Ignoring The Parade.

I believe summer has bit the dust. The summer time still lingers, but only for another month. I had to resist the urge to turn on the heat last night and instead I put on a shawl. I'm even buying a Christmas Tree this weekend can you believe that? The leaves outside my kitchen window are beginning to turn colors and soon they will fall off entirely revealing that dreadful house with the enormous American flag. I think I may have some curtains lying around somewhere.

It's a little damp out and I was tempted to bust out the Wellies, but I hesitated at the last minute. I was afraid of looking like some U-Village soccer mom that wears her Hunters regardless of the weather just because she read it in InStyle or some such place. They exist you know. I saw one.

Everyone in the office insists on hacking and coughing their way through the flu season. I can't believe that it was 2006 when I last had what I thought was a cold, and these little sick bags are trying their best infect me. One of the ladies interjects wild witch like cackles in between coughs. Something is obviously amusing her and in a weird way it's getting me in the mood for Halloween.

This Broken Festival.

They were playing Lush at the coffee house this morning and I can tell you that that is not in the ordinary. I have spent the better part of this morning examining and discovering the meaning of the word shaggard. Sunday brunch, marketing (the new guy at the Farmers Market freakshow that sells the bread is seriously as cute as a monkey petting a kitten), getting nothing productive done, went to an open house and considered living in a renovated sarcophagus (not likely at 1.5 million), found a new grocery shop called the Safeway. There is the usual mountain of emails and spreadsheets staring straight at my face. Didn't iron a single trouser or shirt over the weekend so I have that to look forward to when I get home. I have given up entirely trying to understand why the people at my work do the things they do and the manner in which they do them. The girls have clinched their post-season position and there is nothing else we are prepared to say on the subject at this time.

The Tenderest Of Moments.

Such a touching picture. There have been many sweet pictures taken of Derek and Don't call me Whitney, Bobby Abreu over the years, but this one just captures the imagination somehow. Le sigh.

All The Words We Said.

So I was wondering if you've seen the new Ben Cohen website? You see because it has been all relaunched and all with awesome pics and hotness all about the place. Besides peopleofwalmart.com, textsfromlastnight.com, awkwardfamilyphotos.com, fmylife.com, and latfh.com it really gets me through the rough spots. Like right now for instance when some cock waving douchebag at my office decides to take it upon himself to do my job for me. I mean I know I'm blogging and all and eventually I'll get around to answering this petulant email that was sent 2 minutes ago, but does cock waving douchebag have to jump all up in there? Oh wait, yes he does, cock waving douchebags do nothing but wave their face hogging cocks about. Look out! You about to get a cock in yo face!

God I want the swine flu so bad! Some dude in the office just came back from it. I think I'm going to rub my face up against him. It really says something about the cock waving wannabe lawyer douchebags you work with when you'll flirt with mortal illness just to avoid having to the hear their voice, or read their emails, or otherwise engage them as conscious living entities. Miserable cunts.

Anyway, Ben Cohen is in the new issue of Attitude which is the U.K.'s "#1 queer magazine" and they have panty shots and the lot. I went to 3 separate newsstands yesterday looking for it and with zero luck. May explain my foul mood.

Finding The Perfect Gift.

I promised myself that I would limit myself (for today only) to making statements that could in no way be considered indecent so here goes...

I found these tee shirts on Barneys yesterday while I was at work trying to look useful. I don't know if you remember the old ICR vs. Deth Killers of Bushwick brand, but I do. I looked and looked, and when I found I was yet to feel the wisdom of purchasing an $80 tee shirt (let alone one in a mall in Scottsdale) so I held off, the label went belly up, and I was consistently outbid every time I tried to acquire one on ebay. And they did not come up for auction very often.

Well lucky for me they have launched a new series of collectible tee shirts by the name of Des Kiraz. 10 in all I gather, and some of them are available at Barneys and elsewhere I imagine. Although now they are not $80, but rather $125, but the years have made me slightly more cautious and I don't think I'm going to let them slip through my fingers this time.

The Hell You Say!

