Jason Toney

super-powers

"Another day/just believe/another day/just breathe" - Telepopmusik, Breathe (New Noise 5) The beauty of Joshua Tree is that in the middle of all this desert there is so much life. The lizards that hide in the shade of the small cactus bushes covered in blossoming red flowers . The yellow and white and blue flowers that sprout from the sand in bunches. The holes where the tarantulas and sidewinder snakes reside. The large red ants that continue to work despite our stomping near; they are unimpressed with our size. The patch of lavendar flowers that seem to grow in one spot of every rock formation. The rocks themselves and the great tales of time passing that they hide within them. And the beautiful white butterfly with soft gray colored wing tips. I wondered aloud about what it must have looked like as a caterpillar. "Ugly," she responded. "I don't know," I thought, "maybe just a different kind of beautiful."

new noise

"Don't think about all the things you fear/ just be glad to be here." - FC Kahuna, Hayling (New Noise 5) That track up there? My favorite song of right now. I could just play it over and over and over. Moz Buddha Lounge is lovely. It's also way the hell out in the middle of nowhere and my blind date, which wasn't so blind because people think they are slick and they so aren't, had to drive 8 ba-billion miles to get there. Nevermind that I had also travelled about 260 miles that day as well, the real question is,like, how many times did I say "Like" during dinner? Seriously, do I really say like that much? I counted about 47 thousand "likes" in a 2 hour period and that might be a conservative estimate. Much in common, much in difference, it was a nice time, an enjoyable evening, and good company. I believe we'll do it again and, hopefully, neither one of us will have to travel large distances to the location. And, because I know all of you are dirty perverts, no, I'm not wearing an eye-patch today.

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weekend notes

"Money is the sweetest hangover" - Akinyele & Sadat X, Loud Hangover (Funkmaster Flex, 60 Minutes of Funk Vol. 1) I really could spend all day in the Sahara Tent with the DJs but I don't want anyone to have to stretcher me off of empire field because I danced my legs off. So while The Lovely Miss Anna Baby is trying to Q&A Ian Mackaye, I'll probably be checking out N*E*R*D with spymob. I'm just not sure how I'm going to deal with Kinky, Felix Da Housecat, Badly Drawn Boy, and the Stones Throw cats all playing at the same time. Meanwhile, you should be going to see the damn movie. You go see it, I get to do more cool shit. It's that simple. If you are hanging around Moz Buddha Bar around 7pm on Sunday, you'll see me walk in the door filled with mad anxiety. It's blind date city, yo! Hopefully I won't be too dazed from the full day party on Saturday. Right now you want to know about Photek, Boomkatalog One, the death of hip-hop, my personal top 10 greatest hip hop acts of all time, and whether or not I committed vehicular manslaughter. Well...keep waiting. Monday's a new day.

banter

"Is it ever enough when it's just enough?" - Boris Dlugosch feat. Roisin Murphy, Never Enough (After the Playboy Mansion) Dancing Brave gives good conversation. I can give good convo too... Sunday on the phone: The Actress: He asked if anyone was popping my cakes... Me: Pumping your brakes? The Actress: No, popping my cakes. Me: Pumping your cakes? I don't even understand what that means. I don't know if I should be suggesting that he stay away from kitchens or gas stations. The Actress: No. Popping, popping my cakes. Me: Remind me to never have dessert when he's around. You know, maybe that's a good style of pick-up line. The Actress: Why would he ask that unless... Me: ...like, can I sprinkle your cookies? Can I fat-free your yogurt? Can I fill your shopping cart?... The Actress: Right? I mean obviously that means that he... Me: ...but, you know, I'm not really mixing my metaphors enough. Maybe it's hotter if I said something like, "Can I wipe your croissants?" "Can I freshen your poptarts?"...

what more can i say?

"So please just accept that it ain't happ'nin'" - The Streets, Geezers Need Excitement (Original Pirate Material) I was driving home from the grocery store on Saturday thinking about the lack of money in my bank account because I had forgotten about that cable bill check that I'd written earlier in the week and I decided right then that I was over not having money. I have money, don't get me wrong. I do what I want to do, I bought a new car, yeah yeah yeah. But there's money and then there's MONEY (sorry Michelle). And this is different than the fiscal Jason conversations of nearly a year ago...this is about making the decision that it's time to work on my life's work and becoming financially resilient in the process. HSW wants to win the lottery. I want to come up with that one great story and follow through. Fair warning now: this is going to be all over the place. There's some great film and television out there. Roger Dodger was supremely enjoyable and not just because it features Jennifer Beals, and the tastier in every successive movie Elizabeth Berkley (let's not mention First Wives Club or the VH1 Version of Showgirls...we will mention, as Trent pointed out, the wonderfulness that is the I'm Glad J.Lo video. I still don't think I've listened to the song but the video is hot...and isn't it interesting how Miss Beals and Miss Berkeley both have that Stripper connection -- synergy, people, life is about synergy), but mostly because of the outstanding dialogue and the vision of the film. The DVD has great extras on it talking about the hows and whys of filmmaking. Six Feet Under is still outstanding television (you may very well catch The Actress in some scenes next weekend...not that you would know, you've never seen her) and even though it's turn off the tube week (courtesy both 8bitjoystick and allaboutgeorge), I will be watching Platinum tomorrow night (I think I've given up on 24 for the rest of the season...it's just gotten silly). Jay Smooth is having a good conversation about and with one of it's directors/producers and Cynthia Fuchs writes a review that (surprise surprise) reflects how I feel about it. I like edgy stuff.

