Friday, October 23, 2009

Facebook Status Messages

I have been really entertained by facebook statuses of strangers. These back and forths are so good they make it onto the internet and outside of the restricted zone of friends, acquaintances, and people that you talked to for 2 seconds at a bar last wed. My friend's status messages suck, they are all factual and in no way funny. Actually I barely check the site since I don't have an Iphone and I don't care if you are eating a swiss cheese sandwich. Provolone is better anyway. Below are some of these awesome moments and a link to more. Extra bonus of fake status updates from imaginary videogame characters. That's not nerdy at all right?....right?

This is why you set your shit to private or be careful who you accept as a friend.




















College Humor
Check this one out too hahahhahaa
College Humor 2
a lot more here but not all of them are solid. http://facebookfails.com
and fake ones


Oh and also when I googled facebook status messages trying to find funny ones, because I knew there must be a site where these were all compiled I got a lot of results for ready made status messages. Like really? You can't even come up with your own inane status messages? They aren't even funny and if you are that retarded that you need these we probably shouldn't be friends anyway. I just think it's weird and pathetic. Which could also be said about status messages in general but if you do post them at least come up with the shit yourself. Am I wrong?
http://facebookstatus.blogspot.com/

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Breath

The glass was almost empty, he stared down into it, the liquid sloshing against the sides, mini ocean of apple juice yellow, white caps of foam lapping over themselves. He breathed heavily thinking he could exhale everything that made him come here in the first place. The place was dirty, he had one foot against the bar and one firmly planted on a sawdust floor, elk head trophies lined the walls. A few scattered people
dotted the rest of the bar, probably regulars, who else would be here, he thought.

The people around him were heartily laughing and feasting on the fact that they were not alone. He knew better than to feel like them, he had given up on that kind of optimism and reckless thinking, he knew they were really alone, that everyone was really alone. If not now then soon, they were just blind in the stages between the loneliness, believing that their happiness could last. Thinking like that will only
hurt you in the end he muttered to himself, knowing that he was being selfish and misdirecting his ill will towards the innocent bar patrons. He didn't even know what that had meant, what would hurt them in the end? Living? Laughing? Yes and yes he nodded. He figured he had stopped living that night in August, too much pain, he had to shut it all off, move forward, just keep trucking, stop and look and she'll kick ya in the balls, life was a ruthless mistress, better to ignore her than to have to deal with all the shit she throws at you.

It didn't used to be like this, he wasn't always this way, lone wolf hunched over the bar, a shadow of life, red flannel glob of regrets and denial, denying his world, his life, his emotions. A sealed envelope already mailed. Too late to stop, sometimes he wanted to walk into traffic, lay down on the train tracks, disappear, change it all, start over, try harder, he could have stopped it, one moment pissing his life away. He had done his best, tried for her sake, pasted that smile on and held her hand through it all. He had hope when all was hopeless and now he had none left, when prayers go unanswered what's the point. When it all
rains down and your umbrella has holes, then just accept that wetness, that cold, pitter patter on a face that you can never hurt again, could never bring down again. Because he had never gotten up, not after all that, the months, and months of treatment, tests, doctors, nurses, flowers, and jello. She hated that jello but she ate it, when the pain wasn't too bad, he would tilt her head back for her, nurse her and wet her dry lips, hold her head in his hands, so light, deteriorating, but
not hopeless. Not yet, as long as her chest rose and fell, that glimmer flickered, that light that had filled his life with purpose, happiness, golden days of the future.

The future he thought to himself and almost chuckled, they wanted to have two kids, she wanted a boy and a girl, he hadn't decided, he just wanted her. Breakfast in bed, flowers for no reason, unable to kiss her enough, the brightness of her illuminated his world. Whatever happened in his day, in those long days at work, he knew she would be waiting, he would come home and lay his head on her lap, her hands caressing his scruffy cheeks. He stared up into her brown eyes, the reflections of the universe and all the beauty of the world. Angels swam in those
eyes, fireworks and symphonies, he would have to remind himself to exhale while looking at her, that exhale of pure contentment and the release of the day. Finally relaxation and comfort I am home, here in your arms, I am safe, I am home. Her smile large and toothy, her laugh full and uncontrollable, her head going all the way back and the laugh starting like a geyser working it's way to the surface, a deep laugh
spurting to the top, he would give anything to hear that laugh again.
"Give me another bartender"

They had met years ago, they were both young both attending the state school closest to their respective hometowns. He remembered that first glance at her, her hair was long like golden sunshine sauntering back and forth. She wore a knee length grey skirt, he thought she looked so proper. Her eyes encased in those bulky glasses that same smile and that beautiful laugh. It was so full of life that you could just feel it warming up your soul, even when you didn't know what was funny, you had to join her , that laugh beckoned, join me, enjoy life. Her laugh was the greatest gift he had ever received; he had been writing a thank you note since the day he met her. She walked in front of him on the way to her part-time job at the copy store on campus. He scanned her slowly, in awe, molten lava heart, bubbling. That breathtaking grasp on a heart so recently discovered. He had to
remember to exhale. If you had asked his other friends they would not have said anything particularly flattering about her, they would say she laughed too loud. They would tell you that she was not all that attractive. They would ask you what's up with her glasses? But they would also tell you that they had never seen him like this, that he floated down the hall, he was on the phone for hours, he entered the living room beaming like a moron. But on that first day he was nervous, for along with molten lava heart comes parched throat and the communication skills of an eight year old.

"Can I help you?" She looked into his eyes and he felt like she knew him already.

The path that they could tread on was visible to him at this moment. Not the twists and turns, those little misdirections, that every couple has. But that path they would one day travel down was just beginning to appear. She gave him that feeling of possibility, of motion, and lit that path to their future.

"Yeah actually you can, my name is Jonas, what's your name?" He smiled at her, trying to display his warmth but conceal the longing that even he felt might be a little much, especially for not even knowing her name.

"Nice to meet you Jonas, my name is Dorine, but everybody calls me D." He thought that it was a good sign that she had told him what other people called her, not just her formal name, he read it as a sign that she was allowing him to become more than just a customer.

She had welcomed her into that circle, the one inhabited by people who called her d and shared bottles of wine with her while feeding on her laughter. He assumed this is what she did but he really had no basis for this speculation.

"Ok D I need a reader for english 106, with professor Sinclair." He had just made that up, he was in the class but he knew there was no such reader.

"Alright let me go look it up, I'll be back in a sec." She walked through the back of the store, he heard her shuffling through papers searching for his imaginary reader.

He had not thought of what to do once she informed him that there was no reader for his class. Should he tell her the truth? I just came in here because I saw you walking and was automatically drawn to your presence, you're beautiful. Maybe too forward, maybe a little scary. Small talk, jokes, and a coffee date, this plan sounded better but he still didn't know how to get from point a to point b. While these scenarios swished around in his head, she reappeared readerless.

"I didn't see a reader for Sinclair, what was the class?" She looked back at him not accusingly, but he felt like she knew he was lying.

"Oh it's for english grammar, really interesting stuff."

She shook her head before responding, "Yeeeah actually that doesn't sound interesting at all."

He liked the way she looked at him, she probably looked at everyone this way, but he basked in the spotlight she bestowed upon him.

"You're right the class is horrible, haha but it's required so what can you do?" He shrugged his shoulders as he said this.

"I guess you can't do much, what major are you anyways?"

He was happy that the conversation was still in full swing, they shared a rapport, or at least enough of a connection to make it past the lie that had garnered her attention.

"I am an english major, which basically is the art of reading books and talking about them like your opinion is more informed than the next person's."

"Are your opinions more informed?"

"Not at all, but that's the thing about english, I can just support my opinions with segments of the writing and people have to accept them, it's just arguing about unknowns."

"Yep as long as you can support it with the text you win right?"

"Haha yeah you win, so what's your major?"

This was the natural flow of a college conversation, the same questions that everyone asked each other, name, major, where you from. These were always questions that were asked and the answers were forgotten as soon as they left the other person's mouth. Then when you met the person again you might add other questions like what classes are you in, where are you living now. Things that get asked, answered, and forgotten multiple times through out a semester or a year. This was different though, he hung on her every word, he would not forget, he would never forget. They ran through this obstacle course of recycled questions, before they emerged into territory that is reserved for those that you might actually spend time with, not just see on campus and run through the laundry list of acquaintance protocol. Somehow he had managed to invite her out for a cup of coffee and she had accepted. He had written her number down and shoved in his pocket before saying goodbye, and heading out the door of the copy shop. Step by step we tread down the path, our path. He was excited; he felt carbonated, fizzy ears and bubbles in his chest cavity. He pictured a doctor opening his chest and a flow of bubbles escaping and filling the sky. Bubbles with happy faces that had been squeezing his heart, animated and happy, he could feel them in there. He never wanted for them to escape, squeeze my heart, hug it, stay with me, if he could feel like this for the rest of his life he would die happy. He wanted to grab the light pole as he walked by and swing around it, just to be cliché. His friends would say they had never seen him like this.

