i'd be lying
if i said i hadn't been neglecting my blog and more importantly you, my fiercely-devoted/ once-in-a-while/ stumbled-here- haphazardly readers--the past two weeks have been marked by all sorts of milestones, both quasi and significant ones. i guess. i.e., graduation, the move into a new apartment (still in fucking westwood), the start of the summer job, and the rest. oh yeah, and ever since i moved into the new place the internet has been anything but readily available to me. that's a big one. hopefully that whole mess will fix itself. and 'fixing itself' pretty much entails tony making the decision to dish out 30.00 a month for shitty adelphia connection. hell that money can be used for better things. like gasoline (think los angeles gas prices). and cigarettes.
and movies.
it being friday and thus not having to go to bed early for once, with good company i headed to the laemmle sunset for some la filmfest action. everyone but me had tickets for tonight's midnight showing of the 36th chamber of shaolin, and as of 5pm in the afternoon there were only 10 tickets left. or so the punks at the virgin megastore box office were instructed to inform people over the phone. we get there at 8, and unsurprisingly the remaining tickets were sold. didn't matter, cause the fearless freaks played for free at 8:30 in the courtyard. didn't stay for the whole thing, but i must say the parts of the film i did see were fucking excellent. the best part being the one when wayne visited the oklahoma city pho restaurant that was once the long john silver's where he worked when he was 16. with two vietnamese kids he re-enacted the time when the restaurant was robbed. i don't remember the line exactly, but it was along the lines of, "so that's what it was like to die. one minute you're making fries and the next you're on the ground with a gun to your head. there's no music..."
there's no music when you die. that, my friends, is terrifying. anyway, the film did a great job at exhibiting the band's restless records pre-yoshimi stuff, a-la "unplugged" and the batman theme.
i ended up getting a ticket for the midnight flick. to kill time we watched people hanging at the cooler-than-thou passholders and filmmakers only lounge area (sponsored by target) then browsed the (gasp) virgin megastore. the corporation strikes again. i felt uncomfortable and icky in there. i don't know why people shop there when a few blocks down is the greatest fucking record store in town. in the universe, perhaps.
i don't really know anything about martial arts movies, but 36 chambers was insanely good. i don't really have anything to compare it to so i can say that. one of the greatest subtitles that has ever graced the big screen: "i don't know why i've spent so much time on studies when i should have been learning kung fu!" it was handpicked and introduced by none other than the RZA. he sat two rows in front of us.
my posting schedule might still be a bit erratic, but there should be no more 2 week periods of non-updatage.
adventures in fabric softener:
tony visits the venice beach wash n' dry. a photo essay.
venice is a tiny beach town in west los angeles, just south of santa monica. charming. bohemian. no big city hustle n' bustle here, sorry. passing through you get the impression that the people don't care to move into the twenty-first century; the architecture and establishments are anything but modern.
life here is slow.
and that's okay.
photoblogging is trickier at the laundromat than in other public spaces.
when you photograph someone in public, you invade their privacy. ironically.
at the laundromat you have to be extra careful to stay out of people's way.
after all, people come here to get their skivvies cleaned.
who the hell wants some stranger with a camera lingering around them while they wash and fold their unmentionables?
not most people, i conjecture. however, there must be people out there who get off on getting photographed. at the laundromat. folding their long-johns and girdles and what not.
there are probably also people out there who have been arrested for photographing other people at the laundromat.
now that i think about it, that's what i love about laundromats. not the whole invasion of privacy bit. the act of washing clothes is, in itself, very private,
but the laundromat adds a social dimension. everybody gathering at one location. to do laundry. together. a community of launderers. people don't necessarily speak to each other, but there is this unspoken feeling of social integration that brings everyone together--
it's as if through the shared silence people are acknowledging, "yeah, you just saw my lacy panties. and i just saw your dad's briefs. but it's all good. i respect you. regardless of your day job, at this moment you are a courageous, wonderful human being. rock on with your bad self."
and that is what makes the laundromat a beautiful place.
on my way out, i met Steve, an ex-baseball player.
"are you a photographer?" he asks.
