"Shut up!"

"Just shut up,
shut up!"

Things I saw on the ride home this evening:

A woman using the bus as one would a personal office.

She wasn't particularly well-dressed or arrogant beyond her actions, and certainly didn't have an air of entitlement about her until she whipped out her cell phone. Really, sitting there in one of the long rows near the front of the vehicle, she just seemed like an older woman who didn't quite get technology, but was determined to give it a go.

Then again, maybe she just didn't care. With her phone set to handsfree, she proceeded to check her voicemail, carefully copying the important details onto a sheet of paper in her lap. I, like most other passengers on the bus, simply cast furtive yet wide-eyed glances in her direction. Huh? Wha? Doesn't she want privacy? Is she mentally ill?

It wasn't that she needed both hands -- one to write and one to steady the paper, for example -- with the phone resting on her leg or strapped to her arm or what have you. No, she held the speaker-phone in her right hand while scribbling with her left. Anyway, in a situation where one is on the phone and is using both hands for other activities, one usually clamps the phone between one's shoulder and ear. Bad for the neck, what with the bent head and all, but infinitely more courteous in public spaces.

Perhaps she comes from a culture where forcefully drawing everyone around you into your little world by virtue of loudness is totally cool. In other words, I suppose, she's just like the rest of us gabbing away at full volume, sharing our non-urgent cell phone conversations with any stranger within range. People! We created this beast.

"Does this HAVE to be done NOW?" the bus driver yells, to anyone who will listen. The woman is not one of them.

"Get an earpiece!" he offers, strongly, then shakes his head and keeps driving.

TRACK LISTING: Black Eyed Peas, "Shut Up"

"Rhyme or crime, let's get it on!"

"This is our world,
me and my girls!"

Things I saw on the news today:

People, Foxy Brown is going to jail FOR REALS!

Too bad she's not a supermodel. (Well, too bad for her, anyway.) Looks like someone won't be having a great weekend! Or year, really.

TRACK LISTING: Foxy Brown, "The Hot Spot"

"She had the body of a Venus!"

"Lord, imagine my surprise!"

Things I saw in an article on Defamer today:

The "mystery" of Larry Wachowski revisited!

Man, I'd forgotten all about this. But so what? Sure, the Rolling Stone investigation (reportedly based on an article from Wired News) quotes a "bondage-world source" explaining that the disappointing Matrix: Reloaded and Matrix: Revolutions are a result of LW being distracted by his personal life. I personally didn't enjoy those movies and am only lukewarm about the first Matrix film, but again, so what? A lot of directors with "normal" propensities make totally shitty movies ALL THE TIME. If LW is happy, then that's all we need to know, and really, we don't even need to know that much.

(Ah, but I can't help myself!)

TRACK LISTING: Aerosmith, "Dude (Looks Like a Lady)" (I know, I know, it's crass, it's crass)

"Blessed are the pure at heart for they shall see God."

"So close your eyes and dream."

Things I saw this evening:

The lives of others.

Earlier today, I'd read a post that SBP had written about The Exorcist, and I'd commented on how frightening I find that film to this day. I didn't imagine that I'd see an equally chilling film a few hours later, with such a similar theme.

SBP replied to my comment by remarking that "evil knowing no limits is effectively depicted" in The Exorcist, and I would argue that The Magdalene Sisters effectively depicts the evils that can result when faith knows no limits. I cannot deny that faith is important and necessary for so many; be warned, however, that faith without reason is a terribly blinding, dangerous path.

TRACK LISTING: Me'Shell NdegéOcello, "Mary Magdalene"

[NOTE: The image above is a still taken from Sex in a Cold Climate, one of the inspirations for The Magdalene Sisters.]

"The big man arrives."

"Disco dancers greet him;
plainclothes cops greet him."

¡Ai Chupeta! In the end you are just one more greedy, predatory, worthless asshole whose money couldn't keep him free. It's almost a joke! Almost.

Nice try with all the surgery, though. Next time have them work on your vocal chords, too, okay? Idiot.

TRACK LISTING: Joni Mitchell, "Edith and the Kingpin"

"The fire hydrants will blow up!"

"The streets will crack!
The pipes will pop!"

Things I saw online today:

Holy SHIT! TORNADO in the BK!

People! The weather systems are going to KICK our ASSES! They're out to get us and it is FREAKING me OUT. Seriously. The oceans are coming for us first. Why anyone still wants to live by the shore when he or she has the option to move is beyond me.

