Cut Your Hair...Change Your Life

That's what Glamour Magazine said years ago, and it's a mantra that I fully endorse.

I got big hair for Christmas and it's just a lovely book, filled with all sorts of lovely hair-dos. While the investment in Final Net to create these looks would fund Delaware, I firmly believe that beauty, in whatever form, should always be celebrated!

Which leaves me with my thoughts on 2003....and what changes I may choose to make in 2004. I don't have any firm resolutions, as yet, but I wish everyone a year of prosperity with a minimal amount of bullshit.

Hooray for Bollywood

Akshaye Khanna

Super Fancy!

I now have a new obsession for 2004. Last night I experienced Bollywood for the first time. I essentially received a quick intro to Hindi movies. Wow! There's dancing and singing and porpoises jumping in the air and dramatic flashbacks and star-crossed lovers and much, much more!

Speaking of new obsessions, I've picked my new Pretend Boyfriend/Obsession for 2004. Previous obsessions have included Cristian de la Fuente and Costas Mandylor, but I think my international obsession has now extended east! Akshaye Khanna, a Bollywood Movie-Star, is well known for being a tad difficult and choosy in his roles and is just plain-ole super dreamy.

Oh, Anderson Cooper and former FBI honcho Louis Freeh still make my heart go pitty-pat, but I don't think that when they break out into a heart-felt confession that hundreds of foxy sari-wearing ladies with thick black eyeliner will join in the chorus!

I may be wrong, but even if Anderson Cooper did burst out into song - there would be no saris. I'm afraid that his momma, Gloria Vanderbilt, would not approve.

Oh, no! It's the Client!!!!

The fine, fine folks at Rodgers Townsend have done it again. Ad Guy is now a trilogy. These little spots (which are their Holiday Cards) always make me pee in my slacks.

Ad Guy (2001)
Ad Guy (2002)
Ad Guy (2003)

I've watched these numerous times and I'll make no bones about it: Kimmy Wong is my favorite character. Inside sources say that her core essence is slutty. But I'm hoping for a romance for Ms. Wong in 2004.

A Eulogy and A Prayer

Today, I choose to honor two men who touched my life.

One, who died eight years ago today, and one who is desperatly trying to hold onto life.

There's so much I could say, but at this moment, the words do not have a form.....there's just a lump in my throat and a pain in my heart....and a hope that tomorrow will be better than today.

My dad on his wedding day.

My Uncle home from World War II.

You're Looking at Country

In the beginning -- it was just a guitar and a dream...

Coal Miner’s Daughter was on television earlier today. I watched a great deal of it with Kelly and Jim. I always have mixed feelings when I watch that movie. I realize that for many, it’s a glimpse into a foreign world, a different time, a different place. In this high-fangled internet age, it must seem like sociological excavation – a foray and primer on rural poverty and country music. For me, it’s a glimpse of my family’s history.

Loretta Lynn is actually a few years younger than my mother. And while she wasn’t married at 13, and while she did finish high school (a year early), my mother was a young woman in the 1950s in rural Kentucky. My mother had a small college scholarship, but wasn’t allowed to go. Instead she worked at a car dealership and married my dad in 1950 and had four kids over the next twenty years. She did have a job, which was a rarity among the farm women in our part of the country. But she still had to tend to my grannie, help my dad with the cows and the farm, take care of kids, tend to her own parents, work a full-time job, and eek out some small corner of the world that was hers.

My mom in 1949.

My folks had it very rough growing up and as newlyweds. My grandparents (on both sides) never had indoor plumbing. For the first 18 years of their marriage, neither did my parents. Electricity was just starting to reach rural Kentucky in the 1950s. Indoor plumbing was a luxury and my folks saved enough over two decades to have it installed in 1968-69. I think that life for so many people in the rural south was, and probably still is, a constant lesson in hardship, adversity, trouble and strife. Growing up on a diary and tobacco farm is hard work. The cows get milked twice a day. Every day. Cows don’t go on vacation. And neither did we.

So, back to Loretta Lynn. By the time she was 21, she had four kids, had been married seven or so years and then, one day, she started singing. Coal mining stole her loved one’s lives, her husband was a mean drunk and she had all these hollering kids. What else was there for her to do?

My siblings in 1969.

