The Skunkeye Consumer Guide

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Alone at work this Friday after Thanksgiving. The weather is crap. Too bored today to do a proper entry so I'll leave you with my search hits today so far. Seems some people who visit my site are very lost indeed.

1.indonesian vaginal smoke treatments
Have no idea what that one is about... don't even want to try and search. Somebody needs help. Maybe I'll go down the hall and ask the Indonesian Service. They are here today.

2. photo's of the band the libertines most recent
Try their official site. Or this. For information on the band's ongoing misfortunes, in particular Pete Doherty's crack habit, cracking his head, and burgling, go here. Get the free Babyshmables sessions here.

3. big hair weaves
Essie generally wears wigs. Howver, she does sport the occasional weave. Here is a good hair site.

4. irreversible o.s.t. sample music
Been looking for that myself... maybe try Amazon France. Or Tower.com.

5. paris hilton video dialogue
What she said on her mobile perhaps... I can't help you. Probably nothing substantitve. Had the sound off when we watched it in the office...Oh wait, after a quick search, here is the transcript.

6. paris hilton video address
Sorry. Do you mean the hotel where the film was actually shot? Cannot recall. Maybe the Chateau Marmot? Certainly not in one of her family's fine establishments. If you want to know where to order it from, I have bad news. Her parents put a stop to the selling and distribution of the video with a big pay off.
Paris has been very, very good for my numbers but she is not exactly drawing my target audience..

Guess I haven't been that helpful. Fortunately I haven't recieved many "Von Dutch Trucker Hat" queries lately. Perhaps that means that the trend is fianlly, finally over.

The Gentle Soul

I've been neglecting my site because things have been alternately busy and, well, uninspiringly boring. Looks like I'm the lone holder of the fort at the office through the weekend so I'm going to try to summon my muse and get caught up.
Came across this disc at Olssons last night while debating whether to use my rapidly piling up discount coupons for the new Johnny Cash box set, Unearthed. Decided five-plus discs of heaviness is not what I'm craving right now. Needed some California folk-psych pop to warm me since the weather has turned. Wanted to get into that Laurel Canyon/Jackie DeShannon/Byrds/introspective/lazy mind-expansion kind of mood. Took a leap of faith based on the cover and blurb of the album and I really hit the jackpot.
There is definitely a Zen-like, ethereal, and peaceful quality to my new space (if only I could get rid of the loud housemate the crackheads on the street below). I get a good deal of sunlight now and my palms and plant are thriving. I acquired a beautiful jade plant from my sister which I have separated and re-potted and should grow quite big. With more expansive floor and wall space my Bulols, Buddhas, and Santos have more room to breathe. I hung my Pacita Abad print up and it feels perfect, a merging of East and West, Spanish and Filipino. I still have two boxes of CDs to file and my closet and workspace needs work but I’m pretty much there. I was productive and painstakingly restored my mirror as best as I could and I is now back in its place of honor, restoring balance to the space. So the music of The Gentle Soul is the perfect soundtrack.
I suppose this was released following the popularity of A Mighty Wind. The Gentle Soul definitely have a Mitch & Mickey quality to them. I can safely guess the ethereal harmonies of Pamela Polland and Rick Stanley were presented by Christopher Guest in the working notes to Catherine O'Hara and Eugene Levy and served as an inspiration. If you were blown away by "A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow" as I was, then The Gentle Soul is for you.
The Gentle Soul recorded just one album and a handful of singles, now highly sought-after and regarded as some of the most perfectly realized gems from the groundbreaking Los Angeles folk-rock scene that also embraced the Byrds, Tim Buckley and Buffalo Springfield. Terry Melcher (Ballad of Easy Rider producer, also son of Doris Day) produced the 1968 debut, and the band includes Ry Cooder, Van Dyke Parks, Larry Knechtel, and Mike Deasy.
Combining coffeehouse folk and sunshine pop with a daub of psychedelia, The Gentle Soul recalls a time when innocence did not necessarily mean inane and soft rock did not necessarily mean soft-headed. Terry Melcher's billowy production - all perfectly plucked acoustics, chiming harpsichords and trilling flutes - fully complements Stanley and Polland's close harmonies, which paint bright aural colors on songs like the woozy "Young Man Blue," the delicate "Renaissance" and the soaring "Flying Thing," written by onetime member Jackson Browne. There's a sad dreamy feel that runs through the work.
The album, on the Epic label, was called "Most beautiful…album of the year" by Billboard but did not sell.
Like the fictional Mitch & Mickey, Pamela Polland and Rick Stanley had a staggering and palpable chemistry and burnt out fast, going off in the separate ways. Polland now teaches hula in Hawaii and Stanley runs a successful celtic harp making business. Barf. But it was beautiful for one shining moment.

