Pop Quiz, Asshole

Exhibit A most fully illustrates which of the following:


(a) Why April actually really doesn't need to force herself to emerge from her hermit-hole more often.
(b) Why nobody should ever give April pen & paper when she's four deep in whiskey & ginger ales (despite the atrocious penmanship & extra period in the ellipsis I'm pleased to note my confidence in my spelling wavered not).
(c) Why April should never go see Paul Thomas Anderson movies that make her want to drink large amounts in short periods of time.
(d) All of the above.

Re: There Will Be Crap Blood - I had a dream on Saturday which I think exemplifies the way I felt about it. I dreamt that I was in one of those super-cheesy rent-to-own furniture places, with all those tacky wares, & I was secretly smoking cigarettes inside. And the character of Eli was the manager of the chintz & the cheese.

If that doesn't make sense, how 'bout this:

"Sometimes I look at people & I see nothing worth liking."

I felt the exact same way. When I was fifteen. And that is one reason why I didn't like it. I don't need happy-happy-joy-joy, y'know, but for heaven's sake, if I want to gorge on the relentlessly downbeat & the thoroughly misanthropic, if I want to nurse disdain & hatred for all mankind,

well,

I'll watch the news. There are enough puppy abusers & wife beaters & school shootings to give me a veritable feast of vitriol.

Not to give anything away, but I totally misjudged it from the preview. I thought it was going to be...more. An exploration of something besides ugliness. I expected, well, I expected the dynamic between Daniel & Eli to be...less material.

There is one single element of that film by which I have been interested these last few days, however, & that is the character of Paul. You know, the guy who was onscreen for five whole minutes. Who I think may have been the character that I expected Eli to be. The fact that they were played by the same actor muddles things. Oh, & I will grant you the film was pretty to look at.

But now I implore you - did you see this movie? Did you like it? WHY? I'm so serious, you have no idea. I need to know. One of the people with whom I went to the theater had seen it four times before, & so I asked him why he liked it so much, but...I didn't get a real answer & I know that people are creaming themselves over this & I want to understand. Need input, Steph-a-nie, input.

LOL It's Almost Caturday!

You know what sucks? Arriving at work on the leap day of a leap year & remembering of a sudden that the last time it was leap day, you were gallivanting about Rome, hunting down the Tomb of the Baker. Which might not be quite as depressing for you, if Rome be not your heimat, but it sure as spit bums me out. At least Mr. Leap Day has the decency to be Friday...

Also, I recall what happened right after that trip, which would be the first, last & particularly debilitating case of bronchitis I acquired on the plane ride home. Seriously, I thought it was SARS. My favorite memory of that illness would be the day it took me literally three hours to work up the energy to get out of bed, walk 15 feet to the bathroom to grab a bottle of cold medicine, & stumble back to bed only to realize with dismay that I'd snagged the completely wrong bottle of cold medicine. I cried. And I had this bizarre lingering throat affliction which took four months & five medications to clear up. Actually I also cried when the ENT specialist gave me that last set of meds, because having swallowed four consecutive courses of pills & then being told your fifth involves huge pinky-thick things that appear to be made for horses, while your throat screams in severely swollen pain...is not as fun as it may sound. Ah, whatever.

On a happier note, it was decided last night that if anybody knows of a more perfect combination than eating a brie-n-butter baguette sandwich whilst sipping lemongrass soda & watching M. Hulot's Holiday, well, you can KEEP IT TO YO'SELF. The committee for wonderfulness is officially Not Interested. (N.B. The tennis scene made me laugh harder than anything since, okay, well, since This is Spinal Tap played at the Laurelhurst a couple of weeks ago. But still. Ridiculously funny. Highly recommended.)

And Mandy, re: your comment on my 23 July 2007 post - you have no idea. From December through about last week, I was getting approximately 300 hits a day on that post. Which is a lot for this silly piffle of a blog & means that, like, thousands of people around the world have now seen what puts the cleav after the captain. Whatever. I find it entirely amusing. (My personal fave comment, though, happened last summer IRL when I wore that dress to a wedding reception & my beloved friend Colin remarked, "I'm gay & I can't stop staring." Man, I miss my PA bitches.) At least it's slowed as quickly & inexplicably as it started, or else I might have to get all analytical about what it means. And then the poor little pea that lives in my skull would go 'round & 'round in circles until I got a nasty headache & I'd need a hot toddy & a roomful of pastel-hued soft fluffy things to calm me down.

Mmm...pastel-hued soft fluffy things...and...

The question is, will I never grow weary of lolcats?

