sic transit gloria.

dear everyone,

2006-11-19T10:11:00.000-08:00

sic transit gloria is dead.
i'm on the free love freeway now. see you there.

-tony

"i was alone in my life

2006-10-26T23:56:00.000-07:00

with little to live for, trying my hand at art, thinking that maybe i could save myself. but in my desperation, all my hope would fly away until there was nothing left of me. nothing left to save. and in this nightmare there was a dream of a girl so beautiful beyond compare: the girl of my dreams. so wonderful. so beautiful. and i had her boots. this was so along ago in my idealistic dream, with so many songs. laurie. yes. she inspired 1,000 songs. and then i knew i was an artist."

-daniel johnston

i don't have internet

2006-10-08T04:40:00.000-07:00

at my new place. i know. i feel so disconnected from the world. i'm surprised how i've made it this far without gmail, boingboing, and you guys. i don't watch tv, but am so desperate for companionship that i might buy a television.

the at&t guy is going to install me some dsl this friday (fingers crossed). at the moment i'm at my parents' house. i found a sweet pair of nikes in the garage that belonged to my uncle and will most likely wear them to class tomorrow.

back to my new apartment. it's a studio in koreatown. i love it and hate it.

stay tuned.

day 2: albuquerque, new mexico to springfield, missouri

2006-09-18T17:07:00.000-07:00

woke up at just in time to make continental breakfast. as we left the lobby for our room an elderly woman in a wheelchair chased after us down the hall and asked if she could purchase some cigarettes from me. ever the enabler, i give her two free. not about to let us go empty-handed, she tells us her schedule for the day, which includes trying to get someplace that happens to be over some hill off in the distance to which she points through the window. she explains that she needs the smokes to make it up the hill. we departed albuquerque shortly, dubbing new mexico 'worst state of the union' with hardly anything to substantiate such a claim.

the highlight of the day had to be the big texan steak ranch in amarillo, texas. it's pronounced a-muh-ri-LOW, not a-muh-REE-OH as we originally suspected. we chose to eat here because it was along the 40 and it has a wikipedia entry. this place embodies the everything's-bigger-in-texas mentality, hence the name. it's all about excess: finish the 72 ounce steak and it's free. the walls are lined by no less than twenty deer heads attached to plaques. the place itself is two stories, and the main area room has an area slightly bigger than that of a ballroom. those bold enough to try and conquer the 72 ouncer sit front and center at a dining table on risers, their crimes of gluttony on display for all to see and, hopefully, applaud, should the four and a half pound slab of beef (plus sides) be consumed before the sixty minute timer goes off. and the dress code for waitresses is best described as 'sorority girl attends wild west party'--western checked shirt with the top three or so buttons unclasped, short denim skirt, cowboy boots and hat, etc; i can understand that. what i couldn't understand were the garters they wore. the servers didn't seem to happy to begin with, and i can imagine the garter being why. ridiculous. we had a pretty late lunch, and the place seemed pretty empty; as we left we considered the possibility that no self-respecting texan eats here. damn tourist traps. i love them.

the drive to oklahoma was pretty easy. outside it was prettier and greener. christian talk radio was more abundant, as were country stations throughout texas. we saw jesus billboards and giant crosses. at the oklahoma border we made our first stop at love's, and it was here that i feel the trip really began. love's will always mean cheap gas, friendly faces, and driving around the country with pals for no apparent reason; what sets this trip apart from all the others is that at the end of this one, someone would be staying behind to start a new life 3,000 miles away from where we started.

the road to springfield seemed a little too easy at first, but then the thunderstorms hit. the rain drops were fat and beat down on the van. it was pitch black out and you couldn't see five feet in front of you save for when the lightning would illuminate the sky purple, like those glass globes with electricity inside that follows your finger, the kind you played with on the 4th grade field trip to the science center. it was very surreal and actually quite beautiful. what made the whole ordeal that much more annoying was the storm's on-again-off-again temperament; ten minutes of maelstrom followed by ten minutes of calm and so on. so it was like, IT'S OVER, I'M ALIVE then HOLY SHIT I'M GOING TO DIE IN OKLAHOMA. we stopped at a starbucks in tulsa to collect ourselves. this was the first starbucks i've been to where the average baristi age was 35. they were very friendly.

this was by far the most difficult night of driving; the storm slowed us down and springfield didn't seem to be getting any closer. a little after midnight we ate dinner in a quiktrip parking lot. (dear arby's: if your los angeles locations add onion petals to their menu, i will eat at arby's.) this was my first time at a quiktrip, and it's a very clean place. their toilet stall scrawlings made me laugh and weep: not only was there HOT ALL NIGHT LONG BLOWJOB, 12:45AM, AUGUST 29 BY THE FENCE, there was also a SAVE AMERIKKKA! followed by other things that at first glance would confirm every stereotype about the south you've ever had. the douche who wrote that shit is probably some teenager who commutes 25 miles everyday to work at the dairy queen.

matt was getting tired during the night shift, so i took over for the last 50 miles or so. i put on abbey road and told myself, before this record plays the whole way through, we will be in springfield. we arrived at the best western about fifteen minutes after paul mccartney's guitar is cut off on her majesty.

day 1: los angeles, california to albuquerque, new mexico

2006-09-17T02:31:00.000-07:00

we stayed up til four packing what we could of matt's life into crates and trash bags, trying to stuff it all into the rental van and abandoning on the curb those things whose only misfortune in life was either a) not being able to fit nicely into a box, or b) being in the shape of something other than a box. after that we walked to 7-11. i got a tina's burrito. that night i went to sleep smelling of sweat and cigarettes and microwaveable burrito.

we ended up leaving at 9:30, already behind schedule. we stopped for gas and lunch in needles, california. there isn't much to do in needles; there are a few motels, an adult video store, a handful of restaurants, a gas station or two, and according to my count three churches that happen to be on the same block. we ate at carl's jr. it was 100 degrees out, so naturally i was more excited about the air conditioning than the fish and chips. while we were eating these two guys walked in, clad in baggy jean shorts and wife-beaters which left their upper-arm crucifix tattoos exposed. they gave the "bro" handshake and man-hug to the guy at the counter and seemed really excited. as we left we passed their table and saw that they were filling out job applications.

i hadn't a good night's sleep in weeks, so on this first day i did a lot of catching up in the van. i didn't feel like i missed much, because the drive from to albuquerque is pretty much identical to the drive to santa fe (scenery-wise, at least; lots of rocks and dirt and sun), which we already did a few years back on our way to austin. come to think of it, seeing as the whole trip took four days, this account of the country is almost based strictly on observations through car windows and encounters at fast food restaurants, gas stations, and motels.

i took the wheel in flagstaff, arizona; we arrived in albuquerque around 12:30am. at his insistence, ray had us drop him off at the spearmint rhino down the street from the super 8 where we stayed. despite his enticing us to accompany him--"it's only a six dollar cover. SIX DOLLARS!"--we declined. as we entered the motel and approached the front desk, a strangely-comforting scent hit my nostrils, reminiscient of hugs from my grandmother and my apartment from senior year of college. i immediately recognized the smell as nicotene, but my brain was still programmed in golden state code and hence wouldn't process a concept as absurd as indoor smoking. i lit up in the hallway and made a few calls to tell people that i was in a place that was not california.

**if people who reside in california are californians, are those who reside in new mexico 'new mexicans'? and no, i am not being facetious.**

part 2 of the great louis vitton debacle

2006-08-30T19:21:00.000-07:00

will have to wait; in less than twelve hours i'm hopping in a minivan, and if all goes well i'll be in boston by monday just time time for my morning flight back to los angeles. we're not quite sure what route we'll end up taking. if we decide to brave the rockies, it's los angeles to grand junction, colorado; grand junction to cleveland, ohio; and cleveland to boston. seeing as driving through the mountains will cost us an extra hundred bucks gas, we might do la to albaquerque to little rock to columbus to boston. regardless, weather.com warns of thunderstorms. i suppose that means i should bring a heavy jacket.

the crew i'm going with is different than those with whom i drove to vancouver and austin, so if anything i'm a tad anxious to see how everyone gets along. i don't know what to expect; all i know is that i got my hands on a wide angle lens with which i'm going to attempt to photograph as many JESUS SAVES signs along the way as humanly possible. apparently they're everywhere.

one of my least favorite places to be

2006-08-21T00:13:00.000-07:00

is the mall. malls freak me out, man--thousands of consumers with shopping bags in one hand and a cinnabon in the other, mobs of adolescent boys gazing and hollering at anything in tight jeans and a tube top, the artificial light and lack of any view of the outside world--i hate it all. i do a decent job of avoiding them altogether; my three year record of not stepping into a shopping mall was broken late last year when that fake supermodel luca pinifarina tried to get me to buy a 700 luis vitton bag for his fiance, with whom he was allegedly going to marry the next day in milan, which was part of his predicament, you see. i intended to never post this story (i alluded to it earlier) because a) it's fucking long and b) it reveals just how much of a fucking doormat i can be; but what the hell. this one is called, "one time i followed a fake italian supermodel into the beverly center and watched him try on louis vitton belts that were supposedly for his fiance on whom he cheated with a mexican whore, part 1 of 2."

i was driving home after a late lunch downtown when an unmarked chrysler 300 pulls up next to me at a red light. the window rolls down and this man asks for directions to lax in a heavy italian accent. i give him straightforward directions, but he seems genuinely confused by the english language. i pull over into the residential neighborhood and motion for him to do the same. i usually don't mind helping strangers in need, but now i know better. i figured this would be my good deed of the day. i get out of my car and hand him a wendy's napkin upon which i drew a map to the airport from hollywood. he is very gracious and tells me what a lifesaver i am. he extends his hand and introduces himself as luca; initially i was amused at how pathetic his handshake was, but then remembered that they don't shake hands in europe. luca gets out of the car and immediately i think to myself, "this guy could totally be danny bonaduce's brother. yeah, danny bonaduce's younger, thinner, eurotrashy brother." the outrageous outfit--skintight calvin klein t-shirt tucked into baggy jeans with the designer's name emblazoned down the front side of the pant leg--makes sense after he explains that he is an armani model from italy who just did a few fashion shows in beverly hills. he needs to get back to the airport because he is getting married the next day in his hometown of milan; he pulls out a silver razr phone and shows me a photo of his fiance. "she's gorgeous, you're a lucky man," i lie. i wish him the best on his big day and say goodbye.

but before i could make it back to my car he says, "tony, please accept this gift." he opens the backseat of his car and pulls out a beige leather vest, which he informs me is the latest from the armani fall collection, AND, get this, is seen on the likes of ricky martin. "ricky marteeen!" he exclaims, as if i weren't sufficiently enthused the first time i heard the name of the latin lyricist. but that's not it. luca asks, "do you have a lighter?" without question i hand him one, which he lights and proceeds to touch the flame to the vest. at this point i should have realized, okay. an italian armani model just offered me a leather vest which he is attempting to set on fire. i should leave before this gets weird. as i was having one of life's what-the-fuck-is-going-on moments, some kids on scooters and skateboards roll down the street and stop to see what the fuss is all about. seeing as a), the vest was sized XXL and wouldn't be flattering to my fourteen year old girl frame, and b) that i never cared for hideous, albeit fireproof, leather accessories, i decline the gift. stupid me, i know. disappointed that some david blaine shit did not go down, the roller gang turned around and returned from whence they came, presumably to enjoy whatever remained of their weekend.

although i'm done with work,

2006-08-05T16:09:00.000-07:00

i'd like to think that i have better things to do than drive all the way to los feliz for a drink, but that would be a bit self-aggrandizing.

i start grad school in a few months, so ideally i'd like to be moved into my new place by the beginning of september. but that's a bit of a problem because i haven't found said new place. i've always lived with people, but i suppose it's time to give this living alone thing a try. craigslist isn't much help in the roommate department, because either a) everyone on craigslist wants a female roommate, or b) the person seeking roommates is a "clean SWM fond of full body massages." if anyone wants to let me in on some westsiderentals.com account action, that would be sweet.

by the way, tap tap's lanzafame is perhaps the most wonderfully refreshing pop album since oh, inverted world. i don't want to call it this summer's clap your hands say yeah, because it's so much better. do you remember that time in 9th grade when you ran into the girl you liked at the neighborhood sav-on and you guys started talking and it seemed that she was finally starting to notice you? and right when you have her laughing at one of your lame jokes that was seemingly delivered effortlessly (and most likely stolen from conan o'brien) but was actually the result of hours of practicing in front of the mirror, all of a sudden you hear your mom from a few aisles down announcing to the whole store, "i got your eczema cream, time to go sweetie!" well this record will make you forget all about that.

i've been saying," ah fuck" a lot lately.

ain't no rush

2006-08-03T12:05:00.000-07:00

like the one you get on the last day of school. if you know of a better excuse to eat tons of potato chip pizza, drink gallons of capri sun and watch harry potter all day, please let me know. and when kids steal your camera,

they collect "evidence of who likes who,"

and take over the country.

as part of my vain attempt to fall asleep

2006-08-01T05:04:00.000-07:00

i just googled, "how to fall asleep." this is what i've been reduced to. this is my life. in its infinite wisdom the internets informed me of a myriad of factors why i may still be awake, the two most relevant to me seem to be:

"anxiety about that day, the next day, or everyday for the rest of your life," or

"an inability to stop thinking about the day's events." (via goaskalice)

well, duh. although i must admit the first one made me laugh; isn't this called depression? whatever. thanks a lot, alice. thanks a whole fucking lot.

before i hit the hay in order to recharge

2006-07-12T00:25:00.000-07:00

for what has become my summer routine--i.e., riding a big yellow school bus filled with 40 screaming kids at 7:30am while fighting the SHUT THE HELL UP, YOU FUCKING BRATS that lies in wait at the tip of my tongue--i will share with you three things that are stuck in my head.

the first is a tune, and it is a delight. as are you.

the second is a film,

and the third is a glimpse into the not so distant future. maybe.

why i love los angeles reason #68:

2006-06-26T01:29:00.000-07:00

because on any lazy saturday evening you can bring friends and booze-filled baskets to the cemetery to watch a movie projected onto a mausoleum wall complete with junebugs whizzing by your ear, the crisp air making you question your flawed it's-summer-so-i- don't-need- a-jacket logic, neighboring picnic-goers bumming smokes from you, and the cool, wet grass making your arms itch in such a way that is uncomfortable yet inviting;

only in this town is it normal to see hundreds of people exiting a cemetery at 1am, spilling onto the charmingly-filthy streets of hollywood in droves to make 15 minute treks along santa monica boulevard back to their cars.

in case you've forgotten,

2006-06-21T00:19:00.000-07:00

this is what 5th grade graduation looks like.

tapes, samurai swords,

2006-06-18T01:23:00.000-07:00

n' tapes. i have nothing to say except that from echo park to westwood, los angeles fucking came alive on friday. like frampton, but with less bastardry.

one of my fondest memories with the nissan

2006-06-16T00:43:00.000-07:00

took place late one (of many) irritatingly-sleepless spring evening. usually season 1 episode 4 of the british office or a few this american life reruns does the trick, but i guess the things that are supposed to work all the time don't work when you really need them to. so i got out of bed at 3:30, hopped into the car and drove to jack in the box. i'm not sure if i decided to eat because it would help me fall asleep or because i was bored; i don't recommend the latter.

i ordered a jumbo jack (no ketchup), onion rings, and a coke. i drove back home, parked, and decided to eat in the car rather than go inside and wake everyone up. i slid open the moonroof (it's not a sunroof at 4am) and rolled the windows all the way down. then i thought, if the world is going to end today, this could very well be my last meal. so i enjoyed that jack in the box combo #3 as if it were the last earthly delight in which i would ever partake. and believe me, this made every bite and sip of this heart attack/colorectal cancer inducing comfort food oh. so. much. better.

i didn't fall asleep as easily as planned and ended up getting only 3 hours of shut eye. i woke up to the raucous midi version of the washington post, courtesy of my cellular phone's alarm. it was time to get ready for work, which meant that the world in fact did not end and that i would be alive for at least one more day. things will only get better from here, i thought.

screw jamie kennedy and stu stone,

2006-06-07T15:49:00.000-07:00

my main man brian and his fellow little peeps are blowin up. not many bands have npr cred, but somehow they do.

today you are reading a post

2006-05-30T00:49:00.000-07:00

written by a boy--nay, a man--who has just climbed out of massive debt. barely, but who's counting. it's about fucking time. now i can finally put them paychecks to good use as opposed to automatically handing 'em over to the credit card goons. who cares that i have only nineteen days of getting paid left?

fuck. i do. i will most definitely need some source of income this summer so that i won't be a starving grad student in september. someone please hire me. on top of that i'm also in search of four walls, a bathroom, and possibly one or a few cool customers with whom to share it all.

but i digress. all that matters is that i finally gots some cash money in my pocket and some new wheels (more on this later). i want to take you out in your holiday sweater.

after i ruined mother's day for the eighth time

2006-05-17T01:32:00.000-07:00

i read lenny bruce is dead. i found it to be so fucking gorgeous and brilliant that i read it again. no other book matters more than this one, that is until i come across one that matters more than this one.

