The other day I was trying to explain to a new friend the mania that many of my friends and I have for documenting our lives. I told him that life was better when documented, re-articulated, and well-lit. This is how to create present nostalgia.

I stayed in for most of the weekend and wrote, which really means writing a few sentences, taking some notes, and then checking my email obsessively every ten minutes or so. But all that aside, it went well. I'm on the same track tonight and I'm happy to be inside. Something Ali said the other day haunted the crude portion of my brain that can't help but glom onto superstitions...he said something along the lines of, "Some people say that what you are doing on New Years is what you'll be doing the rest of the year." What a thought...while I spend every New Years with some of the best people in this universe (not sure about the other universes), I'm usually holding on to a grain of discontent, some regret for the slowness of my personal achievements. Sometimes, even though I am logistically in the best possible place with the best possible people, I still feel like a shrimp plate at a Bar Mitzvah. So-and-so's girlfriend thinks I'm obnoxious. Why does everybody hate me? I might have brain damage. Did I leave the stove on? But I guess that's just part of the chemical make-up (Prozac and Ativan only dull the edges into what someone once told me was a "quirky personality type", as though that could be found in the DSM IV). I can't exactly obliterate that from my consciousness and arise a different person. I wouldn't want to. But I do know what I want and (as the Sex Pistols once said) I know how to get it. It has a lot to do with staying home and writing, appreciating my friends, and to be doing something on New Years that I would want to do for the rest of the year. I'll be with some of the best people in the universe and I'll know where I am.
So really, here's the challenge...I want to be present.

Today's Meditations:

Check out AdAge's "10 ADS AMERICA WON'T SEE." The brains one is my favorite...note the filmic references to Darren Aronofsky.

Did you know "CC hates the Jews"?

Merry XXXmas
What did I do with my time off of work? Finish that novel? NO! I updated the Naughty Flapper site! More smoking flappers! More be-gartered flappers! More snake-charming flappers! Ho ho ho...etc.
ALSO...
Lisa took some rad pictures of the Black and Blue Burlesque at the last tingle tangle. Yes, it's as fun as it looks.

Today’s Meditations:

“Life is an obscure hobo bumming a ride on the omnibus of art.”

Jane is a 100% cool.

Jason P. should not let me play with his camera.

The News:

"Fresno Noir" has been reprinted on The Outside World's website!

A cab driver just told me that I look like a kid walking around in a grown-up's body. I didn't know if I should have been offended or flattered or afraid that he was on to me...when will I feel like I'm in the right body? I gotta stop taking so many cabs. It's too expensive and too existential.
I was coming home from Ariela's Chanukah party, which was quite nice and, of course, documented with the Spycam! This year my plans to go back to the 'No were canceled due to my cat Maggie's respiratory infection, so it was nice to be able to light the candles with some Jews and assorted others. In the past I've always been with my family or a significant other for the holidays. So far this year, it's been me and Maggie...and her respiratory infection. By the way, she's doing much better.

What would the end of 2003 be without another death? Desmond just informed me that a high school acquaintance of ours committed suicide, leaving a wife and a four-year-old kid. Good bye 2003 and good riddance. Nobody is allowed to die in 2004, ok?

Thursday the 18th many friends are playing in many bands:
Lovemakers
Dealership
Heavenly States
9:30pm
$7 cover
Bottom of the Hill
1233 17th Street (17th @ Missouri)

AND more friends on Friday the 19th:
Citizens Here and Abroad
10pm
$6
The Hemlock Tavern
1131 Polk @ Post

Who's coming with me?

