You Find Me: The Advice Round

Much like the recent Weird Facebook Ads, I will occasionally write a routine post after I check my stats and see who is visiting FitC and what brought them here. Previous searches are here, here, and these two here. Today's round is dedicated to those looking to FitC for advice. I'm sorry that I am your source for wise counsel, but I'll do my best at supplying the advice you seek.


1.) DO NOT DO THIS.

FitC advice: Do not do this. This is not a Thing. This will only result in pain and chaffing and, if mixed with vinegar, a penis volcano. Contrary to how cool that sounds, it is not sexy nor comfortable. Nobody wants that for you.


2.) Not Even Close

FitC advice: Well. If you would like to donate funds to make FitC into Dan Feuerriegel's Wikipedia, there's a PayPal button to your right. It will take a few million, so have at it. Dollars or Euros is fine by me. Looks like you get the star for this round.

Other than that, I don't think FitC is quite what you're looking for. (How do you feel about David Bowie? Yes? No? Come for the Dan, stay for the Bowie?) Anyway, here's his Twitter: https://twitter.com/DgFeuerriegel


3.) If I Had It, I Would Share It

FitC advice: Call Iman. She's got the goods.


4.) Are You Asking?

FitC advice: Does Daniel Feuerriegel have a girlfriend? I don't know. Or is this Dan Feuerriegel looking for a girlfriend? Well, alright, Danny-boy. Since you asked in such a round-about way, yes. I'll be your girlfriend. I'm sure my husband won't mind. Do you like David Bowie? You do now.

This image totally does not belong to me. Found via every Dan tumblr in existence.

I spelled your name right multiple times. In Internet terms, that probably means we've reached first base. Your move, Dan.


5.) Magical

FitC advice: Is this real? A whole shop devoted to nothing but BOWIE?! Where is this magical place? Take me there. Like Narnia. I will hop in any wardrobe for Bowie.

I want to go to there.

If it's not real, my advice is for everyone to empty out their piggy banks and we'll open a Bowie shop ourselves. AshleyISee has already named it Bowie's Boudoir. Let's do this.

The Integral Bowie Swag Post

In case you haven't noticed, my kittens, I have a wee, teeny-tiny, slight thing for DAVID BOWIE. Pause for gasps. Yes, it's true. And I have amassed a few items with Bowie's lovely face on them over the years that I would like to brag flaunt fuck yeah lookit all my sweet Bowie shit share with you.

The first Bowie Swag Posting comes to us courtesy of the irreplaceable Ashley (I See). Sent straight from London and from the heart, these were purchased at the current exhibit, David Bowie Is, at the Victoria and Albert Museum. You have until August to sell your kidney and visit London to attend. (Sell both and buy me a ticket too?)

As seen in this sadly blurry photo (like holy relics and alien encounters, the mysterious rarely allows itself to be photographed clearly), Ashley sent me a Ziggy Stardust mask/card, a lovely postcard, and a Bowie paper doll book, Bowie Paper Doll The Best Dress-Up Fun You'll Have With A Pair Of Scissors! (And a sweet heart drawn on the envelope, just because.) Let's look inside, shall we?

That's not a glare, that's DAVID BOWIE'S penis shining. Even when made of paper, ethereal BOWIE peen cannot be contained.

David Bowie doesn't NEED two pants legs, mugglefuckers. Two legs are for plebes, humans, and mortals. David Bowie wears what he wants.

Lest we forget that this is a published book available for purchase in retail stores (and does not contain a magical doll that will come to life if placed in a cupboard overnight), this disingenuous figure features Bowie in briefs. I will never be convinced that guitar-playing Ziggy from Mars went anything but commando.

Why Don't You ...

This past week, I had my very first food story as the section lead in the local alt weekly paper. It's a personal stepping stone for me, because I never really write about food or music for pay. I've written about restaurants and interviewed chefs, but I've never had a lead story or written about the actual food itself. I never really wanted to. I still never want to have to write about music. Musicians, sure. And occasionally, here on this space, I've waxed poetic about pop stars. Once, I managed to become inspired enough to even break down a song and write a post on it. (Hello, Lady Gaga!) I unabashedly love pop music and musicals and never-heard-of-thems, but I don't want to write about them.

