10.31.2008

happy halloween.


TOP TEN REASONS TRICK-OR-TREATING IS BETTER THAN SEX.

Number 10
You're guaranteed to get at least a little something in the sack.

Number 9
Once you've done it, you don't have to wait an hour to do it again.

Number 8
The uglier you look, the more likely you'll get some.

Number 7
You don't have to make small talk with the person who gave you the treat.

Number 6
The person giving it to you isn't fantasizing that you are someone else.

Number 5
If you get a stomach ache, it won't last for 9 months.

Number 4
If you wear a mask, no one thinks you're kinky.

Number 3
It doesn't matter if the kids hear you moaning and groaning.

Number 2
The next day you don't have to call the person that gave it to you.

And the . . Number 1 . . reason trick-or- treating is better than sex.....
If you don't get what you want, you can always go next door!!

crap.


can't believe im missing this.

10.30.2008

little ashes.


Little Ashes has already played at some European film festivals and is scheduled for release in the states March 27, 2009.

like a drug.


i miss you. i miss you. i miss you. tomorrow night will be hard.

leaving me breathless, godard.

the kids are catching on.

frickity frack.


spring awakening is closing before i get back to NYC. i really would have liked to have seen that before it left for good, esp since i went to school with half the cast. darn.

10.28.2008

dang.


cancelled ex-list. after you grew on me and everything.

oh, ry.

you've got me blogging about you way too much, sir. but this is pretty funny.

Ryan Adams has produced albums by Willie Nelson, as well as recorded seven albums of his own, including three with his band, the Cardinals. This alt-country/rock singer-songwriter has performed around the globe and is finishing his first book, Infinity Blues (Akashic Books, 2009). As a voice of his generation, the editors of World Policy Journal asked him to reflect on his world 25 years from now. Following a lengthy e-mail exchange, Adams delivered, with an explanation, this piece which follows.

How to Save the World from Doom Where You and It Are Headed -- Ryan Adams

What I am about to suggest as my final piece is highly conceptual and will piss off (probably) you and everyone else. But it has haunted me. I have written and re-written it so many times. I am currently in Boston, and last night, sitting outside the Harvard Lampoon, by accident actually, as I was just following the smell of pizza (I am endlessly looking for pizza, all kinds—especially awful pizza—it tickles me pink, it’s my “go-to-zen- thing,” which is nice, because incense is disgusting) I had the revelation. I found myself unable to provide anything beyond even a rigid skeletal form of a piece, burdened by what seems to be an ever-looming sense of existentialism which I am inheriting, not by choice, but by the wear of time vs. my undying and ever-unrequited foolish attachment to sentimentality and romanticism—which is another way of saying, simply, that I am over-sensitive and that this will allow me nothing but a greater will to make art and probably buy me a just single plot and a lonesome, old-age passing. (And if there are free donuts there it will be fine by me—as coffee always works, no matter how bad it is, really.)

The best advice I could think of, and its repetition, in my mind, would be art. Gertrude Stein would be smiling someplace. Also I firmly believe that projecting into the future is anti-abstract and, in principle, is just as bad as Descartes, or worse, Cardinal
Bellarmine. I am totally sure of one thing, however. Nobody has any clue what will happen in 25 years, let alone tomorrow and the reason I know is because I am still here.

Stay in the Moment
Stay in the moment, stay in the moment,
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How to Save the World From Doom 245
Stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the mo-
ment...stay in the moment.

Stay in the moment,
stay in the moment, stay in the moment.
Stay in the moment, stay in the moment.
Stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment, stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment. Stay in the moment, stay in the
moment, stay in the moment, stay in the
moment, stay
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ment, stay in the moment, stay in the
moment, ment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment. Stay in the moment, stay in
the moment. Stay in the moment, stay
in the moment, stay in the moment, stay
in the moment. Stay in the moment,
stay in the moment, stay in the moment,
stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment. Stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment, stay in the moment, stay in the
moment. Stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment. Stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the moment, stay
in the moment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the moment, stay
in the moment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment. Stay in the moment, stay in
the moment,
stay in the mo-
ment, stay in
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ment, stay in
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ment. Stay in
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ment. Stay in
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ment, stay in
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ment. Stay in
the moment,
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ment, stay in
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ment, stay in
the moment.
Stay in the
moment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment, stay in the moment. Stay in
the moment, stay in the moment, stay
in the moment, stay in the moment. Stay
in the moment, stay in the moment,
stay in the moment, stay in the moment.
Stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment, stay in the moment, stay in the mo-
ment, ment, stay in the moment, stay in
the moment. Stay in the moment, stay
in the moment. Stay in the moment, stay
in the moment...and f**k you if you don’t
understand, but you just time-traveled
by skipping ahead.


