don't think this thing is loaded, just try me buster!
- if it weren't for grandma, all my problems would be solved. damn her.
- grandma sure got us into a messy situation.
- grandma's gonna have to clean up her damn spilled grape juice or they'll be hell to pay from great-grandma!
- grandma!!! come do your push-ups! mom's waiting!
- i sure wish i knew how to solve this calculus problem. luckily, grandma has four doctorates, two in calculus-related subjects.
- if there's one thing i love more than winnie the pooh, it's grandma. she sure is lively.
- better watch out. grandma's on her way. and she's displeased about those carpet remnants you burned.
- let's hit the steambath, grandma!
- oh grandma, i'm in fear for my life from the long arm of the law. Hangman is coming down to gallows and I don't have very long.

as you can see, grandma is righteous and doesn't like to fuck around.
feel free to call on grandma whenever you feel the urge. not only will mom appreciate the fact that you really do think of your grandma more than once a year, but grandma will feel good knowing you use her in random conversation.
i know both my grandmas love it when i call them up and tell them about all the bitches and ho's i'm down with...i just say "s'alright, tho. cause when i'm with them, i'm only thinking of you grandma!"

works every time.

eat additional plums before supper

your sex slave,

grandma junket
fuck fee waybill.
the tubes suck.
they always sucked.
remember that awful song "she's a beauty"..she's one in a million girls...
god, horrible. horrible.
down with fee. he no be happening. he not good. no no.
ooooohhh no. senor senior.
dionne warwick is another one that should be shot down in flames. ok, maybe not that harsh of a punishment, but damn, she's goofy, no?
dontcha think? "that's what friends are for?" ummmm, go away. you must go away.
you bad example of "artist."
anybody ever wonder what happened to King? he had a minor hit in the mid-1980s, patterned after dead or alive. in fact, one could say he was a dead or alive copycat.
he was fey, had long hair that he swung right round baby right round like a record baby, really belted out the tuneage, he liked to stand atop large hills and/or mountains and outstretch his arms, and he surely loved america. as we all do.
i'm so patriotic.
hey, what about Marilyn? Marilyn was a minor pop star in the UK around the same time period. he/she was linked with boy george and is even included in the cast of Band-Aid...that loveable group that sings "Do They Know It's Christmas?"
maybe we should have a guessing game to figure out all the people that are in that song. and figure out how many of those people still have a career today. i bet it'd be a short list, though i know duran duran and u2's bono are still kicking it large. sort of anyway.
anyway...marilyn was a fine person. don't you agree?
i do.

that is all
live life, don't front and be kind, rewind.

eat duck bill with fee today.

your manager,
orange creamsicle.

it is possible to be in and out of the CA DMV in less than half an hour without an appointment.
yes, it's true. despite what you might think.
and i do know what you're thinking you chump.
yes yes, roll on up and into the coliseum dmv with my proper papers in hand, with my backpack filled to the brim with multiple periodicals, headphones and cd player, full water bottle, mini tape recorder and i'm ready to rock the dmv for multiple hours.

but uh oh...i was thrown for a loop! fuckin a man, tis some crazy crazy stuff there yo.
and be checking out the scene as i rolled on in.
i wait in the first line, they give me the nod to the looooong line to my right. i was thinking "damn, i'm sure glad i prepared myself for this monstrosity."
but then, after just a few minutes, this woman comes up to me to check my papers and then tells me to move on up to the express line #2. ok, ok. all right now.
so then i go from having about 40 people in front of me to about 5 people in front of me. well, within less than 10 minutes, i was up in there rocking it old school, feeling the love.
you know how it is.
and then, well then, i got the hookup and then moved on over to pay my dues when the girl asks me 'who is that on your pin?'
well, since you folks can't see me right now, i was sporting the lovely pin of the brawny man, appropriated by some good friends of mine, Content Provider, who make riotous sound attacks for the children.
the girl asks me "is that chuck norris?" ha ha, no no, young woman. no such thing. (chuck norris?? good god, there's an antique...maybe i should go rerent "a force of one." on second thought, why not drive my car off the bay bridge? either way).
i told her that it was the disembodied head of one brawny man and then i told them that some people tend to think that he's a 70s porn star. (he does kind of look like that, even if he doesn't have a penis. he's got the mustache).
they laughed. ha ha. laughter. and then i made my exit. nobody stopped me. nobody grabbed on to my collarbone.
nobody wanted to get some change from me.
and nobody, but nobody, called me chicken.
which often happens while i'm hanging out in oakland by myself with a bag full of periodicals, cds and headset.
now i am back, here to tell the outrageous tale to you, the loyal fan of paperspray.
please make a note of it.

