Whine List
A weekend of romance and elegance in the face of poverty. I did some living room disco dancing with a bunch of teenage boys (too many dix on the dance flooor! do the cock weave!), dined on fine tuna (To waiter: "I want a nice white wine, y’know like a Shiraz!"), watched a electro-jazz drum/synth sax duo, looked art some arrrrt, learned that some people my age have their shhhht a lot more together than yours truly.
It was a really great time. I saw lots of girls who shop at American Apparel and have neon-colored glasses, along with their shaggy mates. Soon they will all have dorky coitus and have dorky babies.
Dorks. Last night I watched Gigantic: A Tale of Two Johns a documentary about They Might Be Giants. It featured some really swell commentary by This American Life wunderkinds Sarah Vowell and Ira Glass and even had a little nubbin of animation by Tony Millionaire. It was really inspiring to see two people so unpretentious and so committed to their personal aesthetic. I’m not the biggest TMBG fan in the world, but I’ve always been surrounded by their tunes. And I’ve called Dial-A-Song once or twice. My favorite moment in the film is Ira Glass joking about how he feels sorry for the Johns because they’re in TMBG; a band that if they were to discover them as listeners they would absolutely freak out about, but as it is they have to write the music themselves. There’s also a teenage girl shaking and crying with ecstasy at a TMBG in-store signing with the same adolescent pathos normally reserved for Omarion and My Chemical Romance.
On Sunday I talked to my friend Ben. His family lives in New Orleans. Everyone made it out unharmed, but his hometown is gone.
That’s all.