there's no sex in the champagne room

"I'm yours, baby" - Dazz Band, Swoop (Funkology) The thing about strip clubs is that the advertised lunch buffet isn't worth the price of admission. The other thing is that every woman's leg looks better in 6 inch heels with a clear plastic top. And I'm thinking that Bell Biv Devoe and post-2Legit Hammer spent a lot of time in Gentleman's clubs when they were coming up with the lyrics to some of their hits songs (Pumps and a Bump wasn't really a hit was it?). But Hammer would never go to a strip club right? He's a good christian soldier. I, however, am not, so I spent lunchtime on Good Friday at the Van Nuys Spearmint Rhino. It was my first excursion into the world of darkened runways and adult film stars as feature dancers. But there were no wings on the buffet table. Gentlemen's club is an appropriate name because it was very important to me to come off as a gentleman. "Would you like to buy the lady a drink?" "Of course. The lady is probably parched after grinding on that pole for 6 minutes." "Drinks for the lady are 10 dollars instead of five." "10 dollars for a 7up?" "Yes." "Oh." and... "Would you like a lap dance? It's two for one." So, okay, here's the thing: the women come up to you; They smile sweetly; They ask in what feels like a genuine way and immediately I feel like I would be a cad if I declined. And, truth be told, I'm compelled to see how this works. I'm amazed by the adult entertainment industry. I watched G-String Divas religiously and I'm pretty sure I've seen every Real Sex that HBO has offered. Besides that, something has got to be better than these depressing pole dances. It's just not sexy. It's business. Put 2 dollars on the stage, get woman's crotch in your face. 5 dollars? Her forehead in your lap. It's a curious experience but not exactly worth the ten bucks I paid to get in the door. This world is not very interesting unless I am hearing the real stories behind the business of sex. I don't think I'm going to get that unless I agree to this one on one time. So, as Chris Rock said... "Can a nigga get a table dance?"

love notes

"J'ai oublié de vivre je survis" - Les Nubians, One Step Forward (One Step Forward) I love Miss Mahoney.

"...why, really, should I give a fuck?" Answer: "An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader conditions of all humanity" MLK and "All men are interdependent. Every nation is an heir to a vast treasury of ideas and labor to which both the living and the dead of all nations have contributed. Whether we realize it or not, each of us lives eternally 'in the red.' We are everlasting debtors to known and unknown men and women. When we arise in the morning, we go into the bathroom where we reach for a sponge which is provided for us by a Pacific Islander. We reach for soap that is created for us by a European. Then at the table we drink coffee which is provided for us by a South American, or tea by a Chinese, or cocoa by a West African. Before we leave for our jobs we are already beholden to more than half the world." MLK

If ever there was a manifestation of my conscience of the Angel/Devil on my shoulders kind, she would most definitely be the angel. Who else provides the perfect answer to questions I didn't even really know I was asking? Nobody. Amazing. I also love a young woman from Lincoln, Nebraska but she leaves town this morning and I'm contractually obligated to not jump her bones so it's all for not. I'm also working a nice little love affair with sitting poolside at The Standard in the late afternoon drinking Mojitos. I do not, however, love The Saddle Ranch. Whack ass waiters trying to charge me for 96 shots that my table didn't order is not cool. The reality tv synergy there is way too high as well...The Ranch gets the nuh-uh finger wave from now on. This is the kind of week that makes me reconsider my decision to keep Bailey. Since Friday, I've been at home awake for a total of about 4 hours. He's mad neglected right now and there's not much to do about it. My work schedule is getting more hectic, not less, and I may have some big things happening on the horizon with AOL that could possibly keep me busy even more. But I can't really talk about that yet. I can talk about the movie though. Go See It! It may be kind of like porn but that's okay because it's funny. Oh, oooh, what else? Coachella is next weekend. Me & The Lovely Miss Anna Baby rockin' it VIP style. You know how we do. I also will be hiring an assistant in a month. If you've got good writing skills, know the world of reality tv, and aren't afraid of computers, and live in the LA area you might could work for me. Hit me up via email if you want to talk about it.

