don't worry about your future

This morning, on the way to work (sipping on an ICED coffee -- thank you so much, Daniela, for asking) I was listening to the previously discussed "Lovely Allen" and realized that I love it because it reminds me of Thrush Hermit's glorious "Patriot." The videos are quite different, I think you'll find, but I can't hold that against Holy Fuck. No one can come close to "Patriot."

In other news, Dollie and I spent about 50% of the day on the train yesterday, which was a wise plan as the train was cold. One of our journeys took us to BAM to see "Reprise," and wow, was that great. I give it five stars. You should see it and love it, for you will, plus then we can discuss Kommune. It's simply too good to spoil.

just for today, let go and slide away

Every once in a while (more like every couple of years) I meet up with people I used to know and still sort of know, in the following-along-online way. Today was one such day.

There's the standard "What have you been up to?"/"Eh, the same. How about you?" exchange, generally. But this time was a bit more interesting. Me and Dollie, we've got a song. (You have heard this, right?) One other guy makes a living trying to figure out if someone urinating into another's orifices will transmit a crystal meth high. And then there's our movie-star peer.

Of course, I have seen this already and knew about it even before that, but I didn't really know how to show you. But I found out. Say Aloha to Aloha. (The magic starts one minute in. Embedding disabled by request, sadly. You must click here to see.)

In other news, I've been listening to Quest For Fire (featuring two Deadly Snakes) since I belatedly learned that they exist (oops!). So yeah, I like what I have heard so far and look forward to hearing more. That will happen in July, on The Storyboard Label, from what I understand. Hopefully they will play in New York soon thereafter.

Anyway, in the meantime, you will have to hear it on MySpace like I do. It's apparently being saddled with some sort of stoner-rock label, but I don't know much about that. To me it sounds like make-out music, you know, music boys play when they invite you over. The way I hear it, "Hawk That Hunts the Walking" exists in the same spirit as Verve's "Slide Away," which is an enormous compliment (seriously, why don't The Verve play that live anymore?) and means it's a total make-out song.

So yeah, crank up the computer and get busy!


PS I hate to see people lose, but dang, Sidney Crosby is one ugly bastard.

PPS I totally have a crush on Mike Babcock.

you're an angel to me

Um, remember that whole re-crushing thing? Yeah. So it turns out, after watching Johnny Depp accept his MTV Movie Award, I've regressed further into re-crush territory. Clearly, I've never been righter than I was in 1987. Holy smokes.

I want to be haunted

I admit it: I totally thought it was Luis Guzman, not Rick Aviles in "Ghost." And I've hated him ever since.

Also, if you like the New York Rangers, or even just hockey — or, in all honesty, even just men — you really really REALLY might want to watch this week's "Inside the Rangers". It will change your life.

run to me when you need a shoulder

A while back I shared my plan for turning my apartment into a halfway house for wayward celebrities (I believe it was called Jane and Dollie's Halfway House for Wayward Celebrities, but now I can't find the post. How annoying). But I never followed through. And for that, for failing to share my healing help with my favorite famous people, I apologize to Owen Wilson (presuming this story is true -- for once, I hope the Enquirer got it wrong.)

Owen, when the detox is over, you are welcome to be our charter case. Unlike other rehabilitation facilities, JADHHFWC is a free service. Our cozy facility's amenities include a large TV with premium cable (therapeutic screenings of "Big Brother" and Rangers games are mandatory) and an extensive DVD library, lots of pillows, Digestive biscuits and tea every morning, story-time picnics in the adjacent park featured prominently in "Flight of the Conchords," a limited-edition DDYW T-shirt, lots of laughs and unlimited hugs. This offer is non-transferable.

you care, I know, I forgot for a while

It borders on ludicrous that I am unable to write more than once a week. I mean, really. But this weekend I was tired. So so tired. Friday I went to see "Les Miserables" with my mom and Dollo. Third time for me, fourth for my mom, first for Dollo. Sadly, Fantine was terrible. Other than that (although that's big — killed a big crying scene for me) it was very good.

Saturday I went for a walk to get milk at the farmers' market. Then, um, I think that was it. Oh yes, plus the "am I getting thrown out or a lease?" apartment drama ended (I'm getting a new lease Monday). And there was also the hockey game (just on TV, but exhausting all the same) and "Invincible." Let's see, Mark Wahlberg starring in an inspirational sports film about poor people? Of course I loved it!

