Joyjunkie - Not a Liar, but a Writer

on korean

2006-06-23T09:15:00.000-07:00

It's our language

of boats and hang man

The Coal's Up Here. (excerpt)

2006-04-18T13:46:00.000-07:00

Carl pulled at the bottom of his shirt, stretched it over an expanse of stomach. When he released his grip, Ernie noticed that the bottom of Carl's white T-shirt hung ouched and ruffled from frequent tugs. Carl brought wax paper-wrapped sandwichs from the local diner. The only diner. The town wasn't big, but since news of the mine's closing people couldn't get out fast enough. The first few houses sold well to out-of-towners but now the clapboard hoems were drastically reduced on the market. Some went for a thousand bucks.

Most days Carl and Ernie did their jobs quietly--Carl stood watch on the mountain and Ernie sat in the site office--but clear evenings made Carl think; got him to talk.
"Look here," Carl wiped his hands on his belly and they left sooty smudges as they ran down his body. The coal dust coated everything. "When I was getting these sandwiches, you know what I saw?"

That List

2006-04-03T13:27:00.000-07:00

Kovsky sends an e-mail:

The following samples should be in my office today:
1- 100,000 bath towels.
2- 25,000 lined jackets.
3-4.5 million lip liners.
4- 1.5 lip sticks.

Qualifying, Q-U-A-L-I-F-Y-I-N-G, Qualifying

2006-03-01T12:29:00.000-08:00

He said, "I'm going to give you an A in spelling from Sister Theresa Machiawanna."
"Thanks."
Sensing my lackluster response, he replies, "She only gives out one a semester."

It's good to know that if I just completely bomb at this tough administrative job that I have a future in the Spelling Bee Circuit

2006-02-20T13:47:00.000-08:00

"Can you hear that?" The French Analyst stands in my office. "From here? Do you hear him?"

My office is small, almost too tiny to fit two people, yet I average about four on busy days. On slow bank holidays and Fridays I average one. I have hung stills from Fellini films, three record albums and the sexy priests on the walls. It makes it homey in here. Like decorating a shoebox with postage stamps. All the offices are close together and the walls are thin. Sometimes I hear an office team running relays above my head. Most of the time the French Analyst, the Peruvian and I shout messages back and forth to each other. It usually beats standing up.

I look at her, attune my ears to detect sounds other than the relentless white noise produced by the air conditioning and listen. "I don't hear anything."

"Cans." She replies. "Kovsky is crushing cans." She pauses. "In his office."

"Our cans?" I ask, "Or did he bring his own here?"

"I don't know."

Defacing the Hot Priests of Rome

2006-02-01T16:40:00.000-08:00

During a trip several of my friends took to Venice last year, they returned with a "Hot Priests of Rome" calendar. You see, I was the only bred Catholic they knew...

On the whole, the priests are rather good-looking in an Italianate sense. However, there are others (particularly Padre January and Padre February) that must be related to one of the calendar producers. I simply cannot face the often boorish faces of these young religious men, so I have decided to de-face them. For every day of every month, I shall draw one more feature in black ink upon his visage. Today marked the advent of Padre Domenico's sinister moustache.

Just another hatch mark on the list of little things that will ultimately damn me to Hell.

My Summer as a Loan Shark (pt.2)

2006-01-16T16:01:00.000-08:00

Mr. Hartman has got to be close to a thousand. He works in closeouts and this means that he's usually at our door peddling hanes women's cotton briefs, jackets, or a warehouse filled with chinese knickknacks. We once ended up with twelve large boxes filled with small glass figurines, plastic dolphins, large decorative bottles of oil filled with red peppers. It also means that he works from job to job.

Mr. Hartman leaves us strange gifts: bags of ski jackets, packages of bottled water, t-shirts in odd sizes. His rheumy pale eyes stare past me; we never make eye contact. I feel too guilty to look at him, or talk to him more than I absolutely have to. I'm his "dear girl" or "sweet child." Sometimes he moves his worn fishmerman's cap from hand to hand before patting my hand. He pulls up in his Honda SUV, parks in the handicapped spot, and collects himself. His watery and red-rimmed eyes fix on a point towards the sky (he can only drive seated at a strange reclined position). In these moments it's like he's underwater and gasps for air: his face slackens into an expression of repose. His daily resignantion before he grabs the battered box next to him and begins with us all over again makes my breath catch.

behind the times

2006-01-13T16:10:00.000-08:00

i miss all the best things at LACE

October 28 | 7 PM
Trinie Dalton, Jessica Hutchins and Rachel Kushner

Trinie Dalton : Wide Eyed
In Trinie Dalton's tweaked vision of reality, psychic communications between herself and Mick Jagger, The Flaming Lips, Marc Bolan, Lou Reed, and Pavement are daily occurrences. Animals also populate this book; beavers, hamsters, salamanders, black widows, owls, llamas, bats, and many more are characters who befriend the narrator. This collection of stories is told by a woman compelled to divulge her secrets, fantasies, and obsessions with native Californian animals, glam rock icons, and horror movies, among other things. With a setting rooted in urban Los Angeles but colored by mythic tales of beauty borrowed from medieval times, Shakespeare, and Grimm's fairy tales, Wide Eyed makes the difficulties of surviving in a contemporary American city more palatable by showing the reader that magic and escape is always possible.

Jessica Hutchins: Jessica Z. Hutchins is an artist and a writer. Her sculptures and stories express insights into the dark humor of American masculinity, naturophilia and the paranoiac. She received an M.F.A from California Institute of the Arts. She is a member of the new media cooperative C-Level, with whom she has collaborated on the interactive game projects "Cockfight Arena" and "Waco Resurrection". A collection of her short stories, "Dark Pastoral" was published by Machine Project Press in 2004. She currently lives and works off Highway 138 at the edge of the Mojave Desert. You can find her online at www.jessicahutchins.com

Rachel Kushner: Rachel Kushner is a writer living in Los Angeles. Her fiction and nonfiction can be found, most recently, in Fence, Artforum, ArtUS and Bomb Magazine, where she is a contributing editor. She is currently at work on a novel about, among other things, colonial folly and the Zazou aesthetic

The Lazy, Hazy, Crazy days of Summer

2006-01-13T15:40:00.000-08:00

“Tell Him Then,” a bubblegum pop tune by a nameless 1960s girl group played throughout the diner. Although the jukebox in the back corner by the bathrooms had an extensive selection of moderate and slightly obvious tunes by artists such as the Supremes, the Exciters, and even the Castaways, Bonnie never heard a song she recognized. They’d hit close to twenty diners of the same ilk. All she had learned was how desperate to hear “Come See About Me” she had grown over the past month.

