The Namesake

it started, of course, with a movie trailer. i guess i was there to see Notes on a Scandal, and up came a preview for the Namesake. i only remember a father telling a son, why he gave him a name that made him stick out from the rest of the kids. a name that made him self-conscious and develop a sense of shame. so far, this story sounded like mine. the father then told the son that the person he was named after had saved him from dying in a horrible train accident. the son looked at his father and said, "do i remind you of that time? do you look at me and think of that?"

and the father said calmly, "no. you remind me of every day that followed. every day since that day has been a gift."

in the theatre, tears sprung into my eyes so fast and hard, i was shocked. and then the preview was over. i felt abandoned, left to wonder how a preview could be so effective.

this made me pick up my first fiction novel since i read Dreamcatcher by stephen king in 1999, not exactly a "novel."

and it was amazing. The Namesake is a beautiful book, so rich. not one bit of filler. i stopped reading fiction because it seemed like a waste of time. none of it real, and so much of it skippable. but then this book...was incredibly real. and not just because i am a namesake. but because it is truly brilliant. written in the first person from many different viewpoints, it flows effortlessly.

tonight i saw the movie and i have to say, it really followed the book perfectly. a few things were changed, sure, and as always, the characters' thoughts and motivations, so clear in print, were missing. but wow.

i highly recommend picking it up. it appeals to the alienation everyone feels at some point or another, usually as a kid, especially those of us who have rebelled tremendously against our parents and against tradition. for me, it was southern tradition. and just like the character in the book, i learned otherwise.

i wish i could tell my grandmother, but my mom will do. we three have the same name and i am grateful. for fear of getting super sapped out, i will stop with a recommendation.

except to say, i think i'm back on fiction. all the memoirs in the world can't add up to something so pure, so beautifully told.

(i can't wait to give it to my mom on mother's day with a big fat bouquet of roses. god knows she doesn't get enough of them. and hurts a little from the fact that i have always completely disregarded my original name.)

the shins fail to shine

i got hit in the face with a brick last night. it came in the form of the shins playing "Breathe" by pink floyd. upon hearing the first few chords, guy said, "It's pink floyd" in a very knowing, hushed voice. i disagreed, not because it didn't sound like it, it totally did, but because why would this be an experience i would have at the shins?! it seemed unbelievable, but it was real.

the location was the very last row in the 3rd upper balcony of the warfield. guy and i had slightly better assigned seats, but chose the freedom of movement the last row afforded us. quite unfortunately this meant crappy sound. guy figured out that a cupping motion around the ears greatly amplified the parts of the sound we were missing, namely the higher notes. but "Breathe" was amazing. it affected me deeply. pink floyd is the soundtrack of tortured youth and i felt it all over again in a very unexpectedly painful way, like a brick.

we were surrounded by kids too young to be loose enough to dance, or too serious to do so. the fashion was hilarious too. girls in super high wedge heels carrying extra-large handbags on their arms, sipping budweiser from plastic cups. there was one guy whose fashion choices we had the priveledge of witnessing twice. he wore the hugest woolen mittens with a matching powder puff hat and scarf over a tshirt with jeans. he looked like beck circa 1992. i made guy laugh calling him "beck's brother."

the show was simply mediocre. no climaxes whatsoever. straightforward. Breathe was the highlight, and mysteriously, sounded the best. they played for nearly an hour and a half with an encore that consisted of six songs. i say if a band wants to have a two-set show, that's fine. the grateful dead did it for decades with success. i only request one thing and that is do not say "goodnight and thank you" if you are going to come back for what is clearly a second set. it just doesn't make any sense, and it's annoying.

guy and i laughed at them too. yes, we really appreciate their music, but we also had fun making fun. the lead singer at one point said, "Yeah, so, this is the last show of a really long tour." guy and i responded with fists below our eyes, twisting them back in forth in a mock-sobbing motion. "wah wah wah! poor me, i'm a rock star, wah! i'm a poor indie rock star and i've been touring for three months WAH!" we said, cracking ourselves up.

after we left i realized i was extremely dizzy. i had to hold on to guy. i'd only had a few sips of wine, but i did take three vicodins on the way there.

written 4.19.07

Near-sighted

it has been speculated that i have a myopic view of life. for the most part, i don't plan, i recall very little from my short term memory, i can't keep track of my finances. once it's spent, i don't know about it anymore. it has been speculated that perhaps this is exacerbated by not driving. Something that requires an imminent need to look ahead at least two or three blocks, is not something i participate in. ever. overall, this particular "idiosyncracy" has been a hot topic in my near surrounding area.

i think seeing only a few inches into my future at any given time is a protective shield. it really comes in handy when my bad attitude makes an appearance. for instance, today, i'm very excited about dinner tonight. and i am able to leave it at that.

i wonder if, after i start driving, my entire personality will change.

