Sometimes I miss being human.
Usually, though, I am tethered to humanity through a vast and intricately powerful set of emotions. I cycle through as if nothing is wrong. Pedal, pedal, petal...
INT. DRUG STORE - DAY
A pretty yet quite obese cashier calls up the next customer in line, a young black buck with some toiletries and a copy of MAXIM with an anorexic bleached blond filleted on the cover.
CASHIER:
I wonder what she did in a past life to look like that in this one?
The black buck just shrugs, pays and leaves.
I contemplate her question for a moment before stepping up to cash out myself.
SAVIOUR ONASSIS:
It must have been something bad.
Then I smiled at her. A gentle, genuine smile, as if to say: You are prettier far than she.
The cashier twitched slightly before ringing me out. She did not return my smile.
C'est la vie...
Petal, petal, petal... HE LOVES ME!
A dinner party was dramatically cut short when two of the guests retired to another room. Moments later, one emerges, enraged, panting and hungry for escape. Then came the screams. Yes, a lover's quarrel gone horribly wrong. The bloodied party screamed: "He hit me!"
My answer?
"Yes, but darling... Did it feel like a kiss?"
Surgery was performed in sobriety, the following day.
Petal, petal, petal... HE LOVES ME NOT!
We don't have to do this, but it feels so good. Like teenagers, we can hardly stop...
"You don't have to swallow that if you don't want to..."
Petal, petal, petal... HE LOVES ME!
As I tear the petals away, I confess that these stories have been edited, quite extensively in some cases, but are, nonetheless, true, true, true... Like reality television, the atomic age and death. We all get along somehow, don't we?
If you have an axe, by all means... GRIND IT!
Monday, March 26, 2007
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Our Father's Sequins
I hung out with my new friend Charlie yesterday. He had an itch for adventure and thought I might like to join him. I had an itch myself, so I complied. We met up and hit the road for our destination: The Reagan Library in Simi Valley. On the way we stopped off at a privately owned public sanctuary called Gardens of the World, which was a pleasant surprise. We strolled through a Japanese garden, complete with asian teenagers reading Joseph Heller. Then we found ourselves in a California style mission that reminded me of the set of a Salma Hayek movie. The place is quite compact and beautiful, though not everything is blooming quite yet. Maybe we'll return in a month to see the English Roses in full effect.
By this time, we were starving. So, we stopped off at a little Mexican place for some spicy duck tacos. It was good, but I could hardly tell the difference between duck and chicken. I remembered the time Roman Coppola sent me on a mission to find him a baby duck for a commercial shoot we were working on. Needless to say, baby ducks don't exactly grow on trees in the greater Los Angeles area, so I got him a lobster instead. Anyway, after lunch we hit the freeway again and finally arrived in Simi Valley.
The Reagan Library isn't a library so much as it is a giant monument to all things Reaganesque, and as we heard a young boy, much to his father's dismay, put it: "Fabulous!" The museum starts out with a collection of red dresses, worn by the various First Ladies of recent years. Charlie and I were surprised to find that the best of the lot belonged to Betty Ford. Who knew? Next up was an exhibition called "Gifts to the President", a large hall filled with an astonishing number of bizarre gifts given to Ronnie whilst in office. This was the beginning of what we would soon realize was the museum of 90,000 chachkis. Rhinestone beltbuckles (about 200), statues, paintings, saddles, portraits, knives, guns, quilts, big leather "artwork", etc.
We were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer number of insignificant crap, so we made our way into the hall of history, where various displays take you on a virtual tour of Reagan's life. Charlie pointed out that they was only one small picture of Jane Wyman (the first wife) and their two kids. The paint was worn off from people pointing to the names and, I imagine, saying: "See, I told you...." I quite enjoyed the Assassination Room, admiring the x-ray of the president's chest. For all the bullshit that the Reagan era represented to me at the time, it hardly compares to where we are today. In a strange way, it made me miss Ronnie a bit... Yeah, the Cold War ended, the Wall came down, but Jane Wyman wasn't the only thing oddly missing from the museum. Charlie said he wanted to write in the guest book: "What about AIDS?" On second thought, I don't miss Ron that much.
Towards the end of the tour, you can have your photo taken boarding Air Force One. We politely declined. The plane was not as fabulous as I had expected, as well as being historically inaccurate. There, in plain view, was a Vogue magazine with Catherine Zeta-Jones on the cover. Shame on you, Reagan Library! That bitch was an amoeba in the eighties! Then again, weren't we all? After that, we dropped by the Oval Office, noted the vast number of Jelly Beans available at the gift shop and stopped by the grave. I'm not sure he's actually buried there, but a headstone exists, on an ugly little monument next to a garden donated by Merv Griffin. It was cold, windy and depressing, so we decided to hit some of the local thrift shops before heading home.
