Friday, June 17, 2016


It is Friday at Happy Hour time and I'm in a frustrated mood. I'm frustrated that Happy Hour time on a Friday is the first time all week that I've had sufficient time to work on my writing, and I'm frustrated that the first thing I did when I came home was sleep even though I NEEDED TO SLEEP. My schedule is busy, but is it really SO busy that my writing efforts have to fall by the wayside all the time? (Do I like or hate that I always seem to say "fall by the wayside" when talking about this?) In many ways my daily life is enviable. I love my work hours, the work itself, and the satisfaction I derive from doing my radio show. But walking dogs is physically tiring, there is always housework to do, and when Matt and I are together (we are together relatively little, due to our erratic schedules) I want to be fully present whenever possible. The solution must be getting up earlier in the morning and writing a lot before 12PM. For years I've known this. So why does it so often prove completely impossible? WHY WHY WHY????? OK, time to stop blogging and wash the dishes, but before I do that, a prayer...

Universe, please bestow upon me a greater physical and mental robustness so that my intellect does not shrivel and die. Rather, I would like my mind to routinely express my thoughts clearly to a broad audience. I will need more energy, in order to do this. But let me do it happily, not angrily in a cantankerous grumpy mood like my current one. Thank you Amen.

PS: here is what I want to write when I have more energy and am not in a cranky mood:
Simpsons stuff
The rest of my memoir which rules
Revised short stories that haven't been published yet
A novel, though I want to do this less
A Lovin' Spoonful biopic screenplay
Monkees stuff
Articles and thinkpieces about my lifestyle
Hilarious jokes

Thank you again, and I hope this has been entertaining goodbye for now

Monday, June 13, 2016

After Orlando

Bear with me because I hate writing about politics and usually avoid it. From an aesthetic point of view it always bothers me because I feel like I'm just repeating other people's words that have moved me in the past. But it's something that I'm slowly teaching myself how to do, because silence is so much worse. It's like, to hell with your precious aesthetics you callous piece of shit, you know? "Silence=Death," created in the outrage over America's insensitivity to AIDS, is a slogan I find inspiring when it comes to ignoring anyone's voice, anyone's rights.

I'm exceedingly lucky to live where I do, to be part of the fun and accepting community I am in--in other words, to be largely shielded from the many-headed monster of hate. Throughout my childhood in the West Village, Christopher Street was the next street up from ours; music from the piano bars floated through my window, lulling me to sleep most nights. Revelry, pageantry, and sexiness were on display all the time (not just on Halloween, which was raunchier and way better back then). The inclusive spirit of New York informed my upbringing and is a HUGE part of who I am. For such a horrific thing as a massacre at a queer club to happen now, in the age of marriage equality, increased visibility of transgendered people, and so many other great steps in the direction of love and acceptance: it's heartbreaking in a way I can't describe.

I'm lucky, too, because I benefit from the privilege afforded straight people in our society. Expressing my sexuality here at home does not get me in trouble--though, because I have had sex with women and am attracted to women, it would elsewhere. While their lives have been vastly different, I'm sure many victims of the Orlando tragedy thought they were lucky--to meet other queer people and be part of a local family that loved them, even if they'd been rejected by their real families. I have a live-in (male!) partner and kind of a tomboyish personal style; beyond that, is my life anyone's business? I can blithely answer no, yet this is a question that so many, including the victims in Florida, have grappled with in their every waking moment. From a young age they're baffled that others scrutinize and judge what they do for pleasure, for love--and, discovering that people are angered by it, they figure they might as well show it off. Or they never do, except in the safe confines of a gay club where everyone is "like them." Nobody is exactly like anyone, though, which is a wonderful thing to find out.

A couple of years ago I started doing a radio show for Pride month, and I'll be doing one in that theme this week. It is goofy and fun and interesting, at least I hope you think so. I'm a lifelong optimist and a firm believer that LOVE WILL ALWAYS CONQUER HATE, as hard as that can be to believe after a terrible event like this one. Maybe that's an activist platitude of the type I alluded to above, but fuck it. LOVE WILL ALWAYS CONQUER HATE. You can listen to the past shows here...

Love and Pride 2014
Love and Pride 2015

Monday, May 30, 2016


It worked! There is now a little button on the lower right of the blog. This is in reference to what I talked about 1 post ago.