Ute Ploier what have you done! I've been seeing Mozzer on a lot of streetwear lately and I can't help but think Ute Ploier had a hand in this trend. If you like Morrissey or just quirky tees generally then you may wanna check these out yo! The "Malibu is Mine and It Owes Me a Living" almost has me clicking "buy" I have to say.


Comune at Revolve Clothing

Warriors of Radness at Opening Ceremony

An Acute Understanding Of Beyond.

Well I went to bed having lost my keys and having won a shirt on ebay and thinking the world was all sixes. I came to work, found my keys where I secretly suspected they might be and am now feeling a little less like the world is out to destroy me.

I'm feeling that I may need to explore a better mobile storage solution for all my wallets, notebooks and pouchettes. The "satchel" as my "man" called the Raf Simons number that is almost always slung over my shoulder just lends itself to spillage and catastrophe. Compartments, buttons, and clasps are sometimes what's required for the safety of mind we all strive for. (Jesus I can't imagine why the ladies at my work talk so fucking loud.) I'm serious. They've totally ruined my concentration. Might as well work at a bloody fair. Wild animals running about urinating everywhere while one tries to concentrate on accessories and such. Madness! And I've changed my mind. The world is obviously out to destroy me.

If you're feeling a great swell of pity well don't. The world can take care of itself thank you very much.

I Was Expecting Something Less Real.

So I ditched my Yankees tickets and told myself I was going to use the money to capture an Iphone. I was standing at the intersection looking at the AT& T store and something just grabbed me. I could not for the life of me move an inch closer to their shop. I could only imagine the putescence that lurked inside. Something like used car dealers that tried to clone meth peddlers, but got some of their DNA mixed up in there and now roam the sales floors of AT&T fixin to sell me a phone I don't need. Or at least haven't needed up until today. I got to work and almost telepathically sensing my lack of courage I receive a text from Pony asking me whether I have an Iphone yet. Drats! Although, it doesn't seem like I missed much at the game. Gave up a passle of runs, and Ken Griffey kept saying something about a plate of ice cream. He strikes me as a douche.

I Would Like Nothing Better You See.

Next weekend is the Decibel Festival up here in Seatown, and this year promises to showcase some very distinguished talent including:

Wighnomy Brothers

Deepchord Presents Echospace

Mikael Stavostrand

Christpher Willits

Kim Cascone

Frank Bretschneider

and a slew of people I've never even heard of before. A lot of the shows will be at Neumo's, however Willits and Bretschneider are playing at an exhibit at the Seattle Art Museum down the street from the ignominious newsstand. I really hope I'm able to see at least someone. The Wighnomy Brothers are way past my ordinary bedtime, but since it's not on a school night I may venture out to gangland and check it out. Bring my mace of course, and muffin.

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The season premier of Bones was rapturous I just have to say. Will be watching again tonight and filling in all the pieces I missed while I was tackling a big batch of mac n' cheese. A little bit too big if you ask me, but I'm told not bad for a first attempt.

Did You Really Think We Meant It.

Too excited to blog properly. I got into the office, sent some emails, and now I am just waiting for the Bones. 12 more hours holla!

A Rather Louche Spectacle.

I honestly don't know how I endure half the things I do. The kids at work have started to talk incessantly about football. Disrespectful in the light of the approaching post-season. Have you seen the commercial with Homo Bon Jovi waving his arms like a sissy? They also have a nick-name for me called Favre. Favre is a reference to Brett Favre who is accomplished at the sport and who I actually saw at a Frank Black show once. I think. He also cries crocodile tears I understand. This is suppose to be clever because I'm the "quarterback" at work, and my responsibilities can be loosely equated to throwing an oblong ball down a 100 yard field or something. Blogging, facebooking, and reviewing TV Guide. It's starting to bug.

Compadre was giving me tips on being a manager last night since he has oodles of managerial experience and I've been doing it now for 2 weeks. He thinks I'm being bullied at work and I should get a tee-shirt that says "Yo! I'm the dude that failed his drug test and is still telling you what to do."

I suppose that would put everything in perspective.

The Foundations of Dementia.

Is Comme des Garcons ever workplace appropriate? I go back and forth on this question all the time, and it sorta passed through there on it's way to something more interesting this morning. Eventually I decided that if I took the time to iron it, then I'm going to wear it.