The era of Coal Miner’s Daughter isn’t a distant memory for me. As the baby of the family, I was spoiled. I pretty much got to be a kid. My grandparents were all dead, save one, by the time I was four and my parents never really made me do anything too horrible as far as chores. And the amenities of town life existed by the time I made my way into the world. I didn’t have to haul water from the spring just to have water, string green beans ‘til my fingers bled, hoe the garden ‘til I was sun burnt. I didn’t have to use an out house or have a weekly bath in a wash tub. But it’s right on the verge of almost having been a reality for me. And there’s a complex blend of relief and guilt that goes with it. I wonder if I’d be a different person if I’d spent my childhood with my grannie killing chickens and canning beans like my siblings did. I wonder what I’d be like if my childhood hadn’t been filled with drawing and reading and imagination, and had instead been filled with daily, grueling farm work and with the occasional trip to the creek to go fishing with my grandpa. I’m not saying I would not be gay if things had been different, but maybe less gay? differently gay?

My dad in 1949.

So, really, what the hell does any of this have to do with Loretta Lynn? I started reading her lyrics after watching the movie and I started thinking about her life and these words and the impact that her singing and writing had on people. She gave a voice to women like my mother and grandmother, she presented options to young women like my sisters and she gave budding drag queens, like me, a little dose of hairspray later on. I’m not sure she did much for my brother. But he had KISS, which also inspired the budding drag queen, but that’s way off subject.

Country music was more than just entertainment for my parents and grandparents generation. I think it was also part commentary and part collective therapy. I think their lives pretty much sucked, with the poverty and the dirt roads and the cow shit and the outhouses and the coal dust….the list of crap they dealt with just goes on and on.

And now -- Kennedy Center Honors for Loretta Lynn, as well as James Brown, Itzhak Perlman, Carol Burnett and Mike Nichols.

For many, country people are viewed as substandard – and they have been relegated to hick jokes and “You Know You’re a Redneck When….” e-mails. I’m guilty of the same bias at times. When my southern accent slips out, I cringe. I just hope that when I am home this week with my family for Christmas, that I spend my time not being embarrassed of my family’s history. I think there’s far more dignity and courage and resolve there than I ever imagined.

READ MORE HERE

Loretta's Lyrics
Loretta talks about the White Stripes
Lorretta's Website

Arkansas Stud

Hi my name is danny. Im really bored...broke...and bored. So i decided to put myself up for auction.......

You can place your bid for a night of drama, romance, intrigue and more by clicking here!

Solemnly Swearing

So, what I’m wondering at this moment is….what the difference is between ADD and just having an undisciplined mind?

Sometimes, I’m not really sure what’s up with my head – but I severely lack discipline, focus and concentration. It’s just so easy to jump from subject to subject and get nothing accomplished. Granted I have my moments of “hyper-concentration” (that’s an ADD term I found via Google) but I do not want to believe that my lack of focus is biological. That might make things easier to understand, and possibly easier to work through. But that still seems like a pat answer…now run off to Walgreens and get your pills. Everything will be better in 2-4 weeks, once the meds kick in.

I came home tonight with the explicit goal to get my room cleaned up. Instead, I ate cookies, smoked two cigarettes, ate some tuna, watched TV, watched some porn, talked on the phone and made a half-assed attempt to balance my checkbook and pay my bills.

Is that normal?

What do normal people do on a Friday night?

Should I be at a gym, in a class, viewing art?

Should I be out on a date, and if so, with whom?

Should I be drawing, painting, thinking…..creating?

Should I be folding laundry and vacuuming?

Should I be fretting so much about all this anyway?

Seems like so much time can be spent, sitting here, reading blogs, searching Google, listening to NPR archives, acquiring vast amounts of useless information about things and people that have no impact on my life. Seems like I can spend hours thinking and writing and not really doing anything constructive – even with my thoughts and my words. There is a commotion in this inactivity that seems strangely engaged, but is really quite ineffectual. And I’m left wondering if this laptop shouldn’t be left at work? Is there’s a life out there for me? But I doubt that I will ever find the answer to those questions until I get off my fat ass and get busy.

But busy doing what?

With whom?

Where?

And who’s gonna pay for it?

See…we found the kid guilty. (This is the terribly confessional time where the real crux of the matter is about to play itself out. Trite, I know. But I never promised to be much of a writer.)

So…see……we found the kid guilty.

