aw yeah

High School Girls Pummel Man Who Exposed Himself

and "Stop or We'll Serve Lunch:"
Florida women disarm intruder with ham sandwich and rum

my heart is broken.
spikey, you were the best kitty there ever was.

Corrections

You know, the Corrections page in the New York Times is all well and good, but personally I think they should add a "We're Very Sorry We're So Stupid" page as well.

This is the sort of thing that just astounds me:
"An obituary of the British theatrical designer Julia Trevelyan Oman by The Associated Press last Monday misstated the dates of her work for the British Broadcasting Corporation. They were 1955 to 1967, not 12 years beginning in 1995."

Insult to Injury: Raw Deal for Jessica Lynch's Black Comrade-In-Arms

someone said it better again, part 430
RIP Elliott Smith,
from Margaret Cho.

(while you're over there, check out the piece on Tha Queen, too.)

Tom the Dancing Bug:

"At the Humane Foie Gras Farm, we induce obesity in our ducks not through brute force, but by simply giving them the lifestyle and privileges we all enjoy as Americans!"

genius!

My brother Chris, modeling the latest in hat fashions from Kyrgyzstan:

other people who say it so much better than I ever could, part 429:

extended cake mix! read it every day, and your hair will get shinier. really!

zum Beispiel:
I just keep thinking how great it would be to have twenty-three year old Evany's answers to this same Nerve questionnaire. Or Evany at thirteen, what would she be looking for? Probably just someone with a valid driver's license and parents with a loose liquor cabinet. Same as now!

it's true!
best letter ever
from language hat

"Surprise, Willie!"
Supe Chris Daly, mayor for a day, appointed two people to the Public Utilities Commission while Willie Brown was in Tibet.
I can't stop snickering with delight.

Poll on SF Gate today:

Open Brackets is always worth reading, but the comments page makes it that much better...
"Oh, wait. Deeply awful Austrian artists with obsessions about physical perfection and inexplicably large political followings are ten-a-penny these days, right?"

fall

I'm speechless, and in tears, at work.
I just read the entry from 10/15 on Margaret Cho's blog, and I want her to be president, governor, and mayor of our free state of San Francisco. I want her to hold my hand when I go to sleep at night and tell me that people like Fred Phelps will somehow get what they deserve, and that we will all get to live and love as we deserve. I want her to deliver that post as a speech around the country. I want her to be my new junior-high best friend- you know, the one who always knows, no matter how dorky you feel, that you are super cool, and makes you feel invinsible through her confidence. I want her to go to the White House and tell Bush to fuck off the same way.
Margaret Cho, I'm blowing you a big fat kiss from here.

busy!

short list of things to say yee-ha about:
-new friends
-old friends
-new home
-my bicycle, my bicycle, my- oh, my sweet bicycle- how did I exist without her, before?
(anyone know how to fix a squeaky brake? I'm a dork. not helpless, just a dork.)
-I don't know how I lived without Bruno, -either.
-I'm reading too much Chandler. what a bastard. but still great stuff. damn him.
-Peaches. Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Gillian Welsh.
-still that same Schubert piano sonata (D959). still. I should stop listening to it on BART. people look at me funny.

and oh, yeah-
the SF MOMA-
go see Reagan Louie's amazing photographs- Sex Work in Asia.
aside from the four million other things I have to say about the photos and the exhibit, which I may or may not get around to saying before I split for the weekend- the work is beautiful, amazing, amazing. go.
and also- Diane Arbus exhibit coming up soon. I can't wait.
and the Chagall is pretty spectacular.

on a personal note (again)- it's nice to think I can actually trust my instincts on some things.
-whew!
well, sort of, anyway.

plus, I'm still doing the John Wayne strut for having actually procured a phone number from An Incredibly Handsome Man for my dear friend at a schwanky function. I told her she owes me a drink, but really, she'd better just call him.

Philo Hagen's photos of the Folsom Street Fair are hot.

I went this year, but only for a short tour, sans outfit or camera. the people with the big bullwhips were nowhere to be found, to my great disappointment.

I finally unpacked my books, but they were packed in such a higgledy-piggledy fashion (by me), and were put on shelves so quickly, so as to get rid of boxes, that there was no order whatsoever. It took me a week to get them even a little organized, since some are now in the living room, some in my room, and some in the little room we're calling "the study."
the previous lack of arrangement was very funny- for example:

-Alice in Wonderland/The Story of O
-Real Live Nude Girl (C. Queen)/The Speculum of the Other Woman (Irigaray)
-This Shape We're In (Lethem)/Frankenstein
-Nobody Knows My Name (Baldwin)/Mildred Pierce (Cain)
-The Idiot/The Intuitionist
-Keith Haring: Journals/The Little Prince

a musical interlude

good grief.

someone has taken the time to translate "Baby Got Back" into Latin.