This past Friday I was both honored and just a little bit offended to be chosen by Jason D. (sex journalist and klezmer clarinet giant) to accompany him to the "industry-only" official opening of the Alex de Renzy library at the Institute for Advanced Studies of Human Sexuality of San Francisco. I think I was the only one he could think of that would actually go with him to a place called the Institute for Advanced Studies of Human Sexuality, but that makes me a lucky gal! I've got to say that this was the most interesting party I've ever been to in a library.
I had been uninitiated to the magnum opus of Alex de Renzy, but apparently he is considered the "Cecile B. Demille of porno" for the 70's. After he died two years ago, a great deal of his memorabilia and films were donated to the Institute -- hence the huge, plastic-cups-full-of-Cooks gala.
Naturally, I hit this party undercover, as I am a master of disguise. And I brought the spycam. And a pen. And a note book. Really, you can't take me anywhere. I'm a huge weirdo. Even in a setting like this.
The first thing I noticed was how the majority of the party-goers seemed to be in their 60's. It didn't make sense to me until, after being there for a few minutes, a nice older woman pointed to a screen projecting a young woman in a sling being gang-raped ("Pretty Peaches" 1978) and exclaimed, "That's me!" I was amongst geriatric porn star royalty! Jason started to point out a few others in the room that could be recognized from their work on the screens. One of them was lifting her shirt, using her pendulous breasts to illustrate a point in her cocktail conversation. MOM! Stop that!
The Institute's library is a dark, labyrinthine mess of rooms of varying sizes. We wandered the stacks, picking out titles at random and accusing each other of it being their favorite book. Suddenly Jason and I found ourselves at a brightly lit doorway. A man that looked like he was about to sell us some insurance said, "Welcome to the Anal Room!" Here we learned that de Renzy entered an anal phase in the 80's, went by the name of Rex Borski and turned to video, churning out several anal-themed movies a week. Most notable title from the boxes on display: "Mocha Honey Tunnel." A screen in the Anal Room was playing out a scene of several couples with bad 80's hair going at it all over a rather banal couch in front of a Christmas tree. A young woman who had entered the room behind me gasped. "That's my family room!" This was de Renzy's daughter. I hope they got rid of that couch.
After that party, we went to after-party for a cabaret show, and then another party at an all-night speakeasy/sweater shop. You know, the usual.

Last night’s all-girl-fiction-review workshop convened for Mai Tais instead of writing, which I found equally as productive. And Malca agrees with me that Jews don’t ski. Affirmation of life-long beliefs is important.
I had an idea for a list-writing experiment that I wanted to try out on everyone last night, but the Mai Tais came in pint glasses. Nuff said. Maybe we can all do it bloggy style instead? Here’s the assignment:
“Things you should know about me…(disclaimers?)”
Ok, don’t take longer than 5 minutes. Here’s mine:

THING YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT ME
1. I can speak about my insecurities with confidence.
2. I have all of the hang-ups of Kafka, with none of the talent.
3. I swallow more pills a day than food.
4. Sometimes I forget what I look like.
5. I don’t do spelling.
6. My head hurts all of the time.
7. I’d bake everyone in the whole world cookies if I had an oven and an unlimited supply of ingredients.
8. My ideal mate has more in common with Gizmo of “Gremlins” than any actual human.

Ok…my times up. Your turn…

Today's Meditations:

: Huge collection of photos of silent film stars. Check out the awesome Theda Bara pages.

The Hebrew Hammer: It's good to see Andy Dick back in circulation...sort of. Thanks for this one Paul! And Desmond is going to tape it for me tonight. What a Mensch.

For those who are feeling as unmoored as I do these days: Online tarot card readings.

Dory says everyone should try this:
"go to google
type in miserable failure
click i'm feeling lucky"

******

I'm realizing more and more that when I'm lonely I hide. Today I wanted to walk around with a little cave over me. Sartre said that hell is other people. He was certainly right on with that one, but part of me somehow remains convinced that heaven is as well.
Uhm...

So in other news (I really have to get a new transitional phrase), everyone has their birthday in December. If you see Lisa or Ali or Woody Allen or Jeff Bridges, give them a cake. Last night's Tingle-Tangle (sorry for getting your spelling wrong before, Sol!) was a December birthdays celebration and Robin Coomer (of Loop Station fame) sang the swingingest version of Happy Birthday that I've ever heard.
Friday Nanos Operetta played a packed house at Galia. They wore matching suits and played like maniacs (the good kind). Max and Ali promised that some time in the future Nanos will perform in matching scarves like Scarf Boy for me. They know how I get around scarves.
So If you missed that show on Friday, you have another chance to see them this Wednesday with Loop Station:
Amnesia, 853 Valencia @ 19th.
Show starts 9-ish.
$5... or $3 if you wear a pith helmet.

