Sunday, August 24, 2008

People magazine... who are these people?

And old friend sent me a gift subscription to People magazine. She received two subscriptions, and they wouldn’t let her piggy back them one after the other. She calls it her guilty pleasure. So, here I am trying to figure out who the HELL these people are! And, why do same people have photos taken of themselves every couple of weeks while they tie their shoes, pick their noses, and poop? Who cares? I guess someone somewhere must. Actually, a lot of people everywhere care. Or else advertisers wouldn't pump tons of cash into it. I mean, why care about the drama going on in your life when you can read about some horrible actor who was in a bunch of dumbed down novel to screen movies who had a secret drug habit or who was in an open-ended relationship and who had two bastard children (that we know of). Most of you know, I would rather read my MOJO, British version ONLY, about dead musicians or washed up musicians who are janitors now. Once I was an extra in a movie. I got to stand next to John Cusak. The only thing that stuck me was this: he smelled of Indian food. I do not understand the cult of personality. But, then again, I have a hard time recalling someone's facial features unless I am looking right at them. But, all my celebrity crushes are dead or have really dead teeth.



Here’s what I want to know: Why can’t they start re-issuing OLD celebrity rags from the 40s, 50s and 60s? I would love to read about Robert Mitchum’s drug bust! Speaking of Robert Mitchum...



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The whole movie Night of the Hunter is visually arousing.

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Thinking about the anticipation that builds before actually seeing Harry Lime still gives me goose bumps.

I’ll post some more eye candy later as I think of more.

Alfred Hitchcock presents--

My first harvest of mushrooms has been reaped! It reminds me of the episode in which all the dads disappear after their kids start growing mushrooms in their basements--the ones they ordered from a comic book.

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Whoo-hoo!

The Great Famine revisited

It’s not a blight... it’s a bumper crop!

Portabella mushrooms

shrooms

Little red potatoes

pots

Get me a bucket-- flu thoughts

Lately, I have an influx of new (yet old) CDs coming into the house: the Stooges, Lee Hazelwood, the Replacements, the Clash, Brigette Bardot, Edith Pilaf, the Beach Boys, Brain in a Box boxset, Yo la Tengo, Luna, Bill Hicks, Stereolab, Life Aquatic S/T, Nick Drake, Sea and Cake, Prince, Calexico, Dave Brubeck, Andrew Bird, John Cale, Delfonics, the Police, the Melvins, the Cars and James Brown. Somehow, ninty-eight percent were free or at severe discount.



There has also been in influx of domestication on my part. I have been keeping the kitchen warm with homemade: chicken potpies, curried pork and apples, Guinness roast beef, spinach/beef lasagna, bacon-corn-cream sauce over scallops and ziti, asparagus with soy and sesame sauce, crispy chocolate chip cookies (that I’ll eat until my tongue hurts), classic German pot roast, kitchen sink salads, french fry pie, and and and... yum.



Let’s not forget about the knitting. Currently I have put my husband’s Bob Dobbs sweater on hold to try my second round at making a hooded pullover for my nephew Hunter. I made it all the way through the pattern once. But, I ran out of yarn on the last sleeve. It was definitely a "Are you fargin' kidding me?" moment. Because I am a pack rat, and used yarn that I bought in Chicago about ten years ago when a shop in Lincoln Park was going out of business, I couldn’t find any more to complete it. They don’t make it anymore. Which, I considered the second "Are you farging kidding me?" moment. And, I refuse to pull some half-assed move like using some other yarn to get by. I am not a get-by-er. Either do it or don’t. But, don’t monkry around. As Kristy Korea would like to hear me say if you’re gonna piss around, you might as well go piss yourself-- hee!



Knitting kudos go out to-- Juliayn "Clancy" Coleman for knitting me the most INCREDIBLE pair of pseudo-hunting socks with hearts EVER!!!! They are of the finest craftsmanship. And, boy! Are they ever comfortable! Inspiring. I wear my jeans severely cuffed (beyond that rock-a-billy style I sport) and am more than happy to slip off my prison issue sneaker to show you the hidden stripes. Just ask. And, super crochet credit goes to Kristy Korea for the stripey blankey she made for the girls. And, it smells like her, too. What a bonus! Also, my little hot dog got all her grant money for her trip to Korea. So, congratulate her if she’ll talk to you.



I finally decided it is okay to use the dishwasher. It doesn’t make my lazy.



And, there are four owls living in the park across the street. And, a male and female cardinal have started to hang out in the tree outside our living room window. And, a HUGE opossum creeps around our back door at night. So tragic looking, but I still wanna see if he’ll hang from my arm by his tail. And, I saw two deer in the neighbor’s front yard. And, I see bunny tracks in the morning. And, the lunar eclipse was cool.



