Tag: postaday2011

  • great expectorations

    It’s the Fourth Fifth Friday Challenge for December. My friend Paul and I, both posting daily in 2011, decided to give each other a job once a month to keep things spicy. In his words, “we want to push ourselves to do something more interesting than we might otherwise.”

    And here is his challenge to me:

    What has been the most unexpected thing you’ve discovered in doing this whole Post-A-Day rigamarole?

    – – – – –

    As I sit down to write this at 11:36 pm, the first minute I’ve had to even think about this subject, I am quite surprised to experience a pang of sincere sadness that this Post a Day project is almost over. Right until now, I’ve perceived it as more irritating than not; I’ve often been bummed out by the day-after-day relentlessless; and have been kind of stuck wondering at the point of it all. Have I just spewed unnecessary content into the e-niverse, or is there something more that has been achieved? Good question! Unanswerable question!

    Yet here I am, already missing it and feeling some anxiety at letting it go. I’m proud of myself for the discipline I’ve had to keep the schedule, proud of some of the writing I’ve done, happy I didn’t fuck up and walk away halfway through. Relieved, I expected. Sad, I did not.

    Another thing is the deep connection I feel to Paul through this project. We’ve both been busy with other things and have only seen each other in person a handful of times this year, but I feel like our friendship has deepened considerably, which is surprising. We’re not collaborating (except for this monthly challenge, sort of), we don’t comment on each others’ posts, we have different approaches towards our writing and subject matter — yet the thought of us, both toiling daily on our little plots of internet land, makes me feel a pleasant camaraderie with him. Bravo, Tevis! *clink*

    Whoa, it’s almost over. The ball, it’s about to drop!

    – – – – –

    Read Paul’s response to my challenge here (to come).

  • mi ne povas vivi sen vi

    esperanto stamps!

    Oh, look at these dear little things. I have always loved stamps, collected for a bit as a young one. I adore art on a teeny tiny level.

    Mix in my permanent fascination with Esperanto, and we’ve got a whole night of hardcore cross-interest internetting.  Look at all these Esperanto stamps, they all could be mine through the magic of eBay! (Un)fortunately, tiny stamps would require tiny custom cut mats and tiny piles of big money, in order to frame and display. So I pass.

    Do yourself a favor and brush up on your history of Esperanto. It’s fascinating and cool and will make you wither a little inside with bittersweet “what if”. Last century, there was a clear desire and vision to be rid of prejudice and war, and Esperantists really believed (belive!) that a common language would pave the way.

    If one digs on one’s computer, one can find Esperanto-themed t-shirts for sale, just mentioning. Vivu Esperanto and Vivu Zamenhof!

  • tumbling down the weird road i live upon

    Nothing better than listening to a dryer purring nicely, more nicely that I ever remember it purring

    What make it better: this was after a few days of it sounding, on startup, like it was trying to shoot itself in the face with a machine gun. A crappy machine gun.

    What makes it even better: the repairman was a 70-something dapper man originally from somewhere in the Tri-State Area, showing up with gradiated tinted lenses, denim shirt and pants matching exactly, and a white tie.

    And even better: my Elderly Relative wandered into the garage to meet him, in only a shirt and a smile. I think, if you have been reading closely. my Elderly Relative has an issue with pants, and the wearing of.

    And even even: $10 senior citizen discount!

  • crafty eyes they’re watching you

    I’m bummed that the Craft Muse didn’t visit me this year — or more accurately, that crushing laziness visited the hell out of me this year. I made nothing with my hands, as presents or anything else. However, I did make pure magic happen by commissioning an artist to create this for my boyf:

    mudbone

    That’s a photo of Lamar’s dog Mudbone on the left. That’s a watercolor by Lara Duren on the right. Could you just die? I had a hard time parting with this present when the time came. I unabashedly play favorites among Lamar’s pets, and Mudbone is number one in my book. Look at him! I will breathlessly update with Lamar poses a photo with Mudbone and his portrait.

    Lara can be found on Etsy as Jujubee Artworks. Needless to say, I think she is a stonecold genius of the highest order.

  • dear boy

    I received word that my friend Phil Guilbeau died. He was a goodie, and I sure am sad.

    Soon after meeting him in San Francisco several million years ago, I insisted we become friends. He was irresistible to me. Personally, he was handsome, charming, softspoken, gay, and southern. His films, however, told another story — they were crazy, utterly subversive, and completely hilarious. It was that contrast of genteel/punk, buttoned-up/anarchic that hooked me. In the sometimes overwhelming and cliquey SF creative circles, I was always so happy to see his face at a gathering. I am glad we got to hang out a little over the years — we had some dinners, some nights out, some fun. I was a big-time fan.

