just playing around — low res
aka vlog you! aka what the vlog? aka i’m such a geek.
my new video camera hasn’t arrived yet, but i’m anxious to start my vlogging to you, dear evijhserf reader. check this video for an explanation for what’s going on…
how are you doing?
how’s l.a. treating you?
are you settled yet?
questions asked repeatedly by a plethora of friends over the past few months. friends trying to be helpful, trying to connect, trying to lend an ear. however, whenever i’d hear these questions, it would cause me to derail into a long-winded rant about the 1000 things i need to do and how i’m so busy and and and no, i don’t feel settled, yet.
this past week i definitely feel settled. los angeles feels like home. am i local? am i american again? am i valley boy? do i still have a slight british accent? i have no idea. but, i no longer wake up each morning with a sense of dread [gotta paint, gotta unpack, gotta go through 3 months of mail, gotta buy... lighting/power converters/car insurance/etc].
the saving grace is that i’ve managed to reconnect with loads of wonderful friends, make some amazing new contacts, and keep my social calendar full enough to not be lonely. london friends—i miss you dearly, and you’re irreplaceable. but, i have needs :)
somehow, in the past 2 weeks, i’ve found myself at five birthday parties.
first was lemar, a soft-spoken and mild-mannered lad i knew in san francisco 5 years ago, who, although he turned 27, looks as innocent as ever. i met approximately 20 of his friends, exchanged contact details with approximately 4, and bodily fluids with approximately 2.
i already wrote about peter‘s 30th. to sit around with my best gay pal from college, and not just reminisce but of course catch up… really helps my psyche to connect the painful [well, not really] past of college with my post-london life now.
christopher treated 12 of his friends to a very swank, very cozy dinner at the edendale grill in silverlake replete with place settings and custom centerpieces. he looked quite possibly as adorable as he ever has, but maybe that’s just because he has some of the hottest girlfriends in l.a. i’m building a website for him as a gift.
stopped by guy’s, an elegant but heaving hip hop club near the beverly center late last wednesday for some stiff drinks with one of my colleagues. good to see that we geeks know how to party, and can manage to have fun outside the office with nearly no mention of work ;)
and, then, last night was gio’s birthday. being a very attractive straight boy, he dragged his 12 closest friends to the so-divey-it-hurts filthy sleazy gay bar mother lode. gio very closely resembles fez from that 70s show, and has an unhealthy obsession with lindsay lohan. and, he usually flirts with me. well, he doesn’t beat me up when i flirt with him.
it was last night, as we swam from the mother lode to the abbey that i really started to feel in my element. i’ve been on the ground in l.a. maybe 5 weeks, but i was running into friends around every turn, and enjoying l.a. living.
if it were london, i’d be in a smoky bar surrounded by foreign students, getting ready for dancing until the wee hours. slamming back cheap vodka-and-cokes and getting sweaty.
last night, i was chillaxing outside, enjoying my old pre-london staple of absolut kurant and tonics. receiving smiles and ass-grabs and compliments from my new neighbors. feeling very much at home.
it’s not better, it’s not worse, it’s different. i’m different. in a sense, it’s sort of a birthday for me—the true beginning of my life in america.
wah wah wah you never update your site anymore wah wah boo hoo.
in about a week or so, i’m gonna start with a funky new format of blogging which i think is (1) somewhat revolutionary (2) very much ahead of its time [well, unless this actually happens] (3) bizarrely, more convenient for me and (4) might possibly get me arrested.
i have a list of about 400 stories i want to share. this list nags at me, eats away at me, causes me pain from my groin down to my toenails. i see traffic to the site continue to explode, and i know if i don’t start ponying up more juicy tidbits my visitors from around the world will stop visiting.
i’ve been getting all sorts of interesting/freaky/flattering/foreign fanmail recently. i sometimes forget that i have actual readers.
