I
I can't help but love comedian Lewis Black. He's a fiery, curmudgeonly old man teetering on a breakdown by just the verge of his hysterics. This style of entertainment for him is very funny and rings true because his generally angry rhetoric about vulnerability into denouncing stupidity is real & dead-on. 2 for the price of 1.
II
Hot girls into reading books. Seeing them buried in pages stirs my urges amidst the backdrop of shelves of volumes. Sexy brains conjuring up library fantasies. Sometimes quiet cannot remain shushed.
III
IV
Pretty redhead in the checkerboard/tablecloth-patterned cotton dress. Yellow flower in your hair tucked behind your ear. Cute parasol held by white gloves. Looking like a picnic date emerging from some breezy park or beachside patio with the name cherry. You're a real Memphis Belle & your shiny black heels just knock me out.
V
Victor Lustig was a Czech-born swindler performing some of the most colorful cons in the 1920s & 30s. He actually sold the Eiffel Tower(!) TWICE(!!) Imagine the absurdity in telling people the monument was being sold for scrap metal & they were buying the rights to take down the structure. Classic.
VI
Been following up on Sasha Grey after her appearance on Tyra Banks. She's a smart 21yr old porn star attempting the difficult feat of jumping from adult film to mainstream having landed the lead in an upcoming Steven Soderbergh movie. With a 150+ fuckography, having worked with photographer Richard Kern & her co-manager being guitarist Dave Navarro, it's easy to see how her persona is one of unflappable attittude & astute transgression that explores some extreme corners of sexuality. Apparently one of the reasons why she got into the biz (at 18) was to challenge its ideals & while agreeing that too many women do get chewed up n' spit out, success & survival depends on the savvy of playing the game of the old boys network. Such existential alertness not surprisingly is resulting in her launching her own label soon. Prestige crossover & understanding the market. Are we looking at porn's first artiste?
VII
Thinking of the archetypal dumb blonde in Hollywood brings to mind Marilyn Monroe and Judy Holliday as Billie Dawn in 'Born Yesterday'. But for the beauty n' wit; the cliches & quintessential stereotypes reveal far more into the actual women beyond character roles interpreting bimbos. To be 'dizzy' is a person unformed as well as uninformed. Lack of oppurtunity or vision is always conquerable when respect for position is shown allowing one to blossom wonderfully. The journey toward education & learning to think is reward for self-assurance which is victorious because of that knowledge. Marilyn into 'Dostoyevsky(!) & Judy in 'Solid Gold Cadillace' - proof positive.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Sunday, May 17, 2009
A NIGHT OUT IN NAWLINS: DIVAS IN THE FISHBOWL
Clubbing with cousins in the 'Big Easy'. Shaking booty in sweaty outposts where hipster indie-rock kids are too cool to dance but everyone else does just fine. The weekend invasion of the countless bulging the scene. Cranky resident associations like some new temperance society complaining to councils about noise. Tweaked out dudes in untucked shirts looking like C n' D list celebs with the star appeal. Over-aggressive alpha males trying to ply us with liquor as sweating DJ sets of techno & house music swell the floor for strangers without conduct or regard for the sensibilities of others. The snobs who say the venues are contrived with bad art & cheesy desgn. Go-go hotties writhing in suspended cages while also up above, balconies n' staircases allow for impromptu make-out sessions & glimpses of cameltoe n' commando by slobbering, slurring hook-uppers. Drunk bimbos taking skanky pics on their cameras & cellphones to no doubt post on facebook. Trips to the bathroom where ladies form a wall infront of the mirror to primp their hair & adjust their tits in their tops. Ridiculous lon lines at the bars as the demographic of regulars play out in their moments (where at any given moment reason or common sense is outnumbered & outweighed). Bouncers n' security participating with their part to play in this performance of the sacred n' profane. Prosperity for all whatever the locality. Trippy is the disparate experience & my head is swimming. 3AM, roll on.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
REPETITION IS THE LONG KISS GOODNIGHT AS THE SHOULDER-SHRUG OF CLUELESSNESS MARCHES ON
INFLUENZA
The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918-19 had first worked its way into the trenches on the Western front during WWI & the severity wasn't recognized until soldiers returned home with the first cases of illness involving symptoms of dry coughing, fever & diarrhea. Soon military bases began reporting an alarming rise of stricken. City medical officers told people to keep fit as possible & avoid anything which might give them with a cold. Teachers n' students began emptying schools & hotels began doubling as emergency hospitals (regular hospitals having since been overrun with infected patients). The crucial stage of the flu involved people's lungs filling with liquid causing them to drown in their own fluids. Undertakers couldn't keep up with the death toll & cemeteries were ordered to stay open for Sunday burials. Horse-drawn hearses & volunteers digging graves became a regular sight. Theatres, movie halls, storefronts & public areas were closed, women on the street took to wearing veils and amazingly only doctors & nurses were told to wear face masks. As quickly as the deadly, disastrous, potent pathogen arrived, it just as suddenly subsided and while normalcy took time to return, families had been decimated & left to grieve as news broke that peace had been declared in Europe. Around the world an estimated 40 million victims died - 4 times more than the total deaths of the Great War.
The Spanish Flu epidemic of 1918-19 had first worked its way into the trenches on the Western front during WWI & the severity wasn't recognized until soldiers returned home with the first cases of illness involving symptoms of dry coughing, fever & diarrhea. Soon military bases began reporting an alarming rise of stricken. City medical officers told people to keep fit as possible & avoid anything which might give them with a cold. Teachers n' students began emptying schools & hotels began doubling as emergency hospitals (regular hospitals having since been overrun with infected patients). The crucial stage of the flu involved people's lungs filling with liquid causing them to drown in their own fluids. Undertakers couldn't keep up with the death toll & cemeteries were ordered to stay open for Sunday burials. Horse-drawn hearses & volunteers digging graves became a regular sight. Theatres, movie halls, storefronts & public areas were closed, women on the street took to wearing veils and amazingly only doctors & nurses were told to wear face masks. As quickly as the deadly, disastrous, potent pathogen arrived, it just as suddenly subsided and while normalcy took time to return, families had been decimated & left to grieve as news broke that peace had been declared in Europe. Around the world an estimated 40 million victims died - 4 times more than the total deaths of the Great War.
Saturday, May 2, 2009
I
Pig pandemic panic! (the sickness believed to have originated in pork since the 1930's but now mixing with avian bird flu, the mutation has become a powerful virus & with the jump from livestock to the community, infection from human-to-human transmission greatly increases the risk of killing us). Ever notice how fear moves from the sublime to the crazy? I knew the world financial crisis got REALLY bad when redlight disticts recently offered rebates as witnessed by German prostitutes introducing flat-rate discounts & daypasses as incentives to keep the punters shelling out. Hey, sex is business but now this disease outbreak shit to contend with? From the global launchpad that is transportation and all the alarm over Mexico & threat-level warning alerts drumming up impending scary visions of possible sudden death? Out of the frying pan into the fire, desperation has no boundaries.
II
Kathie Lee Gifford says she doesn't understand the appeal of thongs & why some women want to floss their heienies. Well seeing as my garments range from cotton undies & silk/satin teddy bottoms to smiley face n' crayola boxers and playful Wonder Woman y-fronts, naturally, g-string wear will be right at home. Some of us just like to naughty it up & have no interest in anything from Kathie Lee's child labor/sweatshop clothing line. I'll stick with my t-bars & she can keep her granny panties.
Pig pandemic panic! (the sickness believed to have originated in pork since the 1930's but now mixing with avian bird flu, the mutation has become a powerful virus & with the jump from livestock to the community, infection from human-to-human transmission greatly increases the risk of killing us). Ever notice how fear moves from the sublime to the crazy? I knew the world financial crisis got REALLY bad when redlight disticts recently offered rebates as witnessed by German prostitutes introducing flat-rate discounts & daypasses as incentives to keep the punters shelling out. Hey, sex is business but now this disease outbreak shit to contend with? From the global launchpad that is transportation and all the alarm over Mexico & threat-level warning alerts drumming up impending scary visions of possible sudden death? Out of the frying pan into the fire, desperation has no boundaries.
II
Kathie Lee Gifford says she doesn't understand the appeal of thongs & why some women want to floss their heienies. Well seeing as my garments range from cotton undies & silk/satin teddy bottoms to smiley face n' crayola boxers and playful Wonder Woman y-fronts, naturally, g-string wear will be right at home. Some of us just like to naughty it up & have no interest in anything from Kathie Lee's child labor/sweatshop clothing line. I'll stick with my t-bars & she can keep her granny panties.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
9. AND IN CONCLUSION, FUCK YOUR EMO-SCREAMO AND THE 15-PIECE BUCKET IT COMES WITH
2007. Age 20.
It's been quite a journey from first hearing The Police, Rush, Cheap Trick & Genesis. And metal has certainly come a long way in definition. Today it's an all-encompassing term embodying so many questionable bands. My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, The USed??? Get real. Guyliner, haircuts, skinny jeans & studded belts on par with ACTUAL heavy metal? Gimme a break. The real screamo crashed & burned in the mid-90's. As an antidote to a first wave of boo-hoo emo, it mutated into spazzy powerviolence. The MTV-core stuff now is nothing but an accessory; packaged rebellion sold in Hot Topic. Phoney, fake & fraudulent.
Coming home one night from a filmfest of having seen documentaries on metal n' punk, some friends & I decide to steal a KFC flag. For some reason the local outlet has become a hotspot hangout for donkeyville, emo avant garde dorks. I once got into an argument questioning whether Kurt would still be the almighty championing punk rockish credibility, value & merit if he was still alive. And if anyone would be listening (funny how he seems more alive in his death). I was a called a neanderthal. Odd that I'd be deemed a primitive cave-dweller from a group I'd just as consider cro-magnon sludge. Another time I stated that Marilyn Manson & System of a Down, however intelligent, are overrated. I was told I know nothing of heavy music period. This was a great source of laughter depending on whose point of view. Just as funny as being called a devil worshipper seeing as black metal (while I'm an admitted lesser amateur if not novice with this genre) has never been my forte. Yes, the red flag with the grinning Colonel bearing a slightly evil resemblance to our dark majesty is coming home with me. Some nights later near the deserted parking lot we unhoisted Mr. Sanders from his pole & made off. There was a cleaning crew by the front windows & we weren't exactly ninjas of stealth outside. How we weren't heard or seen must have been due to Beelzebub's unearthly assistance as a sign of approval. It was 3 or 4 days until the flag was replaced. Being in that KFC once in a blue moon is still an ongoing battle to have bathrooms clean of alcohol empties, puke, cigarette smoke smell, stale piss and/or unflushed toilets. So much for real orders of business.
