Rotten Blog

Wheeling, West Virginia

Than — Thu, 14 Aug 2008 06:39:41 GMT

Tomorrow - Columbia, Missouri.

The Last Days of June

Than — Mon, 30 Jun 2008 02:29:47 GMT

When you think of this time (Ding, dong, the dirty old man) Caught in a downtown downpour $3 outside an abric wonderland The many pockets of the kilt Beef and veg DDS by river sunset Grapes tossed Annie abducted Reviving the electric dead The window safe The sink (and child) unwell Showers and thunder reclaiming stairs and elevators Monkeys in the air A robot remembers When you think of this time Smile one for me.

Shit Piss Fuck Cunt Cocksucker Motherfucker and Tits

Than — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 06:52:31 GMT

George Carlin died. Less color now. And tits doesn't even belong on the list.

Classics

Than — Wed, 04 Jun 2008 00:29:04 GMT

We did go up to the Wedding Field, which is now a garden nursery, full of a dizzying array of plantlife. We wandered about sipping champagne in our dining out attire, and Katri was the perfect audience as we retold episodes from the Day. Dinner in Hamilton at the restaurant of a friend/client of theirs, very posh, fantastic food. I had sweetbreads because I never had, turns out they're not nearly as pornographic as I'd thought. Probably won't be ordering them again, but it was better than the time my Pop ordered tripe in the south of Spain, which is another and much more revolting story. We'd also cleaned up the house that day, so Linda would have to lift as few fingers as possible on her Birthday on Saturday. The melding of the cocktail party and Risk was a limited success, not enough party and not enough Risk, and fucking Crombie won aGain, but it was all in all a lovely evening, the weather sickeningly gorgeous, the company Fine. Saturday ... what did we do Saturday? Ah right, that was Saturday, sorry. Sunday we met Martin and his new wife and old daughter Poppy on the beach in front of a restaurant, swam about in the outrageously beautiful lagoon, had lunch, swam a bit more. Martin et al drove on in the Dingleberry, and Dave took us over to the South side of the Island to another beach, this one with a bit more surf. It is here that the above image was recorded, as well as this one http://people.tribe.net/katri/photos/9e4f2015-f151-4f09-9973-88af7c5ac9b0. As you can plainly see, the strain is beginning to show, and it was no doubt at this very point that I acquired the cold that I now enjoy. The poison ivy across my forearms is most likely thanks to Stake the cat, the wanton. From there it was home for Movie night, projecting my Pirate Booty with Dave's fantastically expensive video projector onto a perfectly flat wall that I made so years before. We'd already seen Persepolis (which is a very good film and you should go get it Now), so that night it was Bee Movie and A Night in Casablanca. The next morning after a quick walkabout with the dogs we were back at the airport and Home, Katri to work and me to the Show, which went quite well, despite Lizz and the producer Hank both having quit smoking two days before and nobody wanting to talk to them. Everybody else just hated me to death for looking so tan and relaxed, which was really very thoughtful of them. There are several more mini episodes I may append to this Rotten Blog as they occur to me, so check back often.

Rennaissance Men

Than — Fri, 30 May 2008 14:30:44 GMT

Here we see Dave n Meself out behind Westlands replicating bits of boatfloor for Dave's boat, which will not, Dave has now grudgingly accepted, be in the water by the time we leave the Island. Still, it's been good to be in on the Restoration, as I was in on the restoration of Westlands, which is also an ongoing and Lively project. And being Restored to my rightful throne as Most Favored Guest after a two year self-imposed exile has been a bit of all right as well. The industry pictured here was abandoned when Crombie rolled up in his tiny but immaculate car to whisk us away for Dinner Wednesday evening. We dined on the back porch of a very old restaurant in St George's, a biscuit toss away from an immense and looming cruise ship which we had seen barreling monstrously past last Monday as we idled on Horseshoe Island. Then back to Crombie's small but also very shipshape apartment for file sharing and more atrocious punnage. Dave had lived in the very same place back in his dissipated bachelor days, and it looked a lot tidier now. Yesterday was Dave's birthday, which he grumpily told us all not to make a big deal about, so of course I told everybody I met. Hamish stopped by to take or leave some power tool or other, I told him, and he was back in half an hour with a sweet little pirate flag for the Boat, which pleased Dave inordinately. Linda's birthday is two days after, and their anniversary is in the middle (today), so it's a Festive week all around. We do find moments of slackassed leisure here and about, such as now when the morning's drizzle obviates the possibility of any carpentry or varnishing, or yesterday when Katri and I wandered down the hill to tan and swim at Gibbets Bay, a ridiculously picturesque lagoon where they used to hang people. Tonight, weather permitting, we're marching through the jungle to the field where Dave n Linda were married, there to split a rather massive bottle of champagne before heading off to dinner in Hamilton, at a restaurant that Dave has done some webwork for and which will pay him in food. Saturday, Linda's birthday, with a cocktail party in the early evening followed by rowdy games of Risk into the wee hours. Sunday, brunch with Martin and his girls, then perhaps a walk up to The Tower followed by cocktails at Orange Grove with William and Joyce. Monday we go home, amid repeated promises to come down for longer next time. Thank you Katri for taking the picture, nicely composed, shows the old and new boatfloor bits as well as the abused power tools, and doesn't make me or Dave look too goofy, a feat in and of itself.

