does anyone know anyone who makes bizzare fettish films? because i just thought of a great name for an automotive anal sex movie: shitty shitty bang bang.

i'm sorry i haven't been around recently.

it's just that, well, i've been busy. work is taking up a lot of my time and, you know, honey, how the world has been these days. I've wanted to call, honest.

it's not just work, either. on my days off even I'm running around like a crazy man, but i think of you.

i promise i do.

this is not a goodbye letter.

i'm 24. how the fuck do i know 3 suicides already. is this normal? what the fuck.

i know that a lot of people who read this went to school in st louis, and so the following might be of some interest to you.

kat, from the st. louis rap group bits n pieces, died on friday in st. louis. he flipped out and did some shit that led to his death, that it seem like he wanted to lead to his death. bits n pieces were one of the best underground rap groups in st louis and kat ripped it up everytime that he was in front of a mic. from what i understand part of what set him off on friday was putting so much into hip-hop and not seeing the success that he deserved.

i remember meeting him and his brother jia before the j-live show in the gargoyle my sophomore year. my friend garth and i talked to them for a while, totally down to earth, all about the art, and all love.

i remember putting on a hip-hop show in the basement of this punk spot on the hill, the italian neighborhood in stl. there were probably 40 people there. about halfway through their set kat took the mic and dropped two lines about each and every person there, in order, clockwise.

i remember the shit he said at paint louis 98 that made it into the documentary: hold on, i got something to say. that wall down on the riverfront, that's fucking history. keep hip-hop in your heart and not in your pockets.

i remember him and his brother coming through my apartment in donaldson court, just kicking it, talking football and music.

i remember the two of them announcing that they were changing their name to 'ghetto alumni' on my daio show, radio free st. louis. they changed it back to bits n pieces.

i remember going by his place once. south side(i think) projects. literally. like a cop at the door and all that. but he brought me through his place like i was family, not like i was some rich white college kid who he'd only known for a second.

i remember the last time i saw him, at the upstairs lounge, on my way out to LA, when i was passing though st. louis. he gave me a copy of the bits n pieces album that had just come out.

i may have some other thoughts later, but for now, rest in peace, kat, much love, much respect, and my deepest sympathies to his family, friends, and everyone else in st. louis that knew him.

there is a large forest fire in glendale, to the north of my place. it was burning last night, and it was pretty fucking bizarre sitting out on my balcony watching a mountain on fire. although, in this time of rememberance and resolve, i must admit that i've really got nothing on my new york people re: fires near where you live and bizzare-ness.

and LA seems to catch on fire a lot. probably 4 times this summer i've been driving along the freeways and passed a brush fire that's belching up a lot of smoke and flame and maybe people will slow down a bit on the freeway but for the mostt prt noone bats an eye.

as promised, annotated mohawks:

this guy got the first mohawk of the weekend. he was really quiet, barely saying anything. he just nodded, sat down, got his haircut, then left.

this guy said he was "OP" -- original punk -- from back in '76-'77, and he just wanted a buzz. it would have been tough to give him a good mohawk, anyway.

this girl was great. she just wanted a touch-up. the guy in the picture was hanging out all day and helping us heckle people into getting mohawks. here's how she turned out.

the guy with the clippers in this picture was also there all day. he was pretty drunk by the time he started cutting peoples hair, and he was just taking wild swipes at people's heads. i was getting nervous, and you can see the worried looks on the faces of people in the background. he puked later.

this girl was sure her parents were going to kill here. she had a court date coming up sometime this week for a curfew violation. she wanted a checkerboard pattern on her head.

this guy was really serious about being punk rock and once he got his mohawk he ran around screaming shit in a british accent like "you're all blokes." he came back on sunday with a riding crop trying to spank people. i wonder what he'll be when he grows up. i actually do, that's not a sarcastic statement.

this guy was my crowning acheivement of the weekend: a "Mr. T" style mohawk, on a white guy no less. check out the results here and here. I was so fucking proud. his girlfriend was crying, though, and not because she was happy.