Frank sat across from her in the vinyl booth. He dropped his balled-up paper napkin on remnant curls of scrambled egg and smears of ketchup on his plate signifying that he was done. “All I’m saying is,” Frank prodded the napkin with his long fingers thoughtfully. “Some songs just sound best during a shootout.”

Twenty-Eight Days of Shuffle

2005-12-27T16:15:00.000-08:00

It occurred to me recently that I have a very slender grasp of what music i have on my ipod. I can lose myself in niches within the 85-genre span for weeks, even months, at a time depending on my particular whims. There's opera from my singing days and ballet from my floor-waxing past not to mention the incomprehensible stretches of indie rock and jazz. From time to time I stumble across music I forgot that I ever loaded. According to my iTunes, I should have about twenty-seven and some odd hours of music, most of which I don't even remember.

A couple months ago I was getting really into running--well, the idea of running anyway--and I roadtested some of my playlists. Now I plan on life-testing the whole thing in its entirety. I'm sure I'll get stuck with a phillip glass block party while i'm at the gym, or some particularly profane bit of electroclash with my boss in my office, but i'm generally pretty excited to re-learn what music i like and dislike. I already know that the player piano rags--music coordinator job--have GOT to go...

Our temp

2005-12-13T14:48:00.000-08:00

Our new accounts-payables temp is a chainsmoking hunchback. Everytime I start to write something more artistic, i keep getting hung up on those basics.

The Prowler

2005-11-28T21:37:00.000-08:00

Myra pulled the U-Haul into the video store’s parking lot, and with an urge celebratory and achingly lonely, grabbed the first film she saw that wasn’t a god-forsaken romantic comedy and drove to her new home. But she fell asleep before the horror movie she rented had ended; the last of the credits scrolled across the screen. Myra lay sprawled across the sofa. Stacked pillars of brown moving boxes divided the room. Few boxes had been unpacked, but their contents lay out on the wooden dining table; the kitchen’s yellow tile countertop; in haphazard semi-circles on the floor. Crumpled balls of newsprint spilled out of a pile in a corner of the breakfast area near a long low window left ajar; a couple pieces lingered below the couch like a new breed of dust-bunny. Some scattered when the window screen fell from its frame, others remained still, pinned down.

The room glowed from the television’s blue hue. The tape rewound in the VCR, clicked, ground and whirred with machinated efficiency. Myra’s eyes opened. I should go to bed. Even though Trent had not come with her, had actually said that he would rather die than live in the suburbs, she half-expected him to be asleep and waiting for her. “You know me,” he had said at first, patted her on the head, ended the discussion. But she needled him, wheedled and whined until they had packed up their things. When it came time to go, Trent’s voice grew soft. “Why did you ask this of me, Myra? What right do you have?” His whisper grew to a shout. “Live in your parents’ old house!” Trent’s face flushed when he was upset, his eyebrows cavorted across his face, “Really, Myra. Really. That’s just. I can’t. Look, you’re double-parked. Just go. I’ll call you later.” Trent walked back towards their sixth-floor walk-up.

She groaned, sat and rubbed her eyes with her palms. Her dry contacts felt gritty and hard as they rolled around her sockets. Myra wobbled slightly on her heels as she stood and stared out at the open expanse of flat, grassy front yard that stretched from the dining area windows throughout the neighborhood.
But, down there, in the bottom window by the boxes, Myra noticed a foot in the window. The white rubber toe of the shoe gleamed. Two hairy, thick and pale legs now stepped into the dining room. Myra’s eyes widened as a man entered the dining room. He was young—about her age of twenty-four—and heavyset. Clad in red plaid boxer shorts and black canvas hi-top sneakers, the intruder had tied a bandana outlaw-style over the bottom half of his face. It gave his chin the pointy silhouette of a satyr’s beard. Myra wondered if he would start prancing, there in her breakfast nook cum dining room, the sleepy summer suburb completely unaware. The prowler dropped some white nylon rope to his side, brought his index finger to his bandana.
“Shhh.”

winter worry

2005-11-27T00:05:00.000-08:00

My story is just not coming together tonight or this week. I'm undergoing a post-birthday malaise and I just can't seem to get myself to recover. i'd love to go to sleep right now and wake up sometime next year

birthday brain death

2005-11-18T11:28:00.000-08:00

Possibly because we learned that the son of one of our executives died in a motorcycle crash last weekend or because I've spent the rest of the week wrapping presents and designing a hulking mountain of a $385 cake to serve 85 people (not because we have 85 to serve, but because it would look dinky any other way) not to mention my own birthday cupcake extravaganza, I can barely form sentences today. Which means that writing is out of the question, at least until I can borrow a brain for a couple hours.

fulfillment

2005-11-11T12:46:00.000-08:00

They arrived at the same time. No suit. How boring.

Fever Pitch

2005-11-11T11:04:00.000-08:00

I'm in eager anticipation of two separate amazon.com deliveries, "Big Cats" and "Holy Skirts." I'm imagining them in a Great Race, hitching a ride on a hot air balloon with Snidely Whiplash or his soft-scrubbed good-guy counterpart. Which will get here first?

Also, finishing Home Land today. I'm really enjoying it, but I feel very lame for taking so long.

Birdbath

2005-11-09T13:29:00.000-08:00

Let's cut through the Louvre, she said. "It's raining, but a little bit." I followed her into the courtyard and stared at the stalwart tourists who waited patiently in a line that snaked throughout the courtyard. Even with the mud, and the gloom, I preferred the large gardens of the Louvre to the Paris metro--or trome, as my friend Colette called it. Colette speaks in a form of slang called verlan which reverses the syllables of words. This makes it even more difficult to understand her: she speaks French quickly and with a mercilessly perfect accent. Down there in the metro, wide-eyed beggars screamed for blocks of subway passes called cartes and occasionally followed me throughout the terminal. So Colette and I decided to travel above ground for a while, at least until some of the psychotics found cartes and disappeared for Marseilles. While she ignored them, i heard the caterwauling gypsies in my head for nights on end. And though I know they will sligshot back into Paris, I'd prefer to miss it.

With preparatory umbrellas from the Galleries-Layfayette lifted above our heads, Colette and I made our way past artists. They collected their makeshift easels, packed up their watercolors. Although the soft, diffused light caused the gardens to glow, the tangible threat of rain hung above the city. Some of them casted a glance at the museum's line behind them and cursed to themselves.

We approached a park bench where a man sat frozen. Pigeons covered his body, cooing and shitting. They fluttered from his knee to his shoulder to his head and the man didn't move. "Colette, is he dead?" Would we find him pecked to death days later?
"No," she said, "he just wants change."

Johann Johannson - Dis

2005-11-09T08:51:00.000-08:00

I very much think that this Johann Johannson album is one of the best that I have ever heard. Perfect to read to. Last night it nearly even beat out violent Ennio Morricone songs for my tangle with traffic.