If it's not in your blood to enjoy every aspect of working with something, it quickly sours. That's why some hobbies can't translate into paying work. Writing is something I am good at and love to do, so I sweat it out and still enjoy it. But when it comes to music, it is the one area, the one subject, in my life that I can turn off my brain and just enjoy.  I like it, because I don't have to think about it. No analyzing beats, no dissecting lyrics, no questioning motives. No digging out the Five Ws. No reviewing. Listen, enjoy, repeat. This isn't to say I do not recognize problematic lyrics or artists, or will listen to just anything. But since I do not have any ambition to write about music, or to be a music reviewer, or a singer, a songwriter, or to learn a new instrument or critique musical arrangements, I am free to be dumb and listen to things that make me happy or invoke nostalgia or make me cry. It's freeing. I loathe to give it up. A good, tasty meal has the same effect. It's why I steer clear of penning Yelp reviews and why I do not share recipes on my blog. But after this past week, I think it's time. So food, sure. I'm taking the step and adding it to my list of things I can write about. Music is still a no. It's still mine.

So, why don't I write about David Bowie's new album? That's between me and him.

A Few Things That Have Happened Lately

•  Yesterday I wrote that I wouldn't be writing this week. Humans are creatures of multiple contradictions. Looks like I'm blogging after all!

• If you follow me on my personal Twitter, you'll know I'm somewhat obsessed with the TV show Spartacus ending, and if I was a true Internet writer worth my salt I would have already written at least 20 feminist critiques and analyzed the show and its nuanced performances of gender reflected in hyper masculinity and the blatant examples of the failings of a patriarchal society but then I open up this picture of Dan Feuerriegel in a tub and I'm just like, hi. Um, hi.





Source: Coffee-table book In The Tub by TJ Scott, available at Kickstarter.



I mean, I just, what. I can't. With this. Abs. Seriously. Hi.*


I sincerely hope that there is another writer out there in the wilds of the Internet who can entertainingly dissect this show with a critical and informative lens the same way other shows like Game of Thrones and The Walking Dead are constantly dissected. I'm sorry it's not going to be me. Because, yeah.

• Bullet lists are still a thing at FitC. And everywhere else on the entire Internet for the rest of history.

• According to collective cross-over pop culture and literary knowledge, Hemingway stood at his dresser to write. A few of my colleagues praise the stand-n-write mode. Me? I dunno. I'm trying it now, safely away from prying eyes in my bedroom, and it makes me feel silly. But I can step away to pace, which I frequently get up to do when writing anyway, so I suppose it erases the whole push-away-from-the-desk-in-my-chair-to-stand step in my writing?

• There's a pond near my house with a pair of Canadian geese, and recently one goose got too close to the road and was hit by a car. And everyday this week I've driven by and seen the lone mate near its fallen friend and my heart breaks a little each time in ways that I never knew it capable of breaking for a small, mourning goose.

• I'm so sorry for that last bullet point. I know. I know!

• Here's some crocheted bunnies I have made. They are all going to good homes.
  






It's true what they say about bunnies. I left them alone and boom! Room full.

• If you're wondering why March has fewer posts than February and January, may I remind you that David Bowie has a new album to listen to? That's why.

• A Thing I wrote today: This week I am working temp in an office and writing two stories. After being unemployed for so long it's so much activity. It's like, WHOA whoa there. All this activity. Shouldn't we be taking a nap or something? I mean, isn't it time for a TV marathon break in this office? No? Man.

• I wasn't even going to blog this week. I blame Dan Feuerriegel.

*If you want to follow me on my non-anonymous personal Twitter, drop me a line and we'll continue this intelligent discussion.

Whoops, I Have A Blog!

Natalie.
Natalie. What are you doing?
Natalie, are you drunk? You have a blog, remember? Flaneur in the City? It's waiting for you. Readers are waiting for you. You beg them to follow you and then you abandon your blog for days at a time. Your To-Do List from this time last year has not changed. It reads: BLOG. Hello? Natalie?

Yeah, sorry about that. But! I have some ideas? And I'll share them here? I promise? I promise. When I have other writing projects around that pay me for my time, poor FitC becomes neglected. I can only promise to do my best and try harder, because you all? Y'all are wonderful for visiting my little corner of the Internet.

For real, I love you all and hope your day of red and pink hearts went well. Sorry about my brain not remembering to blog!

Here's David Bowie, to make up for it.

See? Even when FitC is flaky, Bowie still loves you.

A Different Kind Of Love Song

My darling Ashley (I See!) sent me a Jane Austen scarf for my birthday last month, and she is featuring it on her blog today. It's basically one of many love letters I write to Ash, turned blog post.