TRACK LISTING: Little Girls, "The Earthquake Song"

"Well, some say I'm lazy."

"And others say
that's just me."

Things I saw today via Radar:

Sometimes the best comment is NO COMMENT, asshole. Now keep digging that "disgusting" pit of shame and denial!

TRACK LISTING: Guns N' Roses, "One in a Million"

"You're fragile as a scene, you know."

"Who's your only friend, kid?"

Things I saw today on Gawker:

Touché!

(Or, perhaps, Douché! Either one. The headline is cleverly great as well!)

(Kelvin-referencing tagline? Also clever and great!)

You know, sometimes on days when I am too tired and lazy to contemplate racism or my own self-hate or what have you, I am actually thankful that I am naturally brown and not some pale chick incomprehensibly desperate to appear otherwise. On that note, it just occurred to me that there are probably racists out there who slavishly use bronzer or UV radiation or just plain old sunbaths to add a little "color", as if their ranting and raving needed to appear any more ridiculous or hypocritical. HAA-ha!

TRACK LISTING: Beulah, "What Will You Do When Your Suntan Fades?"

[NOTE: The woman in the photo above is crazy, crazy, Edie Beale, as pictured in a scene from Grey Gardens.]

"Don't give up! Don't give up!"

"Do you remember,
once upon a time,
when there were open doors?"

Things I saw this morning on YouTube:

See above.

I was led to this ad by a funny and interesting article, to which I was led by another article; and in fact I was led to the previously mentioned article by this article, so, um, thank you Gawker?

Anyway, it seemed an appropriate theme to explore today, as PF and I are about to head north to the new, fabulously accessorized home of my super gay ex-roommates. These ex-roommates are both super gay and just plain super, and thus I am very much looking forward to spending the next two days with them. Also, I am obviously too lazy to find an original photo for this post. (Wow! Twice in one week! My slothy nature is really shining through, isn't it?)

Happy weekend, everybody! Go out and kiss somebody you adore.

TRACK LISTING: Erasure, "Chains of Love"

"I wish you could see what I have on right now."

"Woke up again,
hearing the same old song."

Things I saw today, thanks to Dooce:

"Are you being sarcastic, dude?"
"I don't even know anymore."

Dooce makes a good point that many people would wear this shirt seriously. Of course, anyone who would do so would publicly claim to wear it ironically, right before unironically entering into a pissing match about the credibility of various bands. [See also: telling people that "Losing My Edge" is hilarious, then telling them that you do in fact "have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody"; "Two Hipsters Angrily Call Each Other 'Hipster'."]

It's still a funny shirt, though, and it led me to the even funnier "Shakespeare Hates Your Emo Poems". Also, how am I not gonna love a site that identifies each font it uses on their "Type Tees"? It's a web site after mine own heart!

TRACK LISTING: Destiny's Child, "T-Shirt"

[NOTE: The "sarcastic" quote is one of my fondest recollections of "Homerpalooza". The "compilation" quote is taken directly from the lyrics of "Losing My Edge". Also, only minutes after finishing this post, a co-worker told me about a shirt he recently bought, the centerpiece of which is a slogan involving the phrases "You say tomato" and "fuck you, you fucking fuck." Psychic frequencies, people! They are EVERYWHERE.]

"I gotta take a little time."

"I better read between the lines
in case I need it when I'm older."

Things I saw as I emerged from the subway this evening:

The final pages of a wonderful book. It was difficult to say goodbye!

I've happily read quite a few editions of Savage Love, and I've been amused by Dan Savage during television interviews, but I didn't expect to be so moved by one of his memoirs. I won't deny that I cry easily, but I very rarely shed tears while reading. (The Commitment made me laugh, too, but I very rarely don't laugh while reading, so -- considering Savage's finely tuned sense of humour -- it's a given that I would at least chuckle.) To find myself choking up on multiple occasions while devouring Savage's observations on "love, sex, marriage, and [his] family" was remarkable; it convinced me that a work that touches me so deeply is a work that deserves to be bought and placed on my bookshelf. (I am also convinced that the next book I read should be The Kid.) The promise of having my own copy of The Commitment in the near future certainly eased the task of returning the book.

