Story Truths

Coffee Pot Cooking

2012-01-08T05:15:00.003Z

Staying in the French Quarter crash pad is cheap and geographically convenient. Food-wise, not so much. The only heat we have is a coffee pot, so we've been experimenting with coffee pot cooking. For eggs, look here. We had to alter the time because ours is a little dinky coffee pot. Pot noodles and oatmeal are here.
The photo is, of course, is by Patrick Jackson, and you can see more of his fabulous work here.

2012-01-08T05:15:00.001Z

Philosophy

2011-10-10T04:13:00.000Z

the Energy that creates worlds will flow through you...which means enthusiasm and passion and triumph. That is your destiny.

Abraham

2011-05-23T05:15:00.003Z

##############################################################################
I had this weird dream, for true.
I was sitting next to the pool
in the courtyard
of my apartment
in the French Quarter.

The next thing I knew
I was awake.

I can no longer distinguish
between dreams
and
reality.
##############################################################################

Christmas 2010

2010-12-30T04:04:00.005Z

This is my father's family:
self-proclaimed...
Jesus Freaks.

Having been separated from them for most of my life,
I do not know their familiars.

Luckily,
Uncle Jimmy runs this ship like a pro.
We will,
all of us,
sing Christmas songs together
before this night is through.

Why I don't like housework

2010-12-28T02:07:00.000Z

I had to do all the cleaning in the house for most of my teen aged years. There were five of us, and I thought I did a pretty good job of it...considering.

Christmas Circa 1973

2010-12-26T17:13:00.003Z

It was before Daniell was born; I was eight. Some hippies lived across the street, and both of our houses butted up against a cane field that provided for all manner of imaginative play. Us kids were playing war, which lead to bullying and mean-ness. The hippies gathered us around their kitchen table for a lecture on peace and good will. It was the first time I had been exposed to such ideas and had heard such words so kindly put. Who knows what kind of magic caused those hippies to be in Thibodaux, Louisiana in the early 1970's? But it was at this moment that I embraced the idea of the possibility of peace.

Image from Energy Tribune.

All Hail the Pioneers!

2010-11-10T16:25:00.003Z

There are those who stay
and stick things out,
and there are those who are the pioneers.
She feels like being a pioneer.

Both paths are hard to travel.
Both roads come with tragedy.
She'd rather take the tragedy she doesn't know.
Because...there may be some spice sprinkled in there too.

Here, there is no joy,
and she can see her life mapped out for her
in a perfect train wreck.

If she is going to crash and burn,
she'd rather not see it coming.
She'd rather...
a surprise.

And then...
somewhere down the road...
she might have a chance of dying
with a smile on her face.

My Autobiography (draft II)

2010-09-03T01:15:00.005Z

Big Branch

Before I remember anything
Hurricane Betsy

Satusma smells good.

2010-08-24T03:44:00.007Z

It's my 45th birthday, and I decide to have the BLT.
I ask the guy at the counter "How's the bacon."
"It's good," he says. "Real good."
I haven't had pork in soooo long.
I buckle.
It's my 45th birthday, and I decide to have the BLT.

Remembering the World Cup 2006

2010-06-13T17:49:00.003Z

Here's what I wrote at the last World Cup in 2006:

"Both England and Sweden played today. That means the boys were down the pub watching football for 5 hours. I settle into the flat, cleaning, working, napping, walking around half naked.

"The Producers" stops for no ball. And, the actors' green room is directly across from my window. I listen to them warm up their voices.

Anyway...I think this is my favorite time. Being alone in my own flat...

Oh, and yes, I do have the football on in the background."

Fragile Ghosts (2005)

2010-06-10T22:04:00.007Z

In the spring of 2004, we shot "Fragile." Spencer wanted to shoot on film, and he just happened to have an old Bolex from the glory days lying around. We shot on 100 ft. rolls and with fucked up lenses. Fuji stock, I think.

The location was near Warren St. tube station. Derek, our landlord, let us have it for free. Spencer is standing on a plastic sheet because we are just about to cover Vonda in blue paint and fake blood.

We are on the Road (April 2010)

2010-05-13T02:24:00.024Z

Leaving New Orleans at 10 a.m., some would say we're on the road too late. We plan to put 600 miles behind us before the day is done. My passengers settle in for their first American road trip. I am the only driver. I am the captain of the ship, and I navigate by instinct. We, all of us Americans, are from somewhere else. No one is of pure blood. We have mixed and melted and traveled crisscross back and forth so that we don't know where we begin and where we end. Leaving New Orleans at 10 a.m., I say we are right on time.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

2010-01-30T18:04:00.004Z

"You gotta ask yourself," she said.
"What is this whole Iraq debacle about?"

I rolled my eyes. Not again.

"I'll tell you what it's about,"
and this is when she got really aggressive.
"Oil," she said, poking me in the chest.
"That's" poke "what" poke.

"Reduce our dependence on foreign oil,
and we will reduce our warring
and increase our creativity."

CrazyAssWhiteMiddleClassHippyLiberal

"I gotta go," I said.

"Go?" she said.
"Go where? Isn't this what I pay you for?"

"I gotta go."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

2010-01-27T15:43:00.008Z

Lee Circle Tailgate.
Alligator sausage
cooked by a man
dressed in a black and gold cape
riding around on a bicycle BBQ.

Chris and Kevin:
hard hats & shrimpin' boots
gold jumpsuits...
oysters on the grill
oysters raw
(it is a cold month, after all).

"At 2:30, it'll be like Pompeii,"
says Kevin.
Everything is left in ruin.

No tickets to the game
so, to Markey's for the first half.
2nd half at Alton's
who calls from California
to make sure we've lit the
Drew
Breesus
Candle.

By the end of the game
we are half baked
three sheets to the wind.
Enough to drunk dial
half the town
with a "Who 'dat?"

Including Chard...
who we pick up
on the way to the Quarter.

But, first, a stop at the
Clover Grill on Bourbon:
Hamburgers and Tator Tots.
Christopher with a black and gold boa.

Then drunken dancing at the Parade
before skipping back
hand in hand
to Alton's
singing
Who 'dat
all the way home.

photo by JosephNils

2010-01-15T03:24:00.003Z

Toast and coffee...coffee and toast. Today I will see my Daisy May, love of my life...canine bundle of joy. The pining in my heart will cease. Today. After toast and coffee...coffee and toast.

