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)

4.13.08

in april

everyones exuberance is

inexorable
lets walk diagonal

through the park

when

i am
happy to be
wearing my
heavy metal parking lot
jean
jacket

(because I can)

and the fountains

salivate

against gravity

towards the sky

& i try to

imagine how boys
must feel

seeing all these

knees

and legs

white

as new pair

of

dice

girls and

girls

in their

summer dresses

suddenly

razzle dazzle oh
wow

can you fathom how women
fell for
Neil Armstrong
when he flew to the moon

(better than burt reynolds and

the big dipper smacked together)

(i bet they wanted to

keep their bras on

and throw their souls

at him)

do japanese girls

still pass out at

michael jackson concerts

i wonder and

why is everyone always crying.

this morning

i overheard some teenagers
bragging

stupidly and

flirting

wildly
in the bodega
I was embarrassed for them and
also remembered how
it felt

fast forward i

thought

about

frenching &

completely forgot

all of it i

bought an orange crush

in a glass bottle

ain't life grand,

chickaboom

stef

i crossed the bridge
on the subway

(isn't that something)

on my way

to meet you

i saw the
lemon
sun
sink behind

the
buildings

i looked down
and
thought
to myself,

you can't fall in love
if you're afraid of heights

so probably,

I'm fucked

and overheard

someone say
they were
"shooting the breeze"

how interesting

when men

are

accidentally poetic

i can't wait
to hear the new
my morning jacket
record i bet it will
be positively

delicious

like watching

the science of sleep

in bed

good god michel

gondry

we're having your

medals

engraved and polished

promise

and i don't mean

maybe

your movies

are like

being hit

with a

genius cream pie

in the face

"love extrapolates your dreams"

and all that

friday I

finally saw

the

hottest state

even ethan hawke's

name

is handsome

(i am

powerless

against that sort

of thing)

some days

all it takes is

someone to
say "nice shoes"

when

you're in brooklyn

you will

feel like you

just

walked

into a room full of haircuts

trust me

I can't believe that

pink house

near park slope

who lives in that

bubblegum skyscraper

where's Julian Schnabel

when you

need him

(he's probably on pg 410 of Vanity Fair)

katherine

asked the waiter for a

a black napkin!

at the hotel rivington

brunch

it was

all

so silver spoons

i just

bounced the clean

white one on my lap

and made it dance

with bacon stains

as a girl

ponderosa

used to impress me

but

newyorkcity

cures

you of that

kind of thing

Oh well,

Oh well

I know a salad

fork when I see

one at least

I say to myself

someday someday

and I just look up

at that

Teen Wolf moon

and

pray

that Tim

wins the lottery

he "dreams of constantly"

and i hope

skirts

stay fences

and

my sister

will continue

to buy

lilacs

that

share lockers with orchids

at the

cornerstore

in the

flower bleachers

april take

off your shoes

and coat coffee's on

please

stay awhile

This Looks Incredibly Awesome

I walked around Park Slope, Brooklyn all day with my sister. That part of NY is a whole different world, and the park was springish & emerald and I and took pictures of these sensational walkups, which always make me think of the Cosby Show so I want a my own to sit & read & smoke & talk on when the city starts to get as hot as a zipper which is coming to a theater new you/me soon oh "summer in the city means cleavage, cleavage, cleavage..."

We went to a restaurant in Carroll Gardens, which is the best thing to do on a Saturday evenin',  and there was  chorizo and cheeses with honey, and ruby glasses of wine and proscuttio and tallagio and blanched salty almonds and Perrier...

I love that pink brownstone, it manages to give the middle finger to the whole brown block. 

Wow someone painted that hot pink. 

Pay it Forward Joke of the Day

What did the 0 say to the 8?

"Nice belt!"

This is the house-studio of Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera in Mexico.

A bridge connected their respective work and living spaces. 

What a bunch of lightbulbs.

If I ever get married, I hope to live like this. 

I love this idea, this house, these artists, and their work.

In my bones.

Hers was blue.

