Sunday, July 31, 2005

An Original Sentence and Saying Yes...(even when it hurts.)

While having an a wonderful dinner chez Anne and Christopher's this past Saturday night, two very interesting ideas came up at the dinner table.
Well, actually there were a lot more than two, but these two still have me intrigued on this fine Monday morning.

One was the idea of a completely original sentence.

While Mark was telling everyone about his secret desire to audition for the role of Soda Pop in the upcoming Paducah Community Theater's portrayal of The Outsiders,
he mentioned that we would probably have to wear a toupee during the try-outs to be physically suited for this particular character.
After a brief moment of thought, I replied,
"Yeah, you would probably make a great Soda Pop with a toupee."

Anne deemed this sentence as a, most likely, completely original sentence.

She has made a game of sorts trying to recognize such occurrences.
I like this idea and have started playing the game myself.

Yesterday, while driving home on the WK Parkway, I thought of an original sentence I made note of in high school.
It happened in 1986 or 87, I'd guess.

My friend Jon Singer and I were laying on the roof of his Grandmother's abandoned, crumbling, and majestic mansion on the hill....on the Osbourne's family farm in Scott County.
We were just laying up there, on the roof,
a million miles above the grass,
smoking cigarettes and staring at the stars
and passing another boring Scott County night by....
talking about cars and music
and who we had crushes on,
and generally harassing each other as friends do.

At some point during this memorable evening, he noticed the surprising lack of bird poop on the roof.
The surprisingly fabulous lack of bird poop, which enabled us to lay without blankets.
On the roof.
To which, I replied,
"Yeah, I'd bet the pigeons would get off pretty hard on this roof if they knew about it."

We laughed and thought...what a ridiculous thing to say.
Isn't it strange that I remember that?
That likely was an original sentence, as well.

Then Mark proceeded to tell us a story about a guy named Danny Wallace, who did an experiment for a length of time, in which he pretended the word "no" did not exist.
Meaning, he said yes to everything.
Now he has written a book about his wild adventure as the "Yes Man"
and you wouldn't believe how his life took a tun for the better.

Here's a book description I lifted from Amazon, to give to a taste of his fantastic voyage:
"Imagine being completely open. Imagine a life in which we accept every single chance, offer, or challenge -- take every single risk. Thankfully, Danny Wallace has done it so we don't have to.

Recently single, Danny is alone and on a road to nowhere. One day on that road, a stranger on a bus tells him to say "yes" more. A months-long journey that changes not only Danny's life but perhaps the world ensues.

Soon after vowing to be more open, Danny wins $45,000 and becomes a television executive, far above his level of experience or ability ("just because I said 'yes' a lot in meetings I wasn't supposed to be in"). He becomes a minister. Falls afoul of psychotropic drugs. Gives spare change to anyone who asks. Invents things. Travels the globe. Vows to help the son of a murdered sultan escape Oman with forty million dollars ("It's not an Internet scam -- it's a cry for help"). But not every yes is an instant ticket to newfound wealth and happiness.

Just as Danny grows closer to a woman for whom he holds strong feelings, his ex-girlfriend asks if he would mind if she dated someone new. "Yes." Things get more complicated when he sees her and her new beau. Being polite, the man asks Danny if he'd like to join them for dinner. "Yes." At a night club, another man asks Danny if he wants a smack in the mouth for looking at his girlfriend: "Er, yes?"

Yes Man introduces a world where a bit of optimism can make a person a television personality. A simple trip to the record store can be rerouted to the center of the Social Acupuncture Peace Movement. An unwanted e-mail can lead to the creation of an undroppable spoon. Feeling hungry can result in eating curry down the street from Jesus. But perhaps most important, a little fearlessness can lead to a remarkably loving relationship.

Yes Man is more than one excitable man's ramblings of seemingly inconsequential events. It's more than even the most elegant of memoirs. It is proof that a little bit of openness and generosity can allow the human spirit to triumph."

