Funny You Should Ask

My personal top of pops. Enjoy and Happy New Year!!!!!!!






best part? the tags in marker on the knuckles. it washes off. download it now.

its time to make some music videos, you old men. just kidding, if youre old than so am i. ride on, rock on forever.

get lost in this one. its like joni mitchel on helium on acid on boones.
Things to look forward to:
Emily Lacy full length next month/this month
EMA this spring
Men, soon?

From the old timey vault

Googling yourself is like masturbating, everyone does it alone when the door is locked, so lets all just get over that right now. Okay, so I found this earlier while jerking myself off. It's from 2005. I'm honestly a little embarrassed by how much wittier and cleverer I was back then. Maybe a wet brain really does do a writer good. Oh Gawker, Dr. Mishkin, New York, what a dream.


And just for shits and giggles, I offer this absolutely mesmerizing interview with Leonardo Dicaprio conducted by Daisy Fuentes that disolves into this incredible cringe ride that alternates between total rudeness, flirtation, mutual dislike and then absolute raw sexual chemistry and then peters out into a clip of young Leo being straddled by a 90's actress blonde. The best part? When Leo mispronounces the name of the films screenwriter and then checks his watch on air. All the while Daisy refuses to play the apologetic ninny, holding her own and even taking the last shot. It is riveting, riveting stuff.

After Basketball Diaries young Leo played Rimbuard. Whatta wanna bet he's got some dusty, nineties notebook scribbled with bad poetry? Like my man Katzban likes to say "Someone telling me their favorite poet is either Bob Dylan or Tupac Shakur is like if I said my favorite Blues singer was Jim Belushi." ps, thats a link dummy!

Cum Again!

Before I peace out completely for the Holiday's I would like to say this:
I know you're reading, why not say hi? Don't let the spam commenters have all the fun.
In any event, I hope you enjoyed your stay. But lay a little wordage on me if you don't mind, lets make this a symbiotic kinda thang.

X (mas) Games

I will be taking a brief Holiday sabbatical from blogging in order to spend time with friends, family, travel and worship of my December pagan god of choice. And also to work, I have two 1000 word pieces due by the first. Fuck me. In any event, I hope you have a wonderful chrismakwanzahanukasoltice time of it!
I'll be back when I'm back, most likely in two weeks. Lots of love.

Party till Mercury goes into Retrograde!!!

Cathy, the animal communicator called and she said its your birthday!!! Shine on you crazy diamond, shine on!


Back in the day.

xoxoxoxoxo <3

Lady Magic!

What do you get when you mix a pinch of Anni Hall

a dash of Kate Bush

And one wild rose?

The beautiful, chanteuse Kate! Look, she's casting a spell right now!

Happy birthday Kate! You are the best best ever, the bees knees! I <3 u!

It's A Violent World

Silence equals death is not a joke. The irony of David Wojnarowicz being censored in a show about understanding the 'other' experience is even more stupid and infuriating. Literally, its stuff like this that makes me not want to step foot out of my house. It's disgusting and ignorant that certain people in the art world still feel the need to bow to a bunch of hypocritical, most likely closeted, assholes, who are afraid of what might happen if people start to think for themselves, when lord knows they would never ever do the same in return. God save those who twist gods wisdom for their own shitty gain. My god is my childhood dog with sweet breath and my grandfather breaking peanut shells and handing them to me. Censor that, ass fucks.
Here is the video in question. Repost if you can. It's also screening this Sunday at Workspace at 7 pm. 2601 Pasadena Ave, Los Angeles, 90031

Here's some of his art. I really didn't know that much about him until this whole fiasco happened. I certainly knew who he was, but wasn't overly familiar with his style. I actually love his work now and have become quite obsessed with it in the past week. I love his use of color, the southwest, childhood psychosis and sexuality. So in that regard, this gross thing the Smithsonian has done has a dull silver lining, it is exposing his art, negatively in some cases, to people who had never really become acquainted with it. In that way, perhaps, it might still make an impact on how people think and feel, hopefully other people out there like myself will go from just having him be a name in their back pocket to becoming an actual artist they admire, whose work they previously hadn't engaged with. I think these images are beautiful.



This one is my favorite.


David is third from left.

