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Archive for 2018|Yearly archive page

BLUE, GINGHAM BUTTON-DOWN (throw a rock and you’ll find it)

In upper body on March 3, 2018 at 8:15pm03


1. Hey! Sorry, I’m late. I was in the middle of an “Iyanla: Fix My Life” marathon. Anyway, we shall begin. If you could choose your accoutrements what would they be?

Let’s keep it casual and go with my everyday look.  I’d choose a crown, a suit of armor, a classic Jordan and a lightsaber.





2. I see exactly where this is headed.  What – and I think I know the answer – is interesting about you?

I’m currently chronicling my life on a blog with the hope of one day corralling the weird, mysterious, magical, whimsical, oh-shucks, confusing, trying and darn-right tough bits so I can pen them into an autobiography. Did I say “weird”? ‘Cause I’m weird, man. Like, really weird. And yet, I’m humble. Watch me dance!


3. No thanks. Do you understand that without ever doing anything interesting or of merit, the mere idea you’re saying, aloud, one day you’ll warrant a big, fat book all about you is about as narcissistic as it gets? Oscar Wilde put it simply, “Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.” Substitute “shirt” for “man” and you know where I’m going. Don’t get me wrong. I understand it on some level. The blog gasses you up. You press “publish” and for a brief moment, you feel as if you’re tattered, sweat-soaked, clinging to Hemingway, as Pilar, headed for North Bimini, fights against the swelling, unrelenting Atlantic. In the meantime, Hemingway, chest pounding, rushes to get “For Whom the Bell Tolls” on the page because if Pilar should capsize and he should perish, maybe, just maybe some sad soul will find enough of “For Whom…” washed ashore and have the sense to send it to the lovely, talent-detecting missiles, otherwise known as Charles Scribner’s Sons.

What’re you talking about? I’m probably as interesting as they come. I might just be the most interesting, dynamic, original anything there is. Did I mention I’m weird? ‘Cause I am. And humble. ‘Cause I’m that too.


4.  You should let a trained professional get to the bottom of why you keep declaring both. Now, I know inside of your vainglorious thunderdome you’re a real force to be reckoned with; however, from the vantage of the majority, you’re basically… brace yourself… not at all weird rather, an egomaniac shrouded in mock bonhomie. 

I don’t believe you.



5. Are you not aware people put you on to simply blend in? You possess neither bell nor whistle and that’s the way folks like it. But if attention-whoredom’s your game, I can look into getting you a gig on Connie. He lives out in Oxnard, has a bowl mullet, loves the ladies who, in turn, think he’s disgusting, spends most of his free time rollerblading and referring to himself in the third person, wears nipple clamps and likes to only button the first two buttons of any shirt, starting from the bottom, which equals maximum chest exposure. Being worn by him will definitely get a few eyes on you. How about it?


6. See? Right there. That’s what I’m talking about. You’re not open to reality-

Reality?! Who the hell knows what kind of grimy scene Connie’s into?! Can’t you get me a gig on Bezos? Musk would look great in me. Dr. Dre I could make some fantastic memories with.

7. I see we’ve traveled into goofy territory. They’re actual innovators, dear. We’re talking Hyperloops, Falcons, Snoop, Eminem, Kendrick, Beats and this little delivery service I’m almost positive can deliver your id to your front door if you should order it. Also, all three rather be seen in a snug, black T-shirt of which you’re not – but I get the feeling this fact won’t stop you from going to a frat party masquerading as one, if you know what I mean. My point is, it appears you assume greatness as if it’s your birthright, to the point of blinding yourself to your own reality. But instead of realizing you just might be a bygone busy signal in the form of a shirt, you expect the world to look on as if McQueen S/S 2010 is in their midst.

And what’s so wrong with, say, Tyler? He goes to work, comes home, eats a balanced meal and settles in to play Fortnite. He’ll hang you up, treat you right… I guess the question is: Like the majority of your brethren, can’t you simply rage against the machine under a biz-cas hoodie while under you is a T-shirt peeking out at collar level? 

No. Never. I must live out a weird, adventurous life deluged with magical magic, therefore warranted by an autobiography that has to be back-ordered worldwide because it falls off the shelves the moment it’s put on. Don’t you see? I long to cloak greatness. I need people to know I was here. I want Baldwin to put “Giovani’s Room” on the page while in me.


I want Chien-Shiun Wu to contradict the law of conservation of parity while in me.


I want Copernicus to realize the “Sun-Centered” system while in me.


I want Boz to walk into a room and reveal a marketing strategy, any marketing strategy while in me.


I want Carl to share a few things with the Dalai Lama while in me.


I want Sylvia to tell climate change deniers to “Get over it” while in me.

Dr. Sylvia Earle

I want Galbraith to work through the night, molding Cormoran into the most captivating detective there is while in me.


I want Maria Tallchief to perform “Firebird” while in me.


I want Einstein to experience the annus mirabilis while in me.


I want Bruce to write “The Incident on 57th Street” thus happening upon a major turning point in his songwriting career while in me.


I want Charles Richard Drew to introduce the first blood bank while in me.