Variousness

I just realized that potato chips are most delicious when they've been sitting in the freezer. Trust me on this. Leave em' in there all day, and then come home and eat them ice cold. Wash them down with champagne. Seriously. Fancy it up.

These are particularly good in summer, but any old season will do.
Best when used with classic Lays potato chips, all thin and frozen and crispy.

You're welcome.

Anyways. 

When I was a young girl, I ran my mouth all over the place for years about my fictitious dreamy idea for an all-girl, cheap trick cover band, called Cheap Chick. Then a few years ago, I read about them in Spin. I suppose it was only a matter of time, but I had to er, surrender my dream, convinced my idea had been kidnapped by way of music industry-ous-ness and plagiarism. 

The point is, I never fully realized 

or developed it, and it was only a matter of time before someone swiped it. 

My friend Drew, who is a blue ribbon gentleman, is in some of the greatest cover bands ever.

Hair Supply, The Greatest Heavy Metal Tribute To Air Supply In The Tri-State Area

Et Cetera, The Greatest Heavy Metal Tribute To Peter Cetera And The Music Of Chicago In The Tri-State Area

Mr Brownstone, The Drunkest Tribute to Guns N Roses
Dark Cross, The Greatest Heavy Metal Tribute To Christopher Cross In The Tri-State Area
Tragedy, The Greatest Heavy Metal Tribute To The Bee Gees In The Tri-State Area and Select Counties In Eastern Pennsylvania

Et Cetera is by far my favorite.

It doesn't get much better than that.

Unless of course, it gets like this.

Bob Dylan won a Pulitzer Prize. 

"Some people work in gas stations and they're poets. I don't call myself a poet because I don't like the word. I'm a trapeze artist." - Bob Dylan

SOMETHING

It's midnight right

I'm sick from

eating all these

red swedish fish

in bed

my stomachs become

an aqauarium

No its 2 a.m. no

wonder I'm

as lazy as a ditto

thinking of white balloons

that want to be clouds

and matchbooks that

grow up to be bombs

and how I wish

they'd make Marlboro 200's

(but thats not even my brand)

and

thinking of

what i'd save

in a fire

(records)

plus

what i'd forget

(pictures)

and

what you're supposed

to say to an

to an atheist

when they sneeze.

question mark

and I can't believe

how strange it is we

sleep in fetal positions

our whole lives

curled up liked magazines

between the sheets

and god i can't believe

ryan's reading theee FrankO

exclamation point

I used to sleep with his

book in my bed

when I was green

and read

about raspberry colored sweaters

and motorcycle drivebys

you know,

the edge of volcanoes

(where a push is a kiss)

and Fire Island

and the rain that glues everything wet together

and it reminds me

i've got to get to the Fricke

this summer

and have a hot dog

off the streetcart

on the way

or I'll hate myself and

I think

about when the chinese delivery

brings you white plastic forks

instead of

chopsticks goddamn! thats

racist hahahow dare they

and i'm listening

to yves montand

becuase french music

that

you can either cry with

or make love to

is

best before bed

and then I think of

my future morning coffee

and Tang (TM)

which astronauts drank

and

my beautiful

sister's voice

on the line

earlier

when she said over the cartoons on the tv set,

If you give a mouse a cookie,

they're gonna want a glass of milk.

(sage advice)

and as i pillowfight the ambien sandman

and

the darkness eats me up

I

see you in imagination

where

my heart's a box of red crayons

where blue ghosts come to draw

and

my heart's a bumper sticker

that says

if you can read this, you're too close

and I

laugh.

Time to Make the Donuts.

When I don't want to go out on Saturday nights and then I feel guilty about it for nonsensical reasons I think of Van Morrison saying "I don't go to nightclubs anymore."

Nightclubs. 

Walked into Joe's pub the other night, that glittering, acousto-perfecto Lafayette St. time machinepod, with those couches that are like sitting on a giant slice of red velvet cake....

And low and behold, Rob Sheffield was takin' the stage.

Rob is the whipsmart contributing editor at RS, whose encyclopedic knowledge of tunes would blow your Williamsburg beard off. 

