all neuroses, all the time

Thursday, August 30

so i didn't tell you that school started up officially for me yesterday, did i? well, it did.

due to some really screwy inter-department politics and rampant insecurities, half of our theater faculty and staff have mysteriously vanished over the summer. it's such a long and tedious story, and if i told you the freakishly lengthy horror story about the evil queen bee at the center of all the machinations and underhandedness you would roll your eyes and say: "girl, get the flying fuck out of there!"

ah, but i can't. i graduate in a mere 4 months. it behooves me to stay in school and get the damn diploma. i'm not going back to an office job, i can't do that again. and i certainly can't do it for $10,000 less than everyone else who already have their degrees. i've gone that humiliating and self-defeating route. no, i should stay. and one day i will look back at all the ass-kissing and back-stabbing that went on between my teachers and laugh. right now, it just makes me queasy.

on a plus note, there's a cute batch of new freshman boys- a little chunky one that i spotted has cutie-gay potential, i think. i mean, i'm not swooping down all freaky chickenhawk-style, you know? but a little eye-candy never hurt anyone.

speaking of which...

okay. now it has rained for 5 straight days, and my house has started to flood. i wanted some rain. not this fucking biblical downpour.

how am i to wear my cute new slides if it doesn't stop all this raining? HUH?

Wednesday, August 29

interestingly enough, tin man is starting a "great books" read-a-thon, at precisely the same time i am about to embark on one of my own.

i, however, will not be starting with the iliad. those old greeks and romans just leave me cold- and i already have a favorite book on mythology that i read with some frequency, "great zeus and all his children." it's pretty frank in its description of zeus and all his various couplings, so for classics study it is a pretty juicy read.

i'm not sure where i will start- probably 19th century, probably old favorites by the usual suspects: austen, the brontes, trollope, dickens, melville, thackeray ( i love "vanity fair," it is surprisingly funny and readable), and then work back through voltaire, swift, dante, goethe, etc. etc. etc. to the greeks and romans...maybe read a little philosophy, don't know. definitely the epic poems and dramas though...then, it's back to the 19th century again to pick up some hawthorne, tolstoy, romantics, etc. and then... pow! we get fitzgerald, woolfe, wharton, james, waugh, joyce, miller, and off we go.... through modern drama by o'neill, miller, williams, albee, etc. etc. and a pit stop in gay authors/subject matter: wilde, firbank, huysmans, genet, isherwood, mann, capote, vidal, white, leavitt, hollinghurst, monette. whew.

oh, and somewhere in there i will read "the master and margarita." because i've always wanted to, and many people have told me i should. i will not be reading any faulkner, as i could never get through "the sound and the fury," and honestly i don't know what all the fuss is about. feel free to comment and convince me at the link below.

i will also be staying away from any counter-culture "liberal-on-an-lsd-trip" reportage, any nihilistic-rich-bisexual-teenager books from the eighties, any "cyber" anything, and any oprah book club selection. the seventies and eighties are harder- too recent to brand something a classic, i guess. but i could still read a little mailer, or cheever, or updike (who i love), j.c. oates, bellow, or... heller! i've not ever read "catch 22," maybe i'll do that.

[sidenote: and, alas, i won't be finishing "a heartbreaking work of staggering (and self-consciously indulgent) crapola" by dave eggers. i... just... can't. i don't care about him, i don't care about toph, i don't care. i am of his generation, but he doesn't speak to me or for me. at all.]

now, i have of course left out plenty of people, and really this is ultimately a "top-of-my-head" wish list. i have read a lot of these novels already, but i want to kick-start my brain again- i used to read all the time. every day. always before i went to bed, and often first thing in the morning. my critical thinking has eroded, as has my vocabulary (witness the use of "crapola" above). i watch too much crap t.v., see too many crap movies. being well-read used to mean something to me, i don't know how i ever lost that drive. well, anyway, i'm trying to get back in the game.

so, good luck to you, tin man! and good luck to me, too!

Tuesday, August 28

"johnson" is the 2nd most popular last name in the u.s.

how interesting, and yet how numbingly "same" it all is.


(willy thinks that my whitebread surname will look quite elegant and fetching in lowercase helvetica splashed across the back wall at the end of a fashion catwalk... sounds great, but all i can think of is how "johnson" is a nickname for a dick)

no comment.

so last night was our first read-through of "romeo and juliet," and i think it went very well. it's really funny until about halfway through, and then people start kicking the bucket... at any rate, i'm pleased to be working with a lot of the actors and actresses in the production, and they seem to be pleased with me (drama fag subtext: "like me! like me! like me!")... i'm going to enjoy playing friar laurence, as i think we have a lot of the same traits. i believe there is good in everyone, i want people to get along, i believe love fixes all.

