Yoko in the morning

I'm driving around in my new Mazda Miata rental...missing my battleship of a car, but enjoying the cd player.

I drove to work with Yoko Ono this morning. I found two clips of "Walking on Thin Ice," which is a great song.
I don't know which one I like better...the remix or the original, but I'm leaning towards the original at the moment.

idle wondering...

Today, perusing our local Craigslist's Missed Connections, I stumbled upon this post.
It hit a chord because I know I could have written just the same thing when I was 25 myself, right down to the histrionics.
(Ok, ok, who am I kidding, I could have written it myself yesterday, with even more histrionics...well, almost):

opportunity - m4m - 25
Reply to: pers-442254448@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-07, 1:10AM
I must be ugly.

This is the thought that immediately runs through my head at 12:43am on a Saturday night (or is it Sunday morning?) as I sit on my couch with my laptop and a soundtrack consisting of...well...what most would call a lesson in depression.
So, I must be ugly.
Or is New Orleans ugly?
I think it has the potential to be. I've lived here for two years and, despite all my best efforts, I come up empty handed every time. That's not to say I haven't dated people here; sure, I've done that. It's simply that the results have been less than appealing.

I learned in college that there are three types of guys: 1) the guy who expects a blow job on the first date and gets it (this will not be a long-term arrangement); the guy who expects a blow job on the first date and doesn't get it (this one probably won't work either); and 3) the guy who doesn't expect a blow job on the first date, but would still really really like one. He's also the guy who wouldn't push the issue unless it's been made clear that the other party involved thought that this particular number 3 was actually a number 1 (this has the most potential for a long-term arrangement).

As the third type of guy, I feel like a fish out of water in this here city.

So, more likely than not I'm an ugly prude who should give up this game and, in finding a life of fulfillment practicing the art of solitude, enjoy my job ringing the bells at St. Louis.

Some might say there is a lesson of fortitude in all of this. I, however, am not one of those people. The wall of my constitution is crumbling steadily and, looking up to meet the gaze of a handsome stranger, I lack the confidence to begin a conversation. I look away and find myself the king of missed opportunities.

Tonight, I see some smart ass has written him a reply (why not send it to him directly I don't know):

re: opportunity - m4m - 25 - m4m - 35

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reply to: pers-442876415@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-07, 8:44PM CDT

Well if you stopped behaving like a straight girl you might be happier. Why the hell are gay men adopting 'values' that were only meant to suppress women? WTF? Blow job on 'the first date'? Are you for real? Why would you go out with someone you didn't want to sleep with? Suit yourself, though ...

Now I think 35 year old here has a point in there somewhere...but then again, I don't know.

I was all set to write a response to them both, but instead I had some ice cream.

The thing is, this 35 y.o. seems to assume that all gay men (or all straight women for that matter) are the same. I don't think they are.

I've always envied those straight men, those gay men...and yes, those straight women (and I do know a few) who can enjoy casual sex.

Way back when, I tried it, very briefly. Didn't work for me...not at all.
I wish it had. So this boy and I and (surprisingly a number of straight men too I've met) trudge out here alone it seems.

But the 35 year old makes me think again...are this boy and I holding on to a demented heterosexual stereotype that is "designed to suppress women"? I've actually heard this argument before....
or is it that some people, gay, straight, male, female, whatever, are just not built for casual sex?
I don't know.

snippet overheard

Tonight I went to a housewarming party at my friend Geronimo's out in the Marigny. His roommate is moving back to L.A., so it was also a going away party (all too many of those nowadays)

It was all pretty low key.

Nursing a rum and coke, loitering over the vegetable platter, I overhear:

"Yeah, I always carry an icepick in my purse. Wanna see it?
Ever since I was shot,"

The 60 something pre-op trans-sexual lesbian/former Navy man tells the cute young lesbian couple on the couch.

"My son says I ought to move. He's stationed up in Virgina. He's a big Saints fan."

"raise your aim..."

I don't usually disagree with the gals at Go Fug Yourself, but I don't know if I completely agree with their fugging of Adrien Brody.

I mean, sure, he does look a bit Elvis-y here...but I like it.

When I saw this pic from the premiere of the Darjeeling Express, I thought, "Wow, he looks hot!" and I'm not even that much of a regular passenger on the Adrien Brody Express, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, it took me a while to figure out why I liked this outfit so much, and then I realized it.

