all my black mollies are dying off

August Wilson's got liver cancer.
Sad news.
If you don't know who August Wilson is, he's a Pittsburgh native playwright. His plays document, decade by decade, Pittsburgh, specifically the Hill District which, in its heyday, was up there with Harlem and the African American neighborhoods in towns like Chicago. Everybody stopped by.
Then Pittsburgh went eminent domain on its ass, built the Civic Arena (now the Mellon Arena--where the Penguins play and where I graduated and saw Tori Amos, but not at the same time), and things got slummy.
At least one of his plays (The Piano Lesson, and I also could have sword Fences) was turned into a TV movie.
Here's some more August Wilson info, from a more reliable source than my blog: The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette.

a small way to help

This was embedded in the last post, but I figure it deserves its own entry.
There's a shop over at Etsy.com (where I sell my hankies) where all proceeds go to Katrina victims. If you make stuff, you donate it for selling. Or, you can buy stuff and help out that way.
Also, I guess Coinstars are accepting donations, too. Which appeals to the bored kindergartener and the bleeding heart in me.
Here's where you go for the craftiness.

2, 2, 2 posts in one!

I need to find a new Laundromat.
Microsoft Word just auto-capped “Laundromat” for me—twice! Weird. I wonder…launderette. Nope.
Anyway, so here’s the deal. Let’s set the Flux Capacitor back to Sunday afternoon…
Sunday afternoon I had a picnic. Most of you jerks didn’t come (don’t worry, I still love you), but two people did (I love you guys more). So it’s me, Melissa, Justin, munching on hummus, crackers, pasta salad, and deviled eggs. There’s some small talk: tits ‘n’ barges, I trotted out the temping trading cards tale, the usual Melissa/Jessy Running of the Unfunny Jokes into the Ground, that kind of thing.
And I won a free Coke, but the assholes at Walgreen’s don’t take bottle caps anymore. Don’t tell a sick girl this, by the way; she’ll just stare at you uncomprehendingly.
We’re there, minding our own business, really, being quite the modern-day Seurat subjects (that was Seurat, right?), when Guy comes up to us. He asks, de you folks want to hear a song? Melissa says yes. In my head, I start crying. I know where this is going. No one comes up to you, on a Sunday afternoon in a relatively urban area, to just sing because it’s a nice day.
Or maybe I’m a cynical bitch that just needs a hug, because I immediately go into “I have no money” mode. True to form, we get hit up. And then I get hit on.
I just want to know, you tell someone you need to sing to get together money for toilet paper. Then you make some comment about how great the boy present is b/c there are 2 girls also present. Then you specifically ask each person for money, and, after you ask me, you tell me I’m beautiful.
Here’s the thing, because I know I’m about to get some comment about how I can’t take a compliment. This isn’t a compliment. It’s a reminder that, as girls and women, We are constantly on display. Any moron, from any walk of life, thinks it’s perfectly okay to comment on my appearance. And I’m sick of it.
There’s a character in an August Wilson play, the 1960s one I believe, who is a gorgeous girl with scars all up and down her legs. Towards the end of the play, it’s revealed that she scarred herself to deflect some of that attention.
Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes, the display is fun. There’s nothing quite like noticing a girl with kickass shoes, and then realizing she’s fixated on your coat. We do that for each other. And boy display isn’t always a bad thing, either. I just wish it worked like a library catalog search, and I could put limiters on. Or turn it off sometimes.
So, guess who uses my Laundromat? Thankfully, he didn’t remember/recognize me. Although this just proves my point more: these random comments are acceptable. Grr
Oh, and I taught myself how to knit while sick. Yay me!

Yeah. Here’s the 2nd part: Billboard Magazine 9-3-05

• Paul McCartney is an insufferable ass. And you just know Ringo’s gonna die first, leaving Paul the only Beatle left, and in a position to rewrite all sorts of history. And that shirt Stella wore? I hate them all, and I hate the cute clothes that Stella designs even more.
  
• aw, Kanye West.
  
• If there’s anything I truly love, it’s little pixely things. The Yahoo music ad has little pixely punks, and little pixely boy band, and a little pixely man with what looks like a little pixely sitar. Adorable!
  
• Ricky Martin’s working some serious George Michael scruff on the table of contents page.
  
