Keeping you entertained

Since I'm out for the next five days, thought I'd leave you with some fun stuff.

All about Amy

1st Letterman appearance


At the New Orleans Jazz Festival




And, finally, my boyfriend and my girlfriend all in one clip


But you want music. The majority of my hits come from people lookin' for the raddest choons out there.
So, I'll direct you to this stellar mix by M.A.N.D.Y. from No Soap Radio on May 15th of this year.

And if you're still hungry for music, hopefully you've been checkin' Sean's site cuz he has a new mix up, too. As always, its great. More Rex Monday, please--and Fearless Kitchen, too, for that matter.

Well, I'll have my plane book to read while on vacay, so expect a full (glowing) review of it upon my return. Take care, everyone, and have a great Memorial Day.

Sometimes we need nostalgia

Last Thursday I got to see Andy Warhol's "Lonesome Cowboys" at Northwest Film Forum. It was brought to town by Three Dollar Bill Cinema in a series examining "queer desire in the Wild West." It was a little long, but that was to be expected. Truthfully, I thought it was hilarious and its a shame that the Warhol Foundation hasn't commited this film to video yet. Joe Dallesandro looked unreal at times, and cracked out at others. And the other lead, with shaggy red hair and a killer tan got my "queer desire" stirring.

Seeing a film like this--and recently I've been doing the whole "60's Underground cinema" thing at home--really reminds me of what it was like making videos when I was a kid (and to some extent in film school). The neighbor kids and I got together, wore our parents clothes and made a murder mystery. All of the suspects and even the detective died. "Who could have killed everyone," I queried as I breathed my last breaths. "The cameraman did." Then the cameraman (rather, woman) turned the camera on herself and said, "Cheese!" Or something.
Then there was the film where I donned sparkly red roller skates and toiled away in a workshop, creating an android. And, of course, there was the video we made for INXS's "I Was Standing, You Were There." Warhol's film had the same sort of slapdash feel to it and it made me nostalgic. Of course, there was considerably less sex and drug use in my forays into video.

Thursday night at work, I downloaded this track by Joakim. I've enjoyed all of Joakim's tracks that I've heard--especially his remix of Poni Hoax's "Budapest." I like the rock-y feel--the fuzzy hi-hats and his willingness to end a track in a sea of noise. When "I Wish You Were Gone" (the track above) began, I couldn't help but think of this track. Thank god we live in a world where my every whim can be satisfied nearly instantaneously. I downloaded "Only You" by the Yaz and my journey down Nostalgia Avenue continued. "Only You" is a song that makes me acutely aware of my age and my single-ness. It is also a song that can make tears well in my eyes. The synth counterpoints kill me, not to mention Ms. Moyet's unique voice.

This track got me to thinking of other songs from my youth which affect me as deeply. My late-twenties jadedness became pretty apparent. The only other song I could come up with was this one. Jimmy Somerville's voice, like Moyet's, is pretty gender-bending and very unique. From these two tracks, its pretty easy to trace the trajectory of my musical proclivities.

I thought I had gotten all of that nostalgia out of my system, but on Saturday Netflix sent me Parting Glances. Netflix has been screwing with my perception of reality lately (see previous post). Parting Glances has "Smalltown Boy" by Bronski Beat in it. It is not a great film by any stretch of the imagination, but I think it is one of those gay films that all gays should see. It was made in 1986 and touches on issues with which our community still struggles. There are some moments of clarity in the film and a great deal of compassion, but ultimately, it falls victim to muddled direction. The film's director, Bill Sherwood, died of complications due to AIDS in 1990.

All this nostalgia made me realize how far I have come, how far I have left to go, and how I am grateful for the touchstones in my life.

The surrogates

I feel so lucky to have a friend like Risa whose family always includes me in their holidays. In many ways, my relationship with them is more idyllic than that with my own. Their expectations for me are much lower, and, as a result, I seldom let them down. If I'm not at an event, that's fine. If I am, even better. This family, unlike my own, does not bristle when I do something outlandish, like show my pink underwear at the Thanksgiving table. They laugh and encourage and take pictures.
So this Mother's Day, I dutifully called my own mother, then promptly headed over to Lynnie and Joyce's. As you can see from the pictures, the weather here has been abysmal. My normally nearly-transluscent skin now has a pink-to-redish tint.

Hmm I thought I uploaded more pictures . . .
Anyway, this is Risa's grandmother whom I adore.


When she walks, her shoulders bend foward toward one another, and her hips jut out in front of her. She uses one hand to supprt her lower back and has a gait somewhere between a shuffle and shamble.

So that was Sunday.
The previous night, there was a shooting at the QFC on 15th and 85th. The wounded fled to a house that is . . . right next door to me.
This was the scene-

The excitement never ends.

Tomorrow (or soon thereafter) a music post.

Also, as for the turning 30 thing, GayProf said, "30 is the new 20" to which I reply, "God, I hope not."

Steve 1 turned 30 in March and he said, "I don't feel any different" to which I replied, "Well, don't you think that maybe you should?"

Oh, and I'll be in TX over Memorial Day weekend. Get to see the nieces--see, there are moments of pure happiness w/ the real fam.

So maybe we can meet up Adam!

Oh yeah, and one quick last thing that I thought was trippy and synchronistic and shizz.

So I on Friday I watched Prick Up Your Ears. Then on Jeopardy! that night one of the clues referenced "Entertaining Mr. Sloan." Trippy, huh?

Oh, if you're not following, Prick Up Your Ears (which you should *totally* watch) is about Joe Orton who wrote "Entertaining Mr. Sloan."

<

What we talk about when we talk about art

I turn off a lot. This weekend, I was cat-sitting for Kelley and I had made great plans, but I unintentionally left my phone at home and rather than going to get it, I turned myself off. I pet the cat. I slept in the most comfortable bed in the world. I watched a lame teen movie.
I read Raymond Carver.

