04 into 05: party at Fittipaldi’s on 6th Steet

03 into 04: party at Catherine’s at the Brewery where I gave Tarot Card readings for the year ahead until it got too smokey to stay.

02 into 03: Downtown Vegas, overlooking Fremont Street from the 3rd Floor of the Four Queens Hotel

01 into 02: party at Catherine’s at the Brewery

00 into 01: party at Robin and Dyane Duffy’s loft on Vignes Street where I gave Tarot Card readings for the year ahead to over 20 people.

99 into 00: driving on 1st street at midnight. Was at 1st and Main at exactly midnight, popped London Calling into the car stereo. Then back to Fitipaldi’s on Molino Street where they were playing Tatto You.

98 into 99: was at a mountain resort in Leavenworth, Washington - they played Auld Lang Syne and then Tequila!, but I stuck to Diet Coke.

97 into 98: I think it was at the same place in Sunland, I was living there by then, but the 1996 party blurs in with this one, if the 98 version took place at all.

96 into 97: small party in Encino. This one guy, Donald, put on Bitches Brew at midnight but they made him turn it off.

95 into 96: small party with friends in Sunland. Easily the windiest night I had ever seen.

94 into 95: outside on Traction Avenue. Where else would you want to be?

93 into 94: party in Studio City - the first time I ever tried black eyed peas, which is a New Year’s tradition for some people every year.

92 into 93: Little Siberia cocktail lounge, Huntington Park, CA

91 into 92: no recollection - I was drinking heavily back then.

90 into 91: no recollection - definitely drunk wherever it was.

89 into 90: party at the Fabulous Horton’s at the Asbury. The gunfire at midnight was extraordinary, terrifying. I only recall this evening at all because I have a roll of film from it and the pictures are marked First Night of the 1990s.

88 into 89: no recollection - these were dark days, down and out Downtown.

87 into 88: party at the Fence of Bone Loft in the garment district. Tim Tyson was the first to pass out that night, I have photographic evidence.

86 into 87: barhopping in Westwood with the Starvin’ Band. Introduced myself to people as Vincent Peace all night. Most massive hangover of my life the next morning.

85 into 86: my apartment on Breezewood in Whittier. Bowie’s Blue Jean was playing in the background at midnight.

84 into 85: At the house on top of Lofthill Drive. At midnight, my brother screamed “Stay Alive in 85!” and I threw a large booze bottle (probably a Club Cocktail Mix) in the air and it landed on the ground but just bounced with a loud PING and someoen said, “Stay alive like that bottle.”

Please CLICK Here for my latest annual Artscene Magazine Essay.

Enjoy.

Had a family get-together tonight for a present exchange.
19 people and they constantly lamented the absence of the 4 or 5 who were not there.

Okay, one down, Friday we drive to San Diego.
Saturday we drive back here.
Sunday we drive to my folks’ place in the mountains.
Then we go to the Golden Nugget in Laughlin.

I got tired typing all of that, how are we supposed to do it all?

While i am out of town, here is a link to a thoughtful rant about Bono of U2 getting a free pass for what amounts to egomania manifested as a messiah complex.

Hands down the weirdest EBAY auctioneer ever.

Every year I am lucky enough to receive the Peter Norton Christmas card. Software entrepreneur turned arts patron Peter Norton commissions an artist to make a limited edition artwork each year. What’s the edition? I never asked. It is supposedly a closely-guarded secret. My estimate is 2,500 people if he is sticking to close friends and art world VIPS, 4,000 if he adds software/silicon valley types into the mix.

In the past he has given out a limited edition ashtray by Vick Muniz, a plastic Takashi Murakami sculpture in 2001, a hand-fan illustrated with a Japanese transvestite mimicking Marilyn Monroe, a ceramic reproduction of a Victorian brownstone, a blanket, there was a pop-up book by Kara Walker in 1998, a 3-D wishing well, a jagged teapot and spoon, a card game, shit, I’ve been getting these for a while now. Last year was a hand-blown glass bowl with the artist’s two palms immersed up in the base of the vessel. Or was that two years ago and last year’s was the teacup? Whatever, they’re both here somewhere, as are most of the rest, except the dollhouse was a gift to my mom (she loved it) for Christmas one year when I hadn’t shopped and it was suddenly too late.

This year’s Peter Norton commission is a Christian Marclay music box. It is made of sanded raw wood and is the size of a small jewelry box. Burned capital letters read SILENT on its lid. Open it up and the mechanism of the music box is visible – and of course, it starts playing as all good music boxes should. Burned into the inside of the lid is LISTEN. The music is a lilting un-melody entitled Tinsel that speeds up in parts to challenge the way a music box traditionally slows down a song. Very John Cage, but the visuals of the word really have a permanence to them when the lid is shut and reacquainting oneself with SILENT arrives. Kind of like closing a coffin lid.

In year’s past, when Peter was married, he would have pictures of his wife and children included in the Christmas card edition. Now he is divorced and the kids are young adults and the card reads: Each year, Peter Norton commissions a work of art to celebrate the holiday season. This year’s edition is by Christian Marclay. It goes on to explain the artwork itself.

The whole concept and act of doing this is classy; this year’s work is fabulous, lean and mean minimalism with layers of deconstructive concepts encased in a beautiful presentation. I never asked for these, but I love getting them - but it is weird, even though I don’t know Mr. Norton, I kind of miss the pictures of his kids and the Merry Christmas card. I like, met him and his wife a few times at art thingy parties, but that is no relationship, he couldn’t pick me out of a crowd if I wasn’t wearing a Coagula T-Shirt, but it is one of those things where you keep up with what is going on in someone’s life and are waiting for the next minute chapter to unfold and instead of pictures of the family it is just pleasant text about an artwork and the artwork.

I am kind of speechless at THIS ARTIST’S LINK, except to say that the claims therein add up to a crock of shit.

If you get a chance, grab a copy of this week’s L.A. Alternative, as it features my interview with film director John Waters. I would link to it online, but it ain’t on line.

So if there is another 17 holiday parties scheduled, I might be at the breaking point, although the food has been pretty damn good at everywhere we are hitting to spread Holiday Cheer.

Family stuff kicks in Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday and then I get a little break, my xmas present is a little trip from the girlfriend. But laptop on vacation is mandatory. Lots of writing jobs. Why? Dunno. Don’t ask if the checks clear.

Here is the awesomest (so far) story of an internet sale gone awry .. at least as it leads to the protagonist tasting a little victory.

Join me running to be Time Magazine’s Person of the Year:

http://www.impoy.com/default.aspx?detail_id=18910

I’m old enough to recall when it was Man of the Year.