there are other things that must be told, stories to unfold, concepts to grasp and philosophies to expound upon.
but for now, i'm content ending it at this. for later, comes the real story.
the real roxanne roxanne.
and you know that will be one lovely adventure the whole family can enjoy.
so tune in later my friends.
you are so lucky to be a part of this community.
can't you feel the love tonight?
i know i can.

so suckle that chin, suck in that nipple and saddle up for some hometown cheer.
daddy's coming home to roost.

whatever the fuck that means.
spaghetti rules.
eat less lettuce.

your arrogant bricklayer,

Corey Haim

Saturday, November 24, 2001


Ha, funny. Yeah, so very funny. Everything is funny, right?
Yeah, man. Everything is so funny.
it is 2:24 in the a.m. of saturday and i have just concluded watching Planet Of The Apes, the new version by Tim Burton. Interesting film, that's for sure. Special effects were quite a sight and to be honest, the film was better than what many of the reviews said.
However, the film itself was just ok, the story...ok, i dunno. It wasn't bad, but i wasn't going "whoa" like joey lawrence at the end or anything.

Maybe things would be better if i were an ape. I know i could at least solve world hunger. Or let uncle sam take care of it. Because, as you know, ol' uncle sam takes care of everything.

Praise be, i think i've finally figured out the nuances of my cd burner that i got for my birthday some weeks ago. Yes, indeedy. the whole conversion process to aif files is what was puzzling me before. that and the disk to disk thing. now i realize that's an ok way to do it for slow speeds but when you extract from the hard drive, you can fill the damn disk all the way up with extras yo mumford.
and that be right done sensual or at least highly preferred. that be said on this day.

However, strange things are definitely afoot with my loveable iMac. Fuck. the damn thing keeps shutting down, well...i don't think the kensington mouse is too down with the microsoft keyboard, which is made for a pc. but i dig on the split keyboard scene, and frankly, i'm not really down with the roller ball anymore. maybe i should move on to a new mouse and figure out the new cool deal.
but the mouse isn't really the problem. nay, the problem lies in the controversy between outlook, which shuts down now all the fucking time, whenever i try to send and/or receive mail. i'm not sure if the problem is with hotmail, earthlink (who i should fucking cancel but i've been too lazy to do so) or a conflict with, what i think is the other potential culprit, microsoft office....specifically microsoft word, since that's what i primarily use.

tina had a good point today in that she said "ah so tim, have you been backing up your hard drive? probably not?" yes, tina always likes to keep me in check. god bless us everyone.
of course i hadn't. so that's a thing on top of my list, much like being on top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. she lost her poor meatball, when somebody sneezed.

as i was saying, ahem....hard drive backing up, number one priority. number two is clearing up the stinking hard drive of all the damn dirty apeshit on there, fucking up my scene and making my life...well, not necessarily a living hell, but certainly an annoying situation that i'd prefer to avoid.

and dammit, we have these fucking things in our home, sharing our space and taking up our time so we can communicate, be a part of the world and be hip and cool and down and wow and ooh eeeh ooh ah ah ching chang, wally wally bing bang.

i must now attend to my just-finished burned cd. please make a note of this moment in your report for posterity's sake, whatever the hell that phrase means.

looks like we have a winner maestro. and thank you for playing. remove your ball cap before entering this ball park mister, for tomorrow we enjoy swiss cheese with our raw bread. nothing i like better than raw bread.

my stomach hurts

it is cold right now. it is raining right now....suddenly, i don't need the answer..but ahh-uhuh-hai, i'm ready to stay on my own with you.
those lyrics are probably bastardized some, but i was attempting to sing in my head the lyrics to olivia newton-john's favorite "suddenly."

ah, ONJ..i had a minor crush on her for about 3 minutes back in the 70s. i never really wanted to get on her during the whole Grease thing (which of course, in 1978, meant i didn't even have a fucking clue as to "getting on someone" was even about, though I knew it had something to do with pillows, a bed and sharing private part twingling), but i always thought she was kind of hot. Maybe i dug her voice, which had a kind of sexiness to it.
I know my dad liked ONJ....maybe he was wanting some of that action. but he was mad cause john travolta was smitten, after a torpid love affair during, oh those summer nights. i never was down with john travolta. he was always a putz to me. he wasn't cool with his "greased lightning" fuck that fatty oaffish dianetics freakazoid.

but as i was talking know, that afar shit, where upon people sort of think they possibly just might have a chance of getting down even one time with that lost love. sure we know all about that right? come on grandma, get on it.

