Friday, December 23, 2005

Liver Sport Retort... Hollidazed and abused

Johnny Damon is a phony turn-coat, trader Benedict Arnold "self proclaimed idiot" prick who's no longer Samson but De Liar. Yeah, the Bosox are an utter mess right now, lacking 3 key field positions (possibly soon a 4th), a leadoff batter and a GM, but you don't just become a Yankee like that, not if you have any class, or give a shit about the fans that made you the rockstar you think you are... shame. Heros=zero$, free agents are really secret agents, and agents, we all know, are really scum. Symbolic though of the way the general public is ignored, abused and left without faith by our government. We've got an out of touch Richy Rich hypocrite Mayor and a spying unrepentant Prez with blood on his hands and a mixture of oil and coke clogging the few synapses he has left and... oh, too hell with it. All the best to all of US with money to burn, money to wave and flags to wave. Money and the flag are synonomous, right, so why don't we burn them flags again then? Such a symbol hardly means what it used to, now it's about tipping ones cap 'n chewing the fat of tobacco while we shop 'till we drop, spend spend spend on our new ephemeral lil' gadets that are supposed to make us more in touch but are actually designed to keep us from interacting anyway. Goodwill to all men (designer duds at a smidgeon of the price can be gotten there). Really though, I love this time of year, drinking with the family, showing each other how much we mean to each other by spending money on gifts for one another... I do it. I also dig the nonsense holiday called New Year, when everyone gets so sloshed, champagnes a pop and pants a drop... let's all try and make our New Year's resolution be that we kick King George the bomber outa office, trounce NY's King George and his bombers on the unequal baseball playing field, and that the gloom n' doom of reality hits lil' Mikey Bloomberg finally, so that he reaches into his own pocket for things other than his dishonest campaign spending... and that we all get laid a heluva lot by those we really want to bed, those who need money get money and those who have too much of it stop sitting on it. All it's gonna do is give ya a fat ass anyway, so rock and unload... So long Johnny, we apparently hardly knew ya. You can take your cash flow an' run to first you leadoff jerkoff, but your integrity was cashed in when you shed your loyalty and flowing locks... still, I love New York (the city, not the team), born here, forlorn here, torn here an' can't wait 'til next year

Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Peyote Coyote says "Leave the Driving to Us"

