should old left column be forgot, and never brought to mind? no!
curse of the relentless dance warlock
I’m feeling insanely pessimistic at the moment. And I’m hungry.
I love diner food. Tuna Melts on rye with fries and a diet coke with lemon.
I wish I had a lemon tree.
You know that U2 song, Lemon? I liked that.
I saw The Pretenders open for U2. They sucked.
Is The Pretender even on TV anymore? Who watches that thing?
I moved my TV into my bedroom recently and have yet to move it back out. I really should.
Last night M. and I exchanged gifts in my bedroom. (That sounds dirty.)
One of the gifts I got her was Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing and it pissed her off.
Fuck Mavis Beacon. Running around causing problems.
Sometimes, late at night I imagine myself in places where no one is, but that exist regardless. On a beacon buoy floating out in the Atlantic Ocean. Clanging with the waves. Or up in tree at my elementary school in which we used to illicitly eat candy. Or a half-destroyed bunker in Siberia, the home now to rats and swallows.
My favorite candy used to be Skittles. But I don’t like them so much anymore.
My friend Devin used to call them Skillets.
Devin has a shaved head and drives a truck and lives with his girlfriend Emerald and does maintenance at a school in the Bay Area and did more acid in high school than anyone I’ve ever known.
I’ve never done acid. I had a totally clear notion that my brain would not be able to handle it.
I wonder what my brain looks like up close. It’s probably pretty nasty.
You know what else is pretty nasty: Tripe. Why would anyone eat tripe? Or liver. Euch.
One thing I’m very glad for (and I hope will continue) is that I have no major health problems, like a heart or liver problem. Or cancer or shingles or rickets or the gout. I take that for granted. Thank you, who ever is in charge of that kind of thing.
Anton Chekhov suffered from the gout. He was a crabby man, but brilliant beyond belief. His letters are interesting. You should read them.
I don’t read enough collected letters, though I should. Jack London’s are quite boring. He was very concerned with money.
Hey, I am very concerned with money- No, I promised I wouldn’t go into that.
I wonder over the years how many promises I’ve kept and how many I’ve broken. I doubt I’m batting 1.000. Maybe .800? Maybe .350? Maybe .082? Who knows…
If I were in the major leagues, with my ability right now, I bet I would bat .000. With a 90 mph fastball coming at me, I would just run. I hate to admit that.
That group Fastball: was there ever any doubt that they were one hit wonders?
My favorite One Hit Wonders were those hideous Scottish freak twins who sang "And I would walk 500 miles…". That shit was weird.
I don’t walk very much in LA. I used to all the fucking time in NYC but no one walks here. It’s true. If you walk you get looks from passing motorists, feeling bad for you cuz you’re too poor to afford a car. Or they think you’re a prostitute.
On Santa Monica Blvd. in West Hollywood (read: supergay) I was standing outside my theatre a couple years back and this rich dude in a Mercedes kept cruising me, wondering how much I was. I nearly said $400, but walked away. Think how much beer that could buy…
Beer. Love it love it love it. I mostly drink the following: beer (Bud, Guinness, Bass, Newcastle), red wine, gin and tonics, vodka tonics, tequila, whiskey.
Bud is good with pizza.
I’m feeling insanely pessimistic at the moment. And I’m hungry.
Elsewhere…
…I just saw this tiny ad in the back of the Hollywood Reporter: "We seek to bring together in fellowship and worship, those of like mind who honor the sacred earth mother, goddess of ten thousand names, at permanent oracle sites worldwide. Linear time now ends. The barrier between the world and that of magick no longer exists. Look now inside yourself for the light of the creator and healing to be shared with all people of the earth. Blessed be. Joseph Ravenwolf, Oracle of the Wolf" And then there’s a P.O. Box in Alabama.
Weird, huh. I wonder if it’s just a religious nut or he’s some dude trying to cryptically gather interest in a screenplay or something. Why else put it in the Hollywood trade paper, barely read outside of L.A.? And what’s with the P.O. address? What are we expected to send? Oracle of the Wolf. OK…
Ooh, there is also this ad: "Visionary Literary Agent Wanted, to rep supernatural romantic-comedy with David Spade-like protagonist, penned by staff writer of Emmy-winning TV series. STORY: Jason Meese, a mousy stand-up comic, takes in a stray cat who’s actually a bewitched ballerina whom Jason must protect from a relentless dance warlock bent on sacrificing her in order to claim her artistic soul."
So many interesting things here… This is probably the first time the hyphenate "David Spade-like" has been written. If this dude was the staff writer of an Emmy-winning TV series, why doesn’t he already have a literary agent? Maybe he was a writer on a show in the 1950’s that won for best lighting or something. And the story, did he do the Meese/Mousy thing on purpose? And of course this is a very good idea because Dance Warlocks are all the rage this year. But aren’t all Dance Warlocks relentless by nature? Seriously, you know the sad part about this: I’ll probably end up having to cover the script for my bosses in a couple weeks.
Finally...
...OK my lovelies. Have a fucking fantastic New Years Eve. Kiss people. And drink. And then take a cab home. And kiss more people.
The Larry King Happy
Song Corner
