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July 31, 2005
Hoppiness Punch
Tuesday is Brian from the OB Vine's birthday, so yesterday a bunch of us were at the beach, along with a barbeque and a keg of Pure Hoppiness for the beginning of the celebration. It was a great day for the beach, a mixture of sun and clouds and a nice breeze. The Other Shannon sipped on the Rum Punch I made early on in the day, while Hannah, with the six-months-in Baby O'Loughlin sticking out, looked on.
One time Brian messed up and called Hannah "Shannah." So I think the Hannah/Shannon combo should henceforth be known as "Shannah." Also, when me and the other Shannon are in the same vicinity, this will be known as "the Shannon Zone."
The party progressed with many, many beers being consumed. I brought a bottle of Isabel Estate Sauvignon Blanc since I have never been into hops. I managed to make the sucker last for seven hours. That's pretty good!
I couldn't resist taking a picture of the birthday boy with his keg. The man seriously loves that Pure Hoppiness.
I had heard rumors that Brian likes to tackle people after a few beers and wrestle them. All I can say is, I am hella glad it is Bob in this photo and not me.
Bob survived...
actually I think he might have won that match. I am sure Brian will tell me later.
Despite Brian's attempt at sabotage, Shannon and Joe did a crazy stunt I have only seen in college flicks.
I can't believe after all that Pure Hoppiness there wasn't an accident, but they pulled it off. I was VERY impressed.
Awesome! What did I do before the OB Vine came into my life? I must have been seriously bored.
On another note, this morning I dreamed that Britt Daniel from Spoon was hugging me while I slept. What does it mean to be spooned by a Spoon? Hmmm....
Posted by Shannon at 12:09 PM | Comments (0)
July 29, 2005
A not-to-miss aural experience...
Sigur Ros tickets are on sale. Get them before the scalpers do.
I will be at the Avalon show and the Copley show. I got presale tickets for the Copley show, and have no idea where my seats are. Guess I will be surprised when I get there... but since I'll be close enough for shoe-licking at the Avalon, it won't matter so much if the seats at Copley aren't so great. The sound will be good.
It's going to be awesome.
Posted by Shannon at 9:03 AM | Comments (1)
July 27, 2005
Tongue Firmly in Cheek
At first I thought this was a joke but it's NOT. It's for REAL. A $69 dollar For Real.
Hmmm.....
It's so totally hard to be in a bad mood when I look at this picture.
On another note my grandma gave me this book to read called "Night Shall Overtake Us." She said she couldn't put it down. So I started reading it, when I was sick and then I did not put it down. The scary thing is I can't believe my grandma read it. There is so much sex in it! There is sex right up to practically the very last page. Those WWI babes were sure a horny bunch, according to this book. It's kind of freaky to think of my grandma reading lines "she stared at his huge penis, growing by the second as it hardened to an iron bar, and wondered how on earth she would fit the colossal thing inside her." This was one of many winces I would wince while reading/thinking about grandma. Also, there is a guy named Muttonhead in this book, and that is just plain weird.
Posted by Shannon at 8:07 PM | Comments (0)
July 26, 2005
1,225,675,932 seconds to go
July has been a crappy month. Rent hikes and pay cuts, sickness and what seemed like a decade of fog. Every high must be balanced by a low, and June was so much fun I guess I had to pay for it somehow.
Last week I got the flu on the first really hot day of the summer. I was flattened on my couch with a fan blowing on me, too tired to even watch TV. It was the kind of heat where sweat drips on the backside of your knees. With a fever, well, let's just say that was kind of knarly.
Whenever I get sick I get really freaked out about my mortality. I don't know why because I believe in reincarnation and I am not so much scared of death as I am of my body failing. The day after the worst of it, when I was able to sit up again, I spent the whole day angsting out about all the horrible things that could be inside of me waiting to come out. It's so hard to live in these times, when there are so many physical things to be frightened of. I thought myself into a corner, convinced I had a really scary disease. Sickness does bizarre shit to my brain. Especially when it happens in the middle of the summer when you aren't suppose to get the flu. It must be something worse, but just SEEMS like the flu...