::cough:: ::cough:: did i really just write that? i must be feeling a little wistful, as i just put the husband on a plane to indiannapolis (which he was sure to explain to me means "city of indiana" in greek... that's my encyclopedic man! it grows on you, you know?) and i already miss him. i made him kiss me right out in public --and kudos to you, gentle reader, if you immediately thought "right out in class" as you read that last sentence-- right out in front of the american airlines terminal... he, or course, glanced nervously around and giggled before i just grabbed him on either side of the face and planted a wet one on him. truly, i don't think the cigarette smoking photographer or the moony flight attendant couple cared. but alas, he's gone, he's gone. that was vaguely shakesperean.

he comes back on friday. so who shall i have an affair with? just kidding.

um, what to say, what to say. i had a huge analysis of the madonna concert on sunday night on hbo all thought out and ready to post, but ugh. it's too long. and who needs another queen rapturously dissecting every dance step, every costume change, every back-projected video vignette? nobody.

i will say this though: pop culture has been very very kind to the old broad, as she has been kind in return. once again she was all over the map. and while i will not get into the symbolism of this very carefully and cleverly conceived spectacle, i will comment on one of my favorite moments:

there was a point where madonna rose from the stage in all her glamour-geisha glory to the kyoto-plinking melody of "open your heart"- a huge hit from her now verboten '80's phase. and before the song could begin, a black-clad samurai appears and pushes and pulls maddy through the next song, "nobody's perfect," a lyrically direct response to her critics and past lovers. soon he slices a lock of her hair off and she totters away, all showy geisha shyness and modesty. of course, in the following number she is flying through the air and kicking ass, her kimono stripped away, revealing a muscled she-woman who finally rips off her wig and is... herself. her true self. it's an obvious metaphor, but mysteriously it works. and so, madonna bids adieu to "like a virgin," "material girl," and "papa don't preach." and all it took was a little japanime, a little "crouching tiger, hidden dragon."


i may add to this later, as i also absolutely despise the slutty old hag. oh god, but I LOVE HER TOO.

Monday, August 27



Friday, August 24

2nd disturbing search request!

this one is also courtesy of google:


i'm sure judge judy never thought her name would be so misused! and honestly: judy jetson? although better her than astro or elroy...

i am so totally into "outsider music"- you know, the albums and cassettes you find at goodwills or salvation army stores or junk shops by obscure local folk-guitar freaks, or by singing evangelists and their lispy and precocious god-fearing children, or by wanna-be rock stars who set up their own vanity labels (or better yet, let their indulging spouses fund their studio time), or anyone that ever had a dream to commit their personal and singular experiences to vinyl or tape. of course, these works of art only ever make it to the cut-out bins, or are discarded en masse at a second-hand store.

it always amazes me to find a handful of 10 or 20 identical albums by someone like "carlton and the do-rights" stuck in a milk-crate in a dusty corner of a rummage sale. what is the story there? i imagine that carlton must have given up his dreams and disgustedly (and probably rather resignedly) packed them up and dumped them off. maybe a new wife forbade him from pursuing his "pipe dreams," maybe the band broke up because of drug problems -or better yet- over a woman (who maybe even portrayed the satin-hot-panted hoochie in the rabbit fur coat leaning against the gold lincoln continental on the album cover! oh my god, i'm swooning!), or maybe he just knew that enough was enough and that stack of vinyl only reminded him of his failed shot at stardom. and so off they go, damned to a life of obscurity, relegated to the dark anonymity underneath a flea-market table, to be picked at and chuckled over by someone like... me. but these albums are like gold to me, undiscovered treasures. and i can only admire the person or group that saved and saved for the studio time, or the equipment, or swapped out session work to fund their musical visions, and truly believed in their art and abilities. regardless of how good they really were.

most importantly, i love the sincerity of the artists. it's what makes bad art truly bad, i think. intentional bad music or art is merely campy, or worse, jokey. i rarely (if ever) am a fan of "novelty" songs, created for the express purpose of cashing in on a ridiculous fad or to mock a notorious public figure. and song parodies are reserved for the lowest place in burning hell.

no, i am enamoured of those mavericks and pioneers that set up shop in their garage and record their very own "sergeant pepper" or "pet sounds." i salute all of those who listen ecstatically, blissfully, as those first tentative notes, those shoddily overdubbed instruments, fill their utility rooms, guest bedrooms, and basements with the proof of their talents, their genius finally made real. imagine the delight, the heart-bursting pride, to receive that bundle from the print shop: the brand-spanking-new record sleeves; those amateurish and graphically-challenged carboard works of folk art, crying out to be stuffed with their maker's virgin vinyl masterpieces, the fruits of their ah, it's all too much. i must stop here. i'm dizzy all of the sudden.

interested? try here and here and here. more on the catalyst to this passion later, but i'll warn you now: it involves a singing psychic from arlington texas.

