Monthly Archives: July 2013

possible reasons i got an ocular migraine today

yogurt, granola, and berries
loud jamming
salsa, beans, and a flour tortilla
goat cheese and rice crackers
i thought i was hydrated
half a glass of $5 red wine Continue reading

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famous boobs, giant boobs, fat boobs, tiny boobs, boobs on stage, boobs in my mouth, boobs backstage, boobs all around!







that right there’s Jenny Lewis, the bodacious female vocal lead for the Postal Service, who i just saw perform last night at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. decked out with giant fluffy hair, a dazzling little black dress, and white fishnets… isn’t she such a fucking rock star? her guitar work’s as sexy as she is too.

overall, i loved the show. the band made no qualms about it: everybody was there to celebrate the tenth anniversary of Give Up, the band’s only studio album. seems like just yesterday we were all in high school trying to figure out how to get laid and ace our classes with the least work possible while simultaneously deciding on where to go to college to maximize our chances of actually getting laid and acing our classes with the least work possible. oh, the frustration, the insecurity, the arrogance… and the music. while Nine Inch Nails, Tool, and Aphex Twin were the heartkillers, i always left a little bit of room for the cheesier easier shit like Broken Social Scene, the Flaming Lips, Spoon, Bright Eyes, and, of course, the Postal Service.

and last night, they did not disappoint, playing pretty much everything from that old classic album. perhaps my only criticism would be–and this is hardly something they could avoid considering the nature of the music–that half the music shot out of a computer. most of the beats and a lot of the bass, all programmed. it was like watching Ben Gibbard and Jenny Lewis sing karaoke to all their old hits. but who’s complaining?

ironically, exactly six years ago to the night–July 27, 2007–i saw two other musicians do nothing but bob their heads and poke electronic equipment at the very same venue. yup, Daft Punk. freaky coincidence, right? i went w Adam, and that was my very first time seeing the French fuckers electrifying us from atop their mystical pyramid in the fog. instant. crush.

as if that weren’t coincident enough, one of the songs that played while roadies readied the stage for the Postal Service was “Instant Crush,” off of Daft Punk’s latest. my mind just couldn’t handle all the intersections, so after that the universe switched gears and played “Pump Up the Jam.” that made a lot less sense, i was cool w that.

the night before, i went to church:


it was my fifth time djing for the First Church of the Sacred Silversexual and my sixth time seeing them perform. and boy, they killed it. i honestly do believe they get better and better every time i see them, this time truly taking it to the next level with impeccable guitar solos, flying tits, and a great story to follow. praise be.

i especially savored this performance because i had never performed a venue quite as great as the Rickshaw Stop. it’s not actually a very big place, but it’s big enough for me to have seen both Akron/Family and (light of my life, fire of my loins) The Field perform there. so, perpetually thinking “i’m going to dj where The Field once played, i’m going to dj where The Field once played” leading up to the show, i couldn’t help but be overly excited. i think i did alright. disco, funk, and r&b all evening as promised by “Diamant, the Deacon of Funk,” glittery beard and all. beautiful beat matching there, shitty reverbery mixing there, etc etc.

friends of all sorts came out, which made everything that much better. a couple of them–Chris and Xanthe–had seen the spectacle before, but a few of them–Natalie, Morgan, Alison–were virgins bleeding diamond tears for the very first time. it was truly a glorious night.

in fact, it’s been a truly glorious month!


last saturday, i hosted the very first house show at the orange gray! (i know, i know, it’s not as brilliant and clever and catchy as “bermuda,” but what can you do? we’re the fucking orange.) Caroline Rose… is beautiful. she and her boy ate up a third of my living room with their PA, pedals, guitars, and everything else, leaving the rest of the space for over 20 people to get cozy. it was madness. there were even people in the hallway listening to her because her guitar sucked you in, her voice captivated you, suspended you in space, while Jer’s bass or mandolin work made the floating easy. i’m so thankful her whirlwind passed through my home.

also so thankful for the earlier performers, Brendan with his guitars and Natalie with her piano. i definitely found myself rocking the hell out to a couple of Brendan’s tracks and Natalie’s piano… well… it’s Chopin. what do you think happened to my head?

but that’s not how we started partying this month, nope, nope. we started with disco:


Daft Brunch was a success. end of story. thanks to the combined powers of Elliot (w his big, bountiful backyard full of booze), Mark (w his big, booming sound system), Andrew (w his sexy decks and mixer), and myself (w 16″ of spherical mirrors), we channeled our 100+ guests to sunny champagne heaven. disco.

