To a large extent, we must get the world we create. Our culture is obsessed with celebrity. I am as guilty as anyone. I love to talk, joke and watch vicariously as these sad car pop art car wrecks roam about our world. I think some how it is easier and much more fun to digest than the real news of our world.
News like the fact that if you read between the lines of mainstream media translates to the fact that our president’s administration is leading a war that is far worse than any level of terrorism. Actually, the United States might as well be considered a terrorist.
When I look at the news or think about the state of things for us in the United States I just get tired. From this tragic war to the state of poverty to poor health care to the glass ceiling that is next to impossible to break thru unless you happen to be a wealthy white man. It just makes me tired.
Yesterday a person with a sign asked me if I supported our troops. I wanted to cop a line from Sandra Bernhard and say, “Yes, I support our troops. I support them so much I want them to come the fuck home!” I do not support this war in any way. But, I ignored her and allowed my mind to get soaked up by the pop music streaming from my iPod to block this war monger out. I also decided she probably was a right-wing anti-choice person. But, I didn’t really know that. Of course she was persistent. She followed me and screamed, “Do you ever thank our troops for what they do and sacrifice?” I so wanted to turn and say, “No. I will not thank them. I am sorry for them. But, how can I thank someone for being a part of something that is so wrong? And, why would I thank them for sacrificing themselves to tear up a country for more power, oil and greed?”
But, I was far too apathetic to respond. Not enough energy.
I recently saw a picture which was a part of an art exhibition where individuals had been given a piece of paper and were instructed to write a thought about the current war we wage. One of the people had a piece of paper upon which she wrote something like, “Why is it that the Red States think differently from everyone else in the entire world?”
Of course I know that this post will generate very little discussion. In fact, I will be able to note that it will receive very few visits as my other posts — nearly all of which are about my misadventures or pop star obsessions. And, I understand. I’d rather read something witty about Britney Spears’ sad and fucked-up life. In fact, I am addicted to that sick site run by Perez Hilton. Early this morning a dozen LAPD cop cars escorted an ambulance containing the pop mess that is Britney to a hospital where she is to be committed for the next 72 hours for observation. Word is that Britney hasn’t slept in three days and is mentally ill as a result. Of course, I can’t even get Kaiser to provide me with a therapist much less an escort.
Anyway, as I read this bit of useless and very private information about this very wealthy and unstable pop star — I had to wonder: How much does it cost me as a California tax payer to maintain Ms. Spears? All this constant need for the LAPD time and man power. Shouldn’t Ms. Spears be billed for the LAPD time vs. the cost being charged to me? But, then, maybe I should pay. Perhaps this only a fraction of the price one pays for apathy, and entertainment which provides such great fodder for “the water cooler” and my blog. Tax dollars well spent to maintain a pop train wreck waiting to happen.
So, I roll over and press “play”
“It’s Britney, bitch.
Everytime they turn the lights down
Just wanna go that extra mile for you
(Pu- Pu-) Public display of affection
Feel’s like no one else in the room but you
We can get down like there’s no-one around
We keep on rockin’
We keep on rockin’
Cameras are flashing my way
And they keep watchin’
Feels like the crowd is saying
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more
Gimme gimme more…”
Yeah, give me some more. I guess. Ignore the rest. Paying the price…
Currently disabled, confused but disarmingly dreamy former office management executive states that while he is still fucked up and suffering with an ear infection (currently under treatment of HMO doctor) is in good state of physical health following an odd fall in his tiny bathroom.
Mr. Stanfield confirmed he was “OK” to no one in particular Wednesday morning in a statement posted to his blog. Mr. Stanfield has noted that he did discuss the matter at length with Little Bagel, the Stanfield-B pet Shih-Tzu puppy. Bagel had been crying and pawing on the other side of the closed bathroom door after hearing one of her daddies take a tumble.
Stanfield, who prefers to be called by the nickname “Matty” noted that he was getting ready to embark on a ride into the lovely city of San Francisco to meet up with his husband, B, for lunch and then a possible visit to the dollar bins at a cool record store Matty frequents — when he was over come with the need to clean the bathroom sink.