But of course it was not something worse and it was just the flu (I think.) It's strange how being physically unbalanced can make your mind go a little batty.
During my temporary insanity, while I was looking for symptoms of all my new diseases, I found the Death Clock. According to the Death Clock, I will live until 2044. I have a lifetime subscription to Rolling Stone magazine, and they seem to think I am going to be around until 2054. While I'm not sure that is possible, it's nice to know statistics are on my side.
It's almost August, and believe me, I'd rather be writing about shows at the Hollywood Bowl with drag queens dressed as cheerleaders and quaking walls of sound. August, though it won't be the killerfest June was, will definitely be better. Already, as I pet my new iPod my brother gave me today, things seem a little better. And for the moment, all thoughts of dying have gone into the fog at the back of my head, until the next time I can't get off the couch.
Posted by Shannon at 7:03 PM | Comments (1)
July 23, 2005
A House Built of Sod
When I was in the 7th grade, I had a big crush on a boy named Alex. He was blond and had the face of an angel. If I'd known Botticelli paintings in the 7th grade, I'd say Alex resembled something out of one. But I didn't know Botticelli, yet.
In the perfect 7th grade world of 1977/1978, if you liked a boy, you would go to the dance and slow-dance to "Stairway to Heaven" with him. This was the be-all end-all of the romantic junior high school mind. I spent way too much time obsessing on this in the Fall of 1977. Me, Alex, colored lights and "Stairway to Heaven." If only it would Really Happen.
But the 7th grade is a hotbed of gossip and scandal. And there was another girl after Alex. Her name was Toni. Neither of us was particularly pretty, so the fight for Alex was fairly even, except that Toni had one thing I lacked - claws.
I don't even know how it came about that the whole school, it seemed, knew about me, Toni, and Alex. How did they know? I certainly wasn't talking about it. It was a whisper, then a shout - who will dance "Stairway to Heaven" with Alex? Then, the day of the dance, during gym, Toni came with her friends and starting yelling at me. I yelled back, though I was absolutely terrified. It almost came to blows. I can still see her Filippino face, turning all pink and twisted as she yelled. It was pretty fucking scary. Then she walked away.
Shortly after, still shaking a little, I was approached by my own set of best friends. Their faces were grim. They led me solemnly to the girl's bathroom, where, they told me, Toni had left a little something for me.
I entered the bathroom and almost died. All over the walls, doors, and mirrors, Toni had written every possible slur she could think of, with a thick, blue marker. My name and a thousand cliches swam at me from all directions. It was a brutal and heartless thing to do, and for no real reason, because Alex would choose who he would choose with no help from us. You'd think only a 7th grader could be so brutal, but then you grow up.
Though the ink was permanent, I don't think it remained on the walls very long. I never went to the principal, because that was just not done. I spent the rest of the day with my stomach in knots. Then me and my friends got dressed and went to the dance.
I wish I could tell you it was romantic, that the scorned child got her revenge through love, but it didn't happen that way. An 8th grader named Michelle swooped in like a hawk and Alex was history. I watched her dance to "Stairway to Heaven" with him from the sidelines, barely able to control my angst. I am sure Toni was doing the same, from another part of the room.
The youthful heart recovers quickly, and I learned a great lesson from Michelle that night. Within a couple of weeks I had a cute, blond, 6th grade boyfriend named Kregg. And in the 8th grade, I had a 7th grade boyfriend (though, as my brother will tell you, this one was the biggest, scariest guy in the school. Take that, Toni.)
I guess that these incidents from our youth are necessary to give you the defenses you need to survive as an adult. It would seem that way, since though they might slip to the back of your mind, you never really forget about them. They pop in to your mind when you need them. Yeah, today I want to die. But tomorrow I'll wake up and it'll be better, and maybe I'll have a cute blond boyfriend. Tomorrow, is another day.
Posted by Shannon at 8:52 AM | Comments (2)
July 20, 2005
Moon Over Mental Instability
Sorry for the lack of posts... sometimes it's just not there.
Full moon tomorrow, and of course today was full of bizarreness and angst. The freaks always come out at the full moon. You know what I'm saying?