Chick wanted to see what the world was like when you were relaxed, so he put on a bathrobe and slippers and took a walk through his neighborhood. He carried a paper cup of orange juice. He wanted to feel like the world was a hospital solarium and the doctors were very pleased with his progress.
-Jonathan Goldstein

week in review: earthquake drills, donkey shows, & the cat6

2006-04-29T21:56:00.000-07:00

at work we had the annual earthquake drill. i'm the first aid guy, so the principal brought me kids on whom i was to practice bandaging broken limbs with gauze and pieces of cardboard. as exciting as this may sound i was envious of those who got to wear hardhats and search the bungalows and main building for anyone who may have been left behind. if anything it was the hardhat i was jealous of. i guess i'd rather play dress up than doctor.

we went to norms the other night where outside we were approached by a vietnam vet who told us about this huge pot party in calabasas, where the "fascist mayor" outlawed smoking in one's backyard. he then graced us with this tidbit of wisdom, or nonsense: "you hear about it, your friends have heard about it, but you'll never meet someone who will die of second hand smoke. just like the donkey show," he said matter of factly.

on a more surreal note, a dear friend to a handful of my dear friends passed away last week. i knew him primarily through them, and less so through my college stint as an RA; to me he was that person to whom you were always reintroduced even though you rarely forget names and the faces that go with them, and he didn't seem to be the type to either. so then you'd shake hands as if for the first time, when really it was the fifth or sixth, while cordially laughing and reminding your mutual friend that you have indeed already been introduced many times over. then came the sparked lighters and small talk. thus another bullet point is added to this year's lists of firsts: this was the first death of someone i knew-albeit fleetingly and remotely--in a long time. as mentioned in several conversations i've had with those who knew him, you know you're getting older when those around you move on.

standardized testing is upon the public schools of california, which means i need to be up early to administer and proctor those stupid things.

the previous evening was spent

2006-04-15T02:06:00.000-07:00

with pals whom i haven't seen in months for some stupid reason or another (i.e. me working and being boring). we met at hollywood thai, where a middle-aged asian man in a sleeveless denim vest sang billy joel songs on stage accompanied by electric guitar and karaoke machine; on the stool next to him was a plastic jar labeled TIPS THANK YOU, but from where where we sat seemed to plead TIP HANK. the place was empty and dark save for the stage lights and the flourescent glow from the fishtank and television; as i mentioned to matt when we got there, if i ever feel the need to drink my feelings this is where i would do go.

hugs were exchanged. beer flowed. current goings-on and future plans were mused upon. as much as i love kids and lunchladies and fourth grade teachers, i needed to be around people my age. people who speak my language, kindred spirits who somehow manage to live and love despite understanding all too well what it means to be broke, jobless, and without a clue--more often than not in the same breath. ah, to remain dangerously and relentlessly optimistic; it's an artform.

three months and one week

2006-04-07T01:39:00.000-07:00

into 2006 i attended my first party of the year. if i keep living at this rate i have three more to go before auld acquantance be forgot. anyway, i consider tonight to be one of life's mini milestones and a very big first: the first social function of my first job out of college.

throughout the madness of free drinks, chips, salsa and laughs i felt so, how you say, grown up. hell i even wore a freshly-ironed dress shirt with a tie, not because it was required but because (get this) i wanted to. i just assumed that's the type of outfit worn to these sort of things. but a suit's just a suit. reminders of my youthful inexperience revealed themselves whenever i was caught in conversation about things which i have neither a fucking clue nor the desire to know about. matters such as house-hunting, cheating spouses, and proctologist visits. but seeing as i'm the second youngest person at work, i'm not sweating it.

it went down at a mexican restaurant on la cienega a few blocks down from the school. present were pretty much all staff members, a few parents, and a handful of both in the tipsy (is this word still used?) category, myself included. i can't really describe what it's like being around drunken elementary school teachers and playing (read: winning) bingo in said company then stumbling outside to loosen my tie and have a cigarette outside a closed trashy lingerie store under an indigo sky illuminated by neon signs promising LIQUOR and TOTALLY NUDE GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS.

if anything, the evening was oddly reassuring and reminded me that for the most part, i'm doing all right.

recently i was given advice

2006-03-27T00:56:00.000-08:00

from 5th grade girls, on what else, how to attract girls. short and sweet:

step 1: "shave."
step 2: "buy some hip hop clothes."
step 3: "go to the club."

i don't know what's sadder,

a) that it's crystal clear to ten year olds, whose powers of deduction aren't fully developed, that i need help in that department, or

b) that rather than brush it off, i've been asking everyone what hip hop clothes are exactly, and more importantly, where i can get my hands on some.

earlier this year

2006-03-15T00:24:00.000-08:00

i picked up one of these from here. do i miss instant digital gratification? yes. but the crisp click of the shutter on this plastic piece of shit is just as satisfying, if not more so. and fuzzy, dreamy, square prints are well worth the wait and the extra dollars spent at the pro lab, which wasn't easy to find in the first place.

i was pretty sure miss l.

2006-03-11T02:09:00.001-08:00

was gonna get some ass tonight, so i stayed after work to correct a thick pile of spelling tests for her. the kids were supposed to use the word peculiar in a sentence, came across one that made me laugh: 'i love my mom in a peculiar way.'

walked to oki dog for a late lunch, had a steak sandwich and large root beer. hung out afterwards. lit the obligatory digestive cigarette, finished up an episode of in the heat of the night, played bust-a-move until there were no more quarters in my pockets.

went home, paid some overdue bills, took a nap. picked up peggy, went to lee's sandwiches for the turkey and cheese baguette i've been dreaming about all week. ran around in the rain, got soaked. caught duck season in pasadena. charming film about how being stuck at home with nothing to do can be more eventful and satisfying than an afternoon at the race tracks. or disneyland.

drove home through more rain, arrived just in time for conan's finland special. it was a good day.

there's so much

2006-03-07T00:19:00.000-08:00

i've wanted to write about as of late so much in fact that i've been overwhelmed by it all and whenever i would sit down to crank something out my fingertips would freeze at the keyboard not knowing how to sublimate the crazy shit in my head into sweetly-delivered nonsense on the computer screen so here is a pointless video of me driving home down westwood boulevard at 4am after giving brian and mike haircuts without knowing how to give haircuts in the first place p.s. before i forget i'd just like to say that for at least ninety minutes dave chappelle's block party made me happy to be alive and proud to be an american,

good night.

"what are the units

2006-02-17T02:15:00.000-08:00

that make up IP addresses called again?" my dad asks my brother as he layers shredded chicken and guacamole into a flour tortilla.

"an octet. isn't this your area of expertise?"

ignoring the jab, my dad turns to me--the computard, the son who as a kid never gave a crap about how the stupid machine worked save for installing games and typing book reports. "did you know that behind every web address there's really an IP address, which is really a bunch of numbers?"

i ignore the question and instead think about how my dad, a hot-tempered computer programmer for farmers insurance, ended up with my mom, a hypochondriatic beverly hills accountant who does christiane kubrick's taxes, and furthermore, how there are seventeen (i counted) places i'd rather be than having dinner with them at home on their 29th wedding anniversary.

just two days before i listened to richard bausch read his story "letter to the lady of the house" which was made all the more pointed by the gravelly and wistful texture of his voice. the story is about that old married couple we all know or have at least seen on tv, whose relationship has slowly and painfully deteriorated over the decades to a point where every dinnertime conversation becomes an argument that ends with her going to bed early and him drinking. long story short he writes his wife a letter while she's sleeping saying that all the years of misery have all been worth it for those rare moments of happiness. or something like that. i'd like to buy that, i really would, but am not so sure if i do.

i watch my mom and dad eat in silence and imagine all the things that they don't say to each other, my faith in the institution of marriage now as strong as my faith in the war on terror, or intelligent design. or that bitch hottie on flavor of love.

if there's one thing i hate more

2006-02-06T22:39:00.000-08:00

than chronic complainers, it's chronic workplace complainers who spend every breath bitching to you (and only you, it seems) about stupidly insignificant aspects of the job and make sure that there's no room in your head for any doubt that they'd rather be elsewhere. at every job i've ever had there's always that one person who takes every opportunity to mention how much more they were paid or how much longer their lunch break was or how much more effective the management was at their old place of employment. WELL IF THIS PLACE IS SO GODAWFUL,...oh nevermind.

exhibit a: "oh my god, it took me almost an hour to get here. why should i spend an hour of every morning in bumper to bumper traffic on the 101 to get here? it's just not fair. and by the time we clock out it takes even longer to get home. no one should ever have to experience that. so what i did was put in my two weeks notice and found a job in sherman oaks. nice knowin ya."

first of all, poor you.

you know why there's so much fucking traffic in the morning? because most people in this city don't work near enough to their homes to walk, bike, or take side streets. urban sprawl at its finest. just as missing persons' dale bozzio so matter of factly puts it, "nobody walks in LA." one hour drives in the morning are not uncommon. like the thousands of others who trek across town daily to make a buck, via any combination of the 405, 110, 5, sepulveda, mullholand, sunset, or whatever, you simply must deal with it.

secondly, why did you just relocate from hollywood to encino, only to complain about the morning drive back to hollywood? i understand the appeal of the oh so tidy suburbs--and that as a child vacationing in europe you've grown accustomed to "the crystal clear waters of the black sea," and that the (brownish) blue pacific will never do--but now you're many traffic-induced headaches away from not only work, but most every other part of town that's worth a damn. i know traffic sucks, but sister, moving to the valley only makes this fact more real and painful.

ugh. wait a minute.

i claim to have a low tolerance for complainers, but look at me whine poetic, and relentless, about whiners. as much as i'm making you out to be a chatterbox with a neverending supply of beef, you're really not. you're more the crazy person against whom i measure how well-adjusted and composed i supposedly am. i'm sure you're a pretty cool person when you're not bellyaching about traffic or how the boss can be a sadistic, micromanaging automaton. believe it or not, you will be missed. i too have my share of gripes, but i've found that sometimes it's best to keep them to yourself. or blog about them, for fucksake.

if i'd have known beforehand

2006-01-31T01:52:00.000-08:00

that this growing up thing involved amassing unpaid bills that come out of nowhere i never would have fucking signed up.

i was walking back

2006-01-29T22:48:00.000-08:00

from my lunch break when i saw jake, a 5th grader (one of my talent-show helpers), scrubbing the water fountain on the kindergarten yard with a toothbrush, bucket filled with soapy water at his side. he greeted me in the same way he has since the day i met him--'what up, tony danza?'--then proceeded to explain that he was doing time for getting into yet another fight.

i shook my head told him that he's smarter than that, that he should know better; but the meaning is lost when you tell that to someone who's constantly suspended. i wanted to say something else, something meaningful that would come off as effortless and hint that there was plenty more wisdom where that came from, contrived as it may be. just how will gives advice to marcus about cool in nick hornby's about a boy. the stuff after school specials are made of. but all that came out was, "why do you reek of cigarettes, man?" i've been meaning to ask him that for a while, because well, he usually does.

jake explained that he's home alone everyday after school until his mom gets home from her clerk job at rite aid. so he pretty much does his homework, watches tv, and smokes her cigarettes until she arrives around midnight. she's usually too tired to yell at him, he says, so she goes straight to bed. then he lights up once more and catches the leno monologue before going to bed and getting up to do it all over again. like every other adult he told this to, i reminded him that he was a great kid and that there are people who truly do give a damn about him. he said 'thanks' like someone who's heard the same thing a million times yet chooses to be a good sport about it.

i'd be lying if i said that as he told me this i wasn't thinking about how i would recreate this in a film (low-light, no dialogue and set to this song); it really is a fantastic image, to me at least. so simple yet so heavy.

the only writing i've been doing lately

2006-01-17T19:09:00.000-08:00

has been for personal statements and scholarship essays. that's my only excuse.

i'm happy to say that no matter how boring i may be, i will never run out of interesting things to say about my peers, nor will i tire of vicariously soaking in their glory. sometime last week i was on campus to pick up some letters of rec when i ran into an old student of mine who's TA-ing his own section now. i initially thought, hey, it's kinda neat that he decided to follow in my footsteps, but then i snapped to and became frightened, because well, someone decided to follow in my footsteps. we don't need anymore twenty-somethings in los angeles wasting their time at swap meets and drug stores like sixty year old men. i also ran into my old chum natalie, who can be found at disneyland during the summertime where she is paid to don a canary-yellow dress, smile big, and respond to "belle."

when i was an RA there was this guy who lived in my building who i considered to be alright, but not everyone seemed to agree. he tended to make those around him uncomfortable, not in the "oh my god this guy is a serial-killer" sense, but in the "i think he just told a joke but i don't quite get it and feel obligated to laugh to break this awkward silence" way. you know the type. anyway now he's the star geek on beauty and the geek 2. from what i've been told he is kicking some major ass. christopher, rock on with your greeting-card-making self.

it's not even a month into the new year and things seem to have gotten pretty interesting for everyone at zanzibar. the last time i visited it was as if i were in an alternate universe where the people were the same, yet had distinctively different things about them. brian's not around because he's off doing whatever it is that interns for national geographic feature films do. mike has a new ladyfriend, who is quite the knockout. he also has a new cell phone, the flip kind; so does brian, i'm told. not only does lee finally have a cell phone (thereby taking the last-of-tony's-friends-to-get-a-stupid-phone-award from tracey), but she's on the couch popping vicodin because apparently she just had some work done; she moved around by balancing on her heels, toes pointed upwards (her feet were also wrapped up in bandages) with matt facing her and holding her hands as he walked backwards, guiding her to wherever she needed to go. it seemed they had gotten this routine down pat, and seeing them waltz through the apartment like this reminded me of everything i seemed to have forgotten about this thing called love.

matt jokingly said that we should all get boost mobile (*beep* "where you at?!"). i'd be lying if i said i didn't take this as a feasible suggestion rather than an afterthought. the fact that we all have the flip kind of cell phone stupidly signifies, for me at least, that these are truly new and exciting times. did i mention that at work we caught fifth grade girls smoking (or trying to) in the bathroom?

what better way to spend new year's eve

2006-01-03T01:51:00.000-08:00

than stranded at mccarran airport in las vegas after missing a 7:23pm flight to los angeles thanks to a heated argument with security goons who searched your bags and forced you to part with not only your zippo, but also the travel-sized sewing kit you needed to fix a tear in the lining of your jacket? i could care less about crappy needles and plastic thimbles, but COME ON. (read like gob from arrested development. now once more, with feeling!) don't tell me that zippos aren't allowed on board. i flew with this bad boy last year, and there are signs everywhere that say "certain tobacco materials" are permitted. don't make me pay to have it sent to my home. screw that. what? then you'll keep it for yourself? fine, i'll cough up 14 big ones. but only because that lighter was there for me when good fortune was nowhere to be found, case in point, moments like these. no need to apologize and call me sir, i'll live. and thank you for jamming my stupid magazines into the wrong pocket. happy fucking new year.

other than this quasi-fracas and my second flight being delayed by 45 minutes, the past few days were quite nice. my parents recently invested in a house in las vegas--they're taking advantage of nevada's booming real estate market, they say--and a bunch of family members caravan'd from LA to check it out before the renters move in and make it their own. now there's family time, and there's good family time; despite the absence of warm water (for a few hours at least, until someone came to activate the gas) and furniture (unless you count sleeping bags), and me not being too fond of sin city in the first place (huge crowds generally scare me, but the opportunity to play bingo with senior citizens is appealing), everything fell into the latter category. and not necessarily because we were drunk or up five-hundy by midnight.

believe it or not, lazing about in an unfurnished house with nothing to do but eat junk food, play board games, and laugh stupidly with those who share your DNA and whom you may or may not always get along is not a bad way to spend the weekend, even when the bright lights, a thousand pretty women, and one-armed bandits promised by elvis can be found a few blocks away.

the best of 2005, part ii: dance parties, taquerias,

2005-12-27T04:07:00.000-08:00

and the open road; a handful of this year's fondest memories. from the haphazard and inconsequential to the earth-shatteringly momentous. from mini-successes to painful setbacks, from the minor falls to the major lifts. and everything betwixt and between. in no particular order:

4am coffee and muffins at dolores, mountain goats at the echo, california burritos, postcards from peggy's antiques in pasadena, swap meets, mike giving akanksha sensuous lap-dances in public, terri anderson's un-ironic plastic neon-green sunglasses, thursday farmer's market with the jazz band playing "georgia on my mind" as the vendors loaded their trucks, the corn on the cob vendor at the farmer's market who calls me sweetie and asks where i've been then shows me pictures of her baby girl,

the 24 hour 1500 mile drive from los angeles to austin via the 10 east, scrumisha propositioning sulaiman at the lancaster 7-11, lumpy the cat, new cell phone (the flip kind), double features at the new beverly, 'mikey g in westwood looking fo big dick' on craigslist posted by lee, lu valle lunch club, fake italian supermodel luca pipin-farina, sociology of the family with mikey and keeley and sally and natalie whose cigarettes i'd light, pilfering the neighbor's wifi network "DOOMONMANKIND," sustaining myself over the summer with tortillas and 1 dollar tv dinners, watching stage coach and the wild bunch with thomas at 3am complete with welch's grape soda and chicken pesto pizza from italian express, light saber battles with cindy's kid brother,

2am drives to el tapatio for chorizo & egg burritos, breaking into the chemistry building to steal lab coats, filming documentary on high school latin conventions, destroying our throats to "total eclipse of the heart" at brian's karaoke birthday extravaganza, kicking sean paul's ass in def jam fight for ny, getting yelled at by karen for not doing my job, halloween decorations at zanzibar, rolling a spare tire down a flight of stairs to nick's caddy, georges delerue's "comment voulez-vous?" from the 400 blows, robek's with cindy and lori after work, getting my powerbook, 24 hour rite aids, x-ray spex/the undertones/nick cave/free wifi/hot chocolate at cacao, getting a flat tire the day i had to move into the new apartment, me and tracey fighting moths with billiard cues,

thai elvis, hanging out at zanzibar, cookie monster's commencement address, watching hours of the oh-so-asinine mike and ben show with nick, finding getz-gilberto lp at garage sale, the shirelles' "i met him on a sunday" at the end of silverlake life, half-liter glass coke bottles imported from mexico at tacomiendo, hanging with the 6 foot 7 freestyling jew on 6th street, matt's pop and lock moves at the days inn, brian jonestown massacre's "ballad of jim jones," trying to figure out why she left me by staying home from work and watching high fidelity over and over and over and over, waking up several times to find medium-sized victoria's secret thongs hanging on my doorknob, backscratcher from amy, monday treks with roommates to the valley for dollar hot dogs at the stand, grade school talent shows,

sunday swap meets at fairfax high, graduation, realizing that there is life after graduation, driving through new mexico with nothing on the radio but bad country, eating the "best pizza in the world" with matt and ray and akanksha and nate, love's country shops and travel stops, laundromats, jasmine's postcard from new york, early spring evenings on campus when the sky was purple and orange, blogs and my blog readers, breakfast and trips to the goodwill with peggy on sundays, smoking cigarettes sitting on the unsightly wicker bench outside of the apartment when the summer nights were dark and sticky, saturday nights alone with thelonious monk on the record player, my first paycheck as a college graduate, being called "mr. tony" and getting paid for playing handball and turning jumpropes, homer singing "wichita lineman," never getting tired of homer singing "wichita lineman," and never getting tired of living and laughing.

now i shall close with the words of elvin drake, as sung by the impeccable william shatner.

