The Hobo Has Moved On

In true hobo fashion, I've changed digs--virtual digs this time.

I have enough troubs updating one blog, let alone two. I'm having a bit more fun visual blogging from my phone, so I'm going to put this discursive hobo blog to rest, and concentrate on Urban Sucker, because I'm a sucker for New York City these days, and I want to enjoy that fact, and share it with you, anyone who has checked this old blog out.

So to see what's up with Candy Sue, visit Urban Sucker!

A few things I learned from Stefan Sagmeister

One reason I love New York: Stefan Sagmeister lives here. I saw him speak at FIT tonight and left inspired and refreshed by life. Hope isn't dead.


And I guess I'm officially in love with this TED, because a lot of my favorite people are involved with it. Here is a talk Sagmeister gave there, and it actually includes some of the things I saw tonight.

I can't get the embed code to work, so I have to use a link. Sorry. Watch this video!

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/50

Done!

Grad apps are done. Now the waiting game. And the questioning. Should I spend this stupid amount of money? Do I even want to leave New York anymore?

If I am lucky, I will be hopping a plane to Peru with my friend Erin soon to get my mind off of this stuff. To start, I got a membership to Netflix and a little Hello Kitty TV with a DVD player built in. And then there are all the things in NYC I have yet to do.

And then, there is my new visual blog that doesn't bother with words, and therefore is easy to update almost daily (so far, it has been daily!): http://urban-sucker.blogspot.com

School, financial aid, paying for frustration rather than getting paid to be frustrated. Then there's the spending my days doing what I want to do, getting better at writing, learning to teach, and working on a book-length project that I hope will be not only published but help me move to the next step of community service and grants and meeting amazing people. Oh blah, blah. When the time comes, I'll see what my options are. Then I'll know what to do.

Essays and Radio

Listening to the radio on a Sunday night, there are all kinds of fascinating shows. I just learned the difference between the sound of a piano accordion and a button accordion. I wish I could describe it, but it would make more sense if you listened yourself.

I have three more applications to do by Feb. 1, and then my graduate school applications are done. No more explaining why "this" school is the best one for "praxis" and "pedagogy." No more "intellectual" autobiographies. Not that it's been bad; it's been interesting, but it will be nice not to panic that I won't have enough time to finish that essay...

By the way, did I mention that I am living alone for the first time in 7 years? And how much I love it? And how much I love this particular corner of my "anteroom" in my studio apartment--right above my desk.

Back to essays.

Adorable Brooklyn

Speaking of departures...farewell, Jerz!

I have bid the fascinating Jerz adieu, and returned to my NY home, the beautiful borough of Brooklyn! (Much to my heart's delight.)

The graffiti in my neighborhood is awesome: someone painted "I Love You" on a building. The girls in the Latino grocery always smile and ask how I'm doing. And the crazy old men on the street call you "Baby" and like to laugh. Yes, I'm back on the dreaded G train, but ah, heck, nothing wrong with a little thing called "return." I started in NYC on the G, why not come back to it. Even though it sucks, it feels like home.

Jersey du Jour: "Dapartures"

Jersey is definitely an interesting place to live. So I'll post a few things every now and again that sometimes make one go, "Only in Jersey!"

An interesting experience taking a cab recently late in the night. A young guy is in the back seat with me (a common practice of Jersey City drivers late night is to pick up more than one passenger and charge each of them. This tends to take unusually keen geographical skill, and I am luckily one of the last ones out, so I get to chat with the driver at the end.)...so, the young guy sitting in back with me asks if I "party" and sniffs. He gives me his number and asks me to call him if I ever need anything. "I got weed, too." This kid gets out and makes the driver promise to come back for him.

As we drive away, the driver asks, "He's trying to sell you drugs, yes? He's a drug dealer." Yes. Jersey du nuit...

The pic above is of the place I catch my bus at Port Authority. I love this typo.

Hot or Not? (for Nerds!)

