December 28, 2004


Sean showed up an surprised me on Sunday. Props to anyone who's willing to do 14 hours roundtrip to give moral support while you dj to 31 people at BINOCULARS DANCE PARTY DEUS. Our man Tommie Sunshine, showed up, played The Normal 12", quoted himself, his hair was long, his face was a blizzard of kempt hair, like Buck Rogers Mountain edition man warrior. Miles noted "this is the first time I have seen Tommie in three years without sunglasses on at night."

I like Tommie because he has the dicotomy where he is a courtesan of his own fame, but is a casual diner on it, not a last supper soup slurper, his famous-way is like a fragrant blossom, enchanting all. The funny thing about doing PR, which has made it increasingly hard to do, is that I think people wanting to be famous is really disgusting, I mean, in a nutshell. Generally, the way that punk men in bands handle their desire for FAME is that they are entitled, and there is a real locker-room side glance mentality imbued in that. They want to be blown by capitalism, essentially, and anything they get is never enough. The want to be Fugazi, but they want to be Journey way way way more. Only the real geniuses, the real artists I worked with were the ones who felt the burden, did not want it enough to court it, did not want to get it's bits stuck tween the teeth.They were like jesus, just wanted to spread the good news, tell the truth and maybe get over on some tender huss every once in a while, like the rest, but you would never known. The animal grin and swipe was not their natural nature.

Yesterday, was the seven hours back, in the car, watching for deer-bright eyes reflecting on the sides of the freeway, brief dissection of the Lil Jon track on that new Snoop album, the production and slap-that-pussy party line of which makes me feel like my internal organs have turned to dark meat in the KFC fryer. There was also this exchange, somewhere outside of Madison:

"How do you feel about the fact that most of your major life descisions have been predicated on pussy?"
"Well, pussy and hip hop. (long pause) I mean, there's certainly worse things."

True, true.

Posted by Jessica at December 28, 2004 08:55 PM | TrackBack