dunno where that shit comes from man.
i just keep on feeling love like donna summer, another 70s diva, though my feelings for her were much different.

see, with ol donna, i was kind of afraid of her. I guess when she hit her peak, maybe 1978-1980, she was on top of the world and all that, but there was something about her did not like. i never totally trusted donna. she seemed a little too mean for my tastes. and god knows, i was all about being nonmean when i was that age.

my meaness didn't come till later, a combination of being forced to attend a baptist school against my will during a critical age in life (7th grade, at age 11) and the fact that my home was invaded every day by the kids my mom took care of. at one point, it was like a monster scene.

ha, funny, you know, something just occurred to me which i have to go off with a bit. see, i'm aware that i do pretty well in social situations. and when my mom took care of all these kids, many of them were only a few years younger than me. and it was during this time, every day after school, when i felt the most in charge, the most comfortable.

because it was my domain, my turf and the kids were generally sort of afraid of me, because i was tough, hardcore, sometimes mean (usually latent aggression from being picked on at school...i was the sort of the runt ..everybody picked on me there, so i took out that anger on the kids my mom took care of). but somehow, at some point, the kids respected me and i them....well, some of them...but we learned to get along....with a wide variety of people.

in a way, i think being in that situation gave me confidence i needed at a critical time, it helped me work in a social situation, working as a mediator between folks and also, learning to communicate period. how to interact. with a wide variety of people. embracing your differences rather than freak out about it.

fucked up. fucked up how different things in your childhood really do have a gigantor impact on your behavior later in life. freaky.

it's also odd that the things that remain the strongest part of my childhood memories aren't necessarily the things i devoted so much of my time toward. i remember odd things, random things,...yet for the majority of the memories, they are things that i have drawn upon and remembered and used later...or had a laugh at my own expense.

mr. rolls, and seofon and I were having this sort of conversation the other evening, the idea of memory. what its use and purpose is. how it works. the constant accummulation of more and more memory. constantly.

as in, the things stored in your memory as your reading this now will be slightly altered by the point at which you finish this sentence. hmmm.

i wrote a lead once for a story on younger funeral directors and it simply said "you're dying."
followed up by a thing about being "every minute you're alive,you're one minute closer to dying." such a simple thought, yet funny how sometimes the simplest of things can make the most sense.
memory is a great thing, it helps you become a stronger and more intelligent person.

unfortunately, there's a downside to that. = time.

so let's all get together and dwell on the time issue.

not really.

though i did always envy the people in movies who got to travel in time, like in the film i just viewed, "Planet of the Apes" (the new and improved Tim Burton edition!)....marky mark wahlberg accidentally travels through time...da future....wherin he comes upon a world where apes rule, all derived from the genetically altered intelligent chimps from 2029, that crashlanded on the ape planet when it went through some fucking portal of some kind. anyway, marky mark fights back against the damn dirty apes and crazy antics ensue, with kris kristofferson getting taking out early (just like in "blade").
MM finds his old ship and realizes that it crashlanded on the planet thousands of years earlier searching for marky mark. this is how the ape population was supposedly started, because marky mark was a chimp trainer and the ship had tons of genetically altered chimps.

marky makes everyone realize that we can all live together, apes and humans, and then his ol chimp pal comes flying in on the pod ship and then, coool, marky mark gets to go back to modern times earth, heads to DC. crashlands on the washington monument. and then, ooooh, the wacky ending, ol' honest abe is now some general and then the ape cops and fbi descend on him.

oooooh, outta control. what will happen in the sequel???

i don't know why i told that story, other than to illustrate my point that I don't understand how a future event could alter the past, unless he traveled back through the portal but in the wrong dimension ( understandable...i've done it before myself),orrrr...he didn't actually go far enough back into the past and at some point, the smart apes took over and kicked all us damn dirty humans to curb. maybe that's why humans had to kickit out in space in the future...those fucking apes kick our shit outta here.

i mean, why not? the more intelligent humans become, the more dangerous we become. hahhaaha.
another line from the movie. see, it's all part of a grand plan to brainwash my soul. those hollywood corporate bastards. damn yo.

sheeeeeeeit, and grandpa soup.

my thing about time travel is so true though.
i used to love reading books about time travel...the idea that i could stop time sounds awesome. i had this one dream in which i had a watch that could stop time and then i could do what i wanted to do, take my time and stuff, and look at some naked ladies in dressing rooms (this was at probably 8 years old-on---i was always interested in women, but this wasn't in a sexual was dirty because i wanted to see them naked).

of course, i could sleep as long as i wanted stopping time in the middle of the night, then i could start it and do things i wanted to get done at night, like reading my favorite books.