I want Maya to recite “On the Pulse of Morning” while in me.


I want Frida to break away from the mental clutches of Diego and discover her oeuvre while in me.


I want Starman to soar through the cosmos with Mars the final destination while in me.


I want Cynthia Erivo to sing absolutely anything she pleases while in me.

And when it’s all said and done, I’ll demand thee James Maitland Stewart narrate the audiobook because the tale told will be both distinguished and benevolent.


8. Yo, Walter Mitty’s sock, can you come explain how it works?! Listen, dear heart,  none of the above will ever happen simply because you feel it’s owed to you or because you’re weird. Your “Emporer’s New Clothes” run is over and I’m here to tell you we can all see your junk. Now, I know you’d like to be both coddled and lionized while being ushered into this new reality but, God willing and the creek don’t rise, that’s also going the way of the dodo. The world’s finally breaking away from the status quo, finding, anymore, the crowd doesn’t have to go wild in an effort to make you think you’re important when you’re simply not. They don’t have to pretend your words are sage when, in reality, they’re poorly sourced, filled with half-truths, dipped in contrived humility, coated with saccharine embellishments and very much ignorant. Instead, you’ll have to do this little thing called stepping outside of your comfort zone and opening your eyes to an entire world happening around you, as opposed to retreating to where it’s safe, homogenous and replete with scantly earned accolades while expecting everyone and everything to come to you with the hope you’ve chronicled it all in a big, fat book about yourself. Does any of this resonate?

Well gosh, since you put it that way… I mean, painful truths are never easy but this is my new reality I guess. With that said, prayers up the answer to my next question is “Oh, hell no!” Will Trump ever wear me?

9. Noop. You’re not his scene. However, Dinesh D’Souza might, Sean Hannity’s a strong “maybe” I think, Stephen Miller will most definitely use you as a security blanket and get ready for Steve Bannon to pop your collar and layer the shit out of you. We good? I still have one more season of “…Fix My Life” to get to.

Call Connie.




In black widow, neck on February 19, 2018 at 8:15am02


1. If offered the job to accouter yourself, what items would you choose?

What if I turned the job down because the pressure was something I didn’t want to take on?

2. Then I’d say too bad because you’re taking the job, okay? 

Listen – and this is me being honest here – it’s not so much the pressure of the job, rather, I’d be giving away the secrets of the person currently wearing me and I like her too much to do that, not to mention, we garments and accessories have this thing called allegiance when it comes to those who don us.

3. Well, aren’t you the bleeding heart. First off, to quell any concerns, you should know no one visits this stupid site and so your girl’s secrets are safe. Second, you already signed the agreement. Do you understand “agreement”? It means you have to answer the question. Answer. 

Then may God have mercy on my soul. Here you go…

A Carine Gilson robe, the Aubade lingerie set, a pair of Elice mules and a single spritz of Quelques Fleurs.





4. See there? That wasn’t so hard. Now, what is a dream the woman wearing you is working on realizing?

To hone the skill of moving through life akin to both Miss Marple and Columbo: Cunningly obtuse.



5. What is something interesting about your woman?

Hmmm… Let me think. Well, she’s part of a local theater production, which is nice. The decision to audition was a sort of lark, right? But after winning the coveted lead role, the play not only became an important part of her life but a subsequent way for her to revisit the person she used to be. You see, on her twentieth birthday, she went off to the big city to tread the boards on the Great White Way, as they say; however, when the dream began to evaporate, around year two, she found herself opting out of auditions and classes at Stella Adler to lurk about Facebook, primarily to see how ex-boyfriends were faring back home. Months into the daily ritual, she had set her sights on Leslie, the tenth-grade ex-boyfriend and still a bit of a soft touch. Ten years on, she’s returned to the part of the country people leave behind in hopes of making it in the city that never sleeps, she’s married to Leslie, who remains a bit of a soft touch, and together they have three wonderful children: Tyler, Grey and Diego. Why, she just sent the last one – Diego – off to kindergarten, which translates to seven, glorious hours alone, five times a week. So yeah… That’s what’s interesting about her. That’s it.


6. What coveted role did she win? 

A small-town black widow who uses belladonna, the devil’s cherry, to kill her husbands. For inspiration and a sturdy character composite, the lovely and amazing woman wearing me  reaches for the yarn her grandma used to spin about the family being descendants of the Borgias. In fact, when she was just a wee one, grandma would pull her aside and tell her how much she resembled Lucrezia. In any case, all told, the black widow kills eight husbands and all of them on the third day after their first year of marriage.


