You're the devil, you're half empty now, my marmalade

Dirtbombs and especially Black Lips were tre bitchin' at the Bottle last night. Sold out, natch. Mick Collins had a t-shirt on that said Single Coil, and he can sure rip some leads on that geeetar. He didn't take off his Ray-Bans the entire time, which lets you know he was serious. Noone peed on our door, either. Black Lips are four messy looking kids from ATL GA who had an off-tune half-British Invasion half noise-punk puke thing going on. They also had plates for sale that said "Black Lips beach party". We're not sure if this was some sort of Locust "compact mirror" cocaine accessory or what, but it seemed like a cool way to spice up the merch table. Couldn't afford any of their records, though. Especially since we don't really have a record player that exactly works around here. Functional Blackouts opened, and they were somehow less than the dangerous banned from every club in town roustabouts that were advertised to us. Our friend Brian was playing good drums, though, and they had some jams for the people. But for a Dirtbombs/St. Paddy's day combo meal, all seemed pretty tame.

We wore a new outfit that was almost all white, made up of old stuff in the OGFP wardrobe that we haven't been able to fit into for a while. It's funny how much weight you can lose from the belly/thigh regions without the booze. It's almost as funny as how little difference what clothes we wear seems to make to the opposite sex right now. Just kidding. We wouldn't want this blog to turn into one of those mopey affairs where we gripe about not getting action on an even semi-regular basis, even though various members of the editorial board are threatening to do so as we speak.

So, what else is going on? Since we get pestered constantly for updates and our lives lately have been soul-crushingly boring, this makes for a complicated state of affairs. We could remark about the movies we have been watching lately. We could tell you that we are very upset that Antonioni's The Passenger keeps getting pushed back further and further and that out Maria Schneider fetish is therefore truly suffering. If you've seen Last Tango In Paris (and how could you not) you know of what we speak. Tonight at North Coast we got Domino, a Tony Scott vehicle which looks truly dreadful and a Herzog doc about praying Buddhists, or something. We'll let you know.

Speaking of fetish, we know one or two readers who have one for Hedi Silmane. There is a very dishy article in the new New Yorker fashion issue, with the all the trend info about how he finds his boy models on street corners, makes bands famous, and requisite quotes from associates of his that he "really eats a lot", which is in every "in-depth" article we have ever read about a fashion insider, be it model, designer, DJ, light booth dude, 2nd associate basement stitcher at American Apparel, cameraman on the Style Network, etc. Have fun with your new knowledge!




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