| A Question of Taste (Day 7) |
[19 Dec 2009|09:28pm] |
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A Question of Taste
Day Seven.
Hey.
Hey, man. You're here early.
Yeah, I wanted to talk to you before my shift starts. Catch you before practice tomorrow night.
Yeah?
Yeah.
Well?
It's just--this is difficult to bring up, man.
Did you find out my girl was cheating or something?
No, no, it's about the band, man.
I think it's doing well. I think our album will be sweet as.
I totally agree. I think our album is going to be fucking awesome, and I think going to well, but... Well.
This is getting awkward.
I think we might need a new band name.
What?
It's just--I don't want to start a fight or nothing but--
Fuck you, man. I love our fucking name. I'm not fucking changing it. I mean, you even tried to bring this up with Brad and Mick?
No, no, cause they came up with the name, and I'm just--I think it might alienate some people.
What. The. Fuck.
It's just, some people, most chicks, man, mostly chicks--they might find--
There is nothing wrong with Cum Stained Panties.
...
Nothing.
...
Nothing.
Okay.
We're a punk band!
Do you see Cum Stained Panties in this store?
What?
Here me out, okay? I got a fucking point.
I love our band. I think its awesome, but take a look round this store, man. There is no way a band called Cum Stained Panties would be sold in here.
This is a fucking Target.
Target will sell anything popular.
We are not getting a major fucking record deal, dude. Fucking grow up.
I am.
You wanna be fifty and working for fucking Target?
...
Think about it.
Think about the fucking future.
We have fucking kick ass album. We got a good live rep.
But if we keep going this way, we're just going to keep building an audience for Cum Stained Panties, and its going to have a ceiling on it, man.
You should never have done that fucking business course.
Dude.
Fuck you, man. We're punk. We're suppose to be insulting.
We could be--we could be a little more sly about it, man. This is what I'm saying. Insulting, but still in a position where our band name is presenting an image that we aren't, which is that we're not for chicks.
Chicks dig us.
Dude, have you seen our audience?
...
...
...
A little bit more sly, huh?
Suicide.
What?
This is my idea, man. I need you to support me on this, but yeah, this is my theory. I'm taking it to you first because I think you'll understand more than Brad and Mick. Those two are smacked out of their mind half the time and they're not the future of the bad.
Whoa.
Whoa.
Whoa.
Dude, lets be honest, if they don't clean themselves up...
...
Look, I'm not saying get rid of them, I'm just saying we could change a little. Have a future that isn't Target.
How's suicide come into this?
Celebrity suicide.
What?
A lot of celebrities kill themselves. Pills, shotguns, cars, all that kinda shit. If we can tap into that feel, man, that energy that surrounds dead celebrities, we'll be able to reach an audience that better suits us, and one that has a longer life span. I mean, what's the one thing people go shit over? The lives of celebrities.
I kinda see it.
I thought you would.
What's your proposed change then?
Ready?
Just fucking tell me, man. It better be fucking brilliant--I grew up with those guys, I'm going to need something real convincing to make me change.
The Courtney Love Conspiracy.
...
Kurt Cobain?
Yeah, people say that his--
I've heard it, fuck you, man. I am not fucking selling out with some pandering to pop culture bullshit.
Don't--don't fucking say that, man.
Fuck you!
Cum Stained Panties forever!
Shit!
...
Oh, fuck.
See, this is my point, you asshole.
Fuck you. Eight year old girls are not our target audience.
Well, when we start looking for new work tomorrow, perhaps you can try children's parties and branch out.
(The 12 Days of Christmas has entered Day Seven. Yesterday, Tansy said the entry was romantic. Hi, Tansy.)
(crossposted)
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[18 Dec 2009|08:01pm] |
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| Prompts? Challenges? |
[18 Dec 2009|03:50pm] |
Good reader, if you are willing, please leave a phrase, a paragraph, a hook, an image, a challenge, or whatever else you might consider a writing prompt. I can't promise immediate response or what it will be, but I'm willing to give it a shot.
Thanks!
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| 870 Valencia: Borderlands Cafe |
[18 Dec 2009|10:28am] |
If you are in San Francisco, be sure to come by only cafe attached to a Science Fiction book store in the United States: Borderlands Cafe: Opening Today.
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| The Cold (Day Eight) |
[18 Dec 2009|01:12pm] |
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The Cold
(Day Eight)
That took an hour.
You're the best, baby.
I shovelled snow, for an hour.
Like I said, baby, you're the best.
If you call me baby one more time, I'll break your other leg.
Then you'd just have to push me in a wheelchair.
I think you slipped on that ice purposefully.
It was well timed for the snow shovelling season, but no. I was just distracted.
God, my muscles ache in places they shouldn't.
Come here.
What?
No.
I'm not letting you touch me. You and your, your--
Are you naked?
