Davey Calls Miranda

"Hey. I'm drunk already, and it's only eight here."
"Hahaha! You kill me. Davey, how did you get drunk so early?"
"There was La Fin Du Monde involved. Apparently I'm not gangsta enough to handle such high voltage beer."
"Hey. Question."
"Yeah, shoot."
"You've never written a piece about me."
"That's not a question."
"You know what I'm saying."
"Well, you've never written a piece about me; I mean, I can't write about you, you're a writer. That always seems weird. But hey, I mean, I've written pieces for you, a lot in fact. Five or six. That's more than anybody, I think. Dude, I just wrote the Cake essay for you."
"You wrote a piece about Mathisen, he's a writer. And he's brilliant. Brilliant."
"Yeah, one. And it was like 10 lines long. And flattering. And I only wrote that in part to expose the whole I-know-that-you-know-that-we-all-know-that-Davey-was-forwarding-our-e-mails-to-each-other thing. I thought it was funny. And kinda poignant. Hmm, you know? The three of us. All we have."
"Right. Stories. I remember. But like, I mean, can't I be your muse, you know...just once?"
"Muse. That is the worst title anyone can have--trust me, I've dated lots of musicians. I hate it."
"You can never have your muse, you know? I mean, how much of all of this, everything around us and all of our stories and all of our everyday everything is all based around this one idea that there are beautiful women out there that men can't have. Soft and curvy and deliciously beautiful women. I guess it's worth it you know? Even if stories are all you can ever have."
"Yeah. S'pose. Have you talked to Mathisen lately?"
"Not since I was in New York. Not really."
"That's kid's too stressed out for his own good."
"Yeah, it can happen. Get him drunk."
"C'mon, that's a great idea."
"Oh, Miranda. I so knew it--there was some deal sealing. I knew it! This is great, you know? Like it's all coming full circle, and it was all me. I created it, and it was all me. This is terrible. Perfect.
"Whoa, slow down. You're drunk."
"I'm sorry, you know? I mean, I left something out a year ago. I mean, I didn't mean to hurt you, but you need this. I need this. I know both of you, and I need your heart torn out and tossed into the Bay. I want tears and pining and ice cream and all of the everything else that goes with that. I want cake. And don't you see that this is perfect? That you could be so terribly hurt and I could write the greatest story ever told. Don't you see it? Don't you want this?"
"What? What the fuck? Wait, back up. You left something out?"
"Yeah, well what I meant to say was 'Mathisen is everything you're looking for in a boy, but he's a heartbreaker'. It's the eyes."
"If it's anything, it's the dimples. That being said, there's no such thing as heartbreakers, only heartbreakee's and people who know they've allied themselves with one. Trust. I've been on both sides. That being said, are you saying that you gave me Mathisen's number a year ago so you could write a story? A STORY? And dude, on that note, slow you're roll. But what if things had gone as you had planned? What if, just like in all of your dreaming and scheming, I was left in a puddle of tears while you're typing away--you could be okay with that? Since when do people think I'm so susceptible to stuff like that? And hey, since when are we writing about other writers anyway?"
"Yo, homes. That's you're rule, not mine."
"Hmm. Muses? Fine. Done."
"Fine. Both of you are crazy. Brilliant. Beautiful. I can't believe you guys sometimes. Oh my god, you wanted a story. A story. I'll give you a story."
"No, I wanted a great story. The greatest story."
"Mine'll be better. Heartbreak not included. Trying to play God with two of my friends for a year also not included."
"You think?"
"Well, it's either that, or I get you back for this some other way."
"Cool. Story. Stories are all we have."
"Dude, I should be mad at you. Why aren't I mad at you?"
"'Cause I'm so unbelievably adorable."

[New piece soon. As per his wish, it stars Davey. Brilliant, crazy, beautiful Davey--cameos at this time seem to be forming around Mathisen, Olmstead, maybe Hunts and a little Jen up in there. Note that I only agreed to this 'cause he promised to write a song about me. A song that I actually like this time. It's funny how just when you think you have free will, you end up somebody's muse. Airplanes. Flight. Sex? Pass.]


Milkshake Moure, after much struggle, ties previous record. Gang rejoices with her.

Sometimes, you just have to pause and appreciate this time in our lives that is called our youth. Rockass.


Miranda Calls Jen

“He-he. He-he-he. Hahahahaha!”
“Alright. What’s his name wifey.”
“Hahahahaha! You fucking kill me. I’m assuming it was good.”
YES. Way good. Finally.”
“Finally? What do you mean?”
“Bad week.”
“Right. Gotcha. Gimme the stats.”
“Um…like 6’2”, dirty blond, blue eyes. Dimples. Bartender, and…”
“And what? Oh god. Miranda, if you say he’s 23, I’m gonna slap you through this phone.”
“He is, isn’t he.”
“Yeah. But Jen…”
“He’s a 23 year old musician, right?”
“On the nose. Singer songwriter.”
What? But that’s the…”
“Worst kind. I know. I’m aware of that, but this one is sooooo different.”
“No he’s not.”
“Okay, that’s true, but he’s way pretty.”
“Sean pretty?”
Keene pretty?
“Yeah dude, I know.”
“So, what now?”
“Well, now I called you.”
“And is he gonna call you?”
“Oh my god, he has your phone number, doesn’t he.”
“Yeah, just a little bit.”
“And then I’ll call you in a couple weeks when I’m pissed off ‘cause he’s ‘working on his music’ instead of working me.”
“Yeah. well that’s a good plan.”
“Thanks. I thought so myself.”


Back in Black

Thanks for meeting me again. It’s been quite some time.
It hasn’t been that long. We spoke last February. February 21st.

Right…yes, I have that in my notes here. You seem different.
My hair is straight.

No, I mean, you seem different. You seem more smiley.
Yeah, I s’pose I am. Smilier. Shinier. Awesomer.