Thursday, August 23

well, i am still dizzy and light-headed from my first ever disturbing search request. i feel like a milestone has been reached, like finally i am a man. like my dad just paid some 20 buck hooker to "show me the ropes." like i finally got my hands in mary lou's bra. like i was expecting a hand job and surprisingly got some head. oh my. i'm so crude tonight. it must be this techno i'm blasting. or something.

um, nothing much to say. and i'm afraid it would only be more dirty words, so i'm out of here.




and here it is:


now, is that bruce willis's cock? or an attempt to appeal to americans and brits with the inclusion of "willy"? all i know is they went looking for some weiner and found my nickname for my husband... hmmm... there's a bitter irony in there somewhere.


sign of the apocalypse: attention-starved cat feverishly rubbing his head against terrified dog and purring passionately.

i almost dropped my breakfast!

Wednesday, August 22


so i called david out of the blue yesterday. i don't know why. he never really knows what to make of me when i call. i talk too much, laugh too loud, and am generally over-familiar. you know, american.

well, as long as he knows that it is done with affection, it's the only way i know how.

and a shout out to jonathan and ian and andy. just because!

and p.s. to david, again: damn you for turning me on to isketch!

it's recipe time again!

i have this pizza stone thing that is great for cooking bread or biscuits or whatever crusty thing you want- it's made of terracotta or something, and you just stick it in the oven where it simulates a "wood-burning brick oven". i don't know about that, but the results are really faboo. any way, here is a quick and easy way to make some chi-chi looking and tasting pizzas, in about 15 mintues.

today i took a medium size whole-wheat pita bread and put it on the stone. then i put about two tablespoons of spaghetti sauce and a tablespoon of bbq sauce on the pita and mixed them together all spread around. then i took some grated jack cheese and sprinkled a lot of that on it. then i added some chopped up leftover chicken, slices of roma tomato, thin sliced red onion, and chopped cilantro. then a bit more cheese and a drizzle of olive oil and into the oven it went, at 450 degrees for 10 minutes, or until the cheese browned. take it out, let it sit for a few minutes to cool down a bit and cut it up. somehow the pita bread gets all crispy and crunchy, and ceases to be a boring old pocket-like pita. at any rate, my results are always deeeeeeee-licious. and i used to make my own pizza dough from scratch about a million years ago, and in the words of joanne worley on "laugh in," it was "boooooooorrrrr-ing!" (p.s. dig that groovy midi file!) ahem, back to the pizza talk.

you can do these combos too:
basil pesto with feta and artichokes and parmesan and kalamata olives
alfredo sauce with smoked salmon, parmesan, dill and caviar (if you have these things around. i made this once in a rare moment of solvency)
marinara sauce with italian sausage, fresh herbs and mozzerella
putanesca sauce, roma tomatoes, sauteed spinach, parmesan
steamed fresh peas, julienned carrots, zucchini, ricotta cheese and prosciutto

pair any of these with a salad of swanky wild greens (radicchio, frisee, endive, etc.) tossed in a simple vinaigrette and away you go.

(my favorite simple vinaigrette)
balsamic vinegar
olive oil
minced garlic clove
fresh chopped herbs
dab of dijon mustard
maybe a shot of orange juice or pinch of sugar
salt and pepper

taste it until it's right. not too tart, not too sweet

oh my god. i'm so hungry right now.

i provide these recipes off the top of my head, for all of you who hate to cook or can't really cook or want to try something different. the key is ease. and remember, don't be surprised if after a ho-made dinner like this you might get some back-door lovin'.

Tuesday, August 21

songs heard recently on new "hi-nrg/dance/syntho/divapop" radio station:

"sandstorm" by da rude
"fantasy" by mariah carey
"groove is in the heart" by dee-lite
some alice deejay song
that sonique song that was so big
"it takes two" (not the hip hop one)
"mr vain" by la bouche
"one more time" by daft punk
"i do" by toya
"believe" by cher
"don't tell me" by madonna
"let me blow your mind" by eve
"weapon of choice" by fat boy slim
"this time i know it's for real" by donna summer

etc. etc. etc.

ah, to be (somewhat) young and gay... and have a radio station programmed stereotypically just for you... stomach churning, and yet... so nice to sing along to.....

ugh, what a piece of work that last post was. originally filled to the brim with hyperlinks, it so confounded this ancient school computer that i had to reboot, repost, re-everything umpteen times. :sigh:

well, it's all there now, kooky sentence breaks and syntax and all.

if the hyperlinks work, i've subsequently gone back and fixed them. if not, i've simply said: fuck 'em!

well. in honor of that news-reading ex-long-haired brit ian, i am going to recap the news in the austin
american-statesman today.

let's see. on the front page i am greeted by a giant above-the-fold picture of... london's own big ben
tower. apparently it is time to clean the clock faces, so a team of glaziers are rappelling to and fro
with bottles of windex and some old rags. yes, this is the austin paper. the mundane goings-on of a
city across the atlantic ocean makes the front page. thousands of suburban homemakers sip their juice
boxes and think: "well, i'll be!"...

i see a hurricane is heading through mexico, hurricane chantal is her name. i remember when there was
a hurricane patrick, i was so happy. mass destruction and death regardless. um, anyway: the article is
a funny look at the many unsolicited messages from the public to the national hurricane center in
miami, which they keep in what they call "the x-file." here's a good one from a woman with
self-proclaimed "special powers":

