21.9.05
So let me get this straight:I can rape a minor and get DUI's up the ying-yang and have my contract with the NFL or NBA doubled, but if I'm a supermodel and get busted snorting a little fun powder, Chanel will cancel their modeling contract with me?
Our country's sons and daughters are dying by the dozen every day over in Iraq, our adminstration has stolen the freedom of our citizens, we ignore thousands or white AND black people in New Orleans after a major hurricane, gasoline has risen 200 percent in three years, but what REALLY matters is Kate Moss doing coke and boys kissing?
16.9.05
j - since tears are all we have when we don't have the courage for anything else, take comfort in your precious guilt. now the Beast can have its castle and remember Beauty. Ah, the immutable heart of what we are that challenges what we might become. - s9.9.05
So I hate to be a pessimest (wait, no I don't) but you know that its never a good sign when you toss and turn from 4 a.m. and find yourself wide awake at 6. I was planning on getting up early anyway to go for my morning bike ride, so I figured, okay, what the hell. So I get up, get ready, and ride out on my normal loop around Los Feliz/Silverlake before my 9 a.m. conference call with [Insert Video Game Company Here].
Twenty minutes later the commuters into Hollywood on Los Feliz were entertained by the site of me throwing up over my handlebars into the gutter on Commonwealth and Los Feliz Blvd.
Outstanding! Happy Friday everyone!
Not to be totally defeated on this fine Friday, I pushed on and finished my ride. I had some time before my 9 a.m. call, so I proceeded directly to the nearest Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf on Vine and Sunset and ordered a regular sized English Breakfast Latte and a bagel. God loves the Coffee Bean, and so in turn, God loves us and that is why God gave us English Breakfast Latte's - the second nectar of the Heavens.
As I'm sitting and waiting patiently for my drink, I chuckled to myself about all of the cars that drove by while I spewed Naked Protein Drink all over my front tire earlier that morning. I was feeling much better and was smiling thinking that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad morning afterall. And then, it happened.
The door opened and in walked Lisa.
I froze in terror, my mind racing to place the face with the time in my life and make the connection to the site, and the pang in my stomach. Not the good pang, where I'm rendered foolish and unable to form any sentence that does not sound like "awww shucks" but the BAD pang, where you are immediately guilty of some hideous crime you are ashamed of from some former life and find yourself trapped in a Coffee Bean. It's freedom, or it's the English Breakfast Latte. You face a choice, and you must choose.
Lisa browsed the baked goods case, and I quickly got up and went to the other side of the drink counter, hoping that my drink would magically leap ahead of the three people in line in front of me, but, no, there was no drink waiting for me.
I could feel Lisa's eyes boring into the back of my skull as my mind furiously raced "where d
o I know her from where do i know her from and why am i in a panic about it?"Then it hit me. She was from the dark and reckless times. The time before the time before. Long ago before the time of music, before the genuine N, before all the little fuzzy day-glo bunnies we know and love. The dark times. It was a time of naivety, a time where we'd wail long into the Larchmont night listening to Janis Joplin and Ween. Those were the times before the Orangekid Newbies, at the dawn of the InBetweenies, when the sun shone on Darth Mandy and we squinted through our Master Class hangovers into the days and lounged at clubs listening to The Serotonins and throwing pita at each other on Fairfax.
A reckless time, as I've said. A time when Brett Bondi and Porter Tinsley found themselves stumbling out of Cheetah's after the Serotonins played the Gig on Melrose for the last time. A night that is the depth of deprivaty for all that were witness. Save us Jeebus! we cried in delight as we lunged into a cab and headed drunkenly to the sunset strip for last call. We found ourselves shortly thereafter in the company of three Strip rats - one girl and two guys: Them with a pipe, and Brett with the green. We took off up into the hills up a secret path that twisted and turned, dark, taking me to parts of the strip that I rarely visit and often forget are there. We found a clearing on a landing above Miaggi's and proceeded to get to know each other on a first name basis.
