Brush Sold Seperately

A few months ago, I read Sloane Crosley's essay, "The Pony Problem" (chap. one: I Was Told There Would Be Cake) about her ultimate and irrational fear that if she ever expired suddenly, her loved ones would have to sort through the things in her apartment.

She would not be ultimately embarrassed by a collection of sex toys, or by dust bunnies that had accumulated. No. 

She knew, that when her friend and family sorted through private items, they would find a collection of My Little Pony figurines. Some imprisoned nerd-style in their original packaging, some with rhinestone eyes, many with grooming brushes.

Then, the other day, I had an incredible and related art-discovery.

Custom My Little Pony dolls created by Finnish artist Mari Kusurinen

shown: Edward Scissorhands & Joker figurines

Which makes me wonder... When will someone darken my memories of Cabbage Patch Dolls and Pound Puppies?

Want. Lust. Lust. Want. Etc.

HUDSON FURNITURE

this satiates my creepy chandelier fetish.

i want my ceilings dripping in this.

Album Cover Beauty Corner

Joke of the Day

Q: What's brown and rhymes with Snoop?

A: Dr. Dre

Hat-Asaurus Rex

oh yes, these are a few of my favorite things

The Ones We Love!

In the tradition of PostSecret, Muxtape, etc. (i.e, great things to do to assassinate time), I foundoutabout this really great website, called

THE ONES WE LOVE

And I Quote:

The Ones We Love is a project highlighting young and talented photographers from around the world. Each artist contributed six photographs of the person(s) who is most important to them, taken outdoors in a natural setting. The goal of the website is to portray the people who are loved, cherished, and inspirational to these artists, and also showcase the differences and similarities in the photographs each of them took within the same guidelines.

So sweet it gives me a toothache.

YOU HAD ME @ MULTI-TRAUMA SEVERED LIMB AND IMPALED RESCUE MANNEQUIN

Some of my friends collectively run this very interesting artfag blog called Delicious Ghost.

I'm reposting this particular number because its the sick, macabre kind of thing that interests me.

MEDICAL MANNEQUINS

Need I say more?

"Trauma Intubation Head" MIGHT be my favorite category.

But then again, when your favorite films range from Texas Chainsaw Massacre to Sleepaway Camp, its hard to choose just one.

MIGRATION

Things I have Found on the Street this Week:

1. Broke-Ass Hair Weave (ick)
2. Several Playing Cards (face up)
3. Rubber Surgical Gloves (creepy)
4. Two face-up Pennies and a Dime
5. A LOBSTER CLAW
6. A pacifyer

NYC is a funny place.
I was wearing my brand new, swimmingpool blue Theory dress the other day, walkin' on Park Ave., and a bird shit on me. Specifically, my left sleeve.
Dear Birds - Some people wear their hearts there!
(but I'm told that is good luck, so I'll try to believe it)
Randomness.
Recently, my sister and I saw our 3rd consecutive person in a single day wearing a t-shirt with a picture of Andy Warhol on it.
I like Andy Warhol as much as the next post-modernist art aficionado, but I'm sick and fucking tired of hearing about him, and while I'm at it, Hunter S. Thompson, too. There are so many dynamite working artists and writers in this city, on this planet, and yet, every time I pick up a magazine, its Warhol-Thompson sandwiches again. You know that saying, "You can't move forward if you have a foot in the past"? I'm all for honoring their work but damn, I'm sick of the dwell.
It's cultural necrophilia!

In the spirit of the Oooh-Oooh New, here's something new & cool to pour into your ears.

TAKKA TAKKA

They're phenomenal, experimental, & interestin'.
They're from Brooklyn.
From what I can tell, they shave, bathe, and can actually play their instruments.

"MIGRATION"
is in-stores 7.29.08

SPIN did a nice piece on them today, and they're playing at a theater near you, soon. Check yo local listings, yo.
click on the bold stuff to listen/buy.
TAKKA TAKKA MYSPACE

Smooches, Bitches! xx

A Fork in the Road

I am on a reading bender, as I am wont to do in the summertime like no other time. I just finished devouring "Kitchen Confidential" by my (faux) boyfriend, Anthony Bourdain.