"i am able to stop hurricanes and i am allowed to do so. i have only recently become aware of the
extent of my powers and the understanding of the internal mechanics in the last eight months.
therefore...i have a responsibility to prevent hurricanes."

other ideas, via fax, email, and phone:
towing icebergs from the north and south poles to cool the ocean. seeding clouds to make them rain.
dropping dry ice from airplanes, dropping a special gel from airplanes, and my favorite: dropping
giant sponges from airplanes.
oh, people have also suggested building a giant fan to blow the storm back out to sea, or making a
grid of outerspace lasers to blast it away. future edisons, all of them.

what else, what else.

oh, hardly 8 months into his presidency, and george w. bush has already obliterated the national
surplus. thanks for the $219.00 tax rebate, w! i'll be cursing you come tax time next year, i'm sure.

a quote from linda evangelilsta, who is set to make a cat-walk comeback:

"there's nothing ugly about being 36 years old."

how about being a petty, vindictive, cocaine-and-heroin-snorting narcissistic 36 year old? i mean, i'm
not pointing fingers, i've just heard.

hmmm. an arts center in georgia is being named after dead rapper (and faux thug) tupac shakur.

oh ian: here in the states, there is more cache' to killing a quantity of people, more so than
being just an immigrant. you see, people are interested in mikolay soltys because of the number of
dead, and their ages: kids and seniors. oh, and a pregnant wife. the more lurid the better of course.
and who do you think will be the lead story on "america's most wanted" this saturday? why, cheese-ball
john walsh, of course. i especially love when crimes are solved and john takes personal credit for
the quick thinking of some alert tourist in spokane or petaluma. whatever, i'm all bitter all of the sudden. let's see if i
can cheer up.

oh, the space station crew is coming home. i was so pleased to read that they had been woken up to the strains of duran duran's "hold back the rain." but enough about that. i'll only get misty.

speaking of strains, a 9-year-old houston boy died of meningitis after water skiing in lake travis last weekend. it seems he caught a very rare strain, called primary amoebic meningoencephalitis; this is an amoeba that infects the brain. the organism is found in almost all untreated surface water, but it really
flourishes in temperatures above 80 degrees (brits, i don't know how hot that is for you. i don't even remember how to convert to whatever it is you use. farenheit? celsius? kelvin? who knows? i'm an art student!).
anyway, as i've mentioned, it is HOT here. and the lake temperature was in the high '80's this
weekend. poor kid.
think about that all you circuit queens at "last splash day" this labor day weekend. oh
wait, there has to be a brain to infect in the first place. hardy har har. the cheap shots of a fat

and finally, a sweet story about an austin woman whose husband beat their 4-year-old daughter to
death, and how she is "sticking by him." she also got a plea bargain in exchange for pleading guilty
to an unrelated parole violation, and this will keep her from being charged in the murder. yep, good


this concludes the news section of brucehoax, done in honor of mr. ian. i hope to make this a
weekly occurence, so watch this space.

okay, i'm off to work on my england scrapbook, 5 months later. i have high hopes for this project, as
i was inspired by and have always greatly admired peter beard's diaries quite a lot: part collage, journal, art work, etc. etc.

and what a rugged daddy he was in his youth! grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

over and out.

Monday, August 20

oh, and my mother was here all weekend; and --surprise! surprise!-- she drove me crazy by the end of it.

she is a therapist, see? and so everything has to mean something. it's really irritating.
sometimes, as freud would say,"a cigar is just a cigar."

but no. i can't be a little cranky, or a little anxious, or a little anything: nope, it must mean that some horrible childhood trauma is creeping back into my psyche, and i am either too cowardly to face my fears or too repressed to even recognize it.

er... actually, mom: me and the hubby stayed up late last night sucking dick- and i'm tired and a bit achy. how's that?

oh god, "dick" and "mom" in the same sentence. maybe it does mean something.


i think i am joining a gym.

10 million homos can't be wrong... and there is that dry sauna to think about.

er... er... uh...

should i?

Friday, August 17

hey! look! jumped on the bandwagon again!
i typed in the first thing that came to mind on these, so there might be some jumps in logic.

I have: to clean my house
I see: bruiser sleeping on the couch
I hate: stupidity
I miss: an ex. but he don't miss me
I wonder: if i'll ever have any money
I find: i'm wasting my time
I want: the house to clean itself
I regret: everything
I need: a haircut
I wish: i had all the answers
I fear: flying
I hear: game show reruns on the t.v.
I love: certain memories
I smell: like i need a shower
I crave: a cigarette
I feel: sweaty

When was the last time you...
Talked to an ex: forever ago
Kissed someone: last night
Were sarcastic: ha!
Laughed: this morning
Cried: last sunday
Had a nightmare: a few weeks?
Danced: last week, to make someone laugh
Smiled: a few minutes ago
Bought something? yesterday. a mop, to clean. (company coming today- i'm not manic about this!)

