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
yepp.
late night love, jazz club with fish,
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
yepp.
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.
shed.
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?
bye.
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.
shed.
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?
bye.
THE SAGA BEGINS...
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?
...anyway....
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. neato...as 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)..now 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 up...now I gotta work on, get this....like 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 Listen.com 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.
ANNOYING DAMN THINGS:
- 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?
HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY THINGS
- 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
Tuesday
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
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?
...anyway....
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. neato...as 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)..now 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 up...now I gotta work on, get this....like 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 Listen.com 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.
ANNOYING DAMN THINGS:
- 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?
HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY THINGS
- 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
Tuesday
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
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.
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
QUICK PASSAGEWAY memo
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
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
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)
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
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!
hey!
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?
Gee.
Yes.
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
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!
hey!
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?
Gee.
Yes.
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
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
Deathblow
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.
http://www.amelie-themovie.com/
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
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.
http://www.amelie-themovie.com/
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.
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 soma.fm, on da web (www.somafm - pri.kts-af.net/redir/index.pls)
it's cold, it's 3:15 a.m., it's raining outside...again....i'm drinking a coke out of a can....my 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.
yeah...yeah...so 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.
�Ok.�
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
"Groove Salad" from soma.fm, on da web (www.somafm - pri.kts-af.net/redir/index.pls)
it's cold, it's 3:15 a.m., it's raining outside...again....i'm drinking a coke out of a can....my 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.
yeah...yeah...so 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.
�Ok.�
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
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