Smilier is not a word. I thought you were quite proficient in things of this sort. In our February conversation you said…let me see…”
I said “my only real talent lies in my proclivity for growth and knowledge of English words.” That being said, smilier is a word. I just said it. Just now, I was all: “smilier”. But I can’t spell. At all.

Ah, yes. Your memory. I remember now.
I remember always. Well, not always. Like one time, a long time ago, I slept with a friend of mine. Twice. I never told him that I was so wasted that I have virtually no recollection of it whatsoever.

Do you still see him?
Of course I do. All the time.

Are you still sleeping with him? Plan to?
Of course not. I wouldn’t touch that now that I live here. I was on vacation at the time. It’s weird, yeah? Now he lives a few blocks from me. Weird, huh?

Sure. I can see how it might be odd. Last time we spoke, you said there was a boy on the horizon. Any news?
No. No news. I’m better, yes. Much better. But I’m not quite there, you know? This one…I mean this one would warrant at least an essay or two. Maybe a short story on top of it all. He would definitely warrant a lot of my time. Thoughts. What have you. I’m not there yet. Maybe I’ll do something about it next month.

It seems like it’s been an awfully long time for you to be waiting to make a move. Have you thought about timing? That it may be limited?
Ahh, yes. The window. I’ve missed that window so many times. I’m not too worried about it, though.

Not too worried? You must be keeping yourself occupied in the meantime.
Occupied. Yes, that’s probably a good word for it. I’ve been ‘occupied’. Ha ha.

A lot?
Yes. I’ve been writing a lot.

So then it’s not a stretch for me to assume you’ve been ‘occupied’ a lot as well.
That would be a safe assumption. It usually is with me. Although it’s strange, I haven’t written about any of them. The ‘occupiers’ if you will.

Occupiers is not a word.
Actually, that one really is.

Right. So why the radio silence on the recent conquests? Will we ever get to hear your take on them?
Yeah, that’s just the thing, you already have. I haven’t written a word about them because I already have.

So you’re saying that you have been…occupied with them on previous dates.
Oh, no. I don’t date. Not really. I mean, not to get all tied up in semantics, but we gotta call it something else.

No, I meant times. Before now.
Right. I knew that. Oh! Like days. On a calendar.

Right. So you’re saying they’re not new partners.
Yes. I mean, that too—but even the new ones, you know? It’s like, okay. This is my neighborhood bar, and these are all the pretty boys in it and all of us are all here every night. Yeah, been there, done that. In every city, right? So all of these boys are the same. They’re just like the aging punks and bad musicians that hang out at my bar in Seattle or Miami. But it’s too easy, it’s hard to draw the line. I mean, I hang out there ‘cause it has a great jukebox, $2 Oly’s, and there’s never a line for the bathroom ‘cause I’m the only chick there. This has other perks than just not waiting for the bathroom. It’s just too easy.

Maybe you’re too easy.
Yes. You’d be surprised how hard it is to be this easy.

The dilemma makes it hard? Of where to draw the line?
No. Straightening my hair makes it hard. It takes like…at least half an hour.

And…right. I’ll admit, you’ve completely lost me.
Oh, yeah. It’s so much easier that way, you know? Makes the walk of shame a lot less shameful. I mean, I know I can spot curly sex hair from at least a block away. But straight? Way harder. That way I can go to the coffee shop before going upstairs and changing and the guy who owns it won’t notice. Won’t think I’m just getting home. Well, depending on what I’m wearing.

Is that why you wear sunglasses at night and tennis shoes out on Saturdays?
Ha ha. Yes. Just in case. Fridays especially. Oft on Fridays I’ll carry a toothbrush, extra condoms, and a clean t-shirt.

So you sound pretty much back to normal. Strange considering it was just about a month ago the last time you said you were never having sex again.
Yeah, I never mean that. Duh. Like when I’m all like “No really—no musicians, no exceptions.” That one never works out either, although I’ve done fairly well. Most recently I’ve sworn off re-running. That probably won’t happen.

Yeah, sleeping with people you’ve done before. You know, I think it would keep everything more…kosher. Simpler.

So you’re admitting sex can be complicated?
It’s complicated. I’m easy.

So the ‘no re-running’ thing. Do you see this actually panning out?

That’s awfully succinct.
Yes. It’s the hair. The hair.

Right. You have an extensive grooming regimen. I believe you wrote about this in a piece called “The Curse of Great Beauty”.
No, I had an extensive grooming regimen. Although, I will admit that I’m back up to 14 products and 9 pieces of hardware. Of course, that includes my toothbrush but…Oh goddamnit! That reminds me, I need to go buy a new hairdryer.

Huh. Well, Ces’t la vie.
What is it with you? I still don’t speak French.


The New Guerrilla Literatti

Some notes on today:

1. Contemplating a new layout for my blog. Neat.
2. Met a girl named Heather, whom I've actually met before, who's parents are publishers. Hahaha. That is hilarious. She also lives a block from me and remembers me from my hay-day of being the coolest kid in Lower Haight.
3. Heather is a writer.
4. Had some lame sex last night. Am missing my recent days as a serial re-runner even though I swore it off [again].
5. Her parents are publishers. Hahahahaha.
6. Thay also own a bookstore.
7. Had so much fun last night. Moto, Pant and Ollie are some of the most quality boys this world has to offer.
8. Ron lost his phone. I haven't called anyone yet and dished about the lame sex.
9. Publishers. Hahahahaha.
10. It wasn't completely lame, but it wasn't like really-fucking-mind-blowing-fantastic either. It was more like this-will-work-for-now-'cause-he's-hot-but-still-making-me-consider-giving-Shaun-another-chance okay. Hahahaha. That is hilarious.



Have been thinking about this alot in the past year, as this lovely little blog of mine combined with the rarity of my last name[s] has brought scores of people from my past back into my life.

