oh my god! oh my god! so, for those of you not aware, French & Saunders have been touring (for the very last time as THE light comedy duo) — alas, only in the UK. i am in GayTown, USA and am not able to “do” live events, parties, etc at this time. But, some of their shows have been recorded and are set to be released to DVD in the UK in just a few weeks.
yeah, yeah i know. i, too, have heard something about a “big” election about to happen which could have some sort of “impact” on the world. blah, blah, blah — Kids! Come on! the pending UK only DVD release of the final French & Saunders Tour is a BIG DEAL OF GREAT IMPORT!
Let’s get our priorities sorted! OK?
good. glad that is settled.
of course, this all is hitting me at a very bad time. sure, i have two region-free DVD players, but i don’t have any money. seriously. no money. well, that is not entirely true — i have $4.63. …but, i was thinking of trying to get big gulp tomorrow.
as i was sitting under the sink crying into a sponge i came up with a plan! now, understand that i am just writing out loud here — so, excuse if my plan seems just a tad scatter’d. i am quite confident that this plan will work.
desperate times call for desperate measures.
i’m not sure who said that first. tho, i think it might have been andy dick while on a bender. or, maybe it was FDR. nevermind. i don’t know. it is not important. anyway, my plan actually might assist me and my best bud, The Lovely Ing!
Ing has been dealing with a lot of pent up anger. and, i’ve just been dealing with a lot of ghosts who have decided to rampage my personal life. so, my plan will allow Ing a way to vent that anger and me to run from the ghosts of the past — AND SECURE THE FRENCH AND SAUNDERS DVD AND A NEW DRESS FOR ING!
you see, i believe that there are a couple of way-hot dresses Ing has been needing but has not had the cash to fill that need.
now, my first thought — as i have lost most of my weight and am in sort of ok shape (physically, that is) was prostitution. for reasons that escape us, Ing and me are often mistaken for whores. i don’t know. i don’t see the big deal for us to hang out on that corner in little clothing (sometimes we get hot) and our smokes. my point is that we have gotten a number of uninvited invitations. it is not our fault! and, Ing can’t help that she has cleavage to die for and a swing that seems to make str8 boys fall out in awe. and, i certainly can’t help the sheer awesome-ness of my second-hand shoes! i guess what i’m trying to write it that we can’t help that we might appear to be sex workers! it is our natural charm.
…and, Ing, i just want to take this opportunity to tell you that i’m sorry i made you miss the chance to turn a trick out of Prince Billy. i didn’t know. let me stress, i really didn’t know. i mistook him for a plastered sailor who stole a car! sorry!
but, the bottomline problem with this plan is that neither of us would be good at that sort of thing. we are both quite pure. really. almost as pure as ivory soap. …or, at least Sauve shampoo.
plus, B would really get mad at me and i’m farily sure that A and Gina would be furious with us both.
so, i was thinking — i need $21 and Ing needs about $300. we need $321.00.
i have not yet had a chance to discuss the plan with Ing, but i am almost certain she will be up for it!
yes, Ing and I are going to knock over a 7-11. i mean, Ing can totally pull off a sexy faye dunaway turn and will have loads of fun tormenting the clerk(s) and the ghosts will supply me with the required adrenaline (i don’t know how to spell that word) to grab the cash. yes, we have the potential to be the Bonnie and Clyde for the 21st century! …only more glam and less issues because i’m gay and she is str8!
now, i suppose that there is the outside chance that we could get caught and that B and A will have to come bail us out. …boy, will they would be so very pissed at us. …a sort of Lucy and Ethyl moment from Hell. i’m not sure if B or A would be Ricky. there is no fred in this scenario unless that scary guy who tries to get Ing to smoke weed as she jogs thru the panhandle. (but, Ing would be Lucy. I’m always the Ethyl. …sad fact of life, but on the good side of things — in other adventures i am ALWAYS the Rhoda to Ing’s Mary)
so, i figure the best thing to do to avoid any possible problems with B and A would be to knock over an Apple Store. B loves all things Apple and has been caressing some of their new products in a most worrying and borderline inappropriate ways. and, A is a gifted photographer. i know he would enjoy one of those big apple programs to assist with the processing of his art.
