Friday, February 24, 2006

More on why I love the LAPhil

In three concerts this week I heard music by Mozart and Beethoven...and that's pretty much it for the non-20th / 21st century folks.

Concert #1 saw Mr. Beethoven paired with Stravinsky's Firebird and a living composer named Birtwhistle. The combination was unusual and effective.

Concert #2 saw Thomas Ades conducting and performing his own music and that of modern composers Kurtag and Castiglioni. This was a "Green Umbrella" concert -- part of a series that highlights modern and avant-garde works. Thoroughly stunning.

Concert #3 was all Mozart, beginning with his last piano concerto and ending with the Requiem, which thoroughly kicked my ass and left me begging for more.

I'd heard exactly one of those pieces before. Ever. Granted, I'm relatively new to the classical music thing; I know the biggies, and I've sung a lot of sacred music over the years, but as pleasant and stirring as my Disney Hall experiences have been, they've been highly educational, too.

Why can't there be a theater company that does this? One that mixes things up so? I have this pie-in-the-sky idea for a company that would use a similar approach to its programming. Lots of variety, a versatile, large ensemble able to tackle a variety of styles and genres, a cycle of plays performed for short spans of time, maybe even a series of evenings of short plays -- pairing Wilder with Durang, say, and throwing in a satyr play -- and then, of course doing all of my plays. And all of my friends plays. And other plays I like, etc.

I'm serious about this, though -- the actors would wear simple black dress, there would be zero-to-minimal set, and the focus would be on the texts, the performances, and the connections one might make upon seeing such seemingly disparate work right next to each other.

Of course there would be evening-length plays, but perhaps in mini-Signature-Theater-type cycles, or variations, such as mixing a month of Wilde with Orton, a month of Shepard with Rapp, etc. And not just the obvious greats and up-and-comers, either. There could be residencies and commissions, too, that would allow risky work by unknown voices to take center-stage, and not just be on the second stage as some kind of workshop or reading series.

And all of this would be geared towards a historical understanding of the art form...not in any kind of academic way, either, but in such a way that reinforces the form's importance in our culture and its continued ability to be relevant.

Think it could work? Who's with me??

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Silence!

I can't believe it's been 15 years since I was a freshman in high school and desperate to see this movie and certain that there was no way I'd get to. My parents were always restrictive about movies, and they were certain to veto that one. Besides, they weren't going to cart my teenage self to Little Rock just to see that thing, especially if one of them had to sit in on it with me.

Luckily, even though they were careful about movies they gave me a lot more freedom with the books I read. For example, my mother's response to a middle-school fracas over my reading an apparently "pornographic novel" is the kind of satisfying vindication I can only appreciate in hindsight. The book was A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon, which had just been re-issued as a movie-tie-in for the film adaptation starring River Phoenix. Yes, I was a little young for the racy-ness, and yes, I only asked Mom to get it for me at the local Wal-Mart because of my confused crush on the teen idol gracing the cover. Anyway, when my mother, home in bed with a flu bug, was awakened by a phone call from Christian-right freakshow 7th-grade math teacher Frank Foster about the "filth" I was reading in between classwork assignments, she just responded with, "well we let Kyle read whatever he wants," hung up, and went promptly back to sleep.

But I digress. Needless to say Mom and Dad didn't care about my devouring the movie tie-in paperback of Silence of the Lambs. I got to see the movie eventually, but much later, and regretfully, on the small screen. Then of course, I got the video and watched it countless times. Then I found the Criterion DVD and watched that thing countless times. And I finally got a chance to watch it on the big screen last night, which was just riveting.

Some things that just don't come across on the small screen in that movie:

The close-ups of Hopkins. It looks like Hannibal could've bitten off the cheek of the camera operator if he wanted to. SO creepy.

The soundtrack. The rumbling in the preperatory moments when Dr. Chilton's prepping Clarice about how to behave with Dr. Lecter...I know that movie incredibly well and my heart was racing in anticipation.

The script, of course. It still blows my mind a little. Jason Grote helped me out a little via email with how it works. It's so tricky and so successful, I think.

Now that I've written about it I want to go see it all over again! But first I have to put A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon in my Netflix queue. Can you believe I've never seen it?

Always Wright....

