Friday, April 25, 2008

(Not so) Breaking News.

I have a job. I will be helping Jerry Traunfeld open Poppy. After 5 years of bussing it out across the lake I am rather elated to be able to walk from my front door to my workplace in, what? 5-7 minutes max at a leisurely stroll. What decadence.

In other news, Harry and I just got back from a mini trip to the Pais Vasco/Pays Basque.

We went to Bilbao and San Sebasti√°n. The Guggenheim was pretty amazing. In the ground floor gallery, which is giant, there are 7 or 8 Richard Serra sculptures similar to 'Wake' at the Olympic Sculpture Garden in Seattle. Many of them are these spiral forms that you can walk into. The oxidized walls completely tower over you and as you walk around and around getting closer to the center the walls alternate from leaning out to sloping in. Solemn, claustrophobic and joyful. You find yourself leaning as you walk, like in a fun house. I felt immense pleasure from the whole experience. I was giggling like a little kid. There was a certain feeling of accomplishment and peaceful elation when one arrived at the center of each sculpture. Great, great work.

I also have a new favorite restaurant. As in all time favorite in the universe. Harry and I had made plans to eat at the Guggenheim restaurant. I read they were serving some amazing food. Indeed they were. I was absolutely floored. Our first course of white aspargus came with a broth that was so intensely floral, with notes of bitter herbs and citrus. It was sort of like perfume, but very palatable and pleasurable. Alongside, they served the peel fried as a tempura, which appealed to my sensibilites of serving the whole beast. It was so simple and so effing good, a complete surprise that they had packed so much flavor in such a seemingly spare dish.

Every other dish was likewise stunning, apart from a pasta that we sent back twice for being undercooked (something I have never done, was semi-mortified by, but got over) though it was marvelously sauced. Everything was so delightful that midway through the meal I looked at Harry and said that we had to make reservations for lunch the next day immediately, something I haven't done since the first time that we went to Lumiere, back when I was just a wee thing. Also, Richard Serra (yes, he of the awesome metal sculptures) was dining with the director of the museum right next to us, which was pretty heart-fluttery:

Let's see, pintxos were total fun also. Just grabbing what looked good at the time, or ordering things that sounded tast-ay.

Bilbao seems to really shut down early (after 11 everyone disappears and the metal shutters start to roll down over the entrances to bars and restaurants) which is very odd coming from Andalucía where often people don't even sit down for dinner until 11pm. The second night in Bilbao we ended up in a little pintxo bar that as it turned out was a clandestine homo-bar. They started playing some rocking 80s Spanish New Wave and cute boys were getting touchy feely. We asked the bartenders for a good place for a nightcap once we sensed that they were about to close. At first they looked somewhat evasive. Then the bartender asked what kind of music we liked. I said 'everything' at the same time that Harry pointed up at the speaker and said 'this.' Then he added, maybe something 'ambientoso' which means with (homo-) ambiance. Then she totally transformed and was all smiley. She took us out to the street and gave us directions to this fun little dyke bar called 'La Marina' filled with ladies and their puppies. It was a riot, they played mass ABBA and also a little La Lupe. During that hour and a half I nearly believed in intelligent design.

What else? We saw a bullfight here in Granada. More on that later. Probably.

Also, this appeared to me on a concrete bench at the Guggenheim. It will soon be on a blazer:

Friday, April 11, 2008

Yellow Linen Suit Part I.

This was originally white linen. I painted the suit by hand.

When I put it on it was like putting on something made of paper. This made me very happy because I always wanted to wear a paper shirt or jacket. I love heavily starched shirts. The pant legs had what looked like fins running down the sides of my legs at first until I separated the fabric. You can see this on the bottom outside of the left pant leg.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

Awesome Lyric? (if you don't make his breakfast youse a sideline ho)

Harry used Sideline Ho to illustrate a point about a play by Garcia Lorca in his class the other day.

As I used to be obsessed about reading lyrics when I was a teen and I still find it rather amusing and pleasurable I will post the lyrics here, much as Harry did in class.