Matty discussed the fact that his desire to clean the bathroom sink rose from an odd constellation of events: Mr. Stanfield woke up too early due to the “beautiful and amazing sunlight which was filing the loft” and felt this might have contributed to the upsetting incident.
Matty has confirmed that he was playing his vinyl copy of Devendra Banhart’s “Cripple Crow” when he decided to cuddle with Bagle on the sofa. Matty suspects he drifted off to sleep at some point mid-cuddle. Following an odd mixture of the normal horrible trauma dreams and an equaling traumatic erotic dream involving his husband, B, and lame comedian/actor Dane Cooke, Matty woke up “with a start!” and got up.
Matty noted that all drugs he takes are prescribed by a psychiatrist of some note.
Matty’s desire to clean the sink started at approximately 9:00 AM USA West Coast time. Matty confirmed that he was quite relieved that he did not allow Bagel to enter the bathroom at the time of the attempted cleaning.
To the best of his recollection, Matty started to feel confused, dizzy, disoriented and light-headed before he even began to clean the sink. Matty remembers trying to hold on to the top of the toilet, but stated that this didn’t seem “to the trick” required. Matty refused to answer any direct questions from Little Bagel, but did state that the next thing he knew he was on the floor looking at the bottom of the bathtub. Matty could hear Bagel crying and clawing at the other side of the door. Matty also made mention of a fallen towel breaking his fall which spared his head from any injury.
Upon getting up, Matty stated that he felt somewhat less normal than his normally very abnormal feeling self of late.
Matty confirmed to Bagel that he did consider phoning B or Ing for a few minutes. Tho, he felt that might be “silly over-kill”
And, after holding Bagel and listening to the comforting strain of Devendra Banhart, he started to feel better. Not quite up to “conquering the world or running a sprint down the street” but Matty confirmed he felt much better.
Before embarking on his BART journey to The City, Matty stated that he did change his clothing as he did not trust the tidiness of the bathroom floor. Matty is looking forward to a Diet Coke and the warm sunlight mingling with the sweetly sea breeze tinged air of the Bay in San Francisco. He could not remember the actual name of the bay but was fairly certain that the cause of this memory lapse and restroom tumble should all be blamed on Dane Cooke.
“In fact,” Matty added “I think all bad things should be blamed on Dane Cooke. When will the madness end!?!?!”
Bagel refused official comment, but seemed optimistic that her Daddy would have a nice day once he got out of the house. It was clear she was most appreciative that Matty had given her a piece of ice with which to lick and play.
Matty did ask that someone inform Dane Cooke that he “just better” stay out of his dreams and stay clear of his B or there will most certainly “be trouble” Bagel seemed to want to add something. At first it was believed that she was concerned that Matty was turning into Britney, Bitch. However, as it turned out, she was most likely worried that Matty would pick up the fallen towel as she was looking forward to taking a nap – or possibly even a wee on it.
…everyone should have a copy of “Cripple Crow” by Devendra Banhart. really. everyone should rush out and buy and or download it at once! …except for Dane Cooke who should just stop it. Matty was heard screaming, “Dane Cooke! Just go away! You’re not wanted here! And, take that Jessica Simpson and her sister as well! Don’t like ’em! Don’t trust either of ’em!” Matty was then see to kick a pole and attempt a conversation with a tree. No one noticed.
I’ve forgotten the movie so I don’t know how to credit the quote, but it struck me as interesting. A man is discussing a past love and the way she never fell for his lies. And, the woman with whom he is having the conversation casually observes:
“…She was one of those people who could see better in the dark…”
I can’t see in the dark. I can’t tell when someone is lying to me. But, I know the comfort of love and another kind of love which can only be given by a dog who knows no better than to to love all the time. …or, maybe I mistake her love for the burning interest in figuring out how she might eat me if I should fall and die. Hmmmm…. No, I don’t think that is what she is thinking when she licks me and wants to be held. It is love. Puppy love.
…I was actually listening to a bit of great vinyl from the folks at Get Back Recordings by The Bill Evans Trio called “Time Remembered” …but I was too lazy to search for their LP cover. But, this is quite close as it is the same picture placed on the jacket of the LP:
Just a few weeks before Goldfrapp officially ‘drops’ their new CD. This isn’t the official cover of that CD, but this was the first image I ever saw from the initial photo shoot and remains my favorite. The CD will be arriving around 2.25.08.