On a more pleasant note, I heard from my dear friend Prentiss Smithson today. I have mentioned him a couple of times on my blog, but we did not have contact for a couple of years. Guess how he found me? That's right, The Blog! Maybe I can also search for my 4th grade boyfriend this way (Richie Arambula, where are you?)
Just kidding.
It was so great to talk to Prentiss. There are some friends you meet in life that, no matter what happens, will always be like family.
Prentiss told me a couple of other friends I haven't talked to in a long time also read Poptarticus. Sneaky devils! Hi Bill, hi David, maybe I can come to Portland, Maine and Palm Beach or wherever and visit you sometime!
Today, out of nowhere, it rained. With the freaks comes the earthquake weather. No sweat, when one hooks up with a lost friend, all else can be forgotten.
Posted by Shannon at 7:18 PM | Comments (1)
July 14, 2005
Temporary Reality Junkie
“I like to order a lot of food because, I got different tastebuds." - Bobby Brown in a fancy London restaurant.
I hardly ever watch TV except for movies from Netflix. There is the occasional Saturday when I will watch Turner Movie Classics all day, but for that occasion I think I am paying about $90 in cable fees. I usually just watch movies from Netflix.
But Netflix is, all of a sudden, really slow. They used to ship and receive everything lightening fast. I don’t know what happened, but now there are times when I just don’t have a movie to watch, or if I have one I want to save it for the weekend.
So last night I turned on Bravo to watch Being Bobby Brown. OH MY GOD. Do you want to watch two whacked out ex-popstar ghetto freaks say some of the most bizarre shit you’ve ever heard? Then turn on Bravo this week because they are showing the first few episodes over, and over, and over.
It’s sort of hard for me to believe, but Whitney Houston is only two years older than me. I can still see her, dancing around in those bad 80’s clothes in the early days of MTV. She was squeaky clean when she was in movies like “The Preacher’s Wife.” But then she swan dived into crackdom. Everyone said it was because of her husband, but after watching this show, I think she was just a freak the whole time. Even alcohol, cocaine, and an endless supply of downs can’t make you THAT freaky. You’ve got to have acid, peyote, and maybe some ‘ludes unless you’ve got that freak gene going on from the get-go.
I guess Whitney just got out of rehab, but she still exhibits many of the signs of ex-crackdom. In one episode they are at the bar of a Chinese restaurant and she looks like she is about to start convulsing from withdrawals, but one minute later she is all happy and joking. I mean, the woman looked positively strung-out and then she is all of a sudden all happy. Hmmm… rehab, or did someone get her a little something to take the edge off?
I guess it must be hard for her, since Bobby Brown drinks heavily and constantly on the show. At one restaurant, when the entourage is leaving, he pounds a vodka on ice, and then puts down a beer, in about 45 seconds. How the hell is she suppose to kick her demons when he is still totally into his? That man would make me insane without some substance to ingest. I am serious.
The first episodes are Bobby getting out of jail and then going to court for hitting Whitney. Whitney is standin’ by her man. Bobby takes Whitney to a spa. There is a whole bizarre exchange between Bobby, Whitney, and the people massaging them (he gets a girl, she gets a guy, he don’t like that, but then they are in the same room getting massaged and it is just really, really weird). Half the time you can’t understand what they are saying, but Bravo has provided subtitles. This way, we get to know lines like “don’t smother my food with your boogies” and “can I impregnate you tonight?” Without those subtitles, those words would be lost forever.
See? This was the scene where Bobby talks about helping his wife remove something that was stuck in her. INSANE!
In the third episode, Bobby and Whitney and a couple of their kids go to England. Bobby and Whitney love England “for the culture and shit” and they arrive screaming “ENGLAAAANNNDDD! ENGLAANNNDDD!” They go to Harrods and spend buttloads of money. Bobby has a fit when Whitney drags him to the children’s section to buy their daughter some clothes. “These ain’t gonna fit me!” he complains. When Whitney picks up a pair of tiny pants for their plump daughter, he says “they ain’t gonna fit her! Baby’s got BODY. Baby’s got BODY.” That kid is going to be scarred for life. She looked so sad and messed up…
Later Bobby runs into the Dalai Lama in front of their hotel. “Mr. Lama! I’m Bobby Brown!” The viewer sort of sits there and thinks, “he did not just call him Mr. Lama.” But he did!