The Tip Jar Alligator

Here's the Tip Jar Alligator. He is still around after all this time!

Now for the backstory: I drew him on the back of an envelope once, and later affixed him to this glass jar so I'd have a sign telling people where to put their tips whenever I was asking for tips. For the past five or six years, however, the jar has been only for cotton balls. Observe the T.J.A. relaxing amid some products I keep in my bathroom.

Taking pictures of him today, I thought maybe I should put a tip jar on my blog. What a great idea! I'm sure there's someone out there who would give this blog a little tip money. I know it's time for me to start updating it daily or weekly or so--so maybe they wouldn't give any money just yet. But, once the updates got rolling, they would.

I'm not sure how to do this or whether this blogging platform has that option. But I'll let you know how it goes. Hope everyone's having a beautiful day and that no misfortune is befalling them whatsoever.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

Things that are Probably Bad Feng Shui, I Would Guess

Sleeping with socks on or anything covering your feet
Keeping the toilet open
Letting pets lie on the furniture
Having a picture of a skull anywhere
Eating in the bedroom
Eating prepared food from plastic containers
Letting the sheet get twisted when you go to bed
Having partly-broken Venetian blinds
Having neon lights that flicker too much
Letting a raccoon come inside
Leaving a mug out with lukewarm coffee in it
Having chairs face away from each other

Tuesday, January 27, 2015

I Love L.A.

I did some things when I was in California recently to visit my beloved friend Karolyn. Here is a "blog" about the things I liked and found interesting there. Growing up in New York, I'd always heard a lot of shit-talk about the West Coast and Los Angeles particularly: everyone is superficial, it is polluted, people there don't treat you nicely unless you're rich and/or good-looking. Well, these problems exist in New York too and for the most part I found the "temperament" of the city similar to that of my own: artistic, fun-loving, nice enough, doing one's own thing. It was a great trip you guys!

The Last Bookstore has new and used books and, in size and dustiness, is similar to the Strand in NYC. What's different about it is that it displays works by local artists plus art installations/sculptures that use old books. There's a shop inside it where you can buy framed art prints. Perhaps best of all, they sell records too.

Galco's Old World Grocery is in the hip, suburban-vibed Highland Park neighborhood where the houses are adorable and all the dogs are Chihuahuas. This place sells every type of soda pop, specializing in the antiquey ones that are hard to find elsewhere. Yes, of course they play oldies on the PA and when we were there we heard "Love is Strange." I bought three bottled sodas: Moxie, Cheerwine, and Lemmy.

The Dresden is a short drive from Karolyn's house and so we needed to go. You have seen it in movies; it's the fancy bar where lounge musicians Marty and Elayne sing pop favorites requested by the audience. I heard them sing/play "Stayin' Alive" and also met like the friendliest bartender EVER who let me pay for only the first one of my four drinks.

Of course I shopped at Amoeba Records! Everything you, East Coaster, have heard about this franchise is true. It's enormous, there is a staggering amount of great vinyl, jazz gets its own whole giant room, the prices are reasonable (about 25%-50% off what the same records would cost here, depending on the item), and everyone was both knowledgeable and friendly. I spent an entire afternoon there, shopping for a box full of music which I later shipped home to myself via UPS, and didn't want to leave.

Stories in Echo Park is another new/used bookstore. We didn't spend much time here but I picked up my new favorite book for our ever-expanding toilet library: Singer-Songwriters (pic below). This place had a great selection of music biographies and such and a cute-looking cafe.

We took a side trip to the desert, and stayed in a lovely Airbnb house behind THE END in Pioneertown. It turned out our host was also the owner of the shop. She sold SUPER CUTE vintage clothes, shoes, bags, and jewelry; I bought a purple Benetton sweater from the late '80s that I adore. This place is right down the hill from the famous music venue and BBQ place Pappy and Harriet's, where we saw a band and had a boozy dinner. Joshua Tree park is just a short drive away, too, and made for a beautiful hike.

This is just a small sampling of the things we did; I'm leaving out the fancy donuts, the view from Griffith Park Observatory, the superb dinner special at Little Dom's, and the Ace Hotel in Palm Springs and more. Rather than being sad to no longer be in L.A., I'm grateful to have spent a week there and saved up some vitamin D in my body. Now I'm back in Brooklyn where it is cold and snowy. I have fond memories.