Sporting Life

Confession: I was really really into watching women's figure skating for a brief period of time last century. I mean, I knew my Bobeks from my Baiuls & my Itos from my Satos. So when Nancy Kerrigan got whacked on the knee in 1994, I ate that shit up with a spoon. In case you don't remember, Kerrigan was the polished Vera Wang-wearing princess from Massachusetts. And her competitor Tonya Harding, whose then-husband hired the knee-whacking fellow to knock Kerrigan out of the Olympics, was the tacky-teal-outfit-clad trailer trash from, yep, Oregon.

Some pictures say way more than a thousand words.

You don't even get to guess for whom I rooted & who got what they deserved in my view, but I'll give you a hint anyway: replace those bangs & that teal bit of nastiness with some blue hair & black clothes & by golly, I'd be peering into a tawdry mid-nineties mirror.

The moral of the story is, there is now a rock opera of the Nancy'n'Tonya saga. The world is a beautiful place. I don't think I need to see it, but I'm thrilled by its mere existence.

And ooh, quiz time! Match the words up with the skater on whose website they appear:

1) "Q- What advice do you give those who feel that their dreams are out of their reach?
A- To go for the dreams that you have and you will learn that the journey to get there is the most gratifying part."

2) "It would be having enough money to go hunting and fishing and go to the big four-wheel-drive mud bogs," she says. "And every once in a while put on a really pretty dress and go to dinner at a place like Applebee's or something."

Meaningless poorly-worded platitudes or mud bogs, people. Take your pick.

Also, whatever craven fantasies Nancy Kerrigan's fans have about her, she sure doesn't allow them to be posted in plain sight on her official website. Unlike some former figure skaters. I wonder how much meth it takes to make that sound like a great idea. I can't even bring myself to read 'em.

SPROING

Spring, spring, spring is sproinging, sproinging, sproinging. Hurrah!

The crocuses (croci(i)?) & the daffodils are beginning to bloom & the tulips can't be far behind! But the REAL sign, for me, that fantastic PNW light & open-toed shoe weather approacheth is the smell of it. I've said it before & so what? I'll say it again. And again:

When spring happens, my entire neighborhood for many blocks smells like flowers.

This makes me deliriously happy.

Broken Wheels

Repeat to self: my brain has no "nap" function. My brain has no "nap" function.

You would think, after an illustrious decade-plus history of managing to sleep through/fall asleep during Things of Variable Import (like class presentations, work & sex) that I might recognize my brain has precisely TWO settings: Awake & Nearly Narcoleptic Sleep. Although I stay awake far more than I reasonably ought, insomnia is not a concept that touches my life. When I am awake it is because (1) I want to be & (2) I stay away from sleep-making places. Like beds, couches, chairs & floors. If I decide to go to sleep & it takes me longer than five minutes to achieve unconsciousness, that's my insomnia. If my body decides it wants sleep & I rest on any of the sleep-making places, I will pass out no matter what. Those with whom I lived during college might recall my inordinate &, given issues of cleanliness, inexplicable fondness for sleeping on the bathroom floor. Furthermore, once I am asleep there are no known means by which I can be awoken, unless my body allows it.

So you might think that the night before an 8:30 a.m. test, I would know better than to lay down for a nap at 7 p.m. And you, friend, would be wrong. I woke up at 4 a.m. Went downstairs to study. Laid down on the couch to study. (I'm a bright one, eh?) Fell asleep again. Woke up at 6:30. And managed to study, for a whole hour, twenty hours' worth of class material. And we're talking anal insurance shite. Like, [blank] is excluded unless the loss occurs during the full moon and as a direct result of the following: plague of locusts, precipitation of frogs, or rivers flowing with blood, but only if the aforementioned is strictly punishment from God for man's sins. Furthermore, we will not cover [blank] arising from any other directives of God including but not limited to the four horsemen of the apocalypse, floods, or the second coming of Christ. (And, or & only are three of the most important words in an insurance policy.) Well, I'll know in two months whether I passed it.

Then I came home after the test, tried to watch Ocean's Eleven, & fell asleep again. To dreams of 15th century royal court intrigue, going up & down huge expansive white staircases in poofy gowns, faces frozen in soup bowls & people eating them, sexually abusive priests with wheel-mending machines & arguments over faith vs. spirituality.

And I'm still fucking tired.

"BE ADEQUITE". Please.

Remember a few years ago, when Lindsay Lohan was teh hotness for about five minutes? Wasn't that great? I even had her 2006 calendar. (And, um, if I'd known that I could've sold it in 2008 for $40, I wouldn't have trashed the damned thing when I moved.)


