Stardate 01172003
Cher has contributed much to our beloved poptopia: Bob Mackie gowns gone haywire; long flat hair; long thick eyelashes; May-December relationships, coming out with your child; Goth anything; that damn song that got us all wondering if we believe in life after love; countless compelling film performances; and most importantly, she gave our popular imagination a kick in the pants with her song “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.”
So did I meet Cher? No, I’ve only driven past her house on the Pacific Coast Highway in Malibu numerous times while stalking Mark Hamill – who will always be the Luke to this Leia before they found out they were brother and sister. The family that comes together bears sons together, is what my Mama Sissy always tol’ me.
And I believe her.
Now what the darn dang dingin’ anything does Cher have to do with this episode and why am I wasting so many dill dang words on her. She wrote a song that defines the theme of the last two weeks. Actors, Writers, Rock Stars, Anarchists and Goths continue to darken the entrance to my secret underground lair of UNSPEAKABLE HORRORS. Gypsies, Whores, Tramps and Thieves, each and every one of them. The one thing me and BeJeebus have in common is the company we keep, even countin’ that ol’ rasckally rapscallion hi’self, The Debble.
A stampede of Night Mares thundered through my world and left the following scars buried deep, deep, deeeeeeeeeep within my psyche.
Oh, the anguishy, anguished torture of my tortured, anguished soul. (That, AND I watched FEARDOTCOM. My advice, watch it with the sound off. It looks much better than it sounds, just like some people.)
Hey Kids! Ever wanna try suspension rope bondage but were afraid you might harm yourself or your loved one in the process? Don’t you worry, help is on the way. I was visiting my old high school chum at the leather shop he works at. He was busy sewing up a weighted pouch that attaches to the testicles, giving the goods a nice steady tug downwards, stretching them and ostensibly increasing the pleasure of orgasm. That’s the story I got, anyway.
Here’s one of no doubt many asides. I am not involved in the fetish or S/M or leather scenes. It just so happens that one of my old friends from high school, who eventually moved to Manhattan and lived the life of a fabulous drag queen while wedded (as much as men can marry each other) to a very successful corporate customer relationship consultant, sews leather. When I was going to grad school (Teachers College, Columbia University. Woot!) we found each other after a good five years of estrangement and did things queens do together, like go to Wigstock where my friend, who is now called Max, was the belle of the ball in his handmade Vivienne Westwood knock-off. He was going to Parson’s School of Design at the time and becoming progressively more bizarre the longer he stayed in New York.
Now he’s being hella butch and instead of couture, he’s making bondage gear.
Back in high school, he got sick and was in the hospital for a while and I brought him a Spider-Man action figure that I bought in a thrift store to keep him company. Spidey’s spider-suit was removable, but the mask was painted on the head. I think it was issued in the 1970s.
Anyway.
I was hanging out with him at the store and Mistress Midori comes in with flyers for her new advanced rope suspension class. “I see so many people doing it wrong I thought I should offer a class.” She’s only thinking about the community. I saw Mistress Midori in a couple of her performance art pieces at the SLICK fetish ball a couple years ago so I’d only seen her in costume and make-up under dramatic lighting and surrounded by fog.
And now, here she was in jeans and a t-shirt, wearing glasses and politely asking to put up a flyer. It’s good that she can keep her work life and personal life separate.
Henry Rollins was in San Francisco. He’s currently on a spoken word tour. I called his publicist to try to get an interview and review the show, but no dice. So, since I just in general like Henry Rollins (and the people he publishes, like Exene Cervenka and Lydia Lunch) I thought I’d mention it.
Maybe a Rollins interview will be in the future. I thought for sure the non-commercial nature of MoviePoopShoot.com would appeal to his Do-It-Yourself sensibilities and he would be, as they say in the business, “into it.” Or preferably, “totally into it.” As in, “yeah, I’d be totally into it.”
I have an interview wish list that I’d love to do now while I’m doing it to neither sell magazines nor make any money. ‘Cuz you know we only get paid in glory around here. Oh yes, heaps of glory arriving daily. Envelopes full of rays of sunshine nourishing my darkened soul.
I got David Cross’s new CD, SHUT UP YOU FUCKING BABY! The hilarity never ends. It won’t be as funny after we turn the Middle East into occupied territory to suck out the last five gallons of oil from Mother Earth – which will happen much sooner than you think. In 2020, oil mining will reach a peak and rapidly deplete the last accessible oil stands. In 2080, the amount of energy it takes to remove oil from the earth will surpass the amount of energy generated by consumption of said oil. No, I am not making this up. 2020 is only 17 years away. Yup, I will only be 50.
This whole Middle East thing has gotten way out of hand. I have no hope that current state power structures can be reformed so we will just have to work around them and outside “the system” to instill a new concept of society and world citizenship.
While most of us can’t influence world leaders or deal with the root causes of world conflict, we can talk to our future by starting to integrate renewable energy sources into your life right now and reducing your use of non-renewable energy, like petroleum (which is used for a lot more than gasoline). GREEN LIVING is an excellent primer because, sooner rather than later, the environmental propaganda will be my and your social reality.
