Back From My Cruise...

...And all I have for you is this filler quiz.

Your result for What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test...

Simple, Progressive, and Sensual

Ukiyo-e (浮世絵, Ukiyo-e), "pictures of the floating world", is a genre of Japaneseand paintings produced between the 17th and the 20th centuries. it mostly featured landscapes, historic tales, theatre, and pleasure. Ukiyo is a rather impetuous urban culture that has bloomed in popularity. Although the Japanese were more strict and had many prohibitions it did not affect the rising merchant class and therefore became a floating art form that did not bind itself to the normal ideals of society.

People that chose Ukiyo-e art tend to be more simplistic yet elegant. They don't care much about new style but are comfortable in creating their own. They like the idea of living for the moment and enjoy giving and receiving pleasure. They may be more agreeable than other people and do not like to argue. They do not mind following traditions but are not afraid to move forward to experience other ideas in life. They tend to enjoy nature and the outdoors. They do not mind being more adventurous in their sexual experiences. They enjoy being popular and like being noticed. They have their own unique style of dress and of presenting themselves. They may also tend to be more business oriented or at the very least interested in money making adventures. They might make good entrepreneurs. They are progressive and adaptable.

Take What Your Taste in Art Says About You Test at HelloQuizzy

Via.

Bill, Bills, Bills

HowManyOfMe.com

There are 4 or fewer people with my name in the U.S.A. How many have your name?

I'm a little surprised, if only because of my uncommon last name.

Via.

Dali Only Wishes He Were This Weird

I Should Probably Be Paying More Attention to the Olympics? Maybe?

You Are Kayaking

You have a competitive spirit, but you don't like to compete alone. You do well in a partnership, where you can feed off the other person's energy. If you have the right partner, nothing can stop you. Your energy is infinite!

What Olympic Sport Are You?

Via Ms. Bond.

The Bill S. Memorial Movie LifeList 2008

It's been a while since I posted, and instead of coming up with a thoughtful, enlightening post about what I have been doing with my time, I decided to do a list! Yay, lists! I'm posting a movie from every year of my life, based on the lists provided by that bastion of blog-friendly linkage, Wikipedia. (In the interest of full disclosure, I'm copying the meme from Scott Tobias' similar list on The AV Club blog.)

One thing I noticed while doing this is how few movies I have actually seen. I'm sure there are some movies that I just don't recognize because I saw it so long ago, or because the titles are so unmemorable, but even for years where I was going to movies very regularly (1992, 1994, 2001, 2006) I still only saw a handful of movies, and I'm always surprised by which movies I still haven't seen. Also, the lists I was searching through don't appear to be comprehensive: foreign and independent films, in particular, seem to be represented sporadically. I know that, this being a wiki, I should add those titles, but I am pretty lazy, and don't really feel like dealing with it right now.

All of which is to make a note that these are by no means the best films, but rather just films that I enjoyed. Believe me, The Cat From Outer Space is no one's idea of what "good film" is, but I loved it as a kid, and it represents my childhood pretty well. Some years, it seemed like I was just choosing the film I could stand the best, as opposed to the one I enjoyed the most; 1991 seems to be a lean year for good films. And there are some years that seem chock full of choices -- 2002, I'm looking at you! It also served as a reminder that most of the films I have seen in loved were made well before I was even born; I am, and perhaps forever will be, a fan of the Golden Age of Hollywood!

With that said, I present The Bill S. Memorial Movie LifeList for 2008!

1973: Charlotte's Web, dir. Charles A. Nichols & Iwao Takamoto.

1974: Female Trouble, dir. John Waters.

1975: Love & Death, dir. Woody Allen.

1976: Carrie, dir. Brian De Palma.

1977: That Obscure Object of Desire, dir. Luis Buñuel.

1978: The Cat From Outer Space, dir. Norman Tokan.

1979: Monty Python's Life of Brian, dir. Terry Jones.

1980: 9 to 5, dir. Colin Higgins.

1981: Lola, dir. Rainer Werner Fassbinder.

1982: The Thing, dir. John Carpenter.

1983: Dark Habits, dir. Pedro Almodovar.

1984: Gremlins, dir. Joe Dante.

1985: Pee-wee's Big Adventure, dir. Tim Burton.

1986: Pretty in Pink, dir. Howard Deutch.

1987: Evil Dead II, dir. Sam Raimi.

1988: Hairspray, dir. John Waters.

1989: Do the Right Thing, dir. Spike Lee.

1990: Metropolitan, dir. Whit Stillman.

1991: Thelma & Louise, dir. Ridley Scott.

