Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
life imitating art imitating life.
i think i'm becoming a character from one of my screenplays. which is a strange thing to say since that character's creation was heavily influenced by parts of me.
today i was walking back to my office after lunch and suddenly became a bit dizzy. my vision shifted to that weird mode where everything looks glossy and starts to stretch (something that used to frequently happen to me as a child while waiting early mornings at the bustop. just me, no one else around, standing there, staring out at McQuistion Road, which would slowly and subtly start to "stretch," causing the other side of the road [where my brother once fell into a hole after getting off the bus -- now that's a story] to move further and further away from me. then i'd rapidly shake my head [like a shaggy dog? yikes!] and everything would snap back to "normal." [another thing that happens to me -- more frequently as a child, very rare as an adult {"adult" -- ha!}, but actually just happened a few days ago -- is that i will get "locked" into a stare, where for a moment or two i cannot break my gaze and become completely frozen. it appears as if i'm gazing intently at something {almost always an inanimate object or scene} but in reality, i'm not looking at anything solid -- i'm actually focused on a random, fixed point in space, aware of all the solid items around it like one would be aware of something out of the corner of one's eye. it's hard to explain, easier if you've experienced it. when it happens, i can hear people if they're speaking, but have difficultly responding until it's over. it's weird, but like i said, it doesn't happen that much anymore.]), and then it felt like i had tunnelvision. i kept walking, feeling very light on my feet and in my head.
note: i didn't draw this picture, but another guy named "michael" did.
strange things began happening. first, i started crossing the street and almost got hit by an old couple with a handi-capped placard hanging from their rearviewmirror. as they sped towards me, i noticed their trunk was open -- not just a little bit, but the whole way. when they passed, barely missing me, i expected to see something large, maybe a christmas tree ('tis the season...), that would account for the open trunk, but there was nothing. the trunk was empty.
as i continued down the sidewalk, a car quickly pulled up in front of the starbucks i was cautiously making my way past. a middle-aged asian woman got out and slammed her door. i was about to comment to her that she was parked in a red zone (the ENTIRE BLOCK is red, and yet she parked there), but then noticed she was wandering toward me like a zombie. i high-tailed it out of there.
it's about 3 hours later. i still feel a little weird. what could this be? am i turning into one of my fictional creations? am i experiencing some physical and/or mental anomaly? or was it just a result of getting the double-sauced meatloaf at boston market?
i'm curious to see how this will pan out. on the upside, if i start becoming more like the character, then i'll have more experiences to add to the script. on the downside, the script doesn't exactly have a "happy" ending. we shall see...
today i was walking back to my office after lunch and suddenly became a bit dizzy. my vision shifted to that weird mode where everything looks glossy and starts to stretch (something that used to frequently happen to me as a child while waiting early mornings at the bustop. just me, no one else around, standing there, staring out at McQuistion Road, which would slowly and subtly start to "stretch," causing the other side of the road [where my brother once fell into a hole after getting off the bus -- now that's a story] to move further and further away from me. then i'd rapidly shake my head [like a shaggy dog? yikes!] and everything would snap back to "normal." [another thing that happens to me -- more frequently as a child, very rare as an adult {"adult" -- ha!}, but actually just happened a few days ago -- is that i will get "locked" into a stare, where for a moment or two i cannot break my gaze and become completely frozen. it appears as if i'm gazing intently at something {almost always an inanimate object or scene} but in reality, i'm not looking at anything solid -- i'm actually focused on a random, fixed point in space, aware of all the solid items around it like one would be aware of something out of the corner of one's eye. it's hard to explain, easier if you've experienced it. when it happens, i can hear people if they're speaking, but have difficultly responding until it's over. it's weird, but like i said, it doesn't happen that much anymore.]), and then it felt like i had tunnelvision. i kept walking, feeling very light on my feet and in my head.
note: i didn't draw this picture, but another guy named "michael" did.
strange things began happening. first, i started crossing the street and almost got hit by an old couple with a handi-capped placard hanging from their rearviewmirror. as they sped towards me, i noticed their trunk was open -- not just a little bit, but the whole way. when they passed, barely missing me, i expected to see something large, maybe a christmas tree ('tis the season...), that would account for the open trunk, but there was nothing. the trunk was empty.
as i continued down the sidewalk, a car quickly pulled up in front of the starbucks i was cautiously making my way past. a middle-aged asian woman got out and slammed her door. i was about to comment to her that she was parked in a red zone (the ENTIRE BLOCK is red, and yet she parked there), but then noticed she was wandering toward me like a zombie. i high-tailed it out of there.
it's about 3 hours later. i still feel a little weird. what could this be? am i turning into one of my fictional creations? am i experiencing some physical and/or mental anomaly? or was it just a result of getting the double-sauced meatloaf at boston market?
i'm curious to see how this will pan out. on the upside, if i start becoming more like the character, then i'll have more experiences to add to the script. on the downside, the script doesn't exactly have a "happy" ending. we shall see...