Lisa was the abandoned love slave of that night's events, and one I'm not particularly proud of. Oh we all have our skeletons and there are places you have sought to avoid as well - it's just that I happened to bump into mine after puking all over Los Feliz and standing in line at the Coffee Bean wearing a helmut.
I was hoping that I would not be recognized. I pushed my yellow riding glasses onto my face and turned my back as she came to the pick up section of the counter. I was about to make a clean getaway; i could smell the english breakfast steam and new i was next to receive my cup of liquid Turkish Delight. I thought, there's no way she's going to realize it's me standing here. No way. I am not making eye contact, and therefore, will totally be able to avoid any awkward and horrifying "Oh wow HI!" situation. And then, they did it. Those Coffee Bean FUCKERS decided to stomp on what was left of my morning:
"ENGLISH BREAKFAST LATTE FOR PORTER!"
I felt her head snap around and her eyes seared into my flesh. I was trapped. She was between me and my coffee. What should I do? I took a deep breath and straightened my emotional spine from my crippling internal cringe at teh sound of my name. I swear they used a megaphone, the words were still ringing in my ears. Was this punishment for having to participate in "Afro Fridays" at Coffee Bean Corporate's request? Was this because they were angry at the world for the amassing Starbucks chain of stores which will eventually be so agressive that Coffee Bean sells out? Why why why would they call my name at such a time? How could they not know???
Facing the rhythmic hum of the steamed milk machine, I did what any other person would do. I glued my eyes to the ground and reached across for my coffee before powerwalking out the door as fast as humanly possible.
* ** *
8.9.05
The weather today is partly anxious with a chance of full blown dread coming in from the west. What is it about the Fall? Is it the dying leaves? Change in air flow? The pressure of Halloween? Either way, when one of your CDJs is busted and a turntable arm is mucked up, everything seems a little bit worse off than it did yesterday. Welcome home from the burn, Los Angeles. Good to have you back, I was getting a little bored and a little plump with nothing to do.2.9.05
So as many of you know, I have a direct line to the man himself, Gdubya.Today, early this morning (he was in DC and had just woken up at 11 a.m. for a late breakfast followed directly by his spinning class and then a pre-lunch nap) Gdubya called me to see if I could help him work on his plan for "Eric and Trina."
I had to remind him that it was in fact, HURR-I-CANE KA-TRI-NA. Anyway, posted first thing, here's what ol' Dubby and I worked out for a good PR plan heading into week 2 of this national crisis:
G-DubDawg's and Brain's inspired five-point-plan to wage war against this disaster:
1. Publicly restate the obvious.
2. Get his ass and a phalanx of photogs within inches of the Louisiana Stenchzone so that he can survey the brutal damage and humanity up close – but not so close that his dress shoes get scuffed.
3. Briefly struggle to empathize with the suffering of the victims, then give up, grit teeth, and find a special strong, silent "John Wayne" place. Hang loose there for a while.
4. Sell out the Federal disaster response agencies and bean counters we had four years to streamline. And by streamline, I mean "Play Three Card Monte With Billions."
5. Pray. Pray that folk will forget this teeny widdle environmental disaster toot sweet, and pray that we find more imaginary dinosaur bone sludge that we can whip into vroom juice.
In closing, I'd like to remind everyone here that we're busy fighting our World War II in Iraq. So though we care about this little rainstorm, we want you to know that GDub is just like FDR – only he can jog.
In other words folks, "the only thing to fear is freaking out."
10 - 4,
- G Dubya & Brains
1.9.05
Ahhh...fall approaches and a young girl's fancy turns to ....spite.My ex lovers and girlfriends are converging around me at the same time as if they plotted it all together. The sky is lower today, darker and more crowded than normal. And I, along with Wilmur Willow Gnome, have sworn off women until the new year. Or forever, depending. We're deciding to be straight until then. Live a lie in happiness for the rest of our little gnome lives. And then, like a ray of light, this comes crashing into my inbox, as if to say, now that you hate everyone, you can get married!
http://www.cnn.com/2005/POLITICS/09/01/gay.marriage.ap/index.html
My people are free, my people are free. Oh joy, oh rapture....where's the bourbon? And who took my pills?
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