You see, I live around the corner from Les Halles - one of the most delicious French restaurants in NYC.

It double dog dares me to get fat.

I mean they have a FRENCH FRY CHEF. A man, whose very employablitiy relies upon making delicious, crunchy, perfect forests of french fries to suffocate your steaks under.

This one's a page turner, if you like eating. A backstage pass into hells kitchen, or the mind of a culinary daredevil/innovator/desperado! whose paintbrush is a knife, and whose canvas is sautee pan...whose palette is your palate.

Mesmerizing book that is useful, instructional, helpful, and passionate - as well as a cavity-sweet memoir of really growing in to chef-dom. This includes fond memories of summers spent pushing around toy sailboats in France and learning to appreciate food (Vichyssoise is a cold, pleasing french soup made from potatoes, scallions, and leeks. Like your first oyster, sensations like this can beautiful)(also, its also a superbeautiful nickname for your sweetheart - pronounced vish-ee-swah. sayitlikeyerfrench!)

The Chef with the dangling cig who was inspired seemingly by stark personalities, food as sex, food as pain, culinary vocabularies, art, the Ramones, Johnny Thunders, cocaine, mobster bosses, psychopathic cooks, mexican dishwashers, Marlboros, girls - Bourdain seemingly ate and ingested St Marks and everything below 14th street by the time he was 30. Some of it, he spit back out, and some of it stuck to his bones.

This man's meals are poems.

If you don't like to read, then there is a whole new season of "No Reservations" coming up on the Travel Channel next week, which is one of the only thrilling, smart shows on the ole' picturebox anymore.

For You: A little "cheat sheet" - some cliff notes, if you will (and you will) on dining out. Compliments of Bourdain, but in my own words....

*(bad news first) "Hollandaise sauce is a veritable petri dish of biohazards."

I am pretty much a goddamn cheerleader for the morning marriage of champagne and eggs, every day of the week. But apparently hollandaise sauce is riff raff! It might as well be made from cigarette butts and clarified lard. I am so upset about this - but I'll just order the omelet, now, thanks.

*If you order your steak well done (aside from not truly being able to appreciate a good slice of meat), you are going to get the shittiest slab of beef in the house. It doesn't matter if the number of stars that the restaurant has equal a constellation. Get over it. At least have it prepared medium, to ensure flavor and fresh. Even good chefs know they can throw out that piece of old leather on death row at the walk-in cooler, or they can save it for "food cost percent" - which means you might be chewing on a wallet if you say "well done".

*If you eat a cheap sushi restaurant, you're eating cheap fish and your worst fears can probably be confirmed here. The word discount can gen

erally be synonymous with "cheap" and/or "old". If something sounds too good to be true, it usually is! Don't skimp on RAW FISH for chrissake.

*file under: Good to Know: (at least in NYC) Fish is at its freshest on Tues-Thurs. Trust it. If you want to know why, you can read the chapter on fresh fish delivery, which is somewhat disturbing but helpful.

Above all, if you're going to go 20,000 leagues under the Sea, try to avoid the words "Monday" and "Special" in unison.

*Steer clear of Swordfish. Parasites love swordfish.

*Chilean Sea Bass: Overpriced/Trendy (also, see above)

*Here's a good point - use the restroom at the restaurant you're eating at as a compass. Think about it - "They let you see the bathrooms. If the restaurant can't be bothered to keeps the floors and toilets clean, imagine what their refrigeration and work spaces look like." You can't argue with THAT.

*Eat the bread. Its OK. In fact, its aces.

*When travelling, its ok! to try foods from the street vendors. There are probably in all likelihood more concerns in a fast food kitchen than at these places. Think about it - these carts don't stay in business with the locals by giving them crummy dishes! Enjoy local foods when travelling!