Sigh. I hadn't even made it to March by the time THIS happened:


Um, ew. And a none-more-black darkness spread across the land accompanied by an increasingly distressing series of incidents & pictures. Those creepy knife pics. The passed-out-in-a-car pics. The "no really, officer, there is coke in my pants, but they aren't my pants" story. And so on. Topped off, of course, with the obligatory mugshot:


Just look at that top picture. Now look at the mugshot. I could cry.

But wait! don't give up yet! there's more! A fellow by the name of Bert Stern apparently took some quite famous pictures of Marilyn Monroe shortly before her death. New York magazine recently sang him the sweet siren song of a paycheck in exchange for a "remake" with a contemporary starlet. Illud est, Our Miss Lohan. Now, that whole Monroe patina of myth has always bemused me. I fail to discern the fabulosity. And I find both the original & new flavor of Mr. Stern's pictures drearily jejune. However!


Ladies & gentlemen, the bones are gone & the boobs are back. Hallelujah! Now she just needs to ditch the blond & go back to red, already. And to stop dressing like a coked-out skank. Or even better, to not speak or go out in public for the next year or so, so that websites like this one aren't funny anymore & Defamer can't put together (admittedly hilarious) collages of her non-sober faces.

Annie Annie Anniemal!

Today was a very good day to wonder when the hell Norwegian pop songstress Annie was going to release another album, already. Anniemal came out, let's see, at least three lifetimes ago. And although her contribution to !K7's DJ-Kicks series was really fun, it was not, sir, an album proper. Same goes for "Wedding" & "Crush" - mere buoys in the desperate lost-at-sea hunt for any sight of Album Land.

At last, today when I asked, I found an answer - sort of! Possibly as early as April. But do you know what's almost as good as that? The fact that she is shortly to release a single. And what's better still? The A-side will be a cover of Stacey Q's "Two of Hearts".

ANNIE + TWO OF HEARTS. In the same breath. Those caps know they're egregious, baby, & they LOVE it. Me? I can have my Bergman & eat my bouncy (bitter)sweet Scandinavian pop too.

And I am definitely already doing the new al-bum, new al-bum, new al-bum dance.

Keep On, Just Keep On Pressin' On

Here is my new toy:

It is called a "TTUSB Turntable with USB" & it plugs right into my laptop. I just hit "play" on the player & "record" in the audio software program & presto wow! magic happens & the music is on my computer. The only real bitches so far are the absences of a cueing lever & a dust cover. Also, I should probably give it some hot new stylus action because the one it came with is kinda chintzy. (I'm currently lusting after the Numark CS-1 Carl Cox Signature Model Stylus.) But it does have some anti-skate & pitch control goodness, & with a bit o' wrangling you can digitize 78s too. It's also got a 1/8" stereo mini-jack connector which you can use to transfer cassette tapes. Sweet! It does what I expected it to at the price I could afford & I love it. LOVE LOVE LOVE. It is so easy to use. Vastly superior to the other uber-complicated way I know how to make vinyl into digital thingamabobs. I haven't fucked much with all the settings & effects & whatnots, so I don't know what I can do with the sound yet besides normalize it & execute some light noise removal, but I'm pleased. Particularly since I can now easily make CDs out of my 12-inches, which is very convenient. These, then, are the first tracks with which I meddled (& yes, they are in the exact order in which I magicked them to my computer, so forgive any lack of, uh, smooth transitions):

download 'em here. you'll be sorry if you don't.

01. "Double Dutch Bus" - Frankie Smith
I've got my funky bus fare. HO!
02. "Give Your Body Up To The Music (Larry Levan Mix)" - Billy Nichols
Sadness. I didn't know that Mel Cheren (the West End Records & Paradise Garage big cheese) passed away in December 2007.
03. "Right There In The Socket" - Shalamar
Feel that e-lec-tricity.
04. "Need Somebody New (Larry Levan Mix)" - Jamaica Girls
A promo 12" with Larry Levan mixes on Arthur Russell's Sleeping Bag label. I experience fierce nerd paroxysms every time I touch this.
05. "Bounce, Rock, Skate, Roll (Pt. 1)" - Vaughan Mason & Crew
"Roller skaters one in front & one behind/Bounce left, bounce right/It's disco time" INDEED.
06. "New York Movin'" - Ahzz
Gotta love Peter Brown. And this song.
07. "These Memories" - Oh Romeo
Produced by the legendary & legend-in-his-own-mind Bobby O. My mind thinks it's funny to replace "memories" with "mammaries" for some bizarre reason. Yeah.
08. "Dolce Vita (Radio Mix)" - Donnie Grillo
Very nearly ungoogleable. 'Cause I rock it all obscure-like.
09. "Keep On (Francois Kevorkian & Hubert Eaves III Mix)" - "D" Train
Four minutes & thirty six seconds into this, try to imagine that you're in a room above a Ukrainian restaurant in NYC's Lower East Side where 200 people of literally all ages, colors, shapes, etc. have come together for seven hours of sheer unadulterated dancing bliss with balloons, food & the man who was instrumental in forging the paths of both dance music & the modern DJ, starting back in 1970 with the very first Love Saves the Day party in his loft. I could write ten thousand million words & never even begin to properly convey it. The two times I was able to attend number amongst the most spiritually transcendent & ecstatic experiences of my life. (No jest or hyperbole, for reals.) "Reach, reach, reach/You're almost there." This is disco.

