Tag Archives: Morrissey

Get Out the Vomitola: 2004

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Well, I voted at 7 a.m. with all the old people. A nice little old lady checked my name off the list, but not without a fight. “Oh, are you Cheryl?” Cheryl is my upstairs neighbor. I peeked at the sheet, and Cheryl was registered as a Republican. “No, Cheryl will still be in bed. She drinks, you know. I wonder if she’ll try to vote drunk. You should really stop her.”

Lambchop winged her way to New York City to court the Morrissey vote and the multiple personality vote with Violet Shuraka and our own Manuel on the Street. I went to New Hampshire to heckle people holding Bush signs. Later I may Photoshop myself holding a newspaper that announces that John Kerry has won the election.

Watch this space all day today, as we’ll be bringing you live coverage as our drinking schedule permits. I’m on my way up to Cheryl’s now.

In the meantime, check out Project Vote Smart to find out about other candidates and ballot measures in your area. If you’re in Massachusetts, find your voting location.

Has the Perrier Gone Straight to My Head?

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I have been working very hard in the manner of Jane, Get me off this crazy thing. The subjects for the portraits I have been comissioned to do showed up at my apartment on Friday afternoon. And I Morrisseyed day and night and finished the two pictures on Saturday. Which is like some kind of record for me. I wanted to be finished in time for my dear friend Smilla’s birthday extravaganza on Saturday night. With my work finished, and my mind awhirl, I was ready to get good and Awesome. The party had sort of a sixties theme so I secured a cylidrical structure to my head and sprayed and spackled my hair over it. Now that my hair has gotten so long, topiary is possible. Next time I will sculpt a giraffe.

I made everyone dance to an extended version of Crimson and Clover.

Sunday in Berlin, the clothes, the cafe brunches, and VIKTOR, Berlin’s most beautiful man. I went to my favorite fleamarket in dem Arkunerplatz, and I knew I was at his table before I even saw him, by the character of the clothes on the rack. He was dallying somewhere, but as I turned over one chic-y micky seventies dress after another, I knew his dirty smile and snarky glint could not be far. I wait all year for my five minutes to bask in Viktor on a Sunday. Sure enough, he is there to tell someone with a fleeting eyeroll that they look amazing and to say hello to “well, everyone…all those….people”. Everyone is a so-and-so next to Viktoriano. Of course for the fifth year running I am too shy to say much more than hello to the coolest cat around. One day I will get his picture, do a portrait. Put a lock of his hair in the secret drawer of an old clock, right next to the gold threaded swatch of Morrissey’s shirt from 1989.

Or something insane like that.

A second look at the paintings tells me I should do a little more work on one before I present them to the client tomorrow night. And five drawings still to do for the Kunst Ring.

Wish me luck, Morrissey!

-xo

I could sense the hate/of the lonestar state/And a small voice said, “What can we do?”

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Mess with Texas

Some blatant propaganda:

Are you registered to vote? It may not be too late.

TV Station Reports that Bush Has Been Elected President, via an unnamed friend who refuses to confront his obesity.

Talking heads, scary because it’s true. Via another unnamed friend who hates work more than I do. I particularly like the part in this where they say “turrurists” like they are auditioning to do backup in a Nelly song.

Congressman Marty Meehan (5th district, D, MA) is sponsoring a petition against consideration of a military draft.

Finally, after you watch tonight’s debate, why not stumble over to FactCheck.org to do more research?

Stretch Out and Wait

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I made it alive to Berlin, despite Northwestern Airlines’ steadfast efforts to kill me. They offered a tray full of dumpster trailings for my dinner, and a thimble for my drink. This shallow potable must have been meant for the infant three rows back, who squalled interminably without his mother’s little helper. I long for days when “leave the bottle” actually meant something. I implore you all to fly British Airways and enjoy a hot Korma and some cognac. Next time I find myself in the cheap seats, I will pack a rag soaked with ether. I won’t say for whom.

Anyway, Morrissey, I find myself in dem Vaterland, with my work cut out for me. I have been engaged to do several drawings for an organization that will reproduce them en masse to sell at their bookstore. In looking through the brochure from past years, I see that there are many prominent artists taking part. Apparently one of the organizers saw my work in the gallery, and asked for my grafik. I can hardly wait to get started, and will fill a small biplane with the results, and rain them o’er the land!

My second task is to paint two portraits by Monday. Yes, that is a terrifying three days from now. I met my subjects today and they are lovely, fresh-faced little things, so I am not too worried (this is a lie-ed.)