• I’m so sad that Bob Moog is dead.
  
• And I totally love that Nick Rhodes is quoted in the article about him.
  
• Oh, random and off-topic, but remember those Etsy people I told you about, where you can buy my hankies? A group has set up a shop where you can buy stuff and proceeds go to Katrina victims. If you make stuff, you can donate to be sold. There’s info at the Craftster blog, as well.
  
• Slipknot thinks that the band in the Burger King chicken fries (which? Ew.) commercial looks too much like them, and sent a cease-and-desist letter.
  
• I just blew my nose, and now my ears are all stopped up and ringy.
  
• The dress Eva Longoria is wearing on page 25 looks like something that would have been my Barbie’s favorite outfit. But can she do the Barbie and the Rockers dance?
  
• New Nada Surf album on September 20.
  
• Melissa and I, it must be said, make an excellent getting-to-know-you tag team. She asks the basics I always forget about/don’t care about, and I find out the important shit, like if he hates Coldplay.
  
• Apple.
  
• My Chemical Romance have terrible hair.
  
• What song did Was (Not Was) do again? Was that the “everybody do the dinosaur” song?
  
• I heart Don Was: “Greed is the biggest problem facing the music business. People are tending to make shitty records and charging way too much for them and are not running the business in accordance with established principles of good management. We should take our energies a little bit away from chasing down teenagers who are file-sharing and go after the real problem and deal with those issues: Make better records and run the business better.”
  
• Man, I totally wish I hadn’t made all the Simpsons Wings references awhile back, ‘cause they would really come in handy right about now.
  
• Instead, I can just complain about how, when I opened up my vegetarian frozen dinner, there was a big chunk of pork in it.
  
• Yup, that’s definitely ham.
  
• What’s the song that, if you play it backwards, there’s a cracking lentil soup recipe? Or smashing? I’m sickly and not remembering things.
  
• And here’s a full-page ad that’s nothing more than a hand-written note from Phil Collins to Paul.
  
• Do I need to even go into how annoying Phil Collins is?
  
• Of course McCartney says he listens to Coldplay. Ass.
  
• And here’s the fucking PETA ad. There’s reason enough to hate anyone: an association with PETA.
  
• Oh, and he’s got a goddam picture book, too. Christ.
  
• To the Sendakmobile!
  
• Wow, could you imagine if there really was a Sendakmobile? That’d be AWESOME! Max would sit shotgun and ask if you were there yet, and you know Rosie is quite the backseat driver.
  
• Michel Gondry plays drums on Kanye West’s new album.
  
• Stupid fucking Billboard just told me about the final fucking end to “Six Feet Under”. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
  
• Assholes.
  
• Like everyone who reads their stupid magazine has HBO or something.
  
• Fuck.
  

"Get a pint of Guinness down your neck, and pick that guitar up."--Noel Gallagher, my new best friend

Billboard, August 27, 2005

• Diddy is possibly the worst name ever. Worse, even, than Apple. And I know all sorts of jokes have already been made about this (I’m sure), but…come on. Please.
  
• This topless Mariah picture is too close to the beginning of the magazine. I need a few pages before I can get real mean about her.
  
• That being said, she does look smaller in this one.
  
• How come in photographs, wet girls always have perfect makeup? What kinda makeup are these girls wearing? Paging Sally J Freedman, Sally J Freedman to the blog, please.
  
• That’s my favorite Judy Blume book. Also her most autobiographical, she’s said.
  
• Although when I first looked at this picture, I totally missed the arm shadow and thought this was a Mariah’s huge tits with water splashing off the nipples picture.
  
• But, you know, a picture of Bush is too controversial for the VMAs
  
• Which I used to really like watching
  
• Green Day just look plastic and melty in their rainy makeup. Except the bassist looks kinda hot, which I’ve never thought before.
  
• ooo, more Oasis
  
• Garth Brooks’ entire catalog will now only be available at Sam’s Club and Wal-Mart
  
• I’m happy about never having to look at another Garth Brooks records when I’m shopping for music, if I did that anymore.
  
• What about the used stuff, though? It’s funny how no one talks about used cds destroying the music business (remember that argument?) now that the internet is on computers.
  
• Maude, eh?
  
• Ryan Seacrest has his own clothing line now.
  
