general bonkers

my favorite flavor, cherry red

08Feb10

I’ve been gripped by insomnia for the past couple of weeks, and it has not been very much fun.

On the plus side, I have seen some amazing sunrises.

Did you see that Air Force commercial during the Superbowl? I was wondering what was up with that. Glad to see an answer today, from the White Stripes and their management.

Jack White, you continue to impress me. Baller moves.

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i’m not here, this isn’t happening

02Feb10

Dry January was such a hit, I am gonna just roll it on through to Dry February.

Why not?

There is always gonna be plenty to drink, and lots of reasons to do it. It’s not like we live in prohibition times, or during an era devoid of celebration.

I did the geekiest thing of my life recently, when Radiohead played that benefit for Haiti in LA, at the Henry Fonda Theatre.

I have been to the Fonda before, and it is not big. Capacity is 1,300. That is like seeing Radiohead at the Showbox.

As soon as I heard about it, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I searched out all available information. I looked at airfare in and out of Burbank. I watched the online auction, even though I knew I couldn’t go.

And then, Amy and Russ got tickets.

Oh my god. I have seen Radiohead with them before. In Los Angeles. At the Greek Theatre in Griffith Park, where capacity is 5,700. It was an amazing show. We were bedazzled.

I was super happy for them, and probably also the most jealous I have ever been in my whole life. There is no band in modern day music with a catalog of work that speaks to me more than Radiohead.

Seriously. They are brilliant artists, and respectable businessmen. It is an admirable combination, one worthy of great respect.

They have never done anything I don’t like. Ever. I don’t think any of their songs suck. Not one. Even their biggest, most-overplayed mainstream tune is a fucking cut. Have you listened to Creep lately?

It is a hit for a reason.

So, yeah. The day they played that Haiti benefit was the height of my geekiness. I pretty much listened to Radiohead all day. I searched out favorite performances online, and dug through vinyl. I read just about every piece of available press.

Then, once the show started, things got really embarrassing.

Not only did I obsessively follow the Twitter feed, I reacted to each addition to the setlist by watching whatever live version of that song was available on youtube. As loud as I could. In as close to real time as possible.

God. I still can’t even believe I did that.

I had to quit at Airbag. 17 songs in, and I couldn’t take it any more. It was killing me that I wasn’t there, and my cobbled together version of a live broadcast was just not cutting it.

I wish they had streamed that show online. I would totally pay-per-view that kind of action, especially if the funds were going to Haiti.

The download is readily available. I am sure Radiohead will not mind if you hear it. They raised $572,774 in one night. From one performance. Amazing.

Listening to that show is really helping me with life right now. Things are very uncertain, and I am terribly out of sorts. I hope it passes soon.

Also, I am thinking about making this blog private. I’ll let you know.

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all the kids wanna sniff some glue

29Jan10

Mark your calendars. Baby Alex is on his way to being the Construction Paper King. His stuff is dynamite.

Weirdo video here. Worth watching, even without the obvious soundtrack below.

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in a cabin, on a hill in butcher holler

28Jan10

I ran into my old friend Jeff the other day, while out running errands in the Junction. He and his wife live nearby, in a house overlooking the water, with their three gorgeous children.

It was good to see him and his brood.

Jeff and I met when we were both living at the Biltmore, back in 1988. He was on the first floor, with a view of the courtyard, while I was up in 614, looking down at the old Red Robin that was on Olive.

Now it’s a Starbucks. God, I hate that sentence.

We became fast friends. Jeff’s studio apartment was filled with cool things — a vintage psych bed couch, a human skull, boxes of 45’s — and it was home to many a late-night blackjack game, fueled by cheap beer and scratchy records.

Always so much fun.

I already knew Mike Ryan. He and Jeff had gone to O’Dea, and raised a lot of hell together. Mike’s brother, Charlie, played drums in the U-Men, so it was inevitable that our paths would eventually cross. You know how that goes.

I can actually remember the first time I saw Mike, even though we didn’t start dating until many years later.

I was in high school, and with my boyfriend at the Tacoma Dome, to see David Bowie. From across the crowd, right down in front of the stage, I spied a dude in a fishtail parka. He was dark-haired, with sparkly Irish eyes, a smattering of freckles across his nose, and a wide smile.

Instant crush.

Years and years later, I officially met Mike one afternoon, over at my sister’s pad. He was sarcastic and funny, and super cute. A visit to his apartment, just down the street from the Biltmore, revealed his good taste — a pinball machine anchored the room, and vintage lunchboxes lined the shelves. He, too, had boxes of records, and an eye for the unusual.

In retrospect, it seems inevitable that Mike and I would fall in love. We ended up spending almost nine years together. I think if I had met him a little later in life, we probably would have gotten married. He is still the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.

Eventually, Mike, Jeff, and I all lived together, in that crappy rental house on Roosevelt. It was a historic time in all of our lives, and we almost always had fun. We had pinball machines and a bar in the basement, near a custom-made card table and old timey coin-op. There were lots of books, and tons of records.

It was a good triple threat of shared interests and style. We laughed a lot. It was hard not to.

That Jersey shore clip below made me remember one of our favorite movies of that time. I hadn’t thought about Jesco White, and his Appalachian hillbilly ways, for years. Jeff had a millionth-generation dub of Dancing Outlaw on VHS, and we watched the hell out of that thing.

We even considered importing Jesco to Seattle for a party sometime, but that scheme never came to fruition. Look at this guy. Can you imagine what sort of excitement he would bring to a social gathering?

“He’s the devil in his self,” says his now-departed wife, Norma Jean.

I’ve only seen one other copy of Dancing Outlaw in my life, and it was at Vedder’s house. Of course. That guy has all kinds of cool shit. His video cassette was a step above ours in quality, but not by much. It truly is a cult classic of a film.

Now, you can buy it on DVD. I totally recommend it. I mean, come on. Look at this guy. Appalachian clog dancing and huffing glue? Savage.