He has stilts for legs, gold for brains, and was reading from his opus,  Love is a Mix Tape. I couldn't have been happier. I just had this very book in my hand a few days prior. 

The book is a love letter to his wife, who passed, and the age old art of makin' mix tapes for someone you adore/want to sleep with/get teenage heart about. It's really adolescent and pure and a sweet piece for music geeks. 

Read it.

I was sitting at dinner last night and The Bends was on (which is the most imperial Radiohead record, in my stupid opinion) and that "street spirit/fade out" has to be on the next mix tape blueprint. HocusPocusthatsongitgivesmeSHIVERS.

This morning in the coffee shop Otis Reddings, I've Been Loving You Too Long

came on and I got the marbles in my throat because its fucking pristine and hide the knives, here come the hot tears, headed southbound on the alabaster cheek freeway. I just dare you with your dry eyes! 

And then Etta James came on and I thought of how great it is when soul and blues singers voices get all Cookie Monster. (Stevie Wonder does this towards the end of "As" too...)

* I love that Carly Simon said she was "cementedly in love" with James Taylor in VF.

* I loof that one of my favorite poets (McDaniel) said "your legs/are longer than a prisoners last night on death row." 

* I lourve that I got a text message from Chicago last week saying "someone on my bus smells like you." Out of the blue. 

Of all the senses, memories are most easily associated with scent. That's a fact- look it up.

I have to go write some crummy crumbcake mayor of crumbville population 1 poems now and go back to Brooklyn where apparently everything is. 

Time to make the Donuts.

Mariah Carey might be a GeneYus.

Before meetin' miss Popper and the handsome Pete and Anthony in Billyburg for delicious chorizo tacos and fish tacos and chips and salsa and margaritas with salt collars, I had a brave day at work.
Hustlin' for Mariah, "on fi'yuh" Carey.

Her new album is titled E=Mc2.

The title a bit of a marvel for me, especially since nobody has been able to give me a proper (propa! please Hammer, don't hurt em'!) explanation for why she's calling it that.
Today I was alllll calling everyone upstairs at DefJam, and asking "what's the significance of this title?" and they were all "MC ...that's her initials" and I was allllll "yeah, I get that. But what does it have to do with Einstein's theory of relativity (there was an awkward pause here). no, seriously. Is it supposed to be ironic or funny?" 

And in short, nobody could give me an answer.

"Mariah likes it." --- about as far I got.

I discussed this with a friend of mine and I don't think anyone could say it better than he did.

And I quote:
"I can't decide what would be more disappointing to Einstein: the fact that his theories ultimately allowed for the development of nuclear weapons, or that his most 

celebrated equation would grace the cover of a Mariah Carey album. Seems like a toss up."

Fire Walk with Me

Dear Sinner-Saints:

Listen to the Gutter Twins record at once.

"Front St."...that coup de grace, I'm here to say....is one the most heart explodingly, daringly beautiful songs. This song is way past your bedtime.
A muses dark address.

The birds chirp and you walk along the railroad tracks in the quiet, anticipating.
And then something sinister happens.
It sort of throws you against a wall and runs its hand up your thigh. I don't know how else to explain it. It kisses you on the mouth and vanishes in the heat.
Its got tricks up its sleeves.
It has a wild look in its eye.
It's The Lust.

Here lives a killer video for another new one: All Misery Flowers.
Very Lynch-ish.
Momentous. Grand eccentricity.
As Gene Wilder once said,
"The suspsense is terrible. I hope it will last."

Aimer le poème pour un Chien

Dressed myself today
in a forgotten sweater
with its vampire marks
on the sleeve
where your
sharp little teeth
used to be.

and melancholy
sinks
its fangs
in me.

It has been a year this week,
Lolagirl.

My
snowball in hell.

Heart is toast and life is lemons.
I will see you again

when it rains milkbones
and tennis balls

and when
when the stars
come on backwards.

Abort the Operation. Avoid the Noid.

