06.08.07
Invisible Sun
“SNOWDRIFT!” thought I, as I turned the corner this evening and spied what my mind first told me had to have been a pile of the cold white fluffy. Patented “wet” logic circuitry then kicked in and added, “but it’s sitting right beside a palm tree…and palm trees don’t–” And then the ocular nerves cut in, and simply said, “It’s a couch.” Technically, the largest, whitest, ugliest sofa I have ever seen — but it was amusing, for a moment, to have perceived it as a June, SoCal snowdrift. For one thing, one can never really fully trust one’s senses, can one? And for another, it really is bizarre, in SoCal, how people think nothing of heaving their former furniture (and then some) into the public eye. Weird place.
Earlier in the day, I was talking on a mobile cellular device, and walking though an area through which I walk almost every day (and often twice), and suddenly I noticed that all was not right with my left cuff. Bee! What? Here? In America? I thought the bees were having a hard time. Possibly from the very hyper-popular device (and its accoutrements) I was employing for communication right then. Bees aren’t even indigenous to North America — not the honey kind anyway — they were imported from Europe a long time ago. This one wasn’t concerned one way or another. It appeared to be using my cuff as a napping place. I used a magic wand to flick it to the grass (also not indigenous)…where it continued sleeping.
There were a couple of moments of re-realising The Dire Disappointment Straddling The Horizon Of Horror, but — like all of the nausea of Mad May (never have I known such a feeling) — it subsided with a little Replacement Thinking.
In the diner the corn salad and the Caesar salad made a fine combination, offset by steamed broccoli with soy sauce and an Arnold Palmer. It was eerily quiet in there, and then “Invisible Sun” gradually took over the soundscape. I like jolly, but that’s a terrific track. As with “Darkness” from the same album (Ghost In The Machine — they were having a Title Field Day!), it feels like Artists Almost — Almost — Breaking Through To Something Previously Unknown — and I like that!
(Incidentally, for those who are totally sick of me riffing on pop — mostly rock — essences of the past, it’s like this: I’m open to anything. It’s just that in terms of pop music, most current things sound terribly derivative to me, and thus I return to exciting and ambitious and overlooked works. My friend Daniel raves up The Arcade Fire. Okay. I like Canadians. I still like The Rheostatics, too. And Bob & Doug…)
Tonight, Meshell Ndegeocello played, and I like her — but I already had a prior engagement. Happy she’s around, though.
Oh, speaking of Daniel, I may as well take a moment to boast (vicariously):
Not one but two of my Nearest ‘n’ Dearest have films screening in The Seattle International Film Festival on 15 June!
Indeed, Daniel Waters’ Sex and Death 101 — which he screened earlier this year, and which is ”A Way Uncomfortable Psycho-Sexual Laff Riot” (-Gregory) — will be on first, at 6:30. It is his most ribald script since Heathers.
Then, at 9:30, make your way to Paul Todisco’s One Day Like Rain — to which I’ve been privvy twice already this year, and shall call “A Haunting, Mesmerising Trip Through Adolescent Americana” (-Gregory). It is not his most ribald script since Freak Talks About Sex (a.k.a. Blowin’ Smoke), which serves it very well!
I am very proud of The Home Team for these entries, and hope to be present, in which case I’ll post reports.
(Alas, I had been hoping big-time to make that weekend An Utterly Enchanting Birthday Weekend for someone, but that is no longer desired; gotta put that energy somewhere…)
What else…oh, yeah:
Pilot friend B. is winging his way into SoCal on Friday (when I asked “Where?” he replied “West Hollywood” to which I replied “Please tell me which street and what time”), plus — as Book lifelines are slightly behind — this is to be a Massive Overhaul Week-End, which doesn’t mean that a whole lot will change for me personally, as I have been Overhauling like crazy anyway — but it does mean, Faithful Visitors, that this luxurious contraption may fall dormant for a couple of days.
Friday morning may zoom along swiftly, but I did catch Broken English and would like to make some mention of that here. How have I missed Parker Posey until now? She’s an actress, but she’s actually really good!
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