That's actually the name of one of my songs with my new band PERMISSION, which is playing it's inaugural gig this Wed. night, 10/26 @ 10pm @ The Delancey Bar's "Death Disco". Peyote Coyote (not Peter Coyote)...well you'll just have to read on. For more about PERMISSION, and the gig (which is f**kin' free), you can check us out on myspace at Anyway, it's 2am Monday to Tuesday, I'm exhausted and I'm writing something here for the first time in over a month. Yet again I've failed to live up to my promise here to write more regularly. It's not like I have the time, but then again it just aint easy to throw down a few notes and jots with Everytime I log onto here it tells me I've lost my cookies or some shit, and then past posts revert to earlier stages whether I like it or not. The good ol' frayed journal I use to draw pix in the margins of paste lil' scraps o' newspaper articles in never had the convoluted problems I've encountered here. Furthermore, this past month saw my page get ransacked daily by spam. I continuosly get these "comments" from "anomimous", "useranonimos" and "musica"(?) saying "wow, great blog. You should check out this new ultimate hair removal product I have" or some shit. What have they got to gain from leaving a comment here? Spyware and adware is seriously pissing me off. I already lost a computer to that crap (but gained a band name) a couple of months back (long story)... Speaking of long stories, I have many of 'em to spill from the last almost 2 months but can't possibly recount them all now. This particular posting is going to seem all over the place b/c of that... who cares though, right? I'm writing at least, and your glims are reading something new here finally. I've got all these scraps o'paper from the past 7.1378 weeks with tidbits of shits that add up to a whole helluva lot garbanzo beans, and at first I thought I'd excavate them here. However, I read them and now think them to be the meanderings of an idiot dying to leave town. Most of these musings were written before Ieft town in fact-I went to a wedding in New Mexico mid-September that saw me have my first spirtual experience combined with some good ol' late night hot spring skinny dipping. A strange trip indeed that was all kinds of upside down n' backwards forwards with things leading to the next that led to another thing which led to yet another and so on. This seems to be the way things have been much more of late then ever. From thinking that finally Bush will come to shove and Dickless and the G Boys will be run outa town on a rail. From the Delay indictment to the 2005 dead Americans in Iraq the end may finally be in site for this present nightmare administration. Why did we have to have them there in the first place you ask (or don't ask)? Well, this seems to be the way things are going these days-we gotta take a trip through hell to see a little help. In New Mexico it seemed like everything came full circle. Girls met in Goodwill followed us around the State and ended up doing peyote at a campfire with us and a stoned spiritual hot spring couple that knew the girl who got married-met her after she went back home when her mom passed after she was supposed to be my roomate and then showed up at a party thrown for someone who didn't come when I met her as the subway doors closed but she met her future husband there and yada yada yada. Confused? Well... yeah. It was a fantastic trip, and now it seems like everything chas some sorta reason for happenin'... though i have no idea why (obviously)... Now I told you this was gonna be a sloppy blog... Ok, what else. The White Sox are the New Red Sox. Love it. A bunch of misfits in this 1917 vs. never ever been series. The Astros'll be back, but this one belongs to the Chisox. The cubs are next... That was my liver sport report. I'm done in from a year of Red Sox glory. they folded, yeah, but to a superior team, and not the Yanks. Once the Bombers bombed too, I was free and clear from any feeligns of Sox withdrawal. the White Sox were the obvious team to root for, and my having lived in Chi for a couple years made it easy. That and the fact that Fisk played there. I also love their whole disco demolition, short wearing, midget walking, martian dropping history. Hell, I wear Black Sox all the time... ok, enough Liver Sports, I know. Don't get me started.... What else... I met a girl last week that was A-1. Been a while, and though she's outa town and has a bf, I fell for someone again for like the first time since the Ice Age... she exists. Ok, I can get laid with the best of 'em, but this was real yo... Boring, I know, I can hear you yawn. I'm yawning too at my non-clever entry here, but maybe that's the future of "Snot"-less smug wordplay and more honest journalizing. Ok, sexploits will be kept at a minimum, but I'm kinda tired writing about stupid-ass celebrites in succinct reviews that are all they're worth, and gov't corruption without interruption. Maybe this spiritual experience I had-and then getting woken up freezing by coyotes without any false notions about getting lost on the way to shangrila with manipulative young New Hampshire beauties named Nico who lock their keys in their hearts and cars-has lasted with me past the first horrific subway wait and ride I had upon return to Gotham. I have a band now that is made up of genuine cool, good people-not the foursome of cockrock creeps named Joe, Brian, Hubert and Jon that wasted my time the past few years. I also am in the midst of filming another lead in a feature-just a couple months after the last one, and it's another sympathetic everyman part that would go to an A-lister if the money was all there. Shit is good. Broke? Yes. Behind on rent? Yes. Girl I dig in Scandanavia and not in the Loisaida? Yes, but I'm likin' my chances. Maybe you can get snot off a suede jacket afterall. Oh Lenny, put down that baby rabbit, don't do yourself in buddy. I'm as jaded as the rest of 'em, but I aint gonna get all wound up and wind up dead from too many Nipsey Russels and things to do myself in with Bob Denver. "Do the do" is what my dear deceased friend Diane used to always say, and I think the the is important-don't wanna go the way of the dodo now do I? Diane, I miss you darling. You inspired me beyond belief, and I will not let you down... And Rock.

Friday, September 02, 2005

"I'm kinda hangin' loose"-Bush... ok, but shouldn't this guy be hangin' on a noose by now? You be the judge...

Hi people,

I'm usually not one to pass on these forwards I get, but our Government (or lack thereof) has really gone too far (or too short) with this Hurricane Katrina thing. If you've been to N'Orleans as I have, you know what a jewel within these United (Red) States it is, but it seems like the obvious place for Bush to ignore in times of need. The place descended into anarchy yesterday with looting, rioting, dead bodies strewn along the streets, babies in gutters, rapes in the open, and law enforcement turning in their badges saying "go to hell-it's every man for himself". One man put it best by saying "I don't treat my dog like (this), you (Bush) can do everything for other countries, but you can't do nothing for your own people. You can go overseas with the military, but you can't get them down here."

Isn't this the logical result of the last 2 elections, a bulls__t war (that Bush has now stated a brand new reason for continuing) and a lame response to the Tsunami a year ago? It's a national disgrace, that's what it is, so when is enough enough? If the GOP can drive Clinton out of office (and now Bush asks him to lead the relief effort with Bubba's buddy daddy Bush Sr.-another story alltogether) for getting his knob slobbed-on, where are the calls for Bush's impeachment for blowing off his own people? The economy is (hush hush) slipping once again into recession (did it ever slip out of it?), gas prices are 3 times what they were a few years ago, and PEOPLE ARE DYING.

I saw a manaquin upside-down in a trash can the other day here in NYC, and nearbye was a guy sleeping inside an empty trash can (that was on its side)... is it good that people just walk on by these days when they see such obvious symbols of our country in shambles...? "Oh, it's his fault that he (the can man) is in such a bad way" one might say, well I suppose then it's the manaquin's fault too...? Same difference?

Ok, back to New Orleans and the stat(utory rap)e of our nation. One seafood merchant there summed it up best when he said "Give us some vehicles and we'll get ourselves out of here". Bush wants us to do things ourselves without government involvement, right? Well, suffice to say, this seems like a prime example where he's dead wrong. I'm gonna go out on a limb here, but historically, revolutions have needed the rich to gather the grumbling and crumbling masses to proceed (as the poor are working too damn hard and just plain don't have the necessary resources), so if our government can't help our own people, and we can't turn a corrupt and inept government out apparently, why don't the rich amongst us show Bush how to lead, and start by aiding thy neighbor in New Orleans... Answer me that.

