genius to spare

The VERY LEAST We Can Do

2009-10-05T18:42:00.002-04:00

Why I Love Keith Olbermann

2008-11-10T22:13:00.004-05:00

Keith Olbermann is often considered a partisan hack, because he mercilessly mocks stupid conservatives like Bill O'Reilly. And recently Ben Affleck did a bang-up job of doing a send-up of him on Saturday Night Live, and made him look ridiculous. But I dig him. He's tall, and has that prematurely gray thing working for him in really attractive ways. And, every so often, he says something like this:

PRESIDENT OBAMA

2008-11-04T23:12:00.002-05:00

9 p.m. Mountain Standard Time. MSNBC calls the presidential race for Obama.

We did it. We elected the right guy.

For the first time this millennium, I am actually proud of my country.

A Guy Who Gets It

2008-11-02T13:39:00.001-05:00

This is Jerry Sanders, the Republican mayor of San Diego. Send him fan mail. I did.

NO ON 8

2008-10-27T00:00:00.001-04:00

Pity the Poor Guy

2008-10-16T11:45:00.002-04:00

I have always felt sorry for Guy Ritchie. I mean, really. He makes a couple of interesting movies that attract a lot of attention, including Madonna's. She marries him, and his career goes down the crapper.

Now they're splitting, and rumor has it that Guy is going after her millions--she's worth about 15 times more than he is. I can't help hoping he gets so of it. He needs something to get his career going again, and some of her money, along with a sense that he's reclaimed his own identity, might help.

For the record, I have no great affection for Guy Ritchie--I just think it's probably really hard being married to Madonna, and I think she'll recover from the breakup more easily than he has, because after all she's done more while being married than he has. This doesn't mean I feel sorry for her other exes. I can't manage to feel sorry for Sean Penn--he was an asshole to Madge. And I still love Madge, in that way you love a crazy family member you still hope you don't have to sit by at Thanksgiving.

So Where Do They Grow?

2007-09-10T21:06:00.000-04:00

Here's a song about how you can't get what you weren't born with, and here's a little info about who wrote and sings it.

Never Say Never

2007-06-26T21:38:00.000-04:00

I clicked "Mark As Spam", if you're curious...

Meet Me At Baggage Claim

2007-06-16T03:24:00.000-04:00

Lest we forget to pick up our shit.

Literature Abuse

2007-04-05T09:40:00.000-04:00

I didn't write this. I wish I did. I don't know who wrote it. I wish I did. Someone emailed it to me a decade or so ago, and I thought it was time to share.

LITERATURE ABUSE: AMERICA'S HIDDEN PROBLEM
SELF-TEST FOR LITERATURE ABUSERS

How many of these apply to you?

1. I have read fiction when I was depressed or to cheer myself up.
2. I have gone on reading binges of an entire book or more in a day.
3. I read rapidly, often "gulping" chapters.
4. I have sometimes read early in the morning or before work.
5. I have hidden books in different places to sneak a chapter without being seen.
6. Sometimes I avoid friends or family obligations in order to read novels.
7. Sometimes I rewrite film or television dialog as the characters speak.
8. I am unable to enjoy myself with others unless there is a book nearby.
9. At a party, I will often slip off unnoticed to read.
10. Reading has made me seek haunts and companions that I would otherwise avoid.
11. I have neglected personal hygiene or household chores until I have finished a novel.
12. I have spent money meant for necessities on books instead.
13. I have attempted to check out more library books than permitted.
14. Most of my friends are heavy fiction readers.
15. I have sometimes passed out from a night of heavy reading.
16. I have suffered blackouts or memory loss from a bout of reading.
17. I have wept or become angry or irrational because of something I read.
18. I have sometimes wished I did not read so much.
19. Sometimes I think my reading is out of control.

If you answered yes to three or more of these questions, you may be a literature abuser. An affirmative response to five or more indicates a serious problem. Once a relatively rare disorder, Literature Abuse, or LA, has risen to new levels due to the accessibility of higher education and increased college enrollment since the end of the Second World War. The number of literature abusers is currently at record levels.

SOCIAL COSTS OF LITERARY ABUSE
Abusers become withdrawn, uninterested in society or normal relationships. They fantasize, creating alternative worlds to occupy, to the neglect of friends and family. In severe cases they develop bad posture from reading in awkward positions or carrying heavy book bags. In the worst instances, they become cranky reference librarians in small towns. Excessive reading during pregnancy is perhaps the number one cause of moral deformity among the children of English professors and teachers of English and creative writing. Known as Fetal Fiction Syndrome, this disease also leaves its victims prone to a lifetime of nearsightedness, daydreaming, and emotional instability.

HEREDITY
Recent Harvard studies have established that heredity plays a considerable role in determining whether a person will become an abuser of literature. Most abusers have at least one parent who abused literature, often beginning at an early age and progressing into adulthood. Many spouses of an abuser become abusers themselves.

OTHER PREDISPOSING FACTORS
Fathers or mothers who are English teachers, professors, or heavy fiction readers; parents who do not encourage children to play games, participate in healthy sports, or watch television in the evening.

PREVENTION
Premarital screening and counseling, referral to adoption agencies in order to break the chain of abuse. English teachers in particular should seek partners active in other fields. Children should be encouraged to seek physical activity and to avoid isolation and morbid introspection.

DECLINE AND FALL: THE ENGLISH MAJOR
Within the sordid world of literature abuse, the lowest circle belongs to those sufferers who have thrown their lives and hopes away to study literature in our colleges. Parents should look for signs that their
children are taking the wrong path. Don't expect your teenager to approach you and say, "I can't stop reading Spenser." By the time you visit her dorm room and find the secret stash of the Paris Review, it may already be too late.

What to do if you suspect your child is becoming an English major:
1. Talk to your child in a loving way. Show your concern. Let her know you won't abandon her but that you aren't spending a hundred grand to put her through Stanford so she can clerk at Waldenbooks either. But remember that she may not be able to make a decision without help; perhaps she has just finished Madame Bovary and is dying of arsenic poisoning.

2. Face the issue. Tell her what you know, and how: "I found this book in your purse. How long has this been going on?" Ask the hard question: Who is this Count Vronsky?

3. Show her another way. Move the television set into her room. Introduce her to frat boys.

4. Do what you have to do. Tear up her library card. Make her stop signing her letters as "Emma." Force her to take a math class or minor in Spanish. Transfer her to a Florida college.

You may be dealing with a life-threatening problem if one or more of the following applies: * She can tell you how and when Thomas Chatterton died. * She names one or more of her cats after a Romantic poet. * Next to her bed is a picture of Lord Byron, Virginia Woolf, William Faulkner, or any scene from the Lake District.