1992: The Crying Game, dir. Neil Jordan.

1993: Short Cuts, dir. Robert Altman.

1994: To Live, dir. Zhang Yimou.

1995: Clueless, dir. Amy Heckerling.

1996: Mystery Science Theater 3000: The Movie, dir. Jim Mallon

1997: Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery, dir. Jay Roach

1998: Run Lola Run, dir. Tom Tykwer.

1999: All About My Mother, dir. Pedro Almodovar.

2000: Cecil B. Demented, dir. John Waters.

2001: Moulin Rouge!, dir. Baz Luhrman.

2002: Far From Heaven, dir. Todd Haynes.

2003: The Station Agent, dir. Thomas McCarthy.

2004: Shaun of the Dead, dir. Edgar Wright.

2005: War of the Worlds, dir. Steven Spielberg.

2006: Volver, dir. Perdro Almodovar.

2007: Ratatouille, dir. Brad Bird.

What's your list?

Wordle's Worth

Wordle is neat. I apparently have Shakespeare on the brain.

Anxious Robin

"But-- WHERE'S THE SUN GOING??"

"Holy overeasy, Batman!"

"I really have no idea where to start here."

Courtesy The Shocked Robin Generator, via Oz and Ends.

The REAL Happening!

Sucker For A Meme

Kevin tagged, well, y'know, whoever, over at his blog:

"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they're not any good, but they must be songs you're really enjoying now, shaping your spring. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they're listening to."

I'm a sucker for a meme.

Bettye Lavette: "Sleep To Dream" -- So, I honestly never heard the original of this song until after I heard this version. So to me, this is completely the definitive version. The arrangement if very much in keeping with the Fiona Apple original, albeit slightly more organic, but the difference is in the delivery. That voice -- that voice! -- gives it a hard edge of scorn mixed with pain.

Cristina: "When U Were Mine" -- Yeah, so I am a complete sucker for cover songs, this time a version of the Prince classic. His version of the song was always one of my favorites of his, and to have a woman singing it just makes it that much more subversive:

When u were mine, I even let you wear my clothes
I must have been blind
Maybe that's the reason why it hurt me so
I know that you're going with another guy
I don't care 'cuz I love you, baby, that's no lie.

Aw! Hags in love!

Heaven 17: "Hands Up To Heaven" -- A dance floor stomper that makes me want to roll down my windows when I'm driving and hoot and hollar like an idiot. It's post-Daft Punk disco, just great House music from a group who knows how to make really good dance music.

Los Campesinos!: "You! Me! Dancing!" -- Los Campesinos! are like if Belle & Sebastian decided to concentrate on punky dance music. The lyrics are just as minutely observed as Belle & Sebastian, but the songs themselves are pumped up and joyous, as it is with this song, an homage to the gleeful spunkiness of the late band, Bis. This is from one of my favorite albums of the year.

The Polyphonic Spree: "Section 23: Get Up and Go" -- Who knew The Polyphonic Spree could rock? Who knew that they could also write songs that consisted of more than choruses? It still traffics in the grandiosity that their sheer size makes so easy for them, but that doesn't get into the way of the velocity of the song, as it has tended to in the past. I downloaded this album a while ago, and have only started to really get into it fairly recently.

Santogold: "Lights Out" -- This song has a slinky 80s vibe to it that I like a lot; it doesn't traffic in the sort of obvious nods to New Wave that you would expect. It has a spacious funkiness that evokes something that I can't quite get a handle on. There's a little The Cars in there, the breathiness and the occasional hiccup evoke Missing Persons. Pixies is even there, somewhere in the harmonies. It's a pretty, slightly melancholy song. There's been a lot of decrying of Santogold as a M.I.A. clone, but songs like this put the lie to that.

Taana Gardner: "Work That Body" -- An almost 8 minute disco workout, mixed by seminal DJ Larry Levan. Funky and sexy and interminable. The percussion skitters about nervously as the bass sets the priorities and the keys accent and evaporate. I have no idea what that means, but I like the song, and I will not apologize for that! Sorry.

I don't know that seven people even read this blog, but if you do, feel free to post this meme.

By the way, by coinciedence, all of these songs (sans one! Guess which!) are available through eMusic. eMusic rules!

PS: I have uploaded all of the songs to my Muxtape, so go and listen to them yourself, if so inclined!

And Now I've Done Two In A Week!

Which TV Dog is Your Ideal Pet?

Created by BuddyTV

[Via.]

I Haven't Done One Of These In Years...

...and I've always liked Willow*.

