Reminiscing on a Past that Won't Catch up to Me

Alice lives in Wonderland,
the Devil lives in Hell.
The rest we lived in Industry,
to me it's just as well.

nomad

Today begins the most ridiculous busy week ever, part two. Note to self-post something semi-relevant in the near future. That is all.

The Future is Now!

In this short while between late October and mid November I have been exposed to a few innovations in this world that will inevtiably bring the world to the great Utopia promised by authors like Aldous Huxley and Philip K. Dick. Among the trinkets of the rapidly advancing superworld are e-cigs, smoking for a digital age, and Fleurings, the anthophile's choice in quality jewelry.

In a brave new world of android cigarettes and living jewelry, I, a humble man of no certain talents, I would like to throw my name out there for another of these great world-shattering innovations. Following in the footsteps of my culinary mentor, Ed O' Neil, I present the Southern Cali-avo Pulmonary-heartsplosion Mexican burger. A foodstuff combining cheese, meat, avocado, tortilla and just a hint of culinary brilliance, the CAPHMB is a product of random fridge incredients and just a bit of ingenuity. In the immortal worlds of Thomas Edison "if man could harness the powers of Mexico and beef, mankind would have no further use for violence." Brilliant words from a brilliant man brought to life in the form of flattened tortilla-meat deliciousness. God bless you Thomas Edison.

a note from the author-I do not condone smoking, I do enjoy vanilla-flavored inhalent goodness, and flowers in one's hair is always preferable.

Defining Moments (through drink!)

I find the most interesting thing about trying to be a good guy is that I spend just as much time convincing myself to do the right thing as I do convincing other people that I'm a decent human being. I often wonder if this is a universal phenomenon or if I'm in some kind of odd subset of person that feels the need to keep things ethically sound and usually comes off as an asshole anyway. This would usually lead to some kind of melodramatic self-pity, but right now I'm more entertained embracing my flaws and deflecting the criticism I don't care for. Last time I tried this I was branded a bad person by someone very interesting, so for posterity sake I'm going to roll with this feeling while I'm still on a high note. Here's a short list of people I appreciate and something they've offered me-the list is incomplete, written entirely with them in mind, and will probably never be read by any of them. Should I never get anywhere in my writing, we'll call this an awkward dedication to nothing in particular.

James-who taught me the rules of engagement and that criticism doesn't mean a thing if you don't give it authority

Josh-who teaches me the value of being all heart, and that you will always have to make tough choices to get ahead

Jonar-who constantly helps me refine the random thoughts I'm mulling over at the cost of time and extreme patience. The man is a testament to a responsibility I wish I could match

Robert-who tries to keep it classy even when I abandon the concept entirely. He taught me that listening to other people is always a worthwhile practice

Jenny-an honest woman, and someone that has put herself out to help people she loves. She's a fighter, has incredible heart and reminds me why looking out for other people is inherently worthwhile

Mr. Cable-who reminds me every time I see him that there is undeniable worth in doing what you love and leaving something behind when you're done

Kristie-for always coming through when I need her and being someone I can relate to on a level that I hardly have the words to explain

Alejandra-for being true to her word and for playing den mother to the drunk and the disastrous(myself included)

Stuart-for reminding me that I'm not the outsider I like to cast myself as. For teaching me not to take myself/the world so seriously. For the brilliant words of Baba Ram(definite sp) that I will never understand

Terrie-for a very sentimental moment of sympathy that I haven't yet thanked her for.

Bert-for always being the most affectionate dude I know.

Shicky-for being the John Lennon of the group...and incidentally reminding me not to put my foot in my mouth

Shafik-for unknowingly showing kindness when it was needed and much appreciated. For reminding me that being outgoing doesn't mean being fake or weak.

Katrina-for kindness that is not entirely undestood, but always appreciated.

To the sincere honest-eyed girl that girl that cut me down for reasons unknown. The impact displaces the discomfort, and reminds me that it's always worth the gamble.

Liset-for amazing me, shaming me and making me remember things I can't help but love all in the same sentence.