    My friend Danny, also a filmmaker and friend of Phil’s, says a few more words here on his own blog.

    I say a word of gratitude, again, to Facebook, for reconnecting me to Phil a couple years ago. It was nice to chat online with him from time to time, to see that he looked like he was doing well, to say hey.

    And now, well, he’s gone. This grand puzzle of life and death and love and loss gets ever more complicated as the years go by.

    I send my sorrow and condolences to his friends and family.

  • some things to look at that you may enjoy

    sideways scene

    [link]

    milou twirls

    [link]

    82-year-old trying pop rocks for the first time

    [link]

    time-lapse baby

    [link]

  • last night’s convo

    Loni: So, there was a Facebook post about Dubstep

    Becky and Lamar: Ewwwww.

    Loni: No, wait, hear me out! So everyone’s debating about the merits of Dubstep …

    Becky: …of which there are none.

    Loni (ignoring Becky): And someone posted “Dubstep should not be allowed to exist.” That’s wrong! I was so pissed off! It doesn’t matter what you think of it, it has to exist if people want it to! That is freedom! You can’t censor it.

    Becky: Wow, that’s some passion you have there.

    Loni: Of course! It just comes down to a matter of taste. Leave the Dubsteppers alone. It’s their right to listen to whatever they want. Just because you don’t understand it or like it, that doesn’t mean that it should not exist.

    Becky: You are the ACLU having to deal with the Klan! Cringeingly protecting the rights of an odious organization, because free speech is above all else.

    Loni: Yeah!

    Becky: “Um, well, you guys go ahead and congregate, it’s your right and all. If you have to. Jerks.”

  • ding dong (you know the rest)

    I don’t usually make blog space for DICKtators, their regimes, demises, nor general loathsome despot-icity.

    However, I must comment upon the passing of N0rth K0rea’s leader. He was responsible for the horrifying and ongoing brainwashing of an entire nation, and for countless deaths of human beings.

    He sure is fun to make fun of, and the country evolved/devolved into a most captivating, retro-yet-futuristic carnival horror house that was also fun to make fun of. Sometimes making fun of the situation took light away from the countless trangressions, the greed, and complete cruelty imposed upon many millions of people that deserve much, much better.

    I suggest watching/reading any number of documentaries/articles available on the subject. And then I ask: how did we as a planet allow this to happen? Allow, present tense?

    There’s a sort of chilly, icky glee that I get from bad people getting theirs when it’s near the holidays. I felt the same way when those Romanian brutes got executed on Christmas day.

    So! On that warm note, let me point your eyes in the direction of a wonderful post by my friend the Ukulady, who experienced her most surreal Hollywood moment thanks to a party, Bruce Vilanch, snow in Southern California, and the death of our wackiest dictator.

  • best-looking cowboy in the whole parade

    Midnight Cowboy is a flick to revisit. It’s a little flawed but its utter weirdness, it’s late-60s-ness, and clothing/set design is worth it! I re-found M.C. through a mini Dustin Hoffman marathon, who I am appreciating the thespian talents of more and more. He’s really good in this, hard to believe he’s a humble Angeleno, born and raised.

    midnight cowboy

    Hair, clothes, yes! This flashback scene is set in the late 50s.

    midnight cowboy

    Look at that luggage.

    midnight cowboy

    Paul Newman is the cowboy’s inspiration in New York. Paul Newman, perhaps the handsomest man I’ve ever seen.

    midnight cowboy

    The batshit Sylvia Miles in quite a performance.

    midnight cowboy

    QUITE a performance.

    midnight cowboy

    A closer look at that amazing cowboy shirt. And poor, poor Ratso, of course.

    midnight cowboy

    Shame on Schlesinger for the clunky stereotypes of gay men, which he was too. But this actor’s cameo stood out, pure fabulousity.

    midnight cowboy

    A random shot of a television. Dog in a wig and eyelashes! The weird TV montages is also worth watching this movie for.

    midnight cowboy

    Warhol superstar Viva and Gastone Rossilli, looking downtown hip and totally fresh to this day.

    midnight cowboy

    Brenda Vaccaro! Another wackadoodle and wonderful performance.

  • oh, germans!

    A guy named Flula discusses a stupid American idiom

    [link]

    “Happy as a clam?” Does this mean you are suffering suicide feelings? Because I tell you what. What … I’ll tell you what is what. Clam is not happy. Clam is having major depression issues. Seasonal … what is it? Seasonal Affect Disorder, except the season is every day. You’re inside a shell that is, that is sticking inside the ocean, which stink, like pollution, and fishes, and salt water — salt water.


    Werner Herzog talks about stuff while I look at the harbor