"I Just Bought Spelt Flour & Flaxseed on a Whim" Flour Tortillas

The nice thing about taco wrappers is their implicit simplicity - there's no real way to tart up a tortilla with any fancy-schmancy ingredients. There are precisely two kinds, & they more or less are what they is. A flour tortilla will have flour, fat (traditionally lard), salt, & water. Contemporary recipes may sometimes also include baking powder or, oddly, a lil' bit of vegetable oil. A corn tortilla is made of masa harina & water. And if you want to make corn tortillas, I highly recommend investing in a cast-iron tortilla press. Corn tortillas are a bitch to shape without one.

Last night, I felt compelled to make the flour variety. Here's how I did it (recipe adapted from Beth Hensperger's Breads of the Southwest):

Ingredients
2 c unbleached all-purpose flour*
1 c whole-wheat flour
1 c spelt flour
1/4 c flaxseed (optional)
1 1/2 tsp sea salt
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 c (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch cubes, chilled**
1 1/2 c warm water (95 - 105 degrees)

Makes fifteen 8- to 9-inch tortillas

Whisk the flours, flaxseed, salt & baking powder together in a large bowl. Add the butter cubes & cut into the dry ingredients using a pastry blender, two butter knives or your fingertips until the mixture resembles fine crumbles. Slowly add the warm water in small amounts, stirring with a wooden spoon. Add only enough so that the dough comes away from the sides of the bowl & forms a ball (for example, I only needed about 1 1/4 c). It should be soft but not sticky. Too much water will make the tortilla tough. Turn the dough onto the work surface & form into a fat cylinder. Wrap in plastic wrap & let rest for at least 30 minutes & up to 2 hours. The dough should be slightly puffy & shiny.

Turn dough onto a lightly floured work surface & divide into 15 equal portions. Form each piece into a ball & place on a parchment-paper-lined or lightly greased baking sheet. Cover with a clean, damp dish towel or lightly oiled plastic wrap & let rest for another 20 to 30 minutes.

Take a ball & push your index finger into the bottom of it (looks kinda like a finger-mushroom). This creates an air pocket that helps the tortilla maintain roundness when being rolled out. Place the ball on a lightly floured work surface & flatten. Use a rolling pin to roll it out into an 8- or 9-inch diameter circle.***
(Note re picture: you can see the August 2007 bowls'o'bread fiasco scar on the finger-mushroom stem! Which still hurts when I accidentally smack it against things. I like that it, along with the July 2007 scar on my knee (lest we forget: platform wedges & a heavy duffel bag going down a hill will most likely end badly for the accoutrement-bearer) will bear tandem witness for the rest of days to my enduring & incontrovertible illogic.)

Place a piece of plastic wrap on a plate, & put the tortilla on the plastic wrap. Aaaand, repeat 14x! Don't forget to put plastic wrap between each tortilla or (1) they will dry out & (2) even worse, they will probably stick together something fierce.

Heat a comal, griddle, or heavy skillet (preferably cast iron) over medium-high heat until drops of water sprinkled on it dance across its surface. You may also use the lightweight piece of crap T-Fal which is the only skillet you currently own because your decimated collection of cookware continues to patiently await its restoration. Place as many tortillas as will fit onto the surface. Cook the first side for 30 seconds. It will bubble a bit - use a spatula to push & twist the bubbles down. Pick up the tortilla with your hand (not a spatula) & flip it over, then cook & bubble-flatten the second side for thirty seconds more.

You might see a few brown spots, but ideally you don't want to see any. Remove the tortilla by hand to either a clean towel or have a plastic wrap redux party on a plate.

Aaaand, repeat 14x! Towel tortillas should be served immediately; plastic-sandwiched ones may be stored in a plastic bag. Beth says to use the tortillas by the next day, but I bet they'd last a little longer. My grand plan is to have a couple of tacos for dinner, then make some Seeded Tortilla Triangles & watch the Lindsay "My Paycheck For This Went Right Up Nose" Lohan crazy-stripper-stalked-by-crazier-serial-killer movie. Whatever's left over is going in the freezer. Of the tortillas, I mean.