But suddenly, as if on cue, as I made my way towards the library, what is probably the most embarrassing song on my iPod began to play...and my eyes welled up. A POWER BALLAD WAS BRINGING TEARS TO MY EYES. This was in conjunction with Savage's story about relationships, to be sure, but I still felt like a total pussy. On the other hand, I was REALLY enjoying the song, losing myself in the backup choir and the interplay between Lou Gramm and Jennifer Holliday. (Man. I NEVER thought I'd write something like "the interplay between Lou Gramm and Jennifer Holliday" -- EVER -- IN MY WHOLE LIFE -- but there it is. I like "I Want to Know What Love Is" and it makes me weep. NON-ironically. Sigh.) A lump formed in my throat as I walked the side streets and descended the steps near the library entrance. The song faded away.

Immediately following was probably the second most embarrassing song on my iPod (the Rosario Dawson rendition, fair enough, but even my fondness for her can't obscure the reality that this track comes from the critically panned film version of a musical that I hated when I saw it live. Yes, I know that Detective Green was in both versions, and I don't care). However, it seemed as if the title alone -- "Out Tonight" -- highly befitted the ruminations of an openly (and proudly) gay man, to say nothing of the fact that the song is part of a musical. A musical! What else could I do but smile? Oh, and laugh, of course.

TRACK LISTING: Foreigner, "I Want to Know What Love Is"

"What I got you got to get it put it in you!"

Image taken from "Most Wanted" (via Wikipedia).

"I'm a lowbrow
but I rock a little know how!"

Things I saw online today:

Oh, my...words...cannot...hahahahahahahahahahaha!

Seriously, though, as Frank Black once pointed out during an interview (while discussing "Alec Eiffel"), isn't anything that's taller or longer than it is wide considered phallic? By these, um, measurements, any concrete, uh, pole may be considered a penile representation. Of course, not every "offending knob" (heh heh) would appear so lovingly crafted as to include a head atop what can only be referred to as "the shaft".

The plan to add metal rings and chains is clearly brilliant and may even be intentionally obvious. ALL THE BETTER TO RAM THE POINT HOME. Ah hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!

TRACK LISTING: Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Give It Away"

[NOTE: The use of "Give It Away" was cued by Boing Boing's inspired (if slightly tweaked) employment of the "keep it like the Kaiser" line. Well done, BB!]

"Your physique is swelling and your waistline's telling!"

"And I guess you're gonna miss
a lot of school!"

Things I saw on the big screen today:

Grounds for a lawsuit!

Seriously, though, I feel stupid for paying any attention to the litigation, as the claim made by Rebecca Eckler is ridiculous, frivolous, and quite possibly just a publicity stunt from a woman who is notoriously self-absorbed.

Speaking of navel gazing (both literal and figurative, in Eckler's case)
-- and since we're on the subject of alleged intellectual theft -- the infamous Apatow-Brazill e-mail exchange never fails to amuse. "You're a hack!" "No, YOU'RE a hack!" "You, sir, are nothing more than a television writer!" (I ripped that last bit off, sort of, from a line that Warden Gentiles spits at Tobias while Tobias is attempting "prison research" for his upcoming role as Frightened Inmate No.2. "You're no more than a television actor," the warden tells him, or something like that. Sure, sure, it's not the funniest joke in the episode, but I told you that I recently watched a lot of Arrested Development, so I've got the whole series on the brain. Now, where were we? Ah, yes:) And so on. My favorite part of the exchange involves Apatow throwing down a "J'accuse!!!!" Take that, Brazill! Anyway, speaking of Apatow, and amusement...

I very much enjoyed Knocked Up! Okay, so the scene in which Alison has her eight-week ultrasound was a little difficult to watch as it hit a bit too close to home, but it was certainly less difficult to watch than the crowning close-ups (which I didn't watch at all, in fact, preferring instead to bury my head in PF's shoulder. Yes, that's right! I am TOTALLY ready to have a baby). Aside from these instances, I thought my $12 was quite well spent. I mean, I laughed a lot more than I thought I would -- throughout the entire movie, really -- and I haven't laughed that hard in a movie theater for a long time. It was kind of therapeutic, actually, and definitely one of the best ways to spend our Saturday afternoon.

TRACK LISTING: Dan Baird, "Knocked Up"

"Hey! Hey! Hey! You better let them have their way."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!
You better get out of the way."

Things I saw at the grocery store this afternoon:

Adolescent girls in a displaced standoff.

The Forest Hill Market is an entirely different place at noon on a weekday than it is when I am usually there, which is after work or on the weekends, with all the other grown-ups. In the eerie stillness of midday, teenagers roam the aisles of the grocery as if they were high school hallways, with all inherent politics and social codes intact.

