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.
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!
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.
Today is also my grandfather Prebo's birthday. He served in WWII. So he's double special today. I miss him loads.
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. 
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.
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. . .
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.
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.
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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I should remember not to blog drunk. . . at least I can make myself laugh. . . ellipses. . .
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.)
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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.
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.
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)
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.
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. . .
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