"i think of my life as vintage wine from old kegs,
from the brim to the dregs it poured sweet, and clear-

it was a very good year."

there should be no doubt in your mind

2005-12-24T06:34:00.000-08:00

that 2005 was fucking horrible. distaster too frequently graces the newspaper front page. global warming at its worst. dead soldier count breaks two thousand. running man/kindergarten cop tries to destroy california. we lost pat morita, august wilson, richard pryor, robert moog, mrs. robinson and gilligan. and i lost a hundred and fifty-bucks trying to help a fake italian supermodel. this year sucked, and '06 doesn't seem to hold any more promise.

that being said, at least this year didn't disappoint in terms of the things that matter.

the best of 2005, part one: the sounds, the projected image, the written word.

highly infectious yet (in)disposable pop songs, in no particular order*.
1. the beast and dragon, adored - spoon
2. here comes the summer - fiery furnaces
3. the skin of my country yellow teeth - clap your hands say yeah
4. sing me spanish techno - new pornographers
5. the party's crashing us - of montreal
6. festival - dungen
7. feels good behind somebody - dios (malos)
8. idiocy - the double
9. shattered - gogogo airheart
10. this isn't it - giant drag
11. venus - the chris stamey experience
12. ageless beauty - stars
13. fire eyed boy - broken social scene
14. modern world - wolf parade
15. did you see the words - animal collective
16. warm panda cola - the boy least likely to
17. do the whirlwind - architecture in helsinki
18. huddle formation - the go! team
19. tas de tole - stereo total
20. off the record - my morning jacket
21. mushaboom - feist
22. prison on route 41 - calexico/iron & wine
23. cloudberries - super furry animals
24. chariot - page france
25. letter to the east coast - john vanderslice
26. in the pines - smog
27. radio campaign - m. ward
28. funny like the moon - bunky
*i'd be glad to send you a cd so that years from now when you're pining with nostalgia from vh1's i love the '00s you can give it a listen and remember what this year sounded like, through my ears at least. email or leave a comment.

films, in no particular order. '04 and '05 have melded into one year in my mind. there are a bunch of movies that i have a good feeling would be here if i had seen them (broken flowers, mad hot ballroom, etc). also includes anything that holds some sort of significance, from watching it in good company to it reminding me of the mental state i was in at a specific time.
1. me and you and everyone we know
2. thumbsucker
3. the squid and the whale
4. 2046
5. the aristocrats
6. my summer of love
7. the 40 year old virgin
8. the life aquatic with steve zissou
9. everything is illuminated
10. march of the penguins
11. bad education
12. the fearless freaks
13. the 36th chamber of shaolin
14. the wrath of khan
15. the corporation
16. romuald et juliette
17. the adventures of antoine doinel
18. high fidelity (saved my life)

television shows i've obsessed over at some point this year
1. freaks and geeks
2. the british office
3. arrested development
4. the simpsons. this summer my roommate and i purchased a bootleg set of the entire series (up to season 16) from some british guy on ebay for 30 pounds.
5. reno! 911

books i've stumbled upon way too late. (*not finished yet)
1. dress your family in courderoy and denim - david sedaris (for your listening pleasure, the santaland diaries.)
2. take the cannoli - sarah vowell
3. about a boy - nick hornby
4. fraud - david rakoff
5. sex, drugs, and cocoa puffs* - chuck kosterman (thanks cindy)
6. magical thinking* - augusten burroughs

guilty pleasures, feel free to share yours.
1. the cobrasnake
2. laguna beach/my super sweet 16. there's something about spoiled jailbait that makes me weep for the future yet watch for hours. have you seen the princess jazmin episode? yikes.
3. craigslist missed connections/rants and raves/casual encounters
4. myspace. i use friends' accounts to browse because i haven't signed up and don't intend to. i don't believe in the commodification of people, nor do i care to collect "friends." but looking at coworkers and old classmates' profiles is fucking addicting and satifies my voyeuristic appetite. when i was in school my women's studies/sociology TA told me to sign up so we could be friends. i've stayed away this long, but hey, a new year is upon us and anything can happen.

so there you have it. what better way to celebrate the holiday spirit of mindless consumerism than to reflect on my own media gluttony? i'd like to think that we as individuals have our own unique cultural palette, but the items that make up many people's best of lists are pretty much identical (check out metacritic, or better yet type "best music 2005" into technorati and poke around). has the marketing machine become so precise that it knows exactly what we'll respond to? are humans that predictable, that malleable? if something is on everyone's best of list, then it probably deserves to be there. granted, we live in the age of customizable culture, where we actively seek out alternatives to what the idiot box and entertainment weekly tell us to like. but if "best of" lists are any indication, then taste is every bit manipulated as it is cultivated.

but really, who cares. there are people out there whose work i enjoy, and this makes me happy. and thank you for enjoying sic transit gloria.

happy holidays to you and yours.

if this cough doesn't kill me

2005-12-19T00:12:00.000-08:00

i don't know what will. the downside of working with kids--the constant frustration, headaches and self-censoring aside--is that you're constantly exposed to icky germs. mean germs, cruel, indiscriminate germs that infiltrate your insides without impunity. i avoid doctors and health professionals of all sorts like the plague, with the exception of optometrists/opthalmologists. i've always liked going to eye doctors, maybe because they've always been kind, more likely because they never jab popsicle sticks and metal pointy things into my mouth. dr. leitch--the optometrist i've been going to since i got my first pair of glasses in 4th grade--passed away earlier this year. a kindly man, reminiscient of seymour cassel in rushmore, in both likeness and demeanor. may he rest in peace.

"which is better, one or two?" he'd ask, slightly wheezing, as the machine that determines your prescription would click when the lens alternated between one, click, and two.

"one," click, "or three?"

"two," click, "or three?"

"how's that?" he'd ask after going through twenty or so lens combinations, my sight magically restored.

anyhow i'm so desperate to rid myself of this fucking cough and shortness of breath that have kept me up every night this past week that i'm going to see a doctor tomorrow for the first time in three years. the doctor i saw last didn't hesitate to verbalize his character judgments based on my answers to his questions. i really wanted to tell him off and ask who the hell he is to put me on trial. i should've stormed out, yelling back as i exited the office, RIGHT, DOC, YOU'RE SO MUCH BETTER THAN EVERYONE BECAUSE YOU DON'T ENJOY CIGARETTES AFTER PARTAKING IN COITUS WITH YOUR WIFE TO WHOM YOU ARE UNITED BY YOUR LOVE OF JESUS CHRIST THROUGH THE SACRED BONDS OF MARRIAGE! I APPLAUD THE TENSILE STRENGTH OF YOUR MORAL FIBER!

given that my performance resume

2005-12-12T23:58:00.000-08:00

is short, unimpressive, and for the most part, was forced upon me--i was "mexican homeboy #2" in our 4th grade D.A.R.E skit; in 6th grade i was sir thomas more in a christmas period piece; in high school acting workshop i did a monologue from king henry viii, and scattered throughout were various piano recitals--it's most surprising to think that someone would recognize my quasi (non-existent) stage potential and provide me an opportunity to put it to good use. kind of. but i can't do this alone. before i craigslist this under gigs, you heard it here first.

stage manager (read: yours truly) seeks reliable crew for big hollywood production. and i mean big. skills necessary: must know how to draw curtains, a plus if you can do so in non-jerky fashion. must be able to handle some light-lifting as you will be setting up/taking down props in between acts. also a plus if you can operate unwiedly, archaic stage-lights that haven't been switched on in years. also need someone who knows how to operate a just as bulky circa 1988 tape deck/cd player that looks like your parents' first answering machine (the rewind button doesn't work, so you'll have to queue everything with a pencil or your pinky finger). most importantly, must be able to quickly and efficiently herd 5-10 year olds on and off stage and keep them quiet backstage. must not hesitate to use empty threats, such as, "i guess someone doesn't want to do their 'i want candy' dance," or "if you don't pipe down the only place you'll be singing hillary duff is in the principal's office." i don't want moms disappointed because their daughter's version of generic-disney-princess-song was drowned out by whispers and giggles, or because their son's recorder rendition of feliz navidad was punctuated by fart noises emanating from behind the curtains. this is an unpaid deal, but this is LA and you gotta start somewhere. if this sounds like something you can handle, respond promptly. emails without headshots will be disregarded.

ah yes, school talent show time is upon us. weeks in the making, this one's going to be a good one. i hope. and about the crew, i don't need one because they gave me three 5th graders whom i affectionately refer to as "my interns." as in, "this whole show is falling apart, i need a fucking cigarette. INTERN! LIGHT!" all i need is a clipboard, headset and a frosty the snowman emblazoned neckerchief and i'm good to go. perhaps i should practice a lisp as well.

dear blog,

2005-11-27T02:13:00.000-08:00

i am an ass. i'm every bit as guitly as those people who leave their dogs in the car without rolled-down windows.

it's true, i've been neglecting you. but before you get your panties or boy shorts or hot pants or whatever's hot on the streets these days in a twist, allow me to explain.

"you don't tell me where you go at night," you say. er, to bed early.

"i don't know what you ate for lunch yesterday." egg salad sandwich.

"i don't know what you're listening to these days." um, jon gake and dios malos and wolf parade. oh, and the clientele.

"i...i just don't fucking know you anymore," you say, fighting back tears.

listen. i know it seems that i've been avoiding you. but i can change. i'm trying my best. hell, i don't even know if this is worth a damn but i've even made a list of things with which to update you when i'm not busy with work, slumber, and grad school stuff. like when that italian supermodel (read: scam artist extraordinaire, danilo ripa) stopped me in hollywood and convinced me to give him 150 bucks and on top of that, tried to get me to buy him an 800.00 luis vitton bag for his fiance whom he cheated on with a latina he brought home from the stock exchange club downtown. fucking nuts, i know. this guy's account is essentially identical to mine. i'm an idiot.

i also want to tell you about this girl at work. most definitely a public apple eater. miss-i-have-perfect-posture-and-eat-only-organic-vegetarian-meals-and-am-so-much-better -than-thou. i don't know what the rest of her day is like, but i'll bet that she goes to the bikram yoga studio down the street, picks up groceries at whole foods, heads back to her silverlake condo where she'll unwind with tivo'd episodes of grey's anatomy, waiting for her motorcycle-riding law-student boyfriend to come home from the library so they can fuck to zap mama or ladysmith black mambazo or pink martini or whatever else is on their tantric sex mixtape. i'm just sayin.

there's so much more i need to tell you, but i have laundry to do. (just got a bunch of threadless t-shirts in the mail and am very excited about them.) blog, you've been good to me. i will try to do the same for you.

paz.

"mr. tony, do you like scary movies?"

2005-11-18T19:32:00.000-08:00

asks lily, a wide-eyed curly-haired first grader who does karate kicks and jumps off benches.

"not so much, they give me nightmares," which is half true.

"i LOVE scary movies," she volunteers.

"then you are one brave kid."

"have you seen the one where the girl pees on the floor and her mommy puts her face in the pee?"

"no," i shake my head and repress the urge to ask her the title of this film so i can imdb it when i get home. "but have you seen the sponge bob movie?"

her unyielding enthusiasm in telling me about this movie renders her immune from the redirection tactic, which works ninety-nine percent of the time. "and then the girl throws up and another girl has sex with a god and then the girl's head is sliced off and purple snakes crawl out?" she acts out the beheading for me.

i say nothing, wearing an expression that is a mixture of bewilderment and defeat. she looks at me, grinning ear to ear and wondering why this grown-up has nothing to say after being told the plot of what is clearly, to her, the greatest movie in the world.

the bell rings and lily says "bye mr. tony!", does a jump kick, then gallops away. "have a good weekend," i call back, making a mental note to not ask her come monday if she saw harry potter and the goblet of fire.

i love it when you read to me,

2005-11-05T18:17:00.000-08:00

and you can read me anything.

i've been in a writing slump. it eludes me why i even have readers. here are five snapshots from the mess in my brain.

i awoke in the middle of the night with stephen merritt's "the book of love" in my head. why this happened, i have no clue; i don't remember what i was dreaming, nor do i recall when i last heard this song. i sat up, gave it a listen, then retreated back under the covers.

speaking of love, i've rekindled relationships with two past loves. the first one being with turkey sandwiches, the second with snood. concerning the former, i simply seemed to forget how great they are. more than anything snood reminds me of my second year of college, when at any godawful hour of the night i'd stroll a few rooms over to play snood at tracey's desk for hours while she and cindy were sleeping or not studying. everytime i'd look at the snood hall of fame on her computer with envy and say, "what if i delete your high scores?" to which she'd reply matter-of-factly, "then i'll punch you in the face." this is the closest i've ever been to having been punched in the face. cliff, if you're reading, just know that i heard about that high school kid punching you in the face. if i were there i would have definitely backed you up, but i don't promise that my 14-year-old-girl frame wouldn't elicit a 'are you fucking kidding me, daawg?!' from said thugs.

yesterday i came up with my halloween costume. it's not clever at all, and that coupled with the fact that i came up with it 5 days after the day for which it's intended reveals the uncreative state i've been in. the easiest-yet-most-creative costume award goes to my brother, who was a grad student hit by a car. all you need is a bike helmet plaid shirt and khakis with a rolled up pant leg and a neon velcro ankle reflector and fake blood. when he was at stanford he actually did get hit off of his bike by a car; he somehow managed to jump off his bike and land on his feet and was okay for the most part. anyway all i could come up with was sherlock holmes. that way at parties i could smoke pipe tobacco and someone would tell me to do that outside and i'd say no, because i'm sherlock holmes and it's part of the fucking costume, motherfucker.

i saw squid and the whale and enjoyed it quite a bit. jeff daniels does his best impression of bill-murray-as-delusional-self-absorbed-daddy. my favorite part of the movie is when his son and his son's girlfriend invite him to watch short circuit ("johnny 5 is alive!"), but he recommends blue velvet and they end up watching that instead.

i finally started work and the oki dog on fairfax is right across the street. perfect for the half-hour lunch break. i have to be up somewhat early, which means that i have to go to bed 5 hours earlier than i'm used to. so i hop into bed at around 1 or 2 and listen to david sedaris on this american life until i fall asleep. my all-time favorite has to be music lessons.

why i loathe the rain;

2005-10-18T19:20:00.000-07:00

a cop-out post.

1. it takes the joy out of things like leaving the house and driving.
2. related to this, drivers who don't understand hydroplaning.
3. it makes me stay in and watch more tv than i should.
4. wet shoes/socks. and wet everything because i don't believe in umbrellas.
5. i hate umbrellas.
6. foggy glasses.
7. the unsettling feeling brought on when it rains with the sun out.
8. lighting a cigarette and keeping it lit takes more effort than it should.
9. late at night when it's pitch dark out the lightning through the window reminds me of a camera flash and makes me paranoid.
10. it makes everything so much more depressing. peggy and i had thai for dinner yesterday and the place was practically empty except for us and this other lady. we sat by the window and "my heart will go on" and other such easy listening kost 103.5 music was on. i never thought eating red curry could be so fucking depressing, but believe me it was.
11. i get sick when i play in the rain. the last incidence of this being two years ago when mike, brian, emily and i went on campus to play in the mud on a saturday night, with the theatre goers en route to royce hall bewildered by these kids sliding down janss steps on those orange and white-striped traffic barricades. afterwards we had hookah and pizza. in reverse order. the night ended at the pharamacy of the 24 hour rite-aid (my favorite westwood establishment), with me sitting on the blood-pressure machine chair vomiting in a plastic grocery bag. the security guard tried to kick us out tactfully, telling us that they were closing.

as much as i dislike the rain, it does make some things prettier.

sunset boulevard, outside amoeba after seeing antony & the johnsons. sometime last march.

campus. how i miss thee.

to try and make something of one's self

2005-09-25T05:41:00.000-07:00

or to settle into your cozy little den of complacency?

i am surrounded by people who are on the move, who wake up in the morning (read: before 2pm) and put their talents and minds to use, who improve themselves and their worlds. people who actually do, well, things. worthwhile things, like returning to school, starting grad school, traveling, working new jobs, laughing, loving, learning, cooking, singing, dancing, the whole motherfucking shebang.

alas, not i, says the artful loafer. seeing as i'm done with school for the time being and as i haven't yet started my career as slave to the los angeles unified school district (i'm 'lost in the paperwork,' whatever that means), all this free time has gotten the best of me. time is really all we have, and lately most of mine has been spent on sleep and music and film and blogs and food and drink and craigslist message boards. missed connections, if you must know.

of my group of cohorts i never expected that i would be the one with absolutely nothing to do. not to say that dedicating most of my time to cultural pursuits is nothing; it's just that there should be some sort of equilibrium between investing energy into things created by other people and those endeavors into which i invest my own creative energy, be that fixing a salad or reorganizing my records or taking 45 minutes to crank out a fucking blog post. anything but sitting around and doing nothing, waiting around for everyone to get out of class and work so i have people to go out and play with. point is that if i don't start work soon i'm going to fucking lose my mind. after all,idle hands killed the devil's cat that was always curious, or something like that.

on a totally unrelated note, yesterday morning i dropped off my parents in monterey park, where they departed on one of those charter bus tours to yellowstone. as we left the house i asked my dad if he remembered his camera batteries and reminded my mom to bring the jacket i brought out for her. i've never been to yellowstone but i can only assume it's cold. as we drove off i kept asking if they forgot anything, and if they did forget something to please tell me now so i could turn around while we were still within reasonable distance for turning-around. the whole interrogation thing took place, but oddly enough it was me asking all the questions. as they climbed into the bus and waved goodbye i was reminded of high school when they would drop me and my brother off for latin club conventions, when it was us getting on the bus and waving goodbye from the window.

it was at this precise moment that i felt myself age, if that's even possible. talk about parent-child role reversal. to a naive twenty-something still who has yet to strike 'spring break road trip 5000 to vancouver' and 'summer vacation' from the vernacular, and, allegedly, has his whole life ahead of him, the idea of one day parenting his parents is indeed a strange one.

since pretty much everyone in my life

2005-09-23T02:29:00.000-07:00

is dedicating his or her time to things like "work" and "school," and since i'm still waiting for some documents to get processed so i can work for the "city," i've have lots of free time on my hands. the past few days have been spent at the new beverly, home of the 6 dollar double feature, an underrated gem for los angeles cinephiles.

caught two great street gang flicks, the warriors and the wanderers. i've seen the warriors a few times on tv, but i'd be stupid to pass up the opportunity to see the orphans and the furies and (my personal favorite) the lizzies on the big screen. the song placement in the wanderers is phenomenal. also saw the pope of greenwich village; eric roberts was there for a little q&a, and someone had to ask, "hey eric, who's the better actor, you or your sister?? HA!" ugh.

saw a preview screening of thumbsucker, definitely one of the summer's best. uplifting story for everyone who has ever believed that there was something wrong with them. was disappointed by the baxter; the premise is clever and the film had the potential to be great, but ended up flat. i've only seen 3 episodes of stella, so maybe i'm missing something.

caught a midnight showing of the wrath of khan at the nuart. i don't care how many times you've seen it, leonard nimoy's last moments with william shatner will break your heart everytime.

another method of passing the time i employ is looking through celebrity playlists on itunes. this is probably number 8 on my top 10 guilty pleasures list; the rest will either be revealed in time if they haven't already. the whole celebrity playlist thing is disgusting. apple isn't fooling anyone. whatever. doesn't change the fact that this marketing tool is really fucking brilliant. won't buy music from some hip apple geek? then why not let kanye sell you his favorite songs! ugh.

i can't think of a theme, but if you must have one it's "hawt summa jamz '05." here's my uncelebrity playlist, some new stuff, some old stuff, but all stuff representing different happenings/sentiments of the past months. take that, itunes.