Well, he really wasn’t a kid. He was 20. But the evidence was there. And he’s gonna spend time in jail. He’s already been there for a while, but now he has a conviction (actually, two) and he doesn’t get to have this existential crisis. He doesn’t get to worry about where he’s going with his life and whether or not he can spend tomorrow buying Christmas presents. Right now, maybe he’s in his cell, probably hating us jurors, regretting his actions and his deeds and he doesn’t have any chance to make things different for himself today, tomorrow or the day after that. His life right now is probably focused on not getting sodomized, not getting stabbed and not losing hope.

I felt like I really understood what freedom was when I looked him in the eye as the verdict was being read. When all was said and done, I got to walk out of that courthouse to live my life however I saw fit. But the experience was profoundly draining. And no National Anthem played in my mind when I walked down the stairs and out onto the bitter cold sidewalk yesterday afternoon to live my free life.

Rather, I walked out and thought……So what happens now? Where am I going to?

And the fucking Evita soundtrack started racing through the neuro-pathways. And it got me thinking, Is Madonna (this wasn’t the original Patty Lupone recording) the way? So now, today, after much consideration, I’m still left wondering, “What the fuck am I eating cookies when I could be doing yoga, studying the Koran, developing a world-wide marketing plan, taking care of two kids, screwing an auteur, pissing off Sandra Bernhard and having the HBO premier of my terribly lousy film?”

And that’s just tonight and just from 8-9 CST.

Maybe Madonna is the way, after all. She needs to write a book to tell us how. A real book. And not some crappy pseudo/art crap piece of shit book. No…she needs a self-help book. She needs to share how to get the focus. How to keep the focus. How to keep it together in the family and how to ….okay…I’m going to shut up. I was about to say something really stupid…

Yup. It’s the Madonna plan for 2004. If she won’t create it, maybe I will. Of course, I cannot call it the Madonna plan, coz she would sue my ass in a heartbeat. But there’s a new focus here in at robthurman.com.

At least for the next five minutes.

Raise Your Right Hand

I totally got picked!

Yup.

I'm a juror.

I guess that's about all I can and/or will say.

All Things (Just Keep Getting Really, Really Fucking Annoying)

Okay, I have to admit that I do, generally, enjoy that Queer Eye show, but I've been trying to iron out some glitches with my Cascading Style Sheet while watching the "Making of the Queer Eye Video," and after hearing "All things (Just Keep Getting Better) for the...ummm.....5,278th time.....I am at wits end.

When Bravo made this little half-hour presentation, they obviously forgot that OTHER music is available as background music. I swear to God, they played that clip from the song every 5.8 seconds. And I must add, that when asked if they were gay, the fellas didn't respond. There is that "one of them is straight rumor."

Anyway....the index page still looks slightly whacked on IE (PC). Everything is peachy keen on my Mac (of course) -- but since everyone isn't so blessed -- I might fiddle-fart around with it again.....but I'm giving up the ghost tonight.

Quit Your Bitching, Already!

One would think that my recent failed-attempt to quit smoking (and my subsequent six pound weight gain in six-and-a-half days), my flat tire (car – not gut), my being way-wicked behind at work, my oven dying and my perpetual poorness would be fodder for yet another tale of woe and commiseration…..but I’m an a strangely optimistic sort of mood.

Of all things, the thing that boosted my spirits was Jury Duty! Tomorrow, I’ll step into the court house, juror number 54, and do my part to ensure that justice will be meted out in a fair and impartial manner. Or at least, that is my hope. I think I’ll make a very fine juror, indeed! Last time I had jury duty, I was almost empanelled on a capital case. The plaintiff was mildly retarded, the victim was blind, one defense attorney had a skullet, the other was a walking Target/Ikea/Anne Klein model and the prosecuting attorneys were scary white dudes. I smarted off to one of the scary white dudes, who asked a very dumb question.....and I was all tabula rasa, "I take my directions from the judge and not from you....I have no pre-formed ideas...." and was eighty-sixed from the juror box (where I actually sat, for, like...hours!)

So, back to the not bitching thing….while I was sitting in Firestone this evening waiting for that flat tire to be fixed, sitting next to a child that really needed to blow his nose, I ruminated on life and liberty, the pursuit of happiness and all that jazz. Actually I was thinking about something my mother said to me earlier in the day. My mom told me that my niece and nephew are practically giddy that I’ll be home for Christmas next week. In fact my nephew said it would be “unbearable” if I wasn’t there. Unbearable? A very grand word for an eight year old....but he's a clever child. That kinda made me feel all, oh-I-dunno, sentimental and human for a few minutes. It also felt really good to say, “No, mom….I’m not calling for money…I’m actually just calling to say hello…..Really…..Yes…Really…..No…I’m just calling to say hello…..”

