and now to end the year with something completely different...

Benefits of being Married to a Facebook Slut:

a detail of a painting by a friend who paints faces but is not into facebook

This morning Mr. dd seemed to be particularly interested in addressing a long standing leak in our master bath, such as it is. This is not like him. I reminded him I will be away over the weekend and I didn't want to come home to a flood on the first floor.

He announced that he now has excellent instructions because he posted in his Facebook update an announcement that he wanted to know how to repair a bathroom leak. SIXTEEN people responded with detailed comments that described how he might approach remedying the situation. I was dumbfounded and VERY amused since Mr. dd doesn't know the difference between an allen wrench and vice grips. It's not his thing. He is a man of words and action - as in acting and writing... not home repair. I had a good laugh, though.

It was even funnier, I thing - because I am in the middle of David Sedaris' "Engulfed in Flames" and sometimes I think I may have married a straighter version of Mr. Sedaris. Both make me laugh out loud and during the past eight years humor has made my life much richer than home repair. While our economy is being flushed down the toilet is seems like humor may be our greatest asset!

a mouse in the cat house

Our two cats - who hate each other - were both corraled around the base of our dining room table this morning. Hmmm. Something was up. I found a torch and bent over to investigate... crawling on my hands and knees to get a good look. Aha! A mouse was surrounded by my two growling felines. Good, I thought. These two are finally earning their keep!

Premature assumption. Flan would stick her fat paw under the table pedestal and the mouse would run out the other side. Miro would bat at it but let it go. Do I have to do everything myself? I grabbed a paper towel and swooped down and caught the mouse in my cupped hands.

Mr. dd unlocked the gate in the back and walked it down the alley and dropped it in a recycle container. With any luck it found a new home at a recycling center on the edge of the city. The cats didn't even realize it was gone. Miro and Flannery were both observing the pedestal table with great intensity. Sad but true.

Facebook Politics

Mr. dd is a facebook slut. He has over 800 friends so I think he can't be very discriminating! Still...

This am I crank up my sizzling laptop (it really sizzles like its shorting out - please help(!) and I log into FB to discover a friend request from a once ubercool trustafarian* artist friend who has collaborated with Annie Sprinkle and who dated all the coolest dudes before she married, had a kid and moved to NYC or the Hamptons or wherever. Happy to know she is still kicking and that her daughter looks even more impish than her.

Mr. dd walks in the door and I ask "Guess who asked me to be their friend?" He answered immediately the name of another aquaintance who we've both been ignoring on FB due to their stranger than fiction and generally annoying character. And I said, no, not that person. And Mr. dd said well I just got another message from"THAT person" saying friendship is only "one click away!"

I laughed and laughed and laughed since this person we've been ignoring on FB truly has no boundaries (especially after their sex change operation)... and who will say anything to anybody regardless of the consequence. (a little too wreckless for my taste) so I continued laughing and almost became the FB friend of said aquaintance for giving me such a good laugh in the morning. Still something to consider.....

Then I said "No...so and so wants to be my friend(!) and is actually considering getting a real job" and Mr dd said "well that says something about the economy"... He's so funny. I guess that's why everyone wants to be Mr. dd's friend.

*trustafarian is Mr. dd's name for all the people we know who live off their trust funds. He said we should hire our trustafarian friend to clean our house and document it as a performance piece. Not a bad idea if we could pay her in books and art.... if only!

bad boy karma

I have a friend who is divorced and sharing custody of her child with his father. She is a lovely, creative independent pisces. She has been divorced long enough to have had her heart broken once or twice and has broken a few on her own. She's lonely. Aren't we all, in a universal sort of way?

Nothing confounds me more than needy sagitarian men who choose to hook up with women like my friend. She has been through half a dozen and knows better than to fall for their charms...

At present a known 57 year old bachelor who is attempting to court her - someone who has had a reputation of being a dog for close to 20 years... the freelancing handyman. What can I say? He's attractive. He wants something. He's trailing her and paying a great deal of attention. She has accepted his favors even though she knows the score. She says one thing to me and does another. I am worried about her. I have begged her not to go out with him and she promised to call me after she did go out with him... and today I had a realization...

I sound just like one of the bar staff at Merlotte's warning Sookie to stay away from the Vampire! Alright, already....the warnings may make him seem more desirable so I am zipping it from this point... but I don't think I'll have an ear for anymore heartbreak of the sagitarian/pisces variety.... so - all I can do pray she'll see the light before any harm is done.

I already know the score with Bill and Sookie - I've read the books and every word of the writing on the wall... Unlikely romances are lovely encounters until they are difficult... and, well, Vampire Bill comes with over 100 years of extra heavy baggage.