Travel Guide for Upcoming Season here

A Thousand Sharks Teeth

The new My Brightest Diamond album pulls a rabbit out of the hat.

Adjective soup: ethereal and operatic and dreamy.

I saw her perform a while back, and all I can say is that she reminded me of The Wizard of Oz.

When you hear her, that will make perfect sense. There's something kind of fantastical, technicolor, deep-in-the-forest, wood nymph-y about her voice.

Forever in Blue Jeans: A Tribute to Jewish Elvis

A decade ago, I was working for Columbia Records in Detroit. At one of my retail accounts (the inimitable, great WhereHouse Records), there was a fellow musicnerd named Ben. He did a lot of great displays and in-store promotions for me. I owed him a couple of favors, to say the least.

His girlfriend was one of the worlds biggest Neil Diamond fans.

She was decidedly a "square" to me, because I was too stupidly arrogant, young and green back then regarding songwriting greats to recognize the talent and finer points of Neil Diamond, the man they call the Jewish Elvis. Plus, my dad loved him, and I hated what my dad loved (oh! teenage rebellion!)

It would not be until about a year ago that I figured out his genius.

In any event, Ben begged me to get tickets for Neil Diamond as a birthday gift supremo to his girlfriend. A surprise, he was planning and hoped I would help him out. I asked a few favors from the higher ups in NY (whose blank do I have to blank to get Dolly Parton tickets, by the way!?) and voila! Ben had 2 rows to see Neil Diamond in the second row! His girlfriend would be so elated!

The day following the show, I happened to stop into the record store. I remember this day because we were standing around discussing the um, May-December romance-marriage bewteen R. Kelly and Aaliyah, and somehow segued into the prior evenings Diamond show.

I asked him how the big birthday gift went over.

There was a long pause.

(I believe they call this a pregnant pause, but that term sorta grosses me out)

Ben responded "Umm, yeah, great...Thanks" which I thought was kinda rude.

He continued on, "I didn't know you were getting us backstage passes. Thanks for those, too," rather sarcastically.
And so the story was told to me.

Our radio guy brought back Ben and his girlfriend for what we call a meet-and-greet in my biz, if you will. An assembly line of people from radio, press, retail, etc. come back and meet the artist following their set. It can be impersonal, but its a chance for many great supporters and lucky fans to get a chance at rare autographs and a star encounter!

On this particular night, my friend Ben introduced his girlfriend, adding, "Its her birthday and she's been your #1 fan for years. She is SO excited to be here."

Neil, apparently met her eyes when he shook her hand, firmly, pulled her to him, and stuck his tongue in her mouth for a longkiss, after saying, "Well, Happy Birthday to You", eyes firmly fixed on hers. Whilst her boyfriend and hangers-on watched, some in horror.

hehehehe- SUPRISE!

This story was repeated to me by a second witness, and I was in shock, but thought it was sort of awesome, too. So, in honor of his majesty, here are some other facts (a la this month's great Blender piece) that might surprise or interest you about Mr. Diamond.

1. He was shot in the face once in Flatbush, Brooklyn "scrapping" with a pellet gun and it scared him so he never fought again (so gangsta! so...street! take that, lil' wayne!)

2. He sold vitamins door-to-door to make ends meet before he became famous

3. He wanted to change his name to Eice Cherry (I have no idea how one would even pronounce it) or Noah Kiminski (ummm), but his grandmother was in the hospital just before he struck songwriting gold, so he kept his actual name on his album, lest he disgrace her with a stage name. (thus proving the everything happens for a reason. a theory to live by.)

4. He went to high school with Barbera Streisand (in Brooklyn) but they weren't friends

5. He almost took on the role of Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver, but decided not to. (however, the film The Jazz Singer starring Neil Diamond is fucking great.

Especially the montage playing "Love on the Rocks" where he questions his whole life calling, goes on a soul searching journey, wears cocaine sunglasses, and doesn't shave. This is right before he reunites with his love on the beach, and "Hello Again" plays. I will stop now!)