Christmas 2009 (Svinnersta)

2010-01-02T16:34:00.006Z

Out here
on the farm,
it is not the picture postcard Swedish countryside.

Life is cruel.

Amongst the hysteria of us women,
maybe the new born calf won't live.
Maybe he will be dinner tonight.

Göran is mostly calm:
"It's just a stupid cow, goddamnit."

And, for true, it is.
And his mother is rejecting him,
and it is a lot of extra work to care for him.

And, out here,
on the farm,
life is cruel.

What I know about this picture...

2010-01-02T00:45:00.000Z

It was taken at the New Orleans International Airport. Late 60's. My father was going off to do work up North, and we were there to see him off. It's my grandma holding me. I don't ever remember her wearing dresses, but here she is...in living green.

2009-06-02T19:19:00.012Z

##############################################################################
I had this weird dream, for true.
I was sitting next to the pool
in the courtyard
of my apartment
in the French Quarter.

The next thing I knew
I was awake.

I can no longer distinguish
between dreams
and
reality.

##############################################################################

2009-05-24T21:42:00.012Z

Last night I dreamed that vampires
chased me all around the French Quarter.

I ran and hid,
hid and ran.
I lost my shoes.
When I woke,
my feet were sore.

Patrick usually never dreams.
But last night
he said he dreamed about Pancho.

R.I.P Pancho

2009-05-21T02:39:00.004Z

I never had a dog that was completely my own.

But, if I had, if I would, if I could

it would have been Pancho.

###################################################################################

Snowing in New Orleans

2008-11-12T15:56:00.002Z

When I think back on this day, I wonder how we made it through. We had only been back in New Orleans for two months having left London to start our new life in America. During those two months, we had had daily beat downs. Despite my seemingly excited tone, the snow was depressing, and you can see it in Patrick's expression. You can hear it in his voice. This may have been one of the lowest points.

We were broke. People owed us money, and they were never going to pay. I couldn't find work. Patrick couldn't work because he had yet to receive his green card (it would take him another six months). The computer on Patrick's lap was a loaner from Jennifer and Richard. We were staying in my mom's living room and she was feeding us as well.

The small glimmer of hope for the day, a meeting with Chard about a collaboration of film and dance, had to be canceled because the buses weren't running. Had we not had each other, we might have both stepped off the ledge.

2008-10-31T20:02:00.008Z

Another Day in Paradise

2008-10-21T03:30:00.006Z

We take the bus Downtown to the library. The downtown branch has employed a set of identical twins as security guards. One has a shaved head, and one has a tight Afro. When I first saw the shaved headed one, I said "Oh, you cut your hair," and he said "No, that's my twin," and I said "are you messing with me?" I thought he was messing with me, but I have since seen the two of them in the same place.

These years later and FEMA and the SBA loan people are still set up on the 1st floor. I find a book of Faulkner short stories and Patrick finds a DVD copy of "Amores Perros." We head to the 2nd floor and Patrick reads Harper's and I read the New Yorker. Very good "Talk of the Town," which explains exactly why you should be voting for Obama.

Reading is interrupted by a screaming man downstairs. This isn't so unusual as the downtown library can sometimes be host to all manner of crazies because, well, it is for the public. But, this man continues to scream and curse for a very long time, so I decide to go down to have a look. The po-lice have already arrived and are investigating allegations that the screaming man has stolen umbrellas...a lot of them. From where or from whom, I can not ascertain, but the woman at the circulation desk tells me that a man is waiting outside for his umbrella.

We have some lunch in the Library Patio. It's a nice little outdoor space on the third floor where you can read, eat, drink and smoke. Lunch digesting, we read, but my reading is continuously interrupted by the clickety-clack of the librarian's wooden clogs. Why would she wear them here? And, knocking loudly on a library table, she shouts "Sir! Sir! You can't sleep here."

Later we head back to the Westbank on the 102 General Meyer bus. It takes just 22 minutes and $1.25. I like the bus.

Back at ma maama's, we cook us up some chicken and okra and settled in for a night of TV.

Before falling off to sleep, I read the Faulkner. I dream of dusty Mississippi landscapes and alcoholism.

2008-09-30T20:04:00.002Z

2008-08-31T20:05:00.001Z

Calling Chris Frey... Are you out there?

2008-08-19T14:02:00.012Z

Photo of the Polo Club Lounge in the Windsor Court Hotel from About.com

I worked with a guy called Chris Frey (Fry?) at the Windsor Court back in 1984/85. I was 19. He was, maybe, 24. He liked the lads, but he had a lotta time for the likes of me, I don't know why.

Chris and I had many great adventures together. We were almost car-jacked once. As we skidded away from the would-be grand theft autoists, we nearly pissed ourselves laughing. I think we were high from the adrenaline. Chris screamed with excitement: "They would have surely raped you, honey. They would have raped me too. Wait...go back."

Another time, I rescued him from suburban hell. He had gotten stuck at some friends of his folks out in Kenner without transportation back into the city. "Honey," he said into the phone "get out here and get me before I drink myself to death." That night he kipped at my apartment on Prytania. We stayed up late smoking and laughing. "Honey," he said. "This place is a dump. I'm gonna give you $200 a month to help you out."

Then, I left the Windsor Court and he moved back to Ann Arbor, and we lost touch.

But, do you believe that people call to you? I do, and Chris Frey, after twenty-something years, has been relentlessly calling for me this week. He popped into my head a few days ago...well his voice did...his funny nasally voice. And I remembered his teeth as well. He had an overbite, and he worked it for comic effect. These images...these sounds. They won't go away no matter how much I ignore this calling.

Sweden at Midnight

2008-07-31T20:06:00.002Z

The Belarusian

2008-07-06T15:35:00.006Z

This is a total mistake. I was trying to take a photo of Kings Cross Station on the way to Club Fuck with the beautiful Svetlana of the London fetish scene. But, I pressed video instead. Just at the end you will catch a glimpse of Svetlana deep in thought. Being a slave, she is normally cheerful as it is her remit. But here she is pensive.