also, Apple and 7-11 are wealthy giants. they will not miss a thing and we can become local Bay Area Heroes.
however, i guess we could just get it all from Apple. surely they must have $320 in their cash register not to mention the bribe gifts for B and A.
anyway, with these gifts for B and A — our life of new found crime will go over much better! i’m sure Ing can think of some way to buy off Gina’s scorn!
yes, OUR plan. …because i am certain that Ing will support me in this. i mean, she has been dying to wear that beret!
and, then. ….then — i can order The French and Saunders DVD, Ing gets her sexy dresses, A & B can get some cool new hi-tech equipment and Gina will most certainly get something cool.
of course, we will need to take if we should enjoy a break and sit outside taking in the San Francisco sun just as Gavin Newsome’s mob squad attempts to riddle us with bullets.
Ing and I don’t mind “the blaZe of glory” part, but i don’t think either of us wants to “go out” on any terms. safe to say we would like to avoid that tragic ending example by Warren and Faye!
but, i do think this plan could work. i wonder what music Ing will want to play as we drive about town to knock over these capitalistic whore corporate stores? …i hope it it is something by L7, but one never knows with Ing.
maybe i should consult with her. naw, i’ll just lay out my plan and she will take charge from there. i hope she won’t mind if we use her car. i don’t think A will let me use the Element. …tho, i suspect we should not tell anyone of our plan.
tho, i am writing out loud on my blog and that might not be the best of ideas — oh. oops. well, no one will take notice anyway. i don’t think the FBI is tracking Ing anymore since she returned those files.
i’m a little stump’d and feeling more than a little tired from my planning. i think i will climb back into the kitchen cabinet for a while.
love and kisses,
before i start, what do you think it means when an editor tells you that he finds your writing interesting but has concerns about the fact that it “borders so heavily on the edge” and is somewhat “pornographic”? …especially when one considers the fact that BUTT mag suggested to me, a couple of years back, that my writing needed to be more “pornographic” for their consideration. frankly, i am puZZeld that the term “pornographic” seems to turn up so much when it comes to my “stories”
instead, i think it is far more important to write about the tunes which have been pouring into my ears courtesy of my iPod. i’ve been listening to the above LP a great deal. it is by an artist called Pop Levi. I suspect he is a major part of the future. just an opinion. if i had to describe his sound, i’d say a little bit folk, a lot of T Rex and a whole lot more synth pop. some of his music is worthy of thought, but so much of it just makes one feel like snapping the fingers and tap’ing the floor. and, he is so totally cool. i’d bet money that my best-est pal, Ing, would like to date him! i shall slip in two of his vid-clips at the end.
and, then someone slip’d me a copy of the “new” release from alison moyet. i love alison moyet. essentially, she can sing anything and i am hooked. but, this LP is really quite good! AND, it allows me to hear a bit of the music she wrote and performed for that kathy burke play in which ms. a co-star’d with the uber-funny dawn french! (man, i wish i could have seen that!) …i even more wish that we lived in the UK so that i could see the final french & saunders tour — tho, i suppose, at the moment, i wouldn’t be able to get myself into a crowed theatre even it i wanted. fingers crossed that all of this crap i’m going thru might melt away one of these days.
