miércoles, febrero 25, 2004

"Tourists, with their sensible sneakers and no-neck
children, lining up like lemmings to get a glimpse of Matt
and Katie at the Rockefeller Center fishbowl, have turned
the better part of Manhattan's Fifth Avenue into the Mall
of America. With the avenue's S.U.V.-choked traffic and an
Ann Taylor and a Gap on every corner, you might as well
window-shop in Minnesota."

If you want a sweatshirt appliqued with a portrait of loons rising in flight from a lake in the North Woods surrounded by howling timberwolves in moonlight and snow, the Mall of America can't be beat. But there's a reason why I prefer this 5th Ave.
Thanks Adam.

viernes, febrero 20, 2004

Fun Factoid

If you are scanning many documents with columns of numbers and the occasional horizontal line, the scanned images (as they appear on your monitor) combine to form a little stop-motion animated film of moving lines that is rather amusing entertainment on a Friday afternoon.

John Edwards, Neighborhood Advocate

"Edwards insisted that he will restore the jobs President George W. Bush's administration has dissolved. Citing the 286,000 jobs lost in New York state under the current president, Edwards said, "The president only knows one street in New York City--Wall Street." He continued, listing streets like 125th Street, Flatbush Avenue, and Jamaica Avenue, areas he hinted his administration might focus on."

Hmmm. It's not every day that the street you live on gets cited as "the people's" street. Or maybe just a fine example of urban squalor. But wait! I'm unemployed...
Columbia Spectator

jueves, febrero 19, 2004

You are now available for comment.

Nostalgia for Nostalgia's Sake

I've been spending too much time at This web site. It's just kind of funny, and Minneapolis is such a pretty place isn't it? There are so many lakes in the middle of the city. And it's just small enough that pretty much every photo can be annexed to some childhood event.

This fine example of riot-proof architecture is where I got asked out on my first date. I declined the invitation.

This would be the view from my locker. Note comments below the photo -- the balcony, between classes, was like the worst mosh pit at the most tightly packed concert you've ever been to.

In sum, high school. Until I was a senior there weren't any windows in the building, and then they put on a third floor with a couple of windows. But the majority of the building remained windowless. Mid-winter, if you were involved in any after-school activity you would get the before sun-up and leave after sun-down and that was it -- you wouldn't see daylight for months on end. What a dump. I went to South America for a year to get out. But I was happy to come back in the end.

This was the site of my summer job, renting canoes and selling ice cream with the ex-cons who would snort coke and steal people's sailboats at night. Sometimes they would find dead bodies. This lake is inside the city, for those who have doubts.

If you take a left at the top of this ramp you come to Bryn Mawr, the neighborhood where I lived (sadly neglected in the "neighborhoods" section, which only covers South Minneapolis and not the not-quite-so-nice parts of the city.) Not that Bryn Mawr wasn't very nice. Back in the pioneer days they would graze cattle in Bryn Mawr Meadows.

Isn't it so pretty? The midwest is pretty.

And somebody makes this every winter. If you're commenting on the houses obviously lake shore property is coveted, but nobody can own shoreline, there's bike paths all around.

So that's what it looks like where I'm from.

sábado, febrero 14, 2004

Happy Valentine's Day

"She hates the smell of newly mown grass, the ceaseless movement of the sea, the clackety clack of computer keyboards (which sounds like "mice MASTICATING"). She hates little old ladies. She hates scientists. She hates herself, and her body's disgusting functions. In fact, she hates the whole human race, "so unprepossessingly UPRIGHT, gangly, and so BARE," without fur or feathers: "Tiny despots in a universe that may be equally despicable."

She is grossed out by American suburbs and by the fat people who live there. She is incensed that people get horrible illnesses and die hideous, random deaths. And she is in an existential fury over the stupid, horrible meaninglessness of life, the absurdity of it all.

About the only things that Dot likes are sex with her husband, John, and dreaming about pie. "

Wow. I couldn't have said it better. More.

jueves, febrero 12, 2004

More famous friends:

Izzy Grinspan recently acquired an i-pod, a boyfriend and "L-Train Sex appeal". And a byline in the Voice! She must be very happy.

miércoles, febrero 11, 2004

Growl. Hiss.

domingo, febrero 08, 2004

From now on only shearling will keep me warm

I'm in Malibu trying to be a superstar. I thought that California was about boobs and bikinis but I was wrong. It's like Barbarella, or maybe Clan of the Cave Bear, uggs (ughs) on every man woman and child. Some with the added accessory of a swanky pelt over the shoulder. No leather loin cloths yet, but I haven't gotten out much. My friend's mom has the only pair of acceptable Uggggs in the neighborhood, hers reading "Malibu" down the back in Olde English font. I saw Sting lying on his deck in a bathrobe, Rod Stewart in a playground full of small pink ughs on swingsets, and Fred Siegal on a bench in a white v-neck cardigan, sans ugggs (as if).

I'm investigating the details of an $8 brand of peanut butter, called "Butter" with chunkE pistachios and hunny. Last night I was at a party that contained the following elements:
Checkered parquet floors
Hula-dancing lamp
Washed-up hollywood starletto, app. age 68
Cracked out fake-baker, app. age 16
Inventor of "Butter" in fur-cuffed coat (male)
900000 ft. television screen
pinball
jumbo pac of lighters
Brandon
Molly
Emily

The starletto swept me off my feet into a mangled foxtrot. Charmed, I sipped my 7&7 while he whispered unintelligible nothings in my hear. His dark suit, it was hollywood, he was washed up, I thought for a moment I was in Weetzie Bat but this was real. Marilyn Monroe was biting her lip in a portrait on the wall. The 'stang was outside with the top up.. .

I've let this project go to shit. My stats are down, no one comes here anymore and there's no one to blame but myself. I'm busy I'm busy. I'll be better. Promise. I have to say though that as I write this I am witnessing the most incredible sunset over the Pacific, palm trees sillhouetted against the pink sky, for all the world like the cover of my old Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. I heard there's a winter mix falling in NY. Winter Mix. Mix it up.

miércoles, febrero 04, 2004

Quero ser o dente e a faca

It's truly not neglect, I just have little of interest to report.

This Week:
(over and over) Tom Zé, Leonard Cohen, One particular song by Chico Buarque

(recent positive developments) V., Crimson Gold, when Zadie Smith writes, "These days, given the choice between a week in the Caribbean and a week reading A High Wind in Jamaica, I would probably still choose the book and the sofa."

(recent, actual, anticipated geography) Providence, NY, LA

(The golden age. And all the girls.) Antropofagia because, as it proclaims via manifesto, "Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays. Screenplays."

lunes, febrero 02, 2004

Birthday present of the week. Via Low Culture.