If you cry in the rain, nobody notices.

More MAIL BAG:

Dear Audra,

Today I found the duke you left in someone's computer.

Yours,
Patrick

p.s. I am serious; we found a turd in this lady's computer.

I think Pat is serious. For those of you unfortunate enough to NOT be from Fresno, let’s address the part of this letter that has to do with hiding a duke. It’s a quaint small-town custom that involves hiding your feces in someone’s house (say, like at a party), and then tipping the host off anonymously by leaving a note somewhere for him or her to find. Just for the record, I’ve never hid the proverbial duke, but about six months ago Ali, David, and I went to Jezebel’s Joint and really hated the DJ…naturally, Ali and I (Fresnan) convinced David (non-Fresnan) to deliver a note to the DJ. Then we ran. The note read:

Dear Mister DJ:
I hid a duke.
(lipstick smear added per Ali’s request)

I guess that dude is probably still wondering why David handed him that note.
I just trolled the internet for any documentation on duke hiding, and this is all I came up with --> some fellow’s log blog. And I thought I needed therapy.
If anyone has any additional information on the tradition of hiding a duke, please share as this is an open forum.

TODAY’S MEDITATIONS:

Cat and Girl: That Mike Guy said this particular comic reminds him of a conversation we once had. The two of us kind of look like that too.

Cat and Laibach: That Mike Guy like this one too.

I think he's sorry that he called me a neurotic drug addict and I think I'm sorry I called him a drunk. Now he's in India.

MAIL BAG:

I knew there was a reason I liked Canada. Here's a recent email from a fellow in Ontario:

audra

You are my favourite model
I am one of your many fans. You have a stunning figure and are are cute too. I am sure you get tons of fan mail. I bet it gets boring. Would you mind sending me a photo? Any chance of it being in colour? How about one of your gorgeous figure . You have a cute smile. Your legs look fantastic. Would you mind signing the photo and sending it to me.

On the other hand, Evansville, Indiana is sounding better all the time:

Dear Audra, I am probably the sole member (so far) of your Evansville, Indiana fan club. I have been a secret admirer of yours since your pictures appeared in Wireless. But now have decided to come out. I worried about you since you didn't appear on your news site in September and I didn't know about your blogspot.
You hardly ever smile in your pictures. Why is that?
Until next time God willing -
Best Regards,

Thanks for the mail, peeps.

See, I smile sometimes.

Wish you were here.

So here is a brilliant holiday idea gaffed from Lisa --> to avoid the usual confusion and disappointment that usually surrounds the holiday season, I’m encouraging my family and friends to sign up for a wish list on Amazon. It’s easy, it’s fun…I’ll know what to get you. Check it out. I bet you’ll spend an hour window shopping like I did. Oh yeah, and register with your real name so I can find you on there, ok Auntie Zoltan?

Here are a couple of pictures from the infamous Tingel-Tangel taken at the Gypsy night. Unfortunately, they are ¾ Ali and I (dubious math?) with a hint of Jason Ditzian and Rob Reich in the background. If anyone has more, send them over.

AND…it’s off to the ‘No (that’s Fresno for people in the know about the ‘No) for Thanksgiving and such. Luckily, half the posse will be there as well for $2.50 gin and tonics at Livingstones and karaoke at Tokyo Gardens Friday night. (Anoush is right, there is no “s” in Tokyo Garden, but it just sounds better that way!) Adrienne can’t make it this year, but promises to take me by her grandfather’s Denny’s when she goes down next time.

Today’s Meditation:

BadgerBadgerBadger: Thanks Melissa.