yes, i read lots of books, comic books and magazines as youngster. i remember we used to get highlights, though i never read that much. i liked national geographic world a lot, i received boys life for awhile but that sucked. my mom gave me subscriptions to some christian-related magazines like campus life (which actually wasn't all that bad). i also liked Dynamite and Supermag. god, i pray i still have some of those at home.

i think i have some of them.

i also liked books by ruch chew, beverly cleary and judy blume. in fact, i read every book by judy blume. i loved her. isn't that funny? maybe judy is an influence. ha. i haven't read any of those books in years, though. god.

well, time has certainly been catching up with me at this here moment, (damn! it's now 3:44 am. and it's raining harder now..though here in california, that means slightly harder than a drizzle)

so friday was buy nothing day. because i did next to nothing and didn't really bother to leave the house until 11 p.m. to return "Blow" with Johnny depp (and yes, it did blow. bad script, plodding story, bad editing, plot holes, uhg..not a good one, though seeing paul reubans again is a good thing.)
the only thing i purchased was that godforsaken beer. beer. beer.

so let's just jot down a few more things to talk about from the previous four days you'll find all about these answers and more of life pondering later in today's broadcast. chapped pain is appropriate.

conversation at the harbin/trip to harbin - wednesday night to thursday morning..including rain, whole foods intrigue, mushrooms, hot hot hot pool, warm pool and coolllld pool. the deer, the shoes and belt. the first attempt through the woods. remember 1993 chicago. hippy hippy hip chik.

thanksgiving morning/day - turkeys descending upon us, the walk up the mountain sun and the cat that followed us, the woman with the large dreads. the coffee shop. the drive home. the long hard day back to reality. the tasty bird..sleeping a lot. coming home, sleeping much more.
today, another sort of day. a good day. slow and low as the tempo. ow ow.

earlier: wed...last day on da job. coba bucko supremo. what to do now that all of the kids are grown up? and spending for the dam.
we hads ze dinner partee as well. mucho loco.
not good with police man
testy framework

long live crunch
eat your fair share of rice today

in memoriam,
TuppleWear T. Bok


Tuesday, November 20, 2001

actual sticker i just saw on the freeway:
White Bread Sucks

At first, I thought it was some racial thing. But it didn't seem like it. The driver didn't look angry, wasn't of color, and genuinely looked like she hated some white bread.

Sometimes I wonder if people hate white wine for the same reason. Because they don't like it.
That's a lame reason.
I mean, sure, I'm a super-picky eater. I like approximately five to seven things. Ok, maybe more like 10-15, but not many. I'm not an exotic eater. But not liking something is simply no excuse.
When people offer me raw oysters or milk of magnesia, i simply say "no thanks, I'm fasting." or "i'm sorry but it will affect my condition." Another good one is "I would, but I'm Asian." Or better yet, "I'm stuffed. I just ate an entire boiled roast. And man, am I going to stink soon!"
My mom really likes the last one.

But my point here is this: how can anyone say white bread sucks? i mean, shit. look at all the good things white bread does for you:
Fights bad breath
Provides nourishment to certain parts of our anatomy that shall remain nameless.
Looks good on a resume.
Goes well with the hamburgler or mayor mccheese.
Cajoles tiny squirrels into running across the road in front of large mammals.
Incites insane fury among the citizens of Liechtenstein.
Elevates your status among your peers.
Makes you urinate more frequently when you want to.
Can be used as a pillow.
Is often served with milk or tripe.
Fends off harbingers of Satan and Oscar the Grouch.
Resurrects hard feelings among the Russian people for Americans.
Makes "President" Bush constipated.

and that's something that I'm thankful for on this wonderful holiday.

God bless us everypun.

Your sun,
So I have a roommate that likes to put used band-aids on my soap. Yes, you read that correctly.

Unless you're blind. Then you can't read what's on the screen.

Last night, Happy must have cut his finger doing something stupid, since he is, in fact, stupid.
Blood was in the wastebasket.
We had just returned from a lovely trip to Fat Albertsons' for groceries and na na na, gonna have a good time...hey hey hey.

I was putting away my dental tape, new toothpaste, new toothbrush and softsoap when all of a sudden, I was blinded. After several minutes of knocking things off the shelves, I figured out that i had to pry my eyes open with a hammer.

