Today my favorite Nespresso customer, not to mention my only living idol, called up. Mr. Stephen Fry! A few weeks ago, I was given the honor of processing his order for a Latissima machine over the internet. Yes, I know his address and phone number...just in case I lose it and start becoming one of those Mylene Farmer fans.
Today he called up one of my colleagues to order a spare part for the machine he has at work because as he said, "I tried to take matters into my own hands and buggered it all up." Everyone who's talked to him at work says he's incredibly sweet and nice. He also is a famous person who does things for himself instead of assigning the tasks to his minion peons.
I have to say, it's so nice to start a Monday with a call from Mr. Fry. It makes the office sparkle!
Not Only Is She A Well-Dressed Dyke, But She's As Smart As A Whip
[23 May 2008|11:21am]
Wow. All I can say is that I adore Ellen Degeneres. I met her when I was fourteen years old at the VH-1 Honors Awards in L.A. with my bat shit insane bitch of an aunt whose advertising firm was sponsering the event (on a side note, I also met Brad Pitt on the same occasion...my bat shit insane aunt was pulling me through a throng of people to go to the toilets and he was standing at a salad bar thingy and I bumped into him. I apologized and he put his hand on my shoulder and said "It's okay, hon." or something to that affect. It was right before Interview with the Vampire came out). Nice guy. Anyway, she was hosting the awards show and my aunt took me up to meet her. Right before I got to say "hello" some crazy ass hippies were in front of us giving her a bag of "magical charms" full of stones and glitter and her eyes were wide in fear and she was just...nodding. Then I got to say "hi" and shake her hand and she seemed a lot happier to talk to me than to them (even if I didn't have a bag of magical charms to offer her).
All I can say is, I'm proud to say I shook her hand and after this, I'd be doubly proud to do it again!
Spring gives thoughts of wanderlust...and having sex with buffalos, whales, and Matthew Barney (in the case of Matthew, only when you've had too much to drink the night before b/c that would be really scary).
This is literally what my dreams look like these days.
I've never seen a video that looks so close to my dreams.
I really adore this video, it might even be my favorite Bjork video thus far.
I love the earthy, folk-magick element in it. Like a modern savage woman-pagan (but not in that annoying New Agey way), it's so visceral and connected to the world. I love how she looks like a Mongolian Pagan Shaman Warrior Priestess. I so want to dress like a woodland dwelling magician, but I think Bjork is the only one who can pull that look off without it looking corny and bobo.
I could watch this a thousand times, easily. It's so wonderful.
This video makes me go, "awwwwwwwwwww". She's so damn amazing! Those furry buffalo cow creatures are so huggable.
Springtime Music Post 4- All Music Videos Should Be Like This
[05 May 2008|12:58pm]
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People Are Strange- The Doors
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All music videos should include: *douchebags (i.e. Jim Morrison) *accordions *team members (i.e. "crazies") *old people *tranny hookers *ugly people in bands nodding along awkwardly *dead people (i.e. Jim Morrison)
Teenage girls in 1970s L.A. who dressed like they were ready for a midnight screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I heard they were huge in Japan. Yey! I bet there were entire cults in Japan full of girls who dressed like each different member of the Runaways. Super Kawaii!
I wanted to dance through the park like Kate Bush today. I felt if I spinned around enough in a bright red dress, butterflies would fly out of my sleaves. Yey Spring! Maybe I need to be neutered like the cat.
You are Mr. Mojo Risin. The final incarnation, containing elements of all your previous facets. You are wise, witty and have a mischievous twinkle in your eye. While your nature is as free-spirited as ever, you look at life with a cynically detached amusement. You've learned to savor the simple things in life, and it inspires great loyalty in those around you. Your contented warmth instantly fills any room with joy. You know something very few others do: the true meaning of tranquility. Take this quiz!