…but, i’ve B, little bagel, lola, friends and music to comfort me.
and, then, there is the new EP by antony and the johnsons. it seems like it has taken him forever to get something out (other than the cool disco stuff he did with hercules and the duet with bjork last year. this small collection of songs are somber, but the stuff to make one melt. simply beautifully sad. i shall tack their new vid-clip at the end as well.
and, of course, i’ve been listening to my beloved Barbra. …and, to the sublime goldfrapp.
my finger is really healing now! tomorrow is therapy day. my stomach is churning like craZy, but this is part of the process to figuring it all out.
check out the clips below — if you’re of a mind to do so…
love and kisses,
one more pop levi (my personal fave track):
and, antony and the johnsons. god bless ’em.
i am so tired of hearing all this mess about our economy, our insipid president, scary-ass old mcCain, that crazy lady with a gun and no ‘G’s’ at the end of her verbs and all the nobs who support their agendas. i’m also weary of hearing people complain about not having enough money for food, medical care or rent when one of our most serious challenges continue to loom over us like some evil spector.
yes, i want to discuss the horrors of washing dishes!
true, my recent dish washing calamity might be partically blamed on this annoying PTSD which makes me a bit clumbsy and confused. however, i’m really not so sure.
there i was. at the sink. cleaning the dishes using some environmentally friendly soap. or, at least it had one of those green stickers with arrows going ’round in circles. just doing our part. by the way, recycling is so very difficult. (sigh)
anyway, so i had cleaned all the glasses and just picked up one of our soup bowls. i was a bit dizzy, but focused on the bowl. and, then, as i scrubbed b’s korean soup remains off the bowl something odd happened.
the bowl sort of broke in two. the left part of the plate cut into my left palm. no real big deal. but, i slowly turned my eyes over to my right hand. the right part of the plate had lodged into my index finger. i’m not sure how long i looked at it. it didn’t hurt, but it was a bit worrying to see a piece of a bowl lodged into my finger.
there was only a little blood.
anyway, i took a sort of took in some extra air and pulled the bowl fragment out of my finger. and, then came A LOT of blood and pain. Actually, it was a lot of blood. i didn’t know what to do. so, i did what i tend to do best these days.
i just stood there watching the blood pour down the drain and held my finger under the running water. i finally tried to touch my finger to see how bad it might really be. i managed to lift up the flap of skin and there seemed to be a rather large chunk of meat missing from my finger. i then noticed that bit of ‘meat’ laying in the pool of blood.
i started to black out, but talked myself out of it. i sort of walked into the bathroom and poured rubbing alcohol over the cut. the pain helped to snap me out of it. i wrapped it in a towel as the blood would not stop and the tighter i wound it up. then i sort of panicked and sent upset emails to b and ing.
now, i want to know what our government is going to do about this serious problem which faces all of us who do dishes?
priorities and focus, people!
b took me to the social security office today and we filed my application for disability. something i never dreamed would happen to me. something that i’ve always sort of feared might happen.
many years ago i sat in a room filled with male incest survivors. a support group. after two years in this group i felt that it was turning more into a pity party and even igniting some sort of transgressive need in some of the other members to turn their real memories into further distortions of horror. i felt it was time to move on. i had discussed what had happened to me to the point that i had nothing further to say. and, to be honest, i began to feel ill as i watched some of those men turn worse vs. better.
one of them stopped me in the all as i walked toward the stairs of the odd annex to Mass General. he took my hand and told me that this hell inflected upon us never goes away and that i needed to maybe take a break but to never push it down. i told him that i didn’t think it possible to push it down. and, then, he said in what i felt (at the time) was a rather sinister manner: “Just remember me when you’re 40 and your life falls apart and you find you can no longer function”
i remember shaking his grip on my arm. i was pissed and told him that i was a lot stronger than he was giving me credit and that i refused to be a victim.
i walked away from that group and never looked back.
i really never pushed what happened to me down. i don’t think so, anyway.
but, here i am. i will be 42 next month. and, honest to god, as hard as i try and push — i find that i am stuck. i have trouble thinking, i get confused, i find it next to impossible to be around more than 4 people at a time, i lose time, i’m afraid of my phone, i stumble and wander the night filled with illogical fears. did he jinx me? he probably meant well, but i never forgot how cruel it felt to me.
but, i push on. i will not give up.