Here's LA Weekly's write-up of that Feral House Party.
See NOV 11 for my take on this event...
The Man Who Saw the World (From LA Weekly)
Feral House has made a reputation publishing subversive and transgressive literature, with subjects ranging from the occult to pop culture to Muslim extremists. One of its recent offerings (and the inspiration for the club Bricktops) was MEL GORDON’s Voluptuous Panic: The Sex Industry in Weimar Berlin. Publisher ADAM PARFREY kicked off a reading series with a salon featuring Gordon, and a Weimar dress code, which only chanteuse LYDIA LUNCH and members of THE VELVET HAMMER attempted to re-create. Gordon began his lecture on the decadence of Germany between the wars by handing out embossed boxes containing aphrodisiac Chinese herbs, a popular treat in Weimar Berlin. Gordon’s tales were full of rampant morphine and absinthe abuse, homosexuality, prostitution, and wanton female cabaret performers urinating onstage when the audience displeased them. There were film clips of nudist camps and opium dens, but most fascinating was Gordon’s dissertation on Erik Jan Hanussen, the subject of his latest book, Hitler’s Jewish Clairvoyant. Not only was Hanussen a mystic who made a number of accurate predictions, and published his own magazine, he specialized in a wildly popular nightclub act hypnotizing socialites and SS wives into a state of orgasm, without laying a hand on them. Mesmerized by Gordon’s tales (and no doubt all in a glowing state) were musicians HOWIE PYRO and JAMES INTVELD, filmmakers JULIAN NITZBERG and AUGUSTA, DJ SENOR AMOR, writer BRENDAN MULLEN, and ZAMORA THE TORTURE KING, fresh from his month long stint at Knott’s Scary Farm. After Gordon’s lecture concluded, Hollywood legend KIM FOWLEY (no stranger to decadence himself) shook his head and mused to no one in particular, “David Bowie saw all this shit first!”
—Pleasant Gehman

>^..^<
It still feels like there's an encampment of gypsies in my throat (no offence to anyone of the Romani culture), but I managed to go to work today and tinker with the same paragraph of corporate apologia for approximately eight hours. I was so out of it that I didn't even remember to take a lunch break. This flu-shot flu is kicking my a$$.
After sleeping all day yesterday, I woke up in a panic that I would starve to death because I only had licorice tea and chocolate flavored soy milk in the house, and I just couldn't imagine walking down the hill to procure anything from the...uh...what do you call them? Food Holes? Luckily, Mark called and offered to bring over some Tom Kha Gai, which might have saved my life, or more likely my craving for Thai food. But of course, all soup comes with strings attached. He made me an Offer of a Lifetime, but I was too sick to give him an adequate answer. He said I could think it over.

SOMETHING IMPORTANT FORGOTTEN WHILE SICK:
DORY'S BIRTHDAY is NOVEMBER 30th!!!
Here's a song I wrote for her. This song generator is a little limited by its vocabulary, so you have to get creative.

Despite the fact that I'm as sick as a dog with a cold, I still find time for...

Today's Meditations:

Subversive Cross Stitching.

The Wrong bananas: More nonsense from RatherGood!

Mein Scheissige Kampf: If Hitler won the war.

So the All-Girl-Workshop was greater than great. And no, Ali, we didn't take our clothes off. But there was involvement of a leather couch. And Adrienne did speak the words, "Make her have sex with his pants!" Everyone is working on such interesting and challenging stories...I'm really looking forward to the future of our workshop. I got some useful discussion on my story and I feel more excited about it than I ever have.
New excerpt:
“Uh, yeah. That’s weird,” I said. The bar was filling up with the new breed of ‘80’s Kids that had cropped up in Fresno recently. These kids, in ironically dated Flashdance-style off the shoulder numbers and tight, pegged pants, were actually born in the ‘80’s and seemed to live to snort cocaine out of the filters of their Parliament cigarettes. They were attractive and androgynous in a way that made me want to eat them…just take bites out of their heads. I remember when Ellie and I used to dress like that, but that was actually in the ‘80’s.