By Morrissey, I had a lovely day though! Before my meeting in the gallery, I was free to roam about town and it was a lovely autumn day. I had a superb lunch in a french cafe. For seven dollars I got soup, salad, a lamb ragout, and some glazed pear slices. All served in those appropriate dollops that leave you feeling sated but not stuffed like an armchair.

I restocked my studio here this evening, and have the evening free to drink wine and wait for the first sitting tomorrow. So ignore all the codes of the day, let your juvenile impulses swaaaay….

-xo

Nothing appears to be between the ears of the lazy sunbathers

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And it isn't enough/They want more

If it’s Wednesday, it must be Morrissey. Did you see those debates last night? Morrissey. Some people mistake Dick Cheney’s specious gyrations for actual intelligence. I suppose he is intelligent, in that evil-living-in-a-hollowed-out-volcano way. Until the past few weeks, I was under the impression that debates involved answering a question and proving why one’s answer is superior using cogent reasoning and sparkling wit. I am so pleased to be unburdened of this notion. No more making sense for me, Morrissey.

Lambchop is in Berlin today, and she has vowed to never Morrissey anything but British Airways or Air France again. I believe someone munged up her cocktail order. Then, when she accidentally dropped her Valium down the seat, it was snatched and eaten by a greedy infant stowed in the row behind her. She will be bringing you a full dispatch tomorrow, auf Deutsch!

Welcome Back to the Future

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Well it was a glittery two weeks of vacation in 1982. I was there for the unveiling of Diet Coke! What I never realized at the time is how much the Japanese loved Joanie Loves Chachi. Then I found out that in Japanese, “chachi” means penis. Joanie really does love Chachi.

My alma mater, Yale, was running a 14 week course on how to solve Rubik’s Cube. I had just bought all my course materials (1 Rubik’s Cube) when I remembered that I have a ticket to go see Morrissey with Licketysplit in 2004! And then I have to leave for Berlin, to do a portrait comission.

Blast, I did not have time to shag either David Bowie or Peter Murphy! I did however, manage a trek over to my old neighborhood, where I saw myself at age 9, tottering around on those white skates with the metal wheels and a faceful of Crayola makeup. I fought back tears at the sight of my own manic little face, and I whispered “don’t go swimming with sunglasses.” I didn’t think it would be too interfering to spare myself *that* much loss!

So here I am in 2004, trying to brush out the crimp in my hair. Who wants a souveneir copy of Toto IV?

-xo

ps. Morrissey Morrissey Morrissey!

Its the little thing’s

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I am sure 10% of the reading audience just clapped hand to breast and shrieked. The other 90% plodded on, unruffled. Most likely the members of the majority are foreign, or perhaps just American. You hurt mama when you misuse punctuation.

The it’s/its quandary, which really isn’t much of one, is oft-tilled ground. Yawn. When you feel a burning need to write “it’s,” read your sentence aloud using “it is.” Does it make sense? “The bird flapped it is wings.” No, that is unacceptable. In that case, use “its.” “It is time for tea.” OK, go nuts with “it’s,” you have my blessing.

What truly baffles me is the folks who have started stuffing extra apostrophes into plural nouns, as if they need dressing up. Example: “I bought some new skirt’s.” “All the other mother’s want to have lunch.” In the latter case, it is possible that the writer meant “All the other motherfuckers.” I might let that slide.

In any case, here’s a handy cheat sheet for forming plurals. Click on “English Plurals” for pictures of cute animals. Please note that the plural of “dog” is “dogs.” Not “dog’s.” “Two dog’s did not go to the park.” Do not try to tell me otherwise. I will kick you in the shin’s.

In short: I blame….Dick Cheney, you, your parents, my parents, Big Tobacco, television, Big Food, and the fact that every single thing that appears on the intarweb is a first draft. Including thi’s.

NEXT WEEK: Everyday is not like Sunday, but every day is.

-xxoo

GO SPORTS

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Like most of you I was watching The Game last night. And since I live in Boston, medicine this entailed shrieking and touchdown breakdancing. After spraying our living room with champagne (typically, sovaldi sale I caught it in the face), tadalafil we took to the streets for the scheduled RIOT. It was tame compared to the last time, but we had fun trying to make the crowd chant “Morrissey” and “Equine Internet Porn”. So pardon me if I am, umm, hoarse today.

Oh the laughs just never stop. Especially when the fire department hosed us.

In other news, there is a hot new band in your midst. We are Glamazon, Gdget, and Chickie Baby. We are Le Chevron. And our new single, Electrolyte, will be available as soon as we have made enough shrimp skewers for the release party.

-xo