Once upon a time, if you had sat me down and told me one of my best friends on this planet was going to be a blonde sorority girl who was obsessed with Southern vampires, I would have never believed you. Because, 1.) I wasn't too keen on the whole Greek system in universities, and I usually had very little in common with the girls who joined and 2.) The only true Southern vampire is Lestat, thankyouverymuch. But when Ashley and I met at a graduate meet-n-greet at the Southlands bar at Roehampton University, it wasn't just friendship. It was fate.

In fact, it was fated from the moment I was preparing to leave for London. You see, when I get a little tipsy, I tend to talk about one subject in particular. Any guesses?

(The answer is always David Bowie.)

And if you get me flat-out drunk, I'll most likely start on about The Man Who Fell To Earth. Which caused this exchange between Mr. B and me before I left for London: True Story. (If you don't click the link, here's a hint: It's about David Bowie's penis.)

At the graduate meet-n-greet, Ashley and I were sitting next to each other after a few glasses of free wine. The evening was winding down, and most of the other students and future friends had already left for the night. We were both a bit buzzed; me in my black high-heeled boots that were pinching my feet and this blonde whirlwind of energy who spoke a mile a minute and who, when she smiled, seemed to be smiling with the whole of her body -- a genuine, heart-on-her-sleeve smile that was a mini flaming sun.

When we became friends, it was instant. It took two little words to unlock a beautiful, bickering, blessed friendship that gave me a sister-in-arms and fellow flaneur.

"So." I spoke, my mouth soft with wine, "Do you like David Bowie?"

You know the rest.

Artistic representation of Ashley and me.

In Bossypants, Tine Fey has a chapter titled, "I Don't Care If You Like It (One in a series of love letters to Amy Poehler)" that opens this way (thanks, Google Books!):

“Amy Poehler was new to SNL and we were all crowded into the seventeenth-floor writers’ room, waiting for the Wednesday read-through to start. There were always a lot of noisy ‘comedy bits’ going on in that room. Amy was in the middle of some such nonsense with Seth Meyers across the table, and she did something vulgar as a joke. I can’t remember what it was exactly, except that it was dirty and loud and 'unladylike.'

Jimmy Fallon, who was arguably the star of the show at the time, turned to her and in a faux-squeamish voice said, 'Stop that! It’s not cute! I don’t like it!'

Amy dropped what she was doing, went black in the eyes for a second, and wheeled around on him.

'I don’t fucking care if you like it.' Jimmy was visibly startled. Amy went right back to enjoying her ridiculous bit.”

Tina Fey and Amy Poehler's relationship is one that envied until I met own little blonde dynamo. One who is brave and sweet and will look a jerk in the eye and give them the hell they deserve.  One who, despite my being a bit older, I kinda want to be when I grow up. That's my Ashley.

I've mentioned before that I was lonely in my youth, and one of the most surprising things about adulthood are the friendships I have made that would have caused Teenage-Me to cry with joy. It's my only "It Gets Better" moment: As an adult I have made many real, true, honest, life-long, loved friends that I can't possibly deserve but somehow have. And I am so, so thankful for each and every one of you.

Once upon a time, a loud, Southern, feminist brunette and a blonde, Northwestern, sorority girl met in a bar. And became friends for life.

"Let's go on an adventure!" Ashley and Natalie ride a magic turtle.

Today in David Bowie

Today is David Bowie's birthday, and because he loves us, he gave us all a gift. A new single on the 66th anniversary of his first day on earth. Everyone! Leave work, pay alms, rejoice. It's a world holiday.

(Also, I learned a very valuable lesson this morning. I've been up since 9, but I avoided going online all morning in an effort to spend less time on the web and more time active. And what happens? A new DAVID BOWIE single is released. NEVER AGAIN. COMPUTER ON 4EVER.) 

Important Announcements

1.) There are only 2 sleeps until Christmas!

2.) As such, FitC will be a little bare this week. Unless I'm really inspired by something, there probably won't be a Weekly pic or a Friday Quote. Hope y'all don't mind!

3.) No, for real though, Christmas is the day after tomorrow!

In preparation, I've made Dulce De Leche candy, Banana Nut Bread and Peppermint Bark. All my Christmas treats involve a Ziploc bag and a hammer (crushed candy canes for Bark and crushed pecans for candy and bread), because I like to play Thor when I bake. All will be given as gifts and eaten on Christmas day, with a nice cuppa coffee or tea. What are your plans this week? I hope they are equal parts tasty and fantastic!

4.) It's not Christmas for me until this happens:

(To be fair, most of my major holidays involve David Bowie.) 

