"If my friends could see me now...

...dressing up in my bow-tie,
Prancing round the room like some outrageous poove,
They would tell me that I'm just being used
They would ask me what I'm trying to prove.
They would see me in my hotel,
Watching late shows till the morning,
Writing songs for old time vaudeville revues.
All my friends would ask me what it's all leading to..."--Ray Davies, The Kinks, "Sitting in My Hotel"

Yesterday's pleasant surprise: On E. John St. between Broadway and 10th Ave. in the alley on the north side of the street, someone has spraypainted "The Kinks" in big black letters. I usually think graffitti is ass, but the only thing that could have made me giddier is if the kids had scrawled "Quadrophenia".

I don't know, maybe whomever provided the semen:

I write from home and I keep CNN on in the background while I do admin work (email, etc.). Today I have been bombarded by that One-a-Day for Women ad that shows a woman frolicking on the beach with two small children while the voiceover asks, "Without strong shoulders, who will support them?"

I love kids, but I'm not going to have children and I never intended to. To borrow David Mamet's line from "State and Main", "I just don't see the point." And like many sentient beings, I'd be delighted if certain coffeehouses and red-eye flights were designated tyke-free zones. (Whenever I'm on deadline and trying to obtain a completely necessary soy mocha, I'm stuck behind a child--female or male--named "Ashley" who is devolving because Mom insists s/he can get the blueberry muffin, not the chocolate chip cookie. I sympathize--muffins are ridiculous--but parents should teach their Ashleys that it's unwise to present impediments to writers seeking caffeine.)

This One-a-Day ad grates for several reasons. First off, as previously mentioned, not all women want to procreate. Secondly, those who do have ample incentive to take care of themselves for reasons that have nothing to do with their offspring. (We can agree that it behooves everyone--regardless of gender or parental status--to maintain their health. Right?) Lastly, why do certain marketing directors still assume that parenting is soley a woman's responsibility? Obviously, there are plenty of single mothers--and I have enormous respect for them--but I bet they would appreciate a little goddamned help.

Fuck you, One-a-Day. You make me want to grow a penis.

I've never really listened to Jody Watley's music, but this is one of the smarter interviews I've read in awhile:

"You see some artists — and no disrespect to any of them — but you can see they're really grasping, trying to appeal to this small group of people that only like this stuff that sounds like 50 other records. Instead of being fearless."

More:

Entertainment Weekly's EW.com | Interview: Catching up with Jody Watley

Oh, for fuck's sake:

I don't smoke, but this made me laugh for a number of reasons:

"Rolling Stones guitarist Keith Richards may have flouted Scotland's smoking ban when he played to thousands fans [sic] at
Glasgow's Hampden Park."

More:

BBC NEWS | UK | Scotland | Glasgow and West | Stone rolls into smoking ban row

From Carl Jung's "Memories, Dreams, Reflections", p.297:

"Anyone who takes the sure road is as good as dead."

Fifteen years ago today:

Holy fucking hell.

More than a snafu, less than an imbroglio:

It was to this that I was referring in my previous post:

The Stranger | Seattle | Line Out: The Stranger's Music Blog | Harvey Danger… You Know, They Had That One Song

A bit of noise has surrounded my Seattle Sound Harvey Danger piece and neither Sean nor I are enamored of the full-page fishstick version that hit the stands last week. (Check out p. 42 and feast, as it were.)

On a more cheerful note, Steve's Fremont News features the current SN/LD-sporting Seattle Sound in their display window and next door at Sonic Boom, gi-normous posters of "PtDtB" and "Plans" greet sidewalk revellers. Today: Fremont. Tomorrow: the world.

Brief sundry missives:

To my friend who skipped yoga this week to buy vibrators: I think you're onto something.

To the guy at the bus stop near my place who both danced and disrobed this afternoon: please don't.

To my editors who made this week great: thankee kindly.

To those who didn't: well, you made it interesting.

It'll be the ubiquitous indie rock bangs that push me over the edge...

...(seriously, the entire crowd *cannot* sport the same fucking haircut at each goddamned show) but I know what he's talking about:

From today's McSweeney's, by Brian Beatty:

So Emo.

Next time I'm at a concert and the hipster standing next to me lifts his lighter into the air during his favorite song, I'm going to ask to borrow that lighter. Then I'm going to set that hipster on fire. As he rolls on the ground trying to extinguish the highly combustible blend of cotton and polyester that just moments earlier was a ringer T-shirt decorated with an Air Supply silk-screen that's suddenly even more ironic, I'm going to ask, 'Why aren't you yelling ''Freebird'!' now?' "

Timothy McSweeney's Internet Tendency: Jokes by Brian Beatty.: