It depresses, angers, and generally runs my little brain through the spectrum of ugly negative emotions to know that, on Saturday night,
dozens of people dressed as Pee Wee Herman sat in a theater somewhere in San Francisco, watching pornography and probably getting up to all kinds of no good, and I wasn't there to witness it. It really would have been one of the most concentrated nuggets of absurdity that I think I will ever have the opportunity to experience in my lifetime, and I missed it for a chicken pesto skewer and a rerun of The Golden Girls. I would have cherished that nugget - held it in my hands and caressed it like a lover. Fucking life. Goddamn fucking life. Why was this decision not as clear to me last night as it is now. What I wouldn't give to run down Mission with a herd of Pee Wees, leaping and frolicking amidst a sea of grey suits and red bowties, laughing (and shaking my hands in a spastic, moth-like fashion) in the face of a hypocritical Establishment that condemns something as natural as masturbation in a public theater.
Today I went to The Pork Store and didn't eat pork. Yesterday was Pee Wee Day and I didn't see a single Pee Wee. My life needs adjustment.
Yeah, I made another one. It's kind of rough in parts because I am tired, so be prepared for some trainwreckage.
Here it is. As the cover suggests, this music can be successfully paired with victorian sitting rooms and anthropomorphic insects. It has
Enon,
YMO,
Boards of Canada,
Mr. Velcro Fastener,
The Knife,
Junior Boys,
Console,
The Gasman,
Turner,
!!!,
Royksopp,
Matthew Dear,
Kid Spatula,
Future Sound of London,
Out Hud,
Ellen Allien. Now get out there and invent!
In other news, shame on you if you live in New York and you missed
the Aphex Twin Acoustic Show at Lincoln Center. I think this will probably be one of the most amazing shows of the year.