1. Which book(s) do you irrationally cringe away from reading, despite seeing only positive reviews?
Anything overtly hipster (i.e. anything by Zadie Smith and Dave Eggers unless it's the Non-Required Reading series, which he only oversees during the editing).
Mary Renault books. I read one in my old book group, and despite how much I enjoy homoerotica, this stuff is so cringe-inducing that I can't bare it. "Gazelle Eyes" anyone? There's so much to say for subtlety.
2. Borrowing shamelessly from the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde, you are told you can't die until you read the most boring novel on the planet. While this immortality is great for a while, eventually you realize it’s past time to die. Which book would you expect to get you a nice grave?
Nietzsche. Anything by the man. I've tried, lord knows I've tried. I was goth and angry in high school, however I never really properly had my requisite "Nietzsche phase" nor have I, for that matter, gone through the requisite Smiths obsession (even though I am a fan, just never was obsessed). I'm not a big fan of philosophy in general, just because I think most of it is purely cerebral masturbation and mind-fuckery (despite the fact that my girlfriend was once a student of philosophy at the Sorbonne). But, don't get me wrong, I loves me some Foucault! That could have been that I had a professor in college who ran with with the big names of the Beat Generation who introduced me to Foucault by saying, "Yeah, sometimes we'd go to these weird gay S&M parties and he'd be all strung up in chains...dangling from the ceiling."
3. Which book have you pretended, or at least hinted, that you’ve read, when in fact you’ve been nowhere near it?
I still haven't read all of A Rebours, I'm working on it, but it's something I leave for a while and then pick up again...like a nice aged Malt Whiskey. God, I've been watching way too many episodes of Absolutely Fabulous lately, quotes from it slip in everywhere.
4. You’re interviewing for the post of Official Book Adviser to some VIP (who’s not a big reader).
Let's just say that I think the modern concept of "VIPs" is a fallacy. So, in that case, I'll just pretend I could be the Official Book Adviser to Marie Antoinette. I would totally tell her to read Colours Insulting to Nature by Cintra Wilson. She would totally relate.
5.A good fairy comes and grants you one wish: you will have perfect reading comprehension in the foreign language of your choice. Which language do you go with?
French. Definitely. I live in a French speaking country and it's a crime how unbelievably cheap basic paperbacks are here! They make it so accessible for everyone to be able to buy a book! They have all these different types of volumes that are regulated by price, so you can buy really good and new literature for almost nothing! I mean, it's a goddamn investment buying a brand new book if you live in an English speaking country, and this is such a great way to do things. Also, I would love to be able to read French novels actually in French because the translations of French literature inevitably do it no justice. There's so many gigantic concepts in French literature-writing that could never be accurately translated into English. It's just not possible. Any French Lit an English speaker reads is at best half of the original concept. I would love to one day read A Rebours in the language it was intended to be read. My next choice would obviously be Dutch because I also live in a Flemish-speaking country (and the Flemish have the best bookstores). Then, I would pick Russian, I would so love to read Tolstoy in Russian. My next choice after that would be German, because there's books about so many German Cabaret stars written in German that have never been published in English.
6. A mischievous fairy comes and says that you must choose one book that you will reread once a year for the rest of your life (you can read other books as well). Which book would you pick?
Tipping The Velvet by Sarah Waters, To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee, and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle by Haruki Murakami. Sorry, fairy gave me a choice of three books!
7. I know that the book blogging community, and its various challenges, have pushed my reading borders. What’s one bookish thing you ‘discovered’ from book blogging (maybe a new genre, or author, or new appreciation for cover art – anything)?
Definitely the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick O'Brian. tootsiemuppet turned me on to this series. I read the first book, Master and Commander which was a total chore for me up until the very end when I at one point got into it near the end and then got really into it. Now I'm currently reading Post Captain as a group LJ read-along that Gilly started and I'm actually reading ahead of the Chapter A Week because I adore it so much. The first book is a labor of love, but once it gets its hooks on you, it's totally addictive. It's also totally homoerotic in the non-Mary Renault way. Again. Subtlety. Although, I don't know if books with sentences like: "We'll lay in beer and skittles-it will be Fiddler's Green!" or, "I am with child to see a dew pond!" really can count as being subtle in the spectrum of homoerotica. I half-way just stick around to see what other utterly fey things O'Brian has them burbling out of their mouths.
