Now The Tables Have Turned You May Take Your Seat.

There is a reason I like to do my blog entries daily. Generally my life is such a whirl-wind of activity that it warrants daily notation. Well you can imagine how the last few days have been. I am now in another state after packing all my belongings, loading them onto a Uhaul and driving 1100 miles. It goes without saying that hilarity ensued.

After picking up my Uhaul on Thursday I devoted myself earnestly to redefining butch. Knowing the time restraints I was under I immediately started packing boxes in 92 degree weather. Once I had worked myself into heat-stroke, Pony showed up and relieved me. We decided to go to The Factory for a brief carb extravaganza. It was just like Flashdance. Pony then dropped me off and we both managed not to cry. I think the carbs and the booze helped. Booze always helps.

The next morning compadre arrived ahead of schedule and we finished loading The Raptor.1. After brief naps we decided that we needed something special. Something like sushi from Shazzam. I had already decided to wait until morning to begin my tracherous journey so the afternoon was relaxed with an air of fecundity. I have no idea what that means, but I just had to say it. Compadre lost the use of his Rocket so I had to use the Raptor to transport him to work. Driving a Uhaul around LA is an unusual experience to be sure, but I managed with aplomb. The key is to view the sidewalks as merely an extension of the roadway. A buffer if you please. Or in Trek Talk the neutral zone.

Compadre and I had a nice evening, but I slept in and had to start my journey behind schedule. I was determined not to rush myself so we had a lovely breakfast, and after I drove compadre to pick up a new Rocket, it was good bye, and even though compadre told me not to, I cried. Just a little.

Then I was off. Harrowing. Despite being brand new, I was convinced that my Raptor was going to break down. Because that is just what cars do when I drive them. I secured the location of all the emergency flares, and even though it was broad daylight I vowed that in the event I broke down I would hurl them at passing motorists until someone answered my distress call. Luckily that did not happen.

The first part of the trip was endless. The most God-forsaken stretch of highway in the Republic. And I've driven through Utah. After Sacramento the drive turned charming. It was sorta like Flashdance. Mt. Shasta took my breath away in a way Berlin only sings about. I only had radio and every time I found a song I liked I would lose reception. It was maddening. I did hear Crazy by Gnarls Barkley 11 times. I guess that is what they mean by heavy rotation, but please, the song came out four months ago. I enjoyed Invincible by Thom Yorke only once which wasn't enough.

I spent the night in a town called Medford. It was quaint but sevicable. I only slept briefly, then woke and resumed my journey North. I passed through Portland around 10:30 am, and once I was clear of Oregon the rain started. And I mean rain. 5 minute gushes that wiped out visibility to nil. Traffic had to slow to around 40, and the Pacific Northwest was weeping at my return. I wasn't sure how to take it, but I'm just going to assume they were tears of joy.

I arrived in Seattle at 2:30 pm yesterday frazzled, but with just enough energy to carry the contents of a Uhaul up 3 flights of stairs. I did have help from anonymous Dan and one of his compatriots.

I still have a lot of unpacking to do, and many many things to accomplish, but already I have grabbed a lovely cup of coffee at Ladro, and I am awaiting the cable company to install my cable and internet. I hope they come soon because I really need the rest of the day to get some work done. Anonymous Dan has graciously allowed me to use his computer to make this blog entry. So if I miss my appointment with the cable company that was recently purchased by Time Warner it is because I chose to write this letting you all know that I am safe and sound, sitting at a computer, and thinking of all of you. A fair trade.
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1. Uhaul seemed so gauche so I chose to name my truck the Raptor. If you saw it and if you watch BSG then you will would understand.

Anything That Can Exist Does Exist.

--10 years ago Bill Clinton was president, gas was 87 cents a gallon, and I didn't know what struggling meant. --

That was written on the back of some guys oversized t-shirt yesterday. It made me chuckle, and over-sized t-shirts are kinda the shiz right now. I saw a cholo on the train this weekend wearing the more street cred plain white XXXL. Hawt! Read More.

Good news. The Yankees beat Texas again in what was a nail biter, however, I was too busy packing, talking on the phone, and doing laundry to really notice anything more than runs. Click here for a rundown.



October 6th is the premiere of Battlestar Galactica Season 3. Whatever you're watching it's nowhere near as cool as this so don't even try. I know what many of watch on the television and it fills me with shame, and a small amount of fear. Fear for our future.

And speaking of the future, now would be a good time to wake up and kiss it. Right now you can't see anything in Los Angeles, the air is stifling, and it's only 6:30 am. I mentioned the black outs yesterday to a table full of reasonably educated people. It hadn't happened to them so it wasn't an issue. My mother is of course hysterical. One because her son lives in an over-heated hot thing, and two because her cat is a de-clawed huntress that won't stop attacking squirrels. The two are completely unrelated other than they both contribute to my mom's hysteria. Click here to read about how royally fracked we possibly potentially probably perhaps are.

Was it Milton Friedman that said human ingenuity has solved all of humanities woes, and will continue to do so in the future so needless regulation in effect stifles human development by staving off disaster in the short-term. If not he might as well have. Seriously though I have no idea who said that, but if anyone knows let me know cause I'd like to send them some scented soaps.

People dying in heat waves is really not a concern of mine when our president is waging a war against indecency with the Broadcast Decency Enforcement Act. He is a little sad because he had already broken his New Years resolution to act less ironic. It's not really dubya's deal, it is actually Sam Brownback's bill. He's from Kansas. It's a square place. Kinda center-ish, flat-like and dry. They're big on government regulation there I guess.

No, what the deal is is that there is a show on PBS, a World War II documentary (I know I've seen enough of them too) that contains just enough "salty" language to potentially be fined. And you know PBS, if they get fined then that means just one more telethon that we all have to sit through. Click here to read a little snippet.

And finally, there is an Isreali/Lebanese Conflict death counter web-page. Kinda low tech, but neat. And it may come in handy for your over-under office pool. Click here to see.

And if any of you can check out today's New York Times it's just priceless. There is a hilarious picture of Condi Rice and she is just fit to be tied over the whole affair. She tries her hardest and it is never ever good enough.

Last entry for a while. Me and U-haul will be a little occupied for the next few days. Don't Cry For Me Argentina blah blah blah.

The Famous Make The Best Pets.

Tomorrow is my last day of work. I know I won't shut up about it, but it really is a big deal. Really! I am not anticipating any problems, and I am expecting a call from Uhaul to confirm my reservation today. If all goes as planned I should cross the California border just as the heat wave coupled with LA County's crunching energy demand sends Southern California into 3 years of utter darkness. The story on transit news didn't sound as apocalyptic, but early in the morning I like things a little florid.

My macbook came in the mail yesterday and she is even more striking then I thought. Quite sublime really. Of course she is somewhat limited in what she can do until I have my internet connected on Monday. A power struggle is already brewing between mac and Milo. I tried to have mac take a picture of Milo, and Milo would have absolutely none of it. I think the weather is making Milo a touch cranky. However, at 3:00 am (the witching hour) Milo was all about the cuddles and purrs.

