Chopsticks NY Reviews Tune in Tokyo

Ladies, Chopsticks NY is a bi-weekly magazine that covers all things Japan in NYC. Well, hold on to your bobby socks, because they've given Tune in Tokyo a great review! Go read it and patronize their sponsors or something!

Merry Christmas from See Tim Blog

Merry Christmas, world! (Sorry the sound is so squeaky, this was recorded on a dang Droid, gimme a break. At least I turned on the light behind me--that made all the difference. [I was inside way too long today.])

My First Japanese Media Interview!

Folks, you may have never heard of the Japanese website Axiom before, but you have now because I've told you about it. It's an awesome site! Anyway, they're running a fun interview with yours truly now and you should go read it and learn something about yourself and also me (mostly me).

New Interview Up Over at the Pubslush Blog

Pubslush Press is an interesting new publishing venture where writers can submit ten pages and a summary of a manuscript that will then be available to readers, and if the manuscript receives enough reader support it will then be published by Pubslush. And "for every book sold a book will be donated to a child in need." Awesome, no?

Anyway, so they interviewed me for their blog and its up on the site now here:

And here is a handy yootoob explaining the Pubslush deal.

Holy Crap, Tune in Tokyo Excerpt Is Up on Boing Boing!

Read it here.

TiT Love from Shelf Awareness

Tune in Tokyo has gotten a GREAT review over at Shelf Awareness, check it out immediately!

NYC Elevator Horror is the Latest Thing, Apparently

Good God, as if we need more reasons to feel twitchy in an elevator, now there have been two (2!) horrific elevator deaths in the past week in New York. The first? Oh just an ad executive lady who got crushed by an elevator that she stepped into last Wednesday morning. The second? Oh, you know, just your typical "crazy dude with a weird vendetta sprays flammable liquid all over his elderly neighbor then sets her alight with a Molotov cocktail. In the elevator."

I think I probably speak for everyone when I say, "I think from now on I'll just take the stairs to my 8th floor office." And polyester is hella flammable, yes? So also, "I think from now on I will change into my polyester pants after getting safely to work."

RIP to both of these poor women. Just awful.

Remembrance: Kirsty MacColl, Killed 11 Years Ago Today

Many folks who know me know that I'm a freak about this Kirsty MacColl lady that they've never heard of. I am! And if you are a fan of classic British pop, you should be one, too. Kirsty is best known in this country for her duet with the Pogues on their gorgeous Christmas song "Fairytale of New York" from 1987. She should have been famous for much more, but she never got her due, then she was killed in the year 2000 in a freak/horrific boating accident in Mexico. It's a sad, sad story that will never make sense. She was only 41. 41! Senseless.

But you can console me by exploring Kirsty's back catalog. I recommend, first and foremost, that you check out her final album, the sunny and celebratory Tropical Brainstorm, which she made with Cuban musicians. She was in saucy form, singing songs about sex and making love and doing it and shagging and f**king and other things like that. (My favorite track: "Us Amazonians") You should also get her album Kite, which is a great collection of British jangle pop that includes a great cover of "You Just Haven't Earned It Yet, Baby." Also, get Galore, her hits collection, which includes all the greats, plus spectacular early single "He's On the Beach," as well as a cover of Lou Reed's "Perfect Day," which she sings with Evan Dando of the Lemonheads, as well as "Caroline," a song she described as "Jolene's reply" to Dolly Parton. Also, here is a great BBC2 documentary about her life in music.

RIP, Kirsty. You are missed more as the years troll on toward oblivion, especially looking at how many dumb/tedious/idiotic/talentless pop stars are still alive.

Here she is with the Pogues in better days. Look for the cameo by Matt Dillon!

Shameless Plugs: Merry Monsters!

Folks, I think it's about time for another Tim Stamp of Approval because 'tis the season and all that. What, I can hear you asking, is my favorite new product on the market? The answer is going to save your Christmas: Merry Monsters.

These dolls are handmade, adorable, and best of all, they have hilarious backstories! Take Sasha, for instance:

Meet Sasha. She's a monster of the very kindest kind. Although most of her counterparts are ravenous carnivores, Sasha is a vegetarian. She is a friend to all animals and humans. She's never met a stranger. She's the monster that will approach you in the grocery store and advise you not to purchase the grapes because the current batch is sour. She's the monster that will sit beside you on the bus to talk about the weather. She's the first one at the water cooler to talk about last nights episode of "30 Rock". Don't worry, she understands quiet time too, always willing to just sit and hold your hand.

Sasha, who currently resides on my bed, obviously has great taste in teevee shows, and she's got Tina Turner hair to boot.