Take the parka off.
...
...
Let me get this right.
Let me see if I understand this.
While I was out shovelling snow, you were getting naked?
It did take me the entire hour, yes.
Because you thought that I'd come in thinking, 'After an hour shovelling, she'll be in the mood.'
What's sexier than a naked man with a cast on his leg?
I'm not in the mood.
You sure?
Pretty fucking sure.
Cause it takes a long time to take pants on an off, so if you get in the mood in the next two days, I'm going to be busy.
You know what's sexy?
Men who shovel snow.
Goddamn, you bitched up out there, didn't you?
I have pains in muscles I can't name. Do you know how difficult that is to do when you're a nurse?
Would you like me to put the kettle on?
Yes!
...
...
...
Okay, so, yeah--
Yeah?
Yeah, a naked man with a cast on his leg making me coffee is kind of a turn on.
I knew my wily charm would get to you.
Don't flatter yourself. If there wasn't a kettle involved--lets just say that your charm isn't enough.
Central heating doesn't help?
It does, but you need all this stuff to help you.
See, you're all wrong.
You think I need this stuff to help me, but really, it's just all the romance. Its like, ice cream, but with that sauce that hardens on it. Like that.
Do we have any of that?
The sauce?
Yeah, some, I think.
Good.
Oh, no, don't look at me like that. Your vague insults have resulted in a loss of mood. You're going to have to look after yourself now. This naked man and his cast demand better treatment.
What if I took my parka off?
What if you did?
Well, what does it make you think?
That you're leaving water on the floor and you're going to have to clean it up.
I could drop my shirt there. It'd mop it right up.
Is that right?
That's right.
...
...
...
How's the kettle coming?
It's getting there.
(The 12 Days of Christmas enters its fifth day. Social and political commentary must return! Also, midgets.)
(crossposted)
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[17 Dec 2009|08:01pm] |
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[17 Dec 2009|04:11pm] |
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I am having a FALL CLEARANCE at HOUSE OF PINKU!!
All dresses 50% off!
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| Knitting for the Holidays |
[17 Dec 2009|02:48pm] |
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As I work on Christmas presents, estimating how fast I knit versus how much time til the holiday, something occurs to me.
If someone knits you something, for Christmas, for a birthday, for any holiday, know that it is not a cheap, easy gift. It is not thoughtless, even if you don't particularly like the color. It is far easier to buy something. It costs far less, in time and money. A hat is what, $10? Yarn and needles cost easily that much, and don't require any extra work.
A knitting gift is a full day, at minimum, and usually more, sitting quietly and working on something to please you, thinking of you and wishing you well.
It is pure and uncut love, knotted up and tied off.
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[17 Dec 2009|02:46pm] |
Day Four: Rio de Janeiro, 11/22
 I was especially psyched to be in Rio on a Sunday, because that meant we could visit the Ipanema Hippie Fair, a large-scale craft fair that happens in the Praca General Osorio on Sundays. We'd already picked up a few gifts and souvenirs at the smaller market on the beach in Copacabana, but we had a lot left to buy and we kind of wanted to just take in the spectacle.
You might think this is a sort of girly expedition, and normally you'd be right, but I can always get Kip to go shopping if it's to a craft fair. He likes the idea of getting one-of-a-kind gifts for family and friends more than he likes setting foot in a mall, and as the son of an artist he enjoys looking at art in all its various forms. Plus, Ipanema was one of our favorite places to just wander around and look at stuff - the beaches were nicer, the shops were a little more upscale, and the graffiti was spectacular (the photo at right is a wall in Garota de Ipanema Park, named for the Girl who was From there).
We wandered back and forth through what seemed like miles and miles of stalls. We picked up a few small things for ourselves and others - a woven mat that's currently draped over the back of our couch, a couple of hair ornaments and a bracelet made out of acai seeds for me, some refrigerator magnets that I need to give to ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) offbalance and redstapler, a small birthday gift for teany that we completely forgot to give her on her birthday. But the biggest purchase of the day was Kip's.
Craft stalls line the perimeter of the park, and on the inside you'll find painters displaying their art. On our first pass through the center area, a painting caught Kip's eye. It depicted a small girl walking in front of a giant graffiti mural. The colors were striking, the figures incredibly lifelike. Without a doubt it was the most skillfully executed and emotionally arresting piece in the whole art area. I definitely saw why Kip was drawn to it.
 (That's it top center.) On our third or fourth walk-by, Kip finally decided to talk to the artist. His name was Alex, and he was maybe a few years younger than us. He said he'd painted it from a photograph he'd taken on Rua Cosme Velho, sort of up by where you get the train to Corcovado. (Unfortunately there's not a Google Street View for it, or I would have already looked for the mural, even though Alex said he wasn't sure if it was still there or not.) Well, long story short, the painting is ours now. Alex unstretched it from the frame and we carried it, rolled up, through four more airports onto four flights over the week that followed. It's currently in the frame shop, but we should have it back any day now. We've promised to email photos to Alex once we hang it up.