I guess it all boils down to feeling wanted. Isn’t that, really, just the silliest thing? I’ve been very prone to being so dour and bleak and cynical lately, that I’d forgotten about my many blessings. That’s all new-agey, crunchy-munchy, Oprah-istic, but it’s very true. Now, I don’t expect to go out and start buying placards and positive-affirmation mantras……but not letting a bunch of irritations weigh me down feels like a very small accomplishment.

Anyway, that’s enough talk about feelings. At least for today.

Sinners at the Cine

Just wanted to post some photos of Madame Babette and Mr. Tickles from the Opening Night Gala for the St. Louis International Film Festival.

One of the event chairs asked me if I could tart it up for the opening - something French....and I really love a good bustle!

Mr. Tickles escorted me that evening, and as usual, was up to his notorious hi-jinks and well-known mischief making!

While quite saucy, I avoided the sauce that night and was tremendously well behaved and in bed by midnight.

Sugar High

Without a doubt, yesterday was one of the best days I've had in a long while. Despite sliding down an icy hill (twice), smoking (more than twice) and having the stove die the evening prior to Cookie Fest 2003, I had a totally fantastic time hanging out with friends and making special, yummy treats.

A very special thank you to my roommate, for preparing the icing and making a very special batch of green dough (which was cinnamon-apple-pie-crust, ultra-yummy, sugary good.)

Post party, we had dinner at the Chinese Buffet/Mongolian Bar-B-Q, which was a...um...nice counter-balance to a day of sugar consumption. Later, I went to a very lovely party, where I had a wonderful time chatting with a variety of folks. I have to admit that I was very sleepy, but the festive holiday atmosphere was infectious. I had delightful conversations with numerous cute fellas....so I was about as giddy as a person could be by days-end.

Post-Post Party, I watched the re-broadcast of Angels in America - but I need a little time to formulate my thoughts on that. To say I liked it would be an understatement, but to say that it was an easy experience would be inaccurate. Anyway...no need to get all serious at the moment, here's cookie photos:

	Click on a Photo!!!

Dippity-Do for Deposed Despots

Couldn't he have brushed his hair?

This makes me sick.

Saddam's capture is so good for Dubba right now, that I have become physically ill. This must be a Democrat pollsters worst day.....

What kind of despot was Saddam anyway? They catch this ding-a-ling with something like $750,000 in American cash....but he's holed up in...well...some hole.....all hiding and scared....all spooky-long-haired and living on scraps of food! Where was the swan song? His Don't Cry for Me, Argentina? I know Tikrit isn't super-rhymey.... But I still want to know where were the Louis Vuitton luggage sets, the priceless antiquities, the shoes and gold and all sort of despoty-spoils? Didn't his people tell him that he had to maintain his image? Being seen getting examined for lice and sticking out your tongue on every television set across the world certainly doesn't do much to maintain your public persona. Where's the dignity in going out in style?

Now, don't get all pissy -- if this gets our military folks home earlier, then I suppose it's worthy of some jubilation. But I keep thinking about how good this is for the Republicans and I don't have the stomach to deal with all the Dubba flag-waving that'll be going on through Christmas. I may be making a donation to Howard Dean Spin Control Committee (coffee and doughnuts for everyone!).

And the poor newspaper industry. They're Sunday editions are pretty worthless right now.

I have to stop...I could stay on this topic for a long time, without saying anything important and I have a party to get ready for. More later....

Commerce Trumps Culture

So...is it happenstance that Alien Quadrilogy (which I am not even certain is a word) was released last week....and this bit of media hoo-haa happened yesterday?

Maybe I'm skeptical....but this reeks, especially since all of the mentioned films are 20th Century Fox properties. Does the Smithsonian do this kind of thing often? Media insiders, let me know!

Bluraacchhhch!!!

Actress Sigourney Weaver poses with the giant egg prop from the 1986 movie "Aliens," on Wednesday, Dec. 10, 2003 in Washington. The egg, along with a film script and original movie poster are being donated to the Smithsonian Museum of American History. The museum's collection already includes a phaser from "Star Trek," and the fedora and jacket worn by Harrison Ford in "Indiana Jones." (AP Photo/Evan Vucci)

Wanna Know Me?

Just wondered what the ole gal was up to and apparently there's ***another*** new book!