Last book you read:
"the orton diaries"
Last song you heard:
"utopia" by goldfrapp
Last movie you saw:
planet of the apes. fair.
Last thing you had to drink:
iced tea
Last time you showered:
yesterday morning. phew!
Last thing you ate:
chicken and rice and beans

Do you...
Smoke: sort of.
Do drugs: not anymore
Live in the moment: yes and no
Sleep with stuffed animals: no. i have a dog.
Have sex: yes. i guess.
Play an instrument: yes, a few.
Had a dream that keeps coming back: a specific house figures in many of dreams, i don't know why.
Believe there is life on other planets: maybe there once was.
Believe it's possible to remain faithful forever? it's possible. in theory.
Consider yourself tolerant of others: yes, except for stupid people.
Remember your first love? oh yes.
Have any straight friends? of course. lots.
Read the newspaper? nope.
Still love your first love? hell no. i miss him though. where is he now?
Believe in miracles: yes and no.
Have a favorite candy? no. but i love chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream
Wish on stars? no
Believe in God: not the one the southern baptists believe in.
Believe in magic: yes
Believe in astrology? i wish i didn't.
Like the taste of alcohol: yes- ice cold beer. oh, and bourbon.
Hate yourself? on and off
Talk to strangers who IM you: yes, back when i im'd.
Have any bad habits: ha! i eat too much, and am lazy.
Like your handwriting: oh yes.
Collect anything? too much crap. i need to let it all go.
Have a secret crush? every day.
Have any piercings? ears
Have any tattoos: no. could never decide on one.
Go to church: no
Have any pets: yes! sweetest and cutest dog in the world and ambivalent, surly cat.
Wear hats: yes lots.
Believe in ghosts: YES. i was made a believer.
Care about looks? yes.
Believe in Satan: hmm. i don't know.
Believe in witches? i believe people can do witchy things.
Have a best friend: actually, a few.

so have you heard goldfrapp's version of the olivia neutron bomb classic "physical"?

well you should.

they also have a new e.p. out with excellent mixes of "human" and "utopia" (which is probably my favorite song on the full-length cd. or second favorite. at any rate, it's up there).

go check it out!

oh, and kudos to simdy for quoting my favorite scary moment in a kate bush song! "what say you good people?" "GUILTY! GUILTY! GUILTY!"
(cue screaming in terror from me)

Thursday, August 16

so i got nominated for an acot award- austin circle of theaters' annual awards honoring excellence in austin theater. god, that just sounded like a press release, didn't it? sorry.

it's like the tony awards, but very very very small scale. like, tiny. at any rate, i'm in the paper today, and also here.

(go down to "best actor in a comedy," i think that's the category.) i'm honored, because i'm nominated with jaston williams, the "greater tuna" guy. rob nash is a making a name for himself around the u.s. with his one-man shows, and martin burke is a local acting celeb. so it's great to be a big nobody and be noticed. i will no longer roll my eyes at movie stars that appear sincere when they are "grateful to just be nominated with such amazing people..." because i feel that way now myself! i mean, these people are pros!

it's strange how involved i am in the community all of the sudden. it's like a made an effort to get my name out there never thinking anything would amount to much. i got great notices for the summer show i did, and that led to design work and people wanting to employ me in the future. i just this morning was asked to work for a week on the costumes for a big production of "hamlet" in september- and i'm really hyped up about it, because it's more credits, more portfolio stuff, more networking, more glad-handing. i have no problem with shmoozing for work, it just can't interfere with my last semester of school- i am hell-bent on graduating in december, and want no distractions or bumps along the way. this is, after all, my second attempt at college. so this time it has to stick.

so anyway, i've got a big head for the moment. and thanks to my own self-defeating and self-loathing behavior it will all be over soon. so humor me a little, okay? ;-)

after a quick glance at swishcottage, i see that david is giving out recipes. i did some cooking yesterday too- for the first time in forever. i would rather eat crap food or something microwaveable; this is an unfortunate result of an aborted shot at being a sous-chef for two years and burning out on food prep and cooking.

but, this is what i did: picked two big handfuls of basil out of the garden, stuck them in the processor with a half cup of parmesan cheese and a half cup of almonds (can't do pine nuts, i'm allergic), threw in two cloves of garlic, a quarter cup of olive oil, some salt, pepper, and squeeze of lemon juice, and pressed "puree." wow! pesto at it's easiest. boiled up some spinach bow-tie pasta (my favorite shape, as there is a little dimple of dough in the middle that catches sauce) and simmered some sun-dried tomatoes. chopped those up, tossed with the pasta and pesto, threw in some pickled capers and topped with a bit more cheese and some fresh basil. ahhhh. i love pantry cooking. total time spent: 15 minutes. total impressiveness had there been somebody (preferably a non-chef) there: immense.

it's this kind of faking it in the kitchen that gets you laid, by the way. the right ingredients and a little know-how and you are in like flynn.

try it, horndogs!