... I wasn't planning on writing all of the above, but it's been a bunch o' months since I threw such thoughts into anything but songs. Perhaps I'll start up my blog again... (If you liked my riotous rant above, please feel free to check out some old bloggings of mine at I get like 200 hits a week there somehow without doing a damn thing, so maybe I'm onto something, I dunno, maybe not. In any case, read Michael Moore's letter below, and pass it along if you agree with it. Go ahead and pass along my extended blurb as well if you think it'll help the desparate situation our country is in.

Stay cool,
Alex Emanuel (aka Rollo Manhattan)

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.


Michael Moore

P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.

Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Don't cry for me Paula Abdul... ever, ok? (you leather-faced ex-Laker girl you)

I actually talked a few times on the phone with a chick who's cousin was (is) that pathetic teeny bopper-metal ex-Am Idol Constantine (insert Greek last name here). She and I never have met, but when we were about to arrange to meet for the first time on the horn her cuz was getting to some orange alert Am Idol level or something. We didn't speak again, and then I fortuitously turned the tube on a couple weeks back at the precise moment that he was getting booted. I thought the whole spectacle terribly sad to behold, and so I called her to express my condolences. We spoke for a bit-or rather she spoke at length and told me all about her and her families near brush fire with fame and fortune hunting. The next day she called me back just to make sure that I wasn't working for a tabloid... I laughed.


Below is an example of how Craigslist Ads for actors have gone too far. However, this is what actors have to wade through to find shit these days if they aren't rep'd by a top tier agent:
2005-05-16, 9:15AM EDT

"I'm shooting my senior thesis film and one of my lead characters needs to be a hermaphrodite. I'm looking for a mostly feminine looking person with a vagina and something that can be approximated as a penis. My thesis is not porn, but it includes hardcore sex. I also need a male actor who is comfortable doing a sex scene with a hermy. Compensation: meal"


...still getting emails for Kerry (as in John) meetups. What a joke. We lost, he's finished, kaput. I met him and am sad to say that, but it's true. He got a "Swift" kick in the crotch which he never got up from, and we're getting screwed now b/c the rest of our country couldn't tell a man from an ape.... anyway, this just came in the inbox today. Pathetic... what, do they want to lose the next election too? After the organizer of these so-called meetups appealed for money (ala paypal) from meet-uppers to keep going, there came a retraction soonafter (written in some weird GWBush-esque double speak too... is Casey one of us, or one of them? Or... a feriner 2 boot... ah betchya he is, string 'im up Karl...):

"Your organizer, Casey, sent the following message to the members of NYC Democrats: Everyone who sent funds, those funds were returned, it was just a screening process and I was going to return everyone's funds anyway, yet I get yelled at and a lot of people leave. You're welcome." ?????????????????????????????


Gettin' tired as fuck. I caterwaited 2night fer more rich folks at some Whitney thing (they do have interestin' art there, stuff that'd make Big Giuli mad fer sure) and left exhausted of brain and body. I've got a wheel barrel fulla witty anecdotes (promises promises) and tantalizing snippets of nothingness that are zinging through my ever popping whateveryoumacallits, but they'll have to wait. I tell you, I'd write more often if every time I logged onto this thing I didn't have to make sure certain past entries don't revert to earlier prehistoric states (if you know what i'm talking about here and can provide an answer to this I'll buy you a drink). So.. here's the last bit-o-honey for y'all until next time, and it's a Liver Sport retort (you know me too well... as I can't openly talk about my sex life on here, and I've alredy bitter honey'd you 2 death 2night, what's left but some lil' blurb about the great American past-time, idol chit chat to call it that: Mike Cameron... love this guy. I was a defacto Mets fan as a kid (Dad's fam were Bk Dodger fans until they swore off Baseball when O'Malley took the money and ran), so (except for '85 and Pedro), I get a thrill when they do ok. Cammy is fun. He came back recently from an injury and reentered Right Field at the right time as Rookie phenom Victor Diaz was losing his Manny Ramirez-ness. He immediately started hitting, and 8 games later is still on fire. The Yanks (of course), Padres, Angels, Orioles and Astros all want him, but his response to questions about that is: "that's what them dudes in suits do over there." Yes, it's a beautiful world we live in.

Monday, May 09, 2005

I'd rather be a camel driver in Morocco then a swine herder in Castillo

Don't ask...

ok, little time to write, but backed up like a mofo. Getting my new band together (yet again), hoping I don't fall into the same trap of trusting ass holes. Band divorces as you know, are fucking hell, and don't give me that "there's been no fluids exchanged crap", money changes hands w/in bands quicker then with any signif other, and we do share mics in the rehersal room...

