jumping ship

i've moved to prettier waters, y'all. 

flamelikeme.tumblr.com

s0rree blogger! tumblr hath tempted me too greatly. and i didn't even lose any of my posts, thanks to some amazing internet dude and his amazing javascript jamalamadingdong tool! whee!

i hope you all will follow me on my tumblr journey. keeses.

I trust you, I trust you more than anyone I've ever met

It was a Czech New Wave weekend: Milos Forman's Firemen's Ball on Friday nite and Loves of a Blonde last night at my new favorite theater in the world (okay, maybe still after Chicago's Music Box): The Beverly. It was a wonderful double bill, like spending 4 hours with my goofy Czech relatives. One of them was a dead ringer for my great-uncle Fred, whose frothy mustache, kind demeanor, and blind blue eyes are among my strongest childhood memories. 

These films portray their sweet, unassuming characters so very tenderly, with such love and affection; Forman is really quite masterful. The chaos of Firemen's Ball versus the quietude of Loves of a Blonde was such a perfect pairing, now I must get my eyes on more Forman immediately. And the cinematographic styling, my god, the styling! Just look at this winning last frame:

Brilliant. Unfortunately that's only half of it, I couldn't find the full frame online. I wonder if that frame served as Gondry's visual inspiration behind the bed on a beach scene in Eternal Sunshine. Beds outside: dissonant visual gold.

And later, when the Drawing Room dive was closing, I was putting the finishing touches of a finger-fog painting spelling out LOVES OF A BLONDE on the cold back windshield of a car in its parking lot, when its owner approached. That never happens. "Oh, uh, is this your car??" "Yep." He was all smiles and cheer about it though, I think he dug it. 

Forman4EVZ.

adding kindle to the fire

Nnnnnooooooooooo...!! 

Devil with a USB Port, USB Port, USB Port on. I hate this product more than any other 2.0-era gadget, you guyz. I even hate it more than 25 Things Lists on Facebook. There was this chick in the Proust book group juliet & i made an attempt at joining last week who announced to a group of people, meeting about Proust, under the roof of an independently-run bookshop, that she was reading the novel on her kindle. I had that immediate fantasy, you know, of like running up to her in slow-motion with my fists all asunder and a crazy look in my eyes, animated steam perhaps shooting out of my ears. Plus, she had rhinestones on her back jean pockets. She had made a deliberate choice, to buy, and wear those jeans. With faux-converse sneakers. And, she sported a bigass diamond ring on her wedding finger. Seriously. What is the world coming to. WHAT IS IT COMING TO.

And in unrelated but equally irate news, I ask, WHY HAS NO ONE MADE ME A CAKE LIKE THIS YET?????

groping blindly

jackson eaton photography

in a station of the metro

the apparition of these faces in a crowd

petals on a wet, black bough

top, my favorite photog guy bourdin, bottom, strikingly similar composition via ffffound

i have found what you are like

demon-seed

Biked right behind J.K. Simmons today at the gym!!!!!!!!!!! He was, you know, only in my favorite comedic film in the history of cinema (The Ref -- he played Lieutenant Siskel, an army school teacher blackmailed by his student for incriminating sexshewal photos). He was also seriously excellent as a twisted Nazi fucker in Oz (directed by Terry Kinney, who directed me in a play at Steppenwolf back in the day! Shit, that was kind of an 'in.') I totally should have said something. Instead I kept grinning to myself goofily, looking around wondering if anyone else was as thrilled by his presence as I was. No one else even seemed to notice! I kept fantasizing about passing him a note while he worked out, something like "HEY, YOU ARE WONDERFUL," just so he knew, you know? But of course it remained a fantasy, as I 1) didn't have a pen 2) am a pussy.

You see, for me it's not about running into Angelina Jolie or Christina SpearsLoveAnistonHudsonHathaway, it's about guys like these, and gals like Doris Roberts. There's a thrill to running into a "celebrity," sure, someone that's been on covers of magazines and splashed across the various voyeuristic portals allowing us stronger glimpses into actors' lives to which any of us should have access, but above all, the thrill for me of watching Richard Lewis make a left hand turn in front of my car (today!) is recognizing someone out of the context of the fabricated world in which you already know them. Of course I don't already know them, but I have a strong, daily tendency to refer to movies to help me handle any given situation, so I've visited and revisited and revisited again (I also have a tendency to re-watch films like 9238493284 times and never get bored) these characters, scenarios, and stories, and so I guess what I'm trying to say is, the thrill comes from the shock of seeing them out of context, and also from just being honored to be in such close physical actual proximity to such performative talent. It ain't about the "fame," really (otherwise I would have given more than two shits about this particular run-in), it's about really loving, appreciating, and digesting what these people have done with the characters they've been given. And that's what leaves me slack-jawed and giggly. Here's to working beside you someday soon, Sir Simmons.