Wednesday, August 15

paperwork submitted to human resources so that i might be paid for design work: magically lost.

i'm furious.

that measly hundred bucks i got last week is long gone. cashed in my penny jar tonight, all for the princely sum of $11.57. i hate an office job, but this is the result of freelance work. i never had these problems when i worked for the state of texas. of course, i only narrowly escaped with my soul and self-worth intact. such is the trade-off, i guess.

tomorrow, i go down in person to the office and start kicking asses. me and my friend t______, who submitted the paperwork in the first place, are going to go down there and get nasty. a big black girl and a big faggot, doing "cobra neck" and saying "OH NO YOU DIDN'T!"

ah, i've seen the silver lining already.

so tonight was my last art history class- i'm fairly certain i made an "a" in the class, as i could answer any of the questions our professor asked us and i also wrote some good critiques- actually, ms. t_____ told me i should write about art more often. hmm.

anyway, i'm going to miss her- she really got a lot of people in that class fired up about art, and museums, and style, and "isms," etc. etc. and these are people who with no shame admitted they had never set foot in a museum. ever. can you imagine?

ho hum. what else.

i'm looking for a design program, or actually an exchange program for 3 or 4 months, where i could be sent over to europe; and then some sven or pierre or carlos could get sent over here to good old broiling hot texas. i just want my housing paid for, and i would earn a small sum to pay for food and entertainment... i've got to learn some basics that i haven't picked up yet- and the queen in me thinks i could better pick these basics up in a european opera house: some centuries-old thing, all ormolu and rococo. i can dream.

i'm so desperate that i'm thinking about buying some period pattern books and constructing a garment per period (male and female) in muslin just so i will have the cutting and draping experience. i mean, i've done quite a bit of pro-pattern work, buying fabric and using a vintage butterick or vogue or simplicity pattern. but i have never draped on a dress form, and it scares me. and i have to know this. god forbid i go out into the world with my portfolio full of faboo renderings and pics of well-coordinated (but easy) stuff, but have no clue about a huge basic part of this whole costume business.

and it doesn't help that i also want to go into clothing design as well- couture stuff for artsy women "of a certain age." (i'm such a good gay son to my artsy mommy, and she's got ritzy art-collecting friends you see). so it behooves me to learn as much as i can; i just don't want to do anything like study draping and cutting as the local junior college, or from the neighborhood bernina chain. oh no.

i have to go abroad.

yech, i gross myself out sometimes.

p.s. it rained today! it rained today! ending the 40+ day dry spell! so all you new yorkers, quit yer bitchin'. you don't know hot.

Monday, August 13

let's see:

saturday and sunday i attended an acting workshop- i'm cast in a play the teacher is directing, so i got to go for free. now, i hate acting workshops. inevitably somebody appoints themselves the most tragic and battle-scarred, and then everything becomes about them. so, sense-memory exercises conjure up horrible and damaging childhood traumas, or breathing exercises somehow trigger hyperventilating and uncontrollable sobbing. ugh. i hate them.

but this one was different, as i knew a majority of the participants already (fellow cast members), and so the promise of wreaking havoc on total strangers and then slipping off into obscurity and anonymity on sunday evening was impossible: we would all see each other next week at rehearsal. so yes, there was some high-rama theatrics going on, and some wailing, and rolling around on the floor making gurgling noises like a newborn baby. but mysteriously, it was all okay.

and in a brilliant confessional "fame" moment:


Friday, August 10

another thing about those mp3s:

you and i both know that the examples of "rarities" are laughable. i mean, really. why seek out and treasure the minutae of some goofy synthpop band from sweden? i don't know.

as i have said, my 80's music fixation is freakish, and should not be encouraged. but i remember how my life changed with the debut of mtv, and we were lucky to get it in my small town really soon after it first aired. already feeling like a freak because of some indescribable "otherness" (i was a homo, it turns out), mtv became my constant; i could look at the old ziggy stardust concert footage or the bowie-in-drag videos of "lodger" or "scary monsters," or the gender-bending boy george and annie lennox and feel a sense of belonging... to.... er... something i couldn't quite put my finger on yet. hours were spent staring blankly at the t.v. screen, meals were consumed, conversations half-heartedly listened to, chores were shirked. all i wanted to do was watch videos, and especially if they were from that self-consciously fashionable wave of brits between 1980 and 1984: abc, culture club, spandau ballet, kajagoogoo, visage, and the lipgloss-and-mousse behemoth of duran duran. hours and hours and hours were spent digesting all the high-concept/lowbrow-tackiness mtv could offer, and so i repeatedly saw such video "classics" as "you've got another thing coming" by judas priest, or "undercover of the night" by rolling stones, or "baby oh no" by bow wow wow- and i feel like i am a better person for it. steeped in the utter inanity of music pop culture, i am the person you want on your team when you land on the entertainment or arts and leisure squares in trivial pursuit.

and so i can't get rid of those mp3s yet.

what to do?

perhaps a listen of "it's you" by lene lovich or the live "new toy" by thomas dolby or the super-extended "major tom" by peter schilling or the dub mix of "what in the name of love" by naked eyes will give me the answers i need.

ugh, you see? i just can't do it.

