A sweet Norwegian breeze

I'm here tonight listening to, as my friend Michael puts it, (quoting Erlend's newest band's name), "the whitest boy ever,"
Erlend Oye,
or as one of the interviewer I've read perfectly describes him, "the extravagantly bespectacled Erlend Oye."

I'm still too computer-skills illiterate to be able to post any of his music here. I wish I could.

But it's worth seeking out.

He's so soothing and innocently seductive.
I really can't see how anyone could listen to him and not fall a little bit in love with him.

Erlend Oye's official website

Wikipedia's bio

Before/After

Not quite a decade ago, my friend Danni invited me to a funeral of the father of a cute girl she kind of had a crush on. I didn't know any of these people, of course, but I went.

(I know, I know, but hey, I went anyway...why not, I figured.)

It was at Dillard (the university, not the department store. It was quite the extravaganza too. We're talking multimedia.
But I digress.

Flash forward. Danni's been in San Francisco for more than 5 years now. I saw the girl once, at the Circle Bar, with a group of white girl lesbian punks one night.
Suddenly, one night about a year ago, I'm browsing aimlessly on Friendster and see someone that jogs my memory. It's the cute high school girl....except, well, she's ...ummm...changed a bit.

She's become a man.

There, right front and center is...umm... his...picture, shirtless on the beach.



Ummm...can't deny it, it's damn good work, don't you think?

Damn good.

Random Slightly Obscure 80's Musical Crushes

Back in the day, I never did care much for Curiosity Killed the Cat's music, but how could one not swoon over pretty boys dancing about in berets?

And a name like (lead singer's) "Ben Volpeliere-Pierrot" ? I mean really.

I recently found out that I shared a crush with none other than Andy Warhol. He was an admirer too (and I'm sure for exactly the same reasons).

It was white boy "soul" as performed by British male models, I believe....and not really all that bad actually.




In the mid eighties, I was enthralled, I'm embarrassed to admit, with Spandau Ballet.
Yes.
Now to my credit I always hated the lead singer Tony Hadley and his...umm...vaguely Vegas-style stylings, if you know what I mean.

But the Kemp brothers, well...they were what a teen aged me dreamed of being: suave... British....nattily dressed.
It didn't happen, alas.



What can one say, Adam Ant was one of the prettiest men around, wasn't he?



I had a crush on Sade's band members....but most especially Stuart Matthewman (on the far right). He's still pretty cute, but back then, all pork pie hats askew...
Swoon.
He was Jewish...cute....and talented.
(Miss Adu herself was another crush, but we'll save that for another day)

Just because...

I remember falling in love with her, from this alone...
sigh

Life in the trenches

A week or so ago, someone responded to my match.com ad. I was excited, despite the decade or more of disappointment with which the internet has provided me.
Why don't I ever learn?

Anyway...

He wrote to me all eagerness. I responded all eagerness back. It was all good for the first exchange. I asked a few simple getting to know you questions...basic pleasantries (i.e. "how are you?" "how long have you lived here?" "How was the dinner with your friends you mentioned?")
You get the gist.

To this, I get this response:
"Hey, how are you? It's great here. Just finished washing the car. Great day, isn't it? So, there's something I didn't mention. I'm HIV poz. Hope this isn't a deal breaker."

Ummm...ok.
What does one say to this? I didn't know. Now aside from the whole "HIV poz" thing, can't he answer a freaking question? I mean not so much that I really cared what he said, it's just the fact that he seemed to completely ignore what I'd written. That irritates the hell out of me.
But anyway, enough of my ranting.

I respond...as gently as I can. I'm tempted to just stop emailing....because frankly even if the "HIV poz" isn't a "deal breaker" then the ignoring of my questions is.
But I don't. I wouldn't do that.
I write back asking him a few more questions...all very carefully worded as to be gentle.
He writes back...again with an inane recap of his day....no mention of anything that I'd asked.
I write back, just as inanely (hey, I can play that too)....and ask about the trip he mentioned. "Are you going to Houston to visit family then?"
Finally he responds to a question.
"I'm going out there to visit my AA friends. We're really close."

I think I laughed out loud at that. I mean really....could it get any more comic?

So, to recap:

He's an HIV "poz" "recovering alcoholic" GWM who wants a "LTR" in which there is only talk about the weather and washing the car.

Now if *only* his ad had just said so much and saved us all a lot of time.
But no.

Now, chalk this up with some of my more recent comic miscarriages of "romance"

and one gets a pretty sad picture.

Martha Stewart's Holiday Guide to Infantile Cannibalism

Like the White House turkey, I've been granted a pardon....well, for a few hours at least.
It won't last long however.
I've been trapped on the WB for the past 3 days straight. It's been one long exhausting, mentally and spiritually draining few days alone with Mom.
She's had me driving her non stop.
She's insane....I'm insane..... but no one, but no one... is as insane as Martha Stewart and her minions, I think.

I caught a bit of her show the other day, only to see this horrific sight (above). This one is less freaky than the baby pies she also features, however.

That scary bitch needs to be back in prison as soon as possible, I'm telling you.