Madonna - Nobody Knows Me - 52 Pages - Limited Edition

Nobody Knows Me is Madonna's ultimate statement to her fans. 52 pages of success, rare and unseen shots commented by an Icon and her angels. Music, love, fashion, stardom and much more...

Please note: Nobody Knows Me is a limited edition and will be available for pre-order from Nov 25 to Dec 30.

I was all on board for all her other crap, God knows, I'll follow along on this trip too.....

More Folks to Read

I just finished taking a walk around the block. It is really cold and miserable out there. My cheeks are a bit flushed. And I maybe burnt 15 calories (just getting dressed). I have also started adding a list of websites and blogs that I visit from time to time. (see below and to the right....)

I have to admit that I am simply pea-green with jealousy at the lives these bloggers seem to lead.

I mean, I feel on top of the world if I get a little nooky in an occasional 3-way and like a flipping superstar if I score a great Burberry knock-off, but all that pales in comparison to these folks. They are just so clever and smart and sassy and well-read and interesting. And lately all I can do is moan about being a broken-hearted junkie. That isn’t very interesting, and I should also say, has been done-to death. And since I used to be interesting, I’ve decided to stage a come-back.

So, here we are.

I need to re-invent myself.

In addition to not smoking, I have decided that I will not eat past 7:00 PM, will watch considerably less television (it is turned off at the moment) and engage in a little exercise. That doesn’t make me any more clever or smart or sassy, but it may make me thinner, which really is a good thing when you’re not particularly clever, smart, sassy, etc.

I also need to decide on my cause celebre for 2004. Is it going to be the election? The current state of art and culture? I need to make a decision. Perhaps I’ll write a book.

Anyway, they’re far more fascinating than I am….but I’m working on it.

Red Heads

(AP Photo/Eric Jamison)

This guy used to be just annoying, now he is strangely pumped up, stretched tight and plain-ole creepy.

I have to admit the nicotine withdrawl has slightly lessened today, which is a good thing. Granted, I would still root through trash to look for a smoke, but I'd be half as likely to smoke it.

Day Five....

What a handy suggestion!

Coffee breaks, cocktail parties, sporting events and other smoking-associated situations may be hard to deal with. You may overeat to avoid smoking. Try low-calorie drinks and flavored water. Bring your own low-calorie drinks and snack trays to special parties so you can maintain your eating plan.

I have a party to attend this weekend, perhaps I'll bring my own snack tray....do you think folks will find that strange?

Anyway, not smoking still sucks....this morning I looked under all my car seats, hoping to find a stray cigarette.

That is just so, so sad.....

Temporary Setback

If you're lucky, you may never have to deal with depression...or addiction....or mental illness. You won't ever question yourself or your motives and you won't feel like you're losing your mind.

That is...if you're lucky.

I haven't seen luck much in the past month. Seems like the past 30 days have been a huge struggle for me. Sometimes I've lost my battle with depression and addiction, sometimes I've rallied and I've been pretty good.

Unfortunately, I never know anymore what the day is going to be like when I wake up each morning. Sometimes even waking up is a challenge.

I wish I could just say that a new round of therapy, a renewed commitment to any number of 12-step programs would mean that in a few hours, days, weeks, that I'd be okay...that I wouldn't be such a mess.

I wish I could say all that. But that would make me a liar.

And at the moment, the truth is the only thing that is keeping me teetering just this side of sanity. And the truth is that every day is a damn challenge.

Sometimes it really sucks. Like right now.....I am sitting here going through 72 plus hours without a cigarette. There are no words to describe what this craving is like. It's a bit different from other drugs.....nicotine isn't like speed, isn't like pot, isn't like amyl nitrate, isn't like caffeine.

It's so much quieter.

And all I can think about is what it would feel like to smoke that cigarette. What it would feel like to fill my lungs with toxic smoke. What pleasure I would feel as I actively engaged in killing myself, relishing each puff.

Isn't that fucked up?

That's the terribly perverse thing. I know it is harmful and toxic and bad for me. But I don't care. That's the way every addiction works. You just don't care anymore.....and re-learning how to care for yourself isn't easy.

I wish I could just remedy this whole sitaution with some Up-With-People platitude or by promising to be more active and engaged. I wish I could feel better by putting up a Christmas tree or going shopping or distracting myself.

But the fix isn't quite that easy.

So here I sit.....my mind is terribly numb and my spirit is plenty broken. But I haven't ingested anything stronger than coffee in four days.

And sadly enough, that feels like a victory.