Restoration Comedy

Than — Tue, 27 May 2008 13:30:20 GMT

Welcome to the morning of our fourth day here on the Island. Didn't get down last year, very nice. Everybody else is asleep, save for the cat who woke me yowling outside my door. Martin's phone, which he uses for work and is one of those annoying walkie talkie ones that goes BBBBBLIP!! before someone speaks, has just started doing just that, Martin's employees apparently unaware that it, and not Martin, came home from Horseshoe Island with us last night. Saturday (and not Monday, as I had erroneously supposed) was Bermuda Day, and we landed right in the middle of it. Dave and Linda scooped us up at the airport and had us in Martin's tender (the Dingleberry) heading out to his boat within twenty minutes. This took us straight through the last of the dinghy races, the viewing of which is the reason (excuse) for the drinking and high spirits aboard all these boats tied together in loose flotillas. The dinghies were tearing along on either side of us, tiny boats with massive sails and the crews stretched out over the sides in an effort to balance the wind. It was Good to be Back, and Katri's smile said she was not suffering too terribly either. Dave's boat is not yet quite ready for the water, as he mournfully and repeatedly apologized, and I assured him with every boaty beer that we would be just as happy to be present at the rechristening. The last dinghy race was run and the fleet broke up and headed ashore to Horseshoe Island to grill burgers beerily. Katri and Linda took a professional interest in the building and stoking of the cooking fire (within a ring of chunks of indigenous lava), until Dave suggested that a bonfire that could be seen from weather satellites was perhaps more than was strictly required for our cooking needs. Dusk brought the rain, and we were ferried soggily back to the car and thence home to Westlands, and just a little more beer. Sunday started slow and continued so, at least for me. One of Dave's multitude of cousins breeds Whippets, sort of smallish greyhounds, two of which are here at Westlands. One of hers, the only all black Whippet on the Island, had just had eight (!) puppies and so we popped round for what Linda excitedly called Puppy Worship. Whippets are long snouted and limbed, but these were neither, eyes still shut and floppily focused on sucking their exhausted mother dry. From there we took Dave n Linda's dogs on a healthful hike about Spittle Pond, a bird sanctuary unsurprisingly populated by feral housecats, complete with dramatic shoreline vistas, waves crashing on craggy outcroppings, tidal pools containing prehistoric chitins, and like that. Oop, there's Martin, come to get his phone, looking adequately sheepish about his cider based hi-jinks yesterday. There's Dave, trying not to be too disapproving. Dave has recently won an iPod for his entry into a local art show, though he's quick to note that his was the only entry in his division, Video. The installation required the purchase of a huge video projector, which he still has and which we used Sunday night to watch Persepolis, which I happened to have on my handy portable drive. Really good, you should see it. Dave n Linda made a terrific dinner of chicken and corn on the cob, as well as roast vegetables and salad from their own garden, with which they are immensely pleased. And so to Monday, which they do have off as a national holiday but which is not in fact Bermuda Day so you can see how someone could get confused. The drizzle was finally fucking off, so Dave and I wielded varnish and marine paint upon a few spars and such, one coat closer to getting his boat seaworthy. Then it was Return to Horseshoe Island where Martin and his newish wife were clearing the beach and surrounding areas of dead sticks and brush as well as various lengths of carpet and refrigerators that other less hardy and much less conservation-minded campers had left to rot. We all pitched in, tossing anything not plastic onto an immense bonfire, which was then quite a comfort when emerging from the surf onto a breezy beach. Yes, there was beer here as well, plus sandwiches and such, and we lolled about afterwards on the newly clean beach, Virtue's Reward etc. After stopping by at the Swizzle Inn for fish & chips, we settled in at home for a couple of episodes of Star Trek (TOS). So one can clearly see that I haven't had a moment's rest to blog, until now. Dave n Linda are up and about, today being a workday, while Katri steals a few more minutes snooze. Now begins the lazy afternoon in the Sun part of the vacation, though the evenings look to be full of various family functions and the like. Looks like another lovely day. Off to put another coat of varnish on the spars. More soon. Most likely.

Fast Track

Than — Tue, 26 Feb 2008 20:25:40 GMT

Katri is in the Hospital. She was feeling poorly all weekend, and Monday she went to the doctor, who sent her to the Emergency Room at Roosevelt. I was doing the Show, but I went to find her after, Katri telling me they had her in what they call the Fast Track Wing, which turned out to be anything but. Many hours and a variety of internal viewing techniques later, they admitted her, but there were no beds, so we hung about the ER all night. The best part was when they had forgotten about her in the Private Exam Room for several of the wee hours, so we watched Harold & Maude on my handy laptop with the lights out and the noise and police and smell of poo kept at bay. We got her into a real hospital room at about 1PM today, much nicer bed and The Jerk on the Hallmark Channel (no Shit from Shinola, but we know). She tossed me out a bit ago so she could get a nap, not much rest in the old Fast Track Wing, so I'm home to post and shower and retrieve clean panties. They still don't know for sure what's wrong with her, but she's feeling a bit better (although really hungry), and they say they might just let her go if she keeps improving. This is what we're rooting for just now. Send her some Tribe Love, let her feel the Power. This is her first time in a hospital, she likes it Not. http://people.tribe.net/katri And here are last week's cartoons. This week's will appear there soon, I'm uploading them now but it takes forever. http://www.shootthemessengernyc.com/index.php?/blog/C19/