I called my friend Kevin over the weekend to let him know that I saw -- and avoided -- a mutual acquaintance from college. Our IM exchange about said acquaintance was cute, so I thought I'd post.

zenokb: I am also envious of you star sighting.
kyletwilson: Which one?
kyletwilson: [Mutual acquaintance who shall remain nameless]?
zenokb: Yes.
kyletwilson: Hah.
kyletwilson: I couldn't bring myself to speak to her.
zenokb: Good idea.
kyletwilson: It would've been fun if you'd been with me....
zenokb: She would have acted thrilled to see you and then said something that sounds sort of sentimental but is really insulting.

If you knew this person you would understand just how dead-on that is!

The Essential Pansy Division


My President's Day Amoeba visit, for those of you waiting with baited breath, involved my picking up a Pansy Division best-of.

I'd almost forgotten about Pansy Division until I saw this CD on the shelf. These queerpunk pioneers -- rockers who penned such gems as "Fem in a Black Leather Jacket," "I'm Gonna be a Slut," "James Bondage," and the perennial favorite, "Homo Christmas" -- played a concert at Hendrix College in Conway, Arkansas, as part of their "Flowerslave Tour" when I was a wide-eyed freshman closet-case. I remember being really nervous and giggling a lot.

So the CD is lots of fun, but the accompanying DVD, which contains TV spots that look like they came from public access, is the real highlight.

But seriously guys, I know you couldn't put all your songs on The Essential Pansy Division, but I ask you, how is "Curvature" not essential??

Oh, and guess what...Willie Nelson wasn't the first to record "Cowboys are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other." Pansy Division was! Back in 1995!

Yesterday I was faced

with a dilemma.

I got to The Arclight for the 8pm screening of Silence of the Lambs (more later) almost an hour early, and, having some time to kill, naturally headed across the block to Amoeba Records. Never mind the fact that I was just there on Monday spending money I shouldn't have (more on that later), I had to do something, right? Of course I'd just browse.

But we all know that no one just browses at Amoeba. So the minute I walk up to the first racks of CDs I see that that buzzy Arctic Monkeys debut CD is out and I immediately snatched it up. Content to call it a day, but faced with a good 30+minutes til showtime, I wandered around some more...back into the classical, pretending I cared about purchasing more than the latest releases from the hottest opera heartthrobs, through the used section, where I contemplated (again) picking up those 2-CD deluxe editions of Sonic Youth's Goo and Dirty, and then back around, past the new release racks, to get in line to check out, proud of the fact that I only had one CD in hand.

Then I saw Destroyer's Rubies. Now, if I had any indie integrity whatsoever I would've immediately put down the next-big-thing Arctic Monkeys disposable brit-punk-smartass-punk-disco and gone for the regal Dan Bejar's edgy pageantry. And don't get me wrong; I'll get there eventually. But, after holding both CDs in my hand, after checking the cash in my billfold and determining I could only choose one...I went with the next-big-thing. I'm so weak....

So today, as punishment for rejection of Prince Bejar and settling for the obvious indie-pop choice, I'm taunted by this in the NYTimes:

[Bejar's] new album is "Destroyer's Rubies" (Merge), and it feels like an event: grand, sumptuous, sometimes seductive. Mr. Bejar has assembled perhaps the best band of his career, along with a singularly exuberant batch of songs....



Mr. Bejar's collaborators have perfected an elegant, shaggy version of classic rock, and he sometimes forsakes words in favor of da-da-das. Near the beginning of a song called "Looters' Follies," the drummer, Scott Morgan, plays a soft, humming baritone saxophone line. And near the end of the song, Mr. Bejar pays himself, and his band, a self-referential compliment: "I swear, 'Looters' Follies' never sounded so good."

And just like that, we're right back to words. That's what makes Mr. Bejar's music so tricky. He sings in a way that forces you to pay attention to the lyrics, even though he writes lyrics that don't often reward that kind of literalist attention. "Destroyer's Rubies" might come into focus more slowly than the earlier albums, because it's so overstuffed with Mr. Bejar's tics and quirks and revisions. But it's also more inviting, which makes it easier to savor the long process of getting to know these elusive songs.

I'm sorry Destroyer! I promise I'll never let you down again!!

Wednesday, February 22, 2006

New Rolando!!


And you know I ran to Amoeba after Munich and snatched that thing up! But why didn't somebody tell me there was a special version with bonus DVD? JW, get to Tower Classical A-sap!

Isn't he cute? But honestly, Rolando, must you flash that wedding ring at me? You could at least have a touch of regard for the daydreams of us fans out there!