from a very cute brazilian lad in sao paulo:
life is funny, life’s a mess sometimes a curse, sometimes a blessing don’t worry ’bout a thing, don’t worry ’bout it. life gets sticky, life can bruise. sometimes you win sometimes your losing. no matter what it brings don’t worry ’bout a thing.
from an equally cute lad in cheboksary, russia:
my name is aleksei. i have become interested in your structure. i would like to learn about you more. i would be glad to begin the attitudes with you. if you too are interested, please write on my box.
thanks boys. this week should be filled with updates, and, keep checking back for the new crazy gimmick i’m about to unleash on all y’all.
meeting people in 2005 has never been easier. in the past few weeks, i’ve met or corresponded with people via:
this blog
myspace
orkut
faceparty
flickr
boysgo
meetro
friendster
okcupid
cyberstalking has never been easier, i tell ya! the blog is the clearinghouse for my personal brand. the hair, the tattoo, the gift shop, the logo… it’s all brand merchandise that reinforces my online and offline existence. meta is the new black.
a substantial part of my childhood bordered on hillbilly sensibilities. we had pickup trucks, we had junk in our front yard, and we had a whole slough of pets. rabbit, cats, even an alligator. at one point we had some nine cats, many of them inbred, and i had the dubious chore of dealing with their litter boxes. they hated me, they bit me, they purposefully crapped outside their boxes to spite me, and i hated them back. to this day, i really really really don’t care for cats.
in my early teens, my mom decided enough was enough. we got rid of most of our menagerie, she got rid of my hillbilly stepfather, and we upgraded to a much nicer house. to celebrate, we got a new pooch… a goofy black-and-white haired terrier, who we named freckles [not pictured above].
i adored having a dog… as they say, the difference between cats and dogs is that dogs think that you’re god, whereas cats think that they’re god. for me, the difference was freckles would wag his tail and get excited to see me, whereas those goddamn cats would just have diarrhea everywhere to spite me.
freckles and i would go for walks, hang out, do tricks. he was a dumb dog, though, and with so many kids coming-and-going at our new house, he would always try to sneak out the front door. he didn’t understand the dangers of traffic, and my mom would, at least five times a day, scream at my brother michael, close the front door so freckles doesn’t run out!
like most teens, michael (a) didn’t listen to instructions very well, and (b) would do things just to spite his mother. well, one day freckles ran out the front door, i started screaming at michael to go follow after him, michael pretended not to hear me, feigning ignorance: what? what dog? huh? what door? what are you talking about, bro?
i ran to the vet when they said they found him in the street. he licked my hand as they put him to sleep… he’d suffered massive injuries after getting run over right in front of my house. a lovely old lady who was walking by found him, picked him up and rushed him to the vet. she was covered in blood. i cried my eyes out, and was so angry with my brother that i didn’t speak to him for 6 months.
—–
about a year later, my mom surprised us with another dog, this time a goofy puppy—a tan-haired shepherd mix. he was ridiculously excited when we came home from school that first time to see him. i played with buster for a few hours, before heading down to my new i’m a teenager now, i need my own space bedroom in the basement with my friend matt.
matt opened up the basement door, and the goofy new puppy ran over. standing precariously at the top of the stairs, buster reached one paw forward to step down, immediately tumbling down the stairwell. halfway down, he fell off the side of the stairwell, dropping from a height of 8 feet or so onto the concrete floor.
i rushed down, to find him splayed out, motionless. matt! you killed our new dog! i started punching my friend. you idiot! how could you! after about 10 seconds, buster jumped back to life, as if nothing had happened.
for the whole 15 years of his life, he always acted like a dumb, innocent puppy… i attribute this of course to his general good nature, but also in part to my friend matt dropping the dog on his head all those years ago.
buster was the sweetest pooch… always so ridiculously excited to see you. in high school, when i’d come home from school, he’d be crying with excitement as i’d unlock the door. lately, when i’d come home for my yearly trips, he’d be so excited to see me he’d lose his voice yelping, and would very often pee all over the place when i’d first arrive, spending subsequent days just sitting and staring at me, as i sat in front of the computer or watched teevee.