London 2008

2008-06-30T20:07:00.002Z

Broke, Busted, Disgusted and Nowhere Nearer to Home

2008-06-18T14:30:00.003Z

One of the great things about having no money:

You find out just how much food you've been hoarding.

Bird eats Bird

2008-06-06T16:23:00.004Z

London, June, 2008: Trying to write this morning and Johnathan Livingston Seagull flies onto the building across the courtyard from me. He proceeds to eat a pigeon. Quality is shit because I had to zoom in. My phone sucks a bit.

Self Portrait on a Nokia

2008-05-31T20:08:00.002Z

2008-05-24T11:27:00.004Z

I visited Chicago once when I was in High School in 1983. I went there to participate in the National Speech and Debate Competition. I remember the deli sandwiches, and it was the first time I saw a Picasso live: "The Blue Guitarist."

I have friends in Chicago.

-----------------------

I drove through North Carolina in 1989 on my way to Virginia. I was driving one of those U-Haul trucks with my little Honda Civic attached to the back. The Civic got a flat, and I had to pull over in the middle of nowhere...only one house to be seen. I didn't have a lug wrench, so I walked up to the house to ask if they had one. A three-legged dog was yapping and jumping up and down as its owner came to the door. He had no shirt and a hand gun tucked into his belt. He loaned me his lug wrench, and, as I changed the tire, he told me the story about how his family were direct descendants of King Arthur.

-----------------------

I spent my 13th summer in Denver visiting my Uncle Pete. My grandma (his mother) had just died, and I guess my mom thought we'd console each other so she sent me up there from our native southern Louisiana. It was my first time in the Midwest. My Uncle Pete had escaped years earlier directly after his stint in Vietnam. Pong had just hit the market, and we played a lot of that I remember. He took me up in the mountains, and we swam in the cool creeks and cooked on open fires.
-----------------------

Cassie and Me in L.A.

2008-04-30T20:09:00.001Z

I went to Los Angeles in 2006 to attend the premier screening of Tokyo Cowboys at the Japan Film Festival in L.A. I stayed with Cassie.

I love my ipod

2008-04-23T13:44:00.004Z

Having bought a new video iPod, Cassie gave me her old 3rd generation iPod. She is a very generous friend. Handing it over like it was something she was going to otherwise throw away...like it was worth nothing, "do you want this?" she asked. I lunged at it. I'm the only one of my friends that doesn't have an iPod. But Cassie has just given me a leg up.

Thanks Cassie! I love you.

Areo

2008-04-11T18:25:00.003Z

I wanted to check in with friends Kevin and Dave at their new operational facilities in Irvine. Kevin and Dave own a high end housewares shop on Ocean in Laguna called Areo. I was at the opening swilling their champagne many years ago. They've grown. Their brand Homart is now in stores all over the country. I couldn't believe it when I drove up to the place. They have an Areo truck...a whole truck with their logo and colors. They have a peanut machine to pack boxes and a massive warehouse.

Eric

2008-04-11T18:24:00.002Z

My first port-o-call behind the Orange Curtain was to meet up with Eric Schindler. I met Eric when I was a student at Loyola about 20 years ago. We are both native southern Louisianians. I hadn't seen Eric in about 12 years, so I was a bit nervous. But, as it is with old friends, you just get on with it. Eric laid out his story for me quickly and efficiently in bullet points. He's a lawyer, and he is very skilled at this kind of thing. Eric is 52, and he looks amazing, which is an inspiration. We drank coffee at Zinc across from his office cum living loft, and he let me use his Blackberry...that was my first Blackberry experience, and, honestly, I don't see the big deal. The buttons are so small.

L.A. to Laguna on Surface Roads

2008-04-11T18:23:00.003Z

Rented a car and drove down to Laguna Beach today. I decided to take surface roads imagining myself driving down PCH with the wind in my hair and the ocean on my side. Getting to PCH via surface roads from Silverlake was quite the experience. I drove through strange and wonderful neighborhoods: the downtown arts district with museums and the Disney Concert Hall that looks like it sprung up right out of the ocean. Then the "cold storage" district...just miles and miles of enormous cold storage facilities. What are they storing in there? And then, Compton. That reminded me a bit of the Lower Garden District in New Orleans. Finally made it to Huntington Beach where I picked up PCH. Traffic, traffic, traffic. Then it cleared right before Laguna Beach, and I was able to live out my fantasy of driving really fast down PCH with the wind in my hair, radio blaring, ocean on my side, listening to 100.3 the Sound and singing my little heart out like the dork that I am.

Laguna

2008-04-11T18:02:00.003Z

Finally got on the Freeway to get down to San Juan Capistrano to see Chris and Tracy. Haven't seen them in about 9 years. They have a 12 year old girl and an 8 year old boy. I haven't been around kids of that age in a long time. It takes a bit of skill as they are not completely clueless. Kevin and Dave and Eric joined us for dinner. We had BBQ Salmon as big as a whale, BBQ Veg and Rice-a-Roni: The San Francisco Treat.

These are long-time friends.

Feet in Ocean

2008-04-11T15:40:00.007Z

Michael suggests we go to the ocean and put our feet in for an hour or so. This, he says, is important to reconnect with something real. We talk about Louisiana, where we are both from. Both trailer trash, both making our way out of the bayou and into the wide, wide world.

London 2005 - 2008

2008-03-30T20:16:00.003Z

Photo and Styling by Big Daddy.

2008-02-28T20:26:00.002Z

From the Hospital

2008-01-31T20:32:00.003Z

Frank and JP

2008-01-06T20:58:00.003Z

I hate bounce backs. It is with a heavy heart that I delete two now defunct email addresses from my contacts.

The first is Frank Turing. An old friend of my mom's, Frank was the one who walked me down the aisle at my wedding to Mark. Frank has been dead for a few years now, but I had kept his email handy. I would email him and David Hogerty sometimes when I was feeling blue. Both have left us, but I figured that energy is energy, right, so they would somehow know that I was thinking about them, and that digital record would call them close to me. David's email is still working, so maybe he'll give my messages to Frank.