Not what I wanted to talk about here. Nor do I want to spend much time on a liver sport report. The Yanx are celler dweelers and I don't care that the Sawx are in 2nd b/c... the Yanx are celler dwellers. Here's a quote though from the always quotable Dave "Big Papi" Ortiz-glad he's comin' around and not dwelling on Petey Martinez's unsavory exit from the AL anymore-this came during a turning point game for Boston recently after he drove in Trotsky Nixon: "I was just praying to get a hit man. I haven't got a hit in a long time, it's been tough up there man. My part of the game is hitting, if I don't hit it's like I'm just stealing money"... I'm happy that I minly stick to baseball as a fan. No matter what kind of roid barry Bonds muscles into his butt cheet or gamma radiated flaxseed cream that he rubson his coctail peanut sized scrotum the wrong way, the sport doesn't have a Shaq to contend with. The puny human Nets stood no chance in hell against the Miami monster. they were so frightenend in their air jordans that when Shaqzilla wasn't clobberin' and Wade had been stayed they were still Vince-able... poor Carter. Makes you think that had Shaq been on the attack when his Airness was rulin' the court that the Bulls might not have won as much as they did. O'Neal, cross-eyed monster or not, is well-deserved of being right up there with Wilt Chamberlin as the 2 greatest big men of all time, hands down. Jordan had those rare air leadership qualities, no doubt, combined w/ a tendancy for 50 pt. playoff games, but intimidation's a factor in Basketball more than any other sport. You got 5 guys to hold 'em, not 9...

I really have to split now, but will leave you with some Succinct Celebrity Reviews from my first-hand viewing as a F**king server at the Chanel Costume Ball last week at the Met:

Marylyn Manson-will make a smoothe transision to circus clown

P Diddy-has his bodyguard go to the john with him

Russel Simmons-take the baseball cap off, you're wearing a tux

Linda Evangelista-gorgeous hawk lady

Richard Gere-sports same squinty-eyed hamster look as ever, white hair or not

Andree 3000-def. regretted wearing the same outfit as us waiters (though we didn't have a yarmulka on.. what was with that?) Nice (short) guy though.

Mary Kate and Ashley Olson- didn't eat (surprise surprise), but neither did Jake Gylenhall (who was larger then those two flyin' monkey lookin' chicks put together)

Vanessa Paradise-looks like a junkie, or at least like she was a junkie

Karl Lagerfield-lose the silver gloves gramps

Naomi Watts-poor woman's Nicole Kidman

Kevin Costner-I got him 2 glasses of milk

Lauren Bush-plain and lovin' tevery minute of fame she shouldn't have

Jimmy Fallon-ditto, but sorta funny at least (not so sure about that actually, what's funny is that he actually is considered to be a romantic lead in a film? Who's runnin' this show?)

More to come...

Tuesday, April 19, 2005

liar liar funeral pyre?

Yeah, ok, so shoot me. I'm a baaaaaddd baaaaaddd blogger. Time has been flyin' like the seat of my pants on fire through this life and finding the time to sit here with you and recount the days past has been harder then recounting past elections. What better time to address the masses again then today though, Tuesday, the day Her Cardinal Rat Fink (real name "J. Wellington Wimpy" Ratzinger) became Benedict Ahh-nold the somethingth, our new Pope. Hell, "I'd rather pay you Tuesday for a Hamburger today" anyway (???). Now, mind you, I have written some blog entries here and there since last we (or I) spoke, but they were mini-blogs over at my myspace page. Most of them have been about the downfall of the last incarnation of my band Rollo, and not about the downfall of civilization as we know it. This one today is only partly about that as well, and the in-coronation of our new Papal leader. I did post a lil' blurb (hardly a blog, a blurg even, and definitely not a blob) a couple weeks past about John Paul though (not of George and Ringo fame, but more famous perhaps). His death was surely bigger then Lennon's, and maybe even Lenin's, and though he never declared himself to be bigger then a Beatle, the pope and cirumstance that followed his passing has been like no other death in my lifetime. Lennon's was huge, and rightly so, as he was super-talented and taken in his prime. Lenin created a whole new political ideology, but the Pope... well, not sure what he did, but I'm sure he did more then the Fed Ex Pope on Conan. He made people feel better, plus, he once went dog sledding in Alaska, led by mutts "Satan" and "the Devil" (true story). His demise, however, ironically coincided with the death of Frank Perdue, the Chicken "Pope" if you will (or at least a king of advertising). Here's what I had to say a few weeks back on the subject:


