Jill Bolte Taylor, neuroanatomist

i went to 12 years of catholic school. so, of course, now i don’t practice any religion. i’m kinda like the guys who work at baskin-robbins that don’t eat ice cream after the first week on the job…

…it’s just too much.

but even wayward christians seem to go to church on easter.

the holiday and last week’s obama speech on race have me thinking about the power of the spoken word.

when i saw this video of ms. taylor, it reminded me of the passion and desire to connect with your fellow brothers and sisters that a good revival meeting can inspire.

her speech is not religious per se; but it does remind me of the emotional power an inspired preacher, or speaker in her case, can bring to an audience.

i teared-up listening to her because i felt the intensity of the self-revelation she was trying to explain and remind us of.

Brava to her
and
kumbaya to you

jeffrey kalinsky can kiss my ass

i left new york for the same reason mrs. jackson likes to shop at the dollar palace.

after a certain age, you just don’t feel like putting on a show for the neighbors.

for example, if you’re not planning on seeing the same people over the next few days, or even a week, let’s say, what’s the point of changing clothes everyday?

a nice pair of scrubs can take you from day to evening and back to day again.

if your bits ‘n pieces don’t stink, why bother?

“Sparkle, Neely! Sparkle!” is a hard lifestyle to maintain.

i don’t fit into any of my ten suits thanks to this newfound respect of drawstrings pants and ingles’ bakery department.

i’m tired; admittedly, not as tired as mrs. jackson, but tired nonetheless.

i just want to sit and have cake.

behold the power of kibble !

i took the dog to a park that has a pond. he now swims to fetch sticks. the first couple of times he went in i kept the lease on him in case i had to drag him out like a lobster fisherman.

now he jumps in on his own.

yes… yes…, i know most of you lead much more interesting lives so you have no time to fawn over wet animals. but, to me, this is a big deal.

given my background and personality, i shouldn’t have a dog. and even if i did, it should be one of those tiny, neurotic, yippy dogs named ‘chantal’ or ‘alexandra’.

i somehow ended up with a cool dog.

(thanks, ray-ray.)

lil’ TT update

there has been a boatload of emails asking how lil’ TT is doing in her new home.

to be honest, once i handed her over to mrs. e, i didn’t look back.

but my sister doesn’t have the willpower i do. so she had to know how the puppy was doing.

this is her email report to me:

I broke down and called Ms. E today. She seemed fine..neither happy nor sad to hear from me. I told her who I was and said I just wanted to know how it was going. She said, “we have a biting phase we have to get through”.I thought, “ut-oh”.
She said the dog has bit her a few times and has drawn blood.
YIKES.
She said they have a talk everyday about who is really in charge! I said, “I hope you are happy that you got her.” She kept saying, “we have to get through this biting phase”.

She also said that she started “puppy school” last week and that the puppy has already learned how to “Sit”. They are working on “down” now. She said that T.T. was hiding behind her legs the whole time…and finally started to try and play with the other pups once the class was over..she said she was much smaller than the other puppies.

She said that she took her to the vet to get her rabies shot and that it went well…and she now weighs 5 lbs. She said that she tries to bite her other dog Sugar and that Sugar snaps (but doesn’t bite her) and that the puppy will run to hide under the bed…all the while whimpering/crying and when the lady looks under the bed for the puppy she is there holding up her little foot…trying to get attention.

I said she is a little drama queen. She said “yes that is what i call her” and I said, “oh yeah, what is her name now?” and she said, “Muffin” but that her husband calls her “Banana Nut”.

I asked if she likes to cuddle and she said “No” but that she always wants to be around people…she will follow the lady or the husband from room to room but doesn’t want to be picked up and cuddled….the puppy does climb onto the sofa and lay on their laps or lays next to them…but it is more on her terms. She said her other eskies were the same way at times.

At one point I said, “Well I hope you love her”…and she said, “Oh yeah I do…she is so sweet BUT we have to get through this biting phase”. She then went on to say that maybe it is bc she was the runt and the runts always have to fight for what they have.

Ut-OH!!!

