Lux Interior, lead singer of the legendary psychobilly band The Cramps, has passed away. Words just can’t express just how sad I am right now. Thank you, Lux. Thank you so much for everything…
(5:10pm update: Pitchfork has published an article on Lux's passing. It does a nice job of getting to the heart of why he was so important.)
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Lord Bob Leaves A Present
If a cat saunters up to your house with a feather in his mouth and attaches it to your front door, is that the kitteh equivalent of a mafioso leaving a decapitated horse head in your bed? If so, I think I might be in trouble.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Snark
I’m feeling very annoyed and snarky today, but I’m doing my best not to subject anyone to my vitriol. I am not, unfortunately, Anthony Bourdain. I don’t get paid to travel across the world and tease those who deserve to be chastised. Therefore, being snarky would likely be a detriment to my current situation. I can’t let myself forget just how easily some people fly of the handle and overreact to the simplest of observations.
I could say something colloquial like, “Don’t dish out what you can’t take,” but I’m guessing it’s more complicated than that. I can do both. And not everybody else can. So, annoyed and snarky Michael will be a little kinder today. He’ll keep his mouth shut around certain people. Because heaven forbid the rest of the world grows a set.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Excerpt 9
I don’t know you. There, I said it. I don’t know you. I have never stood before you and attempted to speak in your presence. I’m pretty sure this is a good thing. I could never speak to you. And I never should…
I’ve been hearing your name for years, always in context. As in, “Oh, I know this really cool girl named…“ I know your name and I know where you’re from. I know who your favorite comedian is. I know what kind of clothes you wear. I know that you’re kind. I know what you do for a living and I know how much it encapsulates every ounce of your soul.
But we’ve never met. There’s no specific reason for it. We’ve had chances to meet in the past. If I pursued, if I stepped out of my world, my fears, I would know you. But I’ve never pursued. I’ve never bothered. And it’s not because you aren’t worth the effort. You are definitely worth the effort. It’s just that I know something else about you. I know that I’m just not good enough for you.
I’m not talking about my physical appearance or my finances or anything superficial and dumb like that. You’ve never struck me as the sort of person who cares about how someone looks or how much money they make or what kind of car they have.
What I’m talking about is my soul. You are a shining light in this world, as cliched as it sounds. The reason why I’m not good enough for you is simply that you are so much better than me. I’d never deserve you, and I certainly wouldn’t subject you to me and my complicated bullshit.
You’re the sort of person that others look up to, and you probably don’t even know it. You’d never notice it, because you’re not self-conscious like that. Maybe it sounds like I’m putting you on a pedestal. But, hell, I’m not the first or the last. And I’m not wrong.
I know what would happen if I finally met you. I simply wouldn’t be able to speak properly. I’d stammer and stutter and sputter my way through introductions, assuming you don’t know who I am. But of course you know who I am, in context. And, knowing you, you’d be kind about it.
I’ve been hearing your name for years, always in context. As in, “Oh, I know this really cool girl named…“ I know your name and I know where you’re from. I know who your favorite comedian is. I know what kind of clothes you wear. I know that you’re kind. I know what you do for a living and I know how much it encapsulates every ounce of your soul.
But we’ve never met. There’s no specific reason for it. We’ve had chances to meet in the past. If I pursued, if I stepped out of my world, my fears, I would know you. But I’ve never pursued. I’ve never bothered. And it’s not because you aren’t worth the effort. You are definitely worth the effort. It’s just that I know something else about you. I know that I’m just not good enough for you.
I’m not talking about my physical appearance or my finances or anything superficial and dumb like that. You’ve never struck me as the sort of person who cares about how someone looks or how much money they make or what kind of car they have.
What I’m talking about is my soul. You are a shining light in this world, as cliched as it sounds. The reason why I’m not good enough for you is simply that you are so much better than me. I’d never deserve you, and I certainly wouldn’t subject you to me and my complicated bullshit.
You’re the sort of person that others look up to, and you probably don’t even know it. You’d never notice it, because you’re not self-conscious like that. Maybe it sounds like I’m putting you on a pedestal. But, hell, I’m not the first or the last. And I’m not wrong.