Countdown: 11 days...

2005-11-08T15:00:00.000-08:00

Devil Wears a Polyester Suit (in part)

2005-11-02T14:12:00.000-08:00

from a story i am working on

“Enter the fortress.” The doors of the bus shuddered open and the driver leaned over towards the gaping portal, grinning. His hair was dark with a slick sheen to it; strands reflected a rainbow of overtones in the hot summer. It looked like the puddle of oil my grandmother and I found underneath her American-made car that morning—a long rusty avocado of a car that matched her refrigerator, stove, washer and dryer. Grandma loved green.
She crouched, stuck her pinkie finger into the puddle and, squinting, held it near her face. I didn’t know what to look for, but I stared too. Grandma’s tongue made a thoughtful clucking sound.

“It looks brown.” I offered.

“Well,” she looked up at me from her squat on the driveway and wiped her finger on the asphalt before standing. “Guess we have to take the bus.”

When I was ten, “spending summer with Grandma” meant Las Vegas. We’d spent the past three years jettisoning across the desert in her large green Chevy because Grandma could get the family discount package and because my mom had several serious boyfriends as well as a job, and couldn’t very well have a kid around all the damn time in the middle of the summer. She couldn’t be expected to drag her kid to Tahoe, either. The first year, I needed a lot of coercion to leave my house—my comfortably broken in twin mattress, my record collection, the public pool down the street—but I consented for my mother’s sake and highly anticipated my return. My mom sat at the kitchen in our small Oxnard ranch house wearing terry cloth shorts and a tank top and smoking Kools. She looked up at me from the table with the same surveying expression that she inherited from Grandma. “Look at you. You made it,” she drawled. I felt like a bedraggled soldier returning home, authentic down to the holes in my shoes and long, disheveled, split-hair-ridden black hair. I suffered gloriously through the difficult summers in order to revel in the reunion. And as the years continued in identical fashion, Mom stopped packing my luggage, warning me about Grandma—asking me to conceal money on my body—and the fact that Grandma was a compulsive gambler barely registered any more.

Fog

2005-10-27T16:43:00.000-07:00

as I told a friend recently, I am having trouble focusing my thoughts. Inspiration has been coming in fits and i'll find myself overcome with bouts of beautiful sentences in some horribly inopportune place. In the meantime, my thoughts are occupied with the following:
the stretching sensation of raising and lowering my soft palate--sharp, then slackening muscles down my throat.
highway construction, headlights, and blindness.

monty pynchon

2005-10-19T13:54:00.000-07:00

how on earth did I miss Bookforum's summer Pynchon bonanza?

Vibrancy

2005-10-18T14:57:00.000-07:00

It's 3pm and gloomy here, plus I have a migraine--the type of headache where my brain feels like it is flying around my cranium. So I'm really feeling like bed. This has got to be the best migraine weather, however. no sun to force my eyes shut.

I couldn't hack it in Iceland. I place the possibility of finding a job that employs me for 6 sunny months of the year and gives me the 6 months of darkness free so I can read, hibernate, build fires and play the xylophone somewhere between unlikely and impossible and apparently I am of no real substantive value during the dark daytime hours (though I'd love to think otherwise). Two weeks ago Chris and I went to Sigur Ros concert at the Hollywood Bowl and were mesmerized by the opening act. Five Icelandic girls stood around a table tooling on various instruments. It looked like they were baking a pie, or at a quilting bee. is this what people in Iceland do, we wondered? Do they make multi-layered orchestral pieces in the gloom, the silence and the night? And there is something about a bell tone, after all, that illuminates the world around it with an aural glow as the pitch reverberates off of the surfaces surrounding it. And when I get down to it I realize that music is, really, a bit like baking.

Heat and Steps

2005-10-17T16:41:00.000-07:00

Gradually, I stopped noticing the heat. I can hold a triangle pose, aligning and straightening my skeleton and watch the sweat roll down my arms. Everyone shows up in shorts and bras except for me; i'd arrive in a parka if they let me. But I keep coming. Yoga is something that I'm good at. Once I signed up for a step class and as I stood outside, waiting for the class to begin, the pretty West Hollywood boys preened and primped. One extended his leg up by his ear. The girls, by contrast, were uniformly boxy and compact. They were, in a word, jazzed. And in the class, taught by a maniacal Romanian woman, I was on top of the step when they were all jubilantly down and fell off more than once. But I kept going, despite my ineptitude. I maintain an unspoken trust in and respect for Eastern European tradespeople like trainers and estheticians and will follow them without regard for myself.

"How bad does it burn? On a scale of one to ten." My Swiss facialist dabbed acid on my face and it gradually heated to an intense burn, like a blush.
"Five?" She raised her eyebrows and shook her head with disbelief. "Eight?" Better. She tells me the only thing preventing the acid from penetrating through the bone is the buffer. I wonder what it would be like to be warm down to my bones. It's supposed to kill everything on its way down, but instead brings up nasty pustules and inflammation lurking in the dermis. I'm breaking out for weeks.

like julie andrews but without the bowl haircut

2005-10-17T10:20:00.000-07:00

There are many things that i love about LA, but I really love it when it rains while the sun is shining. Don't get me wrong, there are many things that I hate about this city--traffic and rent are two examples--but we do rain really well. Some things rain gets me in the mood for: Miles Davis, Matzo Ball Soup, long sprawling multi-generational novels...

I do not, however, adore the smell of wet ash. During the fires, we watched the black smoke creep closer, saw the flames lick the tops of the hills, waded through flakes of ash. It's strange how remnants of it linger--a sore throat, the smell of char.

deliverance

2005-10-12T15:28:00.000-07:00

Our FedEx man runs to deliver packages, and wipes his face with the bottom of his shirt. When he hands me the signature sheet for my packages, the paper is always matted and black on the corners from hand oils. His long, greasy silver hair, the spots on his polo shirt and his persistent panting scare me. Sometimes when I see him pull up, I hide so someone else--the mild-mannered latin man, the french economic analyst--can sign for and receive the filthy parcels. The french analyst thinks he bathes on Thursday evenings--he has Fridays through Sundays off--so he appears disheveled again by Monday.

He was supposed to be temporary. Last Christmas--before I started working here--our regular FedEx guy was decorating the exterior of his house for the holidays and fell off of a ladder. The fall crushed his hands. He thought he could come back to work soon, but his hands have needed to be broken and reset three times this year. I never met this guy, but I think about him often. I imagine him at home, with all the doors kept open. I imagine his sixteen year old daughter driving him around town, carrying his shopping basket for him while he walks around with bandaged monster-movie hands. His young son anticipates Halloween; his father's costume outdoes all the other grownups'. It will be the one day when people on the street won't clutch their own hands when they see him and his son won't have to feel guilty about wanting a light-up Santa on their roof for Christmas.