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Idea: Change Rock Music from Guitar-Centric to Accordion-Centric By Going Back in Time

Go back in time and ensure somehow that accordions are made cool and mainstream. Next, return to present day and enjoy accordion-based early rock 'n' roll, classic rock, and more! Starting with Chuck Berry duck-walking as he plays the accordion. Bob Dylan plays accordion and sings "Blowin' in the Wind." Newport Folk Fest footage of many folk singers convening and carrying their accordions. Beatles on Ed Sullivan in suits wiggling their heads while playing accordions. Jimi Hendrix kneeling and gesturing before his burning accordion after setting it on fire onstage. Image of Eddie Van Halen strutting onto stage, grinning and hoisting accordion. KISS in full makeup and with accordions. Imagine a Stooges song like TV Eye conceived and played on the accordion: how to achieve the same blistering, savage sound and could it even be done? (Yes) Album cover of London Calling has Paul Simonon splay-legged and bent over about to smash his accordion. (ASIDE: Would rock stars be less often wiry/skinny or at least have bigger arms because accordions are so heavy?) Intricate and technically brilliant accordion solos by Steve Vai and Joe Satriani. Rick Nielsen with five-headed checkerboard accordion. OR MAYBE these people, not preternaturally gifted to play accordion, would never be famous at all??? Biggest rock star of all time is Tom Waits? Weird Al Yankovic non-comedic balladeer a la, say, Dan Fogelberg? MUCH more recognition for Flaco Jimenez of the Texas Tornadoes etc. Whole world different. This is just an idea that a group of us started talking about this past New Year's Eve, but we can discuss it more if desired. Certainly it is something to think about.

Saturday, January 17, 2015

Birthday Wishes

This year, I wish for an abundance of money -- a suitcase full of money would be good, but if that's not possible I will settle for continued steady income and continued great relationships with my pet care clients, all of whom I value very highly and feel grateful to have. Also I would like to win at slots.

I wish for a good reputation and to be thought well of by my friends, peers, and potential mentors for my smartness, interestingness, and general competence. Maybe I should amend that to just: I wish to be considered competent by everybody.

In the past few years my relationship with pop music ("records") and the study thereof has grown deeper. I wish for my appreciation of records, songs, sides, artists, rock biographies, picture sleeves, hooks, grooves, etc. to continue to bring me happiness. Whether or not there's a career for me in music (and I have no reason to believe there is, nor did I ever), I want to always love it.

I wish for an audience with a variety of small pigs, small goats/lambs, bunnies and other small tame rodents, and other small and cute animals.

I love my friends, my family, and the nice man I share an apartment with. One great wish of mine is to show these people how much I appreciate them; to do as much as I can to deserve and keep their love, because they've made my life very good and they should be reminded of that. This does not go for our cats, who can go F themselves.

Most of all, this year I want to put art into the world. Stories, essays, drawings, song parodies, Sculpey statues; whatever. Whatever it takes to do it, this year I want to do it more and better. I want to do it the best.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

A New Blog Post Finally

This is a new blog post. I'm considering starting a new blog that's slightly more focused on a theme or two or more themes, but I'm not sure yet how it should look. Possibly it would be OK to just continue to post stuff in this old blog. I am not sure.

Today, I went to the hardware store to buy some light bulbs -- I had bought a couple of lamps that needed special tiny bulbs. It was shocking how long I'd had the lamps in my home with no bulbs in them. Walking around the hardware store was peaceful and exciting at the same time; I love going to the hardware store because it reminds me of all the things I need for my home and all the things I already have. Too, knowing that I have the wherewithal to improve my home myself is empowering. I bought the light bulbs and walked home with them.

On my street, at the top of the steps leading to the front door of a house in the same row of houses as mine, I met a man carrying a small puppy named "Duncan." Duncan had an injured leg and so was a special case: though he was a little puppy, it was hard to give him the exercise he needed because he had to stay off his leg. When I walked up the steps and started to pet Duncan, he wiggled and licked my hand and was very cute. He had shaggy blond hair.

Next, I went into my apartment and installed the light bulbs into the two lamps. Seeing for myself that I could now turn the lamps on gave me a feeling of deep satisfaction. Lately I have tended to feel this way, deeply satisfied by mundane things and activities.