Mr. Billow-who has stood by me longer than he should. A man with a lot of character and far too much exuberance

John-who makes me remember where I come from fondly. For being family I can be proud of

Sarah-She taught me how to say fuck it and still be compassionate at the same time. For having much more talent and never being conceited about it

Ryan-For his dedication and his capacity to survive it all

For the old friends, who put up with me, remind me that loyalty is always worth the time, distance and fight.

For the new friends that constantly surprise me, show me the value of actually putting myself out there, and remind me that the world is hardly as static as I'd like to define it

To my enemies, who I will always talk shit about, but I recognize have shaped me into the person I am. Playing Dante and assuming loss, they've done more for me than I'm ever really willing to admit.

Strangely, to the shunts and pangs that come with infatuation...if it weren't for them I do believe my life wouldn't be half as interesting.

Last and foremost to anyone who would actually read this whole thing. You have the patience of a saint and I am really surprised if you're not immediate family. Thanks for listening to the rant and should you ever ask for it, I will owe you the beverage of your choice.

There are many names missing, and it's not for lack of trying. If I'm talking to you, it's entirely because I love your company. I do believe that's enough sentimentality for one night. Enjoy

A Speck of the Man

The problem of living is to be composed of a shell and conceived in an ocean...I'm not sure if this point is profound, absurd or other, but it went through my head so now I'm putting it out there.

fortune cookie thought of the moment: Beware those that blog more than once a day.

The opening lines to the Great American Novel

Her name was Valerie, she was a hamster with a strong sense of the absurd. And me...well I was just an abrasive, ex-"experimental science" astronaut with a rowboat and a strong case of Miser-elbow. Our shared terror, Thomas Kinkaid, the man who would forever alter our lives on that cold November evening...

if you too love literature like I do, add a couple lines. Not only will you be providing entertainment to others, but you can lie on a resume and say you're a published author!

-this post brought to you by extreme boredom and Tanqueray, "the thinking man's industrial solvent"

My Own Private Armageddon

Birthdays are usually monumental occasions for me, but after the fun-filled hell of a year I've had between last September and this, I just kind of want to destroy the world with a giant laser or some kind of Bond-villain weather device. On my way back from London I made this list to pass the 10-hour plane trip. I figure what better time to post it than now?

Reasons I Will One Day Build a Doomsday Device

1-Inescapable apathy/frustration
2-The great ambitions of the powerful
3-Europop
4-Ex-girlfriends and their douche-bag new boyfriends
5-Simple minds with sharp tongues
6-blood pudding
7-uncomfortable travesties carried out in the name of religion
8-Meaningless injustice
9-burning crosses
10-ignorant loose-eyed fools
11-pouring a bowl of cereal to find out that the milk has gone bad
12-The fear that real connection between people is false
13-Anything released by ABBA
14-Because I am irrevocably made to be the bad guy
15-It would justify my want to grow a Fu Manchu mustache
16-Eleventh grade gym class
17-"All the lonely people..."

Reasons I'll Give up My Evil Plan Seconds Before Pushing the Button

1-Unprovoked acts of kindness
2-The great ambitions of the selfless
3-Bob Marley love songs
4-The vague promise of better days
5-The wisdom of people that know before they profess
6-Boston Cream Pie
7-Personal faith as a moral compass
8-Ideals of a just and fair law
9-The quiet empty places that you can only describe as sacred
10-The spontaneous, undirected moments that come with being a loose-eyed fool
11-Finding a long lost $20 in a favorite pair of jeans
12-The glimpses of people outside of their social posturing
13-Michael Jackson circa 1987, The Clash, all things Sublime and all that which is not ABBA
14-Fiery women and all the trouble that comes with them
15-Back Massages
16-College debauchery and mild times among good friends
17-Waterloo Sunset...

Mind the Gap

I originally intented to document my England trip as a series of blogs detailing my day to day life...this was partly a way of chronicaling my strange exciting life, and partly a way of trying to convince myself I lead a strange and exciting life. Instead, I sit here in a London internet cafe thinking on all the fun I've had so far. So, in less than 30 minutes, here's a quick recap.

I boarded the plane at LAX where I said goodbye to my doting mother and headed to Minneapolis. The flight sucked. We were late so I immediately boarded another plane bound to Heathrow and did that for another 10 hours. I met an interesting girl from my program on the plane...more about that later.