****
I've forgotten to take all my pills again for the second day in a row. I'm turning into the old man Patrick warned me I would become! In other news, this is day four of the NO COFFEE challenge inspired by Nils. It will all be OK as long as there is tea...

On the topic of changing a cat's name: I'm really glad that Maggie came with her name, otherwise I would have named her something lame like "Joseph K."

Today's Meditations:

How Takeru Kobayashi does it: Cabbage and jogging. Thanks Paul!

How about a nice cup of...

The Victorian Interweb: This is so G-ddamn clever.


Devastatin' Dave: Some very bad and very obscure album covers.

Shows/Events this weekend that everyone should know about:
This Friday @ The Odeon: Rube Waddell, 10pm
Sunday @ Amnesia: Tingel-Tangel, 8:30pm onwards. I hear Ariela is singing Kurt Weil!
Monday @ 111 Minna: Citizens Here and Abroad, 9pm

This BLARG entry brought to you by Nick Drake's Bryter Layter. Why'd you have to do it Nick?

I'm done with feeling like a ghoul for writing about someone else's misfortune. I need to feel free to fictionalize it and let the air in. That's how to add life to death. I am looking forward to tonight's All-Girl-Workshop action.

Lisa and I are going to tag-team marry Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal. We are confident in our chances.

Jason Chavez just informed me that the DVD of the They Might Be Giants documentary GIGANTIC has a special bonus clip of them hosting Nick Rocks from 1987...that's where I first saw them and fell down while watching them fall down. I'm getting all teary.

I’ve spent every Sunday night for the past five weeks with my dear friends Ali and Max at the womb-like Amnesia bar for Sol Crawford’s Weimar/Klezmer Madness/Champaign Party called the Tingel-Tangel. Sometimes you just meet people who are complete social catalyses and Sol is one of those guys. This is the fellow who convinced droves of people to dress up like Robert Palmer and the girls from the “Simply Irresistible” video and invade all the hipster bars in town after Mr. Palmer’s death. I wasn’t there, but from all accounts, it was legendary. I told him I would make it my mission to follow him around with a video camera after that. I guess I just have to buy a video camera now.
These nights at the Tingel-Tangel have been no less legendary in my mind…where else can I hear excellent live ethno and vintage music, surrounded by well-dressed, like-minded people (saucy ladies mostly), run the complete spectrum of emotions from life-affirming celebration to deathly despair in conversation with Ali ("Von Himmelhoch jauchzend zum Tode betruebt"? Thanks Goethe), all while getting completely trashed on Champaign?! By the way, I now know that Ali and I can finish a complete bottle by ourselves in about one hour, which makes for the shittiest of Mondays at work, lemme tell ya.
Last Sunday was probably the most devastating yet. It was Gypsy Mustache Night, with a screening of “Latscho Drom”, Gaucho (a Django Rheinhardt influenced band), and Kugelplex (the rockingest of klezmer bands, besides the Klezmatics). The guy from Gaucho plays just like Django Rheinhardt, except he has all of his fingers. And Rob Reich and another friend Jason from Kugelplex absolutely whipped all the drunkards into a frailach induced frenzy. Beth Anne, I’m sorry I dropped you.

Today's Meditations:

How the world will end: This is a pretty accurate flash animation. Thanks Lisa!

Don't even look at it: The new "No Contact" Jacket...Make sure you watch the Assault QuickTime. Recommended by Anoush.

Strange Sisters: Trashy pulp novels from the Isle of Lesbos.

Leggo my...whatever: Famous album covers rearticulated in Leggos.

The Bloggers' Conciousnce.

~And hopefully later tonight...the low down on Amnesia's Tingle Tangle nite (or Weimar 2000, as Ali called it.)~

Beyond the Beat Generation: Here's my new favorite interweb radio station.

He refers to his cats as "the girls." I like that.