I shouldn't read Carver he makes failure and miscommunication and angst swim in my head, but I can't take my eyes off the page. I was reading a story about a couple whose marriage is disintigrating and in a pivotal scene, their cat enters with a dead bird in its mouth. It seems heavy-handed when I write it down--like if I had written the story it would have been a dead dove or lovebird or something. With Carver, though, you feel the couple's hearts breaking and it is simultaneously balanced with their newfound detachment.

I took that detachment and have run with it--all the way until today. I'll probably hold onto it through tomorrow. Friday night I have an obligation, but for whatever reason, I don't want to go. I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to talk to anyone. Thank you, Raymond Carver.

Oh, like I said, my first theater review is up on Seattlest.

Writing for them is strange. They want quantity out of us. Length of post doesn't really matter. I never get feedback from the editor--and people rarely comment, so I never even know if what I'm writing is coherent.

So 30 is looming. I think that has a lot to do with all of the unsettlement or dissettleness or unquietude or disquietment I feel. I mean, aren't I supposed to have equity by now? How much further behind the curve am I from an average 30 year-old? Is anyone actually going to come to Peru with me? At one point, the count was 9, but now the numbers are dwindling. I know, age ain't nothin' but a number, and you're only as old as you think you are and all that stuff, but I feel like I should feel older. So I'm growing my beard again.

Oh, and for all you Battlestar Galactica fans--here's an artist mimicking Matt Groening doing character interpretations from the show. Absolutely brilliant. [via Jimbo.info]

Love in the afternoon

I don't know why I titled my post "Love in the Afternoon." Well, I sort of do. I remember when I was a kid and home sick or over summer break and watching ABC soaps with my mom, the promos all had this cheesy-ass song that sang "Looove in the after-nooon," and for some reason that song is bouncing around in my head.
Oh, and this is it for me, no more apologies for not posting more frequently. To say that I'm still adjusting would be accurate, but I have also told myself that if I don't incorporate the blog into my new routine, it will never become, well, routine.
This week, however, has been crazier than most. I was awake well over 27 hours yesterday because I had to attend a Photoshop seminar after work. Then I bussed hom, hit the hay for a total of five hours and returned to work. Yuck. Then it was home, sleep for 6 hours and off to the premiere of Miss Witherspoon at ACT Theater.
Tonight marks my debut as theater critic and I couldn't have picked a better play to begin my career.
You can check out my full review tomorrow on Seattlest. For now, though, I'll just relate an interesting piece of information I uncovered while researching the play.
Miss Witherspoon, along with two other plays, was shortlisted for the Pulitzer for Drama. None of the plays won. In fact, no play won. I think that's kinda shitty, don't you? I mean, the Pulitzer for Fiction this year went to the well-researched crappily executed piece of pap, March, so obviously the standards for the Pulitzer aren't that high.

Anyway, enough with that.
So I'm gonna do some blogpimping now.
I actually ganked the term blogpimping from The Sean Show, the first place I'm going to direct you. (I don't know if he coined the term, but whatevs).
First of all, dude is dreamy. Like never wake up, dreamy. (That's him on the far left.)
Secondly, he put out a mix that, to me, sounds so quintessentially DC. Like if Scott Henry were still on my radar, I imagine he would be playing a set like this (except there'd be a Green Velvet track).

Next site I'm going to direct you to is Tom Coates' site.
He pretty much rocks. His design aesthetic is the best I've seen.
Plus, he has a really great take on Cyclops from the X-Men.
Also, he's in the trenches of the digital revolution and often has links to the latest and greatest on these here interwebs.

And, finally, I would like you to read this letter to President Bush from the CEO of my company. Damn, I work for a cool company. Did I mention I'm learning Mandarin, as well?

Talk to you real soon, k?

What's that you say? You're sad to see me go so soon. All right then, one quick pic and an accompanying story.
Below is one of my fave underwear models from UnderGear (get a catalog if you don't already). He is smokin'--and not just his body either, its those smoldering eyes and that amazing lantern-jaw. Yum.
Um. Ok, where was I?
Oh yeah, imagine my surprise when I found video of him on the John Malkovich Clothing site. I'd post a direct link, but the whole site is Flash-y, so I'll just give you directions. Go to tees then click on his picture. Enjoy your day!

Periodically

Number of people under one roof - 4
All - Male
Hetero:Homo Ratio - 3:1
Steve 1, Steve 2, Matt
Jeremy



Number of Vehicles - 3
Make of Vehicles - Mazda
Model of Vehicles - Millenia, 626, Truck



Number of Televisions - 4
Number of Computers - 6
Laptop:Desktop Ratio - 1:1



Number of Gaming Systems - 7
X-Box(2), PS2(2), N64, Dreamcast, Gameboy Advance

Video games in current rotation

Soul Calibur 3, World of Warcraft, Castlevania Aria of Sorrow, Earthworm Jim



Number of housemates with Netflix subcribtions - 2
Number of Netflix movies currently at house - 5
NewRadio Seasons 1&2 (Disc2), Videodrome, Sins of the Fleshapoids, Perfect Blue, Mystery Science Theater 3000: Attack of the Killer Shrews
Television shows watched regularly by 3/4 of by housemates - 7
The Simpsons, King of the Hill, South Park, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Battlestar Galactica, Jeopardy!



Number of languages spoken in the house in the past week - 4
English, French, Mandarin, Ngala



Number of Periodical Subscriptions - 9
The New Yorker, The Wall Street Journal, Details, Dwell, Complex, Harper's, Interview, Electronic Gaming Monthly, BPM



Average number of hours when all housemates are home - 1.5
Average number of hours when any housemate is home - 23
Average age of housemate - 27.25
Number of housemates boning on a regular basis - 2
Best dry-erase board message from the last month -
Please don't masturbate in the shower. Please, Please!

A beard is just a beard, unless its a cigar.

I've written some of my most compelling and least coherent work under the influence of delerium. Its true. High school AP History class final. Copy for Montana Ag Live. An award-winning short film. A journal entry which nabbed me "Funniest Male Aged 18-22" in Bozeman, MT for Spring Semester 1998. Yeah, top that!
Unfortunately, I don't believe that this evening's delierium will be anything of the sort. Well, It will laughably incoherent.
Been reading a bunch of Texan blogs lately. Made me think about when I was in grade school and signed a petition to save the Dr. Pepper Tower in Fort Worth. I've always had an affinity for the beverage. I especially like the Mexican kind that is made w/ cane sugar and not corn syrup.

