Sebbeth.

Wednesdays child is a quiet child. I'm finding the economy is a bummer. I've done my level best this year to restart the global economy with the 12 Days, but I'm not getting the dollar to go as far as I need it to. This is trying.

We are quiet this month as the sebbeth lets us reflect on the year. I'm pretty jazzed to where we've been and where we're going. Amazing events appear to happen all over the calendar not solo 17Th. Fall is here, Mexico is near, Halloween nearer, and the big event comes soon after both.

Last week LynZ, June and I made the trip to Ahmanson to see and a fun little number entitled '9 to 5; the musical. Yep, you've guessed it, the American cinema was mined again to try and find blond luck for the American theater. The best part that this had for it was that the music and lyrics were by Miss Dolly Parton herself. The familiar theme song has a co-starring role in the production that features my favorite Alison Janney cast as Violet Newstead; the role Lilly Tomlin brought to life. The music is cute and really enthusiastically put out there for all to love. All three leads kicked the hell out of their songs, if only the story had a little more zip to sell it. Dolly has put a great little number in for the Dora-Lee Rhodes character. The sexpot brings "Backwoods Barbie" to the laps of the audience and leaves the joint a-smilin'.

When we saw the show it had just opened and was still experiencing some growing pains. In the second act the recently freed boss, Franklin Hart, begins to extract vengeance on the three ladies who have held him captive all this time. As he unleashes his demands he grabs for the phone on his desk, who's cord has not been reconnected since Dora Lee ripped it out in the first act. Oooooopps. The cord sails around loose, even as the phone miraculously rings. We bust a gut laughing at what only live theater can bring to a night. The actors all tried numerous covers for the gaff and settled on not being able to fix it. This was fine by us in the house. Everyone was smiling. On a preview night earlier in the week the show was plagued with some technical difficulties causing the show to stop. Miss Parton watching the show stands and starts chatting the crowd up. She ends up buying the crew time by leading the audience in an Capella version of the theme song. Everybody ate it up, even Miss Parton. "C'mon, y'all know the words by now, don't ya?" To keep it going, she then sang "I'll Always Love You" with an intro letting the audience know that Whitney may have sung it prettier, Dolly made more money on it. Now that's pretty funny.

The show is off for New York where it will probably die a quick death. I'm glad I got to see it because it is one of my favorite movies. I was glad to see that so many of the great scenes in the film were translated in word and sentiment to the stage. This production did lovingly approach the movie in this, so I was thankful. It was a fun night.

Rabbit, rabbit.

Rabbit Rabbit. Here's a new month of joy to play and frolic towards forty with. Or to take forty steps to the playground and fall into the sand looking for the wormhole that brought me here. I think back to childhood and what is it I see? Sandboxes, inchworms and of course.................the Village People.

This manfest that rode (pun intended) the rising star of Disco in the late seventies until, well, now is as American as Liberace, Betty White and apple pie. This troupe of performers featured a cop, a cowboy, a leather man, an Indian, and a soldier each chosen to be typical masculine varieties. The homo eroticism was lost on a naive public. A concept band, Village People was the genius of Jacques Morali, a French musician who planned on cashing in on theDisco phenomena. After hearing the amazing voice of the original cop, Victor Wills, Morali auditioned for some manly talent to surround Wills with. So much the better that they could dance and carry a stage presence. Audition notices went out and a crew was assembled. When their hit "Macho Man" made number one, the splash that the Village People made had the American attention. It would be the iconic "Y.M.C.A" that would forever leave the Village People's mark on the United States and the world. Other hits include "Go West", "In The Navy" and "Key West".

This year the Village People celebrate their thirtieth anniversary and will receive a star on The Hollywood Walk Of Fame, not far from Liberace's ironically. Although the line-up of the band has changed over the years, the role's have still held fast. The typical masculine varieties have been recast but their orders are still being obeyed. At many a social event a tribe of people in a circle will be throwing their hands in the air in the forms of letters to lyrics.

Birthdays and birthday suits.

