Month: July 2006

flyin’ south

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I had this idea I’d do some writing while I was alone, but it wound up as predicted; at work late every day, and then sapped of will when I got home. I started at least three blog entries, all of them now languishing. Ah. Such is life. Today i fly south to Los Angeles […]

I had this idea I’d do some writing while I was alone, but it wound up as predicted; at work late every day, and then sapped of will when I got home. I started at least three blog entries, all of them now languishing.

Ah. Such is life.

Today i fly south to Los Angeles to meet up with the family – my daughter’s birthday (dinner at House of Blues), and beyond that I don’t even know what our plans are. My only items of interest are stopping in at Sunset Tattoo (just because I’m staying near it), Musso and Frank for martinis, and beyond that, I don’t care. I imagine the kids will want to visit Olvero Street and the La Brea tar pits (because they always want to do those things), but I’m pretty much down with anything that doesn’t include work. Likely there’s also some plan to go celeb spotting in some night spot or other (Wait, I’ll bring my checklist).

Whatever – it’s the going I love. I need to find a job where I can travel and write for a living.

Hot as Hell and Time Alone

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It’s been hotter than hell the last few days here in northern CA. The kind of days where I don’t feel like being anywhere near a computer. Not just hot for here – hot for anywhere, anywhere that’s not AZ or NM or some death-dry desert. It’s the kind of hot we almost never her […]

It’s been hotter than hell the last few days here in northern CA. The kind of days where I don’t feel like being anywhere near a computer.

Not just hot for here – hot for anywhere, anywhere that’s not AZ or NM or some death-dry desert.

It’s the kind of hot we almost never her here – when it doesn’t cool at night, when the house is as hot in the morning as it was the night before.

The kind of hot that blows out transformers and causes rolling blackouts. Today, we’re not allowed to turn on our office lights at work, and if it gets worse, they’ll start shutting down less-essential systems in order to keep vital network and data systems on line.

It’s the kind of heat where i think about putting the top back on my Jeep; the gearshift knob (an 8 ball) was literally so hot it hurt my hand to shift gears, the steering wheel was uncomfortable to touch.

Even a swimming pool doesn’t help – when the pool is 95 degrees and one can over-heat in the water.

I like the heat, usually. I like to sweat, to feel the hot air on my skin, the sun on my shoulders. But not like this. I need more tropical in my tropical heat; island breeze, tropical rain.

I’m not a desert creature. No bone-dry air and smog. I need wind and sea with my heat.

Starting tomorrow, I’m alone for the week, family off to southern CA. I have the house to myself, and as usual, I look forward to my few days of silent, empty house.

I always hope I’ll write; though more often, I wind up simply working, and then enjoying the peace and silence of a house with no kids, watching movies I’ve been saving. Having the house empty winds up almost a vacation. I usually make plans for things I’ll do; dinners, or strip clubs, or movies I’ll go see by myself, or things I’ll cook or projects I’ll finish. And almost always, it winds up not happening. The pleasure of solitude wins out, and I spend by night or two or three simply decompressing. Doing nothing at all.

This time? We’ll see.

Kick In the Eye

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And he spoke of pastures green
I was never told why
Each journey lasts an age
And my throat feels dry
It must be the lesson
Hidden deep inside
It must be the lesson
So roll the tide

So I began the crossing
My throat burned dry
Searching for Satori
The kick in the eye
I am the end of reproduction
Given no direction
Every care is taken
In my rejection

Kick in the eye

Every care is taken
With my rejection
And my abduction
To my addiction
Every care is taken
With my protection
And my abduction
From my addiction

Kick in the eye

-Bauhaus, Kick in the Eye

I wish I had something meaningful to follow that up with, or some meaningful reason to post it, but the truth is that I was looking for a line about a poke in the eye and wound up on this instead.

And I was looking for that only because I feel like I’ve had the classic poke in the eye with a sharp stick. I’ve got that walked into a door look going . And the worst part is, I have no idea what I did to my eye. I’d rather have a punch to make the story good, show you the skinned knuckles to go with it.

Grumble. I need an icepack. And a long island ice tea, while I’m at it.

Kid, have ya ever been arrested?

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“Kid, we only gotone question. Have you ever been arrested?”

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice’s Restaurant Massacre, with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all the phenome… – and he stopped me right there and said, “Kid, did you ever go to court?”