still, as i sort of floated out of that building today with my sweet B holding me, i realized i’ve not but $2 to my name, a headache that was threatening me to implode my very being and a feeling of dread i am unable to manage into words.
i slept most of the day. i finally sucked in enough energy to take Little Bagel for a short walk. i tried to clean the kitchen with no luck. and, then i sat in my perfect green chair and set Apple TV to shuffle my music. “Mickey” by Toni Basil came on.
i think i played it about 20 times — grounds for immediate arrest in most states.
but, it made me feel a little bit better.
i tried to think about how lucky i am than most people i know. i have a love greater than can be imagined, two fucking brilliant little children, the very best two best friends anyone could hope to know, a roof over my head, food and i’m alive.
it is not easy. in fact, it is so fucking hard i often do not know what to do with myself — but, in a way, it is fine.
life is fine.
…don’t be fooled by the frothy adverts, the new Mike Leigh film is fantastic. everyone should see it.
When I use the word “crazy” I do not intend to imply a mental illness of any sort. I think we all know that “crazy” is not an applicable or appropriate word to use when describing any individual we feel is mentally unstable. No. “Crazy” doesn’t have to be a bad thing, but it does seem to get in the way.
I’ve always enjoyed art that is extreme.
And, Ken Russell is one of my favorite filmmakers — not because his work is always great (or even “good” or “well made” by cinematic definition) but because he takes his love, passion, obsessions and amazing talent and churns them together to create film images, sounds, ideas and emotion into works that are completely unique and to his own self true. A genius who can know no better than to put his frentic ideas on to film in the only way he can: without restraint or care/fear of what others might think. A genius set free with all his crayons with no interest in staying within the boundaries of lines. This sort of talent can create brilliant work. It can also create brilliant curiosities and fascinating mistakes.
I think of an example of a film genius who never went into the realm of “crazy” — Ingmar Bergman. Bergman was able to channel his passions into films which were often near perfect.
I would be suspicious of anyone who watched a Ken Russell or Ingmar Bergman movie and walked away saying that either film was “ok” — I think people either tend to love or hate films by Russell and Bergman. For some reason, in my head, this is one of the greatest compliments that can be paid to an artist. Work which engages a viewer to love or hate it is work that touches a nerve. Strikes a chord.
I finally was able to see some of Ken Russell’s earliest works thanks to the recent release of his “BBC Monitor” documentaries. The term “documentary” does not fit these early television films. In fact, I had always been so curious to see what a Ken Russell documentary might look like that I felt like a sugar starved child unleashed at the Hershey Chocolate Factory with the blessing to eat all he can fit into his mouth.
The earliest documentary included in the collection is ELGAR. It is almost an actual documentary. A bit dry at times for something made by Ken Russell, but by the second half it feels like Russell is inspired and the interesting story of Britain’s famous composer seems to come to live as the documentary brings us to his death. It is my understanding that this early 60’s television special was a huge hit and Russell then had the freedom to push the envelope more and more: to get around the fact that the BBC did not want actors involved in the documentaries, Russell re-imagined a documentary by creating it within the confines of a frustrated filmmaker making a movie about the subject. …Actors playing actors chatting with a director about the subject and motivation. This was also a hit and then one can see Russell really start to take off.
His first passion being music, second being dance, third being nature and fourth being the impossibility of organized religion and society to coexist without horror — start to emerge throughout the corner of this little films. And, of course, in the world of Ken Russell sex plays a part in all that humans do. (a view that I think is actually quite accurate) …This is especially true in what I feel is the most interesting of the Russell BBC docu-dramas, ISADORA.