R.I.P. Pope John Paul ll & Frank Perdue... both dead @ 84

each rose to prominence as the public face of their respective "companies" some 20-30 odd years ago. The tender Pontiff, who (sign-of-the) crossed the road shortly after the poultry magnet did on Friday, will be missed far more than his famous feathered contemporary though. It is unknown, however, whether JP2 actually uttered the memorable nugget "the church is the best way to sell a superior chicken"; a universal truth that has long been attributed to him (joke). All kidding aside, I grew up with Frank Perdue adams appling his way into my living room through the cluck of the tv. Not being a religious buyer, I didn't have the same opportunity to feel like I knew JP2. He had a nice looking face, and became the veritable king of the popes as far as popes come, but I have to wonder, is/was it good that we've made the popemeister into some cult icon akin to a celeb ad man for his product (religion)? May they both rest in peace (no, I'm not gonna make another dumb pun here, as you can see it comin' I'm sure...drumsticks please)


Ok, so the Pope is gone but he's not forgotten, this is the story of a Johnny... Rotten? Well... I dunno about that, I'm not religious (not true, Rock n' Roll is my religion... yeah, it is, ok? Dig? I'd like to see you say that with a straight face like I just did). It seems to at least be the story of a Rat(zinger). How about all the hooplah and brew-ha-ha and hooey that we've made of all this though, huh? What a sad comment on our times when the changing of the Pope is like the new OJ Trial (there's your Johnny Rotten, though Cochran left the building recently for good, before he'd ever get blamed for being his satanic majesty)... Here's this old white guy with a funny chapeau ruling the front pages of the tabloids the last few weeks like he's started religion or something. Jacko, Canseco and all the other whackos shovin' stuff into little boys bodies as well as their own must be pretty psyched to have seen the old guy go, for their news was obviously not fit to print in bold letters, no matter how dispicable their news was becoming. I mean, Jacko's going down, that's becoming plain as the lack of color on his face, as numerous people have come forward to recount how his nimble gloved fingers went a walking down the pants of many a pre-pube visitor to whitey's house, Never Say Never Land. The mighty Canseco, on the other hand, went to bat and actually gained points b/c Barry Big Head Bonds and Mark the Monster McGwire started looked ever and ever more like scamps and not Home Run champs. Where is the steroid scandal in the papers now though? Up in the black smoke that rose from the Pope castle perhaps, the other day when the wizards of Rome were deliberating over their cauldron. Just goes to show you that God is hot these days, so if you're planning on doing a new reality show, you better get out the Jesus freaks and Bible thumpers, b/c they are news my friends. Shal I say that old Tammy Fay may be the new Anna Nicole? I for one thought that that black smoke thing was weird. I mean what's up with them getting all medieval on our ass like that, huh? This is the 21st Century, send up fire works or a missle or something, not soot... Anyway, enough about the Pope. There'll be more to spout on the subject I can assure you (if I can get myself to write more often... btw, thanks to all of you who've continually checked in on "...Snot" daily. You've given this here pope (dope?) hope even though there's been only old news to peruse).

Yeah, ok, so I suppose I haven't written mainly b/c I've just been so Goddamn busy, buey runnin' around like one of Dead Frankie's chickens with my head cut off mostly, just tryin' to cluckin' make a buck. This past week saw me screw up twice though, leadin' me to believe I've gotta screw my head on straight again (if it ever was), and then with all the mention of blogs today (like the "We love Ratzinger" one or some shit-there are literally thousnads of them apparently) I just couldn't resist but to write more in the bad book here. Now when I say I screwed up, as I did before, I mean that I hurt myself. Last week I almost punctured my lung with a broken rib as I slipped foolin' around on a job, and this week I stupidly carved a chunk out of my hair just off my temple b/c I wasn't paying attention while doing my sideburn cutting ritual thing. Then I went and did it again a few minutes later! I look like a freakin' labotomy victim as I write this, and if I hadn't channeled my artistic prowess and applied some acrylic paint, glue, hairspray, magic marker and cut hair scraps, I wouldn't have been able to go out in public the last couple of days. I've had some decent auditions of late though, and can't not go to a call-back just because I look like frickin' Frankenstein Perdue...

Ok, as I can write for hours, or days, or months now b/c I've neglected to for so long, I'm gonna call it a night. I want to find out how Kidd n' Carter and the Nets played and if 'n they followed through on their ass-a-whumpin' of Washington (not the Nats, though how about them, huh?!) Wizzards (yeah, it always manages to somehow come full circle... or become full-blown), and also whether Randy got tagged for another tater by the D-Rays and if the Sox broke their tie with the B-Jays. I do have lots to talk about in some choice Liver Sports reports comin' up, and I also have to give you the lowdown on my band Rollo's recent breakup (I got rid of the trash if you will and am in the midst of forming a Rollo that transcends the junkyard wars while still managing to be that cool found sound object you'd hope to stumble upon while smoking a loose joint at the land fill). I'll also tell you about my own religious experience lately (I played a church-goin' God nut in a short recently-a guy who recited passages from the bible and then dons a ski mask and breaks into houses of non-believers, complete with the blood of a sacrificial lamb... fun).

