So Picante It's En Fuego

Goodbye Blogger, We Hardly Knew Ye.

2008-11-17T00:00:00.000-08:00

Well folks, after a few months of haranguing from Drew, I finally have switched over to Tumblr. Here is the new and improved So Picante Its Enfuego. I hope you love it as much as I do.

Once again, the address is: http://sopicanteitsenfuego.tumblr.com/

Thank you Blogger for all the memories.

Video Blog # 1

2008-11-12T20:45:00.000-08:00

So Picante It's Enfuego Video Blog Number 1 from Ian on Vimeo.

Hope you enjoyed watching it as much as I enjoyed making it!

Break Yo' Self Foo!

2008-11-12T18:00:00.000-08:00

My new Nerf Mavericks have come in the mail. Today Drew and I had a savage Nerf battle in which we lost 2 darts. I'm glad I bought the 30 pack refill.

Happy Veteran's Day/Grandpa Prebo's Birthday

2008-11-11T22:43:00.000-08:00

Today is also my grandfather Prebo's birthday. He served in WWII. So he's double special today. I miss him loads.

2008-11-10T20:50:00.000-08:00

A Quick Reminder. . .

2008-11-07T15:30:00.000-08:00

Steampunk

2008-11-07T14:05:00.000-08:00

Steampunk. Yes, I said Steampunk.

I've always been a fan of science-fiction, and given my love for Post-Modernism I have a certain love for Sci-fi that combines the wonders of Jules Verne-esque technology with concepts of modern technology. An example of this would be a clock-work computer.

But Steampunk is more than just a sub-genre/off shoot of Cyberpunk. It is more than fiction like "The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen" or "Steamboy" or video games like Final "Fantasy VII" or "Bioshock." Steampunk has evolved into a large D.I.Y. fashion/gadget movement where people modify modern technological items to fit the Victorian/Edwardian aesthetic.

Recently I have revisited my childhood love of Nerf Guns, with this love I some-how have fallen down the rabbit hole of Steampunk. As I researched Nerf Guns I came upon more mods and finally the Steampunked Nerf Maverick. I was hooked.

Here are some examples of Steampunk Nerf and otherwise.

This item below is a Steampunk vaporizer. . .

A custom made Steampunk Computer.

And of course, a Steampunk Blue-tooth.

In the Desert

2008-11-06T11:37:00.000-08:00

I was bored and realized I have yet to put anything on Vimeo, so I put up this little tasty treat from film school. Not the best film ever, but it was one of the few that fit the size requirements. Sad times for my better art. Hope you enjoy. . . ish.

In the Desert from Ian on Vimeo.

Nerf EBF-25

2008-11-05T14:59:00.000-08:00

This new-ish gun by Nerf is either a single shot or fully auto weapon. It can be used with an ammo box or one can just leave the belt of ammo hanging out. At about 50 bucks it is a bit pricey but it also is the coolest Nerf gun ever. . .

with maybe the exception of the Arrowstorm. . .

The Stanislaus

2008-11-05T01:20:00.000-08:00

I just ate the best sandwich of my life. It was amazing.

I don't know what to call it, So IT'S NAME SHALL BE:

A Stanislaus.

Olive oil (Fuck extra virgin, you want the sluttiest olive oil you can get)
1/3rd an onion
1 large slice of roast beef
2 slices of Organic and/or Spelt Bread
2 large dobs of Miracle Whip
1 large dob of Heinze Mustard
1 tsp Cayenne Pepper
1 table spoon Molasses
1 table spoon white vinegar
1 table spoon red vinegar
1/4 cup West Seattle tap water
salt
pepper
rock and fucking roll.

So basically what you do is chop up a quarter to a third onion. Put in a pan that you have salted and heated oil to medium heat. I used an electric stovetop so I had it on 7 to heat up. Throw in the onions and stir. pour a little more oil, maybe a tea spoon. Fill up water and put that in. Stir again. Pour in the white vinegar. Stir and let chill (as in cook at medium heat) for about 9-15 minutes. I can't remember how long, cause I was drunk. But you want the onions to stay crunchy, you know. . . meaty. . . More on this later.

After you let it chill for a little bit, add in the cayenne and molasses. Stir it up and turn the heat down a little and add the red vinegar (I went to about a 4 on the stove-top.) Let that simmer and cook for a while, maybe another 5 minutes or so, then turn the heat off and cover it. Go smoke a cigarette. After your smoke turn the heat on 3 and let simmer for a little while, still covered. Lay the mayo and mustard on the bread. I like to put half the mayo on one side, then put the mustard and rest of the mayo on the other slice of bread.

Turn the heat up to about 6 or 7, uncover the onions, and throw the roast beef on top of the onions. Let chill for a wee bit, to cook the beef a little. After this push the onions to one side and sear the roast beef, not too much though. I reccomend slicing the beef in half while you do this. Put the beef and awesome onions on the sandwich and then eat. Merry Christmas, you have a Stanislaus.

2 Things That Are Awesome:

2008-11-04T23:56:00.000-08:00

Eating one's own amazing birthday cake while celebrating one's first presidential victory and drinking a large glass of milk.

Ordering 2 Nerf Mavericks for Drew and I. . . plus another 30 rounds.

P.S. The Watchmen is coming out.

2008-11-04T22:45:00.001-08:00

Feel Better, Tylenol.

2008-11-04T22:31:00.001-08:00

I'm glad my previous blog has been published. As Spike Lee said "This is non-fiction." Word. Edward James Olmos says "Stunning." I agree. I am glad to be an American. I am glad that American prove it will no longer stand upon the ignorance it was founded upon, but rather the highest ideals that all men, that all people, are created equal. And that we are all a part of history, that we can look back and see that the Dreams of Martin Luther King and Malcolm X, and now all of America, have come true.

God Bless America, Nature Bless America, Vishnu, Yhwh, Muhammad ibn ‘Abdullāh (Arabic: محمّد; Transliteration: Muḥammad, Jesus, and every living being that has ever lived a life!

Thank you everyone for making the right decision. We resoundingly have chosen democracy and we should all be proud. Even those who voted for McCain should be proud, if you examine John McCain's life he has consistently been a Great Man, and you voted for someone who was worthy of the presidency. Only that in this contest the better man won. And that is what democracy is all about.

God bless all of us. Everyone!

2008-11-04T22:30:00.001-08:00

Dino Rossi is a smelly bitch.

2008-11-04T22:27:00.001-08:00

I bet guys in their 60's want to nail Chris Gregoire.

Like my Dad. I bet he has the hots for Chris Gregoire.

The fucked up thing about this election is I wanted to nail (and still do) Sarah Palin. Cold weather equals awesome blow-jays.

2008-11-04T22:26:00.001-08:00

YES WE CAN!

2008-11-04T22:25:00.000-08:00

Together, as ONE Washington, we will become a great economy, a Lean Clean Economy: Chrissy mo-fucking Gregoire. . .

2008-11-04T22:24:00.000-08:00

As Christine Gregoire said: We are going to make the dreams of every child come through in the Great State of Washington. P.S. THE WORLD!

2008-11-04T22:23:00.001-08:00

I have never hugged as many black people in my life as I have today. Score one for everyone who knows how to love!

2008-11-04T18:00:00.001-08:00

Is Obama Black Irish? Get it? O'bama. . . I got nothing.

Election Night 2008

2008-11-04T17:44:00.000-08:00

It has been over a month since I have blogged. I know, I've been busy. Tonight, more than any other night, I feel is the best night to jump back on the scene.

It is election night. 5:45 p.m. here on the West Coast. I'm excited. I'm nervous. I kinda have to poo, but can't pull myself from the T.V.

I went to the polls with Drew this morning, and watched as she voted then went down myself around 11:00 a.m. I wish I had something more poignant to say. I wish that I could make some speculation at this very moment that would sum up this election.

Right now the best I can muster is "I kinda have to poo." And that's how I feel about this election.

Go Obama!

Happy Birthday to Me!

2008-10-25T23:59:00.000-07:00

Well, today is my 25th birthday! ON THE 25th! Holy shit golden birthday.

I have had fun today. Went to the Stranger's HUMP which was awesome and at times a little awkward, and afterwards went to the Blue Moon.

The Moon was fun and a lot of people came out, including my friend Maggie who flew up from San Francisco just for my birthday! I feel blessed. Thank you to all you readers out there, and thank you to my friends and family who have made this the best birthday ever.

And let's not forget Drew, who has made these past two years wonderful. I love you baby.

Life and All That Bullshit

2008-09-23T14:21:00.001-07:00

I'm pretty down. I think that is an understatement. I'm lost inside myself. I haven't been writing as much (as you faithful readers can tell) and I haven't painted in a long while. I guess I'm depressed. No, I am. I am depressed. Saying it does't make me feel any better. In fact it makes me feel worse.

At The Online Coffee Company "The Police" is playing and that cheers me up a bit. Then I think again about the state of my life. I am no longer cheered. I have not filed my paperwork for my intership. It's so long ago that I finished that I fear they will not accept it. So I don't fill out the paper work.

I think about my work, how much I dread every day I go to the Red Lion. I do a job any idiot with half a brain could do. At least I do it well. . . at least above mediocre. I was offered more hours by my new boss, Alex. "No thanks," I said, "I'm in a big enough rut as it is." And that is where I am at. The Rut.

I am happy that I am doing sound design on a film. I will be working on it from today to Friday. There's the smile. A little crooked, but better than nothing.

I don't even want to go into my relationship right now. Too soon, too uncertain. At least we love eachother. There's always that.

Guh.

Market Spice Tea

2008-09-19T09:07:00.000-07:00

This is quite possibly the best tasting tea I have ever drank in my life. Loves it. AND it has a picture of the Pike Place Market. I hope they make a Golden Age Collectibles blend. It should be made out of green tea and broken dreams.

Humboldt County

2008-09-18T00:39:00.001-07:00

As a complete film nerd I tend to watch a lot of movies I know little to nothing about on the hope that I will find a indie gem. More often than not I find above mediocre movies that are missing one or two elements. Lately, there seems to be a slew of more good movies, or maybe I'm just watching the right ones.

Either way, "Humboldt County", is one of these right films. Peter, a med student who receives a great residency only to fail his last class is whisked away (by Faruza Balk) from Los Angeles to northern California's Humboldt County. He is left stranded by the quirky Bogart (played by Balk) and now must cope with her "extended family" of pot growing philosophers and eccentrics.