Most importantly, remember, you are not alone. To seek help for yourself or someone you love, contact the nearest chapter of the American Literature Abuse Society, or look under ALAS in your local phone directory.

Lament for Betty Crocker

2006-12-08T16:56:00.000-05:00

I have friends who love "slam poetry." I am not so fond of it. They told me I'd like it better if I ever tried to write it, and I decided to believe them. Here, then, is my first attempt. When you read it, you should read it loud and fast and emphasize every single word that seems like it might enjoying being emphasized--in other words, all the nouns, verbs, and adjectives. Verbs, however, should be read with particular aggression.

Middle America has swallowed the brownie mix powder,
anti-caking agents cake
on my windshield.
Boys like that always
burn the batter,
too busy badgering the world with their
jazzy-jazz doo-dah,
discord
and
fall.
The kitchen is a mess
and I am fresh out of oven cleaner
because the Cuban woman
who used to clean up
has run away and joined
a mambo beat
band.

Who Did Your Boobs?

2006-11-28T22:35:00.000-05:00

Well shave my ass and call me Lazlo! This place is looking as lonely as a septic tank on prom night! Must be Bruce's armpits, stinking up the joint... Many a lost thought have come here to die, and die they do, darling... Like the buds of May.

Bitter, though, she's gluttoning for some appreciation. Here is the question of the hour: How many nights must I cry myself to sleep before finally overcoming my greatest fear?

Please send your responses (along with a one dollar bill) to:
PITY
Party of One Drive
Lonesome Hwy 61, CA
9000000

Not really.... Duh! Just comment if you want. Explain what the fuck you are doing in here and make it sassy!

Peace,
SO

Patrick Wolf "Wind in the Wires"

2006-10-12T02:29:00.000-04:00

This is so great:

Bruce Almighty

2006-08-19T06:03:00.002-04:00

I recently watched The Fifth Element, because Dale said he liked it and if there's anything I've learned from blogging, it's that if Dale recommends something, it's not complete crap. Also I really wanted to see the context in which this tentacle-y blue chick Dale posted a picture of stands on a stage and sings.

I liked this movie a lot.* In it, Bruce Willis must save the woman he loves and a whole lot of other people as well (in this particular case, the entire world) from some great, intelligent, profoundly powerful evil (in this particular case, a giant fireball that occasionally telephones Gary Oldman while he's got a soul patch and a Texas accent--as clear a sign of evil as I've ever seen). Saving everyone involves shooting lots of guns and blowing lots of things up, both of which Bruce is extremely good at. It also involves a black sidekick who observes events and also has to help Bruce save everyone a little, which, as you will remember, is also an element of Die Hard.

Speaking of Die Hard, what I really want to know is why no one told me that The Fifth Element is part of a trilogy. It comes after Die Hard and before Twelve Monkeys, which also involve Bruce having to save the woman he loves and a whole lot of other people as well from some great, intelligent, profoundly powerful evil (in one case he succeeds; in one case, he fails). You can tell the movies form a trilogy because in each one, Bruce plays the same character. OK, there's some weird time travel involved, but remember that Twelve Monkeys is about weird time travel. Trust me, if you think about the plots and about Hollywood, it all makes sense.

Watching this movie helped me realize that I really enjoy seeing Bruce save the world. I get tired of watching him shoot things--there were a few scenes I fast-forwarded through--but generally, I dig him and the results he gets. If someone asked me, "OK, you and the rest of the world are going to need rescuing, so who do you want to do it: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis or Elijah Wood with prosthetic feet?" my answer would be, "Bruce Willis--no question!"

The Fifth Element
1997
Directed by Luc Besson
starring Bruce Willis, Milla Jovovich and the guy who played Bilbo Baggins, except without the big hairy feet

*The movie also includes enough of Luke Perry to be intriguing--like the fantasies of an entire generation of young girls, the movie makes use of him, then discards him and moves on.

Kidnapped and Sold into Slavery

2006-08-07T10:01:00.000-04:00

I think that just being alive is so much work at something you don't always want to do. Being born is like being kidnapped. And then sold into slavery.--Andy Warhol, The Philosophy of Andy Warhol

Quote of the Next Moment

2006-07-26T08:19:00.000-04:00

Great passions are for the great of soul, and great events can be seen only by those who are on a level with them. We think we can have our emotions for nothing. We cannot. Even the finest and most self-sacrificing emotions have to be paid for. Strangely enough, that is what makes them fine. The intellectual and emotional life of ordinary people is a very contemptible affair. Just as they borrow their ideas from a sort of circulating library of thought--the Zeitgeist of an age that has no soul and send them back soiled at the end of each week--so they always try to get their emotions on credit, or refuse to pay the bill when it comes in. We must pass out of that conception of life; as soon as we have to pay for an emotion we shall know its quality and be the better for such knowledge.--Oscar Wilde, de Profundis

Quote of the Moment

2006-07-13T19:31:00.000-04:00

"The more you consume, the less you think." -Vivienne Westwood

God in a Test Tube

2006-07-11T12:36:00.000-04:00

We here at G2S are pretty interested in spirituality, mysticism, transcendence--all that crap totally fascinates us. Which is why we were so intrigued by this article from the Independent UK announcing that " A universal mystical experience with life-changing effects can be produced by the hallucinogen contained in magic mushrooms."

According to the article,

For the US study, 30 middle-aged volunteers who had religious or spiritual interests attended two eight-hour drug sessions, two months apart, receiving psilocybin in one session and a non-hallucinogenic stimulant, Ritalin, in the other. They were not told which drug was which.

One third described the experience with psilocybin as the single most spiritually significant of their lifetimes and two thirds rated it among their five most meaningful experiences.

In more than 60 per cent of cases the experience qualified as a "full mystical experience" based on established psychological scales, the researchers say. Some likened it to the importance of the birth of their first child or the death of a parent.

The effects persisted for at least two months. Eighty per cent of the volunteers reported moderately or greatly increased well-being or life satisfaction. Relatives, friends and colleagues confirmed the changes.

Both SO and I have taken lots of drugs, though he has taken most of the drugs made by profit-driven, degenerate profligates with little regard for human life and sold by surly guys in dirty jeans with no last names, while I have taken most of the drugs made by profit-driven, degenerate profligates with little regard for human life and sold by surly guys in rumpled lab coats with name tags. I admit I've become even more of a pharmaceutical coward than I used to be: I've always preferred my drugs best when insurance pays for them and I can sue somebody if they don't do what they're supposed to, but I don't take them as readily as I used to--just because a doctor writes out a prescription doesn't mean I fill it.