Thursday, August 9

i have like 3000 mp3s.

i don't know how it happened. one day i download napster and a year later i have no harddrive space. i would look for everything, and for awhile there (before uber-weiners metallica and all the inevitable niggly filters) i could find anything i wanted.

never-released-on-cd-mix-of-"witchcraft"-by-book-of-love? got it. rare-7-inch-remix-of-"living-daylights"-by-a-ha? yep. obscure-b-side-from-'83-"give-it-to-me"-by-dead-or-alive? a real treasure.

and once i got started it was like an addiction. i'd stay up all night because that is when overseas napster users would be on- their daylight. and so i've found import rarities and long-ago-deleted 12" inch mixes from the 1980's (the glory days of the "extended version," by the way- not like today where a remixer re-creates the entire song, obliterating all traces of the sounds and chords you wanted more of in the first place), and they continue to clutter up my c-drive until i can get to them and burn some cdrs. which i have been doing. and then i never listen to them again.

part of me wants to clear out everything. goodbye "nemesis" remix by shriekback, adios micro chip league, sayonara c.c.c.p. and george kranz...

oh, but i can't.

i wonder if a giant mp3 purge is in order. maybe it will be like cutting my umbilical cord to the 1980's...and then suddenly my writer's block will be gone as well, as i will have nothing old and confortable to listen to and be inspired by, and all these fabulous original songs will just pour out of me. granted there is still the 500+ cd collection, but i can't get rid of that. maybe i should make a rule: if i have managed to get through the last 15 years without going into dance remix withdrawal over a certain song, then that mp3 must go.

but then, when i suddenly want to hear nina hagen's extended "new york, new york" what will i do?

well, everyone else had done it, so i had to know how much i was worth too. and here it is:


hell, i was just happy i cleared a million.

go here and find out what you are worth.

Wednesday, August 8

so, for some reason i have been listening to songs that make me cry. i'm not depressed or anything, but for some reason it seemed like the thing to do.

first up: "same situation" by joni mitchell. now, i don't know why this one always gets me, but it's probably the line about "send me somebody, who's strong, and somewhat sincere..."
::sigh:: i remember how much that album meant to me when i was in elementary (!!!) school- it's probably why i grew up knowing too much about people and how they are.

next: "this woman's work" by kate bush. for the orchestra swell and "oh, darling... make it go... just make it go away now..." - this song reminds me of the first house i lived in with friends in college- a big ramshackle two-storey thing with warped wooden floors and cheap panelling on the walls- the bathtubs had claw feet, which i thought was tres chic in '88- shabby chic before i knew what it even was. by the way, have you heard maxwell's version of this? gorgeous, and weep-inducing as well.

and my number one cry-baby song: "is it like today?" by world party. also reminds me of a house i lived in, the house on austin street in denton that was bulldozed down to make room for a parking lot- i lived there for 4 years, had my first live-in boyfriend there, recorded a lot of original songs there, painted, stripped floors, had roommates, got over affairs and lovers there, planted my first garden, etc. etc. etc. gawd, here come the water works again!

anyway, i'm still waiting on some email from you popular gay bloggers. or do i have to get you first? alright, i will.

just found out one of my favorite porn guys died last week- steve regis. a recent picture i found of him isn't too flattering, but back in '92 he was HOT-CHA-CHA. r.i.p. randy wendelin. and thanks for the wet and sticky memories!

Monday, August 6

oh, and by the way: want to find out whatever happened to your favorite gay porn star? try here.

i am sitting here eating some cherry sours (one of my favorite candies, by the way) and listening to my boyfriend sing some gawd-awful barbra streisand song- ("widescreen," from "butterfly" i think) and i am wondering why my friend k____ went and had plastic surgery at the ripe old age of 36. had his neck pulled in or something, and really he looked just fine. apparently he decided that his loneliness was the cause of a neck that was just not firm or tight enough. whatever. there's not a damn thing on my body that is tight or firm anymore, but i'm still hanging in. of course, i've got a man, so maybe i don't remember what wanting one is like.

sometimes i wonder what being single would be like. my b.f. and i are such a "we," you know? "we" will call you back. "we" aren't home right now. "we" went out to eat. "we" saw that movie. etc. etc. etc. i hated it when other people did it that i knew, and now i'm no better. ho hum. but then i wonder what my life would be like now if he were gone, and i can't. which is mind-blowing, and scary.

i never in a million years thought i'd be in a relationship that lasted as long as ours has (four years), and it is no picnic, believe me. all we do is fight some weeks. yes, weeks.

but somehow we shuffle through, try to learn from all the silly drama and tantrums, and make a sort of life together.

although, if i hadn't met him and made a little nest for us i'd have never gotten fat. it's all his fault!

i'm joking. i'm actually a lazy motherfucker.