This was how they had started. Built upon a lie their relationship flourished. They went to art galleries to feel sophisticated, they had picnics in the park, wine and baguettes, it was the best time of their lives. They were safe from the real world. They had classes but no real responsibility, their life was their love, they were attached at the hip, their friends got annoyed because they never saw them apart anymore. The guys got angry when she dragged him away from poker, the girls missed her at their weekly dinners and their shopping trips. Their path led them away from everyone else. They walked together and that was all that mattered. Everything took a backseat to their relationship, and this is how they thought it should be.

As he sat at that bar he wondered what things would have been like if he had never met her. He couldn't imagine not having her in his life, but the pain he felt now made him think of the choices they had made. Knowing how things would end, would he still do it again? He saw her looking at him in a picture from their trip to Monterey. It was just her in a black bathing suit, sitting by the water, she smiled as she looked over her shoulder at him. Oh how he missed her, the tears forming in the corners of his eyes, sniffles brought on by her smile, that warmth that had left his life so long ago. He figured that if he hadn't met her he would not be in this bar, alone, shattered. How long should it take to get over such a loss? His friends tried to comfort him, they tried to console him but he kept them a safe distance away from his pain. He shouldered it all himself they did not know his loss, they would never understand, he knew they we're only trying to help but their comforting only distracted from the penance he pushed upon himself. He had taken up suffering as his main occupation. He owed her for the life she had breathed into him, he saw the days before him and the suffering that would ensue as payment for the time he had spent with her. The ups and downs, the sweet chased by the bitter. It had been years of bitterness though, the cycle had been broken and no light had entered his life since she had extinguished it. It was now just bitter followed by bitter, and he stood resolute in the face of these challenges. He deserved it he said, the depression like a slow moving cloud, he saw it approaching and he could have moved but he felt it was his sentence in life. She had blessed him and now he must pay for the time he had spent with her. When will it be enough he thought? The tears he had shed were almost equal to the laughs they had shared. But he would never let her go, he would rather live with her memory and the sadness it brought with it, than to let her be phased out of his life. She was always in the forefront of his mind, he had reserved her that space and there was no double booking. Even if he wanted to he could not bring himself to stop missing her, how could one bring oneself to forget the greatest thing in their life? The juke box changed songs, Jim Croce sang, his voice weaving through the bar, lofting above the crowds and blending in with the noise of the patrons at the pool tables.

He gathered his jacket as he stumbled towards the door, his medicine, his painkiller, slurring his thoughts and stunting his ability to walk as he pushed open the doors of the bar, he felt the cold air rush around him, his feet crunched in the freshly fallen snow. The world was getting a chance to start over, a fresh white slate to begin anew. He fumbled with his keys as he fished them out of his pocket and unlocked the door to his truck. The engine sputtered to life and he slowly backed out of the space and onto the road. It was only a short drive to his house but he didn't even know if that’s where he should be heading, the emptiness of the house was all he could picture as he putted down the white road.

His vision was a little blurry; he might have had a little too much to drink. The truck strained up the hill, desperately trying to grab the road. It fishtailed before righting itself, the ice forming thin layers on his path. He was tired, his eyelids slowly closing and then snapping back up as he shook his head and turned up the radio. As he rounded a sharp curve the truck began to slide towards the guardrail. His reaction was slow and it was the wrong reaction. He jerked the steering wheel hard away from the guardrail, which made his car start sliding even more. He went into a tailspin, the truck whipping around as he tried to figure a way out. Out of control instead of trying to save himself he just sat and welcomed what he assumed would be his end. He saw her staring at him, her smile, the lights of that smile. He gripped the steering wheel hard as the truck slammed into the guardrail and busted through. The truck tumbled down the cliff, bouncing and spinning. He closed his eyes held his breath and smiled, I'm coming home he thought. He was still smiling when the car hit the water and knocked him unconscious.

When he told her he would love her forever he didn’t say it lightly. He truly believed it. It wasn't a throw away comment, there was no alternate intent, it was what it was, a genuine declaration of the feelings he had for her. In his eyes there was no one else for him. At the time there was not even a possibility that he was wrong. But after so many years of living the same day, with the same thoughts and tears, logic has to rear its head and start packing up the emotions that tether you to the past. At least that’s what a logical person would say, what his friends said. Time is the only cure they said, time heals all wounds, the thesis of the logical when consoling a grievous loss of any sort. Standing from the outside it’s an easy thing to say, it’s usually the truth as well. They underestimated his tenacity though, the love that he felt and the dedication that he had. At this point he was just being stubborn they thought, his loyalty to his loyalty for her is the real issue. He would never let go, because that’s what people expected, what he was supposed to do. He worked hard stoking the flames of her memory, keeping her on the tip of his tongue constantly in his mind. It was amazing how he suffered for her. She would have wanted you to move on his friends thought; only one had made the mistake of telling him this. That had ended with a fiery sermon from Jonah and served to only widen the chasm between him and his friends. He is the definition of inconsolable they said, I just hope he can come out the other end. He has to; he can’t go on living like this. He isn’t even living they said. But how could he not bring his past into the present, how did they expect him to demarcate the best thing he ever had as over, done, part of the past. We are not saying lock the door and throw away the key, just start living, because this...this right here...what you are doing now, that’s no way to live.

He saw two hands grasping something in their palms with both arms extended out towards him. Flashes of winding paths, geometric designs that spread out in exponential growths. Growth sprouting from growth, branches that twisted and turned creating new branches, new directions new possibilities. Ripples in water radiating out from a dark source, spreading across wide bodies of water. He exhaled but no breath came.

Sweet Caroline popped on next to his head. He awoke in his old dorm room in college. His alarm was blaring and his roommate yelled at him to turn it off. He slithered out of bed and slowly rose to his feet. He walked into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. His face was exactly how it had been in college. Everything was the same, his old college robe, his old college towels, his old college sink. He splashed cold water on his face trying to snap back into reality but the face in the mirror only stared back at him. What the fuck is going on he thought. He continued to stare at his face for several minutes waiting for something to happen.

"Hey jackass you almost done in there? Damn man I have class in like 10 minutes and I gotta take a shit, hurry the fuck up." His roommate's voice made him tense up as it marched into his thoughts and kicked them up in a dizzying cloud of dust.

"Yeah one sec I'm almost done." He replied groggily as he dried his face and opened the door.

Peter his old roommate stared at him. "What the fuck is wrong with you today man?" He asked as he slid by him and into the bathroom.

"Uh nothing, hey what's the date today?"

"It's the 6th why?"

"Just to be sure what's the month and year?"

"What the fuck? What the hell did you do last night? You didn't look that trashed. Month and year?"

"Cmon man just humor me."

"Alrighty then, you fucking weirdo, it's June 6, 1986, is that clear enough for you?"

"Yeah that is clear enough." Jonas walked away as Peter closed the door.

He plopped down on the bed and held his head in his hands. What the fuck is going on? He shook his head, the room was spinning, this added to his disorientation and he laid down staring at the ceiling.

He was a second year in college, he had lived here with Peter almost 10 years ago. Before everything, before her, before they had become them, before the love, the loss and the pain. I must be dead he thought, this made perfect sense to him seeing as how the last thing he remembered was flying off of a cliff and slamming into the darkened waters of the lake. Was it heaven or some sort of purgatory. Was he really still alive? Should he test to see if he could die? Can you die if you are already dead? How many lives do you get? Question upon question piled into his head as he continued to lay there staring at the ceiling.

"Hey might not want to go in there for awhile," Peter said exiting and quickly closing the bathroom door.

"Yeah I'll give it time to dissipate." He said not moving his gaze from the ceiling.

"What can I say taco Tuesday gets its revenge on me every wed." Peter said laughing. "And with that I am off to class, get your shit together man you look a mess." Peter left the room, leaving Jonas alone and still utterly confused. He rose slowly and started to get dressed, feeling cramped in the small room and thinking that some fresh air would help him to clear his head.

He emerged from the room, down the hall, and out onto campus, the bright sun slapping him in the face like floodlights on an escaped felon, he shielded his eyes, as they slowly adjusted. His acclimated eyesight was greeted by the campus draped in green, the tree branches weighing heavily with leaves. The grass lush and inviting. Kids scurried across the quad, their backpacks bouncing as they hustled along to their classes. Jonah stood there taking it all in the depression of his past blanched by the sun and youth that unfolded everywhere he looked. This was the time of possibilities, the time where the future was a far away thing that one need not be concerned with. What mattered was the present and the uncertainty of what could be, not what was. He sighed deeply, pushing out the darkness that he had saddled himself with for all those years and then inhaled the sun kissed breeze and the smells of spring that tip toed on top of it.