Charlie found a few treasures, but I was not so lucky. Was there nothing for me in the Simi Valley? I had chachkis burnout. Charlie showed me a sequin jacket and said: "These could very well be my father's sequins." That got me thinking about my own history, heritage and legacy. What would fill the halls in the museum of my own life? I suppose I need to start collecting rhinestone belt buckles right away. I've got some catching up to do...
By this time, we were starving. So, we stopped off at a little Mexican place for some spicy duck tacos. It was good, but I could hardly tell the difference between duck and chicken. I remembered the time Roman Coppola sent me on a mission to find him a baby duck for a commercial shoot we were working on. Needless to say, baby ducks don't exactly grow on trees in the greater Los Angeles area, so I got him a lobster instead. Anyway, after lunch we hit the freeway again and finally arrived in Simi Valley.
The Reagan Library isn't a library so much as it is a giant monument to all things Reaganesque, and as we heard a young boy, much to his father's dismay, put it: "Fabulous!" The museum starts out with a collection of red dresses, worn by the various First Ladies of recent years. Charlie and I were surprised to find that the best of the lot belonged to Betty Ford. Who knew? Next up was an exhibition called "Gifts to the President", a large hall filled with an astonishing number of bizarre gifts given to Ronnie whilst in office. This was the beginning of what we would soon realize was the museum of 90,000 chachkis. Rhinestone beltbuckles (about 200), statues, paintings, saddles, portraits, knives, guns, quilts, big leather "artwork", etc.
We were quickly overwhelmed by the sheer number of insignificant crap, so we made our way into the hall of history, where various displays take you on a virtual tour of Reagan's life. Charlie pointed out that they was only one small picture of Jane Wyman (the first wife) and their two kids. The paint was worn off from people pointing to the names and, I imagine, saying: "See, I told you...." I quite enjoyed the Assassination Room, admiring the x-ray of the president's chest. For all the bullshit that the Reagan era represented to me at the time, it hardly compares to where we are today. In a strange way, it made me miss Ronnie a bit... Yeah, the Cold War ended, the Wall came down, but Jane Wyman wasn't the only thing oddly missing from the museum. Charlie said he wanted to write in the guest book: "What about AIDS?" On second thought, I don't miss Ron that much.
Towards the end of the tour, you can have your photo taken boarding Air Force One. We politely declined. The plane was not as fabulous as I had expected, as well as being historically inaccurate. There, in plain view, was a Vogue magazine with Catherine Zeta-Jones on the cover. Shame on you, Reagan Library! That bitch was an amoeba in the eighties! Then again, weren't we all? After that, we dropped by the Oval Office, noted the vast number of Jelly Beans available at the gift shop and stopped by the grave. I'm not sure he's actually buried there, but a headstone exists, on an ugly little monument next to a garden donated by Merv Griffin. It was cold, windy and depressing, so we decided to hit some of the local thrift shops before heading home.
Charlie found a few treasures, but I was not so lucky. Was there nothing for me in the Simi Valley? I had chachkis burnout. Charlie showed me a sequin jacket and said: "These could very well be my father's sequins." That got me thinking about my own history, heritage and legacy. What would fill the halls in the museum of my own life? I suppose I need to start collecting rhinestone belt buckles right away. I've got some catching up to do...
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Now Casting
Imagine having a dream that you were in a play that you had never rehearsed (or even heard of) and being thrust out onto the stage. That's what my life is like now. I'm just trying to figure out what part I'm supposed to be playing.
Friday, February 23, 2007
With Training Wheels
Now that I can be sure no one is watching, I have a confession to make. There was a presence in my life, the latter part of last year, whom I was quite smitten with. True, it was probably more the idea of him that had me, but nonetheless, I was smitten. I was quite careful not to divulge too many of the details here on the internet, out of respect for what I hoped would be a full blown relationship. Alas, it came to pass that this man was not Mr. Right. I don't know exactly what he was... I do know that when he finally said to me: "I don't read people's blogs," I knew it was over.
For one thing, I thought I had come to represent more than "people" to him. And yeah, the blogging hasn't been so great lately anyway. I blame my own fears for that. Still.... I think that Holly said it best when she told me that he was my training wheels boyfriend. Granted, I have been off the horse for quite a spell and upon reflection, that was exactly what I needed to get back in the game. Of course, after a self-imposed celibacy, I feel ready to gallop a bit. Not quite up to racing again... It's strange, the nature of love. Human hearts are elastic and electric. They beat. They break. And sometimes, sometimes they attack.