Which Buffy the Vampire Slayer Character Are You?

Created by BuddyTV

[Via.]




*But I always liked Cordelia better!

Tagatha Crispy

I've been tagged by Roy.

Here are the rules:

Firstly, post these rules and a link to the person who tagged you.

Secondly, share seven facts about yourself, all devastatingly interesting.

Lastly, tag seven people at the end of your post, linking their names to their blogs. Follow this up by advising said parties of the tag in the comment section on their blog(s).

Seven things about me:

I carved a pumpkin tonight. Originally I had planned on carving a face on the moon, based on a stencil I purloined from here, but my knife was not meant to cut curves. So I ended up doing the classic three triangles and a jagged grin. It's a classic for a reason.


My first word was cookie. Oddly enough, I wasn't using it to ask for a baked treat, but rather to identify a Muppet. My dad was reading a paper, and I pointed at a picture of the Cookie Monster in an ad for Sesame Street on Ice or something, and started saying, "Cookie, cookie!"

When I was in AmeriCorps, I began believing that my days could be predicted by how many alligators I saw when I went for a walk. No alligators meant a bad day, with the day improving for every one I spotted. The best I ever did was four.

At various times in college, I wanted to study psychology, art history, and film. All my interests are clearly (and militantly) non-lucrative.

Both my parents have glaucoma. It seems likely that I will, too.

I prefer covers of the songs of The Beatles and Bob Dylan to the originals. In the case of the former, this is because of overexposure to the originals; in the latter case, I just loathe his voice.

I had a stuffed bear named Singo, so called because he had a windup music box in his butt. Unfortunately, one day I ran into Lake Michigan with him, while I was wearing no pants. There are photos somewhere in the family archive. Singo never sang again, but I still have him.

I TAG NO ONE! HA HA HA!

"C'MON, SUPER-SEXY!"

Oh, by the way, I apparently forgot that this blog is now apparently three years old, plus a month. It's somewhat mindboggling, considering how little I have actually said. But it's an anniversary nonetheless, so I give you the gift of Japanese synth-pop:

Takashi Fujii: "OH MY JULIET!"

Who the hell knows what he's saying: it's got a good beat, and you can dance to it! Here's the video:

I kinda love this song: it's my most played song on iTunes. Well, after New York Dolls' "Dance Like A Monkey". And here's the video for that:

Isn't that a thing of beauty? David Johansen's lyrics are intelligent and irreverent. I love it!

I kinda love this song, too:

Enjoy!

Eight Plus

Well, I wasn't exactly tagged specifically, but Tom @ The Fortress of Soliloquy had a sort of open tag thing going. So I'm more of a self-selected tagee.

- I have to post these rules before I start.
- I have to tell you eight facts about myself.
- I have to tag eight people to participate. HA! Go ahead, make me!
- I'm supposed to leave a comment telling them they're tagged and to read my blog.
- And the tagees need to write their own blog post, telling us eight things and posting the rules.

1. I have never been to California, nor have I ever been to New York City, at least not outside JFK Airport. I have, however, been to Toronto, Berlin, London, Athens, and Rome.

2. Whenever I write something, be it an assignment or a piece of fiction, I actually write it out longhand first in my notebook, and then input it into the computer. This is actually the reason that I've written so little fiction: the process is so laborious for me that I frequently find my enthusiasm dissipating fairly early in the process. That's why I have a notebook with a quarter of a novel written in it, packed away somewhere. I have a lot of trouble writing directly on the computer: I usually use the transfer of my writing to the computer as a was to edit the text, and if I don't have that, I feel like the writing is incomplete somehow. I think this is because when I first started having to type papers, I was using an actual typewriter, and writing it out beforehand was just par for the course. The only time I don't do this is when I blog, but I frequently feel the need to repeatedly go back and alter and correct the text in those instances.

3. I was in the Boy Scouts for many years, and got as far as attaining the level of Life, which is the last stop to becoming an Eagle Scout. My family thinks that I didn't make an effort to become an Eagle Scout because of the controversy regarding gays in the Boy Scouts -- "morally straight," and all that. My motives were far less noble: I had, by that time, decided Scouts were uncool (as if that was news), and I couldn't be bothered to put forth the effort to advance any further than I did.

4. The first concert I ever saw was The Monkees, with The Grass Roots and Gary Puckett & The Union Gap opening up for them. I was really into The Monkees for a while there, and I somehow cajoled my mom into taking me to the Pontiac Silverdome to see one of their reunion concerts. I think I must have been 12 at the time. The second concert I ever went to see was Echo & The Bunnymen; I was 14, and I went with future best friend, Julie.

