My Stupid Sister & Those Awful Gaucho Yoga Pants

Guys, you can skip this one, it’s total girlie crap…

Actual phone conversation:
My stupid sister: Hello?
Me: What do you want?
MSS: Why didn’t you pick up a minute ago when I called?
Me: I was on the other line. What the hell do you want?
MSS: I weighed myself today and I weigh 111 pounds.
Me: Yeah, well you totally suck. I have decided that I might as well stop thinking about it all the time because no matter what I eat I weigh the same anyway.
MSS: Well, you’re not supposed to weigh yourself all the time, but I did weigh myself today and I weigh one hundred and eleven pounds.

Me: *sigh*…So what do you want, a medal?
MSS: I think you should write a blog about how I weigh ONE HUNDRED AND ELEVEN POUNDS. Because I’m way, way skinnier than you and I believe that it would be of interest to your readers.
Me: Yeah, whatever…


What is the deal with those horrible knit yoga gaucho style pant that every woman in NYC has suddenly started wearing? You know the ones—they are made of thin knit fabric, come in a variety of colors, have a roll-down waistband, and stop below the knee where they flap around as the wind takes them.

Did I miss that meeting? Was there a memo?? There is some collective unconscious in Manhattan that will all of a sudden decide that one particular item must be owned and worn by every Patty Pussy roaming the streets (this is my very gay friend Paolo’s term for the white, normal, super-straight girl that just got in from the Midwest and lives for Sex and the City style until she talks her ex-frat boy boyfriend into marrying her and breeding overindulged children). It freaks me out! A few summers ago it was the clamdigger, which wasn’t so bad but just bothered me because no one called to tell me I needed to own a pair. This season it’s these God-awful pants. They are so bad that I feel I must mention them out loud in case anyone out there is thinking, “Hmm…every girl I know has suddenly purchased a pair of these hideous and incredibly unflattering pants, perhaps, perchance…am I supposed to own a pair as well?…”
NO, dear lady! First of all, they look extremely inexpensive. I have nothing against cheap clothing and wear a lot of bargain crap myself, but you should never wear something that looks like it came straight out of China’s sweatshops straight through Joyce Leslie to you.
And more importantly, God nor man nor beast has ever created a more unflattering pant! How about a lazy style that says, “Ah…I could have put actual clothing on, but I think I’ll just put on this thin pant facsimile instead…” CHECK! Camel toe? CHECK!! A thin, tight knit stretched across the ass to accentuate any cottage cheese present? CHECK!!! A length that cuts you off midway through the calf, thus making you and your legs look shorter and stumpier? CHECK AND CHECK!!!!
Ladies, please. I am begging you: If your friends are wearing these pants, insist that they stop immediately. We’re all stressed out enough without having to witness this latest fashion travesty twenty times a day.
And now, I really must go prank call my stupid sister. She’s short and can’t hold her liquor, please feel free to message her about her shortcomings at

My neighborhood may suck but my friends are cool as fuck…

Yesterday I had a particularly stressful work day, and afterwards went to meet Drew for a drink at Motor City to listen to his friend Poker Chris spin some rock and roll for us. Five glasses of wine later, we walked home through an ungodly sea of what I then later termed in a ranting bulletin entitled “I am the Omega Man” as: “hideous, horrible, docker-wearing, fat-assed, never heard of the Cramps, will sue you if you give them the wrong table, have never been told no, awful, horrible, hideous, soulless, energy-sucking Guffs, breeding cloney, rotten, spoiled, undisciplined children, soulless Bush-supporting people that I moved here to get away from and now am overwhelmed by. TEEMING, like rats or cockroaches, only less attractive and more abundant.”

And frankly, I believe I may have been being a little kind with this description.

I’m not going to post my bulletin here as it was written in a drunk and depressed state of mind and you’ve all heard me sing this song too many times already. But I do want to post the gorgeous responses I got. It has restored my faith quite a bit. We have a small island of intelligence left in NY and I am grateful that myspace keeps me connected to it. Thank you, thank you my generous friends…

From Rik Rocket:

Well there a couple of Omega People left….

I’ve been in the same apt on 1st ave & 6th for 12 years (whoa!)..

I know, Raff it’s fuckin’ soul deadening.. the hummers, the cigars, the FUCKING DOUBLE WIDE BABY STROLLERS, the cackling, evil, sex-&-the-city, banana republic stepford wastes of oxygen, breeder, pathetic excuses for women, the frat-boy, flip=flop-wearing, Nickelback-requesting ‘men’….

I hate the way they force murderous thoughts into my head when I’m just trying to go to the fuckin bodega….