Just a little bit closer..... Happy Halloween

and we'll be voting one of Liberty's spikes right through this old Vamp's heart... although before I saw this depiction of George Bush as a vampire I assumed he was just plain old heartless. We'll know soon enough... in a week, but likely more. A clean, trouble free election would be a bizarre antidote after 8 years of septic shock.

Evcry time we visit Fangtasia I look for this image hanging behind the bar. If anyone knows its origins please share. I had to have it to commemorate the end of a tragic period in democracy that will follow a glorious Halloween. Even if they steal the election again ANYTHING would be better than the past eight years and everyone suspects that things could get much worse before they get better. I hope we're all wrong for those people who've already seen the worst... those in New Orleans and all along the gulf coast...

in the meantime below you'll find a preview to all the Fangtasia parties happening on Friday night....



True Blood plays with this notion in subtle ways. The poster in the bar... lady luck is a sad, tragic neighbor to one of the murdered fangbangers... its all campy commentary on world that has become as Gothic as Charlaine Harris' storyline.

In the meantime wear silver, don't let strangers into your home and remember that even though we love True Blood we can't afford to be sympathetic to Vampires who vote Republican.
I wonder how Eddie would vote if he weren't the victim of that bohemian drainer and her accomplice Jason?

More true bloody confessions

I must confess the grim romance Bill and Sookie have initiated in the televised version of their world has become a bit tiring. Where is the fun? With Halloween so close at hand a RHPS clip seems timely and an ideal counter to Sookie's inexperience. Malcolm and his gang seem to echo the sentiments here on occassion though the True Blood soundtrack is always - oh, so noir compared to R.H!

I love it, don't get me wrong, but this time of year I am reminded of how much I love and needed this film and its soundtrack back when I was a bit younger than Sookie.

It is easy to imagine that Bill could be a Rocky Horror fan since he is into science fiction/alien films in the book. I guess I'll just have to imagine Sookie singing Janet's parts between now and Sunday night at 9pm. Fast forward and perhaps Eric could play the roll of Rocky! Now that would be a hilarious reenactment to counter the vampire civil war reenactors that were humorously referred to in another blog.

Rocky Horror made its way all over the world... like I am sure True Blood will do. It even made its way to my living room in 1982... before it was on VHS, much less DVD or Netflix! I was introduced to the LP by a young Australian who hung out at the University pool where I worked as a lifeguard. He was very cute and straight, very aussie and independent in this thinking... as well as a pilot at a very young age. The film was shown on campus one weekend and I managed to borrow it and the projector (!!!) for a party at my house. I knew the right people at the right time in those days.

It was the last big party of my undergrad years since it took me the rest of the semester to recover. We danced until dawn and every single thing that could be thrown or sprinkled from my kitchen pantry was on the hardwood floors of that house... flour, noodles, rice, galore. The landlord was a sweet guy, too. I feel bad about it now. Never rent to students... between the demands of my 21 credit hours, three jobs, grad school applications and the social life of a 21 year old, well domesticity wasn't even on the burner.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show gives me just as much joy now as it did then. I guess True Blood is the perfect post millennial escapism. I just need an antidote... and of course there is no antidote for V!



The clip above is one of the most controversial scenes of late. It always surprises me when an audience doesn't know the difference between Gothic and Science Fiction, Fantasy and reality. Its a genre-bending series... with passion, humor, history, tragedy and comedy...

Its all in the timing

I've just returned home from the Delta. I can't stress how important it is for an artist to return home to their native land once in awhile... it isn't easy - but the payoff is always there if one is open to it.

Sources are so primordial. It all goes back to wandering in the cotton fields when I was so little they towered like trees above my head... and cicadas... and even mosquitoes! I spent a great deal of time dreaming about Bill and Sookie while heading up and down back roads that haven't changed much in close to 100 years.... certainly not in 50... and I wondered WHY am I so obsessed with these Charlaine Harris characters? I am not convinced in the power of pop culture, Dark Shadows and all that.... but still... when I read TODAY that Charlaine was born in 1951 in Tunica, MS, well - now I KNOW. She went to college at Rhodes in Memphis and it is one of the creepiest, surreal cities anywhere - that's not to say I don't love it, in a strange, comforting way... but it isn't American in many ways, anymore than Louisiana.

So, Charlaine, your characters feel like family to me... and now I know why. I thought I might be going through some close to mid-life obession but its just homesickness... and the strange life that an outsider lives amongst the natives. My mom reminded me of how horrible the mosquitoes were - (I had a recurring nightmare as a child that I was being crucified on a cross in that box of mosquites that was featured in the OFF commercials of the day...) so maybe my obsession with Bill the Vampire somehow relates to THAT??? An art historian or shrink could have a field day with that one.