5. In 9th grade, I was kicked out of AP English by the teacher, who justified it by saying that I wasn't smart enough to continue in Advanced Placement. Personally, I think he had a vendetta against me because I said Duran Duran was my favorite band, something which he proceeded to deride me for. The following year, the two English classes I took were among the most miserable and hateful courses in my high school career, with the other students haranguing me mercilessly, and the teachers ignoring the fact that I was being harassed. (Junior and Senior years were much better, as I took elective literature courses in Science Fiction, Creative Writing, and Mythology.) I of course eventually graduated from my university cum laude with a BA in English, for all the good that's done me. The teacher who had me removed from AP English later ran into controversy himself when it turned out that he had propositioned one of his male students. Evidently this teacher liked having his nipples tweaked.

6. I have the second season of Wonder Woman at the top of my Netflix queue. The last movie I saw was The Station Agent last weekend, which I enjoyed very much. The last book I read was Soon I Will Be Invincible by Austin Grossman. I'm currently reading Jasper Fforde's The Fourth Bear and Jack Kirby's Fourth World Omnibus. The similarity of the titles there is totally coincidental.

7. In elementary school I played the French horn; in junior high, I switched to the baritone, because I was told my lips were too big for the French horn. I was never very good, but I stuck with it until graduating high school, playing in the marching band as well as concert band.

8. I make a mean gazpacho. It occurs to me that this is more than eight facts, but facts come in packs, like dogs or chewing gum.

Tag yourself, please.

Monkey Joe Sez: "I Miss 'Strangers With Candy'!"

I'm in a better mood today. Who knows why? Myself, I think it might be the low-priced generic alternatives to name-brand anti-depressants. Oh, the mysteries of the human mind! So instead of posting real content, I give you more of what you know you want...

GIANT SQUIRRELS.

And Jesus Christ. And lawn jockeys. Prepare yourself for The Power and The Glory of...

PRINCIPAL BLACKMAN.

EDUCATE YOURSELF TO THIS REALITY!

Sublime

Regardless of what other people might contend, YouTube's true value lies in clips like this:



I have to say, Mr. Gibb looks absolutely adorable, merely reaffirming my comments regarding blond guys with 70s hair styles. Je l'adore.


I found it via a list of Olivia Newton-John videos posted on WFMU's blog.

Meme-ories Are Made Of This

Blame Minge.

What is the earliest memory you have as a child? Think far back.

My earliest memory is when my parents were moving from their first house, and into the house we lived at until I was 12. They had to go back to the old house to retrieve my sandbox once all the furniture had been moved, and the new owners were really nice to me. I suppose they probably thought that I was adorable, since I was only 2 years old. I don't remember ever living in that first house, but I remember moving. This fact that I can remember that far back has resulted in my being designated "the one with the good memory" within my family. Except when they think that I'm not remembering things right, in which case, and in spite of all evidence, I am declared a complete nitwit.

What is a special memory you have about someone? It could be a grandparent, family friend - not including your parents - that you knew as a child. What do you recall about them that makes the memory special?

My grandfather once paid what I thought was an obscene amount -- $6.00, if memory serves -- to get a library card once while I was staying with him and my grandmother one summer. They lived outside town, and had to pay to get the card. I was a little surprised that he didn't already have one. I ended up using it to borrow James & The Giant Peach for the umpteenth time -- my second grade teacher had read it to our class, and I became obsessed with reading and re-reading it. I dunno: I don't much cotton to "special memories".

What was a favourite game you played as a child?

Hide-and-go-seek in the dark. Our basement had no windows in it, so that meant that when you turned the lights off, it was just about as dark as you could possibly hope for. Plus, there were rooms and closets to hide in. The only time I ever played it seemed to be when my cousins were visiting, so that also might have something to do about why I enjoyed it so much: I always liked seeing my cousins. I was never particularly good at it, because, even then, I was the biggest and most uncoordinated of all of us. If I ever moved at all, to try to make a dash for "home base" -- the stairs upstairs, which, if you reached it, meant you were safe -- I was as good as caught. Not only that, but to this day I am incredibly prone to giggle fits when I get excited, so that meant that I would always be hunched over in the darkness, my hands clamped over my mouth, trying desperately to stifle my laughter, hoping that my brother or cousins would give away their position or get caught before my peals of laughter would erupt uncontrollably from beneath my fingers like the lava and ash from Krakatoa.

What was a memorable trip that you can recall being a little kid and what did you do that makes you think about it even now?