6. All those old, spangled, tight outfits from the 70s have been preserved in a climate-controlled vaults (along with his guitars). Helloooo...Hot August Night.

This Looks Awesome.

I will never, ever tire of seeing animals talk on the big screen.

I cannot wait to see this. 

What's that? 

You want to see it, too?

Fantastic, old pal!

My treat. 

I'll get the popcorn, too. 

NO,

REALLY.

I INSIST.

The Derek Zoolander Center for Kids Who Can't Read Good

I watched "El Cantante" the other night and actually sort of enjoyed it. Ok.. I liked it!

What the fuck, right?

Anyways, I have an Achilles heel for that kind of stuff. There are men who like, say, dressing up in their girlfriends lingerie. There are women who like, I dunno, eating an entire cake in one sitting.  

My vices include absurd-implausable romantic comedies and Mark Anthony (amongst others). Could be worse (right?). Anyways...

...As Max Fischer said, "Aah, Latin America and such. WELL, moving on..."...here's some

stuff I actually have confidence in. 

Riunite on Ice, yeah, my taste is niiiiiice.

DAVID SEDARIS: WHEN YOU ARE ENGULFED IN FLAMES

I have like, Christmas eve suspense in my Heart before a Sedaris book comes out, because he is the best writer alive right now. Period. I will be college-lined paper, book reporting on this really shortly. But in the meantime, enjoy this little vignette, if you will, about overhearing a tourist couple argue about directions and the language barrier in Paris:

" 'You want to be French, Mary Frances, that's the problem, but instead you're just another American.' I went to the window for that one and saw a marriage disintegrate before my very eyes. Poor Mary Frances in her beige beret. Back at the hotel it had probably seemed like a good idea, but now it was ruined and ridiculous, a cheap felt pancake sliding off the back of her head. She'd done the little scarf thing, too, not caring that it was summer. It could have been worse, I thought. She could have been wearing one of those striped boater's shirts, but, as it was, it was pretty bad, a costume. really.

LIL' WAYNE: THE CARTER III 

(let us note the great album cover art, as well right now)

File Under: Scary-Smart. Skills: Extraterrestrial.  

Rap-poet-savant-phenom ....baptized by Jay-Z with the torch...and this album is tops. I hope it sees forever.

Man, I got Summer hating on me cause I'm hotter than the sun / Got Spring hating on me cause I ain't never sprung / Winter hating on me cause I'm colder than y'all / And I would never, I would never, I would never Fall...

Crazy People Don't Know They're Going Crazy, Right?

I need a dream dictionary or a psychic or a psychiatrist.

Last night I dreamed the following scenario:

John Cusack was my boyfriend. We were making out in our station wagon (the old kind), which was filled to the ceiling with high heeled shoes in the back. (?!)

In this dream, I complained to my boyfriend John Cusack that he had a) not done a decent film in a long time (true), and that b) he had worn a long, black trench coat in almost every movie he's ever done. My boyfriend John Cusack leaned over and kissed me adeiux...and told me our chauffeur, John (!) Goodman would be driving me around for the rest of the day.

So, John Goodman drove me here and there (for reasons uncertain we were in the South), and I stepped out of the car to get Mexican food, but as I did so, the sky, lowered like a remote control ceiling. It got very black with fast moving clouds and it began to pour. Torrentially. Apocolyptically.

I got back into the car. I felt a hot burn on my left leg. I thought this was a cigarette, for some reason, but it was actually John Goodman's hand. It was not perverse, it just was.

Cut to John Goodman and I going to an ice cream shop, where we waited for John Cusack to show up, in his black trench coat.

Is John Cusack the grim reaper?

WHY were there 2 "Johns"?

What do the high heels in the back signify?

What does it all mean?

hahaha...yeah....

Creative interpretations welcome.

The Birds and the Bees

Here's a cause newly close to my heart - the Honeybee crisis, y'all!

