The Skunkeye Consumer Guide

So Long Dick

We had a retirement party for Dick today. It was very sweet- he is proud of being Irish so we did a shamrock theme. The party was alot of work dealing with caterers, guestlits, whatnot. Put together a slideshow of his colorful and eventful life - childhood, sorting out things in Bolivia, his marriage to his elegant Vietnamese wife, who came, and is still spellbinding - and ran it through the event. Dick is so impressive and distinguished- fought at Leyte and Okinawa, PAO in China when the Red Army took over, in Saigon when all hell broke loose, all sorts of things and is he my hero and has been so kind to me. 84 years old!!!

Dick has always told me I am sharp and kind and have a bright career ahead and someone or some agency or company will snatch me away from this mess. Better be, like, tomorrow, beacuse shit happened today. Really.

Skunkeye likes...

We got let off early yesterday due to the inclement weather. On the crazy, crowded, slippery metro and Toxic M and I were stared at by this demon baby in a stroller– the hugest, strangest baby, with pink and blue eyes, yellow scary hair, making odd sounds, demanding Goldfish from his black-haird, black-clad mother. Truly disturbing. Later, I ran into Damian again with his/her witch mother on Connecticut (buying shoes? In the sleet?) so I hid in Melody Records to let them pass. Also the frozen rain was starting to hurt and I needed shelter for a moment. Anyways, I came across something that I had been looking for.

If you are familiar with and dig vocalist Dani Siciliano’s collaborations with partner Matthew Herbert (Goodbye Swingtime, Around the House, Bodily Functions) – definitely buy her first solo album, "Likes.." now. It’s more of the same thing except that she wrote, produced, and plays (clarinet!!!) on much of it herself. I really had a pleasant and enjoyable evening listening to it while admiring the icicles outside my window. She has a warm versatile voice, taking a lot of risks, and is highly inventive - and rhythms never fail to amaze and surprise. It’s funny because whoever at the store put together the handwritten review was really off- comapring Siciliano’s sound to soft Brazilian and St. Etienne – there is nothing twee about it. Goldfrapp, Beth Gibbons, Moloko, late Nico, even Basement Jaxx’s recent collaborator Siouxsie Sioux come to mind – but really this is beyond category. And so much fun!!!! She does a jazzy version of Nirvana's "Come as You are," which could have been quite unfortunate, but somehow it works. Hell, I’m too busy today to wax poetic (juggling a variety of projects while having to be in full party-planner mode in anticipation of tomorrow), so here is what some other people have said. I also bought the new Air, Talkie Walkie, but didn’t really get a chance to listen.

Incidentally, some of the lovely album artwork is by Fil-Am artistJohn Patrick McKenzie, of San Francisco’s Creativity Explored. (Hence the title, "Likes...") Truly visionary work! And a great organization. I first came across them during one of my failed career incarnations working in the local non-profit arts/education world.

Gong Xi Fa Cai!

One of my favorite holidays! We will be celebrating and eating today! Year of the monkey - I dedicate this in memory of my friends and playmates Raja and Baby. May you haunt the RSGC forever.

Ye Olde Skunkeye

Although I’m immature as hell, I’ve been an old soul as far back as I can remember. I have noticed that I do prattle on a lot like an old man, barking about how the neighborhoods is changing, how they just don’t make things like they used to, how grand things were back in the day, harping on failures in historic preservation and urban revitalization, and maligning the Ugg boots, trucker hats, and the ass-crack the youngsters are sporting. I live in old house. I love old people – especially older women. Most of the artists and writers I enjoy are dead. And a lot of the music I dig was recorded before I was born.

Maybe because I'm so inept at dealing with the present, day-to-dad life - maybe I just find it easier and and more conforting to dwell in a romanticized past. Or somethin.....nnnnaaahhh

So I’ve had “Crimson & Clover” in my head since seeing Monster last week. It become kind of an obsession, and you know, once he gest that itch - whatever Skunkeye wants Skunkeye will find a way of getting it. Knew I had some Tommy James & the Shondells some where in my collection, and sure enough, in the basement/bomb shelter of the other old house that I stay in (built by Constance Bennett, once Hollywood’s highest-paid actress, and her Navy officer husband, during leaner years), and, sure enough, I unearthed some dusty cassettes.

Tommy James played a bigger part in my youth than I realized. As a kid I loved Joan Jett & the Blackheart’s version of “Crimson & Clover.” Slipping underage into Malaysian discos, we used to dance ourselves silly to Billy Idol's version of the band’s “Mony Mony.” (And after bribing the guards at our gate, sneak back into the house in the wee hours and purge myself, bed-spins and all, listening to the much-cooler Genration X– it was lonely being the only punk boy in Kuala Lumpur). During the same period, Tiffany’s version of “I Think We’re Alone Now” (along with assorted hair-band ballads) was always blaring from the juke box at the shack by the lake that our high school collectively wasted ourselves at weekend after weekend. Oh, those were the days. And the version of the same song by Lene Lovich was a novelty staple on my college radio show, Bang Gang on the Blue Bayou.