I came to the city for the same reasons….Where are the kick-ass women (and you know what I mean by KICK-ASS women) Kick-ass bands, artists…KICK-ASS ANYTHING?????

I miss ave A, B, C… I miss St. MArks….I miss Wah wah, GreenDoor, 7B, pyramid, Shit! I even miss just 5 YEARS AGO: CIH, LIFE, SQUEEZEBOX….

I miss there actually being a real scene…bands that really rocked, not just rocked ‘good enough’ for whatever bullshit city they moved here from….

It’s sad and depressing….and to have to constantly hold back so you don’t sound like a griping old-fogey. Looking at these 22 year olds and thinking ‘you think you are *CRAZY!!* but you are so not crazy at all….’ And then feelin like a bitter old dick for thinking that way….

Shit I even miss the dimebag rastas on my corner…

i was Djing at Motor a few weeks ago when some 22 year old blonde yuppie larvae asks me, “Can you play some black music?”—dead serious.
I blinked.
I said, “You mean music performed by ‘Black People’?
She nods. Still smiling as if she were ordering a venti frappe-mocha-chino.
I say, “Do you mean ‘Temptations’ black music or ‘DMX’ black music.
“Yeah Like DMX!”. Still smiling wide eyed.
All this while I am currently spinning: stooges, zep, FUCKING BLUES BASED ROCK! IT’S ALL BLACK MUSIC YOU WASTE OF DNA!!!
I played a block of Chuck Berry, jimi, Screamin Jay & Little Richard (which I’m sure was lost on her.)

It’s these moments when you hope Darwin was right and one day she will ask the wrong person to play ‘black music’ and she will be mercifully removed from the gene pool.

Sorry to ramble….

Don’t mean to date, Raff, but one of the first shows I ever saw in the city was CSFH at the OLD Ritz…….the Joey ramone circus of the perverse…

You’re one of the reasons I’m here too.

You’ve always been an amazing, strong incredible woman and a great inspiration to me, whatever that may be worth to you, heh…
You’re also correct about everything.
You’re not alone.
I can’t really offer any advice, but all the support I got is yours.


From Michael:

Wow . I love your honesty .It is so pure. What come to mind and this is all stream of consciense it’s 2 am , I just played a motorhead show , so bear with me . You are revolution .It’s inside you . Your core your soul your essence ,spirit , being it doesn’t matter where you are Timbuktu , toyko ,times square ad infinity . That’s the real part that’s the beauty ,that’s the spirit . that can never be extinguished . There can be a starbucks on every corner .But they can take away what is within. the invincibiltiy you feel when you listen to your favorite song .No one can take that from you . the drive the passion the love for yourself , your friends , rock and roll , fashion energy all the good shit . That’s what it is . it’s not where your from it’s where your at . The joy you bring people from your words and your truth . i know the city is gone . I grew up in the bronx !!! in the 1970’s !! blackouts , crime violence ! The son of sam !

You didnt go to Avenue A ! Whiteboys used to get jumped in Willamsburg . So many of my boys got stabbed on avenue b hit with bats , on and on.

When I was 14 I turned the corner out of the D train to go to Cbgb’s for a show (My first) and I was afraid !! I was afraid of the kids outside !! PCP and chains and punks living on the street ! I loved it .

I know it is gone . i live 5 blocks from Lamour east . No hipsters , no yuppies , no goat cheese . Just humble working folk . My super loves me . I helped him out when an apartment upstairs had a fire .

Maybe a vacation ?
maybe a moment of silence for our dead city ?
Pray for apocolypse ?

I have empathy for you . I feel your truth . I went to Willamsburg to go to a studio space . I want a shirt that says I was born here Motherfucker .!! NYC !! Who the fuck are you to call yourself a newyorker you hipster scum brown shoe member’s only jkt prick!!

I dated a girl who lived out there a while ago .. I used to jump out of the train , put Sabbath on my headphones and god help you if you were in my way when I stormed down the street . Those fucks didnt get out of my way fast enough !!

I dont have an answer Raff only thoughts .
I love to listen to you and I can identify with you
I pray you find and answer and some solace .

Btw the turbo ac’s are playing in Berlin in september on the 14th . That is so much like old NYC .
maybe a vacation , you will be on the guest list ….

From Jim:
I started coming to NYC in as a teen in the late 70’s. It was frightening but at the same time every unfamiliar step was filled with a feeling I don’t think I could ever adequately describe. Like me I am sure you felt it. Perhaps that is the best way to remember it. NYC felt like no place on Earth. I had to be here. One day.

