I'm SO Back, You Have no Fucking Idea...

(SIMON THEO, photographer, director, writer, blah blah blah... click to make bigger so you can see how much better his shots are than mine...)


After a summer of clog re-runs, welcome back to an exciting new season of my experimental life as a mini mogulette...

first of all, let me tell you that we've got us a director, people! someone to lead us to the promised land! Simon Theo above. more on this dreamboat in a second. we'll talk about him like school girls and gush and turn beet red whenever we say his name.

second of all, i apologize for lying and saying i'd return in july. i work all the time and things get away from me, like our relationship together here. i won't do it again. at least until something big happens that allows me to pay off my credit card debt and pay rent.

This will become a long posting in sections as I let you all know what i've been doing with my summer vacation. oh. i started with appropriate capitalization, and didn't even make it through one sentence.

Anyhow, meet SIMON THEO, our new director. he's british (WELSH, okay!) and swears a lot in an upper class british accent. thank god because if he talked like that nasal guy on globe trekker i'd have to make him sign language me. i'm no anglophile. at least i wasn't until now. now i'm gonna go around like those high school thesps we all wanted to beat, the ones who perfectly recited python scotch tape and parrot sketches. by the time i saw the real thing, i was writing in agony. i didn't allow myself to fall in love with michael palin until he was probably in his sixties in "around the world in 80 days" and was horrified at how i'd never noticed him.

back to simon. he's better than a michael palin crush because he makes swearing look so sexy, now i do it all the time. and he's going to direct "All Witnesses Die," which originally started out as "Flaming Iguanas," but bears almost no resemblance to the original.

he started out fake helping me in writing my proposal for THE GIRL MUST DIE: The Monster Girl Manifesto (yes, enough of you demanded to get homemade ones, and so many people loved them, i thought i'll roll it into my current idea. if it's from me, it's ALL connected, so i never worry. the agony comes from spending weeks figuring out HOW. why do you think my stuff is so concentrated and terminally BAROQUE? because i'm trying to find any connection, no matter how seemingly insignificant. and that's fun as hell for me. makes me a little insane, but insanity's a blast.) anyhow, simon didn't really want to read through the bile of my creativity, but when i found out that he's getting ready to shoot his first feature in the UK and when he made me laugh over and over (which is like public-appropriate coming for me), i spent the next three weeks talking him into it. somehow i had to get him pregnant and force a shotgun wedding.

i still have no idea how i pulled it off. but there's this weird reverse manifest destiny thing with puerto ricans and the UK. i swear it'll make the seattle music scene look like a tiny memorial day picnic. i don't get it, but as i figure it out, i'll report from the secret inside.

i love this man. no, i mean i REALLY love this man. i knew he was The One pretty quickly when i couldn't quite keep up with his humor, i have to run alongside it, and when i catch up, i laugh so hard, little chunks of my lung come coughing out. i'm so not kidding. he fucking kills me and he's going to take what i started and make it fucking crazy whacked beautiful.

he's British and spent the first half-hour of our friendship tutoring me on the difference between british, UK-ish, Celtic, Western Irish, etc. / i didn't pay attention so i just remember to never refer to his accent as an "English" accent or i know i'll have to live through it all over again. so now i also just say UK-ish. it's like Jew"ish" to me.

okay, i'll say this to those of you who know me: simon makes ME cringe in embarrassment and shyness. now i know what people have felt like around me for years. however, the first time i heard myself slap his wrist into appropriateness, i was mortified. i'm still apologizing two weeks later. so this is a lesson to hear him talk about a scene to a producer where a character named Frog goes down on a menstruating Kitten, our heroine, and ends up looking like a painted face man from National Geographic.

i was originally putting her on the rag because being on a motorcycle roadtrip and menstruating is a whole new challenge in itself.

i remember Cherry Mary Starvus Stack and i were watching footage from katrina, and one of the reporters asked a kid standing next to his mom in a muddy tent site if he liked using outhouses. mary said, "why don't you ask his mom how fun it is having her period in an outhouse."

yeah. what a blast, huh? who cares about a kid. they're still kind of made of fecal matter at that point, aren't they?

anyway, regarding going down on period girls, the american men in my life, james included, all say, "ew that's gross." but it's so NOT gross. i'd totally go down on a girl with her period, especially if she didn't use tampons. they just ruin the aesthetics of the whole cool alizarin crimson experience. and i'd go out in public right after, screaming with a sausage hanging out of my teeth. wouldn't that just be a laff riot?

so then i know i have to support simon and make it all so. he says we women are more misogynistic than men ever are. he's right.

then dorothy, my therapist/friend/big sister, agrees with simon and how beautiful it all is. she remembers wild menstrual lovemaking with her swiss lover, and how they woke up to red painted sheets and walls splattered with blood en la mañana. love it.