Among the prescription drugs I've taken are plenty of psycho-active ones. Having had plenty of surgery, I've had plenty of morphine, and it does indeed do interesting things to your mind. And although I'm less willing than I used to be to swallow docilely and unqestioningly any pill some doctor getting kickbacks from a drug company wants to me and my insurance company to pay for, I am willing to make certain sacrifices in my quest for enlightenment. Believe me, if I ever hear about another round of this experiment, or a legalized version of the drug administered, I'll be first in line to try it.

Validate My Love

2006-07-08T03:52:00.000-04:00

This is the status of my request to be Madonna's myspace friend. It's been six weeks. I know she's touring and probably has little time between her children, travelling and crucifictions. It just makes me feel like this is the story of my life:

Monkey Love

2006-07-01T01:53:00.000-04:00

Oh yeah, kids. It's that time of the season when we celebrate a little Monkey Love.

This is a photo of Charlton Heston making out with an ape chick. He loves monkeys almost as much as he loves guns.

Oh, Charlton Heston! Charlton Heston! Come back to the Planet of the Apes, Charlton Heston!

Incidentally, I have a tee shirt with this image printed on it. I used to think it was funny. Now I just think it's sad.

Happy Birthday, Saviour!

2006-06-23T01:13:00.000-04:00

Today is the birthday of Saviour Onassis, a.k.a. my bestest friend. I won't tell you how old he is, because not everyone is as open about that stuff as I am. Suffice it to say that he is younger than I am--he was even born in a different decade! But no matter how many birthdays he has, he will seem forever young because he is blessed with natural youthful vitality.

If you enjoy his writing, please leave him a birthday greeting here.

Entertainer Seeks Same

2006-06-20T18:12:00.000-04:00

Have you ever tried dating through a personal ad? I recently put up an ad to see what was out there. It was actually a lot of fun to describe myself and the kind of person I was looking for. The site suggested that I include a photo, as ads with photos are more likely to get a response. I didn't like the photo I had. I didn't think it represented what I truly look like, so I did just a little minor tweeking in Photoshop and posted the ad. This is what it said:

Entertainer Seeks Same
I am a funloving, good natured fellow who needs to find his other half. I am not particular about looks, but do expect you to be presentable. I enjoy amusement parks, petting zoos and music. I have always felt different and I suspect my soulmate will identify with that. If you are out there, I am waiting.

That was two months ago, and I had forgotten it was even out there. Then I got this response:

RE: Entertainer Seeks Same
I am also an entertainer! You sound really cool... I think we might have a lot in common. Do you like children? I love children and have three of my own. When you say "presentable", what exactly do you mean? I have a, um... medical condition that forces me to wear a surgical mask in public from time to time. Hope that's not a problem! Look forward to hearing from you! MJ (Kingdom of Bahrain)

Isn't that strange? I don't know if I should respond or not. Bahrain is far away and long distance relationships are always hard. I'm gonna have the think about it. Click HERE to see the photo I posted with my ad.

This Is My Theory

2006-06-14T05:28:00.000-04:00

I never want to be the kind of writer about whom people will say:
He was good until his work got scatological.

It always was.

Poop.

Got Poe?

2006-06-05T22:32:00.000-04:00

Remember POE? Not the writer, Edgar Allan Poe, but the genius singer/songwriter Poe who mysteriously disappeared after only two fantastic albums? I miss her. This official website hasn't been updated in years. I heard she had trouble with her record company, locked in legal battles, etc... But if Courtney can manage to squirm out of one contract and into another, why can't Poe? Has something happened to her? Or did she just say: "Fuck it, I am outta here."

Despite All My Rage

2006-05-30T19:02:00.000-04:00

"why can't you do it?
why can't you set your monkey free?
always giving in to it-
do you love the monkey or do you love me?
why can't you do it?
why do I have to share my baby with a monkey?"
-george michael

Cousin Jessica

2006-05-10T22:44:00.000-04:00

This evening, at Saviour Onassis's recommendation, I watched Cousin Bette, a 1998 movie starring Jessica Lange and Elizabeth Shue. It's set in Paris during the end of the July Monarchy--as SO said, "It's sorta like a Merchant-Ivory period piece, except with Elizabeth Shue."

My feelings were mixed: what I liked about it was that Jessica Lange plays a plain, self-sacrificing spinster who eventually becomes pissed off enough that she decides to exact vengeance from any and everyone who ever hurt her. What I didn't like about it was that Jessica Lange plays a plain, self-sacrificing spinster who eventually becomes pissed off enough that she decides to exact vengeance from any and everyone who ever hurt her.

Then there was Elizabeth Shue, who plays a 24-year-old actress/courtesan whom all the dirty old men of Paris want to sleep with. I like Elizabeth Shue and wouldn't mind seeing her in more movies, but she wasn't right for this part. She does a fair amount of singing but her voice is nothing special, and she just didn't exude raw sexuality the way she was supposed to.

Every so often you'll see a movie where the casting people put glasses on a super model and the audience is supposed to believe that none of the other characters can tell she's beautiful. The hair and makeup people stuck a brown wig on Jessica Lange, but that doesn't make her ugly; it just makes her a brunette. Jessica Lange is an amazing actress, naturally gifted and very well trained. She has this commanding presence and I would have been more likely to believe that she was some fabled courtesan who was just too beautiful, intelligent, talented and graceful ever to retire, while Elizabeth Shue was a dowdy, frumpy spinster who got tired of living in the shadows and finally sought revenge. Except that wouldn't have been entirely satisfying, because you just want Jessica Lange to triumph....

I don't know. It's worth watching just for Jessica's performance, but then, that's true of every movie she's ever been in. If you decide to check this out, let me know what you think.

What's on our Nightstands

2006-05-07T17:32:00.000-04:00

Bored Dominatrix: a phone, a lamp, an alarm clock, a coaster (because sometimes I like to drink herbal tea or dark beer in bed).

Saviour Onassis: an off the hook phone, a blinking alarm clock, a letter from Robert Kennedy and several empty prescription bottles (mostly for barbiturates).

The Sylvia Plath Monkey

2006-04-24T20:41:00.000-04:00

Considering the alternatives.

Heard It All Before

2006-03-03T20:30:00.000-05:00

Here is a video for Madonna's new single "Sorry" that does not include a pimped out van, roller skating or acting like a woman half your age. It does, however, make a political statement worthy of the Material Girl herself. Like videos Madonna used to make before she hit her head, this will not make you "Sorry."

Lizzie Sunshine

2006-02-26T11:33:00.000-05:00

SO: Did you know Liz Phair has begun covering Liz Phair songs?

BD: Really? How are they?