100 Women Strong!

No Wind, No Rain

Funny lady, Rachel.

College was awesome for many reasons, one of them was getting to know amazing people who shared your same interests, challenged your ideas and inspired you to work harder and be better at what you do. I made some great friends in undergrad but none of them has offered me this rare opportunity to push myself more than Rachel. Aside from being styley, fun to run around central park with, get bbq on the upper west side with or smoke a bowl with on a Brooklyn balcony, she is fiercely smart, talented and most of all an incredible writer. In school we both loved music, talking about it, listening to it, walking through Diana Ross park and singing it. We have had similar trajectories. It's just fun to know someone who is after the same bones as you. We have remained in touch as I went off to Cal Arts, and she got on the No. 1 train to Columbia. I'd like to think we have gained strength in having an ally and someone in our corner. That is why I am so so so excited and proud to know her this week. Her piece on Jay Z in the New York Observer is so brilliant it makes my head spin. For real, it's already gotten rave reviews and kicked up controversy in the few days that it's been out. Adam Wilson at BlackBook said this the day it came out:

Anyway, click here to read the entire thing, you won't be sorry.

Mating Rituals

Back to Business

"I'm just twenty-two and I don't mind dyin."

Time to put away the personal platitudes and portraits and get back to the business at hand. The amazing, fierce, smart as a smart can be, critic of all things that need to be critiqued, music/feminist warrior Erika Anderson aka EMA is back, sans her badass band Gowns -r.i.p- with her new project, AWE and let me tell you, this stuff is crisper, more cutting and cleaner than anything she's done before. It's as if her vision has been funneled and reduced to a super potent potion. One drop goes a long way.
click here for two unreleased tracks from her upcoming EP
California (Boys) is AMAZING.
Here's a snippet of the music vid that is forth coming, by Erika. But click the link for the entire track.

Just Say That You Love Me

Excuse me while I toot my own horn here. Best Music Writing came out and in the introduction Ann Powers said the most amazing thing anyone has ever said about my writing ever. Ann is basically one of my heroes and when i read it, I died. The book is out now so go give it a read! Lots of amazing, amazing pieces by Sasha Frere Jones, Michelle Tea, Randall Roberts, Robert Christgua, Jessica Hopper and Mary Gaitskil, to name a few.
In other news, Nick has a new blog, ahem, sorry, Tumblr, Tumble, where he is posting the awesomeness that is his brain. Go see why I love the guy so much. He's even posting some of his poetry, which is what he's in grad school for, so you better believe its good stuff! click here to be transported to a tumblr orgy
Heather has been in town and we've been kicken it. Here's us at Antie Ems. Courtesy of Athena Schindelhiems.

Okay, schmos, talk soon.
Also, things you should read if you haven't already
The Ihop Papers by Ali Liebegott, The Lost Art of Reading, by David Ulin and Passionate Mistakes and Intricate Corruption of One Girl in America by Michelle Tea, any article in ArtForum by Catherine Taft.

Let your love light shine

In 1969, 27-year- old Dr. William J. Kaufmann III became the youngest Director at any major observatory in the United States. His youth and vitality fueled his efforts to bridge the gap between the scientific community and the general public to allow everyone to share in the advances of astronomy.

Under Kaufmann's direction, Griffith Observatory would host a lunar exhibit, showcasing lunar rocks that allowed visitors to see up-close a piece of the celestial object which has been viewed countless times through the Observatory's telescopes. The exhibits in the Hall of Science reflected the public's interest in the space program, with an exhibit of a "spacemobile" and models of other spacecraft.

The new information about the moon learned by Apollo 11 and 12 also led to a new planetarium show entitled "New Discoveries from the Moon," which not only presented data but also dealt with the practical issue of whether these efforts were worth their lofty price tags.

In 1973, the first Laserium show in the U.S. was presented in the Observatory's planetarium theater. This laser-light program, set initially to classical music and later to songs from artists such as Pink Floyd, proved to be instantly popular. These exhibitions of modern laser light technology were conducted by a "laser-artist" (Laserist for short) with computer-programmed material to create eye-catching images. Kaufmann's goal to reach out to the public extended beyond theatrics, and in 1972 the Observatory premiered its first planetarium show in Spanish. Dr. Kaufmann left the Observatory in 1974 to pursue other interests and passed away in 1995.