1. "I Don't Like Mondays" - the Boomtown Rats. the ultimate 7am get ready for work song.
2. "Wishbone" - Architecture in Helsinki. the childhood album of my twenties.
3. "In This Home on Ice" - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. why not.
4. "Genius" - Inara George
5. "Mushaboom" - Feist. another reason to love canada.
6. "Outta My Head" - M. Ward. this is more summer jamz '04, but whatever.
7. "Can You Do That Dance?" - the Pink Mountaintops
8. "Baby" - Os Mutantes. belongs on Getz-Gilberto.
9. "Freelove Freeway" - Ricky Gervais as David Brent from the office.
10. "Decatur, or....." something something - Sufjan Stevens
11. "Outer Space" - the Muffs. from the high school years. found it while cleaning my room.
12. "Ballad of Jim Jones" - Brian Jonestown Massacre
13. "She Don't Use Jelly" - the Flaming Lips
14. tie between "Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie" (Joanna Newsom) & "Will Is My Friend" (Devendra Banhart). from last year, but i still listen to these albums quite a bit.
15. "Hey, That's No Way to Say Goodbye" - Leonard Cohen
15. "Daniel's Song" - the Finches. download here.

strolling down sunset boulevard

2005-09-11T01:37:00.000-07:00

''
amongst the short skirts and the escalades and the hustler store and your veritable pick of trendy sunset strip watering holes and shitty clubs is the last place you'd find me on a saturday night. or any night. but tonight after seeing mike play on our way to the ten dollar lot where we parked we found a set of keys on the ground right in front of frankie and johnny's. the car key was for a mercury le sabre, which happened to be right there. we asked the guys hanging out on the corner if they knew who owned the car, and turns out that it was one of theirs. frankie then invited us in for a round of beers on him for returning his pal's keys.

a group of uniformed police officers came in and were socializing with a group of little people at a table. earlier in the day was a basketball game between the west hollywood sheriff's department and the little persons' league team. throw in some more drunk cops, hobbit jokes and a scuffle and you have an episode of reno 911.

speaking of beer the other night we went bar hopping on main street in santa monica. (insert WESTSIIIIDE! here, accent on the SIIIIDE!) we finally chose the circle bar as the place to be. it's the most dive place on main (which isn't saying much) and we weren't feeling the fratboy-music-blasting sports bars and pubs. the last time we were here we saw luke wilson. there's your fucking LA name drop, suck it in. we sat at a corner table, and jokingly i say to mike above the din,

"WE GOT YOU A GUINNESS!" we didn't get him a guinness.
"WHAT?"
"WE GOT YOU A FUCKING GUINNESS!" (mike hates guinness. as do i.)
this scraggly deathmetally-looking guy whom we just noticed and who happened to be sitting awkwardly at the end of our table looks directly at us and says, "WHAT??"
confused, i say, "NOTHING! I JUST TOLD MIKE THAT HE'S DRINKING GUINNESS TONIGHT!"
"NO," our scraggly friend explains, "MY NAME IS SAM GUINNESS! NICE TO MEET YOU!"

but no, sam guinness isn't the highlight of the evening. nay, the highlight was the gay dentist trying to get in my pants and his ambiguously gay friend hitting on lee at the bar. let me premise this by saying that i don't know what it is that made gay dentist (from now on referred to as GD) think that i might be of the same persuasion as himself. oh wait, yes i do. BECAUSE I WAS DRINKING A FUCKING MIMOSA. there. i said it. so GD sits with us and is being overly chummy. among the many things he does is pour whatever he was drinking into our glasses when we were empty, and whilst doing that, clumsily spilling alcohol all over us. to gauge whether i was on the same wavelength as he was he turns up the dial on the hyper-masculine-i-wanna-get-on-every-lady-in-the-house-o-meter to see if i'd respond with a subtle WOMEN DISGUST ME! YOU FIGURED ME OUT! for example,

"awww yeaah, look at that mom over there. she wants to party, that belt fucking screams i want to get down. hey let's play rock paper scissors and loser has to roll up! awww yeaah!" (insert high fives)

'roll up.' fascinating. you know he felt like a dick for selling himself and the other sex out like that. you could hear the guilt and see it too. anyway GD provides more amusement, especially when he moves on from me to mike, who still thinks that GD was not of the gay. last call comes and we're all kicked out, and by this time GD won't remember anything in the morning. our last memory of GD is him asking lee to punch his friend in the genitals. she doesn't do it (she wanted to ), as we walk away we hear him drunkenly proposition homeless passersby, "HEY! I'LL GIVE YOU TEN BUCKS IF YOU PUNCH MY FRIEND IN THE BALLS!" what a pal.

in closing, as of ten days ago, we moved out of our apartment. packing was difficult, parting with roommates, neighbors, and westwood even more so.

goodnight.

though it hurts to say so

2005-08-25T01:36:00.000-07:00

the summer is coming to an end. like all good things, a wise man or woman once said. our lease is up at the end of the month, which means that the week will be filled with packing and emptying the refrigerator and more packing and vacuuming and getting rid of furniture and more packing. one thing i'll miss about our charming westwood single is the brown couch. she's treated the posteriors of mine, my roommates, and everyone who visited so wonderfully. soon it will grace the pages of the free section on craigslist los angeles.

lately i've found myself reconnecting with friends i either haven't seen for a long time or whom i've taken for granted; this is a good thing and i am happier than i've been. it seems as if i've been sinking into this deep fucking slump, but i'm out now. if only i weren't such a flake and returned calls/made more of an effort to visit people these past few months...i shouldn't beat myself up, but i will say that if there's one thing i learned this summer, it's don't take people for granted, especially those who give a shit about you.

caught inara george at the echo. she's a pixie. her voice is one part eleni mandell and another part mirah. in between songs she drank wine from a burgundy glass and ended her set with autumn leaves. a class act. her guitarist happens to be none other than mike andrews, freaks and geeks composer extroardinaire. (by the way, have i mentioned that i fucking hate allmusic? at least i hate the new interface. it takes forever to load and is difficult to navigate. i miss the old site.)

i finally went with matt et al on the adventure that is lesbian night at guys, right next to the beverly center (next door to jerry's). the night was spent with good company on a couch soaked with fluid from the leaky air conditioner overhead. it ended with jack in the box and reno 911. a very fulfilling evening to say the least.

on a work-related note, a kind soul decided to hire me. i start this september. which means i can actually buy things now.

the overheard quote of the week is: "i like sushi but i don't like the rice part."

this weekend = packing + sunset junction.

no work and no school makes tony

2005-08-20T03:28:00.000-07:00

one lazy motherfucker. throw in an empty refrigerator and 2.80 per gallon at the pump and you have one lazy, hungry, broke-ass motherfucker. i have been sustained by corn tortillas and flat 4-month-old cola. despite all the free time between sending out resumes and doing nothing i'm too lazy to go on a half-hour grocery run. i've been sick, so i feel somewhat justified in my state of perpetual-sloth. regardless, sleeping from 7am-7pm is still unforgivable.

went to tofu-fest with matt and had chicken. bought a wallet, thereby retiring my trusty duct-tape piece. strolled through little tokyo, which isn't all that little.

watched march of the penguins. this is only one of two films i've seen in my life that made me want to cry, the other one being willow, of course, because willow is fucking excellent. many moons ago my high school girlfriend would always liken my gait to a penguin's, supposedly because i walked at an extremely leisurely pace. but after seeing this film i see that what she was really saying was that she admired my noble disposition and indomitable spirit. now i want to start the save the emperor penguin foundation; we'll provide shuttle transportation, shelter from the cold, and protection from predators. but even if all these things were provided, those little fellas wouldn't have a clue what to do and we'd end up doing them more harm. it's also pretty remarkable how those 2 cameramen caught such wonderful footage while enduring 80 below weather and 100 mile-per-hour winds.

last week watched star wars episodes 3-6 with roommates, pretty much consecutively if you don't include when we went to work. watched spaceballs the next day and was reminded of my high school friends' band, megamaid. i actually don't recall if they stuck with megamaid, but i am sure that they were megamaid for a couple of weeks. my buddy pete cerenzio (pete, if you just googled yourself, hello old friend, and how i miss those crazy days conjugating like nobody's business in latin) moved on to play guitar in a rod stewart tribute band in college, one nation under rod. the post-faces crimes of the artist paid homage aside, they were pretty fucking good.

speaking of past cohorts, a friend from freshman year of college visited today. on craigslist a few weeks ago she posted an ad for some sort of adventure club for los angelinos; what this club entails exactly is unclear, which is unsurprising given that she's one of those people who speaks primarily figuratively yet manages to fool you into thinking that she provided you with a satisfactory response to your queries. i can't find the listing, but from what i hear it's calling for 'down-to-earth people in la who love life and would like to meet other like-minded life-lovers.' seriously, that's how she speaks. all i'm saying is that there needs to be some sort of system in place, you can't let absolutely everybody into this adventure club considering that there can be many different interpretations of 'adventure club,' one of them potentially being 'super-swinger-h0t-seX0rz-orgy-club.'

i'll catch you crazy kids later. may the schwartz be with you.

if you need a good laugh--

2005-08-06T02:33:00.000-07:00

or cry--do yourself a favor and watch the aristocrats. this last week has been characterized by devastatingly low lows and what i initially thought were going to be highs but ended up being lesser lows. it's one of those films that i'm going to always remember, not because of its content but rather because it allowed me and her to truly laugh, together, after this dark period that seemed to make us forget how that was done. it was just what i needed.

i missed two days of work and now it's friday and i still feel like shit. i remember when i was in elementary school i loved being sick because that meant staying home and watching tv all day; if only being sick were that simple today. sure, you can watch movies all fucking day, but at the cost of missing a day of class/work/whatever it is that you do. missing two days of work especially hurts when you need to feed yourself and pay rent.

the last time i was at work before the sick days, my kids played softball against older, more athletic kids, all of whom play little league ball. their counselor threw these trick pitches at my team and was clearly trying his absolute hardest to strike them out. his fun didn't end after he struck all my boys out and continued through to when it was our turn to play outfield. and 'playing outfield' for my kids means sitting on the grass, wildly chasing each other, or running away screaming from the ball whenever it came near them. an asshole jock 25 year-old camp counselor deriving sadistic pleasure from beating 6 year olds at a game of softball is most definitely up there on my all-time-saddest-things-i've-ever-seen list.

maybe some of this bitterness stems from my experiences never being the athletic kid. i actually could care less, i never had any desire to be the athletic kid. it's just that getting hit with balls--from them being thrown at you, and not necessarily haphazardly--got old. and painful. fuck sports; whatever happened to flying kites and playing in treehouses and riding bikes?

this past week i've spent many a night in my favorite late night coffeehouse enjoying my favorite hot chocolate and free wi-fi (because the neighbors i'd steal from finally locked their networks). when i showed up monday night one of the first things i hear is WHAT UP FOOL?! from this poseur douche bag who used to live in my building my third year of college and would be extra chummy with me so he could bum smokes. fuck you, man. i sit down at my favorite table and couldn't help but be distracted by inane high school skank banter. some highlights.
"ohmygod, i only date guys taller than me, but this guy was totally the same height as me! i broke up with him when i realized it."
or, "ohmygod, my mom said that i can only go to cabo if your mom or courtney's mom goes too, but don't worry, i totally told her that your mom is coming so it's all good."
or, "ohmyGAWD, you totally DO have your nipples pierced!!"

the other night i hung out in the courtyard with some neighbors. two of them are (surprise) aspiring writers/actors, one of them a self-described black-tor. they were taking a break from rehearsing their latest play, the Westwood Whats. westwood isn't exactly the most exciting town, but i'm still curious. we decided that one of their new plays should be about the black-tor living as a white man trapped in a black man's body. we were brainstorming lines for the coming-out monologue when all of a sudden the landlord--"rock and roll mom," as we know her--came out and told us that we were being too loud. after we apologized she laughed, said "just kidding!" and invited us in for a glass of wine.

dear readers, as i've alluded to above, my neighbors have all locked their networks, so my internet access at home is no more. but believe me, i still read/comment on your blogs whenever i can. now it's time to medicate myself and get some sleep.

the week in review: loti, fast food,

2005-07-19T00:16:00.000-07:00

and stoned canines. last weekend peggy and i went to the lotus festival in lovely echo park. i had a snowcone. lotus fest has become this distinctively summer ritual that reminds me of, well--summer. it's one of those things that reminds me that being home is really not as bad as i sometimes make it out to be. up and coming are the tofu fest and sunset junction street fair. let me know if i'm forgetting anything.

these photos are from last year's (or two years ago) lotus fest--i left my camera at home and was in no mood to drive all the way back to westwood in my airconditionless car to get it.

to celebrate bastille day last tuesday, i watched a very long engagement despite that a) i don't celebrate bastille day, and b) the film has absolutely nothing to do with bastille day. whatever. an incredible plot, colorful characters and their real flaws, emotions and quirks & stunning cinematography reminded me of why jean-pierre jeunet is one of my favorite directors.

on sunday i had fast food for the first time this whole summer, which according to my calendar has been about 6 weeks. you might say, "wtf?! your previous post says that you ate at in n out (arguably the greatest west coast fast food burger)? what's the deal?" let me explain. there's a difference between simply eating fast food and actively seeking it. i mean, your roommate offering you a jack in the box taco is clearly different than going out and getting one yourself. i guess i'm trying to distinguish between eating fast food inadvertently and eating it deliberately. i just lost myself. anyway, there's also a difference between drive-thru and dine-in; when i had that double double i went in, waited in line to order it, and enjoyed it while seated. regardless, if you want to count that with the recent wendy's drive-thru trip, that makes a grand total of two fast food trips this summer. which which is pretty fucking remarkable considering that my last year of college i was kept alive by jack in the box.

the other day tony pierce linked me on the busblog. this was most unexpected and flattering, to say the least. definitely an honor to grace the busblog frontpage. from one tony to another, thank you, and to first time readers, welcome.

i was at my favorite diner in good company when all of a sudden this brunette in a black sundress with no volume control (and apparently no control over her LOOK-AT-ME-I'M-THE-LIFE-OF-THE-PARTY!-syndrome) storms in and makes small talk with the two guys enjoying butterscotch ice cream by the window,

"Funny seeing you here, i suppose i'll grace you with my presence."
She turns to the waitress, "Tina, it's been a while, shall i help you with that table for old times sake?"
"That won't be necessary," Tina responds, trying her best to disguise her embarrassment and annoyance with politeness. "What have you been up to these days?"
"Same old, still working at Zales..."
okay we get it. you know everyone here. you used to work here and now you work at zales. go home already.

the other night one of the girls from my building comes home with her dog, and says to one of the guys across the hall,
"i think my dog's high."
he goes over to her and pets the dog. "holy shit. this dog is high. what's his name?"
"ziggy stardust."

let's close with the question of the day: where does accumulating karma points end and being a spineless son of a bitch begin? i.e. there's a fine line between nice guy and pushover. if only i could tell which side i'm on.

the week in review part deux: powerouts, geeks,

2005-07-09T12:40:00.000-07:00

and thai town adventures. it seems that my blogging schedule has developed into some sort of weekly thing, for the time being at least. i roll (read: fall) out of bed saturday morning, check the fridge for something to make even though i know it's empty, plop down in the spinny chair left by the person who lived in the apartment before i did, upload whatever photos i took during the week and get to typing.

there have been several power outages on my block lately, which taught me that if you just moved into a new place and decide to unpack one thing, it should be your flashlight. rummaging for an effin flashlight through closets, bags and boxes in total darkness is not fun. scary, but not fun.

i've been averaging one celebrity sighting a week, which is, oddly enough, somewhat normal for a los angelino. don't get me wrong, they have been (arguably) b-list, maybe even c-list celebrities: first it was the rza (wu-tang), then jason mewes, then on tuesday at the in n out in venice adjacent to the costco peggy and i spotted none other than martin starr of freaks and geeks fame. he was mohawked and enjoying a burger with a lady friend.

at work on friday i was talking to my kids about scary stories and one of them had a clever moment. he's six.

