Archive for September 11th, 2009

What the whatting what?

September 11, 2009

Did I seriously insult Audrey Hepburn earlier today? I do believe I did. I officially declare tomorrow Audrey Hepburn Half-Day. She is too thin to merit a full one. Aw, crap, I did it again.

The Wild is calling, calling

September 11, 2009

“There’s a whisper on the night-wind,
there’s a star agleam to guide us,
And the Wild is calling, calling … let us go.”
–Robert Stevens

It’s Friday: do what feels right.

(Myself, I am lost and a little afraid and so I stay in of a Friday night, these days. But my mind is always free to wander. I will not allow even me to take that away.)

Per mi amica: Christy Anne 2nd Ed.

September 11, 2009

“You smell like a baby prostitute.”

Obsession of the day

September 11, 2009

I have quite a few today, actually, because I am, frankly, the obsessive type. But this is my musical one. This song. Over and over.

The Pilgriming Vine – Basia Bulat

“Sometime now I’ve been
afraid that the pilgriming vine is
Finally coming to take me
Taste it and tell me it’s savoury
Hold it up high to the light and
Let it grow and
Tell me I’m always your only
Never look down mother maple…” –Basia Bulat, “The Pilgriming Vine,” Oh, My Darling.

Buy this kickass album directly from Beggars Group, the distributors of Rough Trade records, and consider that you could, if you wanted, stop going to and maybe buy directly from labels from now on because they and their artists will see more money. It is your call and I am not telling you how to live your life, but in most cases the artist is going to see more money and the label, and thus music, will stay afloat longer. Unless it’s a major label. Then eff ’em.

Unlikely G: Rushmore Edition

September 11, 2009

I am not the only one who liberates negative space.

Hail, Edward Applebee, O.G. well met, gone but not forgotten with your inspiring Jacques Cousteau quote which tips into electrified action not just Max Fischer but Rushmore’s entire plot. Love and spirit like yours is just exactly what. R.I.P., even if you are fictional.

Max: So we both have dead people in our families.

Some days that is a lot to take, isn’t it.

Asked and Answered: Janosz Poha edition

September 11, 2009

“Why I am drippings with goo?”
“You had a violent prolonged transformative psychic episode.”

Oh, if I had a nickel…

Daily Batman: Enter the Joker

September 11, 2009

“Jaaaaaaazz hannnnds!”

“Life is a gas, but the side effects do vary.” –Mr. Cornelius Bear, Achewood, Chris Onstad


September 11, 2009

I’m aware of the significance of the date and all, I just think it’s really jacked up to write about it and make it about yourself. Some stuff is private. I have things scheduled for today that will go up as planned, and that’s that. It is classless to publically air a grief that is still resonant and personal to so many people in their most secret and deeply affected private hearts. Put out an emotional flag to the people who remember every single day when they look at an empty chair at the table, and let’s not make a poor-tasting production of this, okay?

It happens: Texas ghost sex edition

September 11, 2009

“A ghost would crawl up my leg and have sex with me at an apartment a long time ago in Texas. I used to think it was my boyfriend, and one day I woke up and it wasn’t. I was freaked out about it, but then I was, like, well, you know what? He’s never hurt me and he just gave me some amazing sex, so I have no problem.” –Anna Nicole Smith

Perfectly reasonable.

I’m serious. She actually made a lot of sense to me. Like watching a modern live version of Sound and the Fury or something. A real Holly Golightly, as Tru originally envisioned her in the B @ T’s novel, not as the patron saint of anorexics brought to screen. Miss ya, Twinks. I hope Heaven is a wild party.