June 9th, 2004

flavored with age

Whorin' for the pals

My friend roseyv, who is a vivacious and talented dame, has had a show accepted in the New York Fringe Theatre Festival. It's a dandy little number called "Moonchild" which was good as a read and I assume will be even better as a show. Here's what I want y'all to do for me:

1. Go to her LiveJournal and read all about it. It's a tasty bit of theatre about everyone's favorite megacharlatan. L. Ron "Xeemu" Hubbard.

2. Since the Fringe Festival provides showcases, not financing, she'll need all the help she can get staging the thing. If you're a kindly, arts-supporting sort, drop her a few bucks via the PayPal link on the show's official site.

3. If you are in New York, or will be during the dates of the show, GO SEE THE GODDAMN THING already! That would make her very happy indeed.
flavored with age

Automatic writing part 37

1. I was on the radio again yesterday, and will be on again next Tuesday, discussing political humor and satire with Kevin Fullam on WLUW's "Under Surveillance". It went pretty well, I think. I'll put up a reminder for those of you who want to listen next week, and as soon as I get the CDs, I'll put the whole hour-long show on my site as an mp3.

2. Speaking of being crazy sick busy, I keep meaning to clean my shithole apartment so that I can actually have "decent friends ovah" this weekend, but I dunno if it's gonna happen. I had to tape a radio thing Monday, I did a dumpload of laundry yesterday, I'm going out tonight, Hella is Tuesday night (who's going with me, you sissies? COME ON, they're fucking badder ass than anything else you got planned), I might possibly be doing a reading on Friday night, and I'm sure things will come up that will fill the rest of the weekend. I swear to you before Yahoo-Wahoo on His throne that I have no life, so how come I don't have time to do anything?

3. Speaking of the laundromat, there were these two dudes there last night, doing their three items each of clothing. They were both guys in their 40s, I would guess, and not their early 40s, either. They weren't unhandsome, but they were grizzled and wore really unattractive clothes, even for the laundromat. Both of them were bodybuilder/muscleman types, and were clearly thinking they were total players with the ladies even though they both looked like Jack LaLanne if he was a homeless bum. And the best thing is, they kept pausing every five minutes or so to stand in front of the dryers like the Fonz in front of a mirror, obsessively combing their hair and gazing raptly at themselves in the glass door of the heavy-soil front-loaders. HEY, DUDES, GO HOME AND FUCK YOUR IMAGES IN THE LOOKING-GLASS ALREADY, HUH? Just lube up your steroid-shriveled dinguses and slip them between the sharp glass and the wilting wallpaper. "Oh, ffuuuuuuuuck yeah, ME!"

4. Speaking of fucking one's self, I have a decent lead on a pretty damn good writing gig. I mention it here not because I'm trolling for good wishes, but in order to jinx it and blow any possible chance I might stand of getting it.

5. Speaking of not getting it, they're flying the flag half mast at my office all week. I don't remember them doing that for Nixon's sorry ass. If the VIPs announce a moment of silence on Friday to honor this great American, I swear I'm going to sing the goddamn "Internationale".