My summer as a loan shark

2005-10-11T11:06:00.000-07:00

Old people tend to really make me sad. My grandmother has skin that's thin like rice paper and it freaks me out. At this job, there are a lot of old men who lost their previous jobs and are trying to set up Closeout deals. They come into my office, hunched over a box of jumbo ladies hi-cut briefs and they look disheveled, dirty. Usually they wear old hats and have red-rimmed eyes. They call me kid. We're the cast of a geriatric film noir.

I love Musso & frank's because the bartenders know what they're doing and because Faulkner was at that bar; not because the waiters are old, balding, and career. Once at the Pantry downtown our waiter was the spitting image of Humphrey Bogart if he was still alive and had suffered a stroke that left his left side droopy. It broke my heart to have him wait on us.

it started as a need for serif

2005-10-11T10:19:00.000-07:00

Sometime during the night I awoke with an urge for serif font to plasterd it's little frilly self all over this damn blog. so, by god. i went out and did it. Doesn't hurt that my office is absolutely empty today, either

2005-10-07T11:14:00.000-07:00

I'll be making every effort possible to post SO MUCH that you won't even see The Donald by the end of the day

Where's YOUR hand?

2005-05-06T10:45:00.000-07:00

Either Alexander McQueen is placing applique hands on his dresses now, or something is definately wacky about this photo from the Met Costume Institute Gala...

Wintery Anna Anna

2005-02-11T11:01:00.000-08:00

Slate's interesting article on Anna Wintour is the must-read web news for today (yes, even over Arthur Miller biographies). It also makes us realize that we need to clarify our position on Anna Wintour--aka. she with whom we are obsessed. Our love/hatehatehate relationship with Anna stems from a Star Jones-ian desire to overtake her and a Single White Female need to become her. or something.

Zac Posen: Fall 2005

2005-02-11T09:50:00.000-08:00

Zac Posen continues to improve with every season and we offer him a not-so-secret round of applause for referencing Barbarella in his new collection. Fondatastic!

Collette iPod cases

2005-02-11T09:33:00.000-08:00

While in Paris this past summer, I couldn't help but dream about the iPod cases at Collette (especially when compared to the uninspired iSkin here). Now, for a mere 121 euros, you can buy any one of the three iPod cases from over the pond and sing the praises of plastic power later. For sheerly pratical purposes (iTrip/iTalk usage, protection of iPod and easy access), we prefer the vaja 4G remixed cases ourselves, but we wouldn't kick a case from collette out of bed.

Barker Hanger

2005-02-11T09:10:00.000-08:00

Since it's pouring rain, i feel generally safe in reminding all of you to don your bodysuits and hit theBarker Hanger in Santa Monica for the Barney's Hangar Sale. Be prepared to jostle and attack all Prada neophytes who don't even know what a Miuccia is. The sale begins today and continues through the 21st.

lack of coordination made fashionable again

2005-02-10T09:49:00.000-08:00

this just goes to show that if you wait long enough anything will come back into fashion. including your ripped pantyhose from prom night

Bag, borrow, or steal

2005-02-09T10:43:00.000-08:00

there have been times --more than i'd care to admit--when i've stared longingly at handbags on taut mannequin arms in the windows of neiman's or barney's. with my nose pressed up against the glass, i dream that my rent would magically not be due so i could afford that oh-so-now chloe bag. because, let's face it, purses and shoes are the two things that you are never really "too fat" to wear (don't apply a lot of pressure on this theory, though, as go fug yourself can provide many an example of shoes and minibags pushed to the extreme).
Bag, borrow, or steal is the netflix for handbags and seems to ensure that you'll always be showing up that fashionista at the Beauty Bar. Why buy faux when you can rent?

W finally does right by Kate Moss

2005-02-09T10:05:00.000-08:00

After their disasterous feature of Kate Moss a couple years back, (a portfolio that proved singlehandedly that EVERYONE looks bad it latter-day Lucien Freud paintings), W has relaunched their "Kate Moss is queen" with yet another cover story. While we here really adore Kate Moss (and believe me, we do), couldn't W find anyone else to photograph ad nauseum?

from paris spring haute couture

2005-01-26T14:07:00.000-08:00

LVMH has sold Christian Lacroix down the river (to the Falic Group), shortly before what appears to be an incredibly wearable haute couture collection. Oh, well. It frees things up ever so much more for LVMH's war on Chinatown and Louis Vuitton copyright infringement. Bazaar recently featured an article that smacked of Ministry of Defense sentiments ("Does your knockoff handbag support terrorism?")

2005-01-21T10:15:00.000-08:00

a friend of mine has just returned from visiting family in milan and she brought me Selz Soda Dufour candies. Placing one in your mouth is delightfully similar to having a bomb lobbed at you (see...how often can you say that in a positive way). The candy hisses and tickles your tongue and the roof of your mouth, until it finally collapses with a gorgeous sounding (and tasting) crack against your palate. This is how limoncello should taste (but doesn't); tart, refreshing, and relaxing. the perfect thing for a warm angeleno day.

2005-01-21T09:48:00.000-08:00

It's just another friday...and by that I mean it's just another day where a gay man needs a pornographic ghostwriter. he promises something close to $0.10 a word, too!

anna wintour saves the day (and the blog)

2005-01-19T09:08:00.000-08:00

i would have posted here sooner if i hadn't forgotten my password....and also have forgotten my username. last week i managed to lose my keys and kill my car, so really...all in a day's work.

however it is this dishy piece that has almost single-handedly brought me back from retirement. oh anna, anna, anna...dreads are sooooo out.

the mayoral dograces

2004-12-03T10:31:00.000-08:00

last night's mayoral debate at the skirball center was less than enlightening. from the brief bit i caught (a girl's got to have sushi), the general consensus is:
los angeles is growing Gee, really? i thought the preponderance of ramshackle SUVs bearing Nebraska license plates and a $300,000 price tag on a crackhouse in inglewood was normal!
traffic is badWait....it doesn't take everyone in the country 1 1/2 hours to drive 13 miles? No way!
We need more cops No, we need more cops where it counts, which is definately not sitting on every street corner in Westwood Village waiting to give out parking tickets.

enlightening debate, huh? I'm soooo glad that I missed that launch party in Glendale for this.

a needle in the vein of nostalgia

2004-11-22T10:50:00.000-08:00

we used to get screeners. by this time every year, our mailman would be dropping off boxes of videotapes, CDs, autographed sheet music, sweatshirts, flower arrangements, and desserts. thanksgiving wasn't so much a food fest as it was a movie fest. "What films shall we gorge on tonight?" we'd wonder. There were only 45 to choose from on any given day. But unfortunately our affiliation with the HFPA ended and so did the steady stream of gifting. Periodically we could rely on someone from an agency to toss a couple screeners our way, just so we could watch them in glorious letterbox.