246 WORLD POLICY JOURNAL • FALL 2008
©Philip N Andelman

fair enough.


prob not fair that he can do no wrong in my eyes, and yet while i dont totally agree....i can still take this at very much its word.

10.27.2008

swedish pop fuzz.

goes down nice.

speaking of ry.

our apology.

<3

"[Emmylou Harris] was one of my first crushes. I've always been into intellectual and artistic gals." --Ryan Adams

go ahead and laugh.


but i love these two and would totally watch if they had a little reality show, which they are in talks for.

10.24.2008

another one bites it.


goodbye (again) radar. it was fun while it lasted.

10.23.2008

work.

here's the thing about the magazine.

i like the magazine. i pretty much like the people at the magazine. i LOVE being home and the workload is def less than am used to (both a good and a bad thing). ive had to do some scary things, but im hopefully getting over it.

thing is, i dont think i ever felt so misunderstood in my life. i realize how whiny that sounds. but have you ever been in a situation like that? where you feel people are getting the wrong vibe off of you? i guess to a point you have to know thats your own g-damn fault, but it also makes me way more sad than im used to being about what people may/may not think about me. not sure that theres any backtracking in this instance, though. so i guess thats it.

grumble.

10.22.2008

beards are nice.


http://www.biggerbetterbeards.org/

10.21.2008

mgmt remix roundup.

http://www.spin.com/blog/spincoms-top-25-mgmt-remixes

1 point to SPIN.

deft respect.


http://www.pastemagazine.com/blogs/ctrl-v/2008/10/remembering-elliott-smith.html

the very talented henry (the one whose music i was at one time hooked) cooked this up today and i am quite happy with his selections. this kid is going places, hear me?

agreed.


i love you, stella.

morn quote.

“In hotels I always find the Gideon Bible and rip out Leviticus 18:22, which is directed against homosexuals.”
Sir Ian McKellen

10.14.2008

be original, friends.

adorable, and true.

wedding songs gone awry.

goodbye, CG.

EXACTLY!! ---->

And then there were two: Hearst Magazines on Friday shuttered Cosmogirl magazine, the teen title it spun off from Cosmopolitan in 1999, with the December issue being the last. Many weren’t surprised to hear the news, given the title’s shrinking ad pages and flattening circulation, but were disappointed another magazine had exited from the teen market. In less than three years, Teen People, Elle Girl and Cosmogirl have folded, leaving Seventeen and Teen Vogue as the two stalwarts.

One of those disappointed was Cosmogirl’s founding editor Atoosa Rubenstein, who believed the magazine had gotten away from its roots as an alternative to its mainstream, high school sweetheart sister title Seventeen. “Cosmogirl was conceived as a magazine for edgy girls. This is a time for edgy ideas. It’s my belief that those girls will still be served, they’ll just be served in new, innovative ways other than a print publication,” she said. “I don’t think it’s the death of the girl, but the death of the magazine, and certainly the sign of the times.”

No longer involved with the magazine business after parting ways with Seventeen and having given birth two months ago to her own little girl, Angelika, “it’s like the closing of an era in my head.” Ironically, Rubenstein was said to be working on a teen-focused Internet project, Alpha Kitty, and a self-help book for teens, but shelved those projects to focus on her family.

