Just over 30 years ago New York detectives investigating the death of a woman in Room 100 of the Chelsea hotel were convinced they had her killer in the form of John Beverley. But was he the…
This’ll end up with a deathbed confession, like with Brian Jones… except this guy is probably dead already…
Peter Feld, was your Aunt at the Chelsea during this period?
This is nothing new. Rockets Redglare was blabbing about this from the day after the murder up until he died. Of course, he was one of the suspects at the time (and since) so it may have just been to deflect attention. There are several theories of who killed Nancy, but most people close to the two never believed Sid was capable of killing her- either physically or emotionally. I lean towards she killed herself. When I was a teenager I read the book written by Nancy’s mom- “And I Don’t Want To Live This Life” and from that point on, I thought it was suicide. She was schizophrenic and a junkie. She’d been suicidal pretty much her whole life.
That book, by the way, a must read. The title is from a letter Sid wrote Nancy’s mom before he killed himself.
I will watch this doc for sure though. I’m a huge Sid fan (kitteh #2 is named for him!).
Stop what you’re doing, because I’m about to ruin the rhythm and the styles that you’re used to.
Now, we’re not all rich. And we are not all rich women living in Manhattan off of a ton of some venture capitalist money (“my money is going toward some rich girl pooping?”). I’d wager a bet that the kind of person that reads Boner Party is not the kind of person that is looking for a “deep cleanse” (i.e: starving yourself and then farting out grapefruits or some shit, i dunno, i can only get 8 words into anything they write over at Nonsociety before i want to claw my eyes out).
Trail mix. for a good 3 weeks in October of 2004 i was at college in chicago and survived entirely on trail mix for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. it made it look like you had pebble-dashed the toilet, and your bowels made a sound like mariah carey stuck in a VW Bug full of oatmeal that was being pushed off a very tall cliff, but I lost about 15lbs.
Craisins. want to save money on potpourri? i bet you do. because normal dudes will buy a can of Fabreeze and call it a day when it comes to *ahem* down there smells. but Craisins are God’s gift to the poor man. for about $3 a bag you get 2 days servings of fruit. which is rad. because after all that pizza (which we will get to in a minute) your insides are more clogged than Robin Williams’ shower drain. and not only that………… after you poop, the room will smell (mostly) like delicious cranberries (and poop).
$5 Pizza @ Dominoes / Little Ceasars. if you’re a dude, you don’t really drink one drink. no. you have “a mission FROM GAD” to quote a Brother Blue. the same deal with a pizza… one of these, for $5, will last you a full day. of course, your intestines will be making a sound not unlike Nick Nolte wrestling a wild boar until you birth that poop; and good luck if you’re like me and enjoy Tapatio on that pizza. But this will CLEANSE you. half a bottle of Tapatio (79cents) and a large pepperoni ($5) will CLEANSE you of pretty much anything you have in your body. think of it like Catholicism 101: the more hot sauce you put on, the more of your sins shall be repented. i’ve been known to have taken poops that would tear the paint off of a pirate ship.
Ramen. Ramen to your body is the equivalent of sobriety to David Bowie. yeah, that shits like .50 a pop, but really? do you want to cry but can’t because of all the sodium coursing through your veins? enough of these would suck the sorrow from a recent widow.
Tacos. i lived for a month on tacos one time because i lived 30 feet from Taqueria Moran (the best steak tacos in the world, hands down). imagine every Rush album being played backwards simultaneously, but out of your own ass. that was every day of my life for one whole month. never pay more than $1.25 for one. and fuck Chipotle and Taco Bell. after one late night Taco Bell run i farted and i grounded a passing ship.
Off-market brands. how much do you love adventure? do you love the unknown? do you like fruit drinks but can’t afford two dollars on a normal one? in a back alley chinese restaurant i once had Snaple, which is a lot like Snapple, except the stomach pain i had after drinking it would’ve easily killed a gay wizard and left me with a scar for life. i’m just sayin’. it’s a good thing i didn’t try the Diet Cok (nice try, chinese food place. nice try).
times are tough, Economybros. keep your chin(s) up. Boners, like hope, will always prevail.