Katherine asked me to do a blog about that old rumor that Domino's Pizza gives all their money to pro-life organizations. As I considered this, I was reminded of some burner I met back at a college party whose idea of political activism was informing every hungry, drunken attendee that said pizza chain was full of corporate villains who juggled performing back-alley abortions and making flavorless pies, before passing out in a pool of his own vomit.
Years later, I'm always surprised when someone I know hits their speed dial and less than 30 minutes later ("guaranteed"), and a delivery man shows up to deliver what I feel is a substandard food product, tasting of baked cardboard bathed in Elmers (TM).
I guess I'm mainly surprised people would eat it because I live in NYC, and you can get some of the most delicious slices in the country here (what up ROSARIOS! I'm talkin to YOU, VEZZO!).
But above all, I'm most surprised because, well, I have heard the conspiracy against Domino's so many times now that I believe it myself.
So I did a little research.

The truth is, money cannot be directly traced from the corporation to pro-life organizations, as donations to such no-choice organization were made by a private citizen (who, used the profits from his pizza company! Funnel funnel.) The company's founder, Tom Monaghan has been unapologetic, very public, and very generous in his support for both Operation Rescue and other Catholic anti-abortion organizations. Operation Rescue, in case you are interested, operates the "Truth Truck" - a large panel vehicle that bears images of aborted fetuses.
Reading about the Truth Truck reminded me of the brilliant comedian Doug Stanhope, who did a "bit" on how insane pro-lifers in this country can be, making flyers of grotesque abortions and making flyers featuring pictures of fetuses and so on, and how he prefers to point the finger back at them, citing child pornography ("...You could have at least airbrushed a BIKINI on that little baby, sir! You make me SICK!").

In any event, Monaghan is no longer associated with the organization so its kinda sorta an urban myth. Dominoes issued this statement:

Domino's Pizza has never supported organizations on either side of the reproductive rights issue. The corporation and its 1,825 independent franchise owners across the world have one goal: to sell pizzas and increase our market share. We can't accomplish that goal if we alienate potential customers, as this issue certainly would.

Right, OK.

Researching elsewhere, I found some sort of funny little pieces of trivia about the pizza place.

Remember the NOID mascot? Check this out.

In the 1980's, Domino's Pizza was well known for its advertisements featuring the character. Customers were implored to order from Domino's in order to "avoid the Noid."
In 1989, a man, Kenneth Lamar Noid, who thought the ads were a personal attack on him, held two employees of an Atlanta, GA Domino's restaurant hostage for over five hours. After forcing them to make him a pizza, Noid surrendered to police. Noid was charged with kidnapping, aggravated assault, extortion, and possession of a firearm but found not guilty by reason of insanity.

AFTER HE FORCED THEM TO MAKE HIM A PIZZA.

And one other tidbit.

Monaghan, Domino's Founder, started the business by trading his VW Beetle for half of the business. In 1983, he bought the Detroit Tigers. Monaghan ultimately sold the Tigers to his competitor Mike Ilitch of Little Caesar's Pizza in 1992. Combining his passion for pizza and baseball, he wrote the1986 autobiography entitled....Pizza Tiger.

The 30-minute money-back guarantee is only considered an estimate now (pillow talk) because, in short, deliverypersons were getting into car accidents and speeding tickets trying to deliver pizzas on time. heh.
Thanks to stream-of-consciousness thinking, I am now reminded now of an incident I witnessed while strolling one day.
I saw a FedEx truck hauling ass up a quiet residential street, petal-to-the-metal style.
Seconds later I heard the alarming and loud screech of brakes. The FedEx driver, came within INCHES of hitting a UPS man on foot. The UPS deliveryguy, in his milk chocolate brown uniform and cap, stood at the grill of the halted truck, trembling and stunned at his brush with death, but ultimately, unharmed. It was one of the most ironic moments I've had the serendipitous opportunity to witness. I think it was just bizarre for all witnesses, myself not spared.
Come to think of it, my Italian friend used to work for FedEx, actually.

His name?
Johnny Pisano.

And...we're full circle.

"The Best Lie...

is the one closest to the truth."