More on Munich

I just read Anthony Lane's review (God love him) of Munich and I feel compelled to post favorite quotes:

[T]he fact remains that, as anybody who sat numbly through “Amistad” or “The Color Purple” can confirm, Spielberg is not a political artist. He is a humanitarian showman, and most of his audience, despite the fractious accusations of unfairness from both sides, will not go to see “Munich” for the poise of its politics.

Ooh, and here's a nice one:

The screenplay, by Tony Kushner and Eric Roth, has a habit of jerking away from the action and landing us in lumpy theatrical harangues. “We’re supposed to be righteous. We’re Jewish,” Robert exclaims. Fair enough, but should he really be banging on about it in broad daylight, in the middle of a Dutch railway station? What happened to deep cover?

And this one. Good point Mr. Lane!

“Munich” is a fidgety, international affair, and the cultural clichés come direct from your travel agent: Eiffel Tower for Paris, bicycles for Holland, and feast-laden tables for Israelis, wherever they are—plus a running gag about getting a receipt for expenses, which, to my taste, seemed moldy with prejudice.

And here's the big finish. He's creeped out by that sex scene too!

At the least, we would have been spared the sight, toward the end, of Avner having sex with his wife while images of the hostage ordeal flood his weary brain. How’s that? Is he fathering new life to replace the dead, or getting off on the sound of German helicopters? What a curious arc this movie has described: starting in terror, and ending up on the very brink of kitsch.


Delightfully crabby as always, Mr. Lane! I still liked it, but I'd still read you, even if you panned You Can Count on Me!

Maybe....

Saw Munich

last weekend. It's nice to see a Spielberg issue movie that doesn't annoy me for a change. I tend to prefer the popcorny ones...unless they're Minority Report (and I know I'm in the minority on that one, but I found Tom Cruise to be pretty terrible in it and had to turn it off halfway through). Mr. Cruise is the very thing that kept me away from War of the Worlds.

However, I really must echo my friend Kevin's question of "why is Eric Bana mid-coitus with his wife and flashing back to events that don't involve him? I know I know, they weren't really flashbacks, he was imagining the events; they haunt him; it's an inventive way to tell the past-tense story, etc. Still, it's kinda weird, isn't it?

One of the big moments that stands out in my mind is this amazing tracking shot about halfway through the movie. Now, I'm no great film buff or expert on cinematography; the whole sequence is probably far simpler and less of a big deal than it seemed to me as I was experiencing it, but during a super-tense scene in a city street a camera seems to track on fast-paced action from the street into a resturant before it stops in an open window. I wanted to rewind and watch the thing again. Frankly, the thing does look downright stunning from start to finish, and it's been a while since I've seen a tense action movie on the big screen that worked on me the way it did.

But I'll tell you what looks most stunning about the flick. ERIC BANA. Eric Bana in his 70s low-waist pants, poly-cotton button-downs, and bad neckties knotted too short; Eric Bana as cook, donning an apron and chopping lots of vegetables; Eric Bana sweaty and stubbly and ripping up his apartment in a Conversation-style state of paranoia; Eric Bana all cleaned up with his hair looking very Gavin Rossdale, walking down a Brooklyn sidewalk and carrying his adorable daughter in that tight light blue t-shirt and bell-bottom jeans. And he ain't half bad on top of it all!

I hope you've learned your lesson, Mr. Spielberg. I want Eric Bana from now on! No more sucky Tom Cruise! Got it? Thanks.

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

Happy Belated Presidents' Day!

I performed this last night at a meeting of a new writer's group I've joined. I even memorized the piece. People laughed and everything. It was fun! Enjoy....

A President’s Day Monologue
By Kyle T. Wilson

MR. PRESIDENT
Good evening everybody, and welcome to the inaugural meeting of central Arkansas’ first ever high school chapter of the Gay-Straight Alliance!

(HE cheers and claps. Hopefully the audience will join him.)

That’s right…I know the queens at Hall High are steamed that we beat them to the punch, but Little Rock Central High School is nothing if not historic, isn’t that right?!
(More cheering and clapping.)

That’s right! The school board has spoken, and never mind the protests of our anti-gay Governor Huckabee; I, President of Little Rock Central High School’s brand-new Gay-Straight Alliance, stand here today with all of you to declare that we are a new generation of tolerance in the state of Arkansas!