conflicted

"You keep blaming me." - Boris Dlugosch feat. Roisin Murphy, Never Enough (After the Playboy Mansion, Disc 2) Bloggers for Peace. I sat down a couple times this week to write a poem rumbling around in my head called Conflicted. I had the closing stanza: Some are afraid of the monster we fed now hiding under the bed Others are scared that if we look in the mirror we'll find that we're the monster instead But when the images of that statue came falling down on Wednesday and the people celebrated in the streets and the Iraqis began looting and rioting and smiling, my gut reaction was, "God, I hope I'm wrong." Really, I'd rather be wrong. I'd rather this death and destruction lead to freedom or liberation or whatever the hell all these government officials that I can't stand are spewing and so I didn't write the poem. I'm conflicted. I don't trust government, any government. Governments are, by their very nature, corrupt. Isn't that exactly what our American ideals are founded on? Power corrupts; don't trust government; et cetera, et cetera. But I also don't want people to live in fear so I hope I'm wrong about our intentions. I hope I'm wrong about my gut reaction to this war. And then there's the other truth. I could give a fuck about Iraq or the Iraqi people. Whether or not we went to war or not, whether or not we won the war or not, American Idol would have still been on tv on Tuesday nights, the most important decision in my week would still be what outfit I was going to wear when I went out for drinks on the weekend. My way of life hasn't been threatened so why, really, should I give a fuck? That's also why I'm conflicted. I don't believe our government cares about the Iraqi people. They can call the conflict whatever they want but I know it has nothing to do with the welfare of those people over there. If it was about that we'd be in Africa, where shit is really going down and the people don't have the benefit of their country being rich in resources to off-set some of the horror. And that's not even really the point, either, because I don't think we should be in the business of telling other nations how to live. Especially not with military might. I truly believe that people have to rise up and fight for themselves in order for changes to stick. You can't just make people free. Freedom is mental. You have to be ready for it. But I'm conflicted. I want to be wrong. I would give anything to be wrong. And then George Bush goes on Iraqi television and is, once again, telling people what their religion is about. There's a smugness, a righteousness, a holier/mightier/smarter than thou tone to his voice that doesn't sit well. And I look in the mirror and see just the hint of horns growing from my forehead, just the tint of yellow creeping into my eyes. Does killing one monster make us any less of one? I don't know. And I'm conflicted.

in case you've ever wondered

"J'veux d'la musique tout le temps" - Les Nubians, J'veux d' la Musique (One Step Forward) Courtesy of Dancing Brave, this is about as good as an about me post as you're gonna get.

even though what we do is wrong

"Still I cry tears of a hustler" - Freeway featuring Jay-Z and Beanie Sigel, What We Do (Philadelphia Freeway) I need a name for my crew. Throughout the day, I just get the urge to yell out "juh juh juh GEE Unit!" and if I'm standing in line for too long, I'll strike the pose, put the diamond up and scream, "It's The ROC!" but, you know, I don't roll like that. Back in the day, we were the Scooby Doo Crew but I got crews and subdivisions all over the place. We're going global with this baby and we need something that's just for us so if you see me on the street you can let me know that you're down. I mean are you down? Are you really down for this? Can you roll wit' a nigga, get ill wit' a brotha without runnin' home to motha? Ya Feelin' me? Even though what we do is wrong! While I was runnin' numbers on NCAA tourney games in the mean streets of brentwood on Saturday, The HSW was out with her peoples beating up vagrants, kicking puppies and running down old people on greasy bikes...or some shit. When I finally showed up at the spot they were developing cruel intentions by breaking futons just for the fun of it and itching to fuck somebody up. After a few drinks at Bar Copa, we decided to play nice and just fucked up the dance floor. I pop locked when they dropped Chaka Khan just to let people know how it's really done. You can't fade me. The HSW really wanted me to spank her ass but ya'll know I'm not down with the public domination. Speaking of which, should I be honored or scared that I got linked to here? Even though what we do is wrong! Daylight Savings time meant a fool couldn't get no sleep in the wee hours especially when he has to make an early morning drug run, err friendly visit to San Diego to see the lovely miss anna baby. Did you know that she got into Grad School? Did you know that she's about to be all up in LA learning about books? Did you know that if she shows up and starts bartending or bar-backing or something at night that I will just have to capture her and take her to Vegas to elope? Because what's hotter than a librarian by day/bartender by night? Nothing! Nothing, I tell ya. But, yeah, go Anna Baby! Anyway, we caused a ruckus up in Anthony's Fish Grotto (and wings!). Things took a turn when I offered to put my hard cod in Jay-Bug's box with her husband right there. What? I ain't scared. You betta ask somebody. We also met up with the tobacconist and a new member of our squi-dad, Hannah. So what if she looks like a Cabbage Patch kid, I'm not mad at her. Even though what we do is wrong! Have you come up with a name for the syndicate yet? Ya got something for me to yell? No? Damn!