I think I'll buy the book....
Don't you want to, too?

I'll be the answer is "yes".

Thursday, July 28, 2005

We are the Middle-Agers Gone Wild

Skid Row rocked the Paducah Riverfront last night!
Yes, sir. They rocked it good.

Good, considering it was a free show,
and good, considering the only band member left from the original line up wasn't present due to getting thrown in jail last night.

It was endearing and entertaining as I hoped it would be. A perfect little jaunt down memory lane...
and it was a gorgeous night to boot.

I really enjoyed myself.
Mark enjoyed it, too.
Everyone did, as far as I could tell.

The boys in the band had the crowd rockin' and head banging and throwing devil horns all night...
The lead singer did a fantastic job of using a metaled-out throaty scream of "PA-DUC-AH" in every conceivable way...
and when the crowd got too quiet for his liking,
he would mix it up with some college sports by metal-throating,
"Come on UK Wildcat fans...let me hear you scream!"
My very favorite line of the evening, however, was;
"C'mon, put those crazy Kentucky hands in the air and show your Momma how it's done!"
An instant classic.
I'm gonna use that line again sometime.
That one thing is for sure.

Apparently, Paducah has a lot of Skid Row fans. More than I could have ever imagined.
And apparently, they all know the words to every single song....
They aren't afraid to sing, either.
In fact, you know the moment at every rock show when the lead singer does the obligatory turn-the-mic-towards-the-crowd moment for the audience sing along?
Well, I must tell you I actually got cold chills.
Cheese-ola. I know. I know.
But I was truly impressed with how the river front rockers whole heartedly, and quite beautifully sang along to
I Remember unison, even.

Of course, it goes without saying, that the people watching was choice.
And I have decided that there is something borderline high-fashion about having no fashion rules whatsoever. This includes hair. Think John Galliano for a better idea of where I'm going with this.

For example, I saw a smashingly attractive biker chick in her 70's (at least) with a long white ponytail and a menswear black shirt with ripped off sleeves standing and laughing against the flood wall. She was wrinkled and real and having a blast. She was pulling off her ensemble with flying colors.

Moments later, I saw a mullet that actually worked.
Yes, I did just say that.
It worked, in the way of meaning this:
There was this one particular good 'ol boy who wouldn't have had even a smidgen of the personality and charm if someone snuck up behind him and trimmed his party off.
His hair was him.
It was his signature.
It was his magic, so to speak....

I saw one very young man with rather nice tattoos all the way up both arms.
I'm convinced there is no way he was even near 18 years old yet. So, I found myself wondering how he got away with getting so much ink in his obviously minor state.
I concluded that his uncle must own the "Ink-It Up" joint out by the Bar With No Name, across from the Harley shop.
My other conclusion was, maybe he has a talented friend with some mad Sharpie skills.
Either way he occupied my mind for a long while.

One thing I witnessed, that was kind of disturbing to me, was the number of newborns cradled in their parents arms while the music roared. I was wondering what kind of imprinting was being done to their tiny smooth brains.
Their tiny smooth ear drums, for that matter.
I didn't worry about it too long, though.
I had rockin' to do, afterall.

So, feelings regarding Skid Row at the Paducah riverfront are as follows:
Music: great
Crowd interaction: great
Use of word "Paducah" in metal voice: extra great
Weather: great
People watching: great.

Five out of five. Not too bad for a small town Thursday night.

Born on a Friday Under the Sign of Libra

This birthday calculator is quite interesting.
Among other things, I learned that my birth tree is a
Rowan, the Sensitivity Tree:
"Full of charm, cheerful, gifted, without egoism, likes to draw attention, loves life, motion, unrest and even complications, is both dependent and independent, good taste, artistic, passionate, emotional, good company, does not forgive."
Hmmm....I have been trying to keep my non-forgiving heart under wraps.... Oh well, secret's out now!
And I am;
35 years old.
429 months old.
1,868 weeks old.
13,075 days old.
313,809 hours old.
18,828,592 minutes old.
1,129,715,564 seconds old.
And, with the 36 candles on my next b-day cake I could boil 4.11 US ounces of water.
Check it out, if you've nothing better to do while drinking your morning coffee.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Falling Dreamer

My friend Steve sent me this link today:
Click here .
I don't know much about it, except for it is strangely hypnotizing...