Reflecting & reminiscing on so many events makes me think of how I used to say "I want to have a real life". Whatever that means, it comes part n' parcel with a series of developments. Entries & episodes of shaping where only much later do we realize that perhaps it's possible to live more in moments than ordinarily in months or years without knowing it at the time. And only when we remember or have brought to our attention this equation, whether heightened urgency, setbacks or sheer elations do we have the concept of 'smothered into the mural of the past' infact an axiom now more clearly seen than ever before.
2007. Age 20.
It's been quite a journey from first hearing The Police, Rush, Cheap Trick & Genesis. And metal has certainly come a long way in definition. Today it's an all-encompassing term embodying so many questionable bands. My Chemical Romance, Fall Out Boy, The USed??? Get real. Guyliner, haircuts, skinny jeans & studded belts on par with ACTUAL heavy metal? Gimme a break. The real screamo crashed & burned in the mid-90's. As an antidote to a first wave of boo-hoo emo, it mutated into spazzy powerviolence. The MTV-core stuff now is nothing but an accessory; packaged rebellion sold in Hot Topic. Phoney, fake & fraudulent.
Coming home one night from a filmfest of having seen documentaries on metal n' punk, some friends & I decide to steal a KFC flag. For some reason the local outlet has become a hotspot hangout for donkeyville, emo avant garde dorks. I once got into an argument questioning whether Kurt would still be the almighty championing punk rockish credibility, value & merit if he was still alive. And if anyone would be listening (funny how he seems more alive in his death). I was a called a neanderthal. Odd that I'd be deemed a primitive cave-dweller from a group I'd just as consider cro-magnon sludge. Another time I stated that Marilyn Manson & System of a Down, however intelligent, are overrated. I was told I know nothing of heavy music period. This was a great source of laughter depending on whose point of view. Just as funny as being called a devil worshipper seeing as black metal (while I'm an admitted lesser amateur if not novice with this genre) has never been my forte. Yes, the red flag with the grinning Colonel bearing a slightly evil resemblance to our dark majesty is coming home with me. Some nights later near the deserted parking lot we unhoisted Mr. Sanders from his pole & made off. There was a cleaning crew by the front windows & we weren't exactly ninjas of stealth outside. How we weren't heard or seen must have been due to Beelzebub's unearthly assistance as a sign of approval. It was 3 or 4 days until the flag was replaced. Being in that KFC once in a blue moon is still an ongoing battle to have bathrooms clean of alcohol empties, puke, cigarette smoke smell, stale piss and/or unflushed toilets. So much for real orders of business.
Reflecting & reminiscing on so many events makes me think of how I used to say "I want to have a real life". Whatever that means, it comes part n' parcel with a series of developments. Entries & episodes of shaping where only much later do we realize that perhaps it's possible to live more in moments than ordinarily in months or years without knowing it at the time. And only when we remember or have brought to our attention this equation, whether heightened urgency, setbacks or sheer elations do we have the concept of 'smothered into the mural of the past' infact an axiom now more clearly seen than ever before.
CHASING GUTTERFLIES
I
Obama returns from Turkey where he was asked about the Armenian genocide. He says that the government should deal openly & honestly with it's troubled history; an episode which the government continually refuses to even properly acknowledge. A short while after, The Iranian President (again!) this time in Switzerland at a UN conference on racism makes inflammatory remarks about Israel during holocaust commemorations. Some 20 EU delegations protested the speech by walking out. And lastly David Duke (remember him? Ex-Klansman & Louisiana Repub.Rep. no stranger to hate speech) is detained by Czech authorities & then kicked out of the country after his invitation by neo-nazis has resulted in reports of him allegedly making statements denying 'the final solution'. How do we vindicate victims of tragic pasts when on-going pain only continues to serve up denial by revisionists, making healing impossible?
II
Hahaha, how we love to burst people's bubble. Championing the underdog & then taking perverse pleasure in kicking them off the mountain; top of the heap into trash. Look at how Susan Boyle from 'Britain's Got Talent' was the toast of the town n' hailed only to face backlash within a mere week. Paraded because ridicule equals ratings? The newspapers calling her frizzled, frumpy & ugly duckling. And thousands of bloggers calling her rise, fake & forced - headline dosage of fresh healthy cynicism. Nastiness, insensitivity & cruelty notwithstanding, the homely Scottish spinster, singing sensation has infact challenged sterotypes about beauty; eye of the beholder & skin deep. She represents the hidden gem of talent in a person where perceived appearance is totally misleading of her human value so it stands to reason that in this context she must grasp the irony & allusion of what it is to be 'plain' and to exploit those features for fame. I think the exposure of her stature has made her triumphant if only for being the outsider who finds meaning & her place in life. Good for her, a reminder not to be too quick to judge a book by the cover as character is destiny & proves timelessly that the meek can inherit self-worth.
III
Did Miss California pretty much lose the Miss USA crown to NC because of her honest reply in saying she didn't support gay marriage which resulted in a low score & therefore no title? Fuck yeah. To me the real harm is not even in mistakes with the Q&A sessions but the subliminally forced banality: have confidence without opinions and smile & say nothing of substance. Violation can & clearly does result in punishment and apparently straying from world peace & an end to hunger is just too costly. Pageants suck!
Obama returns from Turkey where he was asked about the Armenian genocide. He says that the government should deal openly & honestly with it's troubled history; an episode which the government continually refuses to even properly acknowledge. A short while after, The Iranian President (again!) this time in Switzerland at a UN conference on racism makes inflammatory remarks about Israel during holocaust commemorations. Some 20 EU delegations protested the speech by walking out. And lastly David Duke (remember him? Ex-Klansman & Louisiana Repub.Rep. no stranger to hate speech) is detained by Czech authorities & then kicked out of the country after his invitation by neo-nazis has resulted in reports of him allegedly making statements denying 'the final solution'. How do we vindicate victims of tragic pasts when on-going pain only continues to serve up denial by revisionists, making healing impossible?
II
Hahaha, how we love to burst people's bubble. Championing the underdog & then taking perverse pleasure in kicking them off the mountain; top of the heap into trash. Look at how Susan Boyle from 'Britain's Got Talent' was the toast of the town n' hailed only to face backlash within a mere week. Paraded because ridicule equals ratings? The newspapers calling her frizzled, frumpy & ugly duckling. And thousands of bloggers calling her rise, fake & forced - headline dosage of fresh healthy cynicism. Nastiness, insensitivity & cruelty notwithstanding, the homely Scottish spinster, singing sensation has infact challenged sterotypes about beauty; eye of the beholder & skin deep. She represents the hidden gem of talent in a person where perceived appearance is totally misleading of her human value so it stands to reason that in this context she must grasp the irony & allusion of what it is to be 'plain' and to exploit those features for fame. I think the exposure of her stature has made her triumphant if only for being the outsider who finds meaning & her place in life. Good for her, a reminder not to be too quick to judge a book by the cover as character is destiny & proves timelessly that the meek can inherit self-worth.
III
Did Miss California pretty much lose the Miss USA crown to NC because of her honest reply in saying she didn't support gay marriage which resulted in a low score & therefore no title? Fuck yeah. To me the real harm is not even in mistakes with the Q&A sessions but the subliminally forced banality: have confidence without opinions and smile & say nothing of substance. Violation can & clearly does result in punishment and apparently straying from world peace & an end to hunger is just too costly. Pageants suck!
Saturday, April 18, 2009
My Aunt & Mom have been spinning me crackers lately. They both saw The Phantom of the Opera classic, silent movie not long ago & now apparently have big designs on catching the musical. They're intent on dragging me with them (Abbie could use a little artsified culturification). Being with the 2 of them at the same time is fun because the pair of them together are always a card but I just don't think I'm gonna be down for all that singing. Lon Chaney, I think I'll settle with you for the time being.
Monday, April 13, 2009
If Cobain was still alive, there'd be a whole lot of angry feminuts to shove a song title back down his throat.
EVERYTHING I ALWAYS WANTED IN A SHOW ABOUT SEX BUT AM AFRAID TO MULTI-TASK
My Easter weekend was full of broken halos, immaculate conceptions, forbidden fruit & my very own personal Jesus -for the 2nd time in my life, I was at a weekend sex show. A convention filled with replica vaginas & latex lady parts; hundreds of goodies being peddled casually as if kitchen ware & for the most part viewed with modest intrigue. As my friend and I are strolling the aisles of adult playthings, skintight outfits, dvds & publications all in a warehouse under bright lights with David Holmes blaring from some far corner of the building, it just hits me - the sterilization almost clinical (can dirty be this antiseptic)? As porn & sex becomes more significant in relationships, it's quite strange to see the emotional provocation of these kinky items infact somewhat pointless to certain degrees. Strappy leather harnesses with grips & handles, traffic-cone-size buttplugs, gorgeous but humanly impossible heels? It seems more like functional art on display for how else can you view the glass dildos with a flower inside or stainless steel ridged vibrators that you'd half expect to dice onions & absorb spills? While I have nothing against any of these & didn't come across anything that I hated, something about this trade show failed to ultimately pique my interest. Maybe some are deliberately meant to be unsexy as to not intimidate the more conservative attendees; pandering so as not to put off. But isn't he whole point of sex toys & their demo pitch booths meant to be exciting thus putting the mind at ease because otherwise the opposite inference suggests that we are too guarded or scared. Or even worse - boring. Organizers can be credited for being risque but perhaps the reality of battery/plug-in products is that they aren't sexy - people are. It's all about what we can do with imagination that makes for inventiveness. There's nothing wrong with accessories & coming home with an overstuffed grab-bag of freebies will make for some neat conversation pieces but for now (as someone still working on getting a sybian or one of those lo-fi machines improvised from powertools & a little carpentry) I can pass on d.i.y. dungeon kits & the permanency of drilled holes in the ceiling to install a love swing.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
8. CANNIBAL CORPSE HELPS THE SPAWN OF SATAN CONQUER THE BULLIES
MAR 2006. Age 18.
St. Patrick's Day turned ugly real quick outside of a sports bar when the sound of a car's squealing brakes was not enough to keep from hitting some dude in a leather jacket. Some friends & I turned just in time to see a body in mid air slam into the windshield then hear the thud of him frontwards hit the pavement. Making our way over behind a running crowd we watched the driver get out shaking his head to check his fender, hood & headlight damage and then shout at the barely semi-conscious pedestrian "You fucking skid, what the hell's the matter with you?" Still yelling at the poor guy, witnesses begin cursing the driver for his insensitivity. Completely dismissive to the victim, he angrily harps back about insurance going through the roof & not being at fault. Unable to see he's not the one worse off, he abusively launches some racial profanity at some black men which seals his fate as he is chased by one of whom that promptly proceeds to kick the living 7 shades of shit out of him, before others pull the assailant off. When the cops arrive the crowd has doubled, the black man is cuffed & the driver treated in a more humane & sympathetic manner. This infuriates many & with more arrests, what seemed to be a full riot in the making, evaporates shakily when more cops arrive. The crowd only disperses when the driver is cuffed, placed into the back of a squad car & driven away and when the paramedics (last to arrive) & tow truck show up.
