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Happy Birthday, Ruby Slippers!

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Art & Culture, Books & Writing, I Heart My Love-Tribe, I Heart Robots, Movies & Movie Stars, Photography, Rock & Roll, Style & Fashion, Technicolor Pop, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2010 by alphabetfiend

A yellow brick road is today’s Google header — celebrating the 71st birthday of the landmark film “The Wizard of Oz!”

Happy birthday, Dorothy! And you, Lion! And you, Scarecrow! And of course, the Tinman!

And your little dog too.

Toto!

I think I can hear a heart beating from that box, Tinman. Unless it’s a bomb! I see a big butterscotch bow wrapped around a brain, Scarecrow. And for you, Lion, a lovely vial of courage serum. A little goes a long way! Don’t be a jackass! Dorothy? There’s a ticket to Kansas waiting at the airport. Tom Wolfe sez you can never go home again. Be forewarned, there’s probably a strip mall in Aunty Em’s corn field. So we got you a Pretenders album, so you can rock out to a song that this corn-fed midwestern gal (Holy Toledo!) has often enjoyed in a bittersweet kinda way.

MY CITY WAS GONE

I WENT BACK TO OHIO
BUT MY CITY WAS GONE
THERE WAS NO TRAIN STATION
THERE WAS NO DOWNTOWN
SOUTH HOWARD HAD DISAPPEARED
ALL MY FAVORITE PLACES
MY CITY HAD BEEN PULLED DOWN
REDUCED TO PARKING SPACES
A, O, WAY TO GO OHIO

WELL I WENT BACK TO OHIO
BUT MY FAMILY WAS GONE
I STOOD ON THE BACK PORCH
THERE WAS NOBODY HOME
I WAS STUNNED AND AMAZED
MY CHILDHOOD MEMORIES
SLOWLY SWIRLED PAST
LIKE THE WIND THROUGH THE TREES
A, O, OH WAY TO GO OHIO

I WENT BACK TO OHIO
BUT MY PRETTY COUNTRYSIDE
HAD BEEN PAVED DOWN THE MIDDLE
BY A GOVERNMENT THAT HAD NO PRIDE
THE FARMS OF OHIO
HAD BEEN REPLACED BY SHOPPING MALLS
AND MUZAK FILLED THE AIR
FROM SENECA TO CUYAHOGA FALLS
SAID, A, O, OH WAY TO GO OHIO!

But most importantly, I must wish The Ruby Slippers a happy birthday, being as they were my favorite character in all of Oz. Or they were until I read Wicked by Gregory Maguire.

Before it was a blockbuster musical it was just a really great and lovely book. Wicked tells the story from the witch’s point of view, so gorgeously that I fell in absolute love with Elphaeba aka “Elphie” with her green skin and her yearning heart. Wicked is one of the sexiest most romantic love stories I’ve ever read. Crazy sexy! I still get the shivers just to think of Elphie and her loverman with the blue tattoos. If you haven’t read it I highly recommend it. It’s one of my favorites. I’ve read all of Maguire’s books and each one is a memorable joy.

Speaking of great Oz books, I recently bought a chunky tome by Graham Rawle that is outrageously illustrated with photographs of old toys and surreal beaded landscapes.

The book was a birthday treat for myself but then my baby niece, Thing 2, saw it up on the shelf — cover showing — and demanded to see it. I brought it down like a precious treasure and we very gently turned the pages. Thing 2 was enchanted and continues to be. She calls the lion a “GRR”

And she pointed to the tinman and exclaimed, “Robot!”

Thing 2 has a robot for an uncle so she knows all about robots. I didn’t correct her cause I’ve always thought the tinman was a robot too.

It’s a big birthday blow-out for childhood memories. Oz is 71 and Dr. Seuss’ Green Eggs and Ham is 50. Google coulda celebrated Seuss instead with two green eggs as the double o’s.

The Rawle’s Oz (highly recommended by Thing 2) is available on amazon. So is Wicked by Gregory Maguire. And the Pretenders too!

Happy Birthday, Frida!

Posted in Art & Culture, Art Lover, Goof & Glamour, Livin' La Vida Frida, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 7, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Today, on google, I was surprised to see Frida’s face. Was what Frida Kahlo doing on Google?, I wondered.

So I googled it.

I typed in “frida kahlo birthday???” and sure enough, it’s Frida’s 103 birthday this July 6, 2010. Frida was born in the sign of cancer and, like myself, on the auspicious sixth day of the month. (Mine is June 6.)