My family regularly drove out to Colorado to visit with my father's family in the summers. One summer, my brother and I flew out a week early, and my parents were going to drive out (in the Chevy Citation) and stay for a week themselves. The flight itself was memorable, because my brother kept on chanting "I WANT FOOD" and banging his little fists on the tray table. I was so freaking embarassed. But the stewardess did take us up to the cockpit to meet the pilot during a stop-over, which was neat.

The week progressed fairly dully: we were staying in my aunt's family's trailer up on a mountain, and it was sort of irritating. My family is theoretically Christian, but this family was the born-again, evangelical kind. The kind where being Christian is an active pursuit, rather than a state you are born into. I think at the time the father was actually a preacher in a church that was essentially a pre-fabricated aluminum building with dirt floors. These were people who named their children after characters in the Old Testament. (Eventually the entire family -- mom, dad, two kids -- went completely off the rails, started doing massive quantities of drugs, indulging in affairs with people they met on MySpace, declaring themselves Sovereign Citizens and not paying taxes, and getting involved with the mob. Seriously.) But the "holy roller" bit was completely new to me, and I did little to ingratiate myself to them by insisting that The Book of Revelations was one of my favorite pieces of science fiction. I entertained myself by reading Bobbsey Twin books, which my mom had bought me a stack of in anticipation of the vacation.

So, the day my parents get there, the adults decide to go out to eat. Fair enough: some of my favorite memories are of the times when my parents went out to eat without us. We had a babysitter and her sister from the trailer park taking care of us. Well, at some point while we were washing dishes, someone broke a plate. Hey, it happens. So we toss it in the garbage, nobody thinking too much of it. Then the sitter asks if I will take the garbage out to the dumpster. I think I was a little put out that I was expected to do chores, but I held my tongue. I'd just complain to my parents later, citing laws against child labor, or whatever.

So I'm dragging this gigantic bag of garbage through the gravel driveway of this trailer park, because this bag was enormous, and I could under no circumstances lift it off the ground. I was wearing flip-flops, because it was summer, and I have never been a fan of wearing actual shoes. Suddenly, I just topple to the ground. No, not topple: I just collapse. Crumple. Deflate, almost. As I was dragging the trash bag along the ground, the shards of plate had worked their way down into the bag. I have no idea how, but one of them cut through the bag, sliced through my skin, and severed my Achilles tendon.

You have no idea how freaky it is to look at the back of your foot, and see a yawning gouge, with blood pooling in the bottom of your foot. Not only that: something was it their. Something white and organic and horrible. I prayed at the time that it was a piece of Styrofoam that had been in the trash bag, but I knew it wasn't. I was looking at my retracted tendon.

As you may expect, I just started wailing. I don't remember the pain at all: you have to expect that I was just in complete shock. What I was crying about was that I was going to have to have stitches. Something about being sewn up was just so horrific, so Frankenstein. That was my big fear at that moment: stitches. I think that helped me, just not thinking about what the hell was happening.

As I was howling, an old man was on the porch of the trailer right in front of me. I say old, but keep in mind that 30 was old to me then. Just rocking, rocking, in his rocking chair. He never got up. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't get up, why he wouldn't help me. It seemed like hours, me sitting there, unable to stand, or move, for fear of major blood loss, and he was smiling at me. He was smiling. Never moving. It was like a fucking horror movie: for years afterward, that memory has haunted me. That face became the face of death to me.

Thankfully, the rest of the trailer park reacted to my screams. I remember that poor babysitter, assuring me that I probably wouldn't need stitches. Sure, it was a lie, but it was a good lie. People were trying to keep the blood from pouring with clean towels, and everybody was really nice. The sitter didn't have a car, but a man next door offered to drive me to the urgent care facility down the road: we were in the mountains, remember, and driving to the hospital would mean driving all the way into Colorado Springs.

Once I got there, I was sedated, or maybe I just passed out from shock, so time sort of got wonky. But it turned out that my aunt and uncle didn't leave a number with the sitter of where they would be, or even the name of the restaurant. This was pre-cell phone, and so parents always had these elaborate rituals to help the babysitters contact them if anything went wrong. So I was stuck for hours in a darkened room for hours, face down, waiting for my parents to show up and give any sort of clearance for treatment. When my parents finally did show up, they were told what bad parents they were for not leaving the info with the sitter, when it was my aunt and uncle's fault. My parents always left the information with their sitters, always left it written down, and would call if their plans changed. My parents were (and are) the good parents. Unfortunately, I was too out of it to mount a thorough defense. My mom still feels guilty for that.