"somewhat of one," i replied.
we shot the breeze for a while. he's originally from pasadena, and went to fullerton state. his brother, also named tony, worked at ucla for twenty-two years. his mother passed away of cancer at forty-four. "a beautiful woman," he described her. we talked about sociology (he majored in it as well), freddie prinze (sr.), gene autry, gangs, the recent fights at south la high schools, the business aspect of sports, gambling (he avoids it), hikes in tuition fees, etc. he congratulated me (early) on graduating. he advised me to appreciate life and just "go for it." whatever it is.
"you can wake up dead tomorrow," he pointed out. "how old are you?"
"i turn 22 today."
he laughed and shook my hand as if i said something admirable. "you're a gemini! you're okay! i believe in that shit. gemini and tauruses are the best people."
"good luck! you'll be all right!" he yelled back as he biked off.
come to think of it, that is precisely what i've needed to hear for the past few weeks. as of late people have suspected that i've been down. i don't know what it is about me that gives that away to total strangers.
since then, everything has seemed...brighter.
"life is just a series
today was my last class of my last day of my last quarter of my last (undergraduate) year at ucla.
i don't know what i should be feeling, or for that matter if i'm feeling anything at all. i do know that i'm not particularly happy. or sad. i'm more confused than anything else. they say that it's between the ages of 18 and 26 that we undergo the most meaningful, dramatic, and profound life changes. i have no idea if that's true or not, but if that's the case then i'm halfway through said developmental phase and have no idea what's in store. so perhaps it's the fear that's settling in. hopefully i'll learn to embrace the uncertainty, which is something i'm usually pretty good at, or at least that's what i like to tell myself. anyway i'm sure that this is one of the millions of "holy-fuck-what-do-i-do-now" posts by graduating college kids scattered throughout the blogosphere.
the week in review.
i finally got the haircut i've been promising myself for the past 3 weeks. one of the reasons for said haircut being that i didn't fit into my graduation cap. in case you didn't know, the mortarboard is the most unflattering piece of headgear ever invented. either that or i just always look stupid in them. i was way too fucking lazy to drive across town (not to mention way too fucking broke to pay 25 bucks for a haircut) to rudy's so i settled for oakley's, which is definitely one of the better places in westwood. after the deed was done the hairdresser said, "with this haircut you better not give it up for 5 bucks and a hamburger. some of my clients give it up for a quarter and even forget the burger!" then she laughed heartily.
i saw a homeless man walking through a church parking lot at around midnight, kicking down trash cans as he passed through. another homeless man with dreadlocks ran at him from behind (also kicking down gargabe cans), tackled him and started pummeling him. then a priest showed up with a 6 cell, 20" maglite and broke up the fracas.
at around 3am on the 405 south right before the getty a highway patrol car turned on its lights and started weaving right in front of me, slowing down the traffic. the 2 right lanes up ahead were closed off for a quarter mile stretch and there were 4 fire trucks, 3 tow trucks, and a handful of police cars dealing with a crazy accident involving at least 8 cars, all of them fucked beyond repair.
the main street surrounding the university was likewise blocked off with fire trucks and police cars because a girl fell out of her dorm window. or so we were told.
i saw one of my little cousins and he proceeded to tell me the entire plot of revenge of the sith. the story took 15 minutes and not one breath. i was never invested in seeing it anyway. on a separate occasion i saw one of my 30-something cousins who spoke at length about stonewashed jeans and guns, not in the same sentence. this conversation made me sad.
i decided that next year i won't be living with the people i've been planning to. we were planning to move into this place for a while but personal and financial reasons are holding me back from doing so (you can email me if you really want to know). they're my good friends and i felt bad telling them this just a few weeks before school ends--but it's better i said something than be miserable all year long. funny thing is that a couple of hours after i told them the bad news, we found out that the apartment we were planning to move into is no longer available. hopefully everything works out for them.
as of now i am 2 papers, 2 projects, 1 final and 4 days of class away from freedom.
i turn 22 in one week,
and graduate in two.
the next day work begins.
the summer will be full of film and music.
i have been unhealthy, unmotivated and unstable. hopefully that will change.
i haven't done laundry in a month,
my room is a mess and so am i.
