Lita Ford's "Kiss Me Deadly"'s Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Lita Ford's "Kiss Me Deadly"'s LiveJournal:
[ << Previous 20 ]
[ << Previous 20 ]
|Friday, July 6th, 2012|
Hello all, it's been over a year since I posted, and I'm not sure if I'll post again. In case you haven't been following me elsewhere, most notably on Twitter as @HunterFelt or on Facebook. Um, here's some quick updates: I am now writing about U.S. sports for the Guardian (yes THAT Guardian): http://www.guardian.co.uk/profile/hunter-felt
(I will be liveblogging Red Sox/Yankees Sunday probably) and am still tweeting as former Red Sox manager Terry Francona as @NotCoachTito.
I haven't had anything to drink in months and plan to keep it that way.
Oh and I sorta kinda met the love of my life. Her name is Ash and... There are no words.
Things are good. I love you all.
|Thursday, April 28th, 2011|
|I Will Admit
I will admit that my concept of a "good looking guy" has its roots in the rock music I loved growing up. I remember loving early Queen videos featuring a long-haired Freddie Mercury, and despairing as his bands' songs suffered as his hair got shorter and as he grew facial hair (as he grew more masculine, in other words, or "uglier and less interesting" in my mind). Then I realized how much better looking John Lennon got as he grew out his hair (not to mention the fact that he'd make as good of a looking girl as Yoko Ono would've made a good looking guy, I've always been into androgyny). Then I realized how great a shirtless long-haired Jim Morrison looked. And then a "Madcap Laughs" era Syd Barrett, and then Marc Bolan..! And we haven't even reached when I reached fifteen...!
|Tuesday, March 29th, 2011|
For good or ill, things are getting dicey enough here to force me into action. I wish I could be more self-motivated and not need to paint myself into corners. But that's not me, as Brian Wilson would sing.
|Wednesday, January 5th, 2011|
There's a point in Peter Bagge's comic book series "Hate" where protagonist Buddy Bradley realizes his girlfriend Lisa is getting off on hearing intimate details about his friend Jay. Buddy reacts by saying "I didn't know Jay was your type". Lisa responds with "I don't have a 'type' - No wait: Guys with penises, THAT'S my type!".
Now? Now, I'm starting to appreciate Lisa's take on the opposite sex.
Now, I obviously have personal preferences, who doesn't, but they don't go much beyond "I find you attractive" and "I feel like you have an independent streak". Heck, I'm not even hung up much on the whole genitals issue (and neither was Lisa, who had a lesbian fling during the course of the comic).
I don't know. I guess I'm so in love and so in awe of the entire spectrum of femininity that I just can't bring myself to limit myself to just one kind of girl.
|Friday, December 17th, 2010|
I've got a new Blackberry so I may be updating a tad bit more, I hope everyone's having a wonderful holiday season. The weather here in Boston is beyond beautiful.
|Sunday, November 14th, 2010|
I know so many other intellectual people worry about dementia or Alzheimer's. I'm not too hung up honestly. If nothing else, having had plenty of experience with psychedelics has made me comfortable keeping even-keel during periods of ego death. It's not like I'd freak out if my intellect were just shut down, I've got a backup plan ready. It's like Grant Morrison's "Batman Without Bruce Wayne" backup personality.
|Thursday, November 4th, 2010|
I've given a lot of thought about this and I'm starting to realize that I don't have a "type". I pretty much like all kinds of girls. I'm very very not picky.
I feel like a member of L'Trimm.
(For the record I love public transport and hate the Cars That Go Boom.)
|Monday, October 25th, 2010|
|The Best Thing I've Ever Read
"So had her grandson Hunter painted her,
Standing in a loose, simple dress
In a thousand-flower print in green and yellow,
Viewed as through dust,
Dust of another remembered country
Observed late in the day,
Risen by way of wind or horses
From a lane beyond a walled garden...
In the background of a half-timbered house,
Steep gabling of many angles,
Running back into lizard imbrication of grey slate-work
Shining, as with rain...