Needless to say, with all the MPAA paranoia, those days are long gone

A friend in the Academy recently informed me that Miramax sent special DVD players to everyone in the Academy, as you could only watch their films on said machine. Finally, the irritation is outweighing the payoff.

obligatory

2004-11-18T10:37:00.000-08:00

it's our birthday tomorrow (the real 22 this time, not like last year's faux 22 birthday to avoid implicating star shoes in its increibly lenient underage drinking policy). all gifts of chambord and uppers can be directed to the ucla film and television archive.

los angeles redeems itself???

2004-11-03T15:12:00.000-08:00

word on the street is that 75% of people in LA voted yesterday, which is pretty damn impressive. my side's down and i look like i've been punched in the eyes, but good going, LA.

And now, with fisticuffs

2004-11-02T11:08:00.000-08:00

At 10am, two middle age women started beating each other up in line to vote at the Border's Bookstore polling place in Westwood. If this is happening in liberal Los Angeles, i can only imagine what's happening in Ohio, but I hope it involves some escalades and sending the liberals to their death gladiator-style. Watching people run to the polling place as a huge SUV chases them down...things of that level. Let the voter wars begin.

Joyjunkie's voting endorsements

2004-11-02T10:15:00.000-08:00

enough gay jokes. today, joyjunkie encourages you to vote. We would like to remind you that Chief Justice William Renquist can't live forever (though he appears to be trying to), and like those years when a bad Pope was appointed, we really don't want the crusades to start again. We'd also like to remind you, now that you're voting and will inevitably be called upon to serve on a jury, that jury duty can actually provide valuable insight into the feeble minds of most americans, and should be looked upon as an opportunity to miss work and get drunk earlier.

Joyjunkie would also like to remind you that, while we appreciate bathtub gin as much as the next person, voting for prohibition is just plain idiotic.

Now, onto the Proposition of the day

Prop. 71: YES

Remember in the days before the Euro, when currencies such as the lira were worth next to nothing? That's pretty much where our dollar's at. Which is why $6,000,000,000 isn't really worth all that much. In a couple years, all you'll be able to buy with that is a couple of moonpies and a room at the holiday inn for one night, or, hopefully, a lot of stem cells.

the cardinal rules of carnivals

2004-11-01T13:29:00.000-08:00

the advocate bemoans the "straightening" of gay carnival-wear. I, for one, agree. This past WeHo carnival was a travesty, a TRAVESTY, I tell you.

2004-10-25T10:18:00.000-07:00

this morning: diet coke & skittles for breakfast. this is really not the good life

the pixies suck but i love them anyway

2004-10-25T09:24:00.000-07:00

just how bad are things between the pixies? apparently they're still so bent out of shape with each other that they only allowed 4 people on the mars volta list backstage because they don't want everyone to see them fighting. Despite that snag, however, the concert was great and our seats were fab. First time i haven't been in the lawn section....it was frightening to look back up the hill and see all those people looking like they were about to fall on top of me.
the pixies played amazingly well; they played every song a fan could possibly want to hear, and as omar said, we're their target demographic...they're at the point where they want to make a shitload of money, and even though they didn't get it out of me, they got it out of 18,000 other people.
the purist in me should be a little sad about this rabid mercenary behavior, but i've never been known for my morals

marchesa luisa

2004-10-22T14:41:00.000-07:00

don't we all long to be this crazy. (image via style.com)

and vengeance rears its ugly head

2004-10-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

maybe it's retribution for the time i hit that group of teenagers while i was driving and then buried their bodies by the side of the road, but i've just now realized that the concert tomorrow is in irvine. what? i didn't sign up for that! i don['t pay for these things so that's why i usually just go along when i'm asked to...

BUT... the first time i drove to irvine was to see The Cure and honestly, I was also dating a guy that put woodglue in his hair to make it "spike better" so my judgement can't be trusted. the last time was for Tricky, but still mostly for the promise of sex and all i remember of THAT night is drinking in a parking lot with a lot of truckers and putting a ziploc bag of pot in my crotch. now that i've adhered myself to a lifestyle of white leather furniture, shag carpeting and maribou stiletto slippers i can't figure out what exactly i'm supposed to do. help, please?

2004-10-22T11:35:00.000-07:00

sitting here having downed 1 espresso, i diet coke, and 1 soy chai latte. as anyone could plainly see while i vibrate in my chair...i'm wired. i've spent two hours complaining about work and drinking a tiny cup of coffee. i've sent off resumes to 5 new companies. i've looked at graduate schools. who cares that we're showing shitty prints to the LA Times head critic? i'm flying. damn. i haven't felt this good since that time i inhaled a mirrorful of cocaine. fridays are awesome!

animal dance

2004-10-18T10:26:00.000-07:00

because try as i might, i can never quell my desire to dance like a ghoul in a library, and because i've been reading far too much about the Marchesa Luisa Casati, i really want to go to this

Valentino's Tango and Ragtime Ball
Saturday, October 23
8 p.m. to midnight

A celebration of the era from 1900 to 1930, this ball will include the "animal" dances of the ragtime era. Costume, formal, or semi-formal attire. Instruction will be included; no dance experience or partner necessary! RSVP to Catherine Brown at cbrown@library.ucla.edu or 310.206.4608 by Thursday, October 21.

Unfortunately (yet fortunately) for me, I'll be at the Pixies' show that night, but I beg that one of you goes so I can learn "animal" dances at a later date

creative commons

2004-10-15T08:55:00.000-07:00

Well, at least some people are thinking...

Rights Reasserted
With sampling and file sharing under ever-increasing assault in the courts and in Congress, many artists are beginning to fear that creativity itself is in jeopardy. Creative Commons, a nonprofit organization founded in 2002, is aiming to inject some reason and moderation into the copyright debate, and hopes to raise its profile this month with a new CD entitled Rip. Sample. Mash. Share. The album features 13 tracks from artists including David Byrne, the Beastie Boys, and Gilberto Gil, and more than 800,000 copies will be distributed for free with the November issue of Wired magazine. What makes the tracks on the CD unique, however, is the participating artists' embrace of the Creative Commons license, which gives listeners the permission — and right — to trade, remix, sample, and reinterpret the music as they wish. The project kicked off last month with a benefit concert in New York featuring Byrne and Gil, and other events are planned for the future. The Creative Commons license is not a free-for-all: some of the artists permit only non-commercial sampling and sharing while others are open to all potential uses (with the exception of advertising placement). But the point Creative Commons makes is that there's a difference between "all rights reserved" and "some rights reserved" — especially in the digital age — and artists should be free to make these decisions about their work for themselves. (DJP)
via earplug

as a musician prone to ripping and mashing, I have found the recent string of copyright litigation almost completely impossible to cope with. especially because, while rolling in dough, i've got some costly habits to keep up. two words: shoes & booze.

notes for thursday

2004-10-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

during a dinner at mistral the other night we got to reminiscing about gianni versace, and how much we miss him, and how much we all loathe donatella who seems to look increasingly like the negative of morticia addams, but you know, without the class.

we're also becoming totally obsessed with go fug yourself because cruel commentary on other people's huge fashion mistakes should never be overlooked, especially if they're celebrities.