my mom and brother had to put buster down last weekend, he’d pinched some nerves in his leg and spine, and was limping in horrible pain. when i was back in indiana this june, i took him for walks every day, letting him chase the geese and even letting him roll in some fish guts at wolf lake—presumably his two favorite pastimes.
that dumb dog is up in doggie heaven, i’m sure. my mom tells me she’s said a prayer, asking god to put buster with the other puppies, not the dogs his own age, cuz he’s way too dumb to hold his own with the big dogs.
i have an unhealthy obsession with depeche mode… it started in my teens, manifested itself when i lived in east germany for a bit, and has stuck with me over the years. with my return to los angeles [the city with the highest concentration of "modern rock" fans, and of depeche mode fanatics], it’s great to feel a sense of acceptance.
i’ve been to, erm, 13 concerts, have met all the boys but martin, and have some 2000 mp3 remakes/remixes. i got a leaked copy of their new album playing the angel last week, and have been rocking out to it nearly nonstop.
i think playing the angel is their best album since violator, which dropped hits like policy of truth, personal jesus and enjoy the silence on us nearly 15 years ago. songs of faith and devotion [1993] was too grungy, and reminds me of dave’s battle with heroin and suicide attempt. ultra [1997] was poppy and enjoyable, but didn’t stick to my ribs. exciter [2001] was fun, but too overly-produced. the new album has songs that grow on you, that sound great loud, that are catchy and very very much depeche mode.
it seems like dm will never return to its electro/synthpop roots, much to my dismay. but, as a rock band, i think they’re capturing a new generation of moody teenagers… the emo kids of suburban middle-america… the eyeliner boys and the ripped fishnets girls that don’t identify with the current pop euphoria taking over the nation.
1. a pain that i’m used to—the opening screech is reminiscent of in your room, the transitions directly to the stereo raindrops of halo. kooky. dave singing about pain? of course it works. grungy and loud, but with crisp vocals that make it all okay.
2. john the revelator—a hit. a bluesy, soulful, jazzy hit. not bad for some boys from basildon. should be released as a single.
3. suffer well—the first track penned by dave… so much better than his paper monsters crap. a bit too happy for dm, but that hook, that delicious hook makes me smile. or try to sing along—a good sign.
4. the sinner in me—a song to have sex to. dirty sex to. guilty sex to. i’ll never be a saint… that’s not a picture that your memory paints…
5. precious—the first single. somber, sad, ethereal, sour. you’ll enjoy it much more after seeing the video. the chorus grows on you, for sure: things get damaged. things get broken.
6. macrovision—i used to have a thing for martin. his voice is a delicious compliment to dave’s… over the years he’s grown into more and more of a sultry black diva, and this song has some sweet gospel-like qualities to it. powerful.
7. i want it all—smooth. another ballad from dave. not bad, but it doesn’t fit on the album. should’ve been saved for paper monsters: 2.
8. nothing’s impossible—sounds like moby, tastes like moby. oh, wait, it’s from dave. don’t play it too loud while driving—the crazy sound effects which sneak in when you least expect it can cause your brain to hypnometize itself.
9. introspectre—a nice instrumental song to doze off to. or to set as your annoying ringtone. or to play at a haunted house.
10. damaged people—a beautiful, beautiful ballad featuring martin, that builds and builds from somber sadness to triumphant love. his vocals really stand out on this album.
11. lillian—i reckon this will be the third single off the album… bouncy, catchy, rocky with pop production. i think this might be the fastest track on the album.