The other email address that I deleted today was JP's. JP was my neighbor on Greek Street when I first moved to London. He was a great neighbor, and I had spent plenty a night smoking and talking rubbish with him. He was the one who banged on my door on September 11th, 2001. I didn't have a TV at the time, and he wanted to let me know that America was being bombed. Big Daddy was there, and the three of us watched with disbelief as the world changed. JP and his family moved back to New Zealand not long after that. He opened a bar on a beach, but I'm not sure where. If anyone knows him, please let me know.

Tate Modern, London, 2007

2007-12-31T21:08:00.001Z

Personal Message from Thom Yorke

2007-12-15T18:08:00.005Z

Did anyone else get the following message from Thom Yorke? Did he actually write it/send it or was it some marketing dude? I'm curious. I'm beginning to think "it's" all about the marketing. You don't have to have talent...it's all about the marketing. Not that Thom Yorke doesn't have talent...he does...a lot. But this letter got me to thinking about marketing and about how maybe even someone as successful as Thom Yorke has to be all about the marketing. And maybe I'm part of the organic, viral marketing by posting this in my MySpace blog, which is subscribed to by about three people and read by maybe two more. But then again, if no one else got this, then he was probably just sending me a personal message because he liked my name when I signed up for the inRainbows album.

Anyway, here's the email that Thom Yorke sent me, and the drawing above comes from The Eraser website, which is quite cool. (I swear, I am not getting paid for this):

info@theeraser.net to daneetasaft

show details 12:29 PM (5 hours ago)

Reply

please excuse this addiTion to YouR pile of email.

ThIs is not stricTly junk.

this
is a quick notE to Let YoU know thAT there will be shorttlY be a bunch of rmxs
of some of the songs from the ERAser album made available to download from boomkat.com.

on the 17th of Dec a BURIAL rmx of anditrainedallNight
a ModeSeleKtOR rmx of skipdivideD
& a VAriouS rmx of aNaLYse

on the 18th of Dec a FoURtet rmx of AtoMS for PEace
& two Christian Vogel rmxs of 'Black sWAn'

on the 19th of Dec the SuRGEon rmx of the CLock
a rmx of HarrOWdown HiLL by THE buG
& a rmx of Cymbal RUsh by The FIEld

that's it. apoloGIes for the disturbanCE. check themm out if you get amoment.

i Hope yours is a pEaceful CHRistmas.

>

thom yorke.

Sweden, 2007

2007-11-30T21:11:00.002Z

Kristen Fowler

2007-08-24T12:17:00.003Z

I've thought about Kristen on and off over the past 10 years, and,
actually,
for the longest time,
I could only remember the "Kristen" and not the "Fowler."
But her whole complete name just popped into my head today out of the blue, and I had this strange sensation that she needed something...
like a cup of sugar...
or a life line.

I googled her with various combinations of +japan and +j.d. powers and +alaska, but only these two things:

An Article published in 1997 for which she is the press contact

And this post:

--------------------------------------------------

>From 71651.2672@CompuServe.COM Tue Jun 24 20:26:54 1997
Date: 21 Jun 97 19:55:44 EDT
From: Kristen Fowler <71651.2672@compuserve.com>
To: Nihongo Mailing List 
Subject: Info on Japanese Teaching Courses in Alaska

Hi, I have been lurking on this page for a very long time but have learned
a lot from it.

I was wondering if anyone out there knows of a Japanese Language Teacher's
course in Alaska. I may be moving there and am looking into various
Japanese-related opportunities, and I figured that it would be a good
opportunity to get trained as a Japanese teacher if a course existed.

I appreciate any information on this as well as other ideas on
opportunities in Alaska involving Japanese language.

Thanks!

Kristen

--------------------------------------------------

I met Kristen in Tokyo, and this is what I remember about her:

she had short blond hair,
and she was sporty.
Her movements were quick,
and she reminded me of a restless girl about to take flight from the top of a tree.
She worked for J.D. Power.
She was in love with a gaijin who was moving to Alaska.
She was going to follow him there.

I never met him (the gaijin, that is). But when Kristen talked abut him, she used that cagey language that women sometimes use to indicate that they are about to go off the rails over a guy who doesn't really deserve the time of day from them.

I may be wrong,
and,
Kristen,
if you ever find this entry and you are happily married to that guy you followed to Alaska, then flame me like I know you can.

I'm putting this up here in the hopes that, if you ever google yourself (as we all do), you will get in touch and tell me that you did indeed need something from me on this the 24th of August 2007 just to know that I am not cracking up. Oh, and that I am waiting to deliver whatever it is you need.

UPDATE: A friend of Kristen's found this post and put me in touch with her. I am now friends with her on Facebook.

My Sister's Kids

2007-08-12T12:58:00.002Z

These are my sister's kids. I saw them briefly on New Year's eve. Before that, I hadn't seen them since before the flood. My niece is 14, and she knows everything (as we all do when we are 14...don't you remember?). Right now, she doesn't think anything I have to say is important. I want to give her the benefit of my experience, but she is not interested. Maybe in a few years. The two younger ones are boys, and I really don't know what to do with that. I don't understand boy children because I never was one. The middle one is my godson, and I keep sending him random things in the mail. In that way, I think he will somehow come to know me. At least that is my hope. The little one...I had a connection with him when he was 6 months old, but I don't think he remembers that. I was sitting next to him on the sofa, and he kept farting, and I kept laughing, and he kept laughing and farting, and that was our connection. I'm not sure if he will ever know who I am, but I have the laughing and farting incident on tape, and I will show it to him someday, and maybe he will remember. My sister says I use her life to tell my stories...that she is afraid to tell me anything because it might end up in a story. I want to tell her that she has a chance at immortality through her children, and my only chance at immortality is through my stories. But there is something more. I feel like we are collaborating on this project. I feel like we are working together to make a legacy for our family.

The Meaning of Life

2007-08-09T20:03:00.002Z

This is my uncle Pete's arm after he got bit by a spider. After he got bit, he died but then came back to life. The weird thing is that Pete has died about 5 times and come back to life, and I am trying to figure out what that means.

