Friday, March 24, 2017

This is what I really like about Trump:

About as successful and Alpha as you can get, but still having fun and acting stupid in a truck.

Sick to death of 8 years of Obama's careful enunciations and moral proclamations and posing, and the media eating it up. All the while ignoring Obama's utter lack of qualifications for the job. (Community organizer? Part-time professor? State Senator? Really?) He looked and sounded good, so he must have been qualified for the Presidency AND the Nobel Peace Prize, right?

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

I want surprises





Your sweet nature, darling
Was too hard to swallow
I've got the solution
I'm leaving tomorrow
And now as I stand
And stare into your eyes
I see safety there
I want surprises

What I really need to do
Is find myself a brand new lover
Somebody with eyes for me
Who doesn't notice all the others
What I really need to do
Is find a brand new lover

When you wake up tomorrow
You'll be all alone
All the love that we had
I have quickly outgrown
I wanted to stay, but I just couldn't do it
Couldn't stand there and put you through it

What I really need to do
Is find myself a brand new lover
Somebody with eyes for me
Who doesn't notice all the others
What I really need to do
Is find myself a brand new lover
Somebody with eyes for me
Who doesn't notice all the others

My other loves will tell you that
I'm nothing but a pleasure-seeker
And for once I really must agree
I need to leave you by yourself
And go in search of someone else
To satisfy my curiosity

Your sweet nature, darling
Was too hard to swallow
I've made my decision
I'm leaving tomorrow

What I really need to do
Is find myself a brand new lover
Somebody with eyes for me
Who doesn't notice all the others
What I really need to do
Is find a brand new lover

Visitation.

In this period of nothingness, have expected nothingness. Only, I got a treat last night. Ginny. A very long dream that I remembered almost nothing of when I woke up other than a good feeling.

I've been thinking cynically recently that, now that I'm over 50, it didn't matter that Ginny had died in '88. I'd wanted her to be young with. I'd wanted to explore Austin with her. To see bands, to get a first apartment with. Now that I'm over 50, I don't need her any more. I've done all of that "young" stuff by myself.

What I've been missing for the past decade or more, though, is the feeling of being loved. I've learned to live without it. What Ginny did when appearing in the dream last night was remind me: I was once loved. She left me emotionally years before she actually died, but for a few months in 1983, she loved me. I felt it. It was special, and that feeling has come back to sustain me over the decades, here and there. Not necessarily during my worst of times, but at surprising, unexpected times. Like last night.

During such long stretches of barren times, I've grasped on to anything --- TV shows like "Long Island Medium" or "Dead Files," for instance, which show how the dead attempt to contact the living. The former in a positive way; the latter, negative. I've not been attracted to the negative -- have usually been repulsed by it -- so don't fear that... But I've always wondered if some kind of spirit has been watching over me. My Me-Ma, for instance. Or Ginny. Or Joan. I wasn't loved at all by my family or by lovers, so wonder what has sustained me.

Monday, March 20, 2017

Kind of makes me sick.

89-1/2 B Rainey Street, 2007.
89-1/2 B Rainey Street, 2016.

I lived at the white duplex at the end of this road from 1991 to 1994. Two of my cats were buried in the backyard. (One, Toonces, was run over in front of me as I called her one morning before work; the other, Katie Scarlett, I found dead, run over, in my front yard when I got home from work.)

Rainey Street is now a hipster bar district. My cats' graves have long been bulldozed.

This period of time was very unhappy for me, despite how much I loved the place itself. Bad/very sad breakup. I was desolate nearly the whole time. I would walk down to the river (a short walk to the right) whenever I was upset. Got stopped by the police once at Thanksgiving when I was stalking around grimly ("I'm just in a bad mood, officer.") Also got stopped once by a couple of guys looking for a good time ("No thanks. I'm just in a bad mood.").

It all could have been much worse.

I miss my cats. I miss the hope I felt when I first moved into this place. What the place turned into is worse than my own specific sad memories.




Saturday, March 18, 2017

River Phoenix: Aleka's Attic - Across the Way 1991


Woke up Friday...

... to see the Trump sticker on my car tagged with a big ol' "Fuck."