And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, “Kid, I want you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W …. NOW kid!!”

And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W’s where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me!

–Arlo Guthrie, Alice’s Restaurant

I didn’t have have to pay fifty dollars and pick up the garbage in the snow. I didn’t have the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossies with the cirles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each one explaining what it was and how it could be used as evidence against me.

But yes sir Officer Obie, I have been arrested.

Read more “Kid, have ya ever been arrested?”

Rockstar – thy name is mediocrity

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I’ve said before – i loved rockstar: inxs. But so far, I’m not loving rockstar: prefabSuperGroup. I loved rs:insx because – well, because of the guys in inxs. Gary Beers, the various and sundry Farriss brothers, the odd but talented Kirk Pengilly. This was a big deal to them, finding a singer. And not just […]

I’ve said before – i loved rockstar: inxs.

But so far, I’m not loving rockstar: prefabSuperGroup.

I loved rs:insx because – well, because of the guys in inxs. Gary Beers, the various and sundry Farriss brothers, the odd but talented Kirk Pengilly. This was a big deal to them, finding a singer. And not just a singer, a singer who had to fill some big fucking shoes without replacing the original guy.

That produced a sense of drama. There was a sad story beneath it all.

And then there were the singers; right from the start there was a deep pool of talent. JD, Mig, Marty, Sweet Susie McNeil; Jordis and Ty and Deanna. Ok, sure, there were some who were over thier heads, but there was a lot of talent, I mean al lot. Any of those people could have won, if not this, than something.

And I look at this installment, and see… Nothing.

Now, we have to take away the band factor. It makes a difference, but you can’t make another rs:inxs. But it’s the talent that troubles me. There’s one person who’s wowed me, Dilana Robichaux. She’s awesome. And after her there’s – a pool of mediocrity. Jill Gioia’s adorable, but average, Storm Large looked great in week one but ordinary in week two. Patrice Pike was boring the first go-round, though much better in week two. Lukas Rossi, who needs to lay off the foundation, has real talent and might be a dark horse.

The rest – range from forgetably mediocre to absolutely awful. I’m wondering how most of these people even got to the final, when some of ’em can’t seem to even carry a tune.

I’m wondering why the talent pool for this edition is smaller. That’s not how this should work.

I imagine I’ll keep watching. The house band simply smokes, i like Dave Navarro (though he’s getting a little too adorable for his own good), and the less Brooke Burke wears, the better I like her. And I want to hear Dilana sing more.

But it ain’t what I hoped. Where’s the fuckin’ talent, people?

t-t-t-twenty questions

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Swiped from Damn Jezebel 1. If you could be doing what you really want to be doing for a living, what would it be? Piracy on the high seas. Or at least being a dive master in some beautiful place. 2. If you could slap the shit out of any famous person, alive or dead, […]

Swiped from Damn Jezebel

1. If you could be doing what you really want to be doing for a living, what would it be?

Piracy on the high seas. Or at least being a dive master in some beautiful place.

2. If you could slap the shit out of any famous person, alive or dead, who would it be?

Disney management. Steven Speilberg. Network programmers. Stupid people who are in power.

3. What’s the dumbest decision you’ve made in the past 5 years?

Christ. One? There’ve been so many.

4. Give up one for a year: (good) sex or (good) music.

Music. That answer comes easily, yet I second guess it.

5. Dudes, would you rather have a big dick or a great sense of humor?

You mean I have to give up one?

6. So you’ve been invited to an all expense paid Blogger Prom in The Bahamas. You’re sitting at the bar on the beach. Which blogger do you want to join you for hours of good convo?

Um. Hell. Just for talk? I’m thinking Ray then. Because we all know he’s all talk.

7. Which blogger would you most like to cuddle with on the beach? (and don’t defer to your current signif other either. Infidelity won’t count against you. Duh.)

No matter how I answer this, someone’s getting hurt feelings.

8. You’re going on a 5 hour road trip: which 5 CDs do you bring?

Miles – Kind of Blue. King Crimson – one of the collections, I don’t know which one. Genesis – Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. Matthew Sweet – Altered Beast. XTC – Black Sea or English Settlement. Right this second. Tomorrow you’d get a different list.

9. Would you rather bury your children young or have your children bury you young?

I don’t wan to bury them, they’ll just keep squirming back out.