I managed, when Netflix was operating a little better, to avoid Britney Spears reality show, and a lot of other bad TV. But I must admit that I was somewhat riveted watching Being Bobby Brown. One thing I can’t figure out though – how do they still have so much money?
After that Queer Eye for the Straight Guy came on and the straight guy was a NUDIST. Seriously that was some of the most hilarious shit I have ever seen. Carson decides to be nude too and runs around the guy’s house with him, one hand on his crotch and one hand on his breast. Then when of the other guys says, “you see, James, Carson does it right. His hair is good and he has an accessory!” Later the nudist can’t wait to strip out of his tuxedo at a party with a lot of other nudists. They all get naked and dance and the Carson and the guys are practically doubled over from revulsion/laughter. It was a good night not to have a Netflick. Seriously, if you can stomach it, turn on Bravo and you’ll be bound to see at least one episode of Being Bobby Brown.
Posted by Shannon at 6:57 PM | Comments (0)
July 13, 2005
I imagine she's a pretty nice girl but she doesn't have a lot to say
Foggy, foggy, foggy. I watched a family of tourists walk to the beach today. Poor tourists! They come for a beach vacation and get THIS.
I am stoked though. At the Ocean Beach Street Fair I bought some raffle tickets and I WON SOMETHING. I never win anything! I won a cool necklace with a silver pendant that says OB. The O is a peace sign. It's hella cool. I got so excited I went and bought two lottery tickets. I really need to win the lottery. So let's keep the streak going, please. And if I don't win the lottery, can you please send a couple of visible sunsets my way? Thank you.
Posted by Shannon at 6:03 PM | Comments (0)
July 12, 2005
No Pain, Lots of Gain
The checks and balances of the universe and of each and every person and thing that inhabits the universe work in a cycle. I, being a creature of said universe, am no exception. And today I am seeing the upswing, the light at the end of the tunnel, the fat purple lollipop after a somewhat scary few days of agony.
Damn, I am such a Woos. But I am sorry, that fucking HURT.
I am out of it now. But it is a wake up call to be so messed up. Gotta start taking better care of myself, drink less wine and take Omega three gel caps and shit. It is a wonder that I am in the somewhat decent condition I am in, after all this abuse.
In my early years in San Francisco, I knew a photographer who I had worked with, had an affair with (in Boston during Hurricane Gloria) and eventually just ran into, from time to time. The guy had been in a motorcycle accident and fucked up his knee, and the constant pain CHANGED who he was. He ceased being the cool, fun photographer guy and became the guy who whenever-you-were-around-him-bad-thoughts-would-happen guy. The pain permeated him and everything around him. I remember sitting in his bedroom with him once, coming down off a crazy weekend of ingesting who-knows-what, and Patsy Cline was playing on the turntable. He went on and on about his pain and how he was drinking a pint or quart of vodka or whatever a day to kill it and before you knew it, I was crying hysterically (maybe that was his game). One time I sat in his kitchen and he rolled the I Ching for me. The I Ching told me "there is no relief or hope in sight." Hmmm.
After a while I stopped hanging with the photographer so much (otherwise I might have hung myself. Seriously) but I ran into him from time to time, mostly at the Rainbow Grocery, when it was still on Mission Street. Every time, I would say hey Paul, whaddup? And he would answer something horrible about his knee, and how he was taking this or that or doing this or that. It was a fucking broken record, man. Eventually, after maybe a year of not running into him, I did again and he immediately went into the pain. And I just started laughing. I couldn't stop. All the people looking at the index cards advertising room rentals or Spanish lessons in the foyer of Rainbow Grocery looked at me with furrowed brows, but I could not stop. The photographer yelled "it's not FUNNY!" but fuck, after all those years of hearing about it, it WAS.
I guess my point is, I never want to be like that. After a few days of major discomfort, I see how it would be easy to kill everyone with your pain. And a pain that is there for always? Deadly for the bearer, deadly for everyone else.