I bought the sticker months before I bought my car back in July 2016, purely to inspire me to get out of a rut: I couldn't decide whether to keep riding buses or to invest in a car after 9 years of being without one (after moving to NYC in 2007). I told myself: If Trump wins the nomination (which wasn't at all a given), I'll get a car to put this sticker on. He did, and I did.

Friends/family/co-workers then warned me about the dangers of having a Trump sticker on my car: My car would be vandalized, etc. But I had the courage of my convictions. It's been 8 months since I first put the sticker on my new car. 4 months since the election. 2 months since Trump actually took office.

Friends told me they were surprised I hadn't been vandalized sooner. Sad.

In the next month that I'm at this apartment, I'll make sure I park my car where it can be seen from my window. And today, I ordered a pack of 10 Trump stickers online. If I catch anyone touching my car again, I'll recognize the person and then slap a Trump sticker on THEIR car.


Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Nostalgia: 2nd Presidential Debate 2016: Trump: "You'd Be in Jail"


Exclusive Look At President Trump's 2005 Tax Return | Rachel Maddow

Maddow was hoping for a scoop. But at the end of her spiel, turns out that Trump actually paid more in percentage of taxes than liberal darlings Obama and Sanders.

Can't stand this stilted, ignorant school-marm. I have a friend in Houston who loves her. No greater turn-off than Dumb.

Saturday, March 11, 2017

"Dark Blood" trailer (1993)

Phoenix died days after shooting his last scenes. 
He was viewed in coffin and cremated with that horrible latter-day John Travolta skullcap hair (and bad acting to match).
Judy Davis's chopped bangs (and her acting) were equally bad.

Friday, March 10, 2017

River Phoenix Interview 1988 (age 17)

After catching the pseudo-deep (but acclaimed at the time) "Running on Empty" (1988) a few weeks ago on late-night TCM, I hated the movie's smarmy fakeness ("we radicals may have maimed someone and we may uproot our kids every 6 months, but aren't we warm and friendly on birthdays") but was struck by Phoenix's performance. 

Phoenix died, age 23, at Hollywood's Viper Room on Halloween in 1993 an hour after a "friend" (allegedly John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers) gave him a bad speedball in the club's bathroom. No moral to that story, right? Phoenix was doing drugs. Accidents happen. (Though I believe in accountability, whether in the mainstream or in the underground: Frusciante and/or his dealer should not have been prosecuted by The Law, but they should have been taken out by their own culture. But... said "culture" was so disgustingly passive and "nonjudgmental.")

The movie I remembered most of River Phoenix's was "Dogfight" (1991) with Lili Taylor, which I paid to see at the theater. "My Own Private Idaho" (1991) seems to have made the biggest impression in the alternative world. (I saw it at the theater when it came out, but it didn't resonate personally at all.) "Stand By Me" (1986), of course, made the biggest impression on mainstream culture; I also saw this at the theater but, again, thought the over-fishing for emotion was smarmy.

After seeing "Running on Empty" and wondering why I was so struck by Phoenix's performance, I bought a used bio online: "In Search of River Phoenix" (2004) by Barry Lawrence. One thing he pointed out, which I'd been aware of via brief Internet searches, was the fact that Phoenix's parents had been involved in "The Family of God" when he was growing up; the group was a cult espousing sexual relations not only between children, but between children and adults. River Phoenix later said that he'd had sex from the ages of 4 through 10, then deliberately decided to refrain from sex until he was 14 (when he sought his parents' permission before having sex with an 18-year-old girl).

In the below 1988 video, Phoenix (at 17) is asked by the interviewer about his relations with his parents. RE their dynamic he says: "We replace the guilt that most give each other when they're upset with real, honest feelings."

I wonder: WAS River Phoenix actually able to talk to his parents about his anger and guilt at the life that they'd brought him up in? WAS he able to express "real, honest feelings" or did he instead do drugs? (An addendum: His able-bodied parents had a hard time finding work in real life. Once River Phoenix got work in movies, he was the primary bread-winner for the whole family. His parents claimed that once he earned enough to free the family from society, that was when they'd all withdraw to live a life among nature, and when River wouldn't have to work any more. Scumbags.)