Long story less long than it possibly could be: I ended up having to wear a cast, which meant that driving home in the Citation was a pain in the ass. They ended up having to put down the seats, and put all the luggage in a car-top luggage thing that they had to buy.

The scar has faded, and now I'm almost proud of it. Hey, Achilles never did recover from the wound to his heel!

Did you ever fall in love as a child?

No, but I tended to treat all my male friends like a jealous lover. I demanded to know where they had been, and who with. But I did get one of them to kiss me in Kindergarten.
I did, however, have a MASSIVE crush on John Schneider from The Dukes of Hazzard.

Morbid Much?

A meme foisted upon me by a more-morbid-than-usual Minge.

What do you think happens after you die?

You decompose. People forget you.

Do you believe in heaven?

Not as such, no.

Do you believe in hell?

Not as such, no. You make your own heaven and hell right here on earth.

Do you think you will be judged after you die?

Minge said it best: "Yes, by all the people I've left behind."

How many people will attend your funeral?

Depends on if its on a weekend. If I died now, I'd say... 18. 18 that I would expect to come, possible more, depending.

Would you rather that people cry or laugh at your funeral?

I know my friends and family, so they would cry a little, and then start making fun of all the stupid things I did -- like when I almost burned the house down while making falafel in high school -- and laughing until they cried again. Which is fun. I'm not big on emotional displays, and I think it would dishonor my memory to have anybody wailing with grief, throwing themselves on the casket. That isn't how W.A.S.P.s do these things.

Actually, I really want people to dance at my funeral: get out the disco ball, start playing the Marshall Jefferson 12" mix of "Being Boring", or Womack & Womack's "Teardrops". That would be a great funeral.

What's better? A shot in the head or downing pills?

Neither, both sound messy. (Always remember Lupe Velez...)

What should be written on your tombstone?

"Whatever." (My dad and I actually discussed this last night.)

Would you rather die childless or divorced?

Hey, if I die divorced, then that means gay marriage was legalized! But I certainly don't want to contribute to human overpopulation. Is "both" an acceptable answer?

Do you want to die in the morning, afternoon, or night?

In a warm, cozy bed, at night in the middle of winter. Preferably during the first snow of the season.

If you had a million pounds to leave, who would you leave it to?

I dunno. Probably a charity. Maybe some to my parents, to pay them back for being an economic burden. But I honestly doubt that I would ever have that much money and not spend it.

What kind of flowers do you want at your funeral?

Calla lilies, because I have liked them ever since I saw Robert Mapplethorpe's pictures of them.

On your deathbed, which moment will you most remember?

All of them. I have a good memory. Of course, with my luck, I'll only remember when I was typing this.

Have you ever watched someone die?

No.

What's the most gruesome death you can imagine?

The Bacchae, bitter from having been spurned by me in favor of "hot men" -- although, in my defense, who can blame me? -- first throw sticks and stones at me as I play my music, but my music is so beautiful that even the rocks and branches refuse to strike me. Me and nature, see, we have an understanding. Enraged, the lucky bitches tear me to pieces during the frenzy of their Bacchic orgies, and toss my head and lyre in the river, where they still produce beautiful music to this day.

How often do you think about death?

A few times a day.

Is fear of dying your number one fear?

Naw, my fear is of everybody else dying. Dying is easy, it's surviving the loss that's hard.

Do you believe in reincarnation?

Not in a strict sense of my soul coming back in a new body. But we're all a part of the circle of life, we're all of the earth, and to the earth we return. This life is only borrowed.

Have you ever wished someone you loved were dead?

Not in the sense of actually wishing they were dead. I said it to be mean a couple times, because I am a complete asshole.

Do you consider life short or long?

Life is what it is.

Do you think you have a soul?

If I do, then it is located in my appendix, because the appendix is the seat of the soul.

Assisted suicide for a terminally ill person is:

A choice that should be respected.

If you were cremated, where would you like your ashes?

I want the urn containing my ashes to be set adrift on a flaming raft in the middle of the Atlantic, with gold statuettes of various Norse, Greek, Egyptian, and Hindu deities at each corner of the raft. I figure the Judeo-Christian angle will be satisfied for whatever funeral of memorial service my family has for me, and I'd like my affection for goofy mythology to be respected. The raft sinks to the bottom of the ocean, like our lives sink into the waters of the sea of time, forgotten and beautiful.

Would you choose to be immortal, if you could be?

FUCK NO.

What do you think of ouija boards?

They'd look good hanging on the wall.