The film is really good. I mean, really good. It meanders along at just the right pace, and mixes the Utopian idealism of the urbanites who have escaped to Humboldt to grow pot with the ever present threat of "The Feds;" this contrast used to anchor us to the ground while our head is in the sky. All the while, Peter, (as it goes in movies) is growing into a better, wiser, and less wounded person.

The film is neither overly dramatic, nor pretentious. It seems as though someone just had an idea and loved it very much. This love comes through from the superb and subtle acting, to the sparse cinematography that allows the nature of Humboldt to speak for itself.

I would recommend this film, if you have On-Demand you can see it before it comes to theaters (for the low price of 9.99) or just wait till it comes to the local Indy Art House. . . which is where I will be seeing it again; the best way to keep good movies being made is to support them in the theater.

As a side note, The Red Lion in Eureka, where my buddy Justin is a manager, is thanked during the end credits.

Middle Sex

2008-09-16T12:39:00.000-07:00

What's better than Detroit's Race Riots, Hermaphrodites, and Grecian incest? The Book Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, which contains all of the above.

Middlesex is the story of the Stephanides family, from Lefty and Desdemona Stephanides' escape from Bursa in Turkey (though they are ethnically Greek) to Calliope Stephanides, Lefty and Desdemona's grand daughter, growing up in 1960's Detroit.

Eugenides uses language well, frames the story impeccably and makes the reader really care and understand the characters. The unusual subject of hermaphrodites in the story only helps to draw the reader in. The main character, and said hermaphrodite, Calliope is both tragic and inspiring. Many of the problems she goes through as a teenager are typical problems with an interesting twist.

The book does not stay centered on Cal, though, and often brings up Race and Ethnicity as a main theme. Whether it is Detroit's communities being unaccepting of Greek immigrants or race relations between whites and blacks in Detroit.

The book isn't just about race relations, hermaphrodites, or immigrants. The book is about Detroit, about life, and about the problems people have in love. It is a great read and Eugenides deserves the Pulitzer Prize that Middlesex won.

Rubiks Cubes are Awesome. . . AND Retro!

2008-09-08T09:07:00.000-07:00

My job at the Red Lion is boring. Anyone who follows this blog long enough will learn that. In fact it is so boring I have learned the subtle arts of Sudoku and how to solve the New York Times Crossword puzzle (at least once or twice). Now I have mastered another useless and ridiculous and brainy task. The Rubik's Cube.

It started when the new bellman, Raleigh, came in with one of these evil devices. At first I refused to touch it. I had always though that these were the puzzle boxes from Hellraiser, and if one solved it one would be transported instantly to Hell.

So, it turns out I was wrong about that. But not by much. After watching Raleigh solve this beast of an 80's plastic cube, I had to try. "I'm smart," I thought, "I can do this." After a few hours of maddening click clicks of the cube I gave up.

Raleigh came back and gave me a few hints and I was back in the game. This continued over the next few days. I'd get a bit farther in the process, Raleigh would give me a few hints, and then scramble the cube and make me do it all over again. Until, on the 2nd I finally did it. I solved the Rubik's cube. In the days that have followed I became obsessed. I started to have anyone and everyone mess the cube up, I walked to Drew's house completing the puzzle, I timed myself (my record is 2 minutes 19 seconds).

I have decided to put the cube down, now, as it is the Devil's Plaything. One day I may pick it up again, try to get the world record, but for right now I am satisfied with it being a silly bar trick.

2008-08-27T23:46:00.001-07:00

Of Late Night Evenings and Inablility to Sleep Part 4

2008-08-27T23:03:00.000-07:00

I'm Laboring through Middlesex, which is a good book but is a slow read. My body still hasn't quite adjusted back to West Coast time so I feel like its 2 in the morning.

As I was reading the book I was reminded of my grandfather. I think about his life, his time living in Saginaw and Detroit, my father being raised in Farmington and his recollections of the riots. I remember the stories of World War 2, of guardian angels and close calls. Stories of Australian women who taught him about sex, and Filipino prostitutes (he wore condoms on his fingers as well. . . )

Then, I am reminded more and more of his old age and failing health. A person who seemed so vital when I was a young, slipping more and more into old age. No longer wearing his hearing aid to participate in conversation. I remember the strokes and how a little more film and gloss went over his eyes. And then, finally his death.

I remember it well. My father and I groggily slid into his Infinity I-35, and drove early in the morning to Redmond. We arrived and his body had already began to take on the pallor of death. A sick green-gray paleness that is never quite right in the movies. I sat in the living room, where his bed had been moved to, and watched as my aunt Caroline and my father, the two eldest children, washed the body of their father.

"We need to get him clean for when the nurse arrives" my aunt said to my father. I sat in one of the high backed chairs of my grandmother's antique dinning set and tried to connect this death with my father. I wanted to know how he felt. How a usually jovial man and my father felt about the death of his own father.

I felt cold and numb. It was Christmas Eve-Eve, as my family referred to it. December 23rd. I had been messaging a woman from The Stranger and we had talked over the phone for a few hours, I felt a little guilty when I thought about her.

I tried to think about my grandmother Murray's death just a month and a half before. How I felt about yet another death. In the year and a half prior I had lost 5 people I cared about. George, my cousin B.J., Lance, my grandmother Murray, and now my grandfather Prebo.

I wonder, more ofter now as I understand getting older with every day, what happens when we die and why people are so sad? "They're in a better place" we hear so often. An almost empty phrase to cheer us up from the inevitable. We will all die. Every last person you have ever met will one day die. One day my father will die too. I will play "Desolation Row" at his funeral, something he requested of me at age thirteen when I first started playing the guitar. And even now I realize I may die before my father.

But the question still remains. "What happens when we die?" I have had dreams in which my loved ones have visited me, to talk about their death and the afterlife. They seem optimistic. These dreams are often riddled with bizarre symbolism.

I had a dream of my grandfather and cousin. We walked through a park. While we talked about life and death a huge Korean wedding went on in the background. Tibetan monks made a mandala and swept it away just as quickly. There was a burial at air. I think of these dreams and I hope for the best.

I read books like "Spook" and watch paranormal shows. I hope that these strange occurrences are proof that my loved ones live on.

But I know what I felt when I watched my father and aunt wash my dead grandfather. I felt the bleakness of life, what Sarte called "La Nausea." I felt as though nothing mattered and that life is sadness and pain, and that finally we watch as everything and everyone we love either slowly fades away or is taken in one swift action. Stroke upon stroke wore away at my grandfather and when we died his two eldest children cleaned his bed sore covered body to give his a final dignity in death. His grandson watched, disconnected, alone in his thoughts of his father's and finally his own demise.

Later on that day, after finally having a cathartic keen, I called Drew and asked her out on a date. We went out the day after Christmas. It was probably the best first date I have ever been on. We drank, but not to excess, and had dinner. Afterwards we watched "Beach Blanket Bingo" and made out. I caught a cab home. Life continues. Almost two years have passed. Drew and I, though having minor break-ups are still together. I am at once shocked at the fact that two years have passed since my grandfather died.

I don't know how I feel about death right now. I don't know what happens to our "Immortal Soul." If we do have one I don't feel good about my soul's status. I'd like my soul to feel brand new. But, for right now I feel optimistic. I'm not yet 25. My father is 61. I was not born until he was 36 years old. So much life to go, yet it feels so sudden.

When my father does die I will respect his wishes and play "Desolation Row." As it has and will always be our song. He sang it to me as a lullaby when I was a baby. We sang it together on long road trips to Natchez Pass for cub scouts and on our trips to Salmon La Sac. We have sang it together many times around campfires and bonfires and in living rooms. One day, possibly on a usual gray rain-streaked Seattle day I will sing it alone in front of a hundred or so people. And life, everywhere else, will go on.

New York. . . In a New York Minute

2008-08-21T07:51:00.000-07:00

I will be back posting all my journeys here on the East Coast, but I wanted to quickly update y'all before I went out and painted the town red. I'm going to go get breakfast and then go to the Met. So far, New York is amazing. I'm staying in the Upper East Side and it's beautiful.

New York, Here I Come

2008-08-18T13:13:00.000-07:00

In a lighter note from my previous blog post, I am extremely excited about going to New York City this Wednesday. I have never been to the "Big Apple" and it being my first time Drew has promised me a fun filled time full of culture and food.

I am super excited about the Natural History Museum and the Met, which is doing a "fashion of Superheros" exhibit. I'm already having a dork-gasm over the dinosaur fossils and superhero costumes.

Also on the itinerary: A Voce restaurant and Gray's Papaya. Two of the fine culinary options for those going to NYC.

I'm stoked.

Sad Times

2008-08-18T13:04:00.000-07:00

I'm sad today. Can't explain why, but I'm sad. Hopefully it'll all be better tomorrow.

Productivity or the Lack Thereof

2008-08-15T15:33:00.000-07:00

I may have been wasting more time than I usually do on trivial things these past few weeks. I feel like I am less productive than I could be. I've been playing "Pirates of the Caribbean" which is too much fun for it's own good. I've been drinking a bit too much these past couple weeks, though decidedly less than I have been in the past few months. I have not been painting, nor gotten the show I want to have together.

It is at times like these I must confront myself, and this time it will be in the public venue of my blog. Now it's out there. I've been wasting time.

"But, has it all been a waste?" I ask myself. Yes, and no. I have been making friends and having a good time. I've been at least a little productive and have been making sure I get more than the bare minimum done. I've been reading a lot. A lot, a lot. For right now, that still is not enough. I need to focus on my strengths and produce more art or music (I have written a new song with the working title "I Like You") or write more aside from my blog.

Now, having publicly addressed my deep inner issues I can breathe a sigh of relief and get to getting to. But first, I just might have to plunder some booty.

True Pirates of the Caribbean

2008-08-14T15:56:00.000-07:00

While flipping though the channels I found this lovely program on the History Channel. For all you pirate lovers out there it is gold. For everyone else it's silver or bronze.

Just thought I would put some pirate weapons in because they are awesome.

G'uh. . .

2008-08-13T14:48:00.000-07:00

I should remember not to blog drunk. . . at least I can make myself laugh. . . ellipses. . .

Titles are Bourgeoisie

2008-08-12T03:00:00.000-07:00

Sometimes when I update my status on Facebook I literally LoL. I fucking hate that term. Laugh out fucking loud. It's permeated our culture so much we can't even speak the queens fucking English if we wanted to. The only grammar I have to change is permeated(permiated) and capitalize "English."

I still laugh out loud when I change the fucking thing. I did this evening. I changed it to "Ian is the opposite of naI, who smells like farts and only eats Cheetoz." Even now when I write that I giggle.