SO: Good. You can get them on I-Tunes, these stripped-down acoustic versions of her old songs. They're totally cooler than her new songs. [Long pause] I liked Liz so much better before she learned to play the guitar, before she got....

BD: A baby and a good attitude? Me too. [Short pause] Remind me never to get either of those things.

SO: I don't think I have to worry.

BD: I hope not...but you never know. Just keep an eye on me, OK?

SO: OK.

Delovely Delon

2006-02-25T18:30:00.000-05:00

This is the cover of The Smiths album, The Queen is Dead which we all know and love. But I bet you didn't know that the coverboy here is Alain Delon, star of The Leopard and Rocco & His Brothers, both directed by Luchino Visconti.

Visconti, like Morrissey, had a keen eye for beauty. I will let you revel in it, a bit. Delon is a very pretty boy, who even has his own line of cigarettes.

Significant Seven

2006-02-11T18:10:00.000-05:00

Amazon.com has a list of seven "significant" questions that it likes to ask its favorite authors. I asked Bored Dominatrix and this was her reply:

Q: What book has had the most significant impact on your life?
A: The Journal of Bored Dominatrix.

Q: You are stranded on a desert island with only one book, one CD, and one DVD--what are they?
A: I'm stranded on a desert island equipped with a functioning CD player, a DVD player and a TV? COOL! I hope there's a decent shower with plenty of hot water too....

Q: Ahem. Suspend your disbelief. Play along. Answer the freakin' question.
A: Book: The Journal of Bored Dominatrix. CD: Bored Dominatrix Sings the Smiths. DVD: How to Build a Boat out of Coconut Trees and Escape from a Desert Island.

Q: What is the worst lie you've ever told?
A: The Mormon Church is true. (I don't really except to be forgiven for that lie in this lifetime. At least, I haven't forgiven myself. That lie is why I HAD to become a dominatrix, you know.)

Q: Describe the perfect writing environment.
A: A desert island equipped with a functioning CD player, a DVD player, a TV, a decent shower with plenty of hot water, and a brand new computer.

Q: If you could write your own epitaph, what would it say?
A: OK, now I'm REALLY bored.

Q: Who is the one person living or dead that you would like to have dinner with?
A: David Bowie, especially if he'd stick around for breakfast too.

Q: If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
A: Flying. (That way I could get the hell off that goddamned desert island.)

Valley of the Dorks

2006-02-10T11:24:00.000-05:00

Saviour Onassis and I are both from Arizona and we have strong feelings about the entire state. Not only is it where we were born and raised, it's where our families live still, so we go back there fairly often.

SO's parents live in Mesa, a nasty, sprawling suburb of Phoenix. One of my sisters lives there too. The town has only two things to recommend it: a few good Mexican restaurants, and all these orange groves, which smell good (like oranges).

Over the holidays, SO and I met up. We went to dinner, went to a movie, and drove all over tarnation, because the Phoenix metropolitan area is just so stinkin' big. As I sat in the passenger seat of SO's nifty new car, I couldn't help offering the following observation:

BD: I really kind of hate Phoenix.

SO: I totally hate Phoenix! It's totally hate-able! It's so new and stupid.

BD: I always feel it's like LA without a beach.

SO: Oh, Phoenix is totally trying to copy LA, and act like it's in the big time. Phoenix is like, "Look at me! I'm a city! Check me out! I've got crime! I've got a pollution problem! Look at my new freeway!"

BD: Why is Tucson so much cooler? I mean, OK, it's older....

SO: Old things are cool.

BD: Yeah. But it's got a different attitude, too. What does Tucson say?

SO: Tucson is like, "What're you lookin' at?"

BD: What does LA say?

SO: LA says, "I know what you're lookin' at."

BD: What does Scottsdale say? [Scottsdale, it should be noted, is a spiffy suburb of Phoenix. It's where Steven Spielberg, Stevie Nicks and Sandra Bernhard grew up.]

SO: contemptuous, dismissive snort coupled with an elegant roll of the eyes.

BD: What was that again?

SO: repeats sound and gesture of contempt.

BD: Yeah, that's pretty much what Scottsdale says.

SO: Let's go to Costco and buy thing in bulk!

BD: No.

SO: Come on, I'll buy you a case of tequila!

BD: OK!

Groundhogs and Such

2006-02-05T11:22:00.000-05:00

I didn't write this--a friend emailed it to me--but it's worth sharing:

Ever notice how often the State of the Union Address and Groundhog Day occur in the same week?

It is a strange juxtaposition of events: one involves a meaningless ritual in which we look to a creature of little intelligence for prognostication, while the other involves a groundhog.

What Would Saviour Onassis Eat?

2005-12-15T13:25:00.000-05:00

My Dearest Saviour Onassis:

I need some helping saving my own ass--from irresistibly tasty treats! The holiday season has arrived, with its circuit of parties. Already I have been to two, and at each there were tables laden with desserts like cheesecake, fudge and pecan pie, as well as savory goodies like artichoke dip, meatballs, potato salad, and lots and lots of cheese. Then there's the beverages: seems we're all supposed to get good and tipsy at these functions. I'm not saying it's not fun, but I am saying I want to make it through the next three or four weeks without turning into Kirstie Allie.

I understand from a post on While You're On Your Knees that you lost quite a bit of weight with a diet based on the question, "What Would Bowie Eat?" Could you tell us more about it? I would be most grateful for any nutrition and lifestyle tips you care to offer.

Sincerely,

Bored Dominatrix

Dearest Domi,

Thank you for your interest in my WWBE? "lifestyle" plan. I don't like to think of it as a diet; rather, it's a whole new way of looking at consumption and the consequences. It was actually so easy to lose weight that I am tempted to gain it back just to do it again--the attention my skinny ass is getting now is well worth it.

By the way, I lost about 45 pounds. I was approximately 45 pounds overweight. So, this plan is for the slightly pudgy.

The first thing I did was look at my body and assess the damage. Then I imagined the type of body I would like to have. Of course, I picked David Bowie, even though I know I have a different body type and he has been that thin his whole life. This did not matter. What did matter was that I firmly lodged the ideal body type in my mind and stuck with it. I knew there was a skinny me in there somewhere; after all, I wore size 32 jeans in high school. Now, I wear them well in my mid-thirties.

Once you have an ideal in mind, the rest is simple: Ask yourself "What would ________ eat?" Do this with everything you consume. Now, I can't imagine Bowie eating much of anything, so in order to avoid starving, I did some math. If you burn more calories than you consume, you will lose weight. Everything has a price and since I am so cheap and lazy, it was easy to shed excess pounds.