He thanked whoever or whatever was responsible for this refreshment, this new feeling of hope, like everything could be okay again. Continuing along his path he headed deeper onto the campus grounds, beaming uncontrollably, something he had not had the luxury of a short time ago. He greeted everyone with his wide toothed smile, the recipients probably bemused at the grinning stranger, wondering if they knew him and if not what was he smiling at? He, uncaring and unaware of their thoughts was ecstatic, filled to the brim with a feeling of joy, he wanted to hug each person, thank each piece of the new world for just existing. Upon emerging from the depths that he had inhabited it was as if mere rocks were objects of spectacle to his previously cloudy eyes. The clouds having cleared, everything took on a luminous sheen, a brightness that he couldn't help but appreciate. He carried on like this wandering aimlessly, invigorated and no longer concerned with why this had happened, but just glad that it did.

Too absorbed in the minutiae of his surroundings he had no idea the path he was taking, until he rounded a corner and the copy shop stood like a dark monument, seemingly towering above all of the other buildings. He stopped dead in his tracks, exhaling deeply, fear beginning to infiltrate what was once filled with that feeling of exuburance, stretching it's dark hands over that brightness that he had just been enjoying. He was afraid to look inside, afraid that she might be there, afraid of what he would do if she was. He summoned up the courage after a couple of minutes of staring at the ground and fiddling in his pockets with perspiration soaked hands. Slowly raising his eyes to the window he braced for impact only to discover that no one was in the window except a customer he did not know. They stood at the counter, their hands gripped around the shoulder straps of their backpack, but he saw no sign of a worker.

He wondered what he would do if she was there. The obvious answer was to go in and start down the path that had been the happiest time of his life. Yet he hesitated mentally going down that road as he considered the ruin that it had caused him, what the loss of her had done to him. The weight of the two choices made him want to lay down where he stood and give up. The impossibility of his predicament was debilitating. Before he would not have hesitated if someone asked him if he would do it all over again, but when faced with the actuality of this quagmire he surprised even himself with his inability to easily decide. If I could just have the chance to see her one last time he often prayed, just one last embrace, his nightly mantras paraded in front of him. Those thoughts he repeated as he convalesced on a couch inebriated and tearful. They taunted him as if to say well here you go, here is your chance. Knowing the path that this will lead you down what's your choice? He hated himself for considering the alternative, she was your world, the light, your everything, how can there be another choice? Because I have a clean slate he thought, the chance to start on a new path, one that doesn't lead to lonely nights at bars, funerals, an unmendable heart. Things could be better for me in the end. Or they could be worst he thought, operative word could he argued, not definite, one leads to her definite death, and everything that entails.


He closed his eyes inhaling deeply through his nose. He slowly turned away from the copy shop with quivering legs. He continued to just stand there, feet cemented to the ground. The image of the two hands, arms extended towards him flashing in his head.

(Comments on the story. I think the ending is rushed, the imagery is forced and obvious and this is a total rip off of "Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind" minus Charlie Kaufman's genius writing and superior skill.)

Monday, August 3, 2009

Grandma

As a grandchild I was fortunate to be at the receiving end of the best aspects of your personality. In my eyes you were always a little bundle of Japanese joy. It's hard for me to picture you upset or not smiling because it doesn't mesh with the idyllic imagery I have of you in my head. I picture big curls of hair, glasses, and a warm smile that proceeds a huge hug. Big family gatherings in Chowchilla, the smells and warmth of home cooked food. I guess I kind of pictured you as the stereotypical image of the perfect Grandma. One that taps the screens of slot machines and says, "seven, seven, seven." Who sits down and says, "Oyshakoda." Who enjoys a good game of Yahtzee or Rummikubs. I know it in no way encompasses the many aspects of you and glazes over the nuances that made you as a whole such a genuine and loving person, but that's just the image I have.

Joyous? Check.
Kind? Check.
Did you spoil us? Check.
Affectionate? Check.
Bake great cookies? Check.
Did you let me jump on your back and yell go granny go? Check.

Artistically talented and profoundly influential in not only the formation but also the anchoring and stability of the entire family, it's hard to express just how much you mean to all of us. When I was younger and had a thing for collecting raccoon figurines, you told me that your mother had a small collection of them as well and that's why I must have been into them. If the influence of my great grandmother trickled down and presented itself in my collecting habits, I hope that I am lucky enough to have the way you are and the way you lived show an even more pronounced presence in the rest of my life.

I know you passed down your sometimes surprisingly crude yet harmless sense of humor. You always had some new jokes to tell me whenever I saw you. It didn't matter how corny they were, if you delivered the punchline too early, if you rephrased it so the joke fell flat, they always made me at the very least smile. You can't not smile when the sweetest lady in the world tells you a joke, no matter how bad it is. My brother and I were talking about a memory of ours involving your sense of humor. We were probably teenagers and had been playing basketball. I must have left the basketballs on the table because my dad chided us saying, "Toe, get your balls off the table." You started laughing hysterically, trying to stifle yourself and fight back tears. I think Mom saw you and sucked her teeth like she always does. "Tsk, Miiitch!!" You responded through uncontrollable laughter, "Winston said it...Toe, get your balls off the table," as you resumed laughing. That's one of my favorite memories, picturing you trying unsuccessfully to contain the laughter that was fighting through. Tears of pure joy streaming down your face.

You and I also shared the same taste in music. Although I prefer Deano to Perry Como, I won't forget slow dancing with you at Jim's birthday.

Feet shuffling slowly on uneven grass, the pretend Beatles providing the rhythmic backbone to our unrhythmic movements. The cool Sacramento breeze lightly whispering above the fray of the party as we rocked back and forth under a darkening sky. They had started a slow song and I had grabbed you and lead you to the grass. While we danced, bordered by tiki torches, I asked if you and Grandpa used to go out dancing. You told me you had and I pictured the two of you swaying to Louis Armstrong cheek to cheek in a smoke filled danceroom. I am not exactly sure where that would have been in Fresno, but it didn't really matter. We went back to circling in silence. Small steps in the cool night time air, a large tree casting shadows on the ground. I looked at the rest of the family and grinned, we moved closer to Jim, who's birthday it was and joined their circle. The pretend Beatles played us out.

These are only a few of the memories I am blessed to have cultivated during a life spent with your love, your gentle healing hugs and your infectious attitude of positivity and joy. I am forever grateful to have had you in my life, for your guidance, love, affection, jelly donuts, and strength. The ability to raise such a successful family in some of the harder times to pull off such a feat. You are the matriarch of our family, the Queen that holds us all together. I love you immensely. Thank you for being there for me and the entire family. We are lucky to have been blessed with your presence and kindness. I love you more than words can say.

Go Granny go,

Toe

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

I Wish you Love

Song comparison time, it's been awhile. Mostly because my home computer is infected with pornbots or something, so it's completely dead, it won't even load windows. So when I was back at my parent's this weekend, I had my external and was able to free some music from the syphilitic corpse of my computer. My hand still smells...that's gross...I meant like wires and computer stuff...and algae...yeah still gross.

Two very different singers going to battle today. Both are smooth bastards that ooze cool though. Careful, watch your step, cool is slippery and these guys just leave a trail of it wherever they happen to go. Oh me? Yeaaah especially stay clear of that, I ooze something else. Just walk around it and avert your eyes. It's better for everyone that way.

The song is, "I Wish You Love." It's your standard that was fun I have a broken heart now but I wish you luck in your future romatical endeavors kinda song. Actually I can't think of many songs like that. I know this one track, "It Was So Nice While It Lasted." But, I can't remember if the dude was angry or ok with the fact that the shit was done. Most songs seem to deal more with the loss as opposed to the acceptance of loss. Ex: every song ever written. Ok maybe not but basically most songs are either about the search for love or the loss of love. This is no exception, the main difference being the singer's acceptance of the past and the ability to not hold it against the person that they still love. Does, "It's Too Late" by Carole King kind of fit in that category? Just checked and yeah it does.

"There'll be good times again for me and you
But we just can't stay together, don't you feel it, too
Still I'm glad for what we had and how I once loved you."

Now I am trying to think of loss of love acceptance songs, I am sure there are a ton out there. Like, "Copa Cabana"...yeah maybe not that one. But this song is for sure one of those types of acceptance songs. Instead of wanting to burn her house down and stab any guy that gets within a 25 mile radius of her, he is like, that's cool....ouch...no really have a good time, I really do think he means it though....unlike SOME people I know, *points over shoulder at person pointing at him....* Wait...a...minute..Damn mirrors...

"My broken heart and I agree, that you and I will never be, so with my best, my very best, I set you free."

And just so you know, he isn't speaking about unlocking the cage, turning off her GPS tracking so she goes "off grid" or untieing her hands, he is talking about letting go of the his hopes for reconcilliation and the life that he pictured for them both. At least I think so.

Umm were we supposed to be doing something here, besides expounding on a simple song with uncomplex lyrics and a pretty straightforward meaning you can easily decipher with one listen? Oh yeah, so first up to bat is Dean Martin. You know this guy, at least I hope so. For those of you out there who don't listen to Grandpa music or are not in fact Grandpas, for shame!! Even if you don't listen to him, you should know who he is.