It's 1982, and all I want is to have Martin Fry's gold lame suit:



I'd be wearing it now if I thought I could carry it off.

(this video, by the way, is one of the keys to my adolescent soul)

further funeral home news

In more funeral home news, I just read that the old Bultman Funeral Home will be converted to a Borders bookstore.

It's been empty since Katrina. I remember going to a few funerals there. It was beautiful, like a rambling plantation, a bit frayed at the edges.

What I hadn't realized was that had hosted services for both Jefferson Davis and Jayne Mansfield in its 120 years.

Now, instead of stale coffee from those ancient coffee urns, I suppose there will be overpriced frappuccinos from surly grad students.

Doesn't matter, I just want to be able to read a copy of US magazine on the spot that Jayne Mansfield's corpse once lay.

fun with transcription

Here's a fun video I found by way of Lady Bunny. It's a Bollywood music video, to which someone put his own English subtitles.
Hilarious.

"Sassified"

Last night's "party" was thankfully dull. I drove out to the westernmost suburbs of the city. We had dinner in a nearly deserted, garishly lit former Pizza Hut-cum- Mediterranean restaurant.

Lisa's ex husband sat at the head of the table and performed like the diva he is.
Lots of gesticulating hands.
There was an inordinate amount of talk about hysterectomies and melon ballers at the dinner table...not the type of thing one wants to hear while eating grape leaves.
Despite that, it was nice enough.

Then we were coerced into going to the casino.

I don't know if you've ever been to a suburban casino bar on a Saturday night, but you truly owe it to yourself.

It was like walking into a low budget David Lynch movie.
Seriously.

I'm talking 70 year old women in pink plastic barrettes doing the "Boot Scootin' Boogie,"
The morbidly obese pantomiming Clarence Carter's classic "Strokin',"
Midgets doing the "Electric Slide,"
And one tall skinny 60 something who did nothing but twirl in the center of the dance floor...for a good hour straight...sometimes without music.

The birthday girl had 10 long island iced teas, and her gay ex-husband won a thousand dollars.
I, however, had the unhappy job of entertaining her current boyfriend, the librarian, as he bombarded me with round after round of random trivia.

Fun times.

Anyway, here's dear old Clarence himself. If you can imagine this video recast by David Lynch, you might be half way there.

in praise of dull parties

Tomorrow is my friend Lisa's birthday.
On my machine she gives me the line up.
It'll be very simple, a meal at a Greek restaurant and maybe some party games.

Her guest list includes the following:
1. her live-in boyfriend,
2. her flamboyantly gay ex husband,
3. her non-live in boyfriend (impotent and of possible Nazi ancestry),
4. her ex-boyfriend who is straight.
5. her ex-boyfriend's girlfriend,
6. her ex-boyfriend from high school who is a priest (and possible pedophile, but amazingly a completely different one from the one mentioned below.
I know, huh?)
7. a former coworker who may...even more amazingly... be the most bizarre of them all (but that's a story for another time, like after a few drinks)
8. me

The last time she entertained was...ummm...interesting.
I'm hoping for a dull party.

going old school

Alice Ghostley's recent sad passing
made me remember "To Kill a Mockingbird," one of my favorite films....
not to mention the five, count 'em five, in-a-row synopses of the movie...uhhhh... I mean "book" (it's part of our summer reading list) I had to listen to today.

Anyway, on to the point here. Somewhere along the line I got to thinking that if I could invent a man, I think I might just have to invent Gregory Peck.
From that voice to those eyes....to the (albeit fictional) character, and, I don't know about you, but it's all enough to make me swoon.

update

As per request of sillymonkey, here's an update. I've just gotten my car back from the shop...for a while. It's now working, and they they did a great job repairing it...or so it seems. It looks almost like it did before.
It's supposed to go in again to have the bumper replaced, but that has to wait for a while.

The guy who hit us was caught. He was in jail (the last I heard).

He had borrowed the car (or stolen) not sure, from a friend. It's the friend's insurance with whom I have to deal. We may have to go to court, because he might not have had enough insurance to pay for all three of our cars' damages.
It's been a real hassle.

On the upside, I enjoyed using the cd player in the rental car....got to listen to music for the first time in two years!
I drove to work today listening to a disco compilation of music played at the Loft and Paradise Garage that Michael had made for NYC...and back home listening to St. Etienne...very soothing in the rain.