I really like this product. Of course, I also like Cherry Vanilla DP.
I also signed a petition to save V.
See? I've always been political.
If you didn't see me w/ the beard, then too late. Here are some of the reasons I'm giving to people as to why I shaved it:
A) It started to freak me out because I didn't know what products to use on it, and my usual skin care lines offered no help.
2) Well, its just been so sunny here that I couldn't really justify looking like a mountain man in such wonderful weather.

The real reason I shaved it--trimming accident. Idiot.

Uh. What else.
New New Yorker has a Martin Amis article, but the real star here is (big surprise) Jonathan Stern's piece. [article]

Um. Pitchfork likes the new Booka Shade (just like me).

I finally got around to getting the new Concretes album, and I love it. Maybe not as much as their debut, but it feels like summer and that's what I'm craving right now, hell, that's why I shaved my beard.
Oh, and here's a track for you to sample.
Ok, one more, cuz this shit's good.

Oh, I just thought of something funny--about beards.
My mom once told me about a dream she had where I had a beard and I came and told her that I was engaged to a woman. I wish I could have told her what a "beard" is to us 'mos.
Plus, this site, seems to think that it came into vogue in the 60's. I was thinking it was way before that. Input?

And I'll end with a couple pics of the exterior of James Turrell's Skyspace at the Henry. If you don't know Turrell, you should. I'm going to try and get a posse of people to hit up his Roden crater when it opens.

You already know the flavor

[Longest post, ever.]
Sigh.
That's right. I'm sighing. What can I say? I've been a busy little beaver. I know you're sick of hearing about it, but I'm still adjusting--or perhaps not adjusting to this nighttime life. I took this evening off for a certain Mr. Dear who came to Chop Suey this evening.
So, its Wednesday night (well, Thursday morning) and I'm still totally discombobulated about what day it is and what I'm supposed to be doing. I've slept for a total of 2 hours in the last 27 so please forgive any typos, grammatical errors, etc.
So you ask, "Jeremy, how's work?"
To which I reply, "Work is actually pretty good. It mimics a dream state. I look at pixels blown up to 300% and push them around a monitor whilst listening to music. Occasionally, I field an e-mail from Japan or China which reads like this, 'Dear Partner, Have tomorrow help size not enough. Please advise. Have a Happy Tomorrow Forever, Other Partner.' Yeah. So those are amusing and frustrating all at once. That's work."
As for the music to which I've been listening at said work establishment, well, this track keeps popping up in my playlist and I've gotta say, that everytime I hear it, I like it a little bit more. I've long been a fan or Serge Gainsbourg and modern takes on his mod classics hit me just the right way. I have to check out the new tribute--although, I don't think anything can beat the electronic take (he is one of the pioneers, after all).
Ok, moving on.
Then you ask, "Jeremy, just because you essentially work 6 days a week [Five 8 hour shifts that start on Sunday night @ 11P and end at Friday 7:30A] that doesn't mean you have the right to neglect us, and we know you love us, so why have we been neglected?"
Well, that's not an easy answer. See, when I was a daywalker, and my responsibilities were much lighter, it was easy to just take a five or ten minute break out of the day to do one of my (lame-ass) posts. Now that I have to work (yes, I realize that a simulated dream state is not *truly* work) for all 8 hours of my shift, I haven't had the time to give you the attention you so deserve, and I apologize for shirking my blog duties.


Ok. Now that all of that is out of the way, I have to post about the shit that has been goin' down.

First off, Friday--Sander Kleinenberg @ The Showbox
If you'll recall, Matt, a co-worker of his, and I hit up Vancouver to see Mr. Kleinenberg last June. We were sorely disappointed in his set.
Let me preface this.
Sander used to be da bomb. He put out mixes that featured artists like Swayzak, Rui da Silva, Peace Division, Funky Green Dogs, Satoshi Tomiie, Hernan Cattaneo, and The Art of Noise. Grandmaster Flash was even singing his praises back in the, y'know. I mean, this is the dude who dropped Junior Boys and made me go out and buy their album (which was my favorite album of ought 4).
All that being said, dude sucks. Matt and I gave him another shot and while he might have been on-target for the shiny shirt guys, he left beatjunkies and househeadz much to be desired. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, go fuck yourself.


Then Saturday--a double bill sure to inspire--Jamie Liddell and Jimmy Edgar.
If you'll recall, I put Jimmy Edgar's "My Beats" on mix numero 3. That track hits it, but really what do you expect from Warp? Liddell harbors the soul of electronic music and is an admirable descendant of the aforementioned Gainsbourg. So the picture I'm posting is pretty much awful (why do I always make weird faces), it is, nonetheless, an accurate descriptor of the evening. And, fuck! When did I get so fat?!?! Good news is, the new sched allows much, much time at the gym. Today, a two-hour killer workout. (Oh yeah, and I'm sportin' the man-fuzz.)


Still rolling--This evening was a night that I asked to have off even before my "promotion" was finalized. Matthew Dear was rollin' thru and he knows how to knock it out. Chop Suey was surprisingly filled for a Wednesday. Of course, the crowd had thinned to 28 people by 1:00. That's ok, though, Matt and I had a great time. We drank and danced and cavorted. A huge posse was there early--Rachel, Paul, Matthew, Bern, David, Kiki, et. al. You know those nights where you see all those people who you know enjoy music as much as you? Well, this was one of those nights. Mr. Dear's set ended around 1:30. Matthew (roommate, not DJ) thanked Matthew (DJ, not roommate) and apologized for the ebbing crowd. Mr. Dear was amiable and replied, "Well, it is a Wednesday."

Is it really Wednesday? Because, seriously, I have no clue when a day starts or ends anymore.
To compound said confusion, my roommates, whom I have come to adore, require that I cook for them on a semi-regular basis. Yesterday morning (or is it this morning) they asked that I make another German pancake. I said I would if they purchased a sifter and all of the required ingredients. Here's how it turned out:


6 eggs, 1 c. bread flour, 5TBsp of butter, cinnamon, vanilla, and powdered sugar. Feeds 3.