I don't know quite where I'm going with this.

But it can be a bit scary, no? I mean, time will allow us the ability to romanticize the relationships you had with people, and such is the beauty--but then after all of this time upon reconnecting? Well, sometimes you'll be lucky enough to find that your old girlfriend, after eight years, is still just like you. Dope, right? Right. Well, sometimes you'll find that after so many years, someone you love and trusted more than anyone will drop you a line only to remind you that the boy who sexually assaulted you and two of your girlfriends in highschool is doing great! Oh wow! I'm so fucking glad to hear that! Wow, you guys had drinks the other night? Awesome! Did he rape you? No? Oh. Too bad. Well, good to hear he's doing well! Give him a huge hug for me next time you see him, allright? God, I miss both of you so much!



"Take ten for lifebooks."

After further perusal of my eighth grade notebooks, I have decided that I'm totally not done talking about them.

I can't quite tell if I intended them to be as funny as they are now when I (and Meg, Jono, Rosanne, Mike W., etc...) wrote them, but I'm guessing not. Such is the magic of time--it takes the day to day life of a twelve year old and turns it into comedic gold. Oh my god, some of this stuff made me do the following:
1. Laugh out loud
2. Pee my pants
3. Have cheap white wine squirt out of my nose

I've picked my top five favorite entries to share just in case you're curious as to what I was like when I was twelve and thirteen. Also, I've added some beautiful pictures that I drew to share with you as well. Keep in mind this is TOTALLY REAL. Enjoy.

1. Oh my god, 31 hours and 50 minutes. That's how much longer until the Pearl Jam Concert and Caleb's not even going! Oh my God! Megan and Lauren are going to the one tonight, but they don't have general admission either, so none of us can mosh. That sucks. Too bad Shena's not going, that would be hella fun. Brent will be there, but I'm mad at him anyway. Whatever. Karisa and Jane are coming over and then we're all going together. Oh my god! I have to do laundry cause all my flannels are dirty and I want to wear the brown one.
[The next entry expounds on how awesome the concert was and how Karisa, Jane and I were standing in the back row with lighters lit chanting "FUCK YOU CLOWN" during Glorified G.]

2. Oh my god, this substitute is retarded. She asked us what we wanted to listen to during lifebooks, so Willie put on Vs. Yes! This rocks! Pearl Jam during lifebooks! Lauren's hair looks hella stupid. Oh my god, Patrick Edwards is all "this rock alternative stuff is stupid!" and "this is Beavis and Butthead music" and all this stuff. At least it's better than that crap Becker always puts on. Super Suck Music. I hate SSM. It fucking sucks!
[This one is the funniest things I've ever read in my life. From now on, when I'm at a bar and someone's like: "hey, what kind of music do you listen to?" I'm gonna be all like "Oh, you know. Mostly SSM. The early stuff anyway. The later stuff is a little derivative."]

3. Mike and Megan are trading pencils. Mr. Becker is talking about Francis Bacon, but Willie, Megan and Mike are talking about [another kid in our class] Francis Yoshida. I'm just writing in my lifebook and wishing Mr. Becker would shut up instead of yelling at Megan to behave. I wonder why Caleb doesn't talk to me more in 2nd and 3rd period? Probably cause of that bitch Melinda. Whatever. I like Pearl Jam way more than her. Oh my god, I want the new Pearl Jam album for my birthday hella bad. Thank god I'm turning thirteen, I hate being twelve in the eighth grade. Everyone's hella older than me. Oh my god, If I don't get that album, I'm gonna die. SERIOUSLY, I'M GONNA DIE.
[also note: Thank god Meg got that album for me for my birthday, because apparently, I wouldn't be alive today had she not.]

4. Hi. Today I'm writing inside a Chili Pepper's symbol again. Let's just say I'm really bored. Megan still has green hair and I wish she would go to Garfield but she wont. She went to this thing for Northwest yesterday and now she's gonna go there and that fucking sucks and that place fucking sucks. Man, fuck private school.
[also note: Megan didn't even end up going to Northwest, but rather it was I, Miranda "Fuck Private School" Moure that ended up going there. Funnily enough, I got a scholarship from Pearl Jam. However, I still contend that "that place fucking sucks"]

5. Hi. I'm writing in my lifebook again. I just wrote a nasty letter to Mr. Becker and I'm gonna give it to him and I'm gonna laugh. I'M GONNA LAUGH because he needs a brain and I know where he can get one. Now he's yelling at Megan and telling her to go out into the hall because he says she's disrupting the class. Whatever, I didn't see her do anything except tell Mr. Becker to shut the hell up cause she was listening to Ten on my walkman and he kept talking.
[also note: the next entry starts, "Goddamnit, Mr. Becker sent me into the fucking hall again. Why is he always doing that?"]

Also, just for shits and giggles, here are the top five quotes that other people wrote in my notebooks.

"Ross sucks so bad. Keep that in mind for future reference." --Megan
"Miranda, your grade in Jour[i]naling has gone from an "A" to an "E". You need to catch up in class and spend less time passing notes with your friends." --Bob Becker
"Hi, this is Jono and I have nothing better to do than to write in MyRandy's lifebook. Not! Pearl Jam RULES!" --Jonathan
"The book that changed my life was 'Big Max the Detective'. It made me realize the extreme sadness that the king of Pooka Pooka land must have felt when his elephant disappeared." --Megan

And just in case you hadn't realized yet, PEARL JAM RULES. Although in an earlier post I said that 10%-15% of the entries were about Pearl Jam, upon further review I'm now thinking it's more like an even half. In my defense, there are also 12 Chili Peppers stars and several mentions of Nirvana, like that part where I'm all "omigod Pearl Jam is so much awesomer than Nirvana." I never actually said that.