I am extremely glad I am not typing this on a type writer. Sometimes I wish I was. . .

Had a good evening. Started out rough. Got better. Went to the Elephant and Castle and talked with Marc and Rose and Ryan, and one of the waitresses whose name I can never remember (that I think begins with "C" but not Rachel who was also serving whose name I sometime forget but not now so fuck yeah for me.)

{}[][]]{

After drinking and talking moved on to Dragon Fish [good spot] and we ate some killer chicken {of course had the calamari} and some Ahi rolls. Quite good. I drank some hot sake and some of Mark's beer when I had too much wasabi. Sometimes I think I talk like a robot.

That made me laugh.

[{{]{[]{][]{}[}]{] - robot code for "won't you take me to funky town?"
Robots are so silly.

Well, I lost my train of thought or motivation. Shit.

I'm just glad that the movie "Choke" is coming out. Fuck yeah. Sam Rockwell fucking Rocks. He's even in the film "Galaxy Quest," second only to "Fifth Element" as best cheesy sci-fi movie ever.

Pineapple Express

2008-08-08T22:44:00.000-07:00

Holy flippin' crap, the action comedy is back with a vengeance.

I honestly did not expect much from this film. Yeah, I saw "Super Bad" and thought it was funny and "Knocked Up" I loved, but I didn't think that Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen could do it again. Why? One might ask.

First off, I didn't think that "Super Bad" was as funny as everyone else when I saw it in theaters. It was good, but not the funniest movie I have ever seen. Upon viewing it again, I like it more. Is it the best comedy ever? I wouldn't put my money on it.

Secondly, "Drill Bit Taylor." A prime example of a hit and miss comedy by Judd Apatow. Coming off this I was worried that "Pineapple Express" could very well go up in smoke (pun intended).

From the very first second of "Pineapple Express" I was laughing my jolly ass off. The film is not only a great "bro-mance" film, but there is a delicate balance of stoner humor, action, and morbid/violent humor that in it's very best moments reminded me of the "Marvin" scene in "Pulp Fiction."

Of all the Apatow films to date this one very well might knock "Knocked Up" from my number one rank. Of course to truely make that judgement I will have to watch it another 40 or 50 times. A grueling undertaking I am looking forward to.

Forget Paris

2008-08-07T22:23:00.000-07:00

While browsing through movies On Demand I came across "Forget Paris" starring Billy Crystal and Debra Winger. I remember seeing the film many years ago when I was a wee lad and enjoying it, but not really understanding the film.

Me being the big cheesy bastard that I am, I love Billy Crystal and romantic comedies. I know it's not the most masculine of things, but if you have ever seen "When Harry Met Sally. . . " you would understand why its such a great combo. So with approval from Drew I rented the film.

"Forget Paris" was written and directed by Crystal and is a wonderfully funny film. It's the perfect amount of high and low brow humor, and both Crystal and Winger play their characters with expert precision.

The story is an NBA Ref Mickey (Crystal) has to bury his estranged father in Paris, where his father fought during WW2. Due to an accident with the airline Mickey's father goes missing. While waiting for his father's body to show up he meets Helen (Winger) who is a public relations person for the airline. Romance ensues, and then drama, and then more romance.

I'm tired so I'll leave it at that. Suffice to say the film is awesome, funny, and generally a great "Grown Up" comedy (I can't believe I just fucking wrote that). I recommend the film highly, especially if you have ever lived with a lover. . .

Drew is a pretty lady (she said "say something nice about me" so there)

2008-08-07T22:00:00.000-07:00

No haircut yet. . . maybe tomorrow. . . I like ellipses. . .

Back and Forth

2008-08-07T13:54:00.000-07:00

Drew: Hello Mr. Commentator.

Me: Hello smelly butt.

Drew: I am having a lame day @ work & need snugs. Lots.

Thank God for text messages, and how they keep us in touch. Also, thank God for Drew, who is completely un-phased when being referred to as "smelly butt."

Also, thank God for snugs.

Time for a Haircut.

2008-08-07T13:36:00.001-07:00

Tony Eats Shit

2008-08-07T13:22:00.000-07:00

While browsing youtube for gems of ridiculousness I found this awesome clip featuring Anthony Bourdain.

I guess he had no reservations about driving up a cliff. . .

Eternity Road

2008-08-06T08:49:00.000-07:00

I've somehow managed to keep up with work, film, a social life, and reading. I'm especially happy about reading as it seems to have been the one place I really let slip in my life. Most recently I read a book called "Eternity Road."

"Eternity Road" is a sort-of post apocalyptic novel about the human race a thousand years from now. Most technology is gone and everyone worships gods of nature. Blah, blah, blah. A bunch of people get together to take on a quest to find "Haven" the mythical place where some dude saved all of humanity's history and science.

Journey happens, shit happens, and in the end things are ended. Whoopdy fucking do. The book was written well, but it was a little formulaic and cliche in parts. The characters were developed well, but the book lacked. I'd say it's a good read if you have nothing better to read. I'd say. . . above mediocre, but not great.

The Watchmen

2008-07-29T21:24:00.000-07:00

After watching "The Dark Knight" and also seeing the awesome trailer of "The Watchmen" I decided to revisit said trade paperback. For those of you who don't know, a trade paper back is a collection of smaller issues of comic books that are put into graphic novel form. Now that we have that little bit of geek jargon out of the way let me get on to the important parts.

(Ozymandias)

"The Watchmen," written by Alan Moore of "V for Vendetta" fame, wanted to write an adult comic; a comic that crossed the generation gap while simultaneously commenting on modern society and specifically American Society. The thing is, while doing this Moore might have written the most beautiful, tragic, and darkest comic book series that the world has ever seen. Certainly it is one of the top ten greatest comic books ever written.

Warning: Some spoilers are ahead, but only the basic plot beginning.

The story begins with the murder of one of the "Minute Men" a superhero group from the 1940's alternate history U.S. From here the story spirals into a thickening plot of a "mask killer" conspiracy, the dissolutionment of those heroes who are alive after masked vigilantism has been out-lawed, and possible nuclear annihilation of the world via growing tensions between Nixon (creepy, huh) run U.S.A. and the communist Russia. These problems escalate when the U.S.'s only real super-powered superhero Dr. Manhattan (Doctor Jon Osterman) decides to leave the planet Earth for Mars after allegations that contact with him causes cancer.

(Rorschach)

The story is beautifully written, with large excerpts from media of the world that "The Watchmen" takes place in. These include the psychiatric evaluations of "Rorschach," a brutally violent masked vigilante bent on stopping evil at any cost, and parts of "Under the Hood" a book written by one of "The Minute Men," Hollis Mason who went by the name "Nite Owl."

(Nite Owl 2)

(The Comedian)

http://watchmenmovie.warnerbros.com/

The Dark Knight

2008-07-22T14:08:00.000-07:00

The Hype is true. It's all true. The movie is so far not only the best Batman film ever made, it is probably the best comic book movie ever made. Hands down. The film is a slow building simmer of action, twists, and death. A lot of people in the movie die. A LOT.

While Christian Bale's portrayal of said Dark Knight is amazing the true performance is Heath Ledger. I know, I know, and it is not just because he's dead. Honestly. I love the Joker, I would go so far as to say he is one of the best fictional villains of all time. Ledger brought him to life. Nicholson played a great Joker, but there was still too much of the Caesar Romero silliness for it to be the Joker I had always had in my mind.

The Joker is a sociopathic, psychotic, mass-murdering lunatic one can't help but love and detest at the same time. Not only does Ledger's shambling stride, slurred speech, and general persona capture this, but the costume design and make-up make it so that you can almost smell him; it does not smell good.

The storyline of the film is great weaving loved and hated characters of Batman mythos throughout, the is drama, action, tragedy and catharsis. Not only a great comic book film, but a great film. It is worth every penny of the $10.25 to see it on the big screen.

So, if you're on the fence about seeing what might possibly be Ledger's finest role (and I fucking love him in Brokeback Mountain) get the fuck off that fence and go see the film.

Another good thing about seeing the Dark Knight in theaters is that you will see the preview for "The Watchmen" widely acclaimed as the greatest graphic novel ever written. (I know, Sandman is fucking awesome, but I gotta go with The Watchmen).

P.S. Otis Redding is playing at the coffee shop and life is good.

The Road

2008-07-18T16:07:00.000-07:00

I had never read a Cormac McCarthy book. Not until his most recent novel, The Road, a post-apocalyptic novel about a father and son's struggle to survive in an ash-covered dead world. The story is beautiful and tragic, uplifting and heart breaking. McCarthy's writing style is terse, yet contains moments of intensity and magic. The characters are beautiful and sympathetic, and the book delves into the horrors that live within the human heart.

The novel is a quick read for it's size and there is little punctuation, no chapters per se, and it bounces between the present in the book and flashbacks the father has about life before the apocalypse (which is never explained.)

I loved this book, plain and simple. I have not read a book this dark and depressing, yet beautiful and cathartic as this novel in a long, long time. For those of you who have never read McCarthy (as I hadn't) I highly recommend it.

Life, the Universe, and Everything

2008-07-15T16:08:00.000-07:00

I've been really busy. Really, really, really, fucking busy. I'm working 40+ hours for my job coach job and still working at the hotel, plus I've got a videography gig. Pretty sweet, except the lack of sleep.

So what else has been happening in my life? One might ask. I don't know. When I try to think about what I've been doing I draw a big fat blank. I feel like I'm entirely comprised of work and sleep with booze playing a delicate balancing act.

But then, slowly I realize that I'm still doing all the awesome shit that I usually do. I went to the Sub-Pop 20th anniversary comedy show with my friend Maggie Battles on Friday the 11th followed. I'll back post about it. Hopefully. . . after that Battles and I went to The Elephant and Castle and I got drunk as shit on my buddy Mark's last day of work. Thanks again for the free booze MTJ.

What else? I went to Salmon La Sac and had a usual grand time, with highlights of breaking up a teenie-bopper fight, playing copious amounts of music, and drinking cold beer in 103 degree weather. Joy of Joys.

I've been reading a lot, and will post all about those books, in usual "So Picante Its Enfuego" style. But, for the time being I will be happy and tired and busy. . . and sometimes a little drunk.

Happy 4th of July!

2008-07-04T10:56:00.000-07:00

Well, yet again it is the birthday of the United States (not to be confused with "Birth of a Nation") and everybody is getting geared up for beer, fireworks, and barbecues. With this in mind I have a few videos for you. Happy 4th.

