Amoeblog

(In which we write this.)

Posted by Job O Brother, September 6, 2010 01:39pm | Post a Comment
writer's block
I love everything.

For whatever reason, I am suffering from a rare case of writer’s block. This is my second attempt at writing an Amoeblog today, the first being a page-long history of the adoption of our second cat, Maybe. By the time it had devolved into a story about how she had murdered my family, I finally put a stop to it. I hate cute stories about cats – psychotic or otherwise.

But it leaves me at square one, which is totally my least favorite square. Square eight is the place to be. It’s the one with lemonade.

summer
Here's a picture of lemonade to look at with your eyes. (You're welcome.)

Even though I have no idea what to write about today, since this is the Amoeblog, I know I must introduce music, film or TV into the subject matter, so let’s start with these things:

Yes, that is Phylicia Rashad, (then Phylicia Allen) singing a song from her album, Josephine Superstar, a disco-concept-album merging the music of Josephine Baker with dance beats. I don't actually have an opinion on this one way or the other, but I thought you were old enough to know about it.

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(In which we are wrongly censored.)

Posted by Job O Brother, August 30, 2010 04:08pm | Post a Comment
rich good
Rich Good of the Psychedelic Furs waits for tacos after the Nevada City Film Festival.

Well, my little dreamlettes, I’ve returned from the Nevada City Film Festival. As vacations go, it was a pretty, exhausting one. (Note the comma after “pretty,” denoting two different adjectives, you little sex-kitten, you.)

It’s a funny thing when the boyfriend and I look forward to returning to Los Angeles for some peace and relaxation. Not that the scent of sun-warmed oak and sounds of a rushing mountain river stress us out (and, conversely, helicopter traffic jams overhead or the drunken homeless barfing taquitos ‘n’ semen on our precious parking spot is as a purification rite for our fourth chakras), it’s that, whenever we go to my tiny hometown, we jam-pack it with so many activities and loved ones that we barely have a moment to shop the boutiques for high-priced, cantaloupe-bubblegum scented soap!

cute kid
My nephew, Orion, prepares for puberty.

If you’ve never been to Nevada City, you really ought to treat yourself, especially if you’re in some form of romantic relationship, because it’s a great place for all forms of cuddling. And if you’re a single, heterosexual man, you should visit Nevada City post-haste, because the ratio of gorgeous young ladies to males – high to low – is something frequently remarked upon (and because there’s such a shortage of handsome dudes, you don’t have to be a pretty boy to snag a “10”.). If you’re waiting for the punchline here, don’t – I’m being serious; it’s really like this.

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NCFF: Prelude

Posted by Job O Brother, August 16, 2010 06:13pm | Post a Comment


As the saying goes in my country, “Goody, goody gum-drops!” Tomorrow, the boyfriend and I are escaping the hum-drum, laid back sleepiness of Los Angeles for the glitz and glamor of Nevada City, California, my hometown.

This week is the 10th Annual Nevada City Film Festival, and it promises to be the biggest and most exciting yet.

Ten years ago, a group of local ne’er-do-wells (counting me amongst them) decided to throw a film festival at our tiny, beloved art-film theatre, The Magic Theatre. Originally we showed only submissions from the surrounding communities. Times have changed, and now the N.C.F.F. showcases films from around the world.

gay porn
Boner.

I am especially excited to meet and hear from this year's special guests, Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim, best known for their disgusting, whimsical and lovable TV show, Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! (A lot of people don’t know this, but the last word in the title rhymes with “robe” and is a dedication to me.)

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(In which we consider Patricia Neal.)

Posted by Job O Brother, August 9, 2010 02:41pm | Post a Comment
Patricia Neal
1946–2010

Yesterday saw the death of one of my favorite actresses, Patricia Neal, from lung cancer. A belief in Heaven might be comforting at this point, but for myself, I can’t help but think this planet got a little less awesome.

Neal’s performances have always struck me as profoundly internalized. The women she portrayed often seemed unwilling to betray their true feelings, and it was Neal’s ability to stay true to this, while at the same time radiating their deeper passions, that make her an endlessly rewarding study. I find I always want to see how she would play a role, given the chance.

Neal’s most famous roles were as the female lead, Helen, in the 1951 production of The Day the Earth Stood Still, and her performance as Alma in Hud, for which she won the 1963 Academy Award for Best Actress.

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(In which we try to beat the heat with a 2x4 with a nail stuck in the end.)

Posted by Job O Brother, July 19, 2010 09:34pm | Post a Comment
satan
Summertime greetings from LA!

Hoo boy. It’s that time of year again in the City of Angels: the Season of Heat. LA only has two seasons: warm and sunny (which is known as autumn and winter in other geographic locations) and the Season of Heat, when you never see anyone’s eyes for the sunglasses, and everyone packs the salons for pedicures for some devoted sandal wearing.

feet
"I'm thinking a simple French pedi this time. Thanks, Hoài Mi."

All of which is wasted on me. Forget sunning by the pool -- give me a frozen tundra and a copy of Cowboy Henk and I'm a happy guy. I find myself picking and choosing my activities based on what destinations have the finest air conditioners. (As an interesting side-note, if you find yourself shopping at Amoeba Music Hollywood and you’re in need of a rush of cold air, go to the classical section, then find where we keep Beethoven. That exact spot is where our powerful A.C. first blasts the room, and it’s heavenly.)

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