LOVE IT.

i thought i was pretty fearless before, but now i see what a pansy i was.

but maybe it's because i'm having a whole new hurrah with my period now that i'm using the silicone DIVA CUP. years ago i published a book of cartoons, LAP DANCING FOR MOMMY, in which i made of fun of the kind of feministas who fry up their placenta and do a rain dance before they passively aggressively eat it and expect you to read their cotton picking minds. well, now i've become one of those girls. i was fascinated with the beautiful color and i wanted to create a new Carrie kind of look by pouring it over my head so i could go win friends and influence people.

give me another two months of knowing Simon Theo and you'll see me promoting my next book with fresh menstrual blood streaming down my face and cracking jokes. it'll be funny. i swear.

and forget the old movie standby of pouring wine in a man's face at a restaurant. can you imagine excusing yourself to go to the ladies' room, removing your diva cup, returning to the table and splashing THAT in his face? oh! be still my beating crotch! what love!
I've got a ton of posts saved up, but i'll try to striptease and not shoot off like an adolescent boy. oh, you know i WILL. i'm not cool about anything. i've got more things to show you, as well as an excerpt of the new book i'm finally working on. the excerpt i'm talking about was inspired because i wanted simon to like my shrinking tits so i lifted up my shirt and asked james for his opinion on where my tits are at right now in the continuum of life. his response inspired a whole tit riff.

i know, i didn't want to do a book, but it's in my head and i can't quit it. plus, i miss the immediacy and brutality of paper. but it's GOOD. i'm losing my cotton picking head and totally loving myself. i know that when i'm writing and arch my back and grab handfuls of my breasts, i'm really onto something.

it is so much fun being me sometimes. it was a hell of a few years back there, but it's all forgotten now. like a very bad, endlessly long spanking.

i didn't know i got to ask for another round of salad days. fuck, who knew we've got more? holding out is so worth it. i'm working out my kegel muscles again. time to bring the girls back up to their fighting selves.

more later. thanks dean costello and anonymous for bringing me back-- and lisa loving, i totally MISSED your brilliant fucking post. "huahua"? you all, lisa's working on her book, too. she's hysterical. you can't believe she really exists, she's so great. her kids are so lucky, you almost want to be them, even if you have to go through high school all over again.

eek.



MAIL...

it's so beautiful we have to take a temporary time-out on black and white printing for a moment.

Fan letters. Ah, fan letters. especially paper ones. i keep them forever. but i hold onto them and cherish them so much, i want to write a really great response back so then i clench up and just look like an arrogant asshole who never writes back in a timely fashion.

thank you so much my dear sweet NICOLE JARVIS from San Jose, CA, and the more recent card below from AYA DE CHELLIS. you have no fucking idea how cool this is that you all did this. all of you who take the time to let people know how you feel in a good way, that is so life affirming (god, i sound so californian. but it's TRUE).

Click on the shots below to read the beautiful notes. I'm so lucky. anyhow, getting fan letters has made me a rabid email fan letter writer myself because i know how it feels.



(click to see larger version)

really, when i left my publisher and got all this support from you all, it was so beautiful. it kept me going. that's what's made me the uncompromising bitch that i am today. i do this to talk to YOU all and it feels so cool when you all get me, it's IMPOSSIBLE for me to sell out. my eyes glaze over and i'd rather die.

so this is why simon theo is so important to me. he's got his scrapper cred. he'll never ask me to make anything more acceptable to the suits. granted, i think bloody cunnilingus is going to be quite an olympic challenge, but it's about time i ride on someone else's hard core coat tails for a change. i can't wait to see what we come up with. it WILL happen. the more people who come along and get this, the more i feel like we're all rock stars.

oh, and i haven't forgotten the LUNCH TABLE cards. like responding to cool fan mail, i get carried away. but those of you who bought the $15 art books know what i'm talking about. yeah?

Which brings us to--



JEFFREY HICKEN'S MAIL...



(click on the shot below to see Jeffrey's Nambla logo)


Have a good week. Good to be back.
Some of you may be sorry.

Oh, and i've finally figured out how you can click here for Jeffrey's ode to the UP-NOD:



...whew. back to black and fucking white in this post. that's what simon theo yelled after reading the script i insisted be shot in black and white: "black and fucking white!" i feel safe in a world full of grey, making things black and white. pen and ink. ah....home at last. jiggedy jig jig.

but if he says it's color, it's color. now he's the boss of me. i feel so 1953. somebody get me a letterman sweater, and fast. my diva cup's leaking. oh yessssss....

NEXT MONDAY'S POST:

An excerpt of THE GIRL MUST DIE: The Monster Girl Manifesto, entitled,
"Flat-frican Tits" or "Years of Good Tits"

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