Not that I was a fugutive fleeing a mob (or was I?) but my own encounter of surrounded hostilities came about as some yet again perceived infraction. One never explained to me except only through its intention of threat - you're dead! This time another trio of vapid enemies has arisen dispensing grief. Their contempt & disdain galore, somehow I sense they regard me as the very antithesis of what they consider good taste & thus the epitome of an outcast. To them I am a walking mutiny as much as a mutant. That's ok, for beneath all the pedestals, crosses & high horses I'm under, the introduction of gravity has an ironic way of putting things right. Real winners these Kelly Clarkson-Avril Lavigne-Fergie clones. Glamazons & fashionistas they aren't. Their leader, a chunky bad-breathed loudmouth who I once heard someone call 'Dumpy McChub Stub', has an infinite capacity for making outrageously false accusations against me such as ---
"you devil-worshipping bitch who slaughters cats"
(Um, no. But my love of death metal & grind may be responsible for the slur. The music is gutteral & gruesome to make a serial killer blush; enveloped in powerful, razor-ripping, sandblasting machinist sound n' fury. With morbid but inventive titles & a variety of gory, gross & grotesque visceral visuals - I love it. As for animal cruelty? Never, but oddly I do have a pet black cat with a white patch over its left eye. His name is Faust)
"you make me sick"
(The real cause is called indigestion you overeating heffer)
"you dyke, slut, whore"
(Lez, yes. They honestly don't know how right they are. Easy & loose? I'm not a virgin but I'm also not the one who was suspended twice for giving blowjobs in the library & then the gym stands. Nor was I knocked up & then dumped only to take on 2 more useless specimens)
"you white trash, trailer park redneck skank"
(Nope. I'm devoid of uneducated ignorance. Try upwardly mobile middle class raised in non-decrepit, non-rundown surroundings. Sorry to say I didn't just come in off the turnip truck and my home (albeit in the South) is not a house perched atop any wheels so you can take that stereotype & stuff it up your cunt. But I can imitate the hick drawl with the best of them)
"you hick, cowgirl slut"
(Um, all of us are born & raised in the same state genius so what does that make you?)
"you stupid bimbo cheerleader"
(Ha! Smarter than you 3 tools put together anyday. And actually I'm on the basketball team but apparently being an athlete is the exact same as being a pep rally pom-pom shaker)
Everytime I countered their claims with sarcasm, I only fuelled further physical confrontation. If I was with friends they backed off & when I was alone they came after me. The time came to stand n' deliver when I was followed into the girls washroom one day. Myself, the trio & 4 gawkers waiting to see me get my ass kicked. Chunky tried to provoke me into making the first move so I could be jumped. After being bombarded with variations on countless lame insults I've heard before (I faked a yawn out of real boredom) & failing hopelessly to make me cry, I sprang my debauched imagination into gear. Having just read American Psycho & having absolutely no finesse for trash talk whatsoever, I respond to "now whattaya gonna do bitch?" by sticking my face into Chunky's and telling her in the best vulgar homicidal eloquence I can muster, maybe I can shove a hungry rat up your pussy then cut out your fucking heart & eat it, fatso! I hold her stare hard & after the gulp in her throat infront of stunned onlookers, my desired effect is achieved. I guess the prospect of a carving-flesh-eater wielding vermin is too bizarre & demented. Chunky contorts her face, calls me a twisted sicko & squeezes past suddenly not so tough nor wanting to lay her hands on me anymore. All that bravado & bluff turned inward on another coward. She makes a hasty retreat with her 2 lackeys & the 4 gawkers promptly flee as well. For the rest of the year ALL of them steer clear of me. Looking back on that anti-climactic day I realize I was wearing a shirt saying Damage Inc. It was lost on me then but metaphorically I finally vanquished the ogre without having to lift a finger & here it was the 20th anniversary of Master of Puppet's(!) A surging tide of pride filled me.
MAR 2006. Age 18.
St. Patrick's Day turned ugly real quick outside of a sports bar when the sound of a car's squealing brakes was not enough to keep from hitting some dude in a leather jacket. Some friends & I turned just in time to see a body in mid air slam into the windshield then hear the thud of him frontwards hit the pavement. Making our way over behind a running crowd we watched the driver get out shaking his head to check his fender, hood & headlight damage and then shout at the barely semi-conscious pedestrian "You fucking skid, what the hell's the matter with you?" Still yelling at the poor guy, witnesses begin cursing the driver for his insensitivity. Completely dismissive to the victim, he angrily harps back about insurance going through the roof & not being at fault. Unable to see he's not the one worse off, he abusively launches some racial profanity at some black men which seals his fate as he is chased by one of whom that promptly proceeds to kick the living 7 shades of shit out of him, before others pull the assailant off. When the cops arrive the crowd has doubled, the black man is cuffed & the driver treated in a more humane & sympathetic manner. This infuriates many & with more arrests, what seemed to be a full riot in the making, evaporates shakily when more cops arrive. The crowd only disperses when the driver is cuffed, placed into the back of a squad car & driven away and when the paramedics (last to arrive) & tow truck show up.
Not that I was a fugutive fleeing a mob (or was I?) but my own encounter of surrounded hostilities came about as some yet again perceived infraction. One never explained to me except only through its intention of threat - you're dead! This time another trio of vapid enemies has arisen dispensing grief. Their contempt & disdain galore, somehow I sense they regard me as the very antithesis of what they consider good taste & thus the epitome of an outcast. To them I am a walking mutiny as much as a mutant. That's ok, for beneath all the pedestals, crosses & high horses I'm under, the introduction of gravity has an ironic way of putting things right. Real winners these Kelly Clarkson-Avril Lavigne-Fergie clones. Glamazons & fashionistas they aren't. Their leader, a chunky bad-breathed loudmouth who I once heard someone call 'Dumpy McChub Stub', has an infinite capacity for making outrageously false accusations against me such as ---
"you devil-worshipping bitch who slaughters cats"
(Um, no. But my love of death metal & grind may be responsible for the slur. The music is gutteral & gruesome to make a serial killer blush; enveloped in powerful, razor-ripping, sandblasting machinist sound n' fury. With morbid but inventive titles & a variety of gory, gross & grotesque visceral visuals - I love it. As for animal cruelty? Never, but oddly I do have a pet black cat with a white patch over its left eye. His name is Faust)
"you make me sick"
(The real cause is called indigestion you overeating heffer)
"you dyke, slut, whore"
(Lez, yes. They honestly don't know how right they are. Easy & loose? I'm not a virgin but I'm also not the one who was suspended twice for giving blowjobs in the library & then the gym stands. Nor was I knocked up & then dumped only to take on 2 more useless specimens)
"you white trash, trailer park redneck skank"
(Nope. I'm devoid of uneducated ignorance. Try upwardly mobile middle class raised in non-decrepit, non-rundown surroundings. Sorry to say I didn't just come in off the turnip truck and my home (albeit in the South) is not a house perched atop any wheels so you can take that stereotype & stuff it up your cunt. But I can imitate the hick drawl with the best of them)
"you hick, cowgirl slut"
(Um, all of us are born & raised in the same state genius so what does that make you?)
"you stupid bimbo cheerleader"
(Ha! Smarter than you 3 tools put together anyday. And actually I'm on the basketball team but apparently being an athlete is the exact same as being a pep rally pom-pom shaker)
Everytime I countered their claims with sarcasm, I only fuelled further physical confrontation. If I was with friends they backed off & when I was alone they came after me. The time came to stand n' deliver when I was followed into the girls washroom one day. Myself, the trio & 4 gawkers waiting to see me get my ass kicked. Chunky tried to provoke me into making the first move so I could be jumped. After being bombarded with variations on countless lame insults I've heard before (I faked a yawn out of real boredom) & failing hopelessly to make me cry, I sprang my debauched imagination into gear. Having just read American Psycho & having absolutely no finesse for trash talk whatsoever, I respond to "now whattaya gonna do bitch?" by sticking my face into Chunky's and telling her in the best vulgar homicidal eloquence I can muster, maybe I can shove a hungry rat up your pussy then cut out your fucking heart & eat it, fatso! I hold her stare hard & after the gulp in her throat infront of stunned onlookers, my desired effect is achieved. I guess the prospect of a carving-flesh-eater wielding vermin is too bizarre & demented. Chunky contorts her face, calls me a twisted sicko & squeezes past suddenly not so tough nor wanting to lay her hands on me anymore. All that bravado & bluff turned inward on another coward. She makes a hasty retreat with her 2 lackeys & the 4 gawkers promptly flee as well. For the rest of the year ALL of them steer clear of me. Looking back on that anti-climactic day I realize I was wearing a shirt saying Damage Inc. It was lost on me then but metaphorically I finally vanquished the ogre without having to lift a finger & here it was the 20th anniversary of Master of Puppet's(!) A surging tide of pride filled me.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
BEFORE THE SUPERBOWL THERE WAS THE GRUDGE ON THE RIVER KWAI
Food for thought - is it Asian Flu if Koreans are allergic to me & I'm getting sick of them? Mae West once sang about a yellow fever of an alternative kind but my race relations with the Pacific rim for this past month have been less than stellar. Here's a shitlist ---
The idiot in my history class who hits on me, keeps getting rejected & now has his girlfriend believing I want him.
(?!?! Ok, if I was after sausage, I'm positive on the first try that I could land someone WAY more attractive, probably not hung like a baby carrot and someone without fierce halitosis & a smile devoid of food stuck between the teeth. Seriously dimwit, do something about the fucked up grill. Toothpaste, mouthwash & a dentist are usually a good start. As for you bitch with your hinting of wanting to fight me, hahahaha, we both know you got nothing)...
Tweedles dumb, dee, dork & doorknob in the internet cafe who tried to rip me off after I paid up front first.
(4 against 1, my how brave you lads are. You pricks were exposed as liars, would-be cheats & potential thieves and after proving you were the ones in the wrong who made the mistake, you STILL take the attitude n' approach that I'm at fault to blame to begin with? I should be sorry? And to add insult to injury you want to overcharge me double(!) on top of what I had already given you? Fuck off you squinting twerps. I bet if I was to return, I'd find myself on the slowest problematic computer. Coincidence? I think not. I have nothing against the mentally challenged having a job but seeing as you're all RETARDED, maybe you shouldn't be working front counter having to deal with money seeing as you can't properly calculate & making it up as you go along is not good business accumen as it'll only invite trouble when you dishonestly try to pad your till. Crappy memory & indecipherable lisp are also disadvantages to have, dumbasses)...