So I and my new found friend get off the plane, deal with a few interesting moments trying to find our way around and getting through customs. After all is said and done I meet her "too cool for school" friends and we take the tube towards the hotel. One of the fun and loveable bboy type pals make an incredibly rude diatribe at my expense (ie: so awkward I'm afraid he's a serial killer/racist) while I sit about 6 seats away from him. The others chuckle until they realize that I can hear them. So far I've been in London an hour and a half and the only Americans I know here are complete and utter assholes. We share an awkward ride, find the hotel and part ways, quickly. I get enough time in to shower and run downstairs to see a friend as she's just coming in. We meet up, go to orientation and end up meeting a random group of strangers that includes my brilliant, hilarious roommate Stuart. We all end up going to the worst Indian/Chinese buffet I will probably ever have in my life. Jetlagged and severely underslept, I make new friends...

So, narrative aside, so far this trip I've met a lot of incredible people, seen some intense and incredibly performed plays in the Globe theatre and National Theatre along with palling around with some of the coolest people I've met in a long time. There is much more to say, but with 15 minutes left on the clock I'll come back to this later.

I'm reading Kurt Vonnegut right now and wondering if we were a more intelligent species if we wouldn't just go ahead and take a cue from birds: never occupy more space than your wingspan allows. I woke up aching in one of those moments where I couldn't get out of my own head and settled down after a good burrito. I'm comfortably lingering in a post nap haze and wondering if I wouldn't be lucky if I always felt like this. At the moment I have plans, plots, schemes and badly drawn concepts of ill-begotten gains...with any luck I'll trade all of that in for a beer and some good company for the night. We'll see how all that pans out...

No Surprises

{Old blog I gave up on half-way through-edited and posted for your viewing pleasure}

Over the last couple years I've simultaneously tried to become more sentimental while I get colder to the idea of falling for people so quickly. When I say "falling for" I wish I could say it was just infatuation, but when it really comes right down to it I realize that I am a victim of my own cheap sentimentality: falling for a pretty face, falling for a friendship that just won't catch, falling for big ideas that never yield anything. In the end it's all just falling for some attempt at those normal, healthy connections people have with each other.
As this school year ends I realize that this uncomfortable sentimentality is at worst a happy tragedy. Looking back at the connections I've reestablished I finally recognize the people that have been worth keeping in my life, character flaws and all. Some of the best friends I've ever had come from some incredibly shitty situations from my adolescent years. Looking back over it I realize why we've kept up over the years and forgiven each other for the ugly minor scrapes and bruises that come along with close friendships.
Dealing with the present I realize that I turned my life upside down the second I moved out to West L.A. and left most of my good contacts miles away. I owe a lot to the few new connections I've made with some incredibly caliber people out here, and also one large debt I owe to my crazed friend in Hollywood that has always been there to listen to my complaints. It's strange to recognize that if I left this place tomorrow I'd leave it with at least two more people in my life that I believe would be there for me when the shit really hits the fan.
The trade off for the good times always seems to be a sacrifice of some kind. I traded a comfortable relationship for 6 months of insecurity, second guessing and sidelong glances at the people I've been aching to know. I've traded beer for books, small but steady connections for a role as a complete outsider and good times with close friends for good times with a loose collection of strangers. Worst of all the loses I've ever taken is when I have to sacrifice faith in another person. I've felt that twice this year; making the net average of people I've given up on this year much lower than most of my life, but there's still no lingering hurt like unfulfilled expectations.

This blog was meant to end with an awkward segue way about trying to make a connection with a girl that I'm into. Details: I was interested in her, couldn't ever quite put it together (though lord knows I tried), dealt with some insane drama that came along with it. In the end I tried to play it straight and it just really wasn't a possibility. The whole thing started with that same awkward enthusiasm and ended with me acting the fool and taking one more shot on the chin. So, where's the happy tragedy? My best guess here is that the trick of making connection with other people is a gamble that assumes about as much pain as it promises kindness. The alternative has always ended with unsatisfying loneliness. In the end I guess the gamble is always worth the pay-off...

"He belongs in a museum!"

So I saw the new Indiana Jones tonight...I can say that I was sufficiently whelmed. I want to say that I was astoundingly impressed but that whole last act sort of put the brakes on any statements about how incredible it was.