"i know the SCARIEST story EVER!"
"let's hear it."
"okay! once upon a time," insert suspenseful pause here...then he screeches, "THE END!!!"
then i think aloud, "oooh, how postmodern!"
blank stares all around. i won't make any excuses for being an ass. it's been a long week.

to start the weekend right the roommates and i rolled to thai town for dinner.

palms is the only place to my knowledge where you will be serenaded by thai elvis. click to see him in action. kitsch? of course, but fuck that, this man is talented. bless his heart. and the food is excellent--perhaps the only restaurant i've EVER been to that holds true to the menu's spicy warning. quality atmosphere and cuisine. a winning combination.

sitting next to us was a party of thirty-somethings celebrating a birthday; one of my roommates is his coworker at the ucla biomed library and told us about the previous day's office party. then i got to thinking, "what do thirty-somethings talk about? is this any indication of what's in store? " if so, i better stock up on khakis, hawaiian and plaid shirts early.

time for a haircut.

the week in review: living out of a suitcase

2005-07-01T23:30:00.000-07:00

is really not that bad. i don't actually know that, but i do know that living out of a duffle bag is not that bad. but i must say that doing so makes finding matching socks significantly more challenging.

matt joined the 22 years young club last weekend. we celebrated appropriately at casablanca in venice, followed by more silliness at the guys' new apartment, zanzibar. whenever i'm on my way out to visit them and someone asks where i'm going, i now say "ZANZIBAR!" with much gusto (emphasis on the last syllable) and exotic flair. there is no other way to say it.

at the grocery i picked up the latest issue of los angeles magazine featuring "25 under $25," 25 fine dining establishments that are wallet friendly. this summer my roommates and i plan to eat at all 25 of them; as of this evening i have two down, dona rosa in pasadena and tacomiendo in good old culver city, my old stomping grounds, (where mom and dad live). i no longer need to drive to glendale for mexican food; it seems that tacomiendo and el tapatio are tied for first-place-hole-in-the-wall-mexican-food.

watched my summer of love. in many ways reminiscient of swimming pool, in that european erotic (pseudo) thriller fashion. and except with more religious/philosophical undertones. also saw me and you and everyone we know. a beautiful story about people desperately trying to connect with other people. one of those rare films that brilliantly captures the imperfections and quirks and behaviors of the human disposition that we are all too embarassed to realize and embrace.

i'm looking forward to the three-day (five day, rather) weekend; enjoy it, blogosphere. cheers!

i'd be lying

2005-06-25T04:21:00.000-07:00

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:

2005-06-12T15:51:00.000-07:00

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

2005-06-09T16:48:00.000-07:00

of peaks and troughs. and you don't know whether you're in a trough until you're climbing out, or on a peak until you're coming down." (david brent, the office series 2, episode 6)

today was my last class of my last day of my last quarter of my last (undergraduate) year at ucla.

it was cloudy, yet brightened up eventually.

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.

speaking of graduates, anne bancroft passed away yesterday. here's to you, mrs. robinson.

the week in review.

2005-06-05T17:39:00.000-07:00

twas a strange one. here are some highlights and deleted scenes.

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.

i can't think of anything

2005-05-28T06:39:00.000-07:00

that beats driving through the city of angels at 3am looking for hole in the wall mexican food with the people i love.

2:30am. mike, akanksha and tony jump into the maxima and leave westwood for el tapatio taqueria in glendale. living here all my life, i've always been a side streets kind of guy, taking the freeway only when necessary. having to haul ass across town to satisfy a late night mexican food craving counts as necessary, so we raced onto the 405. i'd much rather have taken the scenic route--sunset (to shout at the inebriated clubbers) to vermont (where the more classy drunks stumble out of the dresden and the derby) to los feliz (where the coyotes hang out) to glendale blvd--but seeing as el tapa closes at 3 on friday the exception had to be made. after a few wrong turns along the 101 through the valley, we finally make it at quarter past 3. we cross our fingers, hoping that they'll still be open--we knock at the window, lo and behold, someone is indeed there. yet he informs us that the kitchen is closed; mike offers him extra money to still make us something, but the cooks have departed for the evening, he tells us.

"is there anything open 24 hours around here?"
"yeah, yoshinoya and jack in the box are around the corner."
"are there any mexican food places open?" we don't want fucking yoshinojack.
uncertain, he responds in the negatory.

we ask the fellows hanging out in the parking lot, one of them getting their car towed.
"dos burritos, on sunset and alvarado. it's 24 hours."

of course. there has to be 24 hour mexican food in echo park. before we got on the freeway, we made a stop at glendale's le sex shoppe. the first and last time i'd been was during senior in high school. akanksha has never been to one, not even in india. so after much convincing, we take a short field trip inside. business as usual,it seemed, with the 4am crowd droping off their videos and swiftly browsing the new arrivals wall.

onward. we take the 2 all the way to the end, and we see this one place that says 24 HOUR MEXICAN FOOD. it wasn't dos burritos, but it satisfied our criteria for hole in the wall mexican cuisine. of every other night this 24 hour establishment could have been closed (technically it should never close, no?), it chose tonight. it's okay, we told ourselves, dos burritos will not disappoint.

so we make our way up alvarado to sunset, passing the american apparel store and a few lavanderias. believe me, dos burritos did not disappoint. it didn't even exist. at the corner we found king burrito, which was what our boys might have been talking about, but it too was closed. defeat never hurt so bad. we drove home, passing a few 24 hour places--more jack in the boxes, a dennys, the uber-hip brite spot--but we wanted nothing to do with all that. we made our way back to westwood, even passing the benito's in santa monica. i guess we were in such low spirits that not even the old standby could cheer us up. only el tapatio's chorizo burrito and tacos al pastor will do. now it's 7am and i'm hungry and tired and need to be up in a few hours. a waste of a night?

hardly. it was worth every closed taco stand, dildo, and ounce of gasoline. i fucking love this city and the people with whom i experience it.

a recurring theme of the past week

2005-05-23T05:33:00.000-07:00

seems to be that i am the most unreliable person ever. at least the trend of late has been to tell me so. in the past month i've either missed or been late to a few staff meetings--2, if you must know--, and my boss approached me about this. i don't want to sound like i'm making excuses for myself, but to put a positive spin on the situation, i've been both on time and present to the other 25 meetings, which is a pretty good track record for the year. might i add, these meetings are fucking useless about 75% of the time (they are part of the 'meaningless organizational bullshit' i mentioned a few weeks back). i tried to explain to boss k that there's something called academics that takes up a good portion of my time, and that this being my last quarter the frequency of papers and all-nighters has increased significantly while hours of sleeping and eating have been irregular and scant, if not totally missing from the equation. we basically ended the conversation with the mutual understanding that i need to keep everything together for the next few weeks. believe me, i kept it together after that. and by 'kept it together,' i mean that i missed the end of year staff appreciation dinner on the day after our little chat. not purposely, mind you, i just totally forgot about it. on friday i get an angry email from k berating me for missing the dinner, which i found to be unnecessary and patronizing. you can't dictate when and with whom i'm gonna eat my fucking dinner. i'd understand if i weren't doing my job, but please don't micromanage and get in a hissyfit if i missed a stupid dinner.

that's over with, but here's the punchline. i discussed the whole situation with one of my best mates, to vent more than anything else. two days later, he sends me an email written in frustration, basically telling me that i am the most unreliable person ever. at first i thought it was a joke, but as a i read on i realized it wasn't. i'd be lying if i said he was completely unjustified in saying what he said. but then again, i had no idea he felt this way, and i get the feeling--no, fuck that, i absolutely know that he talked this over with a few other people. all i'm saying is that if this really bothered him, i'd rather him tell me in person rather than via email. because seriously, email was the absolute worst way to vent his frustration, seeing that i received pretty much the same email from my boss the day before. maybe they teamed up to write it together. i don't care. let's look at this again, this is just beautiful:

k makes tony feel shitty via email.
tony vents to m.
m helps tony feel better.
the next day m sends tony email ridiculously similar to k's.
tony feels shitty, yet again.

life is grand.

in regards to the whole being flakey deal, it's something i'm rarely aware of and that i'm always working on. but i'm not gonna sit here and let people take turns calling me unreliable. i've seriously used that word a hundred fucking times already. i never want to use, hear, or read it again. ever. when people are in trouble or truly need something, i will not hesitate to offer my help, bail em out of a tough situation or do whatever needs to be done, especially for the people i care about, hell even for people i'm not too particularly fond of. but goddammit, don't get mad at me for missing your fancy dinner, and if you have something to say to me, know that there are better fucking ways to do it than through stupid electronic mail. god forbid people actually converse face to face anymore.

happy monday.

one of my most and least favorite places to be

2005-05-17T05:32:00.000-07:00

is alone with my thoughts. i think it's important to spend time alone to reflect and mentally organize your life. i get a lot of crap for not hanging out, which everyone seems to take personally rather than as me simply not wanting or needing to be around people. don't get me wrong, i love the people in my life and sometimes go nuts when i'm not around them. but that doesn't mean that there aren't times when i'd rather be sitting under a fucking tree, caffeinated and nicotined, watching the wheels with the magnetic fields providing the soundtrack.

but contemplating things by yourself can also be the most terrifying fucking place in world. like right now. 5 in the morning is the worst time this could possibly happen. everyone's asleep, so there's no one to talk to. the silence is deafening, as is the traffic in my head. i can't get myself to fall asleep, so of course i get to thinking about heavy shit. like aging parents and pets and how everyone you hold dear to you will eventually go away, some without warning, others with fair amounts of. people take it as bad news when they're told that their loved ones have x days or months or years left in them. bad news, yes, but it's good in that at least you know to brace yourself. at least someone is telling you, because really, we should all be reminded that everyone, ourselves included, can go just like that. i can't help but mentally replay the last scene from silverlake life, where tom and peter dance to "i met him on a sunday." definitely the most beautiful yet tragic documentary film moment i've ever seen.

ah, fuck. most depressing post ever.

i'm gonna stop. i never ask to think about these things, i don't think any of us do. but it's better than ignoring or denying the reality that tomorrow--yours, mine, someone else's--is uncertain.

now i will try to end on a positive note.

but isn't this how we know we're alive? yeah, we're all dying, at different rates. but knowing that we're gonna be gone one day is what makes us tick. and i'm not only talking about death--let's say you're relocating for school or work, and that you only have a few months left in your city, the one in which you may have envisioned yourself settling down. knowing that you're leaving makes you appreciate home a million times more. what makes life great and chipper is appreciating today for today simply because you're alive and tomorrow is not a fucking guarantee.

good night.

life is expected to happen during the day--

2005-05-13T05:47:00.000-07:00

hours of class, work, stores, restaurants etc are centered around the lives of 7am-7pm people.

i wish either
a) that everything was open 24 hours, or

b) that there will be a mass shift in the societal perception of the 'daily schedule' so that the 10pm to 6am people ('zombies') can be satisfied as well.

i'd much rather go to class/work at night and sleep in the day. an ideal weekday would flow something like this:

4pm-5pm: wake up + breakfast (it wouldn't be called breakfast anymore, we'd come up with something new)
7pm-midnight: class (i don't know what will replace this time when i'm no longer in school)
midnight-1am: 'lunch' break
2am-10am: work
10am-4pm: sweet sweet slumber.

then again that might make me go fucking batty.

and now, one of the most awkward moments ever caught on tape.

matt, this one's for you. cheers.

"if photography is truth,

2005-05-12T03:01:00.000-07:00

then cinema is truth twenty-four times a second." (Godard)

that being said, enjoy the sic transit gloria video blog pointless film #1.

austin is full of characters. (click above)

good night.

i got a feelin, it didn't come free,

2005-05-12T00:29:00.000-07:00

i got a feelin and then it got to me.

saw spoon at amoeba. what i like about this band is that they've managed to stay away from all of that contrived franzferdinandblocpartykillers 3rd rate wire/gang of four crap and produced yet another quality rock and roll record. solid. i've listened to it maybe 4 times since i got it a few hours ago. standing next to us was a curly-haired redhead who was using a 35mm admist a sea of digital cameras. god forbid that people actually put any work into developing their photos anymore. curly-haired 35mm girl, i salute you.

afterwards matt and i went to carney's (has nothing to do with carnivals or carnival-folk). maybe it's because i haven't been there in a while, but i'm pretty damn sure they increased the size of their burgers. this is a good thing.

speaking of victuals, the night before we made a midnight drive to el tapatio taqueria in glendale. that chorizo and egg burrito was worth every single one of those 20 miles. a suggestion to drive down to san diego for some santana's was entertained fondly for a few minutes. speaking of mexican food, i stumbled upon this blog. i fucking love it.

we took side streets home, in no rush to get back to the lameness that is westwood. we wanted to go ghost-hunting, yet akanksha whined that 3 wasn't a good enough sized group for the task.

"why do we need more people?"
"because i'm most likely to get killed if there's only three of us," she replied. "i'm the minority."

brilliant reasoning. anyway, ghosts supposedly abound in los angeles. if i had to guess, i'd say that any one of the old, abandoned historic hotels in downtown would be the ideal spot for paranormal activity. or any abandoned warehouse. the last couple of times i went home ghostbusters 1 & 2 happened to be on, on separate occasions. so i know what i'm talking about. now all we need is equipment and an abandoned firestation that we can use as headquarters and last but not least, a horn-rimmed glasses-wearing secretary from manhattan.

on a side note, in keeping up with what's new and happening i signed up with the internet archive for free video hosting (found this link on anti's blog). it's been a day and my video is still about number 15 in the queue. yesterday it was number 17. hopefully that will be ready soon so i can share my pointless, low-quality avis with the world.

stayed up all night

2005-05-10T04:14:00.000-07:00

working on assignments that i found out weren't even due today and was consequently one hour late to my first class. since it was raining i wouldn't have minded staying home. i hate wet socks and using umbrellas. rain in los angeles should be like snow days in other states, with everyone getting a free day off and what not.

on a work-related note, three co-workers from the building next door were fired. actually, two were fired and one resigned out of frustration. if you ask me they should've all resigned. let me take this opportunity to say how fucking stupid it is that they were all let go--i can't really go into detail, because 1) i'm late for class and 2) i don't want to upset anyone else who might work for the machine who happens to read my blog. there is no consistency in this organization. there are 12 different staffs, all with directors who report to a group of super-directors, which i believe answers to a smaller group of uber-directors. and within and between each staff there is so much hierarchical and organizational bullshit that makes me question why i've been working here for 3 years. all i will say is that if those 2 were let go, then i know at least 100 other people who should be fired as well, including myself. let me put it this way: there are two aspects to this job, the first part has the potential to be incredibly rewarding personally, the second part being absolutely meaningless. they were fired for violating one of the policies meant to satisfy the latter, like so many others who hold that same position.

totally unrelated, i saw eve ensler speak this evening. she was wonderful. afterwards as she signed my copy of the vagina monologues i told her how i wholeheartedly agree with her on how academics are trained to be so tragically disconnected from their bodies and how we should all strive to attain groundless reality. because it is only when we disattach ourselves from the possessions and titles and roles and categories to which we so desperately cling that we can truly be free.

today is one

2005-05-05T20:13:00.000-07:00

for the history books.

it's not only election-time over there in the u.k., but here at the university as well. i've never been too big on campus politics, because it seems that the students get fucked regardless of who is in power. so when i voted, i did so less out of agreement with platform/ideology/promises of a campus ski-lift, but more as a personal favor to friends who are running and/or based on personality of the candidates; i've been in classes and have worked with these people, so chances are if i've experienced them to be a douche bag they didn't get my vote. simple.

it being cinco de mayo, i'll celebrate with my choice of mexican beer. on a related note, many lausd parents didn't send their kids to school today thanks to rumors about continued violence between african-american and latino students.

finally--what is considered to be more important by many--, disneyland turned 50. oh joy. disney, i salute you for being perhaps the world's most powerful corporation. continue to brainwash the world's youth with your promotion of capitialism and perpetuation of jaded race and gender stereotypes. yeah, you have produced some excellent films and clever cartoons. but that doesn't change the fact that you are a heartless machine.

why is it that instead of studying

2005-05-03T02:20:00.000-07:00

i find myself screwing around with mike and emily at dolores, brainstorming ideas for our private investigation business and wasting money on the love-meter?

on which i scored a whopping 109. according to that score i am 'out of control.' yikes.

i'd be lying if i claimed to be in control. on the contrary it seems that i've been able to exert little or no control at all with regards to getting things done, particularly in the last few weeks. if anything i've been ridiculously lazy. unproductive. unorganized. unhealthy. apathetic. those of you who know me are probably saying, "what else is new?" and to that i say, er, nothing, because you're right. maybe it's because there are only around 50 days of school left in my undergraduate career, give or take a few since i don't have class on friday.

or maybe it's because last week i watched both dig! and end of the century which have contributed to me entertaining the idea of second-grade-teacher-by-day-rocker-n-roller-by-night.

regardless, i have grown weary of the whole school thing. things will be better when this week is over. in the meantime i have to study and fashion a few duct-tape wallets and bags to share for my 120 class; the professor has us share any 'special interests/talents' at the end of class on wednesday. how cool is that.

what if cameras followed you around

2005-04-21T01:07:00.000-07:00

and documented your life and its mundane routines, simple joys, disappointments, awkward and tender moments? i recently picked up the complete office (series 1 & 2 + special + all the other extras geeks love) and cannot stop watching. i don't know what it is exactly about the office that makes it what it is; its simplicity? how it's shot documentary style so all the characters seem that much more authentic? ricky gervais being a fucking genius? i have no idea, but this show is perhaps the most moving, refreshing, and absolutely hysterical i have ever seen. that's not saying much because i don't really watch television. regardless, if you haven't already you must get on the free-love freeway and watch this show. forget the 2nd-rate american version. i loves me some bbc.

for a moment i forgot where i was going with that but now i remember. last weekend my coworkers and i went on a staff retreat to lovely lancaster, california. i don't recall ever actually visiting lancaster prior to this, yet i must say that i was surprised how pretty it was up there. yeah, lancaster has 6 walmarts, 2 of which are 24 hours, and walmart is frightening in itself. anyhow i've been watching the office so much that i couldn't help thinking how it would be to have cameras following us around; granted, it wasn't a work day, and we don't work in an office. but still, how crazy would it be if cameras watched us

hike through the vasquez rocks

eat dinner

play games

tie a few down

and go to 7-11.