Speaking of that, yes yes yes to his Oscar nomination. And yes yes yes for Ryan Gosling's. Finally, something to root for. Also, it's been about 18 years now that Mark Wahlberg first showed up in a New Kids on the Block fan magazine and I said, "Ooh, now that's what I'm talking about." So when he wins that Oscar, I can say I knew him when.

Today, I took a shower and spent the day switching between the couch and the computer. This is sad. I am sad. In nearly all senses of the word. But! I did manage to squeeze in three or four hours of Korean TV (No subtitles. And none of us speak Korean), including a show featuring practical science experiments. And the popular favorite, Xman. I never have any idea what's happening, but everyone is having so much fun that it hardly matters. Enjoy!

let's play catch, I'll throw the shade

Should I see "Paris Is Burning?" Is it crazy that I never have? The Gay Pimp Podcast panel is obsessed, and I think they are heaven on earth, so perhaps I should follow their lead. Perhaps I should return some of these Blockbuster movies I've had out since June as well, and have them send me "Paris Is Burning" instead. Ooh, how exciting.

I had to read some man on the way home today. I got off at Bedford after almost stabbing a woman on the train out of rage (If you were rocking stupendously uncute sunglasses, a busted haircut, a nasty knapsack and carrying five FedEx boxes on the L this afternoon, watch yourself before you crotch yourself. Or something) and when I walked by one stoop, a dude swept his pile of leaves on me. "Oh, thanks" I said to him, with suitable incredulity. He's still smarting, no doubt.

I wonder how long I can go on quoting "How to Read" by MECCA? Probably a week, that's my guess.

didn't even get no static from the cowards

I didn't want to leave the house yesterday, but I did, and I am glad. Here's why:

• Ran in to Pacey and his friend at the movie theater. They were going to the same movie and also got shut out of the screening they (and we) wanted. We all settled for the later show. Pacey is way thinner than he was when I saw him last (at "SNL", many years ago) and is adorable, but could clearly use a sandwich. His ladyfriend seemed fun and smiley and was exceptionally pretty.
• Stromboli Pizza. Delight. And one slice + diet soda = me still sort of being a good girl.
• Spotting Jamie Gillis at the farmer's market.
  Hey, that looked like that porn guy. Jamie something.
  Huh?
  You know, from all the '70s movies.
  Jamie Gillis? Did he look creepy and have gray hair?
  Yep.
  Then that was him. Let's find him!
  We did, and I was right. Yay!
• Discovering this artist in Union Square.
• And then "The Departed." Yes, I've seen "Infernal Affairs," and yes, I thought this was great. And I loved the ending, so there.

Then I came home and watched the Rangers win (after a 13-round shootout) and the Mets win (in and out of falling asleep, too long a game) on my big-screen (well, to me) TV.

I'm frontin', and I don't care if you know

I'm having a cocktail now, a mixture of my own creation (well, my own naming, at least). It's The Beast, and it is raspberry vodka (it's Vox tonight, but whatever you have will do), cranberry juice and grapefruit juice. It is a delight. Try one today!

The VH1 countdown is currently on my TV — because I was going to watch "Play It as It Lays" but thought better of that before a night out, and VH1 Classic (the go-to choice) isn't playing videos right now — and Rihanna was just on, with "Unfaithful" and whoa, that song is dramatic. It's not that big a deal, lady.

Also, I just do not get the appeal of that Nelly Furtado song, yet I cannot deny the awful Pussycat Dolls when it comes to "Buttons." That song just has something. Could be that I'm a sucker for a track about fronting.

Today I just cannot get out of my mind that Sloan party Microsoft thing in Minneapolis last year. I wish I was at it right now. Instead I go see the Walkmen play down the street. That'll do.

it'd take all day to explain it

The shift key on my keyboard stopped working. Just the left-side one, but that's the only one I use. This is so annoying.

If you're wondering how the Don McKellar fixation is going, it's just fine, thanks. "Childstar" is currently on the Sundance Channel's playlist if you're so inclined. I do not like that chin patch thing, but it does fit the role.

The sad tragedy (well, not really all that) of this Don McKellar problem is that back when I first got Don McKellar/Callum Keith Rennie mania (after I saw "Last Night"), I ordered all the movies that were out on video in Canada. On VHS. I have a VCR near my TV, but I don't think it is even hooked up. Bleh. It would be easier to just re-buy them on DVD, I think. I am lazy.