The Yankees were once again victorious last night. Mike Mussina I believe notched his 13th win of the season, however, when he was taken out of the game Ron Villone allowed a run, but after that Scott Proctor and Mo held the ravenous Rangers at bay and maintained the Yankee lead. Ro Ro did really well last night and I hope he is coming out of his slump. Derek went one for five, but I think the muggy weather does a number on him. The best part of the game was when the kiss cam caught Ro Ro in the dugout. Ro Ro noticed this and quickly planted a kiss on the head his team-mate Andy Phillip's head. No homo. The crowd ate it up, but proceeded to boo for Ro Ro's next at bat.

I have some non-baseball related fo after the pic of Derek.


First, I am not sure I like these mobile boutiques. It seems a lot like mobile advertising. You know the billboards that are placed on the back of trucks and then driven all around town. I may be a little eccentric, but I feel that commerce should make an effort to consume less fossil fuels, and should certainly not jump at the opportunity to mollify fat and lazy consumers. Click here to read more on these things that upset me.

Second, I am so completely unplugged from the Matrix. Band of Horses played on David Letterman, and I was completely unaware. Fortunately the whole thing is on youtube. That girl has the most ferocious over-bite I have ever seen, but it is strangely endearing. Kinda like the ugliest dog at the pound you can't help but fall in love with. Click here to watch Band Of Horses on youtube, unless you are one of those people that can't watch youtube at work. Then you will just have to wait.

Third, also on youtube is an interview with the enemy David Wright on Letterman. Know thy enemy as someone always says, and if they're cute get to know them really well. This is a good interview because Letterman makes a comment that adequately reflects many people's views of the National League. See if you can catch it. Click here to watch. Now Major League Baseball owns this interview and it's only a matter of time before it's taken down so don't dawdle.

Fourth, Ehud Olmert is one crazy mofo. It would seem that run of the mill collateral damage just isn't enough for some, and he's decided to start attacking the U.N directly. Now this may be a misunderstanding, but we'll see. I'm trying very hard to stay interested in this business, but it isn't easy. When people start screaming about invisible men in the sky I yawn. When they start killing each other over it I just pop a Valium and say good night. Click here to read about Olmert going ape shit on the U.N.

And lastly, the superficial is not really satisfying my voracious lust for celebrity gossip so some of my lunch buddies gave me the idea to feed my hunger with perezhilton.com. I have added a link on the left, but click here for a preview.

Formulating A Plan Is The Last Thing We Should Do.

Is there anything sadder than a big girl holding a McDonald's bag? I hate to diminish all of the atrocities in the world, but I am going to go out on a limb and answer in the negative. Which brings me to my secret. I ate at McDonald's yestermorning! I didn't mean to, but this muggy weather has depleted my body of vital sodium. I just didn't think yogurt and granola was going to cut it, and I didn't eat shit-flesh so I think it was safe. But coming back from my salad lunch I saw a really big girl, I mean a really big girl, waddling down Hope Street clutching a McDonald's bag. The sac o' food seemed strangely miniature in the hands of a giantess, and I sighed. I wept.

Not really, but you have to think to yourself where is the hope? I'm not the thinnest thing on two legs, but my legs do look like legs, and I have lost 8 pounds in the last 6 weeks, and all that was required was constant vigilance. Planned starvation and vitamins. And while we are on the topic of food I had my first unsatisfying meal at Paru's Vegetarian Indian Restaurant yesterevening. Some chopped veggies with chick peas in a heavy sauce. It was actually quite good, but I didn't think it was worth 14 dollars or whatever I paid. Paru's, however, is only for the 100% nui hip or the 100% vegetarian Indian. No one else would bother. So the food, although unsatisfying is not the issue.

Many of you have probably heard of Ro Ro's slump, and the awful fans that have been booing him, and the possibility of him leaving the Yankees, and of course people want my opinion on this as well as a variety of less interesting topics, so natch the last day and a half has been all click click flash flash, but I think it's all wild innuendo and rumor and I don't think anything will come of it. For those of you who don't know what I'm talking about then you would do well to review yesterday's post, and not join in on conversations you can't keep up with.

Ro Ro has a no-trade clause, and has been quoted as saying that when he leaves New York he is going to retire to of all blighted places Florida. Whatever, not the point. However, the fans, and they hardly deserve that name, have been so vicious. It's almost like bloodsport, and some have even said that booing Ro Ro (A Rod) is like the new pirate pant in New York, and it has become sorta the thing to do. You remember when everyone said Whaaaaaaasuuup!!! Kinda like that, but much more rude. Anyway. If Ro Ro can't develop as a player in New York then I think he should leave. There I said it. It has just become all too ugly for me. Ro Ro essentially has the same stats as David Wright, but because Ro Ro isn't 23, white and need I say hung he gets booed. Major league baseball is teeming with agism, racism, homophobia, sizism and all manner of dirty things, and I think Ro Ro may be the latest victim. But like I said, I don't think it will happen. Click here if you don't believe me. Then you click here to watch a stirring and inspirational montage on Ro Ro. It almost makes me cry.

And to make matters a little better the Yankees won last night, Compadre and I watched the game, and just so you know Derek batted an RBI, hit a sacrifice bunt to move Melky to third and later score, and then batted a double and scored on Ro Ro's double. Not sure in which innings because I'm not that intense yet.

Someone posted on youtube the Make A Wish story involving Derek. You remember the one that made me cry last week. I am just an emotional wreck lately. Anyway, click here to watch it.

Finally, Morrissey will be releasing a new single on August 20th. In The Future When All's Well from the Ringleader Of The Tormentors album. Most likely an import, but do try to pick it up because the b-side is a song called Christian Dior. How fricken cool is that.

What Can Be Done Has Been Done.

I started this weekend with Los Angeles I'm Yours by the Decembrists blaring from my stereo. I always thought the line "It's left me wretched wretching on all fours" was funny if a bit melodramatic. That was until the crowded stuffy and hot train ride to Long Beach where we had to wait at the Compton, yes Compton, station for 20 minutes with the train doors open because an earlier train had hit a pedestrian. While listening to passengers bicker back and forth about whether the woman actually felt anything when the train hit her I honestly felt like getting down on all fours.

Once in Long Beach everything got better. We went to a place called the Mai Tai bar where in order to maintain the look and the "feel" of the islands the air conditioning was nixed in favor of a cross breeze. Nothing quite like a 93 degree cross breeze I have to tell you. The boys bantered over which waitresses they would like to fuck, and I sat mesmerized by this freakshow at the bar who was watching the Angels play the Chiefs. Not so much that he was watching the game as he was watching loudly.