8. That good fairy is back for one final visit. Now, she’s granting you your dream library! Describe it. Is everything leather-bound? Is it full of first edition hard covers? Pristine trade paperbacks? Perhaps a few favourite authors have inscribed their works? Go ahead – let your imagination run free.
Lets just say it would look exactly like Powell's Bookstore in Portland, Oregon, mixed with the coziness of Skylight Books in Los Angeles. There will also be big plush chairs, a roaring fireplace, a Patsy and Edinaesque fully stocked cabinet of brandy, a machine that only makes Viennese "melange" style coffees, a stock of every sort of tea from The Palace of Tea (sorry I couldn't write the actual name due to lack of accents on this keyboard, about three or four narcoleptic cats...oh yeah...and a little cupboard that you open and Stephen Fry magically appears like Eric Idle singing the Galaxy Song from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life<. It would have to also have Bernard Black working there to angrily fling novels at me from time to time, and then later split a bottle of red wine with me. Oh yeah, and every book I would ever like to read, of course.
the east's not so far away, it could be home, it could be home...
[13 Apr 2008|12:02am]
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loved
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to the east- electrelane
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I haven't yet posted about our trip to Austria and the Czech Republic. I might as well share, before my memories become blurry.
We started our journey off at Brussels Central...with a giant pink stuffed Hippo named Humbert. We were on our way to visit our lovely friend Q, who lives with her family in St. Wolfgang, Austria. Her sister has two small children, a boy and girl ages 5 and 2. The Hippo was for her little niece. We shot a mini-documentary about the journey, which took place on April Fool's Day, no less. When we stood on the sidewalk at Brussels Central, a lady stood in front of Elise, gawking at it and studying the words written on the hippo's feet which read: "Love" on one side "Me" on the other.
We rode the train to the airpot, then boarded our plane where the people on Brussels Airlines joked that "he didn't have his passport". They were quite excited about Humbert. The people at Security were not, however. Elise had me place poor Humbert on the X-Ray board (I can't think of what the official name of that thing is right now). She was intending to shoot him coming through the security section, only to have a lady at Security go ballistic on her for filming at the security checkpoint. She forced Elise to go through everything she shot before she let us go on. Apparently, pink hippos are on Red Alert these days...
The plane wasn't full, so Elise placed him on the seat next to her. Some grumpy old fart was sitting on the other side, I don't think Humbert made his day, shall we say. When we arrived in Munich, Elise released Humbert from his seat-belted prison. Some ladies sitting behind her burst out laughing hysterically.
We managed to navigate our way through the Munich transit system full of bored-looking Germans who pretended not to notice the sight of a pink hippo gazing out the windows. "Vee are Nihilists, Lebowski."
On a side note, I discovered that in Munich there are specific smoking areas on the outdoor train platforms. It's nice that non-smokers don't have to be surrounded by smoke, but, um, it's sort of ridiculous to have smoking areas outlined in orange on an outdoor platform considering the smoke goes...in the air. Oh well. I stood inside it and smoked anyways. It was sort of fun to put one foot on the outside of the orange stripe just to feel rebellious or something. I'm sure tourists totally do that all the time...and fifteen year olds. But really, what is the difference?
We took the train from Munich to Salzburg, which is always a beautiful ride, especially when you arrive into Salzburg and see the city at night all lit up and dramatic on the side of the cliffs. It's a striking sight.
The Lovely Miss Q picked us up at the train station and we drove back to St. Wolfgang with Elise and Humbert sitting in the back of the car.
