It's finally spring down here on the Potomac, my heat rash is in bloom and everyone is dying of boredom.
You called at a rather inconvenient time knowing how much I loathe to speak to you on the telephone, you're voice raising then lowering, shouting commands and whispering secrets. It's too much. At times. Too much for my poor muscadine-adled brain to take you in like that. Us seperated. For all this time, you in the city and me down here, in the bog. It's too much I say.And so, I apologize for hanging up on you. You were worried. You wanted to hear my voice lilt with excitement telling you stories of wanton lust and underground adventures. But I couldn't do it, wasn't able, had no strength. To talk. So I didn't.
But I said I would write. Correspond the old fashioned way with you. And I am. Doing just that. With you. Right now.
We shall start with my lovely trip home. And I'll admit I was not looking forward to it. To going home. Not much. But I went and I survived. Like I always do. Like you taught me to do. Oh yes, it was wonderful to be back home amoung the tall pines and scented hills of my Georgia. I inhaled the perfume of the land and danced with the fairies of the forest. Just like I used to. When I was so much younger. And I suprised myself with the good will I felt towards my family that I spent time with. I do so love them all. Even now. Years later. After all that has happened. With me.
I thought of taking photographs of quaint general stores and picturesque small town scenes to send to you. To show you what I speak about and have spoken about since we've first met. But I didn't. Not this time.
This time I will share it with you with words. Not images. Words being the more powerful choice. To depict. To illustrate. What I am saying. I'll tell you stories about people and places and you'll know everything there is to know. And you'll feel like you were there. With me. Together.
But I won't do those things in this letter. Can't bring myself to tap into that side of me. I need a few more days of space away. To clear my head and my heart. And then. I will tell you stories. And you'll be so pleased. Like you used to be. Back when.
But for now, I must go. Say my good-bye's to you. I've written the pen nearly dry.
All of my love,
The Benefits Of Mental Health
I think I write better music when I'm sane - here's yet another remix of that song for J..
"Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine:
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I'll not look for wine.
The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine."
Thursday, April 24
On A Clear Day.......
....you can see Toronto, the North American SARS epicentre, across the water from my backyard. This morning, I'm very much of the hope that those pernicious virii can't swim.
Anyone in the market for a charming, 120 year-old lakefront cottage?
Wednesday, April 23
Happy Birthday, Colin
"Don't worry, dear - the botox & your senior's bus pass are on the way, as promised..."
All the best, Mr. Uh Huh.
Better get ready for the weekend -
I haven't fed the strippers for, like, 3 days.
x + o + bump + x .
Tuesday, April 22
If Madonna Calls.....
..please tell her to read his effortlessly lethal evisceraton of her claim to title of Important 20th century Artist. PK's intelligence is downright frightening.
Some far humbler thoughts of my own ::
:: "X Static Process"? - She must be referring to her hair.
:: Mummy & Daddy Issues - The woman is, what, 44? Talk about wearing your trauma on your Stella MacCartney sleeve. Madonna - don't preach.
:: Having The Unmitigated Gall To Presume Her Video Could Affect International Affairs In Any Way - Or - what a lame excuse for yanking a really bad video of a really bad song.
:: The Robot Voice Habit - If you're gonna co-opt avant garde stylistic gimmickery, make damn sure it's not, in actual fact, deja vu. And some fearless aide-de-camp needs to sit her down and explain, in patient tones, that she should never attempt to rap, publicly, again, ever.
:: American Life? - Hmmm. More like "American Wife".
:: Great Remixes of Yore - Where's Shep Pettibone when you need him most. Or, put another way, when's the last time you danced, willingly, to a Madonna remix? I'd rather die another way.
:: Gay Icon Thing - Between all the Circuit Parties and those fucking Die-Ins, I must have missed that referendum. Oh yeah - her husband...he's a homophobic pseudo thug.
:: Swept Away - By what - a tidal wave? Cinematically, we all should be so lucky.
Debbie Harry......where are you?
Monday, April 21
Monday Morning Maniac Music
Below is a remix I completed, during a nervous breakdown, somehow, last week - of an earlier song I wrote for Brotherlove. Hopefully, I won't experience stress like that for a while....(you too?)
[Significant Pause. Beseeching expression in eyes. Which belies her near-manic anxiety that you are a) afflicted with Son Cancer or b) metamorphosing into a stick, before her very eyes.]
A nice, little sliver?
Please - 'cause if you don't, I'm just gonna throw it out anyw - -"
Somehow through either sheer dint of will, or my genetic predispostion, or the drugs - I've never been in the relaxed state necessary to determine which - I have remained resolutely, Duchess of Windsor thin. For this, I like to think to I deserve an award - 'cause My Jewish Mother employs an array of Psy-Op Techniques in the name of Getting-Sean-To-Eat which would render Mr. Rumsfeld speechless.
So if, one day, you wake-up and find yourself - lord help you - with a Jewish Mother, I offer some tips to help maintain that svelte figure ::
:: Invoke The Spirit of Audrey Hepburn before digging in. For some (sick) reason, Jewish Mothers worship the anorectic shiksa Hollywood goddesses of yore - and mere mention of their over-bearing elegance ("elegant" = "thin", in Jewish) will (at least) give them pause (and you a break) before the onslaught of Fricasse headed your way....but yes - didn't you know? That VAT of fricasse on the stove was made JUST FOR YOU.
