Portrait of a bookshelf

i love our bookshelf. i could spend days just lookin' at it.

The Truth, The Way, The Loogie

uniquely talented at pulling out hair. precisely in the way of the blade. clearly not ever going to see all the steps. enough phobias to kill a baby. most likely to injure self. highly unlikely to be sober. #1 razor blade licker. never ate paste, maybe should have. crying her way to the circus. not tested on morons. in excess of the recommended daily dose.

Robert Smith has a hard time seeing in the dark too

unbelievable. another moment of perfect timing. this one even more so.

on my way home from shrink class last night, as always i plugged in my ipod and put it on shuffle. my favorite cure song, "Close to me," came on. while exiting the castro i had an impulse to put on glasses to help me see at night, the same way i do during the day. sunglasses to filter the day. then i thought, ha ha, that's funny. nightglasses. wait, i bet they make those. maybe i should get glasses for night driving beause it seems it's hard for me to see in the dark.

and robert smith sings, "...see in the dark..."

at the exact same time! it was so cool.

The thinking person's diet

actually thinking really hard does burn calories. guy told me it just makes you smell funny.

Candied

life is pretty sweet right now. i just want to note that before i forget. i barely even notice the huge chore that getting up, blow drying and getting dressed is. maybe because i'm partially asleep. i get in the car and plug in my ipod. since recently every shuffle is playing the same songs every day, today i was specific. i chose In Rainbows starting at "nude." i leave my street, i cruise through town, i tell myself as a warning not to get impatient with the small amount of traffic i'm about to encounter until i get to san anselmo. i don't get upset. in rainbows is playing, i'm winding my way through a beautiful place, the car is warm and i feel fantastic. i get to my first stop every morning. i get up 15 minutes early to accomodate for it. it's the fanciest grocery store i've ever been in this side of Dean & Deluca. amazing, fresh, prepared food and rich, delicious peet's coffee awaits me there. i choose something for lunch. it's easy to see why the rich are never fat, besides being able to afford personal trainers. it's the food. it's well-prepared. it's lean meat. it's top quality and top quality is healthier. also the demographic that shops there requires this, so they must provide it. it's easy to stay on a diet with this as my lunch stop. no delis for me right now. i get my stuff, i go to the car. i sip my coffee and proceed to move easily and smoothly through the streets towards my short visit with the freeway. 1/4 mile down 101 and i'm done with her. back onto easy curving streets reminiscent of the car ride at disneyland. it's ridiculously pleasant. maybe it's pleasantville in a way. i get to work. it's quiet and unstressed. i sit down, read an email or two and dive into work that is all encompassing and entertaining for my brain. time goes quickly. when it's time for lunch i try to go outside where it's beautifully sunny and warm. i see thick clouds and freezing winds driving down on the city. hmm, i think. that really did suck.

Miranda July, Becky Stark and David Byrne

ok, i'm listening.

i'm talking about a reading by miranda july from her book, No one belongs here more than you. it's best suited for slow-waking saturday mornings, but it's a great find about which lack of mention here would be criminal. becky stark is a musician and film director. she performs a couple songs and i have to say, i am impressed. david byrne shows up to ask miranda questions, and to play a song with becky at the end (1:33) don't miss that.

and two more things:
1. let me remind you that miranda july is the woman who invented this. but i guess that only matters if you've seen her movie.
2. becky stark is the director of a movie that miranda wrote (as previously reported here.)

if you don't know what i'm talking about THEN GET ON IT. mj is an incredibly important artist and i'm not the type to say that about someone who's really only good at gradations and being contrived. she is IT.

Editor!

that's it. i was obviously meant to be an editor. mainly because I LOVE it! i mean, i've never done it full time so i didn't know how much. i am predicting a steady hand and a steadier mind if i can keep this job (temp to perm until they decide they love me. and these people are careful for good reason). i may even go so far as to predict the end of the line for the bi-polar express. but i should be quiet about that.

when i was a teenager, i read the letters section of rolling stone and star hits* voraciously. i loved it when the editor intervened and signed each comment "– ed." when my cat Ed was born in 1985, sure i named him after a song my future 1st husband (but-then-not-even-friend) wrote, "Hello, My Name Is Ed"...but after that charm wore off, i pretended i named him –ed., short for Editor. i walked around yelling, "Editor!" besides i was in love with magazines and i dreamed of being an editor some day.