Isadora Duncan had always been one of his favorite topics: a rebelious dancer who was fearless, uninterested in sticking to any rules of formal dance instruction, passionate and romantic beyond reason and unwavered by the fact that she was always a bit overweight. He had been quite troubled when he saw the feature film of the same name staring the great Vanessa Redgrave because she was far too thin, beautiful and grace-filled in her movements to actually play Duncan. (He was correct!) He also must have been frustrated by the film’s ignorance to Duncan’s own naive devotion to communism and her politics. (Mainstream films shy away from these things anyway)
And, the fact that the BBC had planned to delay the showing of his “documentary” because the British feature film of the same name was due to be released that same year. According to an interview with Russell on one of the three discs, his first wife intervened and convinced the BBC producer that since Russell’s film had been conceived prior to the big budget film and was completely different from it — it was unfair to hold it back. She won out – and Russell’s little film screened to the UK first.
As I watched all of the Russell BBC work on the discs I could see the seeds that would later grow out into WOMEN IN LOVE, THE BOYFRIEND, THE SAVAGE MESSIAH, THE DEVILS, TOMMY, SALOME’S LAST DANCE, CRIMES OF PASSION, GOTHIC, MAHLER, LAIR OF THE WHITE WORM and LISZTOMANIA.
LISZTOMANIA is my personal fave Ken Russell movie. Not because it is the best, but because it is sush a totally unique work and a completely gorgeous wreck of a film musical brimming with amazing ideas about everything from sex addiction, to pop stardom to the place of art in politics.
I’m not sure why I am writing this except I was so inspired after watching the BBC collection and then so enjoyed a conversation I had with B (who can’t stand Ken Russell) that I felt the need to somehow to defend him.
love and kisses from a perfect san francisco day,
today was not so bad. i think i screwed up and took double my normal dose of meds (not good) but it did manage to knock me out and i almost got a full night’s sleep. i ended up at the beach for the better part of the day watching the surfers. and, i ended up having a long phone conversation with my mother — and, that conversation made me feel better. we actually talked to each other and not at each other.
when i came home, i played with the babies. i played some nice music and decided to take a few snapshots of things in our apartment that i like to look at:
…i call this our make-shift mantle piece. the items on it make me happy.
…i don’t really like to keep books, but i’ve a few that mean something to me. i love this little eyeless dutch boy doll. his eyes have fallen inside his little head. you can hear them rattle about. i found him one day when i shared one of my fave stores with Ing. i think B worries that this little doll comes alive at night, but i think he is a safe little doll.
smiling is so very valuable to me these days. these days are a little dark. but, we push forward.
things are odd right now.
i guess that things have been ‘odd’ for a while now.
i haven’t been able to sleep well for over a year now. given enough pills i might be able to drift off for a few hours without the sort of nightmares that want to drag you into insanity. usually, tho, i manage to fall into a light sleep.
i wake up. sit by the window and hold either Little Bagel or Lola. …or, i might look at a dvd. …then, when the sun starts to rise i can slip back into a bed and fall into a semi-restful sleep.
mostly, i catch my real sleep in what i would call ‘cat naps’ — on the bus, on the beach, on the sofa or lying on our bed — when i finally am able to surrender and fear gives way to rest.
‘they’ tell me this is all normal. ‘they’ tell me it will pass. i hold on to that and the love of my man. …and, the love of my friends.
yesterday morning at about 2am i decided to stay in bed.
i rested my left leg over the right one of B and began to read a book by a very talented person i know. as i read i found myself thinking:
“so, he flew away in a saucer? why did he say that to the owl? and, why did the owl respond to him as if she were a fox?”
and, then it struck me that i was somewhere between sleep and awake. i couldn’t quite be sure so i blinked my eyes a couple of times. there was nothing about the narrator flying in saucers or speaking with owls who act like foxes.
i closed the book and fell into a sleep filled with ice and fire.
but, it is all ‘normal’ and i hold on. next week i have the humilation waiting for me to sit across the table from a social security worker to discuss a formal application for disability. judged, maybe? but, it is ‘normal’.
‘they’ say i might not be able to work. and, if i should be able to work it will be at least a year away.
but, i hear the music of love in my life and that is really all that matters. if there is love, there is hope. and, in hope there is strength. and it is with strength one faces judgement.