Feral House Weekend
I just got back from a four-day trip to LA where I was submerged in Feral House's weekend of Weimar culture events. It was my obsessive-nostalgic dream come true.
Thursday was an invitation only (good thing I'm friends with Paul) salon at the Feral House house in honor of their two newest books on the era, Mel Gordon's Hanussen: Hitler's Jewish Clairvoyant and a naughty, female-empowered coffee table book called The Hot Girls of Weimar Berlin.
The Feral House house was exactly how I had always dreamed and hoped it would look, from the framed portrait of Aimee McPherson to the Hansel and Gretel architecture of the house itself. It was just like that Simpson's episode when Bart looks into the office of Mad magazine and sees Alfred E. Newman riding around on a unicycle. It blew my mind.
As anyone who would actually be reading my BLARG already knows, I've been pushing Mel Gordon's books on everyone for the past three years. It was quite the experience to hear him talk on the subjects that are near and dear to me...fast girls, narcotics, the occult. He even handed out some sort of elaborately packaged Chinese aphrodisiac (once used in Magnus Hirschfeld's "Sexual Institute") that he claimed contained the ground penises of three different animals. If that doesn't work, I don't know what would. Unfortunately, the supply ran out before I got one so there will be no first-person DeQuincey orientalist drug experience rant from me...but I'll look into it.
Friday night Mr. Gordon spoke on Erik Jan Hanussen, whom I've been looking for info on since I tried to write a paper on Istvan Szabos 1988 film "Hanussen" for a German Cinema class at CSU Fresno (go dogs!). Even though it's a Hungarian film (but German language), I insisted on writing on it because my father had mentioned something once about Hitler having a Jewish psychic and I was just amazed to have found something on the topic. The libraries in Fresno eight years ago yielded no information on the actual man and the film is pretty lacking, so I think I must have written a pretty shitty paper. Now I'm reading Mr. Gordon's book and it's just amazing that history seems to have forgotten or misinterpreted this important political and cultural player.
Saturday night was the final night of Feral House's events...further delving into Berlin's girl culture. There were some amazing slides projected...Weimar domms, clown sex, opium parties.

Here are some memorable quotes from my time in LA:

"Those buttwads at Starbucks and their T-Mobil!"

"I'm bi...centennial."

"I'm here with my friend."
"You mean the guy with the tits?"
"No, the other one."

"Have you met Torture King?"

AIRLINE BILLBOARD: "Non-Stop from Leno to Letterman"
That just says it all about LA, doesn't it?

THE FUN THAT WAS HAD AT HALLOWEEN: The Pictures.
SEE how adorable Lisa is as a Brownie! BE AMAZED by my "date" with Jane, the Mongolian Princess! DON'T MISS David looking like a 6'4 Phoebe from Friends!

"This song is about taking a look inside yourself and then quickly turning away."
-- John Flansburgh tonight at A Clean Well-Lighted Place For Books promoting TMBG's new book BED BED BED.

Monday night was Beijing Street Punk night.

Well, it finally happened; David and I went to a punk show last night at UC Berkeley’s Bear’s Lair (whatever.com) and I felt OLD. But that’s kool. I knew it would happen someday. There comes a time in everyone’s life when they realize that they would rather be sitting down in a chair than be in the pit. We showed up a little late and only caught the last song of an all-girl outfit from Beijing called Hang On The Box (bad translation?), who were as musically together and competent as they were maddeningly adorable. But the headliner was Brain Failure, the first punk band to ever self-release an album in China. The lead singer Xiao Rong seemed to be really excited to be in Berkeley and (I think) was trying to explain how cheap beer would be for Americans in China. He had so much to say and wasn’t about to let a language barrier get in the way. I think old school Chinese punk might be the wave of the future.

Happy Halloween.

Jackie O. or Lola Lola?

Today’s Meditations:

Burmese Billboards: Mark took these pictures of billboards when he was in Burma last. They make drunk driving look so cool…like a movie!

I just watched Peter Sellers in beige-face playing Hrundi Bakshi in "The Party". Is this xenophobic mocking or just a load of sight gags and fun? Why oh why is Peter Sellers always doing that to us? I just want to know when I'm going to get invited to a party like that!