And if you seriously don't know who he is, then you can go here Wikipedia
But cmon who the hell doesn't know who Dean Martin is? The boys at the IHOP would laugh you right outta our 11:00 AM meeting if you came in spouting some nonsense like that, "Who's Dean Martin? Why I outta...damn whippersnappers with their rappidy hop and the buttock shaking..their pony riding and wanting to make love to people, on their bended knees. I used to be able to bend my knees. Back in my day you courted you didn't freak, and a freak was something bad, not something you would embrace. Eagles were birds and butterflies were insects, when did they become burlesque show movements. These pre-pubescent children with their gyrations, it's just so tawdry. I just saw the state of Florida has a new song out, well I'll tell you something sunshine state, it's all just noise to me, noise I say!! I don't even know what an applebottom is, it used to be the bottom of an apple, but something leads me to believe it's something suspicious in this day and age. Bunch of ruckus, It's a God damn shame."


Listen to Dean's version, it's undeniably smooth. He coolly rides the rhythm. Dean never seems to exert himself, projecting a voice that just easily saunters across the melody and music that backs him. The light flourishes of strings combine for a nice airy confidence that lightly tugs on heart strings and guides you through the song. The acceptance part is prominent in this version, the unaffected vibrato of Dean's voice while slightly twinged in remorse and pain from the loss never fully emotionally bubbles to the surface. He steadfastly remains the calm crooner. When he dips to the lower registers you can feel the pain but the arrangement totters between something apt for a nice Summer day spent in a hammock and a song to be listened to while sitting alone in a parlor with a strong glass of scotch. It's playfully heartbreaking. Either way you look at it, the song is beautiful and Dean does an excellent job in his effortless translation.



Next up Sam Cooke. Ehhhhh...he's aiiiight. Nothing special...only like one of my favorite voices EVAR!!!! Sorry..*Puts shirt back on* Sam's choice to stretch, elongate and slow the pace of the song lends itself to a more emotional interpretation. Whereas Dean's was smoothly paced, sashaying along with the music, Sam seems to take a more laconic approach, taking his time to imbue each lyric with more bravado. His pure voice is easily able to caress each lyric and instill it with more heartbreak than Dean's. The way he uses the smoothness and purity of his voice to ride the lyrics seems to punch the song up. From the start, the first music note followed immediately by the way he dips into that first lyric is captivating. The backing music seems secondary to the prowess of Sam's voice. While Dean's is applaudable because it seems effortless, Sam's is superior because of the obvious effort that he put forth. Sam's version is just an excellent display of singing, that's a pretty song, that's a great singer, that's how you do it. The phrasing is perfect, and I can't think of a note that I would change. I love the way he stretches the words out, the perfect pitch of his voice is heart melting poppy musical goodness. So for me Sam wins, who didn't see that coming?

Talk about a song battle, check out how many people recorded this song. Some heavy hitters in that group, if I wasn't lazy I would get some more copies, but uh...yeah..I am lazy. I bet the Ella is awesome, but out of the two versions I have on my computer Sam wins. I have heard the drifters version on vinyl and I can say that it loses to Sam and Dean. Have you heard any other versions? Do you Like Dean's better? Would you like a neck massage?

* Ronnie Aldrich
* The Artistics
* Chet Baker
* Long John Baldry
* Michael Ball
* Billy Hawks (New Genius of the Blues, 1967)
* Shirley Bassey (1968)
* Gianni Basso
* Vicki Benet
* Franco Battiato
* Bruno Bertone
* Ray Brown
* Ray Bryant
* Joyce Carr
* Johnny Case
* Jeanne Castle
* Ray Charles
* Rosemary Clooney
* Nat King Cole
* Harry Connick Jr.
* Chris Connor (1978)
* Russell Conway
* Sam Cooke (1963)
* Van Craven
* Bing Crosby
* Bette Davis
* Blossom Dearie
* Joey De Francesco
* Tony De Sare
* Marlene Dietrich
* Joe Diorio
* Bill Doggett
* Arielle Dombasie
* The Drifters
* Harry "Sweets" Edison
* Ella Fitzgerald
* The Five Jades
* Buddy Fo
* Vincent Franco
* Alison Fraser
* Laura Fygi
* Judy Garland
* João Gilberto
* Giant Sand (1995)
* Benny Goodman
* Eydie Gorme
* Graciela
* Benny Green
* Grant Green
* Niki Haris
* Bill Henderson
* Ian Hendrickson-Smith
* Ron Hevener
* Earl Hines
* Engelbert Humperdinck
* Willie Hutch (April 1976)
* Chrissie Hynde Soundtrack from the movie Eye of the Beholder, 1999
* Joni James
* Jack Jones (1962)
* Jerry Lee Lewis(1982)
* Gloria Lynne (the biggest hit single, 1964)
* Friends of Dean Martinez (1995)
* Chris Montez (1966)
* Mark Murphy (in "Song For The Geese", 1997)
* Lisa Ono
* Esther Phillips (1965)
* Frank Sinatra with the Count Basie orchestra (on It Might As Well Be Swing, August 1964)
* The Skatalites
* Keely Smith (1957)
* Rod Stewart and Chris Botti (October 18, 2005)
* Barbra Streisand (1966)
* David T. Walker (1976)
* Nancy Wilson (October 1960)
* Rachael Yamagata
* Natalie Cole
* Patricia Kaas (on Piano Bar, 2002)
* Dean Martin (1962)
* Shirley Bassey
* La Rondalla de Saltillo

Tuesday, July 14, 2009

Creepy

Hello Acura driver,

This is the creepiest thing that I have ever done. Well except for that incident with the horse, but I swear to Zeus that thing said it was 18. Oh, the age wasn't the issue?...I see...well then. You have found this note on your car because I thiiiink I saw you the other day, and I thiiink you looked very pretty. If you are indeed not pretty please disregard this note..just kidding we can still do it even if you aren't pretty. I have no morals, standards, or toenails, that last part is what we call TMI, but is the truth ever really TMI? Is it? Huh? According to Jack Nicholson yes sometimes it is, but I wouldn't listen to him, because he is a Lakers fan and feasts on the souls of aborigine school children. Which everyone knows are high in transfat, and that's just not healthy.

So, if you would be interested in a cup of coffee, a game of backgammon (I don't even know what this game is) or a small nibble at a public place, so I can make sure you don't try and kidnap me, I know your games!!! We could do this. I might look far more highly upon you if you didn't respond though, because let's be honest, this is weird, and you have to be pretty crazy to accept a backgammon game with someone whom you have never met, I mean we aren't even facebook friends for christ's sake.

But if you are willing to throw caution to the wind, or puppies, they are more aerodynamic than caution, perhaps this will lead somewhere...like a dark dungeon filled with my other wives muhahahaha (evil laugh)..that wasn't supposed to be out loud. If anything, you can show this letter to your friends and you guys can giggle and someone can make that psycho noise, the reee ree reee, with the stabby motion, and that would not only be logical, but also a night well spent and this letter will be of some use. Or you could bring it to court to show them proof that a crazy person has approached you. But perhaps, just maybe, this will be a story that we can look back upon with our grandchildren and guffaw about.

Creepiest part of the last sentence,
A) grandchildren
B) guffaw
C) upon
D) all of the above.

I am going to go with all of the above with a special emphasis on grandchildren. Not that I wouldn't want grandchildren, someone has to do the farm work, but how did we get grandchildren without having children first? It's just not logical, and lack of logic creeps me out, kind of like toddlers that do farm work. What kind of fertilizer do you use little Timmy the tomatoes are splendid!! This is basically a test of your sanity, if you are crazy you can email me at I'dhitthat@yahoo.com if you are sane a good day to you and congratulations.

Sincerely,

Creeper McCreepster

Expiration Dates

I was thinking about this the other day, everything has an expiration date right? Well except maybe a perpetual motion machine, or a twinkie, those bitches are good 4-evaaa. *Eats cold war twinkie* Mmmmm still as bad as the first day it was birthed from the twinkie monster. I would also add New Kids On The Block albums to the list, those are timeless, there is no expiration date on awesome.

But I was thinking more along the lines of a relationship expiration date. I heard from someone that there was a scientific study done that showed lust levels, or levels of endorphins, were raised as a result of pheromones in coupling people for an average of two years. So that, awww he makes my heart melt, pitter patter, ice cream and puppy dogs shit? Yeah that's science, those are hormonal reactions, kind of like bitchiness and aspergers. Ok, one of those is not related to hormones, you guess which one. Now, not knowing if this report even exists, who did the study and why Adam Lambert didn't win American Idol, let's take it at face value. Let's look at real life people, let's watch episodes of the Hills and see if we can substantiate this. What? That's scripted?...How dare they...I cared, I really cared, and to think it was all for naught, you will get no more of my tears you blonde girl in big sunglasses.