So later today, I'm doing the press screening for the Maya Lin exhibit @ the Henry. I'm excited and exhausted. I'm excitausted. I promise you, dear reader, that I will at least make more attempts at posting regularly.

[Oh yeah, and the other reason I haven't been posting as much--World of Warcraft. I finally defeated Van Cleef!!!]

I did it all for the cookie

So, I'm supposed to wax poetic about voting or something so I can get cookies from Texas.
It doesn't really take cookies to motivate me to write about voting.
In fact, I'm greatful that Adam by way of Hypoxic reminded me that since I've moved, I'll have to update my information and subsequently figure out where I cast my vote.
See, the fact of the matter is, I'm a pretty political person. In the beginning of the year, I called my representatives (and others) in Olympia to help pass two bills which would make shooting films in Washington state a more viable option for production companies by giving them tax and lodging incentives. How does something like that affect me?
Well, I did go to school for Film and Television production. I am a card carrying member of 911 Media Arts and the Northwest Film Forum. I do volunteer for the Seattle International Film Festival and the Lesbian and Gay Film Festival. Even though I like to think of film as an art form, it is, probably more so, an industry. Industry is governed by legislation which is written by people we vote into office. They may or might not have us in mind when voting on such legislation, and if we call them, send them e-mails, show up at their doors on a semi-regular basis, they are more likely to take our needs into consideration.
Its kind of strage, though. I mean, I live in a very liberal city with a very high voter turnout. All of my friends are politically minded and vote every two years. I think we would all vote more frequently if given the opportunity.
Here in Ballard, the local cupcake store was giving out "Baby Cakes" if you voted. So, let's recap:
Vote = Brownie
Tell people about vote = Cookie?

And Jesus everyone's been on back about updating this bitch. And shit, I'm sorry, but fer real, this is my second week of ye olde graveyarde and this weekend I went to Sander Kleinenberg, Jimmy Edgar and Jamie Lidell.
Tonight, I'm hittin' up Matthew Dear.
Tons of pictures and stories to follow.

Jinxed

So I've been having issues lately.
Namely, screencap issues. I was planning on doing a visual representation of my love affair with David Cronenberg, but apparently the computer has decided not to do screencaps anymore. Bummer.
So then I thought, well, at least I can post about a crush from days of yore and resurrect old poetry. Alas, I could not even find the old laptop that has all of that writing on it. Double bummer.
So, in lieu of a real post, I leave with you with an image of the peep show I pass every day (well, night now) on my way to work.

Sorry for the poor image quality, I could have beefed it some if I were at work, but well, I'm at home.
The Lusty Lady is a Seattle landmark and their signs almost always make me chuckle. My favorite is still, "Veni, Vici, Veni."

Short like me

Hey y'all, so its day two and I'm whupped. Of course, the bus home was full of little children who were on their way back to school from a feild trip to ride the ferries, so I got stuck standing up for about half the way. I did make it to the gym (for like the fifth time this year, yikes!).
So, since I can hardly manage the energy to type, I'm just gonna cut and paste the Jeremy version of news:

Kim Gordon and daughter to appear on the finale of Gilmore Girls. [article] They get some pretty impressive guests on that show--Madeline Albright, Norman Mailer, Carole King--now Kim. Pretty impressive (especially considering that this season sucks).

Now that Arrested Development is officially kaput, Will Arnet can move to the big screen. [article]

Here's an article that discusses the disconnect in queer cinema. [article] And the author has a pretty glaring research prob--he calls Todd Solondz a homo. Isn't that supposed to be Todd Haynes?

Oh, and if you're not watching Boston Legal, maybe you will soon--Parker Posey to guest star. [article]

Sorry there's no salacious anecdotes to relate--I promise the boy crush story to surface soon (as soon as I find some bad poetry from the days of yore).

So . . . very . . . confused

It is 8:30 in the morning. I just got home from work. So, its official, I'm a night shift-er. Went to see " The Pillowman" last night at ACT Theatre w/ Bill and Cam. The show got out at 10:15, and I went to work. Trippy to say the least, and if I thought being in a bank vault underground was creepy during daylight hours, it is even more so in the dead of the night. Thankfully the three other people with whom I work are pretty cool, and the time went by relatively quickly.

So, "The Pillowman." There was a lot of hype surrounding the show so, needless to say, my expectations were high. I thought the script was pretty good--not so deserving of all of the praise being lavished upon it--but pretty good. I thought the acting and direction were befitting of a regional theater (there's no Billy Crudup or Jeff Goldblum to give instant weight or credibility). The lighting and set design were perfect.
When we entered the theater, which is a theater in the round, a large concrete (looking) box took up nearly the entire stage. When the show began, it dropped to about a foot along its perimeter exposing a prisoner in his cell. The story is bascially that of a writer imprisoned by a totalitarian government accused of murdering three children. The children's deaths are similar to stories he has written, and it turns out his retarded brother killed them. So that's a really basic overview.
Because the story exists in some alternate dimension, we are given the ability to believe a bit more of the outlandish events that occur. My problem wasn't, however, with the story's absurdities. It was with this production's inability to lasso the tone of the piece. When you're working a black comedy, everyone needs to be on the same page--or everyone needs to be under the thumb of a very astute director. There were sparkling moments of revelation in this production, but more often than not, the performances were timid.
It was this timidity that made the show hard to digest. Matthew Floyd Miller as the lead, Katurian, could not pull off the bravado of an author who has written 400 stories (only one of which was published). Shawn Telford as the retarded brother channeled PeeWee Herman and was more a cipher than character in a play. The two police detectives had moments of complete understanding that almost made up for the their younger counterparts inexperience.
For an almost 3 hour play, this production held my attention, and I can't recommend enough getting up, getting out, and doing something different, like supporting local theater.

I get to review ACT's next production, "Miss Witherspoon" by Christopher Durang, for Seattlest.

Speaking of Seattlest, I've got a new one up.