The drawing above is a portrait of Mr dd. No, he doesn't look like Bill the Vampire but I realized recently that one of the first, most compelling things he professed to me during our passionate courting days: "I am Yours, You are Mine." That was a first.

I never waited tables but I always knew the score. I was never seriously interested in those Delta Boys because I think I feared they would take my life away, tie me down and I'd never see the world. Mr. dd and I met each other at the right time and the right place, otherwise, well, there is no telling what part of the world I'd be hanging my art in.

Now I go back and I cherish those Delta Haunts for their resonance... I wound up at Po-Monkey's last Saturday night... a place I visited with a bunch of girlfriends and nere-do-wells (sp?) afterhours way back in the mid 70's. I was maybe 16. I had no idea where we were or if I'd made a mistake hanging out with these night owls who only wanted to drink MORE beer with hopes of getting into our pants. Instead our car broke down and we sat in the dark on a gravel road singing pop songs all night.

I spent last Saturday with a view an the Indian Mound Bayou from my window and wishing Mr. dd was there to experience the wonder that is the Delta. A friend from my youth and I walked through the soybean fields and picked up pottery shards and I realized today they are likely made from the same clay that Lee McCarty has used for 50 years.

a little taste

fictional confessions

Life has been far more complicated than I prefer. The demands of those who do not know what they ask of me have worn thin over the past six months and I am losing interest in honoring commitments that don't seem nearly as important as I once thought they might me.

I am not referring to my marriage or my art... but all the other things that take my mind and imagination away from my current vice and recent closet obsession.... True Blood. Mr dd says he's never seen me like this.

The last time my heart beat so excitely in response to a TV SHOW (eek!) was when, as a small child, The Beverly Hillbillies was broadcast. As soon as the Earl Scruggs intro began my siblings and I were jumping up and down like it was Christmas Eve. Later, as puberty was having its way Dark Shadows lured me away from my homework every weekday afternoon.

Why, I ask myself? What is it? Why can't I get enough of this? I watch it on demand whenever I have mindless tasks to complete, over and over again. When I am away from cable I've been reading the Charlene Harris books Allan Ball based the series on. Better to read them now than after hearing Allan Ball's script... Charlene is a better story teller than writer but who wants to be compared to Allan Ball? He lured me to the table so I'll blame him.

In the meantime this is my worst excuse for neglecting my blog. Life has been erratic, stressful and demanding of late. True Blood gets me though the week. I don't read fiction on a regular basis because if I really love something I can't put it down. It's something I usually save for airports, rail travel, ect. Mr dd isn't accustomed to me having my nose stuck in a book so now the tables are turned! (He's usually the one hiding out with his face either in a book.) Writing or reading, its still tough competition!

If you haven't tried True Blood you' d better not. It might be more than you can say no to.
Anna Paquin and Stephen Moyer chomp the small screen...

flan flan's life lessons

This is not the flan! I discovered this photo somewhere on the "internets"
awhile back and had to save it because it captures something tragic, yet true
about our relationship with cats. I must confess if our cats did this
we wouldn't share the same roof with them. We'd be forced to hire them out
as "hit kitties" to earn their keep and pay their own rent.

Flannery has been out all morning. I looked and looked out the window and did not see her. After a long while I began to worry so I went out and looked at her line more closely and realized she was looking down at me from the garage roof! She climbed the tree, you see - and was very proud of herself. I tugged a little at the line and realized that she was very tangled and could kill herself if she tried to come down the way she went up.

I began climbing the garage ladder to fetch her and she soon became excited and started to make her way down the tree. Soon she was hanging from her line with her claws clutching the mimosa for dear life #7 or 8... so I climbed up on the roof and reeled her in like a big furry fish.

She was purring like a maniac.

I guess our cats really do need us since the more freedom we give them the greater chance they'll find trouble. Maybe that's the problem with this nation. We've had so much freedom and
discovered so much trouble that we've buried ourselves in our own excess. I hope I am wrong.

1991ish

I haven't been spending as much time in front of my blog this summer as I would like. Between my sprained ankle and a stiff neck I've been a bit of a mess. Sunday morning someone I met in 1978 telephoned to say she was in town. Aha! Everything was better!

Mr dd and I met she and her godson at the pool and, like always, time seemed to stand still. She emailed me this video this morning. I do not know the circumstance but in conversation that evening her God son, the kid on the keyboard, told us he found it posted on Youtube. He is now an anthropology grad student.

Why is it so shocking to see this video (?)... because it is so 1991(?)... so foreign to the time when I knew her(?) So many things changed between 1978 and 1991 that it hurts my brain to think about and it hurts... and delights.... my eyes to witness it here. I am charmed and yet horrified(!)... we were young... and now we are much less so.

some things never change