Bacon Bits

Wow! Looks like I'll be spending both days at the fest again this year.

What a great mix of new and "old." Cocteau Twins under the desert stars gives me chills. Actually, this whole lineup gets me all goosebumpy.


Sat April 30

Coldplay
Bauhaus
Weezer
Cocteau Twins
Chemical Brothers
Wilco
Keane
Snow Patrol
Rilo Kiley
Cafe Tacuba
Doves
Sage Francis
Amin Van Buuren
Raveonettes
Bloc Party
Mercury Rev
Fantomas
Hernan Cattaneo
Zap Mama
DJ Peretz
Secret Machines
Jamie Cullum
M83
Ambulance LTD
Four Tet
MF Doom
Josh Wink
Amp Fiddler
Tiga
The Kills
Donovan Frankenreiter
Spoon
Boom Bip
Katie Melua
DJ Marky
Immortal Technique
Jean Grae
Razorlight
Swayzak
Radio 4
Buck 65
Eisley
Sexy Magazines
k-os


Sunday May 1

Nine Inch Nails
New Order
Bright Eyes
Gang of Four
Prodigy
Black Star
The Faint
Roni Size
Arcade Fire
Roots Manuva
DJ Krush
Thrice
Junkie XL
MIA
British Sea Power
Dresden Dolls
Miss Kittin
Fiery Furnaces
Aesop Rock
Perceptionists
Jem
Autolux
Sixtoo
Tegan & Sara
Stereophonics
The Bravery
Matthew Dear
Diplo
Subtle
Beans
Shout Out Louds
Futureheads
Sloan
Kasabian
Blood Brothers
Matmos
Wolf Eyes
Gram Rabbit
Smokestacks
Zion I

To the tranny performer at Pho Bang last night who did the deaf-mute lip-synch performance of Cher's "I Found Someone," thank you for making me nearly wet my pants.

I pray I'm wearing Depends the next time I see something that funny.

Aside from some things I've seen in stage shows and on television, I think I’ve attended maybe one modern dance performance in my entire life. Until this month, when I saw three.

Two were last Saturday at On The Boards. Carlos invited me to join him for a double-bill show, and so far I’ve been pretty impressed with everything I’ve seen at OTB so I took him up on the offer.

The first performance was not very good. I spent the first 5?10?15? minutes (it felt like forever) trying to figure out what was going on, how I was supposed to feel, what the point/purpose was. There were two women dressed as stewardesses walking very slowly with two women dressed in white-blond mop top wigs, the latter also in lederhosen and walking on their knees. It wasn’t until one of the mop tops climbed onto a serving cart and started eating a gingerbread house that I made the Hansel & Gretel connection. Having the slightest clue about what was going on made it a bit better, and the witch who eventually appeared was kind of creepy-cool. But then it just got weird again. And boring. And lame.

During the intermission, everyone we talked with pretty much hated it. Oh well— I’d rather have a “bad” experience than no experience at all. Fortunately the second performance was much better. It was a local group called Locust, and they definitely had a more familiar, Capitol Hill-esque attitude and flair that everyone totally tapped into. There was a video element to their production that had everyone laughing, and the way they staged elements of the performance offstage was intriguing and effective. I was very impressed.

But even Locust paled in comparison to what I’d seen the previous weekend: Buttrock Suites II: Sweeter. Modern dance interpretations of heavy metal music. God was it good! And hysterical, like the opening number where the dancers emerged in slo-mo through a cloud of fog, all dressed in 80s rocker regalia, to the synth faux-horns opening of Europe’s pop-rock hit, “The Final Countdown.”

Not every number was played strictly for laughs. In fact, may favorite was the Joan Jett medley, with four female dancers dressed in ripped black clothing getting all sexy and sassy with each other and flashing their tits at the audience. I actually got chills at one point – it was that good! Or maybe that was just the $2 PBR they were encouraging the audience to consume. No, it was the performance. The crowd got really into it, for a dance performance anyway—whooping and cheering and holding lighters in the air during the medleys. Diana and Candace came with and they loved it too. Hope there’s a Buttrock Suites 3.

Looking forward to doing a lot of dancing myself at the Scissor Sisters show at the Paramount on Thursday! Josh rocks for scoring us sold-out tix for the 21+ dancefloor. Their show last year at Neumo’s was fun but that was before I had the album, which I now love, so this should be even better.