we stayed at jennifer's parents' hotel, the essex house. the place was quite nice, it had this victorian-charm about it, which now that i think about is appropriate given that it's called the essex house. i'm used to budget lodging, days inn and cecil hotel style.

there was a wedding going on that afternoon, and the bridesmaids happened to be staying in the room next to me and brian's. we wanted to check out the reception, but never got to it. wedding parties are fun. especially ones with open bars.

at the end of the office tim mentions that the only thing you really share in common with your workmates is that you walk around the same bit of carpet for several hours of the day. on that note i think it's interesting how a change of scene can allow you to have fun with a group of people with whom you don't normally hang out.

so what becomes of you, my love,

when they have finally stripped you of

the handbags and the gladrags that your grandad had to sweat so you could buy?

part 2 of 2: halfway into the US past 3 state borders

2005-04-11T20:43:00.000-07:00

is a delightful southwestern town where the beer is served cheap and cold and the music played loud and fast. where the frat-boys and hipsters and the clubbers and bipsters roam the streets in harmony and mutual recognition, if not respect.

where people come from toronto to market their cola-liqueur drinks,

and a six foot seven jew (as seen on ricki lake) will freestyle rap for you.

a city definitely not as plastic-surgeried and s.u.v.-ed and reality-television'd as home, one seeming to the lack any of the pretense and glitzy bullshit that comes with living in los angeles. a wonderfully charming city.

we had only one evening, yet how i long to cruise down 6th



and galivant in so-co.

austin, i miss you.

the day after i got back i ran into kristen (an once austinite turned angelino) who asked me half-jokingly if i was going to pack up and move there. i would be lying if i said the thought didn't cross my mind. perhaps the notion i've entertained for so long of settling down and living the sunny california life might not actually come true. having your foundations shattered and living betwixt and between (thank you, linda van leuven) is both scary and exciting.



now i'm home and am experiencing what brooke accurately refers to as the withdrawal stage.


driving halfway across the country stuffed like sardines into a van that sings when the sliding door closes with the best fucking crew in the world.


life doesn't get to be much sweeter.

part I of 2: 1400 miles and a few time zones away

2005-04-04T20:13:00.000-07:00

i left my heart in a little town in the middle of texas. as much as i love los angeles, i cannot get austin out of my head. while the way to vancouver was one of ocean, sun, and stolen passports, the road to austin was one of biting winds, cacti, tumbleweed, and being pulled over twice by the texas highway patrol. the non-stop (save for eats and gas) one-way 24 hour drive in the van kicked our asses, yet said ass-kicking was a small price to pay for the sweet taste of the southwest's bourgeoning hipster mecca, austin, texas.

it was late wednesday night when we broke out of this urban-outfittered 14-year-old-skankified westwood town. the day was spent picking up the van from placentia (which looks and sounds freakishly like placenta), running last minute errands and packing. see above for the promised flickr-inspired "what's in your bag?" photo.

driving for hours and hours on end gives you time to think. a whole fucking lot of time. looking at these long drives i think about all the little tricks and mechanisms used by road trippers to make it and maintain their sanity. i think it's interesting that these little things aren't explicitly planned or thought about much and yet they can be so intricate and crucial to the experience. for instance, the driver is never left alone, and by alone i mean awake while everybody else snoozes. staying up with the driver is key, even if riveting conversation is absent. while driving, just knowing that the person in shotgun is awake keeps you going. for us the shotgun rider is important in that s/he would refill the driver's mug with pop (so shoot me, i just got back from texas), navigate, man the camcorder in case something exciting would happen and would protect the driver from deadly wasps.

the trip would not be complete without loves

and stops at creepy gas stations.

on the first leg of the trip (los angeles to arizona) those of us who were awake got to see the sunrise through bug-splattered glass. i happened to be riding shotgun so i had a nice view.








matt and i were still awake while mike and brian were sleeping. i was up so we stopped somewhere in arizona to grab coffee before we switched. at this point we had been on the road for a little more than 7 hours.

after some scenic boulders,


and more stops,

we finally made it to new mexico.


at around 1:30 in the afternoon we arrived in texas.  we had lunch in el paso.



as we are so accustomed to doing on road trips, we invented a few more games that have a good chance of ending up in the boxset, to be on sale sometime in the future. still untitled, my favorite one involves someone singing a song and everybody guessing what it is--the catch is that the person doesn't sing the actual words of the song, but in place of them uses the names of other people of the car. for example, i would go "MICHAEL!! mike mike mike mike matt briiiaaan...TOOONY! TOOONY TONNNY MAAAATTT!!" and you would be all, " 'LADY' BY STYX" and i would be like "DAMN RIGHT" then the next person would go "TONY TONY TONY!! MICHAEL MICHAEL MATT!! MATT MATT BRIAN MIKE!! TONY MATT MICHAEL BRIAN BRIAN MICHAAEEEEL!!" then someone would be all "I'LL MAKE LOVE TO YOU!" but then he'd be like 'WRONG, bitch!' then the person guessing would be all 'DON'T FUCK WITH ME, THAT'S I'LL MAKE LOVE TO YOU BY BOYZ 2 MEN AND I KNOW IT' then the singer would be like "YEAH, BUT IT'S THE SPANISH VERSION OF 'I'LL MAKE LOVE TO YOU!!' " so we played that for a bit.

speaking of spanish, on the radio somewhere in new mexico was the spanish version of "total eclipse of the heart." it provided us with energy at a key point when morale was low, which was when we realized that we had been driving for 12 hours and were barely half way to austin.






another thing that keeps drivers going is music. i had brought my ipod and car-charger yet the soundtrack to this drive was comprised mostly of country. it seems that texans fucking love their country music; there was a significant stretch of highway between el paso and austin on which we could only pick up country stations. i swear there were at least 6 country stations. and maybe two christian talk shows, all of which were somewhat amusing. at one point i was driving and a white pick up truck with flashing sirens was driving behind us. fuck. i turned down the obnoxious country music, woke up everyone who was sleeping and pulled over. sheriff k--i forgot his real name, so i named him sheriff k--was actually quite nice. he informed us that in the state of texas it is illegal to drive in the left lane, which is for passing only on two lane highways. maybe he let us go because of our out of state license plate. we're from california, we didn't know any better. the whole ordeal passed quickly and we were back on the road.

the hours came and went and it had seemed like we have been driving for days. it was 5pm and i haven't slept yet, so i lied down in the backseat. worst sleep ever. i woke up at around 8 to see that the sun was gone and that it was dark out.

we filled up at a gas station called waldo's at around 10:30pm.  we wanted to use their bathroom, but the shop was closed. we saw a man who we assumed was waldo playing cards with a younger man, who we assumed to be his son.  oh, and they were playing cards in the dark with the lights off.  we kept knocking, but he simply turned to us and shook his head.  if you are ever in the fredericksburg/johnson city area of texas looking for a restroom, do not expect waldo to be helpful in that department.

and right next to waldo's seems to be some sort of laundromat or dry cleaners. where people are killed, apparently.


fast forward a couple hundred miles, a few hours of driving and scary stories and stupid games and a killer wasp and a speeding ticket for going 90 on a 65 mph road (given to us by sheriff k #2), and eric at the days inn right next to the university...

...helllo, austin.

after throwing my shit into the motel room i light a cigarette and look beyond the small parking lot at the cars driving down the 35 past 32nd street.
i take long drags and exhale slowly, processing the events of the day and not fully realizing how far i am from home.

we grab a 2am dinner at stars cafe. i had a turkey club on texas toast, which seems to be regular toast but a bit thicker. maybe everything is actually bigger in texas. as we eat "head on"--perhaps the greatest jesus and mary chain song--plays in the background. it described exactly how i felt and could not have come on at a more appropriate time.


"and the way i feel tonight,

i could die and i wouldn't mind...."

in case you haven't heard,

2005-03-24T19:38:00.000-08:00

i am fucking done with this quarter. for the most part it had its way with, pummelled and humiliated me. it has stripped me of all dignity and an already unremarkable social life. this has been my last winter quarter EVER as an undergraduate--spring is on her way and things can only get better. at least that's what i'd like to believe.

this week has been comprised of me writing millions of papers, as usual. in true tony fashion, all the while i have been preoccupied with thoughts such as, "what will i do after graduation?"

or "should the theme of our apartment-warming party be 'sci-fi/b-movie' or 'everyone-dress-up-like-food' or 'hall and oates'?"

or "what color is an albuquerque sky?" or

"why is it that i've been awake for 36 hours and still am not tired?"
"why must i waste my time reading blogs?"
"is that donut still good?"

but now i can ponder these pressing matters without worrying about school. it's an odd feeling, being free. i am so used to being buried in books and lectures and papers that now when there's none of that i have no idea what to do with myself.

we hit the road in 6 days, 4 hours and 26 minutes--which reminds me, i need to get my hands on a van and some cash.

stay tuned for the "what's in your bag" post! it's all the rage in flickr-land.

paz

after three nights in jail,

2005-03-20T21:52:00.000-08:00

i head north from toyovale,
switch to 285 in pecos, head up to red bluff.
my walk's real steady and my eyes are real cold,
but i feel like i'm all of sixteen years old,
lost in a travelodge with the television on with the sound down,
i don't feel so tough

old issues of sunset magazine to read,
sleep for 12 hours,
and dream about home.

i have no place to go so i drive up to new mexico,
fix my eyes in the rear view when i cross the stateline.
and i panic i guess, although it's quite late
i take the first exit to 128,
i am coming back to midlind,
and i hope you don't mind.

polaroids of the two of us scattered on the passenger's seat,
i drive slowly,
and evenly,
and i dream about home.

-jd

"the bluest eyes in texas

2005-03-15T02:27:00.000-08:00

are haunting me tonight." the most beautiful english-language word combination i've heard in a long time. simply gorgeous. chloe sevigny singing it in a smoke-filled texas dive bar gives me the fucking shivers.

the weekend was spent editing my short film for ed class. initially i wasn't sure it would work out; i had to return julius' ibook this morning and the quality of the compressed video was shit. i ended up transferring the film back to mini dv tape, which saved the day. on top of that i wasn't sure how the film would be received not necessarily by the class and professor, but by the people in my group. if someone with whom i had a project was making a film for our group and i hadn't seen it yet i would likewise be skeptical, understandably so. anyway i hooked my camera to the tv, gave a little 30 second blurb and hit play. fast forward 14 minutes.

applause.

at the end of class dr. allen asked me if i edit professionally. i would not mind doing that. throughout the day i'd run into people from class and they'd shoot compliments and praises my way. it's great hearing all of that and having the ego fed, however i think that's somewhat unfair--it's always the documentary filmmaker who is awarded, never the people who are actually in it. the editing is not that difficult, especially on imovie which is ridiculously user friendly. hats off to davey g.

in 102 we watched the beginning of boys don't cry. hence the title of the post.

after class i went to an end-of-the-quarter potluck thing for work.

then i slept for a long time. later on matt, mike and i went to subway. i wasn't hungry, but whenever i walk into that place the smell of fresh bread and the we're-so-healthy-eat-fresh marketing overwhelms me.

on a side note, i think i am in love.

hey, kids, it's time for yet another

2005-03-11T20:41:00.000-08:00

highlight reel composed of the boring things tony has done during the week. these are hand-picked episodes, people. nothing but the best for my readers. speaking of readership, i think i'm at a stable 3. yet that does not matter. if reading my blog is a meaningful experience for you, then i am happy. on to the highlights.

i went to my friends brian and carol's gallery opening and ate domestic cheese and drank mike's iced-tea-misty-breeze concoction. there were plenty of dressed-up folks yet i was wearing my panama ringer with the holes in the shoulder. there was much mingling and cheese-eating and photo-admiring. i felt like i was in a wes anderson movie--at the loquasto international film festival, or the heaven and hell cotillion.

i missed one class on wednesday to participate in an experiment at the public policy lab. they gave me 10 dollars for my time.

i drove with aleyda to dominguez high in paramount to interview david for my film. on the 10 east i followed a mark iv big yellow school bus, and kids were throwing trash out of the windows at whatever car happened to be next to them. they were trying to get the trash into people's cars through open windows. finally they hit a man in the head through the moonroof. the man turned quickly to glare at them then rear-ended the van in front of him. only in los angeles.

i went with robin from class to valencia to film another teacher interview. it was a beautiful day and we beat the friday traffic. we had mexican food for lunch. the driver's side rear-view mirror of robin's saturn is attached to the car with duct tape. that is street-cred.

at cacao kylie played nick cave's murder ballads. quite possibly the darkest album i've ever listened to. morbidly elegant. i love it. if i knew how to make coffee and wasn't in school i wouldn't mind working at cacao. doing so would undoubtedly compliment my warped sleeping schedule and give me complete control of the musical atmosphere. if i were working on that night i'd put on lee hazlewood's cowboy in sweden.

speaking of cowboys, i shall close with a spring break update:

austin, here we come.

i am itching

2005-03-07T21:13:00.000-08:00

to get out of this town. i am tired of going to the same restaurants and seeing the same faces and driving the same freeways and walking the same boulevards and doing whatever it is i do under the same abysmal los angeles sky.

don't get me wrong, i love this city like no other yet that alone does not diminish my desire to throw a toothbrush, pair of jeans, the ipod and cameras into my bag, head to the gas station to fill up the tank, grab some cokes and smokes and just drive.

not everyone seems as excited about texas and getting outta dodge as i am.

this saddens me, you see.

i am tempted to post a message on craigslist asking strangers to hop in the damn car. or bus. or train. or plane.

i love big cities. but every now and again they seem to shrink significantly and consequently make you claustrophobic.

would you come to sunol with me? i hear it is lovely this time of year. we can drink some coffee at the gas station and feed carrots to the horses.

time travel

2005-03-05T02:27:00.000-08:00

is fucking crazy. tonight i watched primer and the director's cut of donnie darko at the new beverly with matt and mike. they raised their prices by a dollar, but i'd pay 6 bucks for two flicks anyday. two very good flicks, mind you. the director's cut of donnie darko goes to greater lengths than the original does to explain everything. the music placement is also different. "the killing moon," to me at least, is essential to the opening scene when donnie rides his bike; nevertheless it plays at a lyrically-opportune point in the film. check it out.

between movies we went across the street to get chinese food.

chinese food makes mike happy.

yikes.

"sometimes i doubt your commitment to Sparkle Motion!"

today was by far

2005-03-03T01:18:00.000-08:00

one of the best wednesday's i've had in a while.

**before you proceed, loyal reader, be informed that there are three posts before this one that you probably have not seen yet, since i published all 4 of these posts together. check them out if you'd like**

as i was saying, today was one of the best wednesday's i've had in a while. i skipped my first two classes--you know what, i deserved those extra hours of sleep. i've been working my ass off this quarter, and i've actually been really good about going to class. fortunately, when i miss class on monday's and wednesdays, normally i just miss a film. no problem, i can just cinefile it. i like how cinefile is a verb in my vocabulary.

i realize why this year i've been making it to class way more than i did last year. last year most of my friends lived in my building, and this year i live somewhere else. i.e., last year there was so much more screwing around and consequent staying up all night. maybe that also explains why i get so much more work done this year. the moral of the story? that friends suck and that they bring you down. screw 'em.

i made it to sociology of the family at 4pm, my last class of the day. today we watched when women kill. who knew canadian men and women could be so violent. they are such nice people, except when they steal your passports from your van in the parking lot of the brothel where you are staying the night.

oh, vancouver. you have left us broken men. nay, boys.

after class terri anderson told me to stop smoking, smoking is bad, etc etc. "really bad," she said. but not in a mean, smoking-makes-you-a-bad-person way, but rather in a genuinely concerned tone. she is a cool gal, one of the few professors who shows interest in their students as human beings. actually, she is one of the few professors who makes themselves vulnerable by showing their human side. not many do that; most of them hide behind their degrees to such a great extent that they forget that they are normal human beings. what makes her so approachable? i think it's her big, neon-green plastic-framed sunglasses. by the end of the quarter i will try to provide you with a photograph.

after class i picked up matt and drove to amoeba in the rain to see antony and the johnsons. the only song of his i heard is from the golden apples compilation, put together by none other than devendra banhart himself. freak folk. so good. and scary. antony is another artist of note on secretly canadian. the first one that has come to my attention being jans lekman. although i am/have been broken in terms of the cash, i picked up a few cds as i am stupidly accustomed to doing. believe it or not, when you buy good records you are combatting bad music. one thing i want that they didn't have was the les breastfeeders album. but they did have party of one's caught the blast for 4.99. so what if the album as a whole kinda blows--its saving grace is "baby doll," not to be confused with devo's equally-great track.

in the arclight parking lot as we were leaving, a girl asks me and matt,
"do you like indie movies?"
"we like films in general," i reply.
then she hands us a flier for invisible children, which is showing at cinespace next wednesday. i wouldn't exactly call invisible children an indie film; in some ways it is, i suppose. anyway if anyone would like to watch it, let me know--i might watch it again.

amoeba bike racks

afterwards we picked up akanksha and went to the apple pan. another restaurant cindy and tracey have been telling me to go to for quite a while. i didn't get our server's name, but he is this super cool elderly man. straight out of a 50s diner and/or mom and pop drug store, white uniform and all. he opened our soda cans for us and added up our bill--including tax--by hand right in front of us.

steakburger. so good.

as ice cube so succinctly yet eloquently once put it, "today was a good day."

last night i went home

2005-03-02T13:12:00.000-08:00

to have dinner with my family. i went straight to my parents' house from inglewood high, where some classmates and i were going to interview a teacher for a film that i am putting together. we arrive, and guess what, the teacher isn't there, even though last friday we agreed that we would meet tuesday.

this is why i hate group projects; i'm not calling certain people in my group unrealiable (well, maybe in an indirect, roundabout way i am), but she really should have confirmed the date with the teacher, since she's the one who knows him. not just one day, but two days have i gone to inglewood high to film the interview with this teacher. the second time is more excusable, since the date was actually agreed upon. however last friday i assumed that we had an appointment with the teacher, but apparently we didn't.

this is why i hate group projects. particularly large group projects.

after dinner julius and i played a crapload of double dash. good times.

today was hands down

2005-02-28T23:57:00.000-08:00

the longest day ever. i had two papers due, both of which i did yesterday. i completed my paper on family rights, roles, and obligations at 3 o'clock this morning; i spent sunday reading for it. after i finished it i realized that i hadn't eaten dinner yet, so i went to benito's for a california burrito. it saw it as a reward for finishing one paper. afterwards i went to cacao for a coke. a girl who is there every now and then was behind the counter learning to make drinks; no wonder the help wanted sign was down.