Alot of people don't seem to know this, but our honeybees, are "houdini-ing" as I like to say cutely, but mean quite seriously. They are vanishing. Think about this.
1. One out of every three bites of food every (*average) American eats is directly attributed to honeybee pollination.
2. More than 25% of the Western honey bee population has vanished over the last several winters, which poses a serious risk to our natural food supply.
3. Scientists do not know what is causing the Colony Collapse Disorder but its happenin' with no signs of slowing. And that's not good "bee-haviour". (sorry, for my dad jokes)(honey)

So...as if you need an excuse to eat ICE CREAM.....Haagen Daaz has invented a special flavor for the cause - Vanilla Honeybee. MMMM. Proceeds from sales of the deliciousness go towards research.
Click on the colors here for the tres-cool microsite which, is sort of beautiful and has lots of tiny bees flying around with "SOS" signs, and includes interesting, helpful information and factoids.
You can navigate around via the hive on the left and even design your own personal character & Bee Mail!
Grab your sundae spoon. Zoom around the links I've provided above.
Summertime.
Philanthropy.
Give the colony a hand.

POST-SCRIPT (this just in):

Smolinski Stefanie to me show details 5:11 PM (15 minutes ago)
Please add my Honey Bee to your blog. It's attached. I sort of modeled it after you. Only sort of, now don't go getting a big head.

Come Hungry, Leave Happy

Dear Diary sorry, Dear God, its been a week since my last confession I oughtsta been ashamed amaself. Thick as thieves friend in town visiting, lots of rock and roll shows at various nightclubs, work, debauchery etc.

Here's the best I've got for you today, sloppy and random (you can't tap dance 24/7 you know).

1. The IHOP commercial for their new, Tour de French Toast is pretty much a piece of fucking art. The thought that professional athletes would be motivated in their race by an international house of pancakes finish line is simply hilarious.

2. Last week I went to pick up some chicken Pad Thai at ThaiNY (pronounced "tiny" - getit!?) and there was a man sitting in the window of the restaurant whom I had been friendly with twelve years ago, up until he sent me his wisdom teeth in a shrunken manila envelope as a romantic gesture (Van Gogh's ear?).

Sometimes I think about getting those teeth in the mail and it makes me delighted and impressed, and in other moods it creeps the hell out of me, but points for (insert originality-desperateromanticmeasures or something here). We made eye contact and both quickly shifted our glances, but I know that in that second I was thinking "you sent me your wisdom teeth" and he was thinking "I sent that girl my wisdom teeth."

As I paid for my food and grabbed my "I heart NY" white plastic takeout bag, I passed his date, who was returning to their table to join him. I wondered what he might do to her when he got her home, and what it might take to set fire to that guys heart-pants.

3. I find it incredibly strange, that in conversations with married couples, they sometimes say things like "We're trying to have kids," because immediately all you can think of is those people doing it nonstop, whether you like that mental image or not. It's a really bizarre, socially accepted thing to say, in my ten cent opinion.

Snapshots Born in Brooklyn

I can't believe this exists in NY. My sister lives near it. I mean, really! Like an Irish Spring commercial!

Roscoe.
Ha, Population: 1.  

They have "bored" games there, too.

This is my sister's front door. The real dog inside- not quite as menacing as this guy, but I like this as a middle finger to would-be burglars! (Also, is it me or does this dog look like he's sort of smiling for his close up?)

Engrish Crass

Oh my god. The movie Gung Ho (1986) is on HBO this morning.

It stars (the best Batman, obv) Michael Keaton, George Wendt (Norm from "Cheers") AND Long Duck Dong from "16 Candles". 

It is described on the "info" button as being (and. I. Quote.)

 "Autoworkers meet Oriental discipline in a U.S. plant reopened."

The movie's tagline was (and. I. Quote):

"When East meets West the laughs shift into high gear!"

The synopsis describes the "seemingly inhumane Japanese work ethic".

hahahahah.

Oriental. Discipline.

What's funny is that this movie would never, ever, get made today.