It took me all of 24 hours to reach a few important, attitude-altering conclusions about my upcoming month away:

1. Driving myself down will give me the freedom to come and go whenever/wherever I want. Duh. And I can see some friends along the way. And while I'm in LA, I might just buy myself a new car for the ride home.

2. I can get a ton of necessary stuff accomplished while I'm in SoCal: get my taxes done, do research & planning for the show (some of which will be as simple as watching my LA-based inspiration, Huell Howser, on TV), meet with new clients and catch-up with others, make plans with my family for our upcoming Alaska adventure, and even get a haircut from James, stylist to the stars!

3. I'm going to have a fucking blast! The Dim Sum Club has invited me to join them on a trek to Monterey Park. I'm thinking this might also be a good opportunity to see the Palm Springs Follies 'cause I'm definitely planning to spend some time out there. Finally get to check out some fun new clubs I've been hearing about, including Akbar's "Dirty House." And there a ton of great concerts coming up, including Duran Duran @ Staples (and as this is the night before the Oscars, you know it's gonna be celeb-heavy), Interpol @ Grand Olympic, Luna & Midnight Movies @ El Rey. I have a sneaking suspicion that there might be a Grandaddy & Earlimart gig in LA next month as well.

4. Finally, and most importantly of all, my Mom is very excited I'm coming. And my time with her comes before all the above.

My parents left the Mayo Clinic today. The good news, if you can call it that, is that the course of treatment my Mom had been undergoing in San Diego was determined to be her best bet. The bad news is that there was no magical Mayo silver bullet, which I think we were all holding out hope for. They still aren't even sure exactly what kind of cancer it is. But a world-renowned team of Mayo Clinic doctors decided that surgery was out (for now) and put her back on the long, uncertain road of chemo treatment we started on.

People ask me "How are you doing with all this" and there is no adequate or accurate answer. My official role in the family is Mr. Power of Positivity, so I'm trying to keep that going externally at least. And when I'm home, I'm the Minister of Good News/Bad News, aka "Phone Grinch" by some of my Mom's friends who call way too often for updates and get sort of huffy when I won't wake my Mom up out of a chemo-induced coma so they can chit-chat with her. In short, there's a lot of spin going on. But the situation is so uncertain, I feel like it's better to focus on the positive and best possible outcome. Even if I don't always believe it myself.

In other major life-disrupting news, I finally got the schedule for my kitchen remodel: Feb 7 - Mar 4. That's if everything goes well and on schedule. I'm having to apply a lot of spin tactics to this as well: I'm getting a new kitchen! This is a perfect opportunity to get out of town! See my Mom! Visit friends and clients in LA! Relax in Palm Springs! Do some work on the cabin in Birch Bay!

The overriding problem is that the timing just stinks. I have so many things I could (and should) be doing here in Seattle, especially with a pending May start-date for my local TV production. But staying here is not an option. A well-informed source recently told me that as a Libra, creating a comfortable environment is very important for me, as well as a sense of balance, order and control. So trying to live through a kitchen remodel is out for sure. And spending the next month away, not by choice, is also a tough nut to swallow. I'm sure my outlook will change once I'm floating in a Palm Springs pool with some friends I miss terribly. What's weird is that I used to have no problem leaving LA for weeks, just to hang out in Seattle. I guess I really like it here. Love it even.

My Mom & Dad arrived at the Mayo Clinic on Sunday. 'IT'S COLD IN ROCHESTER' read the subject line of the first email from them. Some other town in Minnesota apparently reported temperatures of 54 below zero. 'Brrr' would be just the beginning of the understatement.

Apparently the whole town of 89,000 is built entirely around the Mayo Clinic. The whole downtown is connected by skywalks and underground tunnels to the clinic. Every hotel/motel makes some mention of the M.C. on their signboards. It sounds to me like the Disneyland of Life-Threatening Illnesses, a comment which was almost enough to make my Mom laugh.

A whole lot of emotions hanging in the balance right now. Fingers and toes crossed accordingly.

Checked out a Seattle Thunderbirds hockey game last night with Mike and Diana. A fine way to spend two hours and ten bucks.

Sweaty boys in bulky gear, wielding sticks, smashing glass, taking swings, pulling no punches. And most fearsome of all: a white trash woman with painted purple nails, taunting the guy from the other team who got put in the penalty box after fighting (and losing), her sitting three feet away with one inch of plastic between them. “YOU GOT YOUR ASS KICKED BY A ROOKIE!” All he could do was lower his head.