Things That Make Me Happy

To begin with, Today's Daily Puppy makes me happy. It may make me a brainwashed defender of the status quo, but puppies usually make me happy. I know, I know: I am two steps away from hanging this poster in my cubicle.

Courtesy of a post on WFMU's blog: This is a video clip of Bongwater performing a Roky Erickson song, "You Don't Love Me Yet". This is one of my favorite songs that they recorded. It starts out with Screamin' Jay Hawkins yowling towards the camera, and just gets weirder from there, what with the one Neanderthal guitarist wearing an op-art a-line skirt, and the squarest looking back-up singers swaying with professional disinterest in the background. And then anarchy asserts itself (even among the background singers!) as Ann Magnuson launches into her spoken word, performance art thang.

And then there's Conway Twitty, with the Residents dancing crypticly behind him:

Sure, the Residents don't do much, but when you are dressed up as three eyeballs and a skull, what else do you need to do? Both of these clips are from Night Music, which, we are told, "ran for a short time on NBC around 1988-89". I cannot imagine anything even remotely this cool ever airing to begin with.

Also, for those of you who are like me and think that when Fergie is going about her "lovely lady lumps", it sounds like she has breast cancer -- honestly, it is not appropriate to associate breasts with sexy lumps -- a suitably mournful version of "My Humps" by Alanis Morissette. This has been doing the rounds, so I don't feel like I'm obligated to embed it here.

Oh, and this makes me very, very happy:


All is again right with the world. Have a groove-tastic day!

An Interview with the Indominatable Sir Spendrick Hogsbottom

Who are you?

Sir Spendrick Hogsbottom.

The phone rings. Who do you want it to be?

My manager, saying that Shirley Bassey has finally consented to sing a duet with me of "Islands in the Stream".

When shopping at the grocery store, do you return your cart?

I prefer to frequent the local market, carrying an attractive-yet-manly basket to put the groceries in.

In a social setting, are you more a talker or listener?

I don't have the time to spend my life listening to the nattering of other people. Besides, I am generally much more interesting than them, anyways.

Do you play Soduku?

I rely on my band to worry about the instruments. Although I don't know if we've ever used a soduku. Is that oriental? I'll see about having it on my next album: it sounds intriguing.

If abandoned in the wilderness, would you survive?

Probably not, unless someone else was with me that I could eat.

Do you like to ride horses?

I learned to ride side-saddle in the orphanage, as instructed by a nun. Someone accused me of being a poof and I gave it up.

Did you ever go to camp as a kid?

Does the orphanage count as camp?

Could you date someone with different religious beliefs than you?

Religion, as they say, is the opiate of the masses. That being said, I have never been one to turn down opiates, so I don't see why dating a Papist would be that big a hullabaloo.

Do any songs make you cry?

Only the wretched remix of my version of David Bowie's "Heroes". The original version was recorded at the BBC for a celebration of Mr. Bowie's artistic accomplishments. I was pleased with it, I mean, it's a pretty good song, y'know? A bit pretentious, but then, that's Bowie, right? And heaven knows I sang the hell out of it. But those poseurs at the Beeb said it wasn't up to their standards. I mean, did you ever even listen to Peel's show? Any Kraut with a keyboard could get his atonal noodling on that. But, y'know, what have you. Their loss.

But then some Kraut (probably the same one with the keyboard!) found the recording on some bootleg, and thought it might be a kick to remix the entire song. Which, y'know, I'm hip, if it gets me played in Ibiza, so much the better. But you can't even tell what I'm singing! The bloody idiot fed my vocals through a distorty thing! Granted, the lyrics are all bollocks (sorry, David! Honestly, what do dolphins have to do with the Berlin Wall?), but really, people don't buy my records for the lyrics! You can barely even tell it's me singing at times, it's just noise! I just have to assume that its tenure at the top of the charts throughout Europe was due to name recognition, because why else would anyone have bought the thing?

Oh, and "The Way We Were". I mean, Babs just tears your heart out, know what I mean?

Are you continuing your education?

The world is my school, and life, my education. Unfortunately, I seem to spend a lot of that life waiting outside the metaphorical headmaster's office.

Do you know how to shoot a gun?

I've been known to shoot a few animals. We're at the top of the food-chain, people! If God can't get off his arse to save a few foxes, who the hell am I to impede the circle of life?

If your house was on fire, what would be the first thing that you'd grab?

My gold records. And my Viagra.

Do you think more about the past, present of the future?

What day is this?

What was your favourite children's book?

Green Eggs and Ham.

What colour are your eyes?

The same

How tall are you?