Quick detour to grab swimming shorts, quicker drive to the beach, and finally jumping in the water which is what I had been waiting for from the moment I stepped outside that morning. Lying on the beach, the sun was washed out by clouds, and we stayed until our towels were wet. Back to shower and don some town clothes, and off to Open Season for some Lebanese cuisine. I know how topical. We stood in front of the restaurant for an hour before they could seat us, and even at that I had to show them where they could actually seat us. Prior to that while standing on second street, a gaggle of OC stereotypes walks up and starts talking to the boys. I'm really not driving this car. I managed to maintain what some might consider a conversation with one of the barbie dolls for around 16 seconds:

"So What's Up With Your Shirt", She said
"Not sure"
"Is it Johnny Cupcakes?"
"No it's bathing ape."
"Oh well, in Boston there is this guy and he makes these shirts, and it is kinda like your shirt, and their called Johnny Cupcakes. You should check it out. Are you going to see Spasmatica tonight? You should totally come. It's going to be hot."
"Fascinating."

Well being true to my word, not actually being able to get one is edgewise, I did check out this Johnny Cupcakes dude, and you won't believe this, but he does this skull and crossbones thing, (I know how fresh) but instead of a skull, are you ready for this, it's a cupcake. Seriously check out Johnny Cupcakes to see what's going to be littering Ross Dress For Less in about 2 months. I personally like the Make Cupcakes Not War T-Shirt. Wink Wink.

Anyways. Dinner was delightful as usual, but we had to go out and look for trouble, and trouble is what we found. One of the boys just had to go skinny dipping in the ocean, and it all just screamed good natured merriment until the cops showed up. They are always ruining everything. Convinced that we would have to spend the rest of the evening with our clothes on, or face prosecution, we decided to top off the night with a little bit of Scrabble. I won.

The next morning I went to the gym for the first time in my life. Just to the steam room to get some of the alcohol out of my system. I was obviously misinformed because there was not a single attractive naked boy around. I find it odd that you can be naked with a bunch of unattractive men, but the state puts the smack down if you take a midnight swim in your birthday suit. After the gym I'm surprised I'm still a homosexual. These boys had no asses. Nothing. It was all back ass and legs all rolled into one. Like a cankle, but different. Perhaps a bass or blass. It's wasn't pretty. I'm going to have to watch some baseball and see some proper foundations before my interest in men is restored.

Following the gym, we had a delightful brunch and went to a movie which was a waste. Lady In The Water is a waste. For the train ride home I picked up the new issue of Sole Collector with Derek on the cover. Great pictures, and by the way, Derek and I wear the same size shoe. And you know what that means.

So that was my last weekend in Los Angeles. Trippy I know. I actually finished off the weekend watching my favorite movie of all time Dune. That movie has so many great lines, and one in particular that fits my current situation. It is said when the Atreides are about to leave their home world of Caladin for Arakis.

"Change jars something deep inside us. Without it something sleeps inside us, and seldom awakens."

Geek moment over. Sports moment begins.

Apparently, what type of Yankees jersey you wear tells a great deal about you. For instance since I wear a Derek jersey that means I am either a bandwagon jumper or something called a Skankee. A Skankee is a wowan who wears a tight pink jerseys and drinks at a place called Stan's Cesspool. I am not sure what it's spose to mean, but if calling me a Skankee makes someone else feel better about liking unattractive players I say oil me up.

Sadly, the Yankees fans that like to call people names and boo, have put Ro Ro in a slump and rumor is that Ro Ro is going to be leaving the Yankees. Sad. And completely preventable.

Well this week is all about lists. Come Friday I am on the Uhaul express to the Pacific Northwest. I have lists that tell me what needs to be done and when. Any deviation from this list will likely result in a total nervous breakdown. And no one wants to see me have a nervous breakdown when I'm behind the wheel of a 3 ton Uhaul.

You lost me at "When are you."

Yesterday, after the game which I will get to in a second, the hottest, and I mean hottest cable guy knocked on my door. They were doing some wiring downstairs, and he wanted to offer me a promotion to compensate me for the inconvenience. Are you kidding me? Inconvenience? Compensation? When did having a latin God knock on your door become an inconvenience. Compensation? Well what exactly did you have in mind? He was even wearing a uniform. Me? I was wearing shorts with a nice hot pink Helmut Lang vest cuz this muggy weather just gives me the fits. Ultimately I declined their "promotions" because they just didn't have that carnal air I was really in the mood for. That and I was moving.

But it did remind me that I have to call the cable company to disconnect/transfer my service. Seven days. It actually blows my mind when I think about it, and it shouldn't because everything I own is in brown boxes stacked around my apartment. At some point it should have set in that I am not going to be here much longer. Not really much in the way of existential paralysis since there is no indication that I was ever really here. Perhaps.

Disneyland with Mom and Dad, Galactica convention in Burbank, Trawling for Mexican prostitutes on Laguna Beach, they were looking for cock we thought they were selling coke, it was an honest mistake, Decembrists with Pony, Goat, Compadre & Crazy, Catalina with same minus Compadre, Christmas parade with marching band boys I would go to jail for, Joshua tree with Sergio Valenti. I thought Sergio was the sex everyone else thought he was horrible, Arctic Monkeys with Pony, Islands with the same, picking Pony up off the floor, Destroyer a few weeks later, Basquiat, San Pedro, wheelchairs, dim sum, Shazzam Sushi, Sunburns on the beach, medieval Times and the ride home we almost didn't survive, The Tee Gee, The Pike, Ye Rustic Inn, Stabbing myself in the eye with a fork, on accident I think, Brett Easton Ellis reading, Zankou, zankou, and more zankou, The Golden Gopher, Akbar, Lines at Mj's, Lines at The Abbey, Handjob at The Abbey, Another handjob at the Abbey, Streetfair in K Town, Observatory, Newport, Venice, Palm Springs, Amoeba, Disco, Kingsley, hallway, fountain, underneath, through, beginning, end, on top of what?

Yeah it all just becomes a blur.

The Yankees lost last night, and that may be a little too critical. It would be more appropriate to say that they failed to secure a victory, or a "W" as they say. And it was so close. They started off ahead by 3, then lost the lead by a run, tied the game in the eighth I believe, I did my Yankees comeback dance that would honest to god make you stop breathing, it went into extra-innings, some scamp from the blue jays tried to steal second in the bottom of the 11th, Jorge had absolutely none of it, and then a walk off homerun. Shucks. Shoot. Shit.

The final installment of Stylus' awesomest videos ever has been posted. I have not watched them yet, but there are a few I am looking forward to. They have even given us yet another list of the Top ten most regrettable album purchases. Not even worth reading, but you may get bored later today.

And this little piece from The Onion just gave me the chuckles.

It's not so much that Mets fan are homophobes as much as they are just ass-holes. Check out this David Wright blog that tries to get lots of nyuk nyuks by implying Derek and Ro Ro are gay. If this keeps up I'm going to have to fly to New York just to fuck David Wright's face, take pictures and post them on my blog. Oh and I'll do it.

Lastly, I can turn my computer into a seismograph. Can you?