Quickie

 Mary Wilson, formally of the singing group the Supremes, was speaking in our auditorium today. She has just returned from a three-nation Latin American Tour for the State Department as a Cultural Ambassador. Her mission was somewhat vague (I came in late) but she did assert that in FRONT of every man is woman.

Meanwhile, as part of its ongoing series of "Celebrity Dolls", Mattell has produced a Diana Ross Barbie, to be available this December. After a bit of tweaking, the doll's special features now include: the ability to write down the alphabet, list numbers sequentially, and tell the time and date. The doll is also able to maintain a "one leg stand" for more than seven seconds. Officer Ken not included.

 Saw Love Actually over the weekend and am disgusted to say I enjoyed it, actually, and in fact got unexpectedly sentimental. Good thing Carnage will be opening in the area soon.

1/2 Price Anal Salty Weiner Bugers

By now every one and their mother across the universe has seen The Paris Hilton Video. I’m not going to bother posting a link; if you haven’t experienced it just run a google. Just don’t do it in the office or at a public internet café.

Here is The Other Paris Hilton Video. Brilliant. Do we really have to wait until December?

While I’m peddlin’ smut on this rainy, dreary November day… The first blog by a professional? Well-written and funny, too: Belle de Jour

They Call Her Modesty

Back at work after an all-too-brief weekend. Thankfully, The Man is out today - an unexpected and rare occurance - and I can breathe easy and catch up on matters and get myself sorted out. Had a wonderful birthday celebration for Smither (88!) last night. I gave her an autographed copy of the new David Guterson book, Our Lady of the Forest. A friend prepared a very nice evening on Saturday which was special. Finally saw Kill Bill (sorry, MJ, could not wait any longer). I really dug Kill Bill and thought some of the sequences were brilliant and really appreciated the unique narrative structure and devices, especially the animation.

Tried to catch up with my Netflix and managed to stay partially awake for the delightfully awful Modesty Blaise. I loved looking at Monica Vitti as Modesty but cringed every time she opened her mouth or sang. The dialogue is really awful and Ms. Vitti clearly could not speak in English at the time. Terrence Stamp is just so cool. He wasn't really given much to do as Willie Garvin but I just enjoyed getting lessons in coolness. And I really enjoyed a bitchy Dirk Borgarde as Gabriel for some reason. Very bizarre movie.

Just found out tomorrow is a holiday. Veteran's day.

Everything I See Is New and Strange

It has been an exhausting week and haven’t had time or energy to post. Really looking forward to the weekend. Was able to relax a bit today and steal away to the Smithsonian to see the small Walter Anderson exhibition at the Smithsonian Arts & Industries Building. The colorful tile work and fanciful design of the building compliment Anderson’s wild, colorful work but the noise pollution and rather science-fair set up of the exhibit are distracting. Only a handful of artists I can think of have ever captured the essence of the natural world, literature, and mythology so vividly and with such passion as Anderson (1903-1965) – William Blake comes immediately to mind, and he must have been an influence. I can also see the influence of Byzantine art, Chinese and Japanese printmaking, ceramics, and watercolors, Native American and African folk art, Diego Rivera, and the Fauves. This is the centennial of his birth, and the show features a selection of his watercolors, oil paintings, block prints, pottery works, woodcarvings, arts and crafts, and mural designs. A Lot of it reminds me of the nature and wildlife around my beach house if it were rendered by a depressed-schizo – which Anderson apparently was. Really fascinating and I’m sure all be going back to spend more time with his work – maybe I’ll buy the mongraph. I really want to go to the museum in Ocean Springs, Mississippi.