The Ref:

"And in my dream, I was served Lloyd's head on a plate of spinach...with his penis sticking out of his ear.

And I said,
'I didn't order this. "

And the waiter said,
"You must try it. It's a delicacy.

But don't eat the penis:
it's just garnish."

- Mmm.
- Lloyd, what do you
think about the dream?

I think she should stop telling it
at dinner parties to all our friends."

this big, ruined hotel

"Ninety percent of this is psycho bullshit, I realize. But ten percent of it is real." Frank pointed a finger at Van Ness's throat. "And that's the ten percent we have to watch out for." -Already Dead: A California Gothic by Denis Johnson, my fortuitous Portland Powell's find (my happy place).

Photo by alex aristei

this is how you'll know me

by dallas clayton, via magic molly

yes is a world

completely charming & sweet video by israeli artist oren lavie. the entire video shot in thousands of stills, we see a girl on a bed, swimming and walking and biking thru her day -- my favorite moment is when the bed is converted into a train car, and when the cello floats across her sky, oh my how lovely.

watercolour milk

Truly one of the most beautifully rendered "music videos" i have ever seen: a video triptych from creative duo Overture (who did the artwork for an, ahem, KiraKira album!) set to Hauschka. Bryum & Kapok are woodland creatures whose friendship and musical collaboration brings all the sweet mythical forest creatures together in a pseudo-pagan sonic dance love moment. Really lovely. 

Freibad, one of my favorite Hauschka pieces, is the 3rd and final installment, embedded below. I wish I could relive that delightful wintry night at Schubas all over again. My nieces were totally mesmerized by this video, and immediately after I showed it to them, they rushed to find instruments emulating those of Bryum & Kapoks' so they could recreate the scene. It was with a private sense of glee that I heard them humming Hauschka for hours afterwards.

it's a fool who plays it cool

this is so old, but for those of you that missed this the first time 'round, here's your chance. probably the cutest 3 year old in the world, singing 'hey jude' in his diaper, all the lyrics known by heart, and even a guitar chord or two, too.

this reminds me of cold, smoky late nites shared over cheap pint tins last year in london with mark, uncovering the weirdest/cutest/freakydeakiest shit on the internet side by side. missudewdie.

the best gesture of my brain is less than

your eyelids' flutter which says

we are for each other

photos by susanna spangberg

yer my favorite aunt because yer always happy

After 12 hours of sitting around in various airports (LAX, SFO) yesterday thanks to "weather conditions" (yeah, like i'm falling for that one), at last i arrived in the land of rain and the cutest nieces you ever did see -- portland. With all the delays, by the time i got in last nite the wee ones were already asleep, so this morning i was awoken at the non-magical hour of 6.30 am with magical kisses from a 4 & a 6 year old. ah!       

today we: shopped for toys (hello kitty is still big, y'all), ate rainbow sprinkled donuts, drew mermaids, read berenstain bears (still big, y'all), i got my cardio on via an intense piggy back ride in the rain, and celebrated daisy's birthday with ice cream cake. HAYO.  photos coming soon.

in the meantime, the best/creepiest photo of kurt methinks i've ever seen, because we can, and because i'm currently wearing my sister's red plaid scarf that she wore in the years that he was still truckin':                                        

also, really, craigslist? how about someone hire me just to EDIT THESE JOB LISTINGZ:

time is on someone's side

"OSCARS A TEN ON FREAKY DEAKY SCALE"

--last nite's text from Juliet

I would have to agree, (OMG "SEYMOUR PHILIP HOFFMAN" WTF, and Craigslist dancers??? really???), but not quite as freaky deaky awesome as this WALL OF CLOCKS at TJ's house. Yesssss. Plus he brought the party Midwestern-style, serving beef jerky, football-shaped sausage, cheese curds, and Coors.

His landlady knocked at 10.15 to yell at us for being too loud, "and I know you are having some kind of fun, but it is after ten, and peoples have to work tOMORROW!!!! IT IS MONDAY TOMORROW!" Being in a room full of stand-up comics was rather intimidating, there was a (seemingly weighted) board tallying the jokes. At least I rated (twice) (although my name was given a -hole at the end, aw).

off i go to visit my adorbz nieces in PORTLANDDDDDDDDDDDDD!!!!

the section that lists all the sections section

ohman, paul rudd is so brilliant in this: michael showalter's parody of the NYTimes Weekender subscription commercials.

HAPPEE OSCARZ DAY!!!!!

Benis Practice

crystal castles should totally remix the seinfeld theme song. that would be the bambajammmmmzzz0rzzzz.

the kind of sick that's brilliant...