I walked into the film expecting to find a that a paunchy old man would spoil all of my childhood memories of Indiana Jones. Having seen the film I'll kind of stand by that statement; that man was George Lucas. The story, devised by Lucas, reminds me why I've hated most of the things he's done in the last decade. Honestly the man doesn't seem to bother with any concept of subtlety anymore. Spielberg's role in the more obnoxious moments seems to come as a result of fan service. Spielberg himself described the film as "the sweet dessert I give those who had to chow down on the bitter herbs that I've used in Munich"(wikipedia you're my only friend). The more saccharine moments come in the form of gophers, monkeys and sweet but slightly uncomfortable dialog that is pretty hit or miss. All I can say is that somewhere between Lucas and Spielberg a lot of bad ideas deemed "too stupid" for earlier drafts of the script seem to have made their way back to the fray.

!!!!!Spoiler!!!!!!-apparently a Frigidaire can save you from nuclear fallout.

To be completely honest with you though, Indy films have never really been about brilliantly crafted plots. At best they're usually a kind of Macguffin in which we get to watch Indy travel the world, kick ass and flesh out relationships with the rest of the cast. As far as ancient mysteries go I'd say the driving story behind the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull veers between interesting and mildly insane a bit too often for my taste. If you've heard spoilers concerning ideas that seem too out there even for an Indiana Jones film, then rest assured, they're all true.

Concerning the cast, I would say the whole film had a real love/hate thing going for me. I personally dig Shia Labeouf and thought he played the role extremely well. It was odd seeing an older Karen Allen that has gone from hot Tomboyish Marion Ravenwood to mother-figure...that transition is going to stick with me for a while. The rest of the cast was troublesome, mostly because the name actors are all incredibly talented, but really didn't have all that much to do in the movie. I found it kind of amazing that three actors as diverse and talented as Ray Winstone, Cate Blanchett and John Hurt could all end up taking a back seat to the main trio and end up mumbling incoherently about crystal skulls and Communism.

Then again, who goes to an Indiana Jones film to see the supporting cast? Harrison Ford is still the gruff and awesomely heroic Dr. Jones. Instead of going the "unstoppable over-the-top superman" route of the last Die Hard, Steven Spielberg kept the character as grounded as possible by allowing Indy to actually age. Aside from the occasional superbendy-CG-Indy, Indiana Jones still came off as competent and gritty. One thing I have always loved about watching Harrison Ford fight in the films is the inevitable drag-out brawl in which Indiana Jones gets his ass handed to him and eventually gets the upper hand by really throwing his weight around. Ford still has that working for him, and thankfully the fight scenes don't come off as watching an old man get his ass kicked.

In the end I really dug the core parts of what make up an Indiana Jones flick and walked away from realizing a bit more why Indy is such an iconic character. The goofy and outlandish parts made me cringe about as much as they made me chuckle. In between these two aspects of the
film I was pretty entertained and, possibly despite myself, am hoping to see a few more adventures with Indiana Jones and Mutt Williams before the franchise runs out of steam.

The Devil in the Details

To the millions of reader that I don't have: 1:40 is a perfect time for 24 oz of Mickey's, a snickers, Anne Dillard and some salad finely prepared by a fine Floridian friend. It's a scientific fact; don't try to refute it. Dillard says "The latest version of a literary work begins somewhere in the work's middle, and hardens toward the end. the earlier version remains lumpishly on the left; the work's beginning greets the reader with the wrong hand"
Mickey's, on the other hand tells me that MMA fighter Forrest Griffin is a 6'3 MMA fighter who's favorite technique is "anything that will work". What is the value of the synthesis? Not much other than Mickeys is fine when you've been drinking and Dillard is great when you've been convincing yourself of that value of being a writer. There's a concept of exchange that ties it all together.
The luck of the salad: the apple vinegar/mayonnaise dressing bleeds well enough between the tepid iceberg lettuce and the late-addition tomato to develop a taste that wouldn't happen without the key ingredients. It's the fun of food; it exists to blend senses without all the horrible mire of intellectual discourse. It tastes fine to me, and I'm starving.
The problem: "if you were good enough to get it done, you wouldn't be struggling with it in the first place." It's a fallacy. If you love something, you laboriously slam your head against the wall trying to define how exactly you'll approach it. You take hits, you trim the fat and eventually you find the point you were aiming for. The point in which the literary middle meets the anything will work approach and finds something worth saying. I'm not sure if I have that working for me so much as I have a manic and sincere need to say that there is some worthwhile in this world. The trick is finding an in and enticing people into believing in it. Bad illusions with good substance, like magic tricks with some sense of purpose. That is all I am really trying to understand: how to fool people with a relevant purpose. I give up for the night. I'll figure out the difference between writing and taking punches to the face tomorrow.