Posted by Shannon at 9:07 PM | Comments (1)
July 10, 2005
18,000 Seconds After Sunrise
Yes, the last week has been pretty awful. But today the sun is out, I managed to sleep until 9:00, and it is time to move on.
One good thing did happen last week - I got a ticket to the secret Sigur Ros show at the Avalon in Hollywood next month. Then I got two tickets to see them in October at Copley Symphony Hall here in San Diego. I have been waiting to see them for a long time, and I can't believe I will be one of the lucky ones who gets to see them in the tiny Avalon.
If there is any band who manages to sound like where they are from, it is Sigur Ros. I have never been to Iceland, but if I lay on the couch and listen to the dreamy, lush, and totally original Ágætis Byrjun 
Anyhow you get the jist of it.
So when I got an email saying tickets would go on sale for this intimate secret show the next morning, I spent a nervous and sleepless night. 550 tickets sold out in one minute. And I have one of them. This will be one of those shows of a lifetime.
The presales are all finished, but regular tickets are starting to go on-sale. Italian readers, there will be shows in Milan and Rome at the end of the month. North American readers, whether you like classical, jazz, opera, or rock, if you like music at all, try to go see this band. They are insanely good and totally unique.
Now, blue sky and the beach, and thoughts of the future.
Posted by Shannon at 10:54 AM | Comments (0)
July 8, 2005
Summertime, and the living is...
I got some email about my apocalypse entry today. Seems I'm not the only one I know with intense dreams/thoughts about the end of the world. Tanks rolling down Newport Street. Cities nuked one by one. The rest of the world choking.
I'm in an in-between place. Half of me thinks there is no way to change the course. But half of me thinks, if we can change the energy, we can change the world. It's kind of bizarre that I have this half totally morbid and half new-age way of thinking. Or is it? Maybe I am just one of katrillions that have this same half and half thing going on. I wouldn't want to be all morbid (or I'd be dead, for sure) and I certainly wouldn't want to be smelling like patchouli, either. There has got to be a balance. And the same goes for the earth, and for the universe. There has got to be a balance, and there is not.
Sadly I am just one of most who do absolutely fuck-all about this.
Most people - me included - will do nothing until their own well-being or the well-being of their families is threatened. Well, maybe we'll all send a check. Whatever. It's not enough. And even if we were to all actually DO something to change the course of the world, would it work? Maybe the course is already plotted by forces way bigger than us and there is nothing we can do. Or maybe it is all a big game of karma and we are all failing miserably.
Twenty years ago I thought I'd be a leader of the new age. What shit is that? That's youth, I guess. The only way I'll be a leader is if someone blows up a bomb in my 'hood and I'm forced to. And the morbid half (borderlining on nihilism) says, that's what it will come down to, so just fucking wait.
Posted by Shannon at 7:22 PM | Comments (1)
July 7, 2005
Readying for the Apocalypse
This morning I had a very intense dream about the end of the world as we know it. Basically we had two weeks left, and then, poof. I ran around trying to figure out what to do. Get in the car and drive to the mountains? Stock up on food? I got mad at my mom because she wouldn't let me come to Santa Fe. Everything was crumbling, falling apart. It was so colorful and real. Two weeks left until the end of the world.
I woke up thinking, exactly how much time do we have? Is everything going to go down in this lifetime? And my answer to myself was, like it has been since I was eighteen years old, yes. It is.
Then I turned on the computer to the news that there are bombs and sirens and mass confusion and people dead and wounded in London. It's all so sad and fucked up and scary. People just going to work.
I've never believed much in the future, but on days like this it really sinks in. I am totally bummed.
Posted by Shannon at 8:35 AM | Comments (0)
July 5, 2005
Red Tide
I always love it when friends come to visit me here in Ocean Beach and totally fall in love with it. My co-worker Bryan and his girlfriend Annika came on Sunday, hungover from a wedding. We spent Sunday sitting on the cliffs drinking wine and then we went to The Vine. I also met my good friend Cheryl and another slowtalker, Trish. It was a fantastic day. Bryan and Annika and I came back to my apartment, danced to Arcade Fire and then fell asleep to Sigur Ros. It was a fun, fun day. Bryan and Annika LOVE Ocean Beach. Now I am trying to convince them to move here.