My three-year-old niece will only be 20 when she’ll inherit the fall-out from a short 100-year legacy of gas-powered engines. But she’ll be able to get together with the 12 billion other people on planet Earth to shake a very angry fist at the past. Very angry, indeed.
Robin Williams and George Clooney were at the Egyptian Theatre last week. Williams was there with Mark Romanek for a special screening of ONE HOUR PHOTO, the film that won Romanek the 2002 award for “Best Breakout Director” from the Online Film Critics Association.
Clooney came by the very next night to show CONFESSIONS OF A DANGEROUS MIND. Photo ops were available but I didn’t take any pictures because you already know what George Clooney and Robin Williams look like. They are as ubiquitous as Coca-Cola or Nike. Clooney Inc. Robin.™
Nicole Kidman (who got to pull a Meryl Streep in THE HOURS and be an actor rather than a star) was there earlier this week. The American Cinematheque has the best programming in Los Angeles for a repertory house.
I meet a lot of idiosyncratic people. I was driving home and there was a hitch-hiker on the approach to the Golden Gate Bridge. I was heading north so I picked him up. He looked like your standard-issue dreadlocked political agitator. He was on his way to a meeting with an anarchist’s social group. There is another wave of anti-war protests coming up this Saturday, January 18th, in San Francisco and Washington D.C. so perhaps he was working out a creative way to express his dissent during the peace march.
We got to talking and he ends up revealing to me not only that he considers himself “a bisexual, polyamorous, non-monogamous, anarchist” but also that he was born with no asshole. His doctors had to construct an anus for him. So even though he occasionally goes for guys, he doesn’t like to mess around with the old poop chute too much.
I’m sure that falls somewhere in the “too much information” file.
Nina Hagen spent a couple
nights performing at the DNA Lounge. Rob Schneider used to own the
club but he sold it a few years ago to Internet open-source celebrity, Jamie Zawinski. David J, the
former bassist of BAHAUS and LOVE AND ROCKETS, who eventually went on to a
solo career, opened up both nights. He showed up at DARK SPARKLE after the Wednesday
show and took over the wheels of steel. DARK SPARKLE DJ's Margot and Sage
(who cut his canines back in the day at my own little nightclub, THE
TWILIGHT ZONE) told David they wanted to finish the night. Sources tell me
he was shocked and said, "You are asking me to stop?" I was like, dude,
that's David J. Give the man his props. I wondered why he stormed out of
the club. I thought he was trying to get out before last call and he got
bogged down with people wanting to chat him up. Alan Moore, writer of
SWAMP THING and WATCHMEN, has gotten together with David now and again to
make music.
The darkness hovered over me for days after, putting me in the proper mood for the first annual SPOOKYCON with special guest Ramsey Campbell.
The event was largely organized by Gothic.net, (the premiere subscription Horror Fiction webzine with new content weekly) and featured normal con stuff. David Schow was there showing a short film called FRANK’S DREAM that he made with Alex Proyas (DARK CITY). “We tried to get every bad science fiction movie cliché in there,” Schow said. It’s hilarious and not quite finished. Mysteryclock.com has been threatening to put up for over a year.
Rob Zombie’s infamous NIGHT OF A THOUSAND CORPSES was on the schedule but never got screened. Jill Tracy showed a short film based on her song THE FINE ART OF POISONING and a read short story that was published in MORBID CURIOSITY. Poppy Z Brite was there but I missed her reading and she spent the rest of the time hiding in her hotel room. “She doesn’t like to hang out at cons,” I was told. I tried to arrange a photo but it never happened. She probably doesn’t show up on film anyway.
Speaking of zombies, the highlight was the ZOMBIE BEAUTY PAGEANT put on by zombiepinups.com. The zombies were judged by Reggie Bannister (PHANTASM), Bill Mosley (TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE II) and Scott Spiegal (EVIL DEAD II). Miss Feculunt took the crown.
Dinah Cancer, formerly of Los Angeles band 45 GRAVE (known mostly for their song PARTY TIME off the RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD sound track) was dug up for Lucifer Fulci’s band PENIS FLYTRAP. I was totally into 45 GRAVE when I was in high school. My Halloween party mix-tape always includes their cover of RIBOFLAVIN-FLAVORED, NON-CARBONATED, POLY-UNSATURATED BLOOD.
At the con, I chatted with Mina Harker who, every weekend, leads THE VAMPIRE TOUR OF SAN FRANCISCO. She recently developed a script for a Manhattan vampire tour that starts at the Imagine stone, the John Lennon memorial on Central Park West, continues on to the Four Seasons, floats past the Trump Tower and deposits you at the Jeckyll and Hyde Restaurant. She loves it when people dress up for the tour and has a little laugh when people take the act a little too seriously. One time, a woman in her vampire finest came right up to Mina’s face, stared at her directly in her eyes and said in a low, monotone, “You know, some of us are real.” The tour is mostly a history walk where she converts well-known personages into vampires.
The turnout at the SPOOKYCON was small but they went for quality so I think they got it off to a good start. It has the potential to be the best West Coast Horror con as it continues to grow and create its identity in a sea of cons. They certainly have all the right people working on it.
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