Los Angeles has some of the best and most nonsensical public signage of any place I’ve ever been. That’s because in spite of how it’s a mythical city in the American imagination a lot of it is straight-up scrubbin’ good times. The only difference is that there are so many people and places that probably every possible linguistic combination has been expressed. In this way, LA = google. I saw enough signs this weekend that said “102.7 PAYS YOUR BILLS” and “SANDWICH HELP MAN” and “THE GAYLORD” and “EXOTIC PEBBLES” to thoroughly convince me. Seriously, I know that The Hills and Pretty Woman and whatever have probably poisoned my mind and yours regarding what goes on there, but most of it is just people doing stuff. Admittedly you’ll occasionally run into somebody who wants to have a sizing-up-the-competition conversation, but luckily these people are very obvious about what they’re up to, and you’re free to say any ridiculous overly-enthusiastic thing to them and go freely on your way. Mention Willem DeFoe as often as possible. You’ll do great.
I am going to Europe in a few weeks. Austin to Chicago to Frankfurt to Barcelona, bitches. And then somehow to Berlin. And then back home. WTFFFFFF!!!! OMG. It’s been a long time since I’ve been over there, and I’ve never traveled by myself as an adult, so whoa, that’s going to be some other shit. Those of you who are major cosmopolitan jet-setters, got any advice for me? Except, of course, to only bring one duffel bag full of ratty dresses yeah. That’s what I’m about to do. And crush dem with the gayest science of all, which is funtimes.
First of all, where have I been? I’ve been over here at the Gay Science blog. Gay Science is my band, in which I do many things, including sing, play trombone, rap, and sing in Portuguese, and my friend Anthony also does many things, including sing, make music with math + sequencers, rap, and sing in Portuguese while also understanding what he’s singing in Portuguese because he’s going to be a doctor of that shit someday. We decided to up the regularity of our posts like crazy in a bid to get an actual blog readership. No word yet on how well that’s working out. Anyway, most of my blogging energy has gone to that project, and big fucking thanks modern world for making me write that sentence. Gross.
In other news, I’m still into nails. I started with pearlescent yellow but immediately moved into the hard shit: safety orange. Safety orange got me a lot of notice and compliments, but I foolishly went for pinkish red as the follow-up, and then I got sick of going to Funny Nails in the basement of the Dobie Mall (those of you who know Austin know the prolific sadness of the Dobie Mall, and can accurately imagine the extra sadness of its basement, and for those of you who don’t know Austin, it’s a mall below a teal highrise dormitory with a food court, an Army recruitment center, a tanning parlor called “Tan It All,” and Funny Nails). Sure, it only costs ten dollars to get your nails done at Funny Nails. But maybe it should cost more than that, you know? Also, the last time I went, the dude chastised me for smoking so much. But maybe he was right, because my right index finger is a mess o’ tobacco stain. Anyway. I invested in a cuticle shaper and a cuticle nipper and some topcoat so I can do my nails at home now. Last week I painted them coral to match my one pair of high heels (P.S. I’m trying to learn how to walk in high heels based on an abortive attempt to audition for America’s Next Top Model, more on that some other time) which are coral. This week they’re bright yellow, which is nice except I suspect it will succumb quickly to the inevitable nicotine staining. I’ll probably try to do something special for graduation next week, like etch James Michener’s likeness into them.
Speaking of which, graduation is next week. I am basically right now a MASTER OF FINE ARTS. Let that sink in for a minute. It still hasn’t hit me, and the future is scary and uncertain. I’m waiting to hear back from residencies I’ve applied for. They say “no news is good news,” but in my case I think that probably means it’s only good news for the makers of Bulleit Bourbon. Until I know what happens to me next year, please don’t ask me what I have planned for next year. I have no plans for next year. Except punching you in the throat if you keep asking me about my plans, which do not as of yet exist.
Except for WORKING IT, which I plan to do every day.
The motto for 2009: GRIND TO SHINE.
It’s so cool that you guys are too cool to get friended by bands on myspace. Really, I get it, because I’m too cool to get friended by bands on myspace too. Maybe if Austin’s myriad chug rockers hadn’t abused the privilege of trying to friend me I would already know most of the local minstrels. But I don’t, and neither do you. So the point is, GAY SCIENCE has its myspace game in gear (DO IT, BE OUR FRIEND) and you should befriend us, if only so you can be made aware of the next occasion of our bringing it, prepositions and all. I don’t tile animated rainbow gifs of equations for just anybody. Show some respect.
Time to be fancy: Gay Science debut show tomorrow, 2701 Willow Street, starting whenever we happen to get started, it’s a motherfucking party so just come and hang out for a while, why don’t you? It’s also the birthday of a sweet dog named Ivan, who is holding down a top-five place in my friends’ dogs hot chart. You need this. There will be a cover of what is probably your favorite song ever if you have really good taste, three new songs that will eclipse the aforementioned song as your favorite if you continue to have really good taste, and a totally all new rap song that has some stuff about sexy nurses and olfactory excitement and baseball bats. I am going to demo my eye makeup right now. WORK.
Also, just for your Friday reading pleasure, a gchat conversation between myself and Adam Atkinson, AKA Best Boy Ever:
Adam: hey i am invisible
but not TO YOU
me: HELLO!
Adam: HELLO I AM A GHOST OF GMAIL
me: SHHH I THINK THERE IS A GHOST IN HERE
Adam: OH OKAY
me: SHHH
Adam: DAMN
SORRY