I'll leave you now with a few new succinct celebrity reviews. Should I repeat any past ones, well... sorry, I got a labotomy, remember (or was it a migdelectomy)?

Lyndsay Lohan -that smoking room slut in Jr High we all wanted to bang like there was no tomorrow

Benicio Del Tauro -hit on me. His big grey mound of hair reminded me of my Grandmothers, though she didn't have a smile like Bob Mitchum

The lead Singer from the Goo-Goo Dolls -walked unnoticed along Times Sq., with a face that would make Kevin Bacon seem like an Ivory Girl

Kevin Bacon -rode his bike unnoticed down the Hudson River Promenade, foot loose and fancy free. His hair blowin' in the wind giving Benicio a run for his money

Willem Dafoe -nice, blocky guy with a face that would make the lead singer of the Goo Goo Dolls seem like an Ivory Girl
Katie Holmes -Yo Yo ma, can I have one of her for Christmas? Damn, she purty: slender, tender, def. not a lender

Sophie Dahl -trying to give katie a run for the money in matching white dresses, she looked like a ghostly lobster. I think she's older then she's letting on, still hot, but that might be b/c she was wearing a fur inside on a warm Spring day, and then there's all that blow she's so obviously doing. Rich dad, poor dad.

David Wells -heluva nice guy, and now that he's a rock'em Red Sockem' Ruthbot I don't have to feel bad for sayin' that.

Perry Ferrel -damn, he short (but stylin', man is he stylin'). I don't usually get impressed by celebs, but he rocks.

Jack Nicholson -what can I say. I was in awe. Jack's the man. Has this Leonid Breznev thing goin' but I'd take a bear hug from him.

Liev Schreiber -asshole (I probably already had this one, but you can never call him an asshole too many times, same with Ethan Hawk).

... there's more, but I have work to do.

Wednesday, February 09, 2005

(Wade) Blogs...

Current mood: disappointed

are not people too, or at least mine aint. but here's my dis-claimer: sometimes things are said in the heat of the moment that don't necessarily reflect how i'm feeling on every given day of the slob for sakin' week. they also may be a composite of thoughts about different things that have been churning in my stomach or charging my spirit. if you think i've slighted you in a particular entry i've written with my keyboard shaped tongue, i urge you to take a deep knee bend and not get those panties in a wadd, as who really cares what's said in my blog anyway? seriously, this page aint no trial blazin' tabloid or reality showboatin' blah blah ganooj (well maybe it is blah blah ganooj), it's just an example of free speach baby, an' so i retain the right to be general, enigmatic, ironic, sardonic, catatonic and bitter as all hell in my spew, but please don't come to the conclusion that it's got anything to do with you .
I started I stopped
Current mood: drained

been incinerating the candles at both ends of late rehersing this frustrating play like
a mofo, on top of Rollo and a slew o' films-haven't had time to blog fer shit you may have noticed (thinking me all words an' no words). I have added a few short ones over at the old rollo @ myspace address though, so if yer absolutely dyin' to be poisoned by my infectious word warpage, head on over to Rollo, where they're charcoal broiled.
imposing stones

... refers to new lyrics of a new song of the same name by my band Rollo. If you wanna read 'em, or any other lyrics o' mine for that matter (cause you're like that, which is something I like) let me know...

Those three lil' thoughts were provoked on myspace, an 'have nothing to do whatsover with Wade Boggs gettin' his Hall o' the Un-Shamed induction a month ago. That was a nappy occasion, as I grew up watching that lucky chicken spray hits all over Fenway. He was the guy who wasn't supposed to make it; hittin' for average despite his average looks, pimply red beard, surly disposition and unsure fielding. I don't care that he rode horse at Yankee stadium or told the D'Rays he'd ride their hat into the Hall, we all knew he'd make it as a Red Sock. Too bad Jim Ed Rice didn't get in with him, but I think next year is his year as there are no marquee new guys with guarenteed keys to the palace... I wasn't planning on writing a damn thing, as I'm sick as a dog, and tried from tripping back late night from NJ. I did a shoot there where I wore black Angel wings and then I rode a bus back with a crazy Willie Nelson lookalike who danced around me doin' the symbols of the cross by my head (and every other head that boarded the bus). After I dropped my lil' myspace driblets of recent days here though, I thought I should add some new words to the mess that is this blog. I just did though, and can't heave anymore on you as I'm about to heave myself and break out into a cold though which I'll try to splin to you in further detail if I'm still alive Wed. Keepin' up with this shit is hard, and tryin' to delve backwards in my brain to retrieve past ideas/thoughts (a mode I'm still in after my extended vacation from blogdom) is doubly difficult, but I remain committed to doin' my damndest. Until then-@