Stanley

2007-08-08T21:32:00.001Z

I roll directly out of bed into my clothes from yesterday as they are the closest and easiest. My plan is to run round to the corner shop, get the coffee and slink back here before anyone notices. But, when I lunge out of the front door into the garden, there is my neighbor Stanley, and he's waving a piece of paper with his phone number on it in front of me. He's 90 and nearly deaf, and his teeth clatter. You would think that, with the taxes we pay in this country, the NHS would sort out his teeth if not at least get the old guy a hearing aid. It just pisses me off. So, he asks if I live on the estate even though we've meet several times before, and I say: yes, I've lived here for 5 years, and he says can I call BT for him because his phone isn't working. So, I call BT on the mobile, and Stanley can't hear me because of the deafness and all, so I have to write everything down that the BT lady is saying, and she's saying that I'm giving her too many digits for this to be a phone number, and I'm still half asleep and having to write all this down for Stanley. Finally I get her to get his number from the post code, which, by the way, she tells me is also not valid, but I know it is because it's my post code too. I persist, and she finds the number, and she tells me the phone's working on her end and could I go up and check it on Stanley's end. So I ask Stanley (in writing, of course) if I can go up to his flat and check his phone, and he says yes. We go up there (this whole time I've got the BT lady on the phone saying how Stanley is in such good shape for 90), and Stanley is even sprinting up the stairs, which impresses me to no end. When we get up there, I check the phone by phoning home, and it works, and the BT lady calls the phone, and that also works, so I hang up with the BT lady but not before she asks me if she's given me good service, which I assure her she has. And Stanley asks me if the BT engineer is coming out, and I say, or, rather, I write, no the phone is working now. And Stanley looks puzzled, and he shows me the thing he wears around his neck that, when pressed, will send a signal through the phone lines for the ambulance to come pick him up, but I'm still not getting it. Then he flips the phone over and the panel that goes over the batteries falls off, and Stanley says I can't get that back on. Then I twig. Stanley had been changing the batteries cause they were getting low and all, and he couldn't get the panel back on the phone and he panicked (as one is wont to do when they are 90 and live alone and their life depends on that frigging button around their neck). So, I put the panel back on, and I tape it just in case as per Stanley's instructions, and he asks me what my name is, and I write it down, and then he tells me I'm an angel sent from heaven, and he cries actual tears of joy (or maybe relief that at least the ambulance comes when he presses the button). And maybe it's stupid and cheesy or whatever you want to call it, but I feel pretty good about finally being in the right place at the right time.

TS and Me

2007-07-18T22:42:00.002Z

Sometimes I like to visit TS at the National.

Barb's New Car

2007-03-15T00:19:00.002Z

This is my mom's new car. She got in an accident recently and totaled her other one. I suspect she was talking on the phone to Ms. Carmella. Mrs. Carmella is 85 and lost her house in Katrina. She lives in a FEMA trailer in Chalmette. She's rebuilding her house on her own and with help from the church because she can't get any damn money. Mrs. Carmella is a good catholic and prays to Jesus every day. She prays to The Virgin. She has a statue of the The Virgin in her front yard in front of her FEMA trailer. The statue was there before the trailer. It will probably be there when the trailer is gone. It weathered Katrina.

This is my mom's new car.

Whiskey-a-go-go

2007-03-03T23:07:00.001Z

Skates for the Broken Hearted

2007-02-28T19:14:00.001Z

These Skates Mended my Broken Heart
by: Daneeta Loretta Saft

So, I says to Shuri, I says "I'm leaving him."

"He's no good for you," she says. She's lacing up her skates and sniffing the air. "It smells like rain."

I look across Yoyogi Park and realize that it's already fall. The leaves are changing, and the kids are dressing in pink puffy Hello Kitty jackets. We push off, and I'm already thinking that maybe leaving my husband is not such a good idea. How will I support myself? Tokyo is expensive. What will I do? It's only because of him that I can afford to be a...what am I? A woman of lesire. "Maybe it's a stupid idea?"

"What?" she asks.

"Leaving him."

"Do you like sleeping with other women?"

"Not particularily. Japanese women always smell better than me, and the gaijin are too agressive."

"Well if he insists on you having threesomes, and you don't like sleeping with other women, then maybe you should leave him."

I'm picking up speed on the skates. I'm trying to get ahead of her because she's right, and I don't want to have this conversation. But, she's a better skater than me. "I like sleeping with James."

"Sleeping with James makes you crazy. Besides, you can't be a slut forever. By the way, I'm marrying Klaus."

I'm annoyed with her now. She has will power...stamina. She can hold out for the right one. That's why she's marrying the Swiss Banker who looks like he's stepped off the cat walk. He also knows how to sew and he really, really likes her."

At least I have the skates. I will keep them until I have attained her level of stamina. Then I will sell them on eBay.

These are a fine pair of American sized 7 K2 Velocity Inline Skates bought in Tokyo at Oshman's in Harajuku to mend a broken heart, which they did. You can also have the bag, knee pads, elbow pads and wrist guards. If these go above £50, I will send the buyer another story just for her on the topic of her choosing.

A Conversation with God

2007-02-28T14:26:00.002Z

What are you worried about?

The money.

Don't worry about the money. You really, really never, ever have to worry about the money.

You keep saying that, but, here it is, February 28th, and the rent is due, and I don't have the money, so how can I not worry about the money?

The money will come. It always does.

Will it come today?

What are the chances of the money coming today?

None. No chance.

Is there nothing that you have sewn in the past that will reap money today?

Huh?

Does anyone owe you any money?

There's an outstanding invoice for £400 from a job that Big Daddy did last month.

Well, then, there's a chance that some money will come today. Are there any more possibilities?

What? Like a miracle? Like winning the lottery?

Have you bought a lottery ticket?

No. I don't play the lottery.

So getting some money today by winning the lottery is not a possibility.

Adam plays the lottery. Maybe he'll win and give me some money.

OK, so some random miracle is possible.

Like when I found that £10 in the churchyard.

Yeah. So, you've got the outstanding invoice and a random miracle.

Should I go out to the churchyard?

Don't be daft. It's raining.

What about flogging something on eBay?

Now you're thinking. What do you have to flog?

I've got my old scanner.

What else?

The Louie Vitton bag that Sagan gave me.

Is that how you spell Louis Vuitton?

Did you look that up while I was thinking?

In today's world, there's not excuse for poor spelling except for laziness, and laziness is never an excuse.

