Writing

Au revoir, mon Ranch

You were one of the lead characters in the chapter I wrote about Los Angeles.
When I left that vague city behind me, you were mostly what I thought about. A entity of substance floating amongst the vapid ghosts of my memories.
Remember the nights when we’d stay up late talking, your whole body creating music, art; you expelling an intricate web between the souls that came to you for inspiration?
And though everything about you was slightly unhinged, I found comfort in your lack of symmetry.
How do you mourn a house? Especially one that was completely annihilated by a fast and purposeful fire? Do you grieve for it like you would a person? Dwelling on the fanciful memories that blow the subject up like a balloon, wildly out of proportion and heavy on the heart?
In every way, The Ranch was what you set out to make it, Kevin. It was that place. The place where artists and musicians and filmmakers came and did what they did best- create. I know you wanted so much more for it, but (more…)
September 4, 2009 by
Writing

Hipsters on a Boat

The other day, the entire office committed a minor coup d’etat and decided to have a boat party.

See? Look how much FUN we’re having!

It got even better when Ben took off his shirt.

I brought my bondage gear…


And Cameron and Leah approved. Oh YEAH.
People held hands….
And danced, danced, DANCED!
But then violence broke out.
And a hurricane swept through.
People started to jump ship.
And fearing a shipwreck, ate everything that they could get their hands on.
But then God shone down his beautiful rays.
And we sailed off onto the rainbow of love.
September 3, 2009 by
Film, Pop Culture

Top Eleven Kids in the Hall Skits

I used to pretend I was Buddy Cole. It seems fitting that I would pretend to be an extremely effeminate bar fly who loved wearing a velvet jackets and loafers with no socks at fifteen years of age.
When I wasn’t Buddy, I was Kathy with “K”. Or the Chicken Lady.
Sometimes I’d pretend to be Jocelyn the French-Canadian prostitute (I wanted to be as pretty as Dave Foley). Once I was Sir Simon Milligan AND Hecubus. Needless to say, as a teenager, I was obsessed with the Kids in the Hall. I forced all my friends to watch the show with me and reenact every episode.
I’m sorry.
I’ve been lucky enough to see the guys live four times, including an intimate, four-night only gig in Hollywood last year. I’ve also met them a few times, but the only thing I can remember is when in 1998, my bumbling high school boyfriend said to Dave Foley, “That really sucks about Phil Hartman.”. Dave stared at him, open-mouthed, then said, “Uh yeah, sure sucks that he was killed, huh?”
While I work on my (more…)
September 2, 2009 by
Writing

Woodstock Is The Same Age as Jason Bateman

 

Bathtub time is reserved for either listening to Hall & Oates and crying or coming up with ideas for new blog posts. One action does not necessarily inspire the other, but this morning the two converged. As I contemplated how much Daryl Hall really fucking loved Sara, I thought of the Woodstock Music Festival which celebrated it’s 40th anniversary this weekend and had nothing to do with Hall & Oates whatsoever. In fact, Daryl Hall and John Oates had only met two years prior to the legendary concert. I guess the awesomemulletmoustache duo came to mind because my mother loves them and she loved every single band that played at Woodstock. So in my mind, Hall & Oates played at Woodstock because my mother would have wanted them to.
My mother was nineteen years old when Woodstock took place in an upstate NY farm not far from where she grew up. She’s the only person over fifty that I talked today so I asked her her experiences with the festival.
“Oh yeah, I didn’t go.” (more…)
August 19, 2009 by
Writing

It Was a David Bowie Kind of Day

“Dude, the DP for Labryinth totally had a thing for Bowie’s junk”, I said.

Jennine didn’t even think twice before putting the giant, knee-high sock in the crotch of her overalls. I might have fallen in love Jennine at that moment.


Emily didn’t seem too happy about pretending to be the heroin-crazed, Nazi-loving, hallowed-out cheek David Bowie.
Thomas Newton doesn’t have anything on you.

“I’ve never seen a crotch do what yours is doing right now”, Emily said.
She was giving my crotch way too much credit.

August 18, 2009 by
Writing

Come Run Away to the Beautiful Salton Sea!

You know those days when you hate everything?
When you want to slap a random stranger’s face off or you feel like telling a small child that we’re all dying.