Friday, January 14, 2005

fan hitting and fan sh**ting

No, I'm not going to get full into another potentially great blog entry gone by that happened on my watch-that familiar episode a month ago or so when Ron Artest and Jermaine O'Neil and other Pacers got Pistoned at fans in Detroit and took some of their (roid?) rage out on the most unruly of them. I will say this though, in a little Liver Sports report; Artest-someone I'd been following since he was the apparently lesser of 2 rookies (Elton Brand? Hardly a Brand name...) signed by the Bulls like 5 years ago-was sent up the river for his part in the bro-hah-ha, which is a shame only in that he's one of the more interesting players to follow, despite being a yet another thug in the post-MJ era of the game. I mean, producing a rap cd with an old white lady and then claiming you're exhausted b/c of it? Come on, you can't make that sh*t up. The Nets, the only team I somewhat pay attention to besides the (yawn) Yao Ming/Tracy McGrady tandem, should perhaps p/u aged trouble shooter Jayson williams, don't you think (?), esp. now that they've been reduced to a 2 man team of Cream Puff Carter and the Kan't gut me outa here fast enough Kidd... Baseball has become a year round sport thanks to the cooked up Hot Stove arms race of the Boston Red Sox and New York Yankees carrying on their in season rivalry off season. I think that MLB may have gone too far though in arranging for the 2 teams to open AND close the season against one another next year, as if 19 (!) regular season games this past year wasn't enough. It kinda makes it all seem like pro Boxing now, where you can see 2 guys fight each other whether or not they're the 2 most qualified; the "match-up you'd most like to see you no longer have to dream about!". I guess this was comign after they took away all curiosity with Interleague Play. Don't get me wrong, games b/w the Sox and Yanks are like THE best, most euphoric, spine tingling games ever, but making it (selling it) in your face like that may only where this prize rivalry out in the eyes of the public. I for one could give a sh*t about interleague play now... though I soppose a Pedro Met's match-up vs. a randified Yanks could get my attention. The Sox-Yanks rivalry got to where it's at naturally though... well, with the exception of unnatural substance users Sheffield and GiamBalco on the Yanks that is. This offseason saw these 2 teams make some pretty wild moves-the Sox losing Pedro the Whiner (who nonetheless gave them 6 or 7 great years and will always be commended for the money he's put into the DR), Derek (high and) Lowe and Orlando Cabrera, but ratcheting it up a notch on short stop with Edgar Renteria and picking up flame throwing underachievers (so far) Matt Clement and Wade Miller, and big OLD steady bad boy David Wells. The Yanks got a couple ifs on the mound in the overrated Carlos Pavano and potential of yor pitcher Jaret Wright, as well as oldy but a steady infielder Tony Womack, and then really hit it big with their much anticipated aquisition of jerky green back giant Randy "you talkin' to me?" Johnson. I for one am not sure how well he'll deal with the pressure in NYC (or at least perhaps I'm hoping he'll implode), esp. after that first episode where he balked at a cameraman the other day... Well, that's enough Liver Sports, didn't intend to even write so much actually, but I'm so overdue that stuffs gonna start pourin' out me (like Giambis liquifying muscle tissue)...

Got an almost unbelievable email yesterday about a sublet, see it for yourself... I doubt you'll wanna be looking into it afterwards:

"Hey everyone, friends or whatever you might be, as most of you know, I was recently robbed and stalked my my dog walker. As it turns out, he's not only a disgusting psycho who stole everything that is valuable to me (incl. a tutu, a red lipstick and a Blonde Redhead CD); he also belongs to one of the most powerful Italian families in the W. Village... so I'd better get the h*** out of here, now that I'm pressing charges against him, etc, etc. So i'm moving to the E. Village--finally!!! At least something good came out of the misery! One little thing though-for a couple of reasons, I don't want to break my lease. Rather, I'd like to sublet it. The apt. is a studio w/ a separate kitchen, new appliances that were never used as I hate cooking, old-fashioned style w/ moldings, fireplace (not working) and nice floors. The subway is around the corner (A,C,E,B,D,F,V,1,9). The monthly rent is $1200. Hit me back!!"

The New Year is fanning the flames on the problems left unfixed of last year (see Iraq, our Gov't., the economy), and the s**t is hitting the fan. I've stayed in decent spirits, perhaps as my brain is still numb from all the spirits ingested (at an outragious pace) over the holidays. But car towings, bank account siezings, open container Sparks drink tickets and "your band's too loud" rants are starting to wear on my nerves. I've an enviable role in a new play, a potentially beautiful thang with a gorgeous n' cool Jennifer Connely-esque girl shaping up and other things to think about-so even though I'm feeling today like iron weights are pressing down on my shoulders, giving them a Joaquin Pheonix-style slope (something I'll take if it means a career like his is looming), I'm not complaining. Yes, my friends, these stream of consciousness rants of mine are not complaints, but more like raves, done with a semi-E like smile. It's important to remember that things could always be worse. "Mia culpe" as my moms always says... here are a few succinct celebrity reviews to end this entry on:

