Spidercamp

it pains me that there are no rap songs about this OG

Many, indeed, were the loves of Vidocq. From earliest adolescence they flocked round him, and he went on loving to the end. Before he was sixteen he had numerous affairs with girls in Arras. His attempt to get to America had to be abandoned because he met a villain who invited him to supper with a couple of women in Blankenberghe. Ardent and gay, young Francois tumbled into bed with one of them, but when he woke up the bed had gone. And the bedrooom. And his money. A forest of masts rose about him and he was lying half-naked on a coil of rope on the quay. He did not allow this to prejudice him against the ladies.

"Vidocq, A Biography," Philip John Stead

--

DJ Quik - Get Down

to people who are trying to find me

please use email not phone. i don't pick up if i am unsure of the caller.

today i got to use the word "usherette" when talking to one of the four people in the world i want to impress. DOMINATE

biscuits and gravy indeed

I hid in the stacks to spy on the security guard and a homeless man, posed identically: feet up on the table, hands clasped behind head, chair tipped back.

Bracketed by two minutes of comfortable silence on either side, this was their entire conversation:

security guard: Sausages.

homeless man: Sheeeiiiiiiit. Biscuits and gravy.

--

I'm crazy about the book angel. I was afraid to talk to him for like three years but now we get along famously and he has started casually swearing in front of me, which I'm a true sucker for. I thanked him for a favor and he said "well that's what the damn things are for!" There was no need for that swear and I adore the crap out of him for it. He's wee and knows things about Jimmy Cagney; what is not to like? We were joking and then he took the wind right out of me, in a good way - he said, "I'm just glad I could do a small thing to give you some happiness. With my many imperfections."

i hope you enjoy this sort of thing because this guy is all i think about

(Now working with the French police force, Vidocq nabs two criminals and persuades them, via a fine meal, to rat out their accomplice. In disguise, he visits the third man and tells him of his friends' unfortunate arrest.)

When they were seated at the table, Pons-Gerard asked who had caught them.

"Vidocq," said [Vidocq].

"If ever he comes my way, I'll give it to him," said Pons-Gerard, pouring out the wine.

"You wouldn't," said Vidocq, "you'd do like the others. You'd say nothing and be the first to give him a drink."

"I'd give him a - !" said Pons-Gerard.

"You'd give him a drink," said Vidocq, "and good wine, too." He held out his glass to be refilled. Pons-Gerard poured.

"I'd die a thousand times over first," he said.

"Die when you're ready," said the Head of the Sureté. "I am Vidocq, and I arrest you." The agents jumped to secure the prisoner and the brawny assassin offered not the slightest resistance. The transition from the sphere of cordiality which Vidocq was so expert in creating was so abrupt that he could hardly believe it had taken place.

p.95, "Vidocq, A Biography," Philip John Stead

like everything else, in ten years this will have changed

A Google search for "when I was a kid, the internet was" yields two pages of results, most of which are hyperbole: "books" / "tin cans on a string" / "uphill both ways."

My favorite is the true one. "When I was a kid, the internet was different."

my excellent morning. (not a dream, hi mike)

brother justin electrically wheelchairing down the middle of the road, a flat of strawberries on his lap, again

the fruit stand man repeatedly whacking his "8 bananas for $1" sign with a long stick; i was moving too fast to see if he was arguing with a customer or just trying to alert passersby to value

as i left the library my path was blocked by a magnificent queen who swished into the tiny foyer, raised her arms and announced, "well here we ARE!" her getup was colorful and billowy and made sense except for the yellow sash tied around her forehead; it was lacy but, because of rambo, made her face mannish again

i was approached in the parking lot by a man whose spiel i would have interrupted but i was convinced for a minute that he really was my other brother darryl. he looked JUST like that guy and was wearing a kicky little beret and a paint-spattered smock. he was holding a clipboard and a stick and he looked me in the eye as he said: "can i just let you know what's going on in the vortex?"

ok.

he offered me a keychain and an exclusive interview for $15. he said i could test drive a stallion. this was wonderful but i had to go so i apologized and got into my car but cracked the window to keep listening. as i drove away he was pleading, yelling, "all it will cost you is your time! just two hours and then you can get your head out of there!"

on the way home i listened to this about eight times. it sustains us.

DJ Jay-R, Smells Like Beach Boys (senduit link, good for one week)

sometimes i don't update this thing because i am too busy reading muppet fanfic

other times i am sitting on a stone chair in an icu waiting room and taking big drugs and glossing over and gliding through every branch of the hospital, getting lost in the secret ugly snarl of service hallways behind the cafeteria, trying and failing to be friendly to the smiling orderly who gets me un-lost and wants to make conversation.

my father had a heart attack and a bypass and a bypass and a bypass and a bypass and his aorta fell apart in surgery so they made him a new one out of paper clips and lunch meat. then he almost died again a bunch of times and then technically i guess he did die so they smacked him until he came back and then they thought he was going to die from this other thing but then he was ok? it ended well but it took forever. it's still 2009? ludicrous.

dr. brown came to find us after surgery. tired eyes from 10 hours of struggling and fixing and re-fixing. hoarse. he told us some facts; some people crumpled. i stayed behind to ask him the terrible questions. he was kind enough to draw a picture, in smeary ballpoint, of what he had done, where it had gone wrong, and where he made up a new plan from scratch with his hands inside a human being's chest.