Monday, July 25, 2005

Keepin' it Crazy, Y'all

Today I woke up with a huge list of things I want to accomplish....
Only difference is this:
Today, I have that feeling in my chest that makes me able to actually get it all done.

I have mentioned before that I have some sort of cyclical condition.
One which makes makes me an uber-optimistic, restless, hyper-achiever every now and again.
I simply wake up and things feel different all around me.
Everything is an opportunity and I can't wait to get my sleeves rolled up and dive into my life and into all my half-baked ideas.

It a very specific feeling...
not jittery....
not speedy or mind-racy...
it's not all over place.

It's focused.
A focused sense of euphoria.
A sort of personal and driven epiphany...
It settles in my chest and swirls around
and overwhelms and suffocates my doubtful, paranoid gut.

I love this feeling.
It can last for months at times.
It's when I do best paintings. I painted the Smart Ass Bunny on a day like today.
(but the swirl didn't visit very long that time)

When the swirl arrives my creative ideas start flowing with gusto.
I want to paint.
I want to clean.
I want to dance and sing.
(yes, even with my tune-in-a-bucket-challenged voice, I want to sing)
I want to drive my car with the top down and the radio loud.

It's a heightened sense of being alive, I suppose.
A type of mania that results in overwhelmingly positive results.
A good sort of crazy.
Well, I take that back.
It's a GREAT sort of crazy.

Wish me the stamina to ride this sucker out...
because my house needs a good cleaning.
(the upholstery looks like it's all been re-done in fuzzy angora)
Our laundry begs to be folded.
I have 4 blank canvases trying to talk to me and lots of errands to run...
And most importantly, my dog-childs wanna shake a leg and get out of the house for a while.

Perfect time for a visit from the swirl, wouldn't you agree?
I'll let you know what happens.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Paducah Summer Festival

Well, it is officially underway!
The Summer Festival, that is...right down the street from our home.
Look what is planned for this weekend alone:
Click here to see festivities galore!
Lots of fun to be had, junk food to eat, Amish people to wonder about and mullets to spot.
(although, I would like to mention, not all summer festival men-folk are sportin' mullets and USA-kicks-ass tees. Some, in fact, are downright adorable farm boys that would make even the most sophisticated city-savvy woman blush)

I think we might even enter our first 5k run together tomorrow morning... can you believe that?
Us? Running? On purpose...... at 8am?
To quote the Notorious B.I.G..........
"Things Done Changed."

But don't even think we're gonna miss the Skid Row free concert on the Waterfront next weekend. Things haven't changed that much.
No way, dude.
Mark and I are going to break out our finest metal-wear and rock out...
Seriously, a bandana around one's ankle just makes the rock 'n roll take over!

I l-o-v-e summer!

Monday, July 18, 2005

Dready or Knot!

(Mom, Dad.....have a seat....)

I did it....I have baby dreadlocks!

They are kinda messy right now, but I think they're going to look really cool in a few weeks.
Mark is a fabulous loctician.....who knew?
  Baby Dreads Fun Photo
And yes...I am addicted to blowing the contrast out of my's fun and it makes me look years younger....
So much cheaper than Botox, too!