Speaking of lazy, this using the right-side shift key is killing me. Also, it is only 8 a.m. I'm going back to bed.

writing to reach you

Dollie's suggested letter for me to send to Don McKellar:

Dear Don McKellar,
I have, in the past, overlooked the severe lazy eye of Chris Murphy (after he won a Juno), and it enables me to overlook your similar shortcoming. I was going to approach you back at the "Childstar" premiere at BAM, but you were not nearly accomplished enough to attract me. Now that you've added a Tony and a Drama Desk Award to your mantle, I am now ready to consummate my newfound attraction.

Gold, baby. Gold.

my white diamonds always bring me luck

I shouldn't be writing inane stories. I should be cleaning. But I don't want to clean, so I will tell my inane stories.

Friday was 10 years since I met Dollo, so Dollo took me to 21 for steak and creme brulee and something they call a Bee's Knees which is a cocktail made of rum and cardamom-infused honey and something else, who knows, it was fantastic. Then it took us two hours to get home thanks to the rain, which cut off service on the East side. Also, some "debris on the tracks" issue cut out the downtown yellow trains as well. Please. So we took a bus down to 14th St and then a cab home. Because I got it like that.

Saturday I did my laundry. I walked into the laundromat and walked right out and a lady came after me. "Some of these machines are done. I'm gonna take the clothes out of them. People leave their clothes, I take them out." Well alright. She didn't have to because some other girl happened to be pulling her clothes out. So I put in my clothes, walked outside, got on the phone with El Fano to tell him that wherever we'd end up spending the night, it has to be at a bar "that isn't full of white people. I hate white people" which didn't even get hardly a shrug from the people standing out front of my non-white laundromat. See, they know. When it came time to dry the clothes, I was out of luck and had to drag my wet bag home. It was drizzling, so I couldn't even use the line. So I had to drape things over things throughout the house. There. Were. Clothes. Everywhere. Later on, Dollo put my jeans in the oven so I could wear them out.

But before that we went to the movies. I had to see "The Break-Up" obviously. It was like a dream, really. Well, not really. It was mostly really funny for like an hour and then got weirdly half serious like a TV movie. And the crowd was odd because they laughed a lot at many things, but no one found the old "You might get arrested." "For what, being awesome?" line as truly fantastic as it truly is. Whatever.

Then we went to Unos. Because I love chain restaurants and their cheesy drinks, f- all y'all. And it was lovely.

Then I was too early for my haircut so I went to the friendly neighborhood gay bar for more cocktails.

Then came the haircut at my very delightful, very rock and roll haircut place, where I got a magnificent haircut. It's a little big today, but that is because I left the house with it soaking wet. When I got home I put in some product, and now it is like a dream. Really.

But back to Saturday. After the haircut it was time to meet up with folks to celebrate this 10th anniversary of meeting Dollo and Lola and Seana. Seana is busy being a mom/rock star in Texas, so she couldn't come. Other people were stuck doing other things like falling down the stairs and fighting with their husbands (this was not the same person, so don't worry), but Dollo, El Fano, Lola, LMD and LMD's lovely friend from work brought it hard. We went to one nice place with a very nice bartender of fun, but there was nowhere to dance. So we left.

Then we went to Eastern Bloc, which had a pretty pretty DJ who played pretty pretty dancy pop songs and all was well. Then some indie rock snore came in to play indie rock snore tracks, the lamest ever go-go boy neither went nor went and we got some from-afar attitude from a little group of Howard Beach-looking 20-something queens and their ugly hags. Please. I had to announce that I could smell the New Park Pizza coming off them and they were fooling no one, also that I couldn't believe I was getting shade from the Lollipop Guild. It was time to go.

So we moved on to the Pyramid, where a desperate-seeming promoter was frankly stunned that we agreed to come in. The place was empty, but the cave was begging for a dance. So we danced. And more people arrived. And when the DJ (who was contractually obligated to play our requests, so said the promoter) wasn't playing our requests, we started growing cranky. I decided it would be super funny to junior prom slow dance to the frenetic sounds of "The Metro" by Berlin, but it is nearly impossible to do this without laughing, which set off El Fano (we were junior prom slow dancing after all, he could feel me laughing), so then I came up with this great '80s cocaine jitters dance, but nobody really appreciated how great it was.

This is all my long way of saying it was just like old times, of me drinking too much and trying to get in a fight and dancing and being a jerk. I loved it.