BD: That sounds fabulous! But how do you choose your ideal? I mean, I find both Catherine Zeta Jones and Nicole Kidman extremely attractive and would be thrilled to look like either one. How do I choose between them?

Very interesting ladies, both very well composed, articulate and beautiful. However, they have subtle differences, for instance, in their genes. My instincts are telling me that Catherine Zeta Jones works out and Nicole, not so much. For you I would suggest the Kidman plan; it's all about "intelligent design." Nic left her loser hubby, while Cat is still married to that old guy. Also, the Kidman plan allows you to have mainstream comic appeal and be the book-smart wonder that you are.

BD: There are lots of different famous Kates, with different body types: Kate Winslet, Kate Cruise, Kate Beckinsale, even Cate Blanchett. Any comments on a "What would all the Kates eat?" diet?

The Kates are slightly more complicated, because of their various shapes and sizes. Personally, I find Winslet the sexiest of the bunch and Cruise last on the list. So, it depends on what you are going for. The "all the Kates" plan will not work for most people. Try to keep it simple.

BD: Paris Hilton is awfully skinny. How does the WWBE diet differ from the "What Would Paris Hilton Eat" diet?

Paris is thirteen and Bowie is like, 105. She will get hers in the end (literally), so don't worry.

BD: Does age matter, then? I also really like both Scarlet Johansson and Claire Danes. Would they make good role models?

Try to pick an icon with some mileage. Might I suggest Madonna, Sharon Stone or Melanie Griffith?

BD: Oh, I get it: someone who has remained attractive for a while, instead of just coasting by for a decade or two on a youthfully high metabolism. Someone who has created, as you pointed out, a lifestyle worth imitating--and done it with style.

You're cathing on.

BD: There are some specific foods I would like to ask about.

By all means, ask.

BD: How does pasta fit into the Saviour Onassis guide to good eating?

It doesn't. Pasta is one of the most expensive foods in my book. I am not willing to work off the carbs, so I just don't eat it. Also, I imagine the hell that my body goes through trying to digest paste, thick white gooey paste. Eew!

BD: I'm really hoping you'll say that although chocolate is very expensive, it's worth it, at least occasionally. Please tell me I can eat chocolate. For that matter, please tell me that from time to time, you eat chocolate too.

I do eat chocolate, but only the good stuff and only occasionally. Small amounts of a nice dark chocolate bar can do wonders for your soul. Whereas, a whole bag of M&M's will probably do more damage to your hips. Moderation is key. Also, being a snob about chocolate like I am about coffee.

BD: You mentioned knowing that there was a skinny Saviour Onassis inside you somewhere, because you were skinny in high school. In high school I was a painfully thin anorexic who occasionally swallowed ipecac syrup to induce vomiting after I ate too much ice cream. How do you avoid pulling a Lindsey Lohan and getting so skinny people make fun of you? In other words, how do you stick with David Bowie and avoid turning into Karen Carpenter?

Eating disorders are a nasty business. I admit that this plan only works if you can objectively assess your body image and see what really has to happen. Bowie works for me, in part, because I am built in a different way. Though I may never achieve "Thin White Duke" status, I can rest assured that this plan will keep me from ballooning again. I still ravenously devour large amounts of food, but now it's salad instead of nachos, so I don't feel the guilt. So often, I remember thinking: I have already blown it on cheese so I might as well eat this container of ice cream. I found that there is a line, a point of no return, triggers to my overeating-- by all means, you must identify these things for yourself and avoid them.

BD: I quite admire Johnny Depp's manly figure, which he managed to maintain even while eating all that chocolate in Chocolat and drinking all that rum in Pirates of the Carribean. What would you advise for someone wanting to try the "What Would Johnny Depp Eat" diet?

If you watch his performance in "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," you will notice that he never eats one bite of candy, which I find very interesting. As for the alcohol, he was "acting" and I suspect that alcohol is only fattening if you beieve it to be so. How else can you explain all the skin and bones drunkards at the local pub? If you find yourself in an establishment that sells consumables, take a look at your fellow patrons. McDonald's is not where you spot people like Johnny Depp. I would advise anyone on the "Depp Plan" to consider the amount of calories he burns making babies with his hot French wife, Vanessa Paradis, not to mention chasing the kids around and being an international superstar. Does that resemble your daily routine?

BD: Um, not at the moment, though I'm working on it. But since you brought it up, I guess I should ask: What about exercise? I can't say I'm really fond of it. How important is it to maintaining your trim and healthy physique?

Like I said, I am cheap and lazy. If I am unwilling to exercise enough to rid my body of things like pasta, bread, cheese and baked goods, I cannot partake. It's a vicious cycle. You eat it, you become it. I can proudly say that vegetables occupy the place in my heart where donuts used to live.

Just replace things with better things. I used to love those high-calorie coffee drinks that are so popular, but now I drink tea. Around the holidays, it does get harder to be strong and we all experience temptations. Be aware of what you consume and go for a walk or do some yoga poses. I find yoga a great way to keep in touch with my body and its needs, plus I now have my ribs to admire as well as all sorts of sexy contures that have emerged from my once rotund physique. I can't say enough about awareness of what you are consuming and the reasons WHY. I was medicating psychic wounds with food. Bad move. Especially since every cell in our body is an addict. The book Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine by Candace Pert was incredibly helpful to me in my journey.

This plan is about self control, self awareness and common sense. Educating myself about metabolic processes and emotional intelligence made a huge difference. I have come to a place where I see meat-lovers pizza the same way I see a syringe full of dirty smack. Are you gonna put that in your BODY?!?! Not me. Not Bowie. Not anymore. Good luck!

Saviour Onassis

BD: Thanks so much, Saviour, for sharing this specific philosophy and your wisdom in general! We all have so much to learn from you. It's a very great privilege to see you become healthier, hotter and more enlightened. I hope all three attributes continue to rub off on the rest of us.

Hear No Evil

2005-11-19T16:59:00.001-05:00

Let's all take a tip from this cheerful primate and HEAR NO EVIL as we go about our business, giving thanks for the things that we have and generally stuffing ourselves. Life is far too interesting to waste time listening to EVIL ideas, music, and bad news. Let us strive to hear the beauty in life. Birds singing in the trees. Children laughing in the park. The beat of our old hearts. This is what I am thankful for and to the rest I say: La La La, I can't hear you...

My Life with Morrissey

2005-11-04T20:25:00.000-05:00

When people ask me what my very favorite bands are, I rarely list the Smiths, just as when people ask me my very favorite activities, I rarely say "breathing." There are some things so basic, so necessary, that they underlie all other favorites, all other loves. Without them, you're just half a person.