Dress You Up

A little vanity never hurt anybody. New cut, new color, a few new clothes.

I'm Sick :(

American Trilogy

As much as it might seem dark and hopeless right now, good things have come in the past from the midst of frustration, anger and disbelief. All at times when we thought it couldn't get worse. This country is all kinds of fucked up, not even taking into consideration the people who have been stepped on, wiped out and used to get where we are now. That aside, we are also a country of loving, compassionate, wonderful, intelligent, capable strong willed individuals, despite our flaws. I'm typing this as much for me as you, dear readers. After all, this country made jazz, coca cola- neither of these things I particularly enjoy, but still!-we line soup kitchens to feed our poor and when we are the poor, we still pause to give thanks, I'm not being corny!! It's true and we know it, we have made beautiful art, erected amazing universities and institutions and in the past admitted when we needed help, or were the first to rush out and offer a hand to those in need. We have opened our arms to the idea of personal freedoms, when we work, there's no one else like us. I have always loved, deeply loved American culture, all its fucked up flaws included. Andy Warhol and I have that in common. Anyway, don't let a few scared, backwards, moonshine fucks give us a bad name. And lets not be be like them either and hate all people that look or sound like them, after all, Elvis is of this country and I live and breathe and go to work in the same country as the great, now dearly departed King. Is there anything so beautiful sounding as the voice of Elvis Presley singing gospel? I am not a religious person, well, I might be Unitarian if push came to shove, but that's something else entirely, Elvis loved god, his country, and all the little children and he moved a nation with his velvety goodness, with his simple belief in human solidarity. He sang for all people, at all times. Lets move gain, forward and onward, oh yes, in the name of Elvis, tonight I go on.
post script: if you are a religious person and you do pray, pray that all those before mentioned homophobic, racist, misogynist confused sad fucks, pick up a book, read it, and learn a goddamn thing or two. The worst part is, iced tea was and always has been my favorite beverage, lately, i find myself ordering coffee. Lets drink tea again, lets drink tea and not be ashamed!

Muuuuusssssiiiiiiiiiic!

I cannot stop listening/watching. Gooooood stuff.

Happy Halloween Weekend!!

One night down, two to go! I hope everyone has a great Halloween and stays safe and rocks out till the break o dawn. xooxoxox

Gutterballs

Oh Snap!

Maria Falconetti in the Passion of Joan of Arc. A perfect movie.

My boyfriend and I share many things in common, movies, is not usually one of them. He has it seems, a love for the neurotic male tale/fantasy. Of a NY variety. I, on the other hand can't think of anything I like less, aside from many other tired male cliches. But he fancies himself a movie nerd and aficionado and I would only venture to call myself an opinionated fan.
Things he loves I can't stand: John Cassavetes
Things he considers genius and well written, I think are infantile/sociopathic tripe: Woody Allen
He loves french new wave, I find it to be overrated, film school boy masturbatory muck, but it's muck he loves. And to be fair, I took an entire class in undergrad basically ripping it apart by the groin. It was a class full of some head bashing, tea partier's (click me!) nightmare. Many angry young women wearing menstrual cups shredding apart Goddard with a lifetime worth of frustration at their fingertips. Really, truly, electrifying class! I used to just sit back and listen to the awesome angry seething as my classmates and I tore apart culturally loved icons. It was liberating to say the least. "You are wrong Roman Polanski! Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! And a hack!" But I digress.
I LOVE the Godfather 1 and 2, he thinks its boring- that's just insane to me, but he can't sit through it.
I can't handle Wes Anderson, I find him to be precious and precocious and overly styled in an attempt to hide his offensive "ethinic" fetish.
He laughs when I rent things like Whip It, or Jennifer's Body as late night guilty pleasures and is shocked when I find them smart, moving and complex. They aren't great film masterpieces to be sure, but they aren't that bad! And noble attempts to three dimensionalize the female teenage experience. The world can do without, A Walk to Remember, schlock.
He hates Blade Runner, it's probably my favorite movie. He cant stand Terry Gilliam, I can't live without Brazil and Life of Brian.
To be a critic is really, truly a biased thing, no matter how hard you try to be objective, you just never will be. Art is like politics, no amount of me telling Nick that, Babe: Pig In the City or WAll-E are great films not just for kids, will make him want to see them. And no amount of art film talk will convince me that Goddard is not a giant tiny penis. You find the critic you like, then follow them to the end. Hopefully you don't follow Peter Travers though, cos that guys just an idiot.