Mr. Becker's Class

Recently, I got a comment on my blog from my best friend from middle school and hardcore Wordsmith, Meg Van Huygen.
Now a lot of you know of my penchant of keeping ridiculous archives and keeping al of my old notebooks and the like...well, two of those said notebooks are from 1993, and deal with Megan and I's tumultuous journey through eighth grade and our mutual obsession with the band Pearl Jam. Seriously though, I'd say 10%-15% of the entries are about Pearl Jam.

On a side note, for my thirteenth birthday I had a costume party, and Megan came dressed as Beavis and gave me a copy of Five Against One (Vs.) on tape. I still have it.

That little story is so indicative of middle school that it boggles the mind. Huh.

Anyway, here is an excerpt from my Reading Dialogue Journal from eighth grade. Enjoy. I know at least I will.

Dear Megan,
So I was just on the counter reading the bible, and I had a revelation. Huh-huh, I said revelation.
I think Mary was a whore, and Joseph was her pimp and one day, she forgot to use protection and got pregnant. Then, on a myrrh acid trip, she came up with this whole "God put a seed in me" crap. Then she told her sister, and since her sister was a big fat druggie loudmouth, everyone found out, so she had to roll with the God story. Then Joseph and Mary went off to a manger to give birth to her kid 'cause they knew the three horny men would come by there with gifts as late payment for Mary's services. By the time the labor was over, Mary was too tired for the three horny men, so they gave the gifts to Jesus 'cause they had heard that rumor that he was the son of God. Then, they just kept him all hopped up on Myrrh goofballs until he was 32 and he never knew the difference. He went to India to learn all these magic tricks and stuff like walking on water and pretending he was dead, and when they nailed him to the cross, he didn't even feel any pain 'cause he was so fucking high. Then, someone caught some of his blood in a cup and George Lucas made Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. Then, when he came out of the coffin alive, he was hella high and could do anything.
The end.

to which she replied,

Hey MyRanda,
The bible is boring, that's why I hate it. Maybe if it sounded more like that, I'd read it, but it doesn't. I'm reading "Anne of the Island" the third in the series. It's not as cool as the others because Anne is grown up and pretty boring.
Do you know what bites? That sub wont let me drink my YO-YOGI BERRY CAPRI SUN! And it BITES. I want to go to an art museum now. A big one--with all the works of my troubled Dutch genius ancestors. That would be cool.
Love, --Kumquat

Also included are six pages of Haiku's, of which these two are my favorite.
Bad Mr. Pounder,
he said 'butt' in class today,
Mr. Becker swore.
And I ask myself,
do I want to pierce my nose?
Yeah, I do. Huh huh.

Most entries are signed "W/B N.T.P." which has something to do with a boy, but I'm not quite sure what anymore. On the back cover, my other friend Rosanne Ritch wrote "RR+CB" after which I wrote (in green) "Rosanne Bitch" in big block letters. That bitch tried to steal my man, bitch.
There are three entries written entirely within the outline of a Chili Pepper's asterisk, ten or so that have drawings of various Pearl Jam logo's and one page that just says "THIS IS RAD" written over and over with my left hand.

Ah, youth is beautiful.

[p.s.--Meg was friends with this other girl named Lillian Hawkins, and one time she was over at Meg's house and the called me and said I should three-way (when you're a kid, this refers to the telephone) Willie Braden and tell him I like him while they listened. They promised they wouldn't say anything, but half way through when I wasn't being particularly loquacious and repeating the line "well, I mean..." over and over, Lillian took her phone off mute and said "what the hell do you mean?" The point of that story is that I was hella pissed, and Meg used to have a phone where every number was a key on a little tiny grand piano. I bet you she still has it.]


What a strange place.

Sarah has disappeared.

You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. I thought it might just be me, but no ones seen her in a month, including her co-workers and apparently her roommate.

I just wanted to tell all of you who might be reading this how much I love you.

Samantha, I love you because: you are my twin.
Jennifer, I love you because: you can see the good in everyone.
Peter C, I love you because: you are selfish.
Peter S, I love you because: you are selfless.
Eddy, I love you because: you are driven.
Carrie, I love you because: you are talented.
Davey, I love you because: you are learning.
Ron, I love you because: you are my compliment.
Amanda, I love you because: you are my Charlotte.
Kristen, I love you because: you are gorgeous.
Michael, I love you because: you are awesome.
Mark, I love you because: I just do. No wait, that's gross; I don't love you.
and finally,
Nicholas, I love you the most when you are eager to tell me that stories are all we have.

[please don't leave me.]


"I have a question."

I found this questionnaire on Devin Tomaney's blog, someone I found during last years Canadian blog wars. These always remind me of chain mail you might send as a kid or something, and also serves perfectly to procrastinate on finishing this other post about degrees of separation. Try it yourself: copy and paste and finish each sentance. Enjoy.

My ex: is plural. They are plural, and most of them are very pretty boys.
Maybe I should: e-mail my sister Roxie instead of filling out this stupid questionnaire.
I love: my girlfriends, my boys, and even my exes.
I don't understand: why Peter and I are switching phone numbers (again).
I lose: my cellphone all the time.
People say I'm: easy. Although lately I've been called not only a writer, but a good one. Huh.
Love is: everywhere. Oh wait, I'm not a hippy--I meant to say awesome.
Somewhere, someone is: probably jacking off to the topless picture of me in my header.
I will always: want morning sex.
Forever seems: like a long time.
I never want to: be buried.
I think the current President is: a giant douche. Or maybe a turd sandwich.
When I woke up this morning: my ankle still hurt, and I couldn't find my wallet.
I get annoyed when: my exes call me at bar time.
Parties are: fun.
My pet is: a fucking princess.
Kisses are the worst when: they are in a crowded bar.
Today I: dyed my hair.
Tomorrow I'm going to: call all of my exes at bar time.
I really want: to go home to Miami.
I have low tolerance for people that: , ironically enough, never leave home. Is that technically irony? The calling my exes thing is though, right?
If I had a million dollars I'd: go to the airport.