I've got a two person tent that's never been used that I bought for the camping motorcycle trip to France with Gordon that turned into a nightmare and we used his tent anyway; I've got my roller blades including safety gear and bag that I bought in Tokyo on which I skated away my divorce blues and ushered Shuri into her perfect romance; and I've got a pair of American size 7 golf shoes that are still really good but have also golfed on 3 continents. Maybe I should just sell the stories that go along with these items and give the items away for free.

Um. Nobody wants to buy the stories of a middle class white woman.

Oh, yeah. I forgot.

Oink Oink

2007-02-28T12:58:00.001Z

or maybe i'll use your toothbrush to clean it

A to Z

2007-02-27T12:57:00.001Z

made on recycled-at-home paper by daneeta loretta saft

I'm Lovin' It

2007-02-26T12:55:00.001Z

made on recycled-at-home paper by daneeta loretta saft

Driven Snow

2007-02-19T14:59:00.002Z

Note: the videos below were accidentally deleted from YouTube. Now they exist only in my mind.

I like driving when the landscape looks like this. We drove out to Rockhammar today so that Big Daddy could shoot. On the drive out there, I was listening to Kirmann's music on the iPod. I am beginning to separate out the fact that Kirmann is my friend. The music is now standing on its own. It evokes memory....individual memory. That is, I think that his songs evoke an individual image in the listener's head...something that is specific to the listener. The image turns into a series of images...a day dream...a memory. His songs allow you to go into the inside space. They allow you to time trip. It is very powerful.

When we got to Rockhammer, we went out to shoot. Trekking up and down the snow with the cameras is kind of hard work. And Big Daddy managed to step in what we thought was a poo lake, but it only turned out to be chemicals. Thank goodness!

A Pretty Dorky Day

2007-02-19T13:08:00.003Z

I've been dreaming so much and waking so much in the middle of the night that I'm having trouble distinguishing between reality and dreams again. Mostly, I find myself picking up conversations with Big Daddy only to realize that it was a conversation started in a dream.

Assited Big Daddy for a bit in the morning and built a snowman. I have never built a snowman, so I thought I should try to do it. Honestly, I didn't see what the big deal was until Big Daddy nailed me with a snow ball, and the war began. The snow ball fight was a lot of fun, but I didn't finish the snowman. In the afternoon Göran took us for a ride on the ATV. This is the dorky picture we took as we were riding.

As for dorky video, we had that too. But I lost it.

I Smell Like Cow

2007-02-16T19:21:00.002Z

Big Daddy spent the day transferring old super8 footage by projecting it and then shooting it off the wall. He's not sure what he's going to use of the footage, so he shot the whole 17 rolls. The stuff is from his childhood, and there's footage from all over the Middle East where Joe was working at the time. The quality of the images is so striking...it bleeds out 1970s and is quite beautiful and nostalgic. I have a plan to shoot my feature (Paradis) with this aesthetic.

After all of the transferring, we had to get outside in the fresh air. We hiked up the hill behind the farm and shot scenery and then took a turn in the barn shooting Gören and the cows. Now we both smell like cows, but the footage looked good...or so Big Daddy told me. I haven't seen any of the stuff. I've been busy running around trying to take good photos with my mobile phone. We haven't yet entered the 21st century and broken down to get a digital camera.

Karin called the paper company in Rockhammar today. She wanted to make sure that Big Daddy
could film at the paper factory. The Vice Director laughed so hard at the prospect of a music video being shot in Rockhammar at the paper factory. Then he refused. No matter, though. We had never intended to shoot in the paper factory...just outside of it. "There's nothing I can do about that," the Vice Director said. Indeed.

Filming Liza

2007-02-15T16:43:00.002Z

Today was the first day of filming the music video "Liza" for Kirmann.

Filming conditions were stellar...snow everywhere! We must have had 6 layers on. Big Daddy shot nearly an hour's worth of Gören and cows. I was with him the whole time shooting Gören, however, I could only take the cows for about 5 minutes. They stink! Gören says it's the hay that stinks, but even that smells like cow urine. I can't figure out if the smell is pleasant or noxious. Now Big Daddy smells like a cow. I guess it's what real men smell like.

For more pics, see Picture Truths.

Yesterday...

2007-02-12T21:36:00.002Z

Big Daddy and I met Matt at the Chandos:

We had Sunday lunch, drank a few beers and caught up. Got a bit tipsy and had tearful discussions about how tragic it is that we are not living our lives like the Jetson's (it's what they promised us in the 70s, and I honestly believed I'd be driving a flying car by now). Freaked myself out a bit with thoughts of William Gibson and how he predicted the world we live in today. I'm thinking here of altered states of consciousness when we groove on the Internet with our computer. Matt says it's the interface that's slowing us down. Once we have a good interface, he reckons, then the Internet and computing will reach its full potential--the "singularity" he called it.

Walked around Covent Garden trying to spot stars from the BAFTAs and drinking McD's milkshakes. We dropped Matt off in Holborn and went home where I passed out from the beer. Woke up in time, however, to channel surf between "The Day After Tomorrow" (what a ridiculous film) and the BAFTAs.

Old Friends

2007-02-10T23:51:00.002Z

Went to a little networking thingie last night that Riccardo Sai put together...Fitzroy Tavern on Charlotte Street. Surprisingly, Naoko made an appearance. She didn't actually make it to the pub, but was holed up at the Pizza Express across the street. She was skin and bones...definitely been working too hard in that dangerous Japanese way. She's taken a month off of work to sort out her film. She flew to Germany at 3 a.m. to online. Then she's flying to Japan for just a day, then back here. I told her to gain some weight.

Daneeta and Mac

2007-01-29T18:53:00.003Z

Look at our faces.
He could never deny paternity,
not that he ever has.

Rebuilding

2007-01-28T14:13:00.000Z

Mrs. Carmella is 85 years old. She's living in a FEMA trailer in Chalmette, LA. St. Bernard Parish was one of the worst hit during hurricane Katrina. It was here that one of the Levees broke, flodding 90% of the community. Mrs. Carmella wants to rebuild her house. She's been there since 1957, and she can't imagine living anywhere else. She and her sons and the church have been working on gutting her house. She's paid out $11,000 for electrical and plumbing work. She's chuffed that she got a $70 senior citizen discount on the plumbing.

