Coachella the 7th

So year seven for me? Seven times in a row, you say? I have my ticket and all the other reservations have been made so I suppose this is going to really happen!

Like a Phoenix Rising

The transformation of the house continues (by the way....we have a new house!) with the yard.

Soon this barren wasteland will be populated with plants circa 1952 and make the vintage green pop with color by contrast. Currently however, it reminds me of Dune, or at the very least that scene from Beetlejuice; you know, the one with the sand worms.

Coachella 2010 - Revenge of the Sixth

Some people return to the scene of the crime, while others eventually return to the place of their birth. For me, Coachella might just prove how those in their golden years pick their final destinations.

This is my sixth year of sun, music and great laughs with friends. I completely understand the flaw in picking the Mojave as one of my favorite places on earth; the heat is killer and all the streets are named after dead presidents. Still, it is the time I share with those closest to me that make this a truly magical experience. While it may give insight as a place to live out my final years, it also proves that here (even after six consecutive times), you truly can go home.

More to come after I return from the festival!

Open Letter To The Gloved One

Dear Michael,
!
I don't like writing letters of this nature to people who share my same name...especially you, especially under these circumstances. After all, it was because of you that I was teased in Middle School. It is hard to get caught up in the fashion movements of the time (fashions that you started might I add) when your body frame is nothing more than a coat hanger adorned with braces. I was awkward enough to begin with, and because I was "not like other boys" at the time, the parallels between us were obvious. Sure, everyone on the school yard would give the moonwalk a try, but when it came my turn, all the kids would start singing the lyrics to Timex Social Club's Rumors...you know, the one about "Michael" that insinuated that you might be gay? Since I too wasn't the jockiest of kids and more than a little strange, I too was subject to the aforementioned rumor. At least they tried to argue, but I swear I couldn't move that way.
!
Still, to a boy in the 1980's, you were on the Mount Rushmore of pop culture. I remember how crisp and clear the sound came out of my Sony headphones as I listened to Thriller in my darkened bedroom. My parents never let me watch the video to Thriller back then, mainly due to the fact that my parents were school teachers and had screened it at the High School Prom, but with your lyrics and the visuals that my mind created, it was nothing short of horrific. Actually, watching Thriller back then was a difficult task as we didn't have MTV, and VHS was a sluggish monolith. I finally got to see what caused my mom to run circles around the High School gymnasium when I was in the 6th grade. By this time I had already developed an unnatural fear of zombies which, as you can imagine, was only compounded by the slick choreography of your video. Slow, lumbering zombies are one terrible thing...breakdancing, shoulder-shrugging zombies are quite another level of torture.
!
By the time the rest of the country was donning multi-layered polos and collecting Swatch watches, I had just purchased my knock-off red zipper jacket with the angular sleeves. To this I added a very cheap pair of parachute pants that were most likely bought at JcPenney, who I have discovered know nothing about "trends." I was all set to go forth on my quest to get my ass kicked. This was all still during your Thriller and Victory Tour phase. I am inclined to point out that your life is relegated to "phases" in my psyche. There was your canary yellow polo phase in which you wore white slacks and held a kitten, then came your Thriller phase (mesh shirt, zipper jacket, penny loafers and glove), and then your Bad phase in which much of the same was true from your previous phases but....well, I just couldn't get past the hair.
!
This brings me to chapter two of our relationship: Ignoring the white elephant in the room. Undeniably you ruled the radio and MTV well beyond what most people called your glory days. Before I became what my friends call a "music snob," I would still get crazy over your next release whether it was the mind-bending Black and White or Smooth Criminal. This was an amazing feat without the advantage of the internet. How was I supposed to peep your newest album without listening to it all the way through first? What was your next single going to be? For all of these things, I had to rely on my trustworthy local radio station. I think it was because of this that we didn't have as close of a relationship as might have been warrented. I certainly know that you wanted to be as good of friends with me as I was willing to allow you to be with me. Unfortunately, this was not to be as I discovered college, free-thinking, and grunge.
!
One could question the many idiosyncrasies that you developed seemingly overnight as a reason that we parted ways. Honestly though, you have always been and will continue to be our American Royalty. As such, you are required by etherial law to bay at the moon and have at least one skeleton in the closet. To the latter, I am so sorry the Elephant Man thing didn't work out. I will say that watching someone gradually transition to a transluscent version of your very own sister LaToya was something that defied logic, even for you. I was well out of college when I stumbled on a tabloid rag (rememeber those?) that depicted a photo of you with a dirth of facial hair that looked like someone had been playing with a Play-Doh Fuzzy Pumper Barber Shop. If there was one thing I learned from you back on that playground, it was that the clothes don't necessarily make the man, and that facial hair doesn't nescessarily do so either.
!
I think the saddest thing though is that despite the changing trends in music or the waning adoration you may have felt from your public, that the music itself stopped. Watching someone that was once great become just another Howard Hughes is more tragic than the many allegations lodged against you over the years. I mean, it took something so malicious as a court case to bring you into the spotlight again. There are starving children in the Sudan but right here in America, there are children who don't know Billie Jean or Dirty Diana.
!
Finally, I want to write and say that the news of your passing was more shocking than anything I could have anticipated. I don't know why though. This day would eventually have to come sometime and I suppose it is better that you left this world well before you were relegated to playing a stage in Branson, Missouri. Even those that had swiftly cleared you off of their iTunes library over the past decade (well, aside from P.Y.T. anyway) were abuzz with shock and awe. Was it painkillers? A bad heart? Cruel attempt to cash in on your insurance policy and pay off your mounting debt? Is this all a slick trick, better than the one you attempted to pull over on us at Super Bowl XXVII? I would love to think that something mortal did not befall you here on Earth, but that something poetic...like a broken heart was your undoing. Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, I just hope you are well. I hope that there are lighted sidewalks in Heaven. I pray that your wings fit well, your skin matches your robe and that you are finally at peace with yourself.
!