If I Tried To Explain You Would Lose Interest.

I woke up this morning feeling I needed to center myself. I have no idea what that means, but I hear it often from people who are in desperate need of a bath. So naturally I started my day off with a bath. Not that it did anything. The mass of odorous humanity on the bus was almost more than I could bear. A healthy dose of YvesSaintLaurent did what it could.

I arrived at work and what did I see in my inbox, but a message regarding the new Out Magazine and their feature story on one of the greatest television shows in the history of everystuff. Battlestar Galactica!!!!!! Me and my compadre have been in royal like with this show since the first season. Often doing the most ridiculous things just to make sure we could watch it. Truth be told. I would not have cable today if it were not for this show. The only, and I mean only, reason I ever got cable was to catch the Season 2 premier of Galactica. Last summer I was fortunate enough to attend the first ever Battlestar Galactica convention in Burbank. It was a mind scramble. I met Mr. Bamber, and by meet, he said something to me and I just nodded my head and said "hhhm." I'm smooth like glass like that.

Sadly I will not be able to make it to the second convention this year because of my Yankees. Well actually the convention is just a couple days after the Yankees series so don't be surprised if I'm so mother-fracking there. Click here to read the feature story on BSG.

And now for some fo that might actually interest you:

Nouvelle Vague's new album Bande A Parte will see an American release on August 22. The first day of the Mariners Yankees series coincidentally. And I am a little torn whether I should wait or snatch up the import which includes a version of Blancmange's Waves. I love that song. I brought blancmange to a pot-luck after hearing that song. And for those of you who don't know what pot-luck means, it is an old Native American expression for "To cheap to hire a caterer".

Alfa Romeo, among other things, is all forms of HAWT! I can't wait until I live in Seattle and I'm shuttled around in a little Italian Rocket. It's Anonymous D's car of choice. Mine is a Peugeot naturally, but they don't run. They look good when they're not running, but they're not running nonetheless.

And I so called this one. Ipod is about to become the new pager. And it is of course the natural progression of things, and I take great pride in not owning that ubiquitous accessory that has lassoed everyone else. I do of course have the upmost fondness for Macs generally and am eagerly awaiting the arrival of my new macbook.

Stylus has posted 20 more fab videos. Windowlicker made the list. It is easily one of my favorite videos. There is also a special treat by the Pet Shop Boys. I understand some of you are not able to watch youtube at work, and my murderous hatred of youtube notwithstanding, should you be one of these people, then you need to find yourself a new job.

My pinstriped babes' 5 game winning streak came to an end last night at the hands of none other than The Mariners. Curse that Ichiro! Why he is not playing for the Yankees is anyone's guess. I looked into this Reggie Sanders business, and although I know next to nothing about baseball, I just don't see it. Ichiro needs to go to New York. Nuff said.

And on a somewhat less positive note, fighting continues in Southern Lebanon and Northern Israel, and once she gets around to it, next week possibly, Condoleeza Rice will go to Israel to bring her extensive knowledge and skill to bear on the situation. That dead silence you hear is the sound of absolutely no one breathing a sigh of relief.

Nine Days And Counting.

It never ceases to amaze me when people are talking about the weather and the heat, the white heat, the hot hot heat, this heat, the heat wave when they say:

"Well I guess this is evidence of Global Warming." And I'm just like:

"Really? Ya Think?" "Are you sure you aren't being just a wee bit dismissive of all the naysayers out there clinging to Milton Friedman and a credit card?"

It's symptomatic really more than evidence, but I have come to call these people lightbubs. Because as the words leave their mouths in my minds eye their heads are magically transformed into lightbulbs.

Now other than the fact that Ehud Olmert is out of his goddamn mind, the remainder of this blog entry is going to be about baseball, so you may want to tune out.

Last night my Yankees were trailing the Mariners up to the bottom of the Ninth when one of the lesser Yankees batted a tying sac fly. I was hysterical. Ro Ro came up to bat. Milo had decided he was having nothing to do with the crazy bitch rubbing his head and his belly, and watched the rest of Ro Ro's at bat atop a circa. 1918 accent table. It started to rain hard in New York. Derek put a towel on his head to protect his hair. He always does this. Whether for luck or because he has issues with fly-away is anyone's guess. the count was 3-1 when umpire called a rain delay. WTF? So for two hours I waited. I watched Voyager, and I waited, and eventually mama passed out.

I woke up at 3:00 am. The witching hour again. Every window in my apartment was open, and no sign of demons. I am beginning to think middle age Christians were just full of hooey. Anyway. I turn on Sportscenter to find out what happened with the girls.

It was not until the very end of Sportscenter did they show Melky's walk-off homerun in the 11th. I guess Ro Ro didn't win the game for them, but that's OK. As long as the bleacher creatures boo Ro Ro they deserve a player that plays like he's being booed at.

During Sportscenter they also had a segment for Make A Wish with this small boy who just loves the Yankees and Derek, and has suffered through Crohn's Disease. Derek invited him to Yankee stadium where he hung out with Derek and the other Yankees during batting practice, and the little boy got balls, and bats, and he danced with Johnny. Derek was so sweet, and not too butch. Butch, but not too butch. I just cried my eyes out.

Notwithstanding the waterworks, I am convinced that if I sit through another episode of Sportscenter I will cease being a homo. I was actually into it. They talked about mid-season trades, and all the tawdry aspects of the game that don't concern me. Someone by the name of Reggie Sanders may have pinstripes in his future. Not sure who this person is, but I will look into it and if there is anything to report I will.

And dig this. This will hopefully be the only time I mention anything as pointless as basketball, but after selling its franchise to some type of Oklahoma City Quango, Seattle may lose the Sonics because the arena's revenue sharing lease doesn't adequately line the League's pockets Well I never!

The girls on Sportscenter had a lot to say on this subject:

Sportscenter to Seattle: The City Fathers need to get on board, toe the line, and build arena that ensures the league the profits it's divinely entitled to.

Woolfphase to Sportscenter: City Fathers? Really? If you make a concerted effort not to speak like a cock, it is likely, however not certain, that you won't sound like a cock. And by the way. The Sonics are free to leave at any time. I'll help the mofos pack. The league is not entitled to manipulate and coerce municipalities into disadvantageous agreements and then use your cheap ass show to enflame the feeble minded fans to push for unwise discretionary spending. We've already built two new stadiums, and I'm not sure if we've even finished paying off the Kingdome. And Derek's man-crush on Dwade notwithstanding, I DON'T GIVE A FLYING FRACK ABOUT BASKETBALL! The players are lanky, boney, unattractive, and they're loud. Now if Rick Fox comes to the Sonics, then naturally a new stadium will have to be built, and a nice home for Rick next to The Normandy, but otherwise, no.

Looking down Virginia Street

Check out Derek's Journal. He has added an entry about his All-Star Experience.