But things get even cuter, because here comes Iggy:

Meet Iggy. Iggy (formally Ignatious; although the only one who dares call him that is his mother. And she has refrained from doing so since the incident in 2003) has turned over a new leaf. Until now, the biggest commitment he'd made was to his punk rock LP collection. It turns out all the stage diving and mosh pits left him feeling a little empty inside. He wants you to fill the void. His exterior may seem a little rough. The truth is he has a heart of gold. He spends his spare time these days rescuing kittens from too tall trees, helping old ladies cross the street and volunteering at the soup kitchen. It won't take much to convince him to come live with you. In fact, you had him at "hello".

Yeah, Iggy and I used to go to the same clubs in the '80s. Anyway, Iggy and Sasha share a bed, but they are platonic, because they aren't really each other's type. But apparently they are both my boyfriend Jimmy's type because he clings to them at night like a lovesick fraggle.



Get your own Merry Monster here!

Tune in Tokyo Launch Party at Wix Lounge

The Tune in Tokyo book launch at Wix Lounge was a blast last Wednesday, and I want to thank everyone who came out and the folks at Wix for helping us put on such a great party! I hope everyone got to meet my mother and that she got a chance to tell you that she didn't raise me to use such awful language.

This photo was taken just a few moments before the microphone died because I was holding it too close to my mouth.

Rice cakes, Pocky sticks, sake, Japanese beer, some sushis, and paper plates were all on offer.

Some of my homemade (by that I mean "from a pre-made dough") Tune in Tokyo cookies.

Me signing a book while the cookies look on.

The crowd enjoys itself immeasurably.

Folks stone cold listenin'.

A great shot of me and momma, she in her lovely Christmas sweater.

I was briefly interrupted by a poltergeist during my reading.

The merchandise.

When party photography gets artistic.

You can see more pics on Wix's Facebook page here.

New Edition of Tune in Tokyo: The Gaijin Diaries Now Available!!

Well, the big day is here, folks, and I know how happy you must be. The new edition of my book Tune in Tokyo is out now, available on Amazon or at any discerning/misguided indy bookstores. Order yours here!

Congratulations, You Now Have Plans on Wednesday!

Y'all, my book Tune in Tokyo will officially be published tomorrow, yay! So it's officially Tune in Tokyo Eve, and I, for one, will be partying tonight. (Note: "partying" = tuna noodle casserole + diet cherry 7up)

BUT THERE'S MORE. On Wednesday, myself, Amazon Publishing, and the good folks over at Wix Lounge here in NYC are hosting a party to celebrate the end of Western civilization/publication of TiT, and you are cordially invited to attend with all of your unsavory friends. If you are on Facebook, you can RSVP here. Or you can just show up and plunder the sushi, beer, and nibbly things on offer. I'll be reading a little excerpt and then I'll be doing an old-fashioned strip tease involving a hula hoop and a box of Crunch 'n Munch.

YOU SHOULD COME.

Wow, Sure Glad I Decided to Check in on Occupy Wall Street on Sunday, Before They Released the Dogs

Wow, that was some great timing. Jimmy and I biked into town on Sunday to see Cave of Forgotten Dreams and afterwards Jimmy suggested we bike down to Occupy Wall Street and see what all the hippies are doing. I thought this was a great idea because I hadn't been there in over a month and surely the interpretive dancing is off the hook by this point. (See video above.)

So we twirled on down there and Lord Almighty it smelled. Like, it wasn't a pungent smell like sewage or fart or piss--it wasn't that obvious. It just felt like, as we made our way through the encampment, we were walking through a big brown cloud of... something. Something that smelled... unpleasant. Kind of sort of deeply, deeply, profoundly unpleasant. Something you couldn't bear to put your finger on.

Anyway, on to the pictures:

Should have brought my viola, my weave, and my earnestness. Left all three at home.

This is where they keep all the dildos.

Cute bicyclist powering a generator with his blurry legs.

Flu shots, first-aid kits, condoms, lube, mints, dental floss.

The PB&J preparation table.

Entrance to the library, which sadly has now been destroyed, probably by illiterates.

Now that's more like it. What I came here for. Thank you, Mr. Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test!

Wait, what's a krip? Isn't that racist? Or, no, I think it's a really potent weed. If so, I think I've found my favorite contingent.

We'll always have Zuccotti. (Well, not in the literal sense.)

And, in conclusion, here's more of the interpretive dance that was taking place across the street from the park. Maybe this is the reason behind the police crackdown?

Camera Phone Denied: The Anderson Cooper Show

I recently decided that I should take advantage of being unemployed and attend the taping of a terrible daytime talk show, because I'm in New York, and what could be worse than being unemployed and getting sucked into discussions about meaningless bullshit and/or awful personal tragedies? That's right: getting sucked in in person.

