She may still be a few weeks shy of 3 months old and weigh less than 4 pounds, but Ms. Bagel seems to feel that she has all the answers. Indeed, along with B, she gives me reason to wake up in the morning and push forward.
She doesn’t say much. She is a very quiet and well-bred young lady who knows her way ’round a wee wee pad and simply adores great music. We do diverge on a few things — she was quite upset by the sounds of and general color scheme of the Paul Lynde Halloween Television Special from 1976. We only just watched the DVD and it changed my life. However, it caused Bagel to bitch up a storm. …Particularly when Paul, Margaret Hamilton, Witchie Pooh, Florence Henderson, Tim Conway and KISS sang “Disco Baby” — she seemed to be begging to be “put down” — But, I digress. Taste aside, Bagel seems to be pretty damn intelligent!
Both Ing and Miss S recognized this immediately and they’ve not even met her!
Just last night as I realized that we were having an earthquake and that I had not gone completely bonkers she calmed me by telling me that people view her as “difficult and temperamental” — she just wants things to be “right and best for her” —- Well, I was amazed!
I explained to Bagel that this is almost exactly what Barbra once told cinematographer, James Wong Howe! But, Bagel corrected me and told me that this had been a misquote. These genuine words of need came directly from Bagel.
Anyway, feel free to leave a question for Bagel and I will ask her to answer.
Here are two rather lengthy questions posed by Ing and Miss S:
Dear Bagel: I don’t know if you read this blog, but if you do, I was wondering if I should choose a life of aesthetic purpose or if it would be better to live on the edge, in a cliff house made of stones that I have gathered myself, one by one, in my spare time? If you don’t have the inclination to reply, I understand. Just thought I’d shoot for the stars. Thank you. Ing.
Bagel replies: no i am unable to actually read but i like to watch. i’m not much for aesthetic purpose, but i’m all about living life to the fullest. quite often this does mean living on the edge. for example, i like to climb up the stairs to matty and b’s loft bedroom but never down. i sit on the edge of the top stair and cry until one of them comes to pick me up, cuddle me and then toss some odd little toy for me to “fetch” back and forth. what can i say? it seems to amuse them and matty smells quite good. i guess what i’m saying is that if you sit on the edge someone just might do the same for you! edgy is good, but take care not to fall. cuddles, bagel.
From Miss S: 1) What is the meaning of life? 2)What happens on the marriage night? 3) Who should I vote for to be the next president of our glorious nation. 4) Should I go to the Hilton and make sexy time with a man I met over the internet?
Bagel replies: 1. the meaning of life can only be found in socks. try chewing on one for a few hours. the clarity of it all just sort of weaves its way into your consciousness. if the sock is unwashed the impact is all the greater. trust me. 2. it’s not so much what happens but how one breathes. it is all in the breathing. try not to pant. 3. the US is doomed. chew an extra sock on election day. 4. i find that more joy in the carpet tiles than one can find in making sexy time at the hilton. besides, if you simply must make sexy time with a stranger do it at one of the by the hour motels in the tenderloin. much more exciting. just be sure you’ve finished that last cycle of shots! cuddles, bagel.
I was going to write about my upset regarding Roisin Murphy’s performing accident
(the glam one — pictured above having her cup of morning coffee — got a bit carried away while banging her head about and smashed it into a chair which had been serving as some sort of prop on her stage — and broke the bone above her eye socket! …It’s all on YouTube — it really hurts to even watch it! …I’m just glad she didn’t lose her eye!) …and she was sounding great! Some people would like to give the world a Coke, but I’d just like to give Ms. Murphy a hug! What she will not do for disco!
Anyway, Cool Old Cheeser tag’d me. I’m supposed to list seven interesting things about myself that you would not know, then link/tag seven other bloggers. I seem to have lost the ability to link in a post and don’t want to tag anyone but please share seven things if you’d like!
7 “Interesting” Useless And A Few Idiotic Things About Me
1. When I was about 16 I met Harry Dean Stanton and film director Wim Wenders on the set of PARIS TEXAS in this little town in Texas. Nordiem? …or maybe it was in Houston. They were filming at this club/bar place. Not sure. Anyway, my father had sold a crew member a gun and arranged to get us on to the set.
Sadly, I was unimpressed and had only been interested in meeting Nastassja Kinski. She was not there. At this time, I did not know who Wim Wenders was and only knew that Stanton had been in THE ROSE. Color me an idiot.