Band Of Horses announce a fall tour that sidesteps Los Angeles entirely, but they will be playing The Capitol Hill Block Party next weekend, and two nights at The Showbox 11/04 and 11/05.

Also check out the newest Bestest Videos Ever on Stylus. I didn't care for any, but maybe you'll find something you like.

And finally, have a look see at Photo-Blogging in bombed Lebanon. Seriously. Look at it. Israeli children writing messages on bombs before they are fired into Lebanon. Sometimes you wake up and you really want your faith in humanity totally shattered. Sometimes.

When The Dust Settles, I'll Be Looking The Other Way.

Transamerica was not really that interesting. There is double entendre in the title, and I get it, and I love it when I get it, but that really isn't the point is it. I prefer a little closure in movies. Not much, but some, and it is funny, but after watching this movie, or sitting through it, or whatever it is I did, I actually think Felicity Huffman, or whatever her name is, is a pretty bad actress. I used to really like her, but this role was completely uninspired. I never once believed it. Never once. Judi Dench must have been busy or something.

I am going to make a serious effort to not iron in the next two weeks. It may be hard, but at least I will know if an "I Fucked Paris Hilton" T-Shirt constitutes business casual.

No one is even trying to win the Woolfphase Compilation CD containing the inspiring composition Woolfphase I. It is probably for the best since my primitive computing machine seems incapable of making the CD. Mac should be here in 3 to 5 business days. Happy Mac.

Last night was special to me because I got to watch my two favorite teams play one another. The Yankees and the Mariners. The Yankees were victorious, but poor Ro Ro made three errors in one inning, and from that point on he just tried way too hard and got ahead of himself. As we have previously discussed, errors are completely subjective, and the umpires were just handing them out like candy last night. Ro Ro's birthday is my last day of work. and there is nothing significant about that coincidence other than the fact that I decided to mention it. It was muggy in New York last night and all the the players were just glistening, and it was making mama all shades of hot. Mama may need to feed tonight.

I have been silent about this issue for far too long, but I have decided to speak out about this Lanessa business. And all I have to say is probably what you would expect me to say so it really goes without saying. Nick must have a space station for a cock because the last time I checked which was five minutes ago he can't play baseball, and doesn't wear pinstripes. On the other hand Vanessa may be completely deranged. Either way I think the whole affair renders this picture all the more interesting.

If Jessi-waste gets a hug from Derek, then oh mother-fracker so do I.

Don't forget to check out the 61-80 top videos of ever on Stylus. Surprise! Surprise! True Faith by New Order made the list. Do check out Come To Daddy from Aphex Twin. Then you can check out his Windowlicker video and decide for yourself which one is more demented.

Oh oh oh!!! You have have have to check out the comment section. There you will learn that hipsters are deadly serious about their lists and that Cartesian is the new twee. It tickles me something awful.

Crossing The Terminator Into Night.

Back with the Sunset hos and they didn't even bother to show up this morning. I got dressed up and everything. I did not even get enough sleep last night, and I am still a little delirious over the whole thing. So enjoy.

The weekend was the hottest in recorded history; the weather channel kept talking about heat wave, the white heat, the white hot heat, heat stroke, heat exhaustion, how to beat the heat. The only area of the country that was immune appeared to be the Pacific Northwest. Yes. According to The Weather Channel, Seattle was enjoying comfortable weather. So the question on my mind is whether I can survive two more weeks of this. I will certainly try. I have already packed most of my essentials, and have only skeleton supplies for my remaining days.

Some things of note:

I watched Donnie Darko this weekend, and I wasn't baked so I really enjoyed it. The entire movie is about a temporal paradox. Fascinating. My friend is terrified of stuffed bunny rabbits because of this movie. It's actually really pathetic, but he's sexy so I tolertate it.

I watched Syriana, and after 3 tries I finally made it through the whole movie. Not much to say about it. George Clooney obviously chugged some serious cock for the Oscar because the movie doesn't even hold a candle to Solaris. The movie did star DS9's Alexander Siddig, and another actor who plays an evil Cardassian doctor. Great casting, but generally I think the movie was made to make a good trailer. As an entire movie it doesn't stand up well.

Stylus is compiling a list of the top 100 music videos of all time. They actually call it that. Now the people at Stylus have done so many top things of all time lists that it has started to lose all meaning. The cool thing about this list is that you can actually watch the videos. Kid606's video for Sometimes is amazing. It depicts an exploding skyscraper to stunning effect. They are doing the list in groups of 20 so there will be 20 new videos every day this week. Have fun with it.

My girls swept the reigning champions The White Sox over the weekend. I caught the final game yesterday morning. DJ batted a homer in the first, and Alex, not one to be outdone by someone with a smaller ass, batted a double homer. Mo notched his 400th save. yankees.com felt it necessary to email me this information as if I live in a mother-fracking bubble. This is woolfphase for chrissake.

Meanwhile, the news show tell me of conflict throughout the world, but in one place in particular. I would be upset, but moral outrage was never a good color on me. I choose to show my support by rockin' a healthy amount of French bling.

Someone very close to me is either on a really long vacation or has decided to act like a total douche. I emailed this person two weeks ago with a very important and time sensitive question re The Strangers With Candy movie, and he is yet to get back to me. Of course I have to assume he is on vacation, however, absent an out-of-office auto-reply the douche possibility lingers. Be warned. The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get. And all the other lines from the song.

Speaking of musiq. This week's prize for the woolfphase blog contest is a compilation CD containing music data from artists featured on woolfphase including compositions from Taylor Deupree, Sebastian Roux, two compositions from Ekkehard Ehlers including the incomporable Woolfphase I plus six more. Good Luck!

And before I start working I simply will not let this go. David Wright, the harmless and affable boy you see below is no Derek. Has not been, is not now, and will never be. End Quote.

He's also a mouth breather.

And The Curtain Falls.

So I gave my 2 weeks notice yesterday. It was shockingly painless, and so far the feedback has been immensely positive. "Thank You For All Your Hard Work", "Please Don't Forget About Us If You End Up Back In Los Angeles", etc. It was very sweet.

Over the past week, whilst house-sitting for a friend I have been bitten by so many spiders that the next time I return to Los Angeles, even for a brief visit, I will probably be wearing a contraption that makes me look like bubble boy. Tres Chic. I hate spiders, but the thought is nice.

Yesterday I spent more money on any single item then I have in all my life. I bought a new Macbook. Now obviously I have spent more on a one-day shopping bender. Easily. But that was on more than one thing. So there was a great deal of anxiety until finally I decided to stop torturing myself and do it. I used to drive a Peugeot. It did not cost as much as my Macbook. Not even close.

Yesterday they rented my apartment. So it was actually 2 very big mile-stones. So there is no turning back as they say. Not that I would. I am going to be driving that U-Haul as if there is an army of giant flesh eating spiders chasing me. And there may be. Some of these spiders have doubled in size since Saturday. If we were at my place those spiders would be dissolving in muffin's1. belly.