We arrived in St. Wolfgang, spending time hanging out with her sister and her brother, as well as the two little ones.
We introduced her little niece to Mr. Humbert, who she hugged instantly, her giant blue eyes huge and happy. Her mom was happy to have a new comfie and pink hippo to add to the menagerie on the couch. Elise helped her nephew build a lego Spongebob which we had brought especially for him (he's a huge Spongebob fan).
The next two days were spent in absolute bliss, hanging out with Q and her wonderful family. The alps were our backdrop and it rained nearly the entire time we were there. We spent our days being cozy in her sister's apartment in the house, eating homemade pizza and other wonderful food they made for us. We had a nostalgic viewing of Reality Bites that she and her brother projected on their beamer in their living room. Oh the memories of that movie! I still say that I would much rather get with Ben Stiller than Ethan Hawke from that one. Troy was such a douchebag!
On a day when the rain had cleared a bit, we took her niece for a stroll in the town, and then to a cafe when it began to rain again. That evening, we went out to a local bar where we hung out with one of Q's friends and drank a few tasty Austrian beers.
The day after, we drove to Prague, dropping Q off in Wells for a cultural program. It took forever to get to Prague because, while Czech people have an amazing cultural history...their driving is something to be desired.
We arrived at our hostel to a hyperactive, elderly Czech woman who reminded me of my grandma Ide with a thick Czech accent. We asked if we had parked our car in a good spot and she informed us, "OOOHHH NOOOOO! The police...THE POLICE. So Elise promptly moved the car (whose name is 'Fred', by the way).
We took in some sights in Prague, then went home early to get a full day in the following morning. By the way, Prague has the most amazing Tesco I've ever been to. If you need a wide assortment of deodorant...go to Tesco in Prague. I think they're really happy about capitalism. At least Tesco is. They have an entire wall alone dedicated to hair dye.
The next day, we ate an amazing breakfast made for us by Czech Grandma Ide, then went on to check out (I won't even mention all the horrible puns you can make there, because it would expose me as the total moron that I secretly am) the castle and some other sights. I made a point of us finding the Faust House, where Doctor Faust was said to have channeled the devil and been sucked through the ceiling by Satan himself. Various satanists and alchemists lived there, including a dandy who slept in a coffin and papered the walls with obituaries.
We crossed the INSANELY touristy Charles Bridge to go up to the castle. If you're looking for any wide variety of cheap tourist crap, that is the place for you. We walked up the excruciating stairs leading up to the castle and then during the pre-changing of the guards, we were pushed aside by a group of rabid Italian tourists, so decided to get the hell out of there. The view was nice, but that's about all. We managed to find our way back to the Royal Gardens where we got to bond with the red squirrels with pointy ears, and then tried to escape the castle and manage to find our way to the nearest tram lines to take us to the Jewish Quarter.
We swung by the Jewish cemetary (the oldest grave their dates to the 1400s). We took a really great picture of a bunch of little glass rabis playing jazz instruments...that was nifty. We couldn't get into the Jewish cemetary because it was the Sabbath. There was just one lone yarmulke laying forelornly on the sidewalk. Le Sigh.
After that, we headed off to the Mucha museum where I bought one of my favorite Mucha prints...I was raped of my money for it...but it was worth it...sort of.
That evening, we found The Best bar. It's called Meduza and reminded me of a friend of ours' (you'll know who)apartment. It was full of old 1920s photos and plush crushed red velvet armchairs, and they played amazing music. We got fantastic meals both under four euros each, as well as Velvet beer on tap. Le yum. On the way there, we passed a fantastic tea house where everyone left their shoes by the door and they were screening a film where people lay sprawled out on cushions. If we ever return to Prague...that neighborhood is amazing. It's definitely one of those cities where it benefits to know someone living there, I'm sure daily life in Prague is quite nice.
