I don’t mean to brag, but at the last party I threw, Will Sasso from “Mad TV” showed up, and he did a bunch of cocaine and wouldn’t leave or shut up about his Cocaine Thoughts.
Wait, that wasn’t Will Sasso from “Mad TV”?
Why the fuck did we let that guy hang out so long then?
I had a dream I drank en entire thing of NyQuil and then slept for 2 weeks straight and then woke up with short-term memory loss.It was like Memento, except the main mystery was interpersonal relationships and why anyone would bother liking me in the first place.
OK so I know this damned thing is clichéd as all get-out at this point, and I don’t want to be accused of punching down or anything, but man, can we just take a moment and really allow ourselves to revel in how fucking nuts it is that we as a society somehow allowed William Shatner to do a cover of “Rocket Man” with himself.
It’s not even that I think that it’s bad or that it’s silly. (I mean; I guess it sort of is; I’ve listened to it enough times that I actually kind of genuinely love it.) For me, it’s more that it’s just absolutely fucking bonkers: The cigarette, the suit, the crazy ass noises, the complete disregard for the beat, the multiple personalities superimposed into the same frame, everything.
How was this allowed to happen?
I have worked in the creative industry for about 7 years now, so I have at least a fair idea of how the sausage is made: How many people it takes, how much collaboration, how much time and energy and money, all the buy-in you have to get from all the different levels along the way.
And yet. This exists.
I want to do an oral history of this video where I talk to every single human involved in its production – the camera people, the producers, whoever pitched the thing, the damn theremin musician or whatever – to just try and understand how it all came together: Who conceived of this idea, who pushed it forward, who was sucked along for the ride, everything. I want to know this performance back to front, because this is a singular moment in human cultural history, and I can’t even begin to imagine how it made it from start to finish.
"And I’m gonna be … HIGH … as a KITE."
I feel like I have 2 main settings – Experiencing Life and Documenting Life (Well, and maybe Lamenting Life, but the less we say about that one, the better) – and right now, I am firmly in the former camp, choking down big old mouthfuls of existence by the fistful, without a whole lot of time left over to sit down and talk about it.
This will settle down, I am sure, with summer’s end, and then I will finally get around to jotting down that rad Coachella entry I plotted out 5 months ago, but for now ’til like … mid-October, just hold the hell on, please.
(Maybe this is how I finally make my peace with my annually dreaded Seasonal Affective Disorder. I will be like damn self-actualized Persephone, half the year in bloom, half the year in gloom, but using that downtime energy productively to talk about all the things I did when they were the other way around. I am a bear, a flower, a third thing! Yes!)
birthday outtakes 3
Hi it’s me Katie.
(The terror has little to do with my outfit.)
birthday outtakes 2
HELLO MY NAME IS BECKY AND I AM IN CYBERSPACE
CAN YOU HEAR ME ALL THE WAY FROM THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY???
Slow down, don’t fuck with my high
I want to be left alone here with my monsters and
Say, now it’s time to ride
To see lovely girls and to not put the moves on them
He smiled understandingly — much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced — or seemed to face — the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just so far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself, and assured you that it had precisely the impression of you that, at your best, you hoped to convey.
That clip is Leonardo DiCaprio doing his best to do justice to that paragraph, and I can’t tell if he’s doing a horrifically terrible job or not, but it’s like I’m sort of proud of him for trying? It is impossible to do the smile Fitzgerald is asking for – you’d be a fool to try. And yet here we are.
Ah, it’s just so silly. I love it, and him, and the earth for allowing it to happen.
So, on the whole, I’m generally not too too into Buzzfeed-style lists and the like, where a bunch of animated GIFs and self-explanatory captions somehow pass for “content” or “humor.” (I know, I’m old, I’m lame, get off my lawn, etc.)
That said, for whatever reason, these galleries of super-legit totally not bootlegged toys (there are two of them) totally tickled me in completely the right way today. I mean, the toys themselves are inherently insane and ridiculous, of course, and that’s wonderful, but I think it’s kind of like that water bottle I freaked out a bit a while back: I think I’m more interested in what’s going on behind the scenes here.
Like, are the people who make these all sly, thinking they’re getting away with a big con job? Or are they kind of sullen and aloof and have given up on life. “Fuck it, who cares how close it is to the real thing. Entropy will claim us all anyway.” Or maybe they are just full-on schizophrenic and this is the result of that madness. “GOD CAME DOWN FROM HEAVEN AND TOLD ME TO MAKE MR. T’S VAN LOOK LIKE THIS.”
And then, like, what are you feeling if you are the recipient of one of these toys? I mean, you’re a kid, and a toy’s a toy, so maybe you’re just happy to have anything to play around with. But, I remember when I was a little kid, I was extremely brand loyal and extremely specific.* I didn’t just want a Ninja Turtles action figure – I wanted the one where it could transform from a nondescript baby turtle into fucking Donatello. (That was so rad! I stand by this.) Are these kids just, like, so disappointed?
Well, whatever. None of this should detract from your enjoyment of a superhero team made up of a Power Ranger, Shrek, Spiderman, Green Batman, and The Incredibles.
* It should be said, I was also a little weirdo already obsessed with branding at a young age – I used to keep tallies of how many ads played for which products during Saturday morning cartoons – so maybe I am just an outlier.
I spent a solid minute staring at this woman fumbling under a blanket, trying to figure out what she was doing… before I realized she was breastfeeding.
OH MY GOD I AM SO SORRY
SO, SO SORRY
You can always tell how stressed I am by how much my shit is wrecked by life’s little inconveniences.
Like the other day, I dropped my toothbrush on the ground instead of putting it on its little shelf, and I was like, “GOD WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS EVERYTHING SO HARD AND WORTHLESS”
And then like last night, I get home, and the idiot dog had spread garbage all across the floor, and I was like, “Eh,” and peaceably went to grab the vacuum.
Loyal readers will recall an incident where I drunkenly stumbled upon an abandoned helium tank and ran off into the night with it.
Turns out this wasn’t a one-time thing, though, as I rode by another one on my bike last evening. (Sadly, it turned out to be empty.)
I’m not sure what this all means exactly. Is there some mysterious phenomenon that’s causing people to buy tiny helium tanks and leave them out in the streets at night?
For example: Are homeless people getting shitfaced on helium? Could I do that, also?
Or is it something more sinister? I don’t want to sound paranoid, you guys, but what if the helium tanks are following me? What is that they know, and how is this going to end??
Once you notice that Wes Anderson is totally obsessed with symmetry, it’s kind of all you can pay attention to in his stuff from there on out.
It’s like an extra character in each of his films – and not necessarily a good one, this OCD weirdo who demands every single shot is a mirror image of itself.