iDork 8.0

Me to Lee:

I am listening to Earth Song again and secretly liking it even though I know I shouldn't (esp. with lyrics like "what about flowery fields?"

I can see the wind machine going and the fake fog, but no zombies. This is not Thriller, after all. I see little children in my minds eye (and my recollection of the Brits)

But now he is going "hoo" and then I think of that comedian...cant' remember...wotsit with ginger mane? Does that make me less of a dork if I imagine ginger guy with the wind machine???

Anyhow, I hate my life.

xlisa

Lee to Me:

maybe you would hate your life less if you weren't listening to earth song so much?

we had dire straights on in the shop today. so however much you hate your life, at least you're not me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

f.f.s.

Me:

I blogged you...with love

xlisa

Lee:

i'm never sayin "heh" to you again. paul anka? f.f.s. dead to me

x

Me:

o...kay

ffs? I don't know what this means.

I love imagining hearing you say "heh" what would it take lee, what would it take?

Paul Anka album, Rock Swings

he basically takes grunge songs and makes them into snappy little swing numbers, cf, Smells like TS, and Soundgarden's Black Hole Sun.

Sort of takes the wind out of their self-important, heroin addled sails. Kinda makes me say "heh" when I hear them.

On youtube with everything else.

Lee:

heh.

f.f.s. = for fuck's sake :0

i know that paul anka record backwards  - it was playlisted in borders when i first started there, and was played on constant rotation alongside - and i'm not even shitting you - jamie cullum, alicia keyes, katie melua and david gray - for two weeks solid: tow of the worst weeks of my life. my neurons stopped firing, i couldn't pick things up.

xxx

Me:

Can I lift that line for my script, the not picking things up thing? I'm having a bit of writer's block. It's like funny has gone on a cruise to Cancun with a bunch of geriatric jews wearing orthopaedic footwear and high blood pressure med. (taking the meds, not wearing, that is)

Or at least will you keep corresponding with me so I can do this lazy blogging thing. I have no content at the moment.

ffs, I'm desperate.

xx

PS: thanks for saying "heh" again

Heh

Here are the last 25 downloads to my iPod:
Ratatat: Mirando
Port O'Brien: A Bird Flies By
Jeff Hanson: Nothing Would Matter At All
Paul Anka: Smells Like Teen Spirit
Shantal: Disco Partizani
Laurie Anderson: From The Air
Okkervil River: Plus Ones
Chet Baker: My Funny Valentine
Israel Kramakwiwo'ole: Somewhere Over The Rainbow/What a Wonderful World
K'naan: What's Hardcore
Plants and Animals: Bye Bye Bye
Thompson Twins: Hold Me Now (but without irony)
The Accidental: Knock Knock
Grateful Dead: Eyes of The World
Laurie Anderson: O Superman
Jane Siberry: Everything Reminds Me of My Dog
Serge Gainsbourgh & Jane Birkin: Je t'aime...mois non plus (see previous blog on Birkin)
Jeff Lewis: Heavy Heart
Au: rr Vs. D
Laurie Anderson: Language is a Virus
Cansei de Ser Sexy: Music Is My Hot Sex
Dr. Dog: Today

Actually I have two downloads left plus 25 cents to hook me into the next download card. So, I'm thinking Culture Club: Do You Really Want To Hurt Me? and something by Cliff Richards just to see if can make Lee say "heh" again in an email.

Dear Lee, Dear Lisa

2 September, 2008 - From me to Lee:


Hey There,

just listening to The Cure (The Catarpillar) at work (yes, praise the Lord (PTL) I finally have a job, writing training manuals) and thinking LEE! Oops, now it's gone: EWF & The Emotions are singing "Let's Groove," so the moment's gone. Although, on second thought I can totally see you getting down to EWF. Three tracks ago I was listening to my dirty shameful secret song that I like: Michael Jackson's Earth Song. Hate me. Just hit me now. But I like it. It's got a good beat. Lyrics are crap, I have no argument with that. What? I'm just saying...No, you fuck off! I don't even know why I bothered to email.
x


3 September, 2008 - From Lee to me:


Heh, i don't know what i need to add to that, you pretty much covered everything : )


funny though, as i was listening to an old cure record (faith) a few days ago. it's one i probably haven't played for maybe 15 years, because it's one of the really doomy melodramatic ones that i overplayed when i was a doomy melodramatic 19 year old, to the point where i felt like i could probably never hear it again without being overcome by a tsunami of cringing. i was wrong. it's still a really good record. it just doesn't make me want to knot flowers into my hair and go drown in a river anymore.


unlike earth song.


xxx

Panty Hosebag

I am currently working at a company where the women are REQUIRED to wear skirts AND pantyhose. It is a privately owned company so they can do this. The CEO thinks it gives a professional appearance. The guy in R&D who is in the next cubicle watches porn all day long. So I guess that is okay in terms of professional appearance. Whatever, I am in Oklahoma. The buckle of the bible belt. While this perv watches porn ALL DAY he is surrounded by photos of his wife and kids. Nice.

Now on to pantyhose. I've already blown through 2 pair, at four bucks a pop.