And lastly the cornerstore owner who refused to give me a simple plastic bag.
(So let's get this straight - young girl comes in with a heavy bag full of items about to burst at the seams & you deem it completely impossible to bestow a simple act of kindness; as if one less bag would bankrupt you to which now justifies you yelling at me. Way to stake your claim that even a little chivalry is a whole lot dead, you cheap n' rude miserly bastard)...
To every last one of you losers - wow, to think that I've been called devious or shifty. You take the cake. I ask what is it about your individual nature that makes all of you seem like perfectly content non people-persons? Are you really that stubborn & arrogantly closed off in your culture because if so may each of you giant, negative turds drop dead (from the restaurant to the laundromat). And the irony is not lost on me that of all times, such are my feelings on the matter when we've just been delivered a fresh, vibrant, uplifitng address to the nation about tolerance & understanding (well it's obvious you don't have it for me & I just don't get you so recognition my ass because the whole 'one bad apple' saying seems like a joke). Yeah, I know I must sound callous, shallow & wrongly too dismissive. Perhaps the real question is which of us is more ignorant right now? I say it's definitely you. I hate that you could aggravate me so much that an easy, general acknowledgement of difference could reach an all-time low ebb as to be approaching zero. Thanks & congrats, MOTHERFUCKERS!
The idiot in my history class who hits on me, keeps getting rejected & now has his girlfriend believing I want him.
(?!?! Ok, if I was after sausage, I'm positive on the first try that I could land someone WAY more attractive, probably not hung like a baby carrot and someone without fierce halitosis & a smile devoid of food stuck between the teeth. Seriously dimwit, do something about the fucked up grill. Toothpaste, mouthwash & a dentist are usually a good start. As for you bitch with your hinting of wanting to fight me, hahahaha, we both know you got nothing)...
Tweedles dumb, dee, dork & doorknob in the internet cafe who tried to rip me off after I paid up front first.
(4 against 1, my how brave you lads are. You pricks were exposed as liars, would-be cheats & potential thieves and after proving you were the ones in the wrong who made the mistake, you STILL take the attitude n' approach that I'm at fault to blame to begin with? I should be sorry? And to add insult to injury you want to overcharge me double(!) on top of what I had already given you? Fuck off you squinting twerps. I bet if I was to return, I'd find myself on the slowest problematic computer. Coincidence? I think not. I have nothing against the mentally challenged having a job but seeing as you're all RETARDED, maybe you shouldn't be working front counter having to deal with money seeing as you can't properly calculate & making it up as you go along is not good business accumen as it'll only invite trouble when you dishonestly try to pad your till. Crappy memory & indecipherable lisp are also disadvantages to have, dumbasses)...
And lastly the cornerstore owner who refused to give me a simple plastic bag.
(So let's get this straight - young girl comes in with a heavy bag full of items about to burst at the seams & you deem it completely impossible to bestow a simple act of kindness; as if one less bag would bankrupt you to which now justifies you yelling at me. Way to stake your claim that even a little chivalry is a whole lot dead, you cheap n' rude miserly bastard)...
To every last one of you losers - wow, to think that I've been called devious or shifty. You take the cake. I ask what is it about your individual nature that makes all of you seem like perfectly content non people-persons? Are you really that stubborn & arrogantly closed off in your culture because if so may each of you giant, negative turds drop dead (from the restaurant to the laundromat). And the irony is not lost on me that of all times, such are my feelings on the matter when we've just been delivered a fresh, vibrant, uplifitng address to the nation about tolerance & understanding (well it's obvious you don't have it for me & I just don't get you so recognition my ass because the whole 'one bad apple' saying seems like a joke). Yeah, I know I must sound callous, shallow & wrongly too dismissive. Perhaps the real question is which of us is more ignorant right now? I say it's definitely you. I hate that you could aggravate me so much that an easy, general acknowledgement of difference could reach an all-time low ebb as to be approaching zero. Thanks & congrats, MOTHERFUCKERS!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
RABBIT STEW
1. WOULD & COULD THE SEXUAL REVOLUTION HAVE GOTTEN UNDERWAY WITHOUT HUGH HEFNER?
Yes & rather easily. He certainly was a major socio-political kickstart but by no means was he alone. There were other crusaders.
2. FROM THE VERY BEGINNING COULD A WOMAN HAVE STARTED THIS EMPIRE BEFORE HEFNER?
Most def. There's no reason why a woman couldn't have made the strides n' achievements not only for the recognition & acceptance of men's fare but in also paving the way for the nudie mags to follow. An entrepreneurial woman is not out of the question. I think we have to look at someone in particular removed from the stigma of madams n' brothels & society's then overly conservative view at the time of the concentration of pressganged fallen females being exploited from the underground for money to be made purely in the interests of criminal enterprise. It most likely would have been scandalous (and it's easy to scoff at) but to dismiss all this & say impossible a woman couldn't have done it - who's to deny that infact not only did she exist somewhere but would have been poised & ready at the right moment?
3. PROBLEMS THAT CONTRIBUTE AND/OR JUSTIFY CRITICISM OF PLAYBOY
Certainly an impression that one gets. There's so much of an immediate sameness that most of the girls may as well be of an alien race. Also you have to look at intention. The girl growing up wanting to pose for the mag quite often has a certain high degree of exhibitionism, attention craving & narcissism going. I'm not saying educated women never come along but while the ultimate goal may be high fashion or mainstream modelling & this route can provide the outlet, a large number of the girls sadly aren't particularly bright (Anna Nicole, anyone?) so it could be a mistake to not have a career beforehand unless you know that you can use Playboy as a sure-fire compass to meeting someone super rich if that's all you're after.
4. WHAT DO WE SUSPECT ABOUT HEFNER THAT MORE THAN LIKELY ISN'T THE CASE?
Truth has a way of being stranger than fiction. Hef's whole realm seems to be a microcosmic universe & we've been conditioned to think that he is surrounded by a hedonistic harem; a cornucopia of bubbly pop tart, bimbo courtesans (and he helps with that imagery) but away from all the mansion trappings, the overall product could perhaps be seen as rather ordinary. Even boring. Just because he's secluded in that world, if he thinks everyone wants to be a part of it, well that's clearly false. But keep in mind, this is based on a perception & not an absolute. I mean, if it's true that makes advances & propositions to young girls and they respond with not dating anyone over 24 or 25 to which he replies neither does he, I can see the dirty old geezer/naughty humor in the allusion to a casting couch because of choosing ladies for his stock n' trade, but on the other side of that coin lies 'Ew, Grampa! Hands off'.
5. HAS THE BUNNY BRAND BEEN DUMBED DOWN AND/OR LOST STAYING POWER?
I think the original relevancy being about the all-natural girl next door for all its success is incredibly tame to its competitors (in a sense it always has been so it's humorous to think how harmful Playboy was once considered) & simply stresses what mainstream porn today reflects tiresomely - entrenched stereotype. With porn period, that accusation can be made against everything but when playmates venture into hyper-reality TV, to me that proves that the supposed cornerstone of sexual coup has become yet again another bitch to scripted choreograph. Let's face it, all regimes end up being watered down & thinned out but I think this is a case here of re-invention being the mother of necessity. It's all about the value of keeping your name out there & expansion is the key.
6. VIEWS ON THE LEGACY OF PLAYBOY
Well about Hef, I think the launch of Playboy mag was unspectacular (it's the impact that was made a big deal but not to forget, Albert Kinsey and the Masters & Johnson institute were rattling the status quo first with pioneering sex research studies). You gotta admire him for taking on the government; the feds came after him saying mailing porn was a violation of decency & obscenity, it was contraband trafficking, he stood firm challenging those laws and won laying the groundwork for a cottage industry of publications & riskier adult entertainment pushing the envelope. And not to be overlooked was his contribution to the idea that bureaucracy can't legislate morality & that communities should set the standards. So yeah, hats off to that. Hef was saying 'proteck ya neck' before Wu-Tang, ha.
7. WHY DOES THE ATTRACTION FOR PLAYBOY REMAIN?
It's always been high profile. There's an air of seductive respectability because it proclaims itself as providing taste & class in its quality. That's gonna draw ambitious girls everytime. When they can make $25,000 for a pictorial & subsequent appearances, it's that flash of instant stardom which is the lure but going back to problems, the big letdown is in the 15min. that quickly fades. It takes business savvy & determination to stay in the limelight and that's always easier said than done.
8. THE FUTURE IN STORE FOR PLAYBOY AND HEFNER
The mag is gonna keep on rolling, no doubt. The iconic association is a pure money maker & an international machine in various media territories which shows no signs of slowing down. It's identification & visibility is enormous. I believe Playboy have played their cards right in catering to a youth market & their portrayal/vision of women (superficial? you be the judge) will continue to adapt with changing times because even non-explicit, softcore women baring all will always have an audience. As for viagra Hef, isn't he a father of 2 pushing 80 & a recent divorcee? That right there is stamina. He's a likeable old fogey who's done good work with his money-giving to many charitable causes & is an impressive film buff historian to boot. I think when he dies he'll be properly commemorated & spoken of fondly and perhaps in the final irony, even feminists he's clashed with will or may have something highly respectful to say.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I just finished watching the Sex Pistols 'Filth and the Fury' documentary and felt like sharing this humorous commentary which I first heard on a Total Chaos cd.
Monday, January 5, 2009
7. STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT RESULT IN AN UNLIKELY MARRIAGE BETWEEN PORN AND PINK FLOYD
2004. Age 17.
Before I met charismatic Amber, she was the quiet girl in art class I had seen around & was able to guage that we were possibly quite similar. The first time I noticed her outside of school was at a party where my arriving was greeted with 'Ace of Spades' blasting from a top bedroom window & my departure was with a bet I made to a friend to 'liberate' a 24 case of Rolling Rock beer right out of the kitchen. A few weeks later I spotted Amber in a downtown club most frequented by djs, drum&bass heads, technofiles and ex-skinhead cretins in search of E & special K fixes; for the most part all harmless showoffs & topped off with boastful drunks starting fights to impress their girlfriends. That summer I went to my first concerts (Megadeth, then Arch Enemy & then In Flames). I found out Amber had gone too, awesome. 3 years older than me, she was also a huge Sabbath, Zeppelin & Bowie hound to boot. We became fast friends where I further learned she was a big movie buff, generous with her pot & hash and loves to make out. For our birthdays we exchanged beautiful books on cool painters, graphic design & propaganda posters. And there's a Metallica video along of course with several burnt cds - some of which were Canadian bands & punk.