As a final note, wouldn't it be weird if we called all our holidays by their date? Happy 1st of July! (Canada Day), Happy November 27th! (This year's Thanksgiving), Merry December 25th (Duh). . . you get the point. The only other holiday I can think of in this category is Cinqo De Mayo, and that's Mexican Independence day. Maybe it has something to do with that. . . Meh.

2008-07-03T01:41:00.000-07:00

Of Late Night Evenings and Inablility to Sleep Part 3

2008-07-03T01:26:00.000-07:00

Watched the first 3 episodes of "Undeclared" with Drew. Sometimes I wonder what the fuck I am doing with my life. I stare at the computer screen, and my mind draws a big fat blank. I hop on facebook, look up friends to see if they are there. The semblance of keeping in touch.

So many people pass by and it all ends up being bullshit. George Carlin is dead of a heart attack at 71. In my head I think that for him it is both young and old. I think of everyone I know, or rather knew, that is dead now. Every year the number gets bigger. I get depressed over the fact that I sometimes can't see their faces anymore; I have to look at a picture.

I think about where I was a year ago, how I haven't submitted my internship papers, even though I have finished. I think about others in my graduating class, and how they are already working in film.

I think about the fact that I will most likely be laid off from my job at the Lyon Rouge soon, on account of nepotism. At least I won't get fired. Maybe I'll be able to get un-employment for a while. That'd be nice.

My lungs weigh heavier each day, as I smoke more and more cigarettes. Sometimes it's hard to breathe for no reason. At least I try to tell myself its for no reason. But there always is a reason. I feel recharged in some ways from Salmon La Sac, and more dead tired in other ways. I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation.

Maybe I just complain too much.

I wonder if anyone feels as listless and bored as I do. I wonder why anyone could love me. I wonder why I love people. I wonder why I care for the people I do. I wonder if anyone reads my blog.

I feel sorry for those who love me. I download free porn and feel slightly ashamed, finish up, and smoke a cigarette. I bet the irony of my life will be that I get skin cancer or prostate cancer and my lungs will be fine till the day I die.

I get depressed at my own mortality; I wonder if anyone else does. . .

Fuck it.

poetry, more like blowetry

2008-07-03T01:00:00.000-07:00

you, me, burrito
My heart is nothing more
than a microwave burrito
stuffed with cheese
that leaks from the sides
and hardens
and when you are done
all that is left
is the napkin covered in goo
and some stupid fucking
wrapper

Smile
I see you, I smile,
with beer and cigarette breath
a yellow smile
but a smile none the less
you see me, you smile,
wide mouth grin
eyes bright
a smile I can dig
we see each other, we smile
across rooms, through doors
smiles penetrate glass and wood
and me. . .
I smile

Blossom's Brother (Not Joey, The Other One)
Don't forget
to bury my heart
at wounded
krelbow

Mixed Tape Generator

2008-07-03T00:01:00.000-07:00

This thing is hilarious. Here are a few gems for you. . .

Shortbus Revisited

2008-07-02T22:00:00.000-07:00

This evening I revisited a film called "Shortbus," by director John Cameron Mitchell. I reviewed it for my blog the first time I saw it, and I have to say it is still amazing. Go Netflix it. Now.

We Burn the Fat From Our Souls

2008-06-24T19:23:00.000-07:00

A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.

-Earnest Hemmingway

I believe the owl responds "Hoo are you? Hoo Hoo? Hoo Hoo?"

Photo by Drew over at OMSTV, lunch bag sketch by me

2008-06-24T00:40:00.000-07:00

The Avett Brothers

2008-06-24T00:12:00.000-07:00

Recently I was getting coffee at Uptown Espresso in the West Seattle Junction when I heard the sweet sweet sounds of amazing country music. I inquired the Barista, Amy, about it and she said "Its the Avett Brothers, they're totes amazing."

Suffice to say I agreed and the next time I came it I was surprised with a burned copy of The Avett Brother's CD titled "Emotionalism." It is quite possibly the best album I have heard in the past 5 years. The music is well written, the album well produced, and it has a sense of nostalgia mixed with a profound freshness. I highly recommend it.

Here are a few ditties for you.

This is the album version of "Die, Die, Die"

I will definately be at the show this August at the Woodland Park Zoo. Plus, I get to check out the Cassowaries.

2008-06-23T12:44:00.000-07:00

Here is another gem of an old video. My friend Lucy attempts a trick and I, in my drunken state, state the obvious.

Lucy's 2am Skate from dzandone on Vimeo.

Ian Preebz in the 41st (and a half?) Century

2008-06-20T14:39:00.000-07:00

(example of Ultramarine Space Marines)

Warhammer 40,000. I miss playing Warhammer. . . The thing is, now that I have enough money to play it again it has been plaguing my brain. Sometimes, when I am extremely bored or in an especially dorky mood, doing my usual internet surfing, I check out the Games Workshop website.

I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you where all this table top war game madness began. I was a youth, no more that 10 years old. In the West Seattle Junction a gaming store had recently opened. It was amazing, a cathedral to all that is dorky. I can't recall the name, but to me it was a mystical place.

It was here that I bought my first booster pack of "Magic the Gathering" cards, here that I first purchased a starter deck of Star Trek TNG CCG (The Next Generation Collectible Card Game), and here, where I first fell in love with the 41st century.

Warhammer 40k, as we would call it, was a table top strategy game where two or more players would pit units of rival armies against each other. I was hooked instantly.

(example of a modeled table)

I would sit and watch for hours as players would assemble the terrain, made from Styrofoam and cannibalized model train sets. From these they would assemble hills, rivers, place trees and bunkers to create a battle field.

(prime example of a battle field)

Then, they would assemble their armies. I wanted to play so bad, but I did not have the money for an army. Sometimes one of the dorks would lend me a pitiful army just to decimate an innocent 10 year old. But I did not loose heart. I saved my small pittance of an allowance and bought the booster packs assembling an army literally one man at a time.

I watched as these fierce armies did battle, led by their dorky generals. There was the Imperial Guard, the average human fighting force for the Empire; the Space Marines, the genetically engineered super human army loyal to the Emperor; the Eldar, a mystical race of elves; the Orcs, a slobbering idiotic race whose only beliefs were war and death; the Tyranids, a race of bio-organic weapon wielding hive-mind race; and finally Chaos, the horrifying race of Space Marines who had rebelled against the Emperor and had been warped by evil gods who live in the "Eye of Terror" a gargantuan rip in the fabric of Space-Time.

(Battle for Macragge, the New Starter Set)

I saved and saved, and was finally putting together a mildly decent army. Then, one day, my parents bought me the starter set. The starter box was about 100 bucks, which was a lot of money to spend on a 10-year-old in 1993. It came with an Orc army and a Space Marine Army.
My favorite were the Space Marines, they seemed like an unstoppable force of good and righteousness. My young and impressionable mind still held the ideas of "Absolute Good and Absolute Evil" as truths in this world and I wanted to fight a crusade against the evil armies of the 41st century.

After buying me the starter set I would beg and plead my father to play (he was always the Orcs) and soon I was a skilled player no older than 11. I felt as though I was on top of the world.

Then, one day without warning, the shop closed. It seems that more people were concerned with playing the game there than buying anything. When the owner tried to charge for table time all the players moved the games to their houses.

I was distraught. I had spent the vast majority of my allowance money for that year on a game that I no longer had anyone to play with (my father had grown tired of loosing). For a while I played the game against my self. I would set up the armies and bunkers and battle for hours. But, like any game of strategy played alone, it was unfulfilling.

I boxed up my armies and moved on, back to Magic and Star Trek, and now to Dungeon and Dragons. In high school I met a few people who played, but it lacked the magic it once had. I ended up selling my armies and forgetting about the game.

Maybe it's nostalgia, but now that I am older I think of my battles waged in the 41st century. I remember the crushing defeats and the joy of destroying the enemy. I remember beating dorks more than twice my age and the fierce pride I had in myself. But, in the end, this is long lost. I doubt I will ever pick the game up again. I will, however, look at the website and smile my nostalgic smile knowing the joys I had playing Warhammer 40,000.

Waking Life

2008-06-19T14:22:00.000-07:00

I remember the first time I saw Waking Life, a film by Richard Linklater. It is a meandering film about dreams and reality and where the subconsciousness meets conscious thought. I loved it. I thought it was interesting and highly cerebral. For a while after I saw the film I experimented with "lucid dreaming" and even now still expierience lucid dreams.

When I saw that it was going to be on IFC I was really excited. I hoped to be filled again with wonder and awe, to let the ideas on consciousness, dreams, and death pour through me and fill me with new vigor and vitality.

As I watched the film I felt detached. I was annoyed at the cartoon overlay, and found it distracting. The lack of structure bored me and I had to force myself to continue to watch. I kept looking for that gem of wisdom I had found so many years ago. I tried to glean anything I could from the film, but like grains of construction sand, it simply slipped though my grasp.

Maybe I'm too ridgid in how I think now, or maybe my taste in film has changed, or maybe I've heard too much metaphysical psychobable to care about these emphemeral ideas anymore. I can't help but wonder if it is me or the film? Or is it rather, like a dream the essence of it slips away more and more with every waking moment?

Either way, I was sad to be so disinterested in a film that I had once cherished.

Sleepless Night

2008-06-19T01:07:00.000-07:00

While browsing some old videos I found this gem:

The Tasty Side from dzandone on Vimeo.

That is all.

Holy Shit!

2008-06-19T00:59:00.000-07:00

Another Youtube Gem. . .

Top Ten Favorite Things. . .

2008-06-19T00:51:00.000-07:00

To Do When I Can't Sleep.

10) Read a book

9) Eat a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich with a glass of milk

8) Smoke a cigarette

7) Read my blog/ check for typos and never fix them

6) Watch music videos on Youtube

5) Eat some sort of tasty treat (such as a brownie) also with said glass of milk

4) Blog

3) Call Andy Kaburka and see if he's still at work / make fun of him for working so much

2) Get laid

1) Jerk it.

I did 7 of the 10 tonight. Can you guess which ones?

I hate my life.

JOKES!

Why I love Perusing You Tube

2008-06-18T17:55:00.000-07:00

Here is a hilarious video. God Bless You Tube.

Strange Dreams and Going to Work

2008-06-18T12:31:00.000-07:00

At Revolution right now, about to go work. I had a bizarre dream last night. I was going to a party, but first we had to pick up a bunch of people. One of Drew's friends, Whitney, was the main chauffeur, but we ended up taking the bus. The party was just a blur of what are now unintelligible images, but held weight in my dream.