One day last week I had to wear a suit to the office and I totally pulled a Seeley Booth. I did the tie bar and everything. I was going to throw in the jazzy socks at the last minute, but was running late. Tie bars are all the rage and I managed to score oodles and oodles of them at some antique store in Idaho a while back. Oh Idaho...

Two more days til' new Bones! Which has nothing to do with Idaho, but it is all I can think about right now.

The Wreckage Of The Infallible Mind.

Amazing weekend. Quite taken with this word "shaggard" which I may or may not use correctly depending on my mood. Whatever the case I'm sure someone will like nothing else than to correct me.

One thing about this city which is starting to get a little too predictable are the smarty pants. Smarty pants seem to be everywhere you go. There doesn't seem to be any type of establishment they favor. Preferring instead to indiscriminately spread their smartiness over the unsuspecting. Smarty pants always have something to say. Some insular arcane subject they know a moderate amount about and they would like nothing better than to tell you all about it. Or tell someone about it. I have to admit this last part is a little blurry. Sometimes, given the lack of anyone who might be interested they will spout off to seemingly nothing more than vapor.

The subject matter of these rants are as varied as they are obscure. Ayurvedic cuisine, tantric sex, bikra yoga, for God's sake Australian wine. It really (like their monotonous drone) goes on and on. I wouldn't say it bugs necessarily, but like the rain, and the hunormous spiders in the overgrown poorly manicured bushes it has become all too predictable. I almost feel like giving in. I bought a cook book yesterday and the emaciated man behind the counter started (totally unsolicited) going on about his "philosophy of cooking" and how it has improved his aura and outlook and there just never seems to be a big stick around when you need one.

All in all one simply accepts these hurdles and prances gracefully out of their way. Occasionally shoving them out of the way, but trying to be as polite and civilized as possible for the most part. I should work for the tourist board or some such organization that comes up with pithy little phrases for brochures like "Come to Seattle; You never knew how uneducated you are, but we'd like to tell you about it! Maybe over an overpriced cup of rancid tasting coffee. Yes? Yes. Yes!"

Entirely For Your Benefit.

Derek recently tied Lou Gehrig for career hits. It was all over the internets and sports blogs, but mostly all I heard were pathetic mumblings about how some people's past suggestions about how bad he sucks are somehow and someway still relevant. I find most baseball fans as emotionally and intellectually underdeveloped as a die hard MTG player so you can imagine that I'm taking this all in some sort of stride.

And my composure seems to be limitless. Inbred douche bag at the newsstand did not have an extra copy of Country Life for me. This despite my several attempts to acquire one. Customer service just melts away in a thriving economy it seems. I staggered down the uneven stones of Post Alley feeling triumphant that my recently purchased subscription will soon be arriving and that I have successfully and finally "cut-out" this disgraceful and reprehensible slack-jawed middle man. This dude and yoox.com need to have a luncheon to discuss unexplored ways in which they could possibly blow even more. I'd like to sit at the next table and hold up flash cards.

Nobody Hears Those Voices Anymore.

Really fresh Surface to Air shirt was waiting for me in the mailbox when I got home from a grueling day at the office. It was sent from the shop Uncle Otis (I've added their link on the right) and it looks like they carry some gussy duds. I think it's a belated birthday pressie, but there was no card. I'm almost certain I know who had it sent to me, but they haven't responded to my e-thank you as of yet. I really hope it was the party in question because if it's not it would be quite a mystery.

There Are Emotions We Only Dream About.

Pizza Night! We know that Los Angeles vegans have decried the flight of el Compadre, but we here in Seattle could not be any more delighted. Last night was Pizza night and I had tastes of three delicious vegetarian pizzas. Although I am a humble person I do not mind telling you that a good part of pizza night was saved by my ingenious idea of turning a pizza into a calzone. Temporarily anyway until the pizza could be removed from sticky pan. Once that was accomplished it was smooth sailing and deliciousness.