I HEART Ari

I'm currently NetFlick-ing while I wait for the 2008 Fall Collection of TV Comedy to be rolled out.  This is a good thing because I have been an American in Absentia for the last 12 years (mostly) and without a television aparatus of my very own for about 4 years, but by no means tv starved. More of a TV diet as reality shows, while quite appetising in day-old  leftover cake kind of way, leave me feeling strung out and wanting to drink a lot of milk. That didn't come out right, what I mean is: the part of me that could sit down and eat a whole pie and get a big sugar rush only to crash really fast and then have to lie down in a queasy torpor with a distend belly likes reality TV. It's something I avoid. Anyhow, I am the last one to the Entourage party. And while the enthusiasm of many of my fellow countrymen and women is largely on the wane, mine is definitely on the wax. And I just love Ari Gold. I think I have an inner Ari Gold. Which is very weird, because he does not fall into the "write what you know" category, if you look at my life. 

I was just Googled "Ari Gold." Did you know that there is a gay rapper of the same name? And also a 1970's Soul-looking musician? See if you can spot the difference.

I'm a TV Professional

Okay, here is my assignment, broken down step-by-step for the next 8-12 months. I have to complete each step before I move on to the next step, like taking a standardized test with a number 2. pencil or playing Mario Brothers. Except that if you get really good at Mario Brothers and start to get a conceptual feel for what makes it a great game and how you could make it an even better game you might grow up to be veeery wealthy, maybe even a m/billionaire. If you ace the the Number 2. pencil thing you could be clerk or work for The State. Wahey! I was crap at that Number 2. pencil thing, by the way. BUT my circles were always filled in completely inside the lines, and the graphite was very evenly distributed and there was always a wonderful sheen that was mesmerizing, at least to me. But apparently it was not a beauty contest.

Lisa's Cosmic Fabulous Assignment for the next 10 to 12 months!

Step One:

Watch as much comedy TV as possible between working hours. Yes, that's right, watch TV. And not just any comedy, but top-rated comedy. Cable and network. And keep watching until I find a show that I really, really like.

Step Two:

Watch every episode of the show, you know, the show I really really like. Watch every episode, it's an assignment. And there's more: read every script of every show of the comedy show that I really, really like. I have to do this. Oh twist my arm.

Intermission: Before I go on to the next step...

In the last two years I have hardly watched any TV at all. In fact I have not owned a TV for about 4 years now. I have lived in places where there is a TV, it's not like I'm a Luddite, I mean here I am on the Internet and everything, and as I type my iTunes is pumping out Gainsbourg/Birkin singing Je T'aime Moi Non Plus which I downloaded from the iTunes store. Jane is having her orgasm right now. So it's hardly like I am a purist. Oh, okay Jane's done now and here's Amy Winehouse and she is going to go Back to Black. But back to Jane Birkin, before I get back to the thing about why I don't have a TV. This is a huge digression, in fact it is a digression from a digression which would make it a quadression or disordered thinking on my part. But here is the story. About 4 years ago, OK, it's not disordered thinking! Yeah! It's all related and cosmic why Jane Birkin has something to do with me not having had a TV for 4 years how come I wrote a sitcom.

My father died just over 4 years ago and I left London, where I had a TV but gave it away b/c I thought I was leaving London forever. I moved to Houston where I was born, but not raised. It was a decision made out of grief, and it was the right decision for the time, but despite my nascent connection to Texas we are just not a good fit. Anyhow, I was working for an interior designer while in Houston. But not just any interior designer, she is a designer to the Super Rich. Her biggest client was the wife of an oil baron. She was in the process of making atonement for the disaster of the house bought and decorated while the ink was still wet on her husbands newly made fortune. In short she was eager to prove that after 5 years of marriage and no longer eaking out an existence on $30k a year as an office worker, she was officially "Old Money." So this new and improved house was demonstrating that she had come a long way, baby. And I am all for any kind of profligate spending that benefits me. And just to put things into perspective the client had already been billed for about $750,000 for antiques, fabric, design fees, etc. and the job was only about half done. So I was at her tacky first house dropping off some fabric swatches or something and she had two miniature schnauzers, which I love. I asked her their names as I let them jump all over me because I love dogs and let them do that to me. Here is how the rest of the conversation worked out:

The Client: This one is called Joy and this one is called Birkin.

Lisa: Oh, as in Jane?

The Client: No, after the bag.

Lisa: (beat, then) The bag.

The Client: From Hermes (pronounces her-mees)

Lisa: (beat, then) Which is named for Jane. Jane Birkin.

The Client: Jane Birkin?

Lisa: Jane Birkin, like the Kelly bag is named for Grace...

At this point I am trying to remember that she is the Client, and I am not supposed laugh or make eyes of disbelief or any outward gestures, movements or utterances that express what I am thinking. If I hadn't already emptied my bladder in her tacky powder room I would have wet myself trying to hold this panoply of emotions in. So I change the subject.

Anyhow, The Client provided lots of material for my sitcom.

Step Four:

I've forgotten what step four is because I am still reeling from the memory of Lifestyles of the Rich and Stupid in Houston. Oh, okay write a new beat sheet for the spec. script

Step Five:

Write it.

Then I don't know what is next. But so far we have a sitcom inspired by Jane Birkin, no not Jane Birkin, but a handbag named after Jane Birkin because she wanted a (Grace) Kelly only bigger, so she could, now this is this is purely speculation on my part, put a few extra things in her bag for assignations with Serge. Maybe some dirty magazines and some vegetable oil.