Once that was accomplished, I saw the nasty-ass band-aid on top of our soap. luckily, the soap was unopened, but still...why would you leave a used band-aid on somebody's soap? here's an about throwing it away?

tina left him a super-nasty note. happy is like a fucking child. and we've got to stop him, at all costs.
god, what an idiot. i'd sure like to kick him to the curb.
some might say i'm harsh. but you don't live with the oaf.

this is the same guy who is:
- 38 years old.
- spins happy hardcore and 10-year-old rave tunes
- is the dirtiest person i've ever witnessed
- keeps his toothbrush sitting on a dusty shelf where his food is stored.
- has his entire turntable set-up covered with chicken wire so the kitties or anyone else won't fuck with it
used to keep a knife pointing upward sticking out of a box to defend against kitty's invading. yeah, that's a great idea. have a knife sticking straight up so the cats can learn a lesson.
- is the loudest walker (i.e. stomper) i've ever heard.
- is the cheapest mother fucker i've ever met
- saves more shit than i do. never throws anything away.
- has a picture of him with tonya harding up in all seriousness.

as you can see, i adore this man. i must go eat food and replenish my soul. for tomorrow, i go to kandahar.

in merriment,
Clownie the Angry Boy

Eat tofu cereal today!
my brain is no longer calcified.
my bones are without joint.
I am rubber.
I slither and shake.
But what of it?
My butt is not flat, for it is too bubbly to comprehend. It is nearly a shelving unit, without nails.
Some butts are flat, some are not. What kind of world do we live in that upholds the right of people without butts? How can this be? We all need a butt.
All this butt talk reminds me of how funny it is to watch men's heads and eyes when females with halfway decent butts walk on by.
For all you women who think men aren't looking at your butt, think again. Men, young and old, check out butts, breasts and anything else that might titillate much more than you ever realize. Usually it's a quick glance, a once-over to check and make sure it's a quality butt for potential fantasy fodder. Usually these fantasies last no more than a few seconds, but they do in fact occur.
It's especially funny if you get some women (or men, whatever the case may be...we don't want to exclude our gay friends) with extremely nice butts and then watch 75% of all guys do the backward glance, the double-take, the stare, the salivate, the lapdog, or the beg. Seriously, it's like watching a tennis match on the street in slow-motion. Most men are pretty discrete about their staring, but unfortunately, some are so blatant, the might as well be grabbing that ass, much to the chagrin of the ladies. And these uncontrollable wanks ruin it for all the rest of us legitimate butt connossieurs, the ones who just like to take a glance or two to make sure we approve and/or fantasize about that butt.
It's a topsy-turvy world we live in. All we want are a few good glances and that's it. You can go on your merry way. We'll just walk a little bit slower and take up the rear.

And that's the way it was, at this moment, deciding to never use "whilst" again in a sentence.

You don't love America as much as Donnie Brasco.

Your Friend,
Bumpy Ankle
in case you were wondering, i've been lazy and dead for the last few days. luckily, i was brought back to life via powerful crystals used by emporer hirohito in times of war. as you know, i am a member of the war council of antarctica. so please make a note of it in your report. more things will be added when time is allowed to come. and yes, that time is coming soon. in the meantime, you can enjoy this lovely muzak playing at your local shopping mall. i'll be there hanging with mr. price.
he may look a little skinny since he's dead too. dead people rule.

i love porpoise spit.

your gasket,

Monday, November 19, 2001

no more funions. We don't like them. You are not allowed to have them anymore. Now leave and don't come back.

EEEEEE chuda

Sunday, November 18, 2001

i need to write things.
this is the way to begin.
wish i wasn't twitching so go
i need to eat cheerios.

black skin. brown skin. i have neither. at least i'm also know as the rose garden maestro pageant brigade winner of 1997. people love me the world over in some parts of the other portion of the world that we all know and cherish.
haiku is for haiku freaks. they are all mean to me. therefore, i don't like them. because i'm a reactionary person. and there's nothing i like more than to put people down for all the wrong reasons, and i don't want reasoning at all. especially while running the naked mile.

i just remembered the time i egged the band in rockford. now that was a chilling night of ecstasy.
or the shirt i made at reptile with the nin reference. or the man who wanted to beat me up because i wouldn't play the same song. or the time i got sick while alex patterson was playing. or the time i went down the street to the illegal club whose name i can't recall and enjoyed cookies and milk on the couch with young oysters in search of hamstring glee.
video killed the radio star. in my mind and in my car. put the blame on vcr. oooooh, radio starrrrr.