"nice sweater!" she says to me. i was wearing the ashamed-bunnyman-kxlu sweatshirt, and she pulled her apron to the side to show that she was wearing hers too.

i came home from cacao and ended up sleeping, rather than starting my second paper. i had this gut feeling that the due date would be extended to wednesday because of a snafu in the paper prompt. nevertheless i woke up at 9 and finished the paper before class at 11--i go to class and guess what; the TA announces that there was a typo in the prompt and that we could turn in the paper wednesday.

after class and before meetings i went to have a quick dinner at peggy's apartment. salad, her mom's egg rolls, and leftover chinese food.

excellent.

i am getting

2005-02-26T18:25:00.000-08:00

way too lazy to fucking blog. do people even read this? i think i have three readers. would it make a difference if i updated or not? probably not.

yesterday i finally made it to videotheque to pick up romuald et juliette. since i drove all the way to south pasadena i figured i'd hang out for a bit. next door to the video store was an antique/collectibles shop owned by this nice lady, peggy. i now know two peggys. she sells vintage (truly vintage. not talking urban outfitters '80s vintage) items--such as time/life/playboy/lots of other magazines dating back to the 30s, toys, miscellaneous trinkets, some dresses/war uniforms, old photos like cal from the melrose trading post sells, everything. in the storefront window there is a huge wooden propeller. to what vehicle/machine it once belonged, i have no idea. i bought some postcards from her; it seems that she got them from an estate sale. the majority of them are either to or from a Mr. and Mrs. Tom Reynolds. Here are a few.

"Sitting in the Denver library writing this. Nice and cool in here but hot outside. Leaving this evening for Cedar City. Love, Gen & Tom"
-dated August 27, 1962; Denver, Colorado.

"Have a 3 hour wait between buses so writing this in bus station in Redding, Calif. Very hot outside--must be over 90 and only 11 o'clock. Love, Gen & Tom"
-dated August 7, 1963; Redding, California.

"I'm writing this in the Post Office where it's much cooler than the 90 degrees outside. Went out in the cemetery and found the graves very easily. Will walk around the town a bit and then return in New London. Love, Gen"
-dated July 27, 1964; Post Office and Elks, B.P.O.E., Norwich, Connecticut.

"This picture is from the observation tower in the American Side. There are also 2 towers on the opposite shore. for honeymooners and general tourists. Love, Gen & Tom"
-dated august 1, 1964; Niagra Falls, New York.

"Tom and Gen. Reynolds,
We are traveling with 3 of my sisters from Ohio, they were born at Olympia, Wash. Took in some of sights around there today. Spent about a week at Salt Lake City, U. Noon--staying at Motel 6 just south of Seattle for 2 nights, 3rd & 4th. Plan on going to Victoria BC by ferry. Coming up by plane. Best wishes, Les & Grace"
-dated August 3, 1973; Mt Rainier National Park; Tipsoo Lake, Washington State.

"Dear Mom & Dad, Thank you so much for the pictures. We received them last week. The model home has closed down so my weekends are my own now. John & I intended to visit Dayton this weekend so we could see the Air Force museum. But the weather picture was bad--so Saturday morning we decided to come here to Saint Louis. We saw the Arch at the Missission [sp] last night and the Missouri river too. Today we want to visit the Planetarium. We hope you received the books we sent you for your birthday. Love, Nancy & John"
-dated 1971; Zoo Line Railroad, Forest Park, St. Louis.

now i really want to get out. i cannot wait until we hit the road in a few weeks. until then i must live vicariously through the adventures of Gen and Tom Reynolds.

it was a lovely day and i didn't want waste it driving through traffic, so i go down the street and what do i stumble upon but none other than senor fish. before i left westwood i was daydreaming about senor fish.

after i enjoyed my fish tacos i drove home and hit the usual 110 traffic.

just jake it, baby.

you know those nights

2005-02-23T22:42:00.000-08:00

when there is so much going on and you want to do everything but can't because there's only one of you? well tonight was one of those nights.

wednesdays are long--this was perhaps the longest ever. i had class from 11-6. mike and i planned to go to videotheque in pasadena to rent romuald et juliette (no, we have not gotten around to doing that yet because we are incredibly busy people. busy or lazy, i can't distinguish between the two anymore. it is still checked out from cinefile. fie on thee who has it. fie!) there was a reunion dinner with my coworkers from last year in westwood at 6:30. yet we wanted to rent the film in pasadena and get back in time to catch invisible children at moore. back home there was an art show featuring pieces by sex workers. why i wasn't informed of an event taking place practically right outside my room, i have no idea. i had a feeling that Kristen would be there, and she was--but i ended up missing her (and the show) because i ended up seeing the film. i need to ask her about things to see/do in austin.

mike and i ended up skipping out on the videotheque trip and instead had dinner with everyone--matty a, ellen, jeff, mike, akanksha, brian, emily and myself showed up; danton made an appearance. i saw him walking into a jewelry store and yelled, 'HEY DANTON!' and everyone went apeshit because we were just talking about why he wasn't there.

speaking of running into people from work, i ran into good old stephen park, with whom i worked 3 years ago. he is a good man. i remember turning him on to tito's tacos--he fell in love. i remember one time we went and there was a man asking for money; stephen just asked, 'are you hungry?' and without waiting for an answer, gave him one of his uneaten taco. he just got back from spain and is graduating this spring. over the summer he's gonna hang out with some friends in the midwest. stephen is a good guy, if i've ever met one.

i just realized that this quarter i've watched so many movies in class. on mondays and wednesdays i have three 2-hour lectures that need to be filled up somehow. in my first class we watched ethnic notions, a film examining popular images of blacks throughout history (music--vaudeville, blackface, minstrelsy; film--birth of a nation, jazz singer; cartoons; commercial products). i always knew there was more to aunt jemima and golliwog dolls. in my next class we watched a film on 60s music and counterculture. a good portion of the footage is from the monterey pop festival, which is the best criterion dvd boxset in my possession.

in sociology of the family we listened to another excerpt from this american life. this one was about this psychologist who meticulously studied couples fighting; he would code everything including but not limited to what they say or don't say when they fight, how they say it, facial expressions, tone of voice, hand gestures, basically everything. afterwards he would keep in touch with the couple over the next few years. his findings show that the way a couple argues is perhaps the strongest indicator of whether or not a couple will successfully stay together or not.

invisible children is about kids in Uganda whose lives revolve around hiding from the Lord's Resistance Army, which abducts the kids (ages 5-12, mostly) from Northern Uganda and train them to kill. the film was shot by 3 usc students, rather accidentally--they stumbled upon the LRA story and ended up making a 53 minute film about the plight of the children. their plan is to raise 800,000 initially to spread awareness of the problem and finish the film, which they plan to release in 2006 independently. afterwards they plan to raise 2,000,000 towards the improvement of the children's lives. exactly how that money will help, i don't know.

oh boy.

2005-02-20T03:43:00.000-08:00

it's a quarter to 4am, sunday morning. in a few minutes nick will be on his way to vegas. since i can't leave this fucking room i must find amusement on the internets.

oh, david cross. i've now seen you nude and in a giant turd costume.

why have i just now discovered this show and why wasn't it around when i was a kid. sesame street has had billy joel, paul simon, and bela fleck, yet this one has had the arcade fire and the fiery furnaces.

booty and the best bobblehead ever courtesy of matt. speaking of kfc, the beastie boys are similarly keepin it real.

and this may be a few days late, but here is a short story about love by j.d. salinger (courtesy of the daily refill).

good night now. for real this time.

just took one of those online tests.

2005-02-20T01:35:00.000-08:00

an ink-blot test. taking these things might very well might be a guilty pleasure of mine.

Tony, your subconscious mind is driven most by Sexuality

What this means is that when your unconscious mind sees an opportunity to remind you of your sexual desires, it takes full advantage of it. Because of this, things that have very little sexual content or that seem sexually neutral to others, may register as sexually charged to you, at least on an unconscious level.

Your unconscious mind recognizes the value of sexuality. The reason it may do so, is because of a deep-rooted fear of the opposite — living a life that is numb to sexual desire or is turned cold by it. You unconscious mind may be trying to avoid this sexual dullness, and so it reacts by swinging to the opposite extreme, strong sexual desire. By sending you these sexual messages on a regular basis, your unconscious makes sure you don't forget about sex.

If you view your sexual desire with a positive attitude, you can welcome the vitality and strength sexual thoughts can bring into your life. This would allow you to honor the drive your unconscious has chosen to be an important focus for you. It is a message that you are very much alive, and have a great deal of passion to bring to life.

Though your unconscious mind is driven most strongly by Sexuality, there is much more to who you are at your core.

eh, i pretty much agree.

rainy days

2005-02-17T18:33:00.000-08:00

in westwood are never fun. scratch that. rainy days anywhere are never fun. good thing i decided to skip class today--i ended up going to trader joe's. on the way back i get a call from matt, who actually went to class. he asks for a ride home; 1) he didn't have an umbrella, and 2) his leg isn't fully healed yet. a soaked, moustachioed fellow limping through campus is quite sad.

i pick him up and afterwards we pay an overdue visit to lamonica's. so good.

on a random note peggy was in the daily bruin today. so that brings her to a grand total of 2 photos in the bruin. "how many times have you been in the bruin, tony?" funny that you ask that question, loyal reader. i have been in the daily bruin zero times. not that i care, it's not that great of a campus paper anyway--its redeeming quality being the crossword--but a handful of my friends have been mentioned/pictured in it.

i actually did have a few photos taken by a db photographer last year--i was a tour-guide for inner-city kids who came to ucla's residence halls to trick or treat. i was a cowboy. it was time for the kids to go home, and we were trying to get them lined up. a bunch of them were trying to steal my pistols (my outfit comes with holsters and water pistols that look like real pistols). i made the mistake of wearing the guns. anyway i was keeping them away from the kids, raising them as high as i could while they tried to climb and jump their way to them. i noticed out of the corner of my eye a db photographer shooting away. she laughs and asks me if it's okay if she photographs me. i said i didn't mind. yet a frazzled college student holding realistic-looking revolvers above his head surrounded by little 9-year old black boys makes for a photo that could be taken way out of context.

it's thursday night--hello weekend. wait, i have work tonight. fuck.

after a few trips--

2005-02-17T04:40:00.000-08:00

to cinefile, vidiots, and then odyssey on wilshire--we gave up; mama, there's a man in your bed (romuald et juliette) was nowhere to be found. i actually found it at cinefile, but someone reserved it. thanks to terri anderson there are 100 college kids in los angeles after this rare vhs video. all hope was lost, until i came back home and found lying on my table a flyer for this relatively new video store in pasadena, videotheque. i have read very good things about this place so i gave em a call. at first the clerk said they didn't have it, but he looked it up anyway. and mother of all surprises, they had it. the excitement that came over me reminded me of when i found tapeheads at amoeba for 8 bucks. or when i stumbled upon the california burrito at benito's.

today was a good day. i had a paper handed back to me in my sociology of education class. i was expecting a bad grade because most of the people i'd talk to were upset that they didn't do too well. however, i get my paper back, a 9.5/10. i wasn't struck by how (relatively) well i did, but by a comment left by professor allen:

"let's talk about your future, which will hopefully include a PhD and college professorship."

i don't really know what to say, except that this one's going up on the fridge with my van leuven midterm.

after class i headed to the public policy lab to type something out when i ran into Terry Hwang, a buddy of mine i met last year and haven't seen since. she is one cool cat. things seem to be going well for her, which is good. something worth mentioning is that over the summer she was an intern for one of my favorite magazines, Planet. Their last issue "Man and Woman"--which Terry worked on--is great. although she's back in LA, they're letting her freelance now. how neat is that.

i just got back from hanging with brian, mike, and matt; we pretty much talked about how/where we're going to live this summer. i just hope we get out of westwood.

a more pressing matter to me is where we're going to go over spring break. last year we did RT 5000 to vancouver, and it seems like this year there's a good chance it might be texas.

en route to canada; seattle (pike's place)

give me something to look forward to.

oh, hallmark holiday,

2005-02-14T05:41:00.000-08:00


how i detest thou.  and why are you on a monday?


happy valentine's.

i was on my way home

2005-02-12T23:10:00.000-08:00

on friday night when i get a call from peggy saying that her car was towed from hollywood video. i fought and defeated the visceral, 'I TOLD YOU SO!' that usually comes out of my mouth. peggy and her friend maya have been parking at the hollywood video on gayley, adjacent to the kinross building. i see why they'd wanna park there, because it's two steps away from the video lab where they've been working nonstop. anyway, both their cars ended up being towed, it cost 250 bucks to get each car back. the impound lot was on olympic and colby, and in true impound-lot fashion, it was located on a dimly-lit, dead-end street.


i remember sophomore year when i had to let peggy borrow 500 dollars for something, i don't even remember what-- flat tire? dent? i don't remember. i wouldn't mind helping her pay to get her car back, but at the moment i have nowhere near 250 dollars. that's why i reminisce to that time i let her borrow 500 bucks; i can't remember the last time i've seen 500 dollars, but it feels good knowing that two years ago i was actually making money and was not suffering from brokage.

after they got their cars, i proceeded home. hung out with julius, watched ridiculous amounts of television--i would've stayed, but i had to get back in time to let nick borrow my car to take the cbest. as i was leaving my parents' house at about 5am, i heard a quacking noise. the ground was wet from the rain, so first i thought it was my shoes, but it wasn't. i followed the noise, and in the darkness i see a duck in the middle of the street. just standing there. to answer your question, no, there are no ducks in culver city. but there was this one, in the middle of the street--i call my brother out, and he points out to me that the duck's left wing was broken. the wing hung by its side, just dangling there. i didn't want to leave it in the middle of the street, so i had to somewhat chase it onto the sidewalk--it wasn't really chasing, i would just walk toward the duck and she would walk away.

these pictures did not come out that great.

julius brought a few pieces of bread back from the house, and we broke them into pieces and left them on the sidewalk right next to the duck. she ate a few pieces. i couldn't help but think what the duck was feeling. lost? scared? indifferent? i know what you're saying, but fuck you, animals do have feelings. with a broken wing, she wasn't going to get far. i hope she is okay--ideally, some good soul found her and notified another good soul whose specialty was helping broken-winged ducks. i wish i knew who to call, someone who would actually care about something like this. but as julius pointed out, there aren't many people who would probably give a shit about a lost duck with a broken wing.

so this is what the volume knob's for,

2005-02-11T21:14:00.000-08:00

i listen to dance music. dance music.





thursday night i drove across town and through the rain to see mountain goats at the echo. although he didn't play "pink and blue" or "the best ever death metal band out of denton," he provided the live music fix i needed. jon wahl and the amadans brought the space rock. brian's friend from film class who kinda reminds me of his other friend from the circle bar, molly, was there; in line we exchanged one of those 'i know you yet don' t recall your name' glances.

the crowd was interesting--half of the people were in their 30s, and the other half under 20.



afterwards matt, lee and i looked for a place to eat. being westsiders, we didn't know where to go--so we called cindy and thomas. they recommended el tapatio, on los feliz right next to the cemetery. i had the chorizo and egg burrito, two tacos--one carnitas, one carne asada--and a coke. come to think of it, that chorizo and egg burrito ties, if not replaces, benito's california for my favorite los angeles burrito. el tapatio did not disappoint. i would drive there now if i didn't have a paper due/midterm on monday.

final thoughts.

although i have lived on the westside all my life and love it more and more everyday, i cannot help but harbor a little crush on the eastside. let's face it--living on the eastside has so much to offer. i would be neighbors with thai elvis. i could walk rather than drive across town to rudy's for a haircut. i could easily get to amoeba, chinatown, olvera street and the egyptian, i could drink with tracey and not have to drive home.

however, let it be known that my heart belongs to the westside.how could i leave behind tito's? or cacao, the nuart or cinefile? or good old dolores? the sunday swap meet at fairfax high?  the new beverly?   hell, school is here, and i love school.  and believe it or not, westwood does not always have to be a shitty town. you can't go creepy midnight belair driving on the eastside.



i lovez los angeles, baby.  westside for life.

los angeles in 15 dollars

2005-02-08T02:14:00.000-08:00

is very possible--that's how i roll. i awoke in my comfortable westwood bed only to behold through my window showers and grey skies. normally such weather determines how i end up spending rainy days--in bed. but alas, it was sunday and i would not let my weekly ritual of dragging myself out of bed to go hang out at the melrose trading post be profaned by said terrible weather. and now, loyal reader, i will show you how los angeles is done in less than 20 bones.

i stopped by the wells fargo atm on kinross and gayley, as is the custom before going to fairfax high for the swap meet. since my income and replenishing of the bank account has been nonexistent, i've been on a tight budget and only let myself take out 20. i hop on the 10, drive up fairfax and park right in front of the greenway theatre. meter parking is free on sunday. (total spent: $0.00)

i pay one dollar admission (students and those with the la weekly coupon get in for a buck, regular admission is 2 dollars) and make my way to the northwest part of the parking lot to visit my man cal, the 70 year old ex-private investigator who sells books (from kerouac and castaneda to joyce and camus, and so much more), 12" records, old cameras with accordion flashes, and my favorite, photographs from estate sales. these photos date from the 40s to the 80s. i've accumulated quite a few photos from cal that i plan to rearrange into an album one day, like nino quincampoix. a few weeks ago cal's box of photographs was empty, and i asked him about it.

he looks around, then motions for me to come closer; he lowers his usual baritone, points to a nondescript manila folder sitting next to him and says, "look in that folder; there are a few in there of a naked woman. i can't put those out or i'd be let out of here." it felt like a drug deal.