Once, while both in search of a gag gift for another friends birthday we wandered into a sex shop. It felt like being in a red light district with most of the patrons checking us out; short n' portly potato men, scarecrows, business types & a disproportionate number of orientals. I was taken with the row upon row of dvds that took up literally 2 full walls while she went to look at vibrators. I hid myself from invasive eyes behind a magazine rack where I found an infamous Hustler back issue. The cover of an upside down woman in a meatgrinder with only her shapely legs remaining as the rest of her had been minced into hamburger. I show it to Amber & ask if she's ever seen 'The Wall'. She has & makes the obvious connection to an animated sequence in the film - about how totalitarian regimes with imperialist ambitions in bleak & dismal futures are like all war-mad societies, serving citizens up on a platter as modern day cannon fodder to preserve ruling interests. I'm smiling the whole time we discuss other fragmented scenes & the use of songs. Either because I'm captivated by how we agree on our explanatory exchanges or that she is physically the first girl to make me wet, no way am I not buying the magazine after this. At the counter is also a dildo for the freind's present. The cashier is an Indian or Pakistani with a thick accent who seems delighted to be selling his items to us. To me he doesn't come off creepy but Amber's wicked sense of humor replies that he probably likes the young stuff & will jerk off to both of us in a rape fantasy. My road to a dildo collection of my own as well as penchant for the classic xxx filth would soon take hold.
It's amazing how much possibility opens up when you find yourself on the same wavelength & exact footing with someone attractive n' sexually adventurous. In October we went to a burlesque n' fetish show & on Halloween I dressed as a zombie bride to her zombie nurse. If I knew what I was in for at the sight of her in ripped fishnets, short skirt & red thong, I swear I would have gone commando. Didn't matter anyway. We eneded up fucking just the same as we had been for quite some time by then.
2004. Age 17.
Before I met charismatic Amber, she was the quiet girl in art class I had seen around & was able to guage that we were possibly quite similar. The first time I noticed her outside of school was at a party where my arriving was greeted with 'Ace of Spades' blasting from a top bedroom window & my departure was with a bet I made to a friend to 'liberate' a 24 case of Rolling Rock beer right out of the kitchen. A few weeks later I spotted Amber in a downtown club most frequented by djs, drum&bass heads, technofiles and ex-skinhead cretins in search of E & special K fixes; for the most part all harmless showoffs & topped off with boastful drunks starting fights to impress their girlfriends. That summer I went to my first concerts (Megadeth, then Arch Enemy & then In Flames). I found out Amber had gone too, awesome. 3 years older than me, she was also a huge Sabbath, Zeppelin & Bowie hound to boot. We became fast friends where I further learned she was a big movie buff, generous with her pot & hash and loves to make out. For our birthdays we exchanged beautiful books on cool painters, graphic design & propaganda posters. And there's a Metallica video along of course with several burnt cds - some of which were Canadian bands & punk.
Once, while both in search of a gag gift for another friends birthday we wandered into a sex shop. It felt like being in a red light district with most of the patrons checking us out; short n' portly potato men, scarecrows, business types & a disproportionate number of orientals. I was taken with the row upon row of dvds that took up literally 2 full walls while she went to look at vibrators. I hid myself from invasive eyes behind a magazine rack where I found an infamous Hustler back issue. The cover of an upside down woman in a meatgrinder with only her shapely legs remaining as the rest of her had been minced into hamburger. I show it to Amber & ask if she's ever seen 'The Wall'. She has & makes the obvious connection to an animated sequence in the film - about how totalitarian regimes with imperialist ambitions in bleak & dismal futures are like all war-mad societies, serving citizens up on a platter as modern day cannon fodder to preserve ruling interests. I'm smiling the whole time we discuss other fragmented scenes & the use of songs. Either because I'm captivated by how we agree on our explanatory exchanges or that she is physically the first girl to make me wet, no way am I not buying the magazine after this. At the counter is also a dildo for the freind's present. The cashier is an Indian or Pakistani with a thick accent who seems delighted to be selling his items to us. To me he doesn't come off creepy but Amber's wicked sense of humor replies that he probably likes the young stuff & will jerk off to both of us in a rape fantasy. My road to a dildo collection of my own as well as penchant for the classic xxx filth would soon take hold.
It's amazing how much possibility opens up when you find yourself on the same wavelength & exact footing with someone attractive n' sexually adventurous. In October we went to a burlesque n' fetish show & on Halloween I dressed as a zombie bride to her zombie nurse. If I knew what I was in for at the sight of her in ripped fishnets, short skirt & red thong, I swear I would have gone commando. Didn't matter anyway. We eneded up fucking just the same as we had been for quite some time by then.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
6. THREE CHEERS FOR THE HEAVY MENTHOL KID DROWNED OUT BY PLANES OVER MANHATTAN
SEPT 2001. Age 14.
I've bought my first metal album & with a profession of love I remain hooked on thrash while totally indifferent to Korn, Godsmack & nu metal for the most part. 'Ride the Lightning' was unlike anything I'd ever heard. It's high charged songs throbbed in my head, it's driving guitars & rapid drumming were propulsion personified & the lyrics blew me away. I instantly knew I'd want more of this intensity & along with a new smoking habit (and just like it), the crave for more would increase because the indelible impression that it left would never be forgotten. Soon Sepultura, Iron Maiden n' more Metallica are the next to follow but not before I find some affinity in & with an odd assortment of scattered new friends: alterno-hippie grunge looking rejects with dyed hair, nose n' lip rings - others with dreads, goth freaks with black lipstick and skaters with saggy baggy pants n' chain wallets. My personal tastes are setting a stage in an unseen role to play with rites of passage that will be based on either acceptance or abhorence. Sometimes we learn the hardway about making friends but atleast I'm never stiffed by the metalheads; scary how this logic is identical to political blowback -- embracing an outsider in the context of a hopeful partnership-relationship only for existing conditions to bring about negative or disastrous consequences n' repercussions...
On a particular Tuesday morning I remember like it was yesterday, I had slept in for school & planned on showing up after lunch. This was going to be a good day because of beautiful weather, an impromptu half day of classes & cashing in a lottery scratch ticket worth about $50 to buy another album. I was awoken by my Mom's phone call anxiously telling me to turn on the TV quick as something awful had just happened in New York. Every station over n' over n' over again showing low flying jumbo jets crashing into the World Trade Center. Transfixed, I was numb & then in total disbelief first from people jumping n' falling from windows and then when each of the towers came tumbling down in a shower of glass & debris sending up enormous, thick choking clouds of rolling dust blanketing the streets. The ground zero aftermath of rubble n' wreckage was just as traumatic. I never made it to school & by lunchtime some friends had come over knowing full well why. They didn't return either. The rest of that day is a TV panorama of panic; a combo platter of shock, tears, neurotic fear & non-stop talk about terrorism on American soil & revenge. Away from the boob tube madness are personal huge sighs of relief after frantic phone calls to relatives in Staten Island found them safe & ok. Incidentally, the album I was going to buy? 'Kill 'em All'. I bought it towards the end of the month with the words of the mulleted cashier ringing in my ears: "Hell yeah, that's what we're gonna do to those dirty Arab camelfuckers".
SEPT 2001. Age 14.
I've bought my first metal album & with a profession of love I remain hooked on thrash while totally indifferent to Korn, Godsmack & nu metal for the most part. 'Ride the Lightning' was unlike anything I'd ever heard. It's high charged songs throbbed in my head, it's driving guitars & rapid drumming were propulsion personified & the lyrics blew me away. I instantly knew I'd want more of this intensity & along with a new smoking habit (and just like it), the crave for more would increase because the indelible impression that it left would never be forgotten. Soon Sepultura, Iron Maiden n' more Metallica are the next to follow but not before I find some affinity in & with an odd assortment of scattered new friends: alterno-hippie grunge looking rejects with dyed hair, nose n' lip rings - others with dreads, goth freaks with black lipstick and skaters with saggy baggy pants n' chain wallets. My personal tastes are setting a stage in an unseen role to play with rites of passage that will be based on either acceptance or abhorence. Sometimes we learn the hardway about making friends but atleast I'm never stiffed by the metalheads; scary how this logic is identical to political blowback -- embracing an outsider in the context of a hopeful partnership-relationship only for existing conditions to bring about negative or disastrous consequences n' repercussions...
On a particular Tuesday morning I remember like it was yesterday, I had slept in for school & planned on showing up after lunch. This was going to be a good day because of beautiful weather, an impromptu half day of classes & cashing in a lottery scratch ticket worth about $50 to buy another album. I was awoken by my Mom's phone call anxiously telling me to turn on the TV quick as something awful had just happened in New York. Every station over n' over n' over again showing low flying jumbo jets crashing into the World Trade Center. Transfixed, I was numb & then in total disbelief first from people jumping n' falling from windows and then when each of the towers came tumbling down in a shower of glass & debris sending up enormous, thick choking clouds of rolling dust blanketing the streets. The ground zero aftermath of rubble n' wreckage was just as traumatic. I never made it to school & by lunchtime some friends had come over knowing full well why. They didn't return either. The rest of that day is a TV panorama of panic; a combo platter of shock, tears, neurotic fear & non-stop talk about terrorism on American soil & revenge. Away from the boob tube madness are personal huge sighs of relief after frantic phone calls to relatives in Staten Island found them safe & ok. Incidentally, the album I was going to buy? 'Kill 'em All'. I bought it towards the end of the month with the words of the mulleted cashier ringing in my ears: "Hell yeah, that's what we're gonna do to those dirty Arab camelfuckers".
APPROACHING THE FINNISH LINE
So just a little bit of catch-up on current events for me: at the tail end of summer I was in Canada & had a blast; returned home to catch the ass end of 2 hurricanes; the White House race came down to the wire & quite noticably with Tina Fey's SNL impressions; the economy seemed to go straight to hell in a hand basket; Halloween was full of zombie brides, Absolut vodka & snickers minis; Obama emerged victorious & I just hope he'll be given the chance to live up to expectations (fuck all the haters); Remembrance Day was not exactly a lest we forget occassion when every other channel is one war movie after another; Thanksgiving is shaping up to be another crazy Turkey Day as usual for the family and Christmas I'm not looking forward too. To cap it all off, school is busy and I've been having dreams of Scandinavia - particularly Helsinki (must be something about ice & elfish features).