Wow, I was going to post more--about boys from the past, my stupid version of "news" and some other stuff, but I think I'm finally starting to fade. Guess I'll just have more to post this week.
Good night--which is in the morning.

My ears are melty

Just a quick link to two superb tracks by two superb producers.
Swayzak have been around for quite sometime. Snowboarding in Argentina came out way back 1998 and was well-recieved. Go back and listen to it if you own it. It pretty amazing how little this album has aged.
There has been a healthy dose of albums and remix work since then. James Taylor (no, not that James Taylor--the one that's half of Swayzak) released one of my favorite albums last year--Carthage Milk.

Stuido K7 just released the duo's newest, Route de la Slack and its pretty damn good. The best part about it is that it compiles a bunch of the remix work.

They remixed one of my favorite bands, Tahiti 80. And this track is hot.

So for your listening pleasure--

Tahiti 80 (Darkfarmer Remix) - Changes [Route de la Slack]

James Taylor - Wagonlites [Carthage Milk]

Oh, and if you're keeping track, here's my newest scathing review on Seattlest.

You frisky little Minx

Last night we were lucky enough to get the ever-fabulous DJ Minx at the Baltic Room. She brought the thump from Detroit with a smidge of Chi-town flava. And, like so many DJs who've blown through lately, she reminded me that my musical proclivities are often wrongheaded. She got me onto the dancefloor with a dope remix of Kerri Chandler's "Bar A Thym," proving, once again, that I don't know a good track when I hear it. (See?)
The were some squelchy, acid-y tracks. There was the odd electro track, but bitch knocked it out with overstated techno. I mean, the melodies were gilded and the basslines were large. Who ever said that the only good techno is minimal? (Probably me--but I've been wrong before.)
If she ever rolls through your town, go see her. You won't be disappointed.

Also this weekend, I made dinner for the guys. Chicken manicotti al fredo. Simple al fredo sauce. Manicotti stuffed w/ chicken, spinach, onion, garlic, ricotta, mozz., and gorgonzola. Topped it w/ orange bell pepper. It needed more salt, but was pretty good. The salad w/ raspberry vinaigrette definitely helped cut the creamy main dish.

Sharpening Paris Hilton's Face

So I'm not really in the vault anymore and its making my posting quite erratic. I apologize to you, dear reader, for not finding time to share the inanity that is my life with you.

So the weather has been about as nice as that picture implies--not too cold with low, fast moving clouds. Spring has been doing its bouncy thing, and the hormonal reawakening which accompanies the seasonal change has made my eyes gaze a little longer, my step a little quicker, and my johnson a little harder.
I've been slobbering over nearly every guy I've seen in the past week or so. (Well, almost.) Every guy I see is cute or hot or sexy or attractive for a different reason. Today on the bus ride home from work (what is it about the bus), I saw the guy who has a bag that looks like mine. I sat directly across from him. No recognition whatsoever. Bummer.
Last night, a guy at the bus stop and I both arrived mere minutes late. The next bus wasn't for a half hour, so I headed to the next stop. When I got there, I looked back and he was taking the same route as me. He was a traditional PacNWer. Navy blue pea coat, unbuttoned, collar popped. Red heather wool sweater. Vintage jeans and white sneaks with a single red racing stripe. Quite a bit of scruff, pale, dark hair.
I don't know what it is about pale guys, but I've always found the ability to see one's veins as unbelievably sexy. Wait a second, where was I?
Oh yeah, so he was behind me, probably about half a block. At the next stop, I look back "for the bus," but really only to make eyes at the guy. I think to myself, Did we exchange a look back there at the bus stop? I start writing stories about he and I. About us. We'll laugh one day about how we met because we both missed the bus. About how I turned back at every stop just to look at him. About how I stepped on my shoelaces until they became untied. About how I bent the fuck over in front of him, and how he knew he had to have a piece of that.
My dance of the seven thin(ly) veils, however, was wasted on him.
Maybe the next guy I bend over in front of will take me up on the offer.

Oh, and in case you're keeping track, here's my newest (and crappiest!) post on Seattlest. Its so crappy because I've been so boy crazy lately. Oh yeah, and training for life outside of the vault.

If you're wondering about the title of this post, its what I did at work all day yesterday.

The night in pictures

Kelley, Bill, the Steves and I hit the Premier last night for some free beer and free music. I think we had a good time--I was 2 and a half hours late for work today.

One, two, FREE

This week is filling up with stuff to do. The winter doldrums are giving way to the exuberance of spring, and I'll be the first to tell you, it angers me a little.

See, I like the rain. I like the diffuse lighting from cloud cover. I like the marine layer. I like the mizzle. I like my sweaters. I like feeling ensconced in weather. I don't like feeling like the sunshine is out to get me. I hate shorts. I hate sunglasses. I hate flip-flops (or, as I used to call them, thongs).
So in appreciation of the weather, I got World of Warcraft this weekend. I need something to keep me inside.

Anyway, this week will see me out and about.

Mainly cuz, when shit's free. I be there.

Tonight is this event @ the Premier w/ Pretty Girls Make Graves, Helio Sequence, and Aqueduct. The latter is the only one I'm mildly excited about--oh, and free beer.

Tomorrow is the sneak of Thank You for Smoking @ Pacific Place.

Saturday is the opening of some new, lame club.

I'm going to try and see if I can't wrangle a ticket to The Pillowman and that will officially make this one of my busiest weeks ever.

Plus, I'm training the new kid at work and gearing up for a life on the Graveyard.

In more serious news, my sympathies and condolences go out to the friends and family members of the six people who were slain early Saturday on Capitol Hill.

I am angry with the perpetrator's reckless actions and I am angry with the bent that news sources like the Seattle Times are taking regarding the incident. It is not the fault of the music. It is not the crazy hours. It is one man and his psychoses that attacked those people.

Rest in peace.

It's official

I'm a total nerd.

I'm a failure. I can't even fake the death of a stripper.

Wednesday. Frak. Longest work day in a very long time.
Anyway, since it feels like this vault is some sort of No Exit punishment--only without the hell of people--I figured I'd make a tiny post of inconsequentiality. (Is that even a word? It is now.)