How I Spent My Mother's Day - By Olive

"Oh how sweet. Wait....now, boys you know I don't have my foundation on and my hair is a sight worse than Susan Boyle's. Put that camera away!"
!

"Oh, how lovely. I can't believe how sweet you are being. Why is it that a girl has to wait a whole year before you decided to whip out the brush like this? A brush that I purchased, I might add!"
!

"I just love spending time ignoring my boy in the P-A-R-K. But secretly I know where he is at all times. A mother just never rests."
!

"This is the best Mother's Day treat ever!"
!

"Mother Goose! Okay, well, it's really a swan, but it fits the Mother's Day theme nicely and who's gonna contradict a sassy Boston Terrier like myself?"
!

"What a treat! I rarely get to have sparkling water out of a dish on a dirty, tourist-infested street. Thank you boys!"
!

"Now this is more like it. Give me the remote so I can watch 'my stories' and leave me the hell alone!"

!

"Love ya!"

My Grandma Bea Arthur

"...California, California your such a wonder that I think I'll stay in bed. Big time rollers, part time models so much to plunder that I think I'll sleep instead...I don't know this sea of neon thousand surfers, whiffs of freon and my new grandma Bea Arthur..." - Rufus Wainwright
!
I have been struggling to find the words to describe how I am feeling. I absolutely HATE having to refer to Bea in the past tense now. I lived my life up to now surrounding myself with an image of a woman that I have never met (yet have stalked outside of her home....scary I know). ! Sitting now on my "Golden Girls" couch eating a cheesecake in her honor (even though she hated them) makes it feel like one spectacular last hurrah.
!
I was just in Los Angeles no more than four days ago, now she is gone. This same phenomenon happened in 2006 when I also returned from Los Angeles and soon found out that Glenn Ford had passed (my other hero). Somehow I feel connected in a strange way to both. I also feel that Bea Arthur has been here ever since I have and I have taken her for granted. Actually, everyone who knows me, knows that this isn't the truth. I lived, ate, drank, quoted...and if society wasn't so ill, would allow me to dress like her. Cowl neck sweaters and scrunch boots would be back IN!!! Truly though, I guess what I mean is that you never realize what you have until it is gone. Today's news of her passing was far more shocking and it hit me harder than poor Estelle Getty less than a year ago. This time it wasn't just a TV icon from my all time favorite show, it was one of my personal idols.
!
My obsession began at a very vulnerable time in my life in 2004. I was at home thinking that my world was crashing all around me but by chance it was salvaged by the sharp wit of Dorothy Zbornak. Johnny and I went to see her one woman show shortly thereafter (fittingly in Florida of all places!) and it seemed that our eyes locked. I saw the actual Golden Girls couch locked away in storage in Burbank and each year a "holiday" card would be lovingly signed and sent to Bea's address in Brentwood, California - an address that I might add, that I have on occassion walked past hoping for a the chance to hear a familiar baritone say "Get the FUCK off my lawn!"
!
The opening strains of Golden Girls will now sound a bit more meloncholy and the greatest comfort I have is that mother and daughter are together again in TV Land competing as Sonny and Cher in a talent contest at Shady Pines. If there is one good thing that comes out of this, it will hopefully be the return of cowl neck sweaters and scrunch boots! !

!Here's a cheesecake just for you Bea!

!

Coachella 2009

Coachella 2009 is officially over. What an amazing experience to be in such a beautiful place with your friends listening to great music. This was not my favorite year at Coachella from an artist standpoint, but I will say that seeing The Presets and Ghostland Observatory filled a long-gestating concert void in my life.
!
What made this Coachella so special was the unexpected moments and the ability to just "not really care" much about the world around me. This was worth the price of plane, hotel and concert alone. Life has been trying lately and I think that no one is exempt from this feeling. For the Coachie crew this year, it was a great way to keep our date with the polo field and push away any of the worldly cares. Not once did I check work email or turn on the television to find out what dismal news was infiltrating the nation.
!
Coachella this year was not as much about the music as it was pure escape. Our group was small this time and we truly missed their presence. To be able to recap all of the events that happened during our trip would keep me way past my bedtime and I certainly want to be timely with this update. The story can easily be told through my Flickr sets which can be accessed by clicking the title of this post above.
!