Archive for August, 2006
Friday, August 11th, 2006
EndEverAfter played last night at Annex,
followed by Cobra Starship’s first live show ever,
curated by Matt Pinfield himself,
and greatly enjoyed by Kathy and Anna.
Dan Keyes (Young Love) stuck around after,
as did Kristan,
and Starship/Midtown Gabe.
Julian took my picture with my own camera,
Sarah appointed herself the band’s official seating area,
and The Ladies made me happy.
All these and lots more will end up on Stolen Transmission and Junk.
Friday, August 11th, 2006
Celebrities, B-list on down, google themselves and stumble upon the things you write about them. If you type someone’s name, they or their friends will find it. If you view a famous person’s Friendster profile and you don’t have the hide feature turned on, they will look at your profile (hidden, of course) and see if you list their name in your “interests” category. Celebrities with livejournals and blogs read your comments, all of them, and they often click your links to visit your blogs. And they look to see if you mentioned them. Sometimes they click the “find” button and type in their own name. They google themselves, then they google blog search, then they google image search, then they sift through WireImage and Getty, and they search for online communities in which they are role-played. When they find someone on MySpace who typographically shows interest in them, they look at the photos to see if the person is hot.
A-listers probably do the same, but they only encounter 1% of the “content” that’s out there. Some of them have people whose entire job is to search the internet, and they try to keep that a secret.
Wednesday, August 9th, 2006
Regarding the “homeless” Olsen triplet Lifetime movie-in-progress who sits every day on Spring Street that I wrote about before:
Today she was wearing a fitted tweed blazer over an open-collared button-down shirt, which was tucked into a dark pencil skirt, with stylish sunglasses and her hair neatly pulled up. Sitting on a stoop with a bunch of crap around her, drawing and talking to herself. I don’t even have words any more.
Also, regarding this:
–I go out four nights a week, max. Usually three.
–I take pictures of all kinds of shit. Mostly because I love to take pictures and I get paid to do it. Do you get paid to post my full name on Craigslist?
–Everybody and their mother has a blog. My mother has a blog. Yours probably does too.
–I don’t get what’s unlikable about Ultragrrrl. She blogs about her favorite music, her cat, and her boyfriend. (??)
–I do own lots of skinny pants, you’ve got me there.
–I’ve slept with exactly one boy who regularly goes to MisShapes, and it was when he was my boyfriend.
–I’ve been on Gawker a lot less than you seem to think.
–I DJ from CDs, but I also don’t get what’s so offensive about iPod DJing.
–I “modeled” for Shop Caravan at the request of the photographer (not Kill Shop Kill), and I made a point of saying that it was ridiculous because I’m not a model. Who’s gonna say no?
Also, to be clear, I don’t think I’ve ever said I’m not a hipster and I don’t know where this random nastiness is coming from (though I have a suspicion that it’s someone I just fought with; it’s written just like him). I suppose I wouldn’t call myself a hipster because I think caring about people, having a genuine good time, and eating actual food are incongruous with being that. But if “hipster” means wearing the clothes that I do and liking the music that I like, then fine. I call anonymous Craigslist haters “losers.”
Make them some money: Craiglist, Ultragrrrl, MisShapes, Gawker, Last Night’s Party, Shop Caravan, Kill Shop Kill
Wednesday, August 9th, 2006
So, we didn’t air on ABC Nightline yesterday because we were bumped for coverage of Lieberman’s loss and subsequent independent-running idiocy. I’ve been told it will air this Friday (11:30pm), but I won’t be able to watch then. If anybody is able to YouTube it, I will love you forever. And so will my mom, who is tired of staying up past her bedtime.
Tuesday, August 8th, 2006
Janelle wore her own work-in-progress to Dangerous Muse on Thursday,
while Chelsea lounged with the famous people on the backroom red couch.
Starchild O’Malley hung out with me before her show on Friday,
and Ian and Maja posed for me on Saturday.
Anna stopped by for just a little bit,
then Jackson attacked me,
and Jamie Bell attacked Jackson.
Ian slept on the sidewalk like the bum that he is,
and on Sunday I drove with Kathy out of the city where we ate some leaves,
sneezed a lot,
and busted windows with our angry fists.
See this weekend move, here.
Also, if I’m going to be on Nightline on ABC, it’s going to be tonight at 11:30. Sorry about the false alarm last week.