too bad i hate school and couldn't complete my degree! NOT.

i planned to be a published (novel) author or a famous artist anyway, and even though neither has happened yet, i was right about not needing that particular piece of paper. (and while i hate to stick it to my dad, who said i'd go nowhere without a degree, i will say this... "Stick It Dad!")

it's been an unsettling week. monday was my first day on the job – and i only interviewed for it last friday, so that was fast. linda blair head-spinin'-round-fast. my first day was weird, but whose isn't? second day, i didn't go, i had an interview with another major retail company just a tad north.

third day back in corte madera: i'm feeling a big PHEW pass through my body and brain. i'm feeling myself start to "get it." "get" the organization that feels like a foreign langauge until it becomes the only language. i start to "get" the files, the servers, what i'm allowed to mark up and not mark up, their specific style guide...etc. fourth day, today: i tackle a really difficult catalog spread. there are tons of kids clothes on it, and they're all very similar but different, even inside their own collections. i'm totally unfettered. i just plow. i show my work to the copy manager (and i mean "show my work" just like we were told to do in high school algebra).
(side note: that's a weird word, "algebra." what kind of word is that??) i hand her a spread printout that is so marked up with red, it's got pink behind it, which is other red that i've erased with the irreplaceable and utterly necessary (tho' previously despised) erasable ink pen. she sees the marked-up spread and says, OH MY GOD. because it's a mess. but it's work, and i know what i'm doing, and i can't believe it.

the relief is palpable. i left work today (after being told that i was performing very impressively), with that happy feeling. you know, like a bubble in my soul that's working it's way out to create laughter and excitement. i have only felt that once in the last two years (wedding). and maybe one other time during Friday Night Dance Party (to be discussed in a later post.)

before today i weighed very carefully the literal differences between writing and editing, and a million displaced thoughts about that. i finally landed on something interesting: writing is personal. it's emotional. it's the Bi-Polar Express's Grand Central Station. "will i be able to write this. why can't i write this. oh, i can write this! i love writing this! but will my boss love this. i can't tell. you never know. oh, she liked it but changed a bunch of stuff. i can't believe i can't do this on my own. how did i not nail it AGAIN?! am i supposed to be nailing it? why can't i do it perfectly? does she think i'm stupid. am i stupid?!" and blah blah blahdedly blah...wah wah wah.

editing is not emotional. editing is the rules. it's the facts, ma'am. you can't argue with it. even though each company/publication has a "style guide" that addresses the nebulous, or optional parts of the chicago manual of style, that's something learn-able, just like the regular rules, and something you're not expected to know until you get there. what's more? what's the real key? besides knowing what i'm doing? I CARE. i fucking care if a page in a magazine, catalog, newspaper...whatever...is right. is everything that's printed correct in every way? if it's not, i'm very upset. THAT is a feeling about work i haven't felt since i was 24 and editing the music section of siren magazine – the lucky break that didn't really pay and then disappeared.

*star hits. what a great mag. sarcastic as hell. it's not even google-able, it's so old. probably folded in 1986. i read it starting in '83. wish i could remember where it was published. star hits was a music magazine that featured lyrics to all your favorite new wave songs. i still have one copy somewhere. probably in a box with my other magazines from 1984.


scan above courtesy of another big star hits geek.

DSA – LD

new girl had a diarrhea spray attack in the bathroom today. unfortunately it was loud, and there's a guy sitting at his desk right outside the door. i am positive he heard. it was so hard to keep under control. it came directly following an egg salad sandwich.

i thought of larry david and his issues on the show when Cha Cha, who got seated next to the bathroom in his office, couldn't help commenting whenever he exited.

New and improved. Right.

surprised when i found this graphic on graphics. only noticed when Pizza Hut changed. ghastly. all of them.

The hat aquatic

this is a post about one thing: how much i love my team zissou hat!! favorite piece of movie shwag ever. while in yosemite over the weekend, i had a fantasy about running into wes anderson. he'd say, "nice hat." and then i'd say, "thanks wes anderson! nice movie!"

Evolving headcase or revolving bookcase? You decide.

it's been years of enjoyment since tabs were first introduced with firefox back in 2004. especially useful for the multi-tasking ADD headcase. see here a good day for me, when i'm only bouncing around between 14 ideas/projects.

that strattera is really working wonders. yesterday i cleaned the house for two hours, while only intending to do a half-assed toilet paper wipe-down job on the bathroom sinks.

i am still evolving though (if i wasn't i'd be dead?). my half of the closet still looks like this:

Madonna is a "huge fan" of Iggy's

a funny little clip. an uncomfortable meeting.
"I hope he doesn't take a shit on my stage." - madonna



thanks to my pal b. for sending this to me this morning.