During our journey we had left someone behind, one of Drew's co-workers who in the process of arriving to the party had lost his hair and grown a beard. He looked much like Charles Darwin. He was unhappy with us, to say the least, though he never mentioned the metamorphosis.

We continued on our journey and ended up in what seemed to be a nondescript sports arena. That is, until it turned into a giant chocolate covered waffle cone. At this absurdity I had to leave, and when I got home I was attacked by a cat. The rest of the dream is either too strange or personal for me to relay, but was nonetheless fantastic.

I hope that one day I will be able to decipher the terrible meaning of the giant waffle cone.

Now I am off to work. Joy of Joys.

. . .

2008-06-17T16:02:00.000-07:00

For Y'all Who Haven't Seen It

2008-06-17T15:38:00.000-07:00

Here is the movie "Neck Bomb" in which I was the Production Designer on. I should have the film "Pictures" up shortly. I hope you enjoy. If you want to see the full quality version then hit me up. Okay, love you, bye-bye.

Beirut

2008-06-17T15:30:00.000-07:00

Elephant Gun, by Beirut.

If you don't know Beirut, you should check them out. The lead singer/songwriter Zach Condon was in the Band "A Hawk and a Hacksaw" which came from Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeremy Barnes. Good Shit.

Here is my favorite Beirut song, Postcards From Italy.

Enjoy.

Chat-Chit

2008-06-17T15:23:00.000-07:00

This is why I love IMing on Facebook.

Ian: We didn't start the fire

Marcus: eh?
there is a lack of fire starting these days :(

Ian: I'm a Fire Starter. Twisted Fire Starter. . .

Marcus: the keen instigator?

Ian: Erupt with me.

Marcus: lol
so sensual
i need to go hax the internets

Ian: word.

Marcus: talk to you soon. . .
secret lover

Ian: Yes, you will. Lover.

Good Morning!

2008-06-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

Good Morning!

Last night I had a shit-ton of fun (more than a butt-load) kicking it with Randal, Mark, Dustin, Allie, and a new Seattle resident named Katrina.

I got off work and popped into the E and C to have my usual after work beer, when I ran into Mark another West Seattle local and Elephant and Castle bartender. We headed out to the patio and exchanged jokes and our usual homo-erotic jokes about our beards. (Note: We didn't start the fire)

After a little bit Allie (a friend of Mark's and West Seattle local) and Dustin (good humored gent) showed up. We ate pretzels and continued with the jibes. The pretzels were good, the jokes were bad, and the beer was cold. It felt good.

Shortly after that Randal, an E and C regular and good friend of mine, showed up with recent Florida transplant Katrina. Katrina is thin, average height, and looks a little like Mischa Barton.

Katrina: You remind me of that one guy, from 'Along Came Polly'. . . you know. . .

Me: Not Ben Stiller. . .

Katrina: No, the guy that wants be be Judas. . .

Me: Phillip Seymour Hoffman? The guy that sharts himself?

Katrina: Yeah!
I was both amused and mildly insulted. But, at least it wasn't P.S.H. from "Happiness." The best part is that one of my secret dreams (not so secret now) is to play Judas in a production of "Jesus Christ Super Star."

I find it quite amusing when people first get to Seattle. I'm sure that everyone has a certain opinion of the Northwest; people are nice, the weather sucks, and life moves at a slower pace. For most of the rest of the Northwest this is true. But then you get to Seattle.

Sure, on the surface Seattle seems to have all the typical Northwestern milieu, but when you dig deeper you find a veritable nest of activity. We are loud and insulting, warm and teasing, we shout profanities and drink too much. For a long time I thought it was only me. . . but then, after combing bars upon bars, I found the underlying current. Maybe I just found my niche.

Those who gravitate to art and music, those who are sick and tired of being sick and tired, those who want to spit in life's eye and say "Fuck You! If you don't like it!" these people, these unwashed miscreants, are the true Seattle, they are the Seattle I love and the Seattle that I life in.

That being said Katrina, the Floridian transplant, got an ear, eye, and mouthful of the "True Seattle." She seemed nervous, at first, as though she was the butt of a joke she didn't quite grasp. But, our genuineness seemed to break through and soon enough she was having a blast.

After the Elephant and Castle Dustin, Allie, and I hopped in a cab back to West Seattle and headed over to the Junction. We kicked it for a bit, I played a little Johnny Cash and some Neutral Milk Hotel, and we chit-chatted about Heman. Then, it was off to the Poggie, for a few beers and some sweet Irish music.

I peace out a bit early to kick it with Drew. We drank some wine and watched "Waiting" which. . . has it's moments. I love the fact that it has John Francis Daley in it, from "Freaks and Geeks" fame.

Oh Sweet Sweet Olympia

2008-06-13T20:11:00.000-07:00

I've been in a bit of a rut. Life has been one task after another, mixed with booze and socializing. I make a front. I have a good time, but I have been feeling lost. On Monday I got the call. It was Poot, who I had not seen in a few months.

"What's up man, are you busy tomorrow?" He asked. I replied "I have nothing important to do," which was true. "Come to Olympia and we'll hang out." It seemed like a good idea. The next day I was on the 592 express to the 512 park and ride in Tacoma.

The ride was beautiful, looking out through the wooded areas. I couldn't help but smile.

Then, at the park and ride I chatted it up with an Evergreen student named Julianne. We talked about graphic novels and sustainable farming. While on the bus our conversation was continually interrupted by a woman in her fifties, but I couldn't help but laugh.

I got off the bus and said "later" to Julianne, knowing I would probably never speak to her again in my life. Poot called and said he was on his way, and while I waited my brother Patrick called.

There was an electricity in the air, I could feel the energy and good will of Olympia, my smile held strong. Then, it got bigger, as I saw the mid-nineties Jeep Cherokee roll into the parking lot across the street.

Poot and I smoked a cigarette and decided to wing it. As we walked down the street we ran into Olympia local and West Seattlite Afton. Afton was standing there smoking a rolled cigarette and taking about print making and opening a restaurant. We made eye contact as I walked towards her and she let out a loud "HOLY SHIT!" and from there the night continued with a mixture of good vibes and "Holy Shit has it been that long?"s.

We ate at a wonderful place called "Le Voyeur" and drank (fittingly) Olympia Beer. We talked about dreams and the collective consciousness. We ate French Fries with special sauce. Afterwards, we headed over to Afton's friend Miranda's house.

Miranda's is a traveler's place. The back yard is covered in tents. There are punk rock kids passed out here and there, some sharing recently dumpstered food. There are a plethora of random dogs with bandannas around their necks. Poot, Afton, and I headed up to Miranda's room and talked more about Art and Music.

We drank wine from the bottle and I played guitar. I made sure everyone sang along.

Then, weary and bleary eyed, Poot and I hit the road; we were off to Delphinia, the 36 acre farm his girl lived on. Poot and I stayed up till five o'clock drinking tequila and running through the underbrush.

As I lay there in the guest's sleeping nook I reflected on my day. I had spent all my money, my lungs felt heavy from all the cigarettes I had smoked, and I was dog tired. I felt like the happiest man alive. I was glad to be back in Olympia, and glad to be going home in the morning, a little tired and a little refreshed.

Peso's Kitchen

2008-06-11T21:13:00.000-07:00

This week of drunken debauchery started with a night out with Jessica (from the Lyon Rouge) and two Russian dudes.

After a bizarre (though fun) night over at the Elephant and Castle I decided to head over to my buddy Anderson's place. He had to run shortly after and Jessie gave me a call, so I was back off to downtown. We met up at the Lion and then headed over to a little joint called Peso's Kitchen.

My first impression was not a good one. Peso's comes across as just another overdone meat-market. The walls were all done in a "traditional" stucco, there were candles everywhere, not to mention the servers were all buxom and disinterested. I looked up at the red, and white over-sized pseudo abstract ceiling sculputure tile things and was worried I had died and gone to my own private hell.

We sat down in a booth in one of the back corners and while Jessie chatted it up with one of the Russian boys who went by Sacha/Alex/Alejandro (suspicious much?) I chatted with the other Russian about moral relativism and the Soviet Union.

After a shot of tequila (or three) I decided to give the place a shot at their food. The majority of the menu was "Mexican influenced" American fare, but after perusing the happy hour menu I saw a few things that sounded promising. Namely, the traditional Carnitas and the Rock Shrimp floutas.

Holy shit. The Carnitas were fresh, traditional, and amazing. The floutas were perfectly cooked and the accompanying sauces were brilliant. I was honestly a little pissed. I was mad that this place that I wanted to hate was turning out to be awesome. The drinks were made well, were moderately priced, and were stiff as a twelve year old boy reading the J.C. Penny's underwear catalog.

With my amazing Carnitas (traditional tacos) I drank a Dos Equis and a little Sauza tequila. Genius. After my meal I chatted it up with the waitress who seemed less snobish, less unapproachable; and as I left I grimaced at the fact that I knew I would be back for seconds.

Overall Ian Prebo Rating: 3 and a half shots of bourbon.

G'night, see you in the mornin'

2008-06-08T01:11:00.001-07:00

Hey! Tony!

2008-06-08T00:32:00.001-07:00

Anthony Bourdain is my fucking hero. I remember the very first episode of "No Reservations" I ever saw. It was the Pacific Northwest episode. I was a little miffed about the lack of detail and time he spent in Seattle, but what I saw was a brazen asshole who loved food and knew what the fuck he was talking about. And, not only that, he wanted to eat the bizarre and wonderful local things such as the Geoduck (pronounced gooey-duck for all you non-northwesterners.)

(I have no fucking clue who this yokel is)

There was something that this crass son-of-a-bitch had, a certain je ne sais quoi if you will, that I found intriguing. I had to watch more, and I did. I watched hours of this guy travel the world making an ass out of himself drinking too much smoking too much and generally making an ass out of himself. I loved it.

I loved the fact that there was someone out there on those stupid ass food and travel channels that I could identify with. Someone who loved punk rock and hated dumb-ass people and, furthermore, loved food.

My love of Bourdain continued, and with that a Tivo subscription.

Then, one about a month ago, Drew said to me "Anthony Bourdain is coming to town, and I got us tickets." I practically shit my pants. After jumping up and down like a thirteen year old girl I calmed down and accepted the fact that I would actually be in the same room as one of my heroes.

Fast-forward to this evening.