Progress Report

Than — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 17:56:17 GMT

Haven't been as Tribey of late, seems Life has been requiring me to spend less time staring into the online abyss, so here's a couple of items of interest to those who would read what was, in the past, a lively and ongoing account. The Show, Lizz Winstead's Shoot The Messenger, has been getting better and better as we all find a Way. A couple of weeks ago the guest was Anne Meara, the interview can be seen Here: http://www.shootthemessengernyc.com/index.php?/blog/entry/anne_meara_interview_pt_1/ At about 17 minutes into the interview, Lizz credits me for the graphics for the show, which was Very Gratifying, particularly as both Katri and my old friend Janis were in the audience. It is Katri's voice you can hear calling out, "He's right here!" I have finally gotten meself a laptop, which allows me to crank stuff out wherever I may be. The money came from graphics for another Lizz Winstead project, a Lifetime Web series called Gift Intervention, an example of which can be seen Here: http://www.drinkatwork.com/turnabout%20rev%20small.mov After they shot the episodes, Lifetime thought my design and animation were a bit too perky, so they paid me to redesign it, which I did. They then went with the original design, but paid me anyway. Thus the laptop. After last week's show Lizz gave everybody coffee mugs she'd had made up with the above logo, my design. It was Nice. So nice, I had a few made up myself, so I don't have to give my Ma the only one I've got. Merry Xmas, all.

Reanimation

Than — Wed, 07 Nov 2007 23:42:36 GMT

1. Are you taller than your best friend? So very much. He is a small, small man. 2. Do you have a favorite type of pen? Pilot Razor, until the point frays and you write everything three times at once. 3. Have you ever worn the opposite sex's underwear? Not properly 4. What is your natural hair color? Brown. Sun makes it lighter brown. People want me to be blond, but it's just not so. 5. Who was the last person you sat on? Katri. She's fine. 6. What color are the curtains in your bedroom? They would be tan, if they were washed. 7. What's the weirdest thing to be found in your bedroom? Me, by many lengths. If there were something here weirder than me, I certainly wouldn't tell you people. 8. Have you ever had a black and white cat? I did. Called Mama Katz, as she was with kitten when we got her. 9. What is the last thing you licked? My chickeny fingers. 10. Do you know anyone who lives in Europe? I do, too. 11. If you had a stack of cash to spend, what would you buy (bills and gas excluded)? Many toys. Many airplane seats. Lots of dinners. 12. What movie are you looking forward to seeing? Wish there was one 13. Can you spell well? Not so bad, but thankfully I have this machine here 14. What makes you gag? Last time, it was my finger. This was a while ago. 15. How do you feel about the French? The French? As a group? I enjoy their reputation as snotty twats, but wish they would get out of the arms business, along with the rest of the nations with permanent seats on the UN Security Council. 16. Pick one: Zombies or Frankensteins Monster? Zombies. But I'll always love the flattop bastard. 17. What song describes your love life? Rollercoaster of love say what? 18. Favorite pet? Miss September. Penthouse 1976 19. Who is on your mind? Way too many people. I forgot a dinner with Gizmo's Mom a couple of weeks ago. Very bad. 20. Last person to give you a business card? A polish contractor. 21. Who is the last person you called? Erik 22. Did you ever have braces? Nope, bucktoothed and Proud. 23. Last time you had someone cook for you? Erik's wife, right before a show. 24. Can you make coffee well? There is no cure for sick coffee. Years of research, the funding was pulled. 25. Do you like cheesecake? It's a little gushy. I do so enjoy chewing. 26. Last time you received flowers? It doesn't seem to work that way. 27. What celebrity disturbs you most? Just one? So many need to shut the fuck up so badly. I'm not going to pick one, they'll just get a big head. 28. Do you play air guitar? It happens. The worst is at the gym, I have to stop. 29. Do you have any stuffed animals? I have a small menagerie for the exclusive use of little girls. Sadly, none of them are that young anymore. 30. What possession of yours classifies you as a geek/nerd? My new phone, my sexy ass external hard drive, but particularly this machine right here. 31. What got you through high school? I did. 32. What makes you happy inside, but you can't really explain it? Girls running in heels. There is nothing I don't like about it. It never gets old for me. 33. What made you cry last? Some girl. This was also long, long ago. 34. Do you like surprises? Yeah, it really depends. There are several good ones that spring readily to mind. 35. What's your 'emphasize' word? Damn. As in You better be Damn sure. 36. How long does it take you to get ready to go out? Can we go? 37. Have you ever worn a crown? So? 38. Are you ticklish? It happens. 39. Last time you had a Krispy Kreme doughnut. Years. It doesn't come up much. 40. Who is the last person that sent you a text that you returned? Lisa 41. Who has the prettiest eyes that you know of? You don't know her.

Wake Up New York!!

Than — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 21:13:34 GMT

Come on down to 9 Great Jones Street (under Acme) this Monday at 8PM for "Shoot the Messenger", Lizz Winstead's LIVE political sketch comedy show! Hell, come down every Monday, it's only ten bucks, fer Chrissakes. I will be onstage as Sully the Floor Manager, but it's a small part and you won't have to see much of me. This week is our Halloween Special, and next week's guest is Roseanne Barr. Swear to god. But come this week too. And the website's up. Finally. Got video clips and everything. http://www.shootthemessengernyc.com/

Wherefore Art

Than — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 20:36:52 GMT

My presence on Tribe has been minimal of late, and here's why (nothing to do with You). After several weeks of languishing in limiting poverty, ridiculous amounts of work came through. OK, not exactly languishing, I'd been working on this show downtown, Shoot the Messenger, a live political sketch comedy show, put together by Lizz Winstead who co-created The Daily Show and Air America. I started just helping out, then took on the graphics because theirs were just sad, then a bit of writing and acting. All free for nothing, just something to do while things were Slow. Then a couple of weeks ago Lizz got a couple of TV show ideas picked up, and she got me to do the graphics for both of them for Pay, and real 9 to 5 Man Work started back up at the same time, and Katri moved in from Oregon. Calm down, it's just until her new apartment becomes available, the point is that it got busy around here. Still is, but today was a half day and tomorrow could be no day at all, plumbers, so I have a minnit. The show above is shooting as we speak at the Mall of America, the other one doesn't start til next week, and Shoot the Messenger is dark for the second week in a row. It's a bit odd not to be cranking something out, to be honest. There is still that animated logo, still not quite done... How's by you?