The Name Game

Davey brought up an interesting point.

~PhoenixRising said...
There is another David in your life... So I see that I get to continue on as Davey... it makes reading quotes work well. Though I'll have to go back to your name essay to remember why I get the -ey ending.

Ahh yes. Lets recap. From Whatzhecalled?, 9.27.06

1. Boys I love more than life that I've never slept with
Boys in this category often get an -ie or a -y attached to thier first name, i.e. Davey, Eddie, even the controversial (because clearly, it is girlie sounding) Kylie.

2. Boys I slept with, no longer sleep with, but still hang out with
There are two options for boys in this category. The first is that they get called by thier last names only i.e. Huntsman or even the occasional Harrison. The other option is that I'll call them a shortened and cute-pet-namey version of thier name, i.e. Case, Dee or Bry.

3. Boys I almost slept with, but didn't for whatever reason, and still hang out with
Boys in this category are called by thier last names as well, but with the addition of the pre-fix, Mr. i.e. Mr. Jackson.

4. Boys I am currently sleeping with
Boys in this category are consistently called Baby, but in a sort of offhanded casual way so that in crowded bars and the like, it seems like we might be just really good friends.

5. Boys who are somewhat younger than me, but that I am just friends with
Ironically enough, boys in this category are also refered to as Baby.

6. Boys who I slept with once who I don't hang out with anymore
Boys in this category consistently go by some rediculous nickname that my girlfriends and I toss around like hackey sacks, i.e. Freak Out, Flaccid Pants, Sexy Rexy, or Scabies Boy.

Of course, that was all before I was a serial re-runner. So now? Well, it's not so cut and dry anymore.
Now the categories have gotten all blurred, and so the names tend to go with them.

Now the Davey's and Eddie's and Kylie's of this world must relinquish the purity of thier category for someone who I've been referring to as "Seanie"--even though he's technically in category 2. And 4.
Other Shaun goes almost exclusively by "Boy Wonder", even though he's definitely a 2 and I should be calling him "Dunn".
And Nicholas...dude, I call him like 5 different things, albeit mostly "Mathisen".
I call no one baby anymore, except for Ron, who I've never slept with and is not that much younger than me. He should go by "Ronald" or "Ronny".
Clifford is still Anderson. Thank god.
And Quinn? He never even got a rediculous nickname like he should have, we just always call him "The Filmmaker". That's not even funny.

Well, at least Davey is still Davey, and I'm still on birth control.


"OMG, TTL @ TT @ 11:00!! Bush @ Stockton!"

It’s that time again.
My text message inbox is full. Here are some of my favorites since February. Enjoy.

“Weak.” --Counts, 2.5.06
“Thursday night—dinner in North Beach for Mindy’s B-day?” --Sally, 2.6.06
“I had a great b’day! Thanks everybody!” --Mindy, 2.10.06
“Happy Valentines…U silly smux! Love U ;-)” --Kate, 2.14.06
“What ever happened to Coolio?” --James, 2.15.06
“I called 555-RBOT!” --Crystal, 2.16.06
“Yay! 3644 Cheaterberry Lane!” --Crystal, 2.19.06
“Drunk at nine? Dang.” --Davey, 2.24.06
“I just got pooped on by some bird up a telephone wire. It’s all over my arm!” --Sally, 2.24.06
“Did you know that if you chew on a condom the nanoxinil 9 will numb your throat? Why did I get cough drops?!” --Mindy, 2.25.06
“No bus coming-trapped in the Marina-white people everywhere-ach!” --James, 3.3.06
“I just purchased a huge fake dick to hang out of my jeans at the party tonight. You kinda have to come.” --Ron, 3.3.06
“Team Tenderloin reunion. Tunnel Top at 9. Assemble your crew!” --Daniel, 3.3.06
“Ahh…I dragged some drunk punk home and ripped off his superfluous belts like a fucking savage! Haha! This casual sex sabbatical isn’t working out for me.” --Mindy, 3.8.06
“Drink David out of your memory and say goodbye at the same time. The first bash is sat. @ Olive.” --David, 3.9.06
“Dude, our Thursday nights never fail!” --Ron, 3.9.06
“What are you doing RIGHT NOW?” --David, 3.13.06
“They won’t let you into the country club with THAT.” --Ron, 3.14.06
“Never mind, being lame, having sex, don’t wait up.” --Ron, 3.19.06
“You, me? Mimi!” --Ron, 3.27.06
“I miss you!” --Canada, 3.31.06
“Come. Sean is here.” --Ron, 4.1.06
“Linda Perry is here!” --4.5.06
“They accepted my offer…no more renting for me! The place is in the west village!” --David, 4.6.06
“At the High Tide.” --Counts, 4.8.06
“Sorry luv—got my groove on and now I gotta pass! Sleep well!” --Adam, 4.9.06
“Done and done.” --Ron, 4.10.06





1. Some of my Cake left this morning, but now, thankfully, she's always right behind me.
2. When old girlfriends get together, they start analyzing and over-analyzing everything until what they're saying doesn't even make sense anymore an ex. being Sam and I's old quote log. It's like girl code. This is the type of conversation that led to Jen and I's new favorite line: "hanging me out". If you do not understand the subtleties involved in this then, well...good luck with that.
3. Jen has confirmed what I had suspected for a very long time now: I make the worst girlfriend. Meaning in that "kissy kissy PDA sensitive bullshit what have you crap" way. Funny how it takes one of your best girlfriends to tell you something you already knew until you stop trying.
4. I am, however, the hands down best fruit fly that ever graced the face of this earth. Grace and Karen have nothing on me.
5. Speaking of, I talked to Bobby this morning (my gay husband). He asked me to come home, which I almost accepted.
6. The sun came out. I give it an hour.
7. Speaking of Bobby, he called from the beach right by my old house.
8. Bloody Mary Mondays. Dear god, I miss home. And my pool. And my bikini. And my Best girlfriend in Miami, Lauren, who now actually lives in Sarasota.
9. Sinking. Shipwreck. Two ships passing in the night. Sunk. Swim. And Neighbors.
10. Oh yeah, and Lauren will be here in SF May 11. Sweet. Note to San Franciscans: SHE'S SUPER HOT AND SINGLE.