Two pretty and well-dressed girls stand in front of the ice cream freezer, surveying various pints of Häagen-Dazs and Ben & Jerry's. Three rougher-looking girls walk by, slowly; one of these other girls makes a remark, either to or about the ice cream girls. Two of the tough girls rush quickly up the aisle, away from the ice cream girls, leaving the third still walking slowly, looking slightly perplexed. The two supposed badasses now peer around the corner, down the frozen food aisle, their hands gripping a Ritter Sport display.

"Come on, Angela!" one of them yells at the third girl. "Make a break for it!" The two girls then erupt into peals of laughter. Angela is laughing as well, sort of, as she nears them; she's walking a little faster but still looks confused. She shrugs her shoulders with the palms of her hands facing up, like, What do you want me to do?

The ice cream girls glare up the aisle, their eyes trained on the other three girls with laser-like precision, their facial expressions a mixture of mild shock, brittle amusement and imagined superiority. The other three girls scurry off, possibly into the dairy aisle, and the ice cream girls walk away empty-handed. I realize that I don't need anything from the freezer, and that I don't miss high school at all.

TRACK LISTING: MC5, "High School"

"What does the billboard say?"

"Come and play;
come and play."

Things I saw after having lunch with my mother this afternoon:

The tallest people in the world, on what used to be the longest street in the world, doing their best to promote the so-called biggest bookstore in the world.

On the same side of the street, a throng of people march south; with their hoisted placards and raised voices, they draw attention to the fight against sexual abuse, particularly the crimes against children. Only a fool would oppose them. They occasionally address the prime minister directly, though they know he is nowhere near.

My mother, who was born in another country, watches the demonstration thoughtfully. "They can do this here," she remarks, proudly, which makes me proud as well, in many different ways.

TRACK LISTING: Rage Against the Machine, "Freedom"

[NOTE: The photo above highlights two photos by James Karales; the page shown is from a Rolling Stone compilation of articles from the Sixties.]

"Every spe-ci-men!"

"Tall, blonde,
dark and lean,
rough and tough
and strong and mean!"

Things I saw online today:

You have GOT to be kidding.

Americans! Come ON! These people are RUNNING YOUR COUNTRY, for crying out loud!

TRACK LISTING: The Weather Girls, "It's Raining Men"

[NOTE: The photo above was taken while we watched an online clip of The Simpsons episode titled "Homer the Vigilante". As you might imagine, it's funnier in Spanish, as if The Bumblebee Man got his hands on it.]

"Fighting with the beast!"

"No justice, no peace!"

Things we saw on the way home from the grocery store this morning:

A man and a woman, standing on the sidewalk across from our building, staring at the cops pulling people over for speeding. (We live right in the heart of a speed trap. Police cruisers in our alley, waiting for offenders, are not an uncommon sight.)

The woman is shaking her head and yelling. The man is nodding. "Can you believe this?" she asks him.

"All day long we see them!" she cries. "Raking in the cash! It's a racket!"

The man says something inaudible. The woman replies, "They're like the Gestapo!"

TRACK LISTING: Ice Cube, "The Predator"

"I want the world to know!"

"Got to let it show!"

Things I saw online today:

HE'S gay? You don't say!

But you know what? Better late than never. Perhaps this builds a feeling of solidarity in the queer community, something that neutrality and secretiveness simply cannot do. A man or woman's homosexuality should never cause them shame. This just seems so obvious!

On the other hand, it also seems obvious that whether a person is homosexual or not is nobody's business but that person's own. I don't know if it's any easier to be openly gay these days than it was even a decade ago, but I do think that if a person wants his or her private life to remain private, then that is his or her right. This applies to celebrities, too, no matter how much I chatter on about them.

Still, it's nice to see someone out and proud, and at least he didn't prance around off-camera acting like he was straight.

TRACK LISTING: Diana Ross, "I'm Coming Out"

[NOTE: What -- did you think that the "at least he didn't prance" link would lead you some couch-jumper?]

"Talk slick."

"You get your neck slit quick."

Things I found out today:

¡Ay dios mio! Our favourite version of "Lobo Domesticado" (okay, fine, the ONLY version we've heard) was sung by a narcocorrido-spinner living deep in thug life! Unsurprisingly, he died young.

And there we were, listening to a form of Mexican hip-hop without even knowing it! Thanks, Aguila!

TRACK LISTING: The Notorious B.I.G., "Things Done Changed"

"Yeah, I want something new."

"Life's a bummer
when you're a hummer!"

Things I saw today on Metafilter:

Well, this is at least something, and it reminds me of this, which always makes me smile.

TRACK LISTING: The Smashing Pumpkins, "Hummer"