12. the darkest star—movie credits? closing theme song? a bit of a downer, even for depeche mode. too sad.
lots of winners on this album… lots of mainstream hits, lots of unique sounds. is it classic dm? i’d argue yes. it’s not synthpoppy, it’s not industrial, but it’s soulful, it’s dark, and it’s catchy. perfect for a new generation of teenagers to enjoy in their bedrooms with the lights out and the headphones cranked up.
i was beginning to understand something about normality. normality wasn’t normal. it couldn’t be. if normality were normal, everybody could leave it alone. they could sit back and let normality manifest itself.
but people had doubts about normality. they weren’t sure normality was up to the job. and so they felt inclined to give it a boost.
—middlesex
by jeffrey eugenides
[via micha]
by jeffrey eugenides
[via micha]
for no particular reason, i’m having a massive case of the sunday blues.
i should be on top of the world—the sun is shining, and life is superb, by all accounts. or is it? i dunno.
i’ve had to cancel three dates this week, which kinda sucks. busy. moody. tired. cranky. i seem to be pushing people away, pretending that i’m just not ready. in actuality, i think i’m just confused with what i want.
i had a great time and won tons of money in vegas. perhaps my liver is still recovering from those bloody apple martinis. ugh. was good to hang out with the crew, again.
i met a gaggle of fun and interesting peeps on thursday at lemar’s birthday party at spank at o-bar. they detected an accent. i played up my london-ness. how much longer am i allowed to do that?
i finally painted my apartment. 6 colors. maybe it’s the fumes? so much work, i should’ve just bloody hired someone to do it for me. i love d.i.y., there just aren’t enough hours in the day for me to get move my life forward.
last night saw a gaggle of lloydies to celebrate pete’s 30th birthday. first time i’d seen most of them in 5 years. good times. started at barn burner barbecue and concluded with invisible cocktails at the ritz carlton. it was blissful.
perhaps, at the very core, is me struggling to define who i am [now] and what my life is going to be like in l.a.… i could very easily, for the next 10 years or so, cling to stories of my adventures in london, reminiscing, telling amazing anecdotes, and trumping myself up to be something more exotic than i am.
the upside, i reckon, is that it’s a lot easier than i feared to meet people here… should i just have fun, or should i carefully, ruthlessly maneuver myself into the social circles i need to be in? how do i sort through, filter? do i want to be the smart one, or the wild one, or the quiet one?
i’ve always hated sundays… not for the usual back to school/back to work reasons, but going way back to when my parents divorced… spending sundays with my dad was always difficult… partially because i was spoiled rotten while there, and i hated coming home to mom, but partially because i felt more at home at mom’s, and always a little bit confused at dad’s.
it’s times like this when i wish i had a healthy drug habit to make things better. instead, i think a frozen coffee concoction of some sort will have to do the trick. maybe with a sprinkle of barbiturates on top.
found myself in las vegas earlier this week… it was open bar from start to finish, and that little sliver of functioning liver [hey, that rhymes!] is wholly pickled by now.
it was, by far, the most v.i.p. version of vegas i’ve experienced. my tummy is still delighted by the dinner at smith and wollensky [red meat that melts in your mouth! shrimps bigger than my arm! salad with bacon!] i’m still impressed by boogieing on the 55th floor at the ghost bar. and, finally, the karma gods are reimbursing me for the drama i’ve experienced in the past few years…
roulette is a simple game of chance. you bet on one of 38 numbers, and if the ball lands on your number, you get a 35-to-1 payoff. there’s a bogs family tradition of betting on black eight, as it’s proved to be lucky on many occasions, going way back to my dad and his four brothers striking it rich in monte carlo all those years ago.
i was incredibly lucky this week, with the ball landing in black eight time after time after time. this, coupled with the good luck i experienced on my last trip to vegas two months ago, makes me think that the planets are re-aligning for me.
i treated myself to 2nd row center tickets to the upcoming depeche mode concert [i'll be reviewing their new album playing the angel tomorrow—it's great!] i bought a myriad of gadgets, including not only a new mini-dv camcorder, but the necessary bells and whistles to allow for v-casting [e.g. video podcasting]. this will help me share my stories on evijhserf even when i’m tired of sitting in front of the computer, or when i’m on the road.
