We Dream In Apocalypse

There I was minding my own business in the shower. Serenely cleansing myself of all the grime that daily life and a fretful night's sleep builds up. A delicious l'Occitane honey soap. Quite nearly finished too. Thinking of trimming the stubble, soft caress of warm water on my face when all of the sudden the shower nozzle comes off and a plunging spear of hot water slices across my face sending me crashing against a pink tile embankment and almost hurtling out into the dressing room. What the fuck have I done to deserve this? I immediately think. I gather myself and just stare down at the nozzle for a bit and after an uncomfortably long silence I just say "Fuck You!"

Give me a break. I mean honestly. The day, nay the weekend begins with me standing buck nekkid' shouting "Fuck You!" to a shower nozzle. A 99 cent shower nozzle I picked up at the 99 cent store and as Jesus and the twelve apostles are my witnesses I AM NEVER GOING BACK THERE to buy shower nozzles. Shit.

Devoid And Delirious.

Waves. Impenetrably black and crushing waves of dismay came over me and weighed me down like an over sized cable knit when I heard that Freddy Garcia's contract with the Yankees is but a minor league one. So unless he gets called up he will be playing for a team I know nothing about other than Derek played for them for something like 2 days once when he was recovering from a monstrous owwie.

Such a talent though Freddy. I'm sure he'll be called up in no time because if its one thing the Yankees can't do its pitch their way to a pennant. They would be foolish to let those cheek bones languish in the minor leagues. I'm still looking for a youtube video of Freddy getting shit faced and telling the camera how bad the White Sox blow. In Spanish. Like I said, such a talent.

We Focus On The Remainder.

It is as though the baseball saints have smiled upon me. Putting Freddy in a Yankees uniform is a stroke of genius. Masterful. Breathtaking. I mean we all fantasize about shit like this, but who really thinks it will ever happen? In real life. The news got me in the mood and I started scouting which games I'm going to buy tickets. Haven't even had my oatmeal yet. Not much to choose from really. Not unless you live in Boston or Balitimore, or God knows why but are thinking of visiting.

Saturday morning is already starting to be a whirlwind of online activity. It's Crystal Palace 1, Sheffield United Nil. Quins 21, Sharks 9. Stoke leading 3 nil. Matt Banahan has scored 3 trys. Bath lead Saints 24 to 3 tell you what.

The shopping list is just going to have to take care of itself. Saturday is sports day topped off with the Best of British TV on PBS. Crowded itinerary. I may have to buy my produce at Ralphs to save time. Which could make me just die a million deaths, and that douchebag security brat better not tell me to check my bag at the door because I'm starting to really not mind the extra few steps it takes to get to TJ's.

Loyalist Opposition.

Amongst other things I've been rockin' out to this LA band No Age. I think they're from LA, but everyone says they're from LA and then you find out yeah. By the time they get to their estranged sibling you're ready to mutiate what remains of their self-esteem.

Not this morning though. This morning I found Kruder & Dorfmeister on my iPod. I know. What the fuck? So the whole morning has been grovin' like a flight on Virgin. Speaking of, I need to book one of those tonight, and a bunch of other words in my diary I should probably read. I flourish in a pressurized environment.

The Fascination Devoid Of Sentiment.

Total weirdo while I was standing in line at Starbucks. Bellowing into his mobile I tried to ignore him but eventually relented and realized he was spouting off whacky right wing religious conspiracy bull-shit and most likely to an imaginary person. Yeah yeah the bar codes mean what now? What's more creepy? Spouting religious conspiracy end-days twaddle or trying to convince a room full of Starbucks patrons you actually have someone to talk to?

There was a kerfuffle up at the counter. One lady had to specially instruct one guy in how to write down my order. Cause we're tight I suppose. I stood around waiting for my order. I started to fingle with my iPhone robotically hoping Captain Crazy would think the body snatchers had already got me and run from the place screaming about how the ceiling was talking to him, but genuinely crazy people are really hard to find.

Snatched my juice and skipped.

I'm Not As Moved As The Crowd

My twitterverse is being set alight with twitterings about yesterday's match. The man himself even asked if we thought his "try was a try"? Still learning the lingo but I know what it means. Matt Banahan didn't play so unfortunately no one had the pleasure, although now that I think about it he is probably playing for England. Like duh. This brouhaha that has erupted over what is Ben's undoubtedly legitimate Try has turned my Saturday morning laundry smackdown on its ear. And I haven't even turned on football yet. Thought I'd let the building sleep in a bit longer.

A Bewildering Assortment Of Motions.

I really don't know if buying this would make me a mindless trend whore or just amazing.



The "J'Aime Rodarte" in pule blue is a definite no (and almost all gone). Could not possibly make it work. No. Just too tricky. But the "Radarte" in red is ultra-slick in my book. Not sure why this Rodarte junk is making me want to put an incomprehensible word across my chest all of a sudden, but it is. Think this summer may be all about the fleece crew.

Thoughts Considerations And Why.

My bosses are totally having an email meltdown between themselves and I'm just cc'd for the pleasure. At first I really have to say I was taking it personally, but then I thought why? Figured that was madness and soon realized they were just talking about each other. Looking forward to more. At some point today it may become impossible to not go and get shit faced and buy tickets to my life.
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Sharks v. Bath in like twa! Someone may get themselves into a Banahan X Cohen sandwich. Although Banahan would have to be added to the side at some point. I wonder what the game (rugby) is like in real non-app life form.