Viral Outbreak

Than — Mon, 08 Oct 2007 18:29:56 GMT

Long one. Grab the popcorn. [Let others know a little more about yourself. Repost this as your name followed by "ology". ] See, I already fucked this up. MOUTH-OLOGY Q. What is your salad dressing of choice? A. That odd carrot stuff they have in every sushi place in the Western world Q. What is your favorite fast food restaurant? A. Mickey D. Hardly ever, but there it is. Q. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant? A. Gennaro's, Amsterdam & 92nd Q. On average, what size tip do you leave at a restaurant? A. 20% Q. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? A. The seafood risotto at Gennaro's Q. What are your pizza toppings of choice? A. I've always been a bit of a pizza purist, plain is enough. Lately I've been enjoying Two Boots Pizza's chicken and tomato, what they call Mr Pink. Q. What do you like to put on your toast? A. Butter. Room tempterature, and not in ridiculous little plastic containers. TECHNOLOGY Q. What is your wallpaper on your computer? A. Laurel & Hardy. Stan stands in a barrel looking unhappy. Ollie looks on exhasperated. Q. How many televisions are in your house? A. One BIG one. But I see a lot on this box too. Q. What color is your iPod? A. White, and embarrassingly small of gig. BIOLOGY Q. Are you right-handed or left-handed? A. Right, lefty leanings notwithstanding Q. Have you ever had anything removed from your body? A. Blood. Some tooth that I'd already messed up pretty badly. Q. When was the last time you had a cavity? A. I probably have one or two now. Q. What is the last heavy item you lifted? A. Thirty 75 lb bags of tile rubble. Last Friday. Q. Have you ever been knocked unconscious? A. Unconscious, no. Silly, yes.There's this story of my early days as a bike messenger, the brake shoe jammed and I went right over the handlebars, landed on my face. I was goofy for hours. RANDOMOLOGY, pt 1 Q. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? A. I bet I will. Then again, I've been wrong before. Q. If you could change your name, what would you change it to? A. I can change my name, so could you. I sort of did, since only one person alive calls me by my full first name. Q. What color do you think looks best on you? A. Blue seems to work. I try others now and then, but my heart's not in it. Q. Have you ever swallowed a non-food item by mistake? A. I was a child for years. That was my job. As an adult, a few inadvertent bugs, other organics you can't get in most restaurants (not by mistake). Q. Have you ever saved someone's life? A. This little old lady was going up the little incline from the street to the sidewalk, and I could see as I was walking up behind her that she wasn't going to make it. I sped up a bit as she started to fall backwards and caught her head just before it hit the pavement. Probably didn't save her life, she was so light she wouldn't have made much of an impact. It's coming for all of us, this frailty. Q. Has someone ever saved yours? A. They certainly enjoy to think so. DAREOLOGY Q. Would you kiss a member of the same sex for $100? A. Not just any member, no. And money first. Q. Would you allow one of your little fingers to be cut off for $200,000? A. Oh, hell no. Q. Would you never blog again for $50,000? A. See, the idea is for it to go the other way. I blog, I GET the $50,000. Q. Would you pose naked in a magazine for $250,000? A. Again, so dependant on Which magazine. Esquire, Harper's, MAD, sure. Mandate, probably no. Q. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? A. What does the girl asking look like? Is she funny? Quick? What have I been drinking? How much? Q. Would you, without fear of punishment, take a human life for $1,000,000? A. Again, so VERY dependant on which life. DUMBOLOGY Q: What is in your left pocket? A: Lint, I expect. Usually me cel. Q: Is Napoleon Dynamite actually a good movie? A. Not as good as you've heard, but yes. Q: Do you have hardwood or carpet in your house? A: Wood. Q: Do you sit or stand in the shower? A: Stand. But I do not piss in my shower. If you piss in my shower, I don't need to know. Q: Could you live with roommates? A: So it would appear. Q: How many pairs of flip flops do you own? A: None. Tevas, but no zoris. Q: Last time you had a run-in with the cops? A: A couple of weeks ago. Me on my bike, him on his horse. He didn't seem to enjoy it as much as I. Q: What do you want to be when you grow up? A: Around Q: Who is number 1 on your top 8? A: Eight? Seriously, eight?? LASTOLOGY Q: Friend you talked to? A: Crombie Q: Last person to call you? A: Kate Q: Person you hugged? A: Katri FAVORITOLOGY Q: Number? A: 2 Q: Season? A: Late Spring, after the cruelty Q: Book? A: Favorite how? Many books stand out as important in my history. The Code of the Woosters, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, Post Captain, Snowcrash, The Denial of Death, Scientific Progress Goes Boink Q. Website? A. This one here Q. Month? A. That one in late Spring Q. Alcohol? A. Lately Leffe. But really, Sauza. CURRENTOLOGY Q: Missing someone? A: Now and again. Q: Mood? A: Delighted to have the day off Q: Listening to? A: Traffic Q: Watching? A. DVR backlog Q: Worrying about? A: People I care about. But not as much as I have, not by a longshot. RANDOMOLOGY, pt 2 Q: First place you went this morning? A: French Roast for coffees. Q: What can you not wait to do? A. Use my passport. Christ how Online Personals of me. Q: What's the last movie you saw? A: Into the Wild. Really very good. Go. Q: Do you smile often? A: Rather a lot. Dana Gould tried out his Conan set at the Show the other week, my face hurt. Q: Are you a friendly person? A: It happens. Q: Someone you wish you never met? A: Nobody you would know.