10. What’s your biggest insecurity?

Admitting my insecurities.

11.What’s the first blog you read every day, or however often you read them?

Re-Imagineering.

12. When’s the last time you peed your pants?

Pants?

13. Which was better, your first kiss or your first pay check?

My first paycheck. Though I’ve had some kisses since that beat any paycheck.

14. Do you have kids? Want kids?

Yes, and no. You can have them.

15. You get dropped off at home after the office holiday party by your bitch azz boss that you can’t effing stand… you exit the car and he peels out, runs a red light at your corner and rolls up an unsuspecting midget. The next day the midget watch groups are on TV outraged at the heartless hit and run, and are calling for any witnesses to please come fwd: that half dead midget has a family at home waiting on C-mas presents. Would you take $1000 hush money? $500? $100? A six pack?

No, but Bridget the Midget could give me something to keep me quiet.

16. Live the rest of your life without your eyebrows or your fingernails?

Who needs eyebrows?

17. What makes you angry?

Lies. Stupidity. Willfull ignorance.

18. What makes you horny?

All y’all.

19. What makes you nervous?

Having you read over my shoulder. GET THE FUCK AWAY.

20. What makes you smile?

A friendly voice. A friend’s name in my email. A hug. Bloggers who dream about me.

Sleepin’ with Keith

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This is why I love Keith Richards (other than his obvious good taste in jewelry). On being woken up after brain surgery:      “I was pissed off when they woke me up because I was in such a good sleep.” Keith. Dude. I understand. Some days, a coma sounds fuckin’ grand.

This is why I love Keith Richards (other than his obvious good taste in jewelry).

On being woken up after brain surgery:

     “I was pissed off when they woke me up because I was in such a good sleep.”

Keith. Dude. I understand. Some days, a coma sounds fuckin’ grand.

Pirates 2 – ‘slimy’

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Elizabeth Swann: There will come a moment when you have the chance to do the right thing. Jack Sparrow: I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by. I asked a friend who’d seen a pre-release screening of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest how it was. “Slimy,” she […]

Elizabeth Swann: There will come a moment when you have the chance to do the right thing.
Jack Sparrow: I love those moments. I like to wave at them as they pass by.

I asked a friend who’d seen a pre-release screening of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest how it was.

“Slimy,” she said.

And so it is. Very very slimy.

I’m not gonna post a whole review right now – actually I might go see it again before I do that. But the short version.

Nowhere near as good as the first (as one would expect). But better than I’d expected.

It’s too long, for a film that’s really thin on plot. But it retains the charm of the original, has some amazing, stunning design, some excellent CGI and makeup effects, and it still has the cast of Depp, Bloom and Knightley, all of who are stunningly sexy. Knightley just gets hotter and hotter; she’s going to start burning movie screens if this continues.

This ain’t a movie that’s gonna win – or really deserve – oscars, other than for technical merit. But it’s highly entertaining, and will trand for several watchings, even if it doesn’t joint the first on the heavy-rotation shelf.

I’m ready to set sail – even more than usual.

the öutstretched grasping hand

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The Motörhead logo is back. I am the one, Orgasmatron, the outstretched grasping hand My image is of agony, my servants rape the land Obsequious and arrogant, clandestine and vain Two thousand years of misery, of torture in my name Hypocrisy made paramount, paranoia the law My name is called religion, sadistic, sacred whore. I […]

The Motörhead logo is back.

I am the one, Orgasmatron, the outstretched grasping hand
My image is of agony, my servants rape the land
Obsequious and arrogant, clandestine and vain
Two thousand years of misery, of torture in my name
Hypocrisy made paramount, paranoia the law
My name is called religion, sadistic, sacred whore.

I twist the truth, I rule the world, my crown is called deceit
I am the emperor of lies, you grovel at my feet
I rob you and I slaughter you, your downfall is my gain
And still you play the sycophant and revel in you pain
And all my promises are lies, all my love is hate
I am the politician, and I decide your fate

I march before a martyred world, an army for the fight
I speak of great heroic days, of victory and might
I hold a banner drenched in blood, I urge you to be brave
I lead you to your destiny, I lead you to your grave
Your bones will build my palaces, your eyes will stud my crown
For I am Mars, the god of war, and I will cut you down.

Because I löve you all. Vïcïôüslÿ.