Did you know that Anderson Cooper has a new daytime talk show? It really makes perfect sense, because, though he has a perfectly respectable career as a swoon-worthy silver fox newsman, his biggest and most devoted fans are housewives with no gaydar and gay dudes who work the pole at night, so why not tap into that Cooper-ready audience of Nancies? Anyway, I got tickets to a recent taping because I figured it would be a great opportunity to talk to Anderson about my new book and, you know, give him a copy and encourage him to tweet about it or something. Or maybe I'd have a chance to hold it up in front of the camera? So me and my friend Rachel trolled on down to the Time Warner Building in Columbus Circle at the dreaded hour of 9 a.m. and got in line.



It took forever to go through all the security rigamarole and get taken to our seats. To our delight, the usher with the Madonna microphone headset on, after consulting a person on the other end, escorted us right up to the front row OMG! We quickly decided that it must be in Anderson Cooper's rider that the front row be filled with only beautiful, camera-ready people, and they took one look at us and decided we were the very definition of that. After sitting down, we leaned back and soaked in the looks of envy showered upon us from the commoners behind us. "Hey girls," I waved to the queens staring daggers at me from the balcony seats. Soon enough, though, Rachel and I realized that we were absolutely out of range of any camera in the entire studio. There was one immediately behind us, one behind us on the other end, and several in the audience, but we were uniquely positioned to remain forever completely unknown and anonymous to the America viewing public. Was Anderson fucking with us?

The topic for the day was a doozy: transgender children. Jesus, Anderson, can't you just chill out, it's daytime teevee, for God's sake. Why no Kathy Griffin? Why no empty-calorie celebritard interviews? Why no cooking segment? This dead-serious topic ensured that Andy had to wear his Concerned Face for the entire two-hour taping, which was kind of a bummer, because when's he gonna do a segment in his Speedos?



And we weren't given ANY free shwag! None. All the guests on the stage were sipping from cool Anderson mugs and I was hoping we'd get one on the way out, but we didn't get shit. I know Anderson is no Oprah (yet), but still, couldn't he have at least put a Snickers bar under our seats or something? And the only photo I was able to take before the handlers got all stern and grabby was the one up top, taken quickly and under duress.

Okay, so I'm being pretty negative, but here's the good stuff: Coop is, of course, devastatingly gorgeous, and he was dressed adorably in fitted slacks and a snug sweater with a collared shirt. (Fun fact: I used to go to his gym, so I've seen him in his underwear, bitches.) And the stage manager was hella sexy. Rachel almost took a bite out of his butt when he placed it in front of her for a minute.

The episode will air on this Wednesday, apparently, if you're interested. Two days after the one where Joy Behar gives money saving tips, ARGH!

TMInformation Dept: '80s Singer Limahl Overshares

You guys remember Limahl, right? The new-wave mullet-sporting leader of Kajagoogoo and singer of the Never-ending Story theme song? He was sure ridiculous, even for the '80s, my favorite decade, amiright?

Well anyway, there is a new book out called I Want My MTV: The Uncensored Story of the Music Video Revolution, and in it we get all sorts of juicy stories from the likes of Ann and Nancy Wilson (bestill my heart), Dee Snider, Lionel Richie, and, yes, Limahl, who, in a preview of the book up on Pitchfork, has this to say about his personal experience with video making:

I'm going to tell you something, but I'm not going to name names. In one of my solo videos, the director came to my hotel while I was in Sydney, to discuss the video, and we ended up having sex. There was kissing and it was quite passionate. We both ejaculated. He was a famous director and he was considered very important. I was thinking, Oh my God, I'm having sex with him. I mean, at that point I was pretty famous all over the world.

Of course, when he was directing me on the set with lots of people around, there was a twinkle in his eye, and in mine, because we knew what had happened a few nights before. The video was great.

Gross, Limahl. Gross. You just used the word ejaculate, ugh. I can count on zero hands the number of people who want that from you, Limahl. No one is interested, unless this director's name is Eli Roth, in which case everyone is interested but would rather just hear the story from him, thanks.

I'm in a Glossy Gay Mag!

Y'all, Tune in Tokyo is reviewed in the #1 gay magazine in all the land, Instinct, and they call it "occasionally hilarious"! Occasionally, always--these words mean pretty much the same thing, yes? Anyway, the November "Leading Men" issue is on stands now, so I'm on my way to the Barnes and Noble now to pick up several hundred copies to paper my bedroom with. See the review below:

Booklist and Kirkus Like Tune in Tokyo!

The reviews of the new AmazonEncore edition of my tawdry book Tune in Tokyo are starting to roll in, and so far so good! Booklist and Kirkus had nice things to say, Booklist even going so far as to compare it to David Sedaris's Me Talk Pretty One Day. From Booklist:

Sayonara, America. Hello, Kitty...Aside from such classroom encounters and problems of his own with the Japanese language that...recall David Sedaris' Me Talk Pretty One Day (2000), Anderson regales his readers with tales of Japanese popular culture and his own social life, clubbing and karaoke-barhopping around Tokyo...diverting observations on a country that gaijin Anderson calls "America on Opposite Day.