Her Gentleman Caller

Yesterday was a little prelude to the holidays...a gathering of "family" of sorts.

Velinda and I went to our mutual friend, Sylvie's, little apartment across the bayou. We went to help her decorate it with christmas lights. We had lunch at Cafe Degas. We took an impromptu side trip to Home Depot for nails, and spent the rest of the afternoon putting up lights in her little apartment.

Sylvie is French and, well, how do I say?...a bit "manique"

Someone said later that night "Oh, she's just French. You know. That's how they are."

Maybe.

But she was pretty "French" when we first started lunch, if you know what I mean. A brisk walk, a double espresso and an empty stomach can do that I guess.
But we love Sylvie. What's not to love?

The more exciting part of the light-hanging, however, was that I finally got to meet Velinda's new beau.
They have been "courting" (I have to use the archaicism here. It's the only word that works, I think) for a few months now.
They met at church. They've even been talking marriage. They're taking things very methodically and carefully. They're even in a pre-marital sort of counseling.

It's all very proper and old fashioned. They hold hands. They go to church together.

Now, of course, he's about a decade younger than she is, is from rural Mississippi, has a number of tattoos and a mohawk and...well....how do we put it...a bit of a history.

But, hey, who doesn't?

In his heart, however, I think he's straight out of the Chivalrous South.

The most charming part of this 19th century romance is that it's being played out by the two most unlikely actors.

You just don't have any idea.
Any.

I knew a lot about him from what she's told me, and I already approved. I already was an advocate for the boy, even before meeting him, but I have to say he completely charmed me.

We can't put the cart before the horse, but I'm quite excited for her.
Later that night, he, Velinda and I went to dinner at her friend's house, and met up with Velinda's sister. She's easing him into meeting the family. She's already met his family.

She seems nervous, as one can only expect one to be. But I have to hand it to her; she handles this sort of thing, the craziness that comes with a potenital serious relationship, more rationally than just about anyone I know.
I admire that. I don't understand it, but I admire it.

Unrequested reviews of the last few movies I've seen:

Marie Antoinette-- Beautiful, but plotless. Much like Lost in Translation, it didn't seem to go anywhere. I think that was the point however.
I took my mother, she and I will see anything with costumes. She hated it (she expected something). I liked it ( I expected it to be worse). More Bow Wow Wow would have helped, however. But then what would it not help?

Borat---I took myself to see this alone. I love stupid comedies. This one was not quite as stupid as I expected. It was oddly like Farhenheit 911.
I know that sounds peculiar, but that's what kept coming to my mind while watching it. It shows America at its worst I guess. There are parts that are pretty stupid.
It's vile, disgusting, offensive and pretty damn wonderful. Yes, it lives up to the hype.


Running with Scissors---I'd read bad reviews of this too, much like with Marie Antoinette. That's always a good way to go into a movie. It was ok, nothing great. I really don't like Annette Benning. She was the worst part of one of my all time worst movies, "American Beauty." Ugh. But the lead actor is good. It's got a light tone, despite the depressing subject matter, and great set decoration. I'm a sucker for set decoration. I know everyone keeps going on about what a terrible life young Augusten had (never did finish his book by the way, zzzzzzzz) but it didn't look that bad to me. I mean come on, sex with Joseph Fiennes?! I'd take a bit of homemade electroshock for a little of that, wouldn't you?

Freedom Writers---this one has not even been released yet. My friend Velinda invited me to it. She had gotten free, advanced screening tickets to see it. She didn't know anything about it either. We both walked into it completely ignorant.
It turned out to be a Dangerous Minds type real life drama starring Hilary Swank and that guy from Grey's Anatomy. Hilary Swank plays a young first time teacher in L.A. who is all earnestness and wants to change the world. As you can imagine she runs into hell in the classroom. She is teaching a class of gang members Freshman English. They chew her up, they spit her out....she grows some balls...and it turns into a Rocky of teaching. The best part of the movie I think were the young actors playing her students. They were completely unaffected and natural, not a false note. She motivates them with Anne Frank into telling their own stories. It has its weepy moments, but it was pretty good. It's based on a real life story.

Bathrooms of the World

Just found a site that is doing what I've long thought would be a good idea, namely a review of random public bathrooms.
Where's Robin Leach when you need him?

Bathrooms of the World
Enjoy!

"I love your paper flower"

Saw this (below) tonight on craigslist's missed connections and thought it was the best piece of (inadvertent ?) poetry I've read in a while...in a sick demented 21 year old E. A. Poe-ish kind of way.
(except that whole "vegan pastries" line...ruins the whole tone...but anyway...)

It still charmed me. (And to think, he's too young to even understand the genius of his own O.N. John allusion...) Too cute:

i love your paper flower - 21

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Date: 2006-11-05, 8:46PM CST

you were sitting, reading beat poetry, at the rue on oak last tuesday. you were with some weird girl with short black hair wearing sweater boots.

later i saw you buying vegan pastries at wholefoods.

i seem to always be running into you. i think it's fate. we are meant for each other.

I am tall with black hair. it is short. i cut it myself. i will cut yours too.

i don't get paid very much, but i would like you to take all my money.

i honestly love you.