I told her good luck and that I hope everything went well and that I hope puppy school would help with her manners.

so the dog went from being ‘letitia’ to ‘muffin’.

i don’t know about you, but i find that hilarious.

banana nut muffin ?!?

hilarious.

good luck, muffin.

a $250,000 rothko ?

would you believe this is the latest rothko painting up for auction at sotheby’s?

…ok, it not.

but i only got this shot by agreeing to spend $250,000.00. so it’s just a bit behind the current prices fetched for similarly derivative modern art.

to me, these are more important and stress-inducing than owning an uninsured rothko during hurricane season.

the excavator didn’t show up to finish the dig for the garage addition i’m putting onto the house. so the huge hole in my backyard has just been a poo pad for the dog. after a week of taking the dog out in the morning, i’m very familair with every nook and cranny of this hole.

so i decided to harness my nervous energy towards a creative exercise and document the dig.

to defray the compounding interest of the construction loan while i wait for the fucking excavator to get out on bail and finish his job, i’m open to selling prints of my abstract expressionism.

here’s another one:

here’s the hole when not using the telephoto lens:

instead of shooting pictures, i should just shoot myself…

… $250,000…

…OMG

les poppys

les poppys

sometimes i think i should have taken french in high school instead of spanish.

but i wanted an easy ‘A’.
(mi tita hablaba español y vivio con nosotros haste que tuve cinco años.)

oh well, ‘c’est la vie‘.

happy mardi gras

happy mardi gras, y’all.

today’s super tuesday primary elections have knocked the yearly carnival bacchanalia off the front page.

but as you sit watching the results on CNN tonight, raise your wine glass to toast your brothers and sisters in new orleans who are celebrating this political season in the most appropriate way possible…

…drunk and partially nude.

out.

ps
a million thanks to Brian Postelle, Mountain Xpress, for the mention of my little writing exercise, distort the info.

to answer Brian’s question, i am a he, unless my home equity loan and mexican visa come through in time for the 2008 guadalajara trannie expo in april.

please don’t tell PETA

the foster puppy is in it’s new home. but as you can see my dog is still sufferin’.

when it’s too cold to go outside and the camera’s battery is fully charged, i can sense the dog getting nervous that a photo session is in the works.

i don’t want to go into the details as to why, but i had a boutonnière in the fridge.

so when the dog didn’t seem particularly busy…

snap, snap, snap…

…another cute doggie picture on the internet.

free at last, free at last

in the grand of tradition of twisting political speech into a pretzel of half-truths and partisan spin, i present a self-serving excerpt from martin luther king’s ‘i have a dream’ speech:

“…sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, “Free at last! free at last! thank Dog* Almighty, i am free at last!”

why bastardize the words of the civil rights leader on the memorial day of his life’s work?

well… besides being topical, it’s the best way for me to express the relief and joy i feel at having gotten a permanent home for ‘lil TT.

now the only thing biting, snarling and peeing in the house is me.

thanks to ‘mrs. e’ for adopting ‘lil TT.

i’ve been accused of not bonding with ‘lil TT because of my subconscious misogyny.
…i’m not paying for therapy again. so i guess we’ll never know.

what i do know is “free at last, free at last!”

here is my description of TT and i’s last moments together:

i met mrs. e at the vet’s office last night.

she got there before me. the whole fucking receptionist staff was also waiting.
6 mountain women in their puppy-and-kitten print scrubs were waiting to see the blind date between mrs. e and TT.

when mrs. e held TT for the first time, some of those receptionists started to tear up.
no joke.

i think the staff waited for me to get there so they could see this first meeting because 10 minutes after i got there 4 of the receps went home.

these mountain people are extremely sentimental or they got nothing better to do.

bye-bye, TT. i guess i luv ya, but my cold, cold heart won’t let me admit it.