Isn't it funny how we mark special occasions with ritualistic behavior. We blow out candles for wishes' sakes, we christen boats by smashing champagne bottles over their hulls, We extend blessings when people sneeze and yet nothing when they fart. On New Years Day many people mark the new year by jumping in the ocean, temperature be damned. Why is it so many of us when in our twenties decide to mark our birthdays by getting naked?

Is it a back to basics? Is it animal foreplay with the universe? Why do we jump into our birthday suit and start running a lap of victory? We don't necessarily call our parents and say, "Hey thanks for having the sense to not watching tv so many years ago so that you guys could make me. I really appreciate it today." I'm sure they appreciate their dna being bandied about in an uppity bar in Santa Monica with a blond bippity as jewelry on their precious labor. And yet it happens. Most of my twenties were spent with my pants dropped, my nipple exposed and my feet bare. There was always something that needed to be regarded with my physical side. In our twenties do we think that this is our only commodity? I certainly was the social one.

I had the privilege of attending a bday soiree last pm and witnessed the same behavior happening around the bar. The guest of honor enjoyed the bacchanalian worship. Other patrons in the place experienced similar joy. Maybe it's just part of the mating ritual but I can't help but see more meaning in it. It was late in the evening and yuppies were pairing up, but these acts pop up so frequently in celebratory events. It's been around for centuries. Maybe it's a tribute to Adam and Eve. Getting back to basics, as simple as it can be, and embracing joy. Exposing yourself is as old as the moon. Literally. (drops pants and moons monitor)

Sebbeth

It's an addiction this tattooing. I love my first one I got fifteen years ago, as the art form was getting it's rise.

I was in Auburn, NY and it had been an annoying day where we had done 'Aladdin' in two different venues in the same town. The load in and outs had been in the rain which made the day that much more bliss. I should also mention that this was probably our one thousandth performance of this children's theatre Chinese drip torture, we had begun in early June it was now October. I was the evil magician and if I got my hands on that little street whelp Aladdin, I would kill him; the cast was ready to kill each other. One quick corner with a magic carpet and I was going to put him right through Agrabar. Aaaaah non union theatre in the woods, it's as manly as hair on your buttocks. I digress.

Reba (The Genie) and I had decided we would get ink together and just had to get the date down. We looked at each other at the last load out and said 'Now', our bonding over ill fitting set pieces, too many c-clamps, and stinky costumes had brought us to this point. We would mark the occasion with ink, and if the pain was as good as we'd feared it would be a blessed alternative to where we had brought our lives. Don't misread this, we were overly dramatic, as was our prerogative. We were in the woods, delivering 'Quality Theater At Affordable Prices' and we'd been sharing a van with 2-3 other strong personalities. This was high drama at high altitudes. Off to Tatu Tony's just by the prison. The artist in residence, Tony, had 69 tattoo'd on his lip. We were so in the right place. Reba opted for a simple piece (I'm not sure if I should even divulge that she has one she's a soccer mom now) and mine as well. A simple Chinese character on my ankle, the pain was nothing. The worst part was the cramp I got from holding my leg up on an angle for soo long. For fifteen years I've loved my first and have eagerly wanted my second.

It's addicting. So I swore that one of the Sebbeths would be a tattoo. But what to get? And where? These were newbies problems. Get a set Spats. Get a set and get it done. Jen turned me on to an artist in the neighborhood who was clean and good. I just needed the specifics; location, art and deposit to secure an appointment. My this art form has come along way from the side of a prison. I began thinking it over and for a longtime have wanted a monkey on my back (hee hee). I narrowed the research to tribal and cartoon. I stumbled on some original Oz art and thought that might be genius. Marking my fortieth with a flying monkey, how Wicked. And it was my first professional job after college, and the first show little Julia saw me in back in 91 in Davenport Iowa. Another two stories entirely. The shop got me right in and here's my latest brethren, Balthazar (like Getty but more). I was sitting in the chair imagining where the next tattoo would be. And the next. This is addicting.