I know what would happen if I finally met you. I simply wouldn’t be able to speak properly. I’d stammer and stutter and sputter my way through introductions, assuming you don’t know who I am. But of course you know who I am, in context. And, knowing you, you’d be kind about it.
And Then All Hell Broke Loose!
It’s so strange these days how life seems to simultaneously grind to a halt and speed forward with alarming alacrity. None of us appear to be really moving forward in our lives. People are losing their jobs or they’re getting their hours reduced, keeping just about everyone from really moving forward with their hopes/dreams/ambitions. Yet life just keeps speeding forward without regard to these new conditions.
We’re all getting older, in spite of the hiccups of the global economy. We’re still talking about the new season of Lost and watching the Super Bowl with impunity. And that’s probably a good thing. If we spent all our time worrying about what’s wrong with “The Royal We,” we’d probably be in even worse shape.
You still woke up this morning. Maybe your cat or dog said, “Hello.” You probably had breakfast or lunch or both. You did whatever it is that you have to do to make yourself feel better. To cope. And that’s totally okay. I’m not too terribly worried about it. You’re going to be okay. That’s not me being condescending. That’s just the truth.
(Post script: Today is my sister's birthday. Yes, it's the day after mine. Yes, it's also Groundhog's Day. Any Groundhog's Day cards will force my sister to cut you. Yes, it's been done before. Anyhoo, Happy Birthday, sis! I won't tell the world how old you are because I'm on my way there, too!)
I Have Offended Somebody
Wow. Really, just wow.
Okay, so I’ve had this sort of thing going on in the background of my life involving a girl who started following me on Twitter last fall. She found me through our mutual LA friends, since I occasionally get to have conversations with them through the Twitter. She wanted to meet me since we both live in Bakersfield and, apparently, thought I was cute (DON‘T LAUGH! Okay, you can laugh…).
We wound up not meeting for a couple of months. When we did finally meet in late November, things went really weird really fast. We went out three times the last week of the month. In those three times, she jumped down my throat (literally), got jealous of my friends, and was totally weird, rude, and awkward towards everyone we came across. She was nice, but I could immediately tell that getting into a relationship with her would not go very well.
Before I go any further, let me just state for the record that she REALLY IS a nice person in a lot of ways. But she’s also, well, kind of crazy. I made an oblique reference to her in a public blog and she posted a reply that was very, ahem, offensive in regards to my, ahem, person in said public blog. Before I woke up and even saw this response, she sent me a txt message essentially saying, “I see how it is, I hope you have a nice life.” *blink, blink*
I deleted the comment and everything and she proceeded to call me about 10 times over the span of an hour. Eventually, everything sort of figured itself out. I told her that I wasn’t interested in getting into a relationship with her because I didn’t think it would work. But I was more that willing to try just being friends with her.
But even that didn’t go so well. She’d get drunk and cry. She’d proposition me. She outright tried to, ahem, do stuff to me. And I kept trying to let her down the gentlest way I could. A few weeks ago, we were hanging out. She got drunk again. She propositioned me again. After we parted ways, she mentioned on Twitter that she was in trouble. I asked what was going on and she told me,
“My boyfriend doesn’t like you and he doesn’t like it when we go out.”
*blink, blink* Wait, what? She was doing all of this while she had a boyfriend? OMFG! I was sincerely freaked out. So, I did my best to back off of her and be as blank and noncommittal as possible in regards to our friendship. I wasn’t rude or anything, I just didn’t give her any hook to hang her hat on. I didn’t let her drink around me. I just tried to let things be as calm as possible.
A few days ago, she txts me freaking out about my birthday. She wanted to come but wanted me to EXPRESSLY invite her in a personal way. I told her that everyone was invited. But she wanted me to make things about her. Not surprisingly, with certain of my friends she was rude to confirmed to be in attendance, she didn’t show up.
So, last night, she sent me a bunch of messages over Twitter upset about what an “asshole” I’ve been to her. I basically replied that I hadn’t done anything to her and I was tired of her always assuming I was mad at her or saying things about her. Honestly, she interpreted nearly everything I said over the months I knew her, regardless of who they were about, as being about her.