Rube Goldberg

What say you about this inventor of the convoluted machine that performs a simple task?
One example is his self-operating napkin. There's also a good example from the Animaniacs: Wakko devises a doozy so he can order a pizza over the phone.

Hot or Not?
And you bitches know I'm not asking about his looks!
(Geez, the name "Rube" alone gives me an answer! But I'm not a woman of average proclivities...)

A Good Port

There was something like magic happening last night in downtown Manhattan. For the first time in I don't know how long, I felt completely in my skin and that my ship had sailed into the right port--had brought me to a new home after a spell of harsh seas and broken masts. A friendly port peopled by freaks as in love with quirky voices and weird instrumentation as I, people who huddled together to escape the rain and the cold, cozying up to a four-piece jazz band as if they were circling a campfire for warmth.

I had landed at my new favorite bar in Manhattan, The Ear Inn, the oldest working bar in NYC. It's part of the James Brown House (read the history). There resides the ghost of a sailor named Mickey, waiting for his ship to come in. In the 30s it was a speakeasy. And today they have homestyle food cheap, a reading series, and jazz that welcomes the likes of me (and the New Orleans diaspora) every Sunday night.

And there, I heard this AMAZING woman perform. Her name is Rachelle Garniez. Holy crap. She plays accordion too. I've always wondered where the female voices that had tons of character were these days--female singers who could do justice to a Tom Waits song. Rachelle is it. I think I am esthetically in love with this lady. She does these vaudeville shows too.

Her next show is coming up at Joe's Pub on Dec. 22. You should come with me!! (I'm talking to you, Erin Melina!)

PS: Jeremy Irons was there, totally digging on the music, especially our friend on the clarinet.

Potter's Field -- Right Here in NYC

Wow, I just learned that Washington Square Park and Bryant Park were both once potter's fields, burial grounds for those who couldn't afford proper burial, or the anonymous dead. (OK, I did learn this from Wikipedia, but that's usually relatively reliable, I think...)

So next time you NYU students drop acid and hang out in the park near campus, or you corporate types go ice skating next to the library, remember this: you're hanging out with dead people. Nameless dead people.

How Poltergeist. I wonder if bodies will ever erupt from the rink and break through the ice? Yeah, that will probably happen during the "rapture," when God's faithful servants get taken away in UFOs, leaving the rest of us sinners behind--we'll be Left Behind! Does that mean we will then rid ourselves of proselytizing and hateful hypocrisy? Which leads me to wonder: would that be God doing them or us the favor?

"Iron Man" Lives Again

Evidence that I spend WAY too much time at my job and with people from work (though I have to admit, so many of them are grade-A high quality--I cannot escape the fact that I heart them):

I did karaoke last night with work folk and defended my heavy metal chops on the microphone. I even have proof. My big boss took this highly unflattering picture of me with his cell phone. I believe I was singing Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" at the time. (You know, "Iron Man" is actually a really shitty song for karaoke--it's mostly guitar solos, but it is totally easy to sing. Besides, it always causes me to think about the awesome cover The Cardigans do of it. Plusses and minuses...life's a series of 'em.)


Earlier in the night, I threw the gauntlet down with an eerily accurate rendition of "Rock You Like a Hurricane." ( I sang really "lou-T," like a balding German rocker.) Then my coworker punk rock Patty and I sang "Cum on Feel the Noize," in honor of Quiet Riot's late lead singer, Kevin Dubrow. (He was so young--only in his 50s. That's becoming younger and younger to me every day.)

I'll be 36 on December 9, a day of birth I share with some real gems: John Cassavettes, John Malkovich and Donnie Osmond, to name a few.

PS: another sign that I work too much--I just got home from work at midnight on a Friday. Awesome! But I can't lie: I've been leaving on time with great regularity lately. So hey, consider me blessed: I have a job and I like the people I work with and I am off on time more frequently than not. And they don't mind if I throw cursing tantrums where I nearly blow the joint up with my massive F-bombs.