* I'm slavishly devoted to King Arthur's A-P F, so that's what I recommend having on hand. Additionally, you may use the flours in whatever proportions you want; but I would recommend keeping at least two cups of the all-purpose in the mix, otherwise the tortillas will probably be too dense & heavy.

** You may also use 1/2 c of any of these: lard, vegetable shortening, or bacon drippings. While lard is traditional & does make a tasty tortilla, I wasn't going to spend my whole night hunting down natural (i.e. non-partially-hydrogenated with no BHT) lard. Although rendering my own has now officially been added to my endless list of projects. The shortening is the next best taste-wise, but the proliferation of hydrogenated oils therein, trans-fat-free or no, terrifies me.

*** I've had the most success rolling these like pie crusts - one up-&-down roll, rotate the tortilla by a quarter, another up-& down roll, rotate the tortilla by a quarter...you get the idea. Lightly dust the top with flour if it sticks to the pin. You can cut away slight misshapes with a sharp knife.

But You're So Perfect, You Don't Interest Me At All

Weekend Review:

1) I completely forgot this song existed until yesterday!

Pulp - "Seconds"

Within the lexicon of Pulp b-sides & miscellaneous errata, it's hardly one of their top-notch-ier efforts. Look to "Ansaphone" or "Razzmatazz" for overall better examples of Pulp-ish extras. Yet I nonetheless maintain a special fondness for "Seconds" which exceeds that I hold for either of the other songs. It makes me living-room dance more.

2) The record room is now officially the best room in my apartment. Check it:

BEFORE

AFTER

It is a happy-making thing. This weekend I put things on walls. I started at 2 a.m. Saturday morning & went straight through until 11 p.m. that evening. Of course, that also included framing some pieces for elsewhere in my apartment. But it was mostly the record room. This is my favorite part of the scheme entire:


I purchased that Unclassics poster years ago, but never got a frame for it. So I am both pleased that it's finally up & a bit tickled that there were not only enough pink-sleeved 45s on hand to accompany it, but I was able to choose the most suitable ones.

Y'know, if this incredibly intense concentration for fleeting all-consuming obsessions could be harnessed & sustained, I would achieve world domination. Or is it world peace? Well, it'd sure be something, is all there is to it.

3) Here's my community garden plot!:


And from the other end:


Oh, it's going to be so much work. I can't wait! Cardoons & romanesco & brussels sprouts & so much more to come!

4) This. May be the most fantastic idea ever. Ganked from AT:LA.


It's perfect for me. The bookshelves, of course. I was beginning to despair of ever finding bookshelves that would fit my loft. Now, I don't have to! Um, as long as the measurements work out okay, what with all that molding downstairs. Love the lighting on those shelves, too. If it's feasible, my only remaining book problem will be those damned oversized ones.

Too Many Books. Brain Is Fried.

I have not managed to do one iota of work today (yet). Whoopsy. See, what happened is, yesterday I was on Powell's website (a thing of much beauty) when I discovered that you can sign up for used book notifications. Pick as many categories as you want, & every day they will send you an email for each category detailing all the used books they've processed.

This morning I received my first batch of notifications. It is insane. There were over 200 newly arrived used art books alone. This is really, really bad news for my re-emerging book purchasing addiction.

Then I figured out that I can browse all of their sale books. A good many more than are on display in the stores come up. Just what I needed.

Of course, at some point during all this I discovered that I can keep a wish list. So...in five hours I've managed to get through the used books in my nine categories, all twenty seven pages of the film & television sale books, & fifty pages of art sale books (sixteen pages left to go!). And that's it. I would be shaking my fist & cursing your very name, Powell's, if my attention weren't so terribly distracted by your enchanting little rucksack, which would be the perfect thing in which to haul all this book booty. Sigh. I confess, I am weak.

Anyway! The moral of the story is, if you ever feel compelled to the depths of your soul to buy me presents, I would urge you to go here, type in my email address to access my wish list & get me the most expensive thing(s) on said list. You can even make me pick it up at a store location (Hawthorne, please) & save on shipping.

Unless you want to go to Abebooks & buy me an English translation of Condillac's Treatise on the Sensations. But then I will really love you even more, as that is the book I want most in all the world.