:: Talk Loudly, Incessantly, Forcefully about Gas. Probably the one medical condition - besides her children having a normal weight - which can stop the typical J.M. dead in her tracks. For about a minute.
:: Eat Beyond Her Field Of Vision. The idea here is that, by placing suitable distance between you & your J.M., she will be unable to assess your forkful count to body mass ratio, which serves as her statistical foundation to all subsequent dietary campaigns. Sitting in front of the TV to watch "Blind Date" (they HATE that show) often works as an excuse not to join her in the J.M.'s arena of choice, the kitchen. If, as is the norm, she regails you from the kitchen re: the state of your plate, PRETEND THAT YOUR MOUTH IS FULL. This is absolutely crucial.
:: The Kitchen Is Her Battlefield. As I mentioned above, this is where your J.M. can exact the most damage. Avoid it at all costs - although, to be truthful, this can prove exceedingly difficult - she'll probably start to cry if you don't enter her lair at least once during a visit.
:: Drag Goyische Friends Along Whenever You Visit. As a rule, J.M.'s generally regard your non-jewish friends with a mixture of fascination & revulsion. It will be assumed that your "poor friend who dresses like a slob" exists on nothing more than Bologna & Wonder Bread. Mother, who can't deal with this, may dispense with offerings of food altogether - but only a few times. Afterall, you want to avoid The Conversion Process (for another post, gentle reader, another post) at all costs.
:: Make Guilt Work For You. For Once. When you visit, bring chocolates & flowers, and smother her with a tidal wave of affection. She'll start to cry, tell herself she doesn't deserve "such a wonderful boy", and is thereby side-tracked from her original plan which probably involved kreplach. You now have 10 minutes to hide in the bathroom ( see point # 2, re: Gas).
:: Dine With Mother, As Often As Possible, In Public Remember - the 2 underlying tenets of J.M. childrearing, which, of course, extend well in adulthood, are a) don't touch yourself and b) never play with your food in public. Use these to your advantage. If she starts re: the eating, become all fidgetty. She'll "tap" you, get all flushed & want to leave ASAP....and guess what - you've WON!
(Of course - it goes without saying - that none of this would be necessary - if my J.M.'s cooking - wasn't so delicious)
Normally, I don't go for Aryan*All*Over. For Beckham, however, I'd make a pointed exception ::
Wonder what he's thinking....who cares.
[And that mohawk - Oi !!]
Monday, April 7
This country has sat on it's laurels long enough....and I'm gonna tell ya why ::
:: Ice storms in April. Yes - I said April.
:: SARS. Our public health care response? Well, it's a two-pronged approach - a) wear these silly masks everywhere and b) get Ministers of Government to blame 'The Asians'.
:: The Juno Awards. Hosted by erstwhile hick, Shania Pain - who, despite the best efforts of her team of Stylists-for-Satan, remains National Embarassment #1.
:: Celine Dion & her Husband/Statutory Rapist, Renee Whats-His-Head. Las Vegas has lost its collective mind. National Embarassment #2.
:: Obscene Income Tax rates. And I still do not have any visible sidewalks on my street.
:: Avril Latrine. Wore a mini-skirt on the cover of Rolling Stone. Sell-out.
:: Bad Coke everywhere. The necessary Dristan I need right afterwards gets me higher.
:: So-called 'liberal marijuana legislation'....uh.....when?
:: A Prime Minister who needs to spend 2 dedicated solitary weeks alone with the complete lesson set of Fun With Phonics. Who voted him in, anways?
:: Air Canada. World's most over-rated/over-subsidized airline goes belly-up last week. Technically, if my math is correct, this then should result in the cutting of our aformentioned income taxes by half...I am, uh, not exactly holding my breath for this one, however.
Nationalized healthcare alone does not a happy citizen make.
Saturday, April 5
Been There - Done That - Had the Surgery
This Tune is a facelifted version of the 'theme song' I wrote for this fashionplate'ssite. This Other Tune is a silly little remix of the above - it demonstrates the wonders of Stereo Delay...(shhhh..music producers don't want you to know about Stereo Delay)...
Both are meant to be background - for your background....
Thursday, April 3
This piece is called "Chocolate In My Peanut Butter" - and was written for the extremely handsome owner of this site. Definitely crank this one all the way up - er, I meant the song, of course.
Some things you just do for free - you know?
Wednesday, April 2
LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): Your idealism is one of your greatest
assets, but it can also be a liability. Driven to seek beauty and
harmony, you sometimes become blind to the messy truth.
That's why I was so pleased to get the following oracle when I
consulted the ancient Chinese book of divination, the I Ching, on
"It is only when you have the courage to face things
exactly as they are, without any self-deception or illusion, that
a light will develop out of events by which the path to success
may be recognized."
I interpret this to mean that you are about
to temporarily suspend your idealism in order to see the messy
truth, which will in turn lead you to an opportunity to practice
your idealism on a higher level.
[........like, I'm waiting, for my updraft.........]