Seriously I see truth in this possible made up report, two years does seem to be the tipping point to a lot of relationships. For two years I watched every Macguyver show with unadulterated lust, lust for inventions, innovations, mullets, men with three names, men like Richard Dean Anderson. After two years I moved on, to a paunchy butler and his merry band of misfits who replaced a certain mulleted young stallion. You are no Bob Uecker I would say when Rich called me, I have lost that lusting feeling and it's gone..gone...gone..whoa whoaaa. He would usually respond with I didn't call you, you called me, and then end it with I am changing my number again. But those are merely footnotes in the story of our love and the references are uncited so I edit that part out. Hasn't anyone ever sat you down and said, "Shit's not real till you hit that two year mark playa." Not necessarily in that venacular or maybe not at all, but I am just saying I have seen shit crash after the two year mark repeatedly. It's science, people you don't need to understand it you just have to believe, oh wait...that's faith, nevermind. So perhaps two years is too concrete, but I feel like every relationship has an expiration date, nothing lasts forever.

That may sound defeatist and depressing, but it's reality. Not only in a space time continuum we will all perish like the dust of the universe into a black abyss kind of way but in a man I am kind of tired of you, please get out of my bed kind of way as well. It's just that after awhile you run out of things to talk about, you know that person, their stories, their jokes. I don't know when I stopped being funny to the ex, but I know that I didn't elicit the same kind of laughter I did when we first met. It's like when your Uncle is all, I got your nose!! And you respond by stabbing him in the knee with a fork and demanding the return of said nose or you will break a finger for each minute that passes until said nose is delivered to a mutually agreed location. Funny the first time, not so much after that. That's why you have to draw things out. You don't just unload all of the goodies in the beginning, I don't even tell girls my real name until we are married.

"Why does the wedding invitation say Jerome and Carrie, did you do this Mark or did the printer mess up?"
"Suuurprise!!! I also don't have a job and have been sitting in the park and begging for change while you thought I was at work. Ha, like MIT would really hire me to run their Latin department, I don't even know if they have a Latin department and I can't even read!!!....where you going? Too much?"

See hold back, it makes things easier and it stalls the eventual expiration date. By reinventing yourself every week, maybe you can keep those lust levels up. Is the same joke in a different accent a new joke? I like to think so, but I also like to think the Colonel is Asian and that we don't die we get high and multiply.

Those were just discussions on serious relationships though, now what is the expiration date on people finding out that they don't even want a serious relationship with you? How long can you fool someone or how long does it take for people to realize they don't like you? Since I am so in yo face people usually know where they stand with me in a matter of seconds. Don't like being covered in paper mache and cast as goat number 4 in a moonlight sonata directed by yours truly? Then move a long little lady, don't agree that "Weekend at Bernie's" is both hilarious and a poignant commentary on post colonial India and the problems with capitalist wealth distribution and trickle down economics? Get to steppin, and not the steppin as in dancing, steppin as in walking away, but actually if you could step that may increase your chances of me being interested in you. If you can say Homo Erectus without giggling? Yous gotsta go. Having passed all of those tests still doesn't guarantee how long your expiration date is extended though.

I know that my star fades with time, after I lose interest in entertaining you and winning you over, I become a different person, hence the name change to Jerome, the illiteracy and lack of job. I reveal my true colors and they start shining through. The jokes just stop registering on the laugh-o-meter, which at first I thought was some kind of electrical error, but then I played it an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond and it didn't respond to that either, so it must be working. The easy part is fooling someone in the beginning, the hard part is maintaining. Maintaining is always the hard part whether we are talking about clean houses, attendance records or sobriety. Look at me I started being sober 3 minutes ago, now the maintenance and duration is the real issue.

Maybe people learn this as they get older, I am sure there are some happily married people, but the vast majority? Not so much. Most look at their significant other and are thinking you have lost that new car smell, now you smell like the 1984 camry that you are. I think the happiest couples are the ones who are mutually defeated. The ones who are afraid that they won't find anyone else so they settle. That sounds harsher than I mean it to. It just seems more realistic, to admit that they will never find that one fantasy person and that what you have is the best you will get. Then you can really dedicate yourselves to each other. Noone has one foot out the door because they are afraid to. Truthfully there is always something better and there is always something worse. So you have to find a happy medium and then fake a pregnancy so you can lock them up. My girlfriend has been pregnant for 10 years, that's a long gestation period, but she assures me it will come when the seven moons align and the righteous reign supreme in their rightful place. Now I am not saying just grab any hobo off the street and settle obviously let them fool you for a couple of years and let that lust sauce ooze into your cerebellum, you have to think you are in love with them, perhaps actually be in love with them. I am just saying when that starts to fade, let's not be so quick to jump the gun, unless it's in the hands of a hobo you just randomly picked up then definitely jump at it and try and wrestle it away.

I just think realizing you are right for each other has a lot to do with not wanting to find out if you are right for other people, maybe that's just me, but I feel a certain amount of settling is a natural and logical thing to do. Because the lust sauce will stop oozing and then it comes down to can I look at this person everyday for the rest of my life and not want to spoon their eyes out and use them as cherries atop my sundae, you may have different thoughts, adjust accordingly. There is always someone new, more exciting, more lusty out there. You just have to really commit to that one person you are with, know that the shared history you have and the genuine love you feel for them will be enough to carry you through, the love not lust is what you are left with. The concept of lovey dovey floating on clouds just fades, you hear people talk about stoking the fire, whacking the bush, incubating the marmot, and that's really what you need to do but you also have to realize that it will not be an endless parade of fantastical pink clouds and confetti. It's scientifically proven, by some report, I didn't bother to even try and look up.

This ended up being way more defeatist than I meant it to be hopefully you can piece together the small tidbits of what I was trying to say and construct them into a totally logical and acceptable discussion. Let me try and summarize in other words regurgitate what I have just written. I am not saying settle, I kind of am, I am not saying all relationships are doomed to failure. The expiration date thing could be when one of you dies, haha, yeah I just laughed at the death of your significant other, hey I have to get it in now, it would seem cruel to do it when it actually happened. What I'm saying is accept reality, obviously you know if the person is right for you, don't ignore that, but also don't keep looking for something better when things lose that shine. Try and work through the rough patches, don't be a rock jumper, jumping from rock to rock, because pretty soon you will be out of rocks and all alone... or something like that. How about you just read High Fidelity?

If you don't care, then stand over there

I was reading a sports site that I go to everyday, called Athletics Nation. As interesting as that is, that's not the reason I am writing. Although it is kind of the reason and I guess I could just end the entry here. Create some suspense, instill all two of you people reading with a sense of bewilderment and mystery, which really is my daily goal anyway. I just want to take you back to the good old days when you were tiny people who had nap time, snack time, special private touchy time with the janitor, you remember those days right? No? Just me? Ok then...

So the Athletics played the Atlanta Braves for inter-league play last year. I stumbled on this thread http://www.athleticsnation.com/2008/5/18/519989/the-atlanta-braves-thetoma The thread is basically about the tomohawk chop and the mascot of the "Brave." If you don't know what the tomohawk chop is, just think of how you used to play cowboys and indians when you were a little ignorant bastard and you will get the gist of it. You know when you used to run around and make "indian noises," do rain dances, and refused to answer to anything besides Pochohantas? Yeah you do, don't make me get the pictures, you saucy bastards. So, to do the move in question, basically you hold your arm like a tomohawk, which is where I think the tomohawk part of tomohawk chop comes from and then you make a chopping motion. I still don't get why it's called the tomohawk chop, I get the tomohawk part but the chop......Oh.......I get it, now. Is it just me or do I seem stupid? Well I guess that question was answered yesterday huh? Back to the lecture at hand, not only does the move consist of the physical motion, it is also accompanied by a vocalization. A slow and steady, Ohhhh, Ohhh, Ohh, I am insulting, Ohhh, Ohhh, ok one part of that didn't fit can you guess which part? Here is a video in case you were saying it wrong. Be sure to practice judiciously and be sure to do it absurdly loud at inappropriate times k? http://video.aol.com/video-detail/indians-braves-tomahawk-chop/3574702359

The question here is, is this insulting and should the mascot be changed? I think the Indians have a far worse looking mascot, but both teams I think are a little offensive. Here is the Cleveland Indian's mascot.
The motherfucker's name is Chief Wahoo. Seriously? Chief Wahoo? Haha cmon. There are actually websites talking all about this, and every Indian mascot being used. Florida Seminoles, The Redskins, there are a bunch of others too.

I mean just look at the name Redskins, can you imagine a team being named the Yellowskins? Blackskins? How about the Yellowskins with a buck toothed rice hat wearing Chinese dude as their mascot. The cheer would be the whole crowd bowing and making Chinese jibberish noises in unison, would that fly? Shit even the name Indians is wrong. It only exists because some Italian guy got off his boat and thought he was in India. I am not going to debate this really, if you want a more informed historical debate on it you can find it in that thread or you can find it anywhere on the internet. Just looking for some pictures and stuff I found another sports forum arguing about the same issue as well. What I really wanted to address was the people who don't think it's offensive.