Was there really a time before the Smiths existed? I know there was, but I can't remember the first time I heard them, can't remember precisely when I first acquired one of their albums (although I do remember what it was: a pirated version of Hatful of Hollow I picked up in Taiwan sometime around 1985). It's like they've always been there, like I've loved Morrissey since before the foundations of the earth, and will love him after even Hoover Dam (supposedly one of the structures that should long outlast us) has crumbled to mere rubble. When I think about Morrissey, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is a light that will never go out.

I recently had the privilege of playing someone his first Smiths' song. This was not the same as when I played my twelve-year-old brother his first David Bowie song in 1984. This was a guy in his 40s, who said to me, "There are some big gaps in my musical knowledge. For instance, I know about the Smiths, but I've never heard them...."

I started to panic. He couldn't even finish his sentence before I was out of my seat and feeding cds into my stereo.

Of course I looked at him as if he were a vicar in a tutu or a hairdresser on fire. I had to know how such an oversight had happened. So he explained: from 1978 to 1982, as a college student, he had managed a college radio station, and had been noted for his eclectic taste in music. This was back before "college radio" or "alternative" existed as a category of music, and in order to find "alternative" music to play on a "college radio" station, he had to track down obscure bands and make friends with people running independent labels, and ask. Then he finished his BA, and was poor, and no longer had a whole radio station's library at his disposal, and refused to listen to mainstream radio and didn't always have good alternative radio stations available, and then he started graduate school to study how barbarism begins at home, and then he went to Chile a time or two, and there just were a lot of things he never heard. OK, it's unfortunate, but is it really so strange?

Those of you Mozheads out there, think about this: I pushed the play button, then stood back and watched someone's face as he heard "How Soon is Now?" for the first time! The same goes with "Girlfriend in a Coma" and "Frankly Mr. Shankly" and "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" (and if a ten ton truck crashes into us, to die by your side, well, the pleasure, the privilege, is mine!) Not once did I have to say, "Stop me if you think you've heard this one before." It made me want to oscillate wildly and reel around the fountain!

I suppose I should just burn him a cd or two, but my cd burner has gone screwy and besides, it's more fun to play the songs, stretch out and wait, and see someone react to the brilliance of Johnny Marr's guitar and the humor and pathos of Morrissey's lyrics--these things take time, but they're worth it.

Shoplifters of the World, Unite and Take Over!

Darling, We're the Young Ones

2005-10-30T21:34:00.000-05:00

DOMI: In the late 80s, MTV brought to the US a very strange British show called The Young Ones.

It originally aired in Britain in 1982 and 1984, but we in the US didn't see it until much later. Even then it was heavily edited to make room for the kind of bad advertising MTV so loved to give us, plus it aired at some ungodly late hour on Sunday night. As I remember, it was on right before 120 Minutes, the only two-hour period where you could see videos by the likes of the Cure and the Sisters of Mercy. (Momentarily passes out.)

SAVVY: Ooh! I love things that appeared in the late 80s and I'm dying to hear more. (Shakes the Sleeping Dominatrix.) Wake up. You were just about to tell us about The Young Ones.

DOMI: Sorry. I had the weirdest dream: I was talking to bunch of college professors about bad sex in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Then I had to dress up as Jane Austen and go to a Halloween party and drink a lot of beer. The whole experience has really shaken my concentration.

SAVVY: Sounds dreadful! But I bet you looked smashing as Jane Austen!

DOMI: Oh, I looked TOTALLY hot. But back to The Young Ones, a group of rather simian college students.

SAVVY: Rather simian? You mean like monkeys? In college?

DOMI: Precisely! Imagine a bunch of monkeys in college, but not just any monkeys: unwashed, surly, broke British monkeys, who never study or attend a single lecture.

SAVVY: Alas, I had no such simians in university with me! You always had better monkey luck than me.

DOMI: But the monkeys themselves aren't really the point, because their identities are fluid, as is the plot. If you're looking for traditional narrative, you'll be frustrated and thwarted at every turn. But if you want to see a very young Stephen Fry (who went on to play Oscar Wilde in Wilde) playing someone named Lord Snot, and two-time Oscar winner Emma Thompson as a vacuous socialite whose intellectual capacities are strained by making the statement "I've got a Porsche," you'll be quite happy.

SAVVY: Lord Snot! I love it!

DOMI: Remember a couple years back, when I came to visit you in Hollywood, Savvy, and brought with me selections from my dvd collection I thought you might like? Remember how I had to leave you for a while to visit my friend Sophie, the Polish librarian, down by Culver City? Remember how while I was gone you spent hours watching David Bowie videos and episodes of The Young Ones, and how, of all the identities available for you to channel after that sampling of brilliance, you chose Vyvyan, the foul-tempered ginger-haired punk who likes nothing better than tormenting talentless, pretentious poets?

SAVVY: Ah, yes. The whole bloody, bloody, bloody thing is coming back to me! I do remember the joys of ripping on bad poets.

DOMI: Can anyone who has done it ever forget such joys? And I admit that on the whole, talentless, pretentious poets deserve tormenting. But perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned that particular aspect of how you embraced The Young Ones. Because the important thing isn't that you adopted a nasal and unconvincing British accent and spent hours with your face contorted by a malicious sneer, but that you recognized immediately how GREAT the show is--you let it move you, change you, transport you to another reality. I've had other friends who sat in quiet consternation while I showed them my favorite episode or two, gazing at me with increasing distress because I kept laughing at jokes before they actually occurred, just because I knew how funny they were going to be. Although the friend might chuckle once or twice out of courtesy, after the episodes ended he would something like, "Maybe it gets funnier after you understand what's going on. Hey, I just remembered, I haven't emptied my lint filter in weeks. I better be going."

SAVVY: I have never emptied a lint filter in my life! Except that one time I did laundry while on LSD and I thought the whole universe was trapped inside the lint filter. I ate the lint and had the funkiest taste in my mouth for weeks...

DOMI: Sweetie, don't you remember how I told you that anything dingy, gray and fuzzy should NEVER go in your mouth? But the real point is this: if you don't get the show's sense of humor right away, you won't ever get it. OK, it's not linear. OK, it makes almost no fucking sense whatsoever. OK, the characters are all repugnant. OK, there are so many addresses to the audience and so many breaks in character and contintuity that you can neve suspend your disbelief. But despite all that, the show is really FUNNY.

SAVVY: It's like the show was trapped in a lint filter and either you eat the lint or you don't, right? I remember how HOT I thought the guys were, except for the little one who was supposed to be a "ladies man." Rick and Neil were both attractive in their own way, but Vyv was to die for!