Now I started all this because I feel called to bring to our campus the same kind of dignity and equality that the Little Rock Nine brought for their people so many years ago. I often feel like a latter day Ernest Green as I dart from class to class, ears ringing from the muttering choruses of homo, fudgepacker, sausage-jockey…. But let me tell you, I may be free from being spat upon or called the N-word, but there is no National Guard looking out for me, my friends. We have to stand strong!

If I am at all disappointed by today’s turn-out, it’s the lack of that crucial half of our organization’s title. Where are the breeders, y’all? And yes, I am glad to see so many of the art geeks, the skate punks, and the drama kids here, but come on, we all know y’all don’t really count, don’t we?

The one friendly hetero face I had hoped to see was that Jed Shackleford. Teaches me to get my hopes up. Honestly, I can’t believe he didn’t show his face at this thing. He knew how much it meant to me. He promised me, even. When I told him about what I was doing, he said it was “cool.” He said, “Cool, man." And he pushed his hair out of his eyes like he does. I’m really hurt by this, y’all!

(A “cough-BULLSHIT-cough” is heard from the audience.)

Oh you be quiet, Lipstick, I remember when you were in pigtails and denim skirts! Never mind the fact that that haircut was passé three episodes into season one of THE L-WORD. For those of you in the back who didn’t hear, Lipstick just insinuated what a ridiculous notion it is that Jed Shackleford would waste his precious time on me. You know, it’s that kind of self-hatred, Lipstick, that will keep our organization from making any progress whatsoever.

We should be proud of who we are. Because I guarantee you, whatever that pretty boy Jed Shackleford might be doing right now, he is not showing his pride.

The only thing that Jed Shackleford can be proud of is his haircut. And I sure-as-shit didn’t learn that in the locker room after P.E.

That closet-case cocksucker talks me into skipping choir the day before All-Region just so he can cornhole me in the handicapped stall of the boys’ bathroom with that little #2 pencil of his. And he doesn’t have the decency to show his face here?

You know what? In the interest of the declarative spirit of our organization, I charge you all to OUT Jed Shackleford. Together we can send a message to the homophobic upper echelons of our social hierarchy that we will not keep their secrets anymore!

And all of you art geeks, skate punks, and drama kids calling yourselves “bi-curious” or “I don’t go in for labels," don’t any of you think for a minute that you can stand with us if you’re going to maintain this absurd fence-sitting posture that all us fags and dykes in the room know is an utter farce. You better get out and you better stay out, or…you can just GET THE HELL OUT! If you’re not WITH the Little Rock Central High School Gay/Straight Alliance, then by God, you are AGAINST the Little Rock Central High School Gay/Straight Alliance!

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Oh, and I haven't posted

about the Getty for the past couple of days, but if anyone's curious, I did post a comment on LAist about the whole matter. It's here.

Toni Morrison, librettist

The Elegant Variation has a fun post about an interview with Ms. Morrison regarding her work for "incredible black divas."

I heard Jessye Norman sing some of this stuff in '04 and found it a little tedious. But then again, I was falling asleep in the theater, in part from being too warm because that diva refused to allow air conditioning in the hall! That's right; still not over that one....

Pete Doherty's prison diaries

I've been keeping my eye on this rebel rebel for a little while....



Am I just getting older or has rock-n-roll substance abuse gotten kind of boring? I'm getting older; never mind.

Still, I remain a fan of that Libertines CD, derivative as it might've been, and while in search of a Mark Ravenhill article on The Guardian (which I might post on a little later), I found an article containing Doherty's diaries, and I have to say, they're kind of stunning. Here's a sample, beginning with a description of him being allowed to play a little pool:

February 2
"Might as well win" "two shots" "Chalky innit, where's Jimmy? Who?" I thought I was living just then. An exhilaration of a place taut with atmosphere and white potted black. Spunk in the shower-room. I wait and wait and then get in the hot spray. Yeah yeah yeah, I'm a clean junky. There's a hammering outside and some echoing laughter, beeps and slamming, clanging squeaks and banging.

I'll do my hair a-while, and even make my bed. Top bunk, yellow fire blankets aplenty coz I've been on the lookout see. Even nabbed a rare old prison shirt off a passing trolley, a boiled egg and a nice blue prison vest. To say nothing of the many packets of Butler I just found on the side. Baccy down me sock, someone says something a little out of sway, a stranger in all dark non-prison clobber is opposite my open cell door flashing his watch in my direction he was. Later that day ... Felt like freak show with a host of people at my cell door screaming and whooping like apes. DOHERTY! It's him! DOHERTY! DOHERTY! Oi!