I understand that you don't think it's offensive, that's great, that's your right. What I don't understand is people arguing that others should not find it offensive. Like hey it's just a mascot get over it, uh oh here come the PC police, shit like that. Look you have the right to not be offended and the offended people have the right to be offended. If it doesn't offend you then why are you even talking or taking issue with it? You can't tell people they shouldn't be offended by something, just like I can't tell you should be offended by something. If you don't care then stand over there. Don't try and say it's no big deal, because obviously it is to some people, and those are the people being affected by it. I am all for freedom, let them be pissed, off, why do you care?

Nothing But Sunshine


I get a text the other night from the new gothic girl neighbor. She reminds me of Violet from the Incredibles mixed with Daria and a hint of Charles Manson thrown in for good measure. I think it's the swatiska on her forehead or maybe the beard, I can't decide. So the text was, word for word,

"Do you have any movies with violence and killing in them, that I can borrow?"

Which wouldn't have been thaaat crazy but add the fact that as soon as I muttered to myself,

"Yeah I actually do,"

she rolled out from underneath my bed on one of those mechanic's wheelie board thingys and said,

"Excelllllllllent."

I was a little startled, as people on rolling boards under my bed tend to do that to me. But I regained my composure, changed my pants and asked her to please stop rolling back and forth,

"Can you just be stationary please?"

It was a nice little contrast though a sad depressed gothic chick on a board wheeling around and smiling widely. Smiling with murderous intent or glee? Are they really that different in the mind of Violria hot topic consumer? I guess we will have to test that question at a later date. So, I show her to the movies and she starts talking about Patty Hearst and how she thinks she has Stockholm's syndrome. Which really came out of nowhere I believe that I was pontificating on whether crayon shaped hair barrettes were classy or trashy, a perfectly standard conversation topic that ties into any logical discussion, so I have no idea how she ended up going that route. Oh and just for the record, they are pure class. Anyway, back to her insane topic,

"Ummm who has held you captive and who have you fallen in love with?"

"It's just more the idea the freedom to give up your identity it just opens up so many possibilities."

"You would be captive though and the possibilities of your new identity have to line up pretty close to what your captors envision. It's not like you are an independent contractor here, say you want to think you are now a well educated Nigerian banker, well your captors also have to

A) believe in well educated Nigerian bankers
B) want to live with a well educated Nigerian Banker
C) I didn't get this far because she interrupted me with mock choking motions, it counts as "mock" if she stops right before you black out right?

"Ok well maybe I meant that the idea of not choosing is a refreshing idea."

"Umm yeah could you repeat that, sound doesn't carry so well through that cloud of self pity and emo depression you are stewing in...please don't stab me."

Who knows what the hell she was talking about, she just wanted to be kidnapped or something and not have to decide what to do with her life, at least that's what I got out if. That and a trip to first base if you know what I'm saying, high five!!! Sad boobs are still boobs, it's just that sad boobs have a higher tendency to be attached to stabby hands. But I like to live in the moment, which did not help me as a child when I kept touching the stove, different moment!! Nope still burns, new moment!! Ouch...I don't like living in this moment it smells like burnt hotdogs and pain.

So that was just one random tangent she went on, and as a master of random tangents I feel like I can judge them pretty well. The difference between hers and mine are that mine never really approach the seriousness or weirdness that she was displaying. I may joke about juggling hedgehogs and opening a barbershop for emus but we all know I will never get the permits approved so they are in essence wolf tickets, and I be selling a lot of them, naw mean? I f you don't know what that means then you should google the Click and up your early 90's bay area gangsta rap catalogue. So yeah she says shit that you just don't really bust out so early in the getting to know you phase. Stuff like,

"Do you have protection, is that a birthmark, you do have the keys to these right?"

It's like calm down crazy, "What is this an interrogation?"

The response is usually no it's a lineup please face forward but in this case it was different, it was neither an interrogation nor a line up. Sort of new territory for me. Me and her are just very different people. While I prance around in my happy round sun costume, hopping from foot to foot and repeating,

"Haaappy, haaappy."

She just puts her hair in her eyes and talks about dark clouds that are blurring her vision and making the voices harder to quiet. Rumblings of depression seeping out through emotional scars that have failed to be exercised by the years of cutting and the words of her favorite band sad black cloud no happy, or something like that. I am just not that drenched in sadness. I might have been at one point after I lost my role in the Lizzie Maguire movie, but I got over it, I saw the logic. In reality 42 year old men do not look as realistic playing 14 year old girls as say a 14 year old girl would. I get you Sony, you still could have let me try out, but I understand. Casting despite what you may have been told is not a blind process, they actually look at you when they make their choices and they actually check to see if you are a convicted felon, lesson learned, and we moved on.

You don't see me getting all angsty and self mutilating. At this point in my life I just don't get that riled up about anything, sure I get mad when my dvr doesn't record Matlock but I just breathe deeply, take a couple body shots of metamucil off of Edna and I sit back in my rocking chair and light a blunt. I would like to act like I have things to be angsty about but I just don't. I don't have parents that nag me to do my homework or telling me to stop sneaking into the neighbor's house and putting their ice cream on the counter to defrost. I clean my room all by myself now, I just don't have any real demons to battle with in my head. So it's a little strange to hang out with someone drenched in darkness, a person who not only thinks the cup is half empty, but that it has been thrown to the ground and crushed under tires of a mercilessly evil and vindictive driver named life.

You maybe be asking yourself why I would want to hang out with such a person then. Well it's hard to not hang out with someone who rolls out from underneath your bed, but besides that issue there is also the nurturer in me. The one who mends the broken wings of sparrows and genetically modifies them to deliver bags of cornuts to disenfranchised inner city baseball players. It's just my nature, it's what I do, it's what I got my cornut attacher for in the first place. So have no fears you little emo, stabby Vioria, I will mend your wings, infuse you with some happy, and get you a sunshine costume so we may orbit the hallways joyously and then go shop together at Hot Topic..or I will be stabbed in my sleep and that would also be a mission accomplished in my eyes.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Trying to Find A Balance

How far can one's shared interests propel the evolution or progression of a relationship? What kind of interests are we talking about here? You incoherently mumble. I know it's a speech impediment, stop crying, I just think it's funny, I'm sorry I didn't catch that last part please enunciate. Ha, I know you can't that's why I mock you. So are we talking about interests like cross bow hunting toddlers? Poaching eggs in extreme conditions such as upside down while dangling from a forklift? (That relationship only lasted the duration of said egg poaching) "These are runny!!! We are through!!" Her words not mine, I prefer a little liquidity in my poached eggs and assets. Well we are not talking about any of those things, we are talking about interests like art, movies, baseball, music, those sort of normal things.

I have been on the scene for a little bit, and when I say scene I mean strip, and when I say strip, I mean strip club, and when I say strip club I mean I was once hired for a bachelor party in a garage and have worked several local farmhouses. But let's just say I have been around, I have my battle wounds. Little bit of education for you, a John Deere plow is not as smooth or accommodating as a stripper pole, learned that the hard way, the flesh tearing way, if you catch my drift, and if you don't then I can't help you because I just literally told you what happened. Basically asking if you catch my drift in that instance meant did you comprehend the last sentence. Anyway, say I am dating one chick who by all accounts is a very nice little lady. We just don't share the same interests. Here is how our exchanges go.

Me: "Man this Yugoslavian alt rock group the Niets fucking rock, am I wrong?"
Her: "Ummm, did you shave an asterisk on my dog?"
M: "Did you even get the Big Lebowski reference?"
H: "When I said you could come over, I thought it was because you were going to fix the window you shattered playing baseball in the living room."
M: "You don't like baseball either??!! You suck."
H: Actually I love baseball, my uncle was on the roster of the cardinals for his whole career so I grew up around a lot of the players."
M:......*Grabs clippers and runs through shattered window.*

See? We just don't relate. In reality she doesn't even like baseball, so we don't share that many interests at all. How long can you limp along like that? Do shared interests really play that large of a part in a relationship? I mean, being willing to go to a game, art show, concert, is not the same as wanting to go, actually being interested in it. So then there is the complete opposite of this scenario, the one that shares all of the same interests but you are afraid might stab you in your sleep.

Me: "Hey that new exhibit is opening next weekend in the city, did you want to go check it out?"
Her: "Already marked it on the calendar, I have been looking forward to it since his last show in Paris...Your eyes look delicious."
M: "What was that last part?"
H: "Oh I said I am going to do the dishes....our love is like a salami and I am the casing."
M: "Sorry I missed the last part again."
H: "I said our love is like a salami and I am the casing."
M: "Oh yeah you are totally the casing, I am like the inside, a mish mash of meat producty goodness, and you keep it all together, you little intestinal lining you. High five!!!" *high five turns into chest bump which leads to the dirty bird*

I know that things don't have to be so extreme and the correct answer is find a balance, but that's just how I live sister. Balls to the wall, (this is actually very painful and awkward thing to do, especially with a running start) grip it and rip it, thrust it till you bust it, gargle till you snargle...wait..what? Say that these two extremes are your choices. Girl that is like,

"Wow I would love to go to that art show I know that guy's work."