Maybe that's why the mystery endures. I tried to write a love song, but ended up using the word whore anyway... What's up with that? Perhaps there's just too little of me, too. Now I've lost the track.... This I'm definitely blaming on Gwen Stefani. I tried to do a little shopping today and every store I went into was playing her fucked up new album. This shit is even more fucked up than spelling bananas! Here is, indeed, a prime example of someone with a gigantic platform and absolutely nothing to say! I miss the days when Gwen was ironic, when she was just a girl. I miss the summer of my youth. Most of all, I think I miss my heart the most.
Lately there have been flurries in the area. I'll let you know if it develops into something more.
For one thing, I thought I had come to represent more than "people" to him. And yeah, the blogging hasn't been so great lately anyway. I blame my own fears for that. Still.... I think that Holly said it best when she told me that he was my training wheels boyfriend. Granted, I have been off the horse for quite a spell and upon reflection, that was exactly what I needed to get back in the game. Of course, after a self-imposed celibacy, I feel ready to gallop a bit. Not quite up to racing again... It's strange, the nature of love. Human hearts are elastic and electric. They beat. They break. And sometimes, sometimes they attack.
Maybe that's why the mystery endures. I tried to write a love song, but ended up using the word whore anyway... What's up with that? Perhaps there's just too little of me, too. Now I've lost the track.... This I'm definitely blaming on Gwen Stefani. I tried to do a little shopping today and every store I went into was playing her fucked up new album. This shit is even more fucked up than spelling bananas! Here is, indeed, a prime example of someone with a gigantic platform and absolutely nothing to say! I miss the days when Gwen was ironic, when she was just a girl. I miss the summer of my youth. Most of all, I think I miss my heart the most.
Lately there have been flurries in the area. I'll let you know if it develops into something more.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Paying the Man
Is there a better way to spend an evening alone?
It's that season again and I am feeling the burn of being a decent and noble taxpaying citizen of this, our great country. The more you make, the more you make, the more you make... and so on, get it? Yeah, it's all jazz and it's that one elusive note, not quite heard. It makes you stronger and you don't even try. Riddle me this: What is Saviour's ultimate cure for insomnia???
Just pay the man and go.
So be it.
It's that season again and I am feeling the burn of being a decent and noble taxpaying citizen of this, our great country. The more you make, the more you make, the more you make... and so on, get it? Yeah, it's all jazz and it's that one elusive note, not quite heard. It makes you stronger and you don't even try. Riddle me this: What is Saviour's ultimate cure for insomnia???
Just pay the man and go.
So be it.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Rip in Heaven
I couldn't let another day go by without saying something about Anna Nicole Smith, who was an inspiration to me in my previous incarnation as a drag queen. She represented the very ideal I was ironically trying to evoke. A small town girl who used what God gave her to make it in this world. In the end, I guess it wasn't enough. It's very sad that she died the way that she did and even sadder to me that her death has prompted so many callous and barbarous remarks. I, for one, will miss Anna Nicole... With all she had been through recently, I suppose there is some comfort in knowing that she isn't suffering anymore. Heart failure, indeed. Rest In Peace, Baby
Anna Nicole Smith
1967-2007
Thursday, February 01, 2007
What's Doing?
Hello Mister.
To fully answer your question, Dale, would surely bore you to tears. So, I will provide only the most crucial of the tedious details...
I am currently in Phoenix, Arizona. I am here on business, because who the hell comes to Phoenix for pleasure? Though I did find some old printouts of local craigslist hookers in the hotel room, stashed above the TV with a dirty rag, a spoon and an empty bottle of rum. (I was looking for the Yellow Pages, so you can stop speculating.) I realize now that I work too much and have to take time for myself more often. I am missing several important social engagements this week and will probably have alienated all of my Lost Angels by the time I get back. They must be paid attention and lots of it or they float away.
I ate quite a bit of chocolate cake today and feel like I might implode.
Other than that, I will be back in rare form shortly.
(Short form rarely?)
Jazz from that special hotel,
Saviour O.
To fully answer your question, Dale, would surely bore you to tears. So, I will provide only the most crucial of the tedious details...
I am currently in Phoenix, Arizona. I am here on business, because who the hell comes to Phoenix for pleasure? Though I did find some old printouts of local craigslist hookers in the hotel room, stashed above the TV with a dirty rag, a spoon and an empty bottle of rum. (I was looking for the Yellow Pages, so you can stop speculating.) I realize now that I work too much and have to take time for myself more often. I am missing several important social engagements this week and will probably have alienated all of my Lost Angels by the time I get back. They must be paid attention and lots of it or they float away.