and now? now this month’s coming to a close and a new one’s awaking… w mysterious treasures unseen by me. in exactly four weeks, supposedly, when the moon looks the same as it does today, i will be cruising north w my roomie and my lover toward the heart of the desert… for what? i have no idea. it will cost a lot of money and it will take a lot of planning and work and once i get there, it will be no Malibu, but i am doing it w smiles and eager expectation.

i live for today, but i love tomorrow. Continue reading

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Screen Shot 2013-07-24 at 3.04.38 PM Continue reading

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words and verses from C. Day Lewis’ translation of the Aeneid

The begetter of gods and men inclined towards her the smiling
Countenance which calms the sky and makes fair weather,
Gently kissed his daughter’s mouth, and began to speak:–
Fear no more, Cytherea. Take comfort, for your people’s
Destiny is unaltered; you shall behold the promised
City walls of Lavinium, and exalt great-hearted Aeneas
Even to the starry skies. I have not changed my mind.
I say it now–for I know these cares constantly gnaw you–
And show you further into the secret book of fate:
Aeneas, mightly warring in Italy, shall crush
Proud tribes, to establish city walls and a way of life,
Till a third summer has seen him reigning in Latium
And winter thrice passed over his camp in the conquered land.
His son Ascanius, whose surname is now Iulus–
Ilus it was, before the realm of Ilium fell–
Ascanius for his reign shall have full thirty years
With all their wheeling months; shall move the kingdom from
Lavinium and make Long Alba his sure stronghold.
Here for three hundred years shall rule the dynasty
Of Hector, until a priestess and queen of Trojan blood,
With child by Mars, shall presently give birth to twin sons.
Romulus, then, gay in the coat of the tawny she-wolf
Which suckled him, shall succeed to power and found the city
Of Mars and with his own name endow the Roman nation.
To these I set no bounds, either in space or time;
Unlimited power I give them. Even the spiteful Juno,
Who in her fear now troubles the earth, the sea and the sky,
Shall think better of this and join me in fostering
The cause of the Romans, the lords of creation, the togaed people.
Thus it is written. An age shall come, as the years glide by,
When the children of Troy shall enslave the children of Agamemnon,
Of Diomed and Achilles, and rule in conquered Argos.
From the fair seed of Troy there shall be born a Caesar–
Julius, his name derived from great Iulus–whose empire
Shall reach to the ocean’s limits, whose fame shall end in the stars.
He shall hold the East in fee; one day, cares ended, you shall
Receive him into heaven; him also will mortals pray to.
Then shall the age of violence be mellowing in peace:
Venerable Faith, and the Home, with Romulus and Remus,
Shall make the laws; the grim, steel-welded gates of War
Be locked; and within, on a heap of armaments, a hundred
Bronzen knots tying his hands behind him, shall sit
Growling and bloody-mouthed the godless spirit of Discord. (20-21) Continue reading

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my hands smell like garlic. that’s what happens when you spend an entire evening writing a poem and the entire next evening editing.

i exaggerate. i’m a super freak. i’m problematic. i problem.

really, tonight i was much more productive than a poet might be expected to be. after biking home, i did a load of laundry, paid a bunch of bills, cleaned up a bit, rubbed the kitty, spun a bunch of disco, and got saucy with some onion, garlic, bell pepper, and mushroom. the new way to pay bills: write check, take hit, repeat. oh, and i also phoned w Adam for nearly an hour… talking Daft Punk, life, love, and Daft Punk. love that man.

just now clicking an email from american apparel to have it be marked as read made me wonder why the hell they were sending me emails anyway… and i remembered that i bought something from them recently: a dog hoodie for Meryl and Joel’s little Link. the only thing i’ve ever bought from them.

anyway, as monumental as was last month’s mountain range, this one will overflow with hardcore glamming champagne rock & roll. all love #nofilter all throughout. she makes me feel peace and poetry.

perfect alpine glow, red blood fountain flow. Continue reading

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Natalie Supervolcano

steaming vibrant as the Grand Prismatic Spring,
the lucky linens ’round my woman’s skinny waist.
unseen as a grizzly in the darkness grazes,
my coffee goddess struts in twilight blinking,
brown and brown her skin’s sweet hue
as blue the sky for miles and miles…
and when she widens bright her piercing eyes,
beauty beyond beauty, i’m left unthinking.