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Dedicated, passed, Grape overdose, a few words, a Bullet in Texas, patsy and Guitar God
Jonestown juice. click here
The horror, the horror. click here
Speech, speech!. click here
Zapruder's zenith. click here
Conspiracy & hypothesis. click here
Ruby Sunday. click here
Jonestown juice. click here
The horror, the horror. click here
Speech, speech!. click here
Zapruder's zenith. click here
Conspiracy & hypothesis. click here
Ruby Sunday. click here
Sunday, October 5, 2008
5. GLORY GLORY HELL-ELUJAH, SORRY SORRY THE EMPORER HAS NO CLOSE
APR 1999. Age 11.
Grade school is a primer for the high school social scene which is all about wanting to belong & the fear of exclusion. An impending dread of the painful reality of peer pressure to come in the cruel discovery of pecking orders, fiercely competing cliques, snobbery & immature vendettas. Even after or if acceptance in a group, in the blink of an eye the no-longer once nerds, geeks & losers can be relegated right back to that status because of some petty vindictiveness that revokes your cool factor.
The hysteria of Columbine was a rude awakening. A shooting spree by marginalized misfits is reduced to a perception of uniform -- look different, seem different, get your ass kicked & turn the tables with a gun. Add to the equation another media circus blaming every conceivable form of entertainment as responsible. More shameless exploitation, more lurid sensationalism, more labelling. Our end result? More division for factions to fight over. Mistrust, misunderstanding & misinterpretation. Everyone missing the mark yet stamping definitive impressions. What a disaster as we approach the Y2K meltdown.
APR 1999. Age 11.
Grade school is a primer for the high school social scene which is all about wanting to belong & the fear of exclusion. An impending dread of the painful reality of peer pressure to come in the cruel discovery of pecking orders, fiercely competing cliques, snobbery & immature vendettas. Even after or if acceptance in a group, in the blink of an eye the no-longer once nerds, geeks & losers can be relegated right back to that status because of some petty vindictiveness that revokes your cool factor.
The hysteria of Columbine was a rude awakening. A shooting spree by marginalized misfits is reduced to a perception of uniform -- look different, seem different, get your ass kicked & turn the tables with a gun. Add to the equation another media circus blaming every conceivable form of entertainment as responsible. More shameless exploitation, more lurid sensationalism, more labelling. Our end result? More division for factions to fight over. Mistrust, misunderstanding & misinterpretation. Everyone missing the mark yet stamping definitive impressions. What a disaster as we approach the Y2K meltdown.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
4. BILLY CORGAN IS THE NEW ANOINTED STATESMAN AND ENTER PUBLIC EMILY IN THE HOUR OF CHAOS A.D.
1996. Age 9.
On the TV front, how much Dawson's Creek & Buffy the Vampire Slayer can a girl watch? Still though, Katie Holmes is limited in her acting. She whines & nags too much with longwinded speeches. The future Mrs. Tom Cruise you say?? Impossible. Over in Sunnydale things pick up best when Angellus drops by & Faith turns her back on the Scoobies to run wild. 5x5. Oh, the future Willow a budding flower of gayness & later a sorceress junkie with a wicked, pernicious alter ego? Nah.
After Nirvana, the outspoken Smashing Pumpkins are icons who take over offering views on everything in music. As much as they are lord-like they are just as loathed. Musically I'm surrounded by 4 genres of which knowledge & familiarity will come later but whose immediate meanings will exemplify excursions into new territory of which all is not well. Rap-rock is still around but critically on its last legs having outlived the novelty of crossover. Atleast Faith No More & Rage Against the Machine managed to evolve... The first vagina monologues are spoken by L7, PJ Harvey & Bikini Kill striking the first chords for riot grrl which will inspire & influence rambling, angry dentate manifestos further sparking a thousand reasons for female unity & emancipation and just as easily n' equally result in a thousand arguments... Punk has seen a comeback with Rancid, Green Day & The Offspring hailed as saviors much to the chagrin of anarchic gutter crusties & new school vs. old school hardcore kids of the personal/observational politics & straight edge variety. It's the 20th anniversary of the Sex Pistols celebrated with a reunion tour culminating in controversial endless debates of who & what is 'selling out'... Hip hop has devolved moving away from strong afrocentricity and gangsta rap into its first boring phases of bling garbage braggadocio for excessive wealth & deluded greatness because of ass-kissing entourages paid to tell many artists so. From here it's repetitive, submissive hoochie misogyny...
Right around this same time at school, I've attracted a trio of pee wee stygian witches who've decided to hate my guts. I'm on the receiving end of daily mean stares & whispered secrets right in front of my face erupting in hushed laughter but help is on the way. I gain an allie-in-persecution by these pubescent, teen diva-worshipping hags in the new girl: Emily has deep roots in the Bahamas & Bermuda. She has access to her older sister's cd collection and her fave bands are the Beastie Boys, Living Colour, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest & Guns n' Roses. I think she may have had a black Rolling Stones shirt withthe red tongue and a Run DMC button on her knapsack. Together we dub our dollhouse oppressing toremntors ' The Stupid Cavity Scummies' & for a short time we are immune. We have fun sharing magazines, trading cards, shoes, sleepovers, dinner invitations & our sworn hatred of the trio. Sadly, in just a few short years she moves away & once gone I vow to someday visit the Caribbean. My suffering resumes with the SCS becoming a considerable thorn in my side for the time being (if only they could have taken the place of Jon Benet Ramsey) --- unbeknownst to me Kathleen Hanna's screaming, Johnny Rotten's sneering face, Tom Morello's screeching solos and the Chuck D. designed logo of a human target in gunsight loom large over my feelings of little girl torture & despair.
More next time...
1996. Age 9.
On the TV front, how much Dawson's Creek & Buffy the Vampire Slayer can a girl watch? Still though, Katie Holmes is limited in her acting. She whines & nags too much with longwinded speeches. The future Mrs. Tom Cruise you say?? Impossible. Over in Sunnydale things pick up best when Angellus drops by & Faith turns her back on the Scoobies to run wild. 5x5. Oh, the future Willow a budding flower of gayness & later a sorceress junkie with a wicked, pernicious alter ego? Nah.
After Nirvana, the outspoken Smashing Pumpkins are icons who take over offering views on everything in music. As much as they are lord-like they are just as loathed. Musically I'm surrounded by 4 genres of which knowledge & familiarity will come later but whose immediate meanings will exemplify excursions into new territory of which all is not well. Rap-rock is still around but critically on its last legs having outlived the novelty of crossover. Atleast Faith No More & Rage Against the Machine managed to evolve... The first vagina monologues are spoken by L7, PJ Harvey & Bikini Kill striking the first chords for riot grrl which will inspire & influence rambling, angry dentate manifestos further sparking a thousand reasons for female unity & emancipation and just as easily n' equally result in a thousand arguments... Punk has seen a comeback with Rancid, Green Day & The Offspring hailed as saviors much to the chagrin of anarchic gutter crusties & new school vs. old school hardcore kids of the personal/observational politics & straight edge variety. It's the 20th anniversary of the Sex Pistols celebrated with a reunion tour culminating in controversial endless debates of who & what is 'selling out'... Hip hop has devolved moving away from strong afrocentricity and gangsta rap into its first boring phases of bling garbage braggadocio for excessive wealth & deluded greatness because of ass-kissing entourages paid to tell many artists so. From here it's repetitive, submissive hoochie misogyny...
Right around this same time at school, I've attracted a trio of pee wee stygian witches who've decided to hate my guts. I'm on the receiving end of daily mean stares & whispered secrets right in front of my face erupting in hushed laughter but help is on the way. I gain an allie-in-persecution by these pubescent, teen diva-worshipping hags in the new girl: Emily has deep roots in the Bahamas & Bermuda. She has access to her older sister's cd collection and her fave bands are the Beastie Boys, Living Colour, Public Enemy, A Tribe Called Quest & Guns n' Roses. I think she may have had a black Rolling Stones shirt withthe red tongue and a Run DMC button on her knapsack. Together we dub our dollhouse oppressing toremntors ' The Stupid Cavity Scummies' & for a short time we are immune. We have fun sharing magazines, trading cards, shoes, sleepovers, dinner invitations & our sworn hatred of the trio. Sadly, in just a few short years she moves away & once gone I vow to someday visit the Caribbean. My suffering resumes with the SCS becoming a considerable thorn in my side for the time being (if only they could have taken the place of Jon Benet Ramsey) --- unbeknownst to me Kathleen Hanna's screaming, Johnny Rotten's sneering face, Tom Morello's screeching solos and the Chuck D. designed logo of a human target in gunsight loom large over my feelings of little girl torture & despair.
More next time...
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
FIREWORKS FOR ALL THE FUCKING FLAGGOTS
Hey y'all, no matter how many pompous, patriotic holidays we invent we'll celebrate any self-congratulatory, masturbatory means to wave & salute the stars n' stripes. And today is our gran'pappy of them all full of inflated, egotistic glorification to pat ourselves on the back, handshake, high five & look at jobs well done through missions arrogantly accomplished when our infact imperialism & history is a different truth entirely. Thank you, manisfest destiny. Still, (self-serving bragging rights of being the best aside), who cares when there's always a barBQ cookout & booze-bash to enjoy on the 4th? I'm not about to spoil that fun. Oh well, play it again, Uncle Scam. Happy Independence Day all the same.