Or girl who is like,

"Art? I don't get it, who'sa whattie?"

Girl who says,

"How was your day?"

or girl who says,

"Did you know when you sleep you don't even budge, even when there is a cold steel machete against your adam's apple, hee hee, it's so cute."

Is fear of sleep mutilation worth the fact that she knows the entire discography to your favorite Guatamalean Children's choir? Is the fact that you don't fear sleep mutilation worth the fact that she is kind of boring and won't play baseball with you in the living room? Questions to ponder my little saplings, questions that may never be answered, we may just be to small to grasp such complex metaphysical quagmires. Giggidy Giggidy....or maybe just keep them both around therefore creating the perfect balance..goo.....

Art stuff

May seems to be a big art month out here in my hood. Lots of good stuff going on.

May 1st at Gallery 1988 in San Francisco
May 7th at Fecal Face

May 7th at 5024SF

May 9th at Whitewalls
http://www.ianmjohnson.com/

May 9th at Shooting Gallery

Not in my area but if you are around these check em out.
OPENING RECEPTION:
SATURDAY, MAY 2ND, 8-11PM

EXHIBITION DATES:
MAY 2ND - MAY 30TH, 2009

In his show Ego, Addiction, and Other Bedtime Stories,

Sam Flores

Whoa that's a big line up


Edit: Something crazy, blah, blah, something one person finds funny, blaaaaah. There that's more like one of my normal entries. Sorry for not including this part earlier.

Texts From Last Night

Oh man this site is awesome. The whole site is just funny text messages people have gotten. Along the same lines as Fuck My Life, but usually just dealing with drunken antics. It's good stuff, trust me, would a man with a free candy sign and a creepy van with extremely tinted windows mislead you or harm you in anyway?
http://www.textsfromlastnight.com/

I spend a lot of time on the internet during the day, I really should just keep track of all of the sites that I go to and share all of the links with you . Are you guys interested in Serbian watermelon carvings or pictures of diseased Porcupines that favor their left legs when they hobble?

See that's why we can't share things, it's because of looks like that. I get the same look when I test out the sneeze guard at salad bars. If it's doing it's job then, no harm, no foul. Don't judge me, I do this for your sake when I spot a weakness or an opening that is large enough for me to stick my head under, I inform the proper pimple faced teenager that modifications must be made. They usually have to take the salad bar apart so I can get my head out from underneath the guard and then refill whatever food source I had been rifling through with my face, but in the end I think that everyone learns a valuable lesson. Like last time I learned that I should make sure to get stuck above something better than baby corn, ugggh I have had enough of that to last me a lifetime. I must have consumed the equivalent of 90 corn toddlers that day, it only took them three minutes to free my head, but I work fast when I see something I want.

Here are some quotes from the site that tickled my fancy and made me spontaneously drop it like it was hot.

"(570): I woke up this morning in a strange bed with a kid with an accent playing with my feet.

Labels: "

Such great imagery, I can just imagine slowly opening your eyes. "Whoa, who's bed is this, what in the? who the?" *Strange child with accent smiles as he grabs your big toe.*


"(317): I swear to god I'm with a high end prostitute right now and shes the most interesting person I've ever met. She just took me in to share an evening.
(317): And as an added bonus she seems to have gotten a blood stain out of my favorite t-shirt

Labels: "

Haha, how did they get to the let me clean the bloodstain out of your shirt part, does she dry clean as well?

"(202): Dude, I woke up at my ex's house. I am spooning her half naked roommate. There is a pizza on my shoulder. I need you to come pick me up.

Labels: "

Just so many good ones, go check it out, tell them Sancho sent you. They will act like they don't know what that means but just stay persitant and flail your arms while you say it.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

New Year's Resolution

I came up with a New Year's Resolution the other night. It came about while I was just having a discussion about a hypothetical double murder involving a clown and an unborn child. Sooo hypothetically speaking say that I knocked up a clown. An unattractive clown, a borderline carny with bad feet and a couple extra pounds. One that I can't look at without feeling disgusted, yet still slept with. Say that such a crazy thing would happen. Say that maybe the only thing that she had going for her was the fact that she was a clown and I had clown at the top of my "Things To Do List." This clown is crazy, dirty, not attractive, just not the kind of person that you want to be locked down to for the rest of your life. I don't want to have to tell the young child, " I hate your stupid clown mother and her stupid clown face. Her damn honking nose and rainbow wigs strewn across the bedroom floor, she makes me sick Timmy!!! Sick!!!" Timmy would say some shit like, "Then why would you bang her you fucking weirdo?" I would mutter some stuff under my breath, curse my "Things To Do List" and say, "Get your shit ready Timmy I am sure your mom and her 45 friends will pull up in their car soon, you don't want to miss the freakshow they are going to be putting on at the bowling alley later." I am sure Timmy would hop up and click his clown shoes together, then start collecting his balloon animal materials and ask if I want to see an illusion. I would just roll my eyes, maybe flip him off, who knows how to react to a half clown seedling? Not me, that's for sure.

So, faced with this hypothetical situation what is one to do? There is no way I am living that life my friend, no clown baby or visitation rights for me. I want the masked freaks as far away as possible...while I feel that way now that I crossed that off my list. Ohhh here come the looks, don't act like you don't have a list and that clown was not on there right above Cloris Leachman. Oh? I am the only one? Well I guess I won't tell you what else was on the list. Just don't judge me sister. The not judging thing is also a sort of side resolution. I can no longer cast judgement on anyone because I slept with a dirty clown....Hypothetically speaking of course. So yeah you want to sleep with Serbian midgets who wear bear skin caps and harpoon retarded blind whales on the weekend? Be my guest friend, do what you want, hey it's a free world, I will not judge. I gave that right up with my poor judgement. You could literally slap a senior citizen smear a herpes infected diaper on a nun's face, spraypaint a swatizka on a baby labrador and all I could say to you is do your thing buddy, if that's what you feel like doing, I will not judge. It's kind of like how I can't criticize anyone's driving ability because of a recent driving mishap involving two parked cars. That's another story though, let me just add if you can get your car to move forward or park without hitting anything, you are a damn fine driver in my eyes. Every time I park without hitting something it's a good day now. I shout mission accomplished and spike my keys on the ground when I get outside the car.

Back to the situation at hand. I figured there were two ways to escape this, suicide or murder, hypothetically speaking of course. I came to the conclusion I like my life fine without the clown and the clown seedling in it, so if they were gone that would be the best scenario. I got into this whole thing about the ensuing Dateline case. The Clown Killer, this Thursday on Dateline. Hopefully my story is told by Keith Morrison. The dude is fucking awesome, creepy, and has the best phrasing ever.

"It was a twisted tale...the kind of tale that makes your skin crawl, a tale of disgust, clown banging, an expectant clown mother.....and murder....or was it? It all started in an idyllic scene of young love...or so it seemed." God damn I love that creeper...or do I? Yeah I seriously do..or do..ok sorry. Are you wondering what my new year's resolution was? Did you remember that's how this all began, it's ok I forgot too...or..did..must stop Keith impersonations. So, me and a friend got to talking, yes I do have these types of conversations with other people...sometimes, when I can get someone to settle down and enjoy the surprise tea party I went to great lengths to set up in this alley that I "invited" them down. We got to talking about how the friends, neighbors, and coworkers of the accused get a little camera time to give some insight into the character of the suspect. Usually it is something like (neighbor standing on their driveway) "He was quiet, but friendly, I would have never suspected that he could do such a thing. That's how it usually goes. What I came to realize is, my character interviews would not go as smoothly. People would say,

"Oh jesus christ that dude was a freak. I knew something was wrong with that crazy bastard."

"He used to just come into work and just glare at us, always fiddling with a clump of rainbow hair and muttering under his breath, I think I heard him say honk, honk, and then whisper I'll show u an illusion clown!!"

"Yeah that guy could totally have done that."

It was running through this scenario that I realized I needed to make some changes in my life. Most people have resolutions like lose weight, quit smoking, stop stealing your neighbor's tires for your swing in the backyard, you know normal stuff. I realized I need a drastic change and a complete reworking of my life. My new Years resolution is......that if and when I am a suspect in a hypothetical clown double murder, people will not say they expected that I could be responsible for it. Simple enough..or is it?

I actually have no clue about how to go about this change. Should I actively embrace clown culture, cover my cubicle walls in clown paraphenallia? Make them think I love them so much there is no way I could rob the world of one? Act normal and kind to everyone I see hiding any hypothetical muderous intent? Stop doing that thing where you lunge at people and act like you are going to punch them at the copy machine? Look, all I know is that along with setting up a good backstory to diffuse any legal battles, diminish intent, create good character witnesses, this could improve my overall well being. There will probably be a lot less coffee spilled on the carpet if I stop lunging at coworkers too. This is a win-win, it may even be the start of something bigger. A religion? Teaching others ways to live their life so that people would never expect you to be capable of killing a clown. Only good can come from this, let's set this year off right. Everything will be awesome this year....or so it seems.