“Crimson & Clover” is the new ring tone on my James Bond phone. Downloaded it.

Last night D called in need of consolation. It seems that her stereo broke, and she knew that Skunkeye was the one who could understand and commiserate. The stereo was the one she had since high school, and even though she has an I-Pod and whatnot now, it’s not, and never will be the same, and in fact, is a tragic loss of an attachment, staple, rock to lean on, and friend. Oh, I know. Totally sympathize. Mine conked out a couple of months ago and I’ve had it over 10 years. I don’t have the heart to throw it out and replace it. I like the boxy speakers – in fact, I use them as furniture, end-tables of sort. Technology has certainly improved vastly since its manufacture and I know better sound is available cheaply these days but I love the look and feel of it, the little friendly lights, and the way it operates. When I first bought it I was so proud. It was an impressive machine, the envy of my peers, and the best one around. And it was my first real big investment (Purchased at great discount at a military PX on a now-long-gone base that had recently been hit with an earthquake and volcano). I’ve been shopping around for a new stereo but the new models don’t really appeal to me – strange shapes, too many lights, like assault weapons. Being poor and all, its better for me to choose wisely and carefully with my new investment cos its going to be a big part of my life for a long, long time. For now I just have mini speakers and woofer attached to a disc man. And, you know, it sounds just fine and is alright for now…

This arctic weather does not favor a tropical boy like me. There’s nothing I can’t stand more than being cooped up in the house, really, I get all Jack Nicholson in The Shining (redrumred rum…)- I need to be able to stretch my legs and wander without getting frozen, and right now there’s a real dearth of quality refuge spots – new art exhibits, coffee shops where I can smoke indoors, and movies that I want to see. Crossing the Key Bridge yesterday en route to my grandmother’s over the frozen Potomac River, the chill biting through my jeans, my hat blowing off – man, I need a real vacation. This is not my time of year in DC. Really, really miserable. Was supposed to go to NYC this weekend but all reports say it was much worse there. All I can really do is hope for an early spring.

Was able to catch up on some New Yorkers, though. Really insightful piece on the present state of journalism in Saudi Arabia. Some enjoyable fiction. One personal history really hit home with me – woman who adopted a seemingly adorable stray dog who had turned out to have major psychological issues. I could relate to how much the owners were willing to invest in the dog - personally, lifestyle-wise, medically, financially – in efforts to find help. Ultimately, it was fruitless, and she had to put the dog down. That’s another reason I don’t like this time of year, in particular MLK Day weekend. We’ve had to put two of our dogs down on this weekend in the past, Sachiko, because of Addison’s disease over a decade ago, and three years ago, MacArthur, after a painful battle with cancer.

In efforts to get out of my winter funk, I froze my ass down to Georgetown and saw Big Fish. Honestly, I had read that it was uneven and agreed with many of the critics. Like Cold Mountain, I found that there were memorable, poignant, brilliant moments, but the sum of the parts did not really equal the whole. I was particularly taken with the Siamese twins vignette – quite brilliant and funny. And really on the mark. Both Ewan McGregor and Albert Finnely had well-timed, comic moments but often were just cloying and over-the-top. Jessica Lange and Allison Lohman were painfully under-used. From an illustrator’s point of view, I find Tim Burton’s world and art-direction entirely fascinating. That was a bit muted by the contemporary, melodramatic moments. Every time I catch that masterpiece A Nightmare Before Christmas on television, I find myself totally drawn in and can’t turn it off. The son, played by Billy Cruddup, is a boring twat. His French wife, played by Marian Cotillard (Taxi), is sweet. As someone who has been known to tell more than a few tall tales myself, and have been called on it (grade-school show-and-tell), gotten into trouble for it (sent to the principal’s office) and have felt enormously guilty and thought I was going to go to hell(Catholic School), I was pleased that there was redemption at the end.

