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Lamar Odom and the Wondrous Loyalty of the Kardashians

Tuesday night, I laid alone on my tiny couch and browsed the channels till I settled on E!’s Keeping Up with the Kardashians. After a minute of shedding any self-judgement, I seriously thought: If I die tomorrow, I’m OK with having spent the final night of my life watching this. Perhaps it was a form of reality show foreshadowing.

As it turns out, that was probably the last conscious night for basketball player Lamar Odom, the almost ex-husband of the youngest Kardashian, Khloe. His basically lifeless body was found at Dennis Hof’s Love Ranch “brothel” in Nevada. Since then, what I can gather is that he’s in some stage of multiple organ failure.

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Being single and poor: a link list

  • I get what this NY Times article is saying about being romantically involved with someone uncute, but I still want to be the ugly one in my relationships. (Maybe this is why I’m single?)
  • Congrats to Lindy West on her marriage. She looked beautiful in the photos. I have to say that you don’t have to have ever been properly “fat” to relate to this nonsense: “I’ve dated men who relished me in private but refused to be seen with me on the street, or who told me, explicitly, that we had no serious future because they were afraid their friends would laugh at them.” Men are just despicable generally. (No, wait. This is why I’m still single.) Also, I’m both offended and now hungry thanks to the hot dog ad in the middle of this article. WTF?
  • I don’t have time to read this Tim and Eric interview, but you should. Then tell me about it after.
  • Finally, researchers have taken on the heavy (or unfortunately light) topic of what makes a wiener attractive.
  • This is why you’re poor, your mama was poor, and your kids’ll be poor: “‘Following your dreams is dangerous,’ a 31-year-old woman who runs in social entrepreneurship circles in New York, and asked not to be named, told Quartz. ‘This whole bulk of the population is being seduced into thinking that they can just go out and pursue their dream anytime, but it’s not true.’”

 

Good-bye, Fox's Sherron Inn, the Best Bar That Will Soon Fall to Pieces

(Press play before you read.)

I took my dad to Fox’s Sherron Inn this Father’s Day. It was 5:30 p.m. and the South Miami restaurant was dark, as usual, and cool. It was also empty. It felt like time paused and something erased all the other people in the world. Where did everyone go?

It’s almost the same as when I was growing up. The bar’s now larger, there’s a front patio instead of a curb to sit on, the back rooms are “nicer,” and that ceramic fox is gone. Remember the fox someone stole? I think I know who did it.

I read on Matthew Andrews’ Facebook earlier that this, one the oldest running establishments in town, is closing at the end of this month and the building will be torn down. His family owned it for decades. Remember when he was always there, and, dude, we were all always there. It was like being a kid and your cousins are kids and you all buzz around your grandparents’ house. And then you get to high school and you only stop in now and again. And then your grandparents die, and you can’t ever go back. We’re at that moment.

The best thing about Fox’s was always Patsy Cline on the juke box. Then the 2-4-1 happy hour special that got you so stupid drunk, you ended up crying to “Crazy” and playing it back to back. Then there were the conversations with the old regulars. Boat guys. One was my favorite. He lived with his mom, wore polos with shorts. He was in his 50s, and he liked to talk music. And that airplane painting on the wall — it’s unbeatable. It makes me feel like it’s OK to love where you’re at but also dream about being on your way to someplace different.

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RIP Jason Budjinski, who you may have known as Billy Boloby

It’s only June, and this has already been a year of many deaths for me. It’s also been a shit one for the New Times family too, which I was a part of, am a part of as a freelancer. In the past three months or so, two writers — Alex Rendon, who was a friend of mine, Kareem Shaker — and now former Broward music editor and South Florida musician Jason Budjinski, aka Billy Boloby, passed away.