The Next Part

Than — Thu, 20 Sep 2007 04:39:46 GMT

starts Now Thank you Tribe

Next, Please

Than — Mon, 10 Sep 2007 19:05:24 GMT

The High Holy days are upon us, a sure sign that Summer is on its way out. Over the Labor Day weekend I was up in Gloucester Mass visiting my Pop, he had a story to tell about having made it into the Guinness book last year for being one of 800 people to blow a Shofar simultaneously. He still had his Horn, and demonstrated on the back porch, the dog howling accompaniment. He's been getting underfoot for the last few months, having finally submitted to surgery for a foot he broke almost 20 years ago. Every time I saw him hobbling along in his cartoonish hobo gait, the busted foot pointing a good 90 degrees outward from forward, my slappin hand would start to itch. His newish wife finally told him she wasn't going to push him around in a wheelchair, so he finally goes and gets it fixed, and he's been in a wheelchair for three months, which she often pushes. He called a couple of weeks ago asking if I wouldn't mind coming up and giving her a break, you know, before she leaves him. Luckily I had a wee bit of free time ... Pop also had this amusing bit of political gossip, seems he's been palling around with another old duffer who, before he was a big Washington lobbyist, was a spook over at Langley. One of his old spook pals still has his finger on the Beltway pulse, and had predicted Rove's resignation by two weeks. Then he predicted Gonzales' resignation, again by two weeks. Now he predicts Cheney's due to resign around Sept 13 or so, to be replaced by Virginia senator John Warner, who has recently announced he won't be running for a seventh term. He says it's all part of a deal cut with the Dems to prevent a Bush impeachment. Wouldn't that be nice. Upon return to Town, I found that my door had been kicked in and rudely repaired. Seems there was a fire down the hall, a musician who's been here as long as I have, lost everything, including his cat. Depending on which way the air is moving, the smell is strongly reminiscent of how the whole city smelled six years or so ago. I almost never go down to Ground Zero, and the media feeding frenzy this time of year finds me wishing for October. One of the news channels is replaying their original coverage of the Events all day, realtime. Yesterday I watched the Hollywood version, "World Trade Center", just to see how it would hit me. I paused it several times. The Show is back in production, the Graphic above is for the No Medic Alert! Bracelet, for those who can't afford insurance and don't want to be rushed to a hospital they can't afford. Lizz actually had a hundred made up, each audience member will go home with one. Last night, during the Show Dinner, one woman told a story of an overheard conversation in Brooklyn. Someone saw the lights downtown shooting up into the sky and asked "What's that? Oh, 9/11? Jeez, it comes earlier every year." Next part, please.

That's the signpost up ahead

Than — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 20:33:01 GMT

Between the last Part And the next Part There is this Part Like an error on a map This land is unclaimed By any nation A pause between beats Within which can be lived At least a couple of lives

Ruyan's Song

Than — Thu, 23 Aug 2007 16:05:21 GMT

It looks as though I may be able to stop smoking, but still get my nicotine. Not a patch or a gum, it's a real smokeless cigarette that gives you a nicotine vapor but nothing else. This is the sort of thing the tobacco companies were trying to come up with when they were getting sued, but it's the Chinese who made it work and got it to market. The tobacco companies will lobby hard to keep it out of the US, no doubt, but in the present global economy, I can buy it anyway from overseas. They even have their own cheesy ad campaign on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bz2CFa4I2DM&mode=related&search= Been waiting for this one for a loooong time.

And Home

Than — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 03:36:37 GMT

Monday, more Weeds, more of what Dolly called the Digital Analog Manipulation, more touring the wards, but this time with Mario who had come by with a lovely orchid and a dense tome of Heidegger. I remarked that I'd once read of an orchid that smelled of rotting meat, and everyone smelled it to make sure it wasn't one of those. Still no Dr Thomas, and Brooke was moved to a smaller room to make way for another patient in need of more Intensive Care. So small, in fact, that Mary Helen's cot would not fit, so the nurse repo'd it, which I thought a little brutal. It was looking now as though Brooke would almost definitely be released on Wednesday, no matter which building she happened to be in at the time, the move back to Davies seeming increasingly unlikely. I had found a cell charger at Walgreen's that morning, and was back in communication with The World, having been limited to commandeering Dolly's laptop between Episodes to get my Fix. We were all packed in around and on Dolly's bed well into the second season of Weeds when I got a call from Tumewa, she was downstairs but couldn't find parking. Tumewa was one of the first people to Friend me on Tribe, and she had been very sweet to me in my Early Days, even though she was at the time one of the most prolific bloggers about and had a huge following. I popped downstairs and there she was in a sporty two seater with her friend from Singapore. They couldn't stay long, just a quick chat and off, but I met her. Another of Mary Helen's Guest Trays (and most of Brooke's Mac N Cheese) for dinner, and it was time for my shuttle to take me to the airport. There was hugging. My plane was, in fact, leaving from SFO, and I was, for the first time ever, Flagged at security for Special Attention. The herded me and an obvious subversive teenager into a pen in full view of the more honest travelers, our bags and shoes put into Special Trays, and we were, very slowly, directed through the Machine that Puffs Air and Sniffs. They then rubbed anti-zit pads all through my luggage, slid the resultant slime into a machine, and stared at the machine. It identified me as Chemically Unsound, so they went and got more evidence from my bag, and stared at the machine some more. I told them I'd been in a hospital and worked in construction and was therefore a chemical bonanza, but they only wanted to hear from the machine. After waiting until my flight was 5 minutes from departure, they shrugged, gave my back my bag and shoes, and sent me on my way. My lighter never left my jeans pocket. Kate had booked me home through Philadelphia, and our delay leaving SFO had left me 35 minutes to make my way from Terminal B to Terminal F, suck down a Spirit, go through security again (uneventfully), and find my gate, the last one, of course. Here I found no plane, no passengers, no gate attendant. An attendant a few counters over was willing to be pulled away from staring at his machine long enough to tell me that the flight had been delayed, and I should have a seat and somebody would be round eventually. I found a departure board, rebel that I am, and found that my flight was almost two hours delayed. I went back out through security, secured breakfast and coffee, texted Kate, assuring her that I was certain it had nothing to do with her, and enjoyed several further smokes. The new departure time arrived, we loaded on, and spent the next hour wandering about the tarmac. 22 minutes later and three hours late, we arrived at La Guardia. Unpacking my bag at home I found the original charger at the bottom, I'd never really checked. This then was my weekend as Agent of Kate. I hugged several, went into the Hills, spent lots of time in bed with Brooke, sang and held hands, was stopped by security, even took my shoes off in the hospital. It was wonderful. Than you Kate. ....k .... -addendum- Dolly was released on Wednesday, and is now Home in SoCal. I spoke with her yesterday and she sounds Well.