Have you seen this nut-grabbin M&M commercial from the UK? [via Bobs Yer Uncle]

Uh. What else--Oh yeah, Julianne Moore is hitting the Great White Way for David Hare's The Vertical Hour. Sounds like a trip to NYC, to me. Some people (Feb. 15th entry) find her choice of roles repetitive. I, however, find myself drawn to her ability to flesh out the minutiae of each character. [Article]

And, finally, a blast from the past. Y'all remember Blair? It was easily one of my favorite sites when I was a youth. That was all the way back when I was doing the web thing via Geocities. Writing about a fictional version of the Flowers in the Attic going to Broadway with RuPaul as the grandmother. If you've never checked out Blair before, go there now.

Hope you're almost over the hump that is humpday.

Ninja tune

Not the record label, but a song's ability to sneak up on you from the shadows and come out kicking.
Today's ninja tune:
"Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors.
I love this song, but I have no idea how it lodged itself in my head.
Hopefully, it will be stuck in your head, too.

Here's a version from some actress' web site.

Then there's this crappy Mandy Moore, Adam Pascal version from Bravo.



My problem with both of the above renditions is that there is no heart and Seymour sounds as though he is a full-fledged hero--not a reluctant one. And Audrey isn't someone who suffers from abuse and low self-esteem, she's just the chick to whom the dude is singing. Meh.

Here, this one's a little better, but still, you can tell the performers get all performer-y and care more about showing off their range than staying true to their characters. (Its the new B'way cast, starring Kerry Butler, in case you were wondering.)

For my money, Ellen Greene is da bomb. Not only does she have some pipes, she embodies Audrey. She originated the role off-Broadway in 1982 an reprised the role for the film. Unfortunately, I couldn't find any MP3s of either version on-line. So you'll just have to settle for Amazon snippets.
[Orig. B'Way Cast]
[Mo. Pic. Sdtrk.]

May this song be stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

My I don't have to run day

Update: I'm an idiot!!

I'm about five days early on Mike and Janice's anniversary! Whoops! Turns out, I have my Yahoo reminder remind me 5 days before. And also, they've been married for six years, not 7. Guess I'm not a good friend. But, we all knew that.

First of all HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO MIKE AND JANICE!!!! This adorable couple have been together for . . . holy crap . . . 7 years now! Way back in '99 they tied the knot in an adorable chapel just north of Austin. I was lucky enough to attend. Now they live up here in the PacNW, and are busy making names for themselves. Congrats on 7 years of marital bliss you two!!!

Now onto less important things:

Did you see this Chris Durang piece in the Huffington Post? He's pretty much a genius and totally hysterical. He went to Yale or some such snotty school w/ the likes of Sigourney Weaver, but don't hold that against him!! He's also one of the most talented American playwrights. If you ever get a chance to see one of his plays, I'd HIGHLY recommend it. His play Miss Witherspoon will be at ACT Theatre in April.

Oh, and just because I'm crazy and obsessive, here's a link to a great David Foster Wallace story about being on the set of David Lynch's Lost Highway.

Happy Monday(s) everyone!

How do you feel about the rectum as a hole?

I've had my share of bad dates.
There was this guy.
There was the guy who didn't like music or movies. "Well, what do you do," I asked.
"I collect model trains," he replied.
My hand quickly darted into the air to attract the waitress' attention. "Check please," I said. "Sorry, I just realized that tonight is the Buffy season finale." Strange, that makes twice that Buffy has lessened the blows of a bad date.

So, onto Friday night's date. Once again, he was not a bad guy. In fact, he was kind of sweet and innocent. Well, let me rephrase that, he was just pretty dim. I think what irritated me most about him was the fact that he had a full head of hair, but didn't do anything with it. It was cropped short and pushed down. Being follically challenged, I resent people who have hair, yet refuse (or don't know how) to do anything with it.
Um . . . what else . . . oh he had presecription shades, the kind that change colors in sunlight. I guess some people find them useful and shit, but my problem with them is that they remind me of Zartan.
Neither of the above listed quibbles would be enough to deter me from pursing an possible love interest if there were substance and depth beneath the surface. So we start talking about TV. Since TV is easily the most throw away medium, I can let the fact that he likes Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives slide. I mean, I watch BSG, and I know that's not for everyone.
So onto books. "What's your favorite book," I ask. My hopes get unexpectedly high when he says, "Well, I don't know about specific books . . . I think it would be easier to say that I have a favorite author." Could I have misjudged him? Could there be the heart and soul of someone who invests time and imagination in the worlds created on the printed page?
"John Grisham is my favorite author." No. Fucking. Way.
And even though I was inwardly judging him, I outwardly used my social politesse and somehow avoided rolling my eyes. Apparently, he wasn't much of a reader until late in life. At least he reads.
So then we had to move onto movies. If I were able to repress my snobbery for literature, any such restraint would invariably come out as venomous when discussing cinema. Tenatively I asked, "So what's your favorite movie?"
"Well, I really like sappy romantic comedies." Oh christ, here it comes. "Notting Hill is my favorite movie." NO. FUCKING. WAY. I could not contain the eye roll, but luckily, I don't think he caught it. "What's your favroite movie," he asked.
I use an old Matt joke that I find highly amusing, but was completely lost on this boner. "Well, I tell everyone that my favorite film is The Decameron [nsfw] , but really my favorite film is Blood of a Poet." Naturally, such middle-brow humor is lost on such a knuckle-dragger.
So the date ended with him congenially giving me a ride up to the hill so Kelley and I could party proper.

You know the really fucked up part about the whole thing? I kept thinking stuff like, "Well, I could give him good books to read." "I could take him somewhere to get his hair done." "I could pick out his clothes for him." "I could take him fun film festivals." "I could learn him good. Real good." But I mean, fuck! I'm almost 30. 30. Christ. I shouldn't have to compromise SO much right at the beginning, right?