DOMI: Hmm.... I have often tried to explain the appeal of watching Rick and Neil and Mike and Vyv interact, but somehow, it never once occurred to me to use the word "attractive" to describe a single one of them.... I do remember using the words "repellant" and "absurd," but even those terms often fail to help people understand why I like the show. So I usually abandon explanations and just ask people to humor me, come over to my house, and watch a couple of episodes for themselves.

SAVVY: You may be surprised to find that many people have very horrible taste in men. I, for example, prefer men who are evolutionarily challenged. Thus, my attraction to Vyvyan. What, might I ask, brought on this sudden bit of nostalgia?

DOMI: I was reminded of all this because I recently showed a few episodes to a friend who had never seen the show but is moving to Britain in December. I awoke one night, panicked and anxious, my brow damp with perspiration, my mouth as arid and parched as if I'd been eating lint. I lay quietly in the darkness, thinking about how awful I'd feel if this friend of mine was walking around the North of England and someone said, "Hands up, who likes me!" and he didn't get the reference because I failed to do my duty as a Young Ones devotee. Or imagine that my friend overheard someone say, "Crop rotation in the 14th century was considerably more widespread after 1172" and thought, "You git! Don't you know that 1172 is not in the 14th century," never realizing that it's a line from a brilliant bit of British telly.

SAVVY: Like "sausages and plants and goldfish!"

DOMI: Exactly! And while I felt that I absolutely had to share with my friend the brilliant absurdity that is The Young Ones, I was afraid this friend might be like the other friends who laughed politely a time or two, then later called one of his other friends to complain about the weird shit this strange Domi chick made him watch. (Though I didn't have to tie him up or anything.) But lo! And behold! He LAUGHED SPONTANEOUSLY, FREQUENTLY AND HEARTILY. He GOT IT. And he was grateful.

SAVVY: We all are. Thanks for reminding me.

DOMI: You're welcome! I admit I feel I've done my good deed for the week.

SAVVY: Indeed you have.

DOMI: It was easy and fun, which is how I like my good deeds. I'd do them more often if they were always so rewarding.

SAVVY: So be it.

Ginger Fur

2005-10-29T04:10:00.000-04:00

I had no idea this was an option.

This blonde monkey has the life I envy. If I could eat trees, throw feces, and look this fabulous doing it, I would in a heartbeat. The sad thing is, this baby will lose his lovely ginger hue as he gets older, but will most likely continue to eat leaves and throw his poo. Two out of three ain't bad, but life as a brunette shit-chucker has left me sad and lonely. I guess I am a bit of a f*ckwit.

Here is the thing: I had to fire three people today. I did this quite easily. Yet, I had trouble telling the receptionist that the lunch menu was unacceptable. My heart raced. My voice cracked. I was a wreck. "I can't eat this...uh...food." But telling people: "Your services are no longer required," was effortless. This is the difference between me and my monkey friend. His leaves are edible. Mine are not. We both fling shit with flair though....

I envy you, Ginger. I do.

F*ckwit, Explained

2005-10-27T12:39:00.003-04:00

Because I loved the irrepressible Bridget Jones, I read both her Diary and The Edge of Reason. I applauded her decision to not "Fall for any of following: alcoholics, workaholics, commitment phobics, people with girlfriends or wives, misogynists, megalomaniacs , chauvinists, emotional fuckwits or freeloaders, perverts." In fact, I decided I would not fall for any of the people on that list either, except that I didn't know exactly what a "fuckwit" was, though I assumed it was bad.

I tried to find out. I asked around. One of my friends employed the term frequently, and I assumed she knew what it meant; when I asked, she said, "I think it's a contraction of 'fuck with,' as in, 'I won't get involved with someone who fucks with me emotionally,' therefore, an 'emotional fuckwit.'"

Which seemed both reasonable and wrong. I knew I had to keep looking. And now I have an answer to my question, thanks to a useful, thorough and quite specific lexicon: The F Word, edited by Jesse Sheidlower, which I got from my university library.

Turns out fuckwit is a stronger form of, say, halfwit or nitwit. There it is, defined on page 197, after fucked up and fuckwad, and before fuck with, fucky and fuck you:

FUCKWIT, noun, Chiefly Australian and British a stupid person, Hence fuckwitted, adjective stupid; fuckwittage, noun, stupidity.

Examples of usage include

1968 A. Buzo, in Plays 89: Well, ta-ta for now, fuckwit. 1970 S. Jarratt Permissive Australia 142: Of course they do, you fuckwit. 1971 in J. Hibberd Stretch of the Imagination 40: You two-timing, fuck-witted mongrel of a slut!

Now there is an epithet worth remembering. And aren't we all edified by and grateful for this lesson?

Elevator Dancing

2005-10-26T01:30:00.000-04:00

Admit it. When the last stodgy businessman exits the elevator and you have three more floors to go...you dance. It's okay. You are not alone. Well, you are alone (in the elevator) and that's why you are dancing. I mean to say that I, too am an elevator dancer. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Elevator dancing is an ancient art, dating back to the days when lifts were first invented, probably like a hundred years ago...maybe even a hundred and forty two.

Something about the claustrobic, coffin-like nature of these little boxes makes me feel alive. When the door closes, I let loose. Bopping to an imaginary disco tune, I strut my stuff. Sometimes I almost get caught, but usually there are fairly obvious signs that the enclosure is about to bloom again. So, I stop and regain my composure. I must not let on to the "public" that I am one of those elevator dancing fools. They might have me locked up, maybe in a place where I be sent to solitary confinement, a prisoner, destined to dance away my life sans an audience. And that would be okay too.

I seldom worry about security cameras. More than once, I have caught my reflection in the mirrored ceiling and taken the opportunity to imagine that this is what I would look like to Spiderman if he scaled down a building to kiss me. I don't care if some random security gaurd is laughing at me--I know where his other hand is.

Ms. Kate Does It Again...FINALLY

2005-10-21T10:42:00.001-04:00

Saviour Onassis, prolific messiah that he is, has been chiding me about my paltry showing here on G2S. After all, it was my idea, and then I go and spend all my time on other stuff, like keeping the job I've got and trying to position myself so I can eventually get a new one. And now, when I finally post something, it's just a link to a really long article about Kate Bush! Yeah, Kate has a new album coming out, only 12 years after the last one. Shocked scientists have gathered around her, trying to figure out why it would take a genius like Ms. Bush so long to complete another album, but I have an explanation: obviously, the girl was busy!

Let's just hope this long-awaited album is as full of flavor and protein as little Itebero's palm nuts.

Gorilla Cracks Nuts!

2005-10-18T11:01:00.000-04:00

Deep in the Congo, little Itebero has scientists freaking out.

