It’s so sad about Malcolm McLaren, he was absolutely awesome, I think. How lucky it was to get to know him, — and he was also that close to becoming my landlord. Then the stories, the style! Oh, what the hell. I wish I could be Malcolm McLaren when I grow up. The sooner the better.

Так жалко: Малькольм Макларен был ужасно крутой, по-моему. Очень повезло с ним познакомиться, он даже чуть моим лендлордом не стал. А истории, а стиль! Да чёрт возьми, я очень хотела бы быть как Малькольм Макларен, когда вырасту. И лучше бы поскорей.

Photo: Stuart Nicol, 1980.

Делегирование вызывает у меня брезгливость. Очень много нужно навыков, оказывается, и я теперь стараюсь их приобретать.

Delegation is a chimera from the world of bureacracy and economic structures. Delegation in the area of stylistics is dangerous, even meaningless. Artists have no right to delegate, thugs just can’t, we all know how it ends in politics. Because one can only delegate the cold, slippery carcass of a balance sheet. Otherwise, it’s like when the expensive director Mark Romanek makes a Nine Inch Nails music video “The Perfect Drug” — and I do love NIN but the video is just a monotony of goth and blue which is supposed to look Victorian, not an Edward Gorey book come to life. By the way, no one feels Gorey like I do, I’ll show you.

I’m disgusted by delegation. One needs a lot of skills, it turns out, and now I’m all about acquiring them.

Мой любимый актёр и певица Дивайн умер за день до намеченного кастинга в сериал “Женаты с детьми” кинокомпании FOX. В похоронной открытке от FOX было написано: “Не хотел с нами работать — так бы и сказал”.

Also, the shoulder pads the guy is wearing in the end are way cooler than Vilsbol de Arce’s, let alone Margiela. And it’s 1978, lovelies.

Vilsbol de Arce, SS09.

Directed by Georgie Greville, song by The Stooges.

Watch the teaser to “The Last Supper”, directed by Arno Bouchard and David Gil (with music by John Zorn!)

Gail looked at me and said “What do we put?” I said, “Musician.”

That was the first thing that upset the admitting nurse. The second thing to spoil her afternoon was when she asked: “What are you going to name the child?” Gail said, “Dweezil.”

Gail’s got a funny looking toe which had been the source of family amusement so often that it had aquired a `technical name’: it wasn’t really a toe – it was a “Dweezil.” I thought then and continue to think today, that Dweezil is a nice name. Fuck the nurse if she didn’t like it.

The nurse pleaded and pleaded with us not to name the child Dweezil. Labor pains and all, she was going to make Gail stand there unless we gave her another name to put on the form. I couldn’t see letting Gail suffer just to argue the point, so I rattled off an assortment of names of guys we knew: IAN (Underwood) DON (van Vliet) CALVIN (Schenkel) EUCLID (James “Moterhead” Sherwood) As a result Dweezil’s original birth certificate name was Ian Donald Calvin Euclid Zappa. The nurse thought that was okay.

In spite of this harrowing experince, we always called him Dweezil. He was five years old when he discovered the `real names’ on his birth certificate.

Dweezil was very upset, and demanded that steps be taken to rectify this tragedy. We hired an attorney and had his name legally changed to Dweezil.

Frank Zappa with Peter Occhiogrosso, The Real Frank Zappa Book.