A simple plan

Bag Hag

in this, the last piece of breeders news i will impart on your heart, i tell you that kelley deal wrote a book about knitting handbags. then i tell you that that's all i wanted to tell you.

ps. in the link above there is a description of the book. don't miss the line about learning the basics of felting.

Maxing out on ephebiphobia

having a fear of teenagers may seem funny, and it kind of is. but those bastards have yet to grow a conscience, and this makes them dangerous, like serial killers. they also think they're invincible - this fact will keep them alive when their otherwise foolish schemes would take them down. they just might take you down in the process however.

in doing my research on ephebiphobia, i found this very punk rock site. i would have loved it as a treacherous teen.

NOT THAT THEY HAVE NOTHING TO BE AFRAID OF:
quite the opposite in fact.

The Breeders love Hank Williams

Where the Breeders live (besides Dayton)

call me crazy, but the breeders' signature site is not easy to find.

try a google search. i dare ya.

Let's Talk About Cars: Scion xd

Guitar Thing

sonic youth's "Kool Thing" has been included in the videogame Guitar Hero III. i've been hearing a lot about this game and have yet to see it or play with it. i wonder if you get to play Lee's or Thurston's guitar parts.

Skeleton in my closet

Our friend, P. has an actual skeleton in his closet. last time we were at his apartment, he said hey, check out this skeleton i've got in my closet. and he went through a door i'd never seen before, shuffled around some shit, and came out with...a life-size plastic skeleton. he had nothing else to say about it. like where it came from or anything.

non-sequitors rule.

Injury Log #2: Portrait of a dying nail

the fingernail i partially ripped off three weeks ago is departing the surface of the skin underneath at an alarming and not-alarming rate. the fact that it's pulling up is uncomfortable, but the fact that it might not rip off entirely because it's still fully attached at the bottom, is worse.

it's been a long strange fingernail trip and i'm still on the bus.

other injuries since that time include a psychosomatic issue. for the last week i've been experiencing a vibrating under my left foot that feels like my cell phone going off. i have a lot of vibrating experiences in general though. in the past i could feel my uterus vibrating. not sure if the sickness was to blame, but it, like all the others, eventually disappeared with no explanation. like the time i went blind for 30 minutes at the Elbo Room, then took a #2 in the bathroom and immediately could see again. it was the shit that almost blinded me?

there's a chunk of skin that got taken off somehow right at the bottom knuckle of my right thumb. this has had a really difficult time healing because it's in a place that constantly gets scraped. hand slipped into jeans pocket: ouch.

Let's talk about cars

lately i've been entertaining myself on the road with a game of "male or female?" the way you play is pick out a car near you and decide if it's male or female. surprisingly, it's really obvious which cars are which. there are a few crossovers. i guess these would be gay cars. it's fun to personify past that too. try to imagine cars as people.

my car is definitely a girl. guy's is gay. it's a lesbian. i try to avoid judging obvious cars like really big ones. they are almost always male. except for the hummer h3. i think that one's a girl. the VW golf or gti is a guy. they're not even man cars, they're guy cars. like indie guy, not WWF. i don't think i could ever drive one. i'd start to feel like a guy. the toyota camry, my least favorite car in all the world, is a person who wears a lot of beige. the BMW X5 is another example of a girl car that's kind of tough but with feminine curves. guy thinks maybe it's a lipstick lesbian. those 1970s ford trucks are male. they are the scarecrow from wizard of oz. it's no coincidence that mini-vans are the car of choice for moms. they are female post-giving birth. they have wide hips. the passat is a modern male who decorates with mid-century bent wood furniture. jaguars are males. they're high-profile executives. CEOs. the VW bug is a sorority girl on her way to the beach. most slanted cars are male. which is strange, because they have curves, like the camaro. mini coopers are male. for some reason they have a gay rep. i don't see that. to me, they're like preppy prepschool guys. very straight, just young and mobile. porsches of all kinds are male, but 1970s porsche 911s are punk rockers while porsche carreras are rapists. so that's tricky.

