Choire Sicha

Saturday, May 31

Do any of you happen to owe me any money? No? Really? Fine, never mind. But if you suddenly remember that I loaned you, say, 1200 bucks, just pop me an email. Paypal me! Or better yet, Fedex me some cigarettes. Even though my wallet is empty, it is also true that my lungs are hungry. Ah, I love a good proverb. ⊕

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Friday, May 30

Not too long ago, I was on my way to meet a date, and I found these animal balloons in the back of my cab. I'm not sure what animals they were supposed to be, but at that moment I figured they couldn't be a bad date omen for any man.

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Thursday, May 29

Evidently Vincent Gallo is back in town, fresh from his Cannes disaster. On Clinton Street last night, His Shagginess unfolded himself from his tiny tiny white convertible and gamely swaggered down to Salt Bar. I didn't offer condolences; I was busy seguing between Moby's Teany tea-house and dinner at WD-50.

WD-50 is the new hotness or something, or maybe it's the old hotness, honestly I really don't know anymore. After a decade in New York, if I still had to pay attention to where to go and who to do, I'd never get it gone to and get them done. The point being: the food really is incredible. Artichoke soup with lemon oil and mussels and chorizo? Totally a scary and fun thing to eat; food as bungey-jumping. The skate was gorgeous, its shiso aoli was odd but genius, and whatever meat I had -- lamb? pork? -- was a gushy gash of bloody tenderness floating in its Asian pear water. My only complaint is that the plate styling is way over the top, quite reminiscent of the dinner scene in Beetlejuice.

I love it "down there," but in many ways the new Lower East Side leaves me a little cold. Where I grew up, the poor neighborhoods and towns stayed poor. If you wanted to change class, you packed up your Dodge Dart and got the fuck out of town. But on this island, a small group of ambitious real estate agents can disrupt communities and tantalize foolish landlords into untenable positions with the snap of taloned fingers. My point again being: you can cut the class tension on the L.E.S. with a Wusthof-Trident knife.

Best line of the night: a camouflage-clad girl on her way to meet "long lost friends" bummed a cigarette from me on Clinton Street because she had "bakedness to quash." Who are you, fabulous poetess?

[And yes, on the corner of Rivington and Orchard streets I offered up a silent homage to Lockhart Steele, our dreamy real estate pornographist. Also, please congratulate me on not making any WD-40 jokes above.] ⊕

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Wednesday, May 28

2003 promises to be the summer blockbuster summer to end all blockbuster summers. First, on June 13th, there's 28 Days Later, allegedly a light comedy about love between Sandy Bullock and a tormented alcoholic fur-wearing animal researcher. Huh.

That weekend also sees the opening of Jet Lag, a love story starring the gorgeous Juliette Binoche and the hideous and hulking (albeit talented!) Jean Reno as her love interest. Working title: Pretty Woman Nikita.

On June 27th, every homosexual in the world will attend the opening of Charlies Angels: Full Throttle. Hands down, this is perhaps the most important sequel in the history of film.

On July 2nd, we must choose between many contenders. Our recommendation is Legally Blonde 2: The Rise of the Machines. Set in the mid-90s, a possibly evil mechanized morphing Reese Witherspoon from the future must battle in Beverly Hills Time Paradox Court the possibly good pre-boob job Reese Witherspoon. Who will prevail?

July 18th brings us Nine Dead Gay Guys, a fey murder mystery starring Abdala Keserwani as Dick Cheese Deepak. Seriously. This will be the Set It Off of faggotry. Check out the trailer. Hubba hubba.

In important remake territory, there's Jamie Lee Curtis' display of pure star power in Freaky Friday, to be released August 6th. It'll be a freaky Friday if this turkey actually gets projected anywhere.

The big money's on a dark horse end of summer release. Slap Her... She's French is a tale of cheerleaders, exchange students, and man-stealing in a small Texas town. It promises to be Wild Things, Drop Dead Gorgeous, and Bring It On in one delectable celluloid package. I'm erect, why aren't you*? ⊕

"I am horrified to discover that Neil Gaiman is putting the finishing touches on the script adaptation of Nicholson Baker's Fermata. For a movie to be directed by Robert Zemeckis. Fill my fucking fanny hole, indeed." Cowboy Sally's had it up to here. ⊕

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Tuesday, May 27

The Hemorrhoids Story. "Granted, these were not sophisticated minds. One in particular, a girl who had not advanced much beyond her learner's permit, wore a necklace made entirely of candy." Two related stories of how to beat the bogeyman. ⊕

Something happened this endless weekend that I'm still piecing together. Shane and I danced in slow motion to house music with hordes of drunken Long Island teenagers. The pines whipped against the sky. I listened to Sara's clicking fingers type a long paper on some topic Arabic. I wore two pairs of pants against the cold, and slept hunched around a heating pad. I woke up before everyone else in the stormy blue morning and made them a big pot of coffee. In the foggy afternoon my science fiction paperbook fell out of focus and the window to the gray ocean blurred and I slipped into a dreamful nap. Late that night, the rain briefly stopped. I found myself at the intersection of two slick footpaths with an incredibly attractive man from another part of the country. The insects paused in their rubbings. I kissed this man and my body's engine shuddered into life. I pressed my cold fingers against the points of his hips. He kissed me again with his eyes open, and a few more times, and he held my hands in his and then he said goodnight. I pulled out the two icons on a chain that hid beneath his shirt: St. Christopher and the Virgin. Alone later, I thought of Dune, the book I'd fallen asleep to that afternoon, and of what it says over and over again: "Fear is the mind-killer." I have a store of past wrongs to right, and my body wants training. In the experience and release of fear -- through discipline -- we find contentment. Desire ends in satisfaction. Happy travels to all travellers.

[A postscript: I have still been thinking of this and also am now thinking of this.] ⊕

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Monday, May 26

Nor'easter

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