I love Frida Kahlo. I’ve loved her since I was a child. (My mother, also a painter, looks eerily like Frida.)

It’s interesting how she’s gaining a new kind of notoriety, what with Salma Hayek’s film Frida and now a Google tribute. I went to carnivale, just a few years ago, dressed as Frida. I piled a whole bouquet of flowers onto my head with braided loops and penciled my eyebrows together. I wore a velvet skirt w/tulle layers and a fringed shawl. I wrapped a tangle of faux barbed wire & bird around my neck. I stuck Diego’s face onto my forehead with eyelash glue. But the best part, by far — covering  my nipples — were the weirdest pasties EVER: big “EYES” with sequin irises and black plastic lashes.

"Diego and Me" by Frida Kahlo (Frida was married to famous mexican muralist, Diego Rivera)

My carnivale get-up — “Fleshpot Frida” — was surreal and beautiful and creepy. So Frida! The people who got it loved it, absolutely, but I was shocked at how many people had no idea who Frida Kahlo was, what she did or how she changed the art world. Frida Kahlo had always been akin to a catholic Saint in our home: Saint Frida!

It’s no wonder I love Vicki Berndt’s St. Frida painting! If I had an extra $1500 I’d snap that sucker up cause it’s still available for purchase and it’s so worth the money. (Berndt’s paintings are usually bought in a blink of an eye. If Frida were more well known, St. Frida would be sold by now.)

"Tree of Hope" by Frida Kahlo

Frida Kahlo was a surrealist who painted deeply personal almost religious paintings, often depicting physical & emotional pain in a gory realistic way.

No one had ever painted PAIN like that before.

But amidst all the pain was glorious joy, prolific creativity and a profound insight into life and love.

Like Frida, I live with chronic physical pain, but I also have a frida-esque joy and gusto for life. I’m reading Role Models by John Waters and so I’ve been asking myself “Who are my role models? Who are those people who have influenced or inspired or helped me to live my life on my own odd terms?” Kahlo is definitely a role model. She’s a hero of mine for many reasons.

When she was hurting, she painted in bed and when she was able, she danced her ass off.

I totally get that.

When people try to force me to “take it easy” during my good times or to get outta bed on bad days, I just tell ’em to fuck off already cause I’m livin’ la vida Frida.

Livin’ la vida, Frida, bitches!

***Happy Birthday, Frida Kahlo. I love you. Thank you. For everything.***

A Slow-Mo Wednesday on WordPress

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Friendship, I Heart Friends, I Heart Funny Fellas, I Heart My Love-Tribe, I Heart Tricksters, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2010 by alphabetfiend

It was a slow, rainy day in Mississippi, which I craved after the chaotic heat of the last few weeks. The Robot asked if I wanted to drink beer on Magazine Street and I said no no no. No Nola today, not for me.

I was too exhausted from blowing the blooms offa roses like they waz fuzzy dandelions. I was too zapped from biting my tongue while my best friend talked crazy talk, just nodding my head when she said he waz her soulmate. I was over-wrought from bawling my eyes out on the porch steps cause crazy makes no fuckin’ sense but there’s no way to say it so there’s nothing to do but cry. I figgered she’d get there herself and she did.

She sez “Oh, the blooms off, it’s flat-out gone. Someone came along and blew it off, sent petals flying everywhere, and it was YOU!” And little trickster me, why I’ve never been prouder, even though her realization had her packing up a whole week early. After she pulled out, I crawled into bed and CRASHED. I slept for 12 hours, woke up, ate breakfast and then went back to sleep for another 4 hours. Now I’m curled up with the canine trinity and happy as hell to be here and not on Magazine Street.

On the plus side, I won’t be getting in trouble for my big mouth (again) because she does not read this. She reads everything I’ve ever written but not this. The very mention of wordpress or Cream Scene Carnival or bliggety-blog-blabla is enough to have her rolling her eyes as she stubs out her cig with ragged impatience. I said I was in an introspective writerly place and her face lit up, “Fiction?”  When I said no, her face fell like an avalanche. I’m so lucky, I know, to have someone champion my work. For 18 years, she’s been my biggest fan, but she hates this and hasn’t hesitated to say so. Why? Hmmm. She thinks it’s below me, that it’s a waste of my precious time, that it will lead nowhere (or rather, it won’t lead to her being able to see me on the shelves of your local Barnes & Noble and therefore, it’s going nowhere.) She thinks some asshole will stumble on my writing, either here or elsewhere on wordpress where I’ve posted the first 20 chapters of a novel in first draft (Pure Sweet Chocolate Sense) and that they will steal my stuff and use it to get where I should be going. I’d write it off as total paranoia but she’s been right about assholes before. She’s got a nose for assholes (this week not withstanding.)