The Ditty Bops

alright, i have to post this. i've had it as a tab in my firefox browser for three days.

it's one of my favorite sites ever. read "our story."

they sound good too!

If i was dying, do you think the make-a-wish foundation would let me play in here?

Finally, an explanation

i can't believe it.
hallelujah!

Put the gun down, James Frey, and step slowly away

that guy. he is soooo ballsy for putting people on as much as he did with his first book, the memoir A Million Little Pieces. shamed for embarrassing his new pal Oprah when The Smoking Gun broke the story that major plot points were in fact fiction, he sort of disappeared for a while. i happened to be visiting his site fairly often around then, and read his version of the debacle before it broke to mainstream press. he did not react well, and he did not know TSG had such a strong case. how embarrassing. in the statement he made on his site, he did not stand up and say, "sorry, i used bad judgement. is it any surprise?" or something. instead he acted defensively and swore, "The Smoking Gun just wants to take me down." YIKES. bad move. then the next time i check his site, it's down with no explanation, and has been ever since. Until now.

while i wish he'd been a man about his scam, i love his books. i even saw him read from AMLP in a bookstore in the ferry building. that was a weird experience. he wasn't a very good reader, he droned, and he seemed paranoid. anyway, it doesn't really matter what's real or not real in his books. they feel incredibly, painfully real. fortunately when i read AMLP and his second book, My Friend Leonard, the sequel, i didn't know or guess even that there was a possibility some of it was made up. My Friend Leonard was especially effective. i cried buckets over two scenes in the book. like, i kept crying after i put it down. for a while. that's pretty powerful writing.

there is one problem with him. while i can accept that he lied about his stories, and even that he lied to his fans before he knew he was found out, i have a hard time with the fact that when he claimed he was a torturned soul wrongly rotting in jail...he was actually a fraternity brother.

it comes as no surprise at all at all that his new book Bright Shiny Morning, due June 1st, is labeled "Fiction."

i just hope it's as good as the first two. who cares where it came from.

"Not in a formulist context"

found this artist while doing a picture search on "head with wings". Her drawings are pretty interesting (wait, how do i know it's a her? a feeling). delicate but not lazy, although the subject matter is a little cliche, there are still some pieces that aren't. also, great use of color. anyway. i'm looking for more information and i find her statement. i take a breath and hope for the best. seldom are statements anything other than a total upchuck of pretentiousness, but i'm willing. this is what i get.

These works explore inherent and contradictory characteristics of drawing as a medium, an activity, and a means to other ends. Intimate, immediate, investigative, irresolute and indeterminate aspects of drawing invade and intersect with each other, complicating and enriching those impulses and gestures that manifest themselves in marks. I refer to marks not in a formalist context but with socio-political terrain in mind. Whose traces are erased, whose stains remain, whose tales do we imagine while gazing at these remains?

seriously.

Head With Wings

two things about head. (unavoidable joke here - got one?)

1. guy has started teasing me about smelling "like head." he's talking about my unemployment practice of washing my hair every other day rather than every day. there's a smell. and it's head. very funny.

2. i had the roof down on the car all day. it was a sun-splashed drive into the city. god, this is such a gorgeous place to live. anyway, right when i got on the freeway, "Head With Wings" by morphine came up on ipod party shuffle. i glanced in the rearview mirror. yes, my hair was spraying out around my head on both sides. yes, it looked like i had a Head With Wings.

2a. one more story here. this is called perfect timing. on the day i got my license and sat behind the wheel of my car by myself for the first time, i plugged my ipod in and put it on party shuffle. yes, Beck's Golden Age came on with, yes, that beautiful first line that goes "Put your hands on the wheel, may the golden age begin." and the way he sings...you can just feel all the beautiful possibilities of the world spreading out in front of you and, like you can almost see the road turning gold. i'm sure there are more of those perfect timing moments, but that's all i got right now.

2b. i never want to live without a convertible in my life. better than vitamins.

off to wash my head!

Simply beautiful

just discovered this guy (curiously his website is the name of a Spoon song).

beautiful work. i might need to purchase the one pictured here.

and i don't loathe Death Cab for Cutie anymore. they really really rock live. guy loves them. when i was first getting to know him, that fact that he loves this sort of whiney wussie singing (ben gibbard), resulted in a check mark in the con column on my guy-file.

but not for long.

i was wrong. their live show really illustrated their awesome rock intensity to the max jack.