This is awesome; especially awesome becuase right now, at this moment, I am about to go poop! LOL
“The point is that petty, frustrating crap like this is exactly where the work of choosing is gonna come in. Because the traffic jams and crowded aisles and long checkout lines give me time to think, and if I don’t make a conscious decision about how to think and what to pay attention to, I’m gonna be pissed and miserable every time I have to shop. Because my natural default setting is the certainty that situations like this are really all about me. About MY hungriness and MY fatigue and MY desire to just get home, and it’s going to seem for all the world like everybody else is just in my way. And who are all these people in my way? And look at how repulsive most of them are, and how stupid and cow-like and dead-eyed and nonhuman they seem in the checkout line, or at how annoying and rude it is that people are talking loudly on cell phones in the middle of the line. And look at how deeply and personally unfair this is.
Or, of course, if I’m in a more socially conscious liberal arts form of my default setting, I can spend time in the end-of-the-day traffic being disgusted about all the huge, stupid, lane-blocking SUV’s and Hummers and V-12 pickup trucks, burning their wasteful, selfish, forty-gallon tanks of gas, and I can dwell on the fact that the patriotic or religious bumper-stickers always seem to be on the biggest, most disgustingly selfish vehicles, driven by the ugliest [responding here to loud applause] (this is an example of how NOT to think, though) most disgustingly selfish vehicles, driven by the ugliest, most inconsiderate and aggressive drivers. And I can think about how our children’s children will despise us for wasting all the future’s fuel, and probably screwing up the climate, and how spoiled and stupid and selfish and disgusting we all are, and how modern consumer society just sucks, and so forth and so on.
You get the idea.
If I choose to think this way in a store and on the freeway, fine. Lots of us do. Except thinking this way tends to be so easy and automatic that it doesn’t have to be a choice. It is my natural default setting. It’s the automatic way that I experience the boring, frustrating, crowded parts of adult life when I’m operating on the automatic, unconscious belief that I am the center of the world, and that my immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world’s priorities.
The thing is that, of course, there are totally different ways to think about these kinds of situations. In this traffic, all these vehicles stopped and idling in my way, it’s not impossible that some of these people in SUV’s have been in horrible auto accidents in the past, and now find driving so terrifying that their therapist has all but ordered them to get a huge, heavy SUV so they can feel safe enough to drive. Or that the Hummer that just cut me off is maybe being driven by a father whose little child is hurt or sick in the seat next to him, and he’s trying to get this kid to the hospital, and he’s in a bigger, more legitimate hurry than I am: it is actually I who am in HIS way.
Or I can choose to force myself to consider the likelihood that everyone else in the supermarket’s checkout line is just as bored and frustrated as I am, and that some of these people probably have harder, more tedious and painful lives than I do.
Again, please don’t think that I’m giving you moral advice, or that I’m saying you are supposed to think this way, or that anyone expects you to just automatically do it. Because it’s hard. It takes will and effort, and if you are like me, some days you won’t be able to do it, or you just flat out won’t want to.
But most days, if you’re aware enough to give yourself a choice, you can choose to look differently at this fat, dead-eyed, over-made-up lady who just screamed at her kid in the checkout line. Maybe she’s not usually like this. Maybe she’s been up three straight nights holding the hand of a husband who is dying of bone cancer. Or maybe this very lady is the low-wage clerk at the motor vehicle department, who just yesterday helped your spouse resolve a horrific, infuriating, red-tape problem through some small act of bureaucratic kindness. Of course, none of this is likely, but it’s also not impossible. It just depends what you what to consider. If you’re automatically sure that you know what reality is, and you are operating on your default setting, then you, like me, probably won’t consider possibilities that aren’t annoying and miserable. But if you really learn how to pay attention, then you will know there are other options. It will actually be within your power to experience a crowded, hot, slow, consumer-hell type situation as not only meaningful, but sacred, on fire with the same force that made the stars: love, fellowship, the mystical oneness of all things deep down.
Not that that mystical stuff is necessarily true. The only thing that’s capital-T True is that you get to decide how you’re gonna try to see it.”