I should be ecstatic that someone cares enough to obsessively worry like my friend does… and I am. Sorta. It’s odd being griped at for not writing when writing is all I’m doing these days. She feels I’ve got a gift for fiction and that fiction is where I belong. Fiction is my first love, my true love, but even at 10 yrs old I knew I wanted to master other forms of writing. I always expected to write everything from poetry to free-lance magazine columns/articles, from love letters to graffiti…. Cream Scene Carnival is representative of that creative mish-mash. Maybe if she took a real look at CSS she’d see “ME” in it and chill, but probably not. Like her, the word “blog” makes me bristle. Something about it seems not quite right… not quite “write.” I don’t really consider CSS a blog so much as a digital zine. If I “made it” as a blogger but not as a writer, I’d be devastated and then dead from all the I told you so’s. Which is not to say that I don’t think real quality writing is happening within the blog-o-sphere. Maybe it’s just about linguistics and literary pretension.

Still, I’m proud to be a Cream Scene carnie these days and grateful for all the support I’ve gotten from the people I’ve met through wordpress. I’m energized by the back and forth, the intimacy, and the immediacy of being able to knock something out and put it up to be read right that minute. I love how I never know what’s gonna make an impact and so I’m always surprised. I totally dig my dash — all the searches, the pathways people took to get to me, and sometimes to get back to me which is even better. It’s starting to happen where everyday someone is searching for “Cream Scene Carnival” in particular or else “Dia VanGunten writer/circus freak” or “TV sex carnival Dia Van” or some other variation on either my name, the site name or a specific post title. That never used to happen and now that it has, I’m paying close attention. 

I once got 900 hits in just one day for a post about Amy Poehler and Will Arnett’s first born. I’m a fan of both and so I was watching SNL and then on the late-late news, they said that Poehler had gone straight to the hospital from her final night on SNL, which had just aired. I giddily typed it up, never expecting the onslaught of views. It was timely, because it was late on a Saturday night/early on a Sunday morn and I was up anyway trying to get the punk rock gospel up for my “congregation” of misfit mystics. I ended up being one of the first to report it, even before Hollywood gossip sites, so I was top o’ google and still get hits for that post 2 years later. I’ve slaved over other posts — masterpieces in comparison, well thought-out, finely-crafted writing wise and typo-free — but they’ve been viewed by one very reliable reader and I always know it’s him cause he hops over from his own wordpress dash. I don’t mind either way. Really, to be honest, I write for myself first and then for that RELIABLE ONE… it’s all gravy after that. Lately, it’s looking like I have a reliable few and that’s cool too. Very.

In regard to my expectations for myself or the expectations that others have for me (see more of the above) — it’s those specific searches that most thrill me. It’s one thing to get lottsa hits as one person after another stumbles upon you because you’ve done a good job of staying current and guessing on that next big thing or even inventing that next big thing (in the case of one of my notorious top posts.) But it’s another thing entirely to be searched out, either because they’ve read you before and they dug it, or because they’ve heard from someone whose taste they trust that there’s something kinda freaky-deeky goin’ on over at “Cream Scene Carnival” and so they take the time to google and then to read. You end up with readers both ways but with the latter, you can see it happening and that’s a blast.

     
Lusty Luddite Looking to Seduce Lonely S 21 More stats
Home page 9 More stats
True Blood Theme Song: “Bad Things” by J 7 More stats
Peggy Hill in Flint’s Palin Porn: hot XX 4 More stats
Hot Mummy Love is Some Sexy Ass Gentle 2 More stats
Showtime’s Californication Makes My Brai 2 More stats
Tina Fey as Palin: “Not Afraid to get Ma 2 More stats
Baby Jesus Butt Plug (A real thing!) *Ad 2 More stats
About the Ringleader 2 More stats
Tryin’ To Make It Real Compared To What? 2 More stats
Swimming Pool Mermaid 2 More stats
Elvin Bishop’s “Fishin'” (Sunday AM Punk 1 More stats
My Sexual Custody 1 More stats
Peggy Hill to Star in Palin Porn? 1

A slow day in Mississippi, a slow day on wordpress, 58 views in all. I  love the goofy google poems that randomly rearrange everyday…. it’s like a window into meaning and culture. Here at wordpress we have these magical spaceship dashboards that give us a glimpse into the minds of human beings. What are people loving, laughing at, lusting after? What are they wondering about or wishing for?