The next day, Elise went to get the car. Half an hour later, I got a call from her where she stated, "I'm at the police station. Someone tried to break into the car." She was there for about an hour. When she came back, she told me that nothing was stolen. Apparently, when she went to collect the car, the police were sitting there waiting for her. They asked if the car was hers and she briefly wondered how she should respond to this. They informed her that someone tried to break into the car, but they were able to catch him because he was "caught on camera". Apparently, some cold war relics still abound. They insisted on taking her to the station to give a statement and further information even when she informed them that the insurance would cover it. They took her in to a station with naked pin-ups splattered on the walls and a cheezy Czech soap opera something akin to General Hospital playing in the background. They then brought in a thuggish looking fellow who she instantly worried was the perpetrator. However, "Peter" was her English translator. They finally let her go after an hour and we were able to head out, our car barely the worse for wear, thank god.
We journeyed through the hinterlands of the Czech Republic, passing through creepy village after creepy village. After each village there was a Jebus statue on the cross. Sometimes we would occasionally pass abandoned mansions far off on a great expanse of land. I suppose they at one time belonged to wealthy landowners before the days of communism whose land was taken away and turned into communal farmland. Eerie it was. We also passed several gardens with dead cars who had been there for so long that trees were literally growing out of the spot where their engines had once functioned. Once you get outside of Prague, you are truly in a desolate, strange land. It's hard to imagine what it would be like to grow up in places like that. Everything seems one foot in the 2000s and one foot in the 1980s still.
After a few panicked hours of wondering if we would ever arrive at the Czech/Austrian border, we finally came upon it. We were clued in by the sight of garish casinos with giant dragon statues and theme parks for the kids with enormous casinos hidden not so subtly behind them. Closer to the border, aged and worn-looking women paced back and forth in desolate areas where only gravel and a few straggly looking trees stood. One was at a bus stop, but the rest appeared to be prostitutes.
We arrived at the border admittedly relieved to be back in Austria. We then drove on to Vienna where we met up with Q at the hostel.
The hostel was in a beautiful, distressed Viennese apartment building with high walls, strange non-working fountains in the halls, and long winding ornate stairways.
The Lovely Miss Q then took us on a journey to some of her favorite Viennese coffee shops. We then managed to sneak in a viewing of Juno at the Kino (just because I love the word kino), then went out for the Vietnamese.
The next day, we continued our Vienna coffee house adventures, as well as took in the Matthew Barney exhibit at the Modern Art museum. In the evening, we went out for dinner then saw Barbez at a great little place on the Gertl (Gurtel, Gertyl...sorry my spelling sucks ant I'm too lazy at this point to bother to look it up...someone correct me please).
All in all, it was a great visit and we are excited to see everyone again sometime this summer in one of our favorite places in the world...with one of the best families in the world also. We're lucky to have such wonderful people in our lives.
i am currently in prague with elise. we spent the last two days in st. wolfgang with q and her family. those days were spent playing with her adorable neice and nephew, watching reality bites and l.a. ink with she and her sister chrissy and her brother hannes, relaxing, and reading with the beautiful alps to gaze out at from the balcony and windows. it was so wonderful! today elise and i arrived in prague and walked around the centrum for a while, then went out for indian food. tomorrow will be the big sight-seeing day, and then on sunday we are heading to vienna to meet up with q. life is good. will report back later when am not on a czech keyboard from 1989.
I think Adam Green is the Serge Gainsbourg of Germany, except he's a Jewish American
[31 Mar 2008|07:45pm]
What is the deal with Germany's obsession with Adam Green anyway? It's like that entire country is standing in line to suck his circumsized unit.
Maybe they just don't see many of those anymore, I mean, most Germans probably don't get the opportunity to spend their childhoods surrounded by annoying Indie Rock Jewish Boys who survive purely on irony, cocaine, and booze...whatever it is, it still boggles my mind that he is a huge celebrity in Germany...
This is on par with a classic Serge Gainsbourg interview, except if Serge was a pretentious indie rock douche.
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