Charles Shaw, Boo and the Gang, Milkshake Moure.

Some notes on today.

1. I'm getting a tattoo. With Jen. It will say "I'll be coming home soon" on our shoulderblades.
2. Geniuses. G's. Gentlemen.
3. I got called a writer last night. It felt good. Among other things that felt better.
4. Went to Sesame Street last night. Nice. Benny is a frikken' G.
5. Boy Wonder actually left the house. Damn. He's so pretty, haha. We told him to get "5'9" and Cute" tattooed on his ass. This is a line from his MySpace profile.
6. Talked to Sam this morning. She's on copious amounts of OxyCodone, and yelled into the phone: "What? A YEAR? That is a fucking rediculous backburner." Also, Ian says he loves me which felt good. Among other things that felt better.
7. Hang on Siobahn.
8. Scholars. Like Jen who has made me realize that I make a way better fag-hag than a musicians girlfriend. That's just not my steeze. You know, it's like, if you do something well...you get the idea. I love my boyfriend, and I don't care at all that he's fucking Angelo and not me. Trust.
9. New ink. Sweet. I'll now have 11. Two more and I'll have to count them in "hours".
10. I swear to god, NO MORE TWO-BUCK-CHUCK. On this point, I remain firm. Among other things that are also firm.



The Best Day Ever

First things first.

Davey--Now you've made me feel terrible. I've never even heard his album, and here I am, like everyone I hate, knocking an album before I've even heard it. Goddamnit. Oh, and you totally did take that picture.

Mark--You can totally have a copy, but I'm calling you my nephew from now on. Tee-hee. That is frikken hilarious. My nephew is a 6'9" 30 year old white man. Hahahahahaha.

Ron--I know, I know. But c'mon--25. That's it. You try picking 25 albums that you like that have shaped modern music! You gotta draw the line somewhere.

Thao--Dude, I know. But again--the line. Gotta draw the line.

My wife got here yesterday and then...
1. Well, then we got really drunk. Violently drunk. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk, 'cause I'm not hungover [yet].
2. Oh yeah, and did I mention running into Sean at Whiskey Thieves last night? Right. Awesome.
3. Wine and Beer.
4. Now that my Count's co-worker moratorium is off, I'm having a great fucking time.
5. Ron, you are not allowed to say anything for two days. That's how long I said I would wait to tell you, but I'm sure you're putting two and two together right now. Don't worry Gossip Pants, it's only two days. Then you can tell Boo and the gang.
6. Oh yeah. Also, I met this girl Quinn is dating. I forgot her name, but she's a friend of Krissy's (obviously). The best part is that she's totally had sex with Sean! Isn't that exciting? I know! I am so fucking excited!
7. Found a bottle of two-buck-Chuck at like, four in the morning. That is always a bad idea, especially because the other two bottles of wine had already been emptied. By me.
8. This city is so fucking small (for more info, see #6), and I still manage to get lost getting home from Russian Hill. Still Drunk.
9. Pink is the new black--I was just talking about that last night.
10. Airplanes. Flight. Sex. Pass.


Life's a Gas

Sam's boyfriend Ian Strakal just called me.
She's in recovery right now, and she's gonna be just fine.
And my other wife will be here tomorrow.


Happy birthday Alexis Corrinne Myricks, your aunt is an obsessive compulsive audiophile.

On my 14th birthday, my best friend gave me an original pressing of Jimi Hendrix’s Are You Experienced. Now I’ve wrapped it in bubble wrap and sent it to my niece as today is her 14th birthday. I sent her a letter as well explaining everything, a mix CD, and a list of 25 albums she should familiarize herself with.

From the letter:
“I’ve been planning on giving this to you for almost twelve years, and now that time has come. Treasure it as I have. I have taken this through 18 states while living in 5 different houses and 10 apartments. It is the first thing I unpack every single time I move. I have played it hundreds and hundreds of times; I know where it skips and where it’s scratched and I’ve learned to anticipate it. I absolutely love it, and now it’s yours.”

My first task? Coming to grips with having to part with my Hendrix album. Next: deciding on 25 albums that have shaped modern music. If you know me, you will note that I have been [a little] self-indulgent with this list. I picked:

The Velvet Underground—White Light White Heat
The Kinks—self titled
The Beach Boys—Pet Sounds
The Beatles—Abbey Road
Led Zeppelin—III (three)
Ramones—self titled
Sex Pistols—Never Mind the Bollocks
The Clash—London Calling
The Go-Go’s—Beauty and the Beast
George Michael—Faith
Michael Jackson—Thriller
Beastie Boys—Paul’s Boutique
Pearl Jam—Ten
Green Day—Dookie
Pavement—Slanted and Enchanted
Built to Spill—Keep It Like a Secret
A Tribe Called Quest—Midnight Marauders
Genius/GZA (Wu Tang)—Liquid Swords
Weezer—self titled (the blue album)
Ryan Adams—Gold
Soul Coughing—El Oso
Wilco—Yankee Hotel Foxtrot

Next, a mix CD. Now this was much trickier than I had initially thought it would be, because not only did I want each track to spurn some small anecdote about music history, it also has to be appropriate for a 14 year old so that 1) it holds her attention and 2) it doesn’t get confiscated by my older brother. Also, it had to be recorded within her lifetime. I finally came up with this mix.
It’s called “This Will Not Kill Your Brain Cells” and is so titled because I am always telling Lexi that pursuits such as listening to the radio and purchasing Justin Timberlake albums will. I was so tempted to put a bunch of rediculous metal and weird art-rock ambient stuff--but I mean, come on. She's 14. This is the greatest pop mix I have ever created. Mwuhahahaha!