It's full of more racial stereotypes than the Genesis video for Illegal Alien

(which features Phil Collins in a wearing a sombrero and sporting a Zapata moustache

in case there was any confusion about which ethnicity the song is about, greengo! arriba!)

Hirarious.

I wonder what Michael Moore would think.

Ice Cream, You Scream

Cinco
de Mayo


worm
in my apple


i'm
going
to sleep
my way to the middle


what with,
plan A

in the toilet
and all


on Sunday
(quatro de mayo)


I was on Sullivan
Street thinking
of
that Bridgette Bardot
poem
by Chinaski
where he says
"running through
an arcade of roses
and screaming"


that's practically childhood
in a nutshell


and it makes me insane
its so pretty


I mean, it really
strangles you


with beauty


i plucked cigarettes
like daisy petals from
the box


(to kill the suspense of life)


and
skip to dessert


(lovesmenot.the end)


Dracula
you've got
ketchup
on your shirt,


I've been waking
up in the dark
cool
night


with memories


that come back
of
all those
lovers


like a ski mask
in a horror

flick


even from behind
after


I shot them
dead.


I don't know what I'd
ask you
now


Can you imagine
Sylvia Plath
in math class


or Bukowski on a Mac


(me neither)


there's a sorbet
named
"berried alive"
and
I like that


I was thinking
all
this

while I stood
in line


at Starbucks


& listened
to all the
white women


bitch about their
lattes


yes, that was
right about the time



I came back from
the dead


cheerleaders

in my spine &



ringing telephones and


I can't wait to
see your
face


again.


I don't want to be

your
Yoko Ono,


I want to be


your
Maria Callas,

stupid.

Pillowcase full of Stilletos

I'm a marathon insomniac. I remember my parents "putting me to bed" when I was a little thing, and laying there, staring at the loyal ceiling for four or five hours at a span, just....imagining. Oh woe is me, it's the CROSS I BEAR.

So when people give me "counting sheep" remedies, I think its cute and sweet but it doesn't really pay the sandman, you know? He just breaks my dreamy kneecaps and goes merrily on his way.

Anyways, A friend of mine asked me to write a song for him (a "new" for me)so I'm trying that on for pajamas. I don't know how what it is to "rhyme" but I'll try to find my inner lyrical gangsta.

Despite all this drowsy, thousand pound eyelid bullshit, I found something so funny. Radar magazine just published "100 reasons you can't sleep". Here's my favorites:

17. You smoke in bed. Specifically, hickory bacon

22. You're the world's biggest fan of whatever piece of shit is on at 3 a.m

77. Your man didn't love you right

27. Filled humidifier with Red Bull

30. Constantly interrupted by Christmas ghosts

42. Trying to catch 24-hour laundromat in a lie

55. Dreamland is actually a total shithole

64. Seems like a waste of a hooker, no?

83. Keep hearing heartbeat of guy buried alive in the wall

98. Contract with the devil expired 45 minutes ago

94. Suddenly realized you chose the past most traveled.

ha.

Champagne Wishes.

Caviar Dreams.

I Only Have Eyes for You Two

*

I realized that I most often fancy bands whose groupies tend to be like, English majors.

That's a good thing.

English major groupies. Rolling Stops. Jumbo Shrimp. Et Cetera.

Point is, (my BFF) Cameron McGill is about to hit the road with my favorite new band of the past few years, Margot & the Nuclear So and So's.

I feel like Margot have the hunger and they've really hit the books.

As a writer - were. ship. (write on, wrichard). Anyone who's heard the whispered verses at the end of "Dress Me Like a Clown" should have a sloppy crush on them.

As musicians, I have a kind of braceface smile, cartoon knockout crush on them. They have an album coming out on Epic this summer and I can't wait.

Today I read some lyrics from the track "Broad Ripple Is Burning"-

...And if my woman was a fire, she'd burn out before I'd wake

  and be replaced by pints of whiskey, cigarettes, and outerspace

This is not slated to be on the album, if you can imagine. The rest is gonna be gravy and icing. Tasty. (i know! outerspace. uh huh.)