Oh, the ’shrooms! I started the mushroom kit Chelks got me for my birthday. I love it! We have an finished 1950-60’s style basement with an unused shower stall off the laundry room. Perrrrrrrfffffeeeeeecccccttt for my mushrooms. Portabella mushrooms, that is. I keep thinking of the Alfred Hitchcock Presents (Season 5, Episode 10: Special Delivery Original Air Date: 29 November 1959.Young Tom Fortnam is thrilled when he receives his guaranteed to grow mushroom seeds by special delivery mail. His father Bill is then approached by a friend, Roger, who thinks people are disappearing. Bill isn’t quite sure what to make of it all until Roger’s wife calls him to say that Roger has vanished, as has all of his clothes. When he visits Roger’s house, he sees that Roger’s son, who is the same age as Tom, is also busy growing mushrooms in the basement. Convinced there is a connection, Bill confronts his son - with fantastic results.). I also started some red potatoes. Yes, that is how this Irish girl celebrates St. Patrick’s day. Not by drinking to excess and barfing or getting hit by a car with all the non-Irish ethnic types dressed like clowns. But, by growing potatoes and fungus. Anyone else see the after-the-fact irony in those two choices?



The silverfish are back. I figure that is the cue to start working on that childrens' book. Okay-okay already! I get the message. You don’t have to try and scare me when I get up to use the bathroom at night.



Oh, and dreams. Lots of crazy dreams. Driving rooms that are actually hidden spaceships with the sprinkler systems as the controls. Spaceships flying over my house. Eating donuts in unknown dinors. My cat getting pinched by an over-sized millipede. Trying to move hundreds and hundreds of books and records back home after taking them with me to summer camp (as an adult). Seeing the planet Saturn and all its moons outside my window big as a Harvest moon. And, mystery sales. And, missing trains. And, Juliayn’s broken suitcase zipper. And, Cat Chow having to do community service on subway platforms. And, all you people whom I obviously have unfinished business with and unresolved emotions about... back off! Whew.

I need a giant novelty eraser!

It makes my sick how I just can't stop thinking about some things. Over and over and over...

I used to wear a rubber band around my wrist and snap it when I would start thinking about something or some people too much.

Now, it just makes me wanna stick a hot awl in my brain. It is so tiring.

Don’t be such a drag!

Hey, Ms. Pussycat! Is that a banana in your pocket?
Or are you just glad to see me?

Well, dare I say it? I will be heading out into the extremely charted waters of Erie, PA tomorrow night to have a late-eighties slash early-90's reunion of sorts with Sean-go, Amy Z., Herr Gary, and Lady Ruby at the drag show. If you're in town, and ever saw me almost beat up five guys at once for talking crap on the band Slade... come join the party.

We'll see if I actually go. I thought making a public announcement would force me into going. But, I am rarely forced to do anything. Yes, I challenge my own authority even when it comes to bodily functions. And, obligation is the excuse of suckers. If I am ever cornered into submission by law or might, I can usually do some pretty good internal debating to finally convince myself it was my idea anyway. So, no matter how much I would love to see old friends who have not written me off despite past stumbles, cartwheels, and highdive back flips... we all know I hate crowds (defining a crowd as a collective containing three or more people). Place your bets. As your bookie, I plan on taking a large percentage of your actual winnings regardless of the outcome. No, this is not fixed. Just ante up your money. Gee, I sure hope I don't panic and go.

Oh, and when discussed with Sargent Tammy Peppers, he told me he wasn't so into dressing in women's clothing. To which I answered as walking away, "Yeah. Neither am I."

For those about to remember rock.

In no specific order and omitting some which have been forgotten... live shows.

Wire, Television, Suicide, The Roches, Elliot Smith, Flying Luttenbachers, Magma, Glen Stlyer, Bobby Conn, US Maple, Lake of Dracula, Zeke Sheke, Melt Banana, Mount Shasta, Tejuana Hercules, Behold! The Living Corpse, Don Cabellero, Shellac, The Ex, Gary Numan, Man or Astroman, The Cramps, Little Feat, The Grateful Dead, Belle and Sebatian, Todd Rungrund, Laughing Hyenas, Urge Overkill, Nick Cave, Love and Rockets, Echo and the Bunnymen, The Church, Pink Floyd, Nirvana, Bob Dylan, Gang of Four, Built to Spill, Hank III, The Jesus Lizard, Craw, Murder Junkies, The Duvalby Bros., Cocktails, Crosby Stills and Nash, Neil Young, Brick Layer Cake, Fugazi, Duran Duran, Robyn Hitchcock/ Soft Boys, Powerstation, David Bowie, Cows, Jets to Brazil, Supersuckers, John Spencer Blues Explosion, Beastie Boys, George Clinton, The Lonesome Organist, Tool (eh), Pavement, Seam, Smashing Pumpkins (walked out), Cheap Trick, Boss Hog, Smog, Mark Robinson, Cop Shoot Cop, Yo La Tengo, Didgits, CKY, that band from Norway with the female singer who all wore skisuits when they played at Shuba's, Luna, Scrawl, The Monkees, The Grass Roots, Joan Jett, Blue Oyster Cult, My Dad is Dead, Today is the Day, Ringworm, David Allen Coe, and and and... that is all I can remember right now. Anyone remember going to a show with me that I haven't listed? I know there have been more, but either they were forgetable that night or I was forgetable that night.

OH! I forgot Royal Trux, Willie Nelson, Bow Wow Wow, Trans Am, TRS-80, and Pere Ubu. I am sure random shows will start seeping into my brain.

Does the Dalai Lama count???

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Squeezing the rock out at Lounge Ax, Chicago circa 1994-95.