Walking

The classic animated film by the late Ryan Larkin. I was watching a documentary about him this morning called "Alter Egos" on community television. I'd seen it a few years ago, and just chanced on it today. Public access is the best/worst thing on TV. Anyhow, I learned that Larkin died this past St. Valentine's Day. His story is worth researching: the artist turns to cocaine, turns his back on the industry, ends of panhandling in Toronto for years, and is then rediscovered. Oh, and dies. As far as animation goes, one could not unreasonable consider him a genius. Watch!

Pope-a-Dope

A man described as "clearly deranged" attempted to jump on the Popemobile yesterday. He missed. And was taken down by a number of suits and the police.

Pope Benedict doesn't seem to notice -- no sign of Christian forgiveness or compassion as the overfervent fan (maybe he just wanted a kiss) is pummeled by his bodyguards.

Jesus had apostles. The pope had stooges. Well, sign of the times, I guess...

Real Rock is Back!

Shirtless. Drunk. 7:40pm. Wolfmother on the stereo.

Woman
You know that you're a woman
You got to be a woman
I got the feeling of love

What's to be written after that? If it was 1988, I would've thought the great Paulie V. wrote it. But, no, it was Wolfmother. I picked up their debut today. It's f-ing great. But maybe it sucks as well. The cover is a Frazetta painting. Yeah, it's f-ing great!

I just sauntered home from the Muddy Rudder, a new pub down the road from me. Guinness on nitro. Nitro! I don't know. It tasted like every other Guinness I've had. Meaning fantastic.

Friday night. The future Mrs. is out at her parents, which would explain the Wolfmother blasting out into the Southeast Portland evening...

Oh, apparently, yr not supposed to brush yr teeth with toothpaste from China. Word from the FDA -- it may contain anti-freeze. Sounds like another urban legend in the making. Still, I checked my toothpaste (I was a bit concerned since I got it at the Dollar Store. No worries -- it's from Jersey. Hmmm...

Subscribed to the New York Observer. I like the Culture section. I love New York. Moreso since I left. I don't know. I'm haunted by a certain unattainable nostalgia of it -- Ezra Jack Keats books, Sesame Street short films, Uncle Genie's Carvel Shop... (Hey, did you hear that Tom Carvel's neice thinks her uncle was murdered? Maybe Cupie the Chocolate Nut did it!)

More Carvel here!

And Captain Carvel here!

Shit. Fucking Rex Reed writes for it! Rex Reed! Talk about flashbacks! 'Member when he was in Superman?

Are you God? Are you Wad? Are you Bill?

Also, I've been reading Teenage Hipster in the Modern World, a collection of articles by New York (among other publications) scribe Mark Jacobson, who may be my favorite journalist ever.
I'm playing Camper Van Beethoven II now. A bowl would be nice.

I've heard it enough that I'm a great writer (present blog disqualified) that I believe it. Wouldn't you?