Anyways, Cameron will be out with the So and So's the next coupla weeks.

Check your local listings and treat yourself to a show if they come to your hood.

I didn't steer you wrong with the Felice Brothers, did I ?

OK, you're welcome :)

*Stacy Novak does a plethora of their art and she's ultra-fantastic

A Sitting Ovation

watch

the Dreamers

with the French

girls breasts

as perfect

as croissants

and her

shoulderblades

sharp

as knives

if nothing else

you can say "bertolucci"

out loud at parties

and people will automatically

respect you.

employee of the

month kind

of shit.

Believe 

it.

and

when life

is in the clouds

think about

necking

at a matinee

or just

attending

a

matinee 

at

all.

ha

think of

disneyland (not world)

or

how

they always

name hurricanes

after girls

thinka

when our dreams

did not seem

so far away 

from us,

like

swimming pools

from 

airplane windows see

I hate this poem

already

which means 

it will never be fin

ished.

and when i get

on the 

silver 

caterpillar

underground

and go uptown

i watch the 

circus of glances

between

strangers

and thats 

the stuff.

(the whole

shebang)

i'm talkin

about truth

and beauty

(the doublemint twins)

and I know,

new york

is always giving 

you

the broken glass hand job

but 

you

stay

because

who knows

you might, i don't know

fuck a total

stranger

or really

y'know

put your thumbprint

on a skyscraper 

here

but 

leaving

well, 

that

would be like

sneaking

out

the 

front door.

Week InPics

Corner of 3rd and 14th. Monday.

Delicious. True Story.

Godbless bathroom graffiti.

SAM SANFILLIPPO

Remember This?

Keytar.

A keytar is a keyboard or synthesizer worn around the neck and shoulders, similar to a guitar. The word “keytar” is a portmanteau of “keyboard” and “guitar”. Keytars allow players a greater range of movement compared to conventional keyboards, which are placed on stands.

Keytar.

Never Forget.

Boys Don't Make Passes at Girls who Wear Glasses

Coupla Things, Pals:

1. Someone made a myspace page explicitly for DANZIG'S HOUSE. (mood: morose)

I think that is hilarious!

There's Danzig in a horrifically out of focus picture, washing his car! There's s'more pics of his house! What do people do all day but live to go on the Internet and entertain the likes of me?

2. Saw KATHLEEN (turner overdrive!)EDWARDS play last weekend and it was shockingly good. Her band is incredible and records will never do her voice justice, your honor.

Plus, she's a great wit and . I love birds like that.

3. This is a great line from a great writer who walks a genius floss of tightwire:

"Your bed/is a big soft calculator, where my problems multiply"

(-J. McDaniel)

4. I wish I had a colossal Butterscotch Sundae this very moment. mmmm. Sweet ice cream suds in the sugary marigold bath. oooh.

Alright, meeting adjourned. The Donger need food!

I will be writing a love letter to Anthony Bourdain before sunup.

Before a Party

nashville you're killing me

like handsome lie

on a neon sign 

but ok nashville

i'll play along

nashville

i love your piano hands

your fingers sad and

long as a country song

nashville

stop your sobbing

i've no umbrella 

you're raining me in

oh

nashville you can have your

choice of men

but i might never love again

nashville

you're all pillow talk and lottery 

promises

i don't have a penny for your 

thoughts i wasted it on

a wish

c'mon

nashville i wrote my number

on that cocktail napkin

knowing full well

you'll never call me 

back

nashville i'm not

sorry i wore sneakers

for your wedding to las

vegas i mean

after all,

you married 

your mistress

nashville you're a 

spaghetti western 

is 

a slice of pizza 

too much to ask

tennessee you're

a warm green pill

with your halls of fame

oh fine, i'll

put my heels on for you

nashville

as america

you're immaculate

Where Pigs Fly

I forgot a few last night: Balthazar, the Blueprint, and Bledsoe (Tempest).