7. Eight?! Clearly, we don’t have Miss Marple nor Columbo on the case. It’s hardly a complicated crime to crack, no? 

Hey, it’s local theater. What do you want? No one’s in this to go head-to-head with a Hitchcockian plot if that’s what you’re thinking. If anything, the one passion all involved in the play share is the need to be away, away from the spouse, from the job, from the sciatica flare-up, from the undulating call of the breast pump, from the unemployment, from the bone spurs, from the student loan, from the possible audit, from the vacuous Twitter rage, from the casual racism, from the ex-girlfriend’s engagement, from the hammertoe, from the leaky faucet, from the mortgage, from from the “will I ever stop renting and actually have a mortgage,” from the high cholesterol, from the trial separation, from the “this is as good as it’s gonna get”… How much more away can one be than to travel into a world where a black widow is snuffing out unsuspecting gentlemen with the help of belladonna? Hell, most of them didn’t even know what belladonna was before reading the script. My point is, the woman wearing me hasn’t felt this alive in years. She’s finding the way back to herself crumb by crumb. She adores her kids but motherhood’s a job. Of course, she loves Leslie but holding him up on a pedestal while hiding her hands was exhausting and turning her into a resentful harridan. I could actually feel the depression setting in. If it weren’t for the play, she would’ve never known why the emotional cavalcade was bearing down. Now, when the children race from the school bus to the front door and when Leslie kicks off his work boots in the garage, they’re each greeted by a woman who’s putting herself first and that’s a priceless gift. Even if they don’t know why she’s content and happy and fulfilled, it means everything to her knowing they’re being received by a wife and mother who wants nothing more than to be right there in the moment with them.


8. Wow. That’s absolutely beautiful. But I’d like to backup to the why you were so reluctant to share the story of your fully-bloomed ingénue’s stunning rebirth, especially when it came to her accoutrements. What gives?

Oh god… I was hoping you wouldn’t revisit this. Okay. So yeah, you’re right. She’s clearly back in the business of being an ingénue – at least at the local level – and that’s obviously helped her cope immensely when it comes to overall life; however, that might not be the only reason she’s stunningly reborn. Another reason might have to do with the fact she’s also discovered she might, maybe enjoy being a black widow who enjoys snuffing out unsuspecting gentlemen with the help of belladonna in real life. Maybe. It’s possible.


9. Uh… What say?

Now, do you see why I didn’t wanna go down this road?! Fine! It’s out there! Everyone knows! My fully-bloomed ingénue’s a black widow and those accoutrements aren’t provided by the local theater production and they’re, sure as shit, not for that embarrassing buffoon, Leslie! Actually, in the play, it’s a secondhand, flannel nightgown she sports and for Leslie, it’s ratty sweats and an ‘N Sync T-shirt with a hole in the armpit! The accoutrements I chose are for a real-life, sexy, killing spree! And unlike the character from the play, my girl’s nimble enough to rendezvous with her victims in other counties, where she handily assumes identities, wears various wigs and debuts different accents! And unlike some middling, boring black widow, she doesn’t do it for the money or the insurance payouts! Nope! Simply for sport! I blame technology! The relationships are able to flourish because she builds an online rapport so robust, by the time they meet in person, these dudes are so keyed up, they’re all but putty in her masterful hands! I also blame the egos of said victims! How do they not realize online love for men like them is the devil’s snare and if some chick named Constance Marie is proposing marriage after two, mediocre, sexting sessions, rife with details of who’s tickling what on who, then there’s a good chance it’ll end in death?! And I don’t know why, but she insists on wearing me every damn time they rendezvous! How the fuck do you think I know about the Borgia yarn?! She tells them that’s how! As they lay dying, she whispers, inches from their faces, that granny would tell her she had Lucrezia’s cunning eyes and button nose! I’m tired of Lucrezia! I’m tired of button noses! I’m tired of rendezvousing! I’m tired of pallor, livor, algor and rigor! I’m tired of seeing into the souls of sweet, gullible men who think the universe has finally granted them the kindness and caress of a woman who’s only ever pole-danced across their dreams! I’m tired of dangling over these pathetic creatures, during their final breaths, as they come to realize they probably should’ve remained faithful to Ruth because all this lunatic, Constance Marie, wants is to watch them suffer and die! So there you have it! The late-’90s, early-2000s Lifetime flick, starring Bonnie Bedelia come to life and the true reason why when Tyler, Grey and Diego race from the goddam school bus to the bullshit front door and when stupid-face Leslie kicks off his stupid work boots in the fucking garage, they’re each greeted by a woman who wants nothing more than to be right there! In the moment! With! Them!





In all over, Wacky Waving Tube Man on February 11, 2018 at 8:15am02


1. If you could choose your accouterments what would they be?

A Mary McFadden hand-painted coat, a pair of Tom Ford boots, a Madina Visconti bracelet and nunchaku.





2. What is something a person should never ever possess?

Moronic brain with a learned attitude.


3. What is a quality you love most about a person wearing you?

Humility. The penchant to not abjectly lie to save one’s own ass or get ahead in life at the expense of another is a close second. Never be that person.

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4. If not you then what?

An “Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan” surname.

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5. If you could be worn by anyone who would it be?

Elaine Welteroth. They broke the mold with her.

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Portrait credit :: Lia Tin

6. Do you have a favorite spoonerism?

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7. What is the person wearing you loving about life at the moment?

Who knows?


8. Moving right along then… Curious is?

A blue zone.

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9. If you could appear in any film what would it be?

Robert Altman’s “Short Cuts“…

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…on Annie Ross throughout.

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