Friday, July 15, 2005

I am Unique and Loved. (repeat in mirror)

Oh my goodness, what a happy young man:
Peter Curtis has pizazz!
He reeks of "I just gotta be me", which I love the smell of....and which reminds me,
remember Bikerfox?
He's pretty happy being himself, too.
I suggest we all celebrate our SELVES today!
Just because it's Friday.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Special Guest Star

I was debating on whether to mention this,
because I am afraid I'll jinx it,
but I have recently had two very interesting conversations with, none other than, the fabulous and famous Ms. Holly Woodlawn.....
and now she's coming to visit me in September!
Well, technically, she's coming to visit Paducah in September,
but that's so specific.)

She wants to meet and have dinner one night and I offered to drive her around LoTo and downtown Paducah, a little...
You know, show her the sights of our fair town.

Yes, all three of them...
which will take about 15 minutes.
***Note to self: Come up with something else to do while she is here.***

Yes, Holly, who came from Miami, F-L-A....
and hitchhiked her way across the U-S-A...
The one Lou Reed sings about,
the same wonderful drag queen who has walked on the wild side
has decided she wants to move.
Somewhere quiet.
Somewhere she can afford a cute little house....
Somewhere she can grow tomatoes...and bake apple pies....
and in her words, "just live".

I told her Paducah might be what she is looking for.

She learned about the Paducah Artist Relocation Program, through a friend, and fell in love with the idea right away.
She also loves the idea about the super affordable real estate...and the teeny tiny Paducah Airport that can whisk her away to parts unknown for occasional performances and special appearances.

How did I get hooked up with Holly?
You may be wondering.

Well, Mark was listening to Feast of Fools' podcast (he's a podcasting junkie and Fausto fan)
interview with Ms. Woodlawn about a week or so ago, when Fausto posed the question,
"Holly, what's next in your life?"
Holly replied, to their absolute disbelief,
"I'm thinking of moving to Paducah, Kentucky."

She attempted to explain why she thought Paducah might be nice...
but her interviewers weren't very convinced.
She didn't care....

I decided I should write her an e-mail through her web site's guest book and tell her she wasn't crazy. At least, I didn't think it was such a bad idea...
and to welcome her to Kentucky.

Shock of shocks...she e-mailed me back that night...and called me the next night.
We had a fun conversation. She is very sweet and endearing and dramatic.

She would like to eventually open a piano bar.
I told her I know the perfect spot...
attached to....

She was very excited......and even though she says she has no money, she knows people.
Charmingly, she is quite modest about it.
Either way, she said, "Honey, you just have to believe we can make things happen and we will!"

Well, holy crap. Isn't that what I always say?

So we dreamed up some really big ideas, right then and there.
She told me, as we were hanging up,
"I feel like Peter Pan and you are my little Tinkerbell".

Wow...I'm a Puerto Rican drag queen's Tinkerbell.
Could there be a better compliment?

Tonight I talked to her again...just for about 20 minutes.
She is bringing one of her dearest, life-long friends with her when she comes to visit.
Her friend Elda.
Elda Gentile.
Who is every bit as interesting as Holly.

I inquired, is Elda Gentile an artist?

HW: "How old are you, honey?"
Me: "Thirty-si....."
HW: (interrupting my answer) "Do you remember the New York Dolls?"
Me: "Yes...I do!"
HW: "Honey, Elda invented the Dolls...and she and Debbie Harry formed The Stilettos together. She's a woooooonderful artist."
Me: "Very cool, I can't wait to meet her."
HW: "We're going to have a great time, darling, just you wait!"

I can't help but think this is going to be a mighty fine visit.

Ah, ha!

This is why I am not getting any notification of your comments:

"BlogSend emails going to addresses are currently bouncing; we've already contacted AOL, and this should be resolved soon.
Posted by Eric at 13:10"

If I have over looked any of you in the meantime...well, my apologies.
For now I will have to just scan my blog manually to see if you had anything to say.
Please keep 'em coming, though....
I like knowing you're out there.

Lookie, lookie, clickie, clickie!

No post this week so far...but I have uploaded about 140 new photos for you on my flickr pages.
Check 'em out!