Chartreuse with envy

First of all, HAPPY 30TH BIRTHDAY to TENNILLE!!! Ten years ago today, she and I were being scrunched by a semi on our way back from spring break in San Francisco. Luckily, we lived to tell the tale--even if the Jeep did get a little body damage. Just think, the day prior we almost got married in Reno. Oh, how we misspent the carefree days of our youth.

Now, a decade later, Tennille is back in SF. Its like everything old is old again. Like really old. Bitch is 30! Damn, guess that means I'm next. Anyway, warmest birthday wishes old lady!!!!

The weak-end is here. yippity dip.

Seeing as how I have to wait until OCTOBER(wtf?!) for a new ep. of BSG, I guess I'll have to be social or some shit this weekend. I think I'll go on a date tonight at this lovely establishment. If you're nosy enough, I might even tell you how it goes.

Tomorrow I'm going to geek out (what's new, right?) with the Godard film festival at NWFF. Sure, Breathless won't be playing, but it will be nice to see Band of Outsiders and Weekend with other nerds.

I'm sure you've heard about the latest South Park debacle involving an alleged fag, his crazy cult, and their inability to laugh at themselves.

In other news, tastemaker (or follower depending on your take) Pete Tong got married to Brazilian model Carolina Acosta. Pete's Radio 1 show on the BBC is world famous and has launched more than one career into superstardom. From what I know of him, he's a genuine guy. I saw him here in Seattle a few years back and NO ONE came out. There were literally 40 or 50 people there. You could tell he was a little pissed (who wouldn't be?) but he still chatted me up and asked if I listened to his show and whatnot. Congrats to the couple! [article]

You a winner, ha ha ha

Hey look, everybody!! I won a T-shirt from the Manhattan Offender! This makes the second thing in my life I have won. The first being a trip to DC over Easter weekend to see Deep Dish at (now defunct) Buzz @ Nation.
The T-shirt is from the movie The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things directed by Asia Argento and based on JT LeRoy short stories. If you're not familiar with all the hubbub about LeRoy, check this out. LeRoy is a great literary scam far surpassing Oprah's whipping boy.
Asia Argento, however, is what gets me hot about this film. She is the daughter of Dario and a decent filmmaker in her own right. She starred in her father's film The Stendahl Syndrome which brought a whole new level to the way that I viewed art.
Basically Stendahl syndrome is what happens when you're confronted with an array of art and it suddenly becomes overwhelming and causes an emotional overload. It can lead to panic attacks and dementia, which, in my book, is pretty damn cool. It happens a lot to visitors of Florence.
I have experienced Stendahl syndrome once. There was an exhibit at SAM of modern artists. It was a modest collection with pieces from Warhol, Lichtenstein, and Rothko. After seeing quite a few works, I turned the corner to be confronted with a huge Hockney. It had to have been 10 feet tall. It was a painting of a man on a couch facing the viewer and another man in profile. The coffee table in front of the man on the couch had a huge paint blotch. When I saw this painting, I burst into tears. There was no reason whatsoever for it. It was strange and powerful experience.
So yeah, I'm looking forward to this film.

In other, less exciting news--
Charisma Carpenter is still hoping for the Wonder Woman role. Personally, I think she could be really great in it. [Article]

And if you want some music, here's a Marques Wyatt stream from Groove Parlor. Marques brings that west coast flava like nobody's bidness.

Also, Trey Parker and Matt Stone are on Letterman tonight. Maybe we'll get some railing against Scientology for Chef's departure? One can hope.

Rarely am I surprised . . .

. . . by the search terms entered to find this little ol' blog.

Today, however, I have reached a new high (low?).

This is how someone found me.

The gayest gay that ever gayed

Last night was a total blast. Hit up Bill's for the 3 hour marathon of MustGayTV. 3 hours, 3 bottles of champagne, 3 big ol' homos. It was so gay that we had to periodically open the window to let some gay out. It was so gay that we had to scrub the gay out of the couch. It was so gay that I gayed five times and no one noticed.
I won our humungous pool for "Who would win?" Chloe. Give me your dollar bills. That's right, I made $2. Boom. Drinks on me next time.
Bill made a lovely polenta topped with goat cheese, basil, and a roasted tomato compote. There were also crazy-good-lemongrass-thai-things with an equally bomb dipping sauce (sorry, I was too busy shoving them in my mouth to pay attention to what they were). And cookies. And champagne. And laughter--so, so much laughter.

Can you believe that neither Bill nor Cam knew about anal bleaching? (That was one of the times when I totally gayed all over the place.) Its nice to know that I can pass along important, community-oriented, political issues to the boys.

So, onto ANTM. Who's my favorite in ANTM? Tough to call. As far as who I believe makes good TV? I wish that crying bitch would have made the cut--if Rich did his "Rolling Crying Count" again, that hooker would have brought the total into the triple digits. The racist was ridiculous. The fact that Tyra is trying to become more compassionate, or whatever, because of her talk show is retarded. 3 more months of gaying out to the gayest!! I live with 3 straight guys so I pretty much know for a fact that, if you are a male and you watch ANTM, you either have a girlfriend and are very kind, or you like the pole.
In case you were wondering, I think the concesus was Nnena (verified by a text message from Paul), then Sara and Mollie Sue.

So now that I've finally puked out most of the gay in the bathroom at work today, I'll go on to the Jeremy-style news--which is still pretty gay:

Did y'all know that John Malkovich is a clothier? Malkovich, malkovich. MALKOVICH!!!!

I have to wait until August for the new Junior Boys album. That's cool. I'm a patient man. I'm almost 30. I can do it.

Pitchfork has a tracklisting. I find it a tad pequliar that this track isn't listed. The title is "So Sleep." It wasn't on their first album, either, so maybe it'll show up on a B-side somewhere. The part that intrigues me is, I think this is an excellent track. I think it is very indicative of their sound. If this didn't make the cut for the second album, how good must these songs be?
Also, if you saw the JBs on their last tour and actually look at the merch table beyond, "T-shirt. Want. Buy." to see the mix CD they put together, please burn me a copy or send me a link to a downloadable file. Yes, I am that obsessive.