Monday, November 20, 2006
never trust a witch.
i've said it before. and i'll say it again: NEVER trust a witch!
they come on all sweet and sexy. they get you under their spell.
but the next thing you know...
and that's not even the worst part. trust me.
speaking of witches, our worst fears have been realized. there's witchcraft afoot, and it goes all the way to the top:
i believe somewhere nostradamus wrote: when the bull emperor and the bear king don the totally gay robes of witches in the far east, basically we're all fucked.
they come on all sweet and sexy. they get you under their spell.
but the next thing you know...
and that's not even the worst part. trust me.
speaking of witches, our worst fears have been realized. there's witchcraft afoot, and it goes all the way to the top:
i believe somewhere nostradamus wrote: when the bull emperor and the bear king don the totally gay robes of witches in the far east, basically we're all fucked.
Thursday, October 26, 2006
irish quesadillas.
okay, yeah, so this is going to sound a lot like an episode of "curb your enthusiasm," but today i was walking back from lunch at timmy nolan's on riverside (notorious for its horrible service [though today wasn't bad] and to which i only go because it's the closest bar to my office) and i came across a homeless man. not just any homeless man, mind you. no, it was none other than guitar man.
i have a long, storied history with guitar man (he's called "guitar man" because he carries an electric guitar gig bag over his shoulder [actually, not any more. i don't know what happened to the bag. now he flies solo]. i used to theorize what was in that bag. everything from candy canes to a million dollar bills to tiny pieces of dead children...) that stretches over the last 5 years (oh, by the way, WOW. i just realized today is my 5 YEAR anniversary working this damned job in television. huzzah.) he's probably the only person that's been hanging around riverside drive longer than me (though there was a period of time that he was thought to be dead. maybe about a year. he just wasn't around. i don't know where he went. and once i saw him walking up laurel canyon from the west hollywood side). i guess. maybe not. other key things to know about guitar man are that he smokes, he sometimes stares at women walking up the street, and he's very dirty. and sometimes he gets haircuts. anyway, ever since my first day of work five years ago, i've come into contact with him many, many times, but have never spoken to him until today.
so i was walking back from timmy nolan's with three pieces of my chicken quesadilla (i know what you're saying. "quesadilla from a irish pub? wtf, man?!" but trust me, it's one of the best things on the menu...), and guitar man suddenly appeared on the grass between the sidewalk and the street (which supports my theory that many hobos [that's right, i said "hobos"] are actually the devil in disguise, able to shape-shift and bend the laws of physics at will [the wild eyes are another dead giveaway]...), kind of just staring into space, so i offered him my leftovers. it kind of went down like this:
me (extends arm to offer the styrofoam box to guitar man): hey man, do you want some quesadilla?
guitar man (abruptly, cutting me off): no. (explodes into the biggest sneeze possible, barely missing said styrofoam box and said arm)
huh? are things so fucked up in this post-9/11 world that there are hobos in the streets turning down free food? after years of eating rats and dirt, have their palettes become that sophisticated? look, i don't make the most money in the world, but i'm nowhere near homeless. and yet if someone offered me a free quesadilla, well, i'd at least take a moment or two to consider the offer.
and i used to feel bad for this guy. holes in his shoes, sleeping in the post office lobby, smoking women's lipstick-caked cigarette butts. i can tell you one thing: if he dies from starvation the blood's not on my hands.
i guess the terrorists have already won.
or maybe not. maybe los angeles hobos just have spoiled palettes. because this all reminded me of a time, many many years ago, when i was walking back to the u.s.c. campus from the trashy 32 market across the street at university village, and a homel-- i'm sorry, a hobo-- approached me asking for change. being a starving blue-collar student at a university largely filled with trust-fund babies, i honesty didn't have any money to spare. but i did have a roll of powdered mini donuts i was eating, and i offered them to him. this one went down like so:
hobo: do you have any change?