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Free Historic Theatre

Where it's at---
As I was taking my 7am, 3 mile walk, this lovely Wednesday morning,
(yes, you are on Anessa's blog...just in case you scrolled up to make sure...)

I took a slight detour and veered into the entrance of the dilapidated and wonderfully breathtaking Columbia Theatre on Broadway.
I have pressed my nose against her glass panes in every conceivable angle, over the past few years, wishing I could be part of the team that says, "Hey, what's going on here? We have gotta fix this grand old building up!
How on Earth did we let this happen?"

Yes, I wish with, all my heart, that someone would revive this forgotten theatre to the grandeur of years past.
I wish I could help them make it happen.

It's not that far fetched of an idea.

You see, the city of Paducah is wanting to giving away, for free, the Columbia Theatre (and the adjoining Arcade Theatre) to some lucky person who has a dream and a plan.

What a wonderful opportunity.
Such an opportunity,I can't believe it it still sitting there.
Crumbling and weeping.

I swear when I walk by it's almost as she calls out to me...

Columbia: (dignified and mournful)
Hello? Hello, young lady?
Can you hear me? Please help me... I'm dying...

Me: (somewhat shocked to be stopped by a talking building)
Yes Columbia, I do hear you. I hear you everyday I walk by and you're breaking my heart.

Columbia: Why won't anybody save me?
Can't you see me?
See my ornate tiles? See my grand foyer?
Feel the history I hold within these walls?
So many first dates here.... so many first kisses.
So many tears cried in my velvet many monsters on my gigantic many cowboys.

Me: I know...I know.......
I can see it.
I can imagine it.
I would love to help you, but I don't know how.

(silence for a moment)

Columbia: Do you remember the movie The Never Ending Story?

Me: Yes. I love that movie.

Columbia: Well, remember the scene where the dying princess of Fansasia is holding the last little ember of hope in her hand?

Me: Of course. I cried my eyes out at that scene. It was beautiful.

Columbia: You, my friend, are like the little boy that saves the princess by keeping embers of hope and imagination alive. All you have to do is believe you are capable of making change. It you believe you can change it, you will. You can save me from being consumed by the nothing.

Me: Where will I begin?

Columbia: That is up to you, child.

Me: See you tomorrow morning.

Columbia: See you tomorrow.

(i put my ipod back on and walk away with my heavy-hands feeling much heavier now)

So this conversation happens pretty much every morning between the Columbia and my dream filled brain.

Why is this wonderful space is crumbling?
It's as she hasbecome invisble to everyone.
She is like an iinvisible elephant in the corner.

I wish so badly for this building to be restored.
I want to get my hands on it and help transform it.
Explore it.
Give it a rebirth.

Maybe not necessarily as a movie house, but as something alive and vital and creative and alive with possibility.
Community theatre, perhaps?
A huge dance club?
Independent film festivals?
Unsigned artists?

I know it would take a lot of money to do the needed repairs, millions, in fact, but having driven through some of the recently developed subdivisions, past the gargantuan dwellings, I am convinced that there is money to be spent in this town.

Sheryl Crow just built an aquatic center for her hometown. Maybe Lily Tomlin can spare a few cool million for her hometown?
People put millions into pet projects every day. I am willing to put the heart, soul and sweat into it....problem is I do not have the money.

The right philanthropist to see this restoration through to fruition is out there....somewhere.

I would gladly take a huge portion of the responsibility if asked in this project. I could be the sub-contractor, the floor manager, the coffee girl, the "talk to her girl", the PR girl.

Right now, I will just keep planting the seeds of hope and imagination.
That will be my job right now.
And I'll do that for free.

Saturday, July 02, 2005

Holiday Couture

3-day weekends do what?

Yeah, that's right....
they ROCK!

Familiar photo of members
of the South Broadway KISS Army circa 1978
Suitable for Framing

a plain old white undershirt

Awesome Shirt I made for Mark
The perfect fashion for upcoming holiday festivities!
Mark in the shirt I made for him.
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