Of Late Night Evenings and Inablility to Sleep Part 4

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

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

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

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

Productivity or the Lack Thereof

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

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. . .

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

Titles are Bourgeoisie

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.

Pineapple Express

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

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)

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

Back and Forth

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.

Tony Eats Shit

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

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.