Enough maudlin ponderings:

It would seem that the squeaky clean imperialist labor-law crunching juggernaut Nike is attempting to make inroads into the lucrative skateboarding market. Good luck with that Mega-Crisis. Dunks are dope, but so is dope.

My co-worker showed me the neatest link that lists many of the videos available on youtube. It is very nice if you are at work, and you have nothing to do, and you just wanna watch the Human League, or OMD, or Gary Numan, or Taco, or Falco, or....... Some of these videos I haven't seen in years. The quality is generally good. My favorite so far is Cabaret Voltaire's Sensoria. I always enjoyed this video, and the song, and it just blows my mind that someone made an 8 minute video.

My man Morrissey is going to be playing a gig in Reykjavik on August 12th. So a round-trip ticket to Reykjavik would be added to my official birthday registry, but I still don't have a passport. I am very lazy. Far far too lazy for international travel.

Well you all should really pat yourselves on the back. Barring some unforeseen manifesto in the comments section, this weeks winner of the Woolfphase Blog Contest is none other than Anonymous Dan for his comment praising David Kim's blog. Pathetic. Rotten Little Pony would have won, but the contest was announced after she submitted her comment regarding Brazilian barbecue. So unless someone impresses me in the next 10 hours with something other than an eight inch cock the Flaming Lips sticker will be sent to Anonymous Dan in anonymous land.
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1. Muffin is my nick-name for Milo. My precious, my one, my own. Very soon after I get my digi-cam I am going to be able to upload my own images into this blog. This will in no way effect the pics of Derek, but at least you will be able to put a face with a name.

They probably thought you couldn't hear them.

Be clean! No Chocolates!

That is the new theme of this blog.

So I went to see Dead Man Chest last night, and I would be remiss if I did not point out some of the more obvious flaws in the film. The first thing to note is that I am by no means a harsh film critic. A film needs do very little to get my humble nod. I've said it before. I do not watch enough film to even call myself a casual critic. I do not even know who Akira Kurosawa is. But there were things about this film that simply can not not be ignored, and are simply beyond objective dispute.

First, Glendale is a wholly unbearable place. Replete with bullet bikes, leisure suits, nebulous hair, the unforgiving aroma of Elizabeth Arden, and cutters. Concession line cutters to be more accurate. Perhaps not an intrinsic flaw in the movie, but given the paucity of viewings in Silverlake I feel the distributor of this film should be held up to the same glare of criticism as the script editor. Bad bad bad. Second, I do not think that in an action adventure picture it is the comic relief that should stand out as a highlight let alone carry the entire weight of the piece. Yes. Someone obviously missed something here. Third, given how much this movie cost I feel it is unseemly to have so many of the visual effects smack of kitch. And lastly the ending stunk. Quite literally, it smelled as though someone had pulled the ending out of their ass right there on the spot. I mean someone in the theater.

Netflix has sent me Kung Fu Hussle, perhaps that will restore my faith in an "artform" that I no little about and care about even less.

Enough about me and my tawdry attempts to amuse myself, there are certain things that you should know:

Jarvis Cocker, former front-person for the band Pulp is working on his new album Warrior On The Edge Of Time. Already there is an exceptional new song that is simply the most. Give it a listen at his myspace area and I think you will agree.

Having lost all desirability in other markets, Burberry is taking its Dog and Pony show to the American heartland in hopes that it can incubate a new breed of heavy-set meat eating Burbots. Another reason to opt out of that Cleveland lay-over.

Contrary to conventional wisdom, hipsters resist change, and are slow to embrace anything that is fresh or interesting. It seems that our darlings in their asymmetric hair are loathe to part with their distressed jeans and graphic tees. Let me just give them one word of advice. The winds of fashion stop for no one, no matter how self-induced their poverty.1.

On a quite similar note. Your designer jeans are made in China. Priceless. Yes of course they may say "Made In Italy", but what they really mean to say is that they were "Distressed In Italy". The jeans proper are constructed in all manner of low wage factory and are later shipped to Italy so someone can work their five digit magic. And I imagine by a half-blind grandmother at that. For shame! Your misguided attempts at social consciousness once again foiled by the unrelenting reality that any attempt to embrace popular culture tacitly supports the subjugation of our fellow humans. I've already told you that True Religion is the new suck, but now it turns out that they are also evil to the core.

What do you do?

Buy vintage like me. Here's a little number I just picked up. Nothing screams I could honestly give a frack like vintage Benetton.



Lates Bitches.
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1. That is actually 14 words including one hyphenated word.

And I Got Left Behind.

Here is something that nearly made me lose my face. Please forgive the shameless plug of the irreparably lame youtube, but it is seriously one of the most demented things I have seen in a long time. I mean a long long time.

Well the All Star Game went well. Kind of a nail biter for a while, but the AL pulled through with a little help from me and my camouflage chonies. We all do our own little part. Success my Lord!

I just realized that I could drop lines from obscure science fiction movies all over the place and no one, and I mean no one, would have any idea what I am talking about. Such is the life.

My former co-worker, a delightful Korean Hobbit, has discovered anonymouslawyer.com1.. Which is odd because I decided it was boring several months ago, but it's not anonymous prick's2. fault. I think blogs are inherently boring by their nature. Like that sentence is redundant by its very construction. It's for emphasis. My most compelling piece of evidence is that most people read blogs and make blogs while they are at work. I don't know anyone who reads or makes blogs when they have something more interesting to do. For example: As I am typing these words there are spreadsheets I should probably be looking at, but I'm not. The spreadsheets make no sense to me anyway so why on earth should I look at them. It will only upset me. Oh what word heavens me I digress.

So in order to maintain the medium I think I'm going to have to employ some kind of gimmick. I've decided that I shall reward my favorite post. I haven't decided if the awards will be weekly or monthly because that of course depends on the quality of the comments, however, the rewards will always come in the form of a sticker, a vintage t-shirt, or a personalized post it. Again the reward will depend on the quality of the comment. Like all other things my blog is a meritocracy, I know it sucks, but why start here.

Of course I'm going to have to figure out a way to allow the winning entity to email me their address so they may collect their reward, but I will figure that out later when someone who I don't know makes an award winning comment. Ultimately the rewards may only go to people whose addresses I have on hand, but that in no way speaks to the quality of the comments, merely my own laziness.

Of course this places a heavy burden on me to post stuff that actually warrants comment, but so far I have held fast to my New Years resolution to be a lot less Cartesian. Besides, if Korean Hobbit, anonymousprick.com3. , and the most demented thing I have seen in a long long time doesn't warrant a comment then I mother fracking give up.
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1. The funniest thing about anonymousprick is that everyone knows who he is. And he really isn't a prick. It's not irony, it's something else. Something less declasse.
2. Infra.
3. Infra.

My contempt has limits, but very few.

The Burbots are Coming!!! The company that made the check tired once again has plans to expand its presence in America. This must be stopped, but not be me. I have more important things to do. Legal things. Things with files and papers. Paper clips and post-its.

