Amoeblog

(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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(In which we wonder why one bothers... Hmph!)

Posted by Job O Brother, July 12, 2010 02:34pm | Post a Comment
disney dwarf
"Social Security barely covers my cost of living and Diabetes has ruined my sense of freedom and vitality!"

I’m grumpy. Not hella grumpy, mind you, just regular grumpy. I suppose it’s from a week of drinking booze and eating varieties of delicious, weird, snack food that Trader Joe’s is always inventing, getting you hooked on, then discontinuing. (“Dark chocolate covered, rosemary-seasoned aspirin, anyone?”)

Maybe it’s because the weather just became truly warm here in L.A.; the kind of warm that makes you hate wearing shirts and leaves you wanting to bear-hug an electric fan. Most folks here love this weather – in fact, many moved here specifically for it. I am not those people. I like the north aspect to North America. And if it is going to get hot, I want it to smell like baked oak trees and wild grasses – not car exhaust and Beyoncé’s Heat.

beyonce perfume
No amount of orange juice makes this stuff taste good, FYI.

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