I only knew Jason through our Facebook exchanges and because he wrote a blog or two for the site when I had his old job. Some people you only know online and can’t figure out who they are, or you just hate their guts, but not this guy. He always had something smart or thoughtful to say and knew how to say whatever it was clearly and with style. He had real perspective on things and a sense of humor about his lengthy illness, without being crass. I saw he wrote about being under hospice care a few days back, but it’s always a surprise when a 38 year old dies. Always. He didn’t make it to Tuesday this week.

Here’s a tribute to him written by my former coworker/boss Deirdra Funcheon. Read it and, well, weep.

 

I don't think I hate LeBron James anymore

Over the past few years, my friends were having babies. During that time, I learned to watch basketball. Single and broke, it was free and fun and the Miami Heat were winning, and the winning felt really, really good.

But when LeBron announced his betrayal, that he was leaving the Heat to go back home to the Cleveland Cavaliers, I took it a little personally.

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Liz Tracy’s new role at The Heat Lightning: commenter

You may or may not have already heard my news. I’ve written about it twice, and it’s going to start getting really redundant here. And wait, yes, it is about to get really redundant right here. That’s right. I’m saying goodbye again. Hold your horses, this one’s directed at THL. With all of these posts, it kind of seems like I’m dying not just moving 20 minutes north.

As the new music editor at the New Times Broward-Palm Beach, I will be saying good-bye to Miami, moving to Broward, and to The Heat Lightning – the blog which I birthed with Alesh a year and a half ago.

I’m not a public emoter past anger, furious anger, and the occasional hurt feeling tear. Every time I try to be a human, I feel like Data when he was implanted with the emotion chip. That’s why writing this farewell has taken me forever, or a week to be accurate.

When I moved to Miami as a kid, I hated it. I really hated it and everyone in it. It was only in ninth grade when I met my best friend Liza a recent arrival from New York that I fell in love with this shitty city. Liza illuminated all the beauty of this foreign place with her always seemingly rational perspective. The banyans, the sun, the sand. How could I not embrace it and make it my home?

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In case you haven't heard about Time Piles, Dylan Romer explains his trippy new art app

dylan romer time piles

This was originally published on the Huffington Post Miami and the HuffPo Tech section. Read it again here!

Lets talk about it from Time Piles on Vimeo.


I love how I wrote this about Dylan and the first image on this video of the interview is me with my tongue out. Thanks, Dylan.

Buy Time Piles. Don’t suck.

For years, South Florida-bred artist and daytime software developer Dylan Romer ran around town with a laptop, a camcorder, and an XBox 360 controller. Armed with a BFA from FIU, an MFA from UF, and a homemade program, he created live psychedelic video art that screened at galleries around Miami. He captured events as they happened — people booty-dancing at shows, performance artists writhing, drummers pounding — and translated the images into choppy renderings of reorganized time. Through his program, the world looks like a moving collage of double exposed images.

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Shannon Shaw of Shannon and the Clams talks Cher, eating mushrooms, hurting feelings, and the Bruise Cruise

shannon and the clams

We caught up with bassist and singer Shannon Shaw of the three-piece Oakland band Shannon and the Clams and asked her some hard hitting questions. These included inquiring about how she decides what to wear onstage and why “the Clams?” She told us all about her unique day job and what it’s like to be one of Seth Bogart’s girls, AKA Hunx and his Punx.

Shaw heads up Shannon and the Clams making emotional, dance-inducing, ’60s inspired garagey surf rock. She’ll be performing solo with a new group on this year’s Bruise Cruise with Ty Segall, Philip Sambol of The Strange Boys, and Lance Wille of Reigning Sound as super-group The Togas. They apparently came together over the telephone line and will be performing cover songs that were selected by those burning away on the Bruise Cruise. Read on to enjoy Shannon’s funny answers to my super thoughtful questions.

With a name like Shannon and the Clams, you think there’d be ladies backing you up! What’s it like leading up two men?