Ward is Hell

Than — Mon, 16 Jul 2007 01:32:16 GMT

7:30 Sunday morning found me hunting up more coffee in the bleary 'Loin, passing only a few remaining tottering denizens muttering about when they'd Get Their Money. Another vertical hike, the whole Hilly thing really starting to lose its charm, and I was back with Brooke. Keith was headed back to SoCal that morning, and I was glad to be there to pick up the slack, if not fill his stalwart shoes. He and Mary Helen worked as a team, they knew all the ins and outs, the nurses, the meds, the byzantine insurance hurdles. It was sad for all to see him go, but he 'd stayed as long as he could. There he is above, just about to depart. Sorry it's blurry, it really was the best shot I got, and the one least likely to get me killed. Today was to be about Insurance, and getting them to approve Dolly's return to the Rehab building at the Davies campus. The day before it was thought that the only bars to her return were getting her off the IV Morphine, which they apparently don't like over at Davies, and getting the profligate Dr Thomas to evaluate her and approve the transfer. Now there was an additional obstacle, some sort of communications snafu between the insurance company and the various hospital departments, and it was stressing the Room. Brooke had the idea that I was also to leave that day, so I was pleased to please her by telling her I'd be around through Monday, catching a latish flight. I also had Amusing News to distract her further, it seems Kate had taken her Mom and Boy to a Wolf Farm of some sort, and her Mom and one of the Wolves had gotten along rather well. Making Out with Full Tongue was how it was described to me, and how I described it to Brooke. Gross! was Brooke's reaction, one enthusiastically shared by Marcus at the time, so I hear. Katri had left a message, her 7 year old cousin going Hee Hee Hee into the phone, delighted at crushing Katri at Monopoly. I found this to be so endearing that I told Kate about it twice. The First Stages, no doubt. Keith left, among much hugging and Sweetness, and Brooke and I got down to the serious business of Laying About, at which I am luckily highly skilled. Much of the time was spent devouring the first season of Weeds, which is a bit like crack since every episode ends with a cliffhanger that Requires you to start the next episode Immediately. Brooke's Vibrator had been left with a lot of her other stuff back at the Rehab building, so I filled in while we watched tales of Agrestic, massaging and manipulating her left hand, reestablishing neuropathways while holding hands. We'd go for walks about the wards, promenading through the various stations and checking out the cute nurses. She'd been abstaining from morphine this whole day in an effort to qualify for transfer, but when it became clear in the afternoon that she wasn't moving today, the fast was broken. She never much complained of the pain, unless you asked, in which case she'd tell you that her head hurt, every time. Her hand was already stronger than the day before, and she was eating much more then she had Saturday. After the morphine she drifted off, aided by a song or three, and I went out in search of a charger for my phone. I didn't remember unplugging it and sticking it in my bag, and the phone was completely drained, so I spent an hour or so marching about to no avail, SF being one of those town that doesn't much work on Sundays. I did manage to sneak onto Dolly's laptop and post to About Our Doll, as you can see Here http://tribes.tribe.net/allaboutourdoll/thread/ba0038f2-fe51-430e-9890-b55a421c4363 . It provides a detail or two which Modesty prevents me from repeating, to do with Lullabyes and Heroic Experimantation.. Mary Helen had, through the Skills she'd developed over the past month and a half, provided extra Guest Trays whenever Brooke's meals came round, and so I was eating well. Dinner that night was Indian Take Out, the hospital trays ignored. One of Brooke's favorite nurses arranged delivery, and Brooke put a real hurt on the Saag Paneer. As Midnight approached and it was getting time for me to push on for the day, the Night Nurse gave us to understand that the unoccupied bed we'd been stacking empty trays on would stay unoccupied at least until tomorrow morning, and she wouldn't bust me if I slept there. So we all went to bed, after just one more episode of Weeds and more sleepytime songs, Mary Helen in the cot the hospital had provided, Dolly in her hospital bed, and me in mine. I strongly suspected Mary Helen's unseen hand in my sleeping arrangements, but if she wasn't going to say anything, I certainly wasn't.