So I received an interesting email last week from an anonymous fellow who wants to be my "handboy", which apparently means he'll do stuff around the house for me. Oh hell, I'll just reprint the letter:
"Miss Audra,
YOU look as if YOU were "To the Manor Born" with YOUR sophisticated, stylish appearance. I would like to become YOUR handboy assistant and can perform butler, driver, gofer duties for YOU. I will in effect "become YOUR property" as I place myself under YOUR leadership and guidance. Where do YOU live so that we might discuss my relocation?
handboy"
I'm not sure what "to the Manor Born" means (isn't that a British TV show or something?)...I'm pretty sure I look like I was to The Shtettel Born, but I like his offer. Maybe if I could share him with the girlposse...like a time-share sort of a thing. Let me know what you think girls. I bet he does windows.

Last night I went out to dinner with Desmond to one of those pan-Asian places where you can get a samosa with your egg roll, etc. Desmond seemed to think that the waiter was giving me the chocolate eye or something and I said, "We're in the Castro! No guys pick up on me in my hood...besides, if he is actually straight -- and he's not -- why wouldn't he just assume I was your date?!"
Desmond gave me a look that indicated that his Gaydar is never broken and then said, "HELLO!" and pointed at his shirt, which bore a picture of Barbarella. In general, his Gaydar is so much more accurate than my Jewdar. I'm always bombing out with the Jewdar thing. A guessed incorrectly that a Friendster I know is 100% Goy Boy and I think I might have offended him, because he's actually only 50%. But anyway, this is not about the Jews. This is about the gays...ok, not really. But I will repeat the story I told Desmond in the pan-Asian restaurant about the pan-Asian restaurant. Several months ago I went on a date-type-thing with a really nice and handsome boy-person that I had up-to-then only spent three minutes with. We went to that very same pan-Asian restaurant in the Castro. I don't really do that very often (go on dates, not go to pan-Asian restaurants...I do that all the time), so I was pretty open to the whole experience and was wanting to get to know people and listen to their stories about growing up in the Ozarks or whatever. Well, this guy -- as sweet as he was -- seemed to only talk about how most people think that he's gay, and that he is not. Ok. Now that that's cleared up...oh wait, here comes that topic again...and again? I started to sense a theme building. Nearing 10pm, the topic arises again and he actually says, "...and I know I'm not gay because I've tried it and let me tell you, I don't really want a dick up my a$$ again."
That was pretty much it for the date. I guess the moral of the story is: don't say the words dick and a$$ in the same sentence on the first date. Suddenly I had to go and he never called anyway. Ah, the joys of being single.

Today's Meditations:

They sit like pimps: San-X's new characters seem to be kittens in a hot tub drinking Saki. Rad! But what's with the baked one off to the left side?

The Russians: Here are a bunch of computer animated toilets from your favorite online games.

Just plain disturbing: Make sure you move your mouse over the eye.

Watch her go: This three-year-old North Korean girl really knows her way around a xylophone. Thanks to Decorative Trim for sending this one to me...or whatever your name is today. Yeee.

I just hurt someone like I was hurt...it didn't really help at all. I wish baggage didn't accumulate as fast as it does. At this rate, I'll be buried in no time.

I should be asleeping right now, but instead I'm thinking about when things were less complicated...why didn't I know what a great time we were all having in high school? Preschool? The womb?

Flashbacks:
[Note: Names have not been changed to protect anyone at all.]

1. INT. Mr. Donahue's English class. Fresno, California. 1993.

MR. DONAHUE
Ethics are slippery. For instance, what do we think about euthanasia?

JOSEPH JUNE
I was once youth in Asia.

_________________

2. EXT. The Stemler's backyard. Stockton, California. 1982.

GREG STEMLER
Look what I have. It's a dime, the most valuable coin in the world.

AUDRA
So, this is a quarter I took off of my dad's nightstand. It's worth like ten dimes!


Ok, these flashbacks aren't really cheering me up. Maybe playing around with Photoshop will:
For those of you who know where I work.