The End Of Hair (Promise)

So here's what my $60 different-but-not-too-different haircut looks like:



The pics are kinda crap; however, I hate flash & am too damned exhausted to get my tripod & use more suitable settings. If I have time, I'll take some shots in the daylight & replace, but I wanted to document it before I pass out & ruin that fresh-from-the-hairdresser loveliness. Basically, Scott "textured" it (which seems to mean subtle layers), cut it short in the back, started to angle the front, & then did that fringe-y side bang action (which I LOVE). It's not colored...yet...though I may actually skip that for now. I think the style is rather well-suited to my natural color.

I love the salon, I love my hairdresser, I love the cut, although we're gonna grow it out a bit over the next few months. What really sealed the deal, however, was that afterward I was strolling down Hawthorne, rockin' my new hair, when a random cute girl smiled at me & said "You look great!" as we passed each other on the sidewalk. How often does that happen? Unless I've been missing out on a world of strangers haphazardly handing out compliments to each other with no ulterior motive.

And, y'know, it was true. I did look great. The ensemble overall was nicely put together if I do say so myself, but the hair was definitely the buttercream on the genoise.

You're A Silly Little Goose

1. Song of the week: Caetano Veloso's lovely rendition of Irving Berlin's "Let's Face the Music & Dance", as performed at his 1997 tribute concert to Federico Fellini & Giulietta Masina. Download here.

2. I've turned into a buy-local organic/natural hippie freak in the past three weeks. Luckily, I happen to live in the most perfect place in the world to be a buy-local organic/natural hippie freak. My quest to fulfill this unexpected destiny recently led me to the Alima Cosmetics website. It's a Portland-based natural mineral make-up company. But the best part? They sell samples of all their cosmetics online, so you can try them out before you commit to dropping $8-$18 for full-size jars. Oh yeah. They're a buck to a buck-fitty a pop & shipping's under $5. I ordered 19 different samples of foundations, powders, eye shadows, eyeliners, & lip balms yesterday afternoon - & they shipped this morning! Check it out. I'll update once I've had a chance to give 'em a whirl.

3. Hair - I finally made an appointment here to get a cut'n'color from him, on Friday at three. Which is apparently going to cost me at least $125. Plus tip, I presume. I am alternately horrified & amused that I am prepared to throw that much money at my freakin' hair. Also, I'm curious to see what Mr. Kane suggests, considering the overall strictness of my prerequisites: 1) absolutely no shorter, 2) not too much longer, 3) not radically different & 4) ease of styling & maintenance - my patience level for the amount of time I'm willing to spend on the rituals of girl-ness tends more toward deficit than surfeit. I've got about a five-minute attention span for that shit.

4. A friend & I are planning to go to Mexico to wander Mayan & Aztec ruins. Well, the ruins are my plan, anyway. And to get some tasty, tasty food. Mmm. Anybody wanna come? It's going to take me a little while to brush up on completely re-learn my Spanish & do some decent historical & cultural research (you know me, I can't just go somewhere without reading about it like a fiend &, if applicable, teaching myself how to botch the language). So I'm thinking of going sometime in the upcoming 12 months. Most likely during next fall/winter, for the warm sunny escape factor. Tickets look super-cheap into Mexico City - about $350 round-trip from PDX, anyway, so this international trip might actually happen. EDIT: Apparently Powell's entire stock of books on Mexican & Mesoamerican histories is on sale; this evening last, for $9 each, I picked up Mexico: Volume 1, From the Beginning to the Spanish Conquest by Alan Knight; Mexico: Biography of Power by Enrique Krauze; & A Forest of Kings: The Untold Story of the Ancient Maya by Linda Schele & David Freidel. They all look like nice solid texts, so I'm pretty excited to read them. It barely begins to cover what I want to know; but it's a start. Project!

5. Ooh, Lars von Trier's The Kingdom 2 is FINALLY out on DVD! No joke, I just about ran out & bought a VCR last year for the sole purpose of renting my video store's bootleg VHS copy of this. Only it's been so long since I've seen part the first that I'm not sure whether I really liked it enough to warrant my severe excitement or whether it's the unattainability of the thing that's made me so hot to trot for it all these years. Eh, who cares.



6. Speaking of hot to trot, my girlfriend's coming back to town on 23 February! Sweet. It feels like only yesterday, or possibly late October 2007, that she was gazing at me & touching my arm. I can't wait.

Flabbergastingly

I'm not entirely certain how I feel about this:


Yep, that's right. Hieronymus Bosch action figures. Guaranteed to creep your shit out. I am unable to decipher how one would order 'em from that page, but London's National Gallery also sports a small selection of them.

There's something so...indecent yet intriguing about the thought of playing around with, say, The Garden of Earthly Delights collection. I can't decide if it would be less disturbing or more disturbing than the actual painting. Bosch is one of very few painters whose work genuinely unnerves & unsettles me, which I actually love, but I don't think I'd want one of these in my house. My dreams are crazy enough without throwing in a human-pooping devil nightmare mega-mix.

