Or Was It Marzipan.

So the DNC is really not jiving with the Yankees & Red Sox show which may not be too bad a thing actually. The girls just can't seem to get a grip, and although I'm sure it's regressing my vocabulary and critical thinking ability, the DNC does seem to offer a nice diversion. Still waiting for someone to tell me what this American Dream of which they speak is. But I'm confident that they are saving that for the last day. I know I can't be the only one in the room wondering.

I'm sure this MIke Warner guy had some sordid involvement in the Roger Clemens hearing. Not sure if it was fist in ass, or cock play, but for some reason his android like demeanor was a little more than off-putting. Even for me. Which is strange. If you don't know what I'm talking about it's probably because you aren't watching the DNC, and of course you are better off for it. I may be wrong about Mike Warner, but when you lie down with dogs and all. Tonight is Bones, Nova Science Now, followed by Carrier. Wednesday has really become my new night of television. If I get to work and find out it's not Wednesday I'm really gonna have at it.

Is He Like Contemporary?

I was walking around Capitol Hill this weekend, and it suddenly struck me, maybe hippies are the way they are because they can't afford to be anything more interesting. They are simultaneously both martyrs and parodies of their own penury. I can really let my mind wander sometimes when I'm walking around my neighborhood.

Infinite Devoid.

I seriously almost allowed a tiny piece of plastic tied onto a tiny bit of string ruin my day. My stupid security badge went missing this morning, and there was no point in going to work without it. So there I was all dressed up with seriously nowhere to go and in a foul mood to say the least. The more paranoid aspect of my mind was convinced that muffin had stolen it in an attempt to get me to stay home for the day. An inclination I would have been wise to follow to its natural conclusion. Instead I took a seat on my sofa and gathered myself, letting my eyes wander I noticed my little piece of security plastic resting serenely on an art deco accent table I had quite forgot I even owned. Posh!

Well needless to say I made it work about an hour later than I wanted to, and they can take this no blogging bull pucky and blow it out their wazzoo. I've already received one email telling me what to do, and instructing me about my priorities. My only priority right now is not letting any temporal mechanations bother me until I'm back from my vacay. Then, they can all go toss off.

Conveniently Manifold.

My California weekend ended with a quick trip to the bu and Free City. I picked up a fresh wrist band, and Compadre snared up the cutest little pullover for moi. He has a knack for finding some really hot gear. Earlier in the weekend we went to St Vinnies in Glendale, and he found a fresh piece of vintage Benetton, and I mean fresh like a daisy. I'll try to post a pic on the vintage Benetton blog. I have to apologize for that BTW. The Benetton blog has been rather feeble lately, and that is partly because most of my collection is being stored away for summer, and the other part because I seriously work in a crushingly non-blog-friendly-verse.


The trip to the beach was quick but well appreciated. Living in Seattle makes people in Malibu almost seem quaint. I'm not really into the leathery skin, and the ubiquitous black S Class, but I like the single mindedness in their style and culture. I only wish the place weren't engulfed in brush fires 98 days out the year.

The day after I arrived in LA Compadre and I went out for brunch and some golfing. I only hit one condo, but I heard it bounce so the ball itself may have impacted multiple dwellings. I only lost by 2 holes, and the wager was quite nice. Pound a hole... Oh dear I think pound per hole sounds better. It wore us out and we had to go down for naps. But when we got up Compadre had a plan. We were going to the gym. And we went to the gym. I went to the gym. I did exercises at the gym. I ran in place at the gym, and not whilst watching NASCAR, on my own. I swam in a public pool at the gym. I saw physical anatomy that I honestly thought was myth, or caricature at best at the gym. The whole experience left me surprisingly unscarred. But I insist on not making a habit out of it.
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Saw Tropic Thunder, and I'm really not about "those kind" of movies anymore.

Pedigree Is Not A Class At The Dub.

Saturday morning and I'm off to work. Going to try to get as much work done as I can before my 2:00 hair did. Things have to be done you know.