(*as many a lesbian’s bumper sticker has taught me,
‘god spelled backwards is dog’)

out

36 hours in new orleans

taking inspiration from the new york times ‘36 hours in …’ travel series, i present ‘what the fuck did i do for 36 hours in new orleans?’

the itinerary suggestions the last time new orleans was highlighted by the ny times were fine. i’ve gone to every place on their list. there is not one clunker among their choices.

but using the photos i took from my christmas trip back to new orleans, how about this?

first, white linen tablecloths and gay waiters don’t come cheap. leave less than a 20% tip and you’ll get an every so subtle snear.

so sometimes quantity is better than quality. since the clock is ticking down to your flight home, just get a few hubig’s pies and a jug of your favorite beverage.

since you’ll be too woozy to drive, call united cabs (the drivers love to talk about race relations [i.e. benign racists, bless their hearts]. but they’ve seen it all. get them to talk about their weirdest fares and you’ll have a good time.)

where are you going?

well, of course, to the suburbs to see the ho’.

now that you’re drunk, broke and riding a sugar high, feel free to go ahead and get crazy.

make sure to stop by church to ask forgiveness for what you just done did before heading back to the airport.

“Laissez les bons temps rouler!“

even though i don’t like red…

that, my dear, is a good picture, if i do say so myself.

go on, you know you can skip your daily second venti latte for a week and forward some $.

home sweet home

it’s hard for me to explain why this picture makes me miss new orleans. but it surely does.

if you need a recipe for fun , its:

• diaper
• wig
• make-up
• gun

she’s crazy, but i love her. (i’m talking both about the guy in the photo and new orleans, itself.)

out

oh, and a tiara. a tiara is always good to have around… just in case.

you can open a bottle of beer with it; you can pawn it for bail money; you can use it to signal the rescue plane when you wake up in the swamps after a really, really bad date…

…you know… just in case.

what you doin’, girl?

here’s the latest on the puppy front:

lil’ T.T. keeps trying to suckle from my older dog’s penis pocket.

she’s 2 months old. at what age will she realize that ain’t her momma’s titty?

in the last couple of days, i’ve also learned that my older dog has the patience of a saint.

poor baby.

a creole christmas

i went back to new orleans for christmas.

new orleans is a wonderful place, a radiant phoenix rising out of the swamps.
(the cynical among you may think my cheerleading has to do with trying to sell my fucking condo there. shame on you. i excrete sincerity.)

i drove down with my sister who also lives in north carolina. she hadn’t been down for 2 years. one of our goals was to get a sense of the state of the city.

the most heartening single development i saw was on world famous st. charles ave.

borders is renovating the termite-infested former bultman funeral home. i know most people would prefer to keep the avenue all residential. but the location has been commercial forever. so the building, as it was, could have easily become a chinese buffet or a t-shirt shop.

that reno is going to cost a fortune, bless their hearts.

more stuff about 2007 new orleans to follow.

CU

the blizzard of ‘08

i experienced my first snowfall in the asheville mountains this tuesday.

i lived in the snow country of japan for 2 years. i never got a day-off then because of snow. those people don’t let a blizzard, let alone 2 inches of snow, keep them from work. before i got a car, i had to bicycle in the snow to get to work. they’re the #2 economy in the world for a reason. those bitches don’t play.

after 10 years in new orleans, LA and orlando, i got as nervous and excited as any other snow virgin.

i was too scared to drive the car, terrified of driving on ice with summer tires. so i had a snow day with the dogs. the older dog was confused for a minute. but he was running around like gazelle on coke for the rest of the day. the puppy just licked at the snow a bit, pissed and whined to go back inside.

another example of youth wasted on the young.

out.

ps
i’m not saying people around here have no common sense. i’m just curious why the gas company employee who came to the house to mark the underground gas lines prior to construction on the garage sprayed the yellow lines on the snow.

this is not antarctica. there is no permafrost.

the snow will be done in a day; won’t the pipeline marks be as well? if the contractor cuts a gas line and my house explodes, i’ll sue…

…right after i get out of the hospital.