Don't Make Her Wear Pants, Then!

Hey, guess who unpacked the box with the baby book in it! (May need to click on the images to read them.)




Apparently I was born to dance, roller skate & not wear pants.

Like I needed a baby book to tell me that.

Sploosh. Squish. Slosh. And A Couple of Squirts.

Mud mud mud mud mud!

Mud mud mud mud mud!

Mud mud mud mud mud!

I love hiking in the mud.

Jumping The Shark

So, my hair has been pretty much the same for six years. At least as far as length goes - I've worn it straight, curly (my hair is the follicular equivalent of ambidextrous), blond, brown & a brief ill-advised auburn. The bangs were added for a Halloween costume in, I think, '04 & I decided to keep them, even though my then-boss told me I looked like Donna Reed. I could never figure out if he meant that in a good way or a bad hausfrau way, but I was pleased with 'em in any case.

Regardless, my first inkling that perhaps it was time to say goodbye to the predominant hairstyle of my 20s (new life-decade, new hair, etc.) came when I recently watched the Wong Kar-Wai, or Kar-Wai Wong, or whatevs, film Fallen Angels. And totally coveted the lead actress' hair.


So hot, right? It looks even better when she moves. She also inspired me to get all dolled up & clean my apartment in red fishnets. Seriously, how could she not - this is what she wears to clean up after her hitman cohort:


Cleaning & hosiery & fantastic hair. Does it get any better?

Moving past my own odd proclivities, obviously there is no way I could pull that hairstyle off. Besides, I don't really want long hair again. I like it short, & that's the problem with new hair - I don't want it any shorter than it already is, but I don't want it much longer either. Plus, I want to keep the bangs, because my forehead is ginormous.

Here's the thing. I never thought I would be in this situation, ever. But today I saw a celebrity's hairstyle & I actually thought, I bet that would look really great on me:


It's exactly what I'm looking for - something different, but not radically so. Longer but not long. And, bangs!

I want an opinion, because I am not going to march into Bishops, with their complimentary beer & their waiting area pornography, with a picture of fucking Katie Holmes, & tell them that I want my hair to look like that, unless it's gonna turn out fabulously. So whaddya think - am I smoking crack, or could this be teh awesome? It looks cute in back too:


Also, I did some research, & I'm not going to Bishops, so no tattooed pierced hipsters can mock me for getting Katie Holmes' haircut. I read really great reviews of this place that's right next to my neighborhood watering hole (Side St. Bar 4ever!) called Propaganda the Salon. Having received one haircut from somebody who was not me in the past 15 years, it feels like a waste of money. But I don't think I can do this one at home. And shit, you know, I think I might even get it colored. Look out!

Y'know, for the record, I wouldn't be a boy for all the vanilla beans in the world.

Place Rack In Upper Half Of Oven & Preheat To 375 Degrees

I bought the most fantastic product today at the Alberta Co-op. It's called "Aura Glow". I don't know an awful lot about Edgar Cayce. All I know is, right now...right at this very second...

I smell like a friggin' ALMOND CROISSANT.

The baker in me is mad with glee.

Blah Rain; Also, Hedgehogs & Welcome To The Super-Bitch

Uncle. I give up. I'll admit it: I fucking hate the rain. I hate it. I HATE IT. I don't care if that's why Oregon's so bleeding green. Well, to be honest, I hate it when it rains ceaselessly for DAYS ON END. Gray skies, a spot of rain, hell even a whole day of rain here & there, that's great. But it has been raining for four days with no relief.

Although waking up to melty rain on the skylight is pretty nice. I had a funny little dream last night about my folks' trailer converting to a spaceship, part of which involved David Thewlis having a button that would turn him into either a black cat or a hedgehog, depending. He also gave me chocolate. Apparently I like to plagiarize J.K. Rowling in my sleep. But the hedgehog bit, well, that's all me. One day. One day I will have my very own Spiny Norman. The dream lives!

Also, I quit smoking a couple of days ago. So I'm in super-bitch mode. I got a Chantix prescription from my doctor to help, but then I found out that I was going to have to take the pills for six months. Which seems kind of ridiculous. I quit once before, in 2003, & it only took a month before I felt human again. So I'm not taking any cessation aids, though I suspect I may break down today & buy some sugar free gum. I'm secretly fierce. Although being fierce is probably going to involve a lot of sleeping for the next few days, so maybe I'm more softly fierce than secretly.