February 5
Am I ever so mistaken or - oh distraction from some demonic banging by a fellow incarcerated soul - is that the sun spreading its wares all over the looming wing? Can't be much fun for whoever's reading this. Basically the plot goes like this: I'm in nick and it's doing me nut in and that's it. The whimsical melody of an old film is of no consequence. Nor the inmate's arm, bloody from self-inflicted scars, poking out of the cell to receive a nurse's attention.

For my own sake - because it feels like they have the power to cut off my head - I must become a hero, organise my life and obtain from it what they deny me. If I live, in order to continue to live with myself, I must have more talent than the most exquisite poet. These people can only put up with the tamed heroes - they don't know about heroism.

Granted, he sounds a touch overly self-romanticizing, if not just plain nuts, but all that kinda makes me want to reach for some Joyce...or at least Donleavy!

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I'm doin a little writin, people!

Can you believe it? I just finished about 20 pages of a new screenplay, tapped out a 1st-draft of a 10-minute play (which is also a blueprint for a longer one-act), and now I'm pounding out a monologue, which at the moment is quite fun.

And this is on top of my moving to a new apt in a few weeks. Where DO I find the time?

I suppose I should funnel all this energy into actually FINISHING the latest draft of Customary Monsters, but haven't I worked on that tired old thing enough?

Monday, February 13, 2006

Thomas Ades at Disney Hall

This young hotshot British composer/conductor/performer/ is a real virtuoso and I feel privileged that I got the chance to see him. JW and I saw him conduct the LAPhil through two pieces inspired by Shakespeare's The Tempest (Tchaikovsky's and Sibelius's), along with a new violin concerto of his own, and scenes from his operatic attempt at the play. The Tchaikovsky was especially stirring, but his Tempest was without question the highlight. Mark Swed writes about it here, and does a much better (and more knowledgeable) job than I could:

The writing for Ariel is breathtaking. This is surely the highest and fastest coloratura writing in all opera, and Cyndia Sieden, who sang the premiere, must be heard to be believed.

Adès' Prospero is anguished and only sometimes warm. Simon Keenlyside, who also created this part at Covent Garden, made him a compelling tortured tyrant. Adès concluded with the love duet between Miranda (Patricia Risley) and Ferdinand (Toby Spence), melodically lush and rhapsodic yet with just enough harmonic eccentricity not to seem neo-Romantic slush.

When Cyndia Sieden started as Ariel, complete with the character's strident spriteliness and emphatic hand-gestures, I couldn't help but laugh at the shock of Ariel's first lines; they are so high and short and bouncy that they seem impossible to sing. And yet they're just perfect for characterization; I was instantly reminded of the play and the specifics of that funny, sad character.

Thank you, Mr. Ades, and thank you LAPhil! You made my weekend yet again!

Thursday, February 09, 2006

BARRY MUNITZ HAS RESIGNED

I got a look at the press release. Apparently so did Tyler Green. He scooped me by 10 minutes! Details on the Getty Trust head's resignation are here.

More Sally Kirkland

Pretty soon this blog is going to be overrun with Sally Kirkland posts. I'll try to keep it under control.


Thank you Fug Girls, but can you tell me why in the world she would be at the Grammys? I just don't get it.

So today I learned

that there's a Kyle Wilson who lives/lived in Pittsburgh who owes $5,363 to People S Gas.

It's probably the same Kyle Wilson who owes $249 to Comcast in Pittsburgh.

Considering that I never heard of People S Gas and I never had cable when I lived in Pittsburgh, I am not that Kyle Wilson.

Too bad it's on MY $^#%$@*$&*#^$ CREDIT REPORT!!

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Geoffrey Knoop speaks!

More on J.T. Leroy, as the former boyfriend of Laura Albert confirms allegations that Albert wrote Leroy's stuff. But I think there's another deception going on here, and one that would totally kill in the Cavern Club at Casita del Campo.

Laura, you look fabulous, but couldn't you have come up with a better drag name? Norma De Plume, perhaps?

The NYTimes article is here.

Slaying Monsters

I've finally gotten around to doing the post-reading rewrite of Customary Monsters. I've eliminated brother Joseph and a pretty lady's maid named Nellie Doyle, and shoved Swiss society woman Julie Bovet to the thankless realm of the "offstage." Two more maids -- Mary and Annie -- along with a drunken character known only as "Old Man" are next.

