Beulah Land

Iron and Wine-Shepherd's Dog

this is basically a bad Paul Simon album. That's pretty much it. It had moments. I can see what he was going for. But I'm not exactly sold on it. Plus Sub Pop is systematically destroying what little faith I have left in the record industry. Who am I kidding? I don't have any faith in the record industry.

I forgot to write something about my experiences with Woody Allen today. Well, I'm a little tired, and mostly drunk so I'll just post the email I sent to, one, Merkel Earl Phillips instead of actually wasting a bunch of time re-typing the whole affair.

There are a lot of things I probably left out. You can hear about them when I am back in Howard's biding my time till I return to my West Coast paradise.

The Woody Watch:

Dear Merkel,

Woody Allen is shooting his new film here. Today I spent the entire afternoon on the set. I was probably less than 10 feet from Scarlett Johansson at one point. I know it's sort of lame to say, but she's fucking beautiful. I used to have a mad crush on her. I still sort of do, actually. But geez, it's really surreal actually. Cause you expect a lot of that to be make up and lighting and airbrushing and stuff. But no, she's just a fucking knock-out and that's all there is to it.

Woody, not so much. I was probably even closer to him and for the entire time they were actually shooting (not including setup and stuff like that). He's fugly, I'm sorry. I know he's one of the most brilliant American film makers alive. But Christ on a cracker if that guy didn't look like he's gonna blow away in the wind or melt or something the whole day. And it was really funny cause at one point he was surrounded by the gaggle of hip young beautiful people and they were all in awe. Completely ga ga over this guy. He probably could have, and has, slept with every one of them. It was all very strange. It's probably one of the only times such a colossal dork was treated like such a god. It'd be like if super-models started trying to make out with Eric Barton or something. No offense to Eric, but you know what I mean? It was exactly like that. It was awesome. I kept thinking to myself, "If I were that guy I'd be laughing my ass off in my head everyday". "Ha ha. I win".

Anton got a bunch of pictures. He has more of Woody from yesterday. Today he wasn't in the right place and didn't get any really good ones of either Woody or Scarjo (which, by the way, is top contender, right up there with Brangelina, for THE WORST celebrity nickname ever). I should have had his camera. I had so many good opportunities. Scarlett getting into her private fucking super-ride with a REALLY hot driver who kind looked like briscoe but hotter. Woody Allen doing a cheesy magic trick with a coin for some thoroughly uninterested teenage girl. A tech person getting smashed in the head with a big metal pole, doubled over looking like he was quite possibly quietly crying.

Today is technically our last full day here. Then we go to the vineyard. I'm scared. and excited.

I miss you

write me soon.

Bastardgeist