Just Say No to Iowa

So, I have to shave my ambition down just a bit. The Writers' Workshop at Iowa is dropping off my list. I'm finding after becoming more acquainted with other programs that Iowa isn't in my top 3 anymore. Also, they require a financial aid form like now and I don't even have last year's taxes done yet. And, they recommend GRE scores for funding. Another strike against me. Fuck standardized tests, yo.

I'd rather be drinking, like I was for this Halloween costume party at work: I was Sante Kimes, famed grifter who had a disgusting affair with her son. And killed people for real estate cash. A real charmer. Total freak. Quite a stretch for me, as I guess you would imagine. Louche and thirsty.


Later that night, I transformed into Loretta Lynn. I'll find a pic and post it eventually. Picture: the same wig, down, and a Pepto pink Miss Rodeo USA getup. It was fucking awesome.

Wow. An Internet Connection.

Howdy to anyone who still reads my blog (or tries to)!

First: I'm thankful you keep trying. Second: an explanation of my recent absence. I mean, not that I've ever been prolific on this thing. But currently, I've had a bitch of a time finding a reliable internet connection that wasn't at work--and I do my best to get the hell out of work as quickly as I can these days. There it is. Nothing much I can do about that until I get my own place, I think.

Do you want to hear about the coolest things that have happened in my absence? Of course you do.


1. I saw PJ Harvey at the Beacon Theater touring for her latest (totally uncharacteristically melancholy) record White Chalk, which is totally awesome. (Dude, the guys from Dirty Three are guesting on this album.) She played the entire show solo, jumping between instruments. On one song, she even used a metronome for percussion. How HOT is that? She did her rock-out songs from other albums with just a guitar or just a guitar and drum machine. She looked so AWESOME wearing that crazy puffy-sleeved Victorian dress and playing guitar so fiercely. Damn, it was amazing. This album is so contemplative, so creepy, so GOOD. Buy it, buy it! (Do you know she is also a sculptor? I love her.)

2. I'm applying to MFA poetry programs and my former professor John Biguenet is writing me a recommendation--and his play Rising Water, about a couple during Katrina, has been nominated for a Pulitzer Prize! SO cool.

3. I've gone crazy over the Elvis Costello song "Blame It on Cain" from the My Aim Is True record from 1977. I will make you a mix CD if you ask me. I'm itching to do that for someone.

4. Also, I'm having a bit of an affair with the latest Interpol record, Our Love to Admire. There's a rumor that they've moved to Jersey City. I plan to stalk them and force them to talk to me about literature and James Bond movies. And drink Scotch. Another obsession right now. Or Tullamore Dew.

5. I've gained an appreciation of tattoos--heretofore unappreciated. I never thought so before, but yeah, they're kind of hot.

The Interloper

While touring one of Natchez, Mississippi's most "fun" cemeteries, a fox ran into my frame as I was snapping away at these unusual flowers.

Secret Messages

So I keep hearing Tom Waits' "Christmas Card From a Hooker in Minneapolis" at random points lately. (Just now, as I was about to shut the computer down, it came on as the new DJ came on for his shift on WWOZ, New Orleans' Own.) The version by Neko Case or the man himself. What kind of meaning can I squeeze out of that?

All Tardied Up Part 2: The Fabulous Jersey Shore

Hear me out. I'm utterly earnest in this: The Jersey Shore is truly a fabulous place to spend the summer -- and spend it we did. Donna and I got in her little orange 1973 SuperBeetle and headed down to Sandy Hook, Point Pleasant (the cleaner, Jersey version of Coney Island--you can get your palm read on the boardwalk, watch movies on the beach, visit the aquarium, after an awesome day of swimming in turquoise waters--believe it! [Sorry, no pics: too busy having an ultra awesome time!]) and Island Beach State Park at the slightest provocation. I have to say, 2007 was an awesome year for the beach.