The man came out and killed it. He talked about everything I wanted him to talk about. He was as funny and interesting as I thought and hoped he would be. I won 't go into it, suffice to say he was exactly who he presents. Or something like that. . .

There's a First Time for Everything

2008-06-07T16:07:00.000-07:00

Recently I re-acquainted with a college friend of mine, Huma. We would hang out by the smoking deck (never on the smoking deck as Huma is a voracious non-smoker) and chit-chat about life and how she would have "talk sex" with the instructors.

Well, recently after hanging out it came to light that Huma had never gone bowling. Ever. In her life. After getting over the initial shock I decided I had to immediately rectify the situation. As my home town of West Seattle has one of Seattle's last awesome bowling alleys (aptly named West Seattle Bowl) I had no other choice than to invite Huma out for an awesome round of bowling.

I arrived at our designated meeting spot, the Tulley's on 4th and Union. A few minutes later Huma showed up and we were off. But, shortly before our bus arrived Huma realized that she had forgotten her socks. If there is one thing one does not want to forget when bowling it is socks.

After a quick parley we decided to catch the next bus and go to the most depressing store on the planet for some much needed sock. Ross Dress for Less is where everyone would go if the Nazis had won the war.

Huma quickly spotted a sweet pair of Liz Claybourne socks for a whopping $1.99. Then it was a waiting game. While in line we played a little game of "name everything ridiculous in the store" where we spotted such items as a polka dotted suitcase, Legally Blonde 2, and atrocious hair (the saddest nappiest white guy dreadlocks I have ever seen), along with bumble bees (in store security) and depressing people.

Then it was time to go bowling.

After renting our lane at and picking up our shoes I gave Huma a brief explanation of the game and it was time to play. I had not been bowling in a long time, and it showed. I still had the essential idea of bowling, but lacked my previous "mad skills" from when I was in a bowling league.

We started our first game, and Huma seemed to get the basic hang of the ancient art of bowling. Shortly after we started our game we were joined by a group of wee baby children who were also enjoying their first game of bowling. After seeing the bumpers Huma commented "We should have gotten those."

Part of me agreed as my first game I bowled an 85 (Huma bowled a 48, which is good for a first timer). I know, I know, for someone who is such a fan of bowling I should have done better. If it were Wii bowling my rank would have dropped. But, Huma seemed to be having a good time and the wee children, while causing us to censor ourselves, added a great deal of humor and cuteness to the ordeal.

I had some amazing bowling moments such as falling on my ass and getting a spare at the same time. While my knee was injured my pride was not. . . mostly.

The thing that was really amusing and mocking was the video monitor that would remind you of what you bowled. A kitty would run into a set of pins and knock half of them and a mocking "Open Frame" would appear. If you got a gutter ball a hot lady would give you a condescending look.

After slightly reclaiming my masculinity in the second game (scoring a cool 95) we decided to grab some food over at West 5, a slightly swank restaurant and bar, located in the Alaska Junction.
We chatted more about school, music, past relationship, and as Huma caught the 54 back to Wallingford I took a deep breath (and deeper drag of my Marb) and was glad to have reconnected with an old friend.

What next "first" will I share with someone? Today I will eat bone marrow and see Bourdain with Drew of OMSTV!

Science Fiction Will Soon Be Science Fact

2008-05-29T17:39:00.000-07:00

After reading an interesting article about monkeys with bionic capabilities I began thinking about what this means for the human race. Where will this amazing new brain machine interface lead us? I was instantly reminded of my childhood and teenage years.

I remember playing RIFTS (buy books here) as a young lad and almost always playing as a bionic character. The only human part of my body was my brain and the parts of the digestive tract needed to keep my brain alive. The rest of me was metal and guns. The idea of being a nearly indestructible super mercenary always gave me a warm feeling.

But now, being older I know that that I am not the only one to get the warm and fuzzy feeling from big metal super soldiers. It seems to me that while the medical applications of this interesting, though still fledgling, discovery are wonderful, the military applications are somewhat terrifying.

I would like to think that the military is not already jumping down these scientist's throats trying to make the next super-soldier. But it is a possibility, no matter how far off it may seem today. We're only one or two major advances away from some crazy science fiction type shit. Although, it would be cool to see Seattle protected by Robocop. . .

101st Post!

2008-05-29T15:07:00.000-07:00

Well folks, I broke the triple digits on the blog posts and to celebrate I will first thank all you readers out there for supporting me in everything I write. I would like to thank Drew from One More Salute to Vanity for getting me into blogging in the first place. And, finally, I would like to thank Henry Miller, Robert Heinlien and Jack Kerouac for being great inspirations to a mediocre writer.

Last night was interesting. Sort of a mini-reunion of the 2007 class of SCCC film school. I was especially glad to see Marcus Curlee, who threw the event as a fund raiser for his trip to China. Marcus and I were close in film school. We shared the same opinion of many films and often had great discussions about films we had recently seen.

We made a short film called "Pictures" that was an amazing piece, but in the process of making the film we lost sight of many things and had a falling out. Now, almost a year later to the day Marcus and I had our first real pow-wow over the events and everything else that had happened in film school. Needless to say there was many apologies, especially from yours truly, and forgiveness all around for any past transgressions. It was cathartic to say the least.

Afterwards we had an in depth discussion on "The Darjeeling Limited" Wes Anderson's most recent film. We both agreed it was a great film, but had different experiences when we saw it in theaters. He saw it opening day, so he missed "The Hotel Chevalier" which I saw preceding the film because I saw it the second week of release. We concurred that this would dramatically change the viewers experience, essentially making it a very different film.

It was good to have a talk like this again, with someone whose opinion of film I so deeply admire.

But I digress. After many a beer and good chat with people I had spent two harrowing years of my life with I was off to West Seattle. But in those few hours I received a new vitality, and have been given a boon of inspiration.

Mid-day Reflection on Lost Sleep

2008-05-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Life seems to be on the down swing lately. I'm unsure of what I am doing with my life. I have two jobs, but still seem to never have enough money. I'm depressed. I don't want to work on anything. I just want to exist in a state of self-loathing. I wish that I could love the people who love me properly, but I can't seem to do it right.

I couldn't sleep last night. I was up until almost 4 in the morning cleaning my room. I moved back in with my parents after living with Drew for almost a year. It is hard coming to terms with my own state of reality. I'm almost 25. That's almost 30. I have yet to finish my degree, I live with my parents and I don't have a driver's license.

I couldn't stand the room anymore. A collection of useless crap that has amassed over my 24 and a half years. Huge piles of random garbage, bits of paper with forgotten phone numbers, thousands of Marlboro Miles, a pile of rubber bands the size of K-2.

I rooted through the flotsam and jetsam of my life. There was catharsis. It is time for a new alignment in my life. I need to refocus and gain new direction. I want to be happy. I want to make films.

Like communist Russia I need a five year plan.

I dread turning 30.

Foxing Bracture

2008-05-22T18:39:00.001-07:00

The only downside to the 21st b-day extravaganza is that I think I have a "Boxer's Fracture". Seeing as it's not a full break, but most-likely a hairline fracture I think I'll let it be. For now.

Akilah is 21!

2008-05-22T17:55:00.000-07:00

What do you get when you mix booze, co-workers, and red-neck assholes? Akilah's 21st birthday party.

On the 19th after getting off work me, the boss lady, and one of the supervisors went out to meet Akilah (of Lyon Rouge fame) in Federal Way. For those of you who are unfamiliar with Fed-Way it is like the inside of a Wal-Mart. Only an entire city.

So, setting my own prejudices aside I agreed to go and we ventured down south (insert various cunnilingus jokes here). We met Akilah at a bar and pizza joint called "The Rock." It reminded me of a U-District bar, but filled with hillbillies. After the initial culture shock I settled down and bought some booze.

At last call (which at this place is 11:40 p.m.) I bought a Long Island and two shots of Tequila. I figured the birthday girl needed a drink that rhymed with her name. Having sucked down our respective drinks it was time for another bar.

We headed down the street to the only bar in Federal Way to be open until 2:00 and proceded to drink some more. The bar was mediocre, but cheap, and there was some semblance of Karaoke, so I made the best out of it and had a good time.

As I walked up the stairs to the Karaoke stage I saw none-other than A-ron Thompson, of Federal Way and his room-mate Joey (not to be confused with another Joe who will be mentioned shortly). We exchanged some male greetings along the lines of "What the fuck are you doing here!?" and shared a man embrace.

After singing "Touch Me" by the Doors, and nailing it, I decided to go have a smoke with the birthday girl. As we were chatting one of her friends friends decided to get a little fresh with Akilah. Normally, when I see a woman "fondled" against her will, I react rather rashly. Akilah, however, handled the situation and all seemed well.

Pulling me aside she said "Don't worry about it, I told him to stop, you can let it go." And I did. We continued to drink, and I even had a chat about classic rock with the White-Trash offender, whose name for blog purposes will be "Joe-py Grope-y."

After a fairly sociable chat with the Groper-ton Akilah and I sang a bit of Al Green and went to have another smoke.

That is when our cheese-ass white-trash friend decided to have another go at "showing Akilah a good time." Having already been more polite than any woman should be in said situation Akilah asked me to kindly "save her."

I put my body in betwixt the offender and offendee and calmly said "Look man, she's already asked you not to touch her, and she already has a boyfriend, so why don't you leave her alone." Our good friend Joe-py replied "You tryin' ta touch me son? I will fuck you up."

I wanted to punch this skinny dweeb in the nuts and stomp on his chest, but my therapist says I should try to resolve disputes with words. So I did. "Look, dude, I don't want to fight you, I just want you to leave my friend Akilah alone."

"I will fuck you up son!" he said to me with a vile stench on his breath "I will beat your mother fucking ass." At this point Akilah grabbed me by the arm and led me away. "Thanks," I said to Akilah, "I was about to punch that guy in the dick."

Meanwhile, my two compatriots A-ron and Joey had seen this unpleasant gentleman get into my face and did not like it one bit. Joey walked up to Mr. Grope-y and explained to him that he should not treat either Akilah or me in such a manner. Grope-y had another idea. A fist to Joey's face.

I used to fight. A lot. I would fight anyone who pissed me off. I fought my friends, sometimes for fun, but also sometimes out of anger. I have won, and lost, many fights, but I have been trying my best to stay "fight free" as violence only begets violence. Another nugget of wisdom from my therapist, which was in this case, true.

This rather unpleasant hillbilly had the audacity to start a fight with not only one of my friends, but a friend of the birthday girl. As he grappled with Joey I moved at his back and started to pummel him with my fists. While this was happening A-ron also came into the fight, with his own swings.