me: sorry, man. but hey, do you want some donuts?
hobo (in complete disgust): dammmmn, I don't want no DONUT!
yes, what you're reading is true: the fact that i offered the man a mini powdered donut enraged him so much that he actually slipped and used a double negative.
so maybe it's not the jihad. maybe it's just me.
i have a long, storied history with guitar man (he's called "guitar man" because he carries an electric guitar gig bag over his shoulder [actually, not any more. i don't know what happened to the bag. now he flies solo]. i used to theorize what was in that bag. everything from candy canes to a million dollar bills to tiny pieces of dead children...) that stretches over the last 5 years (oh, by the way, WOW. i just realized today is my 5 YEAR anniversary working this damned job in television. huzzah.) he's probably the only person that's been hanging around riverside drive longer than me (though there was a period of time that he was thought to be dead. maybe about a year. he just wasn't around. i don't know where he went. and once i saw him walking up laurel canyon from the west hollywood side). i guess. maybe not. other key things to know about guitar man are that he smokes, he sometimes stares at women walking up the street, and he's very dirty. and sometimes he gets haircuts. anyway, ever since my first day of work five years ago, i've come into contact with him many, many times, but have never spoken to him until today.
so i was walking back from timmy nolan's with three pieces of my chicken quesadilla (i know what you're saying. "quesadilla from a irish pub? wtf, man?!" but trust me, it's one of the best things on the menu...), and guitar man suddenly appeared on the grass between the sidewalk and the street (which supports my theory that many hobos [that's right, i said "hobos"] are actually the devil in disguise, able to shape-shift and bend the laws of physics at will [the wild eyes are another dead giveaway]...), kind of just staring into space, so i offered him my leftovers. it kind of went down like this:
me (extends arm to offer the styrofoam box to guitar man): hey man, do you want some quesadilla?
guitar man (abruptly, cutting me off): no. (explodes into the biggest sneeze possible, barely missing said styrofoam box and said arm)
huh? are things so fucked up in this post-9/11 world that there are hobos in the streets turning down free food? after years of eating rats and dirt, have their palettes become that sophisticated? look, i don't make the most money in the world, but i'm nowhere near homeless. and yet if someone offered me a free quesadilla, well, i'd at least take a moment or two to consider the offer.
and i used to feel bad for this guy. holes in his shoes, sleeping in the post office lobby, smoking women's lipstick-caked cigarette butts. i can tell you one thing: if he dies from starvation the blood's not on my hands.
i guess the terrorists have already won.
or maybe not. maybe los angeles hobos just have spoiled palettes. because this all reminded me of a time, many many years ago, when i was walking back to the u.s.c. campus from the trashy 32 market across the street at university village, and a homel-- i'm sorry, a hobo-- approached me asking for change. being a starving blue-collar student at a university largely filled with trust-fund babies, i honesty didn't have any money to spare. but i did have a roll of powdered mini donuts i was eating, and i offered them to him. this one went down like so:
hobo: do you have any change?
me: sorry, man. but hey, do you want some donuts?
hobo (in complete disgust): dammmmn, I don't want no DONUT!
yes, what you're reading is true: the fact that i offered the man a mini powdered donut enraged him so much that he actually slipped and used a double negative.
so maybe it's not the jihad. maybe it's just me.
Monday, October 16, 2006
trapped by aids.
i try not to do this too often on here, but i want to get serious for a second. do i have your undivided attention? good.
you may not realize this because it's not the 80s anymore, but aids is actually still a pretty big gosh darn deal. and while thousands of starving africans that are in africa starving are getting aids everyday, it's not just a problem on a world scale. no sir-ee bob. it effects us on a national, statewide, and local level. hey, let's bring it in a little closer to home... my home.
every year in october, on a non-descript, unassuming sunday morning like yesterday, i get trapped in my apartment by aids. from about 10 a.m. to noon-ish. and let me tell you, it's a horrible experience. because every year i manage to forget it's coming, so i'm totally unprepared. i usually end up going out the night before and getting tanked, then going to bed around 2 a.m., only to be awakened four hours later by deafening cheers coming from melrose. then the dog gets all antsy and i have to take him out, only to have him go nuts when he sees all the people walking up the street. i'm not sure if he's just pissed that no one asked him to walk with them, or if he actually wants to kill all these strangers disrupting the flow of his neighborhood.