At least 6’ 2” depending on which pants I’m wearing.

Where is your ideal house located?

Somewhere with lax extradition laws, low taxes, and a low age of consent.

Seriously?

A Hawaiian-style house in the South Pacific, with all of the above.

Have you ever taken pictures in a photo-booth?

I'm not a big fan of photos. They steal your soul, and I've found it's better in life not to leave a paper trail.

When was the last time you were at Olive Garden?

I always thought olives grew in groves? Or is it orchards?

Where was the farthest place you've travelled?

Physically or mentally? My body has been around the world, my mind has been much, much further.

Do you like mustard?

Not since I almost gassed myself and Lakshmi while trying to make yogurt soup one night. Who knew that you couldn't substitute yellow mustard seeds for black ones? Yeah, okay, so the recipe might've mentioned something like that, but I didn't think it would be that bad!

Do you prefer to sleep or eat?

I'm into all sorts of scenes, mate!

Do you look like your mom or dad?

I don't right know, being abandoned and all. They found me in a piece of luggage in Waterloo Station; nowadays, the luggage would probably be detonated by the bomb squad, with me in it!

How long does it take you in the shower?

I prefer to be bathed.

Can you do the splits?

On purpose? My hips aren't what they used to be: if I did, I might never be able to get up. In any sense of the word.

What did you do for New Year?

It must have been wonderful, because I have no memory of it at all.

Do you think The Grudge was scary?

I assume you mean my grudge with Leon "Itchy" Pensonhurst. Or his grudge with me. Whatever. It'd be a lot scarier if I thought he would ever make it out of prison, but the blighter just keeps on slapping the guards when he feels like he's being disrespected. Which, apparently, means that they deign to breathe in his presence. You produce a couple of gimmicky reggae records, and suddenly you think you're Phil fucking Spector. The cheek! Besides, it wasn't my idea to smoke a bowl on my bloody Christmas record, it was his. The fact that I did the smoking -- well, I wasn't the one out on probation, was I? And I am not known for my self-restraint, eh?

Do you own a camera-phone?

Is this like those video-phones that they used to tell us everyone would own by the year 1980? Because, honestly, those were never a good idea, and I can't say that I would ever want to own one.

Was your mom a cheerleader?

Possibly, see above.

What's the last letter of your middle name?

X.

How many hours of sleep do you get a night?

What day is this?

Do you like the Care Bears?

I'm not a big fan of the Gays, although they seem to love me, but those burly ones do seem a bit more manly than the marys you usually see running the antique stores. They remind me a little bit of myself, except for all the cock-and-bum fun.

What do you buy at the movies?

I'm not a big fan of movies. At least, not the kind of movies where you traditionally can expect to find concession stands.

Do you know how to play poker?

Yes, but whenever I play my guitar player seems to end up with all my loot and then we don’t see him for two or three days.

Do you wear your seat belt?

Only when I’m not driving.

What do you wear to sleep?

A cocktail, a smile, and the latest lass to grace me pillow.

Anything big ever happen in your home town?

London? I hear the Blitz was considered fairly significant.

How many meals do you eat a day?

Far too many, I'm afraid.

Is your tongue pierced?

That sounds poofy. Why would I need my tongue pierced?

Do you always read MySpace bulletins?

What? Whose space? Who are you?

Do you like funny or serious people better?

What other kinds are there?

Ever been to LA?

More times then you’ve wanked, junior.

Did you eat a cookie today?

No, but I nibbled a receptionist.

Do you use cuss words in other languages?

I've lived in 23 countries, and the curse words are the only ones I ever bothered to learn. Which always made speaking to the butcher a challenge, but I am not one who has a great facility with language.

Do you steal or pay for your music downloads?

PIRACY IS KILLING THE MUSIC INDUSTRY. And besides, some Kraut might find an unreleased track and BUTCHER IT MERCILESSLY!

Do you hate chocolate?

So you’ve heard the rumors. I try not to hate.

What do you and your parents fight about the most?

You sure are fixated on my parents, eh? In my fantasies, we fight about why they left me in Waterloo instead of Victoria. And also, why they chose to lock the suitcase they had me stuffed into.

If you could have any job, what would it be?

Plastic surgeon. I’d love to make the world a better place, one breast implant at a time.

Are you easy to get along with?

I think so. Which is odd, considering how many enemies I seem to have.

What is your favourite time of day?

What day is this?

Adapted from the fabulous Minge, and his wonderful interview with Billie Trix.

With some assistance on the harder questions from the other half of The Spendrick Hogsbottom Experience, Ryan.