Prouder than Archie Bunker. click here
Friday, June 27, 2008
SOME U.S. OF A. GRADE-A BEEF PROVIDES THE LOUSIEST CHUCK IN THE LAND
So I just returned from visiting relatives in Albequirky, New Mex (or was it Albekinky?) We went to eat at a Black Angus Restaurant. BIG MISTAKE. This has got to be the worst steakhouse chain in the country. We arrived to no menu outside. Inside was small, quaint looking & too darkly lit. (Apparently they advertise specials but we were informed of none. The road to our disaster just beginning?) Very very slow service & what luck that our waiter (Methuselah lives!) had NO personality - a real zero. Don't get me wrong, if there are those in the geriatric legion not ready to retire into the twilight of Lawrence Welk memories & still interested in working then fine but provided they still can through capability & competence. Prompt, courteous & knowledgeable our guy certainly wasn't. It was ridiculous. Who hired this codger & how long has he been working here? Then again, who cares because no matter what anyone says, 100yr old mumbling old coots who are deader than the slowest snail do not make good servers. So what have we here: $42 for rib eye, $45 for fillet mignon and no wine under $30. Pretty damn steep. Had to wait 25min. just for water and no bread. When asked we were told it was $2 extra & instead of rolls or buns we got sliced(!) When the steaks FINALLY arrived after nearly 50 minutes they were overcooked and fatty (probably 70% so with 15% accounting for meat & the remaining 15% bone). And incredibly even before we are properly beginning our meal he's already serving the dessert menus. Pushy or what? Oh, No veggies or sidedish either and the baked potato was dried out with clumpy sour cream that looked slopped n' glopped from a cheap container & then dumped out with a spoon. The wine that they served tasted like some cheap $10 bottle of screwcap poured into a fancy bottle to justify the 200% jacked up price. My Mom had flattened shrimp served with the shell still on. Her garlic mashed potatoes tasted like boxed instant & when inquired our waiter proudly denied. When we asked him for napkins he was sure he had given us some so now thought we stole them and told us. Senile senior idiot. And amazingly he was under the impression that things looked to be going well as the night went on. Little could we have imagined the long lingering bad aftertaste of crappy eatery. Finally when our misery ended, we explained our total disappointment with the unappealing food & how it was difficult just to get his attention. Unsympathetic & without a single apology he told us that since we know for the next time, be sure to order something different. Who the fuck would want to return?? He was not tipped & was told he was by far amongst the most terrible waitstaff we've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. He was visibly taken aback in complete shock. And we almost had a field day writing our criticisms on the receipt and comment cards. Why even bother speaking to the manager? All he'd probably do is dance around the issue, hell, they can't even get their gift cards right. The bill in total was close to $160 which absolutely was robbery for this place. Do not waste your time or money here, people. With any justice a few of these restaurants will sooner than later see the wrecking ball & replacement by a gas station.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
HOMO ERECTUS FROM STONEWALL NOW STROLLING DOWN PAST STOREFRONTS
Isn't it funny how political statements can be steered into party crowd paradise? Take gay pride & its spectacle of street parade as much about tourist dollars as it is about the freak show. In the first place, the set up is always the same: bars with beefed up prices, outdoor stages booming music & rainbow flags; the jockeying for positions in an arts n' culture fest atmosphere battling for dominance in oven-baked parking lots. Either it's all wildly exciting or hell on earth. Reaction depends on your personality but it seems it isn't even about gay vs. straight anymore (heterosexual attendance keeps rising) as the new divide is between introversion vs. extroversion. If you're particularly young & just coming out of the closet, dyke/queer pride may prove salvation with so many of the same in one place at one time chanting pro-acceptance & anti-hate. The quieter identity types stay away from noise n' crowds as somehow the larger the participation, the more the alienation I guess. Sure, community is about renewal with acquaintance of itself but the Red Army-like review of marchers in tank tops n' flip flops strikes an interesting paradox - either pretend & play up to being a queen or quickly tire of the celebratory lifestyle sensual overload (is such the contrast of bodies on display?) Whatever the stance I think the main pressure comes from some forcible elements that want you to have fun & if you're a miserable sod it's kind of like seasonal mood disorder at Christmas -- an actual commercialization of depression & dismissal in which the feeling of holiday here (pardon the pun) is just a flaming drag.
Friday, June 13, 2008
MAKE WAY FOR BITCH ON THE PITCH AND KEEP THE HOOLIGANS AT BAY
Tartan crests on argyle breasts, y'all. Guess which fave nunfucker of yours signed up for Park League Soccer a few weeks back? Yeppers. I haven't played intramurals footy, let alone joined a team since high school. So what do we have here - 5 teams all named after colors (blue, red, green, black & white), 8-game sched (opponents play each other twice), all matches on early Sunday evening & weeks 3 n' 6 are doubleheaders. Seeing as we're not in Europe, games are only 40 minutes & the nets are thankfully not a million km. apart (leave it to the pros, huh?) As for the uniforms, nothing to write home about just basic colored t-shirts for our team namesakes. The harsh catch is if we don't wear them & don't have a substitute same color, we have to play topless(!) Just kidding - actually we can't play. No exceptions. Yikes, fascist much?
Apparently PLS was initially the province of reform school teens on break from court-appointed community service; a sort of half-time from picking up litter & painting fences to pay their debts for underage drinking, driving without a permit, shoplifting & curfew violations - first time offences hardly the making of future prison inmates. It didn't take long for smart-asses (cue my halo) to call it 'punishment league soccer' but I guess it became a regular enough sight & it expanded to include the non-troublemakers (stabilizing influence?) too. Surprisingly enough, a lot of the bad girls have stuck around so you see, we all get to be angelic athletes in the end.
Originally I was upposed to be on team blue but nothin' doin', I wasn't havin' that so I traded with another girl to be on team green machine (gee, take a guess why? haha). So to recap our first game, it was a doozy filled with some highlights: I hit the goal post twice (swore loudly the 2nd time), clocked a team mate in the head with a free kick, was tripped out of bounds, called offside a few times, had a shrew of a soccer mom call me for interference (she was wrong) & almost go ballistic on me when I told her to shut up, glimpsed some cameltoe, cautioned for spitting on the field (holy fuck, our ref was strict), yellow carded for handball & whistled at by a dreadlocked passerby who looked like rapper Lil' John (I should've yelled back with volume 'WHAT?!') Final score: green 3, red 2 (we were lucky because they had a goal called back). I think I'll be named MVP in no time (not!) So yeah, lotsa sweaty fun & showersex afterwards (Nah. We have to trudge our grimey bods home to clean up). As for my whirlwind (somewhat shambles) of a debut, Mia Hamm, looks like you have nothing to worry about.
These colors don't run. click here
3. A SHOTGUN FOR BREAKFAST AND WHY IS AFRICA A MESS?
APR 1994. Age 6.
Beavis & Butthead is interrupted with news that Kurt Cobain was found dead from apparent suicide. It seems that the pressures of fame & a high profile, turbulent celebrity marriage took their toll and caused something called 'depression'. I hope I don't get it when I'm his age. 'Teen Spirit' & 'Heart shaped Box' play for weeks on end, back to back with a rising death count far away...
Meanwhile at school in geography, we're studying the sub-Saharan continent & the Great Lakes Region. Strange how the teacher mentions nothing of what's unfolding everyday on CNN in a country named Rwanda. Civil war, rebels, refugees streaming across borders in panic & tribal hatreds fuelling violence into systematic mass murder have people being killed horribly by machetes in full view of a world that has turned its back on genocide. So why is the bloodshed abandoned from discussion in class? Elementary, mini-Watson: because genocide (now sanitized into the new term 'ethnic cleansing') is WAY WAY too advanced for our fragile young minds to comprehend (maybe Mommy & Daddy can explain it) so we stick to the lesson plan of customaty food & wardrobe, safari animals of Nairobi & capital cities.
To me, TV coverage of death is super scary & confusing. Ultimately whether one person or a country, shouldn't reporting by priority of importance be easy? On-going blinding obsession has turned into farce & sadly the flipside of injustice is to be forgotten inspite of exposure. Such disturbing outcomes either way is my introduction to media sensationalism. And besides, President Clinton not lift a finger to help stop the slaughter? No way. We're America. He'll definitely intervene.
To be continued...
APR 1994. Age 6.
Beavis & Butthead is interrupted with news that Kurt Cobain was found dead from apparent suicide. It seems that the pressures of fame & a high profile, turbulent celebrity marriage took their toll and caused something called 'depression'. I hope I don't get it when I'm his age. 'Teen Spirit' & 'Heart shaped Box' play for weeks on end, back to back with a rising death count far away...
Meanwhile at school in geography, we're studying the sub-Saharan continent & the Great Lakes Region. Strange how the teacher mentions nothing of what's unfolding everyday on CNN in a country named Rwanda. Civil war, rebels, refugees streaming across borders in panic & tribal hatreds fuelling violence into systematic mass murder have people being killed horribly by machetes in full view of a world that has turned its back on genocide. So why is the bloodshed abandoned from discussion in class? Elementary, mini-Watson: because genocide (now sanitized into the new term 'ethnic cleansing') is WAY WAY too advanced for our fragile young minds to comprehend (maybe Mommy & Daddy can explain it) so we stick to the lesson plan of customaty food & wardrobe, safari animals of Nairobi & capital cities.
To me, TV coverage of death is super scary & confusing. Ultimately whether one person or a country, shouldn't reporting by priority of importance be easy? On-going blinding obsession has turned into farce & sadly the flipside of injustice is to be forgotten inspite of exposure. Such disturbing outcomes either way is my introduction to media sensationalism. And besides, President Clinton not lift a finger to help stop the slaughter? No way. We're America. He'll definitely intervene.
To be continued...
Friday, May 23, 2008
2. WHO WOULD'VE THOUGHT A DRIZZLY BACKWATER COULD RAIN REVOLUTION?
1991. Age 4.
The so-called 'year punk broke' began with the Gulf War. The flag was everywhere & for all those pledging patriotism to stars n' stripes, my loyalty was in allegiance to Sesame Street. It was here that the first vestiges of rock began to seep through as puppets & educators playing instruments to upbeat tunes are bound to make a huge impression. Classic rock radio is prominent in our house and the first band names I ever hear are AC/DC, Van Halen, The Beatles, The Who & Alice Cooper.
And then comes the underground overthrow from Seattle & something called Sub Pop. Suddenly music fans are sick of poseurs like Warrant & Poison. Cock-rock, escapist glam metal based on poodlehead hair has become irrelevant overnight. A new alternative dystopia of feedback & caterwauling rules the day joined by Industrial (which in itself will usher in a new era for the remix). Youth fall in line with domino & 9-pin precision and I think that Christmas sees my first plaid shirt.
More to come...
1991. Age 4.
The so-called 'year punk broke' began with the Gulf War. The flag was everywhere & for all those pledging patriotism to stars n' stripes, my loyalty was in allegiance to Sesame Street. It was here that the first vestiges of rock began to seep through as puppets & educators playing instruments to upbeat tunes are bound to make a huge impression. Classic rock radio is prominent in our house and the first band names I ever hear are AC/DC, Van Halen, The Beatles, The Who & Alice Cooper.
And then comes the underground overthrow from Seattle & something called Sub Pop. Suddenly music fans are sick of poseurs like Warrant & Poison. Cock-rock, escapist glam metal based on poodlehead hair has become irrelevant overnight. A new alternative dystopia of feedback & caterwauling rules the day joined by Industrial (which in itself will usher in a new era for the remix). Youth fall in line with domino & 9-pin precision and I think that Christmas sees my first plaid shirt.
More to come...
Saturday, May 17, 2008
I've always thought Father Ted & his hilariously bizzare, eccentric brood easily put Swaggart, Roberts, Robertson, farting Tilton, Bakker & portly Hagee to shame but now that silly quintuplet have been absolutely owned again by the cutest Dublin schoolgirl EVER (accent intact of course) telling the story of John the Baptist. Once more the Irish kick ass & she's fucking awesome. If we all have to have a mini-me, she's certainly mine (Peppermint Patty, I'm not neglecting you). I'm glad I found her. She rocks!