today i did nothing. sunday is a hard day to do something. like things i have to do now. but i can't because i'm not doing that.
instead i'm doing this. while craving vanilla, coffee but not together necessarily. other things occupy equal time and space but then again, who really cares when you've got motor love? and bicyclists don't want to talk about the other real dangers of snow skiing. which is significant in this climate, economy and stairmaster-crazed society.
instead, we face shortages of the band bread, whose music helped us create a whole new world without michael jackson as a special guest star. he is special but in a short bus kind of way.
and we all know that's for nonfunctional offspring of cake mongers living in sin with twitching, agonized looks on their faces.
see, cheese makes sense sometimes. but we hoard it. therefore, cheese becomes a commodity. and nobody likes snot, which is what it is if you stop and take the time to smell the roses.

frantic energy fills the air. frantic energy in my hair.
those girls dancing on the little walkway on friday near us during sasha were cool. i like fake sparkly eyebrows i've decided.
stop twitchy for he is not your friend tomorrow.
important messages up for grabs if the price is right.

as much as i love america, i realize it's more important to move to europe than go overseas.
and by that i mean this...don't leave you friends out in the cold while you're sunbathing.
it's better to give others the love you shared with those other people that were once your friends.
i saw portions of back to the future 2 today and that was pretty wild. almost as wild as my offspring.
ha ha funnier than cancer. that's what people have always told me, especially during the last few minutes.
cream colored popcorn never tasted that good anyway.
time to pay the piper as it were. we don't have to take our clothes no. chapter 4. the real saga. before america lost the war on oil to me.

before everything was in its dark place.
which was mixed in the other night as i recall by sasha. smile for me. now get out of camera frame.
should i see my family? will i have to pay small fee? tee hee.
me can you see is full of glee for me
and that was the way it was, before i could remember the other things we shared with each other.
now stop looking ahead to transgressions you have yet to commit.
omit yourself from this chapter and everything will be better.

for the lord is not my herd of sheep, even though he might want to be
he layeth down for awhile in poopy pastures and even better, layeth by still waters to get some drink on
restoring your soul is a priority as well, leading me down some cool path that's so full of righteousness, it's the extra bomb
forever and ever amen, leaving others alone while singing for goats
now if i could get me some of that feta cheese made from goat ass, i'd be swimming in a swine of luxury less taken care of by others that we shared.
fare thee well, good and faithful servant,
for thouest in the house of the tim forever and ever
ton of fun today!
eat blank checks for clandestine therapy.

orange aid creamsicle man

Friday, November 16, 2001

I have two stories running today. Here are the links:

Death Cab For Cutie (this will only be available on the San Jose Mercury News site for one week):

Uncle ILL

Keep on Keepin On, yo

Thursday, November 15, 2001

i've decided that i'm not going to swing my arms anymore while I walk.
Human arm-swinging is so 20th century. Lame.
Get a new look.
stop a-swinging.

chew less rock candy tomorrow.
good evening.
your lover,
Lionel Richie must be stopped. He is evil.
How could anyone in their right mind remix fucking Lionel Richie's "All Night Long?"
Who EVER liked Lionel Richie?
If I'm ever at someone's home and I see that they have Lionel Richie CDs in their collection, I'll be heading for the door immediately. There's just no excuse for the man.
He's as bad as Randy Newman, who also needs to be eradicated.

So sayeth the Shepherd! (at this point, you're supposed to yell as loud as you can, "So Sayeth The Flock!" -- collectively)

Good afternoon.

your confidante,
Charlie Bucket
Late breaking update!

You may or may not have noticed I changed the name of the Blog to "paperspray." i like it better than "impromptu distaste and such," which was not only vague, but also fairly difficult to type.
PaperSpray is more fun to say, anyway. yay.
good day.
Thursday morning...i was up before the dawn.

I cut my nose shaving this morning. How does one cut their nose shaving? Only me! Now I have coagulated dried blood on the bottom of my nose, left side thank you.

Current mood music: Sean Deason's Allegory & Metaphor. Mellow Detroit ambient techno.

Ok, so i've been lax in updating this the last few days. And I'll tell you why: sheer laziness.
Not really, but busyness is the actual excuse. I mean, come on, Monday was like a holiday for me. Tuesday was "get back into work mode you dolt" type of mindset. Plus i was so overcome by emotion due to the fact that my whites were whiter than ever before that i fell down to my knees and thanked the mighty Chunnvver for helping me.
For those of you unacquainted with the great Chunnvver, let me tell you, he is quite helpful. He's similar to God, except he's not a supreme being in the same sense. He comes from another galaxy and is here on Earth to watch over lonely, misguided souls such as myself. The problem is that i'm not necessarily lonely or misguided, but I tell him that so he'll give me free gifts and stuff. For those of you with memories, I dressed up like Chunnvver in 2000 at the Burning Man Decompression party.