Memory Collection

2007-01-24T18:23:00.002Z

Notes on NOLA trip 2008

The Rouquette Clan
Shooting Guns
The Mexicans
Fried Turkey
Jennifer, Richard, Grace
Frank Levy
Madisonville Point (pictured above)
Badauex's
My old house on Venus
Ms. Carmella
HumV's at Walgreens in Chalmette
Bill and Willie
Jerry and Barbara
the dog
the food
Stella
her phillandering first husband
Mexican food
Arlene
Martin
Henry
The Mexicans

Jetlagged

2007-01-09T17:27:00.001Z

Hey Mark,

Thanks for the email and the call. Sorry I haven't responded earlier. I've been in New Orleans for the past two weeks and just got back to London today. It was quite an emotional and heartbreaking trip. The New Orleans we knew when we were at Loyola is no longer. I was shocked at how little the city has bounced back even 16 months after the storm. There are pockets of resilience mostly in the French Quarter and Uptown, but even those places, you'd be hard pressed to find a soul. The upper 9th ward (where Ronny's church is), downtown Canal Street, Chalmette, Mid City, Lake Vista...they are all like ghost towns--boarded up businesses, abandoned houses, no children to be seen anywhere. Only four public schools have reopened. There were 12 murders while we were there. The population is right at about 190,000 (down from half a million), but the murder rate is the same as it was with the larger population. About 90% of the people are on some kind of anti-depressant medication. There are only 22 mental health care practitioners in the whole city. Charity hospital is gone. There are rumors that Tulane hospital is closing. Tulane University has shut down all of its graduate schools.

It was like a bad dream. I saw Jennifer and Richard, John B., my dad, my mom, my sister, Frank. I spoke to Martin. They are all suffering from post traumatic stress. It's just so heartbreaking.

I've decided to focus on New Orleans for my next major project, but I am a bit overwhelmed right now. Jetlagged and all of that good stuff. Can't really process anything. We'll see what happens over the next few weeks.

Roots

2006-12-29T16:20:00.001Z

Went to visit my dad whom I haven't seen in about 7 years. He's living in a small trailer on a large plot of land in the middle of nowhere in Washington Parish. This is not because of Hurricane Katrina. He's just always lived in trailers in the middle of nowhere. Big Daddy is having trouble with this one. He doesn't understand why anyone would want to live like this.

We were just going to do the "pop in." After getting lost several times, we found the place. As soon as we arrived, he said "Let's go to Chris' place." Chris is my stepbrother...his mother is my father's third wife, and my father has raised Chris since he was a small boy. There are three children from my father's third marriage: Josh, Chester and Sarah. These are my half siblings. They were all at Chris' with their wives and children. It was strange looking into those faces. I was looking for traces of myself in them. I didn't see it, but Big Daddy says we all have the same nose and that Josh and I have the same eyes.

The whole family was so welcoming, and we ate BBQ, drank beers, and Big Daddy shot off a gun for the first time in his life. It felt strange and natural at the same time.

This is what I need to do. I need to find some kind of connection to my past. Big Daddy says he can't believe that this is where I come from. The person I am today reflects none of that past...at least not outwardly. But, inside, I can feel that live wire that reaches back through the years feeding off of the bayou and the alligators and the trailers. It energizes me and moves me forward.

Homecoming

2006-12-28T15:47:00.002Z

Arrived in New Orleans under the cover of darkness on Christmas Day. The first few days have been quite weird. Not having my sister and her kids here is hard. Usually my days are filled with them and their stories. Now everything is too silent. This apartment of my mom's...it's nice, but there is nothing familiar in it. Katrina took all of the familiars away. My mom doesn't have a landline, so I have been disconnected from friends as well. I drove around the city yesterday trying to figure out where to go. I was disconnected. I am disconnected.

Flipping Heck

2006-11-20T22:27:00.001Z

The washing machine broke down today. Water all over the floor, and Adam says we'll be knee deep in algae by next week. I'm getting so sick of it. When I think back on the comfort I had in my life just six years ago...but there was pain there as well. Just had to suck it up, finish the laundry in the bath and pretend like I was James Joyce. Is it so bad to want a nice flat? a working washing machine? a boiler that works. We live in a dump.

2006-11-20T18:48:00.002Z

Ended up helping out neighbor with his crazy project: Steam Boat Willy.

Artist's Date

2006-11-19T10:45:00.001Z

Producing "Toasted" for Big Daddy. It's a script we co-wrote for a council scheme. We were short-listed, but didn't make it to the final. We decided to go ahead on our own. Today, we picked up the photos we took of the location. Big Daddy was happy with the way the place looks in day light. The location is in Kew Gardens. One of my Tokyo friends came through by introducing us to the house owner who has graciously offered us her place for the weekend of the 8th.

After picking up the photos, we stopped by the National Portrait Gallery to get some inspiration. Nothing of great interest in the Gallery, but the book store inspired us. Big Daddy says that these new photographers seem to want just to be weird. But a quick look at the works of Annie Leibovitz inspired us. She captures the soul of her subject without being weird for the sake of being weird.

Over to the Chandos Sandwich bar on St. Martin's Lane for a quick bite. Then to HMV, Virgin and Fop for some DVDs: Three Times, Squid and the Whale, and Toni Takitani. Big Daddy is using these films for reference.

After, home for an evening of reading the papers and crap TV.

Good Day

2006-11-11T14:23:00.002Z

Holy royalty, batman, I feel like the queen. On our way to Claire and Francois' wedding at the Elvetham. This place looks stunning, and I can't wait for a turn in the gardens. Worked a bit on the article yesterday, outlining ideas for the defense of late sleepers.

Whoopee!

2006-08-26T12:33:00.001Z

Got myself published in the Guardian today.

Sunday Blues

2006-07-24T13:37:00.002Z

Big Daddy hates Sundays most of all. He hems and haws about all of the things that he didn't do last week and all the things he has to do this week and how he's not getting nearly as much done as he wants to. This makes Sundays bad for me too.

We decided to go to Lincoln's Inn Field for a picnic. There we watched a little boy dressed as Superman run around the field while his parents made out. I was afraid someone would snatch him, but they seemed OK with it. Then, there were the smack addicts playing Frisbee. Judging by their wobbly throws, smack and frisbee do not mix.