Sebbeth.

here we are again. speeding towards oblivion. I mean towards the next stage not total darkness. I'm on that shady side of the thirties most definitely. I'm in a position to recreate myself in the land of make believe where people have to do this or become boring. Los Angeles is the original town where you can stick a feather in your hat and call it art or haute cuisine. No one would dare shout that The Emperor has no clothes for chance their own nudity would be exposed. You can be whoever you'd like and no one will bat an eye. They'll bat if there's a gift bag involved.

I've decided to expand my minister enterprise and bring more people to the chapel than Elvis Presley. Marry me Bill, I love you so. I want to do this in a more commercial status and launch a website and get networking. You know how social I can be. I decided this Sebbeth would be a commitment to the new project and I enlisted my friend Jen to take some new head shots for my portfolio. We met for an enormous breakfast at the Griddle Cafe in HWood on Sunset and made our way to Melrose area. It's not unusual to see white trailers and crews in this area, filming away. It's even less unusual to see a photographer, strapped with equipment lead her subject around in search of great natural backdrops. Like some surrealist wildlife we traipsed through back alleys and side streets, parking lots and intersections as if it was our forest. We had amazing success and lots of laughs. With my wardrobe on my back and a smile on my face we made our way to Fred Siegel where we enjoyed a Peroni, Pellegrino and a peak at John C. Reilly (jen's fave actor).

When the website's up you'll be first to know. Here's the pix.

Bastille Day.

There's always a reason to celebrate in this year of joy. Bastille Day is just one of them.



The actual holiday is July 14Th and it commemorates the first anniversary of the storming of the French prison, The Bastille in 1789. This act led to the dissolution of the French monarchy and the rise of the French nation. Cheese eating surrender monkeys. F the french. I have animus from many years in food service and dealing with their representatives. Makes me want to storm them in revolution. I guess Bastille Day can be celebrated in many different ways.

7.11

Freeeeee Slurrrppppeeeeeeeeees!!!!!!!!!

Do you think this an urban myth? Do you expect to be found at the bottom of an over sized cup of semi frozen, semi carbonated cherry beverage with a bandage pressed to where your kidney used to be? Well let's debunk this urban myth (yeth?) right here and now as we find another cause to celebrate in the 12 Days Of 40.

On July 11Th of every year, the Seven Eleven Corporation celebrates it's company's birthday as well as Customer Appreciation Day. It does this by giving away free 7.11 ounce Slurpees to their loyal following. Heresy! You don't know what a Slurpee is? Here's your tutorial and be glad that I can't tase you bro, right through your keyboard. A Slurpee is all that's magical next to the laundry mat that claims your morning in the blistering sun. A Slurpee is all that's right after your little one drops the fly ball that would have defeated Ace Hardware's Little League team. A Slurpee is how you end a long day of furniture shopping in the San Fernando Valley furnace heat. This is an oasis this Slurpee. To hear that a major company is giving away it's crown jewel just to say thanks is pretty neat. It rallies the troops to visit.

One might believe this to be a clever marketing ruse to get you in the doors and bamboozle you into taking a hot dog home for seventeen fifty, but dear readers, this is not Scientology. Hot dog taking and bamboozling aside, Seven Eleven wants their patrons to know how much they appreciate their business and to say "Thank You". Have you ever heard of such a thing? This tradition began in 2002 when the company was celebrating it's 75Th birthday and with such response, continued the tradition. Now it would be crazy to mass market something of this nature as every Tom, Dick, and Thirsty would overrun the city, so leaving it to 'word of mouth' has created a phenomena. I would compare the feeling of this unofficial holiday to that of International Talk Like A Pirate Day or even Melonball Thursday. A grassroots movement that is based in generosity, what could be more beautiful?

It has created a following that looks forward to this day each year. My only hope is that the sanctity of it remains unblemished. I mean look what happened to Burning Man, Key West and Ed Hardy. Too much scum and not enough pond. I hope you were able to get yourself a freebie and a smile this past 7.11, at Seven Eleven, with a 7.11 ounce Slurpee it makes summer smile, really. And keep in mind the new exciting flavor coming soon......Black Ice; it's a slushy version of the carbonated energy drink Monster that is in most Angelenos hands nowadays. Add a pink straw and your homefree.