To be honest, I came up with the name Shannon and the Clams when I was a solo performer! It was just me and a bass. It was meant to be a joke. Then I got some people to back me up to play some parties and then it was too late… The shitty name stuck. If I could turn back tahime (please read in a Cher voice) I would have picked a name for the whole band that didn’t point me out, like the Trolls or something. I don’t even feel like I’m leading now, me and lil Cody Blanchard are for sure a team.

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Clickable

by , posted 2095 days ago

Happy holidays: In defense of laughing at church

obama laugh

Earlier this week, I put together a list of the saddest Christmas songs inspired by the most miserable of them all “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” I even wrote an intro. But last night at the longest midnight mass of all time, I realized, in the midst of a fit of laughter, that Christmas isn’t entirely bad after all.

The family ended up at an Episcopalian church somewhere near Homestead. All smoky with incense, it was like a wooden womb decorated with a great big glowing rainbow cross. I thought the atmosphere was fitting for some jazzy X-mas tunes. Who knew these Anglicans would put us through a two hour service that literally started with Genesis and ended with… well, who knows, we left before the end.

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Super deep interview with Jeff Rollason on winter*wonder*weirds

Jeff Rollason winter wonder weirds

Jeff Rollason gives like the best interviews ever. Anyway. He’s been doing Night of the Weirds for a few years now. I love them. They offer a haunting mix of bizarre performances and strange sounds, stupid looks and questionable concepts. Not all bad, some deliciously terrible, but, thankfully, not boring. The last Weirds night, Summer of Weirds, fell on my birthday. I knew it was because I’m such a super fan. At that one, Ballscarf showed a video of Aiden Dillard shitting.

But there’s more to Night of the Weirds than deification. There’s some yelling too. And drama. It’s experimental, bro. Any show whose lineup includes both Raffa Jo and Rat Bastard is one worth attending in my book.

Check out winter*wonder*weirds Thursday night at Churchill’s Pub (5501 NE Second Ave., Miami). It’s free, starts at like 7:30, and it’s freeeeee. RSVP on Facebook here.

Full schedule exists after the jump.

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Hogzilla's: bad name, good meat

hogzilla's

I’ve been very forgetful lately. It’s like I eat delicious meat, I rave about it, and then I totally forget that I’ve even eaten! Then I eat again. Point is, last week, I attended the “grand opening” or maybe “press opening” of Hogzilla’s. The name of this new South Beach restaurant is boner-killer, no lie, but the meat was superb.

Besides the hog, the best thing about Hogzilla’s is that it isn’t a chain. It’s a barbecue restaurant, and probably the only one on the beach. I lured my friend Venessa with the promise of free dinner and drinks. Luckily, I, well Hogzilla, delivered.

The second we arrived we bolted to the feeding station where a man dumped delicious pulled pork onto a bun and suggested some sauces. Sometimes pulled pork can taste like flavorless meat strings in a puddle of water, but these people really know how to pull pork. The sauces were also surprisingly delicious. There was a mango concoction and one that was Jack Daniels-y or something. Either way, all good. The food distracted us from the somewhat over the top “swampy” decor. It stops short of kitsch, but this is the new South Beach, one with like no gays and thus, little style.

We wolfed down bite-sized treats that a more obnoxious person might refer to as tapas, attacking every person with a tray with ravenous enthusiasm. The sides were good enough, probably better in larger portions. However, the gator sausage was so spicy, so good, I would have eaten the whole reptile myself.

I’m so glad I remembered to write this. I am a very hungry fan of swine and especially pulled pork. It’s really a thrill that someone this far south got it right, and really right.

Eat Hogzilla’s at 1555 Washington Ave., Miami Beach. Bon appetit!

 

Clickable

I happened to be over at Miami Art Museum the other day, and Michael Balbone, who you might know from Less Concept More Action or because he creates amusing and amazing works of art, has revamped the museum’s gift shop. It’s now filled with items that your family will want, well, your family that knows the Miami art scene or has a stellar sense of humor. Check out this madness here.