Jerry Abstract and NordicSoul put on a free show tonight at Nectar. Too bad I'm spent. Too bad its in Fratmont. Too bad its at Nectar. I do love free though, so you never know. If you don't know/haven't heard either of these two hometown heroes, they play some ferocious beats with an emphasis on ass-shaking. Oh my god! Its techno music. [e-flyer]

When I hear music

I know, I know, its been a week or something since the last post. Gosh, mom, if I had known you were worried, I would have called.
I'm sure you're so very curious about what I've been up to. Well, not a lot. Enjoying the new digs. The boys and I made the short trek to Sunset Hill for, well, sunset last week. It was nice, but we got there a little late for my taste. It still looked like there was fire on the Olympics which was pretty rad.
Had a low-key weekend due to the fact that I had to be in the vault for some awards show on Sunday.
Made German pancakes on Saturday and Sunday. They turned out surprsingly well. I'm kind of glad I only recently learned how easy they are to make. If I had known previously, I would most likely be even fatter than I am now.
Saturday night made some manicotti which turned out pretty well. I'm going to start photographing my creations and if anyone wants recipes, let me know.
Tonight--chicken parmigiana. Yum!!

So, now that you know what I've been up to, I can get to talking about the shit I like to talk about. Namely, music.

I've never been one to ascribe any of the myriad micro-genre titles that are so rampant in dance music. In fact, if you know me, then you know that I generally refer to dance music as dance music. One of the monikers which has always bugged me is IDM--Intelligent Dance Music. Its elitist name is diametrically opposed to the populist impulses of dance music. Just because IDM has a tendency to eschew the 4/4 time signature, producers and critics have deemed it is somehow more intelligent than other dance music--that it somehow appeals to the thinking man. In a way, it does. IDM has become more of a branding tool that alerts the rock kids to electronic music with a krautrock bent.
So let them have their labels because every once in a while, the outright DM has more thought than all of that other shit combined.
Enter Booka Shade's newest album, Movements.
I can't tell you how much this album has taken me off guard. It is their second LP coming on the heels of last year's Memento. Memento was a great album. It more than adequately represented the sound of a label which, until that point, had only released 12"s.
Movements, though, is light-years beyond. It features the already giant-sized "Mandarine Girl" a version of "Body Language" and twelve other tracks. Just listening to how they've built onto their previous sound is jaw dropping. The care with which they have created some of the filters is mind boggling.
Imagine a filter crawling onto a keyboard melody and shooting out different tones--some sound natural, some sound like they're from outerspace. Then the seemingly same filter moves its way down to the chugging bassline--madness ensues. This isn't just selecting a chunk of a track and slapping on a filter, this is the type of obsessiveness that separates good from great. There are plenty of hand claps and a bass drum that rattles windows for you rhythm junkies. These guys keep the 4 on the floor and have created an intelligent dance album that lives well-above anything labeled IDM.

So, you want some music.
I can do that.

Here's "The Birds and the Beats" from the album. It is representative of not only the eclecticism, but also the bombastic approach these guys have to knockin' out beats. (Up later, having problems w/ my box acct.)

So I'll give you this one, too. This is entitled "Wasting Time" and its a bit more melancholic, but still groovin'. Enjoy!

And if you're looking for more--
Labelmates (and co-owners) M.A.N.D.Y. have a mix available for download here.

If this type of dance music makes you shake your head in bewilderment, then I'll direct you here to one of the finest mixes from BeatsInSpace---Darshan Jesrani of MetroArea. If you still don't get it, then you probably never will--go back to your rock-n-roll concerts.

I don't even know 20 people

If you were planning on going to Lisa Shaw next Friday, please let me know. Trinity is doing some promotion where, if you bring 20 people, and come around 8:00, they'll supply appetizers and drink specials. I've already RSVP'd but I don't have the requisite 20. In fact, I've got me and maybe Matt (depending on his work schedule). So e-mail me if you're interested. Could be a fun pre-funk before a good show. (Even though we've all seen her a billion times.)

Lisa Shaw w/ Jask -- Friday, March 10th -- 8:00ish -- Trinity Nightclub -- A Uniting Souls event

Beef strokin' off

Wow, I got a lot of hits mentioning a certain magazine launch in the last post . . .
Apparently, I was not the only one who felt that it blew. [here, here]
And for some reason, their web siteis actually up today. [here]

So its Tuesday and I've promised the boys that I'll cook for them once a week. Its not really for them, of course; I'm just excited to be able to practice my skills without feeling the wasteful repercussions of cooking for one. Tonight, a favorite from my childhood--Beef Stroganoff. I can't really find one recipe I like, so I'm going to kind of wing it. I'll let you know how it turns out.

And onto the unimportant news:

Buzzin' Fly was nice enough to put up this streamed mix by Jimpster. Its totally fresh and goes from deep to electro and back. Its good background music at work, but also bumpin' enough to keep you noddin' your head and steppin' in beat around the office. Some really, really good trax on here.

I might have already mentioned that David Lynch and Mark Frost were looking into reviving Dale Cooper. Here's further proof (it's toward the bottom--where it says, "Coop talks Peaks"). My nipples are really hard just thinking about it--or maybe its just cuz its damn cold in the vault today.

Speaking of my favorite auteur, did you know that Blue Velvet is 20 years old? Does that make you feel old? It makes me feel old. The Village Voice talks about the lasting influence of the groundbreaking film. [here]

And in completely fluffy news, there's more X3 talk over at JoBlo. Who knew that Kelsey Grammar was in it? And as Hank McCoy, no less. Trippy.

Uh . . . David Cross will be on Comedy Central in the form of an animated series. Its called 'Freak Show' and is about circus freaks by day, superheroes by night. It sounds about as lame as Mystery Men, but we can hold our collective breath, right? [here]

Update: I wrote the majority of this in the vault, but the rest was written at home after dinner. Strokin' off with the boys was pretty good. Made two tiny mistakes--the first, completely my fault. I added the flour too late so there was the occasional flour-y chunk. The second, I blame on some lame-ass recipe that had a pinch of cinnamon. I used a tiny, tiny bit, but it would have been better without it.