I've got a couple of thoughts on the cold-turkey thing: (1) What's the point of eliminating poison if I have to use other poison to do it (including patches, gum, etc.)? & (2) I think it's better for me to get all the difficulty out of the way at once. I usually save the best for last, which means I have to go through the worst first, right? I'm not worried about reneging on the quitting so much - the way I look at it, it's goddamn hard & I ain't doing it but once. Besides, I'm in the process of detoxing my system overall in the next month or so, which won't exactly work if I pick up a cigarette, any more than it would work if I grabbed a cup of cofffee.

The only thing I think I have to manage is the way in which I react to sudden shocks to the system, because both times I started smoking, it wasn't really a gradual thing. It was a decision that I made in response to events - some retarded sort of revenge - "Oh yeah? Crap on me? I'll show you, world, I'll crap on myself!" But if my friend can go through freakin' Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans & not start smoking again, well sheesh, I got nothin' on that.

Also, I'm tired of having to go out in the rain to destroy myself. See? It's all a circle, folks. A CIRCLE OF ADORABLE HEDGEHOGS.

Oh, this is not some sort of lame-ass resolution thing, for the record. As if.

Finally: the third of season of "Lost"? I change my mind. I take back all those things I said about how "sick I was of the fucking Others" & that the six episodes I saw "kind of sucked". I suspect that Season 3 is, in fact, the best season yet. Those bastards got me back but good; & for the first time I truly believe that they actually do know where they're going with this. Bless 'em.

Wore My Heart On My Sleeve Like A Stain

HAPPY FREAKIN' NEW YEAR! 2008 will be wonderful. Just puttin' it out there. I also haven't slept since Saturday. I think. Well, Sunday morning. Not on purpose. Yeah.

BUT. Today I found THIS. Which is a compilation I made circa 2003-04 that sort of explains my love for Lloyd Cole. I remember spending so much time on this that eventually Music in a Foreign Language came out & then I had to rearrange everything to get "People Ain't No Good" on it. The time was worth it, I s'pose - as a comp it holds up pretty well, save a track or two (*cough* "Big Snake"). The goal was to include at least one song from every album, & I did, except for Plastic Wood, which is all instrumentals.

Lloyd Cole : Half Of Everything

Tracklisting:
01. Chelsea Hotel (I'm Your Fan: The Songs of Leonard Cohen, 1991)
02. Lost Weekend (Easy Pieces, 1985)
03. So You'd Like To Save The World (Bad Vibes, 1993)
04. Are You Ready To Be Heartbroken? (Rattlesnakes, 1984)
05. Big Snake (Mainstream, 1987)
06. You're A Big Girl Now (Etc., 2001)
07. Happy For You (Love Story, 1995)
08. Half Of Everything (Don't Get Weird On Me Babe, 1991)
09. Undressed (Lloyd Cole, 1990)
10. Four Flights Up (Rattlesnakes, 1984)
11. My Bag (Mainstream, 1987)
12. She's A Girl & I'm A Man (Don't Get Weird On Me Babe, 1991)
13. Love Ruins Everything (Love Story, 1995)
14. People Ain't No Good (Music In A Foreign Language, 2004)
15. Old Enough To Know Better (Etc., 2001)
16. Man Enough (Don't Get Weird On Me Babe, 1991)
17. Rattlesnakes (Rattlesnakes, 1984)
18. Downtown (Lloyd Cole, 1990)
19. That Boy (The Negatives, 2001)
20. Unhappy Song (Love Story, 1995)

The first time I encountered Lloyd Cole was fall 2001, when I discovered his cover of "Chelsea Hotel" on the otherwise dreadful Leonard Cohen tribute album I'm Your Fan. I kind of fell in love with his voice, one thing led to another, I quickly realized that he also has a brilliant way with words & within a year I'd acquired a decent collection. So clinical sounding! Ah, I can do not better tonight. My brain is fuzzy.

One ought not to play favorites I s'pose, but fuck it, I'll say it: I could listen to "Undressed" for endless days. Its innocence & endearing sweetness are enchanting. Having listened to it at least 20 times today & having not slept in about 60 hours, I've concocted all sorts of harebrained notions about it, none of which are as eloquent as "We could disconnect the telephone/Just sit around & mess around & tell your ma we went to Rome, Tennessee". Obviously I love all of these songs, but damned if I'm not a sucker for sweet. Must be the ovaries. Then again, I've also listened to "People Ain't No Good" about 20 times today too, which is, uh, not very sweet. So go figure.

But for the albums, well, Love Story is one of my all-time favorites. As in, ever. Holy crap. It's just...beautiful. If some bastard came to rob me of my Lloyd Cole collection, I would weep fiercely & plead for Love Story to be spared. The CD, anyway. I guess he could have the cassette tape.