But how quickly joy turns to sorrow. Back in the office where people seem unable to grasp the fact that it is not enough to merely have a thought. Communication invariably requires that the thought is conveyed. Generally either verbally or in written form. The people here just get into fits when they discover that random thoughts they have throughout the month are not employed and acted upon. I see the frustration in their eyes. I almost sympathize with it, but then I have to remind myself (and them) that I am not actually here.

Check out this Ute Ploier cardigan at Farfetch. I was really jazzed about the Morrissey tee shirt she did, but this cardigan is also quite a number. I have never actually ordered anything from farfetch so if anyone has feedback I would love to hear it. With all the fresh gear they have I know it is only a matter of time.

Feedback is very important when it comes to online retail. Far more important I feel than in brick & mortar retail. For instance, I will never evers ever evers order anything from Yoox again. They are so lame, and they make me very very sad. If you order from them you had better hope it fits b/c if it doesn't, and you have to return it they charge you an arm and a finger. They 5uck!

Stupid Is The New Black.

Best not to even get into what Compadre and I did over the weekend. Innocent hooliganism and bucolic charms throughout. I watched Compadre run from a fat man who wasn't even chasing him. Now I'm back at the office where people strive to raise stupidity to a high art. And the degree to which they succeed is staggering.

The weekend was otherwise enjoyable. Went to U-Village, Wajimaya, Volunteer Park where we enjoyed the Dahlia garden and the water tower. Visited the Seattle Art Museum which was nice. Do not know who Gareth Wyatt is, but his paintings are amazing. I could have stared at the Jackson Pollack for a while longer, but I was obviously pushed aside by someone with headphones. The artifacts were nice if a bit scattered. No one at the museum could muster the word ormolu. There was a contemporary political exhibit which left a bad taste in one's mouth. That is unless you focused on the giant rat. That thing was neat. The cloak constructed out of 5,000 dog tags was a wee bit self-conscious. It was at this point that the SAM staff decided to hassle us about our bags. Since we had already made it through the entire museum we decided to skip.

I picked up an oyster knife in Wajimaya and took it for a test drive on some oysters I picked up in the market. It is hard to describe the total tranquility that is ripped away from me every time I enter this office. Clock punching losers wrapping themselves is shrouds of arcane and insular processes zealously defending their only ground. I'm really all about division of ground. Normalcy and rationality. Might as well try to construct paper airplanes out of overwhelming confusion.

I Certainly Wouldn't Comment

I have the impression that Compadre aims to oust me out of my flat so he can take it over for himself. I was kind enough to offer a storage unit, but he does not seem content with just that. I may be paranoid, but there is just something about the way he look at the walls, comments on the cuteness, and most importantly how he seems to be looking for me another place to live.

Curiously though he seems to be confining his search to buildings next door, around the corner or across the street. It's almost giving me the impression of some type of Goldilocks syndrome.

Down the coast = too far
Down the hall = too close
Down the block = just right

His treacherous intentions notwithstanding he has decided to jump on board the whole Bones phenomenon borrowing season one from me last night. And just in time! Less than two weeks remain til the season finale. Couldn't you just burst?
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Inbred dip shit didn't have my issue of Country Life this morning. Puddles! I am back to ordering a subscription, but I suppose I should wait to see where Compadre find me a place to live before committing to a one year subscription. Best avoid the whole mail forwarding nightmare altogether. I'm on first name terms with my postman, and I just know something will get dropped in translation or some such thing.

The Thought Expires.

I have taken to using an antique travel alarm clark for waking up in the morning. I decided it was undignified to have the time constantly announced in blaring LED display. One can discern the general time of day by looking at the sky. Like the Inuit. And one doesn't want to be reminded how little sleep one has remaining. I don't think I should be taunted by an appliance. Because the blasted thing is battery operated I am eagerly waiting for the unavoidable day when the battery dies in the middle of the night and I sleep through work.

And how joyous would that be! Already at work I have had to 1.) Field an email regarding something that is way way outside of what one would consider "my problem". 2.) Attempt to reconstruct an entire days worth of activity using nothing other than email strings (this is actually quite humorous given my active imagination) and 3.) be subjected to a form of cyber-chastisement for nothing more than not being able to read someone's mind who happens to be on the other side of the continent. It all just makes me ache for Bones. 2 weeks, 2 days and counting...