when i'm finally able to drag the dog back into my apartment, we both realize that there's no food (not even snacks!) and we're going to be stuck for another hour and forty-five minutes without breakfast. talk about starvin' in africa. yikes!
anyway, things always seem calm the day after, but i guarantee you that if we don't find a cure for aids within a year, the same thing will occur next october. we cannot let this happen again. we must not let this happen again. i don't think i could take another sunday morning being trapped by aids.
things as they are (the world with aids):
nothing in this world is free. not even aids. here is a link where you can donate some of your hard earned cash so we can end this horribly inconvenient epidemic once and for all. the donation goes through my friend emily. i think she won the race or something. anyway, yeah, the minimum is 25 bucks, but hey, that's like two beers and a movie on a friday night. five beers if you skip the movie. a small price to pay for ending the disruption to one sunday morning in october each year.
yes, yes, i know the race is over, but it's not too late to donate. it's never too late as long as aids is still out there, being all annoying and getting in my face and stuff. plus starving me, my dog, and the africans. together (or separately) we can beat aids.
the dream (a world without aids):
speaking of aids, apparently it originated in cats. here's a picture I found online of aids:
here's that same picture, magnified one trillion times:
you may not realize this because it's not the 80s anymore, but aids is actually still a pretty big gosh darn deal. and while thousands of starving africans that are in africa starving are getting aids everyday, it's not just a problem on a world scale. no sir-ee bob. it effects us on a national, statewide, and local level. hey, let's bring it in a little closer to home... my home.
every year in october, on a non-descript, unassuming sunday morning like yesterday, i get trapped in my apartment by aids. from about 10 a.m. to noon-ish. and let me tell you, it's a horrible experience. because every year i manage to forget it's coming, so i'm totally unprepared. i usually end up going out the night before and getting tanked, then going to bed around 2 a.m., only to be awakened four hours later by deafening cheers coming from melrose. then the dog gets all antsy and i have to take him out, only to have him go nuts when he sees all the people walking up the street. i'm not sure if he's just pissed that no one asked him to walk with them, or if he actually wants to kill all these strangers disrupting the flow of his neighborhood.
when i'm finally able to drag the dog back into my apartment, we both realize that there's no food (not even snacks!) and we're going to be stuck for another hour and forty-five minutes without breakfast. talk about starvin' in africa. yikes!
anyway, things always seem calm the day after, but i guarantee you that if we don't find a cure for aids within a year, the same thing will occur next october. we cannot let this happen again. we must not let this happen again. i don't think i could take another sunday morning being trapped by aids.
things as they are (the world with aids):
nothing in this world is free. not even aids. here is a link where you can donate some of your hard earned cash so we can end this horribly inconvenient epidemic once and for all. the donation goes through my friend emily. i think she won the race or something. anyway, yeah, the minimum is 25 bucks, but hey, that's like two beers and a movie on a friday night. five beers if you skip the movie. a small price to pay for ending the disruption to one sunday morning in october each year.
yes, yes, i know the race is over, but it's not too late to donate. it's never too late as long as aids is still out there, being all annoying and getting in my face and stuff. plus starving me, my dog, and the africans. together (or separately) we can beat aids.
the dream (a world without aids):
speaking of aids, apparently it originated in cats. here's a picture I found online of aids:
here's that same picture, magnified one trillion times:
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Thursday, September 14, 2006
what i need.
i usually don't participate in internet quiz-list-type-stuff, but this one was actually pretty good. bascially, the way it works is, type your name and the word "needs" into google search. make sure you use quotes. then you're supposed to write the first thing that comes up. for example, the person that sent this to me, lori, typed in "lori needs" -- with the quotes -- and she got the following:
lori needs to step out into the experiences of others and use that to make an attitude change.
of course, while my first one was interesting, i had to include the first 4 -- because the other three are priceless:
1) michael needs dependable adults in his life who will help him learn how to navigate peer relationships, champion him when it's merited, and act as his advocates with the school system so that he gets the services and specialized instruction that he needs.
2) michael needs photographs of both sides of the animal, in different positions.
3) michael needs a life without cock.
4) michael needs to learn that for every man there is a condom, and a good condom is one that a man does not even know is there.
but i think all of it can be summed up by what happened when i put in "mike needs:"
mike needs a date.
what do you need?
lori needs to step out into the experiences of others and use that to make an attitude change.
of course, while my first one was interesting, i had to include the first 4 -- because the other three are priceless:
1) michael needs dependable adults in his life who will help him learn how to navigate peer relationships, champion him when it's merited, and act as his advocates with the school system so that he gets the services and specialized instruction that he needs.