...or the kind that appeals to the 12-year old boy inside of me (ew).  Like this morning, when I received an e-mail reading "UPS has shipped your pants," and, well, I'm sure you can guess where my foggy 6 am brain took that one.

ANYWAY. A ridiculous(ly awesome) blog dedicated to images of inter-species inter-course:

everybody loves celebrity-spotting

Matthew Perry making out with Doris Roberts:

Tonite I ate a rather delarcious Ethiopian meal in (where else?) Little Ethiopia (there is a "Little" everything here, I happen to be near "Little Armenia," which is awesome), with my delightful new friend, who I met rather drunkenly on Valentine's evening at h. wood. I told him that I often spot celebrities because noticing the people around me is like the only thing I pay attention to. Minutes later, driving home down Sunset Boulevard, and I look over at the red light to see none other than a fancy black fur-coat clad DORIS ROBERTS sitting next to me in her shiny black Lexus. I got all giddy, and then didn't know where to look, like, do I mouth "HEY YOU'RE GREAT. I CAN'T FUKKIN' STAND THAT SHOW YOUR'E ON, BUT YOUR'E GREAT!" I would like to know her. I would like her to be my Los Angeles grandma. That would be nice. She looked nice. Well, she looked how most people look in their cars at red lights: blank, and sort of sad. She definitely was not rocking out to Fuck Buttons like I was, but she looked a-okay. 

And also! Last nite Lucy Liu walked right by me at the Cha-Cha lounge. HAR! I LIVE INSIDE OF A MOVIE AND IT IS AMAZING. MAN I LOVE IT.

and a propos of two posts ago, here is lily allen's brand-new tat. even she is getting on the text tat train! weekend project, weekend project.

zut alors

putain, it's possible to watch le ballon rouge online!!! my most favorite film from childhood, watched & re-watched & re-watched in french class year after year, huddled on the floor, knees to chin in the AV room, violins swelling and my obsession with balloons & paris growing with helium breaths.

MY DREAM:

ohman. if only.

all in green my love went riding

plotting my third.

adjusting to the light

don't change a hair for me

So we just took a surreal kickboxing class at crunch fitness at which the instructor took a more than passing resemblance to Rex "roundhouse kick to the face" Kwan Do.  I was waiting for him to start screaming about Starla at any moment, it was kind of scary. And awesome. And sweaty.

just kidding. raja's in town with all his stanford business school frendz and we're going to dance at some new club where radiohead threw a big party last weekend. which is almost the same as sobbing yourself to sleep. PSYCH. here's to 90% fewer emotionally unbalanced/unavailable/demented/psychotic dickheads in '09! 
no but seriously, happy valentine's, everyone. <3

spaceships and forests.

And I asked you to lie on the wooden floor with me
Even though it was cold on the floor, cool to the touch
We laid our backs on top of it and stared at the ceiling,
Side by side, our pinkies touching but nothing else, with careful breath.
Your pocket breathed up and down so close to my shoulder that
I could almost feel the weathered flannel whispering against my skin.
We pointed at things in the sky, on my ceiling, in our sky
“It’s cold on here,” you say, and get up
before the moment could match my head
(This was originally supposed to have a happy ending,
Like we kissed,
On the wooden floor,
While Yann Tiersen tinkled away in the background
And traffic threw shapes across our faces, like fleeting bruises

That we brushed away with our hands.
But then all that seemed wrong, and false, like
That kind of good ending wouldn’t actually happen
So I changed it, to make it more real.
He would get up,
Off the floor,
Because he felt cold.
Magic slipped through fingers, then,
Like coy ghosts,
And I would feel terribly lonely for a moment,
Before acting like I didn’t care.)

ANNA IS HERE

AND SHE BROUGHT US CUPCAKES FROM MAGNOLIA BAKERY IN NEW YORK SITTEE

BEFORE

AFTER!!!11111

you're pretty like drugs

all via lookbook, a fatal website thanks to its lack of page ends. it just reloads photo after photo until it's like 17 minutes later and you still haven't done your sit-ups or roasted your eggplant for dinner or emailed those people you were supposed to email or ANYTHING.

a family of trees wanted to be haunted

kira, the wee years:

no idea who that d00d is but i was always wandering away from my parents to sit with strangers at restaurants, beaches, parties, etc., so he was likely my new friend at the moment.
even then, i liked the stage, i liked to boogie. 

futurecop!

funkyfresh track N.A.S.A. by Futurecop! 

not as pretty as embedding music in tumblr, but hay, i'm a loyalist. (i.e. i'm afraid of lozing my whole blawg if i switch over to the tumblr side of things)

also please see their 80s insanity myspace page, it's pure neon hairsprayed unicorned glory