Gonna cop some wheels for the weekend and get some spry errands done. Fight the urge to drive to Opening Ceremony and buy some Rodarte. Pics coming. Moving boxes. Listening to Kanye. That's Dior Homme, Not Dior Homie. Fresh. Tarsome laundry room drama continues. Wherev I go.

Sitting And Counting Decibels

I absolutely loathe Convention Center Days. Days when a big fancy do is happening all up in the Convention Center and God and everybody with an MBA decides to show up. Broad Midwestern ladies in leather blazers and chunky shoes. Street eating and coffee carrying. Standing around grazing like bewildered cows. Wondering why everyone in Los Angeles is so much more attractive than the people from their town.

Basically the type of mindless bipedal burb rat that is going to show up and vote for Sarah Palin in vast numbers. I stand there in an overcrowded Starbucks, in an empty daze toying with my iPhone. Listening to early New Order and convincing myself it's helping. The BBC news app won't refresh so heaven forbid I have no idea what is happening in Egypt. It is all just so tarsom. Won't someone tell me what is going on in Egypt? Ivory Coast?

Flattery Of The Stalwart.

Really excited about this new, yet not universally praised, film Brighton Rock. A glossy Hollywood remake of a 40's film based on Graham Greene's 1938 novel updated & set in the (now I'm lost) 60's. Rockers v. Mods blah blah. I have never seen the original movie, but quite effing obviously I have read the book. And yes, I only read it because of the Morrissey song, and no, I haven't read any other Graham Greene novels, but I intend to... Eventually. But in any event I will be seeing this if not just to see Helen Mirren. Oh yeah, which reminds me Prime Suspect is on PBS tonight.

Magnetism That Divides.

Friday on the train I start to feel self conscious about carrying my lunch in a Hermes shopping bag. Who in the hell rides public transportation while carrying their lunch in a Hermes bag? I start to think that maybe I should hold down on the bibelots and buy a car or something. What would be the point? The chick next to me is doing her makeup in broad suggestive strokes. I try to concentrate on my book. As I walk out of the train station this Asian lady totally does a double take at my shopping bag and now I really feel like going back home.

Out of the station I head to Starbucks and I notice a squat lady trying to race me to the door. She fails, but while standing in line she spends most of her time crawling up my back. I keep making quick steps back to get a better look at a panini, bumping into her in the process, but she still doesn't get that people should simply not behave that way.

Weekend trip to the LA Arboretum was quick, spent most of the time in traffic which I actually enjoyed, not doing it every day and all. Fascinating things to look at on the LA freeways. Great to see Pasadena again.

Radiating From The Mist.

It goes without saying that I totally want the Free City crew. Something Free City not in a hoodie is rare indeed. They are already out of my size in the color I want (above) so I may have to wait for re-stock or, perish the thought, my second choice.

Fragments In Despair.

I'm taking a step back from fashion blogs for a while. I mean I really disengaged this summer when people started to get all hot a furious over where RRL was sourced, but now its getting even worse. The heritage "Made in the USA" scene is all too tiresome at this point. Dismissing something because it was made in China was all well and good back in the day, but this is an entirely new environment and it just reeks. And mindlessly licensing long defunct labels simply because they have some tenuous connection to some colonial family is no longer convincing. I never read the blog for their sartorial insights. Heavens no. I always read sites like Selectism for the bitchy comments, but even those now seem oddly canned. And the blog authors all too defensive. They did give props to Lucien Pellat-Finet yesterday and what was even more surprising than that was when they didn't refer to 1994 as heritage.

I'm not totally clued into world affairs or anything, but I do listen to the World Service and I understand how silly it can be getting involved in a deep discussion about Red Wing Shoes. Powerful silly. I drink tea out of cups that are older than this country so please take your "heritage" bullshit and shove it up your increasingly xenophobic anti-sino ass.

Always There With Corrections.

I don't know what they're thinking on Southland, but I was taken aback last night when they thoughtlessly killed off hot Sammy's partner played by an also hot Kevin Alejandro. I was just getting into the show, and Netflix is of course being Netflix. I opted out of trotting to Amoeba and buying the first season in favor of Netflix, but its not available yet. I'd be miffed but they sent me some Footballers' Wives so all was pretty good.

But back to the Southland tragedy. Yeah. Pipe to the back of the head. Right there in front of God and everybody. Alejandro is on this how called True Blood on HBO so I suppose now I guess I have to get HBO. Bollocks.
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Some guy I work with popped into my office today just to chat. He said it sucked that he couldn't use the word "faggot" since he's "straight". Cause to him it's not a bad thing, just a word for "whack" or "weird". How the fuck do they find me? I think to myself. He confided he'd been sent to sensitivity training 4 times at 4 other jobs including, wait for it, at Abercrombie & Fitch. I just told him that life was tough and not to worry because it gets better. I tried to turn him inside out with the power of my mind as he prattled on and on. Didn't work. He's sorta cute so he gets a pass. This is what passes for "bonding" at the workplace.

Bordering On The Unrecognizable.

Finally new Ben pics. I thought I was going to start to go into tremors. Well saints be blessed and all that. After a long recuperation following a genuinely hideous owwie Ben is back on the pitch. And we are going to have to create a new folder for his pics. It just seems wrong to put them in the Derek folder, and once Spring training starts its just bound to get sticky.
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And as just an aside, Ralphs is going to rue the day, absolutely rue it I say, when they decided to charge me extra for putting avocado on my veggie sandwich. I mean give me a break. What if I wanted salami on my veggie sandwich would that be extra? No of course not. That would just be a salami sandwich with all the veggies. What cunts. I wish I had more time to bitch about this. Seriously.