I’m the Man Who Loves You—Wilco
When the band Uncle Tupelo broke up, frontman Jay Farrar went off and created Son Volt while lead guitarist Jeff Tweedy created the legendary and far more successful, Wilco. This is from what is arguably their greatest album, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot.

Helicopter—M. Ward
No one can deny the pervasiveness of Nebraska’s Wunderkind and lead singer of Bright Eye’s, Conor Oberst, even if only for the musicians he allies himself with. Although not signed to Oberst’s label “Saddle Creek”, M. Ward broke into stardom when touring with Oberst and Bright Eye’s in 2003. This track is from Ward’s third album, Transfiguration of Vincent.

Such Great Heights—The Postal Service
Although he proved a remarkable session player for Jeremy Enigk and his famed Seattle band Sunny Day Real Estate, Ben Gibbard had bigger dreams that came to fruition when he created Death Cab for Cutie. Although created as a side project, Gibbard’s The Postal Service and their debut album Give Up quickly attained more success than anyone anticipated, and also served to catapult sales of Death Cab’s next album, Transatlanticism.

Left Side Clouded—The Sea and Cake
If Stephen Malkmus was the most influential musician to Seattle, then Sam Prekop and his band The Sea and Cake is Chicago’s answer to Pavement. Created from the ashes of the band Tortoise almost a grillion years ago, they have remained one of the main stays of the Chicago music scene as well as paving the way for such other synth-pop bands such as The Postal Service and FischerSpooner. This track is from 2002’s One Bedroom. Also, Tortoise is supposedly back together now.
[edit: also--the band I'm thinking of is totally not Tortoise. It's Shrimp Boat. I always get my chicago bands confused--another good reason to have "is not chicago" tattooed on the back of my left elbow.]

Things Replaced—Built Like Alaska
This band belongs to the greatest label of all time that no one’s ever heard of, Future Farmer Records here in San Francisco. They share a label with frikken’ ridiculously dope musicians like Beulah and The Minders. This track is from their album Autmnland.

Beautiful—Clem Snide
Forget Christina Aguilera; this song was in fact written by Linda Perry, lead singer of the mid-nineties grungy fox-core band, 4 Non Blondes. In this version, its lyrical simplicity is highlighted by Israeli-born lead singer Eef Barzelay’s pitch perfect vocals. It’s from a 5 track EP aptly dubbed The Beautiful EP.

Three Is a Magic Number—Blind Melon [edit: I added this]
When the movie “Reality Bites” became an instant cult classic in 1993 or 94, it brought with it the rebirth of “School House Rock” because of one scene where the cast sings “Conjunction Junction” on a rooftop. This track was recorded for an album called School House Rock Rocks! in which many popular alternative musicians were asked to cover a School House Rock song, Blind Melon being one of them. Now listen very, very carefully to the rest of this story.
Shannon Moon was the lead singer of Blind Melon, which gained instant stardom with their debut album and its HUGE hit single “No Rain”. Unfortunately, it was their first and last album because Moon died of a drug overdose. He was brilliant, and he died. Just like that. I remember where I was when I found out, just like when Kurt Cobain (Nirvana) and Elliott Smith (Heat Miser/solo) died. It was that traumatic. This, “Three Is a Magic Number”, was the last song the band ever recorded.
Proceeds from the sale of School House Rock Rocks! goes to the Children’s Defense Fund, which aims to educate poor and minority youth about the importance of getting an education and the consequences of drug use.
Jimi Hendrix was HANDS DOWN THE MOST BRILLIANT GUITAR PLAYER EVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD, but now everyone remembers him not just for his music, but also because he died from suffocating on his own puke after ingesting a cocktail of alcohol and pills. Don’t ever, ever, EVER waste your talents like that. Don’t take from this world everything you have to offer. Don’t be a Ghetto Fabulous statistic like Shannon Moon.

Need it Just a Little—Fruit Bats
Eric Johnson was a session player for Tim Rutilli and Jim Becker’s band Califone which was originally created as a side project of Calexico, I think. Don’t quote me on that. With a little prodding from these mentors, he created Fruit Bats and this album, Echolocation. Although based in Chicago, he was signed to Seattle’s most successful independent music label of all time, Sub Pop.

Held Down—De La Soul feat. Cee-Lo
They have been together forever and only continue to get stronger. This track is from 2003’s Bionix. Whenever you have and for the rest of your life ever see someone on the turntables, you can thank De La Soul for making that happen.

Wake Up—The Walkmen
After the dissolution of Washington DC’s Johnathan Fire Eater, some of the members joined forces with New York’s Hamilton Leithouser to create The Walkmen, as well as Mercata Recording, where they record not only their own, but the albums of many more of NYC’s finest. This is from their debut (save the split EP they did with Calla) album, Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone.

Champagne for Monkeys—Gomez
From day one, Gomez has been extremely successful in the UK from which they hail, but with their most recent studio album, Split the Difference, they’ve now gained super-stardom here in America. This album was produced by Tchad Blake who has also had his hands on some of the greatest albums of all time including all three of Soul Coughing’s studio albums. Gomez is known for having three lead singers: Ian Ball, Tom Grey, and the oft compared to Pearl Jam’s Eddie Vedder, Ben Ottewell.

Jennifer—Stephen Malkmus
When he had had his fill of fronting the most influential band in Seattle’s recent history, Pavement, Stephen Malkmus set out on his own with this self-titled solo album.