• Insert your own homosexuality-related joke here.
  
• And then, if you would like to turn left and go into the dragon’s lair, turn to page 16.
  
• ”We think globally, but we never forget Canada,” says Jeffrey Remedios of Arts & Crafts. Hee—Canada
• Liz Phair’s shoes don’t match her dress on page 19. Will someone just get this girl to quit, please? Or give her so much plastic surgery and a costume so she no longer looks like my Liz? ‘Cause you’re breaking my heart here, girl.
• page 16: The dragon thanked you for delivering a tasty snack. THE END
• Aw, Beck
• Beck AND Belle & Sebastian!? AND THE LEMONHEADS! All this thing needs is for Jonathan Rhys Meyers to do
  
• This year's theme for the VMAs is water, everybody. I know I'm excited.
  
• Actually, that's kinda not a joke. Anybody with cable want to mockingly watch?
  
• "Blur were a fucking mess." I wish all bands were as blunt as Oasis. And so willing to hold a grudge.
  
• It keeps me entertained, and that's what really counts in this crazy world of ours, right? Right?
  
• This is just an all around great interview. It starts on page 33, and everyone should read it.
  
• "Added to that, me and Liam were eminently quotable the whole time."
  
• Oh, I'm only like halfway through, but I'm bored. Here endeth the endless Billboard recap that no one cares about anyway. But seriously, you should read that Oasis interview. Gold, people. Gold.

Keep on dancing to the rock and roll.

Couldn't have said it better myself
And yes, I realize that's the pussy way out. Shut up.
I would like to add something about Adam Groves' drunken attempts to get me to apply for some children's librarian position at the library he works at--or something. The last time I got told about a job, it totally didn't involve hand groping.
***
Also, I should tell everyone to go here.

I've been looking so long at these pictures of you.

Debauchery! Craftiness! KITTIES!
All here, all the time. Or at least until someone complains about how poorly I photographed them, and then we'll talk.

And now I have to share the lengths I'll go to for a surprise. This morning, me an' a cup of coffee were hanging out in my room, listening to NPR, thinking about how dead all the Gaza protesters would be if they were from that other group of people the Israeli army's always after, when I hear some familiar music.
The "Six Feet Under" theme.
Faster than fast, at 7 AM, I run into my living room, singing, la la la I can't hear you Terri Gross so you can't ruin it for me.
And it worked.
(I don't have HBO, so I've only seen up to the end of season 3)

that's when I reach for my chihuahua

Here's yet another article about how YA authors, publishers, and presumably librarians are ruining teenaged girls' lives.
Here's the author's email address: janet.shamlian@nbcuni.com

And now, for the fun part. In honor of the recent rash of hysterical "news" puff pieces (during a fucking war, no less) about trashy teen fic, I bring you a List Of Things I've Never Done, Despite Their Occurences In TeenJessy's Favorite Books. As a fun game, try to figure out what the books are!

1. gotten kicked out of multiple boarding schools
2. hired a prostitute, then just want to talk
3. had sex with a prominent scenester quite a bit older than me
4. taken ecstasy than had sex with my bicurious best friend
5. shut myself up in a wardrobe
6. had sex with a vampire, then follow him all the way to New Orleans, causing my xboyfriend and his best friend to follow us, in an attempt to abort the vampire fetus
7. been a gay male HIV positive serial killer/cannibal
8. steal from my parents' Native American friend to make gifts for my bandmates so that they could play their instruments without fear on stage
9. take on an army that has successfully invaded Australia
10. think my missing memories, actually caused by sexual abuse, were created by alien abduction OR misread my childhood sexual abuse as love and become a trashy hustler (anyone seen Mysterious Skin yet? I'm dying to know how the movie adaptation is!)
11. moved to NYC to follow my modeling career dream, only to be taken in by a pimp at the bus station
12. become a vampire
13. begun a romantic relationship with my brother, the only boy I've seen since puberty, since our mother locked us in the attic
14. followed my dreams of an elderly black woman to the midwest, after everyone else I knew died of some weird flu thing
15. tried to catch some bananafish
16. rode the rails around the country, doing migrant farm labor and collecting folk songs and women

I think we all get the idea.
Actually, the hardest part of this was remembering, past the basics, what some of my faves were.