Just thought I'd dust off this oldie but goodie from 1990. I still love this one. I remember it playing in a big scarey gay club in NYC that year. It was the first time I was in NYC. The city is still magic to me...but not so scarey. This is going to sound strange, but I miss the scariness of it. Either Gulliani cleaned it up a little too much, or I'm just all jaded and restless for stimuli.

I always dug the line in this tune..."He's not vicious or malicious, he's just lovely and delicious". It's at first such a random, throwed-off chunk of air-headed pop lyric, but upon further reflection, it's actually subliminal...considering the status of gay culture in 1990.

The band was multi cultural. Their music was fun and hot...you would have to be dead or in a coma for this tune not to get your ass out on the dance floor with everybody else. I guess 1990 was just sorta a deliniating point where attitudes just seemed to be turning. Maybe it was just me saying "fuck it"...time to grow up and stop concentrating on the things that seperate me from everybody else and just be my lovely and delicious self.

Don't mind me, yall. I'm over-analyzing shit tonight. Just dig this song!

(Groove is in the Heart by Deee Lite was here)

We are celebrating and all giddy and stuff tonight. We have been approved for the Jonathan Adler line as of today. They are very selective about where they place product. His reps from New York visited the store tonight and gave us the go-ahead, based on how we present merchandise, and what other lines we carry. I've been lusting after his pottery and accessories for years, and now we are going to be able to carry them in the store.

His pottery is beautiful and serene. Clean, exact, stylized and organic. The craftsmanship is exquisite, with an urban sensibility. His designs take you back to the glory days of the Kennedy-era Camelot, when America was strong and hopeful...when everybody wore madras and sipped mai tais, when Doris Day and Jacqui bopped around in shift dresses by Cassini and Lily...and everything was bright, stylish, and beautiful. That's the happy world in my head.

As it turns out, he is also a big supporter of Aid To Artisans, an organization that I respect immensely.

I'm really proud that our store has been selected for this product. Marc, John, Jessica, and Michelle have worked very hard to create a beautiful store. Now we are going to have a big showing of Jonathan Adler pottery in 6 weeks. I'm fuckin psyched!

You can check his stuff out at...

www.jonathanadler.com

A love song to a sibling; is by nature, fraught with complications. Gerry, 17 years my senior...my brother, and as much a father as Johnny ever was...called me last night. He apologized for being so busy with all that is going on in his life that we didn't have Christmas together this year. I had been anquishing over the same thing. I thought I was the one that had been sideswiped by life and had fucked up the family get-together again this year.

Gerry grew up in one way. 17 years later, I come along and grew up in an entirely different way. I think Gerry really got a kick out of it. He's always totally laughed with me and at me, and still does.

He let me play this 8 track over and over again when we drove to Daytona in 1976. That summer, I wanted nothing more than to be close to my brother, as different as we were. We laughed all week until it hurt. He was headed down to watch the motorcycle enduros, and I was in tow. I made him listen to Lou Reed's "Coney Island Baby" ad-naseum, and we woke up every morning that week, after sleeping on the beach like bums, with squacking seagulls perched on our sleeping bags.

As it turns out, my brother credits me with turning him on to Lou Reed. As it turns out, I credit my brother with turning me on to The Alman Brothers. Gerry's a Lou Reed freak now. I'm an Alman Brothers freak now. Funny how shit works out.

Gerry, I love you Coach.

So I get into this space sometimes, where I step away from normal humans...and crank up some vintage Bowie. Here's where I have to confess how truly nerdy I am. I am still a regular contributor to Bowie.net and Teenagewildlife, the two definitive fansites. I know, right?...nerdy and obssesive and cyber-pathetic.

Something in my psyche tells me to revisit this foggy place in my past from time to time. When things are going really well for me as they are now, something tells me to get all "rootsy" and stop and think about my 15 year old self...that fucked up kid that was watching the world spin around his head in the dark in his bedroom and listening to alien ideas on the Radio Shack turntable.

In my most recent conversations with my 15 year old self, my 15 year old self just takes a hit off a big fattie and says..."It's about fuckin' time, dude." My 15 year old self is my worst critic. Damn, he can be such an asshole sometimes.