2. I used to have a very high-paying job for an international firm with plenty of disposable income. I felt lonely one night and ordered a $3K+ robotic dog from Japan. It looked cool for about ten minutes, but would sometimes blurp, eyes turning bright red and stand up and lay back down.
This freaked me out and I gave it to my ex. I think I was supposed to have “trained” it. Color me a new shade of idiot.
3. I have all 65 compact discs of Barbra Streisand albums that have been put to CD! Yes, this includes the rare soundtrack to NUTS! (I own it!)
…I sure wish that they would put the soundtracks to THE OWL AND THE PUSSYCAT and EYES OF LAURA MARS to CD!?!?
4. One fuzzy, drunken/stone’d night in the summer of 1984 me and the head counter girl at the Dairy Queen drove my 1967 Buick Special Delux into a six foot deep ditch. This happened at about 2am on a Sunday morning and she spilled Jack Daniels all over the front seat and the entire car was filled with branches. Perhaps most interestingly, she convinced me to stumble with her to her family’s home (about a mile away) and her father used his tow truck to pull my car out of the ditch. He wasn’t mad at me (or her) for having been behind the wheel of a car under the influence — but he was pissed off that we woke him up.
As I drove off he told me I was a good kid but needed a hair cut. Ever after my car was off-alignment and tilted to the left. When my father asked me why I shrug’d and said, “I dunno. Leave me alone!” …This tactic worked. My mother never noticed. Still — color me a shade of idiot teenager”
6. Several years ago, I dated a professional male escort for close to 2 months. He worked out daily and his neck was the same width as his head. Most of his clients just wanted to “talk” — or, so he told me. He was smart and stupid all at once.
7. When I was 24 and barely had enough money to eat a meal a day I turned down $500 from a very well known film critic who wanted to video tape me in his hotel suite at the Four Seasons — doing something rather “private”
…I declined. I walked home in the snow starving. It was so cold and I was so very hungry. Color me a fourth shade of “idiot”
…It would be interesting to see what Dessie, Pakipoptart, Walter and Hot Lunch would come up with in a list of 7 things. …but no tag. I’m just sayin’…
Anyway, I keep walking past the same person. She is probably about my age. She must be a mom, but this is no “Soccer Mom” — this is a whole other breed of mommy. Her baby appears to be a little over a year old — not that I’m a great judge of a baby’s age. She carries her baby in one of those wrap-around-front-loading baby holsters so that the little girl is looking at her mom for the whole walk’s journey.
I’ve come to call this lady “Violaine” because something about her reminds me of Cocteau Twins —- beautiful, disturbing and haunting all at once.
I keep thinking that I should feel somehow better about seeing her and her little girl. They both seem quite happy. But, there is an element of worry to be had here. In addition to the baby, “Violaine” wears a child’s tape recorder like a purse. It swings from her shoulder and plays at what must be top volume. It is loud. And, always, the same tuneless harping of a harmonica is playing. But, “Violaine” is singing with the “tune” and the little girl seems to be so enjoy every note.
I’ve seen them five times now.
I always make eye contact with “Violaine” and she smiles. I smile back as they pass me. I turn and watch them walk down Market Street. She is quite thin with long grey/brown hair falling down her back — it almost goes to her waist and is in dire need of a brush. The baby is cute and well-groomed. But, they both wear matching ponchos. The type that vendors sell all over town. The type you normally see either tourist or homeless wearing.
Are “Violaine” and her baby homeless?
And, there is a look in “Violaine’s” eyes that is suspect. Acid? ‘Shrooms? …She does not have that face. You know, the meth face that never fails to creep me out. No. She just seems to happy in a way that unsettles me as much as that harmonica recording with which she sings.
I should add that “Violaine” is not singing words but sort of sounds. Actually, it all feels like some sort of odd art that never made it uptown to Sesame Street. In fact, I would bet money that Electric Company Avenue would have evicted them long ago. Zoom might have made a better setting, but the 70’s are long over.
And, of course, no one seems to notice them but me.
Today, I met up with B. We passed them. When I asked B if he had taken notice he confirmed that he had, but didn’t pay much attention. I turned and “Violaine” and her baby headed down Market Street in a sort of dazed jaunt. Or, maybe we are jaunting in a daze and “Violaine” is in step. Sometimes, it is hard to know.