Songs in my head of late: Madonna's "Tell Me" (that song with Madonna dressed up as a "cowgirl" kicking up dust and's got a good hook to it, ok?); and, even worse, Ace of Base's "All That She Wants." i heard that damn song while eating the other day and it's still kicking around my skull two days later. "she leads a lonely life..." i always thought that song was catchy. even if ace of base sucks, which they did. but i'm allowed the occasional love affair with cheesy pop music. I am an American, you know. We're entitled to anything, don't you remember? I may not be a good American right now because i'm not spending thousands of dollars a day to help fight the war on terrorism, but, in the immortal words of my sworn foe, Seofon, "I'm open for monkey business." So that counts for something.

I wish I could save all my eye goo that is crusted around my sockets each morning and sell it to people. I would think it's quite valuable to at least 4 to 7.3 people.

anyway, back to pop melodies that stick in your head. I also heard that song "There She Goes" the other day, not the old school original by The La's, but the new school version sung by Sixpence None The Richer, a "christian" band...whatever that means. I'm sure they're just like Stryper, a band i'm sorry to admit I actually saw in concert back in the 1980s. Yes, they sucked ass.
"There she goes" is one of those super-dumb pop songs that won't leave your head, no matter how much you hate it. In fact, I think it's designed to stay in your head longer if you can't stand it. The La's version sucked too, I think. My good pal Mr. Byrne in Detroit would likely disagree. But what does he know. Either way, crapola.

Speaking of crapola, how about that piss-poor cover of the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Under the Bridge" by All Saints? Wow, i caught that video on MTV a few weeks ago and was stunned by its banality. Seriously awful. If you don't know All Saints, they're a Spice Girls rip-off band from the UK. Let's hope the damn thing doesn't catch on in the US.

Since we're talking about music, I cannot believe there's already "Best of 90s" rock compilations being hawked. I saw a TV ad for it the other day and it seemed like a who's who of one-hit wonders. Featured bands included: Spin Doctors (i interviewed them one time back in the day and they were such assholes..death to spin doctors); Verve Pipe; Dead Eye Dick, Ben Folds Five, the godawful Gin Blossoms (who hold a special place in my heart as being one of the worst piece of shit bands I've ever heard) and many, many more! It kind of reminds me of the time I received the "Best of '90s hip-hop" in 1992. Maybe i should turn retro and re-release hits from all the way back in 1999! Of course, I don't have any hits to release, at least in this dimension.

I'm on a retro kick at the moment. Simple Minds' "Don�t you forget about me." I�ve always liked that song�and I don�t necessarily associate it with The Breakfast Club because I never thought that movie was all that good�though I did have a crush on Ally Sheedy for awhile. Everybody I knew wanted Molly Ringwald�and I did too. C�mon. But Ally Sheedy, she was dark and mysterious. More intriguing to me. Judd Nelson was an annoying twerp with gigantor nostrils. Oooh, he's the bad boy. Shit, by 1991, he was playing small roles in laughable flicks like New Jack City. I'm sure there are peeps that worship New Jack City, but watch it now and it's so bad, it's good. I caught it recently and couldn't believe how lame it was. And a shitload of violence too.

sidenote --- So I just took a break and went downstairs to grab some Pretzel Flipz. On the way back up, there was this group of people on the elevator yakking about shit and one woman was talking about how much taller she was compared to everyone else and that she shouldn't wear heels. Then she started blathering about how tall her whole family was and one woman asks "Did you play basketball?" So typical of people to ask such a question and i'm sure she's heard that question countless times in her life, just like most tall men. As a short person, my first thought was "Why don't people ask me if I was in the circus? Or if I'm a jockey racing horses?" Trivial, yes, but i'm all about trivial shit. Obviously.

These pretzel flipz are making me thirsty.

So the Burning Man and related folk got together for our good friend Wendella's birthday Tuesday night at Fuse. She was spinning some downtempo tuneage, which was sounding pretty tasty. It reminded me that i've got to get a set together and spin. damn, yo. One of my presents to the lovely lass was a portable zoo, comprised of a bunch of capsules that, when doused in a glass of water, grow into nifty animals. It was quite exciting. Unfortunately, ms. Tina B and I had to cut out early to make it home in time for the damn BART. We needs to get our asses outta tha East Bay. Ugh.

So the world series ended last week and i'm proud to say i saw less than an inning's worth. Baseball is stupid. Who names a team the Arizona Diamondbacks? Or the Florida Marlins? Or the Montreal Expos? I was cracking up when I heard sports announcers calling the world series winners the "D-Backs." My God, do we have to shorten and/or make an acronym out of EVERYTHING??
Sports has deteriorated so much in my mind, it�s hard to believe I once cared about them at all. It seems so unimportant and meaningless now.
Happiness derived from other people�s accomplishments. Ya fucking hoo. I crack up when people get so riled and upset if their team loses (my brother is included in that group, unfortunately). Sports take up waaaay too much time anyway. It's not worth the time commitment.