Penis Power on "Vagina Power"

i'm lucky guy has penis power AND buys me shrimps at long john silver's.

watch THIS.

Finding friends in the Men's Room

i've been at safeway for a while trying to remember the ingredients of a recipe i saw prepared on tv at 6am in hilo, hawaii, on 2 hours of sleep. i call guy, i ask him where he is, tell him i wish he could come pick me up because, along with the cat food, i've got quite a grocery load. unfortunately he's stuck at the car wash on south van ness with his car keys locked inside. that's a problem i don't want to touch, so i let it be and accept my heavy load.

i walk to muni, get on muni, and start to feel the frustration build inside me. the frustation doesn't have a name or a source, it's just Bitchy and it's coming on strong. i decide as i walk down castro street, that i'm going to stop in at The Men's Room and get a drink, that it will be better for my relationship if i do so. this is very very true. if i have one martini, i won't be a jerk. simple, but true. i have not always been this way, and i won't always be, but i will be for three more months. if you don't know what that means, that's ok, but it has to do with injections and female trouble.

there is only one place i can go in the castro, comfortably, as a woman. "comfortable" means i won't be stared at or worse, ignored. it's a place called the Men's Room and is situated right at the bottom of the hill that i live on, at 18th and Noe, directly on the very outskirts of what can truly be called the Castro. this is before the landscape becomes lesbian land, which is the outer, upper mission. i always feel comfortable in the Men's Room. it is the only bar that is always welcoming to a woman, or a straight couple. the bartenders are nice, without a hint of disappointment at what isn't between my legs, a welcome respite from the rest of the neighborhood. i have never gone alone, however. this visit will truly test what i already feel about the place.

i walk in, and am acutely aware that i'm a woman, and not only that, but a woman with shopping bags. plastic shopping bags. one of them even has a visible cat toy in it. but there i am. i put down my bags in the front corner, as i see that every seat except one is taken. i expect to sit in the front area, and feel truly ostrasized, although only in a literal sense.

i step up to the server area, the only empty space, and ask for an extra-dry stoli martini with two olives. the bartender is friendly as always and goes to make my drink. i step back to my bags, when the man on the end, a bespeckeled 50ish guy says, Hey, i'll move over one seat if you'd like to sit here. this clears a safe path for me, where i won't have to sit at a small bar smack dab in between two guys who are having a conversation. Sure, thank you, that's nice, i tell him. and he moves.

grabbing my bags and dragging them closer to the bar, i think about how unprecedented the notion is. never do people offer up seats in bars. i smile inside and internally love the Men's Room all over again. as i sit down, i look up at the TVs that always have closed captioning on. i see the guys are watching The Royal Tennenbaums, and commenting about the Wilson brothers, who are in a scene together at that very moment. i do like the Wilson brothers, mostly for their unique vocal inflections, but also because they're cute. the bespeckeled man is being told by a young, handsome man that "those two are brothers in real life." Really? he says, I didn't know that. Wow. this is when i speak up. i tell him and whoever can hear me, that there's a third Wilson brother, and he's the hottest of them all. this gets attention. maybe four men say with extra-curiosity, REALLY? yes, i tell them, his name is Andrew. he was in a movie that Luke and Owen made a while back called, Bottlerocket. REALLY? they say. YEP, i tell them.

and we watch the movie. i don't say much else, but they are open and nice to me. someone comments on how the Wilson brothers are from texas - TexASS, one says - and so are you! the bespeckled man is told. REALLY? he says. and we watch.

after i finish my fairly small, but absolutely perfectly made extra-dry martini, i say to the men, Well, my attitude adjustment is complete, Nice talking to you all. they bid me goodnight, with smiles, and as i leave i hear one guy say, "Andrew Wilson. when i get home i'm gonna google him..."

i leave with a smile. my frown has effectively been turned upside down, and it's not just the vodka. it's so nice to know there is a neighborhood bar for me too, and one where my vast and seemingly useless pop culture knowledge is greatly appreciated.

Definition

"harbinger."

when a huge chunk of hair is found hanging from a fishing pole.

"Common Ties"

this is an amazing site. their philosophy of finding common ties between people is important in the most important sense. face it, every human realizes they're going to die alone (even crazy fundamentalists when they're taking their last breath). but what if that is an untruth? one bit of proof is that our most extreme experiences while we're alive, are experiences that at least someone, somewhere in the world, has also had. i mean, that's what carl sagan was talking about.

i got my "bio-dad" story published on the site, Common Ties (for free cash money mothafucka!), which is why it is no longer posted on the Jones. check it out, as a non-fiction lover, i can confidently state that this is pure reading heaven.

(ps. the "owners" seem very cool, and the site is completely unsupported by advertising. punk rock!)

Iggy's rider

i've always loved this man. when he was a kid, he called himself, "The Brain."

if you like funny, read this.