For lunch, we split a pizza at a touristy little place on the beach. Rio pizza is light on sauce and heavy on cheese and dried oregano, with a slightly doughy crust. It's not New York pizza, but it is nevertheless terrific. We spent the rest of the afternoon on the beach with our feet in the water until it was time to go to the big group churrascaria dinner and samba show that our tour company had planned for us. So we hopped on the tour bus and rode back to Praca General Osorio for the meat extravaganza.
I've had churrascaria before, so I knew more or less what to expect - guys walking around with meats on sticks, surprisingly good sushi at the salad bar (and tons of huge, beautiful arugula - actually, you could get arugula pretty much everywhere we ate on anything we wanted, which was pretty awesome as it's my favorite leafy green and goes out of season too quickly in New York). I also expected that since we'd pulled up in a tour bus and were a group of 50 or so, the meat guys would withhold most of the really excellent meats (which they did. boo.). The main thing I did not expect - our traveling companions were awesome. Every last one of them, from the grizzled World War II veteran to the young married Mormons celebrating their fifth wedding anniversary. For most of our Rio time, it was just me and Kip, and I hadn't much thought about the other people who'd be there too. It turned out many of them were our age - but not too many. We didn't want the Kon-Tiki experience, but we didn't want the Disney experience or the bus full o' seniors experience either. So we had a great time mingling and making friends. My very cursory knowledge of basic travel Portuguese came in handy, too - of the 50+ people on the trip, about three of us knew anything more than "obrigado." Even knowing how to ask whether something was chicken or beef was helpful. To others, not to me, because I wanted to try everything. As with every trip to Europe I've taken, I overate a bit out of sheer joy at eating all kinds of food that wasn't processed and packed full of corn byproducts.
 After stuffing ourselves into meat comas, we headed to Leblon and the samba school. The samba show was good for about an hour. Basically, it was a lot of amazingly buff men and women in costumes that were either really skimpy or really huge (or sometimes, paradoxically, both skimpy and huge), dancing to prerecorded Brazilian music. The too-brief capoeira demonstration was probably the highlight, but I do love me some carnaval costumes, so that part was also awesome.
Not awesome: about an hour before the end of the show (i.e. two or so hours into this), the MC (maybe the owner? I don't know, but since there was a lot of "wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome," I'm calling him the MC) appeared to thank us all for coming. We had been warned about the MC by the seniors on the Corcovado train, and it was evident that this was exactly the same place they'd been. So we knew he'd be pulling us out of the audience to dance on stage according to our nationality while he sang a song to represent our country of origin, and that it would go on for an eternity. I have to admit that it was impressive how multilingual the guy was (he said "thank you for coming to our show" in about twelve languages), but on another level, I have to wonder how the Japanese folks reacted to the knowledge that their entire cultural identity has been boiled down to the "Sukiyaki" song. (Although I can't be too indignant on their behalf, because the entirety of the Japanese I retained from three years of high-school studies consists of the dialogue they taught us the first week and, apparently, all of the words to the "Sukiyaki" song.) The Americans got "New York, New York" - a rendition which, though enthusiastically performed by the MC, included the line "my little old shoes are melting away." Kip also joined the Israeli contingent to lead the hora while the MC sang "Hava Nagila." Eventually, the samba dancers got one more curtain call and we were more than ready to call it a night after that.
I really would have liked something a little more authentic, and it needed to be about an hour shorter without the parade of nations, but on the other hand, it was pretty cool and I know it's something we wouldn't have done on our own.
So that was Rio. The following morning, we hopped on a plane for Iguazu (or Iguacu, depending on what side of the border you're on) Falls.
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| Killing in the Name of...Christmas! |
[17 Dec 2009|09:27am] |
You know, I thought the whole Facebook stunt to propel Rage Against The Machine's 1992 song "Killing in the Name Of" to the top of the UK's pop chart by Christmas was really lame. Then I heard the likely alternative:
One, it's a cover of a Hannah Montana song. Two, it's about hope and trying hard. Three, as my friend pointed out, it sounds like something they would sing on South Park except it isn't funny at all. Four OH MY GOD. Five, you know that in eighteen years or so this song is going to be dusted off by Internet nerds and they'll call it ElderRolling, and I'll be old then and I want to keep from having to hear this song in my mid-50s in my cyberjack implant.
So, to the peoples of the United Kingdom, HOW CAN I HELP YOU? HOW CAN I HELP YOU WITH THE UPHILL BATTLE! HOW CAN HELP YOU WITH THE CLIIIIIIIIIIIIIMB...oh God it's already starting! Quick, tell me what to do?!
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