So, what else is new — right?!?!? I was checking out my fave blogs and came to Pakipoptart’s (see my sidebar for a link) and he had the guts to post about this bit of idiocy from the folks at Newsweek. Talk about responsible journalism! …not.
I did notice this cover today at a news stand in San Francisco as I fought through yet another panic attack. I think I rolled my eyes at it. But, after I read the online article and then my pal’s post — I could feel my anger swell.
Pakistan has some crazy people working their sick agenda. So does England. So does France. So does Isreal. So does Palestine. So does the nation formerly known as Burma. So does your apartment building. And, the US has plenty of crazies operating within its borders, too. …Apparently a few work at Newsweek and would rather appeal to fear and xenophobic hatred to sell a few more copies of their newspaper.
This sort of rubbish does not educate or help this ailing world.
I fear that headlines such as this will only result in bigotry and the likely opportunity for our truly scary ass president to decide to move over and bomb the hell out of Pakistan and kill even more innocent children, women and men. …who are unlucky enough to be living in a country Newsweek has decided to brand the most dangerous country in the world.
It all just makes me sad.
We all need to heal. And, we all need to slow down and actually think about these dangerous situations in a logical way. Knee-jerking is bad for one’s shoes and serves to confuse soccer moms and their wealthy husbands
— thus, giving the George Bushies of the world the power to further destroy.
And, I do mean forever. …Like the week that Like A Virgin came out. Back then I would roll my eyes at anything Madonna did.
Yes, it is true. I didn’t like Madonna until she did that awesome vid-clip for Like A Prayer. …and then I loved Justify My Love — and that sex’d up vid-clip! And, then she made that “documentary” — which I loved! So, I didn’t convert to the Church of Madonna till the early 90’s, actually. That sex book of hers sort of clinched the deal for me. True, I probably would not like it at all if she released it now, but at the time it just seemed the appropriate thing to do. A sort of righteous wake up call from all that hostility we’d been breathing in the late 80’s. It wasn’t what I would call “art” but it was most ballsy and something I’d never imagine a mainstream
It all seemed so odd, cool and proto-porn. But, I hardly ever venture back to the young Madonna. The one that everyone was jamming to when I was in high school. Anyway, this old song came on the radio and it struck me that I don’t think I’d really want Madonna to dress me up.
I fear that to be dressed up in Madonna’s love might be a bit restrictive, mono-chromatic and I’m a bit indifferent about strap-on’s. I suspect Madonna isn’t. And, what does it mean to be dressed up in her love head to toe? …Exactly? Is some sort of femme squirting involved? Is Guy Ritchie dressed up in her love? Was Sean dressed up in that same love?
Would that love be from H AND M or from somewhere more upscale? However, I don’t think I’d mind the little string she’d probably tie around my wrist. That would be cool.
Also, I fear I’m currently far too large and flabby to be dressed up in Madonna’s love. I think I’d rather be dressed up by Tori Amos’ love.
Seems a bit softer and more healing. And, I be she would not mind my being barefoot. And, I think she would be more gentle and probably sing to me about butterflies and faeries. I doubt that Madonna has any time for such concepts as faeries or metaphor. I suspect that the Madonna Love Outfitting would be efficient and singular of purpose at the very least…
As I sat looking out to ocean the old song on my iPod suddenly took on a new meaning for me.
Interesting how we all tend to project on to all manner of things — pop songs probably the least interesting, but projecting onward I made a connection to a Blondie hit which I never thought I’d make.
As I nudged my way back from the incoming tide the tip of my sneakers were covered by a bit of the Pacific. I cursed under my breath and Blondie’s “The Hardest Part” came on. Now, I’ve loved Blondie since I first saw them on some late night show when I was about 9 years old and they were singing about snipers and “x” offenders. But, I never paid much attention to their lyrics. I just thought they were incredibly cool in a way that so few ever manage to be.
And, at some point, I do remember being amused that there was a hit pop record about a failed attempt to rob an armoured truck full of money.