Speaking of bad photos...
Brandon has just started a new photoblog. Are you fraught with anxiety over whom brandon will photograph next, or who he thinks of while peeing? Worry no more. I have a feeling a lot more questions that those will find disturbing, yet colorful, answers.

like sand through an hourglass..

2004-10-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

On a day like this, when you're sitting alone in your office with nothing, really nothing to do, you realize just how much time has slipped by. can it have been a week since we last checked craigslist?

anyway..an overhaul, and perhaps a theme are in order for this little gem of a content-abusing website. it'll all happen...

...just not during the new episode of "Lost" tonight

happy birthday, terryn!

2004-10-08T08:14:00.000-07:00

today is lovely terryn's birthday! come to her party tonight at Bar Vermont (on Vermont, north of Hollywood in los Feliz)

Scooter-snubbed

2004-10-01T15:26:00.000-07:00

Anticipating an alcohol-soaked year (and correctly, too, we might add), we applied for the Home James "deliver you drunk to your doorstep" service last February. Yet, only TODAY have we received our activation for our account. Really, if we had egos left, they'd be bruised right now.

like the DOW-Jones, only lower

2004-09-29T11:23:00.000-07:00

Everyone's trying to figure out if Mount Saint Helens is going to blow but all we care about is trying to afford this week's interpretive dance class. It's the end of the month and while oil is reaching record prices in the world, life over here has hit an all-time low.

A visitor to the park can be quoted as saying "I just hope it doesn't erupt while I'm here." While he's here...vacationing...by a volcano...
You know we're just going to let that one be.

but there's more

2004-09-29T10:20:00.002-07:00

UPDATE: I'm sorry, the item below should have read "Felix Dennis, enfant terrible of magazine publishing and one of Britain’s richest men, is on tour to celebrate A Glass Half Full, his new collection of poetry from Miramax Books."

Apparently, "Dennis aims to reclaim poetry from obscurity and elitism and return it to its roots of performance, rhyme, and mass appeal."

Worried about two buck chuck? "Everyone who attends this unique performance will be served the finest French wines from Mr. Dennis’s personal cellar . . . FREE!"

(Courtesy of the LAT PR-pelting machine.)

wino turned poet?

2004-09-29T09:38:00.000-07:00

Felix Dennis, editor-turned-poet, is bribing people the come to his poetry readings by offering free wine. Had we morals, we'd be the first to blow the horn and bring this man down. But since when have we ever turned down free booze...even if it is being in a building adjacent to a bust of L. Ron Hubbard.
Felix Dennis invites you to join him at this FREE event on Thursday, September 30 at 6:00 pm at The Knitting Factory, 7021 Hollywood Blvd., Hollywood, CA 90028

someone needs a trip to cabo

2004-09-28T10:02:00.000-07:00

Amanda Hesser traipses through the world of thebizarre little concoction known as the fish taco like Alice in Wonderland today. And that curious advocado salad? Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

while we were dying

2004-09-22T15:58:00.000-07:00

we go in for a little open-heart surgery and then something like this happens. Goodbye tmftml, while you didn't drive us to the bottle, we always felt like you were somewhere on the right coast unknowingly cheering us on.

however, bloggers are a bit like actresses...the minute one walks out on your film, another one arrives off the bus with glitter and joy in her heart. while we've never been much for writing the literature of the joyful and enfranchised ourselves, we do enjoy reading it. and with that, we direct you to chocolate and zucchini.com. and for a city that doesn't eat, nothing is better than clotilde's site which gives us a story for and appreciation of food without those icky calories.

i can see her breasts from here

2004-09-22T14:16:00.000-07:00

lindsey lohan has been shooting a film right by our office for the past couple days. this means that there are huge holding pens for extras set up everywhere and about 90 more wierd trucks in my parking structure then usual. this also means that the gay makeup crew has begun stalking us in efforts to get godonlyknows what information about our sunglasses and clothing

the state of this little nation

2004-09-16T13:18:00.000-07:00

given that i'm still in excruciating pain i predict that this blog will be making very little headway in the near future or at least until the scotch and darvoset cocktail kicks in.

like christ with an "upload" feature

2004-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

maud newton nails blogging

we're running low on ramones

2004-09-16T11:16:00.000-07:00

johnny dies and jessica simpson lives? oh, the world is so unkind.

that's it, we're dead

2004-09-10T09:35:00.000-07:00

cutting out early today because i have a doctor's appointment regarding my severe and persistent chest pains. some say i'm too young to have a heart attack, but if you dealt with interns that were older than you and couldn't put a paperclip on a piece of paper, i be you'd keel over too. of course, it could just be our blackened, rotted lungs unable to cope with mounting smog. i mean, i'm from this city, but i'm still no better at breathing dirt.

The Weekend Roundup

2004-09-10T08:51:00.000-07:00

Tonight: Get your art on at today's Hammer Bash from 6:30-midnight.
Then head over to Bar Vermont to see some awesome DJs or go to the Rolling Blackouts afterparty at 1023 Santa Fe (downtown, between 7th & 8th)
Saturday: Check out Midnight Movies at the Troubador and head on over to the afterparty at HANGING JURY, 1023 S. SANTA FE (zip: 90021) and say goodbye to indie-rockers Giant Drag as they leave for England. Hanging Jury is the new Plastic Factory. Party starts at Midnight and goes til whenever. Finally we can drink without curfew in Los Angeles.
Sunday: Rest, rinse, repeat.

Hop on who?

2004-09-09T10:32:00.000-07:00

Paris Hilton laments the dwindling market of picture books on the Today show this morning. I sense a children's book deal in the air.

god, what a hamm

2004-09-07T11:09:00.000-07:00

in a theme that we are coming to recognize as typical of our lives, that which we were once obsessed with now won't leave us alone. yes, NBC, we're talking to you. It's an evening on a holiday weekend, just after happy hour and just before our heavy party time when we see the olympic logo flash on our television screen? At first we thought it was a blessing but we soon realized that they were just showing Paul Hamm's routine....again. I guess the gymnasts really won't go away after all.

please lock us away

2004-09-01T10:00:00.000-07:00

don't ever question our high-end job. why, just today we arrived at 7:45am without keys to unlock the building, snuck into our office via another office and now have a bright yellow cable draped from one wall to the other. we're wearing clothing combinations that only could have looked good at 5:45am. oh yeah, there's no question that when you deal with us, you deal with class.