i had this terrific moment with my own idiocy. i suddenly knew that i was the dumbest monkey in the building. i had been thinking this already as i walked and walked, thinking about the impossible knowledge of bodies, all the stuff i could never possibly contain or focus enough to learn, the facts contained inside every nurse whose eyes i did not meet, every orderly, every person in scrubs, even the janitors and even the ugly ones. the terrifying universe of data i could not hope to know. a gerbil touring nasa.

dr. brown drew me a picture like i was a caveman. i grunted and ate a bug. dr. brown asked if i had any more questions and i said no, and then i said the dumbest shit that has ever come out of my mouth, the lamest, the funniest, i said "uh, thanks."

i wish to god i had added "...dude" to make it the stupidest thing anyone has ever said. thanks... dawg. bro. man. mandude. sup. my father's life. word. upnod. nice one. sweet.

dude. dude

but really stupid hats though?

we wouldnt have it any other way

it's a brand new day, george

There was this moment in the last debate, when Barack Obama was asked some tricky question, and I was sitting there thinking, oh man don't screw this one up, tread carefully. The utterly pointless thing I do when I'm rooting for somebody in the public spotlight and so much can hinge on one botched reply.

But then I realized, he's GOT this. As much as I knew my held breath wasn't going to change anything, I also knew I could trust him to be on top of the situation and to speak well. That was the moment when he went from being my candidate, to being my president. That was when I knew I needed to do some of the things he was asking. I did not do very much. I could and should have done a lot more. But it went on record, as did my making absofuckinglutely sure my registration was in order, and standing in a line of strangers by a loading dock before dawn, and choosing my leader on a screen and trying very hard to keep my shit together because here, Gabby, I'm trying my best, here's the first one. If this works, you grow up in a different world.

People all over the planet wept and screamed at the same time last night. His portrait is going to go up in living rooms and there will be a wave of babies named Barack and we will never, ever hear the end of this in rap music. Stupid old P. Diddy was talking to a reporter about the future of American race relations and he broke off mid-sentence to join the "Yes We Can!" chant, because that was the thing that was more important to him right then. These are some of the things I thought about as I sat in my pajamas on my front porch at 1 o'clock this morning, listening to the shouts and fireworks and horns honking all over my city. Today I get to go out into the world and look people right in the eye.

Transition starts at noon today. Dude is on the job.

santos mcgarry 08

This shirt was made by Maarten on etsy; the design is based on graffiti by Ray Noland. I bought four.

It would be goofy for one's vote to hinge solely on emotions or race, but I can't pretend this election is not having an emotional effect on me, and I do really enjoy that the guy is dark and lovely. So it's a good thing I also agree with pretty much everything he says, plus how dreamy would it be to have a president who's heard of the internet and can make sentences? Trusting the person in charge of my country is something I'd kind of like to try.

-

I used to hang out with this little kid I cared about very much. She happened to be female and black. I happened to be standing next to her at the moment she realized no U.S. president had ever been a black person or a woman. I don't think I had ever seen a six-year-old look incredulous or aghast. What a terrible, careful explanation I had to come up with, starting with the fact that no, there was no law against it, not any more, but it still had not happened. (Why? she said, and then, You do it.)

I think about Gabby a lot these days; I wonder whether she even recognizes that this election is different, that something big may be about to happen (is happening). I sort of hope she doesn't. Just two boring grownups talking on the tv. I lose my mind with happiness when I think how un-extraordinary things like this will seem to a lot of people younger than me. I want race to be no big deal. I want it to come up in conversation as often as a candidate's birthday. Trivia.

-

I was having a rotten frenzied day last week: never stop moving for ten hours and still feel like nothing got done. Then in the middle of it I realized there might be a snag with my voter registration and I was all FUCK EVERYTHING ELSE and drove to the ass end of nowhere to make sure I was legal. I was pretty sure my day was ruined.

I packed a book, an ipod, and snacks as I assumed I would be rotting in some endless line in some horrible dank government building for hours. I was not prepared for the slickly organized, cheerful operation I walked into. Parking attendants waved orange flags in the parking lot like it was the state fair. The signs were accurate and helpful. The smiling angel of efficiency at the door sorted everyone into their appropriate lines with one question: no wasted time, no confusion. It took longer to walk down the corridor to find my line, than to actually stand in it; thanks to the place being absolutely covered in friendly, intelligent, well-labeled volunteers, I was done in three minutes.

That walk down the corridor was unlike anything I've ever done; it was lined with hundreds and hundreds of people waiting in line and and smiling about it. Possibly four hundred people and I did not see anybody who seemed pissed to be there. What I did see, more than once, was parents who had brought their six-year-olds along, to show them the voting process.

It was democracy heaven and regardless of my state's past voting habits, I don't think I am nuts to think it was also heavily Democratic. There was a specific quiet electricity in that building which, given that 99% of the people I saw were black, I just don't see being anything to do with McCain. That corridor was proud. This was one small window of time at one registration center. And it could have just been the excitement of new voters. I know. I am a bastard and a cynic just like everybody else. But my state used to be red on all the projection maps and now it is often pink and I feel pretty okay about that.