I really hate youtube!!! There was a nasty video on their site of some radio personality assailing Derek. I made a comment that he was a mean dick. My comment was taken down because apparently you can't say dick on youtube. However someone else made two comments about Derek. The comments are so ugly and vile I will not repeat them, but they amount to an attack on his parentage. So the word dick = not OK for youtube. Bald faced bigotry and racism = sure why not. Not that it matters. Some analysts believe that youtube will colapse under the weight of its own business model and will be swallowed up by someone in the near future. But I hate them.

Derek was nice enough to answer some of his fan email. Not very interesting, but you will notice that he really likes Alicia Keys. I have no idea who she is.

All Star Game tonight!!! And as a way of showing support for the American Legue I am rockin a pair of camo panties.

I am embroiled in a heated battle royale with eastbay over a pair of Le Coq Sportif Alabamas that I returned for a smaller size. First they said they had not received my shoes, then I said that is impossible, they may be slow to process the returns, but the shoes were in fact there and that I was not interested in any canned responses, and that they should not contact me until they have looked into the matter seriously. Their response follows:


Dear Jeff, (my name is Jeffrey)

Thank you for your reply.

Your item has been received by our Returns Service, however [sic] we have not received it from them. Once we receive your package, it will be processed.

We apologize for the delay and appreciate your patience.

Sincerely,

Michelle R.
Customer Service

My patience has limits Michelle R. I strongly advise you not to test them. Hissies have been thrown over a lot less.

It was really a problem with flow. Really...

I am house-sitting for a friend this week as well as dog-sitting. Part of the responsibilities of dog-sitting includes dog-walking. A fascinating experience not simply in terms of the exercise and the panoramic vistas, but I discovered that dog-walking is primarily the way straight people cruise.1. As such, dog walking is closely linked to the heterosexual reproductive process. Merely an observation, and it may be a universal thing or it may simply be a Silverlake thing. Either way walking the dog has become an uncomfortable experience. I try to avoid all human contact while walking the dog. It is most difficult. Those that you encounter who are not newly single and deranged are just simply deranged. The dog also ate my flip-flop, and I am not happy about that. But if that is the worsest thing that happens I will count myself lucky.

I watched the World-Cup finals yesterday and despite the fact that it wasn't baseball it was mildly amusing. However, I was used. Boondoggled in perhaps the most epic boondoggle in all of gay history. I was assured that at the end of the game all the players took their shirts off and engaged in some type of frolicking orgy. The game went into overtime. After overtime it went into penalty kicks. I was getting annoyed that I had to wait so long for the climax of this puerile game. The Italians won on penalty kicks, but at that point (and this is according to my friend who knows more about this than I) the players had all "cooled down" and did not need to take off their shirts, and frolic, and orgy. CHEATED I WAS!!! I would never have sat through all that bull-pucky if I knew there would not have been bare-chested Italian boys frolicking and orgying.

Well someone is happy about the whole incident. In a moment of complete and utter weakness coupled with mania and hysteria I think I ordered some porn. And it is less of an I think, and more of an I just received an email confirming my order. World Cup or not I will be seeing some naked man-flesh in the very near future.

All Star Game tomorrow!!!! And I'm sure you'll all agree that today's picture of Derek is extra-special super cute.
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1. In all fairness I should mention that I was cruised by a gay boy yesterday evening during the dog walk. But he wasn't attractive so he may as well have been some single girl with a recently broken heart. Pitiful.

Your plans of world domination are meaningless next to my desire for a nappy.

-- You thought you could get away from me bitch! That's one fine booty. Don't walk away from me bitch!

Just a sampling of some of the banter I enjoy while waiting for the bus. The hohos have taken to jaywalking across Sunset as a means of attracting customers. The cars are forced to stop while the hohos try to traverse the bumpy surface in 5 inch heels. Because a 65 year old grandma may want to hose some muff on her way to dropping the kids off at school. Everyone is a potential customer. Including the gayest gay in a one mile radius.

I have noticed no one has marked anything off my birthday gift registry. It's still a little early so I'm not going to worry about it but it really is better not to procrastinate with these things.

My alter ego The Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV was good enough to inform my counter id woolfphase (via encoded communique) that Battlestar Galactica Season 2 Vol 2. will be released on September 19, 2006. Such a treasure genuinely merits inclusion into the aforementioned gift registry, however, it will not be released in time. it will not be released in time. it will not be released in time.

If anyone else would like to demonstrate their usefulness to me they would let me know when Battlestar Galactica Season III premiers on SciFi. Because, quite honestly, I see no reason to restart my cable subscription until such a time. No reason at all. Sure there is baseball, but I can get MLBTV for my mac. I may need cable for my internet though. Monica will look into that for me.

Nothing can really top stuffonmycat.com, and gamers tackling critical race theory, however, there were a few bits of fo I thought it would be good to close the week off with.

For instance, popbitch sent me my update with fo on the anti-drunk dialing flip phone. Check it out: The LG4100 incorporates a breathalizer that prevents you from dialing pre-selected numbers when your BAC is above a certain level. Now if only they could design a phone designed to keep cracked out Hollywood wannabes from holding their phone up to their ear every time someone tries to snap their picture , and make it pink, they may be on to something. What about drunk-texting? Far too gimmicky to be included in my gift registry. I'm still getting a PEBL.

Also,

John Galiano has clearly lost his mind. At the Christian Dior haute couture fashion show in Paris he showed a number of pieces that defy imagination including a gown that looks like a cabbage. I'm not saying I don't like it. I'm just saying John Galiano is out of his mind.

Furthermore,

Someone by the name of Ian O'Connor is an enormous douche, and seems to have no problem writing about it.


And Lastly,

The Washington Post has had just about enough of Jay-Z's kvetching. Thank God!

Kisses,

//JRB:j

You went to Tahiti and it rained.

Something happened to me yesterday that stopped me in my tracks. I was unable to work for something close to an hour. I was sucked into a chain of thought that I was determined to see through. Click here to see what I am talking about. It is called stuffonmycat.com and it is a photo-blog site dedicated to images of cats-with-stuff-on-them. Dig it? Now the images themselves are fun enough, although my cat would never pose for human amusement, but it is the comments that really get me. Every picture no matter how prosaic has comments from some very large and very single men and women. As I was reading the comments yesterday I was convinced that if I concentrated hard enough I could blow something up. Kinda like the Fremmen, but without the talking. The notion is fanciful to be sure. If there were any truth to it Angelina Jolie would be walking around a headless ass.

Whoever said David Wright is the new Derek needs to have their eyes removed. Because they are obviously doing that person no good, and would be better suited for some type of scientific experiment. Like say under normal testing conditions how long would I have to concentrate in order to blow up a detatched eye.

My girls in pinstripes thoroughly vindicated themselves yesterday. Melky got his first grand slam!! I wrote his name in 25 times for the all-star ballot and still they selected someone I have never heard of. The all-star ballot voting may have been ill-advised. I keep receiving emails from Major League Baseball, and I just don't have the heart to tag them as spam. Which is a bit of a double standard since I tag emails from headhunters as spam.