Pauline Kael is a personal hero of mine!

"The acting that is so bad it's embarrassing sometimes seems also to have revealed something, so we're forced to reconsider our notions of good and bad acting. . . . Faces has the kind of seriousness that a serious artist couldn't take seriously – the kind of seriousness that rejects art as lies and superficiality. And this lumpen-artists' anti-intellectualism, this actors' unformulated attack on art may be what much of the public also believes – that there is a real thing that "art" hides. . . . Faces is being taken as a religious experience. It's almost a form of self-flagellation to go to a movie like this – "to see yourself," which, of course, means to see how awful you are." – Pauline Kael, Faces
"[Cassavetes] replaces the exhausted artifices of conventional movies with a new set of pseudo-realistic ones, which are mostly instantaneous clichés. As a writer-director, he's so dedicated to revealing the pain under the laughter he's a regular Pagliacci." – Pauline Kael, Husbands

"The romantic view of insanity is a perfect subject for Cassavetes to muck around with. Yet even in this season when victimization is the hottest thing in the movie market this scapegoat heroine doesn't do a damn thing for him. He's always on the verge of hitting the big time, but his writing and directing are gruelling, and he swathes his popular ideas in so many wet blankets that he is taken seriously – and flops. . . . Acute discomfort sets in, and though some in the audience will once again accept what is going on as raw, anguishing truth, most people will – rightly I think – take their embarrassment as evidence of Cassavetes' self-righteous ineptitude." – Pauline Kael, A Woman Under the Influence

"The way I figure it, if Pauline Kael ever liked one of my movies, I'd give up." – John Cassavetes, to Frederick Elmes

I've always admired Roger Ebert's gentlemanly ways. He also thought Cassavetes was an indulgent child in man pants:

Husbands: Peter Falk Harry: Ben Gazzara Gus: John Cassavetes Written and directed by John Cassavetes . Produced by Sam Shaw and Al Ruban . Running time: 138 minutes. Classified PG. 1970. By Roger Ebert

John Cassavetes' "Husbands" is disappointing in the way Antonioni's "ZabriskiePoint" was. It shows an important director not merely failing, but not evenunderstanding why. "Husbands" has all the confidence of Cassavetes'masterpiece, "Faces," but few of the other qualities of the film thatpreceded it. It has good intentions, I suppose, but it is an artisticdisaster and only fitfully interesting on less ambitious levels. Still, it comes to us with incredibly good New York notices, a specimen ofwhat Pauline Kael calls media-hype. Every season there are one or two filmsthat are decreed as great by the New York critical establishment, againstall common sense. The best critics, like Kael, weren't won over by"Husbands," but the Luce magazines apparently decided by fiat that it wassuperb. Life had Cassavetes on its cover, and seldom has Time given abetter review to a worse movie. Cassavetes once again uses what I guess you'd call pseudo-cinema veritealthough his film is acted by professionals and (allegedly) scripted inadvance, it's given a documentary look. "Faces" was too. But "Faces" actuallywas photographed in 16mm., with available light and sound, so of course itlooked that way. With "Husbands," a deliberate effort has been made to simulate the 16mm,cinema verite look, even though the graininess isn't necessary. That isn'tdishonest-a director has a right to do anything he can to make his filmwork-but it doesn't grow organically out of the material. Nothing in thisfilm, in fact, seems organic to it; the idea, the style, the narrative, theacting, all seem laid on to a reluctant film. "Faces" was all of a piece;"Husbands" is in pieces. The story sounds promising when you hear it. Three friends (Cassavetes, BenGazzara, Peter Falk) mourn the death by coronary of a fourth. Mourningleads naturally into drinking, and after an extended binge (including thesinging of maudlin songs, the expression of undying friendship, copiousbeer drinking and even more copious vomiting) the friends find themselvesflying to London. They pick up three complaisant girls (rather easily, itseemed to me), and in wine, gambling and lovemaking they seek truth. Fair enough. Here we have three characters on the edge of middle age, andthe fact of their friend's death is the shadow of their own. Consideringthe talent involved in the making of "Husbands," it is surprising that solittle was made of such material. There are a lot of problems. One is withthe script. "Faces" was almost totally scripted, and seemed almost totallyimprovised. A really excellent script should always seem improvised, ofcourse, to the degree that the actors seem to be saying real things and notreciting dialogue. "Husbands," which Cassavetes takes a writing credit for,sounds improvised in the worst sort of way. There are long passages of dialogue in which the actors seem to be tryingto think of something to say. This in situations where the words shouldflow naturally. (Is a drunk ever at a loss for words?) There are lineslike: "You know what you are? You're a ... you're ... I'll tell you whatyou are ... you're ... I wish I could think of what you are." Followed bythe actors breaking up and slapping each other's backs, etc. I said"actors" deliberately, because characterization is destroyed by all thismessing around. I can't believe the scenes of this nature were scripted, because youwouldn't deliberately set out to write such antidialogue. Nor do I believethat Gazzara, Falk and Cassavetes (fine actors all) could have acted thesescenes so awkwardly if they were working from scripts; what we see are notperformances, but the human beings themselves, photographed while tryingnot very successfully to improvise. There are other things wrong with "Husbands," but the script (or non-script)problem runs throughout the movie, undercutting a lot of potentially betterscenes. There are some good scenes, even so. And some good ones that becomeunbearable because they run on so long. And there is always the presence ofCassavetes, who, whatever else his sins, doesn't protect himself from theconsequences of his inspirations.

