Friday, September 23, 2011

DUMPSTER DIVING : Hannah Montana bicycle


          Please, please tell me this is a sign that she is finally past her prime, that her deal with the devil has expired and maybe kids will stop wanting anything and everything with her name on it. Either of her names.
          Something was wrong with the seat of this discarded bicycle. Shredded or worn down to the metal or something. I didn't want to inspect closer, and would rather not hypothesize about why the bike itself looks fairly new but the seat is totally thrashed.
          Maybe next year there'll be a Bieber bike out by the dumpster.

Sunday, September 11, 2011

MY FRIEND STEPHANIE'S BLOG INTERVIEW WITH LIL' OL' ME

If you might be interested in reading about my life as a writer and artist, with questions carefully concocted by fellow writer Stephanie Jefferson, please go HERE.

If you are NOT interested in such a thing, you may go HERE instead.

Saturday, September 10, 2011

MY FRIEND LYNN'S PROFILE OF LIL' OL' ME

If you would like to read my friend Lynn Kelley's blog post about me and my creative works, then go HERE.

If you would NOT like to read more of my ramblings, then go HERE.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

IN THE DREAMHOUSE: Churros, and toy garlands

Unfortunately, in my dream there was no chocolate.
 
Written 8/20/2011 

             The first dream last night was dark and disturbing, and featured churros prominently. It was Christmas Eve, and I had come to an outdoor churro restaurant with Anthony, Mom & Dan, and Vincent D'Onofrio. It was night, and crowded.

              I had no cash in my pockets, and needed to pay with credit. The restaurant made you call in your own credit charge by phone, but you had to use a floppy menu that doubled as a cell phone to make the call. There were puffy buttons built into it. I had no flat surface to work on, just standing around in the  crowded outdoor restaurant, so I kept fucking up and misdialing because of the weird buttons and floppy multi-fold menu.

              It took forever, and a rude little boy kept purposely bumping into me. I made loud huffy noises and moved further away, hoping to get the message across to the kid’s lazy father. It didn’t work and the kid kept bugging me.

              When I managed to poke in the correct number on the menu/phone, the operator running my transaction through tried to counsel me on being wiser with my money, and how maybe going out to eat was an unnecessary expense. I was like, “Yeah, but it’s CHRISTMAS and I’m out with my family to celebrate.”

              I finally completed my transaction and obtained my churros, which weren’t that great. But I couldn’t find the rest of my party, and was in a panic since it was deepest night. I ran down a dirt path bordered by high weeds looking for them, then finally found them at the car.

              *



              In the second part of the dream, I had to use an old person’s walker to get to a new house Anthony was staying at. I scrape-walked miles through Orange to get to it (in the middle of the night of course), and I think it was off of Palmyra. The house was in a tract behind some other houses, with dirt roads and chainlink fence. Pretty ghetto. The house looked monochromatic and shitty at first glance.

              You had to climb up a short ladder to the door hatch, which opened like some kind of submarine or space ship hatch. Anthony met me at the entrance. There was a rack to hang the walker on, and I had to chain it up like a bike so nobody would steal it. I had a hard time maneuvering the ladder and the chaining of the walker, which Anthony had no patience for. Once inside you had to climb down another short ladder through a very narrow and claustrophobic chute. I got really nervous and ill-tempered with Anthony because he was lagging in front of me, keeping me trapped in that little space. It was lined with shag carpeting.

Shag carpeting everywhere. Mostly mustardy shades. Was it the '70s?


              Then we emerged into the main house which was large and interesting.

              At first I thought we had bought the house together, but then realized he was renting, and there were MANY other roommates. There were hip young people everywhere. Not sure why we weren’t living together, like maybe it was before we cohabitated.