2) michael needs photographs of both sides of the animal, in different positions.
3) michael needs a life without cock.
4) michael needs to learn that for every man there is a condom, and a good condom is one that a man does not even know is there.
but i think all of it can be summed up by what happened when i put in "mike needs:"
mike needs a date.
what do you need?
Wednesday, September 6, 2006
caveman.
okay, you know how on gmail they'll put links at the top of the page based on whatever's in your e-mail (scary, huh? they're actually reading your e-mails to direct you somewhere on the net...) -- like for example, when i clicked on this one e-mail i had sent out about these 20-year-old twins in wisconsin who had seen a girl's picture in the obituary section of a local paper and decided they wanted to dig up her corpse so they could... um... (well, hey, at least they bought condoms at the walmart on the way to the cemetary -- they aren't TOTALLY stupid) a link to an article about emilio estevez getting engaged came up. anyway, yesterday for some reason a link to this page came up on my gmail:
How to Draw a Caveman.
go ahead, click on it. this is what you'll learn how to draw:
how the hell is that considered a caveman? just because he has a beard? i have a beard. just because his hairline is receding? my hairline is receding. just because he looks kind of stupid? i look kind of stupid. but none of this makes me a caveman. or does it? maybe i am a caveman. but to me, this drawing looks like a goddamned stoner-hippie. we all know that cavemen have super-long hair, furrowed brows, and accessories like clubs and giant cellphones.
now look, i'm not the greatest artist in the world, but i do some pretty damn good doodles. just ask anyone who's ever worked with me -- my note-taking skills during meetings are top notch. here's a sample:
i draw freaking GHOST RABBITS! they are awesome -- much more so than smiling grateful-dead idiots. and, up for the challenge, here is my quick drawing of a caveman:
not bad. it kinda looks like my dad as a caveman. better than the hippie one. not as good as this one, though:
captain caveman rules.
How to Draw a Caveman.
go ahead, click on it. this is what you'll learn how to draw:
how the hell is that considered a caveman? just because he has a beard? i have a beard. just because his hairline is receding? my hairline is receding. just because he looks kind of stupid? i look kind of stupid. but none of this makes me a caveman. or does it? maybe i am a caveman. but to me, this drawing looks like a goddamned stoner-hippie. we all know that cavemen have super-long hair, furrowed brows, and accessories like clubs and giant cellphones.
now look, i'm not the greatest artist in the world, but i do some pretty damn good doodles. just ask anyone who's ever worked with me -- my note-taking skills during meetings are top notch. here's a sample:
i draw freaking GHOST RABBITS! they are awesome -- much more so than smiling grateful-dead idiots. and, up for the challenge, here is my quick drawing of a caveman:
not bad. it kinda looks like my dad as a caveman. better than the hippie one. not as good as this one, though:
captain caveman rules.
Tuesday, September 5, 2006
the best video games in town.
i was feeling kind of down the past few days -- you know, the kind of feeling you get when all the cash you have is going towards this month's rent even though your car's brakes sound like the bones of infidels grinding in hell and it's embarrassing -- not to mention dangerous -- to drive and you should really get them fixed now but you still drive to ralphs at 9pm to turn in all your change at the coinstar so you can buy sliced turkey and bread to use for lunch all week.
but then i found this:
holy cow. i've watched this so many times today that i know every nuance, and my head might explode at this point. i even posted a comment on youtube for the first time ever -- just to let whoever made this know how brilliant they are. it kicked my ass out of the bullshit. i didn't spend the day sitting around moping, pretending to work -- no, i reclaimed my lust for life, my quest for knowledge, my creative drive.
with this reinvigorated sense of discovery and open-minded-ness, i was able to learn many things today. like for instance, i had NO IDEA that the lead singer of powerman 500 (or is it 5000?) is rob zombie's younger brother. and i also didn't know (but always had a strong suspicion that) i'm psychic (well, maybe not psychic, but a good reader of people -- a girl came into our office today, and everyone thought she was pretty hot. turns out she's a virgin, and as soon as i heard that i said "she's a mormon" and BAM... she's from utah! which probably means i'm right about someone else in the office having a raging coke habit...). and i always knew what a great song elvin bishop's "fooled around and fell in love" is, but never realized that i wish it had been my prom theme. and there was another thing i learned, but i forgot what that was.