In fact, I can remember pointing this out to an older friend at the time who just rolled his eyes. “Who cares” he said. But, I pressed on and advised that this was the ultimate in rebellion in pop music — this was anarchy sneaking in under the radar. This was the last bit of NYC Punk Esthetic hiding behind this thing they called “new wave” that would soon crash back into disco called “dance” music. …Madonna. Soon, there’d be no more true cool — just slick, trim and tidy. the odd edge of pop would soon give way and go away…
But, as I sat in my wet shoes looking out at the perfect ocean one can always seem to find in San Francisco I thought about this vile depression I’m trying to work my way through. All the valuable things are there to get me thru… A loving life partner, good friends, medication, deep breathing, rest, exercise, a warm puppy who fills my heart with joy. …And, yet, I can’t seem find my way clear. Can’t seem to find my way out of this funk from Hell. …or these headaches. …or these nightmares.
Why is it so hard? As Blondie sang about attempting to commit the perfect felony, “…the hardest part” was not the 12 tons of steel, stealing or the planning of the heist but the “…big man of steel behind the steering wheel —- in a wire mesh cage with a twelve gauge”
So, what is the hardest part of this struggle?
I guess the hardest part is the fear of facing it all again. The hardest part is simply dealing with the hell that started it all. I guess this hell from the past is the big man of steel behind the steering wheel — and, I need to figure out how to get control of the 12 tons of steel I use to navigate through life.
And, I wonder — is this too honest for my blog? will I regret writing about it later? I’m not sure, but I think it best to start trying to deal with the hardest parts sooner vs later. Maybe then I can get some better sleep and get back into the proper groove of things. Maybe then.
It is just so fucking frustrating to realize that I’m still fighting through crap that happened well over 31 years ago. Talk about feeling haunted beyond reason.
Last week, Goldfrapp leaked that their new CD would not be out until some time early in 2008. I was so looking forward to it for the holidays. …of course the new Roisin Murphy CD came out in the UK yesterday. Haven’t heard it, tho.
Recently saw this picture on the Internet from 1975. I don’t think singers have studios personally decorated for their recording sessions anymore. God bless Barbra! Turbans and flowers are probably very inspiring as you sing.
In fact, I’m certain that they would inspire me! I wonder if Kylie decorates a studio before she begins work. It is called “Photo Ready” and one should decorate the sound booth for perfect back lighting at all time!
Bagel is our puppy! She turned 2 months old the day after we brought her home — which was Friday! She passed her first vet visit with flying colors — is 2.50 pounds and approx 10 inches long. Very happy and curious. …and, surprisingly smart! I say surprisingly because my last Shih-Tzu was painfully stupid and Bagel already figured out that she is to wee on the wee pads by her first day with us!
B has spent countless hours working on our new place. He has done a great job. And, Ing gave up two days of her vacation to hang out with us and paint our kitchen and ladder! Here, they take a little break. Due to current restrictions for me, I haven’t been able to do much more than watch and arrange the magnets on the fridge — but a lot of work has gone into this huge apartment! and 95% of all of it has been done by B!
…and, then the Gorgeous Ing painted! …flawlessly!
I am just going to post up some pictures. I think our place is looking pretty good. Lots of open space. We still have a way to go. The pictures are not yet up, B’s studio is not up, we need to secure some decent lighting, an island for the kitchen, a new dining table more appropriate for the space, more paint for the bedroom/loft and the bedroom/loft/closet/storage unit is still incomplete — but we will be there soon.
Anyway, here is a look at a work in progress!
my old slanted shelving unit will soon be gone. …we just haven’t had a chance to carry it out. it looks odd near the ladder.
the above is taken from foot of the bed up in the ‘bedroom’
…the bedroom again — paint and a few pictures will soon be in order.
Now, it is really all about getting used to living in Oakland vs. The Castro. It is a real culture change. But, I do think the trade-off will be a good one. It is all coming together. …And, soon — a puppy! …Puppy therapy!
I had to walk down to the ghetto fabulous package store for a Diet Coke. As I was about to unlock the entry door to our new building I noticed a scruffy group of kids. Kids. Well, they had to be under 25 but over 18. There were 5 of them. Each wearing ponchos and each was carrying a massive backpack.
“Hey, man! Is this the way to the Bay Bridge?”
“Yeah. Are you going to walk the Bay Bridge?”
“Yeah! Dude! We’re going to California!”
“You’re in California.”
“No! We’re going to San Francisco!”
“Why don’t you take the BART?”
“No money, dude! We’ve been hitchin’ it from Portland!”
“Got any money?”
…and, off the bunch went. Bound for adventure in the land of dreams.
I hope their camping gear doesn’t get stolen.