Not so much glitter as shimmer. More natural fibers than broken disco balls. However, that smooth cool flavor remains. It will be interesting to see how people respond. I’m going to try to attach the new vid-clip, but I’m not good at this video – adding business.
Note the owl.
I feel that the owl will be replacing the fashion antlers any minute now. Prepare.
I worry that this clip will be inspiring Ing, Alan and B for a camping trip. As cool as it may look – I really have no desire to dance with nature. I just want to rape it for my paper and shoe needs. Sad, but true.
Hey, at least I’m honest. Give me kiss.
Poor little Bagel. I was just about ready to set out for my off-balance walk for the day and I could not find Bagel. Then I found her. …chewing on a capsule holder of FAST KILL ant poison!!!! Of course, I freaked out. Too off-balance to drive a car right now so I had to pull B out of work. We called Poison Control and the vet — about an hour later and poor Little Bagel was being forced to vomit. We were sent away for an hour so I don’t know if they pumped her stomach or not. However, she was pretty much back to her normal self and we were assured that she would be OK. To further her bad day, we had to give her a bath as she smelled a bit of vomit. But, now she smells really nice, fluffy, clean and quite tired.
Oh, and we are not really quite sure how she found that poison. All we can think is that she somehow found it in B’s work area. So, he has fully puppy-proof’d his space. B tells me that he was made to feel quite guilty when he asked for the poison back as they handed our poor little shih-tzu back to him. But, without it, we get ants. Oakland has loads and loads of ants. I don’t know what we would have done if Bagel had been hurt. It was horrible.
I stayed in the car after we left Bagel with the vet. I was more comfortable calming myself in the luxury of the Element.
…just another day.
Sometimes it feels like all your candy just got smashed and there is no hope of being able to put it in your mouth. But, if you just force yourself to concentrate and put one foot in front of the other you can get to the store and pick up a new roll. I was sitting at one of those noisy tables in the San Francisco Westerfield Mall food court digesting a good dose of aural candy as supplied by my iPod. I was examining the two cigar boxes that I had just purchased from some annoyed package store clerk when I could tell someone was standing in front of me saying something.
“Hey dude, are you Matty from Matty’s Bit of Space?”
I pulled the iPod ear buds out and chatted briefly with what appeared to be a gay 20-something skater boy named “Danny” — Danny made my day by telling me that I looked just like my on-line photos and he had imagined that I would look all “fat and fucked-up” but that I looked “cool” and “good” —- I thanked him and fought the urge to drop and offer to open a church up in his name. “Danny” also told me that I was the reason that he and his boyfriend discovered Goldfrapp. Then he asked me what I thought of a purchase he had just made at Nordstrom’s. A cool pair of jeans and a hoodie covered in an odd wall paper sort of pattern that was totally cool. I was a bit shocked at the sticker price of both clothing items, but he stressed that they were really bargains. I agreed that he had secured cool designer threads.
I asked him if he ever commented on the blog and he told me no. He asked about the cigar boxes and I told him I wasn’t sure why I liked them so much but that I do. And, he then wanted to know to what I was listening on my iPod. I showed him. I was, and, have been listening to Miguel Bose quite a bit. At that moment I was listening to an older “LP” called “Velvetina” …I confessed to “Danny” that I had discovered Miguel Bose thanks to the cover of his latest CD. He was so interesting looking that I had to check out his sound — and I was sold after hearing his first song.
Miguel Bose has been around a long time. In fact, he has been recording longer than Madonna and is quite popular in both Mexico and Spain. I knew of him as an actor, but had no idea he wrote and sang music. It seems that he has performed a wide variety of music — ranging from New Order-like synth pop to smooth Latin grooves to romantic Spanish love ballads and all (in recent years) with a touch of Hip Hop/Electronica cool. I don’t speak Spanish or French, but these two languages seem to say so much just by the phonical sounds. No matter what is said, it sounds sexy. I can tell that much of his recent work is quite political in nature. This is smart adult pop which almost seems like a Spanish/French twist sort of fusion that is infectious to the ear. “Danny” asked if I was going to be writing about my new fave musical artiste. I told him that I thought I would. And, so I am right now.