Last will

if guy and i die on the plane to or from hawaii this week, i want the sullen artist to take clementine. sullen artist, you know who you are. please take care of our girl.
xo

ps. PB gets my sonic youth tickets. i own nothing else of value.

Today I ironed my clothes with a skillet

for some unknown reason, guy took the iron to work and left it there. the day is today, and i'm getting ready for an interview. there is only one outfit that will be acceptable for the "all-american, no style" company i'm about to interview with. i pull it out of the hamper, as every piece of the three piece outfit, is dirty. and wrinkled to hell.

i call guy. where is the iron.
FUCK!

i stand there, in the space between the bathroom and the bedroom and my mind is going. it's going and going and saying, What do i need here? I need a hot, flat, piece of metal.

A SKILLET.

i think it might be the smartest thing i do all year.

Fell into the gap

today i got a freelance gig with gap.com. i will still be writing about chinos and polos, but a little less "refined" and more "fun!" This time i'll be in charge of the women's shop. the men are harder to write for because of the need for straightforwardness and lack of "romance" language.

(massage the copy)

i have to say, i'm pretty stoked. this is a good gig and will keep me safe from poverty for at least eight weeks. better than the Banana Republic job because i'm getting all the money, half isn't going to an agent. "awesometown."

two nights ago, i was up until 3am, massaging some copy for a submission, or like, a test, to possibly get a job writing ad copy for universal studios movies. my good friend, the sullen artist, hooked me up. we'll see where it goes, but it could be SUPER AWESOMETOWN!

copywriting rules. i am so happy about this wise change in career.

tomorrow guy and i fly to hawaii for six days. i hope i don't die right now. life is very interesting at this moment.
xo

Daydreaming days

two years ago, i was walking from my job at One Post to meet friends at HANG gallery, downtown. it was a first thursday, which means free wine for several hours in several galleries. as i walked down sutter street, i could NOT get Hyperstation, my favorite song from sonic youth's Daydream Nation, out of my head. over and over all i could hear was "daydreaming days in a daydream nat-ion."

after hanging at HANG for a while, we crossed the street to HANG annex, the more freeflowing of the two galleries. if HANG is vanilla, then HANG annex is chocolate. but the show showing and hanging at HANG annex (can't stop saying it, ANNEX) was very interesting. it was very interesting because the artist had painted a painting. he had painted the very painting by gerhard richter that graces the cover of Daydream Nation. wow, i said through purple-stained lips, wow. i told the artist, who really didn't care, and we moved on to varnish gallery, another favorite.

as always, varnish plays the best music. i've talked to the bartender about it before, who chooses this music, it is always the best! he has told me, whoever is bartending is playing the music. well, on this particular thursday, i'm sure you can guess, as i walked in, what was playing on the stereo? "DAYDREAMING DAYS IN A DAYDREAM NAT-ION!" holy crap. what is this? what does this mean? really, three coincidences seems like an omen.

although i doubt it was an omen for an event happening two years later.

two years later, this july, sonic youth will play Daydream Nation in its entirety in only like four places. Chicago, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Japan, i think, maybe a couple european shows. this is beyond surprising. this is unprecedented. this makes me feel like the opposite of this:

everyone i know who loves sonic youth, has been so excited about this show, all have bought the maximum amount of tickets allowed. although i have people who actually want my extras, i feel like i would have bought them anyway, just in case one wasn't enough to get in.

this is not a time to take any risks...and may i hi-five PB for bringing to my attention the presale: HI FIVE!*


everybody sing:
HYPERSTATION

Falling out of sleep, I hit the floor
Put on some rock tee and I’m out with the door
From bowery to broome to greene, I’m a walking lizard
Last night’s dream was a talking baby lizard

All comin’ from hu-man imagination
Day dreaming days in a daydream nation

Smashed-up against a car at three a.m.
Kids just up for basketball, beat me in my head
There’s bum trash in my hall and my place is ripped
I’ve totaled another amp, I’m calling in sick

It’s an anthem in a vacuum on a hyperstation
Day dreaming days in a daydream nation



*high fiving is against my religion. the fact that it has been used here, is testament to my excitement over said event. in fact, may it be noted, that i can only high five in this post by misspelling it on purpose.

Always look on the right side of life!

today was about dealing. Unemployment, insurance, COBRA, two job interviews (YES!), worker's comp., doctor appointment cancelling.

some smart ass a few days ago said it sounded like i need a secretary to keep track of my non-bending left index finger and instrux to chew on right side of mouth only. i imagine this person is a mother and has been injected with the tried and true mother hormones that make the doing of extremely tedious chores and the keeping track of funky body functions seem like a piece of chocolate coconut cake.

i don't have those hormones.

and so i am proud of my dealing abilities exhibited today. and my not bending of my left finger and my not eating with my left teeth.

if my left breast did anything at all, i'm sure i would not be allowed to use it either.