I ate quite a bit of chocolate cake today and feel like I might implode.
Other than that, I will be back in rare form shortly.
(Short form rarely?)
Jazz from that special hotel,
Saviour O.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Signs O' The Times
These are truly interesting times we live in.
For instance, we have Hilary and Barack announcing their White House intentions. (I'm on Team Clinton.) And let's not forget the fact that Sundance is happening.... Although, frankly, I have no interest in seeing Dakota Fanning raped or a documentary about a man fucked to death by a horse. Instead, I plan to attend the Grindhouse and watch some fabulous old Jack Hill movies and maybe meet some people who think, like I do, that maybe the past wasn't all that bad.
On a personal note, I feel like a psychic weight has been lifted. Hopefully I will be able to rechannel my energies into creative and entertaining projects for a change. I am so sick of performing miracles and being a beacon of light and power... I got wounded in the fray but I am better now.
If you want to be "in the know" regarding the new season of American Idol, I highly reccommend going HERE to get the best A.I. coverage available on the planet...
For instance, we have Hilary and Barack announcing their White House intentions. (I'm on Team Clinton.) And let's not forget the fact that Sundance is happening.... Although, frankly, I have no interest in seeing Dakota Fanning raped or a documentary about a man fucked to death by a horse. Instead, I plan to attend the Grindhouse and watch some fabulous old Jack Hill movies and maybe meet some people who think, like I do, that maybe the past wasn't all that bad.
On a personal note, I feel like a psychic weight has been lifted. Hopefully I will be able to rechannel my energies into creative and entertaining projects for a change. I am so sick of performing miracles and being a beacon of light and power... I got wounded in the fray but I am better now.
If you want to be "in the know" regarding the new season of American Idol, I highly reccommend going HERE to get the best A.I. coverage available on the planet...
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Spiritual Longing & Creative Rage
Those are the factors that led me to adopt this hairstyle:
This is Chase Newhart as "Crabs" in the only film he ever acted in: Switchblade Sisters. You have to see this movie, if you haven't already, because it's the cat's ass! Directed by genius Jack Hill...but I digress. The stylist I went to, Josie, didn't exactly "get" what I was going for... In a couple of months it will be perfect. Pussycat Dolls may not always know what you are talking about, but they sure look cute listening. I said: "Don't be afraid. My physiognomy can handle the disparity." Needless to say, she went a little crazy with the scissors. But I am not my hair, merely the idea of my hair.
I work and I fail and do it all again. I lose my mind, only to find that I am still right here, where I left me.
Hey! Doesn't anybody want to get lost anymore?
I know I do. Maybe in something blue, like the eyes of Chase Newhart...
I always fall in love with villains.
This is Chase Newhart as "Crabs" in the only film he ever acted in: Switchblade Sisters. You have to see this movie, if you haven't already, because it's the cat's ass! Directed by genius Jack Hill...but I digress. The stylist I went to, Josie, didn't exactly "get" what I was going for... In a couple of months it will be perfect. Pussycat Dolls may not always know what you are talking about, but they sure look cute listening. I said: "Don't be afraid. My physiognomy can handle the disparity." Needless to say, she went a little crazy with the scissors. But I am not my hair, merely the idea of my hair.
I work and I fail and do it all again. I lose my mind, only to find that I am still right here, where I left me.
Hey! Doesn't anybody want to get lost anymore?
I know I do. Maybe in something blue, like the eyes of Chase Newhart...
I always fall in love with villains.
Saturday, January 06, 2007
Now It's Dark
But that's all gonna change, kids...
The winds are blowin' and the future is so bright, dare I say it? I wear my sunglasses at night. I'm in LA and I am pretentious and fucking adorable. Sue me...
Here's the thing: It's a new year and has been for about a week. When are people gonna stop wishing me a HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR? Yeah, it's all gonna be great. I know, I know... So just shut the fuck up already!
Seriously, I wish you all the best. But for now... I can't think past the fact that I have to pee. So... Happy New Year and all that. I love you and hope you love me...
Eat my fuck,
Saviour Onassis
The winds are blowin' and the future is so bright, dare I say it? I wear my sunglasses at night. I'm in LA and I am pretentious and fucking adorable. Sue me...
Here's the thing: It's a new year and has been for about a week. When are people gonna stop wishing me a HAPPY FUCKING NEW YEAR? Yeah, it's all gonna be great. I know, I know... So just shut the fuck up already!
Seriously, I wish you all the best. But for now... I can't think past the fact that I have to pee. So... Happy New Year and all that. I love you and hope you love me...
Eat my fuck,
Saviour Onassis
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)