Oliver Platt -head is fat
Adrian Brody -pretentious scare crow
David Grohl -more goliath then david, I mean this dude's blocky
Johnny Cash -Hi, he's __________. Regal man (in black)
Kris Kristopherson -mini Kris
Selma Blair -blair bitch style, smokin' (I thought)
Jake Gylenhall -acts older, no shoulders
Quentin Tarrentino -coke lobster
Jim Jarmusch -if Don King morphed w/ Johnny or Edgar Winter
Martin Scorsese -seemed eager to pleasy
James Taylor -Two Lane Two Penny Loafer
Debby Harry -sexy n' scary
Dee Dee Ramone -gone Dee Dee gone
Krist Novoselic -doesn't he play for the Dallas Mavericks? Krist figure in fact
Ivanka Trump -lil' tramp should get chin implant (whom I kidding, she was hot, chin or not)
Evander Holyfield -muscles in his head
Vince Gallo -shallow
Chloe Sevigne -where'd you goe Chloe? wanted to talk to you (and ask you why you did Vince "shallow" Gallo)

...damn, if I rack my brain these'll keep comin'. That's enough for today, got stuff to do.

Monday, January 10, 2005


Ohhhhh may-aaaannn, where have I been? I stopped sharing my quicko sicko thoughts with the public in September 2004 on a whim b/c I was just so damn busy, and sick of writing about what would end up being the most completely hopeless Election year ever. I never imagined though that 3.5 months would sail by without my writing to you not even once (oh, I wrote-songs, reviews, manifestos on toilet paper and great walls w/ a sawed-off fish spewing sea water, just not here)-hell, I actually even forgot my password and user name it turned out when I tried to blog on tonight, and my computer cookies swallowed any leftover data, so I wasted a good chunk o' time throwing out possible user names and passwords that I mighta woulda coulda used or something. I even thought for a minute that the Blogue and Magogue powers that be had given up on me and decided to banish me from scratching out my thoughts on their chalkboard again. Finally, the secret seseme bagel dawned on me like lookin' @ my mug in a spittin' clean plate, and voila, here I is again. Really, every week I've gotten these site meter emails sayin' that so many so an sos and whomayacallems that I've never had the good fortune to meet have been spending their quality time reading my garbled thoughts of yor, STILL chuckling perhaps @ past "snottings" that have carmelized like dinosaur dung in amber, and I've kept saying along the way "oh, I'll get back to it...", but I never have obviously, and the thoughts that should've made it to the small screen have been piling up like my dirty socks in that corner of my room that I never set foot in and, well, it started lookin' like I'd never blow an' wipe my slate clean for y'all again. Then tonight, amisdst no other emails that came in, I got a few messages at home base that my blog had touched the hearts (or privates) of a few people, and I even got a comment from some guy tellin' me that I got something wrong in a post from like August or something-that's dedication damnit, and they deserve better then what i haven't been given' em. No, i'm not gonna say "you love me, you really love me!", but I will just say that baby, I am back to the egg on my face in black spin talkin slide listin' lash handed ground stagin' chain gang o' slang smothered in saddle soap an' pootie tang stoppin' future strokin' woods water yard trackin' drop bitin' seat drivin' business yo. The last few months have seen lotsa, well, lotsa lotsa. I still bust it w/ my band Rollo (though we almost combusted it over the duration), an' we have some good gigs a comin' up @ Sin-e 1/12, Lit 1/26, the Pussycat Lounge 2/5 and Delancey 2/23. I'm also acting out as per usual, with a new play in the near horizon called "Countdown", in which I play some loveable counselor guy who ends up scandelously molestin' an underage girl, and a film called "Trade", in which I play some evil FBI dude in the future who's out to corrupt any which way he can. I will, as I get used to bloggin' again (it's a whole other mindset of fingers that make this sludge slide so slicklike on the screen) try to recap the last few months too to the best of my knowledge or lack thereof-months which saw not only the continued evidence of the downfall of our society as we know it, but also 2 events that affected me directly, good and bad: an amazingly unexpected world series triumph by the Beantown Red Sox, and the Tsunami disaster so unfathomable in scope that no matter how or where I write it down on here it trivializes it. By no means have I given up also on commenting on our Gov't. Crime Lords, and I promise to heap my views upon y'all as much as ever-perhaps even more now that I'm so well, uh... rested. As to the Red Sox victory (and Beltran, sneaky Pete and the Omar Maniacal Mets, as well as RJ and the Spanked Yankee$, the Carter-era Nets, Kobe/Shaq n' Boggs' plaque, Bonds, Giambi an' the Shefs coctail peanut sized balls and Mientkiewvviwkmsiheexaitz gall), well you can rest assured my friends that Liver Sports will rear it's ugly head again and again, as well as reviews of cds and those mini-bites of celebs I used to do that you all love and detest so much, etc. Yeah, it's all comin' back in 2005, bigger, faster, stranger. Hell, I may even throw some sexual exploits into the mix, you know, just for fun. Catch you on the flipside.