"magnae clunes mihi placent, nec possum de hac re mentiri.
(Large buttocks are pleasing to me, nor am I able to lie concerning this matter.)"

"Apparently there is nothing that cannot happen."

-Autobiography of Mark Twain


well, it's done. Ve haff a new governor. I can't bring myself to think about it too much this morning.
San Francisco needs to gear itself up for the mayoral race.
Then we need to do everything we can to get Bush out of office.
priorities, priorities.
so, for starters, could you join me in a little chant? even if you don't live in SF, we'd appreciate your help. just mumble it to yourself every now and then:

No Newsom is Good Newsom

thank you.

two items lifted from geegaw.com, whom we thank most fervently:
(who knew Margaret Cho had a blog?)

"What up with the Nazi shit? If there is one person you cannot give a shout out to, it is Hitler. Nobody wants to hear about that. I understand that your father was a Nazi, and I don't blame you for that, because you didn't choose the family you were born into, unless you did it on purpose because you are from the future."

"You need a total recall right about now, before you get elected, because people are stupid enough to vote for you, and all this shit coming down on you now isn't a smear campaign. It is the media actually doing society some good for once by giving us the truth that your publicists have been being paid to sit on for years. I don't give a shit about the OUI magazine stuff. Orgies to me do not reflect on the moral fiber of a human being. Plus OUI was a mad 70s publication anyway. It seems like a cross between LIFE and Hustler. I know you are thinking 'Arbeit macht governor', but it ain't gonna work fool."

and:
"It's official: Fox news rots your brain"

election day.
11:00 pm.
holy shit.
no.

did you vote? you didn't? I don't want to hear a peep out of you.
not
one
peep.

please vote.

vote vote vote.

nope.

Phelps To Erect Matthew Shepard Monument
no, no, no.
nope.
nope. nope.

Final Girl Book Tour 2003

Please listen up, people:

Daphne Gottlieb is going on the road with her new book, Final Girl.

Final Girl — the last girl left alive in the classic horror flick — traces the history of the other and the femme fatale in a sequence of poems and stories that display the verve and wit readers have come to expect from Gottlieb. In Final Girl, Gottlieb is the survivor, the one who remains to tell the story: what was done to others, what was done to her, what might yet be done to her.

In poems... Gottlieb identifies and articulates the personal and social desires, fears and traumas out of which pop culture is made... and then she feeds pop culture back to itself.

Though the slasher flick is central, Gottlieb finds resonances in sources as disparate as the early American captivity narrative, queer and feminist film theory, and her own mother's death. Through such iconic American figures such as Mary Rowlandson and Patricia Hearst, Gottlieb delineates the ways in which we're betrayed by our cultural fantasies about abduction, gender, literature, pleasure and transgression — and, in so doing, synthesizes the death and life of the American female.

She'll be reading in New York four nights in a row, starting tomorrow, Monday, October 6th, at 13 Bar/Lounge. and if you're elsewhere in the country, chin up- she's touring all over the place for two months. Don't miss your chance. And don't tell me that poetry isn't your thing. This isn't poetry as you know it. Trust me.

NY
Boston
Cambridge
Philadelphia
Baltimore
Washington, D.C.
Richmond, VA
Chapel Hill and Asheville, NC
Atlanta
New Orleans
Austin
San Antonio
Chicago
Ann Arbor
Madison
San Diego
Los Angeles
Orange
Big Sur
San Francisco
Eugene
Portland
Olympia
Seattle
Vancouver

On the West Coast leg of the tour, she'll be touring with Hal Sirowitz.

-Final Girl tour dates

-San Francisco Chronicle review

-and more praise, praise, praise for Final Girl

Roger Corman (yeah, Roger Corman) says:
"The slasher film, while perhaps deservedly underrated as a genre, makes clear one thing about our society: we want certain things to survive. Daphne Gottlieb's Final Girl wickedly subverts this received idea as it plays out in the popular imagination. Her poems are courageous and startling."

Diane DiMassa says:
"Daphne Gottlieb writes in the dark with an Exacto knife. Whatever your fantasies, fears or vulnerabilities, Gottlieb will feed them to you off the points of a smashed bottle while she sips from the other end. This is a delicious autopsy of culture, genre, gender and so much more, which puts you right in the voyeur's seat. Eat it, eat boiling, oily popcorn and mortician's make-up until you wake up speechless and alone and ecstatic on the floor of the projection room. Sensational."

Lynn Breedlove says:
"Daphne's machete take on life leaves no one standing except us, for it's us she aims to elevate, the fucked over and the fucked up, and for that we thank her."

yes, we do, Lynnee, yes, we do.

download a poster for Daphne's tour, or one for Daphne and Hal. plaster 'em up somewhere. we know you know how.