like gas and fire polka dot dancing in the night,
the crescent light gleaming from her certain smile.
like sleepless geysers roaring under the earth,
my sun-encircled angel lies dreamless winking,
boyish saliva exalting her temples to her toes
like rivers white and regal carving canyons deep…
but when she hyperventilates her tears,
beauty beyond beauty, i’m left unthinking.

blurring the lines between my sanity and my

the thick fruit
my woman bears. Continue reading

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the trip:,+CA&daddr=reno,+nv+to:Twin+Falls,+ID+to:bozeman,+mt+to:Livingston,+Mt+to:Yellowstone+National+Park,+Mammoth+Hot+Springs,+Park,+WY+to:Madison+Campground,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+WY+to:Grand+Prismatic+Spring,+Grand+Loop+Rd,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+WY+to:Bridge+Bay+to:Black+Dragons+Caldron+to:Grand+Canyon+of+the+Yellowstone+to:Tower+Falls,+Yellowstone+National+Park,+Park,+WY+to:Yellowstone+National+Park,+Mammoth+Hot+Springs,+Park,+WY+to:Silver+Gate,+Cooke+City-Silver+Gate,+Mt+to:Lily+Lake,+wyoming+to:Red+Lodge,+Mt+to:East+Rosebud+Lake+to:Bozeman,+Mt+to:Salt+Lake+City,+UT+to:Cottonwood+Heights,+UT+to:San+Francisco,+CA&hl=en&ll=45.135555,-109.660034&spn=2.332783,4.927368&sll=44.085612,-111.346436&sspn=1.187668,2.463684&geocode=FVJmQAIdKAe0-CkhAGkAbZqFgDH_rXbwZxNQSg%3BFaEsWwIdVcnb-CmdoJKSrkCZgDGH9zh0zsXFQA%3BFZd1iQIdOXct-SmvbrLFpKOsVDGqwfgs7HfLJA%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-SkTiLpPTERFUzGqYDv3ZND1Yw%3BFeK8uAIdLP1o-SkjR6AnvhNFUzFMjIRaJjKWRQ%3BFWdJrgIdn9pm-SmTip7xDdRPUzEivO2MPaFCKg%3BFaw7qQIdLWRk-SHBkZCfc_PzXylp4V9GjMNRUzHBkZCfc_PzXw%3BFSlmpwId_b1k-SFEDigKVP2Vkyn1R8IPvOtRUzFEDigKVP2Vkw%3BFWGNpwIdhCNr-SkDg3iVAx1OUzEd4aKdP0elCw%3BFbrZqAIdaONq-Sk54oy7KB9OUzE57x-bctnMHg%3BFdX9rAIdtsxr-SmLJZWTozZOUzFW-0sS9T6UWA%3BFaAFrQIdAKBr-SnZG8ZgqDZOUzE6nzHh-HWx9Q%3BFWdJrgIdn9pm-SmTip7xDdRPUzEivO2MPaFCKg%3BFSTArgIdA7Fx-SnXSLRtWFROUzEXWfq8dJ9Jhw%3BFZnWrQIdkPB1-Sn7L_MIfPpOUzE4M1PUmK_Vrw%3BFfJ6sQIdmwZ9-Sn1_Eb3GSpPUzEL1yB19jWKtQ%3BFcGosQIdGvp2-SnBGDBmxRhPUzFD9bOX3UlzNA%3BFQQTuQId_YBh-SkTiLpPTERFUzGqYDv3ZND1Yw%3BFcv1bQIdma1U-SntMdGIlD1ShzHKMU1IoLdTWw%3BFUzJawIdm9FV-SknMety2mJShzFAIhqeYpUiBw%3BFVJmQAIdKAe0-CkhAGkAbZqFgDH_rXbwZxNQSg&oq=san+fr&t=h&mra=ls&z=8 Continue reading

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what i did my first week back in the city

–made love.
–wrote 14,028 words about California, Nevada, Idaho, Montana, Wyoming, and Utah.
–scarfed down Sunflower w Amanda and Chris.
–djed just for strangers at Iron & Gold.
–made war w my love in the sun.
–drank peace w my love in the sun.
–eyed fine art w my love, the sun.
–ate four courses of fine beef balls at 24th and Mission.
–champagne, my love, the sun.
–Thai Haight, my love, the night.
–Yeezus, my love, and Nick.
–loving my love on Divis, loving my love in the Castro, loving my love in Dolores, loving my love, an orange.
–eggs, my love, the sun.
–holy shit, saw Shannon.
–glowed w Pride, smiled, danced, and wondered whhyyy?
–bicycled everywhere. Continue reading

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