The bouncer was in there fairly quickly, and I immediately got back in the bar. After a long discussion with the bouncer Joey, Grope-y, and A-ron where officially bounced. When the rather large bouncer, J-Rock, came back in he said to me "You got out of there quick and listened to me, thats why you can stay."

"Really?" I said with astonishment. "Yeah. You was just helping out your boy. I'd a let him stay too but he was runnin' his mouth at me. You was calm." So, with a mixture of adrenaline, awe, and booze I closed out my tab and finished my beer.

"Preebz." Akilah said, "I didn't want a fight on my birthday, but that was gangster." I smiled and thought about the end of "It's A Wonderful Life" I felt like Clarence had gotten his wings.

In hindsight I realized that, my own desire to not get in a fight does not always pan out. Sometimes, you see your friend get hit, and you react. It's an instinct thing. I stayed out of a fight, because I knew that there would be no good coming from it, and then that fight found a way to wrangle me in.

Was it the right thing to do? If I hadn't jumped in how would I feel about it? I would feel bad. Whether that is a good thing or not, I don't know. I know that as a male of the species there are certain things that we have a drive to do. We have a drive to hunt and kill to provide food. We have a drive to keep our mates safe. We have a drive to fight each other, for dominance or what ever other bullshit evolution wanted us to fight for. Not in our sweet, art loving, philosophical outer cortex, but in that iddy biddy reptile brain. The brain that is all fight or flight. Sometimes, we can't fight off 100,000 years of evolution. Then again. . . sometimes I don't want to.

Fucking Hell

2008-05-20T23:19:00.000-07:00

Last week sucked. This week is turning out to be okay. Last night was awesome. More on that one latter. Gotta go poop.

Of Late Night Evenings and Inablility to Sleep. Part 3

2008-05-16T23:53:00.000-07:00

I can't seem to sleep. It's not even that late, but it is late for me now. My life has been reorganized due to my new-ish job. I wonder if I am doing a good job. I wish that I could talk about it, write about it, tell people anything. I can't. Contract and confidentiality blah blah blah. I'm too honest to break something like that.

I remember getting Drew to break her agreements of the sort, just to hear what she was doing at work. I promised her I would tell no one, and I did exactly that.

I feel old, or at least some semblance of old. I'm almost 25. That's halfway to 50. This though terrifies me. I feel like I should be getting married or starting a family or some bullshit along those lines. I still feel like a kid.

The scariest thing is seeing people my age who do have kids. So many of them have all the joy sucked out of their lives. "I'd go out tonight. . ." they say with that pathetic glazed over look "but I have to get home to my kids." I can barely take care of a pet, let alone another human being.

I understand why my father spent so much time being there for me. It was the right time for him to have children. He was 36 when I was born. He's old now, I guess, but with so much love of life still in him. The hard part is seeing him when yet another one of his friends die of cancer, or suicide, or heart attack. . . it keeps on going. Life, I guess, but more than that death.

I'm 24 and my two preoccupations in life are sex and death. At least it is some real life shit I worry about, not fashion or architecture, but the continuation of life and it's inevitable end.

My Sweater is Way Cooler than Your Sweater

2008-05-08T15:46:00.001-07:00

I love Argyle almost to a fault.

Pretentious?

2008-05-07T15:36:00.000-07:00

I was talking to a barista at the Online Coffee Company about blogging when I was met with this response: "What would I ever read a live journal or a blog? I think that it is pretentious to say your life is any more interesting that anyone else's. What's so important about you?" Then she followed it by the good old fall back "No offense."

Admittiedly there was some offense taken, and I think for good reason.

1) My life is more interesting than most people's lives because I am in constant need of stimulation. . . and I'm crazy.

2) A good blog is well written and contains more than journal entries of the blogger's life. It should contain observations about life, music, and art (depending on subject matter of said blog.) In this case a blog is read for it's literary merit.

3) A "Live Journal" while being a kind of blog is not a blog. It is a Live Journal. Maybe I'm being pretentious when I say that, but I feel that most people (bloggers) will agree with me.

4) You're a bitch. JOKES. . . Kind-of.

I just said to her "My life is waaaaaay more interesting." And left it at that. If you know me, you know I'm right.

Take One

2008-05-06T23:12:00.000-07:00

I feel sad. The lack of intuition and abundace of booze is getting to me. I've finished Naked Lunch. I feel apathetic about the whole ordeal. I read Anthem by Ayn Rand. I'm happy and surprised that Ayn Rand does not get flagged as an improper spelling. Makes me feel like things aren't so bad.

Don't start me trying now. Cause I'm all over it Angeles.

I don't think I'll ever be satisfied. I feel as though my secret wishes are too dark, too destructive. I don't know whether or not I'm glad to meet you.

I guess Either. . .

2008-05-06T17:33:00.000-07:00

While looking for a decent video of "Lost and Found" by Elliott Smith, I found this incredibly depressing video shot in front of the wall on the cover of Figure 8.

As well as this awesome Elliott Smith video for "Angeles." Enjoy being Emo.

AND as I final side note, doesn't Elliott Smith look like Geoffry Rush?

Hanging Around in the Lost and Found

2008-05-06T16:44:00.000-07:00

Last night at work, while going for a smoke and showing off my Eagle Scout card, I realized that I had lost my ID. Needless to say I flipped my neurotic shit.

Waves of paranoia washed over me. "What if someone steals my identity?" I thought. After scouring my office, the bathroom, and calling every department in the hotel I calmed down. "If its not here, I must have dropped it at a coffee shop or cafe." I reassured myself.

But then, a whole new set of worries grabbed me. What would I do without an ID? I would be unable to go to bars or liquor stores. I would be caught in the throws of sobriety, a very sobering thought indeed! "At least there is always the Maja." I was fighting back worry.

Furthermore, I had no idea how I would replace said ID. What would I need? What if "they" would not reissue me an ID? This post 9/11 world is a pretty crazy place, after all. How would I survive without my happiness fuel?

I called my mom. What else is there to do when one is in need of expert calming? I chatted with her for a bit and described the situation. She agreed that it was frustrating, and that I would need to search the last places I was prior to going to the DMV.

I got off work, and for a while forgot the whole problem. Reading Ray Bradbury's Martian Chronicles helped keep my mind away from my worries while riding the bus home. I felt my panic and paranoia creep back on the walk home from my bus stop, but as I went to sleep I resolved to search high and low (Seattle's Best Coffee and Specialty's Cafe) for my missing Identification.

After work this morning I went downtown. I wanted to kill some time so I wasted time at the Online Coffee Company and then at a Lark in the Morning, a wonderfully esoteric music shoppe.

I used the old "in the market for a new guitar" line and played for an hour and chatted up the clerk (mostly folk music.) After playing about half the guitars in the joint I set off to (hopefully) reclaim my lost ID.

I set back out through the market and being hungry ate some extremely spicy Texas Style Chili that just about gave me a panic attack. Then, feeling the need to waste a little more time, wandered the market for a bit.

No longer able to delay the dreaded inveitable I set off for SBC. I steeped inside and stood at the counter. For TEN minutes. I stood there for ten minutes watching the baristas chat and pretend I was not there.

This increased my chili induced panic. Was I there? Was I just a vapor or a brume? Had I died and continued about my business unaware of my own death? Thankfully, no. Feeling my glare one of the baristas came up to help me. It was Christa, a mousy-bookwormish barista with whom I spoke about books on my occasional visits to Seattle's Best Coffee.

"Can I get a drink started for you?" she asked, smiling.
"Do you have a lost and found?" I asked in return.
"Do we have a . . . lost and. . . " a light clicked. "Oh!" she exclaimed, "You're IAN!" I was both worried and elated at this minor fame.
"Yeah, I'm Ian."
"I have something for you." I prayed it was not a severed head.
"What is it?" a silly question, because I knew immediately what it was.
"This." She handed me a piece of paper with my ID taped to it. There were various phrases written on the sheet. "Help! I'm lost!" A speach bubble said. In another person's handwritting it said "REGULAR. He will be back."

"Thanks," I said feeling much better having attained my lost ID.
"So. . . do you want a drink in celebration!" Christa made me a coffee smoothie and I was on my way. Next stop West Seattle.

Steve Martin is not Leslie Nielson

2008-05-05T11:48:00.000-07:00

While riding the lovely 49 bus up to Capitol Hill to get some Pho, the Vietnamese noodle soup which is the main fuel for yours truly, I heard some interesting conversation that a mother and her two daughters were having.

I love America. It is the only place you can get such wonderful gems as these.

DAUGHTER: (pointing at American Apparel) See mom, the 80's are coming back.
MOM: It's so horrible that the 80's are coming back. . . those. . . those were my high school years.

and

MOM: Area 51. Thats where they keep them alien spaceships. If you go there they kill you. I think it's by Reno.

and the true gem:

DAUGHTER: Naked Gun is such a funny movie, it's got that one guy. . .
MOM: Leslie Nielson?
DAUGHTER: No. . .
MOM: O.J. Simpson?
DAUGHTER: NO! That one guy. . . from Cheaper By the Dozen. STEVE MARTIN!
MOM: Oh, that's right.

I just want the record set straight. Leslie Nielson is not Steve Martin. Leslie Nielson wishes he were half as cool as Steve Martin.

Side Note: "Groovin'" is playing on the radio now. . . Life would be exstasy. You and me and Leslie (Nielson) Groovin'

My Bum is on The Swedish

2008-05-01T11:38:00.000-07:00

While walking down the north end of Broadway, up by Swedish Hospital I saw a camera crew filming a man standing at the hospital's sign. He was rubbing his butt against it. As I approached I saw that it was none other than Tom Fucking Green of MTV and film fame. I smiled at him as I was walking by and he started to talk to me.

TOM: Excuse me sir, Do you remember me?

ME: Yeah. I remember you.

TOM: I'm rubbing my bum on things. I did it ten years ago. It was really popular. Do you remember it?

ME: Yeah, it was really funny back then.

TOM: So now I'm taking a trip down memory lane. (While rubbing his ass on the Swedish sign) My Bum is on the Swedish.

Then he came over and we had a little chat. He seems like a nice guy. One thing I did not know about Tom Green is that he is a fucking giant. He must be 6'6" or 6'7" at least. I felt short standing next to him.

Tired as fuck

2008-04-30T23:04:00.000-07:00

Good night folks!

Sick and Tired.