I tripped by my favorite record shop yesterday and picked up the new Alva Noto. Fresh! Also picked up a Sebastien Roux disc entitled Pillow and let me just say the compositions are both heart rending and ferocious. And yes, I know how pretentious that sounds. But check this out. The guy that works at the record shop noted my purchases and couldn't stop himself from saying "Yeah, there's a new Ryoji Ikeda that just came in"........

I mean where do you hear shit like that? Amoeba?

I guess I'm not complaining. As down as I get on Seattle at least the coffee is good and, music appreciation extends a few steps beyond Televsion x Mission of Burma. I can dig.

Something I can't dig is this hole the Yankees seem to be digging themselves into. It has to stop. And soon. Derek got his I believe seventh homo of the season yesterday, but I can assure you there isn't much good news to share otherwise.

It shall be raining for the better part of the weekend up hiah in Seattle so when I'm not working or listening to pieces of groundbreaking genius I shall be watching oodles of DVDs that Anonymous Dan was generous enough to get me for my birthday. I have Faulty Towers on DVD. And Smiths documentaries up the wazoo. Woo Hoo! Television is the antidote to rain, and other such pithy asides.

Tell Me About It.

They are the title of a Superpitcher song, and they are also the last words I heard leaving work yesterday. It isn't providence, but it is the way one formulates an exit strategy. Why speak when you can watch.
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There is little seperating my girls from disaster. We have not the time to discuss it now, but it is there.

The Beast From Up.

I bought tons of new music this weekend. Not sure why, but since I'm no longer at the mercy of Amoeba I can actually get my hands on some decent stuff. Decent by way of obscure by way of weird by way of scratching my head. I had come upon Hollywood by Akira Rabelais a while back and I scoffed at the price a little. $19.99 seems a bit much. But when I came upon it a second time I just had to bite.

His albums have gotten progressively more challenging which is fine, but this one may be just a bridge too far. Even for me. It's a field recording. Of Hollywood Boulevard. Between the stars of Betty Grable and some other dude. For over an hour. Admittedly there are parts of the recording that are interesting, and I understand the whole field recording thing, but this may be too much. In a fight to the post modernism finish this is hardly a coup de grace. Something else french sounding, but not that. I almost prefer the music that isn't music at all. Just inaudible frequencies that your dog finds annoying. Tres pomo. Oh well. I'd be a fool to think that everything I picked up in the record store was gold, and a jerk to try to convinve others of it. Live and learn.
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It was my birthday yesterday and the Yankees lost : (

I mean seriously?

He Just Waltzed In And Then Out Of My Life.

I guess there is little to say about Ivan (Beer Can Cock) Rodriguez coming to the Yankees, other than Derek is not one to be intimidated. Especially by some pygmy that can't even manage to start a game without kissing his daughter bye bye. Fem! I don't see a problem with JoJo's catching, and I certainly see no reason why Kyle needed to go. He's about the most delish thing to hit the Yankees bullpen since I don't know what. But I guess the powers that be decided they wanted another big name/cock on the roster and they got one. Congratulations. I've been doing things this weekend so I haven't actually been paying attention.

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Went to see Brideshead Revisited yesterday, and it was the first movie I've seen since In Bruges. Pony told me about the Sex And The City movie, and I was shocked. I thought they were still "in production" and decided to give it up. Guess not. The movie was wonderful. Loved it! See it! Or steal it!

Later I went to Pony's house, and you may need to sit down for this, but we barbequed. And drank, and got silly. We are about to go have Sunday brunch at Galerias, and then check out the freak show (Farmers Market). I'm gonna have enchiladas and a margarita.

Pony made me watch E News television while she entered all the Lucky Magazine give aways. John Mayer thinks the paparazzi needs to be regulated, and I think that celebrities need to be regulated. Tied up, restricted, stripped of their rights, made aware of the deliterious effects their vacuous words like "situatation certainty" have on society, and then released back into their natural habitat. The Grove.

John Mayer can go fuck himself, and then go smash his head into a brick wall over and over again until his talentless overexposed self-impresssed ass is devoid of life.

Those are my thoughts on E News television this morning. Thanks for the headache Pony.