I should start writing again

It's true, doesn't mean it will actually happen but it is the troof. Shush shush, I can hear your moans of protest, I can see your eyes rolling, oh my god are you having a seizure!!? Oh no you were really reacting to my threat of writing....asshole. So for some reason I came to this realization right before I am leaving work. Actually I might get my best realizations at around this time every day. Yesterday I realized that my pants were unzipped right before I left for home. The day before that I realized if I move very quietly and I can observe co-workers in their natural environments for approximately 17 minutes and 24 seconds before they notice me. Next time I will not start humming my secret spy theme until the mission is complete. It was either that or my habit of loudly smelling things that got me caught. I am a sniffer what can I say?

Sooo...how ya been? I will nod my head and say stuff like "hmmm," "what??," "no way!!," "OMG" (I will actually say the letters,) maybe throw in a "that bitch" as well until you finish whatever inane anecdote you think I care about. Are you done yet? Now ask me, ask me!! Well..thank you for asking. What a complex question that is. So many ins and outs, so many harrowing tales of late nights spent hiding in laundromats, so many prescriptions to keep the voices to a nice low murmur.

I guess if I had to describe my state of being in one statement it would be, I am glorious. Ok, not really but "glorious" is my power word according to my psychic. Whenever I get one of my panic attacks or feel the cloudies (that's what we call sad feelings) I just have to repeat my power word over and over until the world is sunny side up. Apparently things will turn around for me soon enough. Clarice , sorry madam Clarice, said something about ruling a mythic race of frog people, and we will inherit the earth and rage war against the humanoids. I think I was going to be a staff sergeant, and it had something to do with power obtained from an unknown toddler, supposedly I will know it when I see it and I have to extract the power with this power extractor I had to buy. It kind of looks like a take out bag from Burger King to me, but hey I have never seen a power extractor and Madame Clarice knows what she is talking about. I forget what else happens, all I know is it involves a crown made from a hallowed out pumpkin, I have to send $100 a month to Madame Clarice and my reign will last 1000 years. So I guess that's something to look forward to. I won't ask you to pick sides immediately, but I will also not hesitate to put a humanoid on his back. Rat-a-tat-tat. You have been warned...

Blind dates

So, blind dates huh? What the hell is happening here? I haven't been on a date in a long while. Followers of my writing will know it is because I was serving time in Arkansas for public indecency and two additional charges of assault with a pelvic thrust. I had no idea there was a legal code for that offense but you learn something every time you are arrested. So if you are ever in Arkansas and hear a police officer say, "We have a code 258C. Request immediate back up and some rubber gloves." You should immediately drop everything you are doing and follow that officer, because if you are like me, your hips don't lie....or something.

Not being in the game for that long stretch of time has made me question if things are still the same as they were before. Do girls still automatically leave when you launch into sonnets about your love for amputees or your insatiable desire to roll anything and everyone in a mixture of cornflakes and maple syrup? (everything and I mean everything is better this way, trust me) Do girls still like it when you kick their chair and run away? Smack the back of their head and throw crayons at them? I have so many great ideas on how the execution of this date will go, I just have to wait to get the permits for the wild game birds cleared and we should be good to go.

Here are a couple of scenarios:

This one includes the magical and sexy art of balloon animals.

Me- (Balloons in hand) "Now tell me what your favorite animal is and I shall make it in balloon form. Thus cementing our future together as one."
Scared date- "umm..."
Me- "Sooo what is your favorite animal?"
Scared Date- "Umm..."
Me- "Please say sword."

Scenario 2

This one involves a three act play, several costume changes and 2 live vultures.

Act one- Secure all the exits while frolicking around menacingly to the soundtrack of footloose.
(costume change, exit stage right, reappear stage left in puff of smoke, but now dressed as a preacher)

Act two- Pelvic thrusts and choreographed dance routine to Rod Stewart's "Maggie May." "If you think I'm sexy" makes to much sense, and we want to show that we are avantegarde so "Maggie May" it is. Plus "Maggie May" goes well with both pelvic thrusts and rhythmic gymnastics ribbons. And there will be fluttering ribbons, oh yes, there will be beautifully fluttering pretty sparkley ribbons.....and pelvic thrusts...lots of em....so many you could be charged for assault with a pelvic thrust...but it's worth it.
(costume change, exit stage right, reappear suspended above the stage in a mermaid outfit, get yelled at by the restaurant for tying cables to their ceiling fans and for endangering other patrons by swinging above their heads in a mermaid costume, climb down, try and explain your art, realize you are missing a vulture and panic, shout vulture's name while looking under people's tables, emerge from table to discover the date has fled, exit stage right and cry)

Act three- Lay on ground mumbling the words to, "Endless Love." Reach out and try and grab the hand of the bus boys as they step around and over you clearing tables. "My endlessssssss love..."
(curtain drops, since there is no curtain jump to feet yell "Tah Daaaaah" and then run out the building before they make you pay for anything.)

These are just rough outlines, I haven't decided which one to go for, I am sure when it's time for the show it will end up very differently.

I'll Follow the Sun

One day you'll look to see I've gone.
For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun.
Some day you'll know I was the one.
But tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun.
And now the time has come
And so my love I must go.
And though I lose a friend,
In the end you will know, oooh.
One day you'll find that I have gone.
For tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun.
Yes, tomorrow may rain, so I'll follow the sun.

Ryuichi Ogino


Ogi in the house setting up the installation for his latest art show

Fuck, I really, really, really, want to buy a new piece from this dude. Ryuichi Ogino or as I call him Ogi is a dope ass Asian-Asian artist. As in he was born in Japan. I call him Ogi not because of our storied past of love and turmoil (that's why I call him cheating bastard) but because when I first heard of him that is the name he was going by. It was a childhood nickname that he just stuck with. A little while back he decided to get all grown up and start using his real name. I did the same thing a couple of years back, because after awhile you just can't have people address you as Sissy Bedwetter the Lord of Stink. It's not professional and I tried to tell my Boss to stop but they all just surrounded me and started chanting "Sissy Bedwetter!!" Which just isn't a very good chant because it's too long and it doesn't flow very well, but yeah try telling them that and they just roll their eyes.

Here is a profile of Ogi taken from his website http://www.ogigraphics.com/

"Ryuichi Ogino (OGI)
Born and raised in Tokyo, Ogi relocated to the Bay Area and received a BFA in Illustration from the California College of Arts & Crafts (CCAC) in 2004 only to realize that his passion is not in illustrating.

His works are diverse and incorporate a variety of mediums (from handmade paper-clay toy figures, acrylic paints, wood, lined paper, and canvas, to digital renderings). To pin down his style would be to minimize its scope as it merges genres.

Now back in Japan, he exhibits internationally, moving between Tokyo and the West Coast. He has more recently shown his works at Project, Rean, Giant Robot, Receiver Gallery, Compound, White Walls, and Park Life."

Here is the piece that I want

This piece looks super classy to me. It looks like it would fit into a clean well designed modern house. The streamlined futuristic kind of spot, you know the one level, all wood floor, lots of glass type houses I am talking about? Just super stylish and sleek. This shit looks grown up to me. I think Ogi nailed it on this piece. A lot of the time an Ogi piece has one aspect that I don't like as much, maybe wished it was cleaner there, don't like that part, that sort of thing, on this piece, I like every aspect. I like the black panel, the clean lines of bright colors extending out. The signature Ogi girl, the cleaner skull compared to some of his other work, and even the small details are pulled off perfectly. It is currently still available for purchase as part of the "Blender" group show in L.A. at the Cerasoli-Lebasse gallery. The preview work can be seen here http://www.cerasoli-lebasse.com/current/ryuichi_ogino.html Check out there pictures because they are larger and you can see the small details that are just masterfully done. The small drips of paint, the clouds, the work that he did behind the skull. I am in love with this piece. Everything goes together so well and it just exudes class and modernity to me. Good job Ogi.

Ogi also does these sculpts so here are some examples of those.
These are two I have



Here are some that are free standing which I do not have

Pretty awesome though




and here is some more of his work



I am just a big fan of his aesthetic. It could be the Japanese in me but I like his girls, his robots, his colors. The way that he composes his pieces with the separate elements creating a whole. I like the spareness of the canvas, the images popping out and becoming the focus. I just think it has a strong sense of design and it just looks clean and appeals to me.

The rest of my Ogi pieces





Blog with pics of him setting up for "Blender" http://dailydujour.com/2008/10/09/ryuichi-ogino-installation-for-blender-1011/
Tons of his work here http://www.ogigraphics.com/frontpage.html
His blog http://ogi.cbc-net.com/
Myspace http://www.myspace.com/ogigraphics
Old Prints of his can be found here http://www.gallerynucleus.com/
Shirts and wallets here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/40
Print here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/651
Tableware here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/459
and here http://poketo.com/shop/archives/458