i moved to asheville in the first week of september 2007.

i didn’t think it would happen so quickly; but today my transformation into an ashevillean is complete.

i can no longer look at this place from an outsider’s perspective when i’ve succumb to so many of the traits that make ashevilleans, ashevilleans.

the latest part of this personal evolution was when i handed over my credit card to pay for a north face jacket at the frugal backpacker today.

fucking north face, for goodness sake.

that wasn’t the only evidence of my quick assimilation into granolaville, the other stuff was:

  • i used homeopathic medicine to calm the anxiety of the puppy.
  • i went to a radical faerie party.
  • i save yoga class schedules.
  • i had a 20 minute conversation about the textile art of rural indonesia.
  • i drove past a flock of canadian geese feeding on a neighbor’s yard, but didn’t freak out and wreck the car.

at this point, the only thing that could make me more ashevillean is if i have gender reassignment surgery to become a pot-smoking lesbian with 4 cats, a subaru outback, and a student loan for massage therapy school.

it’s obviously too late for me, but save yourselves.

turning ashevillean doesn’t hurt; but knowing it happened is kinda creepy.

namaste, y’all.


please don’t tell PETA

January 23 2008


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

January 21 2008

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’)

bang the drum slowly

January 19 2008

i wrote about bongo playing the other day. so to continue with the percussive instrument theme, i thought i’d share this video.

this film has nothing specifically to do with asheville, new orleans or new york.

but if you want to infer widespread, cross-cultural anthropological meaning from a half-a-second snapshot of people doing some arbitrary activity, feel free. that’s what i did.

here’s what i found out:

  • your own kids are cute; other people’s, not so much.
  • teenagers are sullen little shits.
  • women get a new burst of energy after menopause.
  • not many sullen little shits make it to their 90’s.

my favorites were:

  • 26
  • 37
  • 49
  • 53
  • 73
  • 78
  • 83
  • 91
  • 98
  • 100

special shout-outs to #91 and #100. you, ladies, rock.


I am slowly, but surely, learning the rules of conduct for living in the happiest place in america.

a neighbor told me that no one will be bothered if i decide to play the bongos on my porch …in my underwear, no less.

the implication is that this is a ‘live and let live’ kinda town that doesn’t limit creative expression

…well, except for one thing…

i have to “stop playing the bongos after 10pm on sundays” because people have to get up early to go to work on monday.


i feel all stifled and shit.

36 hours in new orleans

January 15 2008

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!

happy happy joy joy

January 12 2008





surely abc’s 20/20 friday episode about the search for happiness will be the talk of asheville for a while. this morning i had an email inbox full of warnings that i’m living in the happiest place in the USA.

nonetheless, as of this writing, i decided i won’t move yet. i’ll wait for my property value to go up in light of this breaking news, then i’ll sell and move to maine. (the central coast of maine will be the seattle of 2023… i’ll bet you a dollar.)

the producers of 20/20 got lucky and were able to slap together an hour about finding happiness from ideas out of The Geography of Bliss: One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World.

i’m not sayin’ Mr. Weiner is wrong about asheville being america’s happiest place. i’m just sayin’ my back hurts; i’ve got a 6-figure mortgage; and the new dog won’t stop pissing on my rugs. that’s all.

in case you’re not as happy as me, here’s my attempt to remedy that:

abc news has a companion piece to the show. a quote from the article:

Community, that’s the key. Community is why happiness can be found along with the high taxes in Denmark, the harsh rules in Singapore and the crushing poverty in India. One study found that the people living on the streets of Calcutta are happier that those in California. The homeless in Fresno may have more access to food and shelter, but what have the “houseless” in Bombay got? They have each other.

ok, the game is similar to adding ‘in bed’ to the end of the sentence from your fortune cookie.

replace every highlighted word in the quote with ‘asheville’.

Community, that’s the key. Community is why happiness can be found along with the high taxes in Asheville, the harsh rules in Asheville and the crushing poverty in Asheville. One study found that the people living on the streets of Asheville are happier that those in California. The homeless in Fresno may have more access to food and shelter, but what have the “houseless” in Asheville got? They have each other.

it’s funny ‘cuz it’s true.