Sight, Unaided

I was walking crosstown on 42nd Street today to a freelance job when I suddenly became convinced that one of the lenses in my sunglasses had popped out. There was nothing empirical about the notion, no clack as the lens hit the pavement, just the idea that I was walking down the street looking like a total lunatic, sporting homemade 3D.

I thought for a minute if there’d be anyway I could verify my predicament without looking whackier and, at that moment, I couldn’t think of a way. So I did the least crazy thing I could think of: I tapped one lens with my finger, then the other.

Of course they were both there. I smiled at my idiocy, as I realized that had a lens indeed fallen out there would have been (a) an increase in light in one eye, as these were sunglasses, and (b) a sudden falling off in my ability to see, as these were prescription sunglasses.

As I approached Sixth Avenue I had to laugh. The man with the microphone who curses homosexuality and abortionists ignored my glee and for once, I was able to ignore him.

Something I Learned At The Doctor’s Office The Other Day

The symptoms of an oral Anthrax infection are quite similar to thrush, in that both involve white masses forming in the oral cavity. I don’t have either, it’s just that the receptionist had posters up of both The Symptoms of Bio-Terrorism and Oral Fungal Infections.

The sad part is, I’m not even kidding on this one.

The Little Man From The Other Side Who Urges Me To Work Out Then Drink

Right now my thighs hurt from squats and there’s too little of a bottle of pinot gris sitting in the refrigerator, so it might be fair to say I’m feeling good. Good, but with asterisks.  Apropos of being drunk on several natural compounds and one fermented chemical, here’s a bit of David Lynch aided by Angelo Badalamenti and the peerless Jimmy Scott. Click through for the strobe lights, oozy sax, and genetic disorders.

Wherein We Briefly Discuss A Facet Of Drag Culture

And a very small facet at that. Divine, in her interesting musical career, seems to have relied exclusively on a Moroder-inspired backing synth. The video below for the song Shake It Up is a good example.

I also enjoy that there are no obvious phallic symbols whatsoever. Click through for the good times.

A Thought That Occurred To Me This Evening, In The Locker Room At The Gym

Now here is a room full of assholes who think their dicks are magic.

On Some Faraway Beach

While generally a despicable group of image cobblers, those brave souls that make Brian Eno YouTube fan videos are doing good work.

One of my favorites, On Some Faraway Beach, when you click through.

In Which I Reveal Myself As A Cat Person, Again

To Socks the Cat: rest in peace you glorious bastard.

The Inexplicable Music Of My Youth

One of the stranger things my mother introduced me to, music wise. Tanita Tikaram, Twist In My Sobriety.

(Click through for video)

And yes, I was an oddly depressed child. Why on earth would you ask?

Presented With Very Little Comment

Karen Carpenter denies she suffers from anorexia.

(Click through for video)

Going To And Arriving At On The Digital Television

On City Drive Live tonight we see traffic moving, just lights really with dark masses hurtling behind them. The city looks grim, browns and blacks under the harsh glow of sodium arc, a low rent Koyaanisqatsi without sound. It’s mesmerizing in a strange way, grainy jangled footage of things in motion and watching it I wonder about the the motivation for all these things propelled. Going to a place and getting away from another, or maybe just driving as people will do, with the dark and the phosphenes moving off and behind while others wait up ahead.