We lost. But we’ll be back.

On Sunday I was over at Dave & Jake’s to watch the premiere of “The Surreal Life” season 4. Kelly and Hannah were there too. All of us nearly died. The show has finally reached its zenith, I think… but in this case is that a high point or a low point?

I think the only thing I’ve ever seen that was more cringeworthy was this old educational film from the 60s that was produced to teach mentally-handicapped girls about feminine hygiene. And the only thing I’ve ever seen that made me laugh harder was "Casual Fridays," also presented by Dave & Jake. I’m very lucky to have friends so like-minded in enjoyably warped ways.

We all laughed hysterically, painfully even. And after it was over, someone mentioned feeling "dirty.” Perhaps that explains why I came home and cleaned my office until 2 am. Thank you, nude and inebriated Verne Troyer, for turning me into a white tornado.

Looking forward to more exciting episodes...

This photo along with that headline (CATCH THE WAVE!!!) arrived in my inbox as spam, promoting some sort of business opportunity "with the man who created the infomercial!" Ugh.

Not that spam was ever known for tastefulness or tact. But in our post-tsunami times, this really sucks.

This is the first time I’ve ever lived in a part of the world where they actually have winter. I spent most of my years in Southern California, where it certainly gets colder around this time of year but is nothing compared to this.

This morning I woke up sometime around 6:30 am. I hadn’t even made it to bed until 3, so I have no idea how it was that I had woken up.

I was thirsty after a night of drinking, but before I went for water I walked straight to my front door. And there it was, for the first time in my life: my world, covered in snow.

It was such a novel experience, all the wonder, excitement, curiosity and surprise I was feeling at once. When was the last time I had felt all that? Though I’d been obsessed with the weather reports for days, hoping that it might snow here in Seattle (and knowing that it likely would) it still came as such a surprise. I literally felt like a kid on Christmas, and the grogginess I awoke with vanished instantly. I threw on some sweats, grabbed my camera and went outside.

It was so quiet, and the sky was this very peculiar shade of orange, broken by gray clouds and darkness. The only sign of life was a single car in the distance, plowing across the Aurora Bridge. Knowing that their journey over Lake Union had to be a white-knuckler, my heart went out to the driver.

I took some pictures of the backyard then walked to the front of the house. Everything was covered in snow in such an unbelievably perfect way. It looked almost like the streets and trees and houses had somehow sprouted snow, every inch of frost a wonder of the kind that only nature can produce.

I walked down the front steps, careful to keep my footprints to the side of the walk, not wanting to disturb the pristine powder. But once I got into the street, there was no way to move without leaving tracks behind. I started walking, stopping to take pictures of untouched areas before I entered, then moving through.

A few times I would also turn to look at the tracks I’d left behind. And while I always felt the same sense of wonder and excitement looking forward, I experienced such a weird mix of feelings looking back. I finally stopped in the middle of the street, staring back at my path through the snow, trying to make sense out of a surge of emotions.

I’m usually really good at figuring things out. People, places, directions, destinations—I thrive on feeling like I know the story on all these sorts of things, whether through intuition or understanding. And when I draw a blank, or am just plain wrong, it really throws me for a loop. Especially when what I’m trying to figure out is myself.

Like a lot of issues I’ve had to wrap my head around lately, I’m still thinking about what I was feeling this morning, out there alone in the snow. This is as far as I’ve come in making a conclusion:

Every move makes an impact, no matter how seemingly small. You can’t undo what you’ve done. All you can do is remember how you got where you are, while moving on and looking forward to what lies ahead.

Perhaps it’s more complicated than that. But for where I’m at in my head, I think it’s a good place to start.

Conclusion #2: Maybe I should be writing Hallmark cards for a living.

My parents called to remind me about the Orange Bowl game tonight. As a USC alumni, I should’ve been with my friends in Miami for the game. Or at least watching it on television. But I got sucked into Tsunami Watch and didn’t switch over to the game until the 2nd quarter.

Thank god I started watching in time for the halftime show, because it was exactly what I needed today: a huge joke.

It was moderately funny when they announced “superstar Ashley Simpson” and the crowd could be heard booing. And a good chuckle when the show was kicked off moments later by Kelly Clarkson and a dead microphone, with backing tracks kicking in to the rescue. And unbelievably funny that Ashlee Simpson sang both out of tune and time with her own backing vocals. Will she never learn?