But, how to fully explain the sound and texture of Miguel Bose? For me, his music is a bit like sweet hot candy that melts in the mouth. You have to take care, tho. If you should happen to touch your lips at the wrong moment you’re likely to end up with sticky fingers. Yeah, this is how I would describe the sound of both Bose’s voice and music. Sticky, sweet and hot candy.
How I ended up with all of his music in such a short time is a whole other story which I do not care to share. But, I guess it was worth it. Miquel Bose pop rocks like no other!
“Danny” said goodbye, tossed his Nordstrom’s bag over his shoulder and grasped his scruff’d up board and headed toward Market Street. It was time for me to head back home. I put the cigar boxes back in the plastic bag and headed to the Powell Street BART station.
…As per usual, I started to feel a bit dizzy in my non-stop disorientation.
I trip’d and fell down the stairs at BART. …Luckily, I don’t think anyone noticed. Or, maybe, it was just that no one cared. I was ok. My foot hurt a bit, but the cigar boxes and my iPod were OK. I headed home to a very affectionate puppy and a sink of dirty dishes.
Mainly of things that I find myself looking at or thinking about.
But, certainly taking the normal sort of pix of my love, pet and pals. I just had to clear off my memory card as I’ve taken so many stupid pictures. The following are a selection from the last two weeks that struck me as rather interesting (and sometimes) fun.
No words, but please note the Castro tag’ing of Sylvester Stallone’s racist epic! Funny thing is, it will probably become a Broadway musical within the next couple of years. Fear not, America, Sylvester Stallone and other white people will save you from all those evil people from Asia! Do not support this film! Bad enough it supports the concept of war, but the silly racist side is just sick. Wait. I said no words! (sorry!)
Sighing near GayTown,
And, the following was the LP I was playing as I created this post.
“…all we ever look for is a God
all we ever look for is a drug
all we ever look for is a great big hug
all we ever look for is a little bit of you
all we ever look for is a little bit more of you, too
all we ever look for, but we never do score…”
Oh! I had a unique run-in with Devendra Banhart this afternoon at the SF MOMA, but I do not feel it appropriate to discuss in this forum. Suffice to say, I did not get a picture to capture the encounter. I don’t think he would have appreciated it! ‘Nuff said! …wow. for no words I sure managed to use quite a few!
But the first thing on my mind is the sad and stupid death of Brad Renfro. This kid had it all: good looks, talent, charisma and never appeared to be an assembly line product performer like so many of his generation. I can still remember being so impressed (and horrified) by his work in APT PUPIL. Then, his shy and sly-ly effective supporting performance in GHOST WORLD. And, that unsettling bit of work in Larry Clark’s BULLY. Sad. And, so fucking stupid. He was 26 years old.
Not that I am trying to assert that Renfro was in the same talent league as Gram Parsons, but I finally was able to view the excellent documentary on his life via NetFlix last night. I’ve always loved his music and voice. I only know of him thanks to Emmylou Harris, but I’m so glad I was able to find his music. I remember reading her talk about his work back in the early 80’s and thinking, “The dude who got fired from The Byrds and worship’d at the alter of Keith Richards?!?!” Um, yeah. Sort of — but, you know I don’t think The Byrds or The Rolling Stones ever touched that first Flying Burrito Bros LP. Anyway, another sad and stupid death. And, this morning it struck me that I think Parsons was only 26 when he did his pathetic OD. At least he managed to get to Joshua Tree to do it. I guess. Doesn’t matter.
No matter how dark my reality, I’m relieved that it is not that dark. Why would one want to be a dark and fallen angel? Not that I don’t take my fair share of dope. The difference is that I don’t take it by choice and it is prescribed. However, in my own way — I guess I’m junkie, too.
This is one of 5 drugs I am currently taking. This is called Lyrica. A drug created to treat anxiety which “they” are finding really helps folks who suffer from Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder. I see my doctor today. I think he is going to be increasing my dosage of this one. I’ve been suffering thru an episode for over six months now. I have lost my employment. And, in those six months, I’ve seen my doctor three times and really only one session was a full-on therapy session. I need to find a doctor to treat me on the therapy side because the wonderful fast world of US HMO’s don’t do much in the way of therapy. …they seem to toss drugs at things. Anyway, I’m lucky. I think I have a very good doctor. I just think his hands are tied. Oh, and it would appear that the best place to be if you’re a therapist or shrink is San Francisco because it seems like everyone is over-booked. Or, maybe that it is the state of the world.