10.07.2008

hurrah.

empire 500.

what a sad day for list makers everywhere. does anyone agree with this?

http://www.empireonline.com/500

what paste had to say.

their top 25:

1. The Godfather
2. Raiders of the Lost Ark
3. Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back
4. Shawsank Redemption
5. Jaws
6. GoodFellas
7. Apocalypse Now
8. Singin’ in the Rain
9. Pulp Fiction
10. Fight Club
11. Raging Bull
12. The Apartment
13. Chinatown
14. Once Upon a Time In the West
15. The Dark Knight
16. 2001: A Space Odyssey
17. Taxi Driver
18. Casablanca
19. The Godfather Part II
20. Blade Runner
21. The Third Man
22. Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope
23. Back to the Future
24. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring
25. The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

10.06.2008

oh, my.

weird al is at it again, for one of my faves.

psych.

at the end of the "There Might Be Blood" episode, the guest star says to James Roday and Dule Hill "I've had about enough of your painfully cute mugging." Dule then says, "Who are you, Entertainment Weekly?"

:(
missing you.

palin bashing.

via new york times...get in on that.

manuscript unrolled.


“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” - Jack Kerouac, On the Road

news for you.

10.02.2008

for you.


forever. i could not have said it better myself.

Litany in Which Certain Things Are Crossed Out
BY RICHARD SIKEN

Every morning the maple leaves.
Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts
from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big
and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out
You will be alone always and then you will die.
So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog
of non-definitive acts,
something other than the desperation.
Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I couldn't come to your party.
Dear So-and-So, I'm sorry I came to your party
and seduced you
and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing.
Your want a better story. Who wouldn't?
A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing.
Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on.
What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon.
Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly
flames everywhere.
I can tell already you think I'm the dragon,
that would be so like me, but I'm not. I'm not the dragon.
I'm not the princess either.
Who am I? I'm just a writer. I write things down.
I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure,
I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow
glass, but that comes later.
And the part where I push you
flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against the bricks,
shut up
I'm getting to it.
For a while I thought I was the dragon.
I guess I can tell you that now. And, for a while, I thought I was
the princess,
cotton candy pink, sitting there in my room, in the tower of the castle,
young and beautiful and in love and waiting for you with
confidence
but the princess looks into her mirror and only sees the princess,
while I'm out here, slogging through the mud, breathing fire,
and getting stabbed to death.
Okay, so I'm the dragon. Bid deal.
You still get to be the hero.
You get the magic gloves! A fish that talks! You get eyes like flashlights!
What more do you want?
I make you pancakes, I take you hunting, I talk to you as if you're
really there.
Are you there, sweetheart? Do you know me? Is this microphone live?
Let me do it right for once,
for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes,
you know the story, simply heaven.
Inside your head you hear a phone ringing
and when you open your eyes
only a clearing with deer in it. Hello deer.
Inside your head the sound of glass,
a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion.
Hello darling, sorry about that.
Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we
lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell
and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud.
Especially that, but I should have known.
You see, I take the parts that I remember and stitch them back together
to make a creature that will do what I say
or love me back.
I'm not really sure why I do it, but in this version you are not
feeding yourself to a bad man
against a black sky prickled with small lights.
I take it back.
The wooden halls likes caskets. These terms from the lower depths.
I take them back.
Here is the repeated image of the lover destroyed.
Crossed out.
Clumsy hands in a dark room. Crossed out. There is something
underneath the floorboards.
Crossed out. And here is the tabernacle
reconstructed.
Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all
forgiven,
even though we didn't deserve it.
Inside your head you hear
a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you're washing up
in a stranger's bathroom,
standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away
from the dirtiest thing you know.
All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly
darkness,
suddenly only darkness.
In the living room, in the broken yard,
in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport
bathroom's gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of
unnatural light,
my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away.
And the the airplane, the window seat over the wing with a view
of the wing and a little foil bag of peanuts.
I arrived in the city and you met me at the station,
smiling in a way
that made me frightened. Down the alley, around the arcade,
up the stairs of the building
to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things,
I looked out the window and said
This doesn't look that much different from home,
because it didn't,
but then I noticed the black sky and all those lights.
We walked through the house to the elevated train.
All these buildings, all that glass and the shiny beautiful
mechanical wind.
We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too,
smiling and crying in a way that made me
even more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I
just couldn't say it out loud.
Actually, you said Love, for you,
is larger than the usual romantic love. It's like a religion. It's
terrifying. No one
will ever want to sleep with you.
Okay, if you're so great, you do it—
here's the pencil, make it work . . .
If the window is on your right, you are in your own bed. If the window
is over your heart, and it is painted shut, then we are breathing
river water.
Build me a city and call it Jerusalem. Build me another and call it
Jerusalem.
We have come back from Jerusalem where we found not
what we sought, so do it over, give me another version,
a different room, another hallway, the kitchen painted over
and over,
another bowl of soup.
The entire history of human desire takes about seventy minutes to tell.
Unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time.
Forget the dragon,
leave the gun on the table, this has nothing to do with happiness.
Let's jump ahead to the moment of epiphany,
in gold light, as the camera pans to where
the action is,
lakeside and backlit, and it all falls into frame, close enough to see
the blue rings of my eyes as I say
something ugly.
I never liked that ending either. More love streaming out the wrong way,
and I don't want to be the kind that says the wrong way.
But it doesn't work, these erasures, this constant refolding of the pleats.
There were some nice parts, sure,
all lemondrop and mellonball, laughing in silk pajamas
and the grains of sugar
on the toast, love love or whatever, take a number. I'm sorry
it's such a lousy story.
Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently
we have had our difficulties and there are many things
I want to ask you.
I tried that one time, high school, second lunch, and then again,
years later, in the chlorinated pool.
I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have
these luxuries.
I have told you where I'm coming from, so put it together.
We clutch our bellies and roll on the floor . . .
When I say this, it should mean laughter,
not poison.
I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes.
Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you.
Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