But the most hysterical element of all was the huge “anarchy” symbol they had as a stage backdrop. You. Have. Got. To. Be. Fucking. Kidding. Me.

Suffice to say, the whole performance got an ever bigger boo at the bitter end. Except from me: I was laughing too hard.

Then a U2 video came on and reminded me of when/why I *stopped* liking them. That was a short second honeymoon! Actually the new album is not so bad, but Bono's vocals aren't what they used to be. Maybe he could pick up some backing track tricks from Ashley and Kelly.

After a disturbingly slow period for me work-wise, I picked up a brand-new client. As is often the case with new clients for me, they were pitching a new client themselves and needed a whip-smart writer (that's me) to help them out.

I thought the project wouldn't be happening until January, but I got the call on Wed, Dec 29 - it's a go! And! It's due Friday! And! We probably won't have the information you need to do your work until Thursday!

So I put my thinking cap on and starting brainstorming concepts... most of which would get tossed after I finally got the project brief on Thursday. I was a little worried about pulling this off: three separate web campaigns for two different fast food clients, which to me meant I had to present at least 15 concepts. They wanted edgy. They wanted breakthrough. They wanted viral. And they wanted it in less than 24 hours.

And if that wasn't stressful enough, I had a meeting with Brad that night. I had a Christmas present for him that was burning a hole under my tree. More importantly, I hadn't seen him since our relationship hit an iceberg. But we had at least lowered the terror alert level from "break up" to "time apart." Or so I had thought.

So I go to a bar to meet Brad. He's an hour late, not his fault, and actually good because it gave me some time to have a drink and...just...relax. He finally shows up and we exchange presents. He'd had a hefty chunk of his cd collection stolen from his car recently, so I bought him a new cd case and stocked it full of music that we both loved, with special emphasis on bands we'd seen together. It was my last attempt at a meaningful reconciliation. Aside from the gift itself, it failed miserably.

Because about an hour later, after Brad had told me how good I looked and how much he missed me and kept touching my leg, I finally asked him: "What's up with us?" Besides his last request of me weeks ago that I give him some time "without giving up" on him, he still had his Friendster profile listed as 'In a Relationship.' And as silly as that may sound, Friendster is how we met. And I still remember the day we both changed our profiles to 'In A Relationship,' and talking about how that felt and what a big deal it was for us both.

But apparently it was all for show. "I thought it was obvious that we weren't in a relationship," he said. I guess I should've expected as much from the guy who first mentioned any problems with our relationship by simply informing me that it was over.

The conversation got messy and confusing from that point. I left, horrified and humiliated. I called him when I got home, trying to figure out what happened, trying again to save our relationship or at least make sense of it. The one thing I remember him saying was, "I'm out." Tough to find a way around that. I hung up.

So I took a sleeping pill at midnight and went to bed and woke up at 4 AM anyway and sat down in front of my computer. And though I had this huge, insane deadline for a brand new client (and their brand new client), I started writing a letter to Brad. The letter was, I must admit, not very nice. But once I got a first draft done, I was finally able to get started on my work. And then I went back to the letter. And back to the work. It went on like this all fucking day; a sentence here, a few words there, me trying to concentrate but my emotions grabbing the wheel and veering me back and forth at a dizzying, disorienting rate.

I only took a break to keep an appointment with a dermatologist. And while sitting in the examination room, waiting for the doctor to come in, I actually thought I was having a heart attack. My chest started pounding and hurting and my teeth ached in a very weird and painful way. I described it to someone later and they said it was probably an anxiety attack, but I've never experienced anything like it. Thankfully it stopped after a few scary minutes, but for a moment I considered running out into the hallway and screaming, "A doctor! I need a REAL doctor!"

I came home and went back to work on both pressing projects. Finally, around 9:30 pm, I sent off the work. It wasn't due until the morning but I just wanted it sent and gone. And within a few hours the creative director (who also, apparently, spends too much time in front of his computer) had emailed me back: You did it. You kicked ass. This is awesome. You are amazing.

Today the work got presented to the client's client. They loved it too - my revisions were miniscule at most.

The letter to Brad I never sent. We did have an email exchange in the aftermath, but I think that's gonna be it. As hurt and confused as I am over what's happened with us, the thought of him hurting, or me hurting him, is weirdly the worst feeling of all. And I guess some letters are best written but never sent.