Happy Holidays, my fellow flâneurs! I'm sending love and good wishes to each and every one of you!

You Find Me

Every so often I check my blog's stats to see how people came to FitC. Here are 10 things Google believes FitC is about, accurate or not.

1.) Dirty Cat:

Bagheera is not amused.

 Despite the "FUN" arrows, Bagheera is not having any of your shenanigans.

2.) Serious Research:

Do your own homework. Don't copy mine.

3.) Pervy Fangirls:

You. You GTFO. Now. Because I don't know whether to be offended or turned on.

4.) Do What Now?

I don't know what you want. You want David Bowie? Here's some David Bowie.

When in doubt, you can never go wrong with David Bowie.

Serious Music Discussion, Part II

Jamie 2:50 PM to Natalie:
On April 21, aka National Record Store Day, special editions of David Bowie's "Starman" will be sold.

Natalie 2:55 PM to Jamie:
And on April 22, aka National Natalie Screams Day, special editions of David Bowie's "Starman" will be in my pants.

David Bowie, Starman, 1972

How to Get Blog Hits, FitC Style

I'm not a successful blogger by any means (I'd never win America's Next Top Blogger, no matter how often Tyra Banks told me to use SEO phrases and smile with my eyes) but here are a few things I've learned from having Flâneur in the City these past few years. Follow my lead and you too can have tens of blog hits from people who aren't even related to you! Tens, I tell you!

1.) Katy Perry's boobs. Never mind the feminist critique that accompanies the photo of KP's candy cleavage and the clear preference for Lady Gaga. Pictures! Boobs!

Lesson: Pop stars can be used to teach anything. Feminism, economics, quantum physics. If you're writing about a subject that isn't spicy enough to draw in readers who aren't your friends and family, throw in some pop stars.

Two for the price of one!

2.) Backstreet Boys! Clearly I underestimated the draw. The 1990s are alive and well in the hearts of Internet users and damn it they will have their Backstreet's Back, all right!

Lesson: Nostalgia = Blog hits.

3.) Quotation marks around the phrase "David Bowie's Penis." There's half my Google hits right there.

Lesson: This lesson really only applies to FitC. But if you have a celeb (or author or musician or congresswoman, but not a real person in your life) you love, write about him/her. Avoid being creepy about it. There's a difference between jest and stalking. And if there's one thing I am absolutely certain of is that everyone loves David Bowie and his spider from Mars.

4.) Obscure hits come from the phrase "fishing lures London." One photo of shining fishing lures near South Kensington mean a few readers have found FitC in hopes of improving their fishing. Sorry, mates.

Lesson: The more obscure, the better. Any topic you know that no one else knows? Write about it. And use keywords that pertain to the subject. Frequently, but not obnoxiously.

5.) Friends with blogs. A lot of my hits come from Shakesville and Feministe; both sport open forums that encourage readers to share what they've been bloggity-blogging about. When I write something related to social justice, feminism, politics, or 90s pop stars, I share. I have a whole Reading List of blogs and sites that I am in touch with, and I want to add more.

Lesson: Make friends with benefits! Also with blogs.

Today in David Bowie

My beleaguered starshine DAVID BOWIE is on the cover of Rolling Stone for the month of February.

The sample of the article touches on the cray-cray-crazy drug-fueled Bowie rather than his music. Let's hope that's to drive up print sales and the actual article covers his myriad musical stylings. In short: Drugs are bad, and Dear Bowie Boy knows it.

If you really want to know how Bodacious Bowie changed the world, ask his listeners. Especially the fangirls (yours truly included).

You Find Me

Come on over!

Every once in awhile, I look at my blog stats to see where I am getting my unique web hits from. Most of my referring sites are variations of Google, and the majority of those searches are for Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. (Y'all love the Katy and Lady, apparently!)

But occasionally, I will find a few phrases in the Search Keywords stats that sum up my blog in perfect snippets. You are in the right place if you found FitC via these searches.

Image reads: "hot to be a flaneur"

Yes. Yes, it is hot to be a flâneur.
My flâneuring brings all the boys to the yard.

Image reads: "flaneur bowie"

This is how you find Flâneur in the City. Type DAVID BOWIE into your search engine of choice. If you can remember the correct spelling, type flaneur. If you can't remember the correct spelling of flaneur, type DAVID BOWIE again. And you are here. This is pretty much all FitC is about. Occasional flaneuring, occasional writing, DAVID muggle-lovin' BOWIE.

(And David Bowie? He is the perfect flâneur.)

Image reads: "david bowie vegetarian" and "london penis tower."