Wilds of rooftops, unexplored reaches, stretching as to sunset"
Thomas Pynchon - "Against The Day" p. 127
|Monday, October 18th, 2010|
"Grant Morrison: Talking With Gods" was great. I heard all the stories before, but it was nice to hear it from Grant and his colleagues, and have it attached to the story of his life.
I'm less convinced that I'm one of his alter egos (or vice-versa) although there was a neat picture from his crossdressing days and I cried when he described his cat dying (as seen in "The Filth").
The best stories came from Jill Thompson, about their mushroom trips together (but Jill's just all kinds of awesome for many different reasons).
When you hear him talk about magick and Gods and hyperspace, well, he makes it sound reasonable.
|Friday, October 15th, 2010|
I just realized that at one point during New College, there must have been a moment where Robert Schober, Sam Grindstaff, Brian Hughes, Tall Hunter, John DeMartino, and myself at my most manic were in the same room together.
I thank God we all have people skills now, I can't even imagine going back to that.
|Thursday, October 7th, 2010|
|21st Century Schizoid Man
I'm trying to divide my web presence: It's the age of specialization after all, the Age of Miracles. I think I've got it now.
This LiveJournal account will be my mostly-unprivate diary, something close to the real me (but not quite).
I'm going to use my Facebook account to be everything to everyone. Facebook is the modern day forum you use to construct your public self. I like that. I enjoy the challenge of creating a version of me that can interact with a wide variety of people that I've known.
My Twitter account will mostly be attempted jokes, along with sports talk.
I believe that if I were born in any other time period, I wouldn't stand a chance. However, if this really is the Age of Information, and I'm starting to believe that it is, I think I have a distinct advantage. If knowing how to process information quickly and correctly is the next skill required to survive, I know I'm prepared.
"Some will sink / But we will float."
|Sunday, October 3rd, 2010|
I'm listening to "The Ben Maller Show". I had to go cold-turkey to break my TV addiction, but I'm still devoted to radio programs.
Sports talk radio is an odd corner of the entertainment world. "The Ben Maller Show" is sorta like "Talk Soup"/"MST3K"/"Late Night With Conan O'Brien": A low-rent, late-night, cult audience favorite.
There seems to be very few of those in television these days. It's a shame.
|Sunday, September 26th, 2010|
I'm watching "You're Gonna Miss Me".
Roky Erickson's playing at the Royale (Nov. 13), and I'm going to see him regardless of my employment status. I HAD to see Daniel Johnston and I HAVE to see Roky Erickson.
As someone who is mentally ill, and who loves rock and roll, I find myself drawn towards figures like Daniel Johnston and Roky Erickson: Syd Barrett, Skip Spence, Arthur Lee, and Brian Wilson.
Beyond Brian Wilson, these folks are dead. I regret not being able to see them when they were alive. I would like to have had the chance to thank them: they all proved I could be smart and creative even though I was crazy.
They AREN'T acid casualties. All rock and roll types in the '60s and early '70s took acid, and only a few of them went insane. The ones who went insane were, of course, those who were crazy and were trying to self-medicate!
I'm not trying to play the victim card here. If I had to choose something, I'd choose to be bipolar.
Lord you know I wouldn't choose to be diabetic!
I'm flipping through Caturday posts on Fark, and feeling my heart skip whenever I came across a tabby. I miss Wendell. I didn't like him much when Travis brought him in (I loved Miss Kitty, she was cool and self-assured, Wendell was a neurotic bundle of nerves), but Wendell needed me emotionally and I needed the emotional comfort of a living thing that depended on me.
I'm sad that I left him, but I needed to set him free. He was such a mama's boy. I've heard he's since he's grown up and is now the alpha-pet. Good for him.
I DO have parental instincts, what human doesn't?, but my parental instincts are easily satisfied by cats and other people's children.
For me, being a cat-owner or an uncle gives me all the satisfaction of being a parent, without the responsibility.
Maybe this'll change some day, like when I'm in my 50s. I'm sure Kurt Cobain never thought he would be a dad when he was writing "Breed".