Whiskey Thieves

Than — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 06:53:05 GMT

The morning's coffee hunt had shown me a few divier hotels down the hill, and it was thataway I wandered, into the Tenderloin. NYC used to have places like this, but they're all gone now, all gentrified and safe. The old skills from the 80s came back in an instant, I knew what was going on across the street, down the block, met every eye, turned down every date, it was Great. After twenty minutes and a run of hotels that only rented by the week, I turned a corner and found The Hotel Verona, an actual honest to god Hotel with tattered Italian flags gamely hanging from rusted poles, peeling AAA stickers on the cracked glass door, crappy tourist flyers in a rack in the lobby, and a very neat Indian fellow at the desk. Real hotel, half the price of the last place. I rode up in an old style cage elevator you have to push back the accordion gate on, giggling all the way up. The hallway was carpeted an ancient variously deep red pile, the room reeked of incense, the window opened onto an airshaft, the TV was from the 70s, the bathroom light took a minute for the flourescent ring to bzzzzzt on, clean but shabby. It was Perfect. Now for a Drink, preferably with a Smoke. I headed back the direction I'd come, and the bars were looking more likely with every passing block. I asked a pair of charming young ladies smoking outside of a bar if there were any smoking bars left in this town, and they had a couple for me, both on Geary. Lisa called, and was online in no time, looking them up and directing my steps from a continent away, left on Geary, two more blocks, look for # 839, like that. Yes, I would have found them on my own, but it was pretty sweet to have her in my ear, reading off reviews. The first one was little more than a bar in a hallway, the habitues unhappy and tired, but the second was Gold, baby. Whiskey Thieves was the name, high ceilings, black walls, pool table, lots and lots of Whiskey bottles attractively displayed, ashtrays. I put my name on the board, ordered a Chimay (beer), fired up a Spirit and watched a game or two, texting Lisa my gratitude and Delight. A fabulously furry young freak called Josh eventually won, and I was up. Those little bar tables, so fun. I sank 4 or 5, let Josh catch up, but won so I could keep playing. Same with Adam, a heavily tattooed and earnest boy whose expertise with knives was soon traced back to his work in a restaurant kitchen, and who didn't mind me making his girlfriend laugh. It was looking grim for Kyle as well when I unexpectedly sank the 8 ball on an extremely unlikely side shot, my run at an end, my beer empty. I bid my new pals goodnight and staggered home the few blocks to the Verona, deaf to all offers and threats the streets still had for me that night.

Hello Dolly

Than — Thu, 12 Jul 2007 03:35:02 GMT

Up the next morning at 8AM (which one must remember was actually a very civilized 11AM by my internal clock), I set out in search of coffee and other necessary liquids and gels they would have stripped me of at airport security. The chemical balance restored and the corpus smelling sweetly, I checked out of the hotel and embarked on a bit of mountaineering up the streets of San Francisco. The hotel was not far (and there's a shuttle bus on weekdays, which this was not), but I was able to work up a goodish sheen by the time I fetched up at The California Pacific Medical Center, Pacific Campus. Room 641, and there she was, The Doll, along with Mary Helen (her Mom) and Keith. Her first words to me were, "You're not supposed to meet me like this." Dolly had just had her missing bit of skull put back in two days before, and was still in some serious pain, but she was the soul of warmth and welcome. The girl's seriously smart, funny and Fast, every laugh I got out of her was Earned. She's been in there for six weeks, Mary Helen for almost as long, and Keith for the last three weeks at least. She was Ready To Leave. I gave her a small Duck, which she loved, and is wearing still. Well, it does light up and go QUACK QUACK QUACK. Returning from a smoke, I found the place filling up. Jennifer, very sweet and lovely, was on Doll's bed, as well her husband and two kids (not on the bed), all the way down from four hours upstate of SF. Then a voice behind me said "Baby?" It was Shea, along with her Stephen, and a good thing too. If you ever see Shea expressing a moment's insecurity about her appearance, you have my authorization to Scoff, and loudly. Add Lincoln, an old Work friend, and you have a raucous and Lovin Roomful. There was none of that usual stiffness you associate with hospital visits, no long silences with the occasional spatter of conversation, even the kids were easy and sweet. Brooke got lots of Nose, and even a bit of Boob. I felt it incumbent upon me, as an Agent of Kate, to take pictures. They are Here: http://tribes.tribe.net/allaboutourdoll/thread/867fcd50-427a-4057-9857-4797ed43d448 After the Throng had left, with a great deal of hugging all round (Shea came straight up off the ground, Stephen smilingly indulgent), Keith offered to drive me around the Sights of SF. Brooke (which is actually Dolly) had mentioned in an aside that Keith needed to get out a bit. On our Tour, Keith said he had suspected as much, that he thought she felt a bit guilty but that she really didn't need to. I told him that, when it became about what He thought, I was sure someone would tell him. Keith knows all the places one would go around SF to take fantastically expensive photos of cars. Sweeping vistas, mist shrouded views of the Golden Gate from above, most impressive. One had a beach about a ten minute hike down from the road, where the Pacific took it upon itself to send a wave a good twenty feet farther up the beach than any previous wave had ever been. It got me good, even though I danced about cartoonishly. Thus Blessed, I squelched my way back up the endless steps, and our tour continued. We stopped back at the hospital and were shooed back out, got a nice dinner on Fillmore or some such street, Keith brought Dolly back an order of Linguine with White Clam Sauce. She started to fade, Keith dropped me in the Tenderloin, and I hunted up a Less Pricey Hotel. Not that the hotel Mary Helen had booked me into was at all pricey, I was just sure I could go Lower. And I did.

