Orginally published on February 26, 1997
Yes, it's official! Actually sometime early last week I got my rejection notice from City Paper stating both the editing and design jobs had been filled but please try again in the future.
By the way, I really appreciated your comments the other day about the Dollhouse Fevers serial. That rather dry response I muscled out did not really indicate the true boost to my spirits your encouraging words sparked. To the point, I've noticed an ample loss in energy that obviously relates to your comments...
"boy, I am really enjoying this. I know it is the telling of a true trauma tale of friendship gained and lost, but as a piece of writing it is absolutely wonderful. I await Day 3."
...in that after writing on the topic I collapse, physically drained, numb in body and spirit. Surely a strong indication of the intensely personal nature of the writing, knowing that those persons being profiled no doubt will read the very words which could only drive the wedge between us even deeper than the events discussed.
Trust things are have gelled on the homefront. While visiting with Steve this weekend at his local watering hole in Philadelphia, he blurted out that he had been carrying on this secret E-mail campaign with you. I suspected as much. That was as far as the revelation went, but it followed on the heels of his patented rata-tat-tat speedwhiz monologue which on this occasion was employed to explain that he wasn't addicted to alcohol, oh no, but that he was addicted to irresponsibility.
Ping ping ping—the roll call of topics zing past faster than even a sober mind can retain—without rhyme or reason—ping ping ping—life has a way of explaining itself under the influences of irresponsibility. But enough of all that. While writing this I've been watching Ricki Lake gushing at the surprise baby shower thrown in her honor, hosted by Joan Lunden. John Waters was there, gifts and videoconferenced goo goo...
GT
Showing posts with label City Paper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label City Paper. Show all posts
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Monday, June 25, 2007
BABYHEAD ANGST
Originally published on June 3, 1996
So, what's new at the Dollhouse, you ask?
Nothing new. Your name came up more times than Jesus Christ this weekend, but nearly always was answered with an I dunno, or a muffled uhmmm...
Yeah, Lynn is cool. I just don't know what to write her in response to the Babyhead show. It was an event worth noting if only for a few days. Frankly I hate critiquing others' work, especially in a genre where I haven't mustered up much myself in the way of surpassing or suppressing it. I liked the shows, but I was glad when the last one was over. I was nearly ready to bolt, already drunk, smoked, and tired from yet another long day saith the old man in dungarees. Tom Howell slopped over earlier in the day with a photography project he needed me to pull off, uh, taking a picture of a fat shiny tow chain he knew I had.
It was to be a typical Howell BIG PRODUCTION with bogus color-reflective transparency drag, but he pocketed a roll of film, and we staggered off to the Babyhead Festival together. Tim met Gigi on his bike. Tom already knew most of the actors, directors, and producers of the show. Safe to say, Lynn was about the only person he didn't know, yet I'm thinking he probably did meet her at Buck Downs place this past New Year's Day. Remember? We'd planned to walk the couple of blocks there after we left Wayne Curtin's absolutely weird houseblessing that evening, but I passed out instead, having had little sleep for several days prior...
Tom was struggling to comment on her work as we were waiting for food at this Sheesh Kabob place in Georgetown after tiring of the reception at the Clark Gallery following the f-fest. Noticing he didn't want to slam her, I filled in the blanks with a typical GT gust of hot air...
"Uh Lynn is an attractive and very intelligent woman, but her acting skills are certainly not ready for prime time..." Tom interrupted with a quick sigh of relief, nodded his head furiously and said, "Yes, precisely!" Tom thought Buck was a natural, however.
I could say, "Oh I liked this." Or, "I liked that." But let's just leave it the way Tom put it: It's not like everybody in the audience would be back next week to watch these flicks again. Oh well, you know me; at the time I couldn't leave it at that. I countered his remark with a perspective-kissing, "Well, I don't think too many people there would line up to see A Few Good Men again a week later either. Tom was in gear high with his Talleyrand tongue, suggesting that the Vampires Suck video we did in 1985 had measured up to the standards we saw upon the screen this night, signalling a been there, done that attitude which I guess summed it all up for both of us. Sue of course didn't have much of anything to say on the subject. Thank God. I might have begged to differ.