After, we went for an iced coffee at the Nero on Kingsway. Even though it's smokey, I like it better than the Starbucks opposite it...nice leather couches and LSE students often leave the Financial Times, which I wouldn't buy but like to read sometimes.

The elderly lady sitting next to us was talking to herself. Or, to be more precise, she was talking to someone that only she could see. I wonder how people get this far out. Then I wonder if she's talking to angels and it's us that are too far out to see them.

Happiness

2006-07-21T14:32:00.001Z

Happiness is always a delusion.

Breakdown

2006-06-18T19:06:00.002Z

Had a mental breakdown today wondering what the hell I was doing with my life.

Most of my old time friends have houses and cars and bank accounts. My family has been having a hard time since the hurricane, and I feel a bit useless. When I was making cash in Tokyo, I used to send them money. Now I'm lucky if I can manage to support myself.

Humbug to the Marriage Amendment

2006-06-09T18:29:00.000Z

Hello,

I oppose the Marriage Amendment to the constitution. This is a clear infringement of separation of church and state. Further, I think it is a waste of time and money to debate this issue when there are more pressing issues at hand: the war in Iraq, Health Care (my mother pays a whopping $800 per month in insurance!) and education.

Please pay attention to the important issues instead of trying to tell everyone who they can and cannot marry.

Daneeta Saft

Detached

2006-06-05T09:51:00.001Z

Feeling completely detached from the divine today. My family is falling apart, and there is not a damn thing I can do about it. At least I can't see what I can do about it. I feel stuck in the quagmire that is Tokyo Cowboys. Nothing is moving forward. What am I doing with my life?

Davie

2006-06-04T18:14:00.003Z

This is Davey, Big Daddy's little brother.

Pris

2006-05-22T18:41:00.003Z

The Friends

2006-05-21T23:30:00.002Z

I feel like I'm missing something of the spiritual. The Friends have been calling me for about 2 years now...I know that sounds weird, but there it is. I'm thinking of taking action. I'll let you know how it goes.

The Evolution of Dance

2006-05-14T18:37:00.002Z

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dMH0bHeiRNg

From Leah...

On Writing

2006-05-13T11:05:00.001Z

There are some stories that we can't hold in our hearts. If we do, they will spread throughout our bodies and destroy us. But, unleashed upon the world, they just might have the power and the glory.

I saw Elephants in Central London

2006-05-05T18:37:00.002Z

What does this Symbol mean in the UK?

2006-05-04T14:21:00.001Z

Bowling with Vonda and Ross

2006-05-01T15:51:00.003Z

This is back in London. Back in 2004, I think. We've gone bowling with Vonda and Ross. I am sure it's after Felix.

I remember this night. We had so much fun. They were our couple friends, and we were all aware that things were going to change with the birth of their first child. How would it affect us.

We, none of us, realized any other threat lurking somewhere in the future. Vonda and Ross are no longer together. We are no longer in London. Sometimes sad things happen.

Killer Bag

2006-04-12T20:05:00.001Z

Saturday

2006-04-08T19:34:00.001Z

Flying Cars

2006-03-31T11:28:00.001Z

I was a child of the revolution for 25 years.
I got tired of waiting for all the things they promised us.
They said we'd all live like the Jetson's.
They said we were all equal no matter race, creed or color.
They even changed the law.
Only not for us girls.

I'm not driving a flying car, and we are not equal.

When I went out into the world to look around,
I was blinded by brilliance.
So I kept walking.
to Asia
to Europe
to Africa
I think someday I will walk
all the way back home.

But, this time,
I want a different kind of revolution.
And,
oh yes,
there will be flying cars.

My First Conversation with Derek

2006-03-30T22:03:00.002Z

Derek: Woof Woof, Bow Wow
Nene: Are you a dog now?
Derek: Woof Woof, Bow Wow
Nene: Are you a dog?
Derek: No. I'm a boy.
Nene: You make a better boy.
Derek: Bye bye. I love you.

Levada Norton

2006-03-10T11:19:00.001Z

I guess She is where it all started.
Further back it started,
but this is as far as my own memory takes me.

She is Levada Norton: Mother of Willie Norton Robinson Rasch: Mother of Peter Robinson and Barbara Ann Robinson Rouquette Shorter Rasch Faust: Mother of Daneeta Loretta Rouquette Shorter Saft Jackson and Daniell Nicole Shorter Thompson: Mother of Dominique Elizabeth Thompson and Daniel Thompson and Derek Thompson.

The boy, I believe, is Dennis, a cousin of Barbara's.

Migrant Workers

2006-03-10T01:15:00.001Z

I heard a story from mom about how she and Uncle Pete had traveled around the Southern part of the U.S. with their parents working as migrant crop workers. This must have been around that time. Later, we found out that the marriage between my grandparents was a ruse cooked up by my grandfather. They weren't actually married. He even got his brother to pose as the pastor. I've heard that my biological grandfather, Pete Robinson, was 2nd generation Irish...that he had red hair and that he had married a native American woman before meeting my grandmother. That is all I really know about him. The man I called my grandfather was my grandmother's 2nd husband. He's the one I grew up with. He's the one that picked the meat out of crabs for me as I sat at his elbow. He's the one that I know and love.

Going to Church

2006-03-10T01:12:00.001Z

This is Barbara, Pete and Aunt Velma. I can only think, that dressed like this, they must be going to church. I think Barbara was 10 here. You can really see Dominique's face in her's.

Aunt Velma was a part of our family through three generations until her death just a few years ago. She had a great influence on all of us, especially the women as she lived a life less ordinary.

From My Perspective: 1965

2006-03-10T01:10:00.002Z

Mom and me and Velma. This was my first party, I think. Big Branch, Louisiana.

Pete

2006-03-10T01:05:00.001Z

Angry young man.
Hated his mother's cooking.
Joined the Navy.
Toured Vietnam.
Became a Hippy.
then a Father.
then a Husband.
then a Father, again X5.
But he was always an
Artist:
making tiny
bird houses
with his
bare hands.

Aunt Velma

2006-03-10T01:00:00.001Z

I love this picture of her.
It reminds me...
silk stockings
and
high heels
M*A*S*H
and vintage.
Yeah, she was a real vintage lady.