Sunday, August 6th, 2006
blogger window is open
we are getting readyto go out
i have been drinking
we are dancing to snakes on a plane
chelsea is not drunk
but she is dancing like an idiot with me too
we have matching glasses
and we are going to wear them tonight
and even though glasses make you smart
we knocked everything over while we were deciding
what our smart names would be
and laughed
and knockec some more things over
like snakes on a plane!
chelsea says:
“i fucking love brad walsh
with all my freakin heart”
fucking freakin
“and i love our contraption right here!”
another sparks
cracked opennnn
Friday, August 4th, 2006
It smells like I am inside of a dead body. It smells like I am in the colon of a three day old corpse of a sweaty man who enjoyed a life of charred red meat. All the garbage from a high downtown New York City building full of offices and art studios has been sitting in giant mounds in the terrible heat, very near our building’s air intake. To keep my office so cold (see back a few entries where I was warming my hands under a desk lamp while outside it was 100 degrees), our building recycles the conditioned air. This means that all morning it has smelled like I am inside a dead body.
It smells like I, my computer, my desk lamp, my file cabinets, my phones, my books, my coffee, my shirts, my hoodies, my cameras, my artwork, my jar of honey, my stapler, and my loose change bowl for the vending machines are all set up inside of a dead body.
As I finished that sentence I received this e-mail:
All -
We are aware of and are attempting to address the unpleasant odor which is filtering through the entire Spring Street building. The odor is actually coming from the trucks responsible for carting the garbage. We’ve made contact with the building and the carting company who has advised us that it is difficult to impossible to control the odor as it is as a result of the heat wave. This is not just our problem but a NYC problem.
We apologize for your discomfort and will continue to be in contact with the building and the carting company to see if there is anything that can be done to alleviate the problem for 233 Spring Street.
Have a nice weekend.
I will have a nice weekend, because my apartment doesn’t smell like a hot morgue.
Kathy weighs in: That is terrible! Also, it doesn’t make any sense – these trucks smell. So the entire inside of the building smells. There’s nothing that can be done. Sigh. We sure wish that we could just put these smelly, horrible trucks on wheels and just move them somewhere else, even half a block away from our ventilation system. Alas, that is just a fantasy. Until trucks are able to move, we’ll just have to live with this.
Thursday, August 3rd, 2006
Project Runway moment: Yeah, Keith is off the ‘Run. Well, duh. Also: shit. There’s talk that the pattern books thing was a setup as an excuse to get rid of him because he was really a junkie (large pupils and all that), but I think that’s a bunch of malarkey. Keith and Katy and Malan are no longer, so I suppose I have no more reason to watch. Aside from Alison, they’re the only three that I actually like in person. I also talked with Bonnie. …Yeah, Keith and Katy and Malan are the three that I actually like in person. Bonnie totally rubbed me the wrong way and I wanted to hit her. She asked my friend Anna “what is that on your face,” to which Anna replied “makeup.” Bonnie said “oh” and drunkenly stumbled away. She makes boring clothes and has boring personal style. I don’t think I could do any better, but then again, I don’t profess to be a fashion designer. Anna is the best at what she does. Bonnie is a bottom-tier. I’m hoping Alison makes it into the top three because she’s a total sweetheart and she makes beautiful clothes. I think Ulli will also make the top three, and maybe Michael. My favorite of the “characters” that are left is Laura. Laura is pretty much amazing. I’m still not sure I like her designs, though. And I don’t care what anyone says, Angela’s rosettes should be banned like a third trimester abortion. Angela reminds me of Kara, except that Kara had a clue.
Watch Nightline on ABC tomorrow, Friday, at 11:30pm. You may see me embarrassing myself and my family. And tonight I will be photo-ing Dangerous Muse and Duke at Don Hill’s, and then Stolen Transmission at Annex.
Listening to: Spoon’s “The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine” (those lyrics – I wish I’d written that song) and The Sounds’ Dying to Say This to You. A few months ago I wrote that the new Sounds album was boring, or didn’t excite me at all, or something like that. That was after listening to it once or twice through. I haven’t really heard it since then, with the exception of “Queen of Apology” or “Tony the Beat” while out nightliving, but today one of the new songs came on shuffle on my iPod and I decided to give it another try. Maybe I’m in the right mood now (or maybe I was in the wrong mood then), but I really like it. I listened to the whole thing through again, and I think it’s good, with one or two exceptions. It’s also timely because I’ve been listening to that Cobra Starship amalgam “Snakes on A Plane” theme song nonstop, and Soundstress Maja sings on it.
Wednesday, August 2nd, 2006
Here’s a video I made at the Editors thing last week.
Wednesday, August 2nd, 2006
Because every time I use the bathroom I have to clean a grown ass man’s pee off of everything.
Because the grown ass man next to me in today’s meeting was sketching RUSH and AC/DC logos on a lined notebook.
Because while I am certainly not the only grown ass man around here who drinks coffee, I am apparently the only one who can make it.
Because I am constantly fighting the urge to tell every grown ass man around here to go to their room and think about what they’ve done.