I wish I knew somebody that has the gout, just so i could tell people about it. Is it contagious? Maybe I could pass it on. Another one is leprosy. I just remember when i was a kid and my sunday school teachers telling us these horrifying stories about people hanging with Jesus having limbs drop off and related fun. I was so freaked! I remember thinking that I never wanted to get leprosy because I liked my hands and didn't want to lose them.
I have small hands, btw. But they sure are nifty. They're better than your hands, I can tell you that.

As a temporary member of the corporate world, I've been having fun learning various corporatespeak phrases. Some recent ones: "We need to hold his feet to the fire;" "Let's put a bug in her ear and see what she says;" "I'm just thinking out loud here..."; "I'm with you all the way."
The funniest part of all this is that they're said in total seriousness. It's a whole separate dialect. There's a whole other species of human kicking it in the corporate world.

There's another person I work with who bugs me because she's always finishing sentences for people when they talk to her. It's like there's an echo every time you talk to her. And most of the time, when she finishes your sentence, it's not what you were going to say. How do i stop this madness?

Most days, when i walk down Montgomery to work at about 7:30 a.m., I encounter this strange red-haired gentleman. He appears to be homeless, though I'm not sure. He's definitely dirty. Unlike many homeless around here, this guy doesn't bother people for change, and is usually standing by a trash can. Instead, he does such things as: pick at his Walkman (he's constantly staring at it or taking it apart); gives random people a big grin and the friendly nod of approval (he did this yesterday, nodding toward this business man walking in front of me. he then proceeded to follow us down the block. the business man looked a bit disconcerted. I was cracking up); or just stares at people as they walk by. One morning i saw him smoking a joint, which i found particularly amusing.
He used to have dreads but then one day a few weeks ago he was sporting a close-cropped shaved head. I've thought about talking to him, but then i remember those few times i've seen him wildly swinging his fists at people or the one day when he had this crazed, maniacal look on his face. He's probably a bit mentally unbalanced, so no use in fucking with him. I am curious though. Funny thing is I've never heard him speak, ever.
That dude reminds me of this woman I was walking behind at 16th and Mission (i.e. crackhead central) last weekend. It was cold (i.e. mid-50s, which is COLD for us wimpy Californians) and pouring rain, and miss crackhead is strolling down the street in a tiny dress and bare feet. Now, if you've ever walked in a shitty neighborhood with crackheads lying about, you know there's all sorts of nasty-ass things on the ground. You don't want to be walking in bare feet. She was meandering back and forth in front of me on the sidewalk, swinging this plastic bag around her. I had to slow down my fast-paced gait just so i wouldn't get nailed by her bag. We walk by this group of dudes smoking down and after a few steps, she starts yelling "I fucking hate black people!" At this point, I decided to stop and let her get waaaaaay ahead of me so I didn't "accidentally" get taken out by the angry dudes she was dissing. Last I saw of her, she was still wandering up 16th street.

I think i have a small obsessive problem with quarters. I love 'em. If I have a bunch (like i do now), i find myself playing with them. I purposely take them out of my pockets because I don't want to be perceived as one of those dolts who walk around with their hands in their pockets, jingling change. I'll let the bored middle-aged businessmen do that. I only noticed this obsession within the last year or so. I don't know how it happened. I need professional help. Oh lordy. -------- I just finished writing this sentence and this dude who works down the hall walks by, hands in his pockets, jingling his change. Ha.

Does anyone remember KMFDM? Does anybody care anymore? Somebody does. I wrote this thought down yesterday morning and then an hour later on me lunch, i almost run into this dude crossing the street wearing a fucking KMFDM t-shirt!! And even stranger, I haven't even thought about KMFDM in a long time, as well as see someone sporting a damn shirt. KMFDM, doing it again. A treat for the freaks. Something something. We don't care.

Does anyone remember the film "The Seduction Of Joe Tynan?" Or how about "First Monday In October," starring the long-forgotten Jill Clayburgh? Why do I remember these inconsequential things?

if you can figure out the opening line on this post (as in, what song am i referencing? hint: it's from 1979), you'll receive a healthy reward in heaven. Trust me.

I'm just going to continue on enjoying my facial TwitchFest.

Lick the pavement today! It's good for you.

Your loyal pathogen,

P.S. Yahtzee! Anybody up for a game?