I always wondered about the color of the universe. But does it match the furniture?

Hey punk rockers, or those who wish they were:

Beware if you start seeing ads for a Dead Kennedys tour--lead singer and lyricist Jello Biafra will not be joining them. This is just the latest in yet another protracted legal battle involving the band, except this time the band has turned on itself. Here's the news, as well as an archive of periodic updates on the state of things at Jello HQ. Poor Jello--the guy can't catch a break, can he? In a fit of hero-worship I put a $200 check in his shoe when I saw him speak in Seattle last summer. He may be in his 40s, but he still walks the talk, you know? Better than many of us can say for ourselves. I wish him the best of luck.

I love this quote from Michael Musto's column in the Village Voice (Jan 15 issue):

...Lord of the Rings is beautiful and grandiose, like an old Cecil B. DeMille epic on extra crack, but honey, I was bored shitless. One more close-up of someone holding the damn ring and this thing would be ready for the Home Shopping Club.

I wasn't bored, but I understand where Mr. Mike is comin' from. You go, girl.

Celebrity freak of the moment:

Holt McCallany

No, you won't find any websites about him, at least I couldn't in a short Google search. He first caught my eye as one of the more charismatic of the Space Monkeys in Fight Club -- he was the first one to say "His name was Robert Paulson." Then I noticed him in Three Kings, another one of the best movies of 1999. Then, when I got the Alien box set, I recognized him when I re-watched Alien3. And, I'm happy to report, we can look forward to seeing him in Panic Room. He's just one of those character actors who has distinguished himself well enough to be recognizable in his own right, which I think is a compliment to him (at least I intend it to be that way). But lo and behold, what do I find out in my casual IMDB search? He is from Nebraska! Although apparently born in New York, according to IMDB he was raised in Nebraska and schooled in Ireland. So he's not only a good actor, but a homeboy as well! As a fellow Cornhusker, I salute you, Holt McCallany!

Well, I've moved into my wee apartment, and I love it! I still have boxes everywhere, because I don't know where to put anything, but it's slowly becoming more habitable. I bought a futon, so for the first time in months I'm sleeping above the floor. And I'm getting to know my neighborhood a bit.

About a week ago, I went for a late dinner at this fabulous Middle Eastern place I discovered a few blocks away. On my way there I noticed that I didn't see any corner stores ("bodegas," they call them here) which were plentiful in my last neighborhood, that were open past 10pm. So at the restaurant I asked the waitress if she knew of any bodegas in the neighborhood that were open late. I mean, it's always nice to know, in case you have an emergency Ben 'n' Jerrys craving at midnight or something. The waitress ummmed for a minute, and said "Well, there might be some places up on Myrtle that are open late...I don't know anything in the immediate area...." then she had to go off and deal with a customer. Another customer who was sitting at the next table heard my question and piped up:

"So what are you looking for? Beer? Condoms? Cocaine?"
Um...no, just, you know, if I want to run out for a late snack or something.
"Well, don't listen to her," he said, meaning the waitress. "Don't go up to Myrtle unless you want to get shot."
I laughed. Well, she seems to have survived.
"Now, I don't know you, maybe you're packing heat or mace or something, but it can get pretty bad up there. I've been in this neighborhood a few years, and I used to go up there, but, man, I just got tired of dealing with the nonsense. It's just nonsense, what goes on up there."
I told him I had been on Myrtle during the day a couple days before, and it seemed okay. A little run-down maybe, but nobody messed with me. He shook his head.
"Even in the daytime, I'm surprised you're alive. Maybe you've got that sassy look, maybe they didn't want to mess with you, maybe they figured you were from the neighborhood. Hey, I'm a writer, I'm a weenie, look at these hands." He held up his hands, and suddenly I realized that he might have been a little drunk.
"I just got tired of all the nonsense. I don't want to fight for my life for a turkey sandwich, you know?"

Uh, then I should go down to Fulton instead?

"No! Don't go that way! You'll get shot there too!"
You're not leaving me too many options.
"Stay on Lafayette--it's okay."
Yeah, but the bodegas don't stay open late.
"What do you need? Tampons? Alcohol?"

Sensing I was in a conversational vortex, I soon left. But the guy did recommend a college bar a couple doors down. "If you don't mind college people," he said. I told him I didn't if they didn't mind that I was ten years older than them. He said "They'll never know if you don't tell them," which I thought was very sweet. Maybe he was just being nice considering my imminent violent demise if I stray two blocks too far in any of three directions from my apartment.

Actually the advice to stay on Lafayette wasn't half bad. All of the streets immediately surrounding my apartment (as long as I don't go east, or too far north, or south) are quite nice, and as you get closer to downtown Brooklyn, there are a lot of cool restaurants and shops. I also found an awesome soul-food joint that delivers to my apartment--thank god because it's on the deadly Myrtle street. And not far away I spotted an organic produce stand! So, while I'm hiding out from the hail of bullets down the road, I can cook myself up a mess of tasty greens. Also I found the cheapest furniture store in the world--just about everything on the floor was $19.95, and the owners practically beg you to buy something. "We deliver! We'll assemble it for you!" It must be because they are on Myrtle and their customer base keeps getting killed or something. I think I want to get a table there, though, so I guess I'll have to break out the Kevlar bra.

But lets get serious about furniture, folks. I'll let you in on one of the best perks of this great International city: the free bus to IKEA. Are you jonesing for some pressed-wood furniture? Just get on the bus! Leaves every half-hour from Port Authority on weekends. Buy a bunch of crap, pay the flat $99 to have it delivered to your door, and motorcoach home. Remember kids, shopping is patriotism! But oh, it is bliss for the new homeowner (or, in my case, the new apartment-renter). Time Out New York actually recommended the IKEA bus ride as the best hangover cure in town. No cash? Just cough up enough subway fare to get you to Port Authority, rest your aching head against the window for the half-hour ride to Jersey, then nurse a coffee while blearily wandering through various solutions for modern living. It's at least as much fun as, say, miniature golf.

Movie update: Go see these
The Royal Tenenbaums -- Sweet, wonderful, dark, and damn hilarious. Maybe not quite as brilliant as Rushmore, but near perfect in its own way.
Lantana -- I bought a ticket knowing absolutely nothing except that it was Australian. I was pleasantly surprised: a mesmerizing look into marital dischord, as shown through a number of intersecting lives. A refreshingly "grown-up" film.
The Panic Room (trailer) -- OMIGAWD, a new David Fincher (Se7en, Fight Club) movie!! Starring Jodie Foster!!! And Forrest Whitaker!!!!