From Kirkus:

Anderson reliably mines the rich comic potential inherent in simple, innocent miscommunications and misunderstandings, but most impressive is the author's ability to sustain his hyperactive comedic voice throughout most of the book without losing his edge. A laugh-out-loud look at the East/West culture clash.

The book is out November 29, you can reserve your copy here, so what are you waiting for?

Right-Wing Trannie Ann Coulter Loves Right-Wing Blacks

Ann Coulter is the right wing's #1 trannie. She is also Fox News's #1 trannie, the Internet's #1 trannie, and the #1 trannie of nine out of ten dentists (that other guy prefers Orly Taitz). Anyway, when a top-tier aging right-wing trannie talks about black folks, people listen. Because it's bound to be hilarious.

So Ann claims that "our blacks" are so much better than "their blacks", which is self-evidently true, because, come on, Herman Cain? Alan Keyes? Allen West? These are grade-A, top-shelf super-blacks who are not at all crazy or dumb or in any way sociopathic. There's also Michael Steele, who has the best porn name in American politics, though he's disappointingly coherent and likable. But still, he's ten times better than "their blacks" because he tastes like dark, small government chocolate.

In conclusion, Ann Coulter's neck still, even after all these years, looks like the shaft of an erect penis.

Happy Halloween, Slobs!

As you know, today is Discount Halloween Candy Eve, the most magical of all Eves, so to celebrate, I've taken this photo of my cat Stella hanging with the Jack-O-Lantern that Jimmy carved the other night and for some reason named Pedro. Poor Pedro looks distressed. Why is that? Never mind, because tomorrow, Pedro will be neck-deep in discounted packs of candy from the Rite-Aid or Duane Reade, because tomorrow is the Annual Candy Buying Day That Is Only Celebrated By Me. Why pay full price when you can just wait and get your Snickers, 3 Musketeers, and Milky Ways at cut-rate? As I'm always telling anyone who will listen, it's always best to arrive just after the party is over (or everyone passes out) and then start sweeping all the uneaten goodies into the napsack you brought with you.

I'll be visiting the best NYC drug stores tomorrow with my napsack. Let me know if you have any requests.

A Time-Lapse of Tokyo That Really Brings Me Back to My Replicant-Hunting Days

This is an excellent video with a totally appropriate Blade Runner soundtrack. It reminds me of the old days when I used to spend day after day after day scouring Tokyo's neon neighborhoods in my trench coat, carrying my laser pistol, listening to the Vangelis on my ear buds, and searching for Daryl Hannah, Joanna Cassidy, and bleach-blonde, soaking-wet Rutger Hauer so I could "retire" them, sexily. Those were some good times.

My Camera Phone Will Not Be Denied: Dum Dum Girls at Bowery Ballroom

The Dum Dum Girls are fishnet-fetishist vampy vixens from outer space (California) and lead singer Dee Dee knows how to craft a sparkling pop tune so it was only a matter of time before I saw them live. As you all know, I get easily bored if there's not at least one woman on any stage at a given time, so you can imagine how punch-drunk-happy I was to be able to see these four hot tomales surface from their glitter gutter and show off their legs, lipstick, and la-la's last Friday at Bowery.

Lead singer Dee Dee is so skinny that she can only be seen from this angle.

If I were straight, these are totally the girls that I would have been afraid to ask out in high school.

Gratuitous leg shot.

The only thing that would make this band more perfect live is if they had a topless tambourine player.



If you can read upside down, you'll see that "Wrong Feels Right," the Dum Dum's best song, is weirdly absent from this set list. This is unacceptable, and I'm still waiting on an explanation. Since when do bands completely ignore anonymous internet comment posters?!

And the obligatory artistic blurry shot, the end.

Economy Now So Bad, Out-of-Work Stormtroopers Turning to Street Performing

This economy is in the crapper, obviously. So basically the time for people to monetize whatever talents they have is now. My band, simpleshapes, consists of three people, two of them unemployed and one of them barely employed. So we decided the other day to use our misfortune to our advantage, by plopping ourselves down on the subway and playing some tunes. We made a whopping $12 after a few hours of playing our hearts out, so we may need to find a better location. But on my way home, I saw a stormtrooper who had a winning gambit: strip down to his black wife-beater and jeans, turn on some dancy pop tunes, and go to town on a pink drum set.



Not sure why we never thought of doing this, but it probably doesn't work as well if (a) you're not a stormtrooper and (b) you can't play drums. Also, does the public really want to see a stormtrooper playing something as soft and girly as the viola? Maybe in Chelsea.

Anyway, maybe next time we bring an amp, turn it up to 11, and get arrested? At least in prison you get free food and gym privileges.