The days when you want to run away from it all?
Maybe pretend your a strung-out alt-folk musician and move to a cabin in the Tennessean backwoods or live with the grizzly bears in wherever the hell that crazy guy lived with them? 
Or maybe, just maybe, in a toxic wasteland hidden in the deserts of Southern California where the beaches are made of fish bones and the air smells of decaying wildlife? Where houses and public spaces have been abandoned and the only sign of life is the occasional farm truck that kicks up dust in the empty streets? 
Yeah, sometimes I want to run away to there. 
However, I quickly learned after visiting this place, The Salton Sea, that 110 degree California desert + dead fish= millions of flies and a smell unlike anything you’ve ever smelled in your life. Plus living amongst self-governed meth manufacturers without (more…)
August 17, 2009 by
Writing

The Blum and I

Last night, I came across an enjoyable little mockumentary called PITTSBURGH starring Jeff Goldblum. The film follows Jeff, his (cough) 23 year-old fiance, and his friends Ileana Douglas and Ed Begley Jr. as they star in Jeff’s hometown stage revival of “The Music Man”. Jeff Goldblum pretending to be Jeff Goldlbum is always a winner . I could watch the dude talk to his hands. This movie is worth checking out if you’re a fan of the Brundlefly.

Ah, Jeff Goldblum…

I had the pleasure of working with Jeff once.

The movie was a real stinker, but that didn’t stop Jeff from treating it as if it were Oscar gold. I was very anxious to meet him. You see, I had had a whale-size crush on him when I was ten years-old. It was the year of JURASSIC PARK and even though I didn’t know what sexy was (I still don’t), I knew that there was something special about this man. His tall stature, his Mediterranean complexion, the way he talked, the way he delivered his lines, the way he moved his hands made my little (more…)

August 14, 2009 by
Writing

The Return of Pee-Wee Herman

FINALLY!

I’ve been waiting 18 years for this mother f’ing day.
It was announced yesterday that Paul Reubens will be reviving “The Pee-Wee Herman Show” with a limited run in November at Los Angeles’ Henry Fonda Theater. According to reports, many of the original cast and puppets will be back. Not to be confused with “Pee-Wee’s Playhouse”, “The Pee-Wee Herman Show” was Paul Reubens‘ original stage show performed at The Groundlings Theater, then Roxy Theater in early 80’s Los Angeles. The success of the show and gaining popularity of the Pee-Wee character led to the making of Pee-Wee’s Big Adventure in 1985.
A couple of years ago, I was at a film premiere in Hollywood that happened to star Paul. My friend who was a producer on the project knew my child-like fervor for Pee-Wee and introduced me to him. Now, I’ve worked with and met a lot of famous people but no one, NO ONE, made me as weak in the knees as Paul Reubens. He was quiet and shy and probably could have given two shits to have (more…)
August 11, 2009 by
Writing

Cary Grant Is the Reason You Can’t Get Laid

Is your love life in shambles? Do you find yourself repeating the same mistakes over and over? Do you feel like you will never meet the right guy or girl, or when you do meet them, they don’t seem to want you? Well, put down that copy of “Men Are From Mars Women Are From Venus” that you never read anyways and listen to me very carefully; I have found the answer: Your love life is in the shitter all because of Cary Grant.
Every man wants to be Cary Grant and every woman wants Cary Grant, but the truth is, Cary Grant doesn’t exist. He never existed. Cary Grant was even quoted as saying, “Yeah, that sweet ass mo-fo up on the big screen? He’s not real.” In real-life, Archibald Leach could be a real f’ing turd. His first wife claimed that he hit her and his fourth wife, Dyan Cannon, alleged that he would spank her during rows (that part doesn’t sound that bad).
Cary Grant was the perfect illusion of what a real man should be- dignified and diplomatic, impeccable manners, chiseled features, (more…)
August 10, 2009 by
Austin

Andy Warhol’s 81st Birthday

You know why Austin is the coolest place that ever existed?!
Because not only do we host Twin Peaks costume parties, Michael Jackson sing-alongs, dances centered around foot fetishism, and the National Karaoke League, we celebrate Andy Warhol’s birthday a la Factory style!
The Plastic Exploding Inevitable 2009 was hosted by Massive Beacon at the Mohawk last night with a crowd close to 400 people. Edie’s Revenge played a Velvet Underground set and PJ and the Bear showed up in their Marc Bolan-fucks-a-teddy-bear regalia. The crowd was full of shoddy Andy’s (one young man/asshole wore cargo shorts, a silk vest with no shirt, and a “Grandma” wig), beautiful Edie’s, a couple of Nicos, one Candy Darling, and, me, one very sweaty, very sober Truman Capote with a camera in my hand taking photos for the Austin Chronicle Chrontourage (suit + bow-tie + suspenders + hot Texas summer night = delusions and anger).
Though the stacks of Brillo boxes did not make their planned appearance, there was silk screening (more…)
August 6, 2009 by