I did a post a while back about the word “Diva” and how it’s been co-opted by obnoxious women with sparkly fingernails and I posted a clip of Sarah Silverman singing, “If you call yourself a diva, it better be for reals, and not just some sad pathetic kind of front…You’re probably not a diva, you’re a cunt.” She’d performed it in NYC for a storytelling thang which I’d listened to on pod-cast but no one had heard it outside of this small audience and no one cared a whip about my post. Until last Wednesday, when she must’ve played it on some late night talk show or something cause suddenly the cunt-diva searches came rolling in.

I have a couple posts about the amazing mofo comic Mike O’Connell of Million Dollar Strong and the hits are paltry but I fully expect to open my laptop someday and see it lit up & blinking like a white tinsel christmas tree.

I find it’s fun to anticipate the future obsessions of others and to be privy to their proclivities at present.

steampunk 22
tina fey 2
creme scene carnival 4
i wanna do bad things to you true blood 2
xxx carnival 2
janeane garofalo sexy 1
king of the porn peggy 1
bride frankenstein tattoo 1
hank hill porn 1
larry flint palin 1
tina fey’s wedgie 1
hot sexy mummies 1
peggy hill porn 1
true blood do bad things to you 1
camille rose garcia 1
true blood theme song 1
i dont know what you’ve done to me but i 1
californication 1
elvin bishop fishin 1
but i know this much is true; i wanna do 1
tumescent cock

I must say that I’m feelin’ pretty damn cheeky over the hilariously absurd collection of searches that show up on my dash. I’ve never written about Tina Fey’s wedgie and yet there it is, no nonsense white cotton panties all up in Fey’s yummy bizness. Mmmm. And “Janeane Garofalo sexy”??? Oh hell yea! Lately steampunks can’t get enough of the Lusty Luddite while the rumor I started about Peggy Hill starring in Flint’s Palin porn is finally beginning to slow down. The very talented artist Camille Rose Garcia is another sexy bitch that I’m proud to see on my dash. I’ve never written about a Bride of Frankenstein tattoo although I’m all inked up and was once the bride for Halloween. Funny story:

The following day was a Saturday and I was certain that people would still be celebrating so the Robot and I kept our wigs on as “Frank & Bride on their Honeymoon.” I wore a sheer ghosty nightie with black lace & garters showing through with marabou feather boudoir slippers. I also carried a little pink suitcase. But the Bot was the best with a green tee and green tights under his boxers and a BIG GREEN DILDO sticking outta his boxers like a franken’ woody. AWESOME! I was wrong, no one else was dressed up, but we did get in to see the band for free.

Perhaps, hearing about the giant green monster hard-on, it’s no surprise to you that I am especially proud of the “Tumescent Cock” search as well as “XXX Carnival.” I am certain that those Brits looking for “Hot Sexy Mummies” (that’s MILFs to you Yanks) are beyond disappointed to find actual bandage-bound mummies who’ve been lucky enough to find Everlasting Love. One of the coolest things that has happened lately is that people have started reading the Sunday AM Punk Rock Gospel which is my little 10 minute church for other godless heathens like myself who might still want to touch base with something beautiful on a Sunday. If church were more like the punk rock gospel, I’d probably go. No one ever read the punk rock gospel before, at least not on purpose, but I loved it and the RELIABLE ONE loved it so I kept doing it and now I see that folks are looking for it which pleases me to no end cause I’m that much closer to starting my own cult and getting fire-bombed by the government. We gots to have goals in life, right?

I love you, my sweet faceless kinksters, thanks for reading. Sorry for my hinky mood tonight — I’m zonked and I’m crabby, it’s rainy and the Bot’s drunk on Magazine Street, my best friend sneers at Cream Scene Carnival and that frustrates the shit outta me cause she hasn’t met all of you and so she doesn’t see what’s in it for me. I adore y’all, I do. Keep comin’ around. I’m here, I’m not goin’ no where, I swear!

Good night, my freaks, may you have sweet or wet dreams, whichever you prefer.

**P.S.** In ode to the deep south, there are two chickens in this rainy post — do you see the second one?

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