Scene of the Crime

Dropping off my bag in my bedroom after walking home from work in the beautiful Indian Summer weather I noticed something was awry. Items off my dresser were splayed on the floor and investigating further there was a noticeable empty space on the wall above. Retreated to my study in denial, trying to be stoic. This has not happened. Bracing myself, ventured back in to take in the scene of the crime. Shards of mirrored glass bleated from the floor as I turned on the standing lamp.

Was it the apeman lumbering through the house, barreling up the stairs, pounding on the floor? The brute and blunt force of a slamming door? A neighbor’s row fuelled by chemical and malt liquor? The roar of the garbage truck? A sudden gust from a window left half-open? A faulty weak nail?

Eyes moving down from the naked space on the wall, peered behind my dresser, and did not like what I saw. Caked in the space was my beloved Vigan mirror, from the top intact, bottom defeated on the floor. Losing grip on the wall it slammed to floor. Pulling the dresser back, I lifted up the frame and examined the damage. Shapes and pieces here and there, picking them up carefully bit by bit, and wondered what to make of the mess, could I put it back together like a puzzle? With glue or epoxy, bright light to work by, and patience, could my treasure be restored?

Unable to afford a professional, seeking help from artisan friends, do I really need another home improvement project? Let’s hope I can put it back together again.

The mirror is special. Brought it from Vigan, in Illocos Norte, Philippines. Etched Venetian glass, it is typical of Spanish colonial era Filipiniana. I’m surprised it hasn’t broken yet, having survived a journey around the world and several relocations. And it looked so perfect right there in that room in that spot, mirroring the antique bahay kubo capiz paneled window above my bed and a mahogany plantation chair with inlaid mother-of-pearl while the sunlight was streaming in.

Domestic Dopamine

Well, it’s a beautiful day out. Like spring. Should’ve played hooky today not last week. Oh, wait, last week I was inside working feverishly on my house, covered in dust and grime, and waiting for contractors and the arrival of my new housemate to hand over keys (which is NOT my responsibility). New housemate appears to be beastly, by the way, lumbering, sloppy, barreling through the house like a bull in a china shop, socially impaired, speech-impaired, and thick haired. Once again, I should have really been a part of the decision. Screw Daniel for running off with rent money and going to San Francisco when he should be looking for a job himself and taking care of the house which he tells everyone is his. Last week was really crap, starting out with jury duty, missing days of work I cannot afford, running my blood sugar down and blood pressure high, nasty, sinking malaise… Also saw The Human Stain, which was a real pisser, an overwrought melodrama and I did not buy Anthony Hopkins one bit. Even if the makeup people had given him a jewfro wig, which actually would have made sense given the subject matter, the role was so completely miscast.

But I digress, I’m glad to be at work today. Just finishing taping a segment for our Indonesian Service, the subject being “laughter,” which I thought I would never be able to summon, but it came, and I’m glad and I feel better.

Speaking of faltering seratonin levels, I finally saw Dopanine yesterday and it couldn’t have come at a better time being that my chemical connections have been clearly out of whack. First of all, it kind of restored my faith in American independent film. After seeing so many of these meandering, ultimately vacuous “quirky,” “grainy,” “small-town coming-of-age, “bohemian love in the city,” recent “independent” productions over the years, I’d just about ignored American independent cinema in favor of European, Mexican, or, gasp, Canadian films. At last, an American “indie” with a carefully and fully realized script, natural, engaging, and realistic performances, unpretentious camera work, and a completely original concept. Dopamine creeps up on you, and quickly draws you in; the film is a somewhat sad, a bit funny, and a wholly captivating, unconventional love story. Will not do synopsis here but look at the official site. Here are some reviews. Highly recommended.

In the midst of my chaos, I managed to capture a third and final wind and went to see Junior Senior with Electric Six. And some opening band fronted by a total narcissistic Morrissey wannabe, every song a blatant rip-off of an eighties song. I’m not kidding, we could predict every verse, chorus, and riff. At any rate, the show was great and lively but I was running on empty and by the morning I was spent. MJ & D were my first houseguests - staying in my master bedroom even before I got the chance and watched them pull out in the morning from my window and then fell dead to the world. Some host am I.