Sunday, May 11, 2008
RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINARA
This Sunday afternoon I had a long post-poned Mother's Day meal (pasta lunch with beer) and Me n' Ma caught up on some talk (basically her questioning anything n' everything under the sun & all inbetween about this daughter that never ceases to puzzle her). It's been quite awhile since we've had sauce n' suds and I've got to hand it to Ma - as infuriating as she can be (my Aunt says she's infamously so) she makes me laugh...
"When will you outgrow that crazy music?"..
"What could you possibly need clear heels for? Are you exotic dancing?"...
"Why do you have so much black nail polish that you never wear?"...
"Are you really considering both nipples pierced? Oh for heavens sake Abbie, a lip, nostril or tongue I could tolerate. And the tattoos. Next it'll be labia. Is that anyway to start Spring?"...
"When are we gonna stop procrastinating and take a trip to Ireland?"...
"I thought you liked running and track, why didn't you ever take up jogging?"...
"Have you ever noticed that a mopped floor in the Produce section of a supermarket always smells like vomit?"...
"Um, what is that faintly familiar, sickly sweet, pungent pongy presence that reminds me of my first Led Zeppelin album everytime you're in the basement? Are you & your friends pretending to be 'That 70's Show'?"...
"Whatever happened to that one girl who always smelled citrusy like a nice fruit grove? You know, the one I caught you making out with?"
Same ol' Ma (no stranger to sarcasm that's for sure). What could I do but help myself to another serving of garlic bread? She gets rather lively in discussing my years of "rebellion and deliquency" (her words). In hindsight I certainly raised her eyebrows with brief goth and punk stages complete with hairstyles, ripped leggings, combat boots & colorful friends with episodes involving vandalism, the Principal's office and standing before no more than 2 or 3 Judges for lightweight court appearances. In the end though even if our pasts amount to what our parents consider some mild embarrasments n' grief, I wonder just how much of that is still considered real disappointment by them even as they say they're proud of you years later (maybe it has to do with the apple really not falling that far from the tree). I don't think Ms. Marigold Astrid Hewett is a judgemental person per se or really even a nag in the sense of the word - well... not really... naturally born curious sums it up best. I like to get all formal on her when she especially prods me about sex. Amazing how this woman in so many ways can be a prude and yet a surprisingly frank (even slightly raunchy) weird love advice columnist of sorts when least expected so it's nice to know she's maybe not such a wet blanket after all. She's bewildered n' fascinated by people in the context of my direct relation and while M.A.H. (gotta love those initials) certainly is no fool or pushover, she makes for an interesting compendium of sometimes dorky cluelessness, incredible perception, aggravating stubborness, sentimental acceptance, innocent naivety & abrupt directness. What should be therefore contradictory or even hypocritical, never works out to quite just that. I love her too much to label her an idiot savante. She's miles above that.
A final case in point:
Last year on Mother's Day we went to a museum exhibit. Back at home after another meal I went to gab n' blab on the phone and she went online to check email and find some map directions. I forgot I was still on myspace as the browser was below some music pages. I also forgot some of the pages were also of fetish photography and fishnet mailorder. UH OH! (I'd been watching some Grey's Anatomy lately. Is being a scatterbrain contagious? If so I blame that annoying birdbrain/ditz/flake Meredith). I guess I can't blame Ma for being nosey and clicking onto the pages from the taskbar so after an eyefull of adult laced baddies n' lovely bodies (and death metal album covers), she scrolled down the myspace page and read the ENTIRE profile(!) Then she went through the inhabitants of the friends list (thank God I wasn't in her presence). When we were back in the kitchen about 30 minutes later, the whole compendium came up - different people sparking different reactions n' repsonses...
"Your curiosity about stripping was one thing Abbie & I had some issues with the modelling but there'll be a REAL problem if you EVER venture into pornography!"...
"What's with the vampire brides with all their shrouds and fangs?"...
"I went to school with a girl of the same name. She had big boobs also"...
"How can someone with such a great Scottish name send you such a bizarre & freakish video like that?"...
"Where did those Nuns come from?"..
"Don't these girls have anything better to do than sit infront of a webcam & trade nudes?"...
"I saw something involving menstruation. How have you been?"...
"There's a lot of blood, profanity and religious desecration. I shouldn't be surpised but why is everyone so seemingly angry n' harsh? I don't believe anyone is that evil"...
"Does anyone else see the heavy combination and connection to life n' death? You were always attracted to that"...
"The notorious criminals and tragic starlets are an interesting mix"...
"I don't like this at all! It's inviting trouble"...
Same ol' Ma (no stranger to over-analyzation that's for sure). I've come to realize that she's not about undermining but instead reaching for understanding - albeit in odd manner. Best to just veer her unease back into our next (no doubt ongoing) post-poned pasta reservation for 2 (to be joined by Budwesier & Heineken). Haha, recipes & cooking gets her everytime. So note to self for next time -- turn off the computer! Keep all newly bought garter belts n' accessories out of sight (didn't get caught this time). Use pine mint air freshener to mask the lingering smell of pot. And lastly, if faced with untimely discussions of sex such as Abbie, there's nothing wrong with me talking about orgasms! God knows I've overheard (make that eavesdropped) you do so dozens of times, best to just answer with a mouthful of tomatoes & sausage spiced with onions n' oregano.
"When will you outgrow that crazy music?"..
"What could you possibly need clear heels for? Are you exotic dancing?"...
"Why do you have so much black nail polish that you never wear?"...
"Are you really considering both nipples pierced? Oh for heavens sake Abbie, a lip, nostril or tongue I could tolerate. And the tattoos. Next it'll be labia. Is that anyway to start Spring?"...
"When are we gonna stop procrastinating and take a trip to Ireland?"...
"I thought you liked running and track, why didn't you ever take up jogging?"...
"Have you ever noticed that a mopped floor in the Produce section of a supermarket always smells like vomit?"...
"Um, what is that faintly familiar, sickly sweet, pungent pongy presence that reminds me of my first Led Zeppelin album everytime you're in the basement? Are you & your friends pretending to be 'That 70's Show'?"...
"Whatever happened to that one girl who always smelled citrusy like a nice fruit grove? You know, the one I caught you making out with?"
Same ol' Ma (no stranger to sarcasm that's for sure). What could I do but help myself to another serving of garlic bread? She gets rather lively in discussing my years of "rebellion and deliquency" (her words). In hindsight I certainly raised her eyebrows with brief goth and punk stages complete with hairstyles, ripped leggings, combat boots & colorful friends with episodes involving vandalism, the Principal's office and standing before no more than 2 or 3 Judges for lightweight court appearances. In the end though even if our pasts amount to what our parents consider some mild embarrasments n' grief, I wonder just how much of that is still considered real disappointment by them even as they say they're proud of you years later (maybe it has to do with the apple really not falling that far from the tree). I don't think Ms. Marigold Astrid Hewett is a judgemental person per se or really even a nag in the sense of the word - well... not really... naturally born curious sums it up best. I like to get all formal on her when she especially prods me about sex. Amazing how this woman in so many ways can be a prude and yet a surprisingly frank (even slightly raunchy) weird love advice columnist of sorts when least expected so it's nice to know she's maybe not such a wet blanket after all. She's bewildered n' fascinated by people in the context of my direct relation and while M.A.H. (gotta love those initials) certainly is no fool or pushover, she makes for an interesting compendium of sometimes dorky cluelessness, incredible perception, aggravating stubborness, sentimental acceptance, innocent naivety & abrupt directness. What should be therefore contradictory or even hypocritical, never works out to quite just that. I love her too much to label her an idiot savante. She's miles above that.
A final case in point:
Last year on Mother's Day we went to a museum exhibit. Back at home after another meal I went to gab n' blab on the phone and she went online to check email and find some map directions. I forgot I was still on myspace as the browser was below some music pages. I also forgot some of the pages were also of fetish photography and fishnet mailorder. UH OH! (I'd been watching some Grey's Anatomy lately. Is being a scatterbrain contagious? If so I blame that annoying birdbrain/ditz/flake Meredith). I guess I can't blame Ma for being nosey and clicking onto the pages from the taskbar so after an eyefull of adult laced baddies n' lovely bodies (and death metal album covers), she scrolled down the myspace page and read the ENTIRE profile(!) Then she went through the inhabitants of the friends list (thank God I wasn't in her presence). When we were back in the kitchen about 30 minutes later, the whole compendium came up - different people sparking different reactions n' repsonses...
"Your curiosity about stripping was one thing Abbie & I had some issues with the modelling but there'll be a REAL problem if you EVER venture into pornography!"...
"What's with the vampire brides with all their shrouds and fangs?"...
"I went to school with a girl of the same name. She had big boobs also"...
"How can someone with such a great Scottish name send you such a bizarre & freakish video like that?"...
"Where did those Nuns come from?"..
"Don't these girls have anything better to do than sit infront of a webcam & trade nudes?"...
"I saw something involving menstruation. How have you been?"...
"There's a lot of blood, profanity and religious desecration. I shouldn't be surpised but why is everyone so seemingly angry n' harsh? I don't believe anyone is that evil"...
"Does anyone else see the heavy combination and connection to life n' death? You were always attracted to that"...
"The notorious criminals and tragic starlets are an interesting mix"...
"I don't like this at all! It's inviting trouble"...
Same ol' Ma (no stranger to over-analyzation that's for sure). I've come to realize that she's not about undermining but instead reaching for understanding - albeit in odd manner. Best to just veer her unease back into our next (no doubt ongoing) post-poned pasta reservation for 2 (to be joined by Budwesier & Heineken). Haha, recipes & cooking gets her everytime. So note to self for next time -- turn off the computer! Keep all newly bought garter belts n' accessories out of sight (didn't get caught this time). Use pine mint air freshener to mask the lingering smell of pot. And lastly, if faced with untimely discussions of sex such as Abbie, there's nothing wrong with me talking about orgasms! God knows I've overheard (make that eavesdropped) you do so dozens of times, best to just answer with a mouthful of tomatoes & sausage spiced with onions n' oregano.
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About Me
- **SISTER ABBIE NORMAL**
- ATTENTION TO ALL PRUDES AND PURITANS, THE FOLLOWING CONTAINS PORN! IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY AND CONDEMN ADULT CONTENT, DO US BOTH A HUGE FAVOR & KEEP MOVING. ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT ME CAN BE FOUND BELOW OTHERWISE PICK A LETTER AND I'LL CHOOSE SOMETHING THAT BEST SUITABLY DESCRIBES ME. OH YEAH, MAKE SURE TO CLICK ONTO PICTURES & RED UNDERLINED WORDS FOR BURIED TREASURE N' HIDDEN LINKS.