The artsy-bosomed women at the Clark Gallery reception however were well worth the price of staring. I knew I had to escape that place soon before I got the urge to touch. This was the same gallery which showed our pal Scott Farnum's little pieces of fame portraits last spring. And by the way, since I am forwarding this to Lynn, there is news Jack might be interested in: Dave Weist and Marcie Dewey, less than a year after marrying each other have split. Marcie has moved to California, uh, where I dunno, but that's the latest via the Quag...
Thanks Lynn for the performance. I did enjoy the night as my awkward nights tend to go. It's just pretty acolades don't roll off my tongue or my keystroke finger as easily as bad beer slips down the ole gullet. And yes I checked out the City Paper blurbs and your picture (which I barely recognize as you), but unless no one else sends you the CP, I won't. Your fans will surely not let you down, buck or no buck.
GT
So, what's new at the Dollhouse, you ask?
Nothing new. Your name came up more times than Jesus Christ this weekend, but nearly always was answered with an I dunno, or a muffled uhmmm...
Yeah, Lynn is cool. I just don't know what to write her in response to the Babyhead show. It was an event worth noting if only for a few days. Frankly I hate critiquing others' work, especially in a genre where I haven't mustered up much myself in the way of surpassing or suppressing it. I liked the shows, but I was glad when the last one was over. I was nearly ready to bolt, already drunk, smoked, and tired from yet another long day saith the old man in dungarees. Tom Howell slopped over earlier in the day with a photography project he needed me to pull off, uh, taking a picture of a fat shiny tow chain he knew I had.
It was to be a typical Howell BIG PRODUCTION with bogus color-reflective transparency drag, but he pocketed a roll of film, and we staggered off to the Babyhead Festival together. Tim met Gigi on his bike. Tom already knew most of the actors, directors, and producers of the show. Safe to say, Lynn was about the only person he didn't know, yet I'm thinking he probably did meet her at Buck Downs place this past New Year's Day. Remember? We'd planned to walk the couple of blocks there after we left Wayne Curtin's absolutely weird houseblessing that evening, but I passed out instead, having had little sleep for several days prior...
Tom was struggling to comment on her work as we were waiting for food at this Sheesh Kabob place in Georgetown after tiring of the reception at the Clark Gallery following the f-fest. Noticing he didn't want to slam her, I filled in the blanks with a typical GT gust of hot air...
"Uh Lynn is an attractive and very intelligent woman, but her acting skills are certainly not ready for prime time..." Tom interrupted with a quick sigh of relief, nodded his head furiously and said, "Yes, precisely!" Tom thought Buck was a natural, however.
I could say, "Oh I liked this." Or, "I liked that." But let's just leave it the way Tom put it: It's not like everybody in the audience would be back next week to watch these flicks again. Oh well, you know me; at the time I couldn't leave it at that. I countered his remark with a perspective-kissing, "Well, I don't think too many people there would line up to see A Few Good Men again a week later either. Tom was in gear high with his Talleyrand tongue, suggesting that the Vampires Suck video we did in 1985 had measured up to the standards we saw upon the screen this night, signalling a been there, done that attitude which I guess summed it all up for both of us. Sue of course didn't have much of anything to say on the subject. Thank God. I might have begged to differ.
The artsy-bosomed women at the Clark Gallery reception however were well worth the price of staring. I knew I had to escape that place soon before I got the urge to touch. This was the same gallery which showed our pal Scott Farnum's little pieces of fame portraits last spring. And by the way, since I am forwarding this to Lynn, there is news Jack might be interested in: Dave Weist and Marcie Dewey, less than a year after marrying each other have split. Marcie has moved to California, uh, where I dunno, but that's the latest via the Quag...
Thanks Lynn for the performance. I did enjoy the night as my awkward nights tend to go. It's just pretty acolades don't roll off my tongue or my keystroke finger as easily as bad beer slips down the ole gullet. And yes I checked out the City Paper blurbs and your picture (which I barely recognize as you), but unless no one else sends you the CP, I won't. Your fans will surely not let you down, buck or no buck.
GT
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