anyway, i ended up spending 4 dollars on a few photos. total spent: $5.00

walking around is free. that's the best part.



at 5pm, the vendors begin to close shop and pack their wares. the sun was peeking its head through the clouds, so i decided to walk the boulevard and people watch. that was free.

i pick up peggy and we go to oki dog. this was my first time there--cindy always raves about the oki dog. as she promised, the oki dog did not disappoint. at first glance, it looks like a burrito and you tell the man at the counter that you ordered an oki dog. but unwrap it and you find not one but two hot dogs topped with pastrami and drowning in chili. peggy was grossed out when she saw what was inside, perhaps because she eats none of those meats. she had chicken tacos, which she speculated to be the menu-item with the least heart attack inducing potential. she's probably right. total spent: 10.00.


after dinner we drove a few blocks down to the new beverly cinema; when you are in los angeles and have five dollars to your name, this is the default place to go.

we didn't stay for 12 monkeys; the night concluded after brazil. my favorite line: "how about some necrophilia?" only two people laughed at that, me and the guy sitting in front of us.   grand total: $15.00.

good night.

after some afternoon u-dog action,

2005-02-05T17:05:00.000-08:00

we looked for a place where akanksha could have her nose piercing replaced. i suggested venice.

  
we found a place, but the guy working there recommended that she remove the stud and let the piercing breathe a while before replacing it (for those of you who don't know, akanksha's nost piercing is infected. did you need to know that? not necessarily. but that is why she wants to replace it in the first place.)

from venice we went to get some eats at cafe 50s. i wasn't too hungry, but i figured that by going there i could accumulate points towards my frequent diner rewards card. it was around 6:30 in the evening, and i realized that this was the first time we'd ever gone out to eat at proper dinner time.

when we arrived there was this man in his late 40s at the counter causing a ruckus--he complained of service that was 'terrible' and 'slow,' blaming tina--our waitress 90% of the time--a really hard time. they tried to explain that things are more hectic on friday night. he didn't care.

we took the counter--matt had to have the seat next to him empty so he could keep his leg straight (it is still healing from the mud-football "accident")

it was friday, so i had the fish and chips. and a chocolate coke.



this is the first saturday i've had off of work in quite a while. peggy is coming over to hang out.

i forgot to mention something quite important: it has been brought to my attention that sic transit gloria has yet another loyal reader. a hearty handshake and 'thank you' to muddy. oh muddy, it has been ages since angus wright and the gov'nor jacques dubois have galavanted through the european countryside. before this quarter is over i WILL get you to skip geography and go bowling with me.

this hellish week

2005-02-03T16:34:00.000-08:00


is finally over. to celebrate i treated myself to a california burrito at benito's. apparently mike did the same last night. there was filming going on next door at the blue wave.



someone told me that they were filming some sort of car commercial, someone else told me that they were filming a trailer for some mock-star wars something or other starring kids.



i was getting a coke refill, and the man on the right says to me,
"you can get refills?"
"yeah," i reply.
"are you still waiting?" he asked, referring to my order. "mine's taking a long time." hey is very impatient.
"i already ate."
by the time he got his order he had already finished his horchata, so he asks for a refill.
"we don't give horchata refills." denied.
before this guy came along the kids sitting nest to me got jamaica refills for free.

i got a my coke refilled, and dropped some change in the tip cup.



"do you have anything with guac?"  the woman inquires.

i ate, did some of today's crossword.  i left to walk around some more--it was too nice of a day to go home.



yikes. those pants.



antique furniture  on barry /santa monica



punch-drunk love?



mazatlan's favorite?  perhaps.  tony's favorite? absolutely.

i had a california burrito, the weekend begins now, and i actually get to sleep in tonight.

the water is back--somewhat green, but back nonetheless.

the westwood sky is a promising blue, and  in closing,

i am happy.

14 across

2005-02-02T17:27:00.000-08:00



cereal-eating tiger.  ha.

pulled my second all-nighter of the week. wrote a paper on good parenting. i went to campus just to turn it in. on the way back i got a free tshirt.



i wasn't really listening to the guy's explanation of what that is exactly, given that the last 20 hours i've been in a dreamlike stupor. i think it's for some internet television site.

then some bruin news kids asked me n mike if we wanted to be interviewed on social security. um, no.  they were desparate and said, 'we'll even tell you what to say.' now that's good journalism. they wanted to get 3 students to interview, but everyone they asked were oblivious to the issues, that is, until the arrival of my old roommate, david barboza. they ended up interviewing him and as usual he was profound and insightful and they couldn't handle him.  d is my roommate from last year--one of the most interesting guys you'll ever meet.  when i try to describe david to other people, i tell them this story.

"dave once had a 14 by 14 from in n out.  and he also liked to eat at this brazilian barbeque place in the lbc that served meals that featured seven different types of meat. now he's a vegetarian. he can play bach cello suites like nobody's business."

i've been wanting to vomit for the past 3 or so hours.

but i can't, you see, because the water pipe that provides ucla with water just busted.  i actually could spit my insides out into the toilet if i wanted to, i just couldn't flush it for a while. gross. i'm already on duty tonight, but i hope they don't do one of those 'ALL RAS ON DUTY' emergency deals.  cause then i'll actually have to be alert and functional.

THIS JUST IN--word on the street says that portapotties are on the way. 

i don't know what death feels like, but i'm pretty sure it's close to what i'm feeling right now.

just got back

2005-02-01T11:03:00.000-08:00


from eso won books on la brea; just bought Stanton-Salazar's Manufacturing Hope & Despair for soc M108. eso won is an independent bookstore specializing in black/social justice literature owned by james fugate.  very cool guy. check it out. fight the power.

i stayed up from about 9pm on sunday night to 9pm monday night. which was yesterday, i suppose. as usual my perception of time is warped.

i really like starting class at 12:30 on tuesday; that gives me time to actually really wake up and get things done like put on socks that match, eat breakfast and listen to the fireside chat. today's guest was Ben Wolfinsohn, writer/director of High School Record, which just premiered at Sundance. the actors are all young Los Angeles rock musicians (members of mika miko, my little red toe, wives). the film stars the owner of the smell and one of the minutemen is even in this movie. the acting looks really bad, but who can say no to awkward high school kids? the last good high school movie was mean girls. the most heartfelt and endearing portrayal of high school outsiders goes to freaks and geeks--i have watched the hell out of the dvd set. anyway, hopefully this movie is a whole lot better than that Napoleon Dynamite trainwreck. that film was a ploy to sell vote for pedro ringer tees.

flashback (to yesterday)--after class i talked to my soc of family professor.  i just told her that this american life is one of my favorite radio shows and how cool it is that she uses it as a learning supplement and that i think all sociology professors should use TAL in class etc etc. the only thing i didn't say was "i love you." we talked about how lame it is when people use science to justify everyday assumptions, be it that men are less suitable parents than women, or that the purpose of sex is to reproduce, or that women are not fit to be in STEM fields. fuck science, yo.

she put on lip gloss and lipstick and says that she must be on her way to her other job; she explains that she works two other "non-academic" jobs. i didn't bother to ask what they were, nor do i think she'd tell me if i did. she wore this neat jacket that reminds me of my rug, and in her purse she had these big, dark sunglasses with plastic, neon-green frames.

stayed up all night

2005-01-31T10:02:00.000-08:00

writing an educational autobiography in light of an inequitable educational system. yay for the first all-nighter of the quarter, of the year now that i think about it. also hopefully the last. i seriously need to stop writing papers the morning they are due. if you are one of my professors/TAs who stumbled upon my blog, don't take it personally--it's just that i have a life outside of academia, albeit an extremely drab one. i just made a turkey sandwich which is not actually my breakfast, but dinner...LAST NIGHT'S DINNER! last night (this morning) we went to cacao to read. the regulars were having a conversation about a gal with whom one of the guys was trying to sleep with. apparently after some party she said,

'i found 3 dollars in my pocket!'
'great,' replies the guy.
'let's go to mcdonald's and get some fries!'

eureka!

2005-01-29T07:59:00.000-08:00

i have found the california burrito in los angeles. that baby seems to be indigenous to san diego, but if it that were true why wouldn't they just call it the 'san diego burrito.' tonight matt, akanksha and i hit up benito's on santa monica, and after 15 minutes of waiting in line, i saw an 8.5 by 11" printout on the cash register that said, 'try our NEW California Burrito! beef, potato, and cheddar cheese!' i wanted to cry. i thought that the only way i would get my hands on a california burrito was to drive to santana's, but those days of backward-thinking are over. los angeles, the greatest motherfucking city in the world, now has the california burrito. and now i can get it any time of the day. bless you, benito's, bless your little heart out of whose goodness comes this fine morsel of mexican food. you use regular old diced potatoes instead of french fries, and guac is extra, but i still love you.

Antoine Doinel would like the California Burrito.

viva las vegas

2004-10-11T03:14:00.000-07:00

friday night, 10pm. i made the trek up to rieber to meet with matt brian n mike. we watched the first 20 minutes of swingers to get pumped up and that did the trick; we had to get the fuck outta dodge. mike still didn't have his brother's id, so we had to somehow fidn him. however he happened to be at a movie theatre in the middle of a flick, but that didn't stop us. after a few calls it was brought to our attention that he was at the grove, which is a relatively new super-trendy outdoor mall adjacent to the old farmer's market. (see the laist post 'good grove, bad grove.') somehow mike finds his brother in a crowded theatre and gets the goods. mission accomplished.

we made our way along the lovely 10 east on to the beast that is the 15. we did the usual rocking out to 'we are the champions,' which is a fitting anthem to RT2100LVX. actually it's not too fitting, considering we are back in los angeles broken men. it's worth mentioning that the trip to vegas via the 15 is beautiful at night. so many stars, not enough words to describe how gorgeous the sky is through the passenger window of a mercury tracer at 1 in the morning. we exited zzyzx road to check out the scene and ended up at the end of a dirt road. we stepped outta the car to behold the amazing blanket of sky--kinda reminded me of when matt's cressida (rest in peace) broke down in palm springs and we had to pull of the freeway onto a similar dirt road. it was definitely a humbling experience to just look up and see nothing but tiny lights in the sky.

on the way we stopped at in n out in hesperia. it was kinda dead, except for us, another group of 3 kids, and an older couple who seemed like they met at comic-con. the cashier who helped us, monica, was quite friendly. as we eat, mike says, 'i bet you she's mormon. i know it.' and when mike knows something, you don't question it. but he hardly ever really 'knows.' on our way out, brian says to monica, 'my friend went to mormon camp and said you look like a girl from there.' quite smooth, i must say. she probably fell in love with him, like every other woman in america who encounters him.

the bright lights of primm (stateline) signified the entry into no-man's land. brian kept asking if we were in las vegas yet, and even though we weren't he was excited by buffalo bill's and the other non-strip hotels. it was refreshing to see him like that-like a kid going to disneyland for the first time. except that we weren't in disneyland yet, per se. it was at the gas station taht we did the changing of the drivers. as mike was 'the guy' who drove into canada, i was designated 'the guy' to drive into las vegas.

onward. we were all getting a little antsy through the 25 minute period between primm and las vegas boulevard. as soon as the bright lights appeared in the horizon we kinda lost it. i just remember a lot of screaming and cursing as we exited the highway. screaming and cursing in a good way.

when asked what superpower would be most desirable,

2004-09-14T02:08:00.000-07:00

many seem to agree on flight, x-ray vision, functioning without sleep, reading minds, etc. the old standbys. the superpower i always wanted to have is the ability to freeze time by touching my index fingers to each other and unfreezing time by clapping. exactly like evie from out of this world, which is where i got thte idea.
tonight i realized that there is a superpower i'd like to have even more than that one. i wish i could divide myself into several tonys. tonight in westwood i ran into one person after another, and it may sound stupid but i wanted to give everyone my undivided attention. not that i'm so important that i needed to grace them with my presence, but rather the opposite; i wanted to take in their awesomeness, because the people i bumped into all played significant roles in my life during college, just at different times. i wanted to hang out with the people i was already with as well as with everyone else i bumped into. everyone was going to different places to do different things, all of the fun variety, and i truly wish i could have gone to all of those places with all of them.

hence my wanting to multiply myself. as the night went on i had this incomplete feeling, maybe not so much incomplete as unsatisfied. unsatisfied because i couldn't be with everybody at the same time--we occupy many worlds comprised of the different groups of people we interact with, and when those worlds happen to meet, things become weird. in social networks we talked about how when we have two friends who don't know each other, the tendency is to want to make them friends. but it's not that simple, nor does it usually work. the balancing act that we use to maintain our multiple lives is pretty fucking remarkable. unfortunately we can't live them all at the same time. i don't even care if this makes sense anymore. i'm just doing my best to document whatever it is i'm feeling at the moment. whatever that is.

the point is that you can't possibly give enough time to the people you care about. and that sucks.

so long

2004-09-10T14:58:00.000-07:00

to summer vacation. i most definitely am not looking forward to moving back to westwood, starting work, class, et cetera. 9 weeks of summer camp and 2 weeks of actual vacation time is hardly proportional. i have not really been keeping track of the days. i couldn't tell you what today is if you asked. oh well despite my not seeing all the people/places i would have liked to, the last few days have been good.

on wednesday night i met up with matt at the nuart to catch the late showing of the brown bunny. while i was parallel parking, brian and mike unexpectedly hopped into my car and made fun of the ambient music in the background of which i wasn't even aware. i don't recall what was on, all i remember were raindrops and/or a leaky faucet. whatev. turns out that the guy sitting outside the theatre last week works the concession stands--after the movie he started talking to us, telling us that there was no movie last week (last wednesday we drove by in tan van 5000 whenceupon mike took it upon himself to accuse him of playing dumb and lying after he insisted that there was no movie playing). i think we are officially the 'secret nuart wednesday midnight movie stalker' club to him. meh.

if you are one of the brave few who decides to check it out, do'nt expect more than gallo driving and making out with strangers. it sounds cooler than it really is, trust me. blah blah, driving, driving, crying, then BAM, chloe sevigny unsimulated fellatio scene. the movie could have been done in 45 minutes. it isn't without any redeeming qualities; gordon lightfoot's 'beautiful' helped numb the pain.

after the movie headed down the street and parked at a meter right in front of en sushi. on a bench outside the restaurant were two girls making out while their male companions revelled at the sight of women kissing. we stopped by cacao where there was no room to sit, so we sat on the bench outside cafe 50s.there was a frail middle-aged woman sitting at a table. a busboy came out of the restaurant with a drink for her. when he handed her the styrofoam cup, she dropped it, spilling the beverage on the ground. visibly upset, the waiter kicks the cup as if trying to score a field goal and storms back inside. throughout that whole ordeal we sat on the bench while she just stood next to us; come to think of it she probably wanted to sit down, but being lame college kids, we probably felt entitled to that bench and/or it just didn't occur to us to offer her a seat. meanwhile, at the corner of barrington and santa monica, right in front of the video store, four middle-aged latino men were in the pre-rumble shit-talking phase. two of them slurred insults at each other en espanol, one stood between them and the other egged them on.

the stretch of santa monica boulevard between sawtelle and barrington--from about the nuart to the goodwill--can be quite happening on the right night.

my girlfriend has shorter hair than i do.

2004-09-08T16:46:00.000-07:00

she had it cut yesterday. not sure how i feel about that exactly. don't get me wrong, i like it a lot, but from now on i'm sure we will be mistaken for a lesbian couple, seeing how i'm frequenty mistaken for a female. maybe it has something to do with my pre-pubescent girl frame. oh well. it doesn't really bother me until the person who does the mislabeling takes it upon themselves to apologize profusely. that just makes a scene. anyway earlier i rode peggy's bike which has a basket. that machine isn't necessairly fit for the streets, if you know what i mean--it's a 1 speed schwinn cruiser. with a basket and a bell. those wheels definitely gave me street cred. we had lunch at senor fish. the fish tacos which were quite excellent.

speaking of eats last night my brother and i went to pink's. i have never seen the line so short--it was 1:30 and there were at most 10 people waiting. anyhow as i was enjoying my guadalajara (which has gained 'new favorite hot dog' status which means i will probably order it everytime until i can't stand it) and orange crush this guy called out TONY! TONY! from the parking lot. i looked at him but realized that he was calling to his friend in line; he then went to join this tony character.

"i found my friend tony. my friend. this guy right here," he says to me.
"alright."
as they head toward their car he yells, 'WHO DOES YOUR HAIR?'
seeing that one, the same person doesn't 'do my hair' and two, that this question was an odd one, i didn't know what to say so i told him where i get my hair cut, which probably didn't help. perhaps he's an aspiring cosmetologist seeking a mentor. i don't fucking know.

i think my car is dying; it does this weird thing--when i start it and release the emergency brake, the emergency brake light stays on. or i'll start it and she drives fine, then all of a sudden the brake light turns itself on and i have to restart my car because it stops. poor thing. she's been a loyal companion as far back as i can remember. the same car i learned to drive in, the same car whose dashboard has always had a 'sacred heart of jesus auto club' sticker on it. no matter how many times i remove it, my mom always replaces it with a new one. whatever. jesus auto club stickers give my car street cred.

i can't believe you read down this far. methinks i will check out the brown bunny at the nuart with matt tonight. maybe mike will go. if he does i hope he does not ruin our chances of getting into the secret wednesday midnight movie like he did last week.

waffles just pancakes with little squares on 'em!

2004-09-07T03:01:00.000-07:00

you win. i will give this business a try. 'why?' you may ask. because everybody is doing it, particularly tomas & matt (who inspired me to get involved in this blogger tomfoolery). anyhoo, since i am trying to graduate this year, i will undoubtedly be a recluse with absolutely nothing better to do in my free time than update this mess, play nes hockey, or make duct-tape wallets to sell on ebay, the resulting profits of which, mind you, will allow me to live the rest of my life in luxury. bling-dogz, mo-fo. speaking of which, i will happily make you one free of charge if: a) you are a cohort o' mine or b) if you ask nicely. perhaps even a combination of the two.

as MG would say, 'paz.'

p.s. i can't say that i'm excited to move back to westwood this saturday. i'm just starting to get used to this laid back c^2 lifestyle.