Gertrude Stein writes comment spam

2004-08-31T16:50:00.000-07:00

life beyond the grave. (from craig's site's comment spam):

Most of them smoked cigarettes Save money on cheap cigarettes Cigarette smoking has been buy cigarettes. order cigarettes the most popular method of taking offer discount Camel cigarettes nicotine the year a report offer discount marlboro cigarettes that concluded that buy cigarettes. order cigarettes cigarettes and other Save money on cheap cigarettes forms of tobacco smoking cigs for all the Buy cigarettes and pack of smokes for you rolling tobacco would you like cigarettes with Free delivery of cigarettes years of smoking can cause cigarettes Chesterfield cigarettes bar talking with people Lucky Strike cigarettes Marlboro

we'll always have innerspace

2004-08-31T16:38:00.000-07:00

sometimes there's just not much else to do besides heavy drinking. but for those two, poorly-covered weeks of the year we put down the bottle (OK we stuck it in the corner of our mouths like a cigar, and seriously considered purchasing beer helmets if they could work for vodka tonics) and became olympics fiends.

while everyone's talking about the VMAs, we're sitting here thinking about the brazillian in the marathon. and let us tell you, we relate. So often, on the marathon of life it seems like we're skating along, way ahead with only a few miles to go and then something completely unexpected happens. a guy in a red kilt and a green beret, with all the fashion sense of TJ MAXX at Christmastime, shoves you off the course.

and lately it just seems like we're on the sidelines with holes in our marc jacobs shoes and no fans on the sidelines to pummel the crazy man. so we start to think crazy things. maybe it doesn't matter that we're completely broke, maybe we should just move to new york anyway. who cares that we don't speak french? six weeks of vacation time a year and a country hostile to immigrants is all we need to light a fire underneath us. and isn't it wierd how the minute someone moves you seem to talk to them more?

record releases

2004-08-31T10:39:00.000-07:00

our friends, midnight movies, have just released their record on emperor norton, played morning becomes eclectic on KCRW this morning and have an instore show at amoeba tonight at 7pm. Buy their album today, so you can say you liked them before they became huge like interpol.

another night of olympics?

2004-08-26T14:25:00.000-07:00

our car is a little broken right now, but we will gladly email our mini-cooper to anyone who wishes to order it for us.

TONIGHT: we're hoping not to miss the Anthem magazine release party where we will do our best to steal gift bags. Tally from recent parties: 4 DVDs, 15 boxes of hollywood tape (something britney could use a little of), magazines (natch), and a pillow.

phone calls from prison

2004-08-25T13:06:00.000-07:00

we don't care how nice he actually is, but there is definately something very unsettling when a happy-go-lucky prison historian from levenworth gives us a call. for a moment, we thought it was a special request from a certain inarticulate publicist that we have been having a rather minor and rather inane battle with for the past few months, or the girl that started banging her fists on our car on a tuesday morning on sunset. Sadly this isn't the case, he just wanted some footage from a 1972 show Burt Reynolds did in their prison...really. Not as interesting as the prison phone calls from party monster, michael alig, but it will do.

it's not friday yet?

2004-08-25T12:23:00.000-07:00

we used to make fun of those OnStar users. the ones in the commercials that have locked their babies in a running car, etc., but today we locked our car with our keys still in the ignition. apparently cars aren't supposed to run after you park them. luckily we were clueless enough to have left a window partially open so we were able to break back in...especially since we didn't have cell phone reception in the parking structure.

now, we really hate that this is starting to sound like an "i hate commuting" blog, but really los angeles, did you need to close Sunset Blvd. down to one lane in order to trim some trees?

we think it's time to move somewhere where we don't need to operate any motor vehicle other than the occasional yacht.

bye bye brandon

2004-08-24T10:14:00.000-07:00

sorry for the lackadasical posting--though we are getting better--but our dear dear friend brandon has decided to make a move for nyc...er....tomorrow so we've been on a whirlwind tour of every bar that we missed before. nevertheless, we'll be here with cold compresses on our eyes and a finger on the pulse of humanity, or something.

traffic jams: the hippest LA trend since the purse-dog

2004-08-19T15:15:00.000-07:00

you know, when it comes down to it, we're pretty reasonable people. we allow for the thirty-second turnover of the martini shaker. we understand when the valet needs to park the car in front of ours first (well, sometimes). but lately it seems like everything in LA is spinning wildly out of control, and our road/highways systems seem best represented by a minefield...you never know when exactly your arm will blow off.

All that said, imagine our total lack of suprise when, while running late for a very important studio meeting, we find ourselves stopped at a red light and stuck in traffic behind a man wrapped in a tablecloth driving an electric chair. It was simply our good fortune that he didn't turn right at overland and continued straight on venice...or was it? We are now seriously looking into the world of cameraphones.

let the geek war rage

2004-08-19T14:40:00.000-07:00

RealNetworks is launching iPod compatible software, and making apple look just a little crazy. In fact, apple seems to be sharpening their fingernails for the upcoming end of the year catfight against Microsoft and the debut of their own iTunes/iPod ripoff. Also, if you care to take the other side in this arguement, skip ahead to the upcoming movie wars and apply to be Sony's new bounty hunter...err...piracy analyst.

Super DJ Super Friend

2004-08-19T11:29:00.000-07:00

the LA Times interviews our good friend and erstwhile lover, stephen hauptfeur on the phenomenon of rockstar DJs (registration required). The information that Stephen was once a raver called "Kool-Aid" shocks and appals us, mostly because we're as likely to hear that story as we are to get his real age. To see a picture of Mr. Hauptfeur as he dances to Beyonce, click here.

needed: hollywood beauty boy or home james, STAT

2004-08-11T13:57:00.000-07:00

we're going to a big-wig producer's birthday party on saturday, but an extra is needed. otherwise you can find us at the open bar, guzzling free booze and hoping that we lost enough weight in two days to show paris a thing or two.

it's called a tip-off

2004-08-10T11:03:00.000-07:00

Most SUVs are not allowed on Los Angeles streets. The problem is, LA doesn't seem to remember passing that law. We say, so what? Stick it to them and charge them 50 rubles and a duck! Outlawed vehicles include: The Chevy Suburban and Tahoe, the Range Rover, the GMC Yukon, the Toyota Land Cruiser and Sequoia, the Lincoln Navigator, the Mercedes M Class, the Porsche Cayenne S, and the Dodge Ram 1500 pickup (with optional Hemi), not to mention the Hummer.