Messing Around the Hood

Change is always good, and change in the spirit of improvement is always nice, but, please, don’t muck things up! Don’t mess with my stuff, I’m telling ya…
So I was coming up the U Street escalator bracing to freeze my man-tits off, speed dialing TGI Thai because there was no way I was going to cook last night, and paused to place my order in the shelter of the new monstrosity that’s sprouted up on the corner of 13th and U above the metro. Shit that building is fugly - like an industrial/corporate park office center in Rockville. And it went up so fast! It's like someone took a big dump on that corner. And I see they are putting in a Quizmo's – like we really need more of that greasey shit. All this crap about historic preservation and the new U… are the city planners on crack?!? When I skip to work each day, I think, oh this neighborhood has charm, folks are sprucing it up, someday it will be this multi-cultural paradise with vibrant street life, restored architecture, and creative small businesses. Not too cute, with an urban edge. And then I see this new concrete - well I suppose it has brick, but the boring, crappy kind - and tinted brown glass shoddy piece of shit and early and suddenly my optimism turns into cyncism and despair and I get cranky.
So I call TGI Thai and place my order. The girl sounds kind of unfamiliar on the phone. I’m pretty good about cooking for myself (large semi-nutritious dishes that will last for a good couple of days) and when fending solo I always do take out from TGI Thai or Pizzaboli’s. I’m a creature of habit that way. And always order the same thing.
So when I arrive at hole-in-the-wall TGI Thai to pick up my usual Pad Thai, I notice something is amiss – they’ve changed the décor a bit, perhaps. And when the unfamiliar girl rings up my order and charges me too much, I’m like, shit, they’ve raised their prices. I only liked them because they were cheap. No, actually, their Pad Thai is really good.
And then a notice a sign that they are under new management. Dammit, I really liked the sweet lady and her family who ran it before. We always chatted and she invited me to a Thai celebration and gave her a pirated copy of Suriyothai. Really messes up my life this new management.
And Pizzaboli’s, several months ago, turned into Ducchini’s and that pissed me off. But actually it is the same pizza and they didn’t raise their prices. I don’t know why they changed the name anyway – especially after the lame-o glossy rag the Washingtonian rated it the best pizza in DC (which it is NOT, bytw).
So I got used to that, and I’m sure I’ll get used to the new TGI Thai. And the Pad Thai was different but not bad.
Last night I finally met one of the mysterious new neighbors. I was out back having a smoke and I heard a terrible shriek. This nebbish looking white girl was taking out the trash next door. “I saw a rat!!! Did you know that they have rats here?!!!…” Oh, honey….please!

Monster Mash-Note

Somebody sure let the fox into the hen house yesterday at work. And I was the sacrificial lamb. Estogen levels were way off in the Front Office. And a Korean woman had an emotional breakdown right at my desk - it was very disturbing and I felt completely helpless. Sometimes Wednesdays are like that.

Went to the new E Street cinema to nurse my wounds. Its a very odd place - a rather small building on the outside, but then you go down an escalator and walk for what seems like a mile and then turn the corner and there are all these little theaters. The outfit seemed really understaffed and empty and I worry about safety - there was a loud drunk/schizo guy in my theater and no one did any thing about it. Seems like it might be a magnet for street urchins and hobos escaping the heat/cold, easing undetected from theater to theater, hooched up on Night Train. I suppose at least they will get some cultural exposure and pick up some foreign language terms. The place is very nice though and it it looks like have a good line-up in the coming months. And might help revitalize downtown.

Was going to see Big Fish, but decided in the ticket line that it might kind of bug me. Wasn't up for anything cute so saw Monster instead - boy, was it astonishing! The whole film was spot-on. Charlize Theron just melted into the role and was entirely convincing. Really, really NAILED it. She will be taking home an award this year. I've alwasy found her beauty a bit distracting - well, they say the same thing about me - and often it seems like - hmm, we wanted Ashley Judd for this role, but she's already commited to that Morgan Freeman project - let's get Charlize. Or vice-versa. Maybe she just wasn't getting the best parts. Well, she sure proved detractors like myself wrong. And despite what some critics have said, Christina Ricci was pitch-perfect as Selby. Of course its bad acting- Selby is naive and lost and in way in over her head, grabbing desperately for tips on how to present herself, borrowing behaviors, and living totally in a fantasy world. She thinks life should be like a Holywood romance or an Air Supply tune. But it should be, right? And the film really captured that sweet sickness of the damaged early-eighties, all bombastic love ballads, roller rinks and feathered dried-out hair. Still have Crimson & Clover reverberating in my head.

Speaking of Monsters... Dude, you gotta show me a little more love. I abandoned a perfectly lovely relationship with this lady for you and its been nothing but heartache and grief. Hours, days on hold, almost a month, waiting patiently for your attention. No incoming calls for three weeks. Customer service? More like torture. Finally was able to access my voice mail last night and my box was bursting. I'm got damage control to take care of. Are you some kind of control freak trying to sabotage my life?