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Clickable

We love everything Bleeding Palm does over here at THL. We’re super creepy mega-fans, and that’s the honest truth. We like them better than we like ourselves. That is why I wrote up a post about their newest site on the Florida Turnpike for the Miami New Times. Make sure to click on it and poke around and appreciate Bleeding Palm’s sick mind(s).

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Clickable

The story of Pinochle written by KT Kieltyka for The Hairpin reminds me so much of my own delusional yet magic filled youth. I can’t even begin to tell you the things I believed for too long. I hope I have kids one day that trust the lies I tell them till they’re in middle school. Life’s too short. Enjoy.

by , posted 2110 days ago

A delayed bit of Basel with a taste of Nathan Lam Vuong and a touch of Liz Tracy

david rohn the amazing ultran nathan lam vuong

I didn’t have much time to dedicate to THL this Art Basel Miami Beach. Time is a limited and valuable commodity, and I had to offer all of mine to making income. To all the haters, I think it’s an understandable trade.

I know no one cares about Basel anymore, it was like so two weeks ago. I get it, but I’ve got something left to say. My old roommate and bestie artist Nathan Lam Vuong, who you may know as DJ Sticky Rice, came into town from Los Angeles and enjoyed the week with me. I planned out a packed week of art, parties, work, and socializing, because I’m an obsessive hyper-planner and I had to budget time for writing. You can check out some highlights from our week on Nate’s Tumblr, and/or you can read about them here. Do both.

We had fun. I must say, it was a good time. I started the week before Nate got here farting around town with Bleeding Palm. We went by Pulse and Scope and Design Miami and the MOCA party – Miami’s Mark Handforth’s work is big and badass – and the French party at the old Perrotin space, ending the night at the Roofless Records party at Churchill’s. Some guy from Patrick McMullen took our photo, made me feel special. That was all in one evening. The freaking party at the former Perrotin space was again a blast. Every year, the best, the end. There were definitely less people than in the past this Basel, but it didn’t take away from the free-flowing wine and awesomely bad dance music. As usual, they ran out of glasses and I made the guy pour out a Sprite can to fill with up with spirits. There’s a Lil Kim joke in there somewhere.

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Abel Folgar will make you a mixtape if you repost his 4,000 Albums That Matter on Facebook, maybe

abel folgar

If there is one man in Miami, in possibly the whole southeastern United States, whose mixtapes you want in your possession, that man is Abel Folgar. If you don’t believe me, then you clearly haven’t been paying attention to his ridiculously ambitious 4,000 Albums That Matter series we’ve been posting on The Heat Lightning for months. He knows his shit better than most of you do, but he’s not a bitch about it. Let him guide you on an intimate sonic journey with a mixed musical compilation. All you have to do is be the 127th person to repost part FOURTEEN of his albums that matter on Facebook.

This is special, guys. Like really special. This is the kind of gift that people would kill their cousins over. The kind of present they would promise to give to their dying grandmother but then keep for themselves as she withers away before them.

Look at Abel all dapper, the perfect a wedding guest. It’s true that most of you have never seen him lookin’ so cleaned up, but it can happen. This is evidence. What can also happen is you can own an incredible body of music from this slick dude’s massive collection.

REPOST people. Repost with pride.

 

Beings are back on Discosoma Records at the Scumbag Party

beings social creep

Remember how Beings made everyone all weepy and cranky this summer by breaking up? Yeah, thanks guys. Poor Jose Flores was a bit heartbroken, and even took the time to write about the breakup up on our THL Miami Music Week. I’m exaggerating, he wasn’t actually heartbroken, but he did note, “Of course, now that they’ve broken up, I just want more Beings.” Well, he and we all are in luck, because Jared McKay, one half of Coral Morphologic and a whole lotta Discosoma Records, managed to put together one last sonic hurrah with the release of the new Beings’ EP Social Creep. Discosoma pressed only one hundred of these little glow-in-the-dark vinyl babies. The cover art glows too. Spooky.

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