2008-04-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

Literally. My throat is swollen and hurts, and I only got about 5 hours of sleep last night. So, to help myself get better I had a lovely medium bowl of Pho over at Than Brothers in West Seattle. At least I don't have strep throat. Yeah.

I am slightly worried about cancer. . .

Mad Libs, Portland, and William S. Burroughs

2008-04-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

Drew and I went to Portland this weekend for her birthday celebration. Bon Anniversaire, mon trou sexuel! We had a quite wonderful time in the land of ports. First off, we stayed at the Red Lion at the River. Kinda far outside Portland but the schwank bar and restaurant "Shenanigans" had paper-mache looking statues of the Blues Brothers, so I knew instantly it was a hit. photo by Drew

We toured the city a-la MAX light rail, and hit up a lovely restaurant called Lovely Hula Hands, named after a 1944 film.

I whole heartily reccomend it to anyone in the Portland area. Drew and I had the Deviled Eggs, Burgers, and Ice Cream. Holy shit. The Deviled Eggs tasted heavenly. The Burgers were juicy and possessed a rich meatiness one craves when eating a burger and that is rarely satisfied. The Mint in the ice cream was so fresh it tasted leafy and earthy while still possessing everything mint ice cream should be.

After that we went to the "Crow Bar" and met Whitney, one of Drew's friends, and her pseudo beau and Portland Chef extrodinarre Morgan. We listened to awesome music, such as "Excuse Me if I Break My Own Heart Tonight." by Whiskeytown and I drank Old Crow.

The next morning we ate at "Shenanigans," and because of this missed our train. Drew suggested we make Lemon Drops out of Lemons (as life was giving her vodka) and saw "Baby Mama" the new Tina "retardedly hot" Fey and Amy "I'd pole her" Pohler movie. (Side note: Mac Book Pro does not recognize "retardedly" as an adverb. Thankfully Mad Libs does.)

It was decent, I would say more of a renter, but I am glad I supported Fey's career in what little way I can. The plot was a bit predictable, but Steve Martin, Greg Kinnear, and Sigourney Weaver helped lift the film when it started to sag. All in all a good way to waste time waiting for the next train.

After this we headed to Borders for some old fashioned book finding. I bought a Mad Libs (40th anniversary no less) and Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs. The Mad Libs helped to keep the train ride interesting with such lines as "When passing a Dinosaur on the right be sure and blow your Cheetah." I know I always make sure to blow my cheetah, especially when passing pesky dinosaurs.

That being said, let me move onto my final topic of the post: Naked Lunch.
I remember being a young man, of no more than 14 or 15, and growing up in an artistically permissive household, had both the joy and terror of seeing the film "Naked Lunch" starring Robocop. The film is both intriguing and completely incomprehensible. I spoke about the film with my father who told me of the novel, and it's vast exspance of surrealism and confusion. I was interested, but this interest would not be satiated for another ten years.

Now, ten years later I am reading Naked Lunch. All I can say is "Holy Shit, what the fuck is going on?" Being about halfway through the rampant drug addled homosexual fantasies of Burroughs I feel that this book is important. It is the "Great Measure." The great measure of what to never, ever, ever, ever, ever, write again.

Setting all silliness aside, my opinion of the book is still in the air. The writing is intriguing and it somehow sticks in your brain, like "a bad hurt for junk." Only time will tell if I can kick. . .

Drew is 24!

2008-04-25T00:50:00.000-07:00

Drew had her birthday and after a wonderful dinner at Ye Olde Spaghetti Factory we ended up celebrating at the Havana, a sweaty meat market up on Capitol Hill across from Vita and the Cha Cha. Here are some photo's that she took of our adventures, which end at the Pike Street Fish Fry, a new joint where "Frites" used to be and is now owned by the awesome Michael Hebberoy.

photos by Drew (and 1 by my long arm)

Literature and how it gets that way.

2008-04-22T16:02:00.000-07:00

I have been visiting (and in some cases re-visiting) classical literature. I feel as though I've found some cyclopean wealth of knowledge that has been lost to the vast majority of unwashed miscreants that make up my generation. I find the last fact a tragedy.

These massive works of literature, which many contain the essence of human spirit, are forced upon us as young and hormonal teens. It is during this time when the American teenager, or at least a vast majority of American teenagers, finds education repugnant. I find it fascinating that this is the time when many of us will read the classics of literature.

When we think of novels like "Siddartha" or "The Metamorphosis" we think of high school English class and the sheer boredom it evoked. And while I did enjoy these novels, I don't feel I could possibly have grasped the full breadth and depth of these novels.

I would go so far as to say that many of us would learn as little as possible, the bare minimum to eke by, and then discard this knowledge like a burnt matchstick. In looking back I do remember reading these novels, but not much more than that. It was "Siddartha" alone that had any inkling of standing out in my mind. Funny, that it is the same book that started my return to literature of the classical variety.

That being said, I would like to briefly mention two books recently read by this humble blogger.

1) Dharma Bums by Jack Kerouac. (I spelled his last name right the first try!)

and

2) The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

Both are amazing pieces of literature for different reason, and both I would recommend. What is next on Ian's reading list? "On the Road" by Kerouac, "Naked Lunch" by William S. Burroughs and "Pulp" by Buckowski. Americana, here I come.

Hell and why it sucks. . . fiction

2008-04-11T01:48:00.000-07:00

I'm in hell. The seventh level of it. The worst part of hell is seeing your friends. In hell you can't say "Hi" or chat about relationships or work. In hell you can't even commiserate about being in hell. You're just there. Suffering. I wish I could say there was a good thing about hell, but there isn't. Not one Goddamn thing.

Those who aren't in hell might say "it is what it is." But its worse. Its hell. Fire? Yup, we've got it. Agony? Here in hell, there is agony to spare But the worst part of hell is not the fire, the burning, the agony or the constant rape of your soul. Its the boredom. That's the worst part of hell. I would even go so far as to say hell is the worst place I've ever been. Hell or Tijuana.

Why'd I end up in hell, you might ask? I don't know. The irony is, I don't even believe in hell. I still don't. I keep hoping this is some sick joke, and I will wake up at some point. But I haven't. Maybe this is just the longest dream I have ever had. I don't know. All I know is for countless hours I have been humiliated, abused, scorched and tortured for no good reason.

I guess that's the worst part of hell. Besides the Jim Morrison want-to-bes; the fact that there is no good reason for all of this is the worst part. Whatever. God is a faggot.

Maybe that's why I'm here. Because I think that God is a bitch. His plan only makes sense to weird Christians. That feeling. . . feeling bad about masturbation. . . I would have killed myself if I had that feeling. . . if I had felt bad about a stroke session.

So now I'm here. The Pit. Eternal Damnation. It's not the worse place I could be. I guess. I feel like there are worse places. The DMV. There is a place worse than hell. Maybe not. I would say so.

Maybe I'm full of cheerful optimism. But how could I be? I'm in Hell. . .

PEACE

2008-04-10T16:39:00.001-07:00

Little Beauties (or Crazy Parents).

2008-04-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

After a wonderful day at the Seattle Aquarium with Akilah (my co-worker) I got over to Drew's to veg out before our party.

And what better way to veg out? Watch Vh1 of course! Right now I am watching "Little Beauties. . . " a show about beauty pageants for little girls. The first thing that the parents always say when interviewed "We're really normal people. I'm a (insert normal profession here) and they're a (some sort of bat shit thing). Example: "We're really normal people. I'm a teacher, and she's a snake milker." Hmmmm.

Anyways, these people parade their young daughters (4-8 year old young) around in whore-ish outfits and tell them the importance of money in America. One of the popular items for these little beauty queens are called "flippers." These devices hide the child's trailer park teeth.

The second thing that is common practice for these kids is to get spray tans. . . Don't spray tans lead to skin cancer? Do you really want to have your children covered in dye and chemicals? Well, I guess these people want to make money.

The final bat shit thing is the swim suit competition, where the song "Little Stripper Baby." Was being played. You know what, America? You are fucking crazy. Stop sexualizing these little girls.

This is exactly what I think is wrong with this country. Little girls are taught by their parents to only care about being "beautiful" and tragically "sexy." So, before I rant on and on about everything that is fucked up I will just say "ciao".

. . . Well, at least these people's craziness affords me entertainment.

Books Books Books

2008-04-10T11:02:00.000-07:00

I have been reading an incredible amount lately, which makes me very pleased. Before I read "Job" and "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" I had fallen off the reading bandwagon. Not that I didn't love to read, but rather I found myself less interested in reading. Why? One might ask?

The answer is simply: I don't know. Maybe I felt listless, or maybe I was disinterested in life. Whatever the case was that disinterest in reading or life has gone. Not only has it left, but it has been replaced with a voraciousness. The need to consume book after book, to read and to indulge myself in the act of reading.

It feels good. Really good.

So, as I do from time to time I will recommend two books I have read recently. The first is "Peter Camenzind" by Herman Hesse.

Hesse's first novel is a "bohemian" tale of love and beauty, and one man's struggle with his life. From small town in the Swiss Alps to the madness of turn of the century Zürich the hero, Peter, falls in love with many beautiful women. The problem is: Peter is both cantankerous and shy. Though he falls in love, it is always unrequited.

The novel is both amazing and rather short (at 140 pages-ish). I read it after having revisited Hesse's "Siddartha" and I have to say it rivals Siddartha in both beauty of language and story-telling ability. I say read it.
The second novel I will recommend to all you lovely readers is "World War Z" by Max Brooks. "Z" (as I will call it from now on) is a fictional account of a zombie war fought in modern times. It is essentially an oral account of the survivors taken as interviews.

For anyone who is a fan of the Zombie genre "Z" is a must read. The care that Brooks takes to the genre is astounding. Not since Romero's "Night of the Living Dead" has so much care been taken in the sculpting of a zombie genre piece. Brooks captures the reality of Zombies, the essence of what makes them terrifying and fascinating.

For those of you who are not a fan of the Zombie genre? I would still say read this book. If you like excellent story telling and writing, you will like this book. Read it, you won't regret it.

Sorry for the delay

2008-04-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

I realize I have not been up on the posting, but as I said I had a crazy week a bit ago and am getting everything together. But, if this cheers you up there will be a rad awesome short story/ personal essay on a quite interesting topic. Peace out.

Quick Update

2008-03-26T10:18:00.001-07:00

So I will have the last week or so back-posted probably tomorrow. . .

In other news I picked up "Stand Still like the Hummingbird" a wonderful collection of Henry Miller's short essays on life, writing, painting, art, money, and more. I recommend it for all you Miller fans out there.