this girl was a real sweetheart. her hair was clean and it smelled really good. we chopped about a third of if off, just on one side, because that's what she wanted. look at her eyes in this picture. I want to marry her.

this kid's mom came with him and convinced him to get a mohawk. she made him get it, and he didn't really want one. which is weird because his two brothers were with him, and she asked if they wanted to get them, and they sad no, and she left it at that, but she harrassed this one till he did it.

tri-hawk. word.

she wanted a chelsea, that sexy skinhead girl haircut. you know a girl with a chelsea is going to be screaming dirty shit in bed. it's not a mohawk, but the spirit was there, and you could do it with clippers. she got hers in the end, although you can't really tell from this picture. sorry.

i don't know if you know anyone who, no matter how hard you try, will never, ever, look normal in a picture. kerri is one of those people. they're fun to know.

there was actually a point when there were like 10-15 cops standing around watching me cut hair and trying to convince each other to get mohawks. none of them did. that sucks.

monkey man, the guy who runs the pirate radio station in hollywood (pirate cat radio), was about to get a 'hawk, but he decided not to. which is a bad move, because he's rocking a faux-hawk right now, and i think that's a cop-out. also i've heard that the only people in NYC that rock the faux-hawk style these days are gay guys. i wish all the indie-rockers and pseudo-punks in LA knew that if they go to nyc rocking that style people would just think that they were h-mo's.


cute girls with mohawks.

i cut this guy's dreads off. so he went from being a hippie to one of those incubus-type guys. he still smokes pot though.

this guy almost got a mr. t but chickened out and had us keep cutting until he had nothing left on the side. bad move in my book, brah.

this girl got talked into her mohawk by her friend and basically deciided it was a bad idea the moment after i had started chppoing her hair off. which was bad because that meant she was fighting it the whole time in a passive-agressive way. and her hair was the dirtiest and clumpiest of anyone out there except, of course, the guy with the dreads. so it didn't turn out so great. it was her own damn fault. wash your hair.

this guy didn't want a mohawk, he was really, really proud of his mullet. it's amazing hou much mullet pride these folks have, the people who've been rocking mullets the whole time, because they're really excited that it's finally "hip" and that they're excited about being on the cutting edge and they don't realize that it's still a big joke and that we're not laughing with them. it was a great mullet, though.

there was a place down the street "selling" mullets (actually hair extentions) for $10. our mohawks were free. and does that mean that guys were walking around with hair extentions in their hair? what the fuck is with that?

last to be annotated is this new-wave fellow, who had great 'hawk hair, then spiked it up, took of his shirt, wrote on himself, then stood in front of the store, quite proud of himself.

ladies love mohawks.

free mohawks, ladies and gentlemen. free mohawks.

this happened at the sunset juction street fair in the los feliz/silverlake area of los angeles.

I'll give details and comments later. I might annotate each individual mohawk if I'm feeling ambitious.

for now, though, i do laundry.

why the fuck is the comments server always busy. that honks

free mohawk pics will be up tomorrow. i am exhausted.

i trust everyone had a good weekend.

also bizzare/opressive was, near the end of the show, he was talking about coming back, and staying for like 2 weeks or something, and this girl, in the back, is like "yeah this is a great club, isn't it" but for like 30 seconds, there was some back and forth, you know. and it was this very girl who 20 minutes earlier had climbed over the back wall of the club, like in the back, in the smoking area outside, it's 10 feet tall probably, and she climbed over it, and broke it, the wall, but got in.

i feel weird about going to see jonathan richman 3 nights in a row. especially because i ended up standing in approximately the same place at/near the front each night. like i was becoming one of those creepy guys that goes to shows alot and stares and is greasy and shit. i don't want to become one of those guys.

it was also a bizzare night. the other two shows were pretty laid back, fun, and not really really crowded or really really hot. which is weird becuse all 3 sold out.