I suffered through college at the urging of my parents spending most of my free time here in a drunken and drugged up stupor. I finally made it here 1982 or 1983 I can’t really remember. I do remember where I lived. 6th street between avenue C and Avenue D in a one room studio on the ground floor with three other friends. First building in the middle of the block. The rest of the block was burnt out and razed. It was totally cool.

Four years of college and my life was finally my own. So I became a bike messenger. That gave me tax free dollars to pay my share of the rent and and keep me in a fucked up stupor. I was in heaven.

I know it’s quite some time ago but I remember so much as if it where yesterday. I think most of all I miss hanging out on St. Marks. Freebeing every Tuesday looking at the chalk board in the window checking out the new LP arrivals. Flip on 8th street and all my friends that worked there. Hanging out in the park drinking Olde English and eating bags of barbecued Bon Tons by the bag and smoking Pot over a burning barrel.

I remember all the friends lost and wonder what happened to many of them. The end came too soon for some. Drugs, AIDS, Suicide. Some just disappeared. A few amazingly got thier shit together and fled the city and are now suburban Moms and Dads.

I sometimes wonder about the babies I held while so their parents could take a picture of them with the freak with the giant Mohawk. Those kids are in their 20’s now I suppose. I wonder if they grew up looking at those pictures.

I remember the shitty bands I was in that never went anywhere. But at the same time left me with treasured memories. Rock star? Fuck that. It was allabout getting drunk and getting laid. Rock ‘N’ Roll.

I could go on forever. I just turned 44 a couple of weeks back. Guess what? NYC has changed dramatically over the years. I for better or worse have not. I remember as you remember. But for me the past is the past. I can’t go back and relive it.I just hope everyday that the present gets better. I will live until I die. Until I die I will live here. No place on Earth I have ever been has ever come close to NYC.

I have hope. I will always be myself. NYC will always be in transition. On some level I suppose I am in transition too but they will never steal my soul or break my spirit. I want to be happy.

I wish you to be happy too.


From the lovely Tanya:
i know i needn’t say it
but you know i adore you…
i have the many of the same feeling you’ve
expressed here…
i wouldn’t dream of attempting to convince
anyone of remaining here…
especially someone who remembers how
wonderful nyc used to be…
the jessica simpsons & their poodles or
yorkies or whatever complaining about spanish
kids on their bikes on the sidewalks & the homeless
& their “having to look at them” on the les
turns my stomach in such a way that i just
wanna beat their heads in & feed them their dogs…
the standards for hip & cool has nothing to do
with heart, individuality or harmony….
(i could rant for a while but the pain from my recent
root canal demands i lay down so i’ll try to be brief)
yer discomfort is felt by many….
lost, here, at home…
everything changes & i don’t want to go with it….
yep, i wanna leave too…
& the country isn’t as unappealing as it used to be
which freaks me out cuz i’m a city girl…
but until you find yer way,
used these bastards as the example for being grateful
that you are who you are…
cuz no matter how
“beautiful” or “successful” or “happy” they “are”,
they’re soul sucking home wrecking parasites who
aren’t worth the spit i would toss at them…
“TEEMING, like rats or cockroaches,
only less attractive and more abundant. ”
couldn’t have been said more perfectly…

i love you raffaele…
& not in one of those
“we’re such good friends” ways…
but more of a real woman way…
you always impress me….
& make me happy to have known you
even the little bit that i have…
be strong in yer days & nights…

big kiss…

From Douglas J:
new york aint what it used to be for sure, but nothing ever is… sometimes i walk around and miss some of my old stomping grounds or get sad about what has become of said stomping grounds and i try to think if it’s them that’s changed or if its me… sometimes its one or the other, sometimes its both.

but i always think about the drones walking around just there looking around for what used to be… and they won’t find it, not because its gone gone gone, but cause they never look deep enough. they never have and never will. but they aren’t the problem cause they were always there, on the outside looking in thinking they were on the inside looking out.

sometimes, my favorite thing to do in this city is to pass some street or building and turn to whoever i am with and say “this happened there, or i used to eat here after a night out across the street, etc. etc.” THAT new york is always there and no matter how many clubs they renovate or buildings they tear down or used clothing stores they turn into bloomingdales or prada, THAT new york is always underneath.

which is where it always was in the first place, no?

From Tim:

I read the bulletin you had posted last night about the East Village changing, and what it’s like for you now. I wanted to let you know that I feel your pain…

I’m living in midtown now (54th & 8th). Often I think I miss the EV, but then I think I’m missing something that isn’t there anymore. Then I go down there, a couple of times a week, and I hate it – especially at night when all of those people are out. The daytime isn’t so bad. It’s a bummer to be sure.