Nanny McPhee was a magical romp of a film. I can not tell you how much I enjoyed the movie, and I would rather not. You should just see it for yourself. Skip the part with the spider roughly at time index 1:01:49.21.

My super is showing my apartment to a prospective tenant today. I am glad to help, but I can't help thinking my privacy is being violated. Away with all the sex toys. My priceless collection of penis shots taken down off the refrigerator. I even had to put down a water bowl this morning as if Milo drinks out of a dish like a common cat. I didn't want anyone to think I was neglecting him, but he is just as capable of operating a faucet as you or I, and he prefers his water from the faucet, not stagnant and dirty. One thing is for sure. I left Milo with specific instructions that they are not to touch anything except the door knob on their way out. God help them if they touch anything. Just to be sure I did not give Milo any fresh food this morning so really...God help them.

Crash Into My Arms.

I forced myself to sleep in this morning. I simply could not bring myself to deal with the Sunset pimps and hos on this morning of all mornings. Sometimes I feel like I am inches away from turning into a queer Jack The Ripper. --- You don't agree but you don't refuse. And if it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna get you.

I had to sit through the most tortuous baseball game last night. My girls lost to the Cleveland Indians 1-19. The Indians...

I mean they call themselves "The Tribe". And I really think they're serious. I honestly don't think it's a fashionable P.C. backlash kinda thing. I think they are serious. And my girls are obviously ill-equipped to deal with such idiots. Derek was swinging at shit I wouldn't even throw. Jorge swung at a ball that was well on it's way to St. Louis. And they would just not take a walk. I mean the pitcher could throw towards third base, and they would still swing away. Never give up they don't. If they could only take a walk that wasn't intentional then maybe some of those five singles might turn into runs. Mr. Torre honestly has players that couldn't hit a barn door if it fell on them, and I am sure he is just saying "Batting practice, Keep swinging swing swing." She just never gives up.

In all honesty I think it just got away from them, and at a certain point there was no turning back. I took a Qualude, and I'm pretty sure they did to.

Now I am listening to the Pet Shop Boys and everything is becoming right with the world. I stress becoming.

I hope everyone had a lovely fourth of July, but honestly I don't give a shit. The bang bang and gun fire was nice, but I was medicated and it didn't stop me from sleeping through it.

Yesterday I started to pack for my move. Seven boxes and it doesn't even look like I made a dent. I have provided you a small and primitive photo tour of a day in my life in Seattle, however, the images are provided by local live so are not of the best quality.
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A Day In My Life.

Yawn. Wake up in the morning, shower, dress, and walk to get a paper. Admire the window boxes in front of the building and dead head where appropriate.


Before getting the paper I grab some coffee at Ladro. I am impressed how the coffee doesn't taste like Coffee Bean or Starcocks. In no way does it resemble something I scraped off a boot. Tasty, and the soy milk is free.

Finish the New York Times crossword puzzle unless it is the Friday puzzle in which case I will prolly just give up. Forget something so I head up to Ed's. Ed sells everything. Works every day and does a lot of speed.


Decide to walk to the market, and get some errands done on the way. Walk into Liana for a quick hair cut, and to peruse the new GQ which of course I would never buy. Liana asks where I've been for the past 2 years and why my hair looks like shit.


After my haircut I continue down the hill to the market, but I simply have to step into my favorite thrift store The Village. I hide anything I want since I will pick it up on my way back.

Walking to the market. Walking to the market.

Finally made it to The Market.


Phew, no tourists at The Market. Maybe I'll buy some spotted dick.


Enjoy a view of the sound.


Gots ta head back sometime.


Pick up my Village finds, and drop into Jews to pick up some PBR and various sundries. Jew asks where I've been for the past 2 years.


Enjoy a nice meal, but eventually decide that this day is missing something. What could it be? Of course! Sex is the best way to end any day so off I go to The Cuff to pick myself up some man-flesh.


(Edited for content)

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Rinse and repeat if desired.

As an eccentric you know all about being predictable.

Most of you probably know that DJ made it to the All-Star Game. My heart felt thanks to all of you that voted for him.

Last night concluded the subway series against the Mets, and the Yankees were simply relentless in a 16-6 win. The ESPN announcers were similarly relentless. On and on they went about their own small petty coaching philosophies, trying to get inside the minds of the pitching coaches and the GMs. Once in a brief while they remembered that there was a baseball game on and would actually commentate. Although when they did that they would just get it wrong. Announce an incorrect batting order, Nick Green's single homer became a double just because they said so. Maddening. This is why I pay extra for MLB extra innings, and why I am lobbying hard for the Gay Baseball Network, or at a minimum the Gay Sports Network. It can have Baseball, Wrestling, Swimming, Gymnastics, European and Australian Soccer, but not not not American, and that's about all. Maybe I'll think of some other sports I like. Boxing, but I don't think so.

This weekend was unbearable. On both days it reached 90 degrees before noon. On Saturday afternoon I read Tennessee Williams' Suddenly Last Summer, and was taken with the description of the white heat. The white hot heat. This Heat. I have now started to read Dave Eggers' You Shall Know Our Velocity, and I tried to watch Munich this weekend, but just could not get into it.

True to their word Amazon did indeed deliver the new Pet Shop Boys on Friday, and I enjoyed it over the weekend. Although since I am not working with The Darkness anymore The Pet Shop Boys seem to occupy a less vital role in my life, but it is fine entertainment nonetheless. Fine entertainment does not really do this album justice. I refuse to see PSB as a guilty pleasure. Certainly not by people who find Radiohead interesting. I'm With Stupid is a clever and catchy swipe at Tony Blair and Dubya. The Sodom & Gommorah Show is anthemic and pretty. Minimal & Integral are both healthy dance tracks. I can't remember when I really started to appreciate the Pet Shop Boys, but I think it was during Summer 2003.

I also got a ton of other music, that I can't even really get into, but I will try:

Cantankerous: Demented and saucy.
Ricardo Villalobos (Salvador): Good but probably not as good as everyone says.
Skipsapians (eco): Hidden treasures abound in this recording.
Vladisav Delay (entain): Certainly not new, but if you know who this is, then you know enough.
Eight Frozen Modules (Clinically Yours): So tired. I've heard this before. Something called Autechre. Can't believe this shite cost me 19 dollars. Only bought it because it was the only thing Amoeba had from the reborn Mille Plateaux imprint Plateaux Resistance. And judging by this they should have stayed burried.

As you can probably tell I am taking a break from traditional rock for a while. There just doesn't seem to be anything out there that really grabs me. I was close to buying a Magazine CD, but really? Magazine? Me? No. I can borrow that from someone.

Anyway, everyone have a happy fourth. Make sure to get your statism on and rock your nationalism non-stop. America! Fuck Yeah!