I went to sleep and woke up to find that she had blocked me on Twitter and had left me a txt telling me off. I was like, wtf? What’s going on? And she proceeded to send me a series of txt messages telling me what a bastard I am. My responses were kept very impersonal, so as not to play into it. It just made her say nastier things. I’m an insane, alcoholic, bastard and she never wants to talk to me again.
And the whole thing is funny to me, because the number of people who ACTIVELY hate me in this world is small. Really small. And I really didn’t do anything to her, outside of not getting into a relationship with her.
That was my morning. How was yours?
Okay, so I’ve had this sort of thing going on in the background of my life involving a girl who started following me on Twitter last fall. She found me through our mutual LA friends, since I occasionally get to have conversations with them through the Twitter. She wanted to meet me since we both live in Bakersfield and, apparently, thought I was cute (DON‘T LAUGH! Okay, you can laugh…).
We wound up not meeting for a couple of months. When we did finally meet in late November, things went really weird really fast. We went out three times the last week of the month. In those three times, she jumped down my throat (literally), got jealous of my friends, and was totally weird, rude, and awkward towards everyone we came across. She was nice, but I could immediately tell that getting into a relationship with her would not go very well.
Before I go any further, let me just state for the record that she REALLY IS a nice person in a lot of ways. But she’s also, well, kind of crazy. I made an oblique reference to her in a public blog and she posted a reply that was very, ahem, offensive in regards to my, ahem, person in said public blog. Before I woke up and even saw this response, she sent me a txt message essentially saying, “I see how it is, I hope you have a nice life.” *blink, blink*
I deleted the comment and everything and she proceeded to call me about 10 times over the span of an hour. Eventually, everything sort of figured itself out. I told her that I wasn’t interested in getting into a relationship with her because I didn’t think it would work. But I was more that willing to try just being friends with her.
But even that didn’t go so well. She’d get drunk and cry. She’d proposition me. She outright tried to, ahem, do stuff to me. And I kept trying to let her down the gentlest way I could. A few weeks ago, we were hanging out. She got drunk again. She propositioned me again. After we parted ways, she mentioned on Twitter that she was in trouble. I asked what was going on and she told me,
“My boyfriend doesn’t like you and he doesn’t like it when we go out.”
*blink, blink* Wait, what? She was doing all of this while she had a boyfriend? OMFG! I was sincerely freaked out. So, I did my best to back off of her and be as blank and noncommittal as possible in regards to our friendship. I wasn’t rude or anything, I just didn’t give her any hook to hang her hat on. I didn’t let her drink around me. I just tried to let things be as calm as possible.
A few days ago, she txts me freaking out about my birthday. She wanted to come but wanted me to EXPRESSLY invite her in a personal way. I told her that everyone was invited. But she wanted me to make things about her. Not surprisingly, with certain of my friends she was rude to confirmed to be in attendance, she didn’t show up.
So, last night, she sent me a bunch of messages over Twitter upset about what an “asshole” I’ve been to her. I basically replied that I hadn’t done anything to her and I was tired of her always assuming I was mad at her or saying things about her. Honestly, she interpreted nearly everything I said over the months I knew her, regardless of who they were about, as being about her.
I went to sleep and woke up to find that she had blocked me on Twitter and had left me a txt telling me off. I was like, wtf? What’s going on? And she proceeded to send me a series of txt messages telling me what a bastard I am. My responses were kept very impersonal, so as not to play into it. It just made her say nastier things. I’m an insane, alcoholic, bastard and she never wants to talk to me again.
And the whole thing is funny to me, because the number of people who ACTIVELY hate me in this world is small. Really small. And I really didn’t do anything to her, outside of not getting into a relationship with her.
That was my morning. How was yours?
Sunday, February 1, 2009
I Hardly Part
Vodka. VIP. Photographic evidence. “Aaaaaaaaaand you’re naked.” Vodka. Kiss on the lips. Chocolate. Singha. “That’s not my name! That’s not my name! That’s not my name!” Vodka. Mexicali. “C’mon, let’s get high.” La-a. Vodka. From passive to aggressive to just not being there at all. Lemon drop martinis. Trigun. Police checkpoint. “What did you do in there?” Tee hee hee! Vodka. “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” Comparing tattoos. Frightening the norms. "They stole the sidewalk!" Breaking into the kitchen to borrow a knife. “I smoked out a Vietnam vet!” Vodka.
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