R.I.P., supporting characters. I wanted to keep you around, but deep down I always knew you were expendable.

Monday, February 06, 2006

Ecstasy at MOCA

Two words:

Over.

Rated.

MySpace

Because Friendster is apparently three years ago, I'm trying to get up to speed with my long dormant MySpace profile. I've been scrolling through the profiles of folks from my undergrad. So many faces; so many forgotten confused crushes....

Friday, February 03, 2006

Why I love the LAPhil and Disney Concert Hall vol. XXXXIV

Being a nut for the symphony, JW has always kept a single-ticket subscription on Thursday nights to the LAPhil, and because my usual every-other-Thursday writer's group meeting fell through last night, I told him I'd join him for dinner at Disney Hall and see if I can get a ticket for the concert.

For those who don't know, Disney Hall has $15 bench seats behind the stage. I've always been curious about what the seats were like, but never ran down there last-minute to get a ticket at check them out.

Well they're GREAT. Granted, there are better seats, of course, (the one downside to my seat at last night's performance was not being able to see the bass or soprano during the Shostakovich -- although the soprano's dress looked HOT from the back, so it could've been worse) but the sound was fine, and I got to watch conductor Essa-Pekka do his thing.

Think about it; 15 bucks is a dollar more than a movie on a Friday night at the Arclight. 15 bucks is less than a lot of mediocre-to-bad theater I see in L.A. on a regular basis. We Angelenos are blessed with a world-class symphony with a world-class conductor (who's also a really exciting composer) performing in a world-class space. And I can walk up to the box office 45 minutes before the show and get a ticket for 15 bucks.

The benches section was really fun, too. It was great to sit among students and other bargain-hunting concert-goers. These are the people who are really interested in the goings-on, not just going there to please a wife or satisfy their social pretensions while snoring through the proceedings. An undergrad two rows below me was taking notes in a spiral with a blue Papermate pen; a grad student (I assumed; he was talking about student rush but was also a little gray) to my right was rocking out to the Shostakovich; another young dapper, dandified undergrad was talking before the concerts started about the State of the Union with his gaggle of best girlfriends to my left. Could someone please send me back to school? Please?

The funniest thing about my section was the fact that I was sitting on the back wall of the benches, and directly behind me was a section they obviously sell as subscriptions and at a higher price. Total bluehair set. Don't get me wrong; the LAPhil's audience always seems surprisingly diverse in age and ethnic make-up to me (way more so than the Taper/Ahmanson seems to be). But the stratification was clear.

My critique of the concert is as follows.

Mozart = pretty but gloomy. With Freemasons.
Haydn = so bright and lively
Shostakovich = more gloom, and haunting, with poems by Lorca, Rilke, and Appolinaire, including a text about lilies growing out of the wounds of the buried dead.

In short(er), the thematic make-up of the concert went something like this:

Death.
Life.
Death.

No pandering with that repertoire. No ma'am! Yet another reason for me to love the LAPhil! What is that? XXXXV?

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Sample convo

PT. II

JW: And why exactly are we sending out photo Xmas cards?

KW: I said never mind!

My friend Brangelina

I know Defamer already picked this up; heck, how do you think I found it? But I thought I'd share.

I think JW and I should pick a Sonic Youth album cover to mimic a pose for. Perhaps Washing Machine?



Sample convo about possible photo shoot:

KW: So I was thinking for this year's Xmas photo we should choose our favorite Sonic Youth album and try to recreate the photograph.

JW: What is Sonic Youth?

KW: Never mind.

Not to give too much away, but...

a guy in an office near my cubicle is blaring the cast recording of the new Sweeney Todd as we speak. It's totally drowning out my LAUNCH. I'm generally not a show queen but I'm kinda liking it.

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Yes. Yes. Yes.



Because there just aren't enough Sally Kirkland items on my blog.

Here. And. Here.

R.I.P. Shelly.



Let's hope WeHo and Sally survive without you, dear.

Thoughts on the way to work this morning

Running late...oh no!

No taps no taps no taps!!

Stupid State of the Union.

Stupid LAPD.

I've had enough of this horrid news, I tell you! Enough!!

Would you mind getting your feathered hair out of my way please?

Hello pectorals!

I love you Pavement!

I wonder if that SUV is making fun of my car singing....

9am. Right on time.

I love you new job!