Someone, somewhere has to know a cop with an itch to ticket.

like sand through the hourglass

2004-08-10T10:55:00.000-07:00

last night was monday, which means that we were at the dime pouring booze down our gullets, pounding our fists on the tables and planning to kill all children from ages 8-15. 'That's the last time a cheer camp keeps us from the gym!' we chortled. Also there: Quentin Tarantino sans Sophia. Was he just a good-hearted apparition reminding us to rent Kill Bill 2 on DVD today, or is there something more? And why does he keep wearing Samuel L. Jackson's hat?

but do they know where they're going?

2004-08-09T11:11:00.000-07:00

Defamer says that the movie 'Collateral' is unrealistic because Tom Cruise isn't scary. Are we the only ones over here that think that the movie is unrealistic because it features a cab driver in Los Angeles?

Maybe we're the only born&raised ones, the only ones who needed to get drunk at the age of 14, the only ones who had our licenses confiscated, the only ones who worked next door to drug dealers, the only ones who lived by the last known existing Taxi stand in LA (Westwood and Lindbrook Dr, 90024), but we've realized that Taxi drivers in LA have no idea where they're going...EVER. Does Jamie Foxx clutch a Thomas Guide the whole time? Does he lead TC to kill the wrong people by driving him to an incorrect address?
come one, we're the last people to beg Hollywood for some realism (we live here for chrissakes and know what we'd be getting ourselves into), but LA and Taxi drivers is just taking it a little too far.

note: with this entry we're also slipping into the use of the royal we, because any time I can talk for more than one person, we wll.

damn time zones

2004-08-09T10:39:00.000-07:00

i'm three hours later than everyone because I live in LA and have a lax job but, jessica blueprint officially has the best "i moved to nyc and then my life became amazing" story ever. congratulations!

please get the $#%& off the road

2004-08-09T10:11:00.000-07:00

apparently some people in LA think it's declasse to drive fast and prefer to "set the pace." I see this everywhere: on the freeway that I drive on daily, on sunset blvd, in my parking garage. Give it a fucking break. If you can't handle hairpin turns at 50 mph, get off the damn road. This isn't europe. i'm not on my monthlong august vacation. i commute here. And every time you superfluously break in your altima, realize that i can do everything on the road better than you...and in a cadillac.

jetlagged and sexy

2004-07-28T10:54:00.000-07:00

sorry for the lack of posting but I've just returned from europe today and I only barely checked my email while I was there. now I'm adapting to the world of my cell phone and traffic and trying hard not to start speaking in italian just because i forget where I am.

Do, however expect stories of the trip to pop up on here soon as well as photos. higlights include sex shows, one night stands, a bike accident, a run in with a woman on a bridge on amsterdam, and quite possibly the most upsetting....how I ended up not meeting up with a beautiful dutch multimillionaire who just wanted to show me a good time.

big with the gay crowd

2004-06-25T09:59:00.000-07:00

furthering the rumors that I will end up the gay community's new marlene, liza, or babs, david sedaris gave me a box of chocolates last night.

other than that nothing too interesting has been going on. i graduated from college, started a new job, did a concert, received lavish gifts and dinner date invitations from professors, am in the process of moving out and have currently been trying a new cosmetic procedure--the full-immersion bourbon bath. Needless to say, it's not going too well.

steven seagal needs new personal assistant.

2004-06-15T09:32:00.000-07:00

got nothing better to do than work twelve hour days, six days a week? Then this job will be perfect for you. Although, with this write-up, it had better pay six-figures at least.

Personal Assistant Wanted for International action film star. Must have a very, very thick skin and a valid passport as there is lots of travel on the job. Long hours, 6 days a week and 12 hour days when traveling. Must thrive on pressure, think quick on your feet, be one-step ahead of his needs, multi-tasking is not just a catch-phrase on this job. Foreign language a plus but not necessary. please fax resumes to Steamroller Productions at 818-505-6636. Looking to hire immediately.

roadkill never looked so hot

2004-06-14T22:25:00.000-07:00

where have i been? what have i been doing? well, besides trying desperately to graduate, getting drunk with all manners of middle-aged men who wear tweed and showing up twice in one evening on the dreaded polaroidscene.com i've also been in the process of pitching a new summer blockbuster movie on the beats with a guy from filter magazine. During an indepth meeting last week, I proposed that Ben Affleck play Jack Kerouac, citing that he'd be enticed by the idea of something serious (see gwyneth paltrow as slyvia plath). Now I can also say that it's because both men are total train wrecks. Yikes.

So I guess asking for sex is out, huh?

2004-06-14T10:20:00.000-07:00

The next time anyone asks me why I don't date, I will show them this

who are we mouring again?

2004-06-11T00:51:00.000-07:00

oh, step back. ray charles, the man. i will listen to your country & western album all day long and sob.

like repeats of andy griffith

2004-06-09T10:59:00.000-07:00

Sarah Ultragrrrl has canceled her blog so now we're stuck with the internet equivalent of re-runs...archives. I'm sad about this, not because I could ever go to anything that she was DJing at in nyc (as I don't live there....yet) nor because I wanted a pandadog, but because this decreases the percentage of my real-life friends that blog dramatically.

I'm sure that if she lived in LA though, the polaroidscene.com guy alone would drive her away. How many times do I have to see awful pictures of myself while engaging in my one lovely vice of drinking until I fall down?

From Ab to Flab

2004-06-03T12:03:00.001-07:00

In something else that could probably only happen in LA, my pilates instructor and my personal trainer have just married each other. Congratulations, you two, but don't start getting comfortable...you've got a rep to keep up after all.

help an annie out

2004-06-03T11:39:00.000-07:00

Micah is leaving Giant Drag. This leaves 50% of the band (aka. Annie) intact. Some of you have already picked up on how wonderful this LA band is. They've been played quite a bit on 103.1 and they have a co-residency with Low Flying Owls at Spaceland this month. Annie now has no gear and a massive collection is underway. if you want to contribute, e-mail me and I'll give you the phone number.

I also have an extra Filter DVD with their video on it if anyone is interested.

they say it comes every seven days

2004-05-24T20:39:00.000-07:00

Farewell to another weekend of lunch meetings and drunken movie-watching at The Bridge (why doesn't everyone go there? really). I'm currently enjoying the fact that I have more japanese people helping me than sofia coppola right now. I'm also eagerly awaiting the return of my boss, so i can do what i do best...slack off? blog?

Blind Item!

2004-05-24T20:27:00.000-07:00

What hot new indie-ish band recently found themselves literally in a closet during a recent tour with a major label side-project? Their original dressing room was used for the post-party "hospitality suite."