In the words of Liz Lemon..

Things are HAPPENing!

[Christmas Day, '77

I stopped in Baton Rouge at a Holiday Inn.  A man came up to me and said, "Hey.  You see good?  Read this number for me."  He handed me a piece of paper with a phone number written on it.  I read the number aloud as he dialed, then heard him begin talking.  He said, "Called you to see if you'd let me come by and mess around.  My mother is in a home.  She can't walk.  My brother and I are on two hundred acres with no one to talk to.  His wife left him.  I got no wife.  That's why I'm calling.  I got a new brick house and two hundred acres."  The difference between us is that he'd made a realistic assessment of matters, and had a sense of possibilities and limits.  As for me, I assessed little or nothing, but just wanted to record my thoughts, even the most negligible of them, like a poet.]
Time Out of Mind - The Diaries of Leonard Michaels

quiz

This is:

a. Just before the ritual animal sacrifice

b. A rooftop bar next to the Empire State Building that provides free Snuggies*

*This is the only time I will ever be seen in one.  I don't care what you say, Rivers Cuomo.

ten

Even if this year wasn't spectacular emotionally or professionally or any of that other wanky shit, it was pretty good for signifiers of artistic taste.  And if Facebook has taught us anything, it's that you're only as good as the things you like, right?

Favorite songs of 2010:
I spent a good two months listening only to acoustic stuff (I am the child of hippie parents), but eventually I came back around to the godless ways of electric instruments.  Despite being a Houston band, I never got to see Indian Jewelry play live, something I plan to remedy in 2011.  And I know the Beach House album was everyone's favorite of the year way back in January, but to be honest, my only exposure to it came over Thanksgiving when I heard "Norway" in a bar on the Upper East Side.  And since then I've listened to it approximately 15 times a day.  So it gets a spot on the list.

Phosphorescent - The Mermaid Parade
Warpaint - Undertow
Phantogram - Mouthful of Diamonds
Massive Attack - Paradise Circus
Interpol - Lights
Indian Jewelry - Excessive Moonlight
Beach House - Norway
Pacific Ocean Fire - You Were A Boxer
Hey!  A handy mixtape!

Favorite movies:
Netflix Instant improved my quality of life approximately ten-fold (data not shown), so I didn't have much use for "the cinema". I'm pretty sure The Town was the only movie I saw all year, so... Seriously though, it was great. You can keep making gritty dramas about downtrodden blue-collar Bostonians forced into a life of crime and I will continue to love them and hiss into whoever's ear is closest that that's Copley Square and I've been to that Au Bon Pain.

Favorite books:
My library card's been getting a lot of use lately, along with the "pay fines online" button on the HPL website. So much so that the very sweet librarian at the Montrose branch now gives me an extra four weeks when I check out. Delinquency has its perks.
Jennifer Egan - A Visit From The Goon Squad
Sam Lipsyte - The Ask
Sloane Crosley - How Did You Get This Number
Jaron Lanier - You Are Not A Gadget

So there's that. In sum, this year could have been worse. The next could be better. At this precise moment, this is all the emotional equivalent of a warm washcloth. I call it lethargic Zen.

reacclimating to texas is tough.  a week in new york is like a foreign immersion program and now people here walk too slowly, drive too nicely.

is the anticipation is sweeter than the experience?  is it possible to feel at home in a place you've never lived?  can one obtain unpasteurized apple cider in this day and age?  have i packed too many pairs of shoes?


tomorrow, tomorrow, and the next 11 days.

happy halloween

a long, long time ago, i watched some television talk show host interview some male actor about some upcoming movie.  as always, there was a clip.  obviously, the details of this have been lost in the mists of my memory, but the important bits were practically burned into my brain: there was a creepy guy; he walks up to another guy and says something to the effect of 'i'm in your house right now'; second guy is in disbelief and calls his own house; creepy guy's voice comes through on the other end, while he's still standing there.

this scared the shit out of me.

the smile on the creepy guy's face, the being in two places at once, all of it.  if you asked me what terrified me most, i would probably probably try to describe this scene.  years later i even tried to google what movie it came from, but all i had to go on was basically 'SCARY' in flashing neon lights, so that was fruitless.  then one day last month, i stumbled upon it, that very clip on youtube. it was Lost Highway, by david lynch.

of course it was.

this movie came out in 1997.  it has haunted me for thirteen years.  i watched it last night, because finally here was something guaranteed to be worthy of halloween, and i will admit that i understood not a bit of it.  but i was still terrified.  the fact that it makes no sense only makes it scarier.  as i sat in my chair i thought robert blake and his kabuki makeup would appear outside the glass patio door at any moment.  it was an irrational fear that i can only compare to my experiences in iowa this past fourth of july, which is also distantly david lynch-related, but that's a story for another day.

if that doesn't convince you of its quality, it was also richard pryor's last film.  so there's that.

better than waterboarding

torture is gazing at this:

while eating a lunch of this:

only four weeks, and i have a date with a pound of pastrami and my favorite egyptian..
["why would you go on vacation to new york?  who would do that?"
"i would."
"i'm sorry, it's been a long time since we've talked.  i forgot you were weird."]

alternative careers, part two

if i were to pursue what my boss believes my outfits look like:

- secretary
- chef
- member of the latin kings

another day, another john cage quote

[Five years later, when Schoenberg asked me whether I would devote my life to music, I said, “Of course.” After I had been studying with him for two years, Schoenberg said, “In order to write music, you must have a feeling for harmony.” I explained to him that I had no feeling for harmony. He then said that I would always encounter an obstacle, that it would be as though I came to a wall through which I could not pass. I said, “In that case I will devote my life to beating my head against that wall.”]