We just build off each other's weirdness, don't we.

P.S. this is in my top 5 in songs for female self-degradation if I ever get around to creating the list. Other notables, 'stand by yr man' (an obvious one), 'jolene' and 'cater 2 u'


Ho, Ho, Sideline Ho, Youse a ho, youse a ho, sideline ho

[Verse 1:]
When you called his phone, did he pick it up?
No, 'cause we was making love.
Did you meet his moms, have you met his kids? No, oh, did you know my kid was his?
No, oh.

Get your shit together you're making a fool of yourself,
it don't matter if he spends the night, his home is somewhere else
Ain't you tired of being on the side line, tired of getting yours after I get mine baby?
second place don't get a prize when you gone realize
you're wasting your time baby
Ain't you're tired of him getting, hitting real quick, then rolling and
Ain't you're tired of when you need a little change and he lies about what he holding?
Ain't you're tired of spending all the holidays alone, tired of being his little sideline ho?

Do he take you out, do he foot your bills, no oh, 'cause I know what his balance is
have you been to his church,
do he ask you to pray, no oh 'cause Sunday's Family day


[Bridge x2:]
Do you got benefits, no, credit cards, no, house keys, no, then youse a sideline ho,
do you get pillow talk, no, held at night, no,
if you don't make his breakfast then youse a sideline ho


Youse a ho, Youse a ho, sideline ho

Friday, April 4, 2008

Dark Lady

So I am now obsessed with another Cher song. I recommend it heartily! A tale of passion and betrayal and evil fortune tellers. I thought the last line read, "dark lady would never turn a collar red no more" which cracked me up. It is still pretty funny. I don't quite understand why a Gypsy fortune teller would have a limo with a driver, but I definitely like the image of her brushing her cat (!) in the backseat. It gives the song a certain Prince-ish fantasy woman quality. So I sort of imagine it's Sheila E. or Lisa or Apollonia.

She also looks like a total drag queen in the video, with the limp wrist and all.

The lyrics are:

The fortune queen of New Orleans
Was brushing her cat in her black limousine
On the back seat were scratches
From the marks of men her fortune she had won
Couldn't see through the tinted glass
She said, "Home James" and he hit the gas
I followed her to some darkened room
She took my money, she said, "I'll be with you soon"

Dark lady laughed and danced
And lit the candles one by one
Danced to her gypsy music
Till her brew was done
Dark lady played black magic
Till the clock struck on the twelve
She told me more about me
Than I knew myself

She dealt two cards, a queen and a three
And mumbled some words
That were so strange to me
Then she turned up a two-eyed jack
My eyes saw red but the card
Still stayed black
She said the man you love is secretly true
To someone else who is very close to you
My advice is that you leave this place
Never come back and forget you ever saw my face


So I ran home and crawled in my bed
I couldn't sleep because of all the things she said
Then I remembered her strange perfume
And how I smelled it once in my own room
So I sneaked back and caught her with my man
Laughing and kissing till they saw the gun in my hand
The next thing I knew they were dead on the floor
Dark lady would never turn a card up anymore


Also, for kicks, check out this Bowie&Cher cocaine tripout:

Thursday, April 3, 2008


I just read that Kathi Goertzen is going in for brian surgery again to remove part of a tumor which has grown back. I have grown up with Kathi and this news affected me oddly; I felt tenderly and protective toward her all at once. Who cares if she shoplifts? That's just more hardcore.

I remember once when I was probably 11 I spotted Kathi down at the Pike Place Market strolling a stroller (presumably with her kid inside it). I pointed this amazing sight out to my older sister who wouldn't believe me that it was her. We sort of followed K. through the people for awhile, me saying, "yuh-huh," my sister saying "nuh uh, don't lie." She finally yelled out "Kathi!" in the huge, obnoxious bellow that only to a certain age of teenager can produce. Of course, K. turned around, rather startled. My sister and I ran.

Cherish you Kathi.