Agent of Grace

Than — Wed, 11 Jul 2007 22:06:38 GMT

As anyone who knows me at all will assure you, I never complain. Or rather, I Should never complain, because the simple fact is that I am a ridiculously lucky man, most people are worse off than I, and usually the things I do bitch about are unlikely to evoke much in the way of Sympathy from anybody. So last Tuesday I was bitching to Kate about not having had any real work in months and the resultant Lack of the Needful, and it set off a little light in Kate's head. Her life has been much much too busy to take any time to go see Dolly in hospital in San Francisco ( details Here http://www.lovejunkies.org/ ), and here's me moaning that my days are unprofitably empty. That night I got an e-mail from Orbitz detailing my Friday flight to SF, forwarded from the lovely long-toed Social Engineer. She was sending me to Dolly in her place. Adventure, no longer content to Await, had grabbed me by the button down collar and was about to give me a mighty Fling. Now, I don't actually know anybody in San Francisco to stay with, although there are a few people among my Tribe Friends who live in the SF Area. Let me say now that I have been Extremely Fortunate in my Real Life meetings with the folk of Tribe, and was looking very much forward to meeting Dolly, with whom I was sure I would establish an immediate and life long Real Life rapport. Asking someone I've never seen if I can sleep on their couch, however, could easily push me over the Creepy line, a line with which I flirt rather shamelessly as it is. Besides, almost none of them actually lived in SF proper, they'd be ferrying me about, it's too much for this White Man to impose. So it was that Friday afternoon, clothes and cables packed into my trusty messenger bag, no place to stay, no cash to spend, I set off for JFK. The flight was, of course, leaving from La Guardia. Although I made it to La Guardia a good 25 minutes before the scheduled departure, it had been Handed Over to the Gate, and there was Nothing They Could Do. They sent me back to JFK for a flight to Phoenix, then SF. Considering I hadn't yet taken any of Lisa's Valium, and my No Cash was getting No-er before I'd even gotten on a fucking plane, all entirely due to my own Idiocy (although there is a Way in which it's Crombie's fault, if I can just find it), my aplomb was commendable. Here I am in an appropriated cafe chair outside the US Air terminal at La Guardia. Very calm. My research has shown that most of the slapstick the Universe sends Kate's way is specifically limited to Kate, and bystanders are by and large immune. Well, there was that hurricane. The point is, it was without qualm that I set forth as Kate's Agent last Friday. This Adventure came very much under the heading of What I'm On the Planet to Do, so bring it on. Plus I had my Tan up to acceptable levels. I got into SF at 1ish AM, checked myself into the hotel Dolly's Mother had kindly booked, and knew no more.

Watch Out, Ya Damn Hippies

Than — Wed, 04 Jul 2007 15:19:26 GMT

This weekend I will be in SF to see Dolly's New Head, which they're putting back on Tomorrow. We got a grant from the Uncomfortable Girl Foundation, came as quite a surprise. I am delighted to be going, as Dolly and I have never met In Poison, and Dolly seems Pleased as well. Looking forward to seeing whoever else Shows Up. Happy 4th.

The Real Power of Tribe - Dolly

Than — Thu, 31 May 2007 01:12:57 GMT

Here we have an Excellent Example of the sort of thing Tribe is Very Good At. Dolly (Brooke) is down, as you may well know, in hospital recovering from brain surgery, due to a ruptured cerebral aneurysm. It looks to be a long recovery, and her insurance runs out, um, tomorrow. One her her several close Friends, Jennifer, has put up a website that lets you help with her Cobra payments by purchasing Love Junkie items, mugs, t-shirts, g-strings, etc, and all profits go to Brooke. If you have no use for Love Junkie items, even though they are spectacularly appropriate for our Dolly, you may also just donate to the Fund directly. It's an extraordinary thing, and you should be a part of it. Plus she is the sort of person we need more of, I am seriously Fond of her. Go here and see http://www.lovejunkies.org/ Anyone out there with a vast sum of cash and a strong need for a Deduction, jump on it. The rest of you too. No, that's not Dolly.

Short Story

Than — Tue, 08 May 2007 22:42:10 GMT

Today we took out a gas stove without turning off the gas, Erik assured me it wouldn't be a problem. We get it unhooked, I block the gas flow with the heel of my hand while he readies the plug to stop up the pipe, and it doesn't fit, the plug he got was too big. He had to jump in the car and rush into town to get another, all the while I'm stuck there on the floor with my hand plugging the fucking dyke, and of course the 83 year old client chooses Then to wander in for a chat. "So what are you doing now?" "Oh, you know, it's all very technical...."

That Bastard Crombie

Than — Tue, 24 Apr 2007 04:24:57 GMT

I'm bust. I set a limit on what I was going to lose, went past that, and quit. Meanwhile Crombie, that heartless gutless Bastard, has been winning. See him here in his weasel Glory, gloating as he clutches his winnings. Those are mostly dollar chips, but still, sickening, really. He won so much at the 7 Card Stud table that all the other players left in disgust and they shut it down. It won't be open again until tomorrow, so we tried our hand at Texas Holdem instead. That was when I went below zero, and decided to come back to the hotel and abuse his computer for a while, while he stays and gets paddled so hard he'll walk funny for a week. If there is any Justice. For Him, not Me, I've had enough Justice to hold me, thanks. I'll just stick to the addictions I'm good at.