Blue Diamonds—The Long Winters
At the end of the nineties when Grunge was officially dead, a wave of extraordinary Power Pop bands popped up all over college radio like Ben Folds Five, Braden Blake’s Superdeluxe and John Wozniac’s Marcy Playground. One of these was Sean Nelson’s Harvey Danger; but when their second album, King James Version, did not receive the critical acclaim Nelson had hoped for (even though it is frikken’ awesome), the band broke up. While Nelson pursued his career as a rock writer for Seattle’s free weekly “The Stranger” among other venues, the rest of the band formed The Long Winters. Harvey Danger has since reunited.

If you have ever seen the OC than you are probably familiar with this song, and if you have ever seen the movie "Rushmore", than you are familiar with Jason Schwartzman, the lead singer of Rooney's brother. He was also the drummer of Phantom Planet who sings the song California, which as far as I know [because I've never seen it] is the themesong to the OC. Whatever. Don't watch that crap--watch Buffy on DVD, specifically the episode where she breaks up with Riley and Aimee Mann plays at the Bronze. I'll stop now.

Blue Star—Los Halos
Lead singer Sammevouz created a synth-pop tour de force with this 2003 Loveless Records release, Leaving Va. He is to my knowledge also the only artist that sells many of his albums on the honor system—asking visitors to his website to simply pay whatever they can reasonably afford for them. The only point is that this is totally awesome, and indicative of the way independent music has grown.

Sleepless—Soul Coughing
Mike Doughty continues to be one of the most brilliant songwriters of our time, and truly shines in his now solo career. This track is from 1996’s Irresistible Bliss, when he was still the lead singer of the band Soul Coughing. I used to play this song for you all the time when you were 4 or 5 because there is a line that goes “and now I’m out on the veranda” but I would sing it to you “and now I’m out with Aunt Miranda”. I doubt you remember this.

The Rain--Missy “Misdemeanor” Elliot
After years of producing the best of the best in American hip-hop, Missy Elliot stepped out from behind the scenes of music and into the forefront with her debut album, Supa Dupa Fly, on which she shared the spotlight with greats like Ol’ Dirty Bastard, Timbaland, Aaliah, and Li’l Kim. This title track and its hot Ann Peebles sample reminds us not to forget the Old School. Elliot has done far more for music than she ever gets credit for.

When Play first came out, Moby took a lot of crap from independent musicians for selling most of the album off over and over again to be used in commercials. Now, five years later, every company and their mom’s cousin will try and sell you everything from cars to shoes to the soundtrack of such ‘independent’ musicians like Beck, Modest Mouse, Louis XIV, The Walkmen, and even Kaiser Permanente’s new ad campaign featuring “Such Great Heights”. To answer your question, yes, I think they are all total sell outs.

Much Respect—Mos Def
Mos Def has not only influenced music, but poetry and slam poetry as well, which Wordsmith’s like me appreciate. He is just as likely to be seen hanging out with Saul Williams as Talib Kweli. They call him the Godfather of hip-hop. They are all right.

So there you go. Today is also my anniversary. I’ve lived in San Francisco a whole year today. Last year when I finally got here, the first thing I did was call my niece and wish her happy birthday.


Wine and Beer

Some notes on today:

1. Major wine consumption=I don't remember who it was that called me @ 6:42 this morning.
2. My call log tells me that I promptly returned your call this morning @ 6:43.
3. Where is area code 312?
4. Cake. Delicious rich chocolate espresso cake @ Rye last night. Dope.
5. Pant is the #1 coolest person ever.
6. The Mission looks so much different in the rain.
7. Sleepovers kick ass.
8. My wife will be here in three days.
9. I'm beginning to wonder whether it's good or bad top have my entire life carefully categorized, recorded, and written down.
10. No day but today.


Possession is 9/10 of the law, but I still owe Counts $5.

Nick said...
Pay up. And while you're at it, just think how much easier, and more fun, this all could have been if you'd simply caught my pass and ran with it.

April 01, 2006 11:43 AM

Fine. I will give Counts the $5--but I'm just putting this out there that I wholeheartedly believe that Nicholas is only saying that to piss me off. When was this deal sealing pass? I still don't think this happened.

So I hung out with my neighbor Erica last night, who I swear to god is my new best friend. We hung out once last week too--with my brother and his girlfriend and Anderson. Last night we're at Cafe Royale, and she's asking about how things turned out with Cliff last week. "Pretty good, I guess--I mean, he totally tried to get me to sleep with him, failed, then passed out at my house and left while I was sleeping in the morning. You know--pretty much what I expected."
We met Ron at a party a couple hours later, and I'm like "Oh dude Erica! My ex is here!" and she's like "Oh yeah! Lemme say hi!" except that is wasn't Cliff, but rather Sean. Who kissed me in front of a party full of rediculously hot single guys. And his friend [some girl who remembers me but I don't know her name at all] apologized to me for cock blocking. Twice. Then I got a lecture from Steven about being more careful with Sean's feelings.

Is anybody seeing the irony in this?

I can't see how Sean and Cliff's feelings are somehow more important than mine. That's fucking bull. And how many times do I have to explain to them why I can't be waking up in thier beds in the morning?

It's like this kiddos--You guys all wonder why I hang out with Ron so much--well here's why:
1. He's awesome
2. He's cooler than you
3. He's cooler than me but will still hang out with me
4. We go to awesome partys together and make out
5. He sleeps with men
6. I never have to wonder whether he's hanging out with me just so he can try and have sex with me because he's gay

So yeah, this could all be so much easier, and so much more fun, but for how long? How long until I do something stupid or you say something dumb and we never talk to each other again?

That being said, the whole bet started because I was on the rag, and there is nothing fun or easy about scrubbing your sheets with oxy-clean.

My Wife will be here in four days. NYCD party is tonight. I gotta go to Kinko's.