So I heard some interesting news from Kristin Beck, the editor of a fine Seal Press collection of dating horror stories I was published in called The Moment of Truth : Women's Funniest Romantic Catastrophes...apparently the book was spotted on sale in New York's Museum of Sex bookshop! WOW~ I bet some creep is skimming my Vomit story right now! Kool.

I'm currently in Fresno where I have just gotten back from seeing my sister sing in the Fresno Philharmonic's production of Mozart's Requiem. It was excellent and she was amazing, even more so than usual (she got the talent and the looks, I got the bad posture and the panic attacks). As I listened to my sister's solos in the most dramatic piece of music on death that I have yet to hear, I couldn't help but consider what an appropriate year it is for her to be part of this production, for me to be watching her perform this piece, and for everyone I know to read my account of how uncanny this performance was. Everyone I know can admit that it has been a bad year for death (or a good year, depending on how you look at it, as I am sure the funerary biz is way up).
This year, the first movement of Mozart's requiem started for me at work in July when a co-worker in her mid-thirties had a heart attack and died right in front of all of us. We stood there (helpless and useless) with her body for two hours, waiting for a coroner to show and then we were shuttled into group meetings with grief councilors. None of us said what we were really thinking: I can't believe it is possible to die at work -- no one wants to be at work -- how alienating to die on the 26th floor. I walked home in a daze...no one I talked to really understood what I had seen, not even me. For months I had nightmares related to death and work: My supervisor entrusted me to deliver a dead baby in a cardboard coffin to its funeral, but the coffin was leaky and I was spiteful so I inadvertently lost it on the BART and then, as a result, lost my job...stuff like that. We never mention our co-worker's name in the office anymore. The nightmares eventually stopped.
Then Schnookie Book, my sister's best friend and one of the only dogs I've ever seen run sideways and suffer from a rare disease called hypothalmia, died of an entirely different disease.
Uncle Leo was the next. He survived a concentration camp, but not cancer. My aunt discouraged anyone from attending the funeral. I'm sure she had her reasons, but the body count was confusing me and I couldn't really understand at the time.
Then a friends mother. Then two family friends.
And now Rerun.
No one really knows what to say to each other...just like in the office. I have no real conclusion here except:
An interesting factoid about Mozart's requiem is that he never finished it. He died pretty much in the middle of writing it and a student of his guessed at the rest.

Given the infinite number of monkeys typing on an infinite number of blogs, is it likely that I could unknowingly reproduce someone else's blog entry word for word? Probably...and this might be that entry.

Today’s Meditations:

The Japanese: This whole ham sculpture thing just isn’t kosher.

Absinth and Silent Film: two of my favorite things came together in Bianca’s new online short. Bianca is a real fox, by the way.

Gothtoberfest: A countdown to Halloween! Thanks for this one, Paul!

Heil Shitler: Do the German anti-discrimination laws apply to pets?

Poor Roy: Ok, this is a few weeks old and kinda dumb.

If my family wasn’t so full of mental illness and physical deformities, I might have been a real snob.

Ok, so that’s not entirely true, but it’s some cool shit for this character that I’m working on to say. I’ve been writing the same short story for close to a year now and oddly enough, I haven’t yet lost faith in it. I used to crank ‘em out at an alarming rate back in grad school when the only inspiration I had was theory class…now, surrounded by real life tragedies, countless disappointments, alarmingly bad dates, a hilariously bizarre writing job, and endless strings of uncanny occurrences, I can’t seem to sit down and put brain to keyboard. So, if you’ve guessed by now that you’re a reading an exercise in “writer’s flow”, you’ve guessed correctly.

Oh, and also a place to share amazing things from the interweb...

Today's Meditations:

GI JOE: If you haven't seen these already...This is brilliant in the tradition of “What’s up Tiger Lilly” or even “Ferocious Female Freedom Fighters.” An art school kid has overdubbed those old GI Joe after-school morality shorts.

Premises, Premises: A Peer-Enforced Marketplace for New Ideas. Paul's really got a load of weird ones up there.

The Ralph Wiggum Sound Archive

Groovy funeral song from Psychomania, a film I highly recomend.