2007 ends with a (dog’s) whimper, not a bang

my friend in new york asked me if i got laid on new year’s.

that didn’t happen. but i did get fucked.

first, a little background:
my sister is an over-educated, over-worked, underpaid social worker. a typical bleeding heart liberal …not that there is anything wrong with that, bless her heart.

she lost her dog a couple of months ago. so we’ve had lots of dog-centered conversations lately.

while we were driving down to new orleans together for christmas, she got a call from a friend who found an abandoned puppy and needed someone to take it in.

that’s where i come in.

it was ‘a perfect storm‘. my dog is great. i’m bored being ’semi-retired’. i had been thinking about doing volunteer work. it was the middle of the holiday season. and puppies are cute.

so i said i’d take the dog.

that’s when i got fucked. i fucked myself, actually.

i got ‘lil’ T.T.‘ on the 1st.

so far, i’ve been bitten three time. my hardwood cherry floors are stained with pee. and i’ve had to pick-up the most disgusting poop i ever had the displeasure to see.

she is a snarling, moody mess of white fur. she’s an orphan from the wrong side of the tracks. so i’m giving her some slack.

my patience will last as long as this box of band-aids does.

i should have taken up golf instead.

ouch.

( i am acting the martyr today. but, no, the pic is not of my stigmata.
it’s dog bite damage.)

pandering to the kidz

to expand my reader demographic, here’s a multipurpose video.

it’s mash-up of dolly parton’s cover of ’stairway to heaven’ by led zeppelin with cameos by pat benetar and the beastie boys, among others. the visuals seem arbitrary. so feel free to play the video in a minimized window.

dolly’s bluegrass period is worthy of investigating… much, much better than her pop stuff.

kudos to dj earworm.

UNCA radio should be doing this kind of shit.

out.

…and a diet coke, please.

to me it seems i’ve been complaining a lot.

this is an attempt to see the brighter side of life in asheville.

there are lots of good restaurants here, a mix of healthy, friendly places to fight the onslaught of chain restaurants.

so far, i’ve really enjoyed:

carmel’s
early girl eatery
fig
india garden
thai basil

so as not to appear to be a representative of the local restaurant association, let me tell you where not to go:

laughing seed cafe

in my humble opinion, it was an overrated disappointment. i went twice to make sure it wasn’t a fluke on the first visit. maybe the reason their bar area is so big is because drunken people won’t notice how ‘blah’ the food is. i’d rather get something at the salad bar at greenlife and donate the difference in price to charity.

i know it’s a popular place. please don’t hurt me.

but, trust.

my favorite new phrase

i didn’t think of it. neither did the guy who said it to me.

maybe it’s just the alliteration, not the subtext.

here it is:

“everything i resisted has persisted”

out.

my car ate the go-go’s

my first cassette tape purchases for the ipod touch of its time, a sony walkman, were the go-go’s and the talking heads. the go-go’s album, “beauty and the beat“, was my claim to hipdom. 1981, people. 19 fucking 81.

this week reality slapped me in the face. my aging process seems to be speeding up. i couldn’t lift my head off the bed because of a strained back. then the go-go’s tape i’ve had for 26 years popped.

my car is old enough to have come with a factor-installed tape player. after i listened to ‘we got the beat’, i pressed the button to switch to the other side of the tape. nothing, no music for 5 minutes. i hit the eject button and there was no more magnetic tape to be seen in the plastic case.

my car ate the go-go’s.

i solved the back trouble with muscle relaxers… lovely, lovely things, those pills. they address the problem without calories. double plus goodness.

but the cassette-chewing car is a problem i have yet to solve. i’m scared to stick another tape into the player for fear of losing more of my dwindling stockpile.

i hear that kids now burn cd’s for their cars. can one of you, young’uns, explain to me how bit-torrents work?

thanks in advance.