Days here in Nashville: 3

Pairs of shoes packed: 5 (patent leather peep toe pumps, converse all-stars, pink suede knee high hooker boots, pinstripe stilettos, patent leather ballet flats)
Number of dresses packed: 4
Jeans: 1, black pair
Bikinis: 1, gingham
Handbags: 2, including green alligator clutch
Scarves: 1, always good to have (pinky, my lucky one) for head and wrists.
Books: 3. FrankO'Hara (its my Amex, you dig?), Charles Simic (goddamn magician. wrote a book called (get this)"return to a place lit by a glass of milk")("wedding in hell"), Bolero ("savage detectives"). Shit, that's four. I'm a nerd (a well dressed one, though. see above)
Notebooks: 1, pink leather bound.

Stuffed animals to sleep with: 1, little lamb 
BBQ items consumed thus far: 3
Oh, one more for the list, pals: Brisket! (in my basket)

Perfume: Coco Mademoiselle (Chanel. always)

I read on zee plane that NORMAN MAILER USED TO PLAY TENNIS WITH CHARLIE CHAPLIN.
On.

The.

Regular.

That blows my mind.
Chauffeured my thoughts all morning.

LostHighway is a great place to work.  

You're going to have a heart attack when you hear how grand and old-new the new Elvis Costello is. 

Oh Nashville, I forgot that I love you.

You're a Spaghetti Western.

Yes To:

Breathlessness, Battleships, Blonde on Blonde, Boys, the Beach, the Beach Boys, Brunch, Bellinis, Bicycles, Bicycle Thieves, Bones, Black Keys, BloodOranges, Blue Moons, Break (of the Point variety), Boggle, Bad Brains, Barneys (Co-Op), Barney (Bjorks husband), Butterfinger candybars, Bullshit Nights&WanderlustDays, Bourdain, "But I'm a Waitress", Bon Nuits, Bad Packing, Bikinis, Boots, Brahms, Bukowski, Birds, Bravado, Blinking, Bed/Bath/Beyooooond, Brie, Boxing films, Benson&Hedges (not really), BesameMucho, Bartleby, Bananaboats, Ave B., Besos.

Binoculars

blackbird

weren't
we
siamese

weren't
we
as stupidly poetic
as
a prostitutes bruise
and
my

eyes as blue

when you beat me
up with kisses

do you
remember?


that summer
when all the bees mysteriously disappeared

and the evening news
blamed cell phones

you took me in your arms

you
made me ice cream sundaes

that looked like pornos.

my heart was a kleptomaniac
in a stripmall
with
eyes
like giant shopping bags.

my body was a
thin
alabaster
cigarette you put between your lips
each night

i did

slither

like an ice cube
on a fireplace

but
now

i feel as strange
as a payphone
on park avenue

calling you
honeycomb

oh no
charlie chaplin
me

i have to be as brave as a cape 

iceberg ahead

the news said

our love written in
invisible ink

quick
find my

decoder ring you
used
to
take
the
words

right
from
my
mouth.

now,

we just finish
each others silences

BINOCULARS

I read about this photographer-artist, Yasmine Chatila, in the new issue of Interview. She might be the most talented voyeur in new york, which is really exciting. Her work is so secretive and beautiful. It is my personal belief that people are inherently interesting when they're like this, uninhibited. That's a lot of "in" isn't it? Here's your art homework for the day.

Spies and Romantics unite. Viva la....

YASMINE CHATILA

Traipse on over to the Stolen Moments section.

("The Bachelor" is my favorite)

*pictured= Stoners in an Oval Window, Soho

"Nap"

I was doing some hard drive spring cleaning came across this picture I took about a year ago here in NYC.

This woman had fallen asleep during a Lucinda Williams show at Radio City Music Hall.
Everyone had left the auditorium, even the sound guys! I found it really incredible that nothing, not the loud noisy leaving crowds nor a stranger passing hadn't rumbled her slumber. The pic is sort of creepy, and furthermore, it looks like a painting. Golden Kodak moment, if you will.





RadioCityMusicHall, NYC (2007)