Saturday, August 4

so maybe it won't be southern decadence again this year- really, i wasn't interested like i thought i was. and there was cheap airfare and everything- nah, maybe next year. of course i will miss how strangers will just walk up to you in the street and yank on your hooter (that's a word my dad always used for dick. or penis. or cock. ugh, i hate that last one). or how you can be sipping a drink at the bar somewhere while someone gives you... er... "service" down below. oh, and the live sex shows on the pool tables, i'll miss those too. hmmm. maybe i should get back on the phone to southwest or continental...

nah, we're not going. i'll save that ticket for new york or something.


i don't get paid for my next design job until next week- and i had just paid all bills and rent and everything, ensuring i still had all utilities running and food in the fridge, and then i balanced my checkbook and got the surprise of the century: i had $1.37 to my name. (hey brits! that's like 50 pence or something!) so, not knowing what i would do, and loathe to hit up the husband for spending money a la jane jetson, i said a silent prayer to whomever listens to such desperate pleas for money... and sure enough, a day later a professor calls and hires me to build a model of a theatre set he is working on- and so i am saved. and that's where i have been for the last few days, making some money. in cash, too! so i feel rich! rich! rich!

well, as rich as a hundred bucks can make you feel.

if anyone is reading this, and is part of that very chi chi and exclusive bunch of blogfags that i am so envious and desparate to become one of, drop me a line at the link on the left... or maybe i'll mail you... because in the words of michael jackson, i wanna be starting some-thin'.

Thursday, August 2

so maybe it will be southern decadence this year... just talked to a friend in san diego and he has an extra room in nola for $95 a night- which is a steal, as it is at the ultra swanky "W".

hmmmm.... should i? should i? should we? hmmmm.....

p.s. i ate 2 pizzas for lunch.

now, why did i do that?

just took this little test: and the results are... YES! YES! YES!

Keirsey Temperament Description

The Artisan Portrait

All Artisans (SPs) share the following core characteristics:

Artisans tend to be fun-loving, optimistic, realistic, and focused on
the here and now.

Artisans pride themselves on being unconventional, bold, and

Artisans make playful mates, creative parents, and troubleshooting

Artisans are excitable, trust their impulses, want to make a splash,
seek stimulation, prize freedom, and dream of mastering action

Artisans are the temperament with a natural ability to excel in any of the arts,
not only the fine arts such as painting and sculpting, or the performing arts
such as music, theater, and dance, but also the athletic, military, political,
mechanical, and industrial arts, as well as the "art of the deal" in business.

Artisans are most at home in the real world of solid objects that can be made
and manipulated, and of real-life events that can be experienced in the here and
now. Artisans have exceptionally keen senses, and love working with their
hands. They seem right at home with tools, instruments, and vehicles of all
kinds, and their actions are usually aimed at getting them where they want to
go, and as quickly as possible. Thus Artisans will strike off boldly down roads
that others might consider risky or impossible, doing whatever it takes, rules or
no rules, to accomplish their goals. This devil-may-care attitude also gives the
Artisans a wininng way with people, and they are often irresistibly charming
with family, friends, and co-workers.

Artisans want to be where the action is; they seek out adventure and show a
constant hunger for pleasure and stimulation. They believe that variety is the
spice of life, and that doing things that aren't fun or exciting is a waste of time.
Artisans are impulsive, adaptable, competitive, and believe the next throw of the
dice will be the lucky one. They can also be generous to a fault, always ready
to share with their friends from the bounty of life. Above all, Artisans need to be
free to do what they wish, when they wish. They resist being tied or bound or
confined or obligated; they would rather not wait, or save, or store, or live for
tomorrow. In the Artisan view, today must be enjoyed, for tomorrow never

There are many Artisans, perhaps 35 to 40 percent of the population, which is
good, because they create much of the beauty, grace, fun, and excitement the
rest of us enjoy in life.

by the way...

i'm not doing the life story. i leave all that to my therapist.

i'll drop a little autobio stuff in to all this here and there- but it's not the goal, after all.

the goal will be a sort of diary- now let's see how long i can keep with it.

ta! xoxoxo

so! a new look, sort of. and new little tidbits about myself.

and an actual pic of yours truly, in all my largeness. or largesse?


willy and i are trying to plan a new trip- i'm pushing for new york now. we have tickets to new orleans that we didn't use last year, as things came up and we had to cancel our trip to southern decadence. have you been, by the way? trashy. absolutely trashy. but in a good way. at any rate, we have to make new arrangements with the old tickets by august 17... san francisco? tahoe (will's idea)? who knows?

i thought chicago, too. i don't know. this is my last semester at school, and really i should concentrate on that- and planning a trip right smack dab in the middle of midterms isn't the way to do this. but of course i did this in the spring too, jetting off to london for the soft cell concert. god, that last sentence sounded snooty and faggy. which might describe me just fine.

if i went to new york, what would i do? i've been before, and did all the tourist stuff. see friends? museums? shop for old vinyl and cds? hmmm. that sounds just right.

i think i'll run it by the ball and chain, and see what he says. any ideas? oh wait, again: nobody reads this.

< -5 BoyLOGS +5 ? >