“into the wild”

i love to cry at the movies.

the theatre’s dark. no one can see you. no judgements. the huge screen envelops you into a space where it’s ok is cry. but it only happens if you lose yourself into the world of the director.

when desiring a good crying jag, see:

the sweet hereafter
finding neverland
hadashi no gen
the shawshank redemption
four weddings and a funeral (for my gay fans)

now add to that, ‘into the wild’

i resisted seeing the movie because i thought it would be a self-flagellational rant about the evils of our consumerist society. it’s written and directed by sean penn. so it’s a easy assumption.

but i thought it was an earnest attempt to express the effects of yearning and regret. it’s been playing in asheville for quite a while for a small indie film. thematically i completely understand how the film would connect to an ashevillean’s sensibility.

anyway, i cried like a baby.

feel free to analyze my emotional tripwires based on these movies. any insights you have will be appreciated.

out.

sucks big hairy chunks

asheville radio sucks big, hairy chunks of badness.

the fact that public radio earnestness runs right next to evangelical diatribes on the dial was funny for a minute. now that i realize that’s basically all there is, it’s not so funny.

the lettering on the ’scan’ button of the car’s radio is faded from my having pressed it so much in the last couple of months. i can program up to 9 stations on the car stereo system. so far, i’m using 3.

i realize catching radio signals in the mountains may be tough. there’s a huge antenna on mt. pisgah, use that for something worthwhile.

i wondered ‘who is going to pay for radio?’ when sirius and xm radio debuted. now the stiletto 2 is probably going on my amazon wish list.

yes, i have an ipod. but it’s a closed system. you only hear what you put in. there is no chance to be excited about a new band you just happen to catch on the way to the grocery store.

there’s an opening in the marketplace…come on, creative class, start researching how to fix this problem.

clear channel communications started somewhere.

out

ps
WRES is doing their best, bless their hearts.

editor’s note: (12/9/07)
the original post was edited after receipt of intelligence reports that in its original form the post would have lead to social unrest. if you are in possession of a screen capture of the original, unedited post, please destroy immediately. thank you.

if it doesn’t fit, you must …

 

 

either buddha or sally jesse raphael once said, ‘make each day an opportunity to learn.’

here is what i learned today:

• a dog can eat a medium-sized men’s leather glove.
• a dog cannot digest a medium-sized men’s leather glove.
• a new pair of gloves at target cost $19.99
• asking a vet to remove a glove from inside a dog costs $239.52

here is what i want to learn tomorrow:

• how a family of 4 can afford to live in this bobo paradise called asheville.

   

the whole thing

up until the last 10 minutes, the dog and i had been having a grand ol’ time.

he was starting to understand that ‘playing fetch’ involves returning the ball to me, not just chasing, catching and then spitting it out.

then it happened.

i took off my gloves to get the leash out of my pocket. one of the gloves fell to the ground. the dog promptly ate it.

no, he didn’t just rip it up. he ate the entire glove.

i’m not fast enough to catch a dog. i offered dog-training treats in exchange for the glove. but the dog could not have cared less. he had a genuine leather glove. he probably thought to himself, ‘i don’ need no stinken kibble. i got your glove, mutha-fucka!’

can dogs digest leather?

i guess we’ll find out in a couple of days.

out.

ps
i don’t know why, but having the dog’s internal dialogue sound like al pacino in ‘scarface‘ just seems appropriate.

chamber pop

does everyone know about this musical classification?

while digging through amazon.com, i saw the genre, chamber pop. i’d never heard of the category before.

here’s the quote from wikipedia:

Modern baroque pop, characterized by an infusion of orchestral arrangements or classical type composition within an indie or indie pop setting, is often referred to as CHAMBER POP, and sometimes chamber rock. This style, leaning heavily in an indie-rock direction, has sometimes been identified as a common feature of many of the most influential and widely-known indie bands in Canada; many of these bands are quite large for rock outfits and make full use of the additional personnel to create a fuller-bodied, more orchestral sound.

it seems the genre covers: arcade fire, the national, antony and the johnsons, sigur ros, interpol, rufus wainwright, etc. etc.

i like them because all their music seems to written in a minor chord.

please buy some music from antony and the johnsons. quirky souls like him deserve to be rewarded, not fergie or maroon 5.

out

ps

here’s a little gossip for you:

rufus and i went to the same gym in new york…probably the gayest gym in the tri-state area. we both liked to relax in the sauna after our training sessions. that’s where i noticed his little buddha belly… very cute.

he’s a belter in concert, kinda like ethel merman. but his strong diaphragm is hidden under rolls.

rufus rolls.