This is Funk

coachella...mmmm...good times among hippies, hipsters and overpriced Heineken. This was my first year there and I have to say that there will definitely be a second. Through a bit of good luck my friend had an extra ticket to day 2 and 3 so I spent a 48 hour period watching some of the best shows I've seen so far. Highlights-Cold War Kids rocked, I think The Shout Out Louds are going to help me kick my Cure habit. -Portishead- "It's like I'm going through a really trippy horror-movie carnival and Beth Gibbons is the leading me through to the other side" -(loosely paraphrased)- Jim James of My Morning Jacket{they also rocked}. Also, if you've never listened to Yoav, do give him a chance, if you're into trippy-mellow rock, give him a chance, you will not be disappointed.
Just in case anyone that was there reads this I would like to state, for the record, that my buddy was the guy in the first 10 rows that randomly barreled through the crowd halfway through Roger Water's first set. I was the guy following in tow. That was one of the more action packed moments of the whole Coachella experience. Roger Waters...what can I say but pillars of fire, giant pig balloon and Dark Side of the Moon in it's entirety. I'm not going to lie to you, I get a little teary-eyed when Wish You Were Here comes on...that's enough of that then...
Also, I would like to apologize to the families of the people that I crippled while dancing like a spastic during the Gogol Bordello and Justice sets. Their loss provided my entertainment so, you know...um sorry for the crippling. Other than my random limb flailing goodness Justice rocked the...tent...and Gogol Bordello made an entire crowd succumb to exhaustion using only pure rock-energy. Eugene Hütz and your rocking Giseppe mustache>. Those were probably my two favorite sets next to the headliners.
Last but never least, Prince! Brilliant Performer, brilliant Guitarist and Radiohead fan? He did a set so good that I'm still babbling about it to random internet strangers. Not only did he have a set that included Morris Day and the Time, Sheila E, and some of the sickest guitar riffs possible, he still he topped it with covers of "Come Together" and "Creep". He owned the crowd and left all but the haters thoroughly satisfied.
I have very little else to say other than that the week-long exhaustion and 5 hour round trip was more than worth it. The End.

Notes to self

Coachella was amazing. I should put something up about that. I need to see if I can get that whole infatuation/action ratio down...falling in love with concepts gets real old after a while...I need to blog more often. It's the fun way to self-indulge. Also, buy turkey bacon...it's fantastic. That is all. And now a word from our sponsor...

Culinary Brilliance

If I were given a Food Network show, I think it would be titled "What the Hell did I just Eat?" It would be based entirely around my ability to cook food that tastes like other things. Among my signature recipes are my blackened leather chicken, my salt flavored eggs and my Pièce de résistance, my five alarm kitchen-fire rice. I'm one of those old fashioned types that thinks that cooking is a hell of a romantic way to show someone you care about them. Realistically though, I need to play to my strengths, so until I become a better cook I'm going to only make meals for other people as a passive aggressive form of revenge.

Tonight I ended up making dinner. This is mainly due to the fact that the Greek place down the street is closed on Sunday. Now I'm not one to brag, but I must say that the food I made was actually semi-edible. I made curry pork, green beans(from a can), and red beans and rice. I recognize that most of these dishes come with explicit cooking instructions, but this usually doesn't stop my ADD and super-heating stove top from ruining most home cooked meals. All in all I'm pretty proud of myself. My cooking has gone from college cafeteria good to prison food good. Based on my made up Edibility Advisory System Color Chart prison food is only three shades away from delicious!

A picture to inspire:
"Cook better or I will cut you" - (loosely paraphrased)

It all began with a placeholder

...and lo he said "fuck it, I shall blog tomorrow"