And for extra fun, Ebert being bombarded by Howard Stern and somehow managing to not only maintain his composure and dignity, but make Howard look like the childish bully that he is.


At the end of the day, were all just nerds who never learned how to throw a ball. I mean, look at this guy! And I love him the most.

Actually, I love this guy the most! Just not his taste in films, but I appreciate his taste in cats.

Lets just chill

Too Soon

An olive branch to the world. Actually, I saw Ari Up play at Don Pedros in Brooklyn three years ago and she was fucking CRAZY like didn't give a fuck, was starting fights with people, her god daughter was there, she was jumping into the audience and walking offstage and being a genuine terror. Like, the show sucked. It was that bad. But you know what? I saw that show in 2007, almost thirty years after she started doing this shit. The stuff she was yelling was about sexism and she was taking issue with entitled boys in the audience. In all honesty, everyone was a polite, boring, most likely liberal educated hipster, the boys included. But she rallied against them anyway. In a way I don't think it would have mattered if the boys in the audience- its a very small club, a bar actually with a stage- had been pigs, Ari Up was pissed, had been pissed most of her life, and really, looking around this world where women are stoned to death, put in cans and then ships to be sold into the sex industry, make not even a quarter of the revenue they help generate from the billion dollar porn industry and still only get two months maternity leave from fucking reputable university's- I'm a nanny, don't get me started- can you really blame her? The world is a giant see saw and a big fat man is sitting on the other side and no matter how many people we get to jump on our end, he just keeps eating and getting fatter and the damn thing never seems to budge. And worst of all he's convinced most people that thats just way it is and always will be. That this is NORMAL. Ari Up knew that was bullshit. And thirty years after The Slits, she, alone, was still on the road rabble rousing and spreading the gospel of rock n roll.
The Slits were awesome, Ari Up was funny, smart and really really, genuinely talented. She was a rock star with a bone to pick with the world. Is there any better kind? Ari Up, you will be missed.

Reunited And It Feels So Good

He came back!

Us in 2008.

Back with those who love him,

and know him best.
No more cat posts for awhile, promise, Tut, Fat's and Marlowe say 'meow' till later.

A Kind Companion

He is just one little cat in a world of suffering and need, but nonetheless, if you have the time, say a little prayer for him. Thank you.

Now is Now

I had this poster in my room when i was in high school. You can see it in this photo. My best friend in high school's mother, helped organize this march. Edward James Olmos made a movie about her mom.





US, Mexican border 1942, which is just so...strange. Whatever they've 'got' it's been in Los Angeles a lot longer than you have.


The cosmic race.

A Long Time Ago

My babies.