Je Suis Un Cowboy

Boy these eyes are sharp - found Dick Rivers’ Tu n’es Plus La mixed in with a bunch of stuff at Borders for $2.99 on Monday night. The argument that the French have nothing but contempt for America and its culture does not stand up when it comes to this guy! While Johnny Hallyday was becoming the Parisian Presley, Dick Rivers (nee Hervé Fornieri) in the sixties fancied himself a Gallic Gene Vincent, the Euro Everly Brother, and has forged a long career as a sort of romantic French Cowboy/Outlaw, doing the obligatory seventies Nashville album and writing westerns. Lucky Luke personified. I live for this shit! The album isn’t bad, mostly covers of popular American songs from the day in a very serious, urgent-sounding French. “Je Ne Peux Pas T’Oubiler” – Doc Pomus’s “Can’t Get Used to Losing You” would appeal to those of us who put The English Beat’s version on lovesick compilation tapes. Merle (“Ring of Fire”) Kilgore’s “The Folk Singer” is oddly re-christened “Sarah Jane”… and there-in lies what is such a hoot about the record – the producers took popular American hits and for the most part, completely changed the lyrics!!! Hence, the title track “Tu n’es Pas La” (You’re Not There) is actually Roy Orbison’s “Blue Bayou” – and sung in versions espagnole et italienne to hilarious effect. I guess French teens would have been confused - "que’st que c’est cette bayou bleu?.” And “Lets Make a Memory” is “Laisse Parler Ton Couer.” Other highlights: “Mais Oui Baby” (Buddy Holly’s “May Be baby”) and “J'en Suis Fou” (Lennon-Mccartney’s “Love Me Do”). This is the most amazing record in the world (today)!!!

Speaking of incongruous cowboys, picked up Detroit’s The Volebeat’s latest, Country Songs, last night. I really like these guys but have not been able to keep up with/find their releases. Well-crafted tunes of the Gram Parsons, Neil Young, Byrds school – lead singer Matt has a warm, aching, timeless voice. Years ago, I had a wonderful night with these guys at the long-closed 15 Minutes club. I had shown up to see Simon Bonney perform and was just about the only person in the audience – The Volebeats were the opening act and the headliner’s backing band. I am a HUGE Crime & the City Solution fanatic and Simon Bonney’s two critically acclaimed solo albums are absolute masterpieces. The Volebeats & Simon put on a breathtaking show even though it was just me and some office drunks having an extended happy hour. Being a huge fan I was crushed when Mr. Bonney was downright cold to me when I introduced myself. I ended up hanging out with The Volebeat boys and they made me feel a bit better by explaining that Simon was a bit shaky because he was trying to get off of amphetamines (that explains why every CCS song had enough lyrics to fill a Russian novel!). Turns out the Volebeats and I had some mutual friends and we had fun but never stayed in touch. It’s funny because I was chatting with Volebeats and told Greg (?) about how I was really into Gainsbourg and Hardy having grown up with it and he said he was too because his mom is a French teacher. And was actually putting together a side project with a French bent. Well, I haven’t come across it yet. But the Volebeats do cover Gainsbourg’s “Manon” brilliantly on Country Songs. And also ABBA’s “Knowing Me, Knowing You.”

Last night I was determined to watch television – it has been a long time and I needed some time just me and the cable. Also saw the act as a bit of a challenge, beating the sucker to the punch so to speak, and displacing our resident couch-potato. The Great Gold Rush of Tuesday Night. In a “kick-the-can” moment, I raced to the living room couch just as bumblefuck was about to settle in for the long night, and shamelessly laid claim to the couch, exiling him to other quarters for one night. I think I pissed him off but I was stoic, stone-faced, and stood my ground. I can be a real jerk sometimes.

I know I was featuring Paris some time back, but it was just a one-night stand, and carelessly failed to tune into her screenings. Last night was The Simple Life very special reunion special so I thought I’d get up to speed before the finale tonight. The whole affair was charmless. Don’t dig their cowgirl shtick. We now know who Nicole’s real father is and that Sheila E is her aunt. Is this woman her real mother? Also watched the Guardian, which I used to enjoy but grew weary of the roof always caving in on Nick/Lulu and the horrid little girl/Dad and every one being all pent-up, unable to express themselves, and acting out. Well, last night finds Nick finally let down his guard with something called Mystic Blue. He goes on a hazy journey and is visited by his dead mom (I thought I was tripping – was that Glenne Headly? Somebody has had a lot of work done), breaks down, and everyone comes over for an intervention party. Those get-togethers always turn out to be such a drag. Also watched SATC – its time for those gals to pack it in and move to Jersey. So much for TV nite!

Als, somebody noticed me yesterday.

(Sometimes You Need to be) Your Own Rock Star..

Sometimes, and especially on Mondays, I get kinda down and lost and get to wandering about and don't really know what I'm looking for but I know its something - and then I stumble upon it. In the unlikiest of places. For a steal! A revelation and the ultimate pick-me-up. Grrr, I'm back.

Yay! Essie has started wearing wigs again - gives me something to look forward to each day. I'm cheering up already.

Wow, what topicality... in synch with the NYT. My house mate should really read this.

Warmed up a bit outside and I strolled across the mall at lunch to see this. Would much rather see this.