ON THE DRIVE
You can get umbrellas, tchotchkes of all sorts, etc., etc. on the road to Sandy Hook. Sadly, we didn't buy this Ladypirate and her pet Monkeyboy, who resembles Eddie Munster. A bargain at 20 bucks--now I'm kicking myself! So, what I'm trying to figure out is if he's handing her LOOT or BOOZE. Either way, he's handy!








THE CLAM HUT
Sandy Hook is the best, though, because we always would end the day by hunting out the Clam Hut, and our favorite raw bar-man, BK, who is not only a gifted conversationalist and host, but also has great taste in music. We never want the normal menu, so we can hang out with BK for the whole night and chat. (Sorry this post has taken forever to go up, BK!) He even played the record by the dude who sang "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," who is his pal and totally sounds like Lux Interior. I forgot the name of the band, though! It's something like Lounge-a...something. I'm a failure at remembering names. But I'm rich in aphorisms about failure...for example: "Success is just a shitload of failure warmed over." And "Success eventually follows all those grand fuck-ups." Yeah. Anyway, back to the beach adventure...






ON THE WAY HOME
You get ice cream. From the Napoli Brothers or from the illustrious DQ (the first job I ever had at the tender age of 14--so I have a soft spot for it). Mmmmmm, Dilly Bar! And those little punks better not fuck up my blizzard--I know the tricks. (And did you know the DQ made CAKES?! I had no idea till we stopped at this one near Sandy Hook.)





I HEART THE JERSEY SHORE!
And don't forget to stop at the superhuge rest stops named after American presidents. They have Nathan's Hot Dogs! And Starbucks, if you go in for that corporate kind of shit.

All Tardied Up: Mmmm...Mermaidy!

I've done fun things this summer when I haven't been working, but I haven't put them on my blog. So, I shall do my best to try to make that up.
Numero Uno: The Mermaid Parade
My awesome friend Erin Melina told me when she learned I was moving to NYC that I needed to pay a visit to Coney Island in the summer months and behold the glory that is the Mermaid parade. She was oh so right. And this year I had the great fortune to be in the very same Erin Melina's company. She was a goddess of the sea. Here are a few snaps of the glorious day in June at one of my favorite spots in the whole wide world.



And here's an awesome guy dressed as a Sea Monkey!

And let's not forget THIS GUY! (I also love the face on the dude behind him.)

Sometimes New York really is one big magic show.

The Nation Mourns...and My Dreams Are Dashed!

I just got the tragic news this week that the Weekly World News is about to close up shop. I'd always had fantasies as a college student of writing for them. Alien babies, Sasquatch in love, mutant children hiding out in caves...all from the "world's only reliable newspaper." My friend in college knew a guy who posed as a dwarf in love with a giant woman for the WWN. Not surprisingly, he was neither a dwarf nor did he know the woman in question. The WWN is/was so over the top it was one of the most entertaining rags ever. In truth, you could rely on its "news"--you always knew what you were getting: you always knew you'd see the worst Photoshopping ever; you always knew you'd read about literally in-credible stories of at least one supernatural event/creature; you always knew you'd have something to laugh about that you would repeat to your friends later. WWN created a "humor community" that had a stable of "reliable" parameters and touchstones, common language and values--if you could call them that. I don't think The Onion ("America's Finest News Source") would be what it is without the WWN. Would Stephen Colbert be as popular? Would The Daily Show?

I raise my glass to the finest in fake news as it breathes its last. Someone at work told me they saw one last copy in a Rite Aid--I'll have to run out and try to beat the masses that must be clamoring to get at it! Wish me luck!

What Is It?

I found this taxidermied wonder on the streets of Jersey City, out for the trash.

Separated at Birth?

Quentin Tarantino. Lady Elaine Fairchilde.

Listen to the sound clip on this page to get a taste of what Lady Elaine is cookin'!