I'm fairly sure it won't change though, I'm not sure if I'll ever be strong enough to ever love anything more than I love Wendell or my niece MJ.
|Monday, September 6th, 2010|
I love all of these Republicans who come out of the closet and try to wipe away their past moments of homophobia and the harmful policies they supported (either with vocal consent, or by not speaking out against them).
I do understand where they're coming from. Heck, back in high school and college I was massively messed up when it came with girls. I didn't quite understand who I was or the fact that I sorta wanted to be with the girls and I definitely wanted to date them. It's hard enough for any adolescent to deal with hormones, let alone someone who was also mentally ill and dealing with gender issues.
I'm saying this as an explanation, and NOT an excuse for my unsettling and inexcusable behavior. I would practically stalk the girls I was interested in, it was a benign form of stalking, creepy and pathetic rather than scary (I think/hope), but it was unpleasant.
When I met "cool girls" that didn't like hanging out with me (and who could blame them during those days), I reacted like... Well like a 13 year old girl angry at the popular girls. I didn't understand why I was angry at them, I didn't have a crush on any of them and if they were guys I wouldn't have cared. THEY certainly didn't understand why I was mad them.
Along with all of this, I lashed out with (and here's where the politics come back into play) with a lot of anti-feminist rhetoric because I felt like "feminists" were making me feel bad for being a guy and making me feel like I was creepy because I was interested in girls.
Of course, the reason I felt this had nothing to do with THEM, it was simply because I realized how messed up my relationships with women was, and I didn't know how to change. So, my position was that my behavior was natural, and that some mysterious feminist "They" was making me feel bad about who I was.
In the last few years, where I've become medicated and have figured out who I was, I've been trying to apologize about my behavior, but I'd be lying if I said this at all excused my behavior, or somehow thought that "Hey now we can all be friends and hold hands" or any of that. That's unreasonable, present gestures can not erase the sins of the past.
I'm not saying that I'm still not going to fall into the old habits, my personality is such that when I'm emotionally invested in something I don't do half-measures, but I'm hopeful that I can avoid repeating the mistakes of the past.
I just know that I can't wipe them away with an apology and explanation, and I don't think I would erase them if i could. I wouldn't have got here if I hadn't made them.
|Thursday, September 2nd, 2010|
I've spent so much times these last few years reading and thinking about death, the process of dying, mortality, last days, end-of-life-issues, pain, and physical decline. For a while I thought I was just being really dark, or this just was a result of indulging in a variety of substances.
Now that I'm facing the very real reality of my grandmother's decline over the next few years, and her eventual permanent death, I'm very very glad that I spent so much time confronting this inconvenient truth, especially since our culture sorta pretends death is just something impossibly tragic that happens to a select group of people.
I can't say that I'm happy with the situation, or that I feel good about it, but I'm finally emotionally prepared to deal with mortality as not just an abstract concept, but a real and omnipresent presence in my life.
|Wednesday, September 1st, 2010|
I find it noteworthy that so many people I know through the David Foster Wallace list are either Buddhist or have Buddhist leanings.
|Saturday, August 28th, 2010|
|So It Goes
I always brace myself for bad news after lots and lots of good news.
My grandmother's in the hospital, they don't know what it is, and the test to discover it might, um, turn out badly.
Mom's implying that she's not looking good, I haven't seen her since Travis's wedding. I heard she wasn't her usually sharp self, although she was still doing her art.
There's other things, but medical stuff about relatives is, like, the one thing I find a bit tacky talking about on the internet.
Suddenly the Sox/Rays series doesn't seem too life or death.
So Trace Beaulieu has apparently either has had his Twitter account hacked or is following me on Twitter.
I know right? It might just be because I ripped my obscure reference heavy sense of humor from a decade spent as a MSTie.
|Thursday, August 26th, 2010|
Boston Phoenix: Friday 27:
"LGBT Party": "TRASH HALL... Tonight marks the dance party's big debut... It's a 'queer, freak-show electro, dress-up, dance party,' that encourages 'gender-bending revelry and impromptu performance art'. In other words, it's going to be a good-ass time."
The cover charge is $5.00.
I'll pay for myself AND a friend and their friend (plus transportation), because I know it's too risky to travel there by myself en femme.