Anyway, back on a sort of course.
Ms. Betty Davis. I hear she now lives in Oakland. If anyone knows her, let her know I think she so totally rules. It would be so fun to take her for a cup of tea/coffee/Diet Coke. I think the view back about 30 some odd years was that she was far too aggressive and cutting edge for the mainstream funk scene (which she helped to create — thank you very much!) …I’d love to see how cool she still looks. Of course, I’d ask her a few questions:
Ms. Davis, might I have a slight peck on the check?
Ms. Davis, how does it feel to know that your body of work is still too far out for the daft mainstream?
Ms. Davis, do you still feel the same as you express in your music?
Ms. Davis, What was it like to turn Miles on to the funk?
And, then I would thank her for her unique groove, perspective and style. Mary J. Blige seems like a little waif compared to Betty Davis. Only Chaka Kahn came close — but not close enough to retain the cool Ms. Davis still maintains. And, as far as I know, she hasn’t done anything for the public in YEARS!
…Come back to the funk, Betty Davis, Betty Davis.
So, I’ve decided that I will try to start recording the music playing as I write my posts. I don’t know why. But, I like that aspect of MySpace. It would be cool to know to what others are listening/watching as they post. I am currently playing “Idols of Exile” by Jason Collett. Think folk/pop with a bit of edge. I think he is from Canada — which I am becoming convinced is the coolest country going. Anyway, two of his songs: “Fire” and “Hangover Days” are close to perfect.
I’ve started doing these collages. I’m not even sure if that is how one spells it or if it is cool to even attempt the art of collage. However, B feels I should use this confused down time to tap into my “artistic energy” or something like that. So, I’m trying. I’m working on two. One is related to Barbra Streisand’s A STAR IS BORN (try not to gasp in surprise!) and the other is related to sexy. I got two really neat-0 cigar boxes to hold my clippings. Cigar boxes are cool. And, while I do not like the smell of them or cigs — I find something about people smoking to be sexy. …sick, but true. And, if you toss in a uniform or a splash of leather — I have no choice but to look.
Welcome to my world as of January 15th 2008! Let’s see… I was unable to fall asleep until 2am this morning. I woke up at 5:39am to take my meds. I opted to not eat with them as I’m now dedicated to shedding some add’d med weight! Which meant that I became more dizzy than usual. As I attempted to prepare to climb the stairs to the safety of the bed, B told me that Bagel pissed the bed.
Now, I’m not sure — but I think B became annoyed that I was unable to assist in the cleaning of the mattress and pulling off of bed sheets. I was just too dizzy. I remember asking him if he could put Bagel in her crate when he left for work so I could sleep. I heard him say he would and I fell into the sofa. At about 7:50am I woke up with a tiny dog bouncing all over me, barking and licking my face. I put her on the floor several times only to find her bouncing and barking on me within seconds of having replaced her to the floor. Bagel was not going to let me sleep. So, I feel out of the sofa.
B somehow managed to sort of destroy the apartment as he prep’d for work. Granted, tho, it is a big day at the office. …Client pitches and the such. But, man o man! And, of course, without supervision, Bagel had found her way into a kleenex box and had decided to destroy it — all over the span of the apartment. I trip’d my way to the bathroom and splashed my face with a lot of cold water. I put on the incredibly pristine copy of the soundtrack of FUNNY GIRL I had found for $2! And, I began the task of stripping the bed, cleaning up the mess(es) — I drank some Diet Coke and as Bagel danced beneath my feet I decided to kick in to a full karaoke-type sing-a-long with Barbra! I sang my heart out — no one was going to rain on my parade! …at least not with this sort of vocal gusto! Bagel ran under the sofa, I trip’d on one of her chew toys and fell on a purple plush doggie toy. I was now out for the count. Someone somewhere had sounded the gong. This has been my morning so far. It is 9am as I type this. I can only imagine what fresh hell might await me today.