thanks video game underground!
but then i found this:
holy cow. i've watched this so many times today that i know every nuance, and my head might explode at this point. i even posted a comment on youtube for the first time ever -- just to let whoever made this know how brilliant they are. it kicked my ass out of the bullshit. i didn't spend the day sitting around moping, pretending to work -- no, i reclaimed my lust for life, my quest for knowledge, my creative drive.
with this reinvigorated sense of discovery and open-minded-ness, i was able to learn many things today. like for instance, i had NO IDEA that the lead singer of powerman 500 (or is it 5000?) is rob zombie's younger brother. and i also didn't know (but always had a strong suspicion that) i'm psychic (well, maybe not psychic, but a good reader of people -- a girl came into our office today, and everyone thought she was pretty hot. turns out she's a virgin, and as soon as i heard that i said "she's a mormon" and BAM... she's from utah! which probably means i'm right about someone else in the office having a raging coke habit...). and i always knew what a great song elvin bishop's "fooled around and fell in love" is, but never realized that i wish it had been my prom theme. and there was another thing i learned, but i forgot what that was.
thanks video game underground!
crikey.
i never watched the crocodile man show, but i've felt it's presence for the past, what, 20 years it's been on the television. and, yes, it's a shame when anyone dies (except for bob hope), so i certainly offer my condolences to the aussies -- besides fosters beer and crocodile dundee, they didn't have much going for them. if you think about it, crocodile man was the real-life crocodile dundee. something that probably pissed paul hogan off to no end. in fact, has anyone thought of questioning the stingray? perhaps there's foul play afoot.
at any rate, all mourning aside, while i personally think it's great that the crocodile man died doing what he loves (i.e. getting attacked by wild animals), i must say that, in my book, this goes down as one of the douchiest deaths ever. it ranks up there with sonny bono skiing into a tree (and worse than that was when michael kennedy died shortly after him in the same manner. who's that, you ask? EXACTLY. there's nothing worse than copying a douche-y death. especially when your only claim to fame is being the son of bobby kennedy. and the sixth son out of eleven, making us all care even less. the cries for help were there -- a few months before he died, news broke that m-k was banging his family's babysitter. while she was underage. and she was totally down with it -- she wouldn't cooperate with the authorities to file charges. that's cool and all, but dude, if you're going to die a douche-y death, make it fucking original.). i mean, seriously, he's the fucking CROCODILE MAN -- he should've been killed fist-fighting a dragon or something. instead, he's stung by this jack-ass:
hmmm... guess he does look pretty vicious. anyway, rest in peace, crocodile man. the animal kingdom can now give a collective sigh of relief.
UPDATE:
after posting this, i did a little research and discovered that michael kennedy actually died from skiing into the tree a month BEFORE sonny bono did. my bad. actually, the more i sit with it all, the cooler m-k seems. considering the babysitter thing and all. and that makes sonny the copy-cat-douche-y-death. no wonder he couldn't keep cher satisfied...
at any rate, all mourning aside, while i personally think it's great that the crocodile man died doing what he loves (i.e. getting attacked by wild animals), i must say that, in my book, this goes down as one of the douchiest deaths ever. it ranks up there with sonny bono skiing into a tree (and worse than that was when michael kennedy died shortly after him in the same manner. who's that, you ask? EXACTLY. there's nothing worse than copying a douche-y death. especially when your only claim to fame is being the son of bobby kennedy. and the sixth son out of eleven, making us all care even less. the cries for help were there -- a few months before he died, news broke that m-k was banging his family's babysitter. while she was underage. and she was totally down with it -- she wouldn't cooperate with the authorities to file charges. that's cool and all, but dude, if you're going to die a douche-y death, make it fucking original.). i mean, seriously, he's the fucking CROCODILE MAN -- he should've been killed fist-fighting a dragon or something. instead, he's stung by this jack-ass:
hmmm... guess he does look pretty vicious. anyway, rest in peace, crocodile man. the animal kingdom can now give a collective sigh of relief.
UPDATE:
after posting this, i did a little research and discovered that michael kennedy actually died from skiing into the tree a month BEFORE sonny bono did. my bad. actually, the more i sit with it all, the cooler m-k seems. considering the babysitter thing and all. and that makes sonny the copy-cat-douche-y-death. no wonder he couldn't keep cher satisfied...