The same thing goes for the meat packing district…have you been over there lately. It’s horrendous! There are some good restaurants but the crowds are just hideous. A frined of mine & I have taken to calling it the douche bag district.

The conformity is just rampant…something I’ve been pretty conscious of since around junior high school when I was the lone punk rocker, and everyone else was in their Journey t-shirts. Ya know? I also think our age (around 40, give or take) has something to do with it.

Anyway…just wanted to let you know you’re not alone. I can relate big time.

Hope you’re well otherwise…

Tim Broun


I have been thinking a lot about energy this week. Mostly about why we go where our energy tells us not to, or how to be clearer on where we are actually supposed to go energetically.

I have rarely had problems with my female friendships. I love the women in my life and cherish their love and support and I have no patience for women who don’t like other women. That energy flow is usually very clear and easy for me. I generally know immediately which women I can trust and let into my inner circle and which ones should be held at bay with a sharp, poison-coated stick. But every once in a while some needy bitch slips through because I have an unfortunate tendency to be one of those mommy caretaker types.

So I have one friend who is a complete energy vampire. I disliked her when I first met her but she was relentless in her quest to be my friend and I stopped paying attention to my first reaction as she won me over with a cute sweetness and fun nature. But she is a selfish, bratty pain in the ass, and I have been trying to extricate myself from the friendship for years. Unfortunately, she is very persistent, she will call me 10 times until I respond, and I have felt a sort of responsibility to continue being her friend because she seems to want it so much and always does something endearing just when I’m about to tell her to go fuck herself.

We had an incident a short while ago that was fairly minor, but completely typical of our dynamic, in which I was pushed and drained to the verge of tears by the simple act of trying to help her get her a pair of shoes. It caused a light to go on for me. This person, who I have always seen as sweet, has been sucking me dry for years, and out of a dysfunctional sense of obligation I haven’t protected myself from it.

That same week I went out to dinner for Noelle’s birthday with her Army of Darkness, a group of gorgeous, tough, tattooed, smart women, and it was the exact opposite experience. It was a great night, everyone was funny and loving towards each other, and I left them feeling connected and joyful in a deep way, I actually felt spiritually filled by the time spent with these lovely women.

Then I had an incident with an acquaintance here on myspace. I don’t know him at all but he started writing me these long, long messages about random stuff, mostly music and once a demented one about how much trouble he’s having dating. I responded sometimes, usually briefly, and just wrote him off as another nutty fan. So then it turned out he was mining my friend list for attractive ladies well out of his league (of which there are many because my girlfriends are pretty fucking hot). He hit on one and when she didn’t respond the way he wanted he got really belligerent and stupid about it. Then he sent the exact same come-on letter to my sister, who is very obviously married with a baby, and this totally enraged me. Don’t fuck with my friends and don’t even think about fucking with my little sister or I will turn on the Scorpio venom so high that you will cry like a pms-ing teenage girl.

I festered (it’s a hobby) on that for a while and composed a whole letter in my head to him, explaining my feelings about how completely inappropriate his behavior was. I also wrote a long blog detailing the torture that my horrible friend has put me through over the years. Then I realized, after thinking about it for far too long, that the guy wouldn’t get it and both of these reactions are another symptom of my whole tendency towards handing energy out to people who don’t deserve it. Engaging in any way with people who leech on for their own bloodthirsty needs is a continuation of the energy drain. Writing about and thinking about the wrongs that this girl has done to me is still a way of handing her my energy, and why should I take the time to try to educate some asshole that I don’t even know when I don’t have time enough for the people I love?
So I haven’t posted the blog and I let it lie with the clueless myspace freak. He sent me a retarded couple of messages disparaging my friend and telling me I was wrong to delete him and I didn’t respond. This was extremely difficult as I have an insatiable need to foist my opinion on others, so I am quite proud that I was able to shut it for once in my life. I may still post the blog because it’s already written and she’s such a soul-sucking fiend that the story is entertaining. But I’ll hold off for today because this topic is far more important to me.
My light bulb moment (in Oprah-speak) is essentially this: since we are all made up of energy and everything around us is made up of energy (E=mC2), we need to pay attention to how we are using or directing it. This includes our thoughts and conversation. It is too valuable to squander on people, relationships or things that don’t serve our spirit. Squandering personal energy causes sickness, stress, depression, and horrorshow shoe shopping experiences. It may even be unholy to treat our energy with such disrespect, if that makes any sense, because it’s a violation of the essence of who we are. I have always known this intellectually, but I’m just starting to understand it in an everyday experience kind of way.
So that’s the information these two ticks (and so many others over the years) have delivered to me and I am passing on to you. I thank them for the lesson and hope that I can now be free of their needs.