              As Anthony was leading me off to his room a guy who looked sort of like Perez Hilton but not quite as faggy stopped me to ask if it was true that I worked in a library. I said yes, and he immediately pulled out his wallet and offered me his business card, then wanted me to just look through his whole wallet, which he seemed very proud of. It was full of arty paper crafts featuring children’s picture book style art. I couldn’t really figure out what the deal with all of it was, or what HIS deal was. But I was trying to be nice. I couldn’t find anything that looked like an actual business card. I told him I was Anthony’s husband, just to make sure that was understood, and he said, “Yeah, like, we all know that already.” Good, I thought. But I still couldn’t find a business card in all that paper artiness. Confused, I just handed his wallet back and took off after Anthony.

              A weird guy with dark hair kept following Anthony around and hanging all over him. The Perez Hilton guy also caught up with Anthony and me.

              We were hanging out on a bare mattress, nothing sexual, just sitting there talking in some common room where a bunch of the bohemian inhabitants had gathered. Then Perez gave me a pointed look and said, “You better warn him what’s coming up behind,” and nodded toward Anthony. I looked behind Anthony and that god damn brunette dude was crawling across the mattress behind him, and actually lunged up to HUG him. Anthony was startled, like a deer in the headlights as the brunette hung all over him. I lost it and told the guy to back the fuck OFF, because that was MY HUSBAND. I was totally posturing like a tough guy, until the weird guy backed down and took off.

              Then I was mad at Anthony for not telling the guy to get away from him. Some of the other roommates made me feel guilty for taking my jealousy out on Anthony, so I apologized.

              It seemed like all the other roommates were working on fascinating art/craft projects. Why were they all so artsy and creative? How had they all happened to end up there together?

Heads up, chicken butt!
              Finally Anthony and I were alone in his room, but one whole wall of it was open to the hallway, and another bedroom. Right across from us a strange girl was curled up in a drawer that had been pulled out onto the carpet. The floor around her was littered with craft projects. She had a strip of cloth wrapped tightly around one arm, making me think she was a junky. But she was funny and nice. She and another girl were making a garland of plush animal heads and I was SO interested in that. There was also a garland nearby that was strung with little toys, like vinyl figures.

              I woke up wanting churros, and thinking about making garlands from stuffed animal parts and vinyl figures.

Friday, August 19, 2011

OFFICE PRODUCT OF THE MONTH : bedazzled blue stapler

You know you want one, but you can't touch this.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

IN THE DREAMHOUSE: 3-headed sock puppet

          A few nights ago I had this surreal dream (hard to describe) that involved sock puppets I had made, and putting on a show with them, and stringing little Christmas tree lights through them for eyes. There was also playground equipment; swings hanging from chains, that sort of thing. I levitated up to a chalked gymnastics bar and was performing puppet shows on the monkey bars or whatever they were. Before I went to bed I had NOT been drinking or smoking anything, so I'm not sure why my dreams were so loopy.
This was my first attempt at drawing the 3-headed sock puppet from my dream
          The first time I tried drawing that 3-headed puppet, my creative license took over and I made it too cute, with a little hat and some props. Then I realized the REAL 3-headed sock puppet with lights for eyes looked more like this:
More lumpen, less jaunty
          Now maybe I can stop thinking about that stupid puppet.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

DUMPSTER DIVING : sickroom toilet

I love a man who's willing to go this far for comedy.
          Whoever left this NEXT to the dumpster instead of INSIDE it must have thought, "It's new, still in the plastic, it would be a shame for this lovely wheeled sickroom toilet to go to waste! Someone will want it."
          They probably envisioned some decrepit old person in the throws of some depressing illness spotting the little toilet out by the dumpster and crying, "Oh, how delightful! I was just NEEDING one of those nearby because I keep shitting myself uncontrollably. This is a good day indeed."
          When Anthony and I spotted it, we joked and then I said, "You know, someone should really take it over to the senior center downtown, I bet THEY could easily find someone who needed it."
          Anthony was like, "Well, go ahead then."
          I stared at it. It's obviously new and unwrapped. But it's still a toilet. By the dumpster. A grim little sickroom toilet. Reminder of the inevitable indignities of old age and failing health.
          I walked away, feeling guilty.
          But not before we had Anthony pose for me to take a silly picture, both of us giggling like assholes.