anyway dengue fever opened. i think they set the bizzare/opressive tone for the evening:
1) just before they started to play, one of the afforementioned guys (greasy, wearing all black but not in a stylish way, more a stagehand/programmer sort of way, long hair to shoulders but badly balding, did i mention greasy?, alone, sweating, and with a multi-pack of earplus that he's had and reused since 1987) comes up and stands directly in between the group of 4 people I was part of, and we have to look at each other and sort of mouth to each other "hey should i come over there, do you want to come over here?" for a bit, and it took a while to decide my group of two would join the other group of two to this guy's right, on the side of the stage, and he deffinitely noticed, and i think he got offended in the quiet "i know i'm creepy but i didn't think i was so creepy that you'd move away" sort of way, but dude, if you're reading this, I'm sorry, but you were pretty creepy.

2. it was a pretty tall crowd. i have no way to explain this. maybe it's because the dengue fever bassist is like 6'8" and he's part of a tall pride support group that comes out to see him every show. i don't know. but i'm short, and i ended up directly behind one of 5 or 6 people there that were above 6 feet. tallness is not bad in this context, just weird.

3. the singer for dengue fever is an incredibly attractive vietnamese girl.. she looks like an erotic ceramic doll. maybe this is why the front 3 rows of the crowd were all sketchy guys by themselves. including one guy directly in front who must have taken 150 pictures during the 40 minute set. like this band was breaking news and he worked for life magazine and was going to get an award for photojournalism because one of those shots would be perfect. but no he was just creepy standing there going 'click''click''click''click''click''click''click''click''click''click' the entire fucking time.

so jonathan richman goes on. the weird/opressive atmosphere continues:

4. it's really hot....and really packed. so everyone's so close together that it's difficult to clap during or after songs or even get into it at all. so people are reduced to standing and staring. weirdly quiet, and opressively hot and quiet. at times.

5. one of the aforementioned tall guys behind me was alternately heckling jonathan or singing all the words pretty poorly to his songs. wierd that he'd do both, opressive because he did it the whole time, and it was also pretty quiet in there (see above, and also it was an acoustic performance in a small space so it was naturally quiet so people could hear, so everyone could hear him going off, and everyone knew that jonathan could hear him going off, and at least i felt bad for mr. richman, and i bet other people did too).

more later.

on saturday night a tarot card reader told me that i should keep writing. that that's where my money will come from and that i would get published. this was out of the blue and not in response to a particular question. she also told me that i would soon have an affair with a married woman with strawberry-blonde hair. and that it would be fun and i should go for it.

this was at a party where, as soon as i got there, there was a wet t-shirt contest, with 80% really, really unattractive contestants, and about halfway through the girl next to me turns around to the guy tending bar and screams "Dad! Don't Look!" It was his daughter's turn. another daughter of his was also in the contest. he turned away then as well.

new less-tits background, workers.

new fake blog.

new job? i just found out that the powers that be at the company i work for isn't going to hire anyone permanantly at my position for a while. I am a temp and my position is dues-payer/production-assistant/bottom of the totem pole. and they've been telling me since the end of june that they were going to hire me on. it would have meant a raise, which i need badly, and benefitts, which i can't even spell because i never have had them. so back looking for a new job i go. fuck.

still broke from vegas. this sucks.

tetris is so unrealistic.

so here are a few things.

first off if you click on the 'flying rebholz' picture below you go to the vegas pictures.

second, does my new post-apocalyptic-erotic background mean that you feel weird reading this page at work? if yes, let me know and I'll change it to something with less tits.

third, doesn't being a blockhead and misinterpreting your alarm clock usually lead to more sleep and being less responsible? i pulled into work this morning, then looked at the clock in my car. i was a full hour early, somehow. i checked my cell phone. yup, a full hour early. what the fuck. i don't remember doing anything weird to my alarm clock. . i just managed, somehow, to only look at the last two digits of every single clock i looked a this morning between getting up and pulling into the parking lot. at least i've gon from being a complete bum who's late for everything to a completel nucklehead who's really responsible. or something. i'm tired. i need more sleep, like say one more hour, and i'd be feeling great.

happy fucking monday, people.