pushing daisies is back.


thanks the heavens. i could barely breathe without it.

http://buzzsugar.com/2136511

yes.

the last two lines of this poem kill my soul. THIS is what i want, friends.

To The Dead, by Frank Bidart

What I hope (when I hope) is that we'll
see each other again,--

. . . and again reach the VEIN

in which we loved each other . .
It existed. It existed.

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

. . . for, like the detectives (the Ritz Brothers)
in The Gorilla,

once we'd been battered by the gorilla

we searched the walls, the intricately carved
impenetrable paneling

for a button, lever, latch

that unlocks a secret door that
reveals at last the secret chambers,

CORRIDORS within WALLS,

(the disenthralling, necessary, dreamed structure
beneath the structure we see,)

that is the HOUSE within the HOUSE . . .

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

. . . there were (for example) months when I seemed only
to displease, frustrate,

disappoint you--; then, something triggered

a drunk lasting for days, and as you
slowly and shakily sobered up,

sick, throbbing with remorse and self-loathing,

insight like ashes: clung
to; useless; hated . . .

This was the viewing of the power of the waters

while the waters were asleep:--
secrets, histories of loves, betrayals, double-binds

not fit (you thought) for the light of day . . .

There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,--

. . . for, there at times at night, still we
inhabit the secret place together . . .

Is this wisdom, or self-pity?--

The love I've known is the love of
two people staring

not at each other, but in the same direction.

10.01.2008

the sexiest.

Green Mountain Idyll

Hayden Carruth

Honey I'd split your kindling

clean & bright

& fine

if you was mine

baby baby

I'd taken to you like my silky hen

my bluetick bitch my sooey sow

my chipmunk my finchbird

& my woodmouse

if you was living at my house

I'd mulch your strawberries & cultivate

your potato patch

all summer long

& then in winter

come thirty below and the steel-busting weather

I'd tune your distributor & adjust

your carburetor

if me & you was together

be it sunshine be it gloom

summer or the mean mud season

honey I'd kiss you

every morningtime

& evenings I'd hurry

to get shut of the barn chores early

& then in the dark of the night

I'd stand at the top of the stairs & hold the light

for you for you

if you'd sleep in my room

& when old crazy come down the mountain after you

with his big white pecker in his hand

you would only holler

& from the sugar house

the mow the stable

or wherever I'm at

I'd come god I'd come running to you

like a turpentined cat

only in our bed

honey

no hurting

but like as if it was

git- music

or new-baked bread

I'd fuck so easy

sweet-talking & full of love

if you was just my daisy

& my dove