Itebero is a 2 1/2 year old gorilla, living in a sanctuary after being rescued from poachers. Apparently, she learned how to smash palm nuts, using rocks, all by herself. Her use of "tools" is pretty extraordinary. The scientist types are all shocked by this behaviour, but I am not.

Obviously, the girl was hungry. You can read the story here.

You're not gonna pillage me?

2005-10-11T04:45:00.000-04:00

I'm looking into the abyss...and it's kind of cute. Not in a puppy dog way, more like a random television actor hunting sea monsters, who I momentarily consider, but then think: Why bother? This show will just be cancelled anyway. Yes, the abyss has a fragile, momentarily allure.

I stood up yesterday (a feat in itself) and caught my reflection in the mirror. It was as if I were seeing myself for the first time. I was alien and debonair. Could I actually see my soul? Behind my eyes danced an intelligence that was unfamiliar. I tried to hang on to that feeling and I did for a spell. Then I made a short film. In which, through tricky camera work, I stalk myself. While editing this little masterpiece, I noticed something about me. It's this indefinable quality that comes across my face. It's really something. The last man I slept with, made of point of commenting on it, in a way that implied I could be fallen in love with. But of course, he didn't.

He was a director (no one you've heard of) who lived on a boat in the Marina. He had lured me there with his tattoos and swarthy tricks, to play a little game of "Master and Commander." I played (it had been a long time) and when I should have made my exit, I did not. The third act was horrible, predictable, and boring. I took great precautions to make sure that I would be prepared, should a similar opportunity present itself. But no such event has taken place. I guess I am lucky, pirates usually do more damage.

Now I'm in that space where I imagine Oprah calling to say: "Put yourself away! That thing is gonna fall off like a bad weave!" Because when the Titanic sank, I was in the karaoke lounge, dedicating a rousing rendition of "Rock the Boat" to Shelley Winters and Arthur Rimbaud. And so it is. I am here staring into the abyss. Ready to let go of the status quo. Ready to move on or at least stand up.

Was it Annie Lennox who asked: "Can't you see, this boat is sinking?"

Yes, Annie and the sun will come out tomorrow.

Whatever Doesn't Kill You

2005-10-09T08:47:00.000-04:00

Whenever I hear someone say, "Whatever doesn't kill you makes you stronger," I become indignant and ask, "Do you know who said that? It was Nietzsche. He said it a couple times. It's in his autobiography, Ecce Homo: How One Becomes What One Is, and before the book was back from the printer, his mind had collapsed and he spent the last 11 years of his life a drooling, babbling idiot who couldn't feed or bathe himself. People argue about why he went mad: maybe it was syphilis, maybe it was drug use, maybe he just had weak nerves, but whatever it was, it didn't kill him and it didn't make him stronger. The AIDS virus doesn't kill you; it just weakens you so much that something like the common cold can. So I don't want to hear any more of this nonsense, because there are plenty of things don't kill you but don't make you stronger, either. Otherwise, we'd all be completely healthy and completely happy, or else dead."

What I Am

2005-10-04T23:28:00.000-04:00

I think Edie Brickell said it best, when she said, "What I am is what I am. Are you what you are or what?"

I am a snake. See me slither. Hear me hiss. Marvel as my skin falls off in huge, disgusting, patchy flakes. It could happen... but I am rather hoping it won't. I itch all over and it just won't stop.

I need to lie on a rock in the sun, but I just lie to myself.

Maybe I am about to shed my skin, be born again. Why would I resist such a thing? Here it comes, a better version of me. Wait - I'm not ready. Okay. Go. I am now ready. Shit.

Nothing. Just the itch. And the scratch.

Maybe it was something I ate. Or something someone said to me? Could it be, a simple criticism and my skin begins to burn from within? I gave the kabbalists back their red string. Said I don't need such a thing. Protection. Hmmph! I am a crab. See me side-step the issue.

But oh, this hateful tissue! So soft inside, I use my shell to hide from things I find offensive. I play defense, on the fence. In the trenches. In a sense. (Innocense?) I weather the storm. I keep it warm. I live for this. I have lied in piss.

Can you feel it? Does it make you itch?
Are you what you are or what?

Glass

2005-10-02T09:39:00.000-04:00

My grandmother gave me this fabulous pair of shoes, so I made a plan: I would buy a bustier, have my hair done, get off work, and go dancing. I might not look like much on a Tuesday afternoon, but come the weekend I clean up pretty good. Saturday night arrived, with some fancy dress ball. I could hardly breathe in that bustier but my tits had never looked lovelier. For the occasion I wore that pair of fabulous glass shoes; I struck them against a stone getting out of the car; they said "clink," and were broken.

Which necessitated a new plan. I didn't have one. So I went home, took off the goddamn bustier and went to bed.

That's when I learned: no one walks around on glass. If someone gives you a pair of glass shoes, don't get excited: it means they expect you to stay home and still stand.

Kingdom Come

2005-10-01T00:22:00.000-04:00

Once upon a time, stories started with these four words. I'm not sure why. Maybe it had to do with signifying that a story was about to begin, or maybe the storytellers were just not that imaginative, or they were bored, or stupid, or both. This is not that kind of story.

This is the tale of Sid, portrayed here by my Gorilla, Steve. (The resemblance is really uncanny, but you'll have to take my word on that.) You see, there are no photos of the real Sid because he forbade them. Sid could do that kind of thing because he was a King. He was constantly changing his rules to suit his whims, but the "no photos" one was consistant. I think it had to do with his gigantic ego and uncontrollable vanity. Sid fancied himself the most beautiful creature alive and no one dared contradict him because he controlled the moon and sun, and also the stereo. So, if you didn't want to be stuck listening to some crappy Bono song all day, you agreed with every decree.

Don't get me wrong, he had a sort of imperial charm and when the mood struck, he could be downright foxy. But those moments didn't come often enough and the constant stroking of his ego left the courtesans arms very tired. Sid was a miserable king and no one knew why. Personally, I think it had to do with that tiara always digging into his brain. Sid was all about the bling, filling his castle with diamonds, pearls, gold and braid. His wardrobe was an elaborate monument of excess, adorned with jewels and gems from all over the world. But that's the thing about bling: sometimes it eclipses what it is meant to embellish.

So, it didn't really come as a surprise when Sid disappeared. It was unavoidable, I suppose, that he should forsake the Kingdom he had worked so hard to create, preferring instead to live out his days in solitude, like a golem. I think about Sid from time to time. Occasionally donning the uncomfortable tiara and singing softly to myself:
"You ask me to enter
But then you make me crawl
And I can't be holding on
To what you got
When all you got is hurt"

That is the story of Sid. The King of Kingdom Come.