String these together in one phrase: "david bowie vegetarian london penis tower." That could almost be my blog's "About Me." Drop the "tower," though. Maybe add coffee?  "Reading between the lines of pavement cracks and pop culture? No, FitC is: david bowie vegetarian london penis coffee."

If you do need towers, go read The Broship of the Rings posts on GingerHaze's page and wait for the tower references there? Hipster Hobbits love Starbucks, FitC loves coffee, so it's all cyclical.

Venti coffees and pints of beer are both beautiful things that hobbits and I love.

In Which I Am The Pride Of My Alma Mater

I'm sure this is what Roehampton University had in mind when they planned for search engine optimization.

One of these things is not like the other.

(In all seriousness, two things in life that I love unflinchingly are David Bowie and Roehampton University. Both have brought me great joy, great tears and great hours of reflection. If you participate in any activity involving these two topics you are very lucky indeed.)

Your Kind Are Not Welcome Here

There is NO SUCH THING. 

I am not a judgmental person. I listen to all opinions and respect your right to them. I am kind and loving, and will welcome anyone to my blog who is respectful to the space.

But this?

Finding my blog through a search for "ugly pictures of david bowie?"

Get the fuck out.

David Motherlovin' Bowie is as hot as the hell you will burn in for even daring to suggest such a thing.

This man is sex incarnate.

Instant orgasm. 

That is all.

Photographic Evidence

Remember how I mentioned in my Seven Links post that half of my traffic was from the phrase "katy perry boobs"? Wasn't kidding:

The week so far. It's only Monday!

 Seriously, Internet. You can stop now. There is no actual nudity on FitC. (Talk, yes. Actual, no.)

And I can only hope that one of the searches for David Bowie's penis is actually from Mr. Bowie himself. (Hopefully one that used a proper apostrophe.)

Blogger Bummers

As you may have noticed, FitC's platform Blogger has been on the fritz for a couple of days now. A few posts disappeared, but since I was out of commission most of the week, there wasn't much to miss.

Blogger Buzz has this to say:

"Here’s what happened: during scheduled maintenance work Wednesday night, we experienced some data corruption that impacted Blogger’s behavior. Since then, bloggers and readers may have experienced a variety of anomalies including intermittent outages, disappearing posts, and arriving at unintended blogs or error pages. A small subset of Blogger users (we estimate 0.16%) may have encountered additional problems specific to their accounts. Yesterday we returned Blogger to a pre-maintenance state and placed the service in read-only mode while we worked on restoring all content: that’s why you haven’t been able to publish.  We rolled back to a version of Blogger as of Wednesday May 11th, so your posts since then were temporarily removed. Those are the posts that we’re in the progress of restoring."

Hopefully all is well again, and FitC will be back in top form next week. Overall, Blogger has been good to me, and I will continue to use and support it.

Now, back to our regularly scheduled David Bowie lust:

In Sickness and In Hell

The best friend to the American cold and flu.

DayQuil, nausea and sinus pressure mean little to no blog productivity. Sorry, friends.

FitC will resume its normal ramblings when I can breath again. Weekly Flâneur and Friday QuoteDay are a-go, but until the fever dreams revel something interesting, I'm on sick leave.

Here's David Bowie talking/singing to a 5-year-old. I love you all.

Trying To Tell Me Something?

(Image: Search Keywords: "flaneur-in-the-city.blogspot.com" and "lick my face")

Evidently, Googling "lick my face," leads one right to FitC.

Whelp! I aim to please!

(Gabrielle licking Xena's face in Devi.)

Today in DAVID BOWIE

The bread-n-butter of my blog, BOWIE, has been sadly absence these past few weeks! Let's remedy that, shall we?

* A new live BOWIE album is being released in April. Grain of salt though: It's not Bowie-camp sanctioned. (Consider buying some of his classic stuff, if you don't own it all already.)

* If you cannot wait until April for newish BOWIE, an illegal! leaked! bootlegged! copy of an unreleased album from the early 2000's is online today. Ahem. Not that you would illegally download anything.

* BOWIE fan site FuckYeahDavidBowie posted this info today: How to get in contact with BOWIE. It's pointless to try to contact him this week though, because he'll probably be very busy filling out multiple restraining orders and changing the locks on his door. Not all is lost. I'm sure I can still slide love letters underneath the door. 

Probably while wearing this shirt.

Sorry, Mom.

Because nothing says, "OHMIGOSHILoveYouDavidBowie!" like a silk-screened image of your bulge on my boobs.