I figure I must have done something bad in my past life and I’m paying off some bad karma. I figure it was bad but not horrible. You see, I will beat this shit. I will rise above it and get my life back. I know that. I am not fighting some horrible disease. I have a fantastic, loving, sexy — tho, somewhat messy, husband who fails to put the puppy in her “safe place” so I can catch up on my sleep — but he is my everything and I love my puppy! I have great friends who are my family. I’m going to be OK.
But, man. I sure seem to go thru a lot of shit to get to that OK space.
So, I figure I might have been Hitler’s valet or butler. You know. I didn’t do any of the actual bad stuff. I just ironed the most evil man in history’s shirts. I worry that I might have been Hitler’s butt boy… I figure serving Hitler’s sexual pleasures was enough to cause me to suffer thru all this crap. If only I had killed the bastard instead of ironing his shirts or doing other butt boy things. Then the karma pay back could have been the motherload of riches. Tho, killing is always a negative in the karmatic laws of nature.
Sometimes it is easier to imagine silly scenarios to laugh versus crying.
“..I’ll march my band out, I will beat my drum,
And if I’m fanned out, your turn at bat, sir,
At least I didn’t fake it, hat, sir,
I guess I didn’t make it
Get ready for me love, ’cause I’m a “comer”
I simply gotta march, my heart’s a drummer
Nobody, no, nobody, is gonna rain on my parade!” I just hope I don’t get lost or too confused as I push my way thru my parade today! I don’t want to fall down and spill the popcorn again!
Art is all subjective. Everyone has the right to an opinion and no one can ever be completely right or wrong. Which is really nice if you think about it. I mean, if everyone loved the same thing — well, that is a tired thought. But, you know what I mean. Diversity in art is what give us the sweet flavor of being unique.
Cinema has taken a great fall over the course of the last five years. I can only think of a hand full of films that have really shaken my core. This is just my opinion. INLAND EMPIRE is really the only movie that has totally rock’d my world in quite a while. And, I seem to be in a minority on that. But, so I am. And, I’m proud of it!
However, when it comes to music I have a much greater sense of hope! There is quite a bit out there which I am enjoying. But, once again, very little which I feel will really stand the test of time. But, only time will tell and time tends to kill most critics.
There are two “new-ish” music makers who I feel will prove to be quite important to pop/rock music history. Of course, I might end up wrong on this but I shall go out on a limb and name them both. If you’re not aware of them — you really should check them both out.
Now, you all know I LOVE Goldfrapp! I really do! Whether Alison and her main man take us on a breezy whim, a dark trip hop spin, the heights of mountains or the sheer magic of glitter trash glam disco — I shall be there! But, there is not so much loft to Goldfrapp. It is magic for me and a few others.
Nothing is completely original. Everything has been building off something else since man started to bang bones.
No, the two music makers who I feel are providing the most valid peek into what might last are:
Bright Eyes — Certainly this group (or Conor Oberst) owe a great deal of their sound to the likes of Gram Parsons and The Flying Burrito Brothers or Neil Young (this is a fairly important piece of work in my book!) — but they’ve turned those influences inside out. The music is powerful, soft, human, fragile, honest and quite often damn catchy. I think Bright Eyes is able to take the listener to places that other indie folkies can’t quite reach. These folks — and Mr. Oberst — are true artistes. …and, he ain’t bad on the eyes either! Always a plus in my book! I am quite curious to see where they continue to take us. And, I am so in love with the video to “Four Winds”! …and, you can get the George Bush protest song for free off of iTunes! Go grab it!!!
Antony And The Johnsons Candy Darling on her deathbed is the cover for one of my favorite CD’s. Once you hear the album, the picture makes total sense. — Just like Bright Eyes, this band (or Antony) owe a great deal to everyone from Lou Reed and Nico to Boy George and Grande Opera (another great piece of work — if you ask me!) — but they (or he) has warped into a beautiful bit of tragic comedy that soaks into your soul. Essentially, they rock with feeling like no one else I can think of at the moment.
These two music makers are still on the fringe but close to “breaking” — I hope they don’t ever actually cross too far into the mainstream. But the eccentricities of their work are not so far removed from the course of the individual. The songs deal with issues we all seem to run across in poetic and harmonious ways.
I suspect they are creating magic which might last the ages.