Yesterday was a little tough at first, what with the 700 bottles of wine we consumed on Sunday. But it turned out to be a mellow, lovely holiday. It wasn't so crowded on the beach this year. I went over to my friend Danielle's house and watched her dip strawberries in chocolate. Eventually Danielle and I, along with a cool, funny architect, Jennifer, went and fetched Jennifer's also cool boyfriend, Nick, and went to the beach.
It was beautiful down there. There was a red tide. I can't seem to get a real answer out of anyone as to what causes the red tide. I tried to take a picture of Danielle and Jennifer running to the water, but it didn't turn out too great.
Oh well.
After the beach I went to The Vine, where Brian was grilling meat for an assortment of employees and uber-regulars. Some people got on surfboards and paddled out to see the fireworks, and the rest of us scattered. I ended up on a deck on top of my friend Andy's building. It was quite mellow and I didn't have to worry about bottle rockets being launced at my neck. I HATE when that happens.
Today was totally mellow. I had the day off, and meant to do a bunch of writing, but instead went and sat in the window at South Beach Bar & Grill and ate a shrimp tostada and merely thought about writing. Then I went back to the beach. Yes, it is true - I am an obscenely lazy person. And Ocean Beach is such a great place to be totally lazy.
I know this is really boring but if you have made it this far - there are two kinds of people in the world. Dickheads, and everyone else. Thankfully there are more non-Dickheads than Dickheads. I always strive to be a non-Dickhead, even if I am a fucked up and lazy person. I am glad I live in Ocean Beach, where being a Dickhead is kind of verboten. I'll always love my last home - Venice, Italy. Yet, Ocean Beach is Better. It really is. Really! For me, at least.
Posted by Shannon at 5:57 PM | Comments (0)
July 3, 2005
Scarlet, White and Blue
I think the antibiotics I've been taking after my oral surgery are messing with me. I can't sleep, I'm having nightmares, my body feels funky. Yesterday I saw my cousin Robin and her kids. Robin told me one of her kids has Scarlet Fever. I got all wiggy inside because I am convinced antibiotics lower your resistance. Hence, I am going to get Scarlet Fever. So I keep telling myself "you are NOT going to get Scarlet Fever." The kid was running around so it didn't look like Scarlet Fever was all that bad. But still.
I HATE taking medicine. I haven't taken any of the pain meds, so far haven't been desperate enough. Wine is the BEST medicine. The best medicine for a regular fever is a bottle of Champagne. I wonder how many you'd need if you had Scarlet Fever?
Anyhow. I've been riveted lately by Rar's Blog. Rar is spending a few months in South America, traveling around by himself. I am jealous of him. Because he's a guy, because he's young, because I am too much of a pussy to try to bushwack my way through a Bolivian jungle. Right now he is chillin' in La Paz. He has a great way of putting things into perspective there and also of describing the things he does and the places he sees. I wish I was chillin' in La Paz. Though I would be scared of the rubber bullets.
If is a foggy morning and I have to get my house cleaned up because my co-worker Bryan and his girlfriend Annika are spending the night. I talked them into it last night when they were drunk in a hotel room in Sorrento Mesa, where they attended a wedding. I love Bryan. He's the perfect combination of fun, smart, and eccentric. And Annika is a sweetheart. I'll do my best to keep them out of trouble.
Posted by Shannon at 8:34 AM | Comments (3)
July 2, 2005
Some days I just wake up scared
Type "pro life blog" into a search engine.
This is going to get really fucking ugly. I love my country, and I love living here, but things just keep getting scarier and scarier.
Now is the time to get involved with NOW. All the work our grandmothers and mothers did might be history if we don't. There's going to be violence. It's really, really scary. Thanks god for self-medication.
Posted by Shannon at 10:26 AM | Comments (1)
July 1, 2005
Mariah Truly Cares
Does she really think we are taking this seriously? What the hell is she posing next to a homeless guy for? I don't get it.
She's also busting out all over. I wonder what HE'S thinking.
Posted by Shannon at 5:26 PM | Comments (2)