Thursday, August 31, 2006
work.
i was flipping through my notepad at work today and found this undated page of notes from a meeting.
i'm not sure exactly what it refers to, but it could be just about everything.
i'm not sure exactly what it refers to, but it could be just about everything.
Tuesday, August 1, 2006
shock and awe.
first off, i don't know how many other people have to go through this, but i am SO finished with this damned burbank-to-hollywood commute. last night it took me an hour to drive about seven miles. it's ridiculous. and i guess it's just another thing to add to a long, long list i'm compiling. change needs to happen soon.
because of this drive, and late work hours, i ended up missing the first 20 minutes of crosby, stills, nash, and young last night at the hollywood bowl. which means, since the setlists each night seem pretty much the same, that i missed seeing neil young and stephen stills jam out to my favorite CSNY song, "carry on." and i'll probably never get the chance to see it again (please put out a dvd!). a hard truth to get past, but i tried not to let it spoil the rest of my evening.
footing it from the parking garage of hollywood/highland all the way up to the bowl -- sprinting halfway as the anticipation and realization that i was missing it kicked in -- i finally got to my seat about four or five songs in, took off my flannel, shook out my hair, and was ready to rock.
the whole three-hour-plus show was a political statement, and one much appreciated. a good number of the songs were from young's scathing new album, "living with war," and the rest of the guys performed them with just as much gusto as old neil himself. the harmonies were so good on songs like "the restless consumer," "shock and awe," and "let's impeach the president" that i kind of wished CSN had been involved in the actual recording of the album. the latter song, late in the second set, roused a lot of emotion from the crowd (of which i was probably one of the youngest) and finally got them all to their feet -- not that they weren't enjoying the show sitting down.
besides the new young songs, the group played a lot of their best material, both together and solo. some highlights included the david crosby-penned "almost cut my hair" and "deja vu," and gram nash's "immigration man" and "chicago." all of the classics took on new politcal meanings ("immigration man" was performed in front of the backdrop of a mexican flag, etc.), and they were all stunningly performed. even though stills now looks about as bad as crosby, he and neil young rocked out. crosby and nash played more guitar than i ever imagined they would. and all four men, though in a politcal mood, were there to do what they loved and enjoy it.
the big highlights were stills leading the group in his hit with buffalo springfield, "for what it's worth," nash and crosby doing an intimate acoustic rendering of "guinivere" (a song i've never been particularly fond of in the past, but really thought was amazing in concert), young's beautiful "only love can break your heart," "almost cut..." and "deja vu" led by crosby, neil saying "thank god there's not a draft -- i wouldn't want to have to write this song again" and then busting into "ohio," neil's guitar breathing new life into the 1982 CSN gem "southern cross," and the ultimate closer, "rockin' in the free world" -- which i've seen pearl jam do live nearly a dozen times, but which is a whole new experience with uncle neil.
all and all it was an amazing night, and also a night to think. to think about what i'm really doing about the things in the world that don't seem right. it's one thing to sit around and complain, to do a little research, read the media, and come up with legitimate arguments. it's another thing to voice an opinion. strongly voice an opinion. and get involved in making a change. times aren't so different than twenty or thirty years ago -- maybe the world is bigger and smaller at the same time. maybe there are different forms of communication. maybe the same hippies that were getting high and going to see CSNY in the early 70s, protesting what was wrong in their world, are now yuppies paying their $150 to sit at the hollywood bowl and sip chardonney while watching these old guys crank out new tunes they barely know, waiting for the hits. but things haven't really changed that much. there is still a need for a voice. a voice made up of people in this country and world to call our leaders on when they are being wrong. that's the point of this tour. the "freedom of speech tour." we all need to speak up, do our part, help make a change. and i know it's easy for me to sit here and say all this, but i am now even more determined to find the ways to take action.
peace.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
utah.
so utah was much needed and well worth it. the (fully desired) isolation i experienced was a welcome change from the day-to-day bullshit of being "connected." connected to what, i sometimes wonder?
the things i saw will never leave my memory. i was more and more astounded with each corner i turned. these pictures do the places and sights no justice -- one must experience this greatness first-hand.
here's a link -- they are divided by day. enjoy!
utah 2006 photos
peace.
the